Month: October 2017

We spent the day in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The weather was cool and the skies were bright and sunny. A nice day for a bus tour out to Peggy’s Cove.

Halifax is a large, regional center here in Nova Scotia (Latin for “New Scotland”). It has a deep water port, lots of trees, fine public open spaces, and a lot of business going on. Numerous colleges, as well. It’s a vibrant city.

There’s a cool fort here, too, on a hill overlooking the town. Halifax was never attacked after the fort was built, though. What a shame.

The biggest thing that ever happened in Halifax was an enormous explosion that took place on December 6, 1917. A French ship carrying explosives collided with a Norwegian ship, the French ship caught fire, and the resultant explosion was equal to 2.9 kilotons of TNT, the largest non-nuclear explosion in the history of mankind. It absolutely flattened a large portion of Halifax and killed 2,000 people. People who survived, but were etched with blue burn scars, were forever known as “Blue Tattoos”.

We didn’t see any of them today.

The next most famous thing around here is the scenic coastal point known as Peggy’s Cove. The landscape is dramatic as a result of glaciation during the last Ice Age, resulting in the smoothly-polished white granite bedrock along the shore. There’s a pretty lighthouse there, as well as a fishing village, although the main purpose of Peggy’s Cove nowadays is the selling of art and kitschy marine-based trinkets.

It’s a paradise for painters and photographers. Lots of cool scenes and vistas.

Lobster fishing is big here, although it costs $500,000 for a commercial license. Itinerant fishermen need not apply.

I did notice, in the restaurant, that the lobsters for sale were smaller than those considered “legal” in California. Maybe it’s because they have so many up here, while lobsters have been over-fished nearly to extinction on the West Coast.

The lighthouse on the point is a very photographed spot.

The scoured granite slabs are beautiful in their own way, and parts are underwater at high tide.

This being “New Scotland”, every tourist trap must have a bagpiper to give the scene a proper air. Kilts and tartan skirts were plentiful today.

And, of course, there had to be some Great Britain schmaltz, as well. So, the obligatory London phone booth, which Charlie modeled for me.

We came, we saw, and we contributed (to the local economy). Charlie bought something at the gift shop, thereby justifying our use of the facility’s loo.

BTW, our tartan-skirted tour guide on the fancy bus today was excellent. There really isn’t a whole lot of interesting stuff to tell about this part of the world, but she knew all of it, and was quite articulate in educating us foreigners. I can’t remember a single “and, uh..” Bravo for her!!

Charlie awarded her a $20 tip. We could afford to be generous because we had stiffed the two previous tour guides (i.e. the And Uh sisters).

Tonight, we are again eating in one of the specialty restaurants, Giovanni’s, the Italian joint. And, we’ve invited some of our Main Dining Room table mates to share the experience. They are all nice people. I hope they enjoy themselves and use their dinnerware properly.

We’ve met quite a few nice people on this cruise. We’ve chatted with one particular couple a few times in the Diamond Club, prior to dinner. Linda and David are from Tampa, Florida, and are pleasant to talk to.

Last night, some blowhard from Oklahoma inserted himself into our joint conversation, trying to peddle some silly story about a tiny shard of brown pottery he found at low tide in the Bay of Fundy “probably” being a remnant of the Titanic disaster. Bullshit.

Mr. Loudmouth was the same genius who, along with his wife, informed us that they get free cruises (spiffs) because they are big spenders in the casino. Gee, I wonder what the real cost of those “freebies” is? I have no doubt that the two moron Okies voted for Trump.

We are having a nice time out here. Charlie enjoyed today’s adventure, is relishing meeting and visiting with new friends, and is savoring “sleeping in” without the dogs disturbing her rest. It’s nice to see her relaxing, for a change.

She’s going to love retirement.

 

 

We’re now in our fifth day of seven aboard the Serenade of the Seas. It’s a sea day, and we’re transiting from St. John to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Calm seas and sunny skies. Life is good.

Of course, the unsinkable Titanic ran into some trouble out here a few years back. I hope the watch captain is on his toes tonight.

The Serenade of the Seas is a nice ship. It’s not one of Royal Caribbean’s largest liners, but it has all of the basic amenities and is well-appointed. I suppose that my only complaint about this year’s cruise is that it seems like a C-level experience, not an A or even a B. There is a noteworthy decreased level of professionalism with this crew, almost as if they were trainees. The help is friendly, but not professional grade. Perhaps Royal Caribbean uses this type of cruise as a “boot camp”, to weed out the pretenders, before moving the successful trainees to the more elite ships and itineraries.

