Digital Wanderer

We live as long as we fly

USA — 32, Floods

 2008-08-03

 

After I returned from Bennett's studio, where I spent about two hours, we headed back to Madison. There wouldn't be much point in telling this story if it weren't for a few amusing details.

First of all, the rains and the biblical flood started up again. Second, we hit the road on a route well known to my sister, but after a while we turned on the GPS. It arrogantly informed us that we were heading entirely the wrong way, and we needed to turn around, roll back 10 miles, and take another highway. The thing is, my sister used to live on the east side of Madison and was used to driving straight there from the Dells on Interstate 94. But Middleton is on the west side, and it's easier to cruise there taking the western Highway 12.

A Wisconsin map showing two routes between Wisconsin Dells (circled in red and marked A) and Middleton (also circled in red). The blue route takes major highways east, then south, while the red route goes more directly south through Baraboo and Prairie du Sac.   
First we drove along the blue one, then along the red one

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USA — 31, Photographer Henry Bennett's Studio Museum

 2008-08-02

By late afternoon, my sister didn't want to do anything at all, which seemed weird to me — why come to the Dells and then just do nothing? Sure, it was pouring rain, but for true tourists, that's no excuse.
So I left my sister to snooze in the car and trudged off to the studio museum of the photographer Henry Hamilton Bennett, located right in the center of Wisconsin Dells. In the studio, I bought a ticket for $7 and walked through a door that can only be opened from the outside with the clerk's key, but from the inside with a simple handle.
Inside, large photos were waiting for me on the walls and stands. Walking a bit further, I saw a well-preserved older guy of medium build, wearing glasses and a beard. He was telling a couple with a 5-year-old girl all about the history of the studio in great detail. Catching sight of me, he asked if I wanted to join them. At my hesitant "maybe," he just chuckled ironically. A logical reaction, really, but how was he supposed to know that with my English, I could barely understand half of what he was saying, even when straining all my mental faculties. Still, I decided not to offend the old dude and, together with the other two visitors, started listening to him carefully, especially since his storytelling was very smooth and engaging.

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DRM

 2008-07-31