The Best Folk Art Guide in Oaxaca

A Q&A with Linda Hanna, who shares the appeal of Oaxaca, Mexico, her passion for textiles and the now sadly closed Casa Linda B&B.

Linda Hanna, folk art guide extraordinaire

If you have a passion for folk art, as Duke and I do, Oaxaca has to be on your Mexico itinerary. And if you want to visit the workshops of the local artisans of this colorful state, there’s no better guide than Linda Hanna. 

I first heard about Linda in Viva Oaxaca: An Insider’s Guide to Oaxaca’s Charms, and authors Robert Adler and Jo Ann Wexler didn’t exaggerate when they describe her as an expert who knows most of the region’s artisans personally. In fact, Linda is the one who chooses the artists who will represent Oaxaca at the national Feria Maestros del Arte (Masters of Art Fair) held at the yacht club in Chapala, Jalisco each year.

“Head, heart and hand: I believe creating folk art involves these three elements.”

— Linda Hanna

Linda’s a charming guide who’s eager to cater your day trip to whatever villages best represent your passion. The pueblos around the city of Oaxaca hold a variety of talented artisans creating various products, but the three biggies are alebrijes, pottery and rugs. 

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What exactly are alebrijes?

Fantastical creatures inspired by a fever dream: Learn more about our favorite Mexican folk art tradition.

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The lovely Casa Linda, outside of Oaxaca de Juárez

We spent the better part of a delightful day with Linda, visiting woodcarving workshops, and ending the tour with a visit to her home, which is filled with so many amazing pieces of locally created folk art, it could very well be a museum. She even made us lunch — a watermelon-based gazpacho with mango chunks that Duke and I can’t stop thinking about. 

Want to learn more about folk art day trips in Oaxaca? Email Linda at folkartfantasy@gmail.com.

Duke is still dreaming of the watermelon gazpacho he had at Casa Linda.

Wally’s happy place is being surrounded by lush plants and amazing folk art.

Here’s our Q&A with this fascinating expat and fellow folk art fanatic:

What first drew you to Oaxaca?

I first visited Oaxaca with my oldest daughter in 1992. She had been in Chiapas, and we came to Oaxaca for a weekend. It just so happened to overlap the last Monday in July, so the Guelegetza festival was full on. It was like being in nonstop fiesta mode and with many, many vendors offering the various folk arts of Oaxaca. 

I had been a weaver and designer of wearable art for 15 years in California, so I was completely in awe of the diversity and quality of the Oaxacan textiles. 

One of the many kitties roaming the grounds

What has kept you there?

As it turned out, my daughter decided to live in Oaxaca when she finished her BA. By then, I was teaching elementary school in Richmond, California. Whenever I had vacation time, I booked another trip to Oaxaca, and finally, in 1997, I decided I would come for a year so I could improve my Spanish and then try and find work in a different school district. So, in August of 1997, I arrived in Oaxaca — and apart from visits to the States and a few other places, have never left. 

I rented a place in town (about a seven-minute walk to the Zócalo) for about four years. At that point, I knew that I was going to stay in Oaxaca for the duration of my life. It was then I decided maybe I ought to invest in property and was eventually shown the house in San Andrés Huayapam in which I’m still living. It is about five miles northeast of old Oaxaca and also about 600 feet higher. I knew when I first saw the house that it would be perfect for my growing collection of Oaxacan folk art. 

“Mi casa es su casa,” reads the plaque at Linda’s charming home.

Tell us about your B&B. When did you open it? What inspired you to do so?

In the beginning, I didn’t have a car — only my bike, which I would ride into town and to the pool, which was another obsession at that time. 

It was a friend, Carol  Ross, who suggested that I get a car so I could help her with folk art tours. She was also the person who nudged me into opening a B&B in my home. 

The thing that made my B&B a bit different was that I would also offer full-day tours to visit the folk artists whom I had gotten to know in the years I had been in Oaxaca. 

At first I was resistant and only wanted to be a host for friends or friends of friends. However, that was a really short list. I made the decision to go on the internet in 2006 and operated Casa Linda until COVID happened. Finally, in 2021, I closed Casa Linda, but I am still doing the tours even though I no longer have the website. 

Everywhere you look at Linda’s home you’ll find great examples of local folk art.

You’re a big fan of folk art. What about it most appeals to you?

I believe my interest in folk art came by way of textiles, which was a passion and vocation I had developed in California. When I moved to Oaxaca — which is the Mexican state with the most diverse textile traditions — I knew I had settled into the place I belonged. 

However, I don’t think it’s possible to live in Oaxaca and not be impressed by its many other wonderful folk art traditions, which include ceramics, woodcarving, tin, gourds, corn husk and silver jewelry, to name a few. 

For most of my adult life I have thought that the ideal job would incorporate the three H’s — that is, head, heart and hand. I believe creating folk art or perhaps all art involves these three elements. I certainly experienced it when I was a weaver, and it seemed perfectly natural to support craftspeople in Oaxaca. 

A sirena (mermaid) takes center stage in this retablo.

What are some of your favorite types of folk art? 

As I mentioned, I was drawn first to the textile crafts. Since I had been a weaver, I was more experienced in being able to appreciate the expertise and skill of these artesanos. 

I have been often asked if I wanted to do weaving again here, but in fact I haven’t wanted to. I would much rather take visitors to meet and see the work of these remarkable craftspeople.

My interest in textiles culminated in an exhibition called Rosas y Revelaciones. This is a homage to the Virgin of Guadalupe as seen through the garments that I commissioned 85 artesanos to make from 13 different states, but mostly from Oaxaca. 

These hungry birds appropriately adorn the dining table.

How did you start getting to know the locals who create this folk art? 

The way I came to know a number of the artesanos making high-quality crafts was by going to exhibitions or into galleries and writing down the names and villages where they lived. I would then go, and if I didn’t have an actual address I might ask a colectivo driver or maybe a cantina owner if they knew this person. Then I would go to their home. Now it’s easier, as almost everyone has a cell phone, and many more craftspeople are on the internet. 

A creepy-cool mask hanging in the open-air garage

What’s the best-kept secret about Oaxaca?

I don’t know if it’s really a secret, but I think Oaxaca is a place of endless delights. I have been writing about its folk arts, but there is a whole other world of its archaeology, which continues to reassert itself in folk art. 

There are also the worlds of food and mezcal, which could entirely fill a visitor’s itinerary.

There are still 16 languages spoken in Oaxaca and those people more often identify with their indigenous group before seeing themselves as Mexicans. 

The side yard at Casa Linda

What’s something that could only happen in Oaxaca?

Is Oaxaca perfect? No — but then what place is? There are far too many blockades for reasons no one can ever seem to figure out. But it also is a place that one can live without supplementary heating or air conditioning. There are few places in the world that can boast that.

When we asked Linda what this triangular structure was, she told us it was a shrine.

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If you want to hire Linda as a folk art guide (and really there’s no one else better for the job), email her at folkartfantasy@gmail.com. –Wally

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Meet the Woodcarvers of Oaxaca

Here are the artisans who create alebrijes and other wood handicrafts, including Martín Melchor Ángeles, who carves whimsical creations that can’t help but make you smile.

Daily Life in Ancient Egypt

How long did Ancient Egyptians live — and what did most people die of? What were the houses and schools like in Ancient Egypt? What did Ancient Egyptians eat and drink? Egyptologist and author Barbara Mertz unearths these secrets.

What was in an Ancient Egyptian’s diet? How long did they live? And, most importantly, were they cat or dog people?

While I love learning about world religions, mythology and history, not everyone can be a ruler or high priest. It’s nice to also think about the little people. As we explored the wonders of Egypt, I kept finding myself wondering what it was like for the average person. 

It was surprisingly difficult to find a book that covered this subject. There are tons of tomes covering the temples, tombs and pharaohs. But one that tells you how most Egyptians at the time kicked the bucket? Hard to come by. 

“Before we start feeling superior to our ‘primitive’ predecessors, we should bear in mind that a good many people in today’s ‘civilized’ world live under conditions that are as bad or worse than the ordinary ancient Egyptian endured.”

— Barbara Mertz, “Red Land, Black Land”

So thank Horus for Barbara Metz (who, incidentally is the author of the delightful murder mysteries of the proto-feminist archeologist detective, Amelia Peabody). Mertz’s book, Red Land, Black Land: Daily Life in Ancient Egypt, written in her oh-so-distinctive voice, was just what I was looking for.

Barbara Mertz — perhaps the most entertaining author on Ancient Egypt out there

Dear Reader, a Caveat

Part of what I find so enjoyable about Mertz is that she tells it like it is. She’s not too full of her own self-importance to be self-deprecating about herself and fellow Egyptologists. One thing she’ll never be accused of is being stuffy; in fact, there’s a sassiness and wit to her writings that delights me.

Mertz warns that you can’t take anything you learn about Ancient Egypt as outright facts. What we know about that time period could be a misinterpretation of the evidence, and a new discovery can utterly uproot existing theories. 

“[T]he most reliable books on ancient Egypt are loaded with boring words like ‘probably’ and ‘perhaps’ and ‘possibly’; scholars avoid ‘maybe’ for stylistic reasons, but it should be prefixed to at least 50 percent of the statements made in any book on Egypt — including this one,” she writes.

That’s especially true since Mertz first published Red Land, Black Land in 1966, with an updated edition that came out in 1978.

Mummies reveal a lot about how Ancient Egyptians lived — and died.

How long did the average Ancient Egyptian live?

About 35 years — and no wonder, Mertz says. They toiled hard and had limited access to healthcare: “Studies of Egyptian mummies show that these people suffered from a number of diseases, most of which went untreated,” she writes. “Poor nutrition and the inability to cope with infection contributed to high infant mortality. The flour ground on stone querns contained large quantities of grit that wore away tooth surfaces. Cavities were fairly infrequent, since the Egyptians didn’t have refined sugar, but a number of mummies have hideous gum abscesses.”

Ancient Egyptian doctors didn’t do the best job at fighting off a host of diseases.

What diseases were the most common?

Studies of mummies from Ancient Egypt have revealed a host of illnesses, including malaria, tuberculosis and smallpox. “Black lung disease resulted from the smoke-filled, poorly ventilated houses, and desert lung disease from the constantly blowing sand,” Mertz writes. “Perhaps the worst and most common illness was parasitic infection, which still occurs in Egypt today. The most pervasive parasite goes by two names, bilharziasis or schistosomiasis. I won’t go into details, since they are really revolting, but if not treated, the infection produces calcification of the bladder, fibrosis of the intestine, scarring of the liver, serious anemia, chronic fatigue and possibly heart disease. It isn’t fatal except in rare cases, but the sufferer probably wishes it were.”

It all sounds pretty awful — but Mertz points out, “Before we start feeling superior to our ‘primitive’ predecessors, we should bear in mind that a good many people in today’s ‘civilized’ world live under conditions that are as bad or worse than the ordinary ancient Egyptian endured.”

Ancient Egyptian homes weren’t too shabby; they had four rooms, plus the rooftop.

What was an Ancient Egyptian house like? 

For the middle and upper classes, there were typically four rooms in their homes. The room facing the street had no windows, aside from grates near the roof. Beyond this was an all-purpose room with columns and a higher ceiling, where the family slept, ate and entertained. A raised platform was used for a couch, bed or possibly to give birth. And behind this were two more small chambers: a kitchen and a storeroom or extra bedroom. There was a basement for storage, and a flat roof that served as extra living space. 

Beds tilted slightly downward, so instead of a headboard, there was a footboard to keep the sleeper from gently sliding down onto the floor, Mertz writes. And no down-filled pillows were to be found: “the item that would finish most of us was the pillow, which was not a pillow at all but a headrest of shoulder height, with a support curved to fit the neck,” she explains.

Dining tables were also unheard of. Even in royal palaces, every guest or pair of guests had their own little table to eat at.

In the kitchen, there weren’t any counters. While it doesn’t sound very sanitary, all cooking prep was performed on the floor, from grinding grain to kneading bread.

Egyptian homes didn’t have counter space, so meal prep was done on the ground. Consequently, a lot of food had grit in it that wore away at the teeth.

Privacy wasn’t really an option, as homes were filled with extended family members.

At Amarna, a city that briefly served as Egypt’s capital, the villas of chief courtiers even had bathrooms — a small, walled-off space with a brick-supported seat and a removable vessel beneath.

A model of an Ancient Egyptian home. Peasants’ homes were made of mud brick and would be reduced to nothing in a bad downpour.

What about the homes of the lower class?

Their huts would have been made of mud brick, containing a single room that everyone — including any domesticated animals — shared. And while it doesn’t rain often in Egypt, when it does, it’s a deluge. “A heavy downpour would reduce a peasant’s house to a pile of mud,” Mertz writes. “On the positive side, such domiciles were easy to build.”

Bread and beer were the two main staples of the Ancient Egyptian diet.

What did Ancient Egyptians eat and drink?

The key staple of the Ancient Egyptian diet was bread. In fact, some loaves have survived to the present day! 

They were also quite fond of beer. These two items top the list of the mortuary texts that list the food most desired in the afterlife. 

Early Egyptians ate a lot of fish — the River Nile offered a never-ending supply.

Milk, cheese, beans, lentils and chickpeas were also consumed. 

Vegetables played a large part in the Ancient Egyptian’s diet, primarily onions, garlic, radishes and lettuce (which was an aphrodisiac and features prominently in a bizarre myth about Horus and Seth). 

“Meat was probably scarce in poor households, but well-to-do families raised cattle and such exotic animals as oryxes and gazelles for food,” Mertz writes. 

They also domesticated pigs, sheep, geese and ducks.

Wealthy nobles, not surprisingly, ate better than the peasants. For one, they could sweeten their food with honey, and they ate carob, which is as close to chocolate as the ancients got.

They ate fruit, including dates, figs, melons and grapes, which were also dried into raisins or made into wine. 

More wine? Egyptians seemed to prefer beer, but as these amphoras attest, vino was popular, too.

“People ate with their fingers,” Mertz writes, “and when the meal was over a servant, or a daughter of the household, came around with water, which was poured over the hands.”

This carving shows what appears to be an Ancient Egyptian school.

Did Ancient Egyptians go to school?

We’re not sure, but we can presume that some of the upper class children, particularly the boys, were educated at a temple or in a room of a scribe’s house. 

The tools of the scribe’s trade

They were given the equivalent of pen and ink, and they wrote on ostraca, broken fragments of pottery or stone, because papyrus was too expensive for educational purposes. As you can imagine, they wrote in the hieroglyphic Egyptian script (“the most beautiful system of writing ever devised,” according to Mertz).

“Incidentally,” she continues, “the correct noun form for the little images is ‘hieroglyphs.’ Popular writers occasionally call them ‘hieroglyphics,’ and this small error scratches at the sensitivities of Egyptologists like a fingernail on a blackboard.”

Ancient Egyptians got a lot of things right — including a love of cats, which they domesticated.

How did they feel about cats?

It’s believed that Ancient Egypt was the first place cats were domesticated. 

They were also at the center of the worship of the feline-headed deity, Bastet: “Mummified cats have been found in large numbers,” Mertz writes. “I regret to say that the majority appear to have been deliberately done in, presumably as an offering to the goddess in question. (Don’t ask me to explain the logic of this.)”

The Egyptian word for cat might have been an onomatopoeia: It’s spelled miw. “How it was vocalized we may safely leave to the imagination of any cat-owning reader,” Mertz writes, cheeky as ever. –Wally

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KEEP READING: The Sex Lives of Ancient Egyptians

Learn their views on premarital sex, children born out of wedlock, homosexuality, women’s rights and more!

Fabyan Villa Museum and Its Frank Lloyd Wright Connection

Tour the picturesque Riverbank estate, with the Fabyan Forest Preserve, a Japanese garden, a windmill, quirky curios (a suspect mummy!) — and a codebreaking legacy.

The Fabyan Villa can thank Frank Lloyd Wright for its cruciform shape. The house and its grounds are worth exploring if you want to take a day trip from Chicago.

Before my parents make their annual visit to Wally and me in Chicago, we plan an interesting day trip, do a little research and look for something quirky to do. Typically it’s somewhere a bit farther afield since neither of us has a car. I can’t recall how we settled on the Fabyan Villa in Geneva, Illinois. It’s entirely possible that I came across it on the Atlas Obscura website, given Wally’s and my proclivity for attractions that don’t always make their way into guidebooks. Or it could've had something to do with Frank Lloyd Wright, the Japanese garden or the circa-1850 Dutch-style windmill located on the grounds of the sprawling estate. 

Colonel George Fabyan

George Fabyan, Country Squire of Riverbank

In 1905, Colonel George and Nelle Fabyan purchased 10 acres of land in Geneva, including a Victorian-style farmhouse, as a country retreat from their residence in Chicago. Fabyan (pronouced like Fay-bee-yen) came from a wealthy and prominent Boston family. His father was a co-partner at Bliss, Fabyan and Company, one of the country’s largest dry goods and textile merchants, known for Ripplette, a lightweight, crinkly fabric similar to seersucker, which needed no to minimal ironing after washing. 

Fabyan inherited his father’s wealth — around $2 million dollars (equivalent to over $57 million today). He acquired an additional 300-plus acres over the next 20 years and named the estate Riverbank. 

George and Nelle indulged in a variety of unconventional interests, including cryptology, Japanese gardening and the construction of a scientific laboratory complex that let them pursue their research interests.

“Some rich men go in for art collections, gay times on the Riviera or extravagant living. But they all get satiated.

That’s why I stick to scientific experiments, spending money to discover valuable things that universities can’t afford. You can never get sick of too much knowledge.”

— Colonel George Fabyan

The Fabyan Villa Museum

A Tour of Fabyan Villa

The four of us arrived at the forest preserve, parked the car and followed the steps leading up to the house, which sits on a hillside overlooking the Fox River. We purchased tickets ($10 per person) and met a docent from the Preservation Partners of Fox Valley (PPFV) outside who told us about the historic home. In 1907, the Fabyans commissioned architect Frank Lloyd Wright to enlarge and remodel the existing farmhouse in the Prairie style. While it’s no Fallingwater or even Graycliff, it has its charms.

Additions included the two-story south wing, which added symmetry to the dwelling’s long, low cruciform shape, three projecting porches, wood-spindle screening and overhanging eaves, adding to the horizontality of the overall design. 

Our tour began in the Fabyans’ reception room, which is paneled in dark walnut and furnished with Victorian-era wood and glass display cabinets, showcasing the couple’s memorabilia, taxidermy and Asian ephemera. Among the notable acquisitions on display are a white marble statue of Diana and the Lion (Intellect Dominating Force) by American sculptor Frank Edwin Elwell, which stands in the dining room and was originally exhibited in the Palace of Fine Arts at the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. There’s also a Japanese samurai suit and a vitrine filled with bodhisattva statuettes.

On the back porch is a display case holding a mummy. Its body is wrapped in strips of linen and clutching what uncannily resembles an infant. Turns out the mummy is actually a forgery. In 1982, an expert examined the mummy, and an X-ray revealed it to be fabricated with nails, plywood, sawdust and a single bone inside the wrappings — and that bone came from a dog. Apparently, no one’s certain of its provenance or if the original owners knew it was a fake. One theory is that it may have been featured as a sideshow oddity or was an artifact purchased by Fabyan from the Field Museum. 

The Fabyans’ mummy turned out to be a hoax.

Beyond the dining room is Nelle Fabyan’s bedroom and en suite bathroom with custom furniture designed by Wright. Nelle had a hanging bed, suspended from the ceiling like a giant swing, and it’s speculated that this was to promote air circulation and protect her from contracting tuberculosis. Many of the original furnishings were auctioned off when the estate was sold in 1939, but locals who owned pieces donated them back to the landmark, which is managed by the PPFV. 

Frank Lloyd Wright didn’t build the Fabyan Villa from scratch — but he did renovate it, infusing it with Prairie style aesthetics and symmetry.

Wright’s Prairie style aesthetic is also evident in the open floor plan and warm earth tone color palette used on the walls of the interior. 

Upstairs is the music room, where Nelle’s Victor Talking Machine aka Victrola, encased in a wood cabinet, stands sentinel. Only the wealthy could afford the innovative Victor-Victrola model, whose initial selling price was $200, expensive for the time.

Duke and Wally explore the estate.

Duke and his parents in the rose arbor (which was noticeably lacking roses at the time of our visit).

Connected to the music room is the sleeping porch, where the pet monkeys, Mike, Patsy and Molly, would stay during the winter months. The floor of the room is tinplate, with drainage incorporated for obvious reasons (monkey waste). Perhaps the simians filled the vacant role of children to the childless couple?

Furniture, art and light were an integral part of Wright’s conceptual philosophy, creating compositions that functioned as a cohesive whole. As such, he would have most likely despised the ornate Victorian bed in the second floor bedroom. Wright’s leaded glass cathedral-style windows or “light screens” as the architect called them, fill the room with light. They’re not the intricate geometric stained glass affairs he was famous for elsewhere, as, out here in the countryside, he didn’t want to obscure the beauty of the natural view. 

The house’s grounds lead down to the Fox River.

Fabyan’s Animal Kingdom 

In addition to that trio of monkeys, a menagerie of animals lived on the estate, including Cayman alligators, a pair of black bears (named Tom and Jerry after a popular Midwestern milk punch served at the holidays), cows and dogs. A bear cage remains southwest of the garden, and according to local lore, loaves of bread were baked in the basement of the windmill to feed Fabyan’s pet bears. 

Japanese gardens were a craze with the elite in the early 1900s, and the Fabyans added a lovely one to Riverbank.

Turning Japanese: The Fabyan Japanese Garden

Awaiting visitors outside and just beyond the villa are the Japanese gardens and rose arbor, which lead from the bottom of the slope at the rear of the villa down to the banks of the Fox River. After the Japanese embassy created a garden for the 1893 World’s Fair, they became a status symbol among the wealthy. 

The Fabyans’ gardens were built between 1910 and 1913 by landscape architect Issei Taro Otsuka, a Japanese immigrant gardener who later redesigned the 1893 Wooded Island in Jackson Park for the Century of Progress International Exposition, the second world’s fair hosted by Chicago.

The gardens were closed on our visit, but we were able to see the torii gate, traditionally found at the entrance of a Shinto shrine and demarcating the passage from the earthly to the sacred. The gardens looked beautiful from afar, with conifer pine trees, traditional stone lanterns and a graceful curved bridge reflected in the pond beneath it. 

Although Fabyan didn’t serve in the armed services, he was given the honorary title of colonel by Illinois Governor Richard Yates out of gratitude for his public service work after Fabyan allowed the National Guard to use the estate as a training ground — and from that time on, George was known as Colonel Fabyan. He also received Japan’s Order of the Rising Sun, a decoration of honor awarded for his invaluable participation in peace negotiations with Japanese emissaries, a few of whom stayed on the property when the Colonel and Nelle hosted them. 

Riverbank Laboratories, owned by Fabyan, conducted acoustic research and later became instrumental in codebreaking.

Codebreaking at Riverbank Laboratories: Birth of the NSA

The Fabyan estate also carried on extensive scientific research, with greenhouses where they would grow exotic plants and conduct genetic experiments. Across the street from the villa is Riverbank Laboratories. This was Fabyan’s think tank. He was interested in subjects as diverse as acoustics and, perhaps the Colonel`s most famous legacy, the cryptology laboratory.

The acoustics laboratory, which is still in operation today, was built around an ultra-quiet test chamber for the study of soundwaves and was designed by the top acoustics expert in the country, Professor Wallace Sabine of Harvard University. 

One of the Colonel’s odder obsessions was a belief that Sir Francis Bacon was the true author of some (or even all) of Shakespeare’s literary works, and that Bacon had left coded messages within the plays and sonnets. Fabyan hired Elizabeth Wells Gallup, a scholar and author of The Bi-literal Cypher of Sir Francis Bacon, to decipher a binary alphabet to reveal secret messages in the works of Shakespeare. 

Fabyan was convinced that there were clues in Shakespeare’s plays that revealed that their true author was actually Sir Francis Bacon.

Gallup’s team included Elizebeth and William Friedman, who spent years honing their cryptology skills researching the Bard’s works using Bacon’s ciphers. Though largely inconclusive, their efforts weren’t entirely in vain: The couple was instrumental in breaking codes and ciphers during World War I and World War II. Because the U.S. military didn’t yet have a dedicated department devoted to codebreaking, Fabyan’s Riverbank Laboratories ended up being the foundation for the NSA, the National Security Agency.

Fabyan was quite proud of his windmill. Make sure you cross the Fox River and check it out.

Over the River to the Windmill

In 1914, Fabyan purchased a Dutch-style windmill for $8,000 from Yorktown, Illinois, about 20 miles from its current location, and spent around $75,000 reconstructing it on the east bank of the Fox River. The windmill stands at an impressive 68 feet high and was originally built by Louis Blackhaus, a German immigrant and craftsman, between 1850 and 1860. 

But it was mainly a toy for Fabyan, who enjoyed showing it off to his Chicago friends. In 1979, the windmill was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and the following year, it was selected to be on a U.S. postage stamp as part of a series in a booklet called Windmills USA. 

Look for the fun Egyptianate benches on the lawn.

Preserving the Legacy of the Fabyan Villa and Forest Preserve

George died in 1936 and Nelle in 1939, and because they had no offspring, the Forest Preserve District of Kane County purchased the majority of the estate and opened the residence as a museum the following year. Starting in 1995, the nonprofit PPFV was enlisted to maintain and provide tours of the historic dwelling. The house was added to the National Registerof Historic Places in 1984. 

The four of us had a wonderful time wandering the paths that cross the bucolic park-like setting of the historic estate, with plenty of photo opportunities along the way. It’s an easy drive (just over 40 minutes from Chicago) and it’s remarkable to consider the lasting scientific achievements that germinated from the Fabyans’ private research center. If you’re looking for a fun place to visit that combines architecture and nature, the Fabyan Villa is open for tours from May to October. –Duke

 

Fabyan Villa Museum & Japanese Garden

Fabyan Forest Preserve
1925 South Batavia Avenue
Geneva, Illinois, USA 

11 Tips When Visiting Xochimilco

Here’s what to know about trajineras, how to rent these Xochimilco boats, and how to get the most of your trip to chinampas and the Isla de las Muñecas.

Xochimilco is nicknamed the Venice of Mexico City — though the boats are much more whimsical than Italian gondolas.

Wally enjoyed a pleasant few hours at Xochimilco.

1. Pronounce it properly.

It’s “So-chee-meel-ko.”

“A long table runs the length of the trajinera, situated under a canopy. Food and socializing are the main priorities. ”

Floating gardens called chinampas line the waterways.

The Xochimilco canals are some of the only remaining features from Aztec times.

2. Learn a bit about its history before you go.

The Xochimilco canals are a vestige of the ancient Aztec Empire and still provide much-needed water to Mexico City. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, they’re located about 17 miles south of the Centro Histórico. 

The name is from Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, and translates to Flower Garden, a reference to the “floating gardens” now known as chinampas. These man-made islets are situated throughout the waterways and are covered with fruits, vegetables and other plants. (We passed a large poinsettia farm on our excursion.) They’re a clever way to create more arable land in the midst of a wetland. 

We chose to launch from Embarcadero Nuevo Nativitas.

3. Choose your embarkation point.

This confused us a bit, as there are a few different spots you can launch from. We ended up choosing Embarcadero Nuevo Nativitas, as it’s the best spot to leave from to visit the closest Island of the Dead Dolls (see below). 

Duke and Wally aboard the Esperanza

No motors on these boats — they’re propelled and steered by a pole.

4. Don’t worry about haggling over the price.

Duke and I walked the docks, looking out at the brightly colored armada, wondering how we were going to choose one of the flat-bottomed boats known as trajineras, which sport painted archways and look like Mardi Gras floats. But then one of the captains, Sandro, approached us and offered to take us out for 500 pesos an hour (about $25 an hour). We had no idea if this was a good price — but he pointed to an official sign that had that rate right on it. That sold us, and we were glad we didn’t have to barter. So Captain Sandro aboard the Esperanza (which translates to Hope) it was!

A nearby store provided snacks and adult beverages to enjoy on our boat ride.

5. Bring some food and drinks.

As our Uber pulled into Nativita, the first thing we did was pop into a local market and buy some snacks and booze. We were glad to find a shop but next time we’ll plan a bit better and make sure we have a picnic, including fixings for margaritas. In fact, it would be a lot of fun to have a party on one of the boats. A long table runs the length of the trajinera, situated under a canopy. Food and socializing are the main priorities. 

Some of the boats in the waterways are the equivalent of floating food trucks.

The delicious quesadillas we had for lunch that were made by a nice couple aboard a trajinera.

6. But save room for the waterborne food vendors.

It’s not too tragic if you forget to bring along some food. There are people who paddle narrow, flat boats along the canals, selling freshly made Mexican dishes. We bought quesadillas from a nice couple who parked near the Island of the Dead Dolls (hold your horses — it’s coming up).

Hire a mariachi band and have a dance party aboard your trajinera.

Strains of mariachi music can often be heard on the canals.

7. Hire a floating mariachi band.

We cheated and just enjoyed hearing the strains of the lively music as we passed by. There are entire boats filled with musicians in their traditional garb, and we saw a couple of bands aboard a rented trajinera, playing their tunes as people danced.

Horrifying (but cool) dolls like this are strung up all over the Island of the Dead Dolls.

The creepy Isla de las Muñecas

8. Plan a trip to the Island of Dead Dolls.

If you like creepy, off-the-wall spots, like we do, you have to stop by la Isla de las Muñecas, aka the Island of the Dead Dolls. This small isle is covered with dolls left in offering to appease the ghost of a little girl who drowned. Duke and I had found a doll on the street behind the Uptown Theater in Chicago, brought it with us to CDMX and left it on the island. Read more about the Island of Dead Dolls here.

As the day wears on, the canals get more and more crowded.

9. You might want to go a bit early in the day. 

We had a relatively early start to our excursion, and the canals weren’t too busy for most of the time we spent there. Until, that is, we started heading back, and the canals were utterly clogged. When we got back to the embarcadero, I didn’t know how we were going to get through the traffic jam to dock. But Captain Sandro somehow eventually  maneuvered us through the deadlock. 

While we visited Xochimilco, the bizarre Danza de los Voladores was taking place.

10. Don’t miss the Danza de los Voladores.

After a pleasant couple of hours on the canals, we disembarked and walked around Nuevo Nativitas, where some market stalls had been set up. We cut over to head back to the parking area — and beheld quite a sight! Four men were hanging head-first in the air, spinning around a pole, held by ropes tied around their ankles. They circled the pole while one of their compatriots played something between a pipe and a percussion instrument while sitting atop the pole. I had actually seen such a spectacle on the Yucatán and knew it was a traditional ceremony — it’s part of the native Totonaca people’s folk culture and is known as la Danza de los Voladores, or the Dance of the Flying Men.

While you’re in this neck o’ the woods, visit the Museo Dolores Olmedo to see a large collection of Frida and Diego paintings on the grounds of an amazing estate.

11. Pair Xochimilco with a visit to the Dolores Olmedo Museum.

This gorgeous estate holds one of the largest collections of the works of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Come for the art, stay for the peacocks that roam the grounds. From Embarcadero Nuevo Nativitas, it’s about a 10-minute drive away. Read more about the Museo Dolores Olmedo here. 

Before we left for Mexico City, a couple of friends who had lived there told us we absolutely had to check out Xochimilco — and they were right. It’s definitely one of the things that we will do again when we return. –Wally

This perro hopped from boat to boat in search of food and affection.

Duke’s on a boat!

 

How to Cast a Wicca Ritual Magic Circle

A ritual to perform before casting Wiccan spells or practicing witchcraft, as well as what you need for your Wiccan altar.

Whether you’re a novice or a seasoned practitioner, this is the first thing you should do before casting a spell or conducting a Wiccan ritual. It’s not necessary (that’s the beauty of the religion — you don’t have to do anything), but it can make your magic all the more powerful if you do.

Also, keep in mind that you can modify this based on what you have handy, or the time you have available, or what just feels right to you. I don’t have a lot of space at home, so I often just set up the four candles and skip right to the part where I chant as I light each, invoking the spirits of the Old Ones.

You can also add whatever you want to represent the season or festival. If it’s Samhain, for example, Halloween decorations and some black candles lend an appropriately macabre air to the ritual. And evergreens, mistletoe, holly and Christmas lights add a special touch at Yule. 

Before you start your ritual, you have to set the mood and find the right music. I always play the Twin Peaks soundtrack because I was obsessed with the show when it came out, and the ethereal music by Angelo Badalamenti and Julee Cruise puts me into a trancelike state.

Now you’re ready to work some magic!

Casting the Circle

Cleanse the area with a ritual broom.

Use four candles to mark the cardinal points: green for north, yellow for east, red for south and blue for west.

Begin with the north and work clockwise (unless you’re performing black magic, in which you should move counterclockwise or the enticingly named widdershins). Light each of the candles. 

Now take some salt (or some other sort of markers, such as flowers or pine branches), and form a circle, keeping the cardinal point markers inside it.

Light your incense. Lift your athame (ritual dagger) or wand and touch its point to a bowl of water, saying:

I consecrate and cleanse this water that it may be purified and fit to dwell within the sacred circle. 
In the name of the Mother Goddess and the Father God [or the names of specific deities], I consecrate this water.

Visualize your knife or wand blasting away all negativity from the water.

Then touch the point to a bowl of salt, saying: 

I bless this salt that it may be fit to dwell within the sacred circle.
In the name of the Mother Goddess and the Father God, I bless this salt.

Now stand facing north, at the edge of the circle. Hold the knife or wand out at waist level.

Walk slowly around the circle’s perimeter, clockwise (or widdershins if you’re being naughty), charging it with your words and energy. Stretch the energy out, visualizing it forming a complete sphere, half above the ground, half below. 

Say:

Here is the boundary of the circle.
Naught but love shall enter in.
Naught but love shall emerge from within.
Charge this by your powers, Old Ones!

When you arrive back at the north, place your athame or wand on the altar.

Take up the salt and sprinkle it around the circle, beginning and ending in the north, moving clockwise. 

Next, carry the incense around the circle, moving clockwise. 

Finally, sprinkle water around the circle, moving clockwise. 

Sense each of these substances purifying the circle.

The circle is now sealed.

Hold aloft your wand at the north edge of the circle, saying:

O Spirit of the North,
Ancient One of Earth,
I call you to attend this circle.
Charge this by your powers, Old Ones!

Visualize a green mist rising and writhing out of the candle’s flame, becoming something of nature. When the spirit is present, lower your wand and move to the east, then raise it again. Say:

O Spirit of the East,
Ancient One of Air,
I call you to attend this circle.
Charge this by your powers, Old Ones!

Visualize a yellow mist rising and writhing out of the candle’s flame, becoming a whirlwind. When the spirit is present, lower your wand and move to the south, then raise it again. Say:

O Spirit of the South,
Ancient One of Fire,
I call you to attend this circle.
Charge this by your powers, Old Ones!

Visualize a red mist rising and writhing out of the candle’s flame, becoming flames. When the spirit is present, lower your wand and move to the west, then raise it again. Say:

O Spirit of the West,
Ancient One of Water,
I call you to attend this circle.
Charge this by your powers, Old Ones!

Visualize a blue mist rising and writhing out of the candle’s flame, becoming a wave. 

The circle breathes and lives around you. The spirits of the elements are present. Feel their energies. Stand still for a moment, visualizing the circle glowing and growing in power. 

The circle is now complete. The Goddess and God, or whatever deities you’d like, may be called and magic wrought. –Wally

Indian Handicrafts Meet Modern Design: A Q&A With Harpreet Padam

Traditional techniques inform modern consumer products — all within the framework of the Indian aesthetic. 

Harpreet Padam of Unlike Design Co. explains a detail to some of the artisans he collaborates with.

Scrolling through Instagram (one of my favorite hobbies), I was instantly impressed by the well-curated feed of Harpreet Padam (@generalaesthetic). It features images of places and objects found or designed by him. 

Recently, I saw a post featuring an article Harpreet wrote for Big Little Things, a magazine that celebrates thoughtful design and living. In the article, Harpreet describes his lifelong love for traditional Indian handicrafts and his collection of childhood objects filled with special memories and their influence on his designs. 

“A better, exclusive understanding of Indian-ness is something I really strive for through my work.”

— Harpreet Padam, co-founder, Unlike Design Co.

Harpreet is the co-founder of Unlike Design Co., and his creations include the Petal series of tea scoops that have an organic feel to them and were developed in collaboration with woodworkers from Udayagiri, Andhra Pradesh, India. His Bidriware is produced by craftspeople in Bidar, Karnataka. And I’m particularly partial to the miniature houses inspired by the vernacular architecture of Srinagar, Kashmir. 

We were thrilled to connect with Harpreet, who shared a bit about his influences, design background, favorite objects and the enduring legacy of artisans. –Duke

Tell us about your design background.

Honestly, the impulse to study design came about for me by a poster I found in an apartment that the previous tenant, a furniture designer, had left behind. It was a neat collage of industrial design works by the French architect and designer Marc Held. I still have the poster and keep in touch with Marc every now and then. 

I went on to study at the then very respected accessory design department of the National Institute of Fashion Technology in New Delhi. 

After graduating, I worked for six years as a designer, then design head at a fashion accessory firm in Bangalore. It was a wonderful team, and I got the opportunity to design jewelry, home products, store windows, brochures and even a store interior. 

 Eventually, I was drawn to packaging and graphic design for Indian fashion brands. My partner, Lavanya, and I established our studio Unlike Design Co. — first in Bangalore, and now in New Delhi. We do a mix of projects, ranging from home accessories, craft-based objects, graphics and packaging. Both of us also teach at various design schools across India. 

Harpreet looks to traditional Indian culture to create a new, non-Westernized take on contemporary design.

How would you describe your design philosophy?

I look at design as very closely related to business and culture. The experience and understanding of the client as well as the softer nuances within the lives of the user influence my thinking greatly. 

A better, exclusive understanding of Indian-ness is something I really strive for through my work. 

I am also always thinking about how the words “modern” and “contemporary” apply to India and our people. The way designers like myself have been trained and the early influences we have developed as a result of that, our understanding of these words has been shaped largely from a Western viewpoint. My mind struggles to think afresh as an Indian living and working amongst the Indian masses — I think this struggle forms an important part of my design philosophy.

What are some of your favorite objects that you’ve picked up on your travels? Why are these important to you?

 I really like this set of wire puzzles we picked up on the Ganges riverside in Varanasi. The man who sold them used to make them himself. The puzzles range from simple to sheer mind-benders. On subsequent visits, I couldn’t find the man again, and the pieces I had bought earlier became more special.

Harpreet picks up keepsakes on his travels, like these wire puzzles bought along the Ganges in Varanasi.

Then there is this block of wood which I found in a wood turner’s workshop in Kashmir. It’s some sort of a shaping tool, though the artisan was using it as a seat. According to the family, it is very old and made of a rare hardwood exclusive to Kashmir — I forget the name now. I think I enjoyed its multipurpose perception and its naturally aged look. 

Hapreet found this shaped wood block at a workshop in Kashmir.

There are so many more things, found by the roadside, in hardware stores, in people’s homes, rejects during workshops. Lavanya and I collect a lot of such things, get really attached to them, and end up filling cupboards and boxes to the brim.

Artisan Khatoon Bi uses her hands as well as her feet to carve a Petal teaspoon for the Udayagiri wooden cutlery collection.

Who are some of the artisans you work with?

At the moment, I am working with embroiderers, woodcarvers and papier-mâché makers in Kashmir. I also work with a family of Bidriware makers and a community of women cutlery carvers in South India.

A Kashmiri woodcarver’s workshop

What appeals to you about traditional handicrafts?

I enjoy the struggle of aiming to create a kind of new relevance. In the past, a lot of traditional handicrafts were seamlessly integrated into the lives of their users — through intelligent combinations of their function, appearance, significance. Artisans nowadays are a bit detached from a firsthand understanding of consumer lifestyles — sometimes even within their local environments. 

I like the attempt of acting to bridge this understanding — just nudging and guiding a bit. It’s magic to witness an artisan thinking for him- or herself about a new product. And they do it more intuitively than designers. It’s also design, I guess, helping someone with the confidence to think for themselves.

Master craftsman Abdul Rauf works with Harpreet on the Bidriware product line.

Another important thing for me is changing perceptions about traditional handicrafts, especially for young design students, who find the whole subject boring and stuffy. I think I’m able to achieve this to some extent when I teach my craft-based design course at the National Institute of Fashion Technology. 

Prototypes for Unlike’s Srinagar Houses

How have you given traditional handicrafts a modern twist, as in your Srinagar Houses miniatures?

I didn’t have to do much more than spot significant details of old Srinagar houses that stood out for me. And this happens naturally when you visit Kashmir — the older architecture stands in sharp contrast to the more universal style of building prevalent now. 

So I simply made small models of what I saw, and the artisans improved upon it with their own thoughts. Though we did attempt to paint details of windows and brickwork onto the houses, eventually we left them gray. 

The minimalism of the Srinagar Houses lends them a modern feel.

I was inspired to do this by a conversation with one of the traditional artists, who was joking when he said it’s better not to paint windows and doors since the Kashmiri people are almost always under curfew and house arrest. I think that stark grayness, coupled with strong architectural features, gives them a modern feel.

Architecture like this in Bidar helped inspired Unlike’s Bidriware.

What have been your biggest influences as an artist?

Most of all, I think it’s the opportunity of traveling and meeting varied places and people. And then I think it’s also an equilibrium of mish-mash from films, magazines, books, writings and work of designers, artists, filmmakers and the like. 

I spent my late school years studying in and around Corbusier’s Chandigarh and that did affect my view on architecture and design, in a deep way that’s hard to describe. 

I also really admire the writings of the late Italian designer Ettore Sottsass and the work of Vico Magistretti, his fellow designer of the time. 

And then Indian cinema of the 1980s and early ’90s — such films as Ek Doctor Ki Maut by Tapan Sinha, Aakrosh and Ardh Satya by Govind Nihalani, Mathilukal by Adoor Gopalakrishnan and Sadma by Balu Mahendra. I wish my work could imbibe that level of starkness in thought, the honesty and courage to address issues head on — even in commercial products and the way they are made.    

Traditional techniques are used to create the Convention vases in Unlike’s Bidriware line.

Explain some of your favorite traditional techniques, and how you’ve applied them to your work, as in your Bidriware series.

In Bidriware, I think I’m still learning more about the possibility of techniques. In my last extended interaction, I enjoyed learning about the hollow-core casting technique. Unlike many Bidriware objects, this technique does not weld two symmetrical halves to create a hollow object, which is a simple but crude way to do it. The method employs sand casting to achieve a completely hollow form, without visible joints. 

Moreover, the artisan I have been working with is extremely skilled at creating hollow molds out of solid forms — it is magic watching him employ decades of skill and dexterity in the few moments it takes to achieve this. 

I used both these specialities of the artisan for a series of flower vases called Convention.

Share something that you think would only happen in India.

Oh, our roads. The astonishing synchronicity of traffic, animals and people moving in any and all directions of their choosing. I’m not sure any other country can match that.

Overnight in the Sahara Desert

No trip to Morocco is complete without a camel ride to a Berber camp at Erg Chigaga. 

The tents are spacious and have carpets lining the walls to keep the warmth in.

There are some adventures that offer a one-of-a-kind experience that simply can’t be passed over. For Wally and me, an overnight at a Berber camp in the middle of the Sahara Desert fell into this category.

Besides, the road trip from Marrakech takes you to some amazing stopovers, including Atlas Studios and Aït Benhaddou. 

“The camel was wide-eyed with fear or fury, rearing its head and making terrible Chewbacca-like warbles. 

“Nous avons peur!” Wally exclaimed, which translates to “We are scared!””

Look how happy being in the beautiful and vast Sahara made Duke, Wally and Vanessa!

On the Road Again

After spending the night in Ouarzazate, Wally, Vanessa and I set out with our driver, Barak, to Erg Chigaga. Prior to our trip, we had debated at length whether to set off for the desert from Erg Chebbi or Erg Chigaga, and settled upon the latter — perhaps just because it sounded a bit like Chicago.

The landscape beyond Ouarzazate is covered with scrub and jagged rocks. Hillsides are mostly barren, covered with loose-looking boulders and thorny bushes. The rock color shifts from mountain to mountain — red ochre at first, then a sulfurous basalt green and finally a deep coal black. The large angular red rocks of the Anti-Atlas range jut out in a staccato formation like massive fallen Jenga blocks littering the mountainsides.

Unfortunately, even remote places like the Sahara aren’t immune to pollution. Disposable plastic bags of blue, faded rose, green, pale lavender and yellow littered the landscape like deflated balloons.

The Sahara isn’t an immediate vast expanse of sand — the first hour or so of our camel ride was over semi-rocky terrain with green outcroppings here and there.

Draa Valley: It’s a Date

We passed through Zagora, the last major town, 60 miles outside of the small rural outpost of M’hamid El Ghizlane, our departure point for our desert adventure. 

Zagora is located in the fertile Draa River Valley and was originally known as Tazagourt, the singular of the plural Tizigirt, Berber for Twin Peaks, referring to the mountains that flank the village. A sea of lush green date palms lined the road, seeming to stretch endlessly. Since they happened to be in season, they were heavy with ripening fruit. Dates are a big agricultural business in Zagora and are sold roadside, in local shops and in the markets of Marrakech. I regret that we didn’t stop and try some.

We purchased bottles of water at a small shop while a little boy with a Spider-Man backpack watched us curiously from an alley across the street.

Upon arrival in M’hamid, we were a bit shocked when we pulled into a dusty parking lot that was literally across the street from the desert. The three of us decided to use the restroom before heading out. It was the foulest bathroom I’ve ever been in, and the stench haunts me to this day. 

Camels aren’t the most pleasant creature to ride upon.

Zou Zou le Fou Fou: The Camel From Hell

Something wasn’t right. As we were queuing up to be paired with the camels we would be riding out to the encampment in the middle of the Sahara, one was noticeably smaller than the others. Crouching on all fours, the camel’s front right leg was folded up and bound with what looked like an Ace bandage. The animal was wide-eyed with fear or fury, rearing its head and making terrible Chewbacca-like warbles. 

Barak presented the camels with a flourish. We all took a step backward simultaneously, staring at him, wide-eyed. Wally, who can speak French, asked if there was another camel we could ride instead of the bucking bronco. Barak asked the handlers, then shook his head no.

“Nous avons peur!” Wally exclaimed, which translates to “We are scared!”

Barak could see the terror in our eyes but tried to assure us that Zou Zou, for that was the camel’s name, would be perfectly safe. He explained that she was young and her leg was tied up like that because that’s how they train camels to kneel for passengers to climb on top of them.

Wally muttered that the camel’s name should instead be Fou Fou, a play upon the French word for “crazy.” 

After we all stood there, staring in horror at the thrashing, spitting Zou Zou, Vanessa bravely volunteered to ride her. We thanked her profusely, and she shrugged and said she figured she was the lightest.

Camels spit and eat shit, and riding them is a bit like being on a slow-mo mechanical bull.

Wally rode Mujeres, an ironically named male camel (it’s the word for “women” in Spanish). Mujeres enjoyed stopping to eat Zou Zou’s dung nuggets en route to the camp, which was funny, disgusting and annoying all at once. My camel’s name was Mimoun. He was mostly well behaved, aside from periodically making a series of unpleasant gurgles.

All aboard the camel train! We caravan out to the middle of the Sahara.

Camel Ride 

The camels were tethered together and led by a guide on foot. We had an hour-and-a-half camel ride out to our encampment. There’s a saddle of sorts, covered with a doormat-sized rug and a pair of handles not unlike those found on a bicycle. 

Guidebooks tend to gloss over the fact that a camel’s awkward gait makes for a bumpy ride. It’s basically like riding a mechanical bull.

Our guide whipped out his cell phone and chatted away, which took us out of the moment. “Who knew they’d get better reception in the middle of the desert than in some parts of Chicago?” Wally quipped.

Vanessa takes a selfie while camelback.

Guidebooks also neglect to mention that the desert isn’t all drifting dunes. We expected the desert to start with a dramatic line of sand like you’d see in a cartoon. But the first leg of our journey into the Sahara was rocky and punctuated by gnarled outcrops of mastic and cypress trees. 

It wasn’t until we got closer to camp that the foliage disappeared, the sand turned an intense orange, and the ergs, or sand dunes, emerged. 

Duke explores our Berber encampment.

Berber Camp

The camp consisted of several tents whose interiors were covered with blankets. Upon arrival, we were served what locals love to call “Berber whiskey” but is disappointedly mint tea, a sign of hospitality. It was all a bit surreal being surrounded by nothing but dunes and knowing that we were halfway to the border of Algeria, which was undergoing some political unrest at the time. 

Wally got up early to climb a dune for a moment of zen.

There was a tent for eating and separate tents for sleeping. Our desert companions included a large group of Dutch travelers. They tittered as they asked our guides if they had a magic carpet, could charm snakes or summon genies. (Wally and I, by contrast, know that jinn are no laughing matter. In fact, we blamed them for our camera having malfunctioned, causing us to lose most of our photos of the trip. Once again, shoutout to Vanessa for sharing some of her photos with us.)

Vanessa and Wally hanging out at camp. There’s not a lot to do except admire the view — and experience traditional Berber music around a bonfire at night.

We arrived at camp just as the sun was setting. The sky changed from pink to amber to a deep blue before darkening to an intense black as soon as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. I let my mind wander and hummed a few bars of “Tea in the Sahara,” a song by the British band the Police, inspired by Paul Bowles’ bleak novel The Sheltering Sky. 

Vanessa in our tent

Duke and Wally lounge in the tent, glad they didn’t have to share it with any of the boisterous Dutch travelers.

The stars were absolutely incredible and the three of us laid down on the sand outside of our tent to look up at the night sky, feeling utterly small and at peace. After a while, we joined the group and sat around a bonfire, listening to our hosts intensely play drums and sing ritual Berber music. 

The sand in the Sahara blazes a bright orange.

You’ve probably heard that while deserts can be scorching hot during the day, they get to be surprisingly cold at night. We awoke the next morning and put on our sweaters and scarves. Much to Wally’s relief, no scorpions had crawled into his boots.

Wally and Duke were glad they took a couple of days to travel to the Sahara.

The beauty of the sunrise was amazing — it’s not every day that you begin by leaving a tent to climb a sand dune in the Sahara Desert. The sunlight made the ochre grains of sand glow, and we sat there for a bit in a meditative state. It almost seemed disrespectful to break the silence with our voices.

As we rode our camels back to Erg Chigaga, we began to feel the effects of the previous day’s trek. As mentioned, camels are not comfortable rides. With their arched backs and their lurching around, shifting me almost comically sideways, I found myself tightly gripping with my legs. After our ride, all three of us had a piercing pain right in the taint, which Wally coined “camel crotch.”

Obligatory cameltoe pic

We would have liked to spend more time in the desert, but we had to get on the road for the long journey back to Marrakech. The trip was about eight hours, returning through the treacherous turns of the Atlas Mountains. As we neared Marrakech, I noticed storm clouds on the horizon. –Duke

 

King Josiah and the Formation of Jewish Law

Revised stories of the patriarchs proved powerful propaganda, and Deuteronomy presented the moral code of early Judaism — with a surprising amount of human rights. 

The penultimate king of Judah, Josiah is held up as the best of the best. We have him to thank for the Judaism practiced today.

King Josiah receives more superlatives of awesomeness than any other figure in the Old Testament. And with heavy hitters like Moses, David and Joshua, that’s saying something. 

“Before him there was no king like him, who turned to the Lord with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his might, according to all the law of Moses; nor did any like him arise after him,” gushes 2 Kings 23:25.

Not too bad for a kid who was crowned in 639 BCE at the tender age of 8, after his father, Amon, was assassinated in a coup, having reigned only a year.

King Josiah oversees a ritual sacrifice in this illustration from an Egyptian manuscript.

Of course, it turns that the early books of the Old Testament were written in the 7th century BCE, when Josiah ruled the kingdom of Judah. The writings were planned specifically to bolster his vision of a unified Israel, where everyone abandoned all other deities to worship only YHWH (aka Yahweh, or God), according to Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman in The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts. 

The book of Law that King Josiah discovered in the Temple was, most likely, the original book of Deuteronomy. We’re not sure why this prompted him to tear his robe, though.

Finding the Book of Law

In the 18th year of Josiah’s reign, 622 BCE, the king commanded his high priest to renovate the Temple. During the work, a new book of Law turned up. 

“That book, identified by most scholars as an original form of the book of Deuteronomy, sparked a revolution in ritual and a complete reformation of Israelite identity,” Finkelstein and Silberman explain. “This was the formative moment in the crystallization of the biblical tradition as we now know it.”

King Josiah has the idols of Baal destroyed (and the priests killed) in this illustration by Gustave Doré.

According to Josiah and other hardcore monotheists, there was a lot of work to be done (and undone). 

The new book of Law “suddenly and shockingly revealed that the traditional practice of the cult of YHWH in Judah had been wrong,” the authors continue. 

Pagan practices were taking place even within the confines of the Temple itself. Josiah had all the iconography of Baal removed, along with anything used to worship the sun, moon and stars, and had it all burned. He also broke down the houses of the male cult prostitutes (!!!). 

That was just the beginning. Josiah marched northward, smashing stone altars to other gods and killing their priests. 

The frontispiece to the book of Deuteronomy in the Nuremberg Bible

A Revolution in Human Rights

The new Law wasn’t all just destruction and death, though.

Josiah made Passover an official holy day, which linked him with Moses, who was involved in the holiday’s gruesome origin. 

More than this, “Deuteronomy calls for the protection of the individual, for the defense of what we would call today human rights and human dignity,” write Finkelstein and Silberman. “Its laws offer an unprecedented concern for the weak and helpless.” 

For example, Deuteronomy 15:7-8 states, “If there is among you a poor man … you shall open your hand to him, and lend him sufficient for his need, whatever it may be.” Imagine if that were still in practice today.

Joseph’s awful brothers sold him into slavery. He was born too soon — thanks to the book of Deuteronomy, his servitude would only have lasted six years.

In addition, Josiah’s law gave inheritance rights to wives, instructed farmers to give tithes to the poor every third year, protected resident aliens from discrimination and freed slaves after six years of servitude. 

The Death of King Josiah by Francesco Conti, who lived 1681-1760

Josiah’s Lasting Legacy

Was Josiah successful in his campaign of religious centralization? Perhaps not on as broad a scale as he would have liked. Evidence suggests that he “failed to stop the veneration of graven images, since figurines of a standing woman supporting her breast with her hands (generally identified with the goddess Asherah) have been found in abundance within private dwelling compounds at all major late-seventh century sites in Judah,” explain Finkelstein and Silberman. 

One god just wasn’t enough for the ancient Judahites — many a household had figurines of the goddess Asherah like this one.

In 610 BCE, the new pharaoh, Necho II, launched a military expedition, allying with Egypt’s old foes the Assyrians to battle an even greater threat: the Babylonian Empire.

No one is quite sure why Josiah joined the fray against Egypt. Whatever the reason, it was a decision that led to his death. 2 Kings 23:29 glosses over the loss of the greatest king of Judah as if the writer were embarrassed: “In his days Pharaoh Necho king of Egypt went up to the king of Assyria to the river Euphrates. King Josiah went to meet him; and Pharaoh Necho slew him at Megiddo, when he saw him.”

Pharaoh Necho II, who killed King Josiah. The Old Testament glosses over this event, as if the writers were embarrassed and wanted to downplay it.

“In his days Pharaoh Necho king of Egypt went up to the king of Assyria to the river Euphrates. King Josiah went to meet him; and Pharaoh Necho slew him at Megiddo, when he saw him.” (2 Kings 23:29)

“One thing is clear. The Deuteronomistic historian, who saw Josiah as a divinely anointed messiah destined to redeem Judah and lead it to glory was clearly at a loss to explain how such a historical catastrophe could occur and left only a curt, enigmatic reference to Josiah’s death,” write Finkelstein and Silberman. “Decades of spiritual revival and visionary hopes seemingly collapsed overnight. Josiah was dead and the people of Israel were again enslaved by Egypt.”

By 597 BCE, all the cities of Judah had been crushed under the Babylonian assault, culminating with the defeat of Jerusalem, which was burned to the ground. The Babylonian ruler, Nebuchadnezzar, looted the Temple and deported all but the poorest inhabitants of Judah. 

The Babylonians, led by King Nebuchadnezzar, defeated Judah, enslaved its people and burned Jerusalem to the ground.

Judah’s last king, Zedekiah, was captured. He had to watch the Babylonians slaughter his sons before he was blinded.

Zedekiah, the last king of Judah, didn’t fare so well. Tragedy of Zedekiah by Charles Monnet, 1750

Nebuchadnezzar had Zedekiah blinded — only after the king of Judah had watched his sons get slaughtered.

Nevertheless, there was a power in Josiah’s movement. His revisionist history and rallying cry have become parts of the most popular book on the planet. And the laws of Deuteronomy found within “served as the foundation for a universal social code and system of community values that endure — even today,” write Finkelstein and Silberman. –Wally 

National Museum of Mexican Art: A Hidden Gem in Chicago

Remedios Varo, Frida Khalo and Diego Rivera are all part of the rich heritage of Mexican artists honored at this all-too-often-overlooked museum.

If you’re not all tied up, make a visit to the National Museum of Mexican Art in Chicago — it’s dog-gone great!

It’s one of our favorite fall activities. Every October, Duke and I make a trip to the National Museum of Mexican Art on the South Side of Chicago to see the ofrendas set up for the Day of the Dead. These altars for loved ones who have died are always colorful, touching and artistic — and, despite being tributes to the dead, they never fail to make you smile. 

An ofrenda to Diego Rivera, one of the most famous Mexican artists of all time

Plus, it’s an excuse to wander the Pilsen neighborhood to see its street murals and grab some tacos and tamales. Pilsen is known as a Mexican neighborhood, though the artists who once called it home got priced out and vacated to Logan Square (and have most likely been priced out again and moved on to the new up-and-coming enclave). 

When you visit the museum, be sure to take a walk through the colorful neighborhood of Pilsen and go mural-hunting.

We were unable to see the ofrendas this year because of that pesky pandemic, so we reached out to the museum to tell us a bit more about one of the most impressive cultural centers in the city and to share their favorite artists (the founder seems particularly fond of the Surrealists).

The gift shop at the museum is filled with great Mexican handicrafts.

When the museum reopens, be sure to visit. It’s a small space, so you could easily see it all in one visit. And the gift shop is an exhibition itself, filled with Mexican handicrafts, from brightly painted fantastic beasts to comical skeletons. If that’s not enough to entice you, admission to the National Museum of Mexican Art is always free.

Here’s a Q&A with the museum’s founder, Carlos Tortolero. –Wally 

Duke loves the National Museum of Mexican Art thiiiiiiiis much!

Wally in front of a cool exhibit with knitted fruit

How did the museum come about?

Founder Carlos Tortolero, a former high school teacher who’s now president of the museum, invited four of his fellow teachers and his sister, also a teacher, to form a nonprofit to create a museum in 1982.

CHema Skandal’s take on lotería cards depicts Donald Trump as “the Evil One.” After launching his political career by calling Mexicans rapists and drug dealers, we agree with that moniker.

What is its mission?

To showcase the richness of Mexican art from both sides of the border from ancient times to the present.

Laura Molina’s Amor Alien from 2004 is part of the museum’s permanent collection.

Tell us about Mexican art.

Mexican art is an amazing cultural tradition. From ancient times to the present, the manifestations of Mexican art have earned worldwide recognition.

Who are some of your favorite artists?

Artists who are deceased that I admire are:

• Saturnino Herrán

Saturnino Herrán, The Offering, 1913

• Remedios Varo

Remedios Varo, Simpatía (La Rabia del Gato), 1955

• José Celmente Orozco

José Celmente Orozco, The Trench, 1926

• Diego Rivera

Diego Rivera, detail from Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park, 1948

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• David Alfaro Siqueiros

David Alfaro Siqueiros, La Marcha de la Humanidad, 1966

• María Izquierdo

María Izquierdo, Viernes de Dolores, 1945

• Frida Kahlo

Frida Kahlo, The Two Fridas, 1939

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• Salvador Dali

• Rene Magritte

Living artists: 

• Patssi Valdez

Patssi Valdez, The Enchanted Garden, 2005

• John Valadez

John Valadez, Pool Party, 1987

• Marcos Raya

Marcos Raya, Girl With Prosthesis, 2010

• Nahum Zenil

Nahum Zenil, Con Todo Respecto, 1983

Murals have long been an important part of Mexican culture.

What’s special about the Pilsen neighborhood?

Pilsen has historically been a port of entry for immigrants from Europe and now from Mexico. There’s a dynamism of activism that has always made Pilsen stand out from other communities. Pilsen also has excellent restaurants and bakeries based on Mexican cuisine.

Skeletons are a popular motif in Mexican art — especially around Día de los Muertos.

What else is the museum used for?

The museum hosts numerous events during the year, from health workshops dealing with health issues like HIV, cancer and lupus, community fundraisers, immigration presentations, city-wide initiatives and, of course, presentations of authors, musical groups and theater.

Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl by Jesus Helguera welcomes visitors to the permanent collection gallery at the National Mexican Museum of Art.

 

7 Reasons to Visit the French Island of Corsica

From the towns of Ajaccio and Calvi to beaches and mountains, there’s no shortage of things to do in Corsica, whether you want culture or outdoor adventure.

The French isle of Corsica has a culture influenced by both France and Italy.

A paradise in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea — there’s no better way to describe Corsica. One of the 18 administrative regions of France, Corsica lies southeast of the French mainland, west of the Italian Peninsula and immediately north of the Italian island of Sardinia. 

The beautiful island is known far and wide for its dramatic mountain ranges, which cover two-thirds of it, and the pristine waters that will surely take your breath away. Aside from its magnificent landscape, the Collectivité Territoriale de Corse, as it’s officially known, boasts an incredibly rich history, showcased by the various ancient buildings that pepper the city, the winding cobbled streets, the flavorful cuisine, and the colorful art and music scenes. Here are seven of the best reasons why you should visit the French island of Corsica.

“Corsica boasts a rich history, ancient buildings, winding cobbled streets, flavorful cuisine, and colorful art and music scenes. ”

The weather in Corsica is gorgeous year-round.

1. The weather

Nothing beats a summer spent on Corsica — an island where you can enjoy hot, dry weather by the beach. Due to its location, this paradise enjoys a Mediterranean climate that has an average temperature of 27ºC (81ºF) inland and year-round sunshine that’s a welcome getaway for those who live in countries where a cold, harsh climate is the norm. 

For those of you who want to avoid crowds during the high season, September and October would be the best time to visit the island since the pleasant weather only drops to the mid to low 20s Celsius (high 60s to mid 70s Fahrenheit).

One of the best beaches on the island is Plage de Saleccia — you just might have to share your spot with a wild cow! Be careful: Don’t try to take a selfie with them. A woman was gored by those horns a few years back.

2. The beaches

From wide bays that lap upon smooth rocks to remote sandy beaches only accessible by boat, you will never run out of stunning spots to go to in Corsica. If you are after a serene and quiet trip, you can go to some of the undeveloped coastlines, such as Plage de Saleccia and Lotu Beach. 

If you are traveling with kids and want to enjoy the seaside with the magnificent Corsica land formations as the backdrop, try Roccapina and Palombaggia.

The terrain on Corsica allows for lots of adventure activities, including canyoneering (which we hadn’t heard of before!).

3. The outdoor activities

The perfect mix of land formations and bodies of water in Corsica provides tourists with ample opportunity to partake in a wide array of outdoor activities. For those thrill-seeking tourists out there, activities include parasailing, canyoneering, river rafting, 4x4 off-road tours and rock climbing. There are also plenty of activities for those who are a bit less extreme, such as horseback riding, fishing, canoeing, cycling and kayaking.

The cuisine of Corsica takes cues from France and Italy. If you’re lucky, you’ll happen upon a market of fresh-baked goods like this one.

4. The cuisine

If you are a foodie with a love for all things Italian and French, then you would definitely enjoy the delectable dishes of Corsica. Thanks to its location, the island’s cuisine takes inspiration from both Italy and France. This then gave birth to traditional Corsican meals that are usually hearty, made of fresh seafood, local meats and locally produced dairy products like brocciu (ewe’s milk).

One of the most famous Corsican dishes is civet de sanglier, a wild boar and vegetable stew made with red wine.

Some of the dishes that will surely take your Corsican vacation to the next level are civet de sanglier, a hearty wild boar stew made with onions, carrots, fennel and red wine, and agneau corse, lamb slow roasted with whole garlic cloves, fresh rosemary and potatoes.

Pay a visit to the Musée Fesch, itself a work of art.

5. The arts

On top of the awesome mountain ranges and impressive beaches, Corsica is also home to magnificent art galleries and august historical establishments. Two museums you wouldn’t want to miss are Musée Fesch in Ajaccio and Musée d’Archéologie d’Aleria in Aleria.

The Musée d’Archéologie d’Aleria is housed in the historic Fort de Matra.

While the Musée Fesch is a 19th-century palace that houses one of the finest Napoleonic collections in all of France, the Musée d’Archéologie is situated in the Fort of Matra, which was constructed by the Genoese in the 14th century and houses the various artifacts discovered at the site.

Before Napoleon became emperor of France (and liked to tuck his hand into his shirt), he was a newborn babe on the island of Corsica.

6. The historical sites

After a fulfilling art trip, you can go on a historical tour of Corsica. Maison Bonaparte was the ancestral home of the Bonaparte family from 1682 to 1923. Here you can see lavish family rooms, galleries and drawing rooms as well as the bedroom of Madame Mère, where Napoléon was born. 

Visit the Maison Bonaparte to see the bedroom where Napoleon was born.

Tour the Calvi Citadel, which offers views of the port.

Visible from the beaches, the Calvi Citadel reveals the deep influences of the Genoese rule in Corsica through the different bastions that were once home to the Genoese governor and are now used by the legendary Foreign Legion.

Corsica offers scenic vistas, from rustic villages to rugged mountains.

7. The flora and fauna

Corsica is more than just an island that can be eye-candy for many tourists around the world: It is also home to some of the world’s rarest animals and plants.

Keep an eye out for the endangered (and adorably named) mouflon.

You might stumble upon a herd of mountain goats on a hike through the hills.

The best way to go on a nature trip in Corsica is by visiting the Parc Naturel Régional de Corse. First opened in 1972, the park will give you the chance to see some of the most endangered animals on the planet, such as the hoofed mammals known as mouflons and Corsican red deer.

If you can’t visit Corsica in person, you can always explore it from the comfort of your home, thanks to stunning drone photography.

A Virtual Tour of Corsica

Given the travel restrictions from the COVID-19 pandemic, a lot of people might find it hard to get to Corsica in the coming months. Fortunately, there are many ways to get a taste of Corsica without physically going there. For instance, you can listen to some of the best musicians from Corsica through a Spotify playlist curated by National Geographic. The playlist features songs by the vocal groups A Filetta and Voce Vetu.

Corsica, France has much to offer, whether you’re a boater, outdoor enthusiast or culture lover.

You can also count on drone technology, which has made it possible for virtually anyone to see magnificent views of the world’s best travel destinations from the comforts of their home. Through drone cameras and unmanned aerial vehicles, you can see sweeping takes of beautiful vistas and can explore places no human has ever been able to visit. Many such videos have been shot of Corsica’s one-of-a-kind landscape, giving you a taste of what to expect when you do visit:

Tour de Corse en drone (4K) !

The astonishing island of Corsica is only one of the many majestic places France has to offer. To make your French trip count, read about the different beautiful destinations. The country has perfect spots for couples, history junkies, nature lovers and all kinds of travelers. –Shannon Nichol