Charlie and I are having a nice time, by the way. We’re not that jaded that we take a special week like this for granted. Many of our friends and acquaintances have never had this opportunity, and I’m sorry for them. I really hope that they can go cruising some day. It’s a great way to travel.

It’s just that we’ve done so many cruises, particularly on this cruise line, that it is hard not to notice differences. We’re now classified as “Diamond” in the company loyalty program (and will be “Diamond Plus” after two more cruise days), which means that we’ve been on a lot of RCL ships over many years.

I think we began cruising in the late 1970’s, on the Song of Norway. It was a small ship compared to today’s behemoths. Something like the difference between the ships in the photo below.

For my money, the level of service on that ship was the best we’ve ever experienced. It was First Class in every way.

Cruising has changed a lot over the past 40 years. The cost of a basic 7-day trip has remained fairly constant: $500 to $1,000 per person for a basic stateroom. For that amount, you get transportation to lovely destinations, a comfortable place to sleep, and all of the food you can eat. However, as the years have gone by, and as the cruise ships have become bigger and fancier, RCL has increasingly “nickled and dimed” the customer to cover costs and to provide the consumer with more exciting vacation amenities.

The Song of Norway carried maybe 500 passengers; the Allure of the Seas, which we sailed a few years ago, carries more like 3,000 passengers. Plus, the new ships have many more restaurants, bars, shops, and amenities like rock climbing walls, zip lines, artificial wave pools for surfing, giant water slides, miniature golf courses, electronic game rooms, child care facilities, and numerous swimming pools and hot tubs. There’s something for everyone. But, all of those amenities come at a cost.

In the old days, the highlight of each day’s onboard activities was a fancy 7-course meal; in contrast, this week’s dining room meals were 3-course (appetizer, main course, dessert) only. The food was good, but basic. Back on the Song of Norway, the Captain’s Dinner included Surf and Turf, with all the fixin’s, topped off with Baked Alaska or Cherries Jubilee. Oh, and you could have your waiter bring you extra filet mignons or lobster tails, if you wanted to gorge yourself. No extra charge.

On the Serenade of the Seas, there are four specialty restaurants in addition to the main Dining Room. If you desire a first class meal, you have to pay $35 each in the specialty restaurant, or if you want a filet mignon or lobster tail in the Dining Room, you have to pay an extra charge. I think it is like $20 bucks or so. If you want a fancier appetizer, you can pay another $19 to $29 (see below).

We used to gamble on cruise ships. Charlie once won $1,200 within a few minutes of setting sail from Miami, playing 25 cent Video Poker. But, we don’t gamble in the casino any more; the place is just too expensive, the slots too tight. We also used to play Bingo quite a bit, and won money from time to time. (An acquaintance of ours, on a Panama Canal cruise, won $12,000 in the blackout finale.) But, then, the cost to play became more expensive, while the game payoffs decreased dramatically. Both the casino and Bingo games became a revenue center for the company, and profit became more important than customer entertainment. So, we avoid gambling at all nowadays, as do many cruisers. I rarely see crowds in the casino or at Bingo games any more. It’s a shame, because we used to have a lot of fun playing Bingo.

Maybe it’s just because I’m getting old and the memory is fading, but the quality of the stage shows is not what it used to be, either. We saw one a couple of nights ago, and it was…uninspired, as far as I was concerned. It killed an hour, though.

It is a beautiful ship, though. The Centrum (atrium) midships is spectacular.

The Serenade also boasts a high tech pool table which is supposedly able to keep level even when the ship is bounding through heavy swells. I tried the table at port, in calm water, and…it wasn’t level. I hope RCL didn’t spend a lot of money on that contraption.

One technology that does work aboard RCL ships is WiFi. You have to pay for it, of course (I think it costs $10 per day, per device). But, that is cool: to be able to converse with friends while at sea. We didn’t have that on the Song of Norway! (Of course, there were no cell phones nor WiFi back in 1979.)

Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines was late coming to the “Customer Loyalty” party, but, in recent years, RCL has come on strong with some nice perks for returning customers. Like I said earlier, we are now Diamond level in that program. Thus, we are entitled to things such as cruise discounts, Priority Boarding, robes in our stateroom, three free drinks each between the hours of 4:30 and 8:00 p.m., and admittance to the VIP “Diamond Club”. It is a very cozy suite with appetizers, free booze, and an attendant who dotes on you. Very nice.

I have to get going now. Time to put on my suit, grab the wife, and head for the Diamond Club for a few drinks and laughs with our new friends, Linda and David, and then we’ll be off to dinner with some more new friends.

Bon appetit.

