Political machinations that, yet again, make no sense. Just Plain Evil “loose cannon” villain goes on a rampage, which everyone in the universe could have seen coming. Yes, let’s put mentally deranged children in charge of entire armies; it’s clearly the right move for our empire…
Hitomi rides an absurd roller coaster of infatuation with Allen, then gets kidnapped and saved. Gotta have some kind of action in this episode I suppose. The implication is that she’s being abducted into the king’s harem by mercenaries, which is kinda intense for a kid’s show. The catgirl is instrumental in her rescue and shows serious bravery, and is also the most expressively animated of all the characters. It’s fun how they stylize her movements – and only hers – using flourishes from manga that cross the border between illustration and animation, and 2-d and 3-d space.
I went back and re-watched some of this with the English dub instead of the original Japanese voices, and though part of the problem is certainly the too-literally translated script, all the voices except possibly the insane child are just ATROCIOUS. Like, they feel dead wrong for the characters. Hitomi needs to sound feminine and a bit breathless to sell the Snow-White-adjacent nature of the character. In the English dub she sounds like … a mid-level manager at a software company, whose vacation is going a bit weird. Glad I’m avoiding the dub.
A couple of notes here, past the two hour mark since these are effectively 20-minute episodes when you cut out the credits: The soundtrack by Yoko Kanno, which spawned three albums (at least) and is a grand and inventive collection of music and was quite popular on its own, is strangely under-used. Some themes feel out of place, and many others have been chopped up into small cues and then used inconsistently. I really didn’t expect that. The show is not a good showcase for the music, and I’m left wondering how the music got so popular.
And the other note: Without the soundtrack, I have to admit that Vision Of Escaflowne is not actually a standout show. It certainly moves along, but the animation directors just don’t locate enough of those moments of wonder, or epic scale, that a colorful alternate world could potentially deliver. The only thing that keeps it a draw for me is a personal thing:
I only saw a few pieces of it when I was a teenager, and then it sank below cultural awareness for me except for the soundtrack. But I must have been exposed at exactly the right time, because the general look of Hitomi – a slightly mopey but earnest girl with short brown hair, big curious eyes, a lithe runner’s body, and a tendency to shoot her mouth off and get into trouble – is weirdly attractive to me. It feels like she’s an archetype, but of what exactly, I don’t know. She’s not a coiffed and poised princess, she’s not a fawning and alien catgirl, she’s not gregarious, she’s not very wise (at least for these first seven episodes), and frankly, she’s not particularly smart either. So what is it that I like? Just the short hair, the big eyes, the gumption, and the shapely legs? Man, I am a slut.
A pretty good night of sleep. The tent was a bit damp, so I packed the rest of my gear up and then asked the proprietor if I could lay the tent in a sunbeam, then ride into town for coffee and wrap up the tent when I came back.
She told me that all of the bakeries would be closed because it’s Sunday, but then immediately offered to share some of her coffee with me. I dithered for a while and finally accepted.
She called over to her husband, and he led me into their house and to a fancy coffee maker almost exactly like the one I had at home. Their two kids were playing in the living room amongst a pile of toys, and he introduced me to them in Norwegian, pronouncing my name and asking them to say it back. I felt very welcomed. The coffee was good, and just enough for me to dissolve the remaining quarter of my chocolate bar.
I laid the tent in a sunbeam, and as I was standing around fiddling with my bike and sipping the coffee, the older of the two kids came around the corner. She was chasing one of the family dogs, who was soaking wet, having just jumped into the river – which it wasn’t supposed to do – and the child was pursuing it and waving a large towel.
The dog came right up to me and laid down on my feet as if I was going to defend it from the dreaded towel, but the child walked right up. She introduced the dog to me in English:
“This is Ulfr. He is our dog. That other dog is not our dog.”
She pointed back around the hedge just in time for a large, fluffy, black haired dog to come galloping around it. This one ran up to Ulfr while the child was vigorously scrubbing him with a towel, and the two briefly touched noses.
“This is neighbors dog, and he hates Ulfr,” declared the child.
After only a few more seconds of scrubbing, Ulfr jumped up, and he and the other dog went running around the yard in a way that I can only describe as “frolicking.” They obviously got along fine. The child gave up trying to dry Ulfr and ran back around the hedge.
With the morning entertainment concluded, and the tent nicely dried in the sunbeam, I packed things all the way up and headed for the base of the big hill where I would be spending the first two hours of riding.
Looking back down the hill into the valley. Note the wood stacking on the left.
As I labored up the next hill, I noticed a ratchety scraping sound coming from my front wheel. A brief inspection showed me that one of the pins holding my brake pads in place was bent and sliding against the disc. I had a set of spare pads in my kit, and it was time to use them.
I stripped the bags off the bike and went through the pad replacement routine. My first roadside repair of the trip! Unfortunately I set the chain against my leg when I was flipping the bike around, and my sweats got a massive grease stain. Damn! I’d been so careful before…
An ceramic power line insulator, overlooked when the lines were removed…
The Eurovelo merged with the main road, then split to the right and ran down a rough gravel path, avoiding a decommissioned underpass that had been overgrown and blocked by debris.
