Mind Games for the Aging Brain

Painting (donated by Maria Louise Cohen)
on wall of the Bridge Room,
Hotel de Minas. 

I'm taking bridge lessons in San Miguel with Gary Mitchell, a master player and outstanding teacher. Gary and his wife live here year round and love it.  "It's paradise!"  he says, in the same enthusiastic voice with which he teaches his favorite card game.  

I bought his book, which he says we should study, and study and study.  What about Goren and others, I ask. He laughs.  Forget it. Terribly outdated, he says. Toss those old bridge books out.  The rules of the game have changed tremendously, become more refined.

So now I'm learning the game a la Gary Mitchell.  It's fun, and it's hard. But what a great way to keep one's mind agile.  Focus, logic, memory.  All basic requirements to play bridge.  I  can see that it will take years to learn to play the game well.

I will give you the basics, Gary says, but the best way to learn is to memorize the fundamentals, know the rules, apply the lessons and play.   Keep playing. "So we can play contract bridge soon," another learner says with a smile.  "Oh no. No way!" he says.  "You'll be beginners for at least two years."  What? "beginners" for two years?

Okay, I'm resigned.  I probably won't continue playing with my friend Phyllis and her lovely bridge group back in Sylvania (with great thanks for steering me back to the game), but I'll be open to practice games with learners, keeping my brain going, and knowing I'll be a beginner for quite a while.  A beginner to the end!

My San Miguel B & B es Mi Casa

Entrance to El Jardin de Don Quijote B&B, 
and Don Quijote in the garden, below

A Jaime Jimenez Lupercio painting I'm considering. So Mexican!

I've stayed at some great hostels and B&B's in my travels, like the funky Lavender Circus in Budapest and Egyptian Nights in Cairo.  But El Jardin de Don Quijote is one of the prettiest.  It's the home of Maria and Javier Soccoro Barrera, with rooms built around the Spanish-style main house and the copiously flowering courtyard garden watched over by Don Quijote himself.   It's $25 a night, including breakfast.  It's a few blocks from the main street going into and out of town, Ancho de San Antonio, and near the famous Instituto, now an art and language school.  It's a 10-minute walk to the central square, the Jardin, and in walking distance to shops and restaurants;  tailors, shoe repair, watch repair and laundry; the wonderful Juarez Park and other little parks and green spaces; the Biblioteca and the Artisans' Mercado;  several small hotels like Posada de Aldea, where you can have a fantastic Sunday brunch, and a new luxurious hotel, the Rosewood (overly sumptuous and expensive, for the very wealthy, mostly Mexicans, I'm told).

My rooms at B&B & SMA scenes. A David Leonardo at Hecho en Mexico right.

David Leonardo at Hecho en Mexico

Since being back in San Miguel, I remember why my apartment in Sylvania, Ohio, looks the way it does: It's my Mexican casita, mi casa.  After two years in Ukraine, all my stuff in storage, and three years away from Mexico, I had forgotten.  But my apartment is full of Mexican arts and crafts, paintings and decorations. It has tiled, painted and tin mirrors; art on the walls by David Leonardo, Roz Farbush, Vermillion and other well-known artists--still painting, still exhibiting, still featured at galleries, the library, restaurants like Hecho en Mexico.   Mi casa is brightly painted.  It's definitely more of a Mexican apartment than a Ukrainian pysansky Easter egg.  It has a Mexican feeling and spirit.  My Ukrainian friend Tamila said it when she was in Ohio visiting from Cherkasy, Ukraine over New Year's:  so much color and light, so bright and Spanish!

So I'm back in San Miguel, in a lovely B&B, in a Mexican frame of mind.  And I've seen another painting that I think would look great in my living room.  It's by Jaime Jimenez Lupercio (first photo above), a highly acclaimed artists from Mexico City, a new artist for me but not for afficianados and collectors around the world.   I've said no more art. I've got enough.  My walls are full.  But can I resist this piece?

So, when I'm in my San Miguel B&B I feel at home, and when I'm at home in Sylvania, well, I feel like I'm in San Miguel. Mi Casa es tu Casa es Case de San Miguel es mi casa.    

Meeting People in SMA

I'm having a cafe con leche and biscotti at La Mesa Grande on the corner of Zacateros and Pila Seca.  It's a rare grey rainy day, chilly, and it's been a busy morning here.  We're all visitors, helping the Mexican economy. Americans and Canadians come here to be warm, so the weather is a big topic of conversation.  A good conversation starter.

This is how photo of the Cafe uploaded! 

I'm sitting at a long wooden table with a woman and her two kids who have lived here for 10 years, formerly from Portland, Oregon; a retired ice hockey player from Vancouver, originally from Ireland;  a couple from San Franciso;  a woman, Nancy, who moved to San Miguel to have horses; a couple from New York City who have been coming for over 20 years;  a gay couple from 'Detroit, Canada,' as one of them, who just bought a house here, put it; and a handsome naturalized Mexican man originally from Indiana, an architect and builder   Some of us are here for coffee, a snack or lunch; others with our computers, catching up on email, facebook, blogging.  I've been here the longest, so people come and go and I get to meet them all.  A friendly "hola" and "where are you from," and we have a nice conversation.

It's one of the best things about being in San Miguel.  

In San Miguel, Mexico

Don Quijote B&B, San Francisco Church, Andy enjoying, a David Leonardo nural, Street scenes.

I'm in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, kicking back, enjoying the beauty and the pace.  I read about the bitter cold in Ukraine and think of my friends.  I get emails from my daughters saying things are okay in Sylvania,  normal, kids okay.  My friends post updates on facebook.  I miss them all, and feel blessed to be here in the mountains of Mexico where the sun shines and the flowers bloom and, for a while, American politics seem frivilous and far away.  

Prague: Looking for Vaclav Havel

“I really do inhabit a universe in which words are capable of shaking the entire structure of government, where words can prove mightier than ten military divisions."
Vaclav Havel, former president of Czechoslovakia and then president of the independent Czech Republic until 2003.


I was in Prague and so I decided to look for one of my heroes, Vaclac Havel, the brilliant, talented poet and former president of the Czech Republic. He stepped down in 2003 and has since returned to theatre, teaching, international relations, and writing. He is one of the people in this world, along with the likes of Jefferson, Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, with whom I’d love to have dinner. I’d ask Havel about his life’s work, his passions, his role as a leader of the “velvet revolution’ that peacefully freed the country of Communist occupation. I’d ask him how a poet became a president, how a poet, playwright, and artist became a political activist and an icon of independence. I’d listen to him read his poetry and newest plays over coffee and dessert, savoring every moment with this great man.

Prague, the Czech capital, is an incredibly beautiful city, I think one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. How wonderful it must have been, how enriching and inspiring, to grow up here. My search for Havel began with a night cruise down the historic Vltava river. It was our group’s introduction to the city, led by experienced guide Bella, who lives in Prague and speaks fluent Russian. She knows the city like the back of her hand. She pointed out the sights along the river as we passed under lovely bridges, including the Charles, the oldest in Europe. As night fell and over a hearty dinner with some great Czech beer, she gave us some history, talked a little about Havel and the revolution he helped lead. Havel wasn’t on the boat, but his presence was felt.

After the cruise, Bella led us on a walking tour of the city. As tired as we were, after a 27-hour bus trip from Lviv that included a 7-hour wait at the Ukraine-Poland border, it was a wonderful walk, like a luscious dessert topping off a grand five-course dinner. Our group of 30 diverse people, many from Kyiv where the tour started, turned out to be such enthusiastic tourists it was contagious! We walked through squares, between buildings, under elaborate archways, around grand churches, cultural centers and towers, and stopped for closer looks at many, including the Maisel Synagogue, a fanciful pure white building that shines like a beacon in the night. Kind of unusual architecture for a Synagogue I thought, but, then, we are in Prague, and everything imaginable is possible.

There’s something about seeing a city for the first time at night that is wondrous: all the sites are lit up like a gigantic Christmas tree of many colored lights, decorated with the most elegant arts and crafts, Bohemian crystal in every shape and color, elaborately carved, painted and enchanting decorations. It reminded me of the antique Christmas bulbs that belonged to my grandmother and to her mother and my mother, which we get out every year to adorn our trees, but multiplied a thousand-fold over a magic fairytale land of one’s dreams. It’s dazzling.

But it was getting late, and I think Havel was either relaxing in his beautiful home in Wenseslas square, or listening to jazz at one of his favorite jazz cafes. When Havel invited Bill Clinton to Prague, they attended one such café, and Bill took a turn on a sax! What a team! Our group, however, as enthusiastic as it remained, was ready to call it a day. I would look for Havel tomorrow.

During the day, Prague is even more stunning, because you can see all the details of the magnificent architecture that defines the city. I think Havel must know them intimately; they inspired his poetry and his patriotism.

The city is packed with palaces and churches, ornate gates and towers, theaters and cultural centers, sacred and secular monuments and statuary in a range of gorgeous architectural styles from the Medieval to the Renaissance, Baroque and Gothic and up through 18th and 19th-century classics. Havel no doubt inhabited or visited them all at one time or another: the humanist and artist who used words not weapons to bring a revolution. I was in his footsteps.

I realized it didn't matter where we were, Havel's spirit was there. Surely he worshipped at times at the glorious St. Vitus Cathedral, part of the Prague Palace and Monestary complex, on a hilltop overlooking the whole city. His family once lived nearby, an intellectual and upper class family. The Cathedral was built over several centuries, not years but centuries, so it contains all of the different styles and elements that are part of prague’s architectural heritage. It features lovely slender Gothic towers, distinctive on the Prague skyline, along with incredible Neo-Gothic and Art Nouveau stained glass windows. The nave rises into the heavens, it’s that high. The spirit of Havel hovers. I could see how such beauty and artistry would inspire a revolution.

Just as important as the magnificent and monumental palaces and cathedrals are the lovely and lively town squares: Wensaslas Square (Vaclavske namesti), Old Town Square and Lesser Town Square, centers of commercial and cultural activities, where people gather and where Czech partisans in 1968, and later in the late 1980s, held organizing meetings and public protests. Havel’s motto then, during those revolutionary days, was “Truth and love must replace lies and hate.” I could imagine him stirring up a crowd, surrounded by the stunning beauty of a Prague square, with these words.

The walk down from the hilltop to the squares, on winding cobble-stoned streets lined with the former homes of merchants and craftsmen, is a feast in itself. You get both beautiful panoramic vistas of the city, and close-up views of the beautiful details of every building. You get a sense of the prosperous and proud city of the past, and the free city of the present. Havel’s family, I learned, was very much a part of this culture in this place. Havel absorbed it all, from an early age, a proud Czech with an artistic vision and a world view.

The details of Prague architecture fuse into an elaborate mosaic of red and brown roofs with white and pink chimneys, interwoven with green, yellow, rose, lavender, ochre and colorfully painted facades, decorated with pastel paintings, bas relief, decorated doors and windows above which are lovely house signs. Bella explained that these signs are not only artful decorative items, but also tell of the original owners' occupations. Thus there are signs featuring musical instruments (we saw one with three violines, very lovely), knights on horses, swans and birds, fabric and metal objects, fruits and vegetables, each designating a profession or trade, or perhaps a special interest.

Among these beautiful houses is the Storch House in Old Town Square, built in the late 19th century on the site of a Gothic building. The walls are covered with frescoes and colorful decorations, called I learned afterwards, “sgraffito” decorations, the origin of what we today call “grafitti” on our urban buildings. A knight on a white horse painted boldly on the Storch House turned out to be St. Wenceslas, the patron saint of the Czech state.

The Old Town Square (Staromestaske namest) also features a fantastical (if there is such an adventive) Astronomical Clock. Every hour, moving figures, the apostles, appear in the upper windows, marching around the tower, along with the toll of bells and the sound of a live trumpet filling the square with majestic sound. The crowd applauds, and the trumpeter, in regal red dress, bows. We are enchanted!

We wonder off toward a grand church with a distinctive large green cupola that draws us to it like a magnet. What is this magnificent Baroque structure that dominates the Square? It's St. Nicholas Church, and it’s interior is as elegant as its exterior, full of amazing paintings and statues, lovely stained glass windows, and a beautiful ceiling fresco above an elaborate Nave. Popes spoke here, to throngs of worshipers, Havel among them. I'm not sure what Havel's religious beliefs are, but under his spiritual side lies a free spirit who loves Frank Zappa and Smashing Pumpkins and other alternative forms of music and art. At the same time, I can picture him worshipping at one of these grand churches, or enjoying a Mozart concert in the Smetana auditorium of the beautiful Art Nouveau Cultural hall or at Philharmonic Hall, a massive Renaissance building.

There is one building in Prague which is among Olga's favorites and which she said she must see again. Would we go with her? Yes, of course. We walked along the river, along a grand boulevard, to a funny-looking building that looked as if it was swaying in the breeze. "This is it," Olga exclaimed, jumping 3 feet into the air! "It's the Dancing Building!"

So this gray "leaning-tower-of-Pisa" building wasn't swaying in the breeze, it was dancing! It was happy; it was free. I later read in a guide book that it stood on the site of a building that was bombed in 1945, and that it was designed and built between 1992 and 1996 by an American architect and a Czech architect, working together, combining old and new world styles. The architects: Frank O. Gehry and Vlado Milunic. The same Frank Gehry who designed the Toledo Museum of Art addition and the modern glass building and other buildings of distinction in America.

The Dancing Building seemed such a joyful metaphor for change and hope. It embodied the eclectic spirt of Vaclav Havel, the old and the new, dancing together into a brilliant future.

I didn’t see Havel, but his spirit is everywhere: creativity and political reality fused into a magnificent mosaic composed of the past and present. Havel inhabits Prague's essence. That’s where I found Vaclev Havel, poet-president of the Czech republic.

A Sense of Place

The responses to the 2011“Starobelsk Memories” calendar have been positive and enthusiastic, evoking the pride and pleasure people derive from seeing their city highlighted and beautiful. The calendar promotes a sense of place, a sense of a shared community with its own distinctive architecture, character, environment, landmarks and memorials, and folklife traditions. When we see our town in bold relief, we feel pride.

