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Ruidosa Cantina, Ruidosa, Texas.
"Roadside America", for sure.
It's hard to believe a building would be located so close to a highway (Texas FM 170), but I don't imagine this west Texas town ever had any real strict zoning regulations.
Although the area seems to be practically abandoned today, the last fandango in Ruidosa apparently wasn't that long ago. This is a review of the Ruidosa Cantina by Rinku P. from San Francisco on Yelp dated July 5, 2011.
"just go here. escape the donald judd (i call them dud) groupies in marfa. stop by before big bend. by necessity this post must be long.
"the "the deng end a nowhere," as i heard Ruidosa called by a local cowboy, had me and Buddy agog for more than 24 hours AFTER we had left, and cursing ourselves for not bringing our camera. still. jeez.
"the cantina is a beat down little a bar in a tiny town set against mountains and mesa. the sky is robins egg blue. the ruins of an adobe church lie across the street. mexico is one canyon over. it's ridiculous. inside the bar you'll find drunk cowboys, and the proprietors, a weathered blonde dude with a handlebar mustache and enormous hat and his mexican wife with a waist-long river of loose hair. they're totally magazine ready. there's a framed portrait of willie nelson and a very popular karaoke machine. the cowboys WILL try to yoke you to that karaoke machine.
"yep, no typo there. the cowboys are nuts for 1)fresh blood and 2)their karaoke. they entertain visitors and sing drunkenly to the machine all day long.
"here's how it goes:
"drunk cowboy: you like singin?
"you (who doesn't know a country song from slovenian lullabies): uh. not drunk enough.
"cowboy: me neither, and i like singin to black sabbath. you're cool.
"in the meantime, another drunk cowboy (we sense a theme here) approaches Bud, throws a hundred dollar bill down on the bar and says, I hear you're some real pool shark.
"one of our new friends treated us to tumblers of syrupy reisling that he had stowed away in the hosts' fridge. when that was done, and because cowboys are generous, he brought out another. by that time Bud had won at pool--beating an inebriated cowboy is definitely a sad sad joke -- and we had dinner to grill back at the Chinati Hot Springs where we where staying.
"oh why did we buy that bourgeois little imported California artichoke and cardboard chicken breast when we could have stuck around Ruidosa to watch the melon sunset and drunk cowboys wailing 'Satan's sitting there he's smiling' into microphones?
"when we left they came out and waved us off like old friends, though they did try to tempt us to stay for dinner. Buddy was drooling like a golden retriever when he noticed the host was slow simmering dinner on a small mesquite fire outside (smoky unctuous carne guisada). a neighbor had brought a chocolate sheet cake. probably duncan hines but who cares. apparently the host cooks for everyone because he just likes 'feedin folks.'
"oh, i did ask what the population of ruidosa is. answer is 5.
"come armed w/ good tires. there's more than thirty miles of gravel en route."
There's one other review of on Yelp, but it's not nearly as descriptive. Something about the author finding a $20 bill just outside.
A feeding frenzy of mostly California Brown Pelicans and Heermann's Gulls with Anacapa Island in the background...
Yeow!
The work week is just about behind us.
I'm lookin' forward to a good three days of livin' life like it's supposed to be lived.
Feedin' my soul and havin' a good time with the ones I love.
I don't know what exactly I'm gonna do yet...
but it's gonna be an adventure.
I know that.
I hope you got some awesome plans or just a killer adventurous attitude for the weekend.
And remember...
I know from experience that if you get thrown in jail on a three day weekend you ain't gettin' out 'til Tuesday!
At the earliest.
So try and be cool this weekend and avoid the old 'iron bracelets' if you can.
It's too nice out there to be hangin' out 'on the inside.'
I hope you're feelin' the love big time!
Friday-Love!
Dang, these guys look alot more menacing when turned upside down. Imagine one walking toward you like that...and 6 feet tall and with that crazy look in their eye, like it's feedin' time. Whew!
"A fella from town stopped by the other day.
The talk that we had sorta went this-a-way.
He said, "I've got something that I'd like to ask you,
and if you know the answer,I'd like to know, too.
"I want to be a rancher and at prices today,
how many cows would I need to make my livin' pay ?
