It's funny, though I didn't grow up in one, I do love cities. It's sort of like how I got into studying geology. It wasn't necessarily the science aspect that interested me, so much as the story behind how the Earth grows and changes. I love looking as something (or someone for that matter) and coming to understand how it came to reach its current state. The streets and buildings of a city tell as much of its history as the wrinkles and scars on a person. I'll give examples.
Philadelphia
A few pockets of small Colonial era buildings remain near the historic center. The center of town was laid out in a grid, though later changes make some interesting intersections. A massive civic pride type city hall has the founder perched on top. Old brick rowhomes with high ceilings are widely evident in the center, though many have been converted to apartments. Large trees line small streets. There are few historic squares for respite from the heat (though modern one keep popping up). A large boulevard runs at a diagonal to the city plan, from the art museum to City Hall, lined with museums. Behind the Art Museum is the large city park. Few highrises in the center. As you go out from the center, you find homes, still of brick, but squatter (designed for AC) and many sport steel awnings over their porches. Factories and warehouses (some now converted into apartments) lie along the rivers running on three sides of Center City.
Prague
Castles and religious buildings perch on the highest hills (the older castle is brick, the younger, mostly stone). For a city that has been around for a thousand years or so, not much remains of its early life. The only Medieval homes that remain are museums in Prague Castle (the younger one). The city's walls have disappeared, but some of the gates remain as towers around the historic center. The cobblestone streets twist and turn throughout, with many passages (walkways) through blocks of buildings for shortcuts. Homes and gardens of the elite on the hill below the castle are preserved as shops and government buildings (including embassies). The ground level in the center of town was raised to protect against flooding, half burying the ground floor of many buildings, and creating many basement style pubs as well as a network of tunnels for resistance fighters. As you get away from the historic center (which is not even the same as during the time of Kafka's childhood) you begin to see more touches of the Soviet style of building, very blocky and functional, though much of it is crumbling now. Even further and you see the panelaks, tall squared off apartment buildings of the modern Czech Republic, with bold colors on the exteriors and parking at their feet.
Rio
Traditional Colonial Spanish (Portuguese?) architecture is preserved mostly in historic/government buildings and fringe areas. Strongly divided into neighborhoods that thread among the hills and along the coast. Of course, Jesus looks down on them all. Good neighborhoods tend to have a modern feel, often built with concrete (many building materials break down quickly in that environment). Shopping streets and malls have been built in the city center near modern office complexes. The most striking feature (apart from the beaches, I mean, come on) is the proximity of the favellas (permanent shanty towns) to the rich neighborhoods. These neighborhoods spread up the hillside in bare red brick and tin roof sprawl. Windows are often empty of glass and birds-nests of wires pass pirated electricity. The drug cartels are said to run the favellas, though the police have been trying to pacify them for the World Cup and upcoming Olympics. Dotting the city are playing fields (hard surfaces) for futibol (soccer), or at least primarily used to that end.
Brasilia
A city designed and built to be the capitol of Brasil, it's a rather unusual place. It was envisioned to be a modern city, traversed by car (without traffic lights, though they were later installed). You were intended to never be far from a view of the open sky (like in those depressing traditional cities), so it is very spread out. Consequently, walking around is a bit of a bear. Originally, the working class were supposed to live alongside government functionaries and the elite in the blocos (which all have small shopping streets a short walk away, making each area basically independent of the others). However, once the government got kicked out, the rich fled to the surrounding ares and the poor were driven beyond that. Nobody owned the property surrounding (it really was built in the middle of nowhere), so some of the neighborhoods built on the outskirts are still technically squatters, for which the city will not pave roads (nice big potholes) or provide public water/sewer. Satellite cities are row upon row of highrise apartments and shops, with access to the city via subway and highway (though as we discussed, driving can be a bit of a bitch). Since Brasilia was planned, the favellas here developed well outside of the city proper and the residents take long bus rides into the city to clean houses or work in restaurants and shops.
Obviously, cities grow and change. These changes leave their scars upon the streets and buildings. After London's great fire, there weren't many wooden buildings left in that part of town. In Philadelphia, you can see the outline of an old building that was torn down as scars and discoloration upon its neighbor. Slums and ghettos are bulldozed so the rising middle class can have a shorter walk to the office. Today, city centers in the US are being revitalized as many of the young desert the soulless suburbs (at least until they have children). Even within a building you can see signs of growth and decay; a doorway on the third floor leads to open air; a porch walled in to provide extra room in winter. Little touches like these are what give cities a sense of history. It's what lets you know that people actually live there.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Jobs - Dyer
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| http://www.pinterest.com/dianemanton/knights-astride-roosters/ |
I know, I know, I've spent lots of time on the trades connected to clothing, but they're so damn interesting. It was between this and a post about making inks or paint, but this seemed more useful for a writer of Fantasy (for some reason... in my head). So again, not the highest of the high. The dyer was a tradesmen. They were often organized into guilds to ensure the quality of their products and to pass on their secrets, which were jealously guarded. While not the most essential of occupations, the dyers bring a splash of color to life and helped to differentiate the nobles from the masses.