 

Yesterday, we took a bus tour of Portland, Maine. Then, today, we did another one, this time in St. John, New Brunswick (Canada).

There was an unfortunate similarity between the two narrated tours: both women tour guides had  terminal cases of the “and, uhs”. It was quite distracting. They were either bored out of their minds, or they didn’t know much about the information that they were imparting.

Not that either city had a whole lot to brag about, in my opinion.

Portland, Maine was settled very early on by the same intrepid folk that brought us Boston. The city burned four times in a hundred years until some genius decided to use bricks instead of wood to clad buildings. The fires must have ceased around the Victorian era, because there is a lot of that style of architecture left in the city. Here’s a nice one:

Portland only has 66,000 residents but the downtown area is heavily built-up with substantial structures, many of which would dwarf anything in Murrieta, California, which has 120,000 residents.

The community is very much into historical preservation around here. Many of the old businesses have died out, but the old brick warehouses and offices remain, vacant. So there’s been a recent trend of re-working those buildings into new businesses. If such a building is re-purposed, the local code requires that signage on the remodeled building refer to the original use. Below, a bank now occupies an old shipping office.

We spent an hour on the bus with our tour guide, and, in that time, she must have said, “And, uh” once every five seconds. No lie; ask Charlie! OMG.

Today, in St. John, we endured a 2-1/2 hour tour of the supposed “highlights” of the city, narrated by a plump lady from the local Historical Society who looked very much like our gay neighbor, Frank Marter, in drag. She, too, was afflicted with the “And, uh” disease. And, I can hardly blame her, for St. John has nothing much to brag about. There are more highlights on our cruise ship!

This city, like Portland, has major fire in its past. Sometime just before the turn of the century (1880?), the place burned to a crisp. Again, too much wood. So, the downtown was rebuilt with brick, and the housing continued to be wood, of the Victorian type. I’ve never seen so many Victorian houses. Nice ones, too. But, we didn’t get a chance to stop and photograph them, as we were in a hurry to get to the “highlights”.

What we did learn from Mrs. And Uh was that the Irving family pretty much owns the city of St. John. They’ve been here for the past 140 years, it seems, selling stuff, building stuff, and donating stuff. In between the “and, uhs”, our guide couldn’t go a minute without pointing out something that the Irvings owned, sold, or managed within the city of 120,000 people. Supposedly, one in five (?) residents is employed by the Irving family businesses. God Bless them. Why the city hasn’t been re-named St. Irving escapes me.

For reasons I cannot understand, many cruise ships make St. John a port of call. Today, there were three large cruise ships in port, giving the local economy a boost, I’m sure.

One of our stops was a large, indoor City Market. Basically, it was a turn-of-the-century WalMart, housed within a huge wooden structure that miraculously survived the Great Fire. It is built on a significant slope, much like the entire downtown, so that the central aisle of the market is essentially a ramp, from top to bottom. It’s quite a colorful place, with all types of vendors and merchandise, displayed in open bins and racks. It reminded me of markets that we’ve visited in Mazatlan, Mexico and Tangiers, Morocco.

The front door of the indoor market is downhill from this fruit merchant. If he were to drop an orange, it would probably roll out the front door!

An unusual sight, at least for us Southern Californians, were the numerous cemeteries dotting the town landscape. One could drive for hours in California without seeing a one, but in these old Northeast cities, they are quite plentiful and part of the neighborhood scenery. There’s much more history back here. In our relatively new communities, it’s, “What have you done for me lately?”..I guess. Besides, property in So Cal is too valuable for grass and headstones.

Something that St. John is famous for is the Bay of Fundy, which has the highest tides on earth. This creates a phenomenon called the “Reversing Falls”, where the St. John River meets the incoming tide. Several times a day, at high tide, there is quite a confrontation when the tide essentially halts the outgoing river in its tracks. Foaming, swirling eddies and choppy water, and the like. Not a place for swimming.

BTW, the ocean water in St. John remains between 49 and 54 degrees all year, so every day is suitable for Polar Bear Club action.

Here’s the place where the ocean tide takes on the St. John River…

…right in front of a huge industrial plant, owned by…the Irving family, of course. (They may own the river, too. I’m not sure.)

The biggest highlight of the tour was a VW Beetle police car, complete with a red light bubble on the roof. Maybe 40 to 50 years ago, all of the police cars here were VW’s, according to Mrs. And Uh.

How cool is that?

 

We are cruising the northeast seaboard right now on the Serenade of the Seas. It will be seven days of gluttony with a bit of sightseeing thrown in.

This being a Fall cruise, in the Northeast, the average age on this ship, exclusive of the help, is probably close to 80. There might be a half-dozen children on the boat among the 2,500 Caucasian passengers.

Hence, we feel young again. Here I am, a spry “youth” among these living fossils, enjoying a Margarita as the ship prepared to set sail.

BTW, literally seconds after this photo was taken, as the ship was just leaving its moorings, a lady over my right shoulder had a stroke (we think). Very quickly, a rapid response team of crew and medical staff were on the scene to render aid. The poor lady was eventually put on a gurney, the ship was moved back to the dock, and the victim was offloaded into an ambulance. What a way to start (and, end) a cruise! I hope she’s OK.

I mentioned to Charlie that, given the age of average passenger, it is probably more than 50-50 odds that someone on board will croak during the week. So, we’ve got that to look forward to.

Charlie and I tried like Hell to eat ourselves to death on our sail out of Boston. We opted to pay a bit extra and have dinner not at the Main Dining Room, but, rather, at a specialty Italian restaurant called Giovanni’s Table. The food was delicious, and none of it was lo cal, believe me. We’ll probably return there later in the week to flesh out our thighs.

Today (2nd cruise day) we awoke at Bar Harbor, Maine. It’s a very picturesque tourist trap, much like Avalon on Catalina Island. A hundred little stores selling tee shirts, ice cream, bric a brac, artsy stuff, and items containing lobster. In fact, they have lobster-flavored ice cream if you are so inclined. We passed on that.

As you can tell from Charlie’s outfit, we caught some of the rain leftover from Hurricane/Tropical Storm Nate, as it petered out over the Northeast states.

This is a local “No Smoking” sign, with typical Main humor.

These are some of the grayhairs that accompanied us on the tender from the ship to the wharf in Bar Harbor. “I’ve lost my Geritol and I can’t stand up!” Nice people, though.

The main export of Maine is lobsters. We were told that 120 million of them were shipped off to restaurants last year. God bless them!

The purpose of our visit to Bar Harbor was not to eat those delicious crustaceans, however. Our goal was to visit Acacia National Park and observe the famous, outrageous “Fall colors”.

Unfortunately for us, the weather was overcast and rainy, coupled with the fact that the Fall was a bit late in coming this year. So, the effect wasn’t as good as it could have been. Dammit.

But, still, it was pretty.

Here’s a nice reddish hardwood which donated a leaf.

Here’s a yellow one.

And, this inn is decorated in technicolor ivy. Very pretty.

I’m guessing that we missed the real show by about three weeks. Maybe next time?

After our motorcoach finished its tour of the national park, we were dumped off in Bar Harbor, where the remnants of Hurricane/Tropical Storm Nate was absolutely drenching the place. We sought shelter in a local restaurant and had a very romantic lunch, listening to the downpour while being warmed by a very fine heater. Loved it.

Tonight is the big Captain’s Dinner. You know the drill: fancy dresses and bling for the women, uncomfortable monkey suits for the guys. Oh, Boy, I can hardly wait!

 

Today, in Boston, we took a trolley tour so we could get the lay of the land. What a cool city!

Of course, it is America’s oldest major city. Everything started here: beans, chowder, cream pies, tea parties, the United States, etc. And, real important things, too, like Boston Terriers. It’s the Mecca of this country.

We had a great trolley driver, Mr. C, who politely advised everyone to talk softly, if at all, while he narrated the tour…so the paying customers could hear his spiel. And, he was good. But, there was a couple of Portuguese yappers a few rows behind us who jabbered continuously and loudly from the get-go. I would have told them to “Shut the F up!”, but a man telling off women in public isn’t that cool. So, I endured it for ten minutes, when…boom!…Charlie Manning turned around and sternly told them to zip it! Hooray for my wife! I was so proud. And, thankful, as were the other customers, some of whom high-fived her.

We’re staying in the Park Plaza Hotel for a couple of days prior to our cruise. Nice place.

On our first night, we ate at Rock Bottom, a bar down the street. Good food!

We’re just down the street from the Boston Common. It’s a huge public area, a poor man’s Central Park, where everyone goes on a bright sunny day. (And, they ice skate there in the Winter.)

There’s a very old cemetery within the Common.

It’s where Gilbert Stuart is buried. He’s the guy who painted the portrait on the one dollar bill.

There are probably hundreds, if not thousands, of historic plaques, statues, and memoria around the city. Here’s one that we passed on Beacon Hill.

Tourist traps abound. We avoided them, as it was a Saturday, and lots of people were in town. We saw “Old Ironsides” from the street, and did a quick drive-by of the Tea Party re-enactment wharf. If you go there, you can toss crates of tea into the water along with a bunch of Indian-costumed actors. Not our cup of tea, so to speak.

