Embark on a Hero’s Quest. It’s not Just for the Young.

Posted on February 21, 2020 by connieottmann

We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us. Follow your bliss, and the universe will open doors where there were only walls. Joseph Campbell.

A trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the exhibition, The Last Knight: The Art, Armor,and Ambition of Maximilian I before it closed, happened to coincide with rereading a couple of inspiring books, The Power of Myth, by Joseph Campbell with Bill Moyers, and Do the Work, by Steven Pressfield. Together they inspire a call to action: create a new vision of the future, embark on a quest, slay the dragon of resistance to bring it to fruition.

His horse couldn’t be lacking in sumptuous adornment. A similar Bard (body armor for war horses) was presented by Maximilian I to Henry VIII.

Campbell’s quote could apply to Maximilian I. Although he was the son of a Holy Roman Emperor, he got little kingly guidance at home. He realized his own “unique potentiality for experience” and created a vision of what constituted a great ruler. With little money, land, prestige, or political clout, he forged a new identity with a marriage to Marie of Burgundy, a full-on propaganda campaign, crafted armor befitting the gods, and dazzling jousting tournaments. In today’s lingo, he knew how to create a brand.

His alliances and military strategies earned him the title of one of the most powerful leaders in European history and probably the label “hero.” I imagine him, with the flick of his fingers, casting off the past and then plunging himself headlong into an uncertain future.

According to Campbell, most hero stories are about the young–finding themselves confronting the unknown in a place, a forest perhaps. The hero embarks on this journey and must leave dependency and immaturity behind and then find the passion and courage deep within to overcome many trials. If she or he is strong enough, the end result and revelations learned along the way will bring the hero to a richer and mature new life, a new consciousness– a mythological death and a rebirth.

But a hero’s quest isn’t just for the young!

Ceremonial Armor of Charles V, grandson of Maximilian I and future Emperor. The cost of this armor would be equal to the price of a Manhattan townhouse in today’s market. Original photo

A hero’s journey is exactly what we need in the later stages of our lives. To look inward, To be reborn. To save ourselves.

When we’re older, past childbearing/ child rearing years, or in retirement, we can find ourselves suddenly lost too, wondering what it all means? Our trials are different– lost youth, declining bodily functions, confronting mortality (technology!)–but no less difficult. Shouldn’t we to go forth and participate in life with as much courage and vitality as we did when we were young?

I think so. We Boomers are leading the way.

Now that we’re living longer we have another chance to take this adventure. Maybe it’s finally taking a cross-country trip, committing to a healthy life style, writing that book, or starting that business venture. You don’t have to go far or put yourself in much danger. But you do have to get out of your comfort zone.

Mechanical Breastplate for the Joust of War. Date:1480-1500. Medium: Steel, copper alloy. Original photo

Mechanical Breastplate for the Variants of the Joust of War. Date: 1480-1500. Meduim: Steel, copper alloy. Original photo

Getting started and staying the course is the hard part. In his book Do The Work, Steven Pressfield puts is this way:

On a field of the Self stand a knight and a dragon. You are the knight. Resistance is the dragon.

Joust of War in Field Armor. Date: 1512-15. Gouache with gold and silver highlights over pen, pencil, and lead point on paper.

Joust of War. Date 1512-15. Gouache with gold and silver highlights over pen, pencil, and lead point on paper.

Resistance will probably be the greatest trial, and some of the “greatest hits” that elicit the dragon of resistance according to Pressfield are any creative art, any course or program designed to overcome a bad habit or addiction, education of any kind, any act that entails commitment of the heart. In essence, “any act that derives from our higher nature instead of our lower.”

Pressfield says we can use resistance as a compass.

Rule of thumb: “The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel towards pursuing it.”

Designed for a contest between two men with polaxes (long battle axes), swords, or daggers inside an inclosure. This was the most frightening of all contests. There were no rules.Talk about trials!

Foot Combat Armor of Maximilian I.

Next to resistance, Pressfield, goes on to say, “…rational thought is the soul’s worst enemy. “Bad things happen when we employ rational thought, because rational thought comes from the ego.” Rational thought or the ego will find a multitude of reasons why this adventure is a bad idea. It wants to play it safe, quell those fears that arise. What’s the solution?

Instead, we want to work from the Self, that is, from instinct and intuition, from the unconscious.

Working from the self requires spending some quiet time away from social media, texting, anything that constantly grabs our attention. Long walks, keeping a journal, enjoying nature, prayer/meditation help to cultivate intuition and shed light on the unconscious. These are simple undertakings, yet they require the most effort. But what a thrill it will be to live a second self– a new version of you.

Steel Gloves–Gauntlets– of Maximilian I. These give new meaning to the expression: Throwing down the Gauntlet. Original photo

Joseph Campbell coined the phrase follow your bliss. He affirmed living life as an adventure.

What each must seek in his life never was on land or sea. It is something out of his own unique potentiality for experience, something that never has been and never could have been experienced by anyone else.

So, throw down the gauntlet.

And with your higher self, pick it up.

Embrace the challenge.

NYC Artist Poogy (Briggs) Bjerklie, a Hallowell, Maine Native, has a One-Woman Show at the Sears Peyton Gallery, New York, NY.

Posted on February 4, 2020 by connieottmann

New York City is still a mecca for artists the world over, and the neighborhood of Chelsea, home to hundreds of galleries, is often hailed as one of the city’s most important and influential art districts.

One of the many exciting things about living here is being exposed to all this stimulating creativity and attending art openings. What’s even more exciting is when the one-woman show at the Sears Peyton Gallery, in Chelsea, belongs to a childhood friend who grew up in Hallowell, Maine, and graduated from the Maine College of Art.

Early Morning, oil on panel 20x 20 inches.

Between the Trees, oil on panel, 27×27 inches.

Along with a festive and colorful crowd, I was able to celebrate, Poogy Bjerklie, The In-Between, her second exhibition with the gallery. Described as “…landscape paintings, rendered both intimate and anonymous, imagined and reimagined, on dreamy, luscious surfaces,” I would add that her work has an old world, other worldly quality, which draws you in to reflect on happy childhood memories playing outdoors hoping for talking animals and fairy sightings. Her paintings evoke a response.

Poogy and husband, John opening night..

An art patron at the opening. Love the coat.

Poogy’s story is interesting. After graduating from Maine College of Art, where she met her husband, John, she somewhat reluctantly agreed to move to Brooklyn. Back in the 90’s, they rented a huge apartment that included studio space in what was then an AIR (Artist in Residence) building, which housed about 13 other artists.

At the time, Poogy was creating hand-painted clothing in addition to oil paintings. It was common back then for landlords to ask tenants to hold open studio weekends to showcase their art. Many artists became suspicious because more and more, landlords saw this as an opportunity for real estate developers to have easy access to view the entire building and then make an offer on the property. This wasn’t the case with her landlord.

Not wanting people traipsing through her space, she reluctantly agreed, and, instead, built a temporary wall about four feet into her studio that prevented the public not only passage into her work area but also her living space. She painted and distressed the wall a rich bronze color that captured the light and beautifully enhanced seven small paintings.

Her display caught the eye of one woman in particular during the event. After admiring Poogy’s work, she bought one painting and announced, “I’m scheduling a one person show of your work in October.” This patron happened to represent the Phatory, an East Village art gallery, still open today, specializing in contemporary art.

Every painting sold.

The rest is history.

In 2018, The Maine Museum of Art located in Bangor, part of the University of Maine, Orono, selected Poogy to exhibit her work entitled, Poogy Bjerklie, Nowhere in Particular, at one of its five separate exhibition spaces. The Museum had found her through the Sears Peyton Gallery and had been looking at her work over the years. Oddly enough, they didn’t realize at the time she was a Maine native.

Her work was displayed at the museum from January 12–May 5, 2018. Typically, artists don’t usually sell paintings at museum shows, but as luck, or should I say, talent would have it, Poogy sold four paintings to one collector.

Distant Mountains, oil on paper mounted on wood 11 1/4 x 11 1/4.

Proud moment with a dear friend at her solo show.

While New York City (Queens to be exact) continues to be her primary residence, she still owns seasonal lake property in Maine where she draws inspiration from its natural beauty like so many artists before her. In fact most, if not all, her pieces in this current show were done in Maine this summer.

What makes this a particularly significant event for Poogy is that the year 2020 is proving to be an exciting time for women in the arts as museums everywhere are focusing requisitions and programming on long, underappreciated female artists.The Baltimore Museum of Art has even dedicated all its 2020 programs and exhibitions to women. There couldn’t be a better time to be recognized with a solo show.

Her journey from small town Maine to New York City and having gained entree into its high velocity art scene is notable. Surrounded by lush and graceful paintings representing years of hard work and well honed talent was profound. The vitality and enthusiasm in the room opening night was palpable.

It is inspiring to see an artist still opening her heart–still following her bliss.

Why You Should Ride the NYC Subway. In a world of growing divisions, it has taught me, instead, to see our similarities and shared humanity.

Posted on January 21, 2020 by connieottmann

I’m not Ubering around here.

What I am doing is trying to master NYC mass transit. Like Luke Skywalker, introduced to the ways of the Jedi, I’ve got it in my head this self imposed, home schooled education will earn me my way to the title of Resident New Yorker.

Each trip is a revelation about living here… and a revelation about my 66 year-young- self. I’ve been venturing out of my Brooklyn neighborhood to other locations in Manhattan on a regular basis, sometimes during the comfort of daylight other times under the cover of darkness and long shadows late at night (well, 11:00PM is late for me).

Every ride on the subway is akin to finding yourself suddenly cast in some kind of bizarre Best Short Film.

The NYC subway car is a microcosm of the world young and old, rich and poor, fresh and scrubbed, ripe and unwashed, from far and away, born and raised, unpretentious, ultra glamorous, inconspicuous, and ostentatious, blowzy, mangy, kind, and surly. Thrown together hurly-burly.

Often times, uncomfortably, up close and personal.

On an 8:00AM rush hour car, I find myself crammed like cattle nose to cheek, desperately seeking not only something solid to grip but also a place to rest my eyes. For some insane reason, people do not, “Stand clear of closing doors,” and move to the center of the car where lucky patrons enjoy ample room. NOooo. Everyone prefers to keep their back-packs on and inflict pain on each other squeezing in near the exits. And people put up with it! Occasionally the herd isn’t so docile, and an angry bellow, “MOVE!” causes a seismic shift.

It pays to have both a sense of humor and sense of the ridiculous. I choose viewing this situation through a playful lens. It’s fascinating. Each ride unique.

And then it’s not so amusing. Some poor, afflicted creature displaying an I’m-off-my-meds-I’m-high behavior sends a slight ripple of unease through the air. I witness a young guy in army green, ear phones plugged in, pacing back and forth the entire length of the car, weaving around the poles, arms flailing playing air guitar. We ride four stops this way until other passengers board and fill the space.

There’s often good entertainment while catching a connecting train.

Sometimes you get a double feature. A hopeful singer looking to raise money for recording fees bursts into song with finesse and surprising range. Time stands still, and for a few moments there’s a unified field of good will, dollars collected. Panhandlers of every design, too, share this captive audience. This one, a mountain of a man, bearded with long dark hair, wearing a DIY muumuu from what appears to be a bed sheet. He eventually shuffles along.

But wait….amazingly, chivalry is alive and well. Standing in a crowded train, I feel a slight tug on my coat sleeve. As I look down into the face of an earnest young man, he silently gestures to me to take his seat. On the one hand, I groan inwardly thinking, do I look that old? But on the other hand, I think, how can I refuse such a courtly gesture? It’s obvious he loves his Momma, and she’d be proud of this outward show of manners.

The Q train at East 72nd Street, Manhattan. So this is how the other half lives.

These subway, mini-adventures have made me realize that we sacrifice a lot of living today for the comforts of convenience. Our lives have become so busy and outwardly projected, heads down, eyes to phones, that we no longer really see each other and lose those fleeting, often joyous moments of connection with total strangers reminding us that in the end, we’re all just trying to make it through the night.

Of course, at some point, I’ll dial up an Uber.

In the meantime, I’ll enjoy commiserating and communing on the subway with my “Human Family.” Maya Angelou expressed it poignantly in her like-named poem:

I note the obvious difference

between each sort and type,

but we are more alike my friends,

than we are unalike.

In order to follow your Heart, you have to roll with the punches AND with the bed springs when pursuing a New Adventure.

