The name Malo comes from the old Breton word machlou, a compound of mach “hostage” and lou meaning “brilliant, bright, beautiful”. Isn’t that interesting? What could it mean?
Early Celtic societies took hostages to make sure that the other side carried out their contractual obligations. Hostages served as collateral. They were usually the sons of vassals beholden to the overlord. However, daughters were also taken. If the vassal reneged or rebelled against the authority of his lord, the hostage could be blinded, hurt, or even killed.
Malo was a 7th-century (that’s the 600s) Welsh monk who ventured over to Brittany to join a hermit named Aaron D’Aleth on the site of what is today a charming medieval walled city that is a popular tourist destination in France. I don’t know if Aaron appreciated this houseguest since he was a hermit. Actually, a hermitage was also a religious retreat for monks. An Irish monk had already laid claim to what is now Mont Saint Michel one hundred years earlier. What’s with these Celtic monks moving south?
The Romans pulled out of “Britannia” as they called England, circa 410 AD. They had been there for almost 500 years. However, life had started to deteriorate even before that and some theorize that the Britons invited Angles and Saxons to help them repel the Picts and Irish. The Angles and Saxons were from what is now northern Germany but had been living separately from Germany for many generations by this time. They were pagans. Christian monks may have decided to leave for greener pastures and sail across the English Channel to places like Saint Malo and Mont Saint Michel.
Has anyone ever nagged you so much about one thing in particular, that they actually end up poking you in the head with their finger? You put this one thing off for so long that the nagger has to physically push your head with their thumb. No, me neither. But this did happen to a monk back in the early 700s. He said he thought it was the devil telling him to build an oratory, which is why he procrastinated. Why would the devil ask him to build a church? You would think the devil would tell him not to build a church.
Today the abbey is overseen by monks and nuns from the Monastic Fraternities of Jerusalem. They run the Abbey and daily services. There are 7 priests and 5 nuns. I met a young nun at the post office. Her name was Claire. She smiled in a shy way and said they do not usually have their picture taken. She had already lived on Le Mont for 12 years. “So, you’ve been here since you were twelve?” I said. The post office worker behind the counter said something in French about that being a compliment. But, really she looked like she was 20. I asked if she would stay there for the rest of her life. She said she will go where the Fraternity sends her.
Rush Limbaugh once said, “If you ever get the chance, go see Mont Saint Michel.” So, I did get the chance and I went.
“If you are afflicted with melancholy, go to the swamp”. – Henry David Thoreau
Yes, though you may think me perverse, if it were proposed to me to dwell in the neighborhood of the most beautiful garden that ever human art contrived, or else of a dismal swamp, I should certainly decide for the swamp…I enter a swamp as a sacred place. There is the strength, the marrow, of Nature.
The American nature lover, philosopher, and writer Henry Thoreau believed that “A town is saved, not more by the righteous men in it than by the woods and swamps that surround it.” Out of such towns grow poets and philosophers because nature is a teacher, a mother, and a guide. We are not separate from the meadows, rivers, and trees. We are nature too. And we become better beings when we spend time in nature.
The Celtic Druids spent 20 years in solitude in the woods before they could become priests. They were the educated class. These priests were revered as wise. When people sought to make sense of their lives and the world they lived in, they turned to them.
The abiding truth is that we are bound up with the life all around us. If we are not the wind, trees, rivers, and stones now, we will someday become part of them. There is more to cherish, and more questions unanswered in the mountains, woodlands, and bogs, than in the society of people.
Swamp in Osceola National Forest, North Florida
And swamps contain water which for Thoreau is “the most living part of nature. This is the blood of the earth.”
“Good moanin’, good moanin’, how are you this moanin’?”
“I’m good. How are you?”
“Good… might as well be.”
Two elderly black gentlemen had entered the dining area to eat breakfast. I was just finishing mine. Might as well be good. Yeah, that’s right. I might as well be good, it’s better than feeling bad. We all have a choice. Choose to feel good. It makes a lot of sense. As Tolstoy wrote in “War and Peace”:
There’s no escapin’ fate. But we are always findin’ fault and complainin’: this ain’t right and the other don’t suit us. Happiness, friend, is like water in a drag net – pull it along, and it bulges; take it out, and it’s empty!
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, page 1150.
I needed that. I was facing 3 whole days of an anime convention in Atlanta. Moe was attending her first “con” as they’re called. So I decided to run with it and have a good time.
Biggest Con in the Southeast
Yes, it was big. It took us all day to register, and because I did not have a booster, I had to pay $35.00 for a COVID test. I have had many COVID tests, and this is the first time I have had to pay for one. The interesting thing was that they wanted so much personal information first. I wondered aloud to my neighbor in line, “What’s more important, getting the test to find out if I have it, or collecting all this information about me?” A wry smile and knowing nods from the young guys beside me confirmed my suspicions.
A guy in line bending over backward for a Covid test. It’s a good thing I didn’t have to go that far.
Halloween for Elderly Teenagers and Young Adults in Atlanta
What other way is there to describe it?
Gawd!! How disgusting. Gouged-out eyes. That’s really horrifying.
Princess Amelia (1710 – 1786), daughter of King George II of Great Britain.
She never set foot on Amelia Island, and I don’t think she even knew where it was. This was par for the course because Amelia was English royalty and her father’s favorite. James Oglethorpe, the first colonial governor of Georgia, actually named the island after the princess. And it’s amazing the name stuck because eight different flags have flown over this 13-mile-long barrier island off the coast of Jacksonville, Florida.
Motley Crew on Amelia Island
Soldiers, sailors, pirates, smugglers, slave traders, and British raiders have all taken refuge on or tried to claim the island. There are even old homes on Amelia Island today that still retain the false walls where slaves hid on their way north while traveling on the Underground Railroad.
As for treasure, a Spanish galleon carrying what would now be worth 2 billion in gold, the San Miguel, has never been recovered and is believed to lie just off the south coast of the island. In fact, we ran into a motley crew plotting something brazen and wicked, to be sure.
Pirate Talk
They were holed up in the Palace Saloon (1878), the oldest saloon in all of Florida, with the last cigarette machine in the world, when I heard one say:
“Arrrgh me hearties! Shiver me timbers and crush me barnacles if I ever saw such a sight as that! T’is true I seen it with my own eyes, a hole and in that hole more gold than all the fish in the sea! More pieces o’ eight than specks o’ sand on the beach, matey! I be dancin’ the hempin jig if the devil hisself, Cap’n Jack, knew I was telling ye all o’ this. But t’is so mates, t’is so. And t’is all ours for the takin’ me buckos. Cor blimey! Ye cowardly swabs, ye bilge rats-rapscallions are ye?! T’is tonight or never lads. T’is now or Davey Jones’s Locker for us all if the Cap’n finds out we be after his prize me hearties…”
Don’t Turn Your Back
Before I could walk back out of the saloon’s swinging doors, I was assailed by one of these scurrilous scallywags. “Ahoy wench!” he called out to me, “Come raise a pint or two o’ the grog, ye sweet lassies. Let’s all be merry together, me dearies,” he shouted as the others roared with approval. In a low voice, I told Maureen to be polite. “But don’t turn your back on them,” I said. Never turn your back on cutthroats such as these. We made some small talk, took a few pics, and beat a hasty retreat as soon as we got the chance.
Are these ruthless ruffians not the most vile sea dogs you’ve ever clapped eyes on?
Later that evening, we were having dinner at the restaurant in the harbor (there’s only one). As I raised my drink to take a sip, a sudden BOOM blasted out in the harbor. Everyone jumped and turned to see what was happening. It was the pirate ship, black and sleek, making its way out to sea on a sunset cruise. They fired a shot from their cannon because that’s who pirates are; loud and proud of it.
“You mean you got on the last plane out before the revolution?” I said.
“No! The revolution already started a few hours before we left. People were gathering at the president’s palace. I think they closed the road to the airport just after we got there. I know for sure that the road to Otavalo was closed.”
“Wow. Close call.”
“Yeah, I know! Other groups are planning to go to the Galápagos, but I don’t think they can go now.”
“Jeez.”
“Yeah.”
“I know, right?”
“Yeah.”
A fiery end in true South American revolutionary fashion. How can you go down there and not witness at least one revolution? Other than that first bit of explosive information, I really didn’t get much more from Maureen about her trip to the Galápagos. She went with a group of high school students on her first solo foray into the wilds of the world. I would’ve appreciated a bit more in the way of stories, but nothing was forthcoming.
