Rochester: Part II

Having spent almost a month in Rochester, I thought it deserved another entry of disjointed musings and happenings.

Avoiding the expansion of

ones' breeches in the U.S is a

full-time undertaking, what with driving everywhere and all the delicious food on offer.

Therefore, Nikolai and I decided we would try and play some football at a local park where they have regular 'pick-up' games (anyone can turn up and play) and we found a large group of footballers seemingly from all over the world. The rules were simple, you could only score in the triangles or with a header or volley. I must have been looking very confused at this point on account of the 'triangles', because one kind American tried to explain to me what a volley was, "you know where you shoot before the ball hits the ground". I told him I knew what a volley was, barely concealing the disdain on my face at being lectured on my national sport by an American (when I later discovered he had taken me to be an Australian, I forgave him his ill-judgement). The 'triangles' were merely the inside netting of the goal, and I had to concede that this was a brilliant rule, negating the need for a 'keeper and forcing the shooter to go to the far post (the rule the next week was 'one touch' goals only, another difficult skill which should be practiced more in the parks of England).

In our last week I visited the George Eastman Museum (see previous Rochester blog) and enjoyed looking at the portrait exhibition and the 'Kodak panorama exhibition', though I couldn't help wishing there were

less pictures of 1950's families with fake smiles and wooly jumpers. The garden of the house was beautiful and I was able to take some pictures of bees collecting

pollen.

I also found an unexpected poster

advertising a play by D. W Griffith, who was a famous

play-write and film director in the U.S. Knowing that 'Griffith' (without an 's')

is an uncommon name I fancied he was a direct relative. I looked him up when I got home and discovered he was indeed a descendant of the original Griffith,

a Prince of Wales. David Wark (not making this up) Griffith was a controversial figure,

on account of his portrayal of slavery and the Ku Klux Klan in a positive light, and although he later made another film portraying the exact opposite he never really shook his earlier image.

His father was a famous Colonel in the U.S army known as Jacob 'Thundering Jake" Griffith, who captured a Mule Train in 1862 and was wounded in the process.

I spent a day or two taking pictures of the local area, including High Falls, which is a remarkable waterfall right in the heart of downtown Rochester and was surprised to find an old watermill there also. I tried in vain to photograph the two police cars that were sat outside "Dunkin' Doughnuts " almost every time I passed (stereotypes are always there for a reason!), although through some unfortunate chance they were never there when I had my camera. This is why a photographer should never leave home without it. We also attended a Polish Festival at a church in the suburbs. There was Polish beer, food and music (of sorts), although I couldn't help but feel that none of them could have possibly been to Poland on account of everybody being so friendly. This enigma aside, there was some superb attention to detail, the pointless pre-queueing for a beer ticket before having to queue for the beer itself was, I thought, a particularly nice touch.

For more info on D.W Griffith and 'Thundering' or 'Roaring' Jake see links below:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D._W._Griffith

http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~kyoldham/cem/mt_tab/griffith.htm

N.B. The delightful mug at the top of the page was purchased at the Polish festival and will soon be on its way to one lucky reader.

Finger Lakes: Seneca

Due to a massive slice of luck, my cousin's family (the Syratts) are also in the New York region on holiday from London (England). They are staying in a house on Seneca lake which, if you ignore the sloth-like speed limits, is just over an hours drive from Rochester (why in a country with so much space do they build two lane highways and make people drive at 65 mph?). I would like to announce to Mr. Policeman that the drive took me exactly 1 hour and 55 min, as at no point did I exceed the speed required by state law.

Whitney was working all day and so I embarked on my own, deciding to allow my music player to be the DJ for the journey.

Considering he had only music I had chosen to work with, I thought he did a suprisingly poor job, and after skipping through some Coldplay, Justin Timberlake and Michael Bolton (how, oh how did Bolton sneak his way on there?) I decided to take over and let Neil Young keep me company for the journey. The first half of the drive on Highway 90 was uneventful, which is how I like highway driving to be. The drive around Lake Seneca was fantastic with breathtaking views on my left all the way to Dundee, where the Syratts are staying.

I had a thoroughly enjoyable day canoeing on the lake, eating, and sampling a few of the local ales (I would like to point out that I don't condone drinking and driving and I kept well within the limits and didn't drive again for 5 hours. Disclaimer over.) and listened to Pete describe the ales that I couldn't try, partly because I was driving and partly because Pete had drunk them all.