Would a thousand cows be better than just one or two ?
Do you have any advice on what I should do?"
"Now, that's a tough question I'll tell ya for sure,
not one that can be solved with any one cure.
Machinery's sky high and so is the land,
and interest rates are more than anyone can stand.
"And there's imports and embargoes and all the like,
remember now, as a rancher that you can't go on strike.
There's politicians, vegetarians and ecologists, too,
and a hundred government agencies tellin' you what to do.
"There's the cost of fuel and fences and labor and seed
and tools and tires and water and feed.
There's always a horse needin' shod and veterinary bills,
I'm tellin' ya friend, ranchin' ain't all thrills !
"startin' early in spring you'll be calfin' all night,
there's still feedin' to be done and the water's froze tight!
Insurance and utilities are always goin' up,
and remember, that wife of yours is about ready to 'pup'.
"the whole cost of operatin' hasn't yet reached a peak,
while the price of beef is just pretty darn weak.
So, here is the answer to this little test;
The man with the fewest is doin' the best.
"Only, he's not makin' MORE, like you might guess,
the fact is, my friend, he's just LOSIN" less!!"
Poem by Nyle A. Henderson
photos by New World Photos by Ron
Well. My Nikon is still broken, since I'm too busy feedin' THIS DUDE to find the money to get it fixed.....
Figures, right? Have an awesome kid and THEN your awesome camera decided to be a lemon. Yikes.
Life is good at home, the booger is eating and growing, crawling and standing like a fiend. Eight months old, people. What the hell, right? I was all fat'n stuff just yesterday.
Life at work is what it probably should be for a full-time working mom- just paling in comparison.
My new mantra: Everything I do is going to be awesome, because everything I do, I do for my Austen.
This is a cell-phone capture...who'dathunk the day I uploaded one of them to Flickr....jeez...the standards of some people, right??!
Miss my Flickr friends. Hope all is well...xoxo
~Momma K
TED: "These birds ain't 'alf big! Dad wuz feedin' 'em but I kept well away cuz they can give yew a nasty kick!"
Farma of Rhodes Petting Zoo
Ella at my parents' house, feeding the fish. So, my parents have this really old house (really old for here, at least). And in the backyard is an old open-air irrigation ditch that is no longer used. So, my Dad got the idea to block off both ends, fill it with water, and put goldfish in it. Works great! Everyone loves it, especially the cat, Oprah. :) They've been filling it since I was about 12, and very, very few goldfish (3/30 each year?) make it to the fall, where their prize is life in a larger pond at a neighbors'.
Tomorrow is my brother's birthday (yeah, we have a lot of birthdays this time of year), and we're celebrating tonight, so I have to post and run! Catch up with you all tomorrow.
Allaiter, on croit que c'est facile, suffit de mettre la bouche dessus et aspirer. Mais les premiers jours sont difficiles. Le bébé ne sait pas s'y prendre, la maman croit qu'elle ne sait pas s'y prendre, et culpabilise, les autres femmes mettent leur grain de sel. Heureusement, la puéricultrice est là. Elle rassure, indique des gestes précis, des astuces, donne des recettes immédiatement applicables.
Au final la maman a ce sentiment que seules ont les mamans qui ont allaité connaissent: elles nourrissent leur enfant, elles prolongent ce don de vie qu'elles ont fait en portant leur bébé dans le ventre.
=======================================================
Breastfeeding is not quite as easy as it seems. It's not just a matter of putting the baby's mouth on the breast and waiting for him to suck the milk from the breast. The first days can be hard, for both baby and mummy. It can be hard for the baby who doesn't know very well how to do it, and and it can be hard for the mum who thinks she's doing bad
There's ole Gray with 'er dove-winged hat
Threre's ole Green with her sewing machine
Where's the bobbin at?
Tote'n old grain in uh printed sack
The dust blows forward 'n dust blows back
And the wind blows black thru the sky
And the smokestack blows up in suns eye
What am I gonna die?
