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Remember that post we did on that stupid Nike ad?

Huge traffic whores that we are, we immediately sent it to Queerty and Towleroad, and they picked it up. And then JoeMyGod and Gawker did pieces, too!  And a bunch of other sites we never heard about. And then -- zomg! -- Radar called to interview us!

But guess what. A lot of the gays were upset that we criticized Nike.

They said we didn't understand sports. (Ha! We wish that were true.) Or were too sensitive. Or too politically correct.

And a lot of other mean stuff that hurt our feelings. Lolz.

So we fought back and called them stupid, idiotic, self-loathing, feeble-minded losers. This was a lot of hard work!

But omg srsly, traffic was great! It was almost as good as that time we said Arthur C. Clarke was a huge queen.

But now we're exhausted. Traffic whoring is tougher than it sounds!

To recuperate, we're heading to the garden. The lilies are in bloom and the scent is intoxicating.

For a second we forget how much we hate everyone, and how much they hate us.

Last summer I spent two months in Russia. I went as a missionary, but stated it was for school. Techniquly I was there for schooling; the group I went with was all part of a Disciplship Training School with the University of the Nations (YWAM). Course we would never tell the costums people that we were there to evangelise, they would kick us out.
First thing after we got through costums was pack into a 8 passenger vehicle (there being eleven of us and our gear it was very spaceous) and head for the train station. As the lowest class on the train we slept on cots, barely wide enough to fit me, which were folded down during the day. Very uncomfortable and extremely hot. Twenty fours hours later we arrived in Perm, cramed into another vehicle way to small and headed to the YWAM base there. Two days later we found ourselfves in a small village, Nyrob, and a work camp ... for two weeks. This is were the pictures pick it up.

[caption id="attachment_70" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="At the river one mile from camp"][/caption]

 We spent the majority of our time with locals. Playing with the children, fishing with some of the guys, going to festivals, and banja of course.

 Every year in the area they had a cultural festival. Dancers, crafts men, painters, singers, and many more come from miles around and join together to celebrate their heritge. Since this is such a big event there is a small rehersal festival where the dancers and comedians can practice.

[caption id="attachment_81" align="alignleft" width="128" caption="traditional dance"][/caption]

We were blessed with being able to be at this, in fact they used our group as their guppys for games, dances, jokes, and competictions.

On several occasions our new russian friends took us to historic monuments and old churches.

[caption id="attachment_85" align="alignright" width="128" caption="path to the church"][/caption]

One time we walked three miles from camp to see a church that was built two hundred years ago.

[caption id="attachment_71" align="alignleft" width="199" caption="the church ruins"] [/caption]

 

After centuries of being taken care of the church was abandoned over fifty years ago and left to fall apart.

It is said that durring war a group of soldiers seized the church and used it as camp for severl months. Durring that time the church was attacked and burned. Luckly when the soldiers abandoned their post the church was still standing.

There is much more that went on ... to be continued ...

Poveglia, an island located south of Venice's historical center, and not far from the area known as Boche di porto di Malamocco. It was originally a self-governing island hundreds of years ago. That is, before it was taken over by Italy when the Black (Bubonic) Plague was sweeping over the country side, and the island became the dumping grounds for the dead -- and the not so dead but definitely doomed. Even alive, the plague striken people were tossed into "plague pits" with their fellow dead comrades and either buried, burned, or just left to lie there and rot. And, as the plague worsened, panic swelled, and those showing even the slightest symptom were dragged kicking and screaming from their homes. These living victims, including children and babies, were tossed just the same into the pits to be burned, buried, or left dying in agony and the smell of rotten flesh. The island was used as thus during the three times that the Black Death spread through Europe -- beginning with the Romans -- and was an efficient way of keeping the infected people separated from the healthy. It is believed that over 160,000 people died on the island throughout its pit-filling history.

The island was once home to a small community...until it was abandoned around 1380, during the War of Chioggia. Reports of voices, footsteps, eerie sounds, and an overall sense of evil permeating the island is rumored to be the cause, and locals of the area today still will not journey to the island at night. Most will not even talk about the island, its history, or its 'inhabitants', not even for the sake of capitalizing on tourism.

The soil on the island, combines with the charred remains of the bodies, formed a layer of sticky ash on the land. The top layer of the ash has dried to form a fine dust that blankets the island in the breeze and catches in the lungs. Part of the island's core consists of a layer of human remains, a reason for which fisherman avoid the area, as chances of catching a body part of two is likely.

In 1922, a psychiatric hospital was built on the island. Many of the patients claimed to see the tormented spirits of the plagued and plague victims; a perfect justification for the administering physician to conduct torturous experiments on the patients in order to discover the cause of their insanity. Patients described, in horrid detail, seeing the ghosts of rotting corpses from the plague, of hearing whispers echoing off the walls, and being deemed demented, their reports fell on deaf ears and in the hands of an even more demeted doctor -- a little too zealously ambitious...oh, and eventually driven completely mad by the ghosts himself. Or so it is believed.

The doctor's methods of experimentation were crude, to say the least, having performed lobotomies using a basic hand drill or, more often than not, a simple hammer and chisel. The observation tower became the place where they were subjected to the most hideous of tortures.

After years of performing his experiments, the doctor himself began seeing ghosts and, it is said, took flying leap to his death from the bell tower. Miraculously, or one really fucking funny joke of a ghost, the doctor did not die -- not immediatly, that is. According to one nurse, as the doctor lay writhing in agony, a fine mist swirled up around him, entered his body, and choked him to death. It is whispered from tight lips in dark corners by locals that the doctor is bricked up in the bell tower, and on a still night the bell can be heard tolling across the bay.

Recently, a family sought permission to tour the island, in the hopes of buying for a cheap sum in the pursuit of building a vacation home. Reports state that the family left the island before the night was over. The family has refused to comment, but it was a little harder to hide their daughter's face -- which required 20 stitches after "something" ripped it open.

Thrill seekers have eluded the light police patrol (the island is currently closed to the public) that guards the bay and subsequent island at night. Though all have sworn never to return. Reports of "moans and screams that reverberate around the island are unbearable" and that "there is a feeling of the most intense evil."

This makes Poveglia the perfect candidate for a museum of ecology, history, nature, and culture of the lagoon; a sort of laboratory which will involve the visitors in a cultural journey to the discovery of the Venetian lagoon. Nope, not even Gilding is sick enough to employ this one (but do note she said employ. That's not to say she wouldn't have hilariously and with a maliciously fervored glee thought about it).

In a current project, restoration and restructuring of the island's existing buildings, avoiding the introduction of new construction, and with planning directives that put above all the importance of the environment and employing building strategies peculiar to Veneto culture, and more specifically, particular to Venice.

Plans for the island's current architecture include a "Welcome Center" housed in the southern part of the island, the main building, and situated opposite the canal, separating it from the "octagon", a prominent structure, once used as a fortress, on the island. The "Guest Quarters", a.k.a. 'Foresteria', will be made of the building directly behind the Welcome Center, and wil be used for the comfort of visitors between scheduled events -- because nothing says comfort while waiting for your conference, concert, or movie screening inside the place that Satan's tortured minions play. A restaurant, located on the south west side of the island next to the welcome buildings, will offer Venetian cuisine -- all produce used in the dishes will come from the organic vegetable farm located in the northern part of the island. And don't mind the dripping strips of ghoul flesh slopped on your plate -- simply hand it back to your attending tortured soul...er...waiter and you may escape your dinner with your face still intact.

Oh, and for the eco-concious, plans have been envisaged for a computerized system to control the managament of public lighting, therefore, avoiding "light pollution." Just one tiny step in conservation in the sphere of all the charred body ashes that the island is contributing to the atmosphere.

Link: Shadowlands | Phunk U-- "Poveglia Island of Horror" | Poveglia | Wikipedia--Pveglia
Related: Poveglia: A 1st-Hand Account

Bricks, it seems, are the literal building blocks of civilization, whereas moss is the incremental destroyer. To see them together -- and to appreciate the beauty of this -- is to understand that you cannot have one without the other, just the way you cannot have spring without winter, love without pain, or Lauren without Heidi. Many are the hours where we have sat trying to figure out whether we are made of moss or brick, and only now and again does it really seem as if both are there equally -- so that we are in equilibrium -- and for just a second we are filled with a fleeting sense of truth and revelation that is replaced by longing and melancholy as soon as it is gone.

-Jason

[vodpod id=ExternalVideo.633514&w=425&h=350&fv=]

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away

Pillars at Herodion, 5 km south-east of Bethlehem (15 km from Jerusalem) one of Herod the Great's (37 - 4 BCE) most ambitious building projects. It served as his summer palace, fortress, monument, district capital and (possibly) his burial place. During the Jewish revolt against Rome in 66 CE, Jewish rebels captured it for 4 years. In 132 CE, it was captured again by Jewish rebels in the Bar Kochba revolts. It was deserted from the 7th century CE until recent decades.

Wander XII, In Progress

Bom, não vou ficar aqui falando dos sites ruins, mas vou falar dos sites bons, que se caracterizam pelos bons serviços prestados. Esses sim eu recomendo! Não se engane com os outros leitor, os melhores para acompanhar são os já bem conhecidos PCI Concursos e Correioweb e, as boas novidades da área e meus favoritos, Concursos 2008 e Edital Concursos. Há outros, certamente, mas por enquanto esses já estão excelentes para acompanhar concursos.

I stand in a field of broken cubes. They are about 5 times bigger than me and made of stone. It is a very sad sight. It is the ruins of my soul. They are meant to be stacked in a great arch up into the sky. They are not. They lie as rubble on the ground. I do not know how to put them back together.

On a sunny day, Provence is paradise. Yet, nearly every good walk in the region includes the discovery of an ancient building, long since abandoned by those who struggled to survive here but had to move on.

At the rest area on the route to Mont Ventoux, a short walk from the picnic tables leads to the crumbling remains of a shepherd’s home perched on a steep rocky hill. The walls, which someone worked so hard to build in this rocky landscape, have nearly all fallen but the southen wall is still standing, allowing explorers to look out the same window and imagine the difficulty of life in a simpler time.

Driving west on the scenic route from Sault to Cavaillon, the sheer cliffs and stunning depths of the Gorges de la Nesque to your left command all of your attention. After you pass through the third tunnel, however, keep your eyes open for a high stone wall on the right and be ready to pull over. The skinny path through briars and thorns leads to a house so overgrown, it’s turned into a secret garden. A number of small trails lead up the steep hill to a series of cliff dwellings protected from strong winter winds by thick stone walls framing panoramic views of the gorge and its lush forest of pine and chestnut.

As published at Planet Eye

From the bbc.co.uk article:
The ancient city of Pompeii has fallen into such disrepair that the Italian government has declared a "state of emergency" in a bid to save the ruins.

Ministers intend to appoint a special commissioner to oversee the site, and have earmarked extra funding for it.

According to analysts, the ruins have suffered from lack of investment, mismanagement, litter and looting.

Pompeii was buried by a volcanic eruption in AD79 and was not rediscovered until the 18th Century.

The volcanic debris preserved many of the city's buildings, frescos, silverware, mosaics and other artefacts.

But experts complain that the relics are now in danger.

"Every year at least 150 sq m (1,600 sq ft) of fresco and plasterwork are lost for lack of maintenance," Antonio Irlando, a regional councillor responsible for artistic heritage, told the Corriere della Sera newspaper.

"The same goes for stones: at least 3,000 pieces every year end up disintegrating," he said.

Read the article here.
There is also a short video describing the situation.

This bizarre military/scientific research, and eerily futuristic doomsday-weapon-of-mass-destruction looking, creation is located close to the city of Istra (50 miles from Moscow), and is the only open-air kind in the world.

Amazingly, it's still in use. The experiments done here are based on the work of Nikola Tesla, who continued his research with generators and multi-million volt transmitters until his death in 1943.

Link: Dark Roasted

Our road was narrow and unpaved. A landscape of spring time fields full of fresh green shoots, village women in their bright chunris, wrinkly old men herding goats, buffaloes and children bathing at the same water hole, blue sky above, and georgette like veil of clouds. Dotting this landscape were ruins of old forts and chattaris, cenotaphs and occasionally, ads for mobile phones.

I may have mentioned before, Bhangarh was nowhere to be found on our map of Rajasthan. We asked villagers we met on the road. Often we got conflicting directions. We didn't know when we would reach Bhangarh - it could be in an hour or it could be the next day. We shared the road with goat herds, camel carts and tractors. I doubt we made more than 20 kms every hour.

At times a close encounter with the camel kind would nudge us off the road. I have seen camel races on TV so I know they can run. But if you see a camel up close, it is hard to imagine these long legged bored and lugubrious looking animal running. On a narrow road, when their drooling mouths and big teeth approach close to your face, it can get a bit creepy.

We actually reached Bhangarh by midday. Established in mid 1600s and abandoned in early 1700s, Bhangarh is now a ghost town. Guidebooks will have you believe that it is considered a haunted place by the local folks. Although not old, it is supposedly a charming ruin - a fort, some temples and what once was a village with 10,000 people. A fairytale legend surrounding Bhangarh's abandonment has the usual masala - tantrik lusts after the beautiful queen, queen resists, tantrik curses city. I have only read cut and paste versions of this same story on the web, so who knows what the real reason is. Likely some battle or other that Bhangarh lost.

On entering the premises, the very first thing you notice are the ruins of the village. This area is quite remarkable, cobbled streets, planned layout - it looks in parts like Machu-Picchu. After exploring these, we wandered around the temples. Two were more prominent - they stood a little secluded from the village, each one on a small hillock. A goat herder resting on the steps of one of the temples told us that while no one stayed in the premises after sun down, the temples were in fact still in use. The temples are indeed partially restored, although in a haphazard fashion. From anywhere in the village, one could see the fort and the lookout high up on the hill. I am sure that the fort would have provided a good vantage point for Bhangarh, but it was too lazy a day to walk all the way up.

We did some people watching instead. A water reservoir was close to the base of the fort. Surrounding the reservoir was a well maintained lawn. I suspect ASI is responsible for maintenance. There were several groups of villagers here. Some enjoying picnic lunches. Some bathing. Kids were running around or diving. We overheard one woman cursing loudly on her mobile. Several dozen monkeys had gathered close - where there are people, there are monkeys!

While there were no other city tourists like us, it was clearly a weekend tourist spot for the villagers. It was indeed charming - just what the guidebook had promised. Although, to be perfectly honest, I had hoped for greater isolation. Was I thinking that the superstitions associated with the ruins would keep the crowds away? In any case, it was time for us to find our way to our next destination - Abhaneri, site of an 8th century stepwell.

Travel Note: Bhangarh is somewhere between city of Alwar and Jaipur. We had a large map of Rajasthan and Bhangarh was not marked. But, it is fairly easy enough to find directions from other travelers on the road. Keep plenty of food and water. We didn't find any lunch place en route. We had packed lunch thanks to Sariska circuit house cook otherwise we would have had to live on tea.