We also drove down the street where the Boston Marathon finishes. It’s the place where those terrorists blew up bombs a few years ago.

Just barely spotted the finish line as we passed over it.

Hey, we also drove by Fenway Park, home of Boston’s beloved Red Sox. We’re going to do a tour there after the cruise.

The trolley cut the tour short, so we didn’t see Harvard University, either. But, we’re also going to do a tour there later, so no problem.

The city is so interesting! Lots of old buildings interspersed with brand-new ones. Quite a mix, architecturally-speaking.

 

 

 

We spent a nice time walking down Charles Street later in the day. The sidewalk is paved with bricks, and it is quite uneven. You’ve really got to watch what you’re doing.

I had to take a major pee, so we stopped for lunch at a very petite bistro named Artu.

I half-filled the toilet…awwww right! And, to top it off, the food was excellent. What a stop!

The little bistro was below street level, and used to be a blacksmith shop. The fireplace, which is now used to store wine, was the heat source where the blacksmith did his work. It’s dated 1862.

In California, that would be ancient. But, trolley driver Mr. C. told us a story today about local patriot Paul Revere. The guy was married and had eight children. Mrs. Revere died, and ol’ Paul remarried within the year. The horny dog then fathered eight more children. He raised them in a house he bought in Boston for that new family in the late 1700’s. The house was a fixer-upper, already almost 100 years old at that time. Now, that’s OLD.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                              The God Makers

Human beings have always had a fascination with the seemingly inexplicable mysteries of life.  The very earliest etchings on rocks and cave drawings by Stone Age men include attempts to depict supernatural forces apparently impacting their lives.

It was an extremely stressful and dangerous time.  Finding food, obtaining shelter from the elements, and protecting oneself from predators, including wild animals and other humans, likely preoccupied the mind of early man.  Success in these endeavors not only went to those who worked hard but also to those who just happened to be lucky.  Examples would be those fortunate fellows not to have suffered from a disease, or ambushed by a lion, or victimized by a drought or flood.  Early man obviously pondered these matters and posed questions to himself and others:  “Why did that happen?”, “Why him and not me?”  One of the most perplexing issues to confront our Stone Age man was death.  It looks like sleep but it’s not sleep.  They had to wonder, “What is it and what happens afterward?”

Mysterious Spirits

Opinions began to be developed as soon as humans could communicate with each other.  Since most knowledge of the physical world was as yet undeveloped, anything that could not be explained by earthly means was commonly attributed to supernatural, or otherworldly, causes.  A mysterious force, for example, allowed corn seeds to germinate in Fred Flintstone’s field and not in Barney Rubble’s.  Why did this mysterious force favor Fred over Barney?  Is there any way for Barney to gain favor with this mysterious force?  How should Fred show his gratitude for the favorable treatment?

Eventually, in every human community, there developed individuals who had strong opinions about these unseen spirits.  When a loved one died, or a lightning bolt destroyed a field of crops, an explanation would be sought from the local know-it-all, someone who claimed to understand these spiritual matters.  Often his explanation was that the victim or his clan had somehow offended the mysterious, supernatural force.  The local sage might suggest a show of atonement for the sin, perhaps in the form of an offering of crops or livestock, to mollify the offended unseen force.  If this treatment appeared to work (for example, the problem did not repeat or if the victim felt better about it) then the episode conferred credibility upon the wise man.  If the solution didn’t work, the spiritual adviser could either blame the victim of an unacceptable offering, lack of sincerity, or perhaps that the victim continued to offend the mysterious force.  Or, maybe the sage would come up with another idea; for example, perhaps there are other unseen forces at work?  In a general way of speaking, this is how the concept of gods, clergy and religion came about.

Eventually, most human communities attributed their success and failure to a variety of gods who seemingly influenced human activities either beneficially or negatively, depending upon their mood.  The local spiritual leader, now called a priest, became the spokesperson of the gods and the repository of the lore and wisdom of the local religion.  Eventually, when men developed written language, the oral history/mythology passed down by this religious caste was memorialized on stone tablets and parchments.

A New Kind of Power

Not unimportant in this development of the religious caste was the reality that men could now attain high status and wield power within the community not only with their brawn but with their brain.  Heretofore, it was truly “survival of the fittest”, with the biggest and strongest individuals basically taking what they wanted by hard labor, force or intimidation.  Now, clever people would be rewarded with respect and wealth simply by convincing people to “believe” in things unseen and unproveable, and have the power to coerce group behavior by playing on guilt and intimating threats from the unseen, disrespected spirits or Gods.

