Kokopelli, Part 1

Hello all, long time no write. But with summer around the corner, I finally have time to do more extra curricular activities again.

Now I have the distinct advantage of working for a newspaper, I trawled through a local section (before it went to print) and stumbled across a class for making wooden flutes. Having taken a class making candles from various materials like wax, animal fat, oil, from the same instructors, I knew I would come away with new knowledge, a couple more skills and a neat trinket I made myself. Sold.

I snapped a quick picture off of the then-unprinted information detailing the time and place of the wooden flute class.

The wooden flute making class, pattered in Native American style, is a three-part class hosted by the Sarqit Outdoor Living School. These folks do all sorts of neat survival classes, including tanning hides, blacksmithing, a ton of crafts and general wilderness survival skills. I can attest our instructors are an interesting pair.

For the first day of class, we learned our flutes would be made from sotol, a member of the yucca family, which was harvested in Arizona. I imagined we would have had something much smaller to work with--a flute body that was a foot long or so. These yucca "trunks" were cut into roughly 18"-24" pieces with roughly a 2" diameter.

Our instructor went on to tell us we would clean the pieces, split them down the middle, and hollow out two matching chambers on the interior.

We get lectured on the steps of making a flute for the first class.

We had four students appear today, myself included, and we each chose a piece of sotol to carve.

The raw stalks of sotol that are destined to become flutes.

 Clean and halve

We all watched as our instructor took a machete and raked away all the dried growth on the outside of the stalk. Then he lined up to blade at the top and used a sturdy, heavy stick to set the machete into the head of the wood and continued to pound the opposite end of the blade until the stalk cut cleanly into two. (Master note: It's a good idea to keep the handle lower than the tip of the blade for better control.)

Then it was our turn. I was sitting there thinking, 'We really get to wield a machete?' 

We did.

I'm pleased to report I didn't loose any fingers or suffer any bodily injury while hacking away at my stalk. It was actually a lot of fun. I asked where our instructors got their machetes, to which they responded the pieces were gifts. And most machetes sold in stores are a bit more of the showy variety rather than the functional sort. And a saw-machete was somewhat useless, though having a machete and a saw often go hand in hand so it's a good idea to have both, if separate. Good to know.

Drawing lines

Next we had to mark up what needed to be carved out. Native Americans used a lot of hand measurements like their hand widths and fingers for carving, which was exactly what we did. The compression chamber (the recess a player will blow directly into) was measured to the size of my fist. The block was about an inch in length or roughly my first knuckle. The sound chamber comprised the remaining length of the stalk.

We also had to mark a 1/4" line along the edges of both halves as guidelines for the hollow of the sound chamber, as well as mark the compression chamber and windway.

The beginnings of my wooden flute pictured beside an example piece brought in by our instructors. You can see the narrow windway, the compression chamber, block, and sound chamber outlined in purple.

My stalk was a bit of a challenge because as you can see, it curves. I was very careful tracing my lines, but I still messed up a bit in a few places. But I figured so long as I understood what needed to be cut and what needed to remain, I felt I'd be all right.

It needs a hook

The pictures cut out immediately here because I became so engrossed in what I was doing. Carving out wood turns out to be very labor-intensive work. Our tools were knives and hook knives.

A hook knife, carved knife, crooked knife, bent knife. It cuts wood.

Feeling very much the caveman, it took me a solid half hour before I figured out the trick was to pull the blade toward yourself. The opposite was exhausting and much less effective. But when I finally got it, I was soon sitting in a pile of wood shavings. Not to say it was easy, it wasn't, but I felt I was making a dent in the work. Literally.

We chatted while we carved. I had a few good rejoinders when I was paying attention, but I was chiefly set on widening that darn hollow. It took the majority of the class time and I was last to finish.

Sanding

Having cut the compression and sound chambers for both halves, I joined the other students in sanding down the rough edges of the chambers. We used a 100 grit. My hand was red from the carving and intense heat from friction didn't help it much. Another ten minutes to smooth out the interior and I asked if I was ready yet for gluing. Our teacher told me one of my halves was too thick on the foot end of the flute. I agreed. This was the second half I did and I was struggling to thin that foot-to-head end.

I sat back down and went back to carving with the hook knife (gave my pointer finger a new blister) and sanded it all down again. Because heat and friction really are good for--yeah.

I got approved for the second round. Thank goodness, class time was already over and I was holding my poor instructors from going home.

Gluing

The final step of the night was gluing that narrow 1/4" seam for both halves of the flute. Our instructor was pleased to get to this step because we would have more time to create our birds. (See next post.) I was last to glue, but I stuck the pieces neatly together, wiped off any beads on the outside and we put five clamps on the body to keep everything in place. 

It has a week to set.

To be continued next week.

Happy weekend.

New shenanigans in New York

Do you remember those Wile E Coyote cartoons where every best laid plan to capture that roadrunner just blew up in that unfortunate dog's face? That was my summer.

It just keeps going and going and going. Because torture is funny. I felt very much a caricature tumbling through a black tunnel of unspeakable evil and hilarious sound effects, only to end up on the other side with my clothing shorn, one shoe missing, two black eyes, several missing teeth and dancing squiggly lines over my head with a dazed expression of "What just happened?" on my face.

And yes, every explosive outcome was a ruination of my own design. Tomatoes plucked while they were still green. I learn from the best, Wile E.

But if there's one thing about this desert denizen, it's that he never gave up chasing his bird. So when it came to my string of Acme-level fails on the school front, I treated myself to a cactus dinner in the form of New York City.

Times Square. I was in sensory overload.

Disappointed with my Road Runner chase to New Jersey in hopes of setting up shop for work and school in the farthest run east I've ever done, I decided I'd finally get a taste of New York, New York. This place has been on my bucket list since I experienced Parasite Eve in all its gruesome glory.




Gruesome. Glory.

Fans of this cult classic may notice the particular lean of my New York City tour hits several places highlighted in the game.

William Paterson University did do one thing right, they had a bus that, for $9 one way, carts students straight to Port Authority, the major bus terminal of Manhattan. The full service NJ Transit line took my money and I sat for an hour as the city skyline appeared on the horizon and we ducked under the Hudson River via the Lincoln Tunnel. I usually try not to look like a tourist when I go to new places, but New York City had me twisting every which way in my seat to take in every angle, every street, every light and sound from the emergence into Midtown to my final departure.

Port Authority was like an airport. Buses zooming in and out of narrow lanes, pedestrian traffic going in all directions, floors and floors of gates. I followed the other bus patrons to the lower levels and then followed signs to the street. Research the night prior told me to head north on 7th, but once I hit the street level it was a whole new ballgame.

I was utterly assaulted. Billboards touting Chanel, running neon, sparkling LEDs, shoulder to shoulder buildings sweeping up dizzying heights, the perpetual motion of vehicles on the road and passersby on the sidewalk. Taxis honked a never-ending street serenade, jackhammers droned a tireless tune, there echoed the ubiquitous march of a thousand thousand footsteps. The acrid smell of smoking sewer gas and sharp coffee wafted on the air amid tang of asphalt and greasy street vendor fare mixing hot dogs and salty fries. Businessmen walked with tourists by homeless alongside NYPD officers.

Everyone was here. All of mankind was present.

I was overcome. But I somehow managed to keep walking.

I got turned around easily, was swindled out of a couple bucks from a persistent Buddhist, and ended up at a scenic Bryant Park.

A happy accident, stumbling into beautiful Bryant Park. The free Wi-Fi also helped me find my way back to 7th.

Suffice it to say, I hardened quickly even if I was positively bubbling on the inside. I no longer made eye contact with others, stone-faced, I walked like I owned the place. And it worked. I went unhindered for the remainder of my walking tour of the city.

I continued up along 7th watching for the treeline of Central Park. I also kept at eye out for Carnegie Hall which I thought would be on the left side of the street but it was on the right. I missed it. I would have wandered into the subfloors if I had had my way, so maybe that's for the best.

I did stop into what I imagine is the world's largest M&M store; three floors of chocolate goodness and every M&M imaginable. I headed up to the second floor and snapped off a photo of a view of the city from height.

This is 7th Avenue from the second story of the M&M building. Bustling place.

I was tempted to purchase some candies if not for the snack, then to sample some of the wild color and creatively coated centers. I didn't have $13 to spare for a pound of chocolate. I did, however, take their M&M personality test and came up with Light Blue. Agreed. The store was fun and a pretty diversion.

I had to settle for the green M&M Statue of Liberty, the closest I'll get this time.

   Finally, I came up to 59th Street where Central Park began. Then I became a little bee and buzzed dizzily all over the park in every loop and cutback available to see sights. I purchased a $2 map of Central Park which came in very handy, Central Park is huge, and helped structure my walk.

I went everywhere in lower Central Park. I swung past The Carousel, jotted down the Literary Walk toward The Mall and ended on Bethesda Terrace and Fountain where a chorus fulled the courtyard with resonant song.

For whom forsaketh me not? Shakespeare stands along the Literary Walk in Central Park. 

The Literary Walk was lovely as I looked on mentors and teachers of the craft. A lot of photographers and artists lined the avenue which I found amusing.

I swung right from the terrace, passed the Loeb Boathouse to the north and swung right toward the Conservatory Water pond where I found a statue of Hans Christian Anderson and Alice in Wonderland.

Alice and I tend to chase each other through life it seems. I actually climbed the structure and sat on Alice's left side where I might have had a right decent conversation if Alice had obliged.

I was especially pleased to find Alice. I wish I was half as creative as she is in world creation--or do I give that credit to Carroll?

After Alice, I headed south to find Balto and with my thoughts still turned to Parasite Eve, to the Central Park Zoo. I didn't actually enter the zoo portion of the zoo, but I did walk through the gift shop and stop for a lunch of chicken tenders and fries. Finding no place to dine within the zoo, it was quite busy, I parked myself in Sheep Meadow and enjoyed the view.

Central Park and the city juxtaposed from Sheep Meadow.

It was about this time I was getting tired, but it was only 2 p.m. I started to head back south toward Port Authority when I got a second wind. When would I be here again? I had no idea. I had to at least take in ONE museum. Armed with this reasoning, I began my long trek up nearly 20 streets to attend the American Museum of Natural History. [Because Parasite Eve T-Rex. Just sayin'.]

My original plan was to just sit on the steps of the museum and absorb the serenity of this bastion of knowledge.

Really, I was just going to sit here.

But then I went inside and saw the dinosaur skeletons. And then I made the mistake of talking to the nice lady at information what I should see. The Star of India. Which happened to be the largest sapphire in the world. SOLD!

I dropped $17 on a ticket and toured the Milstein Hall of Ocean Life, Hall of Biodiversity, North American Forests, Warburg Hall of New York State Environment, Grand Gallery, Spitzer Hall of Human Origins, Ross Hall of Meteorites, Guggenheim Hall of Minerals, Bernard Family Hall of North American Animals, Birds of the World, Primates, and the Sanford Hall of North American Birds. I took dozens of pictures and read a multitude of information. I was in seventh heaven.

This impressive specimen of redwood displayed a linear history of man through tree rings. Beautiful tree in the North American Forests exhibit.

This stately raven beckoned to have his picture taken in the Birds of the World exhibit. It was an interesting setup--every country had its native birds in one window and a picture highlighted and labeled the birds. I had a lot of fun picking out terns and finches in the displays. The raven is my favorite though.

The writing is on the wall. What can I say, history takes form in the earliest writing practices, hieroglyphic or cuneiform.

I stayed in the museum until they closed at 4:45 p.m., not nearly enough time to explore and learn but by the same turn, my body was on its way out. I whipped through the gift shop again on the hunt for some item to take with me, but ultimately convinced myself to keep the museum map and ticket stub for souvenirs.

I plodded back onto the street and hung close to Central Park as I walked along Central Park Avenue south back to Port Authority. I would miss the 6 p.m. bus, but I would have to make the 7 or wait until 9. My rule of thumb is to not stray out after dark in places I'm unfamiliar with. New York was no exception.

I had to stop twice along Central Park to rest my pounding heels and the city was kind enough to provide benches all along the sidewalk. People were still out and about walking their dogs or biking as sirens wailed street side.

The last item on my agenda was to dine on a New York pizza. Coming down 8th Avenue, I spied a decent looking eatery and ducked in.

Mariella's pizza was great!

 I ordered a single slice of pepperoni pizza, the cook heated it up for me in the oven drawers you see there and tucked my slice away for me so I could run to Port Authority.

I only encountered one rude woman shoving her way through the sidewalk hoards, she nearly struck the dinner out of my hands. Had I dropped my food on my empty stomach, it would have been war, but I held on, agreed with my neighbors that that was rude, and carried on to the bus-airport.

I purchased my return ticket, as requested by the terminal for efficiency, and scarfed down my pizza slice hidden behind a pole. I didn't want to eat so quickly, I wanted to enjoy a real NYC pizza, but it couldn't be helped. There was a surging tide of people going home trying to sweep me away, so I ate fast and dove into the river.

I'm amazed I not only located my gate and bus but that I made it back to the school and dorm in one piece. No hitches, no problems.

When all was said and done, I think I dropped nearly $100 for New York, spent a solid 8 hours in the city, walked at least 8 or 9 miles, and took in a good deal of sights on foot. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in NYC. So much so, I tried to find affordable housing to just stick it out in the city making friends with agents and publishers and the like. If my money had not been tied up in two academic institutions, I would have found a way to stay. No luck this time, but I had an awesome time in New York--and I hardly saw the skirts of this iceberg. I'd go again. Preferably sooner than later and THIS time to see the ball drop for New Year's.

What a city. What a place! It made my adventure senses tingle and I felt happier than I had in weeks. Thank you New York for reminding me there's always more to see and do and always something to aspire to. This cactus was delicious.

Happy Weekend.