Uh white flake riverboat just flew by
Bubbles popped big
'n uh lipstick Kleenex hung on uh pointed forked twig
Reminds of the bobby girls
Never was my hobby girls
Hand full uh worms and uh pole fishin'
Cork bobbin' like uh hot red bulb
'n uh blue jay squeaks
His beak open an inch above uh creek
Gone fishin' for a week
Well I put down my bush
'n I took of my pants 'n felt free
The breeze blowin' up me 'n up the canyon
Far as I could see
It's night now and the moon looks like uh dandelion
It's black now 'n the blackbird's feedin' on rice
'n his red wings look diamonds 'n lice
I can hear the mice toes scamperin'
Gophers rumblin' in pile crater rock hole
One red bean stuck in the bottom of uh tin bowl
Hot coffee from uh krimpt up can
Me 'n my girl named Bimbo Limbo Spam
Don Van Vliet
(January 15, 1941 – December 17, 2010)
OurFondren Neighborhood Association, in partnership with Midtown, LeFleur East Foundation, Lake Trace, Belhaven, Belhaven Heights, Broadmeadow Neighborhood Association, and Eastover neighborhoods honored JPD and JFD with a picnic open to all.
OurFondren Neighborhood Association, in partnership with Midtown, LeFleur East Foundation, Lake Trace, Belhaven, Belhaven Heights, Broadmeadow Neighborhood Association, and Eastover neighborhoods honored JPD and JFD with a picnic open to all.
Tristaniel McMinnar strolls into the brig, looking at the tykes detained within. "Finished yer breakfast?"
Jaina Lefevre 's tray is by the door, Rai's is under the bed, kept safe for when he wakes up. "You didn't answers me." she says quietly. "How come you is gonna let them hurt me? You said you was a good guy and only hurted the bad peoples. I'm -not- a bad peoples. He's just gonna hurt me 'cause he's mad at my Moms."
Tristaniel McMinnar takes in a breath and lets it out slowly through pursed lips. "Oi'm not going to let anyone hurt you, squirt. Or your friend. It's my job as a medic to prevent suffering and my feelings as a -human- that we shouldn't get away wid torturin' children. Oi'm hopin' we're just holdin' ye so your mom gets pissed and Tres can get something out of her."
Jaina Lefevre watches his face. "Last time I was in here, I got kicked and punched and broked ribs and smushed my head until stuff leaked out the back. I just got some of th'bruises gone and the bandages off - and now I'm back here. And my Mom was already pissed. He tried t'steal me from the hopspittle, y'know. He *likes* hurtin' people."
Tristaniel McMinnar clenches and unclenches his jaw as she speaks, staring at the wall just above her head. "Dere's nothing Oi can do." He says, voice quiet.
Jaina Lefevre watches him. "Yeah, there is." she murmurs. "You can tell my Moms. You can tell BlackStar..." she swallows, voice thickening. "I don't wanna die in here and them not knowed where I went. Please?"
Tristaniel McMinnar swallows hard. "Yer not going to die here, kid." He says with a sigh. "And... Oi'll see what Oi can do about yer mom."
Jaina Lefevre tips her head, peering up at him to meet his gaze. "You don't knowed that. You can't promise that, Mister Tris. And Rai..he's got ears'n tail. They don't even think 'bout us as people. How you gonna make sure of that?"
**********************************
Jaina Lefevre is seated against the corner, blanket edge over her feet. A foil-wrapped tray holds pancakes and bacon and a carton of milk is nearby, waiting for Rai. It's still a little warm...but not hot.
Rai Pawpad crawls out from under the bed, his hair frowsy. He sniffs, and rubs at his eyes. "That food?"
Jaina Lefevre nods. "Pancakes and bacon and milk. I saveded yours. Ate all mine. Was good." She is watching the cage. "Somethin's kinda not right." she offers softly. "Someone askeded me about my before-Midian time."
Rai Pawpad crouches down by the tray. He's so hungry he doesn't bother to smell the food, he just crams a pancake into his mouth. "You mean about when you were on the boat?" He looks over his shoulder at her, his brows lowering.
Jaina Lefevre nods a little. "Before that. He asked me if I 'memebered before comin' here to Midian." She looks over at Rai. "And Mister Tristan soljur was here, he said he wouldn't let them hurt us. But when I askeded him how he was gonna do that, he left."
