Gravestones in the Singaporean Jungle

Gravestones in the Singaporean Jungle

Travel memoir by Gregory E. Larson

          Truth be told, some of my best adventures are in out-of-the-way places where few people go. These are not tourist destinations, but are unusual lesser-known spots that sometimes are a bit quirky. A prime example of this is Bukit-Brown, an abandoned Chinese cemetery in the jungle on the Singapore island/city/state. The more information that surfaced, the more interesting and bizarre the destination seemed.

          Singapore is an island at the tip of the Malaysian peninsula. It is fast becoming the new “Hong Kong.” There are tourist attractions (most of which I have visited) but it is mainly a business and shipping center. Six million people inhabit Singapore which has about 284 square miles. Property is at a premium, but there are still some undeveloped areas. My architectural description of Singapore is “urban nodes of tall buildings popping up in the jungle with interconnecting boulevards and highways.”

Urban nodes of tall buildings and interconnecting boulevards

          Prior to my visit there earlier this year, my daughter sent me some links to Bukit-Brown’s history. The cemetery was opened in 1922, and was filled with gravesites by World War II. Some additional burials were made available after the Japanese occupation, but the burials stopped by 1950. The cemetery closed in 1973. I was aghast when I read that the government is planning for development on the Bukit-Brown site. In fact, over 5,000 gravesites had already been eliminated to allow for a highway expansion. The bodies were exhumed and cremated. Attempts were made to connect with families so the ashes could be given to the descendants. Still, about 170 acres of land exists with close to 100,000 graves that have remained undisturbed. That will begin to change in 2030 when the process starts to remove all of the remaining graves and headstones.

One of the reservoirs on the island of Singapore

          On a recent day-hike in Singapore, I passed a reservoir (one of many) that is used for the island’s water supply. I walked through some urban nodes and past a golf course. When I got to the cemetery there was a sign that said it was closed, although there was no gate or fence to keep me out, and there was a road to walk on. The sign also said “Enter at your own risk.”  That caused me to pause. I decided to continue past the cemetery and discuss the issue of entering later with my daughter and son-in-law. I knew they would know the dangers.

Ominous sign along the entry to Bukit-Brown Cemetery

          My daughter said that she and her husband would go there with me on a Saturday morning hike, when they were not working. It worked out for the best, because they knew a lot of history and were able to share it with me. As we walked past the entry sign, the cemetery exuded an eerie feeling with burning incense and the high humidity creating a haze among the jungle shadows.

The burning incense and the humidity gave the cemetery an eerie feeling

          My daughter said that historians are etching the gravestones and taking pictures of them, because the stones are rich in information. My son-in-law shared with me that a symbol on the corner of the gravestone represents the Chinese village from which the person’s family came from. With the village symbol and research, a family can go back over 1,000 years of family records. 

Examples of the gravestones with the symbolic horseshoe-shaped mountainside

          He also told me that the horseshoe-shaped area behind the gravestone is a symbol of a mountainside, as the Chinese custom is to have the burials on a mountainside. There are significant symbols of nature and guardians, as well as a separate headstone to the right of the main headstone that represents an offering to the “earth god.”

Gravestone with a guardian

Largest gravestone that we saw in Bukit-Brown

          Although the last burials occurred many decades ago, we saw many families there visiting graves and burning incense. A history walking tour was happening as well. We also saw monkeys fighting over scraps of food offerings left by families at the graves. Some graves were well kept with the grass and weeds cut regularly. Other areas were succumbing to the jungle overgrowth which occurs at a rapid rate. Additional tombstones had tented areas or tarps so that families could come to visit the grave and stay out of the sun or rain.

Bukit-Brown Cemetery covers roughly 170 acres

          As we walked for a couple of hours, I sensed that a lot of history of the island and some of its Chinese heritage was going to disappear when the cemetery is removed. I had to remind myself that different nations require different customs. It is hard for me to imagine cemeteries in the U.S. being demolished. I know of many urban areas that have wrought-iron fences around small cemeteries in parking lots or busy corners of the city.

          I wondered what the area will look like in a hundred years from now. Progress marches on, and generation after generation learn to deal with the issues of their time. And, truth be told, those tall buidlings in the jungle will return to dust in some distant era.