There are three basic ways to add color to an item, some more effective than others. Though usually unintentional, we have all stained a piece of clothing. This is simply rubbing or soaking an item without a chemical fixative, which temporarily imparts the intended color. The second is the use of an adhesive medium to affix the desired pigment to the material. The final, is the use of a true dye (like indigo), which deposits an insoluble form of the color from solution onto the material to be dyed. Yeah, it took folks a while to figure some of this stuff out.
Before dying, the fibers are often treated to improve their ability to absorb the dyes. Cellulose fibers (cotton or linen) were mordanted in washing sodas or tannins to create an alkaline bath. Protein fibers (wool, silk) were mordanted in alum and cream of tartar to create an acidic bath. Over the years an incredible variety of mordants have been used to achieve a variety of effects, including alum, copper and iron oxide. The efficacy of certain traditional mixtures may be questionable (much like traditional medicines), but it can be assumed that most of these folks weren't quite trained in scientific methodology.
The dyes themselves could be derived from almost anything. Plants, animals, insects, and even shellfish have been used to produce the colors we know and love. Peasants working out of their homes might use anything from their garden or surrounding countryside to give a splash of color to their garments. However, European dyers often used madder roots (red), woad leaves (blue), and weld seed capsules and leaves (yellow) for dyes, and in combination could produce any color they desired. However, there was a wide variety of other materials employed (see references).
Experimentation with colors and fixatives was common and most dyers would have their own methods and recipes involving a variety of ingredients, some more noxious than others. An English proclamation of 1587 restricted the size of woad fields and declared that their mills must be more than three miles from a royal residence, market town, or city, due to the highly offensive odor. Similarly, Venice (1413) prohibited woad or ox-blood dying after March 1, due to the unwholesome smell produced. As in the tanning trade, dyers were not shy about using urine and other less palatable materials to achieve their desired ends. Some experiments ended up killing the dyers and/or their clients, though arsenic produces a lovely green and coal tar can render a stunning mauve. Fashion is always a risky proposition.
Guilds were often very strong, limiting the dyes and processes available to the dyers dependent upon their rank within the guild. Legal strictures limiting dyers varied widely from country to country. In some places, it was illegal to own certain dying materials if you were not a member of the guild. Much like the merchants dealing in cloth, the dyers might have control over their entire branch of the industry, from farm to storefront. Precise methodologies and recipes were closely guarded secrets passed from master to apprentice. How some of the colors were achieved remains a mystery (though we can obviously figure out the chemical components).
The use of a dyer as a character in your world could take many forms. They might be the source of the maguffin (am I spelling that right?), sending your heroes on a quest to collect a specific material needed to produce a fantastic color (much like a wizard looking for a dangerous spell component). I seem to remember a dyer's apprentice in GRRM's big series, with blue hands (though he didn't live that long, but then you could say that about loads of his characters). The smells could add ambiance to your cities. The trade could be a significant aspect of local economy. The more you know about your world, the easier it is to find the stories to tell within it; after getting through all of this, I hope you add a little more color to yours.
 |
| http://www.elizabethancostume.net/cibas/ciba1.html |
World history (detailed) - http://kws.atlantia.sca.org/dyeing.html#
Modern dying using medieval European materials/recipes - http://www.medievaltextiles.org/news29.pdf
Brief (medieval) - http://www.medievalfreeco.org.uk/dyer.html
Deadly Fashion - http://io9.com/the-7-deadliest-fashion-trends-of-all-time-1595312875
Dye Sources - http://www.auxmaillesgodefroy.com/medieval_dyes
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Throwing Knives
As happens, this post was inspired by a conversation over the weekend. While I personally ascribe to the "Kung Fu Hustle" brand of knife throwing, others feel that Aragorn's "I'm sure this fighting knife is perfectly good to fling at people" brand of aerial attack. The shuriken was invented for a reason, folks. Tossing your blade at a ranged enemy might do the job, or you might end up simultaneously arming them while disarming yourself and odds are it won't kill them. Let's just say that it's probably a good idea to practice, which is one of the many reasons to enjoy the tales of Mister Brust's long suffering assassin. Proper technique and equipment are a must to effectively employ this combat technique.
Equipment
While any knife can technically be thrown, a central balance point will give your knife less wobble in the throw, decreasing wind resistance and making the flight path more predictable (therefor more accurate). The grip should be smooth, to prevent it from catching on the fingers during the throw (opposite of a fighting knife) which would imperil a clean release. Just like a dart, frisbee, or any other thrown item; knives need to be a certain weight to fly well, but beyond that can vary significantly, so it's important to practice with yours (as weight will impact your throw). When throwing a knife, the point does most of the work, so they can have one or two edges with no real difference (some Asian martial arts use darts, right?).
Technique
First thing first, (in a combat situation) you could hold the knife by the blade to throw it, but why would you? After you draw it from the sheath, you'd need to reverse your grip before the throw, wasting potentially important time. Plus even if they aren't razors, you can still cut yourself. An exception to this guideline would be for throwing a hilt heavy (unbalanced) knife.
There are a two basic methods of knife throwing which are successful: spin and no spin. These operate much like throwing a baseball, so arm angle can vary. You should always follow through on your throws. Obviously, if you're holding it by the blade, you want it to rotate (unless the idea is a nice concussion).