“Turtle Porn” on the Galápagos Islands
She did tell me about the turtle porn they witnessed within minutes of arriving at the sanctuary on Santa Cruz Island. The leader of the pack, a high school math teacher, came up with this classy, educational phrase. Nice. Apparently, it was unusual for the turtles to cavort in such a lusty manner, and the students were “lucky” to catch them getting frisky. A male tortoise tiptoed over to an unsuspecting female hardtop and proceeded to have his way with the tiny turtle (in comparison with him). “Oh! She can’t escape. She won’t make it!” The guide cried out. He made it sound like the female tortoise was about to be sexually assaulted.
And I’m thinkin’ these are elderly turtles. They are both probably over 100 years old. I am sure there is nothing to worry about as far as “assault” goes. They are both consenting adults, and if not consenting adults, then two consenting senior amphibians who have gone through this before and who are ENGAGING IN THE EVOLUTION OF THEIR SPECIES FOR GOD’S SAKE.
Photo byCedric Fox from Unsplash
So calm down people, get a grip, and remember why you are on the Galápagos Islands in the first place. Why is it such a draw? Who wrote the book? What was the theory? Has anybody cracked open a book lately? Turtle porn…
August 26th is National Dog Day. Let me tell you about my dogs.
Dinah Nicole
I had five dogs in 2021. It’s the most we’ve ever had at one time, and I didn’t plan it that way. They came to us as castaways. The first one I got at a shelter, so she wasn’t really a castaway. But, they were ready to put her down because she had a broken leg, so I did rescue her. Her owners had named her “Felony”. That kind of gives you an idea of what she was up against. She was three months old.
We named her Dinah instead of Felony. My brother called her Nicole because he said that her bedroom eyes reminded him of Anna Nicole Smith. That’s a weird thing to say, and I think he should probably try to get out more. Anyway, it’s because of her that we ended up with 5 dogs. She loved dogs and she loved people, too. She always rolled over on her back in greeting. Dinah died a few weeks ago at the age of 15. The world lost the sweetest little canine.
Deborah Anne
I found Debbie walking along my road. I picked her up and went to all the houses in the area, but no one claimed her. After putting up a “Found Dog” sign, her owner came to get her. 18 months later, the owner didn’t want her anymore, so I agreed to take her. When Debbie met Dinah, they had a vicious fight over a bag of food. It was my fault. You don’t introduce dogs in front of food. After that dicey first encounter, they never fought again. They became thick as thieves. In the remote backwoods, I watched as they hunted mice, squirrels, and birds together. Debbie is 13 and a half now and learning how to live without Dinah.
Chuey Fiona
It’s hard for me to write about Chuey. And we didn’t name her Chuey but she was so damaged that we couldn’t bear to change her name. Chuey was found “walking the streets of Texas”. Now Texas is not a small town so when you say walking the streets what does that even mean? Anyway, she was brought back to Florida. My friend was downsizing from a trailer to a minivan and had to give up one of her two dogs and Chuey was not the favorite. So I said okay, I’ll take her.
Chuey didn’t like to walk or didn’t know how to walk. I mean she always stayed up with the truck when I took everybody for a walk. She never joined us no matter how hard I tried. If there was a leaf blowing by on the road, she froze and stared at it. She was literally paralyzed by fear. It took years for her to relax. She never had dog friends. They avoided her. She didn’t know how to socialize.
Once in a while, she came along on a short walk I called “Chuey’s Loop”. That was also where I had seen foxes. I suspect Chuey was looking for a secret rendezvous with a fox because she was precisely the color of a red fox. She may have been part fox.
Not One Bark
Chuey never barked. My friend who gave her to me also never heard her bark. This is so abnormal for a dog. It upset us. We had Chuey for 10 years, and she never barked. We never knew how old she really was. I used to say that Chuey was a woman without a past. And that Chuey had secrets we would never know. But at least she had us for a while. She died on February 25, 2022, with people who loved her.
Marcus Julius Goofus
I found Marcus early one morning sitting underneath a Stop sign in a remote, undeveloped development. The night before, the temperature had gone down to 17F. He was freezing to death. And judging by the bones making a tent of his skin, he was starving to death. As soon as I saw him, I picked Debbie up and told the girls, “No walk today”. He body wagged his way over to me, and then I knew he was friendly. He jumped in the bed of the truck, and we drove home. As soon as I let him out of the truck, he ran off down the road the way we had come. I stared after him and said, “Easy come easy go”. About a minute later, he came running back.