Rai Pawpad stands, pancake still in hand and paces to look out the cage. "I wouldn't trust any of em." He twitches his, listening. "Do you member? What'd you tell him?"
Jaina Lefevre shakes her head. "Didn't tell him nothin'. I 'member some though."
Rai Pawpad nods. "Good you didn't tell em. " He gives a little shudder, remembering the soldiers threats last night, and comes back to sit next to her. "What do you member?"
Jaina Lefevre turns her head so her hair hides her mouth and presses her lips against his ear, whispering. "I was in a lab with lotsa other kids that looked like me. Boys'n girls. Then one day they took a whole bunch of us and got us in line and made us walk down a really lotta halls. We hadta wait in a big room and Mister came in and took me out and left a sleepin' girl (corpse) and he hid me in a big cloth bag and when I came out, I was in his 'partment. I stayed there, and hid in his closet when he had peoples come over..."
Rai Pawpad frowns, his tail swishing. "They were your brothers and sisters. those kids? How come he dint take them, too?"
Jaina Lefevre shrugs. "Dunno. He visited me lots. Used to tell me stories and stuff." She's whispering in Rai's ear, hair hiding her mouth. "And he gaved me my doll and it had a chip in it. And we used to play games in the 'partment. One day, he was really scared and stuff and he told me that when I got my new dolly, I could never ever lets her out of my sight. He got me dressed and put some creds and foods in my pockets and got his coat and then there was a call. He throwed my doll off th'balcony and I runned really fast to get her. He watched me from the balcony and I waved when I got her. He smiled...and then there was a big boom." She hiccups a breath and presses her head against his. "The whole buildin' went smoosh...flat. Killded him. There were lotsa booms and someone grabbed me and I was put on a boat."
Rai Pawpad pets her head, putting an arm around her shoulder. "That's the booms, right? When you're dreamin. Those are the bad pictures." His voice is low, and he's feeling shaky, disturbed by this story.
Jaina Lefevre nods a little. "Yeah. There was lots. People screameded and ran and there was a lotta people on the boat and we went for a long time, then it stopped and a lotta people got off. I hid 'cause there was pervs on there that kept tryin' to touch me and stuff. I didn't get off and it started up again...and then it stopped at here and I was really hungry 'cause the box of food was most gone."
Rai Pawpad growls softly at the thought of bad pervs trying to touch her. "I'm glad you got off here. Otherwise I wouldna met you." He rocks a little, still petting her head, thinking. "So why do they want to know about that stuff? Think the Youays set the bombs?"
Jaina Lefevre: "I dunno." she whispers. "But a new guy I ain't seen before, asked. He didn't think I was here 'cause Ass-brink hated my Moms."
Rai Pawpad swishes his tail, agitated. "What'd he think? They don't wanna turn you into a mutant, do they?"
Jaina Lefevre hugs herself tight. "I dunno. Wanna crawl under the beds again? I don't like feelin' them camera eyes on me all the time."
Rai Pawpad nods, he feels safer under there anyway. "Yeah. I don't like them lookin at me either."
**********************
Jaina Lefevre is curled up with Rai, hiding in their 'nest' under the bed.
Tristaniel McMinnar was relegated to light duties with the injuries sustained. His access card is slicked through the reader and his PIN punched in. A loud 'SNICK' and the maglocks open, door opening. "Lunch time, squirts."
Rai Pawpad crawls out from under the bed, eyeing the man with a scowl. "How come you're feedin us?"
Jaina Lefevre peers out...then slides out. "That's Mister Tristan. He's a doctor too." she says to Rai. "He used-ta be nice."
Tristaniel McMinnar chuckles. "Ye got spunk, lad. Keep it up." He smiles wanely at Jaina's condemnation of his before looking back to Rai. "Oi'm feedin yer because ye need tae eat, tyke."
Rai Pawpad: "If you're gonna make me inta a mutant, you don't need to feed me." He crosses his arms on his chest, trying to look as if fear isn't a leaden lump in his stomach.
Tristaniel McMinnar sighs, going through the access rigmarole with the cell door, stepping inside as it briefly opens. "Oi'm not going tae make yer inta a mutant. Oi'm a medic. I heal people. Oi'm not like Doctor Asbrink." He moves to sit crosslegged on the floor.