Posted on January 2, 2020 by connieottmann

As we get older, we tend to like coming home and sleeping in the security of our own, comfy cocoons. I figure in the last five weeks, I’ve had to sleep in ten strange beds, and variations of beds, (alone) in a variety of different places. No easy feat for a boomer since getting enough shut eye is essential to our well being. And let’s face it. A good night’s sleep is harder to get than… a seat on the G train at rush hour. Like the princess and the pea, I’ve had to stay honest and true to myself by suffering some minor inconveniences like this.

But stepping out of my comfort zone is a constant requirement, and everything is just more strenuous here. For example, moving into my place took a Herculean effort. I had to GPS it from Irvington to Brooklyn in gridlock, hope for a place to park without parking restrictions close to my building, and then make eight (I counted) trips that consisted of : a) unloading an item; b) locking my car; c) carrying heavy item about 200 feet; d) use other set of keys to unlock outside door; e) cart my heavy bag/ plastic tub up two flights of stairs; e) unlock apartment door; f) drop the stuff off; g) lock the door; h) head back down to the car; i) unlock the car; j) …w,x,y,z; REPEAT. Like Sisyphus rolling his rock up the hill, I have my Camu moments of thinking this undertaking is absurd, but they evaporate and the excitement returns.

Heading home from the G train.

Still… unconscious fears lurk below the surface.

During my first week in the apartment, on the night of the full moon, (December 12th at 12:00PM) I had a vivid dream of being pursued by a crazed and unruly rabble, fueled on alcohol, since I had the distinct feeling that all sense of reason was gone. And what really ratcheted things up was that everyone was naked. It reminded me of a funeral march of Jacques during the French Revolution, in a scene from Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities that suddenly turns in to a bloodthirsty, murderous mob.

Chased from one place to another, I was trying to out run them. But I was getting more and more tired, and there were fewer and fewer places to hide. Although quite terrifying, I managed to out maneuver them each time, and in my gut, I felt I was going to be OK. But the question remained: How long was I able to keep this up?

In trying to analyze this, I figured it was about raw, animal fear. Was I able to survive in this jungle of a city? After all, I am kinda high on the food chain as vulnerable, older prey. Will I be taken down, or can I keep up–out run its perils and survive? I have to keep my wits about me and stay present.

And yet, it’s all part of the adventure. The good and the bad. Time slows down when you find yourself in a new environment, and you’re much more present. Meditating helps foster this too.

The young woman I’m subleasing from has left a pretty good library of books. I’ve just finished Joan Didion’s memoir, The Year of Magical Thinking, which explores the author’s grief following the sudden death of her husband of forty years. It begins with these lines:

Life changes fast.

Life changes in the instant.

You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.

The question of self-pity.

Sobering to read at our age as we tend to bump up against death more and more in the guise of friends and family members dying too soon, and we see, too, our own mortality reflected in death’s face.

And then, interestingly enough, I followed up with The Power of Myth, by Joseph Campbell with Bill Moyers. It’s a wonderful discussion of mythology and what myths can tell us about our own lives. When I came upon this passage, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had a very visceral response:

People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own inner most being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.

Enjoying the first night in my new home, I was sitting quietly waiting for my roommate to come home. Somewhat intoxicated with a feeling of bliss (and the pungent smell of pot that often wafts through the building) I suddenly heard from somewhere above the vibrato trills of a beautiful soprano voice practicing scales.

WHOA….

I gotta admit. I’m feeling the rapture from time to time.

Ginger lives happily at Jerannie Deli Grocery on the corner of Clifton Place and Nostrand Ave.

Brooklyn is home to a lot of young, hip Millennials. Would Ageism be a factor in my search for a room to rent? Turned out… it wasn’t.

Posted on December 15, 2019 by connieottmann

Fresh greens for the holidays.

On a recent visit from Irvington to Brooklyn, my brother took my sister aside, and, out of ear shot from me, told her with pity saturating his voice that I wasn’t likely to find a room to rent. My prospects were probably nil. Early on I had contacted a high school friend who has been living in Brooklyn since college and told her I was looking for a place. Her response was something to the effect that people looking for rooms were young people.

I have to admit it did seem daunting. Brooklyn has gentrified and is gentrifying still, drawing young professionals from Manhattan to its more friendly, quaint neighborhoods. On numerous times in the past, while out to dinner with my son, I’ve looked around at a sea of Forever 21- fresh faces and wondered if I could blend in without having, what I perceived to be an arrow pointing down at my head reading, “Mom’s in town visiting.”

With some trepidation, I stuck my big toe in to the Roomi app and the Listing Project website, looked around, and then dove in head first and fired off some emails.

Listing Project was recommended to me by a friend’s daughter who lives in Brooklyn. It’s a no fee, curated (no brokers or third party services) weekly email that caters to artists and other creative (that word again) types searching for everything from studio space to sublets and long term rentals. The lister posts pictures, price, location, particulars, and info about him or herself. On average, I found ages to be between 28 and 40. Oh dear.

Two postings looked promising–the first advertised two professional women in their 30s looking for someone respectful, neat, who wanted a safe haven to come home to. The other caught my eye–two gay comedians. Maybe they’d be more forgiving? My moving in might provide them with some good material for future acts: The Golden Girl(s) meets Will & Grace?

Zilp zip, nada!

I soldiered on.

No response.

I tried the Roomi app and finally heard from a woman who appeared to be in her 50s. The location was perfect but upon arriving the building looked like a fire trap. I followed Maria (names have been changed to protect the innocent) down a very narrow hallway hotter than Hades reeking of cat pee, to a small room still overflowing with the 20- something- tenant’s eerily childish belongings. Pictures are deceiving. My other roommate would be a young man who just immigrated from South America. I liked Maria very much. She had come from Brazil fifteen years ago and was supporting a mother with Alzheimer’s back home. But this is what you get for $1200. a month?!

I enjoyed meeting Maria, but I couldn’t see myself living here.

I did hear from a woman my age who contacted me about a room, but she mentioned it was way out in City Island and, “You’d never know you were in NYC.” Isn’t that the whole point? It was nice to be contacted though.

I persevered, dispelled negative thoughts when they arose, and meditated on exactly what I wanted to manifest.

Next, I heard back from a Listing Project prospect, a psychoanalyst and English Lit professor at CUNY, who was “open to all.” I had no idea how old the person was or what gender, but on a cold windy evening, I was warmly greeted by a young, good -looking guy in a white button down shirt and khakis–early 30s maybe–originally from Vermont. When I stated that I was surprised he answered my email (I could hear my son scolding me, “Stop saying that!”), Monroe replied, “Why? I think what you’re doing is cool.” He told me his mom was relocating to Ireland, and that her fiance was from Camden, Maine. The place wasn’t furnished and he wanted me to split a broker’s fee, so it didn’t work out. But, WOW, I was encouraged. I recall Sally Field’s Oscar win response, “You like me. You really like me!

It was pretty nice, but located in the basement of the building with zero phone reception!

Unfurnished bedroom

Shortly after I heard back from three more young listers who were interested. I met Jen and Jeremy a couple in their 30s who advertised, “We love green spaces, outdoor activities, radical ideas, and non violent communication. Communal living a plus.” O.k.a.y….? Maybe they’re communists?

He actually was a former professional cyclist who now manages a bike shop in Manhattan, and she works in early childhood art education and is studying herbology. Jen’s mom was visiting from Texas when I showed up. Did I detect a smirk? I wondered what she thought of me as a possible roommate. Again, just the sweetest people, but the place was tiny and living with a couple might be a tad too close. Besides, the next morning I was meeting a young woman to see what might be the perfect place.

I had arranged to meet Kim at 11:00 at her apartment only two blocks from my son and brother’s place. Kim is a 32 year- old freelance art director “who likes to illustrate and make puppets on the side” and shares an apartment with only one other roommate and was subleasing her furnished bedroom AND WORKROOM/STUDIO for nine months to attend to a family matter back home in Texas. We had, what I felt was an instant rapport, the place was perfect and in my price range, utilities included. Her roommate was also 32, an archivist for a non profit and described as very laid back and considerate. Since she wasn’t around, we could FaceTime later if I was chosen. Kim was bombarded with emails to see the place, and she would make a decision the next day. I left a little hopeful...something just felt right.

Open kitchen and livingroom wih high ceilings!

My furnished bedroom with full mattress.

A studio!!!

On pins and needles the following day, I decided I couldn’t wait any longer and texted Kim late in the afternoon. When she texted back and asked if I minded if some tenants in the building smoked pot (hell no), I knew I had the place!

My building in Bed Stuy.

And so it goes.

I believe I really did manifest the perfect situation–one roommate and studio space to boot! Unheard of in these parts.

What I find most amazing is how welcoming and open minded these young people are. This experience reinforces that old thinking based on experiences from the past begets the same old future. The science of neuroplasticity says that the nervous system has the capacity to create new neural pathways and connections–we can retrain our brains and thinking –to create a vision of the future we want. Maybe ageism is something we perpetuate?

Recently that same Brooklyn brother took me aside at another gathering and stated that he secretly didn’t think I was going to be able to make the big move. He told me that he was really impressed I had made it happen.

I continue to be blown away. I am incredibly happy. What can I manifest next?

Making the Transition from Maine to NYC,the village of Irvington,on the Hudson,offers the best of both worlds with scenic water views, parks, and a short train ride to Grand Central.

Posted on December 6, 2019 by connieottmann

With its many amenities and progressive vibe, Irvington, home to legendary Washington Irving, is the kind of friendly place Millennials want to move to after a stint in the City and babies start arriving. My sister and her family moved to the village center over twenty years ago because of great public schools and an easy commute to Manhattan (36 to 55 minutes) on Metro North Railroad’s Hudson line. An almost empty-nester, she’s given me a place to stay (I’ve been as helpful as I can possibly be) while looking for a room to rent in Brooklyn.

Irvington has attracted industry big names and celebrities alike. The first African American woman millionaire, Madam C.J. Walker, made her fortune creating a hair straightening formula. Eileen Fisher has her corporate headquarters here, along with a retail shop and second hand outlet. I recently passed Meredith Vieira on a walk in the woods, and Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones are the newest neighbors.

Back view of Madam CJ Walker mansion.

Eileen Fisher retail store.

Main Street

Town Hall and town theaater.

Irvington train station

While Irvington has its mansions and tony neighborhoods, it does offer condominiums, cooperative apartments, rental units, and some affordable housing. Taxes are high, then again, garbage pick up each week is Monday, Thursday, and recycling Wednesday.

I feel like I’ve been on vacation as my days include reading the New York Times each morning starting with the Arts and Business sections, taking long walks on the Old Croton Aqueduct Trail, walking the dog, Cactus, in the 400-acre Irvington Woods, and enjoying train excursions to Manhattan. Irvington is a little bit country and a little bit rock ‘n’ roll 19 miles away.

Old Croton Aqueduct Trail

One of my favorite houses on the trail.

Another view on the Croton Aqueduct trail. I love trees, even more so since reading “The Overstory.”

I so love the train! Riding off-peak is $19.50 round trip. In less than an hour, Metro North deposits you in the magical world of Grand Central, and you are swept along with the tides of humanity to all the dizzying din that is NYC. This apt quote by Charles Baudelaire captures it: “What strange phenomena we find in a great city. All we need do is stroll about with our eyes open. Life swarms with innocent monsters.” Check out on Instagram, Subway Creatures.

I recently met up with a friend from Maine who was baby sitting her grand child in Manhattan. When I explained taking the subway and locating her address, she responded, “Wow, I don’t know how to do that.” Another recent field trip was to“The Whitney”, The High Line, and a new Swedish Bakery Fabrique, that boasts the best, ever, cardamon Rolls. I’m getting around.

Best of all, I qualify for senior discount MTA subway and buss fares! A single ride is $2.75: senior, $1.35; A 30-day unlimited pass is $127.00 a month: Senior, $63.50; A 7-day unlimited pass is $33.00: senior, $16.50 Something to be grateful for (I list them daily) in this youth-obsessed culture.

How lucky am I to be living again with one of my siblings at this age! We’ve been able to support each other during times of big change for us both. After being the sole occupant of my home for so long, I’m really enjoying sharing my space. I even think I said a few years ago, I’m kinda tired of living alone.

