Humayun’s Tomb, Isa Khan’s Tomb, Delhi

Posted on March 31, 2025 by admin

Just outside the gates of Humayun’s Tomb in Delhi, I spotted postcards for a sale from a street vendor, which was a rarity. I paused to look. That was a mistake. Before you could say boo, several other vendors – those that didn’t even have a spot on the near the gates, but who carried their wares around – were in my face. Inexpensive jewelry-, souvenir- and tchotchke-wallas. The only thing for it was to keep moving.

We were at the tomb on February 19. As a Mughal emperor, Humayun (d. 1556) rated one of considerable splendor.

“Persian and Indian craftsmen worked together to build the garden-tomb, far grander than any tomb built before in the Islamic world,” notes UNESCO, for indeed the tomb complex is a World Heritage Site. “Humayun’s garden-tomb is an example of the charbagh (a four quadrant garden with the four rivers of Quranic paradise represented), with pools joined by channels.”

“The mausoleum itself stands on a high, wide terraced platform with two bay deep vaulted cells on all four sides,” UNESCO continues. “It has an irregular octagon plan with four long sides and chamfered edges. It is surmounted by a 42.5 m high double dome clad with marble flanked by pillared kiosks (chhatris) and the domes of the central chhatris are adorned with glazed ceramic tiles.

“The interior is a large octagonal chamber with vaulted roof compartments interconnected by galleries or corridors. This octagonal plan is repeated on the second storey. The structure is of dressed stone clad in red sandstone with white and black inlaid marble borders. Humayun’s garden-tomb is also called the ‘dormitory of the Mughals’ as in the cells are buried over 150 Mughal family members.”

A precursor to the Taj Mahal, it is said. I can see that. But Humayun wasn’t the only eminence to have a mausoleum on the grounds. There are others, such as that of Isa Khan (d. 1548), who was there first.

A more manageable-sized mausoleum.

Isa Khan wasn’t royalty, but rather a noble, in service of the short-lived Sur Empire, whom the Mughals eventually overcame.

Seems easier to appreciate the details in a smaller-scale edifice.

Not far from his tomb is a mosque named for him.

Also has some worthwhile detail.

Humayun and Isa Khan: Not on the same side in life, but in death good neighbors.

Nagoya Castle

Posted on March 30, 2025 by admin

Spring tugged back on Friday, windy and warm, touching somewhere in the 70s, with some warmth continuing over the weekend. Only a little warmer than it was in Nagoya on February 15. A nice day for an outing there.

We arrived by rail. That marvel of intercity top-speed train transportation, the Shinkansen, connects Tokyo and Osaka, and being a creature of JR (Japan Railways), you can use a Japan Rail Pass to travel on it: a pass good on JR for unlimited rides on a fixed number of days. Our passes in hand, we went from Osaka to Tokyo, and later back again.

On the way back to Osaka, we stopped for an afternoon in Nagoya, a city that most North Americans wouldn’t know. Just like most Japanese probably don’t know (for example) Indianapolis, unless they are into auto racing. Deeply into it, that is. There have to be some of those.

Whatever the enthusiasm, there is a node or a knot or a cluster or a clutch of Japanese devotees – and I’m thinking of a kicker bar I heard about in the ’90s somewhere in Japan, which may or may not have existed, but that was definitely in the realm of the possible. Decked out in someone’s idea of a ’50s Southern honky-tonk, the joint offered both kinds of music every weekend, country and western, and most of the patrons decked out themselves in their idea of country duds, including most importantly, cowboy hats.

We squeezed our luggage in a station coin locker, found the right bus stop, and rode to Nagoya Castle (名古屋城) in about 10 minutes.

As Japanese cities go, Nagoya isn’t ancient, though it sounds like people have lived scattered in the area for thousands of years. The city got up and running because of the needs of the new ruling elite, in their efforts to remain so, in the early Edo period. A new castle was just the thing. The engineers and stonemasons got to work on it in the 1610s, though who on the project would have known the Gregorian decade?

Pictured above is the main keep, a 1950s reconstruction, since the original was destroyed in 1945. The reconstruction, done in steel-reinforced concrete, hasn’t aged well, and these days the castle interior is closed due to safety concerns. One really strong earthquake might be bad for anyone who happened to be inside, no doubt. If I understand correctly, there is a plan to rebuild the keep once again, this time closer to the original, since the place was extensively documented in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Probably up to modern seismic standards, however.

A nearby structure, Hommaru Palace, was rebuilt in the early 2010s, and is open at no extra charge.

Having a castle is one thing, but in the long period of peace during the Edo period, the Owari lords of castle needed more convenient administrative offices and residences. A samurai palace, in other words. The place is sumptuous.

“This luxurious architectural style, known as Shoin-zukuri, was preferred by the samurai caste as formality and etiquette were highly valued,” Nagoya City’s web site says. “Each room’s styling denoted its rank, while the lord’s audience chamber is positioned at a higher elevation than the other rooms as a show of authority.”

There are other open buildings on the castle grounds. Including a tea house, since samurai were fond of their tea.

I only took a few images in Nagoya that didn’t involve the castle and environs, since mostly that was what we had time for. But I did document a few other sites.

Sorry to report that I found no statues of Harlan Sanders in Nagoya or elsewhere in Japan this time, though his reassuring face (except for chickens) was represented at the locations I saw, such as above. What I saw represented a small sample, of course, and maybe I missed the Col. Sanders statues. Every Japanese KFC ought to have one, if you ask me. That counts as today’s eccentric opinion.

Sanssouci

Posted on March 26, 2025 by admin

At the Alte Nationalgalerie in Berlin, more about which eventually, there is an enormous canvas by Adolph Menzel (d. 1905), one of a number of his paintings on display: “Flötenkonzert Friedrichs des Großen in Sanssouci” (“The Flute Concert of Frederick the Great at Sanssouci”; “Frederick the Great Playing the Flute at Sanssouci”), dating from 1850-52.

When I made my detail, I focused on the king. Reading about the painting, and looking at images of it, I see that I might as well have focused on the preternaturally luminous chandelier.

A few days earlier, on March 9, Jay and I had boarded a train at AlexanderPlatz in central Berlin bound for Potsdam, location of Frederick’s summer retreat, Sanssouci. I expect that in the 18th century, the area was indeed a retreat, a healthy distance from Berlin and its hubbub. These days, you take the S Bahn to an outer suburb. From the Potsdam main station, a municipal bus drops you off near one of the outbuildings of Sanssouci, now the ticket office. Remember that, it will be important later.

This wasn’t our bus, but rather a tour bus, playing up the Potsdam Giants, a storied Prussian infantry regiment and special passion of Frederick the Great’s father Frederick William I, who is pictured as well (and it was Frederick the Great who disbanded them). I’d heard of the Giants, but not in detail, and the more I learn about them, the more amused I am.

Now there’s a name for a German baseball team: The Potsdam Giants. As far as I can tell, there is no such team, though the Humburg Stealers, the Mannheim Tornadoes and the Heidenheim Heideköpfe (ah, those funky Swabians) knock around the horsehide sphere professionally in the Federal Republic. That’s what I ought to do, if I ever go back to Germany, see a baseball game. Bet there are some peculiarities. Like in Japan, when you release balloons during the Seventh Inning Stretch. At least they did at Hanshin Tigers games in the early ’90s. Actually, they were blown up condoms.

The styling is Sanssouci in most English-language sources, but spelled Sans, Souci. on the building.

Seems like party-time in stone. Vineyards were important to the scheme of Sanssouci, so of course Bacchus-adjacent figures should be too.

The view from the palace. This time of the year, there was no admission to the Sanssouci gardens, so it functioned as a city park. A mild Sunday in March had brought people out to the park.

A benefit of low-season tourism: practically no waiting to get into the palace. I say low season, but in a lot of places in Berlin, and Prague too, we noticed that school groups, or individual students, were out and about in force. A form of spring break?

Images without reference to room.

One thing to like about the Rococo effervescence at Sanssouci is that there isn’t too much of it. As 18th-century European palaces go, it’s modest. Frederick wanted a place to entertain himself and others, not wow visiting muck-a-mucks. Only a dozen or so rooms. You don’t come away feeling overloaded.

What is this about?

I quote this at some length because this material, from the organization that oversees the palace, is funny. And a little quaint.

On May 13, 1998, at Sanssouci Palace a taboo in historical preservation was broken. After more than a hundred years, the Marble Hall of Frederick the Great’s summer residence once again became the scene of a festive dinner...

This time it was the Chancellor Helmut Kohl, who had prevailed against all of the preservation apprehensions. It had been his express wish to honor Bill Clinton, the president of the United States of America, with a luncheon at Sanssouci during his second state visit to Germany…

The suggestion to hold the dinner in the Ovid Gallery in the neighboring New Chambers of Sanssouci, which otherwise served as the festive setting when receiving state visitors, was turned down by the American chief of protocol.

The sensual scenes from the Metamorphoses by the Roman poet Ovid, set into the gallery walls in the form of gilded stucco reliefs, were considered by the protocol chief as being too permissive. There was a fear that the press would make a connection to the Lewinsky affair, which had been a constant theme for the media since the beginning of 1998.

Scenes from the room supposedly decorated for Voltaire, who visited the palace till he had a falling out with the king.

When we were done, we went back to the bus stop where we got off, operating under the assumption that Sanssouci was as far as the bus went, and it would take us directly back to the train station. This was wrong. Soon we were riding along, further into less developed areas, and I remember thinking – or did I say it out loud? — I don’t remember any of this.

We passed by a sign for the Max Planck Institute in front of some buildings in the mid-distance. Really? That’s here? Suburban Berlin was certainly plausible, but later I found out that Max Planck Society is headquartered in Munich, and has a lot of branches. That includes one in Golm, an outlying neighborhood of Potsdam, with narrow and lightly traveled streets through smallish but pleasant single-family houses with yards. Elsewhere in Golm are fields that are probably agricultural, or at least pastureland.

I hear Max Planck Institute and I suspect one or more branches are doing Time Tunnel research. You know, go back in time and make sure Hitler becomes an architect instead of a politician, that kind of thing. That kind of thinking is what I get for watching TV science fiction as a lad.

Then the bus stopped and we were directed to exit at the end of the line. Jay mustered his German and communicated with the driver, a chunky middle-aged fellow puffing on his vape, now that he was on break. The bus, we found out, would return to the train station in about 30 minutes. We were able to communicate this to the two other passengers who had done the same as us, two women tourists from South Korea, I think.

Such was a Sunday schedule, meaning a wait at the transit hub of Golm.

Luckily, the day was mild, almost pleasant, so sitting around outside for a while was no issue. Or taking a short walk.

An oddity.

3.10.1990 is all it says. The date of German reunification. The neighborhood’s private memorial to that event? Or was it a former border marker? I checked and no, Potsdam was firmly in East Germany. A stone marking the occasion when Potsdam, or even Golm, didn’t have to be in the DDR any more? Could be.

Qutb Minar, Delhi

Posted on March 24, 2025 by admin

When it comes to historic ruins in Delhi, the Mughals aren’t the only game in town. Qutb Minar, a 238-foot pre-Mughal legacy of the Delhi Sultanate, rises above the southern part of the metro, part of a larger complex that’s a World Heritage Site. That was how it went for us as tourists in modern India. Another day, another World Heritage Site.

I’d say Qutb Minar deserves its modern status.

Casual visitors can’t climb to the top any more and I’m not sure I could have anyway. “Access to the top ceased after 2000 due to suicides,” asserts Wiki. But you can stand right under the tower and behold the detail, as we did on the afternoon of February 20.

Monumental structures this old come with extra layers of marvel, at least in my reckoning. It’s one thing to admire a tower like Tokyo Skytree or Burj Khalifa, which are certainly impressive, but whose construction also had the benefit of all sorts of machines and experts in their use — enormous cranes come to mind, as do CAD systems with more computing power than the entire Apollo program.

On the other hand, Qutb Minar is essentially an artful stack of brick, one of whose characteristics turned out to be longevity. I’m certain some machines were available for the task, but I also imagine much of the building involved human and animal power. How did builders beginning around AD 1200 – around what, AH 620? — undertake such a feat? It only goes to show that machines might augment the result, but technique lies in the human mind.

Various sources tell me that Qutb Minar counts as a minaret for the nearby Quwwatu’l-Islam mosque, built around the same time and now a ruin, and as a “victory tower.” That is, presumably to remind the local population who was in charge now: one Qutb al-Din Aibak, the Ghurid-aligned conqueror of Delhi and founder of the Delhi Sultanate, whose military efforts were part of the hard-to-follow wave of Central and South Asian conquests and counter-conquests that played across centuries now remote.

The Ghurids, who were Tajiks, seem to be one of those peoples that pop up in history with some regularity, a minor group from somewhere remote from most urbanized civilizations, suddenly expanding by conquering its neighbors and basically kicking butt for a few centuries across a wide area before fizzling out. They also had the distinction of being also first Muslim conquerors of north-central India.

Quwwatu’l-Islam is noted for any number of reasons, including its columns.

Their distinctiveness has been long noted. From Treasure spots of the world, by Walter Bentley Woodbury (1875): “… no two columns of this structure are alike, and this peculiarity applies also to the almost endless number forming the colonnade surrounding the building… the portico of the Quwwat ul-Islam Mosque framing the courtyard area consists of columns/pillars from destroyed Hindu and Jain temples…”

Views of the courtyard.

Details. including what look like restorations.

In the middle of the courtyard is the Iron Pillar, covered with faint inscriptions.

Three Raj-era tablets offer translation in Arabic, Hindi and English. Perhaps not up to the latest translation standards, but worth a read all the same.

The pillar is an echo of an even earlier time, created during the Gupta Empire in the fourth to the sixth centuries as reckoned by the Gregorian calendar, and thought to laud the warrior deeds and memory of Chandragupta II (d. 415), also known as Chandra. What is it doing at Quwwatu’l-Islam? Brought from somewhere else as a bit of loot by one ruler or another many years after its creation, though exactly who or when or from where are matters of scholarly debate.

More.

The grounds also include a surprising amount of green space.

We only spent a short time in Delhi, but it didn’t seem overloaded with green space.

Tokyo Skytree & Senso-ji

Posted on March 23, 2025 by admin

I’ve been seeing ads recently for a fine-looking daypack (carryon pack, the ad calls), since the bots surely know that I just did such things as take airplanes to far-flung destinations, use a credit card overseas and bought the likes of an e-sim. The daypack’s array of pockets and their layout seem useful, too. Then there’s the price: $300. No.

As if to try to answer my immediate objection, soon a new ad for the same item appeared: “Why would you buy a $300 pack?” it asks. I don’t stick around for the answer. I have a fine daypack already. More than one, in fact, were pressed into service during the RTW ’25. One went on my back into the airplane, the other, empty, was waiting in the checked bag for light duty during the trip.

For all the years I spent in Japan, Tokyo didn’t represent much of that time. All together I spent maybe a week there, including a delightful visit in November 1993: young marrieds out on a long weekend. Wish I could remember the name of the minshuku where we stayed, somewhere in the sprawl of Tokyo. I close my eyes and I can see its tidy lobby, paper walls, delicate prints, narrow dark stairs, tatami underfoot. Our hosts were most hospitable, from a long line of inn keepers, I think. On the wall was a framed drawing of a banjo by Pete Seeger, along with his signature. Some decades earlier, he had stayed there.

This time we stayed in a guest room at the residence of Kyoko and her husband and two nearly grown children not far from the University of Tokyo, and had a pleasant visit. Good to see old friends, wherever they are. Yuriko and Kyoko go way back. Kyoko spent time in Texas, Corsicana specifically, and we traveled with her to Arizona in ’97. After Lilly was born, she came to Chicago to help out for several weeks.

One thing we missed in the early ’90s was Tokyo Skytree, rising 2,080 feet over Sumida Ward, and for good reason: the tower was completed only in 2012 as a TV tower and a tourist attraction. We arrived in the afternoon of February 14.

Who has the wherewithal to build such things in the early 21st century? In Japan, anyway, railroad companies do, in this case Tobu Railway Co. Ltd., a Kanto regional line that offers some sweet destinations, including the mountain resort of Nikko and the hot springs around Kinugawa Onsen, both of which I only know by reputation. Naturally, Japanese RR companies are never just that, and in this case while transport remains a core business, the conglomerate also includes entertainment venues, hotels, a commercial real estate and construction arm, and retail operations, especially department stores at major terminals.

Judging by my previous and recent experience at the department stores owned by regional RRs, the department store not only isn’t dying in Japan, it flourishes. They are serving a much more dense population, of course, and one that travels by train, but there’s also that matter of stocking goods people want to buy, including basements full of exceptionally good food. The stores’ bustle is something American department stores can only dream about in their dying reverie.

Up in the Tokyo Skytree bulb are a couple of tourist observation decks. The combo ticket, while expensive, isn’t outrageously more than just visiting the lower deck, so we opted for access to the deck at 350 meters and the narrower one at 450 meters, one after the other. It turned out to be easier to take good pictures from the lower level.

Busy, but not sardine-can busy.

Now those are some views, showing just how dense metro Tokyo is.

Below is the Sumida River, which wasn’t always so densely populated.

Night on the Sumida River – Kobayashi Kiyochika, 1881

“Night on the Sumida River” by Kobayashi Kiyochika, 1881

Three hundred fifty meters high? That’s well and good, but nothing as impressive as more than a thousand feet: 1,150, to be almost exact.

Window washers came by as we looked out at 350 meters. Hanging, as far as I could tell, by two wires attached to their car, and not their persons. They seemed pretty blasé about that, but anyone who felt otherwise (like me) would be in the wrong line of work.

On the other side of the river, and visible from the tower, is Senso-ji temple, in the Asakusa neighborhood. We still had some afternoon light after visiting Skytree, so we decided to go to the temple, a short train ride and a longer walk away. A long pedestrian street (Nakamise-dōri) goes through Asakusa to the temple grounds.

Hōzōmon gate.

The temple’s other gate is known as Kaminarimon, and if I’d known about its noteworthiness, we’d have backtracked a bit to see it. Apparently we entered the Nakamise-dōri at the middle, and so missed Kaminarimon (and it took me a while to figure that out just today). Ah, well.

There has been a Buddhist temple on the site since our 7th century, with the usual history of fires and rebuilding down the centuries, including the most recent cycle in the 20th century. The early 1945 air raids destroyed the temple, but rebuilding was complete by the 1970s. Said to be one of the most-visited religious sites in the world, the temple has the advantage in that regard of being square within the world’s most populous metro.

The temple is dedicated to Kannon, the bodhisattva of compassion, which might also help explain its popularity. Who doesn’t need some compassion sometimes? Kannon is popular when it comes temple dedications, with Shitennō-ji, Kiyomizu-dera and Sanjūsangen-dō also dedicated to Kannon, all in the Kansai region, and all of which I visited at one time or another.

The Main Hall.

No shortage of visitors.

Not a bad afternoon in Tokyo, visiting popular structures from the 21st and 7th centuries, respectively, and being fully alive in the present.

The Brandenburg Gate

Posted on March 20, 2025 by admin

To mark the spring equinox, winter pulled hard in the tug o’ war between it and spring, with snow falling overnight. By day, spring pulled back, melting most of the snow.

The weather during almost all of our trip turned out better than expected. Japan was dry and fairly chilly some days, but not others, even up north in Tokyo. As for north-central India, February is a good time to visit: slightly cool at night, warm or very warm during the day, and no rain at all, much like the days we spent in Mexico City. Later in the year, I understand, heat begins to oppress the region and soon the monsoon comes. In Dubai: consistently warm, almost hot in the afternoons, but never unbearable desert heat, which will come soon enough as well.

Germany and the Czech Republic were a pleasant surprise, mostly. During the first few days, temps were cool but not cold. The warmish Saturday Jay and I went to Museumsinsel, Berliners were out in numbers, sitting and lying around on the green space next to the Berliner Dom. Only toward the end of our visit did it get as cold as we’d expected, just above freezing, and there was light rain the day we returned to Berlin from Prague, and a little more the cold morning we left.

The day I got back to northern Illinois was warm and pleasant, until it wasn’t. That tug o’ war in action.

The very first thing I wanted to see in Berlin this time around was the Brandenburg Gate (Brandenburger Tor). I’d seen it before, of course, but let’s say the circumstances were a little different. On July 8, 1983, I wrote, a little confusingly:

The gallery [National Gallery] wasn’t that large, which was a virtue, and later we headed for the Reichstag to catch a bus. En route we passed as close to the Brandenburg Gate as you can without getting shot at.

I suppose I meant that we walked from the western National Gallery just south of the Tiergarten – not the National Gallery building in the east, since we didn’t visit East Berlin until the next day – to the Reichstag building, then a museum, to catch a bus westward, toward our hostel. Such a walk would take you within sight of the Brandenburg Gate, but not next to it, since the gate was in the east, behind the Wall.

These days, one can stroll right up to the Brandenburg Gate and pass under it. A lot of people do. Jay and I did on March 7.

Pass through going west, and pretty soon you’re within sight of the Reichstag building.

The ghost of the Berlin Wall runs through the platz behind the Reichstag.

The front of the Reichstag building.

Unlike 40 years ago, when you could wander in and see a few rooms, going in these days involved timed tickets and other rigmarole, so we didn’t bother. Instead we repaired to a small establishment a short ways into the Tiergarten for refreshments. In my case, a soft drink I’d never heard of before, though I could have encountered it in its place of origin, Vienna. Not bad.

The Brandenburg Gate has been the site of a goodly share of history since Friedrich Wilhelm II had it built, such as Napoleon parading through (and swiping part of it), soldiers posted atop during the Spartacist uprising, and President Kennedy not really calling himself a jelly doughnut nearby.

Events continue. Late afternoon on the 9th, we saw one ourselves, a rally to the west of the gate, voicing German support for Ukraine.

The gate was catching the setting sun about then.

Nice. Glad to make it to post-reunification Berlin.

The Burj Khalifa

Posted on March 19, 2025 by admin

If it weren’t too much trouble, I’d rummage through my paper archives – paper agglomeration – and dig up a roundtable interview I did in the early 2000s for the magazine I edited at the time. A number of local, meaning Chicago, architects gathered in a meeting room and I recorded their conversation, publishing an edited version. One of the participants was Adrian Smith.

That came to mind in the shadow of the Buji Khalifa in Dubai on the last day of February.

As an architect with HOK, Smith designed the Burj Khalifa (burj = tower). One day I will dig up the interview, to see whether he mentioned it. I’m not sure of the timing, but HOK might have been in discussions for the commission at that very moment, since construction started in 2004. Regardless, quite a thing. A signal achievement for Smith, whatever you think of very tall buildings, and not just for its height, but for its elegant stacking effect.

Dubai is eager to point out that the Buji Khalifa is currently the tallest manmade structure in the world (2,722 feet), taller than any poser in East Asia or obscure TV tower in North Dakota or behind the former Iron Curtain. For casual visitors, two observation decks are advertised, and no doubt there are even more expensive, unadvertised options, including for the rarefied few, going to the very top.

The ordinary tourist deck is at a lower level (floors 124-125) than the one at a significant premium (floor 148), which offers welcome refreshments (coffee and dates), access to a lounge and – mostly importantly – no waiting around in line to get in.

The Burj Khalifa is popular. You will wait in line if you pick the ordinary deck — about 45 minutes in my case — and you’ll see a spot of overselling on the way.

It wasn’t the waiting itself that was irritating, but the fact I always sensed that the elevators were going to be around the next corner, only to be wrong a half-dozen times. But I’m being churlish. All that grouchiness vanished as soon as I got on the elevator — which was a straight shot up to the deck, no changing cars necessary — and especially as soon as I reached the view.

Looking down at the Dubai Mall, and the massive nearby fountain, which erupts periodically with a height of its own.

Behind the Dubai Mall (from my vantage).

Next to the Dubai Mall.

I started losing track of directions. Dubai spreads out in a number of them.

Emaar being a major real estate developer in the region, controlled by this fellow, autocrat of Dubai.

Burj Khalifa, opened in 2010, was one of its projects, along with the Dubai Mall. To judge by how often the name Emaar appears on large buildings in Dubai, I’d guess it and legions of guest workers built most of modern Dubai as well.

The Taj Mahal

Posted on March 18, 2025 by admin

Back in the planning stages for our recent trip, which was last fall, Yuriko wasn’t entirely persuaded that we should visit India. Not at least for any reason I might think it was a good one: because we would already be on that side of the world (more or less) by visiting Japan; because we’d never gotten around to India, even in ’94; or because as a modern state built on a long series of storied civilizations, it would surely would be an interesting place to visit.

No matter, I had an ace in the hole. “Of course, we’ll be able to see the Taj Mahal,” I said. That did it.

So, on February 22, we did.

From a number of vantages.

I sent the first image to a number of friends via email, since I didn’t expect to find many postcards in India, or if I did, I wouldn’t want to deal with a post office to mail them, especially considering that delivery would be uncertain anyway. The email message:

A physical postcard from India is unlikely, but here’s an image you aren’t likely to see in a card or Instagram. You are likely so see it, however, if you stand in front of the structure, as we did… Entirely worth the effort to get here. I didn’t mind the crowds that much — they are a happy crowd, after all, and you’re one of them.

Even in a crowd, assuming they aren’t jostling you, you can pause, stare and consider where you are. The Taj Mahal. A place only ever seen in pictures before, considered one of the top works of human beings. In person, your eyes are apt to agree.

The story of the Taj Mahal is too well known to relate here, as are descriptions of its beauty and architectural transcendence. But I will say this: What would the Indian tourism industry do if the Mughals hadn’t been so keen to build monumental structures? The Taj Mahal is just the crown jewel of a large collection that has survived to our time.

One can visit the terrace.

For closeups of the intricate marble work.

It is believed that an eventual total of 20,000+ masons, stone-cutters, inlayers, carvers, painters, calligraphers, dome builders and other artisans from throughout the realm, and probably beyond, worked more than two decades on the mausoleum and outbuildings.

Inlay, not painting. Twenty-eight kinds of stones, I’ve read.

Imagine the graceful lines of the Taj Mahal main dome without the companion minarets. That would be like Saturn without its rings.

You can also go inside the chamber where ornate slabs sit above the internment sites of the empress Mumtaz Mahal, and, almost as an afterthought, the emperor Shah Jahan, who ordered the Taj Mahal built in the 17th century. We joined the line.

The mausoleum faces away from the river, but it is back there. The view from the mausoleum of the wide Yamuna River, tributary of the Ganges.

A structure that doesn’t get enough love. The main gate of the grounds, through which you pass to see the mausoleum. It is outshone by the mausoleum, but wow.

Not everyone loves the Taj, however.

Corpus Christi Cathedral

Posted on January 22, 2025 by admin

First stop last Thursday in Corpus Christi, Texas: Corpus Christi Cathedral, which is in downtown on a rise that’s probably good protection against hurricanes.

The cathedral was dedicated in 1940. That’s later than a lot of cathedrals, but not so recent that modernism enters the picture, such as at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Angels in Los Angeles. Previously, the seat of Catholic Diocese of Corpus Christi had been at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, but when it was damaged by fire in 1938, the church tasked Oklahoma architect Charles Monnot (d. 1962) to design a new one.

“Monnott – a devout Catholic — showed much interest and talent in designing places of worship,” says the Cultural Landscape Foundation. “During the early decades of the twentieth century, when the Catholic church was building extensively across several southwestern states, Monnot was designated as the architect on a multitude of projects.”

Besides Corpus Christi, he did the Cathedral of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, seat of the Oklahoma City Archdiocese, and the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Little Flower in San Antonio, as well as other churches, monasteries, chapels, and convents in Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, and Colorado.

Spanish Colonial Revival style, it’s called. A stylized interpretation of early Spanish missions. It has a handsome interior.

The floor.

There is a good collection of stained glass. Such as the loafs and fishes, miracle of.

St. Pius X, who established the Diocese of Corpus Christi, and Pius IX, figures I haven’t seen that often in stained glass.

But not never: At the Monastery of the Holy Cross in Chicago, Pius IX is seen promulgating Ineffabilis Deus, which defined the dogma of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. He’s probably doing that in the Corpus Christi window as well, and not handling the famed laundry list in the Sordidum Lauandi Dei incident, in which Pius refused to have the papal laundry done outside the Vatican walls after the establishment of the Kingdom of Italy and the loss of the Papal States in 1870.

Texas ’25

Posted on January 21, 2025 by admin

One way to deal with January, the grimmest month here in the frozen North (today’s high, 2° F.): adjust your latitude southward. Not everyone has that option, or really even that many people do. Humans get around, but we aren’t a migratory species. Anyway, I managed to travel recently from around 40° North to around 30° North and stay there for 10 days.

I flew from Chicago to Austin on January 9: from clear and chilly to overcast and not quite chilly enough for any precipitation to freeze. The flight path took us up and over an enormous winter storm passing south of Chicago at that time, whose southern edge expressed itself as cold rain in Austin. The storm made for spots of unnerving turbulence and some flight cancellations that day at places in between, such as Dallas, and a long descent into Austin Bergstrom through a gray soup. Hurray for radar.

On my return flight on January 19 out of Dallas — where I’d driven by then — I saw remnants of the earlier storm on the ground below. Somewhere over Missouri or southern Illinois that day, the ground still appeared white miles below, as far as I could see from my 737-800 perch.

Back in Chicago, there is very little snow on the ground. Dry January, indeed.

This was a family and friends trip, visiting more old friends than expected in Austin and San Antonio, including some I knew well in elementary school, meeting them in person for the first time in 40+ years, though I was on a zoom with one of them a few years ago. I’ve been making an effort to visit old friends for a few years now, because of mortality. Mine and theirs. People get a little weird if you say that part out loud, but I believe everyone feels the quiet ticking of the clock.

Also an Austin-San Antonio-Dallas trip, with a day in Corpus Christi thrown in for fun. Some places are like old friends you haven’t seen in decades, and so it was with Corpus, as Texans often call it. Not exactly a favorite destination from the old days, but I do have memories of high school speech tournaments at CC Ray and CC King (two Corpus high schools) maybe as recently as early 1979. I’m fairly sure Corpus was the first city except for San Antonio that I drove a car in, though that might have been Austin.

My brothers and I had lunch in the North Beach neighborhood of Corpus.

Seafood. The thing to eat on the Coast.

It was mostly an urban trip, but one fine day (nearly 60° F), old friends Tom and Nancy and I went to the suburban outskirts of Austin for lunch at the Round Rock location of the Salt Lick.

That too was visiting an old friend, in a way, though my fond memories are of the original Salt Lick in 1993, further out from metro Austin, in Driftwood, Texas, which is about as Hill Country as you can get. Still, the branch in Round Rock, with its long dining room and long tables and stone construction, seemed true to my memories of the original location. More importantly, the barbecue was just as good.

Afterward, we took a walk in the historic district of Round Rock – our Round Rock Ramble – near the intersection of Main and Mays, among the finely restored late 19th- and early 20th-century stone edifices with names like the Old Broom Factory, the Otto Reinke Building and the J.A. Nelson Co. Building. Businesses of the 21st century seem to be doing well in these old two- and three-story stone commercial buildings, including the likes of Fahrenheit Design, Organica Aesthetics (a plastic surgery spa), Gharma Zone Korean Food and the Brass Tap.

Nearby stands an impressive old water tower in a small park (Koughan Memorial Water Tower Park, according to Google Maps and Wiki).

The tower is yet another legacy of the WPA. Even better –

– you can stand right under it, something that isn’t always possible when it comes to public water infrastructure.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Category Archives: Architecture