Portland: Chinese Garden

Second day, second garden: Tuesday we visited the Lan Su Chinese Garden, whose name combines characters from the Mandarin for Portland and for its sister city, Suzhou. It means "Garden of the Awakening Orchids." We arrived early in order to be able to buy our tickets and join the free Kung Fu class that was held on the patio. (Every day they offer a different discipline to try; I suppose if you had a membership you could attend each week.) We spent a chilly hour learning how to move from our pelvises and how to roll a ball of qi with a woman visiting from California and another guy. The instructor, Andrea, is part of the Flying Tortoise studio.

Although we were very cold, the time we spent in the class had allowed the sun to rise over the building, improving the light. We followed the circuit of the compound, taking lots and lots of pictures. While Dear Husband favored the Japanese Garden for its spaciousness and greenery (click for post), I liked the Chinese Garden better, because of the constant juxtaposition of architecture and nature.

It is set up as a wealthy family's villa. One architectural technique they use is the “view within a view,” windows or doors that (re)frame dioramas. This not only simulates infinite space but allows for the artful display of conspicuous consumption.

According to the guidebook, there is more than 600 tons of the statuesque rock from Lake Tai in China in the garden (left image). The rock has been eroded under the surface of the lake, creating shapes that catch light and shadow and invite contemplation. Looking from bottom to top is supposed to simulate climbing a mountain.

There were of course a large koi and lily pond, bridges, a waterfall, and a couple of buildings with exhibits about a home altar (above), botanical illustration, women’s work, and the study of a Chinese scholar. We treated ourselves to a satisfying lunch (steamed dumplings for him, noodles with tofu for me, tea and moon cakes for each of us) while someone played a kind of lute. As a rare souvenir to hang when we get home, we bought a crane embroidery from Shouzou.

Below is the scholar's study. I took the second photo through an opening in a wooden screen, and the repeating window effect continues with the window and the decorated porch beyond it. How could you not love all that latticework?

Above left is the "moonlocking pavilion," so named because it seems to capture the moon (reflected in the pond) in its arms. Below you can see how close the rest of the city was.

This was a very filling lunch, I think because the moon cakes may be meant to be shared. You can see half of my red bean cake on top; it has a sort of dark, earthy taste. DH prefered his lotus seed cake, which was lighter and sweeter ("the vanilla of mooncakes").

This is a backlit photo of the two of us on a covered bridge overlooking the koi pond. Afterwards we walked over to Powell's City of Books, where DH patiently waited for me to scan the spine of every book published on Nazi Germany, and many of the books published on World War I. We also ogled the rare books--some of which are very old, some of which are oversized comics, and some of which are worth thousands of dollars--and did some Christmas shopping. Then we took the tram home for a quiet restaurant dinner and a soak in the jacuzzi tub.

Coming soon: posts about Washington Park and Multnomah Falls!

Portland: Japanese Garden

We are in Portland, Oregon, for a "working vacation"--I have a conference at the end of the week, and Dear Husband had never been to the Pacific Northwest either--so we did some sightseeing together.

Top of our list for places to visit in Portland was the Japanese Garden, which is said to be the most authentic of the kind outside of Japan. Professor Takuma Tono (Tokyo Agricultural University) designed it in the late 1950s to incorporate numerous different styles on the site of the old zoo. The Garden opened in 1967 to visitors, and it has been added to and expanded upon as late as 2017.








You enter by ascending a serpentine pathway up the hillside to a "village" of buildings (visitors center, display area, gift shop, cafe). Unfortunately, their next art installation opens at the end of the week. So we had to content ourselves with wandering through the gardens, two 30-40-minute loops, each time with a break to sit quietly in the far corner in front of a burbling waterfall.

After collecting ourselves, we walked back out of Washington Park to the trendy Alphabet District, where we met an old friend for fancy ice cream at Salt & Straw: chocolate-kissed zucchini bread for me, cloudforest chocolate hazelnut cookies and cream (made with coconut cream) for Dear Husband. Sea salt with caramel ribbons is their most popular flavor. Then it was home to snuggle under a blanket on the couch for me, and a nap for DH, until we were hungry enough for dinner at vegan restaurant Blossoming Lotus.

This pavilion is part of the Flat Garden. During busy times it has exhibitions, including bonsai.

At the Lower Pond in the Strolling Pond Garden. (The cranes are statues, the better to ensure every

visitor gets an Instagrammable photo with "wildlife"?)

Outbuilding in the Tea Garden; tea house constructed in Japan and shipped to Portland in pieces behind it. Classical features include rustic stepping stones and lanterns that give the sensation of a long journey out of the cares of the city into relaxation in the countryside.

Flower arranging and dragon statue.

Heavenly Falls, from the side. They were taller than they appear here, and quite loud.

Strolling Pond Gardens such as these were popular on estates during the Edo Period (1603-1867) as demonstrations of wealth and a luxurious lifestyle.

Sand and Stone Garden, from above. These kind of "dry landscape" gardens were developed in the late medieval period (1185-1333) to capture the beauty of blank space. They are for contemplation, not meditation.

View from the bench at our happy place in Portland, the Natural Garden. Apparently this was originally supposed to be a mossy Hillside Garden, but the terrain was too inhospitable, so it was redesigned with plants to evoke all four seasons. Bet it would look great in spring with pink azaleas, or in high autumn with red and orange foliage. As it was, the tiny maple leaves looked like so many stars against the bright sky.

That's So Pittsburgh: High Tea with Sherlock Holmes Afficianados

Today Dear Husband and I celebrated the end of two weeks of night shifts with a date for Sherlock-Holmes-themed high tea with the local Britsburgh Anglophile group. It was hosted at the Omni William Penn Hotel, the fanciest hotel in the world when it was built in 1916, at least according to the maitre d'. The chandeliers behind us were gifts from the queen of Austria and are worth $50,000(!). The organizers chose this hotel in part because of the fancy-schmancy atmosphere of the Terrace Room, and in part because Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself spent one night there when traveling through the United States lecturing on spiritualism and the paranormal.

The invitation encouraged guests to get all dressed up and ladies to wear hats, and we happily complied. We ended up sharing a table with a slightly older professional couple. Sheila is a runner, and Frank likes organ concerts, so there was a lot to talk about. DH chose the mountain berry tea, while I opted for Earl Grey. We enjoyed a variety of finger sandwiches but could not manage to finish this impressive display of fruit and desserts. The china was a beautiful, classic, floral rose-on-white pattern. Service took over an hour, however, so the special lecture was delayed.

The guest for the day was Sherlockian Jim Zunic, who described himself as someone who has "an inordinate interest in Sherlock Holmes," and it made me wonder what constitutes an "ordinate" interest. He has read all 4 novellas and 56 short stories, watched the television and film knockoffs, and collected a variety of ephemera. It was a short but very interesting lecture. Zunic reminded us that many details associated with the famous detective in popular culture are not "canonical" from Conan-Doyle's original writings: the deerstalker hat, the curved pipe, and the phrase, "Elementary, my dear Watson!"

One last thing: the Terrace Room is overseen by a mural of George Washington recapturing Fort Duquesne (now Fort Pitt) in 1755. The hotel maitre d' pointed out a number of intentional inaccuracies, from the depiction of an elderly GW for recognition's sake, although he would have been 33 at the time, to the Plains Sioux headdress on the Iroquois Native American man in the foreground. The soldier on the left is General Braddock, not Governor Pitt the Elder, for whom the fort and later city were named.








Editor's Note: If you enjoyed this edition of That's So Pittsburgh (TSPGH), you might like the World War I commemoration we attended, or this post about other historic murals.

Oh for Saint Pete's Sake! Part 1 of 2

Our Florida Spring Break did not get off to an auspicious start: Southwest Airlines cancelled our Sunday evening flight more than 12 hours before the forecasted snow began to fall (but not stick). Then, they cancelled our early-Monday-morning direct flight, so we finally landed in Tampa 12 hours and a lot of aggravation later. Good thing we had planned for the first day to be nothing but lying around, visiting with family, and eating. Oh, and starting a cut-throat, week-long Joker tournament. 

Day 2 dawned cool and rainy. On the agenda was an hour-long drive across Tampa Bay to St. Petersburg, where we flip-flopped our itinerary to start with the Jean Schlumberger exhibit of jewelry and objects d'art at the Museum of Fine Arts. He was a (gay) clothing, jewelry, and art designer in the middle of the 20th century probably most famous for his three decades at Tiffany & Co. To be quite honest, I found most of the pieces gaudy, overwrought, and/or strange--his early work was heavily influenced by surrealism; see, for instance, the bebaubled ostriches below.

This necklace of diamonds, rubies, and turquoise was one of the few I felt I might have wanted to wear. A nature lover, he had an apparent affection for the asymmetrical tendrils of starfish and vines. I'm not sure where the tendence for garish colors came from; the excessive use of gems was presumably part of his Tiffany's contract.

Schlumberger formed a close patronage friendship with Rachel "Bunny" Mellon (1910-2014), second wife of Paul Mellon (1907-1999), both of whom were ridiculously wealthy from banking, thoroughbred horses, Listerine, and inherited money. Bunny appears to have spent much of her time gardening at the couples' 6 homes, vacationing in Paris and on beaches, and dropping in on Jean's atelier in New York City to design gem-encrusted things with him. (She also designed the Rose Garden at the White House and arranged flowers and landscaping for the Kennedys.) Jean painted her friendly letters (below left), which is one of the most wonderful things I have ever heard about and makes me doubt my friendship with anyone who has not sent or received such a greeting with me. (Below right: still lifes.)

The Pisces broach on the right was Bunny's favorite piece, and it makes me question her taste, mostly because of the red enamel. Nevertheless, Schlumberger's enameled bangled bracelets became popular in the 1960s after Jackie Kennedy Onassis was spotted wearing them, and I have to agree that those are classy. Below is a seashell covered in diamond algae.

The museum itself is modestly sized, but they have displayed a variety of objects from all time periods around the world. In the two hours we wandered the galleries, there were at least two school groups learning about art and history.

Above is "fairyland" Wedgewood porcelain by Daisy Makeig-Jones (1881-1945), especially popular in the 1920s.


Finally, we also looked at Glow: The Hand-Painted Photographs of E.G. Barnhill (1894-1987). He and other photographers would use a variety of paints and glazes to colorize glass and paper prints of black-and-white snapshots of Florida landscapes to sell to tourists as souvenirs. Many on display dated from 1914-1923. He closed his shop in the 1930s when tourism largely dried up during the Great Depression. Oh, and he used uranium-based pigments imported directly from Germany, but don't worry, the level of radiation is low (!). Gives a whole 'nother meaning to the exhibition title...

For lunch we stopped at the Cider Press Cafe for a delicious vegan lunch (click for my Yelp review). Then we headed back up the peninsula to the Sunken Gardens, a Florida roadside attraction since the 1920s. (Click here for wet and wild Part 2!)