I have come here to lose the smog

(Joni Mitchell, "Woodstock")
Herewith pics of Sunday's experience, which was just like Woodstock, minus the drugs and great music, and plus clothing for everyone, much of it Scottish.

Click on the pics and they'll grow.

This could be just about anywhere in the wealthy world, couldn't it... but it's the site of the annual Scottish Highlander Gathering here in Jakarta,

On the grounds of a gorgeous suburban resort area that I can't be bothered to spell...

But this is a dry season in name only. we're still getting torrential downpours every other day, and this morning was no different. The caber-tossers, ruggers, dancers, and tug-o'-war pullers got plenty of slop up their kilts...

Children's choirs singing just above the bog and 'neath the imported whiskey, surrounded by festive free-beer drinkers and blonde-haired toddlers frollicking in puddles.

As darkness fell adults and children alike gathered for the ritual burning of a Viking ship...

and then suddenly it felt a little like...

looking up at the sky...

over a minor league ballpark...

on the 4th of July

Baby I'm a Star

Hey, Look Me Over
Tell Me Do you Like What you See?
Hey, I Ain't Got No Money
But Honey I'm Rich On Personality (Thanks, Prince)

In the ten days after I returned, I made my television debut ... twice. A news interview (Bule in bar) commenting on warnings of terrorist attacks, and an honest to gosh TV commercial with dialogue, for which I earned ... well, it was for the University with which we are nearing a partnership agreement, so I didn't really want to refuse, and it WAS decent money by local standards. Fun as always, everyone had a good laugh for a couple of hours, provided the requisite goofball screwup outtakes, but alas I have no pics...

Brother Love's Travelling Salvation Show

"Take my hand in yours
Walk with me this day
In my heart, I know
I will never stray
Halle, halle, halle, halle, halle, halle, halle


It's Love, Love
Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" (N. Diamond)

The pics below are clickable for larger versions...

Just got back from ten days in the US -- where I was honored and thrilled to marry two of my closest friends, John Anderson and Amanda (nee Heagy). We had a blast putting the ceremony together, and getting through it in fairly spectacular fashion, with a little help from the Bard, Walt Whitman, John Donne, and several fine orators. Here John and I, having gotten over the shock, watch the glorious Amanda approach with her father.

Afterwards provided a wonderful occasion to reconnect with old highway-riding friends for a couple of hours... one friend common to all of us was missing (see below).

Bruce could not attend, but by a synchronous freak of mythic proportions, he played at John's alma mater (and my current employer) about 20 minutes from the rehearsal dinner DURING the rehearsal dinner... so his endorsement of the new couple (Amanda's brilliantly coordinated wedding gift to John) WAS in covert attendance.

I then went north for a great project-filled week with Mom and Claude in Maine, and a reunion with Mom #2 and family in Connecticut, but soon after the wedding, truth be told, I was itching to get back to this life and language I've just started learning with relish and near-abandon: Where the performance is not always a show stopper, but you can usually almost catch the pink rubber ball some baby God drops into Jakarta Bay every evening. This is the ball with the red ring around it.

But some evenings the early show traps your gaze and goes on forever,

And then three minutes later the late show gives you this.