Jaina Lefevre leans her head against Rai's shoulder, staying behind him as she looks at Tristan. "He's th'one that said he wouldn't let them hurt us. But he ain't gonna let us out either. He's a pansy. Ass-brink is gonna hurt us lots and he ain't gonna be able to do nothin'. Maybe tell peoples we died in here, but that's it."
Rai Pawpad watches the man warily, his eyes flicking to the tray. He nods. "She's right. The other soldier tole me what they were gonna do. Now I'm sposed to believe you won't let them hurt us?"
Tristaniel McMinnar pushes the trays over, plastic deals with foil covers. Inside's a cheeseburger and fries with a little chocolate brownie in a seperate cup, TV meal style. "Oi'm de senior Corpsman here, so Oi control de military side of what happens in the med bay. Oi'm not going tae let dem hurt ye. They'll have tae lock me up in here ta stop me."
Jaina Lefevre picks up the trays and pulls them back towards the bed, setting them on the bare plastic mattress. "Thank you for the food." She looks at Rai and then at Tristan.
Rai Pawpad watches Jaina move the trays, his ears flicking. He turns his attention back to the man in the corner, and when he speaks, it's unguarded. "You should let us go, then. Just...we won't tell anyone, promise. "
Tristaniel McMinnar smiles softly. "Oi can't do dat. Oi have orders dat Oi have tae follow." He pulls a bottle of water from his belt. "Still got water left from breakfast?"
Jaina Lefevre shakes her head. "No. Milk's gone too." She sits on the edge of the bed, hands dangling between her knees, head down. "You think this is funny, don'tcha? Makin' us scared. Pretend killin' us and stuff. It's not funny. It's mean. And I'm /tired/ of people bein' mean to me." She looks up at Tristan and the resolution and anger burns in her eyes. "Leave the bottle and . Get. Out. Fake nice is not nice at all."
Rai Pawpad has crossed his arms again, his tail switching. He turns to look at Jaina over his shoulder. "I tole you. Don't trust any of em."
Tristaniel McMinnar looks at them for a long moment. He'd grown up in the slums of Belfast and at their age had been in pretty much the same place, but he'd carried a knife and had nearly killed a couple of cops when they tried pulling him in. Yeah, rough past and all that. He nods and rises, placing the bottle in the center of the cell. "Awright." He throws a remote PTT pressle on the bed. "Need anything, press that twice and it'll make a noise on my radio."
Jaina Lefevre looks at it, then up at Tristan and nods once, then just waits. She's not being friendly anymore. He can't get them out? Then he's not much help. Or so she thinks.
Tristaniel McMinnar nods and heads outside, going topside.
A gravestone from a cemetary along the Freedom Trail in Boston. Alternative title: "IM IN UR GROUND FEEDIN UR WURMZ"
While Darth Country serenades her.
"Oh, the Jedi done me wrong.
They took me from my Mom,
They just kept feedin' me lies,
then my girl up and died.
"So I killed them alllllll, yes, I killed them alllll..."
I'm just guessing, here.
Here is an image of a tide pool of the coast of Nahant. The movement of this landscape is quite uinique. Here at high tide this whole pool fills up with water. Since the tide here is close to low all the seaweed and barnacles on these rock remain uncovered. If the water did cover the area, the seaweed would uses its air sacks to float to photosynthesize and catch plakton. The white areas where lall these hundreads of barnacles are would open up from the fortress of their shelll and begin feedin on plakton with their feet. Here this pool is contained by this ring of rocks 6 feet up. Erosin is very slowly weathering these rocks away, and in a few thousand years this tide pool will simply be worn down to a reef or sandbar.
OurFondren Neighborhood Association, in partnership with Midtown, LeFleur East Foundation, Lake Trace, Belhaven, Belhaven Heights, Broadmeadow Neighborhood Association, and Eastover neighborhoods honored JPD and JFD with a picnic open to all.
OurFondren Neighborhood Association, in partnership with Midtown, LeFleur East Foundation, Lake Trace, Belhaven, Belhaven Heights, Broadmeadow Neighborhood Association, and Eastover neighborhoods honored JPD and JFD with a picnic open to all.
OurFondren Neighborhood Association, in partnership with Midtown, LeFleur East Foundation, Lake Trace, Belhaven, Belhaven Heights, Broadmeadow Neighborhood Association, and Eastover neighborhoods honored JPD and JFD with a picnic open to all.
despite gaining a clear summit field of vision Ellie and I were unable to spot either wolf or bear that had killed and had been feedin on an elk carcass by the river far below...Their tracks told the story well as they were left in the wet and heavy snow but we choose instead of following their trails instead to gain a safe observation distance... on this day our decision may be considered both right .... and wrong... Just some thoughts and four pictures of a strangely beautiful Sunday morn... cbc
OurFondren Neighborhood Association, in partnership with Midtown, LeFleur East Foundation, Lake Trace, Belhaven, Belhaven Heights, Broadmeadow Neighborhood Association, and Eastover neighborhoods honored JPD and JFD with a picnic open to all.
Bestia / Beast – Orchard (final location) - feedin' da Best
Portugal, private collection, January 2014
Bestia
Maurycy Gomulicki, 2013
sculpture, resin, car paint, 3 m long
second version – private garden, Portugal
executed by Grzegorz Olech
masking by Mirek Heinrich & Przemek Jarecki
color coating by Przemek Jarecki
Deraeocoris Ruber, 6-8mm. The shiny forewing are usually some shade of brown, but may renge from yellow to to almost black. The cuneus is always red or orange and the tibiae, unlike those of D, olivaceue. do not have alternating light and dark bands. July-September on nettles and many other herbs and shrubs, feedin mainly on aphids,...
brook's aunt in fredericksburg is babysitting some [very pricey] goats. she calls them "my girls." what are they being raised for, milk?
Taman Budaya Sarawak (Sarawak Cultural Village), Pantai Damai, Santubong, Sarawak.
A unique award-winning living museum that offers an excellent fascinating glimpse of rural Sarawak life as it was, before the old skills and older ways of life were lost to modernity. Located at the foot of the legendary Mount Santubong, the Sarawak Cultural Village portrays the cultures and traditional lifestyles of the seven major ethnic groups of Sarawak.
A dwarf replica of a rumah baruk or "head house" from the sub-ethnic Dayak Bidayuh. The traditional building is much taller to a height of approximately 12 m supported by poles as well as a wooden crutch pole is used as a bridge that resembles a ladder. The Bidayuh is the collective name for several indigenous groups found in southern Sarawak and northern West Kalimantan, on the island of Borneo.
What is this? I wasn't paying attention on this particular subject, perhaps a wooden sculpture of the guardian spirit or a manifestation of the Tampa Raiuyuh, the powerful ancestral spirits dressed with wild boar tusks and bristles around the facial part. Around the sculpture are several hornbills, which according to Bidayuh's legend that this bird was believed to be in charge of the Bidayuh's world since their gods left them behind. There's a small oil lamp placed at its base. Above this sculpture is an old human skull trophy saved from the headhunting days. Baruk is a place where the headhunting skull trophies are kept. An ancient practice of the Bidayuhs is nyobang. It is a ritual of appeasing the spirits (of the heads taken) where the skulls are bathed with coconut water and fed with food and tuak, a type of liquor made from fermented rice.
Ref. and suggested reading:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainforest_World_Music_Festival
www.borneomainland.com/tours/tours_sarawak/interest_tour_...
2010paparazzi.wordpress.com/bidayuh/living-styles/religio...
www.cdc.net.my/paular/disposal.html
jos010.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html
bura.brunel.ac.uk/bitstream/2438/8253/2/Fulltext.pdf
collection-of-indonesian.blogspot.com/2011/11/ritual-nyob...
bombasticborneo.com/2014/04/nyobang-skulls-bathing-feedin...
A bald eagle keeps a wary eye over his shoulder as a glaucous gull looks to snatch a morsel of Alaskan halibut carcass.
I've been away from Flickr so long I have no idea whether Bokeh Wednesdays are still "celebrated." So, at the risk of identifying myself as the idiot in the crowd... HBW! (Edit: Well, it's been confirmed (politely) by ~*Patti*~. I'm officially the Flickr village idiot).