It reminds me of my working days with the state humanities councils in DC and Florida. One of the NEH chairmen, William Ferris, a southern Folklorist and director of the Center for Southern Culture in Mississippi, was a premier advocate of a “Sense of Place.” The idea resonated in both DC and Florida, places that couldn’t be more different from each other yet so similar in their need for recovering and celebrating their distincitve identities.

In DC, the compact 63-square-miles nation’s capital on the Potomac River, the humanities council focused its grantmaking and programming on exploring and extolling the heritage and distinctiveness of the residential city beyond the Capitol, the White House and the National Mall. This is the city that thousands of residents have called "home" for generations. The DC council funded and created hundreds of programs—award-winning documentary films, seminars, publications, public forums, exhibits, oral histories--on the city’s vibrant neighborhoods, its migrant and immigrant experiences, the stories of people who came to the city in search of a better life, its art, culture and folk traditions.

The same in Florida, one of the largest states in the US with over 16 million people and immense diversity from the North to the South. The Florida council awarded grants throughout the large state to explore local history and the built and natural environments, which are unique and splendid; offered heritage tourism weekends; invoked the state's indigenous Indian roots, its Spanish heritage, and its ethnic diversity; involved teachers in Florida history; and published a magazine devoted to Florida culture and traditions. In a state where so many people migrated from other places, “making Florida home” was the Florida council’s mantra.

The Starobelsk calendar fulfills a similar purpose. It is unusual here in this small village of 18,000 in far-eastern Ukraine near the Russian border to glory in local history, to be a “booster” for the town. Most residents, who have lived here for a long time, take their environment for granted, have other priorities besides the town’s identity or a shared heritage rooted in place.

The calendar highlights and extols the virtues of the village, in all seasons, in all its variety: The town center, the park, the Aydar river, holidays, folk art and architecture, its houses and churches, the university, and the Cultural Center, library, administration building, post office, and other downtown places where people shop, chat, and gather. All places people know and with which they are intimately familiar. Yes, “gathering places,” so special in a village where everyone walks from here to there and everywhere. I did more work by bumping into people on the street than anywhere else. Gathering places, public spaces, on the streets, are central to daily life here in Starobelsk. The calendar focuses on these special places, and in so doing evokes wonderful "aha" experiences and draws people together in a collective embrace of place.

"An embrace of place." It anchors us in a distinctive environment, a physical spot on planet earth, a geographic location that fosters attachment and belonging. It grounds us in a community of memory. It speaks both to our individual stories and to our shared stories, our collective history. “Starobelsk Memories” pays homage to a town that embraced a stranger from America. It is truly a special place.

A Day in Dontesk

Wikipedia photos of Donetsk and the Euro2012 logo. We passed this stately church on the way to the bank.


On Tuesday I took a six-hour bus ride to the big Donbass city of Donetsk, and then 3 hours later I took the 6-hour bus trip back to Starobelsk. All those hours riding a bus just to get to a Peace Corps-approved bank to get a new ATM card so I can access my PC account and the $250 I get in my monthly allowance! That’s because my old card was eaten by a local ATM machine and reported a “hot” item when my wallet was stolen at the end of December on the train from Lugansk to Kyiv. Luckily my wallet was found and returned with my passport (but no money), so I got to go to Egypt. What a miracle that was, and in so many more ways than anyone could have predicted.

There was no heat on the bus, but the driver was a real expert at driving on snow and ice. The roads were as bad as those photos I've seen of the roads in Chicago after the recent blizzard blew through the Midwest.

I've become an expert in layering up for winter weather, so I snuggled down and relaxed for the ride. A few times I thought our time had come as we skidded this way and that. But not yet. The bus driver was in God’s hands and God, or the goddess as Loren would say, correcting me, got us home.

Unfortunately I didn’t get to see much of Donetsk. It is a big city of over a million and it will be one of the sites of the 2012 European Championship football (soccer, of course) games. It looks like a prosperous city. It was once called Stalin and then Stalino, a big steel producing and coal mining city on the Kalmius River surrounded by the farmland of the Ukrainian steppes. It's had a tortured history of Nazi occupation, destruction, and rebuilding. Today it is the home of president Yanukovich and his good friend Rinat Akhmetov, Ukraine’s richest man.

The city looks to be in pretty good shape for Euro2012. There are even signs in Russian, Ukrainian and English at the ugly old bus station! Streets are being graded and paved. The huge Donbass Stadium, built by Akhmetov, is ready, according to my taxi driver, who spoke about as much English as I spoke Russian. It's a big football city, home to two winning teams.

So you'll be hearing a lot more about and from Donetsk in 2012, especially if you're a soccer fan. Maybe its teams will bring a victory to Ukraine. That would be a huge morale booster for the entire country. Go Donbass! Hope springs eternal.