Peppercorns. Cardamom pods (bright green, beautiful). Several kinds of cinnamon, from several different places. Blue flowers in sachets of tea. Candied mango, pineapple. Nuts of all kinds. Teas ditto. Everything beautifully presented. This is the only place in Ghent I have found so far where every spice you could possibly want—and the aforementioned teas, candied and dried fruits, nuts—can be found under one roof, in various quantities, and for what are generally good prices. The owner is friendly and helpful. Spice Bazaar is located at 25 Burgstraat (Tram 1, one stop past Gravensteen), and is open Tuesday-Saturday 9:30-12:30/2:00-6:30, Sunday 10:30-5:00.
My recent relocation to the paradise of suburban Los Angeles has renewed my interest in (and search for) heterotopias in my everyday landscape. The first place to catch my interest was Balboa Park between Encino and Van Nuys. Foucault described heterotopias as spaces that juxtapose, in a single real place, several spaces that are incompatible. The landscape of Balboa Park is no exception. Bordered by the primary boulevards of the central valley as well as the Sepulveda Dam, the park is a wilderness that is coupled with manicured gardens and scratched by landscapes with purposes from recreation to utility to dwelling.
I recently wandered through a corner of this heterotpia, starting with the Japanese gardens. Formally perfect and embodying wabi-sabi aesthetics, the gardens are a heterotopia of juxtaposition and illusion. The architectural forms of Japan are cast against the mountains of southern California and coupled with a reference to a fictional universe: the gardens are recognizable to any Star Trek aficionado as Starfleet Headquarters. The Japanese gardens’ tranquility is partially derived from the gentle flow of water pulled from the enormous waste water treatment plant next door. Yes: this little slice of the Land of the Rising Sun is watered by the valley of a million flushing toilets. I managed not to be turned off by the hydrological flow out of the gardens and followed the stream to the smallest airport in Southern California: the San Fernando Valley Flyers Club maintains a runway and landing pads devoted solely to the flight of miniature aircraft.
Passing into the brush, beyond the buzz of miniature aircraft, I entered a scrubby wilderness which Foucault might deem a heterotopia of deviation. The secluded passages in the trees are notorious for sex-for-drugs and encampment by urban nomads. This notoriety led the Army Corps of engineers to clear-cut and attempt to ‘clean up’ the area and normalize the activities that occur there. Instead, this action has drawn the ire of environmentalists who have worked to create a habitat for some of the rarest birds in Southern California, as well as for graffiti artists—whose tags and scrawls are as diverse as the nearby waterfowl.
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Interested in writing for our LOCALITIES section? Drop us a line.
But most pertinent here: we’re going to be trying a few new things in this space. Your participation is welcome (email miel.books at gmail dot com if you’re interested).
First new thing: every other week or so, we’ll feature A Short Review of Something Someone Has Somethinged Recently: a book, sure, but maybe a dinner, a film, a walk, a view, a phone call, a piece of music, an hour on the internet, a train ride. We’re up for whatever you’re up for. Pieces will be 150-500 words long (and you’ll need to supply a photo or two).
Second new thing: we’ll be publishing posts about things to do and see in Ghent. Finding more and more to like in this city, we figured we’d share it. If there’s something to love in your city, town, rural area—just get in touch with text (up to 500 words) and photos and we’ll feature it in our new LOCALITIES section.
We can’t pay for either of these, but if you write five posts for us (and we publish them), we’ll send you a chapbook or copy of 111O of your choice.
