Wednesday, April 28, 2010


Now that I am beginning to return to civilized (i.e. Pacific daylight) sleep patterns, I can report that I too was held captive by the fulminations of Eyjafjallajokull. A month late, I experienced Ash Wednesday and also Ash Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. The highlight of my European adventure was a 30-hour bus ride from Sofia to Frankfurt, courtesy of Lufthansa. I had the pleasure of sampling cheese sandwiches from across southeastern and central Europe. (Hungary wins.) My favorite comment on the situation comes from the gifted chess scribe Mig, who writes of “Iceland's last wish to have its ashes scattered over Europe...”


Shag from Brookline said...

I'm still working on a poem that tie "volcanic ash" and "Euro trash." Balderdash, you say?

Martin Langeland said...

I thought it was an alphabetic misunderstanding. As the Icelandic do not have a letter 'c', when Europe demanded they send cash, they sent ash.
(Shamelessly stolen from somewhere.)

Max jr said...

You were in Sofia. You read Mig, and yet you didn't visit the World Chess Championship Match!
Tch! Tch!

Peter Dorman said...

Yeah, I thought about hiding out in Sofia until the match was scheduled to start. It was too long a wait though, and I had a job to get back to. But beyond this, I don't know if there's any reason to be at a chess match in person (unless you're one of the players). I see the moves as they're transmitted over the net, and a chess move is the same whether it takes place 10 feet away or 10,000 miles away. "It's all in the head, you know."

gih said...

Well that's great, man.