Well, this will sorely be tested as I try to find a room to rent in the city and live again with a roommate, more likely roommates, after 40 years. It would be so easy to just pay rent here with my sister, but I know deep in my heart, I’d disappoint myself. So… this begs the question:

Can a woman my age find a room to rent in the fresh, young, cutting edge world of Brooklyn?

The answer will surprise you.

I’ve always wanted to live in NYC for a year. With my house rented, again, I’m going on a wing and a prayer (and a home equity line of credit) this time at age 66!

Posted on November 29, 2019 by connieottmann

My nine month sojourn traveling solo Down Under almost four years ago did change me. Although I have enjoyed being home again in Maine for a couple of years, it’s difficult to return home after a long time because I can’t go home and be the person I was. There’s been a change. Another adventure has been beckoning. This time to New York City… a place many consider the greatest city in the world!

How this all came about started with an article about the twenty-fifth anniversary of Julia Cameron’s book, “The Artist’s Way.” Billed as “Discovering and Recovering your Creative Self,” it has sold over four million copies since its publication, and advocates writing free form in longhand three pages each morning, and taking yourself out once a week on an artist date. Doing the morning pages first thing, allows you to dump any negative monkey mind thinking clogging up your brain and be more open (mindful) to being creative–a buzzword that seems to be every where in today’s market/workplace.

I had completed the eight week course a couple of times in the past, and in February found a box of books, including ‘The Artist’s Way” and a binder of morning pages I’d written before making my solo trip, which wasn’t even on my radar at the time. I took this as a sign (synchronicity) and wrote the pages again. My practice also included meditation, and, low and behold, the winds of change swept me up again. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my house rented… to the perfect couple (he’s from New Zealand). Just like before, everything seems to be falling into place.

New York City is a different animal. A beast of many wiles with an insatiable appetite for culture, fashion, entertainment, celebrity, and fabulous food. It has to be tamed or its sharp claws will slice into your pockets and leave you destitute. But it also has an infectious energy that lures you in. And finding an apartment! My brother jokingly said recently he had to get married to find a place.

That younger brother has been in NYC since the late 80s and was smart to buy a place in Brooklyn in 2001. The house was in a seedy, dangerous neighborhood with burned out buildings around the corner and across the street (and always a place to park). It is now hip and gentrified (and hard to park) and a great investment. My son, a Pratt Institute grad, rents from him, but no room in the inn for me. Fortunately, a sister lives a 50- minute- Metro North train ride away in the lovely village of Irvington, on the Hudson. I have a soft place to fall. And Costco is nearby!

I’m living out of my car again with the basics I think I’ll need. Renting my home and moving again has been stressful, but I’ve become a minimalist and that has alleviated some of the pain.

I’ve sworn this is the last time I’ll do this.

But then again… Asheville, NC, sounds nice.

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out: Traveling Solo at 63… on a Budget!

Posted on February 21, 2017 by connieottmann

Perth, the most isolated city in the world: No longer a well-kept secret.

Kings Park state war memorial looking out over Matilda Bay, Perth.

I consider myself lucky…again… to have had the experience of visiting one of Australia’s other great cities, for an entire month, and as the guest of a well connected native, my friend and travel mentor, Gayl. I had planned this to be the final destination of my Australian travels because I knew I could let my guard down and really relax, all the while enjoying 5 star hospitality.

Perth, the most isolated city in the world, is the capital of the Australian state of Western Australia and is the fastest growing capital in the country with a population close to two million. It also became known as the “City of Light” when city residents lit their house lights and street lights as American astronaut John Glenn passed overhead while orbiting the earth on Friendship 7 in 1962. The city repeated the act as Glenn passed overhead in the space shuttle Discovery in 1998. By all accounts, Perth is a fantastic, sunny place to live, especially for those who love outdoor living.

A center piece of the city is Kings Park and Botanic Gardens, one of the largest inner city parks in the world( 400.6 hectares/989 acres). It’s a restful place to amble through grassy lawns and cultivated gardens containing a diversity of Western Australia flora or explore untamed bush land. During the summer months, residents can enjoy outdoor cinema, listen to concerts under the stars, or run with their children in play areas. One thing I immediately noticed about Perth was its good city planning. Public access to river frontage, beaches, and reserves on beautiful walkways and bike paths are plentiful.

View of Kings Park in the late afternoon.

One of many beautiful gardens in kings Park seen in late winter/early spring.

At Kings Park amid the many everlastings in bloom in early spring in September.

A view from Matilda Bay to downtown Perth.

One of several large Sugar Gum trees in Bishop’s Reserve, in the neighborhood of Dalkeith, where Gayl lives.

I happened to be visiting Perth during the late winter/early spring (late August mid September) and found it quite cold–and that coming from a Northern New England woman! The fact is a lot of folks don’t heat their homes much since most of the year is quite warm. Funny how quickly you can become acclimated to warmer temperatures!

Perth has a bustling central business district that includes a 700 million dollar Cathedral Square redevelopment. At the center is the former state Treasury Building (called by locals “The Treasury”) that now houses numerous high end shops and restaurants and the luxury Como, the Treasury Hotel. Featured at the Como is a diverse collection of art works including a series of botanical illustrations by well known WA artist Philippa Nikulinsky. A neighbor of Gayl’s, I was able to meet her and visit her studio.

A view of St. George’s Cathedral, the Mother Church of the Anglican Diocese of Perth, from the Treasury Building.

Outside the Como, the Treasury hotel, part of the heritage listed state building called The Treasury.

One of several shops Inside the renovated Treasury Building, prominent Australian fashion house, Aurelio Costarella’s flagship boutique.

Flower arrangement of Western Australia wild flowers including the Banksia on the right featured at the shop, Flowers by Aneura at the Treasury.

Working primarily in watercolor, one of Nilulinsky’s botanical paintings in progress at her studio. Incredible!

A visit to Philippa Nikulinsky’s home studio located in Gayl’s neighborhood.

Fremantle is a neighboring part of Perth’s metropolitan area and a port city known for its maritime history, Victorian architecture, and Fremantle Prison, which housed convicts from the 1850s to 1991. Home to Gayl’s husband Tom growing up, he treated me to a private tour of his favorite hang outs in this trendy, and laid back city.

Downtown Fremantle.

Lunch at one of Fremantle’s favorite restaurants, Bread in Common

Enjoying coffee at Moore & Moore Cafe, Freemantle.

Inside the “Little Creatures” brewery and restaurant in Freemantle. Considered by some to be one of the top ten beer gardens in Australia.

Looking out on the beer garden at Little Creatures brewery.

Ever the consummate host, Gayl kept me busy with a wide array of activities, great books to read, and, especially, interesting people to meet, many living right in her neighborhood, in the suburb of Dalkeith. Through a friend of hers, I was invited to join a group of women artists who get together each week to paint. I met yet another artist and neighbor, Jennifer Hopewell, known for her beautiful landscapes of WA, who was getting her home studio ready for big exhibition in December.

Acrylic on canvas by Jennifer Hopewell.

Trying to finish a still life I started at with the womens’ group, in Gayl’s lovely kitchen!

Another neighbor, a vivacious and spry 80 year-0ld Betty, is an expert in Orthomolecular Medicine (nutritional medicine) and gave me a reading of vitamin and mineral deficiencies I had by looking at my face and hands and doing some muscle testing. Another time Gayl took me to a yoga sound healing class where for almost two hours, the instructor played an assortment of vibrating instruments like the didgeridoo, while we lay prone or in any comfortable position. I tingled for two days!

A short walk from Gayl’s home is the Chapel at Carmelite Monastery. The chapel features paintings of the stations of the Cross, done by the well know Australian artist, Wim Boissevain when he was only twenty-two.

A view inside the Chapel at Carmelite Monastery in Dalkeith.

Detail of one of the Stations of the Cross series at the Chapel painted by well know Australian painter, Wim Boissevain when he was just twenty-two years old.

Other excursions included a trip to Tom’s farm in Keysbrook, an hour south of Perth. Tom grows a variety of fruits and vegetables including edible, sweet, lemons called lemonades, which are delicious!

Looking out at gardens and the “chook” house at Tom’s farm. He supplies bountiful harvests of fresh eggs, fruits, vegtables, and herbs that will go into great dishes prepared by Gayl.

A small waterfall at Tom’s farm.

Inside the “Shed” at Tom’s farm called Myaravale which boasts 160 acres of natural bush located in Keysbrook about an hour south of Perth. (Kind of a man cave according to Gayl)

I saw lots of wallabies during my travels, but finally saw my first kangaroo at Tom’s farm!!

A Bobtail Goanna–monitor lizzard found in Australia. This one on Tom’s farm! They have sharp teeth and can be venomous. Pretty creepy even though this one is small.

A neighbor of Tom’s near Keysbrook recently completed building a spectacular home high is the hills and celebrated with a Friday night bonfire/ cookout party featuring fabulous views.

Gathering for a bonfire/cookout party outside of Perth.

Chicken stew served up with Tom on the left and me, center.

In front of the bonfire with Gayl!

High on a hill, a raging bonfire at sunset, good food and drinks, great company: Doesn’t get much better than this.

I visited with Gayl’s friend Robyn and husband Jon, who over the years, have created a beautiful home and garden oasis. Robyn has started a second career creating The Short Street Kitchen, which includes her raw food cooking demonstrations, a gourmet lunch, and garden tours, proving it’s never too late to follow your dreams.

I visited in early spring before flowers really pop, but the amount of sweat equity is apparent. Hand-built rock walls, fencing, and garden paths showcase years of work.

Paved walkways look out to Jon’s workshop.

Taken in early summer, you get a better idea of the lush, green gardens that surround the property.

My visit to Perth was really a family affair and even Gayl’s mother Mabs got in on the act and took me to a reserve of native flora and introduced me to many of Western Australia’s unique flowers that grow in the wild.

One of south Western Australia’s favorite plants, the Banksia. Colors usually range from yellow to red. One of my favorites!

Another species called Kangaroo Paws.

The shape of this flower gives it the common name Granny Bonnet.

This beauty is commonly known as the Spider Orchid, the best known of the native species.

There are many places to eat and enjoy the scenery in Perth, but a favorite is the Odyssea Beach Cafe in City Beach, with its stunning ocean views and modern Australian menu.

Lunch at the Odyssea restaurant on the ocean from at City Beach. It was so good, we had to go again!

Another view of the ocean (Indian Ocean!) at City Beach.

Incredible deserts to share at lunch at the Odyssea with Jasmine and Gayl (taking the picture).

But there’s nothing like a home-cooked meal to feed both body and soul, and most nights Gayl put her culinary talents to work with a dinner that rivaled any restaurant in town.

One of many terrific dinners prepared by Gayl, with Tom, Gayl, Katrina, and Gayl’s mom, Mabs.

How was I ever going to leave all his behind and return to Maine? This question kept replaying in my mind as the weeks went by and my departure day drew closer. Of course, I missed family and friends, but returning to my old life is impossible because I am not the same person. I”m reminded of a quote I heard some where: “Each stage of your life will require a different you.” I’ve since rented my house for another 10 months. It will be interesting to see how this all plays out.

In the meantime, the Porters had one more treat in store for me before I left, and that was a three day trip to the Margaret River region three hours south of Perth. Tucked away in Australia’s southwest corner, the area is known for its premium wines (over 120 wineries to explore), food, and surf beaches on the Indian Ocean.

I really don’t want this adventure to end. Big question: Does it have to?

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out: Traveling Solo at 63 for Nine Months to New Zealand and Australia…on a Budget!

Posted on October 30, 2016 by connieottmann

A True Outback Adventure On One of the Greatest Roads in Australia: The Gibb River Road.

One of my favorite places on the Gibb River Road, Bell Gorge. What a swimming hole!

Since blowing up my life and walking off into the unknown eight months ago, I can say I have, miraculously, been on a trajectory of synchronicity.

Before leaving for my Auvergne Station adventure, my new Kununurra friend Jude( who also loaned me a car for two months) asked if I wanted to go camping for six days on the Gibb River Road when I returned. Months earlier, I had looked into the possibility of a tour of this region only to find out that the cheapest package was over $2,500.00 and all tours originated in Broome eleven hours away. I figured you can’t do everything, and then…BOOM! …out of the blue ( “The blue” is a synonym for God, higher power, the Divine etc….) this invitation appeared.

.We drove from Kununurra to Halls Creek and then picked up the Gibb River Road at Fitzroy Crossing. “Permitted for 4 W’s and AWD’s only.

