Superheroes...Shazam!

"And if I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?

If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?

I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might

Kryptonite"

Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Superheroes, as we know them, have been around for decades and they intrigue me. You've gotta think that all those ancient myths and legends like Ulysses, Beowulf, Perseus and King Arthur were definitely superheroes in their day. Actually, I learned that the term Super Heroes is a trademark co-owned by DC and Marvel comics. Wikipedia, as usual, offered a tremendous amount of Superhero info.

Superman first appeared in 1938, his reputation spurred on by the popularity of comic books at the time. We've seen Superman movies ...Superman, Superman Returns, Superman 2 – 15 (or so it seems). Man of Steel just opened recently at the local movie theaters. It got me to thinking about the criteria for a superhero in the first place. Here's what I came up with...

1. Superhuman or extraordinary power, but not necessarily human, e.g. Superman is an ET although I think he was a naturalized citizen. And, I guess, not necessarily superhuman, e.g. Batman has enough money to fabricate what he needs to be achieve almost superhuman powers.

2. Saves the world and fights bad guys in spare time. There always seems to be an arch-villain or two and he/she/they are pretty famous, too, and can match powers with the superhero.

3. Cool costume – I like this part the best …. though doubt if I could look as good in leotards or spandex as Wonder Woman.

4. Secret identity – For some reason, they feel the need to hide their identity and if they wear their nifty costumes, even the people closest to them can't figure out who they are. Shame on you, Lois Lane. You were pretty unobservant for a reporter!

What brought all this to mind, by the way, is that I saw a Superman cape in Wal-Mart the other day and I was sorely tempted to buy it … and so I did. I've always wished that I could fly or be super strong or maybe cling to the sides of buildings or beat up bad guys. So far, my wishes have not come true. So, for a mere $6.97, here was my chance. I grasped that bright red cape with a big yellow “S” in my hands and dreamed about flying.

I called my sister, Lin, to come over and try it out with me. She's much more athletic than I am. She did a few pre-flying exercises on the living room floor and headed out to the front yard wearing the new cape. It was then I saw the warning label:

Really? Well, heck, why buy it?

Basketworks

 

After stating recently that I prefer small souvenirs, here is my admission that I'm still subject to the lure of buying distinctive baskets every once in awhile AND when I buy them, I seldom actually use them. They're too beautiful. Whew … glad to get that off my chest!

The thing is, good quality baskets are unique and usually representative of a substantial piece of a woman's individual work and time. I like to buy baskets directly from their makers because I think I benefit from the good vibes that come with them and the weaver gets to keep all the profits from her labors.

We've purchased baskets from the Wounaan in Panama and the Embera in the Darien Jungle. We've watched women use natural dyes to color the reeds they're using and weave intricate patterns in baskets with weaves so tight and fine, the baskets could actually hold water.

Basket weavers use whatever reeds or grasses are available in their area. Palms and reeds are used in the Carib and Panama. In Peru, it was totora reeds. In the South Pacific, they utilize pandanus palm fronds ripped into thin strips and then dried. Though some weavers make baskets and woven goods for sale to tourists, more simple ones are used locally for carrying produce to and from market.

One Caribbean weaver told us that she “collects reeds for baskets only at the dark side of the moon and at low tide, otherwise they'll be bug-infested.” We asked where she'd heard that and she said, “That's something everybody knows!”. Interestingly enough, when I consulted the Old Farmer's Almanac, it stated “From full Moon through the last quarter, or the dark of the Moon, is the best time for killing weeds, thinning, pruning, mowing, cutting timber, and planting below-ground crops.” I guess cutting reeds and grasses for baskets fall into that category. More interesting is that this “old wives' tale” is known by weavers everywhere we've visited. Must be some truth to it.

We received two beautiful covered pandanus baskets from Brenda on Pitcairn Island as parting gifts, made by her mum, Mag Christian, the oldest person on Pitcairn. Talk about rare treasure!

Sometimes, you just can't resist having something beautiful and non-functional on board. Okay … okay ... and we've bought some carvings, too. Not many, but a few. Man, it's good to get all this out in the open.

Flip Flops

 

Depending on where you're from in the world, flip-flops are also known as thongs, pluggers, slaps, slippers, havaianas, and go-aheads. Just to name a few! The term “flip-flop”has been used by both Americans and Brits since about 1972 to describe a rubber-type thong sandal. It got its name from the sound it makes when its worn … flip … flop. A very poetic name … I think that's onomatopoeia.

When we visited the tiny island nation of Niue in the South Pacific, our friend Keith took us for an island tour. He mentioned the jandal cemetery as we passed by a beach. We weren't sure what we were looking for… tiny dead animals, maybe? No, it was a beach that seemed a magnet for errant flip-flops that had escaped from somewhere and washed ashore. Jandal, as the New Zealanders call them, is short for Japanese sandals and the beach was covered with them.

Some folks live in them in favor of other shoes or sandals. I personally don't like them for regular wear, but use them when I'm showering in “iffy” showers. The Aussies call them thongs and when we first arrived, we experienced some language issues when folks told us a party was informal, just wear shorts and thongs. Hmmm... for me thongs are dental-floss underwear with the floss in your butt crack. No matter how informal the party was, there was no way I was wearing a thong to it. Then, of course, I saw everyone in flip-flops. What a relief. I didn't have to wear a thong after all; nor did I have to watch anyone else wear one.