1) Spinning blades seem to be the most commonly practiced technique. This is the traditional western technique and it's what they do in the circus. Grips can vary, depending on preference. This method has good accuracy related to fixed or unmoving targets. With simple repetition, the practitioner can get a feel for the how hard to throw the knife, that with a certain number of revolutions, will strike a target point first. I guess that with enough practice you could estimate how hard and with what amount of spin you'd need to make a throw at any distance (depending on arm strength).
2) Throws that do not employ spin have the benefit of constantly flying point first. This technique is generally employed by Eastern martial arts schools. By using this technique, potentially any pointed weapon could be effectively used as a projectile (since you don't have to worry about controlling the number of rotations). The grip in this technique is different, using the index finger to stop the rotation of the blade during release. Fine control with that release is essential as any degree of error would cause rotation and essentially fuck up the whole flight path, either causing wobble or poor aim (a spinning blade is more likely to impact your target, since it has the whole length of the knife going on target, though it's less likely to hit with the point).
Since both techniques have no wrist action, there doesn't seem to be a difference in the amount of power available to the thrower. All techniques allow the thrower to take a few steps to increase the power behind the throw (which shouldn't impact the rotations). No spin seems to benefit from being able to use almost any blade to throw with at varying distances against a moving enemy. Controlling the spin of an unknown weapon (or eliminating the spin) is a matter of experience and is generally not recommended in a combat situation.
There we are, a quick overview of knife throwing. Hopefully that will give you all something to think about the next time you watch a movie (thinking "The Expendables"). For more info, check out the references below. If you have any thoughts or experience in the matter, please let me know. I'm always happy to learn and engage in lively debate.
http://www.knifethrowing.info/how_to_throw_knives.html
physics - http://www.knifethrowing.info/physics_of_knife_throwing.html
http://www.artofmanliness.com/2011/10/20/how-to-throw-a-knife-like-bill-the-butcher/
overview video, with no spin - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJnraaYnyFA&hd=1
no spin video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji1nBmcKuoo&hd=1
crazy Russians - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZaP0TRfEng&hd=1
Equipment
While any knife can technically be thrown, a central balance point will give your knife less wobble in the throw, decreasing wind resistance and making the flight path more predictable (therefor more accurate). The grip should be smooth, to prevent it from catching on the fingers during the throw (opposite of a fighting knife) which would imperil a clean release. Just like a dart, frisbee, or any other thrown item; knives need to be a certain weight to fly well, but beyond that can vary significantly, so it's important to practice with yours (as weight will impact your throw). When throwing a knife, the point does most of the work, so they can have one or two edges with no real difference (some Asian martial arts use darts, right?).
Technique
First thing first, (in a combat situation) you could hold the knife by the blade to throw it, but why would you? After you draw it from the sheath, you'd need to reverse your grip before the throw, wasting potentially important time. Plus even if they aren't razors, you can still cut yourself. An exception to this guideline would be for throwing a hilt heavy (unbalanced) knife.
There are a two basic methods of knife throwing which are successful: spin and no spin. These operate much like throwing a baseball, so arm angle can vary. You should always follow through on your throws. Obviously, if you're holding it by the blade, you want it to rotate (unless the idea is a nice concussion).
1) Spinning blades seem to be the most commonly practiced technique. This is the traditional western technique and it's what they do in the circus. Grips can vary, depending on preference. This method has good accuracy related to fixed or unmoving targets. With simple repetition, the practitioner can get a feel for the how hard to throw the knife, that with a certain number of revolutions, will strike a target point first. I guess that with enough practice you could estimate how hard and with what amount of spin you'd need to make a throw at any distance (depending on arm strength).
2) Throws that do not employ spin have the benefit of constantly flying point first. This technique is generally employed by Eastern martial arts schools. By using this technique, potentially any pointed weapon could be effectively used as a projectile (since you don't have to worry about controlling the number of rotations). The grip in this technique is different, using the index finger to stop the rotation of the blade during release. Fine control with that release is essential as any degree of error would cause rotation and essentially fuck up the whole flight path, either causing wobble or poor aim (a spinning blade is more likely to impact your target, since it has the whole length of the knife going on target, though it's less likely to hit with the point).
Since both techniques have no wrist action, there doesn't seem to be a difference in the amount of power available to the thrower. All techniques allow the thrower to take a few steps to increase the power behind the throw (which shouldn't impact the rotations). No spin seems to benefit from being able to use almost any blade to throw with at varying distances against a moving enemy. Controlling the spin of an unknown weapon (or eliminating the spin) is a matter of experience and is generally not recommended in a combat situation.
There we are, a quick overview of knife throwing. Hopefully that will give you all something to think about the next time you watch a movie (thinking "The Expendables"). For more info, check out the references below. If you have any thoughts or experience in the matter, please let me know. I'm always happy to learn and engage in lively debate.
http://www.knifethrowing.info/how_to_throw_knives.html
physics - http://www.knifethrowing.info/physics_of_knife_throwing.html
http://www.artofmanliness.com/2011/10/20/how-to-throw-a-knife-like-bill-the-butcher/
overview video, with no spin - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJnraaYnyFA&hd=1
no spin video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji1nBmcKuoo&hd=1
crazy Russians - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZaP0TRfEng&hd=1
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Community
Last weekend I traveled up to the Boston area to attend Readercon (July 2014, if this blog run for long enough to matter). For a longtime fan of genre fiction and a growing author like myself, these kinds of events are a great place to meet like-minded individuals and have those kinds of in depth genre-centric conversations that are really hard to find anywhere else. Why is it then, that even amidst this group that are the best representation of "my people" I can find, do I always feel like an outsider?
This feeling reminds me of an old student of mine who worked in Kladno (Czech Republic). He told me that about thirty-five years before, he and his wife had moved to this little village out in the countryside. They raised their children there, ate many of their meals at the local pub, and only really ventured out to climb some mountains or go on a canoe trip. Even after all of this time he felt that the local population regarded him as, "that guy from the city." At the time, it reminded me of that bit from Jaws, that goes something like, "If you weren't born here, you'll never be an islander." I always appreciate when life experience substantiates artistic assertion.
It would be disingenuous for me to say that my experience is the same. For most of my adult life I have been a wanderer, changing job, location, and lifestyle every few years. Even having revisited my hometown in New Jersey, my old community disappeared long ago as some left and the others grew together, no matter how sweet some of those people still are when we run into each other. I have been fortunate to find wonderful people at each stop along my road and leaving them always feels like a selfish decision, because it is. All of the moves have been dictated by me for what I felt I needed at the time to be true to myself and become the person I hope to be. Every time I move, I become, "that guy from..." It is to be expected.
Communities are built through shared experience. Over the years, growing up, suffering, laughing, drinking, arguing, and celebrating together makes a small community into a family. Even those people who are generally disliked in a community will be protected from an outsider simply as a result of long association. It is more than just the fear of the outsider or of change. It is the idea that when a part of your community is hurt or lost, a piece of you is likewise affected.
In Prague, I knew many people who did not like to make friends with the people who had just completed a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) program. At first it seemed like a cold and heartless way to be, but I soon came to appreciate it. There are hundreds of young people, every year, who take TEFL classes. Many stick around for a couple of months or a year before going home again or on to another country. When you are away from everything familiar, bonds form quickly with those who help you find your feet and the best spots to get a cheap beer (though, in Prague, they are legion). It's a beautiful thing for those who pass through, but for those who stay, the little wounds to your heart add up over time.
Conventions for fans of genre are largely communities of spirit, not of place (they happen all over the country/world). When I went to Philcon, I shared a room with a roomful (maybe 30) of Starblazers fans to listen to its history, as well as to meet the voice of Nova. We all basked in our shared experience for that hour together. At a different panel, I joined in a lively debate about Epic Fantasy. At Capclave, I had a lengthy discussion with a lovely fellow geek while GRRM was having a drink with his buddies 20 feet away. Elsewhere I learned a bit about the rules of Cosplay (at a panel, lets keep it clear). All of these experiences are related to topics that interest me and are difficult to find elsewhere (in person). Perhaps that is why the experience of feeling like an outsider at Cons can be surprising.
The more Cons I attend, the more I realize that they are populated by a community as well. It should have been obvious from the outset, I suppose. This past year, I've attended four (as well as a local writers' event or two) and many faces have started to become familiar. Some of those faces make their livings from the Cons, for others, the Cons are the one place where they can truly be themselves. Each Con seems to have its own character, some are more literate, some party harder, and some have the cool panelists; much like any community. However, there does seem to be a strong core who provide a consistency to these events.
For a while I wondered why these people didn't immediately come up to me and clasp me to their bosom, when I was so obviously one of them. Then I realized, like in any community, they will not do all the work. You have to spread your arms and return the embrace. This is a community who has been meeting for years to share their passions. Relationships have developed among the organizers and the attendees alike. They are more open than other communities, everyone is invited to come and join in, but you can not just sit back and wait to be discovered. When I come to think of it, there is a beauty in watching a hall full of introverts and outsiders, blossom into their true beings. I know that I miss my old gaming group and the conversations we'd have over post-game beer and grub at the local Chilis (give us a break, it was nearby).
How can this inform my writing? Well, community is a big part of what I write about. Genre fiction often deals with outsiders. As the self-inflicted perpetual outsider, I notice all of the little gestures that members of a community make to reach out to me (and others). These are the beautiful little moments of transition and change that are so simple for an established member, but mean so much to the outsider. Communities can be cruel and exclusionary, and that certainly shows up in my work, but I like to celebrate the generosity of spirit that is personified every time someone reaches out to the unknown (me). Maybe it is my way to show that all of those little pieces I have taken from my friends along the road have not been discarded or wasted, but treasured, and that a little piece of me is always left behind in its place.
This feeling reminds me of an old student of mine who worked in Kladno (Czech Republic). He told me that about thirty-five years before, he and his wife had moved to this little village out in the countryside. They raised their children there, ate many of their meals at the local pub, and only really ventured out to climb some mountains or go on a canoe trip. Even after all of this time he felt that the local population regarded him as, "that guy from the city." At the time, it reminded me of that bit from Jaws, that goes something like, "If you weren't born here, you'll never be an islander." I always appreciate when life experience substantiates artistic assertion.
It would be disingenuous for me to say that my experience is the same. For most of my adult life I have been a wanderer, changing job, location, and lifestyle every few years. Even having revisited my hometown in New Jersey, my old community disappeared long ago as some left and the others grew together, no matter how sweet some of those people still are when we run into each other. I have been fortunate to find wonderful people at each stop along my road and leaving them always feels like a selfish decision, because it is. All of the moves have been dictated by me for what I felt I needed at the time to be true to myself and become the person I hope to be. Every time I move, I become, "that guy from..." It is to be expected.
Communities are built through shared experience. Over the years, growing up, suffering, laughing, drinking, arguing, and celebrating together makes a small community into a family. Even those people who are generally disliked in a community will be protected from an outsider simply as a result of long association. It is more than just the fear of the outsider or of change. It is the idea that when a part of your community is hurt or lost, a piece of you is likewise affected.
In Prague, I knew many people who did not like to make friends with the people who had just completed a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) program. At first it seemed like a cold and heartless way to be, but I soon came to appreciate it. There are hundreds of young people, every year, who take TEFL classes. Many stick around for a couple of months or a year before going home again or on to another country. When you are away from everything familiar, bonds form quickly with those who help you find your feet and the best spots to get a cheap beer (though, in Prague, they are legion). It's a beautiful thing for those who pass through, but for those who stay, the little wounds to your heart add up over time.
Conventions for fans of genre are largely communities of spirit, not of place (they happen all over the country/world). When I went to Philcon, I shared a room with a roomful (maybe 30) of Starblazers fans to listen to its history, as well as to meet the voice of Nova. We all basked in our shared experience for that hour together. At a different panel, I joined in a lively debate about Epic Fantasy. At Capclave, I had a lengthy discussion with a lovely fellow geek while GRRM was having a drink with his buddies 20 feet away. Elsewhere I learned a bit about the rules of Cosplay (at a panel, lets keep it clear). All of these experiences are related to topics that interest me and are difficult to find elsewhere (in person). Perhaps that is why the experience of feeling like an outsider at Cons can be surprising.
The more Cons I attend, the more I realize that they are populated by a community as well. It should have been obvious from the outset, I suppose. This past year, I've attended four (as well as a local writers' event or two) and many faces have started to become familiar. Some of those faces make their livings from the Cons, for others, the Cons are the one place where they can truly be themselves. Each Con seems to have its own character, some are more literate, some party harder, and some have the cool panelists; much like any community. However, there does seem to be a strong core who provide a consistency to these events.
For a while I wondered why these people didn't immediately come up to me and clasp me to their bosom, when I was so obviously one of them. Then I realized, like in any community, they will not do all the work. You have to spread your arms and return the embrace. This is a community who has been meeting for years to share their passions. Relationships have developed among the organizers and the attendees alike. They are more open than other communities, everyone is invited to come and join in, but you can not just sit back and wait to be discovered. When I come to think of it, there is a beauty in watching a hall full of introverts and outsiders, blossom into their true beings. I know that I miss my old gaming group and the conversations we'd have over post-game beer and grub at the local Chilis (give us a break, it was nearby).
How can this inform my writing? Well, community is a big part of what I write about. Genre fiction often deals with outsiders. As the self-inflicted perpetual outsider, I notice all of the little gestures that members of a community make to reach out to me (and others). These are the beautiful little moments of transition and change that are so simple for an established member, but mean so much to the outsider. Communities can be cruel and exclusionary, and that certainly shows up in my work, but I like to celebrate the generosity of spirit that is personified every time someone reaches out to the unknown (me). Maybe it is my way to show that all of those little pieces I have taken from my friends along the road have not been discarded or wasted, but treasured, and that a little piece of me is always left behind in its place.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Games - Bowls/Bocce/Petanque
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| http://www.boccevictoria.com/index.php/2013-05-16-07-00-48/history |
Where I grew up, it was a game of choice for Italian men of a certain generation. There was a brief resurgence during that time that roughly coincided with the "lawn dart" phenomenon (which I think I've mentioned it before), but this variety of game only really reentered my consciousness when I moved to Prague and discovered the joys of petanque. Granted, some of that joy was related to the low price of high quality pivo available in the parks, but camaraderie and pleasure in play were important as well. The fact of the matter is that these are simple games with easy to fabricate equipment that can be learned in an afternoon and enjoyed over a lifetime.
Equipment/Field
Bocce balls (composed of various materials) tend to be larger and heavier than petanque balls (usually metal), which are hollow. Bowls (lignum vitae, a kind of extremely dense wood) were originally round (and metal) as well, but were later slightly flattened on two sides (to make it more interesting I guess) and massed about the size of a grapefruit.
The modern bocce court is a clearly defined space with a compacted clay playing surface and often has wooden boards, on end surrounding the court, to delineate the playing field 60'-95' in length. Conversely, petanque can be played on almost any solid surface (we sometimes played around kids' playground equipment to make things extra interesting), though it should be relatively level. Bowling greens are supposed to be just that, perfectly level manicured lawns about 90-150 feet long.
Game Play
Bocce, petanque, and bowls are all very similar games with subtle variations. In them, the idea is to get your balls closer to the small wooden one (the jack) than your opponents do. Each player (or team) has two underhand tosses per round. Throws alternate between sides. To start each round, they player who last scored goes first. Scoring is usually to a set number, which may vary, and in friendly games is simply agreed upon prior to the match.
An additional difference in play is that petanque requires that all players throw from the same standing position. Bocce and bowls allow some steps to enable the thrower to propel their ball further. Because of the great length of the court, bocce and bowls players tend to roll the balls with the palm upward, to increase the distance of the roll. Petanque players often throw (still underhand) with their palm facing downwards to produce backspin and increase the precision of their throw (as well as to avoid uneven terrain).
History
All of these games may have evolved from those seemingly ubiquitous Ancient Romans who apparently had lots of spare time to invent things. Another sources suggests the Ancient Egyptians were playing a similar around 5000BC using polished rocks and taught those credit stealing Romans a couple thousand years later. Early games were apparently about throwing for distance (like road bowling, see link below). Emperor Augustus and Galileo were bocce fans. In Great Britain, Queen Elizabeth I and Sir Francis Drake dug on bowls. Even George Washington had a court at Mount Vernon (hell, even a university in Ohio was named after the game, or at least a court). Everybody played. Bowls was another of those games that were outlawed for wasting everyone's time (all the leisure pursuits I write about seem to have that in common). In the Middle Ages they played with wooden balls. For some reason boules began to be covered in (recently inexpensive) nails as a half-step to the modern balls. Regular people could still play by rolling rocks in the streets. Long before soccer, it was the universal game.
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| http://www.nycgovparks.org/about/history/bowling-boules-bocce |
petanque wiki - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P%C3%A9tanque
bocce history - https://www.bocce.org/history.html
differences - http://www.sportinglife360.com/index.php/the-difference-between-bocce-and-petanque-43683/
Kenny Mayne tries road bowling - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIIMFUzgoEo&hd=1
Games Book (bowls pg 41-60) - http://books.google.com/books?id=ljAPAQAAMAAJ&pg=PA38&lpg=PA38&dq=quoits+history&source=bl&ots=Nff7pjlbrM&sig=3MTsT1pgz4-lyfIfZuTmoaVTg2I&hl=en&sa=X&ei=sCasU4OkO8OeyATchIHIDw&ved=0CGkQ6AEwCTgK#v=onepage&q=quoits%20history&f=false
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Jobs: Ostler
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| artist unknown to me. |
One of those occupations you hear tell of and always wonder, "What the hell is that?" An ostler (or hostler) is a man employed to look after the horses of the people staying at an inn. Of course, it derives from the French term for innkeeper (hostelier). As a man who has stayed in a number of hostels, I can tell you that I shared a space with animals on numerous occasions (though I don't recall any being French), so I think we'll stay with the animal husbandry aspect on this occasion.
A significant portion of the ostler's time was taken up, quite naturally, with the care of the horses in his stable (I'm no horseman, so be sure to do additional research before using this in your life/work). Horses need plenty of clean water and tend to feed three or more times per day. Stalls need to be mucked out (cleaned) of dirt and feces, daily. Exercise is always important, though if your guests just stay overnight, this might not be a big deal. Horses kept indoors (stable/barn) should be groomed daily, using a curry comb to break up the dirt and a stiff brush to remove it. The mane and tail should also be carefully brushed every day (don't tear out the tangles), standing beside of the horse to avoid a kicking. Hooves should also be cleaned (with a hoof pick) daily. When the horse comes in sweaty, all of the tack should be removed and set out to dry. It is also recommended to wash the sweaty horse after a good workout (today they use sponges), then follow the washing with a sweat scraper and flysheet to remove excess water and keep the bugs away. Putting on shoes and cleaning the teeth is left to the farriers these days, but may have been handled at the time by the ostler (though blacksmiths did shoeing as well and often dealt in horses, depending on the size of the community).
You might be wondering what kind of inn would need a man full time to do this kind of work, to which there are a few answers. Naturally, a large inn located in a metropolitan center might have enough business to employ a full time ostler. Additionally, busy highways might have caravans or tradesmen frequently on the road. However, probably most of the horses that the ostler cared for were the property of the inn itself. Roadside inns often served as posts for carriage companies (yes, where the postal service originated) and rich men in a hurry, to change their horses along the routes. Some ostlers could change teams in as little as three minutes (their descendants became members of pit crews). Additionally, because of the great expense of owning and keeping a horse, inns would hire horses to individuals for private use (much like a modern car-share service) for work, travel, or for other events (like funerals). It may not have been a glamorous job (what job really is when you get down to it?), but the ostler was an important cog in the transportation business.
Wagons were first used along the stage routes in England the 1600s and dominated long distance travel up until the advent of the steam engine. Early stages had eight to ten horses and a driver with a very long whip riding a pony beside it. Travel was very slow in the early days, until the crown got involved (to make money) by formulating the turnpikes. The people strenuously objected to their taxes being spent this way (they set fire to the toll houses and took hatchets to the gates), claiming that it was the narrow-wheeled coaches that were destroying the roads. However, the popularity of this mode of travel steadily grew, with certain routes being booked weeks in advance. With the coaches came information of all varieties: mail, newspapers, and gossip laden travelers. Their arrival was a moment of excitement in any town (inspiring that song in "Oklahoma!").
The ostler may not have been the most widely respected man in town, but he provided a significant service. When horses were the best way to get from A to B, a good ostler was invaluable. His caring hands ensured the health of his charges as well as speeding patrons and coaches on their way. In smaller communities, this may have been one of many hats worn by the innkeeper or the blacksmith, but as the post roads evolved it became a full time job. You run into an ostler in most every Fantasy story, even if only in passing.
definition - http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/us/definition/american_english/hostler
basic horse care - http://www.wikihow.com/Take-Care-of-a-Horse-or-Pony
sweat scraper - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sweat_scraper
old coaching days - https://archive.org/details/oldcoachingdays00bradgoog
laws governing inns and posts - http://books.google.com/books?id=3LcDAAAAQAAJ&pg=PR1&lpg=PR1&dq=The+Laws+relating+to+Inns,+Hotels,+Alehouses,+and+Places+of+Public+Entertainment:+to+which+is+added,+an+Abstract+of+the+Statute+for+the+Regulation+of+Post+Horses,+by+J.+W.+Willcock+%281829%29&source=bl&ots=jk4hRIYlQJ&sig=vvITSNsVtwManwYZz5FE9YEoOVg&hl=en&sa=X&ei=Lxi8U7WpNsScyATkrYCIDg&ved=0CDEQ6AEwAg#v=onepage&q=The%20Laws%20relating%20to%20Inns%2C%20Hotels%2C%20Alehouses%2C%20and%20Places%20of%20Public%20Entertainment%3A%20to%20which%20is%20added%2C%20an%20Abstract%20of%20the%20Statute%20for%20the%20Regulation%20of%20Post%20Horses%2C%20by%20J.%20W.%20Willcock%20%281829%29&f=false
Friday, July 4, 2014
History
"History is written by the winners," goes the old saying. History has always been a tricky thing. Just the other day I was looking through my brother's reading (he is a history prof) and read on a flyleaf about the American Revolution potentially being a preemptive action connected to England's push to free all of their slaves. Long has the recording of events been a tricky subject. The writers of histories all have agendas and biases, for good or ill, coloring every word (though the same can be said of every writer). The further into history you go, the sketchier it gets.
A concept of great interest to me is that the histories were not available to the general population. What was recorded remained locked in private or church libraries. The histories and traditions of the cultures were then oral traditions. When I was in college, I was in a fraternal organization. We had a little joke, "If we do something for two years, it's a tradition." New guys don't know the difference. If children are raised a certain way, they think it has always been that way (as long as the parents don't say otherwise). It doesn't take long.
It's fascinating to think about what those people believed about the world they lived in. If you check out one of my older posts (References I Love V), you'll find an example of a relatively well read fellow (a merchant, if I remember correctly) who jumbles bits and pieces of various worldviews into his own personal cosmology. Even more than today, there was great faith in the learned and the "truth" they delivered. The gulf between the educated and the uneducated was enormous. Thinking of the world outside of your personal sphere must have been overwhelming and not a little frightening.
One of the ways in which history was transmitted to the people, was through song. Meter and rhyme were used as memory tools to preserve the great deeds of heroes and kings. They were generally propaganda pieces, employed for deification or ridicule. Sung in mead-halls or around campfires, they could give weight to a reign and demonize the opposition. As these artists rose in prominence, they began to be used in governmental roles to record laws (skalds were the first recorders of Norse history) and government occasions. Every great lord came to need one.
Gossip is another powerful tool. As anyone who has ever lived in a small community knows, the more grotesque and juicier the tidbit, the faster it travels. Read about some of the accusations made during the Inquisition trials and you'll see what I mean. Many groups which had been threats to the ruling class were demonized and eliminated. Of course, these things can run the other way, turning the population against the local lord.
When your world is so consumed with day to day existence, you wonder how much the common people worried about the outside world at all. No books, newspapers or internet to connect them, each community was essentially an island. Tales carried by travelers would be gobbled up and disseminated like some pre-industrial version of Telephone. You never really could know who to trust, but you also might wonder, "What does it matter?"
A concept of great interest to me is that the histories were not available to the general population. What was recorded remained locked in private or church libraries. The histories and traditions of the cultures were then oral traditions. When I was in college, I was in a fraternal organization. We had a little joke, "If we do something for two years, it's a tradition." New guys don't know the difference. If children are raised a certain way, they think it has always been that way (as long as the parents don't say otherwise). It doesn't take long.
It's fascinating to think about what those people believed about the world they lived in. If you check out one of my older posts (References I Love V), you'll find an example of a relatively well read fellow (a merchant, if I remember correctly) who jumbles bits and pieces of various worldviews into his own personal cosmology. Even more than today, there was great faith in the learned and the "truth" they delivered. The gulf between the educated and the uneducated was enormous. Thinking of the world outside of your personal sphere must have been overwhelming and not a little frightening.
One of the ways in which history was transmitted to the people, was through song. Meter and rhyme were used as memory tools to preserve the great deeds of heroes and kings. They were generally propaganda pieces, employed for deification or ridicule. Sung in mead-halls or around campfires, they could give weight to a reign and demonize the opposition. As these artists rose in prominence, they began to be used in governmental roles to record laws (skalds were the first recorders of Norse history) and government occasions. Every great lord came to need one.
Gossip is another powerful tool. As anyone who has ever lived in a small community knows, the more grotesque and juicier the tidbit, the faster it travels. Read about some of the accusations made during the Inquisition trials and you'll see what I mean. Many groups which had been threats to the ruling class were demonized and eliminated. Of course, these things can run the other way, turning the population against the local lord.
When your world is so consumed with day to day existence, you wonder how much the common people worried about the outside world at all. No books, newspapers or internet to connect them, each community was essentially an island. Tales carried by travelers would be gobbled up and disseminated like some pre-industrial version of Telephone. You never really could know who to trust, but you also might wonder, "What does it matter?"
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Games - Playing Cards
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| http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Playing_cards#mediaviewer/File:Medieval_gambling_cards.jpg |
This post began its life in the line of the other "Games" posts, looking to follow the tradition of the history of one form of play, but evolved (devolved?) as the research began. This is partly due to the fact that Whist (the original subject) seems to be a relatively late developing game and partly because the history of playing cards is so convoluted. While it is quite clear that playing cards first appear in China (who were so much more advanced in the art of printing), determining if or how the cards or concepts migrated to other parts of the world is more difficult. Part of the difficulty lies in the fragility of the material, the rest comes from the normal fog of history. What is clear is that cards and cards games proliferated and evolved to suit each of the cultures it encountered.
In China, the convoluted history is deeper and involves more components, due to its long history. Playing cards are known as far back as the 9th C, but their history is interwoven with that of dominoes, dice and mahjong. Their use in some games is interchangeable, casting some doubt as to which came first. The cards of the "kun p'ai" (or kwan p'ai) pack were originally paper money, which were the prize as well as the means to play the game, with three suits (coins, string of coins, myriads of coins). Lut Chi appeared in the south of China with a fourth suit (even more coins). While there have been many theories connecting these cards with the later European decks (including Marco Polo bringing some home) and tenuous connections between the images on each, there is no evidence for a direct link.
While its history is also clouded, Ganjifa became popular in India, Nepal, Iran, Turkey, and some Arab countries somewhere in the 15th-16th Centuries. The Mogul Ganjifa has eight suits of twelve round cards. First popular in court, these cards were made from inlaid ivory or tortoiseshell, mother-of-pearl, and precious metals. As it disseminated to the masses other materials were applied (wood, rags, leather, pasteboard). All of these cards were traditionally hand-painted by groups of artisans, sometimes whole families. It is suggested that the Hunduization of the subject-matter on the cards helped to encourage its spread, some suggesting that the pursuit was pleasing to God. While these cards bear little resemblance to their European cousins, Imperial influence can be seen to creep into some later Ganjifa card designs.
European cards were most likely introduced in the 14th C, by the Mamelukes of Egypt. All cards of this time were hand-painted and affordable only to the rich. The four suits were: polo sticks, coins, swords, and cups. Each suit had ten number cards and three court cards (the king and two marshalls), like the modern Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese decks. The earliest French cards (around the same time) have an additional court card, as well as 22 extra high cards, known as the Tarot deck (though fortune-telling with them isn't documented until much later). The Germans became large producers of cards from 1418 on, using suits of hearts, bells (round, like for hawking), leaves and acorns. German printing (engravers) made playing cards accessible to the masses. The French introduced the Queen and developed the modern suit system (which may be a stylized form of the German), which eventually migrated across to England. Much like other pastimes, card playing was outlawed in a number of places by authorities (my grandparents wouldn't play cards on Sundays). As games developed, decks built to fit the games evolved, changing the number of cards or suits (like the modern pinochle deck).
It's nearly impossible to track who influenced who in the history of playing cards, especially once they became relatively cheap. Traders wouldn't bother to put them on bills of lading. Soldiers could easily slip a pack into their bedrolls and teach locals along the route of march. Game rules undoubtedly simplified or altered depending on what the players remembered of them (no Hoyle yet). I can imagine some games being devised to make use of a partially spoiled deck. In your world (depending on the level of technology), playing cards might be common, or held only by the elect. The commoners might be playing for pennies, or the royals might wager the wealth of a nation. Don't forget to have some fun along the way.
Chinese Cards - http://www.gamesmuseum.uwaterloo.ca/Archives/Wilkinson/Wilkinson.html
Ganjifa Cards - http://ganjifa-kishor.com/Ganjifa%20-%20A%20Historical%20Perspective.htm
Ganjifa - http://indiahistoryspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/02/art-of-play-case-of-ganjifa-playing.html
Card History - http://houseofplayingcards.com/playing-card-history
Card History - http://www.tradgames.org.uk/games/playing-cards.htm
Card History - http://www.i-p-c-s.org/history.html#
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