Good Things Are Happening

So, Cabana and Angie aren't best friends yet--but we're getting there. Angie has gotten much more used to Cabana. Here, she has let Cabana get quite close. Sometimes, Angie still takes a swipe at Cabana, but Cabana is pretty much undaunted. Cabana is in absolute awe of Angie and spends quite a bit of time watching her from whatever distance.

Today, I was able to walk Cabana around the first Rainier loop. Yeah! It's probably a bit over 2 miles. I used to run the second Rainier loop several times a week, but because Cabana isn't allowed to run for several more months yet, I sometimes walk her and then go for a run myself. Now, though, since we're able to walk a bit further, our walk has just replaced my run. But since I'm walking every day, rather than just 3-4 times a week, I figure I come out about even with what I was doing before.

At just over 4 months, Cabana's desire to chew every piece of tan bark has diminished greatly. I'm so pleased! It's interesting to note that although Cabana wasn't picky about what she put in her mouth (bark, sticks, leaves, paper, rubber bands, berries, rocks), she has NEVER attempted to pick up a cigarette butt. We pass quite a few of them, too, disgustingly enough--but she passes them by completely.

Road Into Eden, Cornwall, & Lands End

Eden is one of those powerfully evocative words which people love to use in the most bizarre contexts. The professional atheist Richard Dawkins uses it in a book title - "River out of Eden". Now I have been through the Eden Project in Cornwall, 280 miles south-west of London. Go a bit further and you reach Land's End - the last bit of the British mainland.

The Eden Project is the biggest tourist attraction in the South-West of England. Basically, it is an enormous botanical showcase, centred on two vast hothouses. The larger of the two, the Tropical zone, is the largest hothouse in the world. I much preferred the environment in the smaller Mediterranean zone, far less hot and humid. Both are wonders of architecture and engineering. In the Tropical zone, a waterfall cascades over 100 feet vertically through the various levels of lush vegetation. Along with smaller buildings they are sited in a disused china clay pit, an abandoned relic of Cornwall's industrial past.

It is not just the thousands of plants in this artificial environment. You know you have arrived in Cornwall when you see palm trees fluttering in the brisk Atlantic winds. Actually palm trees can be found on the west coast of Scotland, hundreds of miles north, thanks to the Gulf Stream. But it is still a lovely reminder of the contrasts to be found in such a small island. On the north coast of Scotland you have a bleak treeless landscape populated with sub-artic flora. Here you can imagine yourself in the Mediterranean.

I was dimly aware that Truro had a cathedral. I was completely unprepared for its size and beauty. Like the cathedral in Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands, it is way out of proportion to its surrounding town. It is a reminder of the time when Cornwall was very rich as a result of the tin mining industry.

A truly bizarre relic of the Cornish past is the occasional use of the Cornish language on official signs. This is even more pointless than the bilingual signs in Wales and Ireland, where at least a small percentage of the population still speak their Celtic tongue. The last person to have Cornish as his language of choice died in 1770. It "survives", if you can call it survival, just as an academic revival by a handful of enthusiasts.

Land's End itself is a disappointment as much as its Scottish equivalent, John O'Groats, on the very north-east tip of the British mainland. John O'Groats had little more than a souvenir shop and a cafe, but at least the cafe was open when I visited last June. At Land's End there is a larger cluster of buildings that you might call a theme park, if you were feeling generous. But nearly everything was shut in January, apart from a souvenir shop. As I bought my postcards, the shop assistant regretfully told me that there was nothing open even for a cup of coffee.

But the Lizard Point made up for it all. The weather in January on the most southerly tip of mainland Britain was better than that in June on Dunmore Head, the most northerly part of the mainland. In January the Lizard was bathed in sunshine, the sea was blue and it was a fantastic day to be alive in such wonderful scenery, with subtropical plants tossing in the wind.

Don't Mention Abortion! - Revolutionary Road

Having just seen the widely praised "Revolutionary Road", I am still trying to work out all the reasons why I detest it so much. Some of them are the same reasons why I hated "American Beauty", by the same director, so much.

Does no fashionable Hollywood director or writer have a kind word to say about traditional marriage? But on top of this there is a deafening silence on the part of the critics. Only one reviewer, on the US Catholic Bishop's website, mentions the abortion which kills Kate Winslett's character. This is like writing a history of WW2 without mentioning Herr Hitler.

I am not sure if the film condones her choice - much of the script displays a preposterously trivial and adolescent attitude to serious moral questions, with the tiresome characters' yearnings for some undefined meaningful life being the most important factor in human existence. You might say that the young mother's demise is an implicit plea for safe abortion on demand, rather than a bodged Do-It-Yourself procedure at home. But I doubt that the author is even that consistent and serious.

On a more trivial note, it is plain that the producers were oblivious to the impact on audiences anywhere outside North America. The young couple's lovely house would be beyond the dreams of any young couple on Europe today - never mind in the 1950s. Was it really possible for a young single-wage family to live in such style in the New York commuter area in 1955? The house used in the film is like those on the upmarket Caversham Heights area of Reading - and in upmarket areas around other British and European towns and cities. The difference is that the British and mainland European houses would have less land than the "Revolutionary Road" home and could be afforded only by middle-aged professionals. I suspect that most audiences elsewhere on the planet will laugh at the attempt to evoke sympathy for two dumb Yanks who don't know how lucky they are......and evidently know even less about the cost of living in Paris.