The Gibb River road was created in 1950 to make way for “road trains” or semi trailers carrying live cattle to abattoirs. The Gibb is famous for its two lane, corrugated, dirt road that cuts a 440 mile (660km) line across the Kimberley from Derby to Kununurra.

Jude and her husband Ian came to the Kimberley region, specifically, Halls Creek, as young teachers, eventually moving to Kununurra, and settling there. Twenty-six years ago, they made this iconic journey with their young daughter. This is a woman who knows camping in the wilderness, 4-wheeling over deep, rutted roads, crossing harrowing creeks, and packing a vehicle with such precision it takes your breath away. Armed with her Toyota Land Cruiser, two spare tires, camping gear, and plenty to eat, we drove three and a half hours our first day to Halls Creek for a visit and then proceeded west another hour to Mary Pool, a beautiful, free campsite for the night.

All set up for the night at Mary Pool with Jude, pictured here.

Looking to the right of the causeway at sunset at Mary Pool. Wildlife abounds!

Driving over the concrete causeway into the Mary Pool campground just west of Halls Creek on our first night.

I’ve never done much camping, but I now consider it one of life’s great pleasures, especially in this remote and wild part of the world. The Milky way is visible here. The night sky is magic to behold… a super dome of stars that fire to the horizon.

A view of the night sky and the Milky Way, the Kimberley, Australia. Courtesy of freenaturestock.com. My iPhone 5 just couldn’t capture it!

The next morning we headed out to Fitzroy Crossing, got on the Gibb River Road, and made our way to Tunnel Creek National Park with its stunning, natural cave, and later continued to Windjana Gorge, the bottom of what was a tropical sea millions of years ago and is now a gorge of black and orange rock.

Looking in to the entrance of Tunnel Creek.

Windjana Gorge with plenty of fresh water crocodiles to see. A walk along the valley includes seeing fossilized ancient sea creatures etched into the rock of the gorge.

A walk in this valley is a little Jurassic Park-like. Plenty of fresh water crocodiles sun themselves by water, and it is hard to resist running your hands over the coiled remains of ancient, fossilized sea creatures etched into the gorge walls.

It was soon time to think about where to camp our second night as we headed to our next destination, Bell Gorge, when Jude pulled out an APT Bell Gorge Wilderness Lodge brochure. APT Luxury Touring and Cruising started back in 1927 in Melbourne, Australia, and is still a family-owned business today. Their Bell Gorge Wilderness Lodge, located on Indigenous-owned land, provides luxury accommodations for their group tours and to people like ourselves traveling in our own car. We figured we deserved this unique experience with all the comforts including fine dining, and ended up spending TWO nights(my treat). It was Amazing.

Walking to the guest accommodations: “Tents” with private en suite!

The lovely outdoor dining room at the Bell Gorge Wilderness Lodge. This was also a lovely place to relax and read after a day’s hiking and swimming at Bell Gorge.

Comfy guest accommodations at the Bell Gorge Wilderness Lodge. You can spend all night gazing at the night sky, Milky Way, and billions of stars from the front porch.

Inside our tent with bathroom in the rear. I’m on the right–not quite as organized as Jude.

Our first course–for just the two of us!

Bell Gorge, a short drive from the wilderness lodge, is a major and must-see attraction. After lounging (my favorite thing to do) and a late morning breakfast, we spent the better part of the day hiking, relaxing, and chatting it up with fellow travelers at Bell Gorge. One adventurous soul we met was a seventy-year-young woman touring with a 20- something backpacker group! The Gibb River Road hosts a myriad of travelers and traveling styles.

After a short hike, you arrive here before heading down to the majestic falls below.

Looking down to the multi-tiered falls and water hole below.

An Olympic-sized pool entices you for a swim.

After two relaxing days, we were back on the road stopping at Galvan’s Gorge before making our way to the Mt. Barnett Road House and Manning Gorge campground for the night.

This Kimberley region truly is one of the last, real wilderness areas on earth, and part of what makes this trip so special is driving the dusty, red, rutted, two- lane road accessible only to 4WD vehicles. AUSTRALIA, NEVER NEVER PAVE THIS ROAD!

But I say this after I learned a couple of things from Jude, who traveled a lot with her engineer father. Faster is not better on these deeply grooved roads. A speed no more than 80km is recommended, and tire pressure should be at about 28-30PSI. If heading down a steep section of road and the caravan or trailer you’re hauling starts to sway back and forth, you step on the gas, which seems counter intuitive. You do not hit the brakes. Jude has come upon, more than once in this part of the world, accident scenes involving flipped caravans and the scattered remains of a retirement dream gone terribly wrong.

A little piece of paradise just beyond Bell’s Gorge, the tiny but idyllic Galvan’s Gorge complete with a rope swing to propel you into the warm waters.

A happy visitor taking advantage of the rope swing.

A stop at Mt. Barnet Road House before checking into the Manning River and Gorge campground.

Road houses along the way are a place to refuel, fill water containers, buy snacks, and get local news about road and travel conditions. Since cell phone coverage isn’t available, it it also common to see notices tacked up on the wall, like the one I saw at the Mt. Barnett Road House, from worried family members back home who have not heard from their grey nomad parents for days. Uttered in any language it’s essential to: Be prepared!

Couldn’t resist swimming at one of the silken pools at Manning Gorge.

A section of Manning Gorge. There is another, larger pool and waterfall to the left.

After a long, one hour hike, the water’s great at Manning Gorge.

On the fifth day we headed to Home Valley Station for a quick lunch on our loop back to El Questro Wilderness Park to camp for our last night. The now familiar Cockburn Range loomed again in the distance like some ancient fortress built by the Ancestor Beings of Dreamtime. It is just one of many vistas in this wildly remote part of the world that leaves an imprint of wonder on all who visit.

Leaving Home Valley Station and crossing the Pentecost River with the magical Cockburn Range in the distance.

I’d been to the El Questro park on a day trip to Zebedee Springs and El Questro Gorge when I first arrived in Kununurra two months ago, and I was happy to visit a second time and camp. Since our needs were simple and required no plug-ins for electricity, we set up by a quiet creek under the stars.

Checking in at the El Questro Wilderness Park. This is a lively place to meet up with fellow travelers, especially on a Friday night to have a drink and listen to some local music.

New showers and kitchen facility available to campers at El Questro, a must visit and only an hour from Kununurra.

The grande finale on the sixth and final day of our trip was a stop at Emma Gorge Resort down the road and part of the El Questro Wilderness Park for a hike to Emma Gorge followed by a relaxing lunch on the verandah at the Emma Gorge restaurant. How incredibly lucky I am! Or is it simply luck???

At the Emma Gorge Resort, part of the El Questro Wilderness Park before hiking into Emma Gorge. There is a terrific restaurant and beautiful tented cabins if you want luxury accommodations!

Inside Emma Gorge. It’s hard to capture the height and depth of this dramatic gorge.

Another view of Emma Gorge.

Remarkable opportunities like this just keep popping up all over the place like bright blue forget-me-not wildflowers after a spring rain. Because of my good fortune, I’ve been making a point each day to note all the things I’m grateful for in my life. It seems when you get on this joy and gratitude frequency, you radiate a positive energy that draws more positive things into your life, which in turn, make this Oh- so- fleeting life more fun.

To quote actor Jamie Foxx: “You better have fun. Because you’re going to be gone in a minute.”

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! At 63, Traveling Solo for Nine Months in New Zealand and Australia…on a Budget.

Posted on October 16, 2016 by connieottmann

Living the Pastoral Life at Auvergne Station, in the Northern Territory !

The young stockmen/women taking a break for lunch out on the job at Auvergne Station in the Northern Territory. One of my favorite experiences!

The life of a cowboy on a huge ranch has always had a certain romantic appeal. Broad-brimmed hats, wide open spaces, sunshine, and a dazzling night sky peppered to the horizon with billions of stars are probably just quixotic notions when in reality it’s probably a lot of hard work. I found out it is a lot of hard, dirty, bloody work, but it was one of my favorite experiences, and, I maintain,– it is romantic.

My stay in the east Kimberley region stretched into July when my young friend Victoria managed to arrange for me a stay at Auvergne Station in the Northern Territory. A good friend of hers is one of very few women station managers in the business, and she agreed to room and board in exchange for doing some work.

A picture of me at the Northern Territory Border on my way to Auvergne Station, an hour and a half east of Kununurra in Western Australia. I’m heading for a week to work and experience station life.

Pastoral Farming, is a form of agriculture aimed at producing livestock (beef cattle), rather than selling crops. Pastoral farmers are known as pastoralists up in this area. Stations are huge cattle properties ( thousands, and in some cases, millions of acres ) which are rich in Australian history and have traditionally been the training grounds for many young people trying out a career in agriculture. It’s a positive situation all the way around since pastoral companies need large numbers of employees with various skill levels. Many young men and women from all walks of life dreaming of escaping to a life in the bush have gone on to climb the pastoral employment ladder while others have returned to family farms with a much broader experience than they would have otherwise.

Twenty-eight- year-old Emily Andersen, the station manager at Auvergne station, is one such young person who worked her way up the through the ranks and is one of few women, and the only woman manager in the Consolidated Pastoral Company (CPC) which owns and operates 16 cattle stations. Emily joined CPC in 2008 as a cook, worked her way up through the ranks in four years to head stock woman of Newry Station and was eventually promoted to Station Manager at Argyle Downs. In 2016 she received a further promotion as Station Manager at the larger station, Auvergne. She and husband Henry, a helicopter pilot, live in the manager’s house on the property.

Station manager at Auvergne Station, Emily Anderson left, and friend Carla.

Emily’s husband Henry, a helicopter pilot, mustering cattle at the station. This can be a pretty dangerous job. A young pilot lost his life last year after water got in to the gas line causing his chopper to crash.

The young crew (and I do mean young) employed this year range in age from 18 to 24. Most hail from Queensland and two young men, Garrum and Taylor, are Aborigines. Stock men/women are paid a salary depending on their skill level. Room and board is $6.00 a day, a good deal! There is a recreation area for after work hours and weekends and a swimming pool. The previous station manager added this effective note to be sure the expense was approved by corporate: ” If funds for this pool are not approved, you can make the phone call to parents explaining that their son/daughter was killed by a crocodile while taking a swim in the river to cool off after a long, hot day!” It was immediately approved. (Stations on average loose one head of cattle a day to crocodiles–a million dollar loss.)

I arrived on a Sunday afternoon and met Sarah who I would be tagging along with for the week. The remainder of the crew had gone to Katherine for the weekend to a cattle show. Sarah, only 24, is wise beyond her years. She is basically Emily’s right hand woman, and if there is a job she doesn’t know how to do, she’ll figure out how to do it. This is Sarah’s second season at Auvergne, and she plans on coming back again next year.

Sarah pictured here took me fishing on Sunday afternoon on the East Bane River for barramundi, a fresh water, white fish, after being dropped off on my first day.

Sarah feeding the poddies which is required twice a day.

Sarah loading the grain trough for some of the Brahman cattle.

Getting fed

The work day begins early at the station. Breakfast is served at 6:00 am buffet style, and each person then takes his/her dishes and washes/dries them for a quick clean up. A short meeting starts at 6:30 with Station Manager Emily to go over the day’s duties. Several of the young stock men pack lunches to have out on job and do not return until 5:00pm in the evening. Morning tea is served at 9:00, lunch at 12:00, and dinner at 6:30.

Sarah explained to me that these young people (the stock camp) muster (round up) the cattle, draft them into separate categories, process them ( castrate, dehorn, vaccinate, brand, etc) then bush them (put them back in their paddocks). In addition, they are also given two horses at the start of the season (March to early December) to care for, they do a bit of bore running ( maintain water pump stations), and they perform general upkeep around the station.

The weather can be unforgiving during the hot, dry season, and I quickly learned that sunscreen, jeans, work boots, long-sleeved shirts with collars, and wide brimmed hats are not a fashion statement but worn for a reason: a simple t-shirt is no protection in this climate.

Chloe, 18 is the station cook. She prepares breakfast, morning tea, lunch, and dinner for 16-20 people every day, five days a week. She said she never cooked before but was doing a great job!

After breakfast at 6:00am, a quick meeting with station manager, Emily, to go over the days work before heading out.

My day also started early with Sarah. Forgetting I was almost forty years older, I figured I could keep up with her busy schedule. Monday’s work began at 6:30 feeding the poddies (orphaned calves) their formula from bottles (some hand-held), next, we were off changing beds, doing laundry, and cleaning guests’ rooms.

As you can imagine, there is a lot of fresh, organic beef eaten at the station and someone has to prepare and butcher it. I worked with Sarah next in the meat locker(her dad is a butcher–she knows meat) cutting up beef for meals at the station into steaks, stew beef, and ribs and grinding hamburger. This is a dangerous job as a large power saw is used to cut through bone (at the same time operating an on/off foot, power switch), sharp knives are wielded to filet the beef, and a huge, old-fashioned meat grinder churns out copious amounts of hamburg. Incredibly, she sometimes manages this job by herself!

During the afternoon we started installing a sprinkler system around a section of living quarters in order to provide a little welcome “green” to the scorched landscape, and then it was off to feed the crooks (chickens), hogs, and, once more the poddies before quitting at five. By Wednesday afternoon, I couldn’t keep up and asked to quit at 3:00 and did so for the rest of the week!

Sunrise looking out to the station managers house from my room on the left. Other rooms in this section are for visiting CPC upper management, and a couple of rooms are rented out to trades people working in the area. The cost of a room is $50.00 and includes dinner. Beyond is the East Bane River–and crocodiles.

A view out back of the rec center–a favorite gathering spot to watch TV, play pool, and relax.

Looking out to the generators and fuel tank from my room at the station.

Looking a the back-end of one section of what will become a road train that will haul live cattle to either Darwin, Broome, or Wyndham to be shipped to Indonesia. Pictured is Bob, who can literally fix anything!

Leaving the main part of the station.

Sunset at Auvergne Station

Large “Croc” sighting At the “Junction,” a popular camping site where the West and East Bane River meet at Auvergne Station.

One day after morning tea, I was asked if I wanted to go out and do some “baiting” with some of the stock men. Not to be deterred by a little dirty work, I was not prepared for the bloody scene presented. A nine-year-old bull had just been shot, and four of the crew were flaying and butchering the carcass while the others were cutting large sections of meat into smaller pieces that would be injected with a natural, toxic substance lethal to feral dogs and dingoes that attack and kill young calves. Oddly enough, it didn’t take long to grow accustomed to what is “life on the station,” and I joined in to help with the meat cutting.

Butchering a nine year old bull for baiting. Feral dogs and Dingoes are problem as they prey on calves. Left to right are young stockmen Garum, Taylor and Georgia getting to work.

Young stockmen and stockwoman working to prepare meat for baiting. A license is required to do baiting on stations.

Cutting the beef into small pieces that will be injected with a natural toxin not harmful to the environment and other wild life. Done during the dry season, pieces are scattered around near water and the surrounding area.

Doing my part helping with the butchering.

Helping out with the butchering (after butchering the bull itself!). It didn’t take long to become acclimated to the job. It’s all part of life here at the station and the work of a stockman.

Generally, the work week is Monday through Friday, but often, when required, the stock camp can work two or three weeks in a row without a day off. When a weekend off does roll around, as it did when I visited, there is cause for celebration and fun on Friday night. Instead of dinner in the kitchen, Chloe treated with an outdoor barbeque of steak, salad, potatoes au gratin and, of course, beer.

Since there were no cattle housed in nearby paddocks, Emily allowed for a special treat: fireworks later in the evening. I eventually headed to bed WAY earlier than most, and the partying continued into the wee hours. At one point I got up to go to the bathroom around 3:00am and was startled to see a brush fire out in distance. I could still hear voices coming from the rec center and figured they were aware of it. If they weren’t concerned about it, I wasn’t either and went back to bed. It was a subdued Saturday morning! When you work this hard, you have to play hard too.

A few of the young stockmen and stockwomen enjoying a beer after a long, hot day out on the station.

Relaxing at the rec center after a long day at work. Friday nights are a cause for celebration before the weekend. Stock men sometimes work two or even three weeks in a row depending on what’s required.

A painting I did of Sarah feeding the poddies. A parting gift to her for being such a great friend and teacher.

A painting I did for station manager, Emily and her husband Henry of their pets.

In this rugged,remote, and harsh outback, life is demanding and tough. Working a season at a station like this is an exercise in what it means to be mature and requires, respect, cooperation, communication, honesty…in a word: integrity. These young people have it in spades.

I may have been old enough to be their mo…grandmother, but for eight days chronological age became irrelevant thanks to their kindness and generosity of spirit. A prized possession is the Auvergne Station work shirt that Emily and Sarah gave me. Another, an invitation to come back again anytime. Hmm… I wonder if they could use a cheerful cook next season?

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 63…and on a Budget.

Posted on September 29, 2016 by connieottmann

Volunteering and Meeting Aboriginal Artists at Waringarri Art Center in Kununurra, The East Kimberley.

Artist Phyllis Ningamara working on a canvas at the Waringarri Art Center, in Kununurra. She told me she is very proud of the fact that her work is sold all over Australia.

A strong racial divide has existed for years in Kununurra similar to that in Alice Springs. The Indigenous population is housed separately on the outskirts of town, and poverty, alcoholism, and domestic violence are pervasive. Add to that the terrible distinction in 2014 when The World Health Organization found that suicide rates among Indigenous people in the Kimberley region were among the highest in the world.

Despite these troubling problems, there is a bright spot in the form of Waringarri Aboriginal Arts, an art center that houses both artists’ studios and galleries open to the public. Waringarri is the first wholly Indigenous owned art center established in the Kimberley region, and one of the oldest continuously operating Centers in Australia. Since studying art was one of my traveling goals, volunteering at the Center, a short drive from where I was staying, was paramount. I was given an introduction via email from a gallery owner in Perth who represents Waringarri artists back in April, but when I went to the center in June to introduce myself to the director, I was told that I had to first write a letter and be approved by the board before I could do any volunteering. Finally, after two weeks of cancelled board meetings, I was approved to work in the studio with the artists.

Waringarri Art Center supports over 100 artists who specialize in natural ocher painting on canvas and paper, limited edition prints, wood carvings and sculptures, and hand- printed fabrics. The Indigenous group represented in this area are the Miriwoong people who hold the land sacred and see themselves as custodians caring for the country and resting places of their spiritual ancestors. Artists typically paint a kind of aerial map of the land they grew up in which helps them maintain a connection to the sacred places of that country. I was lucky to have the chance to meet and speak with some of the artists while helping out in the studio for several days.

In the photo above, Phyllis Ningamara explained to me that she was painting a view of the river after the wet season where she grew up and the many colored river stones reflecting in the sunshine.

Artist Ben Ward explaining a just-completed work.

Bigger than life and very chatty is artist Ben Ward, who with his family, worked and lived at Argyle Downs station until he was ten. He later worked at Carlton Station, and his paintings focus on his memories of when he was a young man mustering cattle. Triangles of different colors representing the rivers, Boab trees, water, and mountains appear in his most recent work. I later saw that this piece (shown in the above photo) had been sold in the gallery. In the past, my experience with Aboriginal art brought to mind paintings consisting primarily of hundreds of dots. Different regions depict different styles, and the work here has a much more contemporary, abstract quality that I particularly like.

Artist Peggy Griffiths designing and hand printing a length of linen fabric. Cotton and silk fabric are also used.

In the studio doing some restoration work on a beautiful piece by artist Gloria Mengil. In the center is artist Peggy Griffiths.

Peggy Griffiths, and her husband Alan Griffiths, are two well known artists from this region. Peggy was born in the Norther Territory but moved to Argyle Station when she was 15. At the age of 16, she was promised in marriage to Alan Griffiths. She started working at Waringarri in 1985, is now a senior artist, and teaches other artists. While helping to organize the studio, I noticed lots of Peggy’s notes explaining how to do color mixing. Peggy is a beautiful woman who though quiet, has a regal air about her. She and husband Alan are highly respected in the community, and their work is prominently displayed at the impressive, new court house in Kununurra. I’m told they often paint together.

Canvas by Peggy Griffiths at the Kununurra Court House.

Painting by Alan Griffiths, husband of Peggy Griffiths. Dancers often appear in his work.

Lovely Jalah home from acting school in Sydney volunteered with me at Waringarri Art Center where her mother works in the office. She was a great source of information about Aboriginal culture and informed me that she is what is known as “half caste”( half white and half Aboriginal). This was a common term used in the past but is now considered derogatory.

Volunteering at the center was a great experience in many ways. One morning I got a call from the center to come in as soon as possible. The Western Australian Indigenous Tourism Operators Council (WAITOC) was doing a photo shoot for some new brochures, and they were looking for “tourists” to be in their photos.

Another local couple was drafted from town and we headed out with photographer Jack, business development manager Liz, and several members from the art center to a location just outside of town considered sacred by the Miriwoong. After a “blessings” ceremony at the Dunham River welcoming us to the land, we headed to another location featuring a mighty Boab tree thought to be thousands of years old.

At the Durham River in Kununurra partaking in an Aboriginal blessings ceremony welcoming us to Indigenous land. Branches from the Coolibah tree are dipped in the river and then sprinkled on the hands, feet, and head by a elder member of the group.

More of the crew from Waringarri on the photo shoot.

At one point, I got a little annoyed, and even felt a little discriminated against when Liz asked me, the single person, to step aside in a few of the shots because they wanted “couple photos.” Although they didn’t want the photos to appear staged, they looked pretty staged to me. During my travels, I’ve met lots of single women, young and old, traveling alone. Tourism groups and businesses would be wise to cater to lone travelers; there is a need and a market in the industry!

On the photo shoot with a local couple and members from the Waringarri Art Center. Teddy (with the hat and center) is a fun and charismatic tour guide from the center.

The photographer used a drone which everyone got a kick out of operating.

Several weeks after the shoot, I followed up with Liz about the brochures and asked if I had made it into any of the photos. She said, indeed, I was included. I’m now waiting to get a copy!

Up until this point in my travels I hadn’t purchased any art or souvenirs, but at the art center, where I knew the money would go directly back to the artists, I splurged on two hand-carved didgeridoos for my son and his dad(women are not allowed to play the didgeridoo), and several hand-carved Boab nuts for other family members and friends. Each item came with a certificate of provenance and identified the artist who created it.

In the process of volunteering and meeting some of these Aboriginal artists, I’ve gained a greater respect for their culture and the deep love they have for the land of their ancestors. I’ve also come to realize that art illuminates (stealing a quote from Maya Angelou) that “… we are more alike than we are unalike,” and in this global society, we can all do with a little more understanding and less fear. In the words of author Andrew Solomon:

It is nearly impossible to hate anyone whose story you know.

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 63…on a Budget.

Posted on September 6, 2016 by connieottmann

Kununurra in the East Kimberley: Adventure in a Wild and Ancient Alternate Universe. (Part 1 of 3)

View of the Bungle Bungles in Purnululu National Park, a World Heritage Area that only became widely known in 1982. These “beehive” domes are striated with beautiful colors of ocher, orange, and black!

When I told a friend that my travels would be taking me to Kununurra and the Kimberley region of northern Western Australia, he snapped to attention, eyes wide, brows raised, and exclaimed, “Wow! You’re going to the outback of the outback!” My well-traveled friend is right. Over and over I’ve been told here that most Australians don’t ever get to this beautifully remote, wild, and rugged region, let alone Americans. And I was spending a month!

As luck would have it, I would be house sitting for the month of June(during the “dry” season May -September) for friend Gayl’s daughter Victoria, a nurse in Kununurra for the past five years. Best of all, Gayl would be meeting me here from Perth to help me settle in. That would mean three things: five star hospitality, a whirl-wind of activities, and fantastic eating planned for the week. How many people do you know fly with their travel baggage packed with farm fresh eggs, specialty goat cheese, and an organic shoulder of lamb (just to name a few)?

I’ve known Gayl since she was an exchange student at my high school back in 1971 when we were seniors. She’s had a love affair with Maine ever since and continues to visit every couple of years. After leaving my teaching career and leaping into the unknown, well-traveled Gayl and her daughter Victoria, on a recent visit to Maine, mentioned travel and posed the question: “What are you waiting for?” They have been both instrumental and a great support system in making this odyssey a positive and life-changing event.

Gayl is a force to be reckoned with. Strikingly elegant, youthful, and charged with electricity and charisma, I elect her our Boomer poster girl for “Sixty is the new Forty.” Before I knew it, we had exchanged our excited hellos, and she began rattling off all the adventures planned for the week including a camping trip to the Bungle Bungles! But not before she and daughter Victoria (her mother’s daughter and very much her own person) acquainted me with my new home and surroundings.

Toasting my first day in Kununurra with Gayl and Victoria and an action-packed, upcoming week.

Kununurra is a young town established in 1961 and now has a population of about 7,000. During the dry season, the number doubles with tourists, many of them known throughout Australia as “Grey Nomads”–retirees traveling in a wide array of campers and caravans(RVs). On any given day, the local Coles supermarket is jammed with campers and backpackers, and the parking lot is filled with a multitude of vehicles resembling a tamer version of Mad Max engineering! Eggs are always the first item to sell out.

My home while in Kununurra!. Great location right in town with the library right across the street.

The Kununurra Community & School Library right across the street. I was able to get a temporary library card. Great selection of movies too! The high school is right next door.

A view of the very good i Site Center in down town Kununurra. To the left is the town park.

A view of the park in town and the Saturday morning market. Right around the corner from my place.

Typical sunset outside my house in town.

Local business Kimberley Find Diamonds, home to the rare pink diamond mined only at the Argyle Diamond mine nearby. They are very expensive!

A Kimberley icon, the Boab Tree (there are relatives in Africa). Only found in this region and native to Australia. Some are 1500 years old or older. One of my favorite parts of the landscape.

The CBD (central business district) isn’t overly impressive, but located on the outskirts are interesting cafes and businesses.

The Hoochery is the oldest continuously operating legal still in Western Australia, owned and operated by a former California native. In addition to fine rum, the wife makes a terrific Ord River Rum cake!

Inside view of the Hoochery, which offers dining and is a great venue for celebrations.

The Zebra Rock Gallery and Coffee Shop. The beautiful cream and brown striped rock is found only in the East Kimberley of WA.

Shot of Ivanhoe Cafe and the shaded sitting area just outside the Kununurra CBD.

One of Kununurra’s chief industries is agriculture (cattle, mining, and tourism too) thanks to its most famous landmark the Ord River Conversion Dam constructed in 1963. Water is released from Lake Argyle( created in 1967 as a major storage reservoir) into the Ord River, into Lake Kununurra, which then is irrigated to thousands of acres of farmland. Some local crops include mangos, watermelons, melons, citrus, and seed crops such as chic peas and sunflower and chia seeds. Australian sandalwood is also grown here, and the pure sandalwood oil is used by many of the world’s luxury perfume houses.

View of one of the many irrigation channels in Kununurra, a great dog walking spot.

Shot of an irrigation channel at a local farm.

Visiting one of the local farms in Kununurra growing seed crops such as chic peas and chia seeds.

A beautful crop of chia seed growing at a local farm in Kununurra.

After familiarizing myself with the town(a friend of Gayl and Victoria lent me a car for the month–hospitality), we were off on our second day to El Questro (just over 700,000 acres in size) and a hot soak in Zebedee Springs. This is truly a tropical paradise with palm trees, hot shallow pools, sheltered by rugged, orange rock looming from above. We enjoyed ourselves until a small snake slithered by my left shoulder, and we suddenly burst from the pool like waterfowl hearing gunshot!

Gayl and I in front of the turn off sign to El Questro on our way to Zebedee Springs for the morning.

Enjoying the hot springs with Gayl.

Zebedee Springs–nothing better than a hot soak in a this tropical setting…until a small snake swam by my left shoulder!

On day three, Victoria’s boyfriend Joel, a helicopter pilot who mustered cattle up here for ten years, joined us for a visit, and we headed to Wyndham, the Kimberley’s oldest town and once a thriving port when Wyndham Meat Works was operating. The abattoir closed in 1985, and the only thing happening now is the occasional export of live cattle to Indonesia. Most “live export”(pretty controversial) is shipped from Darwin or Broome, and it’s common to see the mammoth, three-vehicle-long “road trains” coming from various cattle stations on the roads.

A popular tourist attraction in Wyndham is the Five Rivers Lookout on top of the Erskine Range, where you can see all of Wyndham and the whole Gulf Coast where the Forrest, King, Durak, Pentecost, and Ord rivers flow into. We also made our way past the salt flats to the Prison Boab tree, but not before a stop at the popular Rusty Shed Cafe.

The view of Wyndham, the salt flats, and Gulf from the Five Rivers Lookout in Wyndham. The Forrest, King, Durak, Pentecost, and Ord Rivers flow in the Cambridge Gulf.

Enjoying a stop at the Rusty Shed Cafe in Wyndham with Gayl and Joel. Tori took the picture.

Close up of the Prison Boab Tree outside Wyndham.

“Prison Boab Tree” in Wyndham. After using Aboriginals for tracking, they were held captive in this tree at night according to one story.

Thanks to a photographer friend of Victoria’s, we were given directions where to view this Aboriginal rock art.

Aboriginal rock paintings at a location known to a few locals.

Barely taking a breath and barely containing our excitement, we were off day four and five camping in the Bungle Bungles at Purnululu National Park, a World Heritage area. If you are going to spend any time in the Kimberley, a four-wheel vehicle is a must. There are a variety of trucks and SUVs on the road up here, many of them with “snorkels” attached for stream and river crossings.

An iconic, Australian vehicle in these parts is the “Ute.” The popular story goes that in 1933, a Gippsland farmer’s wife wrote a letter to Ford Australia asking, “Can you build me a vehicle that we can use to go to church in on Sunday, without getting wet, and that my husband can use to take the pigs to market on Monday?” A young designer modified a 1933 coupe with just a tray on the back and strengthened the chassis so it could carry a load, and the rest is history.

The Ute, a popular vehicle in the outback.

At the Kununurra Agriculture show and a typical 4-wheel drive SUV.

Fortunately Victoria had a Toyota SUV for the four of us and all our gear because the drive in to the Bungle Bungles involves about two hours of off-road driving on narrow, deeply rutted, dirt roads over numerous creek crossings of various depths. (I later met a very large, cane-toting 74-year-old woman who told me she was visiting Kununurra for two days and driving to the Bungle Bungles. After I talked with her, she thought she might fly over them instead.)

The landscape in this part of the world is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Not only is it visually stunning with its changing light and colors, but it also touches you on some deep, cellular level that you can’t quite understand. The land vibrates with the mysteries of the human condition, its traumas and its joys… OK…. it’s just feels *~x#1+$%) OLD!

The Beehive formations of the Bungle Bungles with horizontal lines of ocher, black, orange, and red are truly unique.

With Gayl inside Cathedral Gorge (I know. I have that same outfit on…shirt Salvation Army shirt…skirt:Prana!)

Walking into Cathedral Gorge. Joel, on the right.

Inside the Bungle Bungles heading for Cathedral Gorge.

Setting up gourmet snacks at the viewing station to watch the sun set over the Bungle Bungles. A very expensive APT tour group set up next to us. What they were serving couldn’t compare with Gayl’s “foodie” nibbles!

Sun setting on the Bungle Bungles. The light glows with changing oranges, pinks, and lavenders that is other worldly.

The changing colors and sky are like now where else in the world. Watching the sun set over the Bungle Bungles.

Having not done a lot of camping, I experienced the pleasures of sleeping under the stars in my “mozzie dome,” comfortably curled up in my “swag.” (Does LL Bean have these?) The Milky Way is visible in these parts. Another wonder to behold.

Victoria helping me set up my “mozzie dome and swag” at the Bungle Bungles campground. The mozzie dome allows for great star/night sky gazing!

Gayl, Joel, and Victoria setting up camp and preparing a delicious meal.

Back home on day six, Gayl and Victoria made sure I got my library card, visited Birdland Functional Pottery and the Artopia Gallery where I signed up for life-drawing classes, enjoyed “cuppas” at their favorite cafes, connected with the Waringarri Art Center, where I would be volunteering with the Aboriginal artists, learned Banjo the dog’s routine, and, finally, (whew!) met some of the locals I could call on. I have never felt so cared for.

Then, Gayl left, followed by Victoria and Joel the next day. I would be meeting up with Gayl again in her hometown of Perth in three months and seeing Victoria and Joel after their holiday abroad.

They left in their wake, a colorless vacuum: The house quiet…a sense of loss. But I relish being in one place for four weeks, in one of the remotest parts of the world.

Every day I wake to sunshine* The laundry dries in 15 minutes*

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 63.

Posted on August 6, 2016 by connieottmann

Alice Springs: “What’s in a Name?”

Kalaranga Lookout :Impressive red sandstone formations on the way to Palm Valley.

Alice Springs is a pretty interesting town. Surrounded by desert with the MacDonnell ranges running east and west, it is smack dab in the middle of the country approximately 750 miles from the nearest ocean and about 930 miles(1500km) from Adelaide to the south and Darwin to the north. Since I was in Uluru and headed to Darwin and then to the Kimberley, I decided to stop in “Alice” and check it out. And you have to admit the name is kind of intriguing.

Alice Springs was actually the name given to what was thought to be a permanent waterhole discovered by a government surveyor exploring the area for the Overland Telegraph Line (OTL). The surveyor named the waterhole after Alice Todd, wife of the Superintendent of Telegraph Sir Charles Todd, and the repeater station was eventually built adjacent to it. The OTL was completed in 1872, and the settlement became known as Stuart after the famous explorer John McDouall Stuart who earlier in 1862 had led an expedition through the center of Australia to the north coast. (Stuart Highway is named after him). To avoid the confusion of two names, the town was officially named Alice Springs in 1933. And then there are camels.

An expanding country requires ingenuity, and before there was a railway line linking Alice Springs to Adelaide, provisions had to somehow reach central, outback settlements. Since horses and steer weren’t suitable in the desert, camels were. Between 1870 and 1920 approximately 20,000 camels and 3000 Afghan Cameleers (called Ghans) drove camel trains across the desert delivering supplies. They were crucial to the exploration and development of the interior, and it is only in recent years that their story has been told. Today, many tours around Uluru and Alice Springs feature camel rides. (Australia’s wild camel population is the largest in the world, and if you’re looking for a good movie, watch Tracks, a true story).

Considered the central hub of the Australian outback, I immediately liked the town. With a population of about 26,000, it’s bustling, diverse (I met a bearded lady working at one of the coffee shops…didn’t ask), with a good energy that offers everything a traveler would want, especially great Indigenous art galleries. Eye-opening to me was the fact that this was my first real experience with contemporary Aboriginal Australia and a peek at some of the present day challenges that exist.

A view of Todd Mall, the town’s focal point. Outdoor cafes, shops, and art galleries are everywhere.

Another view of Todd Mall in the town center.

My favorite gallery, Papunya Tula Artists, featuring art of the western desert.

As I’ve mentioned before, airbnb is a great accommodation option. As luck would have it, I booked a room with a lovely young family at their home about a 30 minute walk from the CBD. Clare is a teacher originally from the Melbourne area, Moga, her partner hales from Sudan and is studying Law, and Danny their four year-old will soon have a sibling. Clare and Moga have traveled extensively throughout Australia, love art and culture, and were a great resource of where to go and what to see….one of many benefits staying with locals!

Danny, Clare, and Moga, my terrific airbnb hosts in Alice Springs.

I spent my first day ambling around town and hanging out at Todd Mall, the town’s focal point. With outdoor cafes, shops, and galleries lining both sides of the pedestrian-only street, it’s a pleasant and lively place. But I quickly learned not to use the public loo because “there might be someone passed out in there” but to use a pay toilet in the mini mall nearby.

Like our native Americans, Aboriginals have had a long, sad history of alcohol problems, and since Alice Springs is a central hub, it draws Indigenous people from outlying communities to its great services and often trouble breaks out. I did notice that each day at one end of Todd Mall there was a constant police presence at what appeared to be a local hangout.

Alice Springs has had, in the last several years, a history of violence, domestic and otherwise. Adding to the problem are the deplorable conditions at “town camps” (Indigenous public housing). I did drive by a couple of these camps, and they looked to be pretty run down and miserable. You get the sense that a strong racial divide exists here. Adding fuel to the fire, a few months ago the Northern Territory Government decided to put a private company, Zodiac, rather than an Indigenous community housing group in charge of managing the camps. Like the racial tension that exists in US, it’s much more complicated than what I am presenting here; nevertheless, it’s not a good idea to be out walking alone at night.

On a positive note, the town has much to offer. My hosts recommended a very good cafe in town which happened to be part of and next to the Royal Flying Doctor Service Museum. Royal Flying Doctor Service’s inception and vision is credited to Reverend John Flynn, a missionary in the central outback in 1912, who wanted to provide better medical services to remote areas of Australia. This service still operates today.

Interior view of one of the early planes operated by the Royal Flying Doctors Service.

the tiny cockpit of the same plane. Today, “There is nowhere in the 80% of Australia covered by RFDS where a patient cannot be reached within two hours.”

Close by is the National Pioneer Women’s Hall of Fame and the Alice Springs Reptile Center. I wanted to see the Araluen Arts Center, a bit of a walk heading out of town. Since it was late in the afternoon, I took a suggested short cut, crossed over a sketchy part of town and almost got lost. Arriving twenty-five minutes to closing time, the Center let me in for free, and I was able to see this year’s 39th Alice Prize show celebrating contemporary Australian art from across the country.

Naomi Hobson, from Queensland. High Pine. Synthetic polymer paint on linen. One of my favorites!

Tiger Yaltangki, Northern Territory, Malpa Wiru (Good Friends). Acrylic on Canvas. Another favorite.

Realizing it was late and I should get a cab, I walked out to the lobby, and, low and behold, there were Clare and Danny! After a little playground time, Clare took the long way home pointing out other places of interest. Still got good mojo going on. (Thank you Peter Rivard for your “blessings!”)

With one full day to get in a tour, Moga suggested Palm Valley, one of the family’s favorite places. When I visited the i site center to book the tour, I found one that also included a visit to the Hermannsburg Historic Precinct.

A view of Hermannsburg Mission. In 1982 control of the Mission lands was restored to the tradtional Aranda owners under the Aboriginal Lands Rights Act.

Inside the chapel at the Mission.

Interior view of one of the buildings.

Albert Namatjra and his wife Rubina. Namatjira is famous for painting landscapes of Western Aranda Country.

One of Albert Namatjira’s paintings.

An example of Hermannsburg pottery at the tiny gift shop in the Mission. Pieces are hand built using the coil and pinch techniques. I should have bought it when I saw it in Hermannsburg. Pieces are twice as expensive at galleries!

Hermannsburg was the first Aboriginal mission in the Northern Territory established in 1877. Later, it was home to the famous painter Albert Namatijra. Today, Hermannsburg is internationally renown for its pottery, which originally started as a training program in the 1990s for Indigenous families living in the area. Our tour stopped here first for high tea before continuing on to Palm Valley. (I much prefer high tea to coffee break!)

I am happy to say that this tour company–Alice Wanderer–had a great tour guide who was only 23 years-old but really knew the land and loved what he was doing. Tours are really the way to go if you don’t have a lot of time. Who you share your tour with is the luck of the draw as is getting a seat assignment on a plane. The average tour age is somewhere in the late 50s, mostly couples. Earlier that morning we were kept waiting when picking up three women from Sydney. When they finally showed up, they were wearing what looked to be night club attire. (Note: dress comfortably and wear good walking shoes). I bumped into two of them the next morning at a pharmacy. One of the women had broken her toe and was waiting for medical attention–unfortunate because they were heading south to Uluru the next day.

Getting out beyond Hermannsburg to Palm Valley, part of Finke Gorge National Park, is about a 2 hour drive from Alice Springs. It’s 4 wheel driving most of the way and truly spectacular scenery along the Finke River, the oldest river in world. Palm Valley is so named because it is the only area in central Australia where red cabbage palms are able to survive thanks to small pockets of spring fed pools. It’s a real outback oasis!

Another view of the rock formations in the amphitheatre also known as Kalaranga.

We were lucky to see small pockets of water in mid May.

View of Palm Valley with red cabbage palms.

It really does look like an oasis in the desert.

When we arrived back in town, it was dark. My hosts had offered to pick me up, but since I was the last person to be dropped off, my tour guide insisted on delivering me to my front door.

At this point, I’ve been five months on the road. I think I’m officially a seasoned traveler. It’s exciting to be heading farther north to Darwin, Australia’s most northern city and the tropics… where hungry crocodiles live!! Seasoned traveler could take on a whole new meaning..

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out!

Posted on July 18, 2016 by connieottmann

Uluru and the Red Center: The Spiritual Heart of the Country.

Driving up to Uluru. It really does take your breath away.

“It’s not that Uluru is bigger than you had supposed or more perfectly formed or in any way different from the impression you had created in your mind, but the very opposite. It is exactly what you expected it to be. You know this rock. You know it in a way that has nothing to do with calendars and the covers of souvenir books. Your knowledge of this rock is grounded in something much more elemental.”

Bill Bryson, In a Sunburned Country

After reading Bryson’s travel book, I knew I couldn’t come to Australia and not see Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock). In addition, British artist Bruce Munro’s Field of Light solar- powered art installation had just opened in April. How lucky to have this added bonus!

Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park is located in the Northern Territory, smack dab in the middle of the country and about four and a half hours from Alice Springs, the nearest major town. I flew directly from Melbourne to Ayers Rock Airport and was happy to learn that the Ayers Rock resort, which has sprung up to provide visitor accommodations and other essential services, also runs free buses from the airport to the resort

I had read that accommodations at the resort were expensive–and they are. Be prepared to spend anywhere from $220 to $475 a night for a hotel …unless you are willing to stay at a campground or share a hostel dorm.

After doing some research, I found that the Outback Pioneer Lodge and Hotel (cheapest hotel with rooms running $220 to $300) also doubles as a YHA hostel with a section of dorm units. These tiny rooms house up to four people and consist of two bunk beds, and that’s about all, but close by is a kitchen, large shower/bathroom/laundry facility, and lounge room. The price: $34.00 a night. AND the best view of Uluru in the whole resort can be seen from the viewing station out back behind the dorm section!

The Outback Pioneer Lodge and Hotel. They also have hostel dorms where I stayed for a lot cheaper!

Walking to the center from the Outback Pioneer Lodge and Hotel. Yes, this is the color of the ground!

View of the Town Square, just a 15 minutes walk from The Outback Pioneer Lodge or campground. Buses also run every 10 minutes from other hotels to the square and back.

The best views of Uluru are at the Outback Pioneer Lodge’s viewing station just behind the hostel dorms!

Initially when I found the dorm rooms online, it appeared that only mixed dorm units were available. I was put off at first about a “mixed dorm” and hemmed and hawed a little before deciding, What the hell. It was only for three nights. But when I arrived and checked in, I realized that my only other roommates were two women. I have a feeling they advertise mixed dorms on purpose to discourage people from from taking the cheaper rate, and the hotel sells the more expensive rooms.

At first I thought I would splurge and treat myself to a private hotel room. But then I remembered my goal of meeting people, and what a wise decision. Returning to the dorm later, I was greeted by two lovely young women, Mika from Japan and Rena from Indonesia. After chatting and exchanging introductions, Rena turned to me and said, “I am so glad you’re here.” I was somewhat taken aback, and she must have read my expression because she went on to explain that what she loved about traveling was meeting people. What a beautiful thing to say to a complete (and older) stranger who would be taking up one quarter of a very tiny room. All in all, we ended up spending about eight hours of sleeping time together as most tours left before sunrise or ended after dark in the evening.

Aboriginal artists demonstrating their painting techniques near the The Town Square.

Some story telling and ceremony objects at the Town Square.

I had booked ahead a sunrise tour of the Field of Lights art installation with AAT Kings and was picked up at 5:30 am the next morning. Excited about seeing this, I had done a little reading ahead of time to pick up a few facts. Munro created 50,000 hand made globes on flexible light stems that allow the lights to sway in the wind like wild flowers. The palette of colors changes from the deepest purple, to red ocher, to a soft white and cover an area the size of four football fields with Uluru majestically in the background. It took forty people and many volunteers six weeks to plant the stems of light and install 144 light projectors and miles and miles of fiber optic cable.

I paid $89.00 for this tour which consisted of a short bus ride to the location and a few nibbles of cookies with tea or instant coffee. Expecting some great commentary, imagine my dismay when the tour guide got on the PA and said well most of you have probably already read about the Field of Light, but here’s a little background information. What?! That’s it?! Nothing about what inspired the artist? Not even a few anecdotes about the installation? Surely people have tried stealing the lights!(there’s 24 hour security) A few of us asked questions, but I felt cheated somehow.

Fortunately, I quickly quit my grumbling when we arrived in total darkness to a jeweled landscape of glowing color that stretched as far as the eye can see. Even better, we were allowed to walk down into the installation and see it up close. The globes are about the size of tennis balls on flexible stems that sway above a tangle of illuminated cable. You have to wonder how the hell did they install this?

At the Field of Lights sunrise tour, Bruce Monroe’s light installation of 50,000 radiant hand made frosted globes at Uluru. The lights slowly change color under a tangle of lighted cable.

Dawn approaching at the Field of Light installation. Munro visited Uluru in 1992 and was inspired to become an artist. That same visit inspired this installation.

Dawn at the Field of Lights installation. As the sun comes up, the lights turn white and slowly melt into the red earth.

In total silence, we were left to wander and wonder. This is what it must be like to walk among the stars. Slowly the night sky began to lighten, and as dawn seeped through, Uluru loomed in the distance–the face that launched 50,000 lights and enraptured an artist for 24 years. As light filled the sky, the spheres slowly faded in color to a soft white then gently melted into the red earth. This once in a life time experience ended up being the perfect first act to introduce the main attraction. The next day I would get up close to Uluru.

The changing colors of Uluru as the sun goes down from the sunset viewing area.

Sunset and the striking color changes of Uluru.

The sun has set!

As I did with the Field of Light tour, I also booked ahead my Uluru sunset tour for the following day. For $119.oo plus $ 25.oo for the Park ticket, my trip included the base tour and Kuniya Walk, a visit to the Kata Tjuta Cultural Center, and then late in the afternoon a stop at the Uluru sunset viewing station to watch the sun go down. For an additional $136.00 I could enjoy the sunset barbecue (kangaroo fillets included) under the night sky with star gazing too. I initially balked at the price but later changed my mind and figured when in Rome… The bus picked us up at 2:35 pm, and we were on our way.

The atmosphere on the bus was infused with a kind of electricity of anticipation the closer we got. I actually felt a little twinge in my chest. Was this anxiety? And then we were up close and personal. Uluru is spell binding and totally arresting. Those weren’t chest pains; I could feel it in my heart. Arriving at the base you are not only hypnotized by its sheer size but also overwhelmed with the feeling that this is a living, breathing, brooding entity, millions of years old. It really feels alive, and you can’t stop looking at it. Up close, the surface of the rock has what looks like a red, flaky skin. If extraterrestrials have ever visited earth, they had to have been drawn here.

Another view of Uluru from the Kuniya Walk.

A walk around the base of Uluru is about 5.8 miles. It is higher than the Eiffel Tower or the Chrysler Building.

A section of Aboriginal rock paintings on the Kuniya Walk at Uluru.

At the base of Uluru, on the Kuniya Walk. The beautiful Mutitjulu Waterhole.

This tour provided some good commentary, but I preferred to wander off a little on my own. After our base visit, we continued on to the Kata Tjula Cultural Center and then to the viewing station, joined by other tour groups, to watch the sunset color Uluru in array of subtle shades. With some snacks and assorted drinks, the mood was festive, and I met some Australian tourists who introduced me to legend Slim Dusty and another country singer John Williamson and his famous song “Raining on the Rock.”

Enjoying nibbles and drinks at the sunset viewing station at Uluru.

When it was time for the barbecue, we were told that it looked like rain and that dinner was being moved indoors at the Cultural Center –a total cop out as it had been partly sunny all day with only a few clouds. I did, nevertheless, have a lovely dinner sharing a table with a grand mother and grand daughter from the states (a high school graduation gift to go anywhere in the world), and I even tried the Kangaroo, a mild and pleasant dark, red meat. With wine and champagne flowing, it was a great way to end the day.

Saying goodbye to my terrific hostel mates Mika from Japan(left) and Rena from Indonesia (right).

Although I wasn’t impressed with the resort and the accommodations offered (they have a captive audience here), it was worth every penny to see Uluru. After three quick days, my roommates and I said goodbye early the final morning. But while waiting for the bus to the airport later, we met up again and were excited to have another chance to see each other. We embraced once more, but when Rena and I hugged, this time we held each other for a few extra seconds…and I felt it in my heart. Maybe Uluru is the personification of love?

A”Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out!

Posted on July 3, 2016 by connieottmann

A Trip Across The River Styx to the Underworld: The MONA Museum, Hobart, Tasmania.

Arriving at the MONA on the Mona Roma ferry. You can also drive or take a coach. I recommend the ferry!

Tasmania (known as Tas or Tassie by locals) certainly lives up to one of its slogans: The Island of Inspiration. This Commonwealth, island state just south of Melbourne is home to approximately 500,000 residents, half of whom reside in the port city capital of Hobart. Known for its World Heritage wilderness, good food, and clean air, I think most people would agree that what has really put Tasmania on the map as a destination is the privately owed MONA museum(Museum of Old and New Art), which is dedicated to sex and death. With only three and a half days in Hobart, it was the focus of my visit.

The MONA is like no other museum in the world. Since it opened in 2011, it has been hailed as both visionary and profane and has drawn over 1.65 million visitors from around the world (Tasmanians have embraced it and get in free). The man inspired to create this is as interesting as his collection of modern art and antiquities. David Walsh grew up in a poor, working class suburb of Hobart(across from where the MONA is built), was considered a shy nerd, developed an algorithm, and became one of the world’s top gamblers earning millions. A self proclaimed atheist, Walsh gambled 150 million dollars on what he describes as “a secular temple and subversive adult Disneyland” with art that he wagers could become worthless in a decade or two.

Going to the MONA for one day just wasn’t enough… too much sensory overload. I had to go back a second time. Even so, it was several days later before I could make sense of it all. The experience had to be ingested and digested before I could excrete anything I could express verbally ( you will come to appreciate this analogy later).

Visiting the MONA is like crossing The River Styx to the Underworld, but this time Charon is taking you across the Derwent River on a luxury, two story ferry, and it only costs $20.00 round trip for the half hour ride. If you want to “escape the riff raff,” a $50.00 Posh Pit ticket will get you an exclusive lounge and lots of extras including a 30 minute wine tasting at Morilla Winery next door to the museum.

The Mona Roma ferry, takes you on a half hour ride from the harbor to the museum for $20.00 round trip. If you are Tasmanian, you get to go to the museum for free.

A light drizzle, grey skies, and cold temperatures (by Australian standards) provided what seemed like perfect weather for my first visit. It’s quite dramatic approaching the museum from the water. This steel and sandstone edifice sits theatrically up high on a promontory, and after docking at the ferry wharf, a ninety-nine-step climb takes you to the entrance.

Mirrored entrance to the MONA. Walsh is an avid tennis player, so, of course, there’s a tennis court at the entrance. Nothing intimidating or high brow here!

View from the entrance of the MONA, across the tennis court, of James Turrell’s piece, “Amarna,” a kind of gazebo of light best viewed at sunset or sunrise when colored light is reflected on the canopy ceiling. Turrell has built 80 of these Skyscape installations all over the world. This is his largest.

Sandstone lined stairway. You have to climb 99 stairs to the museum entrance.

Another view of huge, metal sculptures outside the entrance to the museum.

View from the entrance looking down to one of two metal sculptures.

What I immediately loved about the MONA is that there is nothing sanctimonious about it. So often when entering museums, and even some art galleries, there is an atmosphere that suggests conversations should be spoken in whispers… that maybe genuflecting is required. There’s serious stuff at the MONA, yet the place doesn’t take itself too seriously. There’s a healthy dose of humor and irreverence everywhere.

First of all, there is no writing or labeling of artwork on the walls. After getting through the lobby, a smart phone-like device called the O is handed out. The O is the first system in the world designed to replace traditional artwork labels. Walk into any of the galleries and a click on the device brings up pictures of the artwork. An additional click on each piece shows a selection of information you can access such as ideas, artist’s interviews, art wank, Gonzo (Walsh’s commentary–he thinks Madonna is shit), music, and videos. Who wants to read stuffy art discourse bunched up against other viewers when you can listen, at your convenience, to what interests you? Save your tour gets you an email later that night of your path through the museum including a list of viewed, loved, and hated works.

Armed with the O, you are directed by “front of house staff” to a circular, steel staircase that descends 55 feet (17 meters) to the bowels of a dimly lit underworld… complete with a bar. The basement level is otherworldly and feels a little cave-like, with a narrow hallway lined with a huge wall of ancient sandstone left exposed. It seems fitting that Cinerarium, velvet drapes surrounding three shelves containing elaborate, egg-shaped cremation urns, is the first artwork seen. A reminder of death, but also a reminder to celebrate life. Just beyond, a huge water installation, Bit.fall, rains paintings of words most commonly seen on the internet.

Descending to the bottom level where the new exhibitions are housed.

The basement museum bar “The Void” The brochure reads: “Think velvet, sandstone, and making eyes at the chick with the black nail polish while you slurp your postmodern martini.”

With the bar behind you and a seating area to enjoy drinks, this entrance takes you to the Cinerarium, on left. For AUD $75,000, you can enjoy an eternal membership to the MONA. When you die, they have you cremated and put in an urn in the museum! Walsh’s dad is interred there.

View of the basement looking down from the second level.

Julious Popp’s water installation “Bit.fall, that “rains paintings” of different words most commonly read on the internet. It begs the question: Are our brains being altered by the age of communication technology?

The remainder of space in this level is dedicated to new exhibitions that change every few months, and the latest, Field Lines, by Cameron Robbins had just opened up. Robbins somehow harnesses nature using “instruments” set up outside that draw the wind and map geothermal dynamics using neon light against a night sky.

Cameron Robbins wind drawings–pigment ink on paper–duration several days.

One of the contraptions used to create wind drawings.

Anemograph, Mt. KcKay. An anemograph is an instrument for measuring wind. Robbins’s anemograph “draws” with wind-powered light and slow photograph exposure!

The remaining three levels house Walsh’s collection of contemporary art and antiquities, and the two are intermixed. An ancient Egyptian coffin stands along side a contemporary ink on paper drawing inspired from forensic photography and scientific textbooks.

Skull: Beetle carapaces, taxidermied bird, and plastic.

“Live” art, Tim’s tattooed skin is becoming a work of art over a period of years. Already sold to a German collector for $260,000 AUD, the work will be completed when Tim dies, and the work is handed over to its purchaser! This is Tim, live! He doesn’t show up on the O. Walsh wanted people to wonder What the hell is going on!

Anslem Kiefer’s sculpture Sternenfall. Materials: bookcase comprising two iron elements with lead books (190-200 volumes) and glass.

Extra rolls of toilet paper in one the bathrooms off the library at the MONA.

If you should ever meet someone who has been to the MONA, he/she will undoubtedly mention the wall of vaginas. Entitled Cunts… and other Conversations, the installation features 77 life- size, porcelain, molded sculptures of women’s vaginas modeled by women from all walks of life ranging in ages from 18 to 78. It’s a little titillating and pretty much in your face (literally, they hang at eye level). But what inspired the artist(a man) was an article about three young women who had undergone labioplasty surgery because “…they feared men wouldn’t find them attractive if their labia did not conform to a standard seen in pornography, in which labia are airbrushed out.” These women models wanted one thing: for young women to be free of growing up with fear, ignorance, and loathing of their bodies and sexuality. Let’s face it. How many of us women really know what we look like down there? It’s amazing how different we all are. Who knew?! (The gift shop sells vagina soap replicas, apparently very popular).

One of the most hated and popular installations is Wim Delvoyes’s Cloaca Professional, a large machine that replicates the human digestive system turning food into feces(remember that earlier metaphor?). At appointed times of day, you can witness it being fed or taking a dump (making fun of modern art?).

On the other hand, one of the most disturbing and painful works is that of Jenny Holzer who makes words into art, and in this case, words printed on human skin. Inspired after reading about rape as an act of war carried out in Bosnia, Lustmorde, is a series of photographs with a narrative from three different perspectives: the perpetrator, the victim, and an observer (most often a family member). They are excruciating to read. Hotzer’s work hangs near a Goya etching entitled This is Worse, from a series known as The Disasters of War. Walsh is right when he says a lot of blood and guts are represented.

A visit to the MONA isn’t something that is quickly forgotten. It confronts, it entertains, it stirs things up. Its effects are residual. Almost six months into my trip, I realized that this was the first time I had felt lonely. Maybe it was a combination of things. The skies had remained overcast the whole time with the constant threat of a cold rain. My airbnb room was not in a welcoming, private home but rather in a kind of chilly rooming house, and I appeared to be the lone occupant. During this visit, I was totally on my own and never met up with anyone to share a meal with or have a friendly chat over coffee.

The MONA did what it does best, and that is it left me overwhelmed with a lot of mixed feelings. Like an unwelcome visitor, that what-is-the-meaning-of-life existential angst crept in during the night, kept me awake, and wouldn’t leave. I finally figured the only way to get angst to leave was to make him laugh and not take myself or it too seriously. For me, the MONA reminds us that we are mortal–and to find the humor in that.

Postscript : Hobart is a beautiful city. I loved it!

Another view of the harbor.

A view of the harbor from the MONA Roma ferry.

Next to the harbor Salamanca Place with its backdrop of sandstone warehouses dating back to the 1830s now house cafes, restaurants, galleries, and designer shops.

Entrance with partial view of the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Australia’s second oldest museum is right in the CBD and a short walk from the harbor.

It's a 60s Thing…Taking a Gap Year in NYC.

Formerly: A Boomer and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 62 to New Zealand and Australia on a Budget.

The 60’s Decade

Embark on a Hero’s Quest. It’s not Just for the Young.

NYC Artist Poogy (Briggs) Bjerklie, a Hallowell, Maine Native, has a One-Woman Show at the Sears Peyton Gallery, New York, NY.

Why You Should Ride the NYC Subway. In a world of growing divisions, it has taught me, instead, to see our similarities and shared humanity.

Every ride on the subway is akin to finding yourself suddenly cast in some kind of bizarre Best Short Film.

In order to follow your Heart, you have to roll with the punches AND with the bed springs when pursuing a New Adventure.

Brooklyn is home to a lot of young, hip Millennials. Would Ageism be a factor in my search for a room to rent? Turned out… it wasn’t.

Making the Transition from Maine to NYC,the village of Irvington,on the Hudson,offers the best of both worlds with scenic water views, parks, and a short train ride to Grand Central.

I’ve always wanted to live in NYC for a year. With my house rented, again, I’m going on a wing and a prayer (and a home equity line of credit) this time at age 66!

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out: Traveling Solo at 63… on a Budget!

Perth, the most isolated city in the world: No longer a well-kept secret.

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out: Traveling Solo at 63 for Nine Months to New Zealand and Australia…on a Budget!

A True Outback Adventure On One of the Greatest Roads in Australia: The Gibb River Road.

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! At 63, Traveling Solo for Nine Months in New Zealand and Australia…on a Budget.

Living the Pastoral Life at Auvergne Station, in the Northern Territory !

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 63…and on a Budget.

Volunteering and Meeting Aboriginal Artists at Waringarri Art Center in Kununurra, The East Kimberley.

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 63…on a Budget.

Kununurra in the East Kimberley: Adventure in a Wild and Ancient Alternate Universe. (Part 1 of 3)

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out! Traveling Solo at 63.

Alice Springs: “What’s in a Name?”

A “Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out!

Uluru and the Red Center: The Spiritual Heart of the Country.

A”Boomer” and Tripping My Brains Out!

A Trip Across The River Styx to the Underworld: The MONA Museum, Hobart, Tasmania.

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Every ride on the subway is akin to finding yourself suddenly cast in some kind of bizarre Best Short Film.

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Perth, the most isolated city in the world: No longer a well-kept secret.

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A True Outback Adventure On One of the Greatest Roads in Australia: The Gibb River Road.

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Living the Pastoral Life at Auvergne Station, in the Northern Territory !

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Volunteering and Meeting Aboriginal Artists at Waringarri Art Center in Kununurra, The East Kimberley.

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Kununurra in the East Kimberley: Adventure in a Wild and Ancient Alternate Universe. (Part 1 of 3)

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Alice Springs: “What’s in a Name?”

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Uluru and the Red Center: The Spiritual Heart of the Country.

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A Trip Across The River Styx to the Underworld: The MONA Museum, Hobart, Tasmania.

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