It was Thursday when we met. He had his baby teeth. On Monday, when he went to see the doctor, he had adult teeth. That can happen. So he was approximately 6 months old. A year later, I met someone who recognized Marcus. They told me he had a brother. Their owner left town, letting two donkeys and the two dogs loose to fend for themselves. Nobody knows what happened to his brother. That’s about the cruelest thing you can do to an animal – abandonment.
Gone Too Soon
Marcus was a calm, gentle dog who loved to sit under trees waiting for squirrels to drop like ripened fruit. He goofed around a lot and slipped into the pool I don’t know how many times. He would crawl inside dog food bags. When he played, his eyes got all wide and shiny and his tongue hung out of his mouth. So we called him a Goofus. We think he was a Stephen’s Cur. I named him Marcus because I was reading a book about Marcus Luttrell called Lone Survivor when I took him home. One night in February, I found him dead underneath the gigantic Camellia Bush. He was only 6 years old.
Maximus “Moose Dog”
Max was thrown from a moving truck into the bushes on a city street. The mailman who witnessed this cruel treatment of an innocent animal retrieved him and brought him to our office, where his wife worked. My husband looked at him and said, “Has anyone claimed him?” Someone said they were wishing that he would. So he did. When he called me, I said, “I need another dog like I need a hole in the head.”
When I saw this 6-week-old pup with his extended belly full of worms and heard how he was thrown away like trash, what do you think I did? Yep, he was home.
Max does not like dogs. He doesn’t even like people very much. He is affectionate with me, though. I suppose it’s because I feed him, and I am part of his territory. Max has survived a beating with a branch and being shot at. And don’t forget, he was thrown out of a truck. I call him Old Man because I hope that someday he will get to be an old man. I don’t know what I’d do without him. If only he would mellow out a little. Max is a Catahoula Cur, and he is four years old.
One More Thing About a Dog
Don’t forget to look into your dog’s eyes and tell them that you love them. They understand that.
When will we three meet again,
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the hurly-burly's done,
When the battle's lost and won.
- Shakespeare's Macbeth
Pack of Three on Bora Bora
On a full moon-lit night we were greeted by a pack of three at the entrance to our lodgings. These were gentle beggars. They very discreetly inquired after snacks and when none were forthcoming, dissolved back into the night.
Mystical Three
I saw three packs of three dogs on the three islands we visited. This fascinating idea of three can be traced back to remote antiquity and farther still to primitive man. It occurs naturally and simply. There is a father, mother and child, sun, moon and stars, land, sea and water, birth, life, and death, past, present, and future. In humankind, there is a homogeneity of mind when it comes to three.
Ancient Egypt’s divine triad was Osiris, Isis, and Horus. There is the Germanic triad of Wodan, Thorr, and Donar. The great Hindu trinity is the Trimurti of Brahma, Siva, and Vishna. In Taoism, there are three pure ones.
In Buddhism, there are three treasures Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.
Speaking of Religion
I was shocked to read the following.
“Jesus is saying who can enter the city of God. Just listen to this – ‘Without are dogs and sorcerers and whoremongers and murderers and idolaters, and whosoever loveth or maketh a lie’. You see the company dogs are supposed to keep?”
“Travels with my Aunt” by Graham Greene.
Three More
And so it is with dogs. There is harmony between three dogs. They are relaxed and content living their lives the best way possible. They love and care for each other. Dogs help me adjust to human life in a foreign place. They indicate the degree to which I can trust or feel comfortable with the native population. They act as ambassadors.
The dog in the middle is a mother. The dog on the right has a bad limp. They are on the main street of Vaitape.
She reminds me of the dog roaming the resort in Punta del Este. Maybe these homeless dogs all take on the same appearance after a while. Maybe this is the ‘Third World Street Dog’ breed. You might say that this is not the third world with its $12,000 a night over-the-water bungalows.
This 2-story bungalow is $12,000 per night. For the record, it can no longer be called a bungalow, can it? These pictures were taken while touring the island in a boat piloted by Captain Dangerous.
And I would agree that this is not third-world material. However, many homes on these islands, away from the glitzy tourist hubs, would fit right into a slum in Fortaleza, Brazil, for example, like this one.
Our Humble Abode on Bora Bora
We stayed in one of a series of small one-room bungalows on the edge of the sea, which was so calm that Google registered it as a lake. And that is why the Pacific Ocean is called the Pacific Ocean.
Is that a codpiece in San Francisco? What is that? And if it is, I mean what’s going on? Codpieces were all the rage in the 1500s. It’s rather dated. If you want a quick look at what a codpiece is, google Henry VIII. There’s nothing like a good gargoyle, is there?
Juvenile and Immature
What a childish thing to call a post about San Francisco “I left my codpiece…” I am quite disgusted with myself. San Francisco is one of the top 10 most beautiful big cities in the world and here I am making fun of it. Who am I to say such things? Nobody will read this trash.
The Human Touch
We were just traveling through San Francisco on our way to Tahiti. We were there for a day and stayed in the Nob Hill neighborhood. A few months before this, we were also in San Francisco to attend a virtual wedding in San José on zoom. You might be thinking, well, if it was virtual, why did you fly to San José for the wedding? Because there is nothing like the human touch when it comes to weddings. Especially, in the case of a mother seeing her only daughter married.
Grace Cathedral of San Francisco
Resist!
Do you see what I see? The color of these steps is the same as a resistor. Almost right down to the same order. It’s uncanny. Could it be that the Catholic Church is resisting change? That there is a double meaning behind these stairs? Is the Catholic Church indulging in activism against activists? What a mind-blowing thought. Let’s leave it at that. Some things are better left unsaid.
You will not find a photo of the stairs painted these colors. There is one photo, but people are sitting on the steps blocking the paint job. So, no there are no pictures. The church does not want to advertise its militancy, I suppose.
Captain Samuel Wallis stood in the presence of the Queen of Tahiti. Young women dressed only in grass skirts danced to the beat of the drums in the firelight. The Queen’s bodyguards stood close to the English officers. Large and also half-dressed, they seemed to press in upon the three Englishmen. The luscious scent of vanilla drizzled on their faces and in the very air they breathed. Wallis lifted his hand to his head feeling slightly dizzy. The heat from the torches was uncomfortable. He had suffered from scurvy for the last two weeks and was unable to come ashore until now. He began to feel quite weak. Sweat beaded on his brow. Then suddenly, he fainted.
Queen Oberea Meets Captain Wallis This drawing and the others are representations of the events by John Hawkesworth in 1773
Hats Off
The Queen jumped from her chair and rushed to where the captain lay on his back on the sandy ground. The ship’s doctor knelt to tend to the captain and, as he did so, he removed the white wig from his head. A gasp erupted from the darkened edges of the circle. All movement ceased. The natives covered their mouths and stared at the strangers, not comprehending what they had just witnessed.
Home Remedy on Tahiti
A muffled female giggle broke the silence. The captain even managed to laugh. Queen Oberea stood up straight and ordered the captain, who had recovered slightly, to be taken to her quarters. Once at her house, she instructed young girls to massage his body. Later that day, after the young captain, 39 years old, had somewhat recovered, the queen escorted him back to the ship holding him close as they walked.
Early the next morning before the sun even rose the Queen was there beside the ship in her canoe. The ship’s doctor counseled Captain Wallis saying, “Sir, I think it would do you good to go ashore and have a rest.” The good captain took this advice and reveled in the tender affections lavished on him by the Queen of Tahiti for seven days and six nights.
All Good Things Must Come to an End Even in Tahiti
Finally, this idyll came to a close. Captain Wallis knew that if he did not leave soon he might never leave at all. He ordered the ship to prepare to sail. The last night in Old Tahiti Queen Oberea climbed aboard the HMS Dolphin and threw herself on the arms chest. Men stood by silently as she wept. Her heart was breaking for all to see. At last, only a soft whimper escaped her lips as she climbed off the ship and into the waiting outrigger canoe. Sailors tossed gifts to her. The Queen sat motionless as her people caught the trifles. She did not want these offensive trinkets. She wanted nothing except that which was now beyond her grasp forever.
Queen receives gifts from English Captain.
A Tearful Adieu
Tangerine Moon in Old Tahiti
That night, the last night in Old Tahiti, Captain Wallis paced in his small cabin. He felt conflicted knowing he should stay aboard HMS Dolphin and prepare for the long journey ahead and yet he longed to hear Oberea’s voice one more time and gently kiss her full, bee-stung lips stained with papaya juice. Finally, he walked out onto the deck and was suddenly arrested by the presence of an enormous full moon rising like a fire from the purple night. He inhaled the vanilla-scented breeze. There was no help for it. He called two of his men and they rowed ashore. The men waited for him on the beach until just as dawn broke the captain returned. He was pale and his expression grim. That morning the HMS Dolphin left Tahiti and never returned. The first European contact with Tahiti had been made.