This new priestly class in all cultures invented, developed, and merchandised a variety of “transcendental” products, such as lore, rituals, and idols to further exploit their customers’ willingness to suspend disbelief of otherwise fantastic claims.  In many cultures, the unseen movers (or gods) were anthropomorphised (that is, given human characteristics) to help the faithful relate to these all-important unseen movers and shakers.

Judaism – A Blend of Mythologies

The Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) are based on spiritual contemplation in the Middle East going back as far as 4000 B.C.

The actual genesis of these religions is likely the fertility cults that were common throughout the region during the period up to 2000 B.C.  Nothing was more important in the life of primitive people than finding enough to eat.  In a nutshell, a Mother Goddess was believed responsible for the fertility of crops and such fertility was considered sacred.  Eventually the priestly class imagined and evolved a whole pantheon of gods, each one being assigned a different personality and responsibility.  In addition to fertility, there were gods of the sky, the seas, the underworld, of war, and just about anything else that mattered   These spiritual creations eventually were the subject of highly developed mythologies.  In other words, make-believe stories that tried to express perceived realities that were too complex to explain in any other way.  To use an example, every primitive culture in the world has a Creation Myth, an explanation of how the world came about and who caused it to happen.  Of course, no one was around at the time to verify this extraordinary event, but that didn’t matter… the myth presumptively resolved the issue, and over time it became an accepted fact within the culture.  Nowadays, we might call it a politically correct position, as in “everyone knows this is what happened”.

Five thousand years ago, the Middle East was characterized by warring civilizations and cultures.  The Sumerians of Mesopotamia devised the earliest written script, built extraordinary architecture, evolved impressive law, and had a well-established mythology.  These people were, in turn, invaded and conquered by Semitic tribes, then came the Amorites, and later the Assyrians.  Each of these invading cultures put their stamp on the local religious beliefs, and modified the paganistic myths of the time.  The Assyrians made Babylon their capital and attributed their cultural achievements to the gods, which had revealed their own mythical lifestyle to their mythical ancestors.  Thus, Babylon was supposed to be the image of heaven, with each of its temples a replica of a celestial palace.  A series of sacred festivals and ceremonies occurred each year for the purpose of thanking the gods for their protection and assistance.  The bottom line was that the Babylonians believed that their civilization depended upon the sacred power that their gods brought to bear.

The Babylonians also believed that their gods created the world.  An epic poem, the Enuma Elish, was recited during their holy New Year Festival.  It was a deliberately symbolic account of the physical origins of life upon earth, meant to suggest a great mystery and to release its sacred power.  The story told of the great temple in Babylon, constructed in honor of the Sun God, Marduk, by the gods themselves, making Babylon a holy city.  Even though their ancestors had obviously built the temple, the Babylonian mythology, expressed in the Enuma Elish, was meant to relate the gods to the people themselves.  As the story went, man was created after the construction of the temple, out of the divine substance of a god.  There was, therefore, a limited gulf between human beings and their gods, with the primary difference being that the gods were more powerful and were immortal.

One of mankind’s oldest written stories is the Epic of Gilgamesh, a mythological tale of Gilgamesh, who was an historical king of Uruk in Babylonia in about 2700 B.C.  The epic was written during the Third Dynasty of Ur (2150-2000 B.C.) in the Sumerian language on clay tablets which still survive.  In this tale, Gilgamesh, who is two-thirds god and one-third human, is credited with having built the great city of Uruk.  He and a companion have a variety of adventures battling various demons and gods, until his companion dies and is dragged by a demon into Hell.  (Actually, both of the concepts of Heaven, where the gods dwell, and Hell, a dark, dusty place of suffering, are introduced in this most ancient piece of literature, which pre-dates the Hebrew Pentateuch by over 1,000 years.)

As the story progresses, Gilgamesh becomes extremely depressed, realizing that, as part human, he too must eventually die.  He then begins a quest for immortal life, seeking advice and counsel from Utnapishtim, an immortal, who was the king of the world before the Great Flood.  (No, not Noah’s flood.)  In this myth, which predates the biblical one, Utnapishtim and his wife were advised beforehand, on the sly by one of the gods, that a decision had been made to destroy the entire earth in a flood.  The couple was instructed to build a great boat and bring all living things into the boat.  The Flood lasted seven days and seven nights, and the boat came to rest on a mountain peak.  A dove was released… and you know the rest of the story: mankind was saved.  (By the way, in case you were wondering, Gilgamesh never got his wish of eternal life, but he did go on to become a king and build a great city.)

At about the same time as this epic story circulated, there was a very real person, Hammurabi, who became the first king of the Babylonian Empire in 1728 B.C.  He is famous for his set of laws, known as Hammurabi’s Code, one of the first recorded codes of law in human history.  The Code contained 282 laws, written on a large stone monument which was placed in the center of Babylon, and which could be read by any literate person.  A carving at the top of the monument, which was discovered in 1901, portrays Hammurabi receiving the laws from the god Shamash, and the preface to the Code states that Hammurabi was chosen by the gods of his people to bring the laws to them.  The structure of the code is very specific, with each offense receiving a specified punishment.  The punishments tended to be harsh by modern standards, with many offenses resulting in death, disfigurement, or the use of the “eye for eye, tooth for tooth” philosophy.  Putting the laws into writing was important in itself because it suggested that the laws were immutable and above the power of any earthly king to change.  Hence the common phrase:  “written in stone”.  The code contains one of the earliest examples of the concept of presumption of innocence, and it also suggests that the accused and accuser have the opportunity to provide evidence.  However, there is no provision for extenuating circumstances to alter the prescribed punishment.

The above-described culture (including the common belief in various gods, the perception that man is descended from the gods, the idea that their gods created the world and were responsible for humankind’s cultural achievements, the idea that kings were divinely ordained if not gods themselves, and the idea that the gods passed down through designated leaders the laws that should govern civilization) was in place within the Middle East at the time that the ancient Hebrew patriarch Moses was said to have talked with God.  Moses is a central figure in the Hebrew Pentateuch (the first five chapters of the Old Testament of the Holy Bible), and is attributed in some circles with having written the Pentateuch himself, with guidance from God.

The Law and the Covenant

Moses wasn’t the original Hebrew, however.  According to Genesis, the first book of the Old Testament, that distinction falls to Abraham, who was 75 years old when God personally revealed his oneness and his plan for Abraham’s clan.  If they would recognize God as their one and only god, and worship and obey him, he would favor the Hebrews among all people of the earth (i.e. the idea of the Jews being the “Chosen People”) and would give them all the lands of Canaan, i.e. the “Promised Land” of Israel.  This was a unique concept at that time.  All cultures of the region, indeed of the known world at the time, worshipped many gods, each with different powers.  According to Abraham, this particular god revealed himself as the all-powerful, all-knowing superior to the other, lesser spirits.  This god demanded fealty and absolute respect of his rules and orders.

According to the Genesis account, Abraham and his clan agreed to this Covenant with God (including the requirement of the males to be circumcised, thus reminding them of the Covenant) and thus began a long and tumultuous relationship between the Jews and their supernatural boss, known to them as Yahweh (but we’ll call him the God of Abraham).  The Old Testament basically recounts the trials and tribulations of the Hebrew people from the time of Abraham up to approximately 500 B.C. , just after the Babylonian captivity and around the time of the rebuilt (formerly King Solomon’s) Temple in Jerusalem.

Although Moses takes a leading role in the Old Testament story (and gets the “Ten Commandments” movie deal in the process!), it is the patriarch Abraham who really got the ball rolling regarding monotheism (the belief in one God), and it is interesting to note that this one, Hebrew-created God is recognized by Christians and Muslims today as the very same God that they pray to.  Thus, Abraham was the founding father of three of the world’s most populous religions.

So, to summarize, the awe and wonder of clueless cave men contemplating the mysteries of their environment metamorphosed, with the help of self-appointed spiritualists, from crude superstitions to rigid ceremonies, hierarchies, rules, and regulations regarding the one Almighty God over a period of a few thousand years.  The priestly class, which had once surmised about the unseen forces, now (according to themselves) spoke directly with God on matters of importance and acted as His lieutenants here on earth, making sure that the plain folk toed the line.

If these priests were not kings themselves, they were surely on their way to becoming kingmakers.

We’ve just finished our 5th week here in Oceanside, California at Paradise by the Sea. And, I haven’t been in the surf once, despite the fact that the ocean is just a few hundred yards to the west.

The weather’s been great, and we’ve been busy, for sure. But, for the past three weeks, I’ve had stitches in my left hand, so I’ve been kept high and dry. The last of my stitches get removed today…Hooray!

I took Booger and JayJay to Dog Beach in Del Mar this past week. They spent about an hour there, off leash, with about fifty other mutts. It’s like Disneyland for Dogs, a joyous place, where the hounds can roam free, play with each other, chase balls into the waves, and generally make fools of themselves without human intervention.  JayJay spent most of his time peeing on rocks, clumps of seaweed, children’s toys, beach blankets, etc. He has no shame. Booger, who is the more social of the two, became Ball Hog of the beach, dominating any game of fetch that she happened upon. The good thing about her, as compared to most dogs, is that she always returns the ball right to the feet of the person who threw it.

Of course, the dogs got filthy dirty, and, even after I toweled them off, they got sand and junk all over the Jeep while we drove back to the RV park. But, they enjoyed their brief play day at Dog Park, so it was worth it. They need more exercise like that. And, they need to be just dogs every so often, instead of human accessories.

The drive down to Dog Beach on Pacific Coast Highway is about 19 miles. Along the way, there are lots of views of great surfing spots in Carlsbad, Leucadia, and Encinitas. The weather was good, there was a decent swell, and lots of surfers packed the best beaches. It brought back memories…

Back in the 60’s, when I was in high school, surfing was just taking off. The Beach Boys were the “spokesmen” of the movement, and it was cool to wear Mexican huarache sandals (with the tire tread soles). At my high school (in Alhambra, California), there were several cliques, among them: the Soshes (the elite, snobs); the Athletes; the Surfers (“Dude!”); and, the Beaners (the politically correct term for Mexicans, in the day). The rest of the un-washed masses were just the Nerds, I guess. Personally, I was socially inept Nerd who just so happened to be an Athlete, which made me kind of acceptable to the Sosh crowd. In other words, to use a canine term, I was a mongrel.

As opposed to our friends who went to Montebello High School, we didn’t have a pool at Mark Keppel High, so we couldn’t be on a high school swim team nor play water polo. In the Summer, my brother Terry and I and our best friends were competitive swimmers, in sanctioned events throughout Southern California, operating out of the local municipal pools. We loved the ocean when we could get to it. Most of our friends didn’t have cars yet, but Terry and I had motor scooters, which we would drive the 38 miles to Huntington Beach so that we could body surf and belly board.

The Huntington Beach Pier was Ground Zero in Surf City, U.S.A. Hanging out there was a treat for us inland folk. Lots of mostly naked teenage girls strolling up and down the beach, great waves, and the thrill of “shooting the pier” while bodysurfing or bellyboarding. It was a risky endeavor, but we were teenage daredevils, and…what the Hell! Especially when the waves were big. You’d have to swim under the pier out to the break between sets (because the pilings would break up the force of the incoming waves just a bit).

On the way in, taking a big wave, you’d cut left just inshore from the Bait House, and, if you were lucky, you’d scoot through the pilings without getting mangled on the frigging barnacles. Here’s pro surfer Kelly Slater giving it a go.

A real nightmare was getting wiped out when you were under the pier, because you’d get tossed around like a pin ball, bouncing off of the pilings. I’ve still got at least one scar to prove my stupidity.

We’d even surf in the Winter down at the Pier. In wetsuits, of course, but our exposed skin would be purple when we got out of the water. Our favorite way of warming up was to hustle up Main Street, a few hundred yards from PCH, and buy steaming hot baked potatoes from a small market. I think they cost 50 cents, and were covered in butter and BBQ sauce. We’d sit on the street curb and eat those delicious taters, and we’d feel the heat descent from our lips all the way down into our frigid core. All the while, bragging about how we’d cheated death that morning! What a life!

The Beach Boys and Jan and Dean wrote songs about that life, and we lived some of it, as best we could, living 38 miles away without cars. Later on, when I was a lifeguard, and later a swim instructor, and could afford a car, many a day was spent down at the Pier. Occasionally, our group would venture a few miles south to “The Wedge” in Newport.

It is a world-reknowned body surfing spot, where the incoming waves careen off a jetty, causing the wave crest to quickly rise up another 50 percent just before it comes onshore. Those waves break in shallow water, so it is very tricky to competently surf a large wave without getting speared into the sand.

To make matters worse, the beach slopes steeply to the surf, so there is an amphitheatre-effect going on there, where the good-looking girls and sane guys get a ring-side seat to great feats of body surfing and the carnage of wannabes who get arms and necks broken trying to be manly. See below.

The guys who could really handle the Wedge were the big lumberjacks from the U.S.C. water polo team. When the big waves rolled in, only they were out there.

I never got hurt there as a youth, but, years later, I did chip a bone in my elbow getting planted by a wave a few miles south of the Wedge at Emerald Bay in Laguna. (What the hey…no pain, no gain!) Of course, I was about 40 then, showing off to my sons. Ugh.

I am now almost 70 and I still like to bellyboard. I haven’t made it out to the surf this year, but I intend to do so when we return from Boston (October 28th). My left hand will be healed by then. I’ve got to get some use out of my wetsuit, board, and fins this year!