The Ship of Dreams

One hundred years ago, at 2:20AM on April 15th, 1912, RMS Titanic broke in half and sank into the depths of the North Atlantic Ocean. Only approximately 700 people were saved out of the 2,214 on board. It is considered one of the greatest non-conflict tragedies of the past century.

As many of you know "Titanic," the movie by James Cameron, celebrated the one hundredth anniversary of the famed ship's sinking by re-releasing the movie to theatres, this time in 3D.

On a whim, I decided it would be an experience to see "Titanic" at approximately the same time RMS Titanic was sinking a century ago. I had never seen the movie in theatres (as I mentioned in my last blog involving Titanic) so that would be an experience as well. For this whim, I recruited Kid, whom I take on many adventures with me.

The experience is one I will never forget, nor would I wish to change it for anything in the world.

It is hard to explain what an impact this experience had on me, really, but I shall try to explain.

Firstly, having had time to think about it since I decided to do it, I should've had this on my bucket list before now. So, after the fact, I christen that one of my bucket list items, now fulfilled. *Cheers and balloons*

My "Titanic" experiences began with the tickets. I purchased the tickets online and we picked them up when we arrived at the theatre. With our tickets was an "official" boarding pass. Pictorial evidence below.




Being the history buff/nerd that I am, the boarding pass really solidified the experience for me. I am in the movie, a part of the history. That's how it feels for me anyway.

Which brings me to the 3D part. Because the movie wasn't originally 3D it obviously didn't quite translate. It didn't "pop" quite like a 3D movie is supposed to, but it gave the whole thing a little more depth, a little more realism. That is one of the few things I like about 3D, is the feeling of being a part of the movie. I feel like it not quite "popping" out (like any other 3D movie) made it more substantial. Personal opinion of course.

During the movie there were shots of the skylight ceiling in the First Class portion of the ship. I have stood under a smaller reproduction of this skylight in the National Museum of History in Washington DC. In fact, pictorial evidence follows of that as well! It is a small reproduction, but a reproduction nonetheless!



That was a startling feeling, almost surreal. Thinking "Wow, I stood under something almost exactly like that." Not quite as earth shattering as seeing a face eerily similar to my own in the Holocaust Museum, but pretty damn close. Its one of those moments where you are so close to history you can almost reach out and touch it. And I love those moments!

I was in awe throughout the movie. So much so that I was too entranced to cry during parts that have always choked me up before. Granted, there were a few tears shed, but so few that I was surprised.

The "love" that Jack and Rose have for each other is really quite powerful, with a lot more substance than other movies with "love at first sight" type gimmicks. Jack understands Rose, he is attracted to her (of course, who wouldn't be?), but he doesn't try to take advantage of that. At least, not in my personal view. The person trying to take advantage of Rose is Cal. It's even strongly hinted that they are already occupying the marriage bed, even though they haven't been officially married.

Beside the point entirely. I just really like the romance of this movie, even though I don't generally like romantic movies. Exceptions being anything with Cary Grant or Clark Gable (or any other old movie star hotness).

I have come to appreciate this movie more as I've gotten older. When I was younger I always avoided romantic movies because they depressed me. I was alone and I hated everyone for being in love. I hated romance, I hated sex (because I wasn't having any), I hated love, I hated it all. Now that I am settled into my own committed relationship I can watch those movies and be happy for the character. That kind of unselfish happiness that comes when you already have it yourself.

The other thing I have come to appreciate is Leonardo DiCaprio. He is so handsome! How did I not think he was hot when I was younger? Of course, it helps that I now know his acting prowess... It took some time (because I am ALWAYS behind the trends), but I am a Leo fan! So seeing this as a Leo fan changed my perspective too.

Seeing the Titanic going down, knowing that One hundred years before it was going down, was the most powerful feeling. It was like being there. As close to reality as I can get. And it was amazing.

All in all, I had so much fun. I wondered if I might have some supernatural experiences, but if I did they were internalized. It was enough to be there. Enough to say I did it. To mark it off my bucket list as I put it there.

To all the people who were lost Rest in Peace, may you be as Rose was in the end of the movie. Happy and re-united with those you love.

The Holocaust Memorial Museum

At the Gates of Auschwitz
What is to become of us if no one reads our names or counts the shoes we left behind?
What is to become of us if no one dares remember the torture or the anguish?
What is to become of those who died before us? Those that died with us?
What is to become of us when young women and young men forget the meaning of bravery?
What is to become of us when little girls and little boys grow up not knowing the truth?

I saw her face in the tower of pictures. Her face was almost mine. Few subtle differences and we could've been sisters. A gypsy's face in a sea of faces, all lost to ignorance and blind hatred. All lost in a sea of broken humanity. My fate could've been her's if we were to switch places. And that knowledge is like a punch in the throat. I can't breathe when I look at her. I can't think anything except that she could've been me.

Standing at the gates of Auschwitz, I hesitate. I don't want to feel what I am feeling. This place is full of ghosts. Not the ghosts of stories or movies, the intangible that frighten us with their intangibility. These are real people pressing against me, real faces staring blankly at me. These are real people whose genitals have been sewn shut and whose brains are exposed to high pressure winds. These are real people who are tortured and gassed and tattooed like cattle. These are real children that are starved and mutilated in the name of science, in the name of Aryan science.

These are the faces of the Holocaust. The Jews, the Gypsys, the Homosexuals, the Catholic priests and nuns, the disabled and mentally handicapped. Those who believed differently, those who believed in equality and fought for the lives of others. These are the faces of those who stood up while the whole world held its breath and twiddled its thumbs. These faces could have been mine or yours.

If no one smells the death and the fear, if no one reads the names, if no one stands up when everyone else is sitting down, what becomes of them? What becomes of us? Could we be as brave? Could we face those who were murdered for our silence?

If there is no one left to remember, what becomes of us?

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This was inspired by my walk through the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington DC.

While in DC I took my notebook everywhere, so I could remember everything to blog it later. I took a lot of pictures and videos too, to keep track, to remember.

I am proud that I still have the ability to feel. Even remembering what I saw and heard, what I read and witnessed, second hand, makes my stomach churn and my eyes fill with tears.

If we all turn blind eyes to atrocities and prejudices what becomes of us?

Some of the things I wrote in my notebook while walking the museum:
* The museum is full of ghosts, but not the kind you find in stories or movies. These ghosts have a heavy presence because of the photos. Their faces stay, even after the photos are gone.
* Standing at the gates of Auschwitz while listening to recordings of the dead and their stories. (They weren't actual gates, they were doors to one of the many buildings in Auschwitz, but my feeling was that of standing before Auschwitz in winter, feeling chilled and horrified)
* Could I ever be so brave?
* What happens if no one reads the names or counts the shoes?

The thing that inspired me most was this exhibit that was nothing but shoes. This exhibit was on loan from a Poland museum. It was one of the most horrifyingly devastatingly real exhibits I've ever experienced. You could smell the death, the fear, the sweat and blood. It made everything so horrifyingly real. I don't think I've ever felt something punch me so hard in the stomach and the heart.

Sometimes we become so desensitized to violence and gore because of the books, music and movies that we have now-a-days. Things become so surreal to us at that point. We don't believe it is real, even though we know it is. And that was so real to me. Seeing those shoes, those empty shoes. Smelling them. Being so close I could've reached out and touched them. Little children wore those shoes. Pregnant women and old men wore those shoes. Before they were brutally killed or tortured or experimented on.

The other thing that inspired me was the small poem that was above the shoes. It is by Moishe Shulstein, a Yiddish poet. It is titled "I Saw a Mountain."

"We are the shoes, we are the last witnesses.
We are shoes from grandchildren and grandfathers,
From Prague, Paris and Amsterdam,
And because we are only made of fabric and leather
And not of blood and flesh, each one of us avoided the hellfire."

The most frightening thing that I learned, aside from the experimentation on prisoners (which I knew a good portion of), was the fact that Germany (and consequently Hitler) was emulating the racist policies in the United States. Especially the Jim Crow laws. They began to mark benches and fountains to separate Jews from Aryans.

Other frightening things were the forced sterilizations and euthanasia of people, most of them weren't even Jewish or disabled. Most of them were regular Germans. Even though the program was originally created to prevent the population of Jews and mentally challenged people.

The last thing I would like to post here (I will probably blog about this more on a future date) is a little poem by Yevgeny Yevtushenko, a Russian poet.

"The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar.
The trees look ominous,
like judges.
Here all things scream silently,
and, baring my head,
slowly I feel myself
turning gray.
And I myself
am one massive, soundless scream
above the thousand thousand buried here."

Landlocked

This week's country is Burkina Faso (also known as Burkina) and is brought to you by the letter B and the number 4 (ha ha, Sesame Street references are awesome). It is also a completely landlocked (being that it is completely surrounded by land) country on the African continent. It is surrounded by Niger, Mali, Ghana, Togo, Benin and Côte d'Ivoire (also known as the Ivory Coast).

The official language of Burkina Faso is French, though More, Gourma, Fulfulde, Dioula and Tamasheq are also spoken. Fun fact, I have never heard of those languages.



Deviating slightly from what I did with Albania's first blog, I am going to post some pictures Burkina Faso's landscape and architecture. I'll also post some random facts in-between pictures.



Burkina Faso has a Republican Government, meaning that they are a Republic, not that they are strictly voting Republican.



Burkina Faso won its independence in 1960.



The capital of Burkina Faso is Ougadougou, and I have no clue how one would go about pronouncing that... Just sayin'.



The Musée de Manega was established by Frédéric Pacéré Titinga. It features a random collection (if you will) of pieces important to the history and culture of Burkina Faso. These pieces include funerary pieces (the Boura Flutes), terracotta jars, bracelets and various others which were used for rituals.



There is no official state religion in Burkina Faso. Islam, Christianity and indigenous religions are the most practiced. If I was the Burkina Faso government, I would be most proud of their religious freedom. They take this particular freedom very seriously. It seems to be better under control than other countries, like the USA for example.



Burkina Faso's independence day is celebrated August 5th (That's when Donnie and I started dating).

Dali's Jewels

Last December I went with Fawn and Trent to a Salvador Dali exhibit. All three of us are huge Dali fans (Surrealism being something I hold near and dear to my heart) so we were incredibly excited.

What I didn't know about Dali was that he also created surrealist jewelry. Including my favorite piece:

The fully articulated Starfish Brooch.


Not only is this a fully articulated Starfish (as in it was designed to be able to wrap around your hand/wrist), but it is made with a stunningly huge pearl, rubies, emeralds and diamonds for a one of a kind gorgeous piece. I've never seen such a beautiful starfish.

This is my favorite piece for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because even though it is completely made from jewels it manages to not be gaudy and ridiculous looking. Plus it is able to be moved and wrapped however you may want. A famous actress once wore this piece, provocatively, on her breast.

This is a drawing of the design and the articulation of the brooch as done by Dali.


In my search of Dali Jewelry, I discovered this piece by one Elsa Schiaperelli.


This lobster brooch is definitely Dali-esque in my mind. Not only in its relation to the sea (as the Starfish), but in its simplistically complex and beautifully realized design. It is the concept of creating beauty out of something that is generally disregarded by the public as common place and ugly that most attracts me. Personally. And, as it turns out, Ms. Schiaperelli was a fan of Dali's surrealism, which may or may not have inspired her to create this particular piece.

Whilst looking at some other pieces by Ms. Schiaperelli, I discovered these Leopard Skin Booties. If they weren't real leopard skin (which I don't believe they are) I would actually considering wear this particular pair. If only because I think of them as simplistically designed. I like simple.


And, because the internet is a strange place and I started thinking about other types of jewelry and beautiful things, here is a delicate piece by Fabrege, creator of Fabrege eggs.


He, too, apparently found under sea life worthy of jewelry pieces as you can see from this Sea Horse.


While we are talking about Fabrege, what is it about Fabrege's eggs that makes them so beautiful? What is it about Eggs themselves that makes them beautiful? I don't really understand it myself, but every since I was young I've loved things that were egg shaped. I have a little glass jewelry egg decorated with painted roses that holds my change. I have a little egg shaped perfume bottle that my Aunt Peggy gave me when I was 10 or so. Well, for that matter I have a pineapple shaped perfume bottle she gave me too, but that has nothing to do with eggs.

Maybe, for me, it just goes back to the simplicity of it. Or maybe it goes back to how we all come from some type of egg and the beginning of life? For whatever reason, eggs are beautiful.


This particular egg is Jade. One of my favorite precious stones. Except that I prefer White Jade.


I don't know why I like this one. Except that I think it is pretty.


I am done rambling for the moment. I'm starting to get tired and I think it is nap time for this blogger. I hope you enjoyed my randomness on jewelry, sea creatures and eggs. I'm off to try to get "Jack Sparrow" by the Lonely Island feat. Michael Bolton out of my head.

Disgusted

* Mood: Outraged
* Listening to: the reports on MSN.com
* Drinking: Coffee

I cannot understand why someone would break into a museum and destroy the priceless histories within.

For those of you who don't know the Cairo Museum was broken into and several (I don't know an exact number) artifacts were destroyed, needlessly. Even two mummies did not escape the desecration.

I agree, wholeheartedly, with Dr. Zahi Hawass "My heart is broken and my blood is boiling".

Who does that? Who goes out and ravages history's final remnants? We have only this one life and it is spent reaping the rewards of History's lessons and we choose rather to destroy it than to preserve it! Who cares about history? Who cares about some dead guys wrapped in cloth in a museum somewhere thousands of miles across the ocean?

I CARE! We are the products of history! We are history in the making! Why would we ever choose to destroy rather than to protect?!

It is ridiculous! I have completely lost faith in a humanity that robs the dead and desecrates a house of History.