The Singaporean Jungle will probably outlive the civilized era

THE END

New Zealand: A Best Kept Secret

 

The Southern Alps in New Zealand

New Zealand: A Best Kept Secret

travel memoir by Gregory E. Larson

          Have you ever been to a place that felt like you were on another planet? . . . a place with exotic flowers, plants and mountains? . . . a place with glaciers, rain forests and arid plains? Some of you may have traveled there, to New Zealand. On my recent adventure, I learned their agriculture economy and is gradually becoming a tourist economy. For so many decades the destination has been a best kept secret, but that is changing.

          After my arrival in Christchurch on the South Island, I spent two days acclimating to the summer and to the time change. Having spent more than three days travel to get there, I wandered out into the giant botanical garden full of sunshine, huge lawns and giant trees. I dropped the day pack onto the ground and lay down in the grass to stretch out. I thought, “I’m out of the plane and I made it all in one piece!”

The Christchurch Botanical Garden was the best antidote after the long trip.

Entrance Fountain at the Christchurch Botanical Garden

          Once acclimated, I began the Classic South Island Tour with Active Adventures, Inc., with fourteen people and two guides. It was a trip to places of unrivaled beauty and ruggedness. From 400 ft. waterfalls to rainforests and mountain valleys, every day was truly an adventure, including several days of rugged hikes, an additional day of biking and a day of kayaking. Complimenting the exercise were a bush-pilot flight to a remote valley, a wild and crazy jet boat ride, a gondola ride above Queenstown, and a cruise on Milford Sound. 

We hiked to a 400 ft. waterfall near Arthur's Pass

          On the kayaking day, we toured Okarito Lagoon and saw two White Herons, which are extremely rare. Only 170 remain in existence. 

Kayaking on a tributary to Okarito Lagoon

          Our “epic” day of the tour included a flight into a remote valley, a nine-mile hike out of the valley, and a jet boat ride back to our resort. The bush pilot flight was the most exciting twenty minutes I have experienced in a plane, which was a tiny Cessna 185 with balloon tires for landing on grass in the mountain valley. I felt as though I could reach out and touch the trees on the mountainsides, and was in awe of the beauty of the snow-capped peaks and the glacial ponds which are only visible from the air. Once back on the ground, we had to ford a tributary, then hike up the valley towards a beautiful peak in the clouds. Turning back down the valley, we hiked several miles to the Wilkin River where the jet boats took us back to our resort.

The Cessna 185 plane that took us to a remote valley.

Take-off was next to the Wilkin River Valley, then up into the mountains.

I felt like I could almost touch the trees on the mountainside.

The remote Siberian Valley in Mount Aspiring National Park

A day of memorable hiking

A wild and crazy boat ride was the exclamation point on an epic day.

          Two days were spent in Queenstown, which was crawling with tourists. It reminded me of an oversized Estes Park in Colorado. One of the days was spent hiking up Ben Lomond Peak. It began by taking a 1500 ft., mostly vertical gondola to a point above Queenstown, then a strenuous hike at twenty percent grade for three miles. I barely made it two miles, and then turned around to save my legs for the remainder of the week.

Overlooking Queenstown at the top of the gondola station.

View of Ben Lomond Peak from the twenty-percent grade on the trail.

          The last day of the tour began in the early morning darkness, with our guides brewing French-press coffee. We piled into the bus and drove to one of the top tourist destinations: Milford Sound in the Fiordland National Park.

Milford Sound - unrivaled beauty

          About every twenty minutes a huge cruise boat (with 150-200 people on board) departed for the two-hour cruise out to the Tasman Sea and back. During the cruise, the tour boat ahead of ours had stopped and turned at a waterfall. The photo had a good composition for a watercolor: reflections in the water, the boat and waterfall as the focus, with numerous textures and colors on the cliffs and mountain. Back home in the studio, it was a joy to paint, although it is one of the most difficult scenes I’ve painted, due to all of the detail.

Stirling Falls - Milford Sound, New Zealand
2025 watercolor by Gregory E. Larson

          Our last hike was one for the memories. We hiked two miles up through the forest to a summit pass. The beginning was in the mossy woods with ferns and trees surrounding the trail. As we ascended through the forest, we began to have glimpses of the granite peaks through the 800-year-old trees. Once at the pass, the vistas were in all directions. Our guide passed out boxes of pasta salad for our lunch, and we sat on benches that viewed the snow-capped peaks. It was one of those places that was hard for me to leave. When we began the trek down the mountain trail and back into the forest, I knew that I had fallen in love with New Zealand.

Glimpses of the granite peaks through the ancient forests.

A view at the mountain pass on the last hike - one to remember.

THE END

Time in the Flint Hills

Clements Arch Bridge
Chase County, Kansas
2024 watercolor by
Gregory E. Larson

Time in the Flint Hills 

    Over time, the Flint Hills begins to pull you into its sphere of influence. Time Becomes an enigma. Sometimes while wandering the cow paths along the streams and rivers, you would think the clock has stopped ticking. Other times it seems to rush by like the trucks and trains that pass through the countryside.

    Recently, my friend, Mary Anne, and I sought out a place where, each in our own time and with other people, we had visited years ago. The early morning drive in June brought us to our destination: The Clements Arch Bridge. It is a historical stone bridge that crosses the Cottonwood River in Chase County, and was built to carry the wagon traffic in the late 19^th century. Today it connects a dead-end road with a farmer’s field, but the size and quality give it historical significance. We arrived as the early morning light was still low. The temperature was not yet unbearable and the air was beginning to feel like a real Kansas wind.

    I was there to take more pictures of the bridge and to consider doing a watercolor painting. While I rushed from one side of the bridge to the other to take multiple pictures on my phone, Mary Anne stood in the middle of the bridge and just soaked up the atmosphere. Time was rushing on and it was also standing still.

    Mary Anne decided to write a poem about the bridge. It is worthy of sharing and sums up the spot that pulled us in on that late spring day:

1888 Memories

by Mary Anne Demeritt

Cornflower blue sky over Clements Bridge

The summer solstice beckons

I pull up on the reins

The wagon halts

Down below the Cottonwood River

Meanders lazily

Prairie wind relentlessly whips

My hair and gingham bonnet

Cliff swallows swoop, dive, whistle

And pirouette in the humid air

The breath of the universe

Is not whispering - - but shouting

Insisting that I listen

To the elusive, fleeting

Nature of Time

    We drove to a few more spots that warranted taking photos, and I found a small building in Elmdale that I used for the watercolor shown below. There is always a new discovery around the bend.

Elmdale Facade
Elmdale, Kansas
2024 Watercolor by
Gregory E. Larson

Author's note:  The two watercolor paintings seen here have been selected for the prestigious 2024 Visions of the Flint Hills exhibit at the Buttonwood Art Space, 3013 Main St., Kansas City, Missouri 64108 from October 2nd to December 11th.

Gothic and Romanesque, of Gargoyles and Grotesques

 

Grotesques at south belltower - Notre Dame de Paris

Gothic and Romanesque, of Gargoyles and Grotesques

Musings on religious symbols and ornamentation

Gregory E. Larson - Architect Emeritus

Note: All photos were taken by the author during various trips to France. Photos of Notre Dame de Paris were taken in 2007, years before the fire of 2019.

 

Gargoyles and Grotesques along north wall of Notre Dame de Paris

Angelic Statue
Notre Dame de Paris

The eyes, beaks, pointy teeth, wings and claws were in full view when I first began to look at the churches and cathedrals in France. Strange animals and birds adorned the edges of the façades, perched to ward off the evil spirits. Statues not of this world, such as flying monkeys, dogs with horns, and gremlin-like creatures appear to be some sort of security detail assigned to help save us from the dark side while we enter the massive houses of worship. Some of the symbols are functional and some are decorative. Gargoyles funnel the collected rainwater from the roofs, then spout the flow out of the devilish heads, thrusting the water into the air, high above the walkways below. Grotesques are decorative statues of the strange creatures, strategically placed at corners and edges of the stone walls. They appear as guardians of the cathedral edifices, standing a sentinel watch for the ages.

There are also the carved angels and saints to guide the viewer upward along the rapturous path toward the heavens. I expected to see them, but was surprised at the design and number of the grotesque creatures.

Romanesque church - Notre Dame du Port, Clermont-Ferrand, France

Prison shackles attached to exterior
Notre Dame d'Orcival

Romanesque church construction was generally from the 8^th to the 11^th century. The architecture used simple Roman structural principles including barrel vaults and clay-tile roofs perched on walls with Byzantine details. Windows through the thick stone walls are smaller, thus the interior of the churches have less light than the Gothic Cathedrals. Some Romanesque churches include carvings which adorn the columns and walls, describing important local stories, and some display animals and local people of note. The weird creatures didn’t start to show up until the 12^th century when Gothic churches were being constructed in France.

While visiting a Romanesque church in Orcival, France (Notre Dame d’Orcival) I noticed there were prison shackles attached to the exterior of the church, which is now a pilgrimage of those who pray to St. Mary for those imprisoned in mind and spirit as well as physical incarceration. The story goes that the town was under siege during the hundred-years-war so the townspeople prayed to St. Mary and their supplications were answered when French troops drove out the British. There is a phrase used in the Catholic church: Notre Dame des fers (Our Lady of irons) for those who offer up prayers of the imprisoned.

Interior - Notre Dame de l'Assomption
Clermont-Ferrand, France

Exterior - Notre Dame de l'Assomption
Clermont-Ferrand, France

Gothic church construction flourished from the 12^th century to the 15^th century. The structural details, including the flying buttresses are more refined to carry the weight of the stone and allow for greater expanses of windows. Of the cathedrals that remain today, most have been renovated and reconstructed through the centuries, but they still remain a testament to a high level of design and craftsmanship. The stone cutters and masons, along with the stone carvers took their craft to a high-level art form for the masses to view. One has to look upward a few hundred feet to see some of the details on the towers.

As a retired architect, these old structures are a feast for the eyes. I can never spend enough time looking at the carvings, details, and design in general. On the last trip to France, I viewed and toured Notre Dame de l’Assomption, a Gothic cathedral in Clermont-Ferrand. It is constructed of a native lava stone, which is dark grey. On cloudy and rainy days the stone is dark, which is visually striking. It could pass for a Darth Vadar church in appearance. When I first walked up to the side of the cathedral, I photographed the north wall and the backsides of the twin towers. There was a tree on the corner of the side street and I included a portion of it in the photo. When I returned home, I enjoyed looking at the details, as well as the dramatic angles created from the view upward. I decided to do a major watercolor, and got lost in the details. Here is the painting below:

Notre Dame de l'Assomption
2024 original watercolor by
Gregory E. Larson

The Bike Is Not There

The bike is only a memory 

memoir by

Gregory E. Larson

“The bike is not there,” I said as we walked out of the Brick Café at 1727 McGee St. last Saturday morning in the crossroads district of Kansas City.

“What?” cried my cycling friends. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” I replied, “It’s not there. It’s gone,” I knew immediately that it had been stolen. Everyone else’s bike was still locked to the fence at the parking lot or to a bike rack. Mine was the only one that was gone. To a cyclist, losing a bike is very personal. It is like losing a body part.

“I’ve got other bikes, but that was my best. It was my 'Porsche',” I shared with the others.

“What are you going to do? How are you going to get home?”

“I’ll call an Uber. I’ll probably have to file a police report, as if that will solve anything.”

All of the bikes had been locked to the fence or racks. Someone had cut the small wire cable on my combination lock. They probably hoisted it into a pick-up and drove into the alley, out of sight.

The other cyclists were so kind to wait until the Uber car arrived. I was in a daze, and got into the car, with a feeling of profound loss. I always knew the wire cable was only a deterrent to someone that just wanted to grab a loose bike. If any thief wanted it, they would have to be intent on cutting the cable. I took that chance for fifteen years, and the odds finally caught up with me. Hundreds of times I’ve left it outside coffee shops, restaurants, and art galleries. I always locked it if it wasn’t visible from inside.

I purchased the Trek carbon-fiber Madone model in 2009. It was the lightest weight production bike in the world when it was introduced. When I rode on mine, it fit like a glove. It was so light that most hills were just a mere nuisance. There were so many memories on that bike, good ones and bad ones. The good memories - countless rides to coffee and breakfast, and to brew-pubs for a beer and some lunch – far outweigh the bad memories. Our group, the Riff-Raff, are a close-knit bunch of riders that are safety conscious and caring. The discussions at our stops span the spectrum from educational to raucous banter.

I have only two really bad memories on that bike. Around 2010, I shredded a rear tire when I put on the brakes to prevent hitting an oncoming car that turned left in front of me. Last year, I accidentally thought a curb was a curb-cut (ramp). The bike and the curb faired much better than me, but I was back in the saddle soon after the accident.

In our lives, sometimes a door closes on us and another door opens. That’s how it feels to me as I look for a new bike. What I lost was priceless. That bike kept me in good health and made me feel a part of the backstreets across the metro. The sunshine, fresh air, sounds of the city, and the comraderies all keep us coming back to bicycle a new adventure each day.

To the thief or thieves, their gain will ultimately become a greater loss through poor choices as they go through life.

For me, I choose freedom of mind, body and soul. Pedaling is a major contributor to that outlook.

 Pedal on,

GREG

Greg's Watercolor News

Lots has been happening in my art world that I’d like to share with you – both recent exhibits as well as upcoming exhibits. I’ve also begun to sell notecards which I’ll share at the end of this blog.

 Sale of “Saffordville Relic”

One of my largest watercolors, “Saffordville Relic,” sold at the Buttonwood Art Space 2023 Flint Hills Exhibit. This is the largest original I’ve sold to date, so that is very encouraging.

Saffordville Relic

“Selfie at Six Below” selected for a January international online exhibit

During the holidays, I decided to have some fun and paint a self-portrait from a 2019 snowshoe trip in Minnesota. I was surprised that it was selected as a finalist for the January “Portraits” show on the international online Grey Cube Gallery. There were 98 pieces selected from across 15 countries. www.greycubegallery.com

Selfie at Six Below

“Angkor Temple Remnant #1” selected for national exhibit

This watercolor of a small tower within the Angkor Temple ruins in the Cambodian jungle has been selected for a national exhibit at Baker University. The exhibit runs from February 13^th to April 5^th, with a reception to be held on February 20^th from 5-7 pm. The painting is one of the few selected for the show which had 395 entries. The gallery is located in Parmenter Hall, 615 Dearborn, Baldwin City, KS 66006.

Angkor Temple Remnant #1

“Cape d’Or – Bay of Fundy,” and “Venetian Canal” continue to be selected for exhibits

These two watercolors are now showing at the Buttonwood Gallery in the current “Realize Your Dreams” exhibit. The exhibit will run through March 20^th with the First Friday public reception on March 1^st from 5-8 PM. (3013 Main St., Kansas City, Missouri 64108)

Cape d'Or - Bay of Fundy

Venetian Canal

Upcoming – Three Artist Exhibit at Prairie Village City Hall and Meadowbrook Community Center

I will have fourteen watercolors in a three-artist exhibit this summer and fall in Prairie Village. A portion of the paintings will be displayed at the R.G. Endres Gallery in City Hall (address) from July 6, 2024,  through September 7. The other paintings will be displayed in the Meadowbrook Park Clubhouse (9101 Nall Ave., Prairie Village, KS 66207) from July 6, 2024, through November 2. There will be a reception at the R.G. Endres Gallery (City Hall, 7700 Mission Rd., Prairie Village, KS 66208) on July 10, 2024 from 7-8 pm. I’ll send out more information as the date comes near.

 Six watercolor print notecards are available upon request

Last fall I began selling small notecards with envelopes and box at the Art on Oak exhibit. A box of the six notecards is $24.00 (add $6 for shipping if required). If you have an interest in purchasing a box, just send me an email.

The notecards fit in 4 ¼ x 5 ¾  envelopes provided in the box. You can have any combination of the six cards. Here are the six that are available:

Winter in Loose Park

Reflections at Fisherman's Wharf

Fox Creek Schoolhouse

St. Michel Eglise

Venetian Canal

Pink Lilies

I also sell matted prints of any size from the paintings shown on my online gallery:

 www.LarsonCreativeLLC.com

Watercolor painting has become a big part of me in retirement. I find joy in sharing views that I see in the world around me. Thank you for all your interest, and I hope to hear from you or see you at one of the receptions.

The Pilgrimage

Auvergne Region, France

The Pilgrimage

Travel memoir by

Gregory E. Larson

          Walking through the outdoor area of the French café, I spied the large backpack leaning against the wall. The young woman who sat next to the backpack was deep into thought and writing in a notebook. There’s a story, I thought, but I decided not to pry or engage in questions.

          It was late in the evening in Riom, France, and my daughter, Carrie, and son-in-law, Blane, and I were hungry. Carrie and Blane asked the waitress if we could see a menu. Much to our surprise and embarrassment, two restaurant attendants came outside, carrying a large chalkboard with the handwritten menu in French. Blane pointed his phone at the chalkboard, attempting to use an app on his phone which translates the French into English. At the same time, the young woman stood up and said (in perfect English), “I can translate it for you and explain each item, if you would like. I am French, but I also speak English.”

          Blane responded, “This app also translates, but I would love to hear your descriptions.” The woman spent a couple of minutes going through the menu while the attendants held the board.

          Being Americans, when we heard “cheeseburger,” we all decided that sounded good, especially since they were not just any cheeseburgers, but St. Nectaire cheeseburgers which had a famous Auvergne regional cheese.

          Then Blane struck up the conversation with the young woman. “I see your backpack. It looks like you are on some type of journey. May I ask where you are going?”

          “I am on a pilgrimage to Spain, to Santiago de Compostela.”

          “Oh yes,” I interjected, “I’ve read about that, and I have watched a movie called “The Way,” which is a story about a man who makes the pilgrimage.” I also shared with her that another son-in-law, Michel, had ridden the pilgrimage on his bike from France to Spain.

         “I am from Moulin,” said the woman, “and I am not on a strict schedule, but I want to complete the journey this year.” She continued to tell us that she had befriended an elderly nun, and told the woman that she wanted to become a nun. The elderly nun very forcefully told her she believed that God had other plans, and that she should find some other way to honor Him.

          The young woman continued, “I am on this pilgrimage to reflect and decide what to do next.” When we left the restaurant, we told her that we would pray for her safe journey, and wished her well.

          We continued on our travels and I concluded that we were also on a sort of pilgrimage to see daughter Erica, and son-in-law Michel and their two daughters, Cecilia, and Lily-Marie. The youngest, Lily-Marie was to be baptized in a small church in rural France (Church of the Holy Innocents in Bussieres et Pruns, France)

Exterior Iron Cross
Church of the Holy Innocents
Bussieres ets Pruns, France

          The definition of pilgrim is “wayfarer who travels in in a foreign land,” or “one who seeks a holy shrine as the destination.” I decided that we were in fact on a pilgrimage, since we were traveling in a foreign land and our key destination was the baptismal ceremony.

Granddaughters Cecilia and Lily-Marie
with parents Erica and Michel

          In a way, we are all on a pilgrimage as we go through different phases of our lives. Each part being new or different, and we somehow find our way, only to be thrown into a new phase that doesn’t look the same as the last. I recently learned that the Arapaho tribe of native Americans have a spiritual belief that each person climbs four hills during their lifetime:

1.     Childhood

2.     Early Adulthood

3.     Mature Adulthood

4.     Elder

I like their belief, since each hill is a type of pilgrimage for each person to encounter, gain knowledge and proceed with the next phase of their life.

Children beginning their journey in life

          During our trip in France, I more clearly saw my “elder” phase as it contrasted with younger adulthood phases of my family and the childhood phases of the grandchildren. I am challenged with technology, especially with iPhones and apps. Blane and Carrie are not. They were constantly looking for things on our route, and Blane was the navigator as I drove the manual five-speed Spanish SUV. We worked well as a team. At the baptism, I saw the different generations of two families that lived on different continents, all on our life journeys.

Carrie and Blane in Paris

          As an elder, my energy level is lower than it used to be. While in Paris I enjoyed sitting on a balcony part of the time, reading a book or looking out over the city of Paris, while Carrie and Blane were out and about to see the sights. I was thoroughly content to sit still and take a visual journey across the chimneys and rooftops of Paris.

          Each of us are on our own pilgrimage with fascinating stories to tell.

Paris Rooftops
(Les Toits de Paris)
2023 original watercolor by
Gregory E. Larson