This gravel bypass was pointless, and chewed up, and steep. Zero stars.
This gravel bypass was pointless, and chewed up, and steep. Zero stars.
The bureaucrat responsible for surveying this part of the route had done a terrible job, because even though the path went by a scenic pond and looked reasonable from the air, it was lumpy, sprayed with potholes, and pitched up and down a lot of steep hills. Worst of all, it had been stomped for many years by horses, creating a washboard texture that I couldn’t manage any faster than about 5 miles per hour. I had to clamp the brakes on every downhill.
Another painted bike. Do these mean anything? Is this a cultural thing I don’t know about?
Another painted bike. Do these mean anything? Is this a cultural thing I don’t know about?
I missed the campground and had to backtrack half a mile on those dang gravel roads. I swore that the next day I would avoid them and use the highway, no matter what the Eurovelo route said.
The reception area was deserted, but the door to the showers was unlocked. There were coin meters on the wall but they were busted, so the owners had bypassed them and put a sign up saying “Showers are free!” Nice. I took a long shower and did a bit of sink laundry. I did my best to get the grease out of my sweatpants but it was pretty well set. Since it was directly from the chain it was loaded with microscopic bits of steel.
My camping spot is right in with those grey buildings near the center.
I rode up around the back of the lodge, to the camping area at the peak of the hill. It was deserted. Since I had my pick of spots, I chose one with some nice wind protection.
I called up my Mom and had a chat. It was early afternoon where she was, and she’d just finished making a pot roast and a strawberry pie.
“I’d ask you to save me some, but it wouldn’t keep that long!” I said.
“Well you can’t have pie, but I’m sure you’re eating a lot of fresh fish in Norway, right?”
“Not a lot. I’m on the coast but it’s not like Iceland, where you could eat something that just came off the dock a few hours ago. I’ve had some fish and chips though.”
“Huh,” she said. “If you can’t find any fresh fish, you should buy some tinned fish for the road!”
“I’ll stock up, the next time I find a store.”
“When I was living with my sister, she went out and bought some tinned fish. She said ‘fish is good for you, let’s get some!’ I’m pretty sure the tin is still in her cupboard, because she never opened it while I was there. She’s like that: She’ll get stuff to eat because it’s healthy for her, even if it tastes bad. I’m the opposite. I get stuff that tastes good, and if it’s good for me that’s a lucky coincidence.”
I laughed. “So that’s where I get it from.”
Night seemed to fall all at once, since the valley was surrounded by high hills. The temperature dropped alarmingly as I snuggled into the sleeping bag for another episode of Escaflowne.
Escaflowne Corner, Episode 6
This one feels like it was written by different people than the previous five. There are actual jokes in it. We also get some fantastical creatures and nice artwork.
Sadly, the plot and the politics still make zero sense, and the episode boils down to a repeat of the last one: Hitomi has a vision, and uses her Level 3 Running Skill (or whatever) to go find Van and warn him in the nick of time. She has Level 4 Tarot Skill and basic competence in Mopey Teen Romance rounding out her skill set, and that’s it, so the running is really her best option.
These little automated buggers are everywhere in Norway.
Escaflowne Corner, Episode 5
A rather daring rescue mission, well put together, and the characters all show a little bit more depth. Not a lot — but a little is better than none.
This episode uses one of my favorite Yoko Kanno themes from the soundtrack, “Dragon Flight”, but uses it during the storming of a fortress, which I didn’t expect. It only sort of works. Hopefully it will get used again.
Today I was going to deviate from the Eurovelo 1, so I could avoid a very steep hill and pass by a little RV park at the end of a fjord in the microscopic town of Åpta.
I dunno why they thought a digital sign like this would be a good idea in below-freezing weather…
I dunno why they thought a digital sign like this would be a good idea in below-freezing weather…
As I headed west towards a shoreline road, I found myself obsessing over which items I might leave at home on my next trip. The camera, lens, laptop, and battery were easily ten pounds together. Did I really need to carry those over all these hills?
“Ah yes,” I thought. “The usual panic over hauling extra weight. Even though I obsessed over this at home and only brought what felt really useful, I still have these thoughts out here. They’ll pass.”
Then a moment later, another more sarcastic part of me added: “Yeah, and I know another way you can eliminate 10 pounds: Keep riding the bike, Mister Portly.”
After only half an hour of riding I got to a really cool chunk of road: There was a tunnel closed to bicycles, and next to it was a decommissioned side road that was reserved for bicycles exclusively! About five kilometers of completely unpopulated road, with really lax maintenance which made it look interestingly apocalyptic: Weeds growing at the shoulder, a couple of big boulders sitting in the middle of the road where they rolled, et cetera. I loved every meter of it.
Just when I huffed and puffed my way to the highest point, I saw an amazing creepy building on my left. “Oh I am absