Snapshots from Christmas Town 2013

Visting Busch Gardens Williamsburg's Christmas Town for the first time marked a great way to celebrate the holiday season. The European-themed amusement park transforms into a yuletide world of sparkling lights, festive music, live performances, and dramatic decorations - all of which resulted in the following travelogue of photos and memories.

Christmas Town's shows including Gloria, with powerful vocal performances, and Miracles, a dance-themed musical. 

High-powered voices soar in Gloria!

Ballet and modern dance in Miracles

But the real stars of the park were the decorations, with each country sporting a distinctly different style. 

Ireland

Killarney boasted golden tinsel swags and green tinsel shamrocks, all interlaced with colored lights. Green and gold are not only Christmas colors but also colors in the Irish flag - clever. I made two stops at Annie's Pub for Christmas Town hot chocolate with whipped cream, delicious and warming.

Reminds me of Galway Bay Irish Pub in Annapolis,
with all the wood paneling and warm ambiance.

The leprechauns have been at work....

France

France's white, cerulean, and blush pink decor evoked the glitzy lives of bygone bourgeoisie and whimsical reflections of Parisian style. I even got a photo with some bizarre looking jesters. And they say American clowns are scary.

This gorgeous, gigantic Christmas tree sends forth thunderous carols from within... and in English, oddly. Fortunately, the rest of the music throughout France is in French, even a lovely rendition Jingle Bells - I mean Vive le Vent. The tree must be a welcoming committee for foreign tourists.

King, Queen, and Court Jesters do their best to frighten tourists in France.

Wine Tasting

The wine tasting at La Belle Maison left me feeling pretty educated. Turns out all of those fancy wine rituals aren't just for snobs, they actually have a purpose! Mind blown. For instance:

Tip a glass of red wine away from you a little and wiggling your fingers behind it. Whether or not you can see them shows how deep the color is. Color, like taste, makes each wine unique. 

When you swirl the wine around in your mouth, breathing in through your nose helps you taste even more flavors.

Check out Snooth and Vivino for advice on wine pairings, ratings, etc.

I especially had some things to learn about the temperatures that make wines happiest when served. "Americans," said the sommelier Nora, "serve white wine too cold and red wine too warm. You're supposed to serve red wine at room temperature, but room temperature means a cellar... in a medieval castle... in the dead of winter." So, all I need is a medieval castle and I'm all set.

I am now a fan of rosé, something I have never liked in the past. True French rosé "is neither cheap nor sweet," and is instead considered a delicacy in France. The wine tasting featured Rosé d'Anjou, which had a very elegant taste which, the sommelier explained, paired well with smoked turkey.

Beautiful statue in front of La Belle Maison. This statue disappeared
some time ago from France's town square, so I was happy to see it
had shown up again!

Rose d'Angou in my souvenir Christmas Town wine glass

Sadly, I had never done a wine tasting before, and I thought I would be rude unless I drank everything that was given to me. Ooopsie. Is it just me or is it hot in here?

Of course, no wine tasting is complete without a visit next door to... penguins? These penguins are real celebrities, residing in their own Ice Palace near La Belle Maison. I just wish I could have been on the flight to Williamsburg with them - pretty darn cute if you watch the video:

Germany

Dinner at Das Festhaus included a gluten-free pizza (baked in an oven-safe wrapper that prevented cross-contamination with gluten, unfortunately a must for anyone with life-threatening celiac disease like me - Busch Gardens is awesome). The always-festive Das Festhaus was even more bedecked than usual, with stunning chandeliers that reminded me of the Austrian chandelier in the Opera House in the Kennedy Center.

Later, we browsed shops boasting German-made wares ranging from beer steins and nutcrackers to carved hunting horns and cuckoo clocks. Since they were made in Germany rather than China, I could not afford them, but could afford to gawk!

French Canada

Passing through France again we meandered in French Canada, where the Yankee Candle Carver was hard at work as usual and Caribou Pottery was decked out for a woodsy Christmas. Most of the fauna were indoors, with the exception of a beautiful Cooper's Hawk whose keeper was rushing him inside before the afternoon chill set in.

Hand-dyed and handmade mushroom candles

A gentle, mellow Cooper's Hawk - gorgeous

I was dying to paint something at Caribou Pottery, but it takes a couple hours and the day was going by fast. We decided that next time we will have to take two days for Christmas Town.

