The May Break Starts in Lima, Peru. With Museums.

Good doggie: the best boy at the Museo Larco in Lima.
The museum was generally light on dogs. But cats were plentiful. I question the priorities of a whole culture.

I have said this before and I will say it again;  Emergency vacations are much better than vacation emergencies.

Even though the rough contours of this vacation were planned out in the final days of 2023, whether I would take this vacation was in doubt up until the night before I left.  Work load and dog health were both concerns.  But things fell into place and off I went.  Destination: Lima, Peru.

For the next few days, I am staying at the Aloft Hotel in the upscale Miraflores neighborhood of Lima.  The hotel is very nice.  It's part of the Marriott family of hotels.  (You know you're staying in a Marriott branded hotel when you see the Book of Mormon next to the Bible on the hotel room desk.)  I'm on the top floor.  My room looks toward the Pacific Ocean, which is nearby.  

But you can't see it.  Or, to be more precise, I can't see it from my hotel.

This is an "unfinished business" trip.  I am visiting two cities in South America where I have been before.  I only had three nights, which meant two days, before in each.  I allocated too little time to both on prior trips, having heard that each was boring and dangerous.  Both were neither.  Both warranted a second look.  This trip is the second look.

The second look started with the Museo Larco, an archaeological museum of the pre-hispanic cultures of Peru that included, but by no means is limited to, the Inca.  I will say this once to avoid repetition:  the pre-hispanic cultures of Peru go back many thousands of years.  The Inca were the last 120 years or so of that several thousand year period.  There is much much much more to pre-Columbian Peru than the people who showed up right before the Spanish conquistadors -- and their advance party -- deadly germs -- arrived.

Let's go in.  Shall we?

The museum was started from the collection of Rafael Larco Hoyle, the first pre-eminent Peruvian archaeologist.  Before Mr. Larco arrived on the scene and start digging around Peru, people in the western world thought pre-Columbian Peru was all about the Inca and only the Inca.

Larco changed that.  Now his collection is a museum.

It's most pottery, including a very large collection of pornographic pottery, but there is more.  There are stone carvings for example.

Before the museum tour is over, we will see mummies and metal-working.

But, for now, it will be all about the pottery.

This Janus-looking head illustrates the duality of nature.

Which was a common theme of all the pre-hispanic cultures of Peru (and, generally, the world over):  Sun / moon.  Day / night.  Wet / dry.  Gold (representing sun and the day) / silver (representing the moon and the night).  Male / female (a duality well represented in the pornographic pottery collection).

Well, not everything was illustrative of the duality of nature, but much was.

In addition to the duality, there was the three levels of existence, something which exists in Judeo-Christian culture, too.  The gods in heaven above.  Man at the level of surface earth.  The realm of the dead in the underworld.  

And each level was represented by an animal.  Bird for the gods in heaven.  Serpents who can travel into the underworld.  Felines who ... rule ... the earth.

All three of those are represented on this piece o' pottery.

Cat.  Draped by serpents on either side,  There is bird in their somewhere, too, but I'm not seeing it now.

Deer were important, too, mainly as sacrifice animals.  But the importance of deer is completely eclipsed by the worshipped cats.

This looks like a salamander -- maybe the GEICO gekko -- on the side of a cup, but I'm sure the symbolism is not that.

And, again, not juts pottery:

But, yes, pottery aplenty:

And the Inca are in the house, represented by quipus.

This is the Inca system of recordkeeping by knotting strings to serve as numerals in a base-10 counting system.

(The Inca did not have a zero in their counting system.  The Maya, like the people of India, did.  Just sayin'.)

Then things got dark.

Not thematically.  It's just that this part of the museum had very low lighting.

Say, is this turquoise?

When turquoise shows up in meso-American art and jewelry, usually from the Maya, it meant that the trade routes extended into the American Southwest.  The four corners region of the USA is the only source of turquoise, at least in any quantity, in the New World, as far as I know.  So I believe the presence of turquoise here indicates that trade routes from Peru extended into modern-day Arizona and New Mexico.  Which I think is interesting.

And here's a mummy:

Mummification was popular in the dry desert regions of Coastal Peru.

And here are a collection of heads:

This is how the warriors wore the nose-plate jewelry that you occasionally see in these museums of pre-hispanic America artifacts.  Kind of reminds me of the look of COVID masks.  Only even more uncomfortable.

Finally, there were several rooms of uncategorized, undescribed pottery just sitting on shelfs.

It is very loosely organized by theme, but only very loosely organized:

This shelf reminded me of the figures in the New Order "True Faith" video.

So much of this.  Here's a self-portrait in a wall of pottery:

At this point, I thought I had completed my walk through the museum.  And I had a sad thought.  Where was all the pornographic pottery that I heard was in the museum collection?  Of course, my interest was purely scientific.  Not prurient.  Banish that thought.

I didn't think I could ask where the pr0n collection was.  But then I saw this sign with an arrow that was just an arrow:

This way to the adult part of the collection.

From this point, things may not be safe-for-work computer viewing.

Let's start with the "Tree of Life".  That's an innocent start to thing isn't it.  Yes, there is fertility imagery inherent in the "Tree of Life," but it's not erotic.

And those guys are relatively innocent looking, no?

But then we hit:

And things go completely off the rails at this point:

A giant stone phallus with a circumference that no phallus should ever have.  At this point, there is nothing left to the imagination:

If you need to stop at this point, I will understand.  If you choose to continue, you were warned:

Of that.  I actually have a ceramic flower-watering kettle that I bought on my last trip to Peru -- at the airport souvenir shop no less -- that looks just like that one.  I guess this was a common motif in Moche culture in Northern Peru, circa 600 AD.

And speaking of that motif, once again we lose all sense of proportionality:

And let's not leave the ladies out of this exaggeration of the naughty parts:

I hope these weren't the everyday stoneware.

Congress is now in session.

That was not a reference to what the politicians in D.C. do to constituents.  I was merely using an alternative meaning of the term "congress."

You might want to reconsider your decision not to bail as we move into the next section of the museum.  I will call this:  The Erotic Dead.

Sexual imagery with death imagery.

As the Beach Boys would say:  Fun fun fun 'til her Daddy took the T-Bird away.

And on that, we end the tour of our first museum of Lima, the Museo Larco.

We can visit the gift shop on the way out.

It sells a lot of jewelry, but, alas alack, no pornographic pottery.  I guess we will have to go to the airport gift shop if we need to fill out our collection with additional pieces.

Across the street from the museum entrance, in a small park, is a statue of the man from whose loins this museum sprung, metaphorically of course:  Rafael Larco Hoyle.

Pittsburgh Is for the Birds

Is that a Goura Victoria? Why, yes. It is.

Back on April 7, 2024, a few days before Total Eclipse Day in Western Pennsylvania, I took a trip to the National Aviary on the Northside of Pittsburgh.

The National Aviary is in Pittsburgh. That was not the surprise. The surprise was that the National Aviary not only is in Pittsburgh, but that it has been in Pittsburgh at the precise location since 1952. 

Longer than I've been alive. By the way, above, is an Athene Cunicularia. A burrowing owl. Which is ironic, since it is high up off the ground, in an enclosure, and not burrowed. As the old song goes: "Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick / Everyone knows a burrow owl lives in a hole / In the ground / Why the hell do you think they call it a 'burrow owl.'" Well, not this burrow owl. It lives up on a tree branch,.

Anyway. National Aviary. Pittsburgh. And here comes the first of two homages to Pittsburgh sports teams:

The Pittsburgh Condors! They played in the old ABA and disbanded well before the NBA-ABA merger. They now can be found at the National Aviary on Arch Street.

The male and female are kept in separate enclosures near the front entrance. Close up of the handsome male:

 

And this is the female with her baby condors:

Anyway, as I was saying, the National Aviary opened in 1952. I didn't know about it. We took no school field trips here. I only learned about a few months ago.

 

This could be a Cabot's Tragopan:

Apologies if I misidentified this.  This is the "Condor Court" part of the aviary. You can actually look in from outside the building. I don't recommend it. Pay the admission price. This price of birdfeed ain't birdfeed.

Not sure the bird species of this one. Could be one of the various ibises (ibes?) that live here.

This, of course, is the downside of waiting so long to post after a visit.

This one is definitely one of the vultures:

But which? The black head makes me think: Andean Condor, again. But I am guessing.

Perhaps this is the Amblyramphus holosericeus.

You know it better as the scarlet-headed blackbird. Or, perhaps, you don't.

Let's move out of "Condor Country" and into the Tropical Rainforest section and meet the star attraction:

This is a pigeon. Seriously. That's a pigeon. Goura victoria, or the Victoria-crowned pigeon. It may not look like the neighborhood winged rat, but it's a pigeon nonetheless.

And this is the real macaw:

Anodorhynchus hyacinthinus. The beautiful and always friendly-looking Hyacinth Macaw.

Let's have another look, shall we?

One of the interesting things about this section is that the birds run loose. These Victoria Crowned Pigeons frequently wander out from the confines of the Rain Forest Cafe into the neighboring sections because (a) they can and (b) they want to.

Quick. Somebody catch that Crown Vic.

Here are birds posing:

I believe those are a pair of Marbled Tral posing.

The problem with the Rain Forest section is that the birds are roaming free. If it's a recognizable species, such as the Hyacinth Macaw, I can label it as such. If it is a distinctive species, such as the Crown Victoria Pigeon -- I'm sorry -- Victoria Crowned Pigeon -- you can look it up easily. But this bird:

The bill makes me think "ibis," but the bird is not matching up with any birds listed on the aviary website.

And the identity of this fellow (or gal) (don't want to be misgendering anyone here) shall remain a mystery:

But this one is no mystery.

It's a penguin. Statue. A penguin statue. Which means we are entering the area where we will find the real deal:

The Pittsburgh Penguins!

Actually, these are African penguins. They live in the coastal area of South Africa, so they are used to a more temperate climate than other penguin species.

They actually look a lot like the Magellanic penguins, a.k.a. "Jackass penguins," that I met in Chilean Patagonia. Same size. Similar black and white pattern.

Not as oily of skin, which I am guessing is due to the climate difference between the southern tip of Africa and the southern tip of South America, which is much much closer to the Antarctic than Africa.

This section of the aviary is creatively named Penguin Point.

Moving on to the Wetlands section.

Muchos flamingos.

This one is known to be particularly aggressive at snatching shoe laces:

There were more birds than just flamingos in the wetlands area. Such as a lone pelican.

Pelecanus occidentalis. The brown pelican.

But I have some many photos of flamingos because (a) there were so many flamingos, and (b) they are so gosh-darn photogenic.

 

Not that these two aren't too.

I feel like every bird I cannot identify by species I'm just saying it's "a type of ibis." Maybe that pair are a type of ibis. I don't know. They didn't have name tags. Or species tags, as the case may be.

And this little boy loves fruit:

So let's conclude with another look at the Pittsburgh Penguin:

Life is good.

Eclipse Day in Edinboro, PA

The sun in eclipse.

This I expect was my last opportunity to see a total eclipse of the sun in my lifetime. The next one to hit the contiguous states of the United States is not calendared until 2025, when I will be 85. Perhaps I make it. But, even if I do, it's less likely that I would be interested in traveling to see it. So this was my chance. Even though it was eclipsing nowhere near Las Vegas.

Pretty much the entire contiguous lower 48 states were going to see at least a partial eclipse. Some more partial than others. Las Vegas was a minor amount of partial. So if the Total Eclipse of the Sun will not come to me, I will come to it. Besides, it was time for my annual trek to Pennsylvania and the band of totality was not far from my sister's house.

We chose to spend the 2024 Total Eclipse of the Sun at the eclipse watch party in Edinboro, Pennsylvania, on the campus of the local college, and well within the band of totality and not a far drive (well, the drive THERE -- the drive back was a whole different story).

They had food trucks and restrooms. What more do you need from an eclipse watching party. (Other than eclipse-watching protective eyewear. Which they were giving out in the rest stops on I-79. Which we did not need because we were prepared with the upscale plastic ones and not the cheap cardboard ones that look like 1950 3-D movie watching glasses).

More importantly, they had skies that by the time of the Big Event were sufficiently clear enough to afford a great view of the eclipsing sun.

I've seen excellent professional photos with the light being set by someone who know what they are doing and the eclipse is very distinct.  I am not that photographer.  This is what you get.

The actual moments of totality were spectacular. I was surprised that it never got completely dark. O was expecting midnight. It was more like deep into dusk. And we could not hear birds chirping to hear if they stopped chirping. But it was spectacular nevertheless. The light was weird. (I heard a professional photographer on the news says it's because the light takes on a greenish hue as the moment of totality gets closer.) It did get colder. The winds did pick up.

What surprised me the most is that I could not see the corona explode into view through my eclipse-viewing glasses. The corona is apparently less bright than the ball of the sun. I saw the sun completely disappear through the eclipse. Then I saw black. I thought I lost the sun from my view. Then I heard the crowd erupt. You could watch the totality with the naked eye. In fact, that was my only choice. So I did. I did not stare. Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun / But mama, that's where the fun is.

It didn't look like a black disc with fire around it, as I expected and as it looks on TV. But it was a pale yellow disc, a more pastel color than the sun normally would be, that you could look at, surrounded by a ring of yellow fire. Now I know why some people are fanatical about chasing total eclipses of the sun.