Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

Monday, March 2, 2020

“Ways of Escape”: A Dialogue on a Train


A: Nice pictures!

B: Thank you! Yes, we just got back from tropical island Z; it was great!

A: Great?

B: Well, yes, we had a good time. I mean, the kids were a bit rowdy, and I was... you know, to be honest, I was in a sort of a foul mood for most of the week; but it was a beautiful place, nevertheless, and overall we enjoyed ourselves - a lot!

A: How come that you went there?

B: What do you mean?

A: What led you to choose tropical island Z – to go there? How have you heard of it, if I may ask?

B: We’ve seen pictures of it, and heard some stories from people who’ve been there... you know?

A: Yes, but, if I may ask - why did you go there (as you could have gone somewhere else)? Or, better yet, why go anywhere?

B: I’m not sure I understand your questions...

A: I’m sorry; it’s just something that preoccupies me... Why go anywhere? Or, why not go somewhere closer to home – some park...?

B: Well, you know, the image of a tropical island... the white sands, the endless blue ocean, a few white clouds scattered over the otherwise clear blue sky, the palm trees - all that... It’s – you know - the ideal image, isn’t it?

A: Yes, “ideal” is a good word for it.

B: What do you mean?

A: That “ideal” is a word that we use to indicate an image that we project of, of...

B: ... of the perfect spot?

A: ... of perfection, rather. You see, that’s what interests me about all this – the reason why I ask; namely, why do we create for ourselves such images, why do we chase such images?

B: I'm not sure that I get what you mean.

A: Well, you said that you saw pictures of this place (I suppose, on social media), and I would say that they probably resonated with something... something in you (sorry to presume, but I assume...)

B: Well, yes, yes! I always wanted to go to one of those places...

A: Who wouldn’t?

B: ... white sands, blue ocean, palm trees – I mean, this is the kind of place that you see in the movies: where people retire, at the end of the heist movie, after having escaped the cops – and then they buy a bar there, and spend their lives on the beach – or?

A: Indeed, indeed – right you are. But... now that you’ve been there, is now – I mean, is that need, that desire for these kinds of a places - is it now... fulfilled?

B: Need? Desire? What do you mean, exactly?

A: Well, like you mentioned – the need or desire that made you “always want to go to one of those places”... (and me as well, by the way; I am no different).

B: Well, it’s a nice place...

A: Yes, but you mentioned “ideal,” and movies... That’s what I am referring to – the apparent need (shared by you, me, and those moviemakers) that drives us all toward such “ideal” places.

B: ...

A: And yes, yes, I know that they’re nice. But, here it is – we go to the pristine beach, to a spectacular waterfall, to the virgin forest, or to the icy-blue mountaintop – and, does that "need" ever cease? Is it ever... fulfilled? Do we ever just go there, and then just... sit and rest, as it were ... accomplished, fulfilled... complete?

B: Ha, ha - well, I can’t say that you are not right, in a way, you know? Truth be said, while I am still living off the sensory memories of the warm days and starry nights spent on the beach (not staying up too late, though, because we had to put the kids to sleep), I know that in a couple of months me and my wife will start thinking about our next destination...

A: Yes, yes, that’s what I mean...

[A seems to be looking for the right words... Brief silence.]

A: Well, you know, the reason why I’m asking... You mentioned that you saw those pictures, of tropical island Z, online somewhere.

B: Yes.

A: My question is, why do we post these kinds of images... – besides the fact that they’re nice (which they are!). What I am referring to is – did you notice that every day we are, I don’t know, bombarded by not just nice images, but news stories, pretty videos, inspirational messages about ... some place, some people, some things, some ways of doing things...

B: ...

A: You know, those news stories about... about how in Finland, for example, they have eliminated homework in their schools, and how that has created the “best educational system ever”; or how in Italy there is this valley where people live to a hundred years, and we wonder about their diet and their lifestyle, and what we could take over from their habits; or how in Japan the transportation minister resigned last year (or was it the year before?) because the trains had a cumulated delay (across the entire year!) of one minute and thirty seconds...

B: ... yes, and?

A: ... or how, according to studies done by some British researchers, this or that country in Scandinavia is considered to be “the happiest” in the world...

B: ... yes, and?

A: Or, or – and I promise that I’ll end with this – how about those videos made by that young Chinese woman, showing us the simple rural life, and how to cook using only simple tools and natural ingredients...

B: And?

A: Well, aren’t these just as much “ideal places” (or ways of being, or of doing things), not unlike your tropical island Z? “Ideal images” that we keep sharing, and reading about – always trying to find – the next one?! (And, my question is - why?)

B: What do you mean?

A: Well, my question is - why this endless stream of stories, images, messages, coming at us every day, all proposing some other place, other life, other country, other way of, I don’t know, being?

B: Because these are models of how to live better, or where to live better, and so on! ...aren’t they?

A: Yes, but once we learned about them - and once we start doing that diet, or after we move to country X in Scandinavia... well, does our search actually end, then? Are we satisfied, fulfilled, finito - done?

B: Well, no; clearly not. In fact, the place where we live right now, in this country – me and my family just moved here a couple of years ago from...

A: But that’s it!... Sorry to interrupt you – but that’s exactly it! That’s what... that’s what’s been keeping me up at night, lately – or, to be honest, for the past couple of years, in fact.

B: Really? What, more precisely?

A: Well, trying to think about, and to actually get to terms with, the fact that we are engaged in this, I don’t know, seemingly endless pursuit, never satisfied by anything that we find. Trying to understand why it is so. What we are chasing. Or, better yet, why we are engaged in this chase – what is driving or chasing us...

B: You mean, why are we always, even if we go to any of these places, still... I mean, why do we remain “hungry” for more?

A: “Hungry”! – “hungry” is a good word! Well, yes, what is this  - as you said - deep “hunger,” or need, or whatever it is, that fuels this endless chase – for some thing or things that seem to always remain just a bit too far, just beyond our reach, just there, around the line of the horizon... So, I’ve been asking this... it's been preoccupying me...

[Pause. They sit in silence, glancing through the window of the compartment at the fields that are rushing past their train.]

A: [breaking the silence] Are you familiar with Graham Greene? The writer?

B: No...  well, I’ve heard the name, but I do not know much about him...

A: A great writer... Anyway, one of the volumes of his memoirs is titled, “Ways of Escape.”

B: “Ways of Escape?” Why, why did he call it that?

A: It’s called that because it chronicles the many ways in which Greene had been running - trying to run away...

B: Running away from what?

A: Away – from his native England, from his wife, from the Western world (the book was written around the middle of the twentieth century – or that’s when those things took place), from... well, at the end of the day, from himself, actually; he was trying to run away from himself, in fact.

B: And (just out of curiosity) where did he try to run away?

A: Well, to the Far East, to various instantiations of the “Third World” (as it was then called) ... but, you know, not just to places, but to things, ideas, persons; for example, to a beautiful Vietnamese mistress, to causes and revolutions, to opium dens... Opium -  what more of a “way of escape” can one even think of!

B: Not very much of a way of escape, I would say; more of a way of self-enslavement.

A: Well, yes, long-term; but, for the moment, I guess it works - as an escape.

B: So... what about it? Why did you bring this up – Graham Greene?

A: Because, while at the end of the day all these “ways of escape” turned out to be futile, fruitless (so, it is kind of sad, his story, overall) – what I do admire about him is the courage to... you know, to look at himself and at his life and at his deeds, to look them “in the eyes,” and to acknowledge - and also to share with us – that these were actually attempts to “escape.”

B: But why was he trying to escape – all those things?

A: That, I think, is the right question - it’s good that you put it that way; not “where,” not even “what from” – but “why.” Well, I contend that his frantic attempts at escaping are no different than our own attempts at chasing the ideal place, or thing, or person, or manner of doing things – the things that we’ve been talking about. And also that, just like in Greene's case, no matter where we go, and what we try to do... [smiles]

B: What? What are you smiling about?

A: Well, I was just thinking: do we really care about... the transportation system in Japan? Does any of us one just toss and turn, night after night, waking up in a sweat, torn by the crucial question of how to reform the transportation system in our country?

B: Ha, ha, ha... no, clearly not...

A: Because that’s not the point, is it – the transportation system in Japan? That is not the reason why we both heard that news story, a while ago, and paid attention, and remembered it! And the same with the Finnish educational system, and so on, and so on... It’s not what these stories are about, but that they seem to illustrate a country or a place where “things have been solved,” where everything works just fine; again, an “ideal place," only - just another version of it...

B: Yes, I would agree.

A: So, the issue, in fact, is not so much about the “what” or the “where,” but about - what's with this seemingly endless pursuit for things that always seem to leave us ultimately unsatisfied, unfulfilled,  "incomplete." 

B: Ha, ha! “You complete me!”, said Tom Cruise to Renée Zellweger...

A: ...in “Jerry Maguire!” Exactly! And then, of course, the movie ends.

B: But, it turns out (or it would, if the movie would have a sequel) that, well, she did not actually (and eventually) “complete” him...

A: Nor him, her.

B: Indeed. Look, I am married – even, what they might call, “happily married;” but, like you said (and, the more I listen to you, the more I understand what you mean, or so I think), this restless search, truly, never ceases. I mean, we care deeply for each other, me and my wife (even after all these years) - but that chase, as you called it... continues; only now, we do it together. It does not cease... and I wonder why.

A: Me, too, I have been wondering about this, and looking for answers.

B: And, what have you found?

A: Well, some things... How shall I explain... Well, look – if we take all these examples we mentioned – tropical island Z, the Finnish educational reform, or the Japanese transportation system – what do all these things have in common?

B: Well?

A: Well, they all seem to be variations of the same thing...

B: Of the same thing? How? What do you mean?

A: Well, they all seem to be – how shall I put it... “horizontal” things, horizontal “ways of escape.”

B: “Horizontal”?

A: Well, I am trying to express myself as clearly as I can... “horizontal,” meaning variations of the same kind of thing... different places, different times, but always variations of the same... – and always remaining “outside” of us, as it were...

B: “Outside”? How?

A: Think about it: you go to this pristine beach, or to that wonderful waterfall, or to that ancient forest - but, these are just varieties of “places”... Or, you find another way of doing this thing or that thing – but these are just varied ways of “doing things”... Here’s the thing (and I am really struggling here, trying to express my thoughts and feelings as clearly as possible) – while we alternate between locations, methods, reforms, diets – the need always seems to remain the same, unfulfilled.

B: ...

A: So, the “outside” things keep on changing, but our “hunger,” as you called it – remains the same. So, I vary these outside sort of things, on, and on, and on – and, clearly, if the answer or solution would be “outside,” then one of these variations would finally have to work, and the chase would have to end.

B: But it does not end.

A: No, it does not. So, if the external things keep on changing, and yet the need remains the same, I have to ask myself – through all these external variations, what is there that always stays the same? What do I always “take with myself,” wherever I go, whatever I do (while everything outside, from the specific place to the educational policy, changes)?

B: Well?

A: Well, myself – isn’t it? The one constant amid all these places, people, or ways of doing things - is myself; so, given the fact that the “hunger” is the same, never satiated, no matter the external changes, clearly the origin or solution to the question is not in any of the external variations – but is somewhere inside, within myself. This is why I can go to a beautiful spot – and still feel (while nevertheless enjoying the place!) deep down unfulfilled, unsatisfied - even a bit melancholy. So, this is why I called these solutions, these things that we are chasing, “horizontal,” because the cause or source of the chase, its origin, seems to not be on the same plane as these... seems to be of a different nature... in a different direction.

B: Namely?

A: Well, I don't know - perhaps "vertical," or internal, or inner?... I’m trying to find the right words... In any case, of a different kind and nature and direction, than the solutions that we are ceaselessly chasing.

B: ...

A: Well, this need seems to be something deep within us, seemingly (perhaps) at the very foundation of our being. Because – and this was a momentous realization for me, when I understood this our entire life is defined and driven by this deep need, starting from childhood! This is why we keep chasing, and projecting, and dreaming, throughout our lives – for an ideal place, an ideal person, for something in the future... So, so, if this need seems to be determine and to drive our very existence - if it seems to shape, deep down, our entire life - well, then, if ever there was a question to pose, and to try to answer, then this is it. Namely: what is this deep drive, that shapes our entire existence? What is its origin? Because, if I know what it is, perhaps I can also ...

B: ... get a chance to fill it? to fulfill it?

A: Well, that sounds ambitious... but still, I need to ask! So, yes, indeed - this is the question that's been keeping me up, for the past, I don’t know, maybe couple of years; and what I’ve been reading, asking, talking with people (like you) about,,, trying to understand – if anything, then this!

B: So, what have you found? What have you learned? I am curious! I am genuinely interested, because I agree with your, let’s say, existential diagnosis.

Monday, February 3, 2020

Clovis, NM



It was in the second half of the 1600s that Marquis Auguste Coriolan de Lagardiére (or Augustus Coriolanus, Marquis de Lagardiére), together with a company of about 30-40 men, stopped in a fairly unremarkable spot on the staked plains region of what would later be known as the southwestern United States. Tired and dusty after a fairly long haul, they made a fire, drank some wine, ate some dried meat, and went to sleep – and woke up the next day to the realization of the fact that they were being surveyed, from afar, by a small group of natives (Indians) - who left soon thereafter. They had rested along the banks (if one could call them that) of the mostly dried-out Blackwater river (although they did not call it by that name; in fact, for them it did not have a name, nor did they think that it deserved a name, given its meager appearance). That day the Marquis, together with about half of his men, continued the journey, leaving behind 15-20 men, some of whom were sick or had minor injuries, and others with orders to set up a base to which the Marquis and his retinue could return, after having explored further down south. But the Marquis never returned, nor did the men who left with him; those left behind, however, befriending some of the natives (including some of those who had surveyed them during their first night there), were helped to discover a better place to camp, with more grass for grazing, with fresh water (which was scarce all around), and with better opportunities for hunting. This camp became a settlement that was first known by the full name of its “founder,” Auguste Coriolan Marquis de Lagardiére, but then, for some reason, only as Coriolanus / Coriolá – the latter version being used by the Spanish-speaking peasants who also settled there. But the core of the population, those who gave the town its identity and its name, were still the descendants of the Frenchmen from the Marquis’ original retinue. And these people continued to speak French (although they learned, of course, some of the local tongues, as well), and in fact the town used French in most of its official dealings, and in the local school, as well - because, as hard as that is to believe, they did not lose contact with the “homeland;” or, mostly, with the French colonial territories of North America (although even “Louisiana”, that large swath in the middle of the continent, running from north to south, on the left and right of the Mississippi river, which was at a certain point claimed and partially controlled by France, was quite far off). Nonetheless, they managed to stay in contact with “France,” and even to receive some material support (such as books printed in French) and some French people (some clergy, perhaps a teacher here and there, some women, and, of course, some adventure-loving Frenchmen). Thus, the French connection was never broken, nor was the town entirely forgotten by the people in France (or, at least at the royal court in Paris, where they were still listed in the books as a kind of French territory or claim). And all this will become very important later, during the time of the French Revolution.

But before we get to that point, another important moment in the history of the place needs to be discussed, namely when, after the French and Indian War, the territories in North America that used to be under French control, were transferred to Spain's authority. Although the exercise of this authority was quite patchy (as in the case of most European claims on this continent), it so happens that the place we are discussing fell in the way of a Spanish aristocrat’s expedition for new territories, namely in the path of Barón Miguel Cardozo de Salazar, who rode into town one August evening with a retinue of heavily armed men. Long story short, part of them remained there, while the Barón left in order to discover (and claim) other places; unlike the Marquis de Lagardiére. he did return (for a while), before leaving definitively (and disappointedly) for Spain. A part of his men, therefore, together with their wives and households (those who had such things had brought them up from further down south), settled in what they now called (in honor of their “founder,” and clearly in spite of the local French people) “Cardozo”. And so it happened that for some fifty years thereafter the place bore two names, which were used competingly by the two dominant populations, the French (or, rather, francophones) and the Spanish (as in, those related to the original adventuring party from Spain). At the same time, some the simple Spanish-speaking peasants (unrelated to Spain proper) who lived in the area settled the issue by simply referring to the place as “Plano” (perhaps because it is located in the flat high plains?).

What is important here, however, is that the two dominant socio-cultural groups, the French and the Spaniards (to put it simply, because the so-called “French” were only culturally that, since most of them had been born from intermarriages with locals - and soon enough the same was true for the descendants of the original “Spanish” soldiers) still defined themselves in relation to their original European, aristocratic origins (and to their “founders”). And, as it happens in such cases, what had been a natural, lived condition originally (that is, being part of the retinue of a nobleman, and living in an aristocratic, feudal society), became sublimated culturally, embellished, and transformed into a gold-letter tradition that functioned more like an emblem of the given group, than as a social reality. But perhaps it is exactly the fact that there existed two rival social and cultural factions, the “French” and the “Spaniards,” that contributed to the survival of these aristocratic identities, traditions, and cultural frames of reference (as one’s identity is never stronger, and more ardently affirmed, than when it is challenged by a rival identity). And the ways in which these identities were affirmed and maintained were manifold – from keeping alive the memory of the “founders” (for example, by unveiling a portrait of the Marquis de Lagardiére in the house of a prosperous French landowner; or by purchasing an icon for the local Catholic church, which included a depiction of Barón Cardozo de Salazar, kneeling and looking at the Virgin and Child,  as a “donor”  - although it was in fact the current Spaniards who had commissioned and paid for the painting, and who were thus the “donors”), to other practices cultivating this "aristocratic" culture (or, what they felt as pertaining to, or expressing, such a culture). One of these practices was the development among the “Spanish” population of a real cult of Miguel de Cervantes - or, rather, of his hero, Don Quixote – as, ironically enough, representing said aristocratic culture. A “Cervantes club” or parlor was thus formed, which functioned somewhat like today’s cultural or heritage-keeping associations. Although there was no similar club on the French side, in the local school the French language and culture were still being taught and propagated – so perhaps that functioned as the equivalent of such a cultural association.

The next important moment in the history of the town was, as mentioned, during the time of the French Revolution (1790s) – and here, the fact that the ties with la patrie were never entirely broken played a crucial role, namely at the point during those turbulent years when the court and the aristocracy in France were in a febrile search for external allies, support, and ways of escape. As is known, during the harshest and bloodiest persecutions many noble families – and not only – escaped from France to aristocratic England; some of them, however, also went to North America – and it was a descendant of the Marquis de Lagardiére who remembered at that point that there existed in those savage North American lands a settlement that bore (or used to bear) the name of his great-great-great-...grandfather; and thus he took his household and moved, after an adventurous and dangerous trip that lasted about eight months, to  - what? – Coriolá? Cardozo? or just Plano? This move – which represented a lifeline for the Marquis and for his family – was also a boon for the local “French” people, who saw their claims and aristocratic “identity” thus confirmed, reaffirmed, and – they felt – definitively instated.

But another interesting – and crucial - development also took place, as a consequence of the Marquis' arrival and settlement in this town. What is this about? Well, we did not mention earlier the fact that the “original founder,” the Marquis de Lagardiére, was actually a Huguenot, and that part of the determination that fueled his bold ventures in North America (and the reason why he was accompanied by such a large retinue) was that he himself was in the process of escaping the anti-Huguenot policies and sentiment prevalent then in France. His later descendant, however - Louis Marie de Lagardiére, who was in fact a descendant of the original Marquis’ brother – was a fervent Catholic, even more so as he was escaping a regime that persecuted with equal viciousness royals, aristocrats, and the Catholic Church (clergy and believers). His religious affiliation had become thus something assumed both personally, culturally, socially and, why not, politically – and thus a defining trait for him and for his family (who were, therefore, proudly French, aristocrats, and Catholics). However, they had landed in a place where the division between the “French” and the “Spanish” groups also represented the dividing line between Protestants (namely the French, who were Calvinists) and Catholics (the Spaniards). So, although the Marquis, as a French aristocrat, was a boon for the local French population, he did not share their religion, but practiced the religion of the other faction, of the Spaniards.

But this potential source of tension or conflict became, surprisingly, a way of bridging the gap between the two distinct (and long-separated) communities; suffice it to say that the first time that the Marquis, his wife, their two daughters and their baby boy made their appearance in the (mostly Spaniard-frequented) Catholic church, it caused quite an upheaval – but also a kind of a pleasant surprise and relief for the Spanish. (By the way, I know that we are not saying much about the other local populations – the Spanish-speaking peasants, or Mexicans, as they would soon call themselves; or those of Native American origin; or the not-so-many English-speaking inhabitants; I know, but the reason for that is that the socially, culturally and economically dominant - and relevant for the town's identity - communities were the two I mentioned.) During the six months preceding their appearance in church, the Marquis and his family have been having the local priest say mass at their home; after a while, however, they decided that this could not go on any longer – the wife and the girls insisting that they missed going to church on Sundays, and being able to attend daily mass. But, for all the courageousness of the Marquis' initial gesture, how do we get from simply attending mass, to “building bridges between the communities"?

Well, one must remember that in France at this time French history (and French identity) was being re-written and re-thought, with the intention of brushing over (or even erasing) the feudal and Catholic dimensions of that tradition. In response, those opposing these developments accentuated and emphasized exactly those elements of French history that reinforced these aspects; and among these was, of course, the figure of Charlemagne, the great French Catholic emperor – and of Clovis, the first Catholic king of the Franks. Meanwhile, as Spain’s influence was dwindling in North America (and also in Central and South America), and as the new independent state of Mexico was being formed (and will in fact soon form), the local “Spaniards” (i.e. those descended from, and affiliated culturally with, continental Spain) felt somewhat under siege and insecure about their future. This is then the context in which Marquis Louis Marie de Lagardiére‘s aristocratic and Catholic identity came as a boon – for both communities. Thus, although some of the Spanish protested, the Marquis was nevertheless invited, soon after his church visit, to the “Cervantes” parlor, to give a speech on “The State of Politics and of the Faith on the European Continent.” After the speech, although he did not alleviate everyone’s suspicions, a noticeable change of heart and of mood took place among the Spaniards, who now realized that they might have some new allies not only in the Marquis’ family, but also among the local “French” population - at least in what regards their shared aristocratic and ancien régime identity.

Soon thereafter, at the Marquis’ initiative and under his leadership a new parlor was established, named “Clovis”, which was open to both communities (!), being designed to appeal both to the French (Clovis being one of the major figures of French history, and representing a period long before the Reformation) and to the Spaniards (Clovis as a Catholic, ancien régime monarch). Furthermore, the Marquis arranged for some of the meetings to take place in the refectory of the Catholic church, alternating with meetings and soirées held in the shade of the trees of the now-expanding orchard situated on the Marquis' property. Although not all “Spaniards” joined or attended the new club, it was regularly and most pleasurably attended both by the French and by the Spanish, and thus it enjoyed a great success. Overall, the Marquis soon became a most beloved figure both for the French (for whom he represented France, aristocracy, the ancien régime, and their very founder) and for most of the Spaniards (for the reasons explained above, and also because he reminded them of their own ardently Catholic founder, Barón de Salazar).

In 1828 the Marquis died, aged 65, leaving behind six children (three born in North America), a second wife (a Spanish Catholic woman! - the first wife, whom he had loved very much, dying eight years after their arrival, after a brief but severe illness), and a general population – “French” and “Spanish”  - for whom he had become a guiding light and a pillar of the community. As mentioned, at this point the place still bore several names - mostly referred to as Coriolá-Cardoso by outsiders and neutrals – but now the grieving town decided to settle the matter, once and for all, renaming it in honor of their beloved deceased Marquis. However, since they could not name it (again) Lagardiére, and given that “Clovis” had become the “meeting ground” for both groups, and a source of renewal for their (shared) aristocratic and European identity - and also honoring in this manner the decisive impact that the Marquis had on the life of the town - they decided to rename the place “Clovis” (thus affirming, once and for all, that this town’s identity was European, aristocratic, and – broadly speaking – Christian).

Of course, many things happened in the two centuries that followed after the town received its new name of “Clovis”. Among the more noteworthy events that one could perhaps mention was the arrival of a small group of French aristocrats (of a different kind, most of them being liberals and Freemasons) during the 1830s-1840s, who were also the last “immigrants” from either France or Spain. After that, other groups also settled, but in smaller numbers – mostly Mexicans and Anglos, but also some Irishmen and Germans. Of course, as time passed, fewer and fewer people spoke French or continental Spanish – so that by 1920 there were only English-language schools in town (while the Mexican children learned their language at home or at church).

But what is the situation today? Well, even today certain things remain – one still has the Cervantes Club (for a short while called the Don Quixote Club, but that did not really catch); although the Clovis parlor stopped meeting soon after the death of the Marquis, the Clovis “spirit”, and the name of the town, obviously survived; there is a small garden dedicated to the Lagardiére family, where there are always fresh flowers; and, importantly, other clubs and associations have formed, disbanded, and re-formed, over time, all with the goal of maintaining and cultivating this European, aristocratic, and (now very broadly) Christian identity (for example, one such association was, I kid you not, the “Medieval Knights of Clovis”). One can notice, therefore, in various places in Clovis, buildings constructed or adapted so as to reflect this identity, and where clubs meet or events are held in keeping with these traditions (such as the short-lived Renaissance Festival) – even if, as said, nobody speaks French anymore, and those who speak Spanish are in fact the local Mexican-Americans.

However, these remain the defining traits of the place – and that is quite something, given the fact that Clovis, NM is located in the heart of the rural, agricultural region of the dusty staked plains (“llano estacado”) of the Southwestern United States (not far from the border with Texas).

The seat of the Cervantes Club today; also a medieval-themed restaurant.

This granary was used for the Renaissance (later Medieval) Festival
(as a venue & for "capture the castle" competitions) 
           
This water tank is owned by the Lagardiére Water Co.
(the name is painted on the opposite side, facing the railways)

This was built (adapted) for a short-lived (re)incarnation of the "Clovis parlor";
now it serves as the meeting place for a French-affiliated Freemason club


***

This, then, is the alternate history of Clovis, New Mexico.


Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Fred & Ludovika: Scenes From the Life Of

"I will buy two cockatoos,
I will call them
Nifty and Thrifty,"
- said Fred.