Italy

Voyaging from French Canada into Italy unveils a vintage Christmas theme, replete with oversized mutli colored lights, giant clowing Santa heads (eeek!) and retro holiday-themed bill boards. Dean Martin replaces ancient Roma, and apparently his tradmark drinks abounded as well, as evident in the behavior of a gentleman who rushed up to me and enthused about how AWESOME!!! my outfit was. Attired in a curly brown scarf, my favorite winter hat (a huge furry ushanka), and a camel-colored winter coat, I thought I looked more like a terrifying squirrel, but to each his own.

Italy was one of my favorite sections in Christmas Town, being a vintage girl myself. My mother felt herself yanked back into her childhood memories of 1950s and 60s Christmases, but the panic in her eyes soon changed to enjoyment... I hope.

By now solidly nighttime, we boarded the train skirting around the perimeter of the park. I got yelled at by the conductor for leaning out of the train to get this shot. Whenever I see potential for a good photo all common sense goes out the window. Whoops.

By foot, the lights were spectacular as well, since you became immersed in the visual festivities on all sides. Such as:


...the smashed-up car at Verbolten, which joined in the holiday festivities...

...the clock tower in Banbury Cross...

...and Escape from Pompeii, now the Polar Pathway...

...and the O Tanenbaum light show in Oktoberfest...

The Nomad Soul's Guide to Christmas Gifts

Christmas gift ideas for wanderers, adventurers, vagabonds, and dreamers....

Some of these hail from my own personal gallimaufries (a word everyone should use at least once), and while a few are feminine, many will please both ladies and gents.

Compass Glass Magnets from Paper Source

Scrimshaw Whale Box, National Geographic

Global Collection: Africa by 7Gypsies
Great for scrapbooking or framing.

"Not all who wander are lost." Necklace by UnderGlass, Etsy.

Paperblanks Handtooled Lined Journal, Paper Source

Marlyn Schiff Vintage Button Earrings from Lilac Bijoux

Longitude by Dava Sobel

A polkadot teepee of cotton canvas for the tiny nomad in your life

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"The Wild Geese," handmade at Wild Goose Studio in Knocknabohilly, Ireland

ICE! at the Gaylord National

My first visit to the ICE! exhibit at the Gaylord National sure didn't disappoint. Like the Gaylord in Kissimmee in Florida, the Washington D.C. version at the National Harbor sports a gigantic glass-enclosed atrium, just minus the alligators grinning at meals tourists from the transplanted bayou.

Instead, this Gaylord went for more of a classic stroll-in-the-park theme with cafes, restaurants, and shops peeking from amidst the dense trees and glowing street lights. However, the real star of the Gaylord was the view from the mammoth windows overlooking the magnificent Potomac River.

Suspended Christmas Tree in the 18-story glass atrium of the Gaylord National.
The massive windows overlook the glittering lights of the National Harbor.

A veritable city of rooms surround the bedecked atrium.

Hidden in gigantic tents outside the hotel, ICE! is a clever mixture of traditional, clear-as-crystal ice sculptures and vividly colored sculptures of bright cerulean, lemon yellow (at least I hope it's lemon), and geranium red evoking scenes from "The Night Before Christmas," followed by a finale of "Christmas in New York." 

Entrance to ICE! The letters appeared to be fiberglass, but everything else
was pure ice, from the bright yellow background to the brick walls
and whimsical swirls.

An icy arch seems to be made from enormous candy and sugar-spun bricks

Delicate crystalline dove adds a sweet contrast to the vivid and mod surroundings.

The temperature remained at about nine degrees, so my friend and I had bundled up in enough layers to give Randy from A Christmas Story a run for his money.

On top of this, the staff at the Gaylord gave us each an oversized, hooded, calf-length parka of which any Arctic explorer would approve. The parka also acted as a sort of built-in sled when we reached the ice slides near the end of the tour. "Lift your feet up!" called the attendant at the bottom of the slide as I began sliding down in a seated position. A suggestion which, if followed, will tilt the unsuspecting victim on their back so that the slippery parka turns into an Olympic-speed toboggan. 

Most ungraceful, but I felt like a little kid all over again. Sadly, I was too busy laughing hysterically to get a picture of my friend sliding down after me.

Solid ice comprises the Christmas tree, the presents, and the huge
slides on either side of the room. Only the tinsel-y tree trimmings were non-ice.

Yeah, yeah, I know my photo's crooked and shaky. But I kept having to take my hand out of my glove to snap photos and by this time I couldn't even feel my fingers. 

Santa and sugarplums then gave way to a trip into New York City on a wintry night, where even the Statue of Liberty has joined the festivities by donning a red suit and hat. Again, great subject, rotten photo. My poor frozen fingers. I finally broke down and whipped out the HotHands hand warmers.

Santa of Liberty

Check this out: "Phantom of the N. Pole" and a poster that looks like a Galapagos penguin photobombing Les Miz. Technically not made from ice, but I don't think I could have resisted doing this, either.

Broadway Signs

At the end of the walk-through, we came upon a larger-than-life nativity with incredible detail and delicacy. My flash revealed the intense chilliness in the air, which they pumped in from overhead to maintain the 9 degree temperature, the sadists.

Nativity of ice. The matte ice creating the ground contrasted with 
the shiny figures. Methinks this art form takes a tiny bit of skill...

Awwww....

As we shuffled out the mega-tent's door and into the night air to head back into the Gaylord, we both stopped and exclaimed, "Wow, it's hot out here!" It was 40 degrees. 

I will never again complain about cold winters. We survived nine degrees all for the sake of festivity and art! I think some hot chocolate is in order. Spiked.

Or maybe I'll just steal some treats from Santa's plate.

Vaudeville comes to Virginia

This week, I visited the famous metropolis of... drum roll... Dumfries, Virginia! (Yeah, I had never heard of it either.) From my brief visit there, I can attest that the town abounds in sweet, hospitable people and confusing thoroughfares. I had made the trek in order see one of my favorite comedians, Taylor Mason, before his national tour took him to lands far away. A ventriloquist and musician, his talent for improvisation shows in this video I managed to covertly shoot during the performance. The only problem was that I kept shaking the camera from laughing so hard.

I cannot help but think of old Vaudeville when I see him perform, for Mason belongs in the comedic family tree of classic performers like Red Skelton and Groucho Marx, rather that of the over-rated potty-mouths so common nowadays. What a gem.

Featured Quote: Ray Bradbury

The library deeps lay waiting for them. 

Out in the world, not much happened. But here in the special night, a land bricked with paper and leather, anything might happen, always did. Listen! and you heard ten thousand people screaming so high only dogs feathered their ears. A million folk ran toting cannons, sharpening guillotines; Chinese, four abreast, marched on forever. Invisible, silent, yes, but Jim and Will had the gift of ears and noses as well as the gift of tongues. This was a factory of spices from far countries. Here alien deserts slumbered. Up front was the desk where the nice old lady, Miss Watriss, purple-stamped your books, but down off away were Tibet and Antarctica, the Congo. There went Miss Wills, the other librarian, through Outer Mongolia, calmly toting fragments of Peiping and Yokohama and the Celebes.

Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962)

Ray Bradbury




 

Featured Quote: Sherlock Holmes

As we watched it the fog-wreaths came crawling round both corners of the house and rolled slowly into one dense bank on which the upper floor and the roof floated like a strange ship upon a shadowy sea.

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1901)

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Return to the Brandywine Valley

The Brandywine Valley remains one of my favorite stomping grounds due to its horticultural and architectural offerings as well as the sheer deliciousness of its name.

Hagley Mills

Though long in love with the luscious Brandywine estates and gardens of Winterthur and Longwood (where I would like to believe I lived during a previous life as a petunia), my visit to the former gunpowder works at Hagley Mill offered a foray into a new sphere of surprises. I had naïvely imagined a single mill house - boy were my expectations topped. Gardener turned gunpowder guru Eleuthère Irénée du Pont founded Hagley after narrowly escaping the Hungry Lady, and I don't mean his wife. Though Monsieur du Pont arrived in the U.S. of A. with the fluttering hopes of tending gentle orchids and peaceful topiaries, he soon observed the unreliability of American gunpowder, something he knew he could improve through European techniques. 

That, at least, is the conventional story. I believe the poor man got so fed up with stupid Américains tumbling over his name that he just started blowing stuff up.

Located along the arboraceous Brandywine River, Hagley provided the perfect location for manufacturing gunpowder for the military during the War of 1812 and to the Union during the Civil War. If Monsieur du Pont's last name sounds familiar, it's for good reason, since his company's innovations in gunpowder were the first in a long line of innovations in many areas.

The First Office

Many of the buildings on the property are built from Brandywine's blue gneiss - a strong rock that could withstand massive explosions.

Workers' homes of Blue Gneiss Stone

Eleutherian Mills, the du Pont family home, whose backyard 
looks directly over the gunpowder works.

The mill is closed in 1921 following the last of a long line of explosions. Now quiet and serene, the site offers a peaceful, otherworldly retreat of Herculean trees, thriving animal denizens such as Canada geese, deer, and beavers, and the bygone beauty of old mills.

Beautiful Gnarls: 350-year-old Osage Orange Tree near Eleutherian Mills

Interspersed with the backdrop of nature's quiet beauty, a plethora of antique equipment, massive gears, and rusty machinery rumbled melodically or lay quietly embedded in the ground. There is something stunning about industrial mixing with nature, as nature is begins reclaim her domain. The innate aesthetic in the circles, repetition, and symmetry of cogs, rivets, and gears provide a a striking contrast with the wildness and vivid colors of nature.

Ancient Egypt and the Little Girl

Sitting in the tranquil dimness of my room, listening to the abrupt cicadas and breathing in the soft end-of-summer air, I find myself thinking of my childhood in California. I so often long to return there, but is it a longing for California itself or for the nostalgia of childhood? I think of Monterey Bay’s black lava-like rocks and bobbing otters, the aquarium's colossal, plate-glass room, opening like a giant foyer to the sea’s own mysterious mansion of living rock and giant kelp colonnades; the fog fading into the morning warmth in the old streets and quaint houses at Carmel; Junipero Serra’s sunset-colored missions surrounded by flowering bushes shaking in the breeze; the fantastical double-decker carousel at the Great America amusement park in my hometown, San Jose; the warm, cerulean water at the vibrant beaches where seals bellow to each other and cover the rocks and piers like fat, whiskered sunbathers.


And I think of the Museum.


When I was child, I wanted to be either an archaeologist or a paleontologist. I lost interest in paleontology when I realized that you spend most of your time digging very very slowly, not popping already-assembled Tyrannosaur skeletons from the ground every other day. But my interest in archaeology stayed strong despite my phobic terror of mummies. Mummies be darned, I love Ancient Egypt. I don’t remember when my infatuation started, except that I have a vivid memory of being about seven years old and standing in the Rosicrucian Museum in town and gawking in awe at a section of painted tomb wall from a pyramid’s interior. Sheltered from the fading effects of light for thousands of years, the paints had retained the vivid deep blues in the midnight skies and the rich golds and scarlets on the figures and accents. Looking back, I now realize that they were probably replicas, but the effect on me was the same: I suddenly understood that ancient artists didn’t actually paint in faded colors - their art was as colorful as many of the paintings we create today. How much, I wondered, of ancient life itself was like this - archaic and outdated today, but vibrant and real in its own time? In fact (I thought to myself with a dawning amazement) the people of the ancient world didn’t think of themselves as ancient, but as modern. I wondered what museums they visited when they were alive, and if they were busy swatting flies on hot days just like me.

For a long time after that visit, I dreamed at night of sneaking back there, past the museum’s alarm system and back into that room of sapphires, golds, and burnt umber. Who knew what really happened when everyone turned off the 20th-century light bulbs and left that room alone with just the darkness and cricket songs?

Featured Quote: Autumn

The morning sunshine poured into the library through ten long narrow windows; birds were singing; the autumn air, rich with a faint aroma of November melancholy that stung the imagination pleasantly, filled my antechamber.

The Damned, Algernon Blackwood

Autumn nears us slowly, and though it is only August, the refreshing crispness of the last few days inspires me to post this quote from Blackwood, who brought beauty even to the most ghostly stories.

Whispers from Antiquity

The Maryland State Archives recently tweeted the following:

Dowsett Collection of Sands Family Papers now online: glimpses of #historic #Annapolis family. http://t.co/VruPHad8WV pic.twitter.com/HPZHb8OsjT
— MD State Archives (@MdArchives) July 31, 2013

It's quite a unique collection, thanks to the diverse letters, posters, and memorabilia that the Sands family of Annapolis left behind. Here are some of my favorite images, pulled from the Archives' online e-publication: 

Original invitation to Inaugural Ball for President James Buchanan

"N. Hess' Sons Fine Shoes." If they are as cool as the envelope's graphics, then they must be fine indeed.

I love this stationary from an 1892 letter - it reminds me of Hummel figurines.

Maryland State Fireman's Association. The program features an old-fashioned
horse-drawn fire engine.

Program for Company E, 2nd Regiment of the American Guard, 1896

Tolchester Beach Excursions. I'm in!

Poster: "Southern Rights: Let us Alone!" Great graphics. Eternal issue.

Child's drawing on the back of a letter

Leaf rubbings: beautiful.

Without protection and preservation, our collective memory of our 
past slowly disappears. Plus, if a document is one of those rare 
records of the life of someone who was lower class, enslaved, or 
indentured, it can mean losing the last written trace of them.