Taman Budaya Sarawak (Sarawak Cultural Village), Pantai Damai, Santubong, Sarawak.
A unique award-winning living museum that offers an excellent fascinating glimpse of rural Sarawak life as it was, before the old skills and older ways of life were lost to modernity. Located at the foot of the legendary Mount Santubong, the Sarawak Cultural Village portrays the cultures and traditional lifestyles of the seven major ethnic groups of Sarawak.
A dwarf replica of a rumah baruk or "head house" from the sub-ethnic Dayak Bidayuh. The traditional building is much taller to a height of approximately 12 m supported by poles as well as a wooden crutch pole is used as a bridge that resembles a ladder. The Bidayuh is the collective name for several indigenous groups found in southern Sarawak and northern West Kalimantan, on the island of Borneo.
What is this? I wasn't paying attention on this particular subject, perhaps a wooden sculpture of the guardian spirit or a manifestation of the Tampa Raiuyuh, the powerful ancestral spirits dressed with wild boar tusks and bristles around the facial part. Around the sculpture are several hornbills, which according to Bidayuh's legend that this bird was believed to be in charge of the Bidayuh's world since their gods left them behind. There's a small oil lamp placed at its base. Above this sculpture is an old human skull trophy saved from the headhunting days. Baruk is a place where the headhunting skull trophies are kept. An ancient practice of the Bidayuhs is nyobang. It is a ritual of appeasing the spirits (of the heads taken) where the skulls are bathed with coconut water and fed with food and tuak, a type of liquor made from fermented rice.
Ref. and suggested reading:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainforest_World_Music_Festival
www.borneomainland.com/tours/tours_sarawak/interest_tour_...
2010paparazzi.wordpress.com/bidayuh/living-styles/religio...
www.cdc.net.my/paular/disposal.html
jos010.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html
bura.brunel.ac.uk/bitstream/2438/8253/2/Fulltext.pdf
collection-of-indonesian.blogspot.com/2011/11/ritual-nyob...
bombasticborneo.com/2014/04/nyobang-skulls-bathing-feedin...
Hungry for more.....I know it's not very nice but I guess it is part of a nature(king snake i think) ,visit @ www.EmmelePhotography.com
Taman Budaya Sarawak (Sarawak Cultural Village), Pantai Damai, Santubong, Sarawak.
A unique award-winning living museum that offers an excellent fascinating glimpse of rural Sarawak life as it was, before the old skills and older ways of life were lost to modernity. Located at the foot of the legendary Mount Santubong, the Sarawak Cultural Village portrays the cultures and traditional lifestyles of the seven major ethnic groups of Sarawak.
A dwarf replica of a rumah baruk or "head house" from the sub-ethnic Dayak Bidayuh. The traditional building is much taller to a height of approximately 12 m supported by poles as well as a wooden crutch pole is used as a bridge that resembles a ladder. The Bidayuh is the collective name for several indigenous groups found in southern Sarawak and northern West Kalimantan, on the island of Borneo.
What is this? I wasn't paying attention on this particular subject, perhaps a wooden sculpture of the guardian spirit or a manifestation of the Tampa Raiuyuh, the powerful ancestral spirits dressed with wild boar tusks and bristles around the facial part. Around the sculpture are several hornbills, which according to Bidayuh's legend that this bird was believed to be in charge of the Bidayuh's world since their gods left them behind. There's a small oil lamp placed at its base. Above this sculpture is an old human skull trophy saved from the headhunting days. Baruk is a place where the headhunting skull trophies are kept. An ancient practice of the Bidayuhs is nyobang. It is a ritual of appeasing the spirits (of the heads taken) where the skulls are bathed with coconut water and fed with food and tuak, a type of liquor made from fermented rice.
Ref. and suggested reading:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainforest_World_Music_Festival
www.borneomainland.com/tours/tours_sarawak/interest_tour_...
2010paparazzi.wordpress.com/bidayuh/living-styles/religio...
www.cdc.net.my/paular/disposal.html
jos010.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html
bura.brunel.ac.uk/bitstream/2438/8253/2/Fulltext.pdf
collection-of-indonesian.blogspot.com/2011/11/ritual-nyob...
bombasticborneo.com/2014/04/nyobang-skulls-bathing-feedin...