The view of the lake from their house was stunning and I felt a little jealous knowing they get to wake up to that panorama every day. The beach was made of shale

and the stones were incredibly sharp (Josh has a sliced toe to prove it and my finger is much the same) and the lake itself is full of weeds which make swimming a challenge. The canoe however sailed effortlessly over this and out into the clear deep waters. I could have stayed out on that canoe for hours, although considering the fuchsia colour of my shoulders today, I am glad I didn't.

There was a slightly scary element of my trip to the lake, and that was the large wasp's nest in the shed on the pier, only 5 feet away from where we were sitting. I admit to being a bit of a nancy when it comes to wasps, perhaps because I suspect I am allergic to their stings (my hand swelled the last time I was stung when I was 12), but mostly because wasps are foul, creepy little creatures and the very thought of them makes my skin crawl. I used my zoom lens to get this photograph, and even that was a little too close for my comfort

(apologies to those of a similar disposition). As you would expect, there was a fair amount of wildlife at the lake, and I managed to snap the small butterfly that landed on Pete's finger as well as the grasshopper or cricket on the wooden stump. If I'm honest the grasshopper wasn't too challenging on account of it being quite dead, but a nice shot (if a little macabre) never the less.

Thank you Syratts for a fantastic day in the sun.

Buffalo

We had heard many things about Buffalo. Sadly none of them were very good. We had heard that it was the best place in the world to get chicken wings, actually we assumed that given they are called 'Buffalo Wings' (I hadn't assumed this as I always believed these were the side cuts of a buffalo, but I didn't share my disappointment with Nikolai or Whitney).

So we arrived in the centre of Buffalo courtesy of Tom, our satellite navigator and decided to find a place to eat. Whitney searched for Restaurants in the SatNav and I was instructed to turn left. I was following instructions under the impression that Tom was an intelligent navigator (from his voice you would assume he went to Eaton and then Oxford, although considering the current Mayor of London has a similar accent this in itself should have set alarm bells ringing), it would appear however, that Tom is an imbecile. After my heart had slowed a little and my breathing became more regulated, I pondered the wisdom of allowing a computer, especially one that has not been programmed with Buffalo's one way system, to be the master of our seemingly fragile lives.

We arrived at the restaurant (imaginatively named 'The Buffalo') only to find that it had recently closed down, and so we decided to walk around and have a look. It soon became apparent that everything had shut down and that there were only a handful of people on the streets, mostly people asking for money. It was really eerie (Erie), not dissimilar to one of those disaster films where a city is evacuated due to nuclear attack or an ebola outbreak.

We felt quite out of place and

decided to head back to the car and give Tom a chance to redeem himself. He did and we sat down to a monstrous portion of Buffalo Wings and iced tea at the Coulter Bay grill. Whitney had BBQ wings after the waitress gave a thoroughly inadequate explanation as to what flavour 'Buffalo' actually was (though to be fair she did have the look of a woman who had never been asked this question before). Whitney made a good choice. The Buffalo Wings were rather sharp and had little flavour other than the taste of the 'hot sauce' they were smothered in, whilst the BBQ wings were tasty, spicy, flavoursome and rather enjoyable.

As we drove home I felt a pang of sympathy for the city. It was obviously once a thriving epicentre of production and a thoroughfare of goods and trade, the grandiose buildings and harbour testify to that, but now it is as empty and depressing a place as I could imagine. Nikolai stayed there a while longer and maybe he has brighter news to report. We shall see.

(Follow up) Nikolai reported that, due to the lack of quality activities available, he decided to try 'Buffalo Wings' in another restaurant. Goodness knows how he had the room or the desire to repeat the ordeal, but such is his dedication to providing you with wholly accurate information. The wings were in fact identical to the first, which if we're being fair to the people of Buffalo, shows their commitment to preserving this famous recipe by keeping it consistent.

Niagara

Yesterday Whitney had her first day off and so we took a trip to Niagara with our friend Nikolai, who also studies medicine in Poland and is doing an elective here in Rochester. It is a short journey of just over an hour and the ride went without a hitch (save me trying to go through a no entry barrier at the toll booth). Listened to the new Arcade Fire and Band of Horses albums on the way down, which are both excellent, Arcade Fire probably pipped it though.

As we approached Niagara we could see a large plume of smoke curling upwards in the distance and we wondered what was on fire.

It was in fact the rising spray from the falls and we were completely amazed at how high it was. As we got closer, the road ran along the river bank and the speed and strength of the water became apparent, with the white rapids moving at a great pace. It put me in mind of a herd of wildebeest on a stampede (I saw it on the Lion King before you ask).

After parking and looking in the rather distasteful gift shop (also the worst smelling food hall I have ever had the misfortune to enter; imagine floor cleaner mixed with cumin and pork fat) we began to look around, making sure we left the main event until last. We crossed a bridge from where I snapped the Canadian side skyline and headed for the American falls; which are smaller than the Horseshoe falls, but still very impressive. I was actually blown away by it all. I knew it would be big, though I had no idea it would be that awesome (and I use that word in its true sense, not like, "that is an Ar-some hotdog". Having said that though, a 50ft hotdog crushing buildings a la Ghostbusters would be awesome).

The Horseshoe falls are hidden

around a cliff face from the

American falls which I think adds to the suspense quite nicely. There is an opportunity at this point to part company with a fistful of dollars, don a yellow poncho and rather embarrassing sandals, collect your belongings in a carrier bag and proceed to queue for an uncomfortable period of time, before being herded onto a boat (the Maid of the Mist) or trek down a slippery staircase to the falls themselves, only to become extremely wet. Nikolai was tempted, if only by the poncho and sandals, but we decided that we would decline this fine offer until next time.

I could speak here about what we saw but I think I will let the pictures do the talking. I will say this though. If you have the chance to see the falls then don't be put off by talk of them being commercialised, ruined and tasteless (which to some extent they are), because their true beauty and power are still spectacular and are well worth a visit.

N.B. Whitney says the Canadian side is best because you can't see the full Horseshoe from the States. Nikolai says the American side is best because they have two different colour ponchos.

Rochester NY

We arrived here in Rochester (Rah-Chest-ur) last Saturday, very late. I was extremely tired and a little sad to be leaving Lethbridge and little Cadbury (yes Greek family, I miss my dog!). I had been warned that the U.S was very different from Canada and that I should be on my guard. Customs was interesting as I had to have my fingerprints and retina scanned before I was allowed in the country, Whitney however, being Canadian did not.

Had a scary 20 minutes in Rochester Airport where

my wife disappeared without telling me where she had gone.

She went to call her mum, but I thought she had been abducted (I was tired!). I sleepily drove to the apartment where we are staying, which seemed very complicated even though we had SatNav and then we left almost immediately to go to a 24 hour Walmart at about 11.45pm. I felt like I was in 'The Wire' with all the corner boys and the blue flashing Police cameras on every street. It was pretty daunting and I wanted to cry. My wife laughed at me and told me that this place was much nicer than Dallas where she lived for a year.

After finding Walmart closed (the area was too dangerous to keep it open 24 hours) we travelled to the other side of the city to a pleasant neighbourhood and an open Walmart. I slept well that night despite the worryingly flimsy lock on our front door.

The next day I felt much better and my fears were allayed when the light of the day revealed we had stumbled across one of the nicest streets in Rochester, East Avenue. The houses are more like mansions and would not be too out of place in Hertford, England. I even felt brave enough to take my camera out for a little walk and snap some of our neighbours houses. These include the home (and now Photography Museam) of George Eastman, founder of Kodak. His house is the large grey one with pillars and ivy. Our house is the mock tudor number with white plastic chairs out the front. I have to tell you about Wegman's. This is the best supermarket I think I've ever been to. It is family run and has all organic local produce; vegetables, fruit and meat. They have everything, including imported cheddar cheese. I am very happy.

Lethbridge

So we spent a few weeks in Lethbridge just hanging with the family and getting Cadbury, our 6 month old toy poodle (don't judge me), used to the place, but it soon came time to start our travels. A few nights before we left there was a momentous thunder storm (well for me anyway, it's probably an everyday occurrence for locals) which had me mesmerised. I grabbed my camera and tried to take some pictures of the lightning. I know there is special equipment for taking photos of lightning, but I thought I'd manage it without, somehow. After about 50 shots I had nothing but a few bright shapes which were out of focus, mainly due to the fact that once your brain has registered the lightning it is already gone. I knew that to get the shot I was going to have to get lucky so I started waiting for gaps in the lightning and took shots of the sky hoping lightning would strike. It didn't, although I got the shot through the rain splashed window with lightning moving from cloud to cloud, which I think is rather nice. I had about 200 shots by this time with only the one decent photo to show for it and the storm had moved to the rear side of the house. I went out into the back garden and holding my camera aloft into the rain drenched sky I took a short burst of pictures. The result is above, as I very luckily captured a streak of bolt lightning and failed to be burnt or killed in the process.