Historical Maps and What They Teach Us

Because I don't enjoy shopping, I rarely buy souvenirs on my trips abroad. Yet two years ago, while browsing the stacks of a used bookstore in St. Andrews, Scotland, I happened across a small volume with a faded red cover that I couldn't bear to leave behind. Plus, £4.50 hardly seemed extravagant given that I'd paid £3.80 for a pint of beer and a mug of black coffee the night before.

Published in 1928 by Methuen & Co. Ltd. of London, The Fjords and Folk of Norway is a unique combination of travel guide, social history, and encyclopedia. It was peppered with 43 images photographed and captioned by the author Samuel J. Beckett, and to my delight, included a two-color, fold-out map of a country the preface confidently described as "a land in every way ideal for holiday travel." Given the theme for this year's Geography Awareness Week, I thought it deserved a mention here.

As readers of this blog already know, I can get a bit nerdy when it comes to maps. Even so, I'd argue that The Edinburgh Geographical Institute's precise cartography is interesting for a couple of different reasons. First of all, the scale shows distances in British Statue Miles, Kilometres, and Norwegian Miles—a unit of measure I wasn't familiar with. Secondly, the large scale inset of the great fjord region offers an informative lesson in how physical geography and population density determine transportation infrastructure. By studying the railway, road, and steamboat routes, it's possible to accurately infer that the landscape is rugged and sparsely peopled. In fact, about two-thirds of Norway is mountainous and in 1925, the population was only 2,772,414. Today this Scandinavian nation has about 4.6 million citizens, many of whom still rely on boats as a swift means of North-South travel.

Finally, I found it somewhat curious that the mapmakers also included an inset of historic Bergen, gateway to the fjord region. Lacking enough detail to be useful for visitors, it's informative nonetheless, with elevations for a few of the surrounding mountains and an attempt to indicate the growth of the city beyond its commercial center.

In Praise of Global Knowledge

Have you hugged a map lately? If not, consider doing something to show your appreciation for maps and atlases between the 15th and the 21st of November. Why, you ask? Because the third week of the month is Geography Awareness Week, an annual event observed by a growing number of students, teachers, parents, and professionals. GAW was created in 1987 to inspire kids to learn more about the distribution of and spatial relationships between people, places, and environments on Earth, but anyone can take part in this celebration of geography—it's not exclusionary.

If this all comes as news to you and you haven't the slightest clue about where to begin, stop wringing your hands and head on over to National Geographic's My Wonderful World Blog. They've already posted a "quasi-definitive list" of fun ideas for gamers, cooks, armchair travelers, and yes, bloggers too. Problem solved.

I'll undoubtedly be writing about maps myself, but I'm also planning to introduce Captain Cartography (pictured) to a few educators here in Brooklyn. With some luck, my comic book will be available in time for Geography Awareness Week 2010.

Art by Dezi Sienty

Painting Venice in China

With Halloween preparations, an especially persistent head cold, and another large editorial project to occupy my time, I haven't had the chance to write much lately. Paychecks, however, occasionally take precedence over more creative pursuits. At least subway rides to and from Manhattan give me the chance to do a little reading for pleasure.

Earlier this week I finished a fascinating article by one of my favorite travel writers: Peter Hessler. Since reading River Town, his sensitive account of life in the small Chinese city of Fuling, I have avidly followed his reporting for National Geographic and The New Yorker. His most recent dispatch, entitled "Chinese Barbizon," appeared in the October 26th issue of the magazine and addressed globalization from the point of view of several resourceful, opportunistic laborers in Zhejiang Province. One ambitious young woman and her boyfriend earn about $1,000 a month as commissioned painters—not a bad wage in a rural area where artists live rent free for the first year.

The piece is full of pithy observations and sharp insight, but unfortunately, the online version is only available to subscribers. A brief audio slide show related to the story and narrated by Hessler delves into the business of selling cheap oil paintings to foreign buyers.

When in Bamberg

In describing Franconia, Michael Jackson wrote in his Pocket Guide to Beer that "this more quietly quirky beer region is a pleasure almost hidden among the beechwood forest ridges that form its boundaries." As it happened, my first taste of what may be the quintessentially quirky German brew from this part of the country also occurred at a somewhat hidden location, namely a small wurst and bierhaus called Lederhosen in Manhattan's West Village.

As I'd already sampled most of the draft selection on prior visits, I decided to order from their more extensive list of bottled beers this time. Feeling adventurous, I chose the Original Schlenkerla Smokebeer. For six generations the Trum family of Bamberg has smoked barley malt over beechwood fires and recommend drinking their specialty "slowly with relish, but steadily and purposefully." In my opinion, you simply won't come across better advice for how to enjoy this full-bodied, dry märzen. It pours with a thick, tan head and immediately hits you with aromas of roasted malt and peppery woodsmoke. To be honest, it reminded me of a smoked Gouda... in a good way of course. As for the taste, the smokiness again dominated, but dark chocolate and a very slight sweetness can be detected as well. The finish is long and satisfying.

In short, there isn't another rauchbier I've had with as much character and complexity of flavor—it's unlike anything I've tried before. I savored every mouthful and seriously considered ordering a second bottle before settling on a Köstritzer black lager instead. Plus, now that I've sampled a Schlenkerla, I can say without hesitation that it practically demands a grilled, sauerkraut-topped kielbasa, or better yet, a visit to Upper Franconia.

Good Enough For Grandad

It isn't easy to admit, but after some careful research I've come to the conclusion that I'm getting old. This only bothers me in so much as it may require changes to my lifestyle. Not many, I hope. I don't plan to stop going to see live music anytime soon, but the ability to drink craft beer twenty feet from the stage in a small venue seems better and better when the alternative is often overpriced domestic lager at a huge club where good views involve a degree of jockeying and jostling that I don't care to be bothered with anymore.

In other words, I'm glad their current tour brought the Squirrel Nut Zippers to the Ram's Head in Annapolis on Monday evening. Announcing early on that they would be doing some "Southern Gothic Ventriloquism," the octet kicked into high gear almost immediately and rarely paused for more than a few moments during their ninety minute set. With the exception of a cover of Stephen Foster's "Hard Times Come Again No More," they stuck to originals, the bulk of which appear on Hot and Perennial Favorites, their second and third full-length albums.

Billing this cross-country trek as "The Antidote for the Latest, Greatest Depression," the band cheered the audience with a riotous blend of blues, jazz, boogaloo, calypso, and ragtime. Singers Jimbo Mathus and Katharine Whalen harmonized well and Chris Phillips played his trap kit with flare, but for my money, the horn section stole the show, especially on whimsical numbers like "Prince Nez" or "Suits Are Picking Up the Bill." Some people in attendance, in spite of the average age at the Ram's Head that night, found it difficult to sit still; by the end of the concert they were literally dancing in the aisles. After a show like that, I've changed my mind. Growing old could be fun after all.
Photo by Joshua Weinfeld

Charmed, I'm Sure

Of course it's only coincidence, but as a Maryland native preparing to visit my family at the end of the week, I took particular interest in the most recent "36 Hours" feature from The New York Times. Assuring skeptical readers that the majority of misfits in Baltimore are wacky artists, not drug dealers, the Gray Lady then recommended forays to neighborhoods like Hamden and Fell's Point.

I'm of a like mind when it comes to the charms of my home state's largest city—there's a lot to see beyond the Inner Harbor. But while I agreed with some of their suggestions (the house beers at The Brewer's Art for instance), I would steer first-time visitors to a few spots the newspaper of record didn't mention.

First off, if you're going to spend any time in Hamden, do yourself a favor and fuel up at Cafe Hon before setting off to explore the rest of 36th Street. The prices are reasonable, the dishes are filling and the decor is only tacky if you've got something against pink flamingos and leopard print. After that, if art appreciation was part of your plan for the day, consider The Walters Art Museum in addition to, or even instead of the BMA. The exhibitions are quirkier and span a greater period of time, and like the more popular collection uptown, admission is free. Finally, Fell's Point. Much has changed since I started coming here in college, but fortunately The Sound Garden has stuck around. Look no further for the best new and used music, video games, and movies, along with the chance to catch an in-store performance by a touring band.

I've never stayed in a local hotel, but if necessary, I'd turn to the listings in the new Moon Baltimore. Their advice is usually trustworthy and often brutally frank plus, in the case of this handbook, it's dispensed by a local writer.