Taman Budaya Sarawak (Sarawak Cultural Village), Pantai Damai, Santubong, Sarawak.
A unique award-winning living museum that offers an excellent fascinating glimpse of rural Sarawak life as it was, before the old skills and older ways of life were lost to modernity. Located at the foot of the legendary Mount Santubong, the Sarawak Cultural Village portrays the cultures and traditional lifestyles of the seven major ethnic groups of Sarawak.
A dwarf replica of a rumah baruk or "head house" from the sub-ethnic Dayak Bidayuh. The traditional building is much taller to a height of approximately 12 m supported by poles as well as a wooden crutch pole is used as a bridge that resembles a ladder. The Bidayuh is the collective name for several indigenous groups found in southern Sarawak and northern West Kalimantan, on the island of Borneo.
What is this? I wasn't paying attention on this particular subject, perhaps a wooden sculpture of the guardian spirit or a manifestation of the Tampa Raiuyuh, the powerful ancestral spirits dressed with wild boar tusks and bristles around the facial part. Around the sculpture are several hornbills, which according to Bidayuh's legend that this bird was believed to be in charge of the Bidayuh's world since their gods left them behind. There's a small oil lamp placed at its base. Above this sculpture is an old human skull trophy saved from the headhunting days. Baruk is a place where the headhunting skull trophies are kept. An ancient practice of the Bidayuhs is nyobang. It is a ritual of appeasing the spirits (of the heads taken) where the skulls are bathed with coconut water and fed with food and tuak, a type of liquor made from fermented rice.
Ref. and suggested reading:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainforest_World_Music_Festival
www.borneomainland.com/tours/tours_sarawak/interest_tour_...
2010paparazzi.wordpress.com/bidayuh/living-styles/religio...
www.cdc.net.my/paular/disposal.html
jos010.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html
bura.brunel.ac.uk/bitstream/2438/8253/2/Fulltext.pdf
collection-of-indonesian.blogspot.com/2011/11/ritual-nyob...
bombasticborneo.com/2014/04/nyobang-skulls-bathing-feedin...
Speaking of Russ Biltz, this is just about the exact spot on Adelaide Avenue where the car landed (& took a dive down the hill to the left) one Friday night in 1968 after we'd DJ'd the dance out at the high school, with Russ at the wheel, Rick Pankratz riding shotgun, and myself and Bob Sandieson in the back of Russ's Mom's white station wagon.
There was a thing Russ used to do here where, if you went over the rise in back of this spot just fast enough and took the bend right, you'd go airborne for a couple of seconds. It was a neat feeling -- a belly-butterfly. Russ had done this many times before and I think every time he did it, he'd try it at just a few miles an hour faster than the last time.
This time we most definitely went airborne and when we re-connected with Earth, the car immediately sailed down the hill. Yikes! It was a classic "time froze" moment as we sped downward through many small trees and large bushes.
To this day, I thank the three fates and the nine muses that there were no large trees along that hillside. When the car finally came to a stop, Russ got out, looked around and asked, "Everybody OK?" and then burst out laughing.
The radio was still playing the Manfred Mann hit "Quinn the Eskimo (Mighty Quinn)" (written by Bob Dylan) at ear-deafening volume.
It's impossible for me to hear the song today without being transported back to that white-knuckled moment of time-suspension, waiting and hoping for the car to stop:
Come all without, come all within
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn
Everybody's building ships and boats
Some are building monuments, others jotting down notes
Everybody's in despair, every girl and boy
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here, everybody's gonna jump for joy
Come all without, come all within
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn
I like to go just like the rest, I like my sugar sweet
But jumping queues and makin' haste, just ain't my cup of meat
Everyone's beneath the trees, feedin' pigeons on a limb
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here, all the pigeons gonna run to him
Come all without, come all within
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn
Let me do what I wanna do, I can't decide 'em all
Just tell me where to put 'em and I'll tell you who to call
Nobody can get no sleep, there's someone on everyone's toes
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here, everybody's gonna wanna doze
Come all without, come all within
You'll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn