A Wayfaring Chocolate Guided Tour of the National Zoo and Aquarium

Posted on March 7, 2011 by Hannah

Once upon a time (well, actually, once upon an August 2010), there was an Australian girl who dreamed of little else but leaving on a jet plane* to travel the world (again).

Instead, she settled for the international experience of making pavlova for a German. A few days after this, the German fed her his schnitzel**.

The German kept getting distracted and letting the schnitzels burn, so we covered the darker parts with cheese. Yes, dearies, this was not a meal aligned with my raw vegan tendencies.

Alas, Germans often all-too-soon return to Germany, thus ending bed-time stories before little boys and girls have drifted off to sleep.

Luckily for us (who know that fairytales aren’t fairytales without at least some talk of wolves, bears, and dragons), the German and the Australian went to the zoo before parting ways.

(Lorraine, this is for you. I know you miss the Wayfaring Chocolate Art Tours of yore, so I hope you accept this Wayfaring Chocolate Zoo Tour instead.)

A Wayfaring Chocolate Guided Tour of the National Zoo and Aquarium, aka I’m A Trained Zoologist And Can Teach You Knowledge Thoughts For The Putting Inside of Your Head Mind.

Things I Know About Bears:

1. Some of them like porridge that is tooooo hot. Some of them like porridge that is tooooo cold. And some of them like to eat golden-haired girls. (That’s how the story goes, right?)

2. Isn’t it funny how a bear likes honey?

3. BEAR HUG!

Some Other Things I Know About Bears:

1. Oftentimes bears look like they’re smiling, which makes you want to pull on their soft furry ears. However, if you do so, the bear will douse you in hot porridge and then eat your golden hair.

2. BEAR HUG!

Things I Know About Cotton-Top Tamarins:

1. They are actually gremlins. I prefer Gizmo.

2. They don’t like to stay still for the camera.

I shall spare you another Aladdin quote, but I will tell you that I used to have a Rajah bath toy that made getting clean much more fun.

Things I Know About Otters:

1. They’re really cute.

2. But they really stink.

I’m gonna be a mighty king,
So enemies beware!
(Well I’ve never seen a king of beasts
With quite so little hair.)
I’m gonna be the mane event,
Like no king was before!
I’m brushing up on looking down
I’m working on my roar!

[Insert photo of red panda here. I took many photos of a red panda on this particular zoo visit, but when I got home and uploaded the photos, I discovered that said red panda was defecating in every single photo.]

Things I Know About Koalas:

1. They are called koalas. Not koala bears. Remember that.

2. They spend most of their days eating and sleeping. I respect that.

For Johanna.

HARRY POTTER FANGIRL MOMENT.

And that, my dears, brings us to the end of today’s Wayfaring Chocolate Knowledge Making Tour. Please leave your donations in the suitcase by the door.

After all, I’ve got a [dream] plane to catch.

* Oh babe, I hate to go.

** Not a euphemism.

A Wayfaring Chocolate Guided Tour of Florence’s Art Hot Spots

Posted on August 20, 2010 by Hannah

My dearest fellow art junkies, I feel it’s about time we finish up our European gallerying with a peek and a poke around some of Florence’s art-world hot spots. Over the following minutes (or hours, if you’re a terribly slow reader), I shall show you works from the Palazzo Strozzi (the “De Chirico, Magritte, Max Ernst and Balthus” exhibition, to be precise), the Uffizi Gallery, and the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo. Yes I just switched from English to Italian. What can I say? I’m a talented tour guide.

Please take a moment to turn your mobiles to silent, pick a tour-buddy so that you don’t get lost amongst the paint and alabaster, and make sure you’ve got a chocolate bar on hand. We might need some sustenance along the way.

Edipo Re, by Max Ernst. At the Palazzo Strozzi.

Now, my tour-ees, what do you think of when you see two birds’ heads (one of which has a string attached to its horns), a hot air balloon, a walnut, and fingers that are not only threaded through with metal spikes but are coming out of a building?

The first thing I think of is the Oedipus myth.

Well, what do you know? I’m right. This painting by Max Ernst is a depiction of the tale of Oedipus. It’s really all very clear, once you stop and think about it. What else would birds and balloons and walnuts signify but a man who sleeps with his mother and kills his father?

(Don’t fret if you can’t make the connection as easily as I. This simply shows why I’m the tour guide and you’re not.)

La Plage, by Pierre Roy. At the Palazzo Strozzi.

Next up we have a painting called “The Beach”. In my wise and expert Art Whisperer opinion, I firmly believe that a more apt title would be “Enormous Clown Shoe Made of Woven Plastic That Will Never Biodegrade You Evil Anti-Environment Shoe Company You”. Feel free to write my alternate title down in your notes. It’s a keeper.

Adoration of Camaldoli, by Filippo Lippi. At the Uffizi Gallery.

I believe I’ve mentioned that, in my non tour-guide hours, I am a PhD student in the field of Sociology. What I haven’t mentioned is that I seriously considered switching to Art History so that I could investigate why the majority of depictions of Baby Jesus make him look like an incredibly ugly half-man-half-child creature. Surprisingly, the above is one of the better depictions, so long as you ignore the strangely bulbous and elongated head.

Madonna and Child in the Glory of the Cherubs, by Alessandro Filipepi. At the Uffizi Gallery.

Now do you see what I mean?

La Vierge et l’Enfant, by Giovanni da Modena. At the Louvre (yes, I just space-time-continuum-jumped our tour to Paris and back).

And again. Poor Jesus.

Annuncio ai pastori, by Arnolfo e collaboratore. At the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.

Beware! Alien cows! Don’t let them hit you with their radioactive udders of doom! (Hmm. How did I get from Jesus to dangerous udders?)

Unknown, at the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.

And here we have the original Side Show Alley Clown. Win a free Virgin Madonna painting if the ball you pop in his mouth rolls out and hits a Gates of Paradise gold panel!

Maddalena by Donatello, the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.

Maddalena, by Donatello. At the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.

And last but not least, the scariest Mary Magdalene you ever have seen. Moral of this statue-story: Become a prostitute, and you’ll start to look like a corpse. If there’s one thing I want you to remember from this tour, it’s that simple fact.

The End.

(The exit is to your left, people. But do come back someday soon. I might just have some Australian art to interpret for you in the future.)

The Second Wayfaring Chocolate Tour of the Louvre

Posted on June 26, 2010 by Hannah

It’s been far too long since one of my Art Whisperer tours appeared on this blog. I think it’s time we took another wander through the corridors of Paris’ Louvre, don’t you?

The Winged Victory of Samothrace

From an aesthetic point of view, I like how the clarity, precision, and permanence of this statue contrast with the blurred-in-motion crowd ascending towards it. From a Life Lesson point of view, however, the forward-facing nature of the ascending crowd calms me. For if there’s one thing the re-jiggered Dr. Who has taught me, it’s that we humans should never turn our backs on any statues that look like angels. (And that no one can replace David Tennant in my deepest heart of hearts.)

Vénus et les Trois Grâces offrant des presents à une jeune fille, by Alessandro Filipepi, better known as Sandro Botticelli.

Venus (on right): Not one single person has told me how beautiful I am today. Not one. What’s the point of living if no one will tell me I’m beautiful? Look at how the light has gone out of my eyes.

One of the Graces (on left): That is the single most entrancing lock of hair I’ve ever seen cascade down someone’s forehead. Look but don’t touch. Look but don’t touch. Look. But. Don’t. Touch.

Scènes de la vie de saint Jérôme, by Sano di Pietro.

Have you ever wanted to know what a lion looks like when it finds out about the seven deadly sins and realises it will never get to heaven? Now you do.

Though it hardly seems fair, seeing as lions are born into their pride.

Les Enfants d’Ascoyghe Boucherett, by Sir Thomas Lawrence.

Oldest Girl in Painting: “Then I bought a Chihuahua this big, so that it would fit comfortably in my handbag and we could be together for always. But then it defecated on the brocade lining and I, erm, sent it to the happy farm in the countryside.”

Middle Girl in Painting: “This is what Jesus looked like, right? Right?” (Editor’s Note: Too far? My sincerest apologies if it is.)

Youngest Girl in Painting: “And this is how I orchestrate the crazy singing voices in my head.”

Part of L’Enlèvement d’Héléne, by Guido Reni

So I’m a big fan of cute puppies in paintings, but dear holy bucket what is that thing on the left? I fear its tail is sentient.

It’s like a real-life painting version of a Babushka doll! Except not at all like that.

You know, if I tried to do this, I’d end up standing in front of an easel with a stick figure drawn meticulously upon it. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After all, Van Gogh’s artistic talents weren’t appreciated in his own lifetime…

From the Mouths of Statue Babes (in Florence)

Posted on May 31, 2010 by Hannah

Once upon a time, I very generously shared with you the inner monologues of four female portraits. You’ve all heard of horse whisperers, and dog whisperers, and even baby whisperers, right? Well, I guess my secret is out. I’m an Art Whisperer.

And because you can’t keep a good Art Whisperer down, today I’m bringing you the inner thoughts of several statues abiding in Florence. Buckle up, folks, it just might be a bumpy (i.e. cranky) ride.

This is not what I signed up for. I was promised eternal glory and throngs of admiring tourists for centuries on end. Where was the small print about avian faeces on my head? I am not okay with this. There are Faeces. Congealing. On. My. Head.

Amen, brother. Amen.

Standing Man: Get a look at this, Twi-Hards. You think your Jacob has abs of glory? I CREATED abs of glory. / Crouching Man: Don't look up. Don't look up. I must not ever look up.

Speaking of Twilight, does anyone else think I look like Robert Pattinson during the filming of New Moon, when the film-makers were preparing my body for the (ridiculous-looking) sparkly special effects?

For those who don’t know instinctively what I’m referring to (lucky you), see this photo of Robert Pattinson*.

Statues in front: Come join us! We’re playing Human Jenga, and it’s super fun! Sure, it looks like we’re in pain, but whoever falls off first has to tell everyone who their first kiss was. Oh, what fun! / Statues behind: Oh, we is just playin’ too. Uh-huh. Playin’ with the big hurty beating stick. Yes siree!

My ball. My ball my ball my ball! Myyyyyyyy ball. My ball. My ball! (Editor’s note: Also known as “Why Simba Should Have Said No To Hard Drugs”)

Candy Mountain, Charlie! Chaaaaarlie... We’re going to Candy Mountain! ...Shun the non-believer...

* Want to know how I feel after posting that link? Unclean. UNCLEAN. It’s like I’m feeding the Twilight monster. And yet… Robert Pattinson is currently filming Water for Elephants, which is the best book I’ve read this year. Dear everyone, I am conflicted inside.

A Wayfaring Chocolate Guided Tour of the Louvre

Posted on March 30, 2010 by Hannah

We’ve had stories, we’ve had chocolate, we’ve had a first attempt at macaron reviewing… you know what that means, right? It’s time for an art post. Welcome, my friends, to the Louvre…

I can’t help feeling that if I’d been shot with several arrows, my face would express something a little more intense than “Oh, look at the sky… what shall I have for lunch today? Doo-de-doo…” (“Saint Sébastien” by Pietro Vannucci dit Pérugin)

I’m posting this because I like the way you almost can’t tell where the real people end and the painting begins. (“Les Noces de Cana” by Paolo Veronese.)

La Mort de Cleopatre, by Giovanni Pietro Rizzoli

Each to their own, I guess? (“La Mort de Cléopâtre” by Giovanni Pietro Rizzoli dit Giampetrino)

You know what sustains a girl through many hours at the Louvre? Delicious handmade truffles by Camille. This was the “gingembre” truffle. I was a little scared going into it as I don’t like crystallised ginger, but hurrah! This was a smooth and luscious chocolate ganache with just a hint of ginger heat coming in at the end. Score!

La Reine Marie-Anne d'Autriche, by Diego Velazquez

Girl, I feel your pain and crankiness. I too once had the misfortune of getting a haircut that made me look like Patty and Selma. Did you also have a brother who teased you mercilessly about it? (“La Reine Marie-Anne d’Autriche” by Diego Velazquez)

Femme prenant des fruits, by Abraham Brueghel.

A woman after my own heart – halfway through a pomegranate and going for the figs. Chuck in some raspberries and a fuyu persimmon and you’ve got all my favourite fruits right there. (“Femme Prenant des Fruits” by Abraham Brueghel)

Tete de cheval blanc by THeodore Gericault

I seem to be taking lots of photos of horse statues and paintings. Parents, it’s my birthday in a few months. I WANT A PONY. (“Tête de Cheval Blanc” by Théodore Gericault.)

This is for Shellie and Fiona, because they got so excited about David’s, erm, bits… (“The Turkish Bath”, by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres)

And a coconut truffle, which had honest-to-goodness the silkiest ganache I’ve ever come across. Camille, you’re a magician. But even this couldn’t compare to your praline truffle wonders, particularly the ones that had nothing but crispy-crackly-nutty goodness inside. Anyone in the Paris vicinity – get thee to Camille’s place of work and go crazy!

(Also, I should mention that it’s forbidden to eat in the Louvre. So yes, I was the girl darting into the nooks and crannies between rooms to sneak illegal truffles. That’s not addict behaviour, is it?)

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