Villista Rider

 

Federale Bugler

 

General Fierro

I wonder if one really could fight effectively, in pitched battle, wielding a melee weapon in one hand and a pistol in the other. I suppose many soldiers have. 
 

Americano Mercenario

 

Zapatista Rifleman

 

The 2030 NHL Expansion

Sean (and many others) were quite happy about the latest Edmonton Oilers win in the current NHL Stanley Cup playoffs. During a text discussion, the Florida Panthers were misnamed the Florida Planters. I jumped on the typo, saying that Atlanta should have a team called the Georgia Planters. Sean responded with some AI-generated art, including an adorable mascot (above) and a couple of jersey designs: 

Inspired, I turned to Bing Image Generator and asked it to create some jerseys for hypothetical future teams. Sports fans, please welcome

The Saskatchewan Saskatoons! 

The Halifax Schooners!

The Tijuana Fiesta! 

And the Reykjavík Vikings! 

Dune Thing

Washed ashore, this fine debris
Hard-shelled bounty from the sea
Found by Gilligan, first mate guy
Baked by Mary Ann into coconut cream pie

The Perils of Depth of Field

Deep Fried Pastels

When You're Hot, You're Hot

Whew! It's a scorcher in Alberta's capital today - enough heat to knock out power at the corner of 124th street and Jasper Avenue and to incapacitate my afternoon bus right at that very intersection. Dead bus + no traffic lights = cranky commuters, whether on public transit or private vehicles.

Fortunately another bus rescued the two dozen or so sweaty riders belched from the doors of our fallen carriage, and despite what seemed an interminable delay escaping the gridlock on the west end of Jasper, I made it to West Edmonton Mall in time to catch a transfer home. (Normally I walk from WEM to our condo, but today I was worried I'd catch heat stroke, as I so often have in the past.)

As a creature of the north, I still find Alberta's hot summer days uncomfortable, even many years after I should have acclimatized. Since my body refuses to accept that it doesn't live in northern Manitoba anymore, I've had to take precautions such as drinking lots of water and staying in cool basements or air-conditioned offices.

How Many Times Has Earl Suffered Heat Stroke? (not a comprehensive list)

"I'll certainly be cool enough next to this fountain!"

1. Namao air show circa 1988 and again circa 1990 (rendered unto incoherence to the nervous glances of friends, skin tone: Afterburner Glow)
2. Las Vegas 2004 ("Boy, you look like a boiled lobster!" exclaimed one helpful southerner; incapacitated for one day, skin tone: Three-Cherry Jackpot)
3. Honolulu 2008 while listening to a Barack Obama campaign speech (skin tone: Republican Rage)
4. Mexico 2012 while touring Chitzen Itza (rescued by helpful Mayans and Germans, skin tone: Abashed Tourist)
5. Nelson, B.C. circa 1973 (vomited up pink ice cream, saved by parents, skin tone: Tantrum Toddler) 

Stay frosty out there.

"Hey now, someone tell that Canadian kid to put on some sunscreen."

One Mayan Leap

While looking through images of our trip to Mexico, I was inspired to create this little tableau. The scale of the lunar landers is probably all wrong, but I was eyeballing it. Perspective is really tricky.

Going Out With Style

I forgot to mention one thing about our trip to Mexico. During the flight, I whispered an aside to Sylvia: "I've always hoped that if I were ever in an airplane crash, I'd have the presence of mind and sense of humour to hold my hands over my head and yell 'Wheeee!' as if I were merely riding a rollercoaster."

Ideally the crash would turn out to be minor - one of those where the plane only loses its landing gear and skids to a safe halt with no injuries. I think I'd earn a lot of style points in that case, or a lot of dirty looks from the other passengers.

Realm of Earl, June 2012

Some weeks ago I posted a map of an imaginary Dominion of Earl with borders crafted from the outermost reaches of my travels. Our trip to Mexico made an update necessary, but rather than just expanding my borders to include the Yucatan and Quintana Roo I also fired the domain cartographers and hired more accurate surveyors. Thus, this new map expands to the south, but its northern borders are more conservative, reflecting stops I've made in northern Saskatchewan and Alberta and Kenora, Ontario.

I've also renamed my demesne the Realm of Earl, mainly because "realm" and "Earl" are near-anagrams.

I'm hoping my next big trip will take us somewhere to Europe; Sylvia and I have had France and the UK on our list for a while now, but the circumstances haven't lined up yet. Maybe next summer or fall...in the meantime, I might make a quick road trip up to Yellowknife just so I can cross another territory and Canadian capital off my list. New York City is also on our short list, which would expand the Realm's borders to the Atlantic coast.

But that will have to wait until I find a new job and replenish the Realm's treasury. Heavy lies the head that wears the crown!

Mexican Sendoff, Part Four

In my first post about our trip to Mexico, I touched on the private misgivings Sylvia and I shared regarding the morality of the tourist experience in developing countries. About halfway through the trip we discussed our feelings about what we'd seen: malnourished, prematurely aged citizens, homes made out of rubble, freeways overflowing with luxury vehicles burrowing through vast slums. On the resorts, tourists are isolated from these realities, but even on the short trip from the airport to the riviera the evidence of a great divide between rich and poor is abundant and unavoidable. The reality becomes even more evident when you venture beyond the tourist enclaves.

We asked each other some troubling questions: how do the Mexicans here really feel about the tourists they're serving? Are they happy to have relatively good jobs? Resentful that rich Europeans, Australians and Norteamericanos make repeated visits to luxury resorts on Mexican soil - resorts that the vast majority of Mexicans can't afford to visit?

I'm not saying that a nation's attractions should be limited to citizens of that nation; as a humanist, I think the world belongs to all its citizens. But it does seem somewhat unjust that the world's rich peoples have so much more opportunity to enjoy Earth's cultural and geographic treasures.

There's no question that tourism is vital to the Mexican economy and contributes significantly to their GDP. It still seems unfair that I suffer less economic hardship to visit the Yucatan than, say, a poor Mexican from Mexico City would, despite the hypothetical Mexican living thousands of kilometres closer to the Mayan Riviera and all its attractions.

When Sylvia and I were in Valladolid, our supper stop after Chitzen Itza, we separated from our tour group and were caught in a sudden torrential downpour. Taking shelter near a hole-in-the-wall shop, we found ourselves conversing with a very talkative and friendly Mexican, apparently the shop owner or manager, eager to practice his English. He carried a well-worn Spanish/English dictionary with him, and we talked about fish, of all things. While we spoke, an ancient and withered woman hobbled up to us in an effort to sell us - well, I'm not sure exactly what. She spoke no English and her Spanish accent was too thick for Sylvia to penetrate, but it was clear she wanted us to buy whatever was in the heavy bags she lugged around. With only enough pesos left to cover tips for our tour guides and the staff back at the resort, I passed, though I still feel bad about it.

But that being said, I wonder if my guilt is misplaced or even paternalistic, condescending. The woman wasn't at all disappointed our put off by our disinclination to purchase; she simply moved on to the next person on the street. Her advanced age and independence suggested that she didn't need the help of rich tourists to survive, so isn't it self-indulgent to feel guilt? Or is that simply the rationalization of a comparatively wealthy person looking for excuses not to help?

These issues bounced around in my head continuously during our trip, and I still don't have any clear answers. I can say only a few things without ambiguity: first, all the Mexicans we encountered, off-resort and on, were unfailingly friendly, helpful and interesting, and they made the trip doubly rewarding. Second, Mexico possesses great natural and cultural wonders that I feel privileged to have witnessed. And finally, I hope that tourism will eventually help all Mexicans enjoy a far greater standard of living than many of them currently enjoy.

Mexican Sendoff, Part Three

I suggested the Mexican Riviera as our next vacation destination for two reasons: one, so that I could visit the east coast of North America, and two, so that we could see Chitzen Itza, the wondrous and ancient Mayan ruins.

It's a three-hour bus ride from the coast of Quintana Roo into the heart of the state next door, Yucatan, home of Chitzen Itza. Young Alejandro, of proud Mayan descent himself, was our guide, and he took pains to explain Mayan science and philosophy, closely linked to their obsession with time and water. I learned that in the Yucatan peninsula, water comes from cenotes, underground rivers, rather than conventional creeks and streams. Alejandro also scoffed at those who misinterpret the Mayan calendar to claim that the world will end in 2012; to the Mayans, this year is just the end of one 5,000 year old cycle and the beginning of another.

Chitzen Itza is a protected archeological site, but it's also a tourist trap, and as you travel from ruin to ruin, you run a gauntlet of vendors hawking arts and crafts of varying quality. Alejandro offered some advice on how to avoid shysters and get good deals, but he also gave us a warning:

"If you want to buy from a vendor that I know is bad, I'm not going to say a word. Because while there is only one Alejandro, there are hundreds of vendors."

The heat was immense: plus 42. Even with my hat, sunscreen and an umbrella provided by the tour company, my endurance was quickly flagging. I was dripping with sweat in minutes, the intense discomfort alleviated only by the spectacle of the magnificent ruins around me:

Despite my physical discomfort, I was elated to witness such an ancient and magnificent spectacle with my own eyes. It's one thing to know that such wonders exist; quite another to reach out and touch them.

By the time our tour of Chitzen Itza was complete, I was badly sunburned and dehydrated. Fortunately some kindly German tourists, our driver Edem and Alejandro took good care of us, bringing cold towels, more water, and most importantly, the comfort of an air-conditioned bus. On our way back to Quintana Roo we stopped at the old Spanish-style town of Valladolid, where we enjoyed not only Spanish architecture from the 1500s, but also some excellent Lime soup and the friendliness of the locals. A fantastic outing I'll remember forever.

Mexican Sendoff, Part Two

While Sylvia and I took great pains to prevent me from yet again getting heat stroke and sunburn in the middle of a vacation, the Mexican sun turned out to be too powerful for both of us. A couple of days of fooling around in the pool gave both of us pretty nasty burns despite our efforts to repeatedly slather ourselves with the most powerful sunblock available.

At this point, however, we were both ignorant of the damage we were doing to our skin, and blithely moved on to scratch an important item from Sylvia's bucket list: swimming with dolphins. Here are the highlights of that experience:

Sylvia proved an adept dolphin rider. Dolphin Riders of Quintana Roo...might make a good adventure series.

I managed to avoid drowning, but I did swallow quite a bit of salt water.

The dolphin gave me a kiss to help me feel better. Fresh!

To reiterate an earlier post, swimming with dolphins would never have occurred to me independently, but I'm very glad Sylvia convinced me to do it.

Here are some special bonus poolside shenanigans. Tomorrow, our adventures in Chitzen Itza!

Super Hombre Tourista displays remarkable feats of strength! Unlike the Hulk, this hero's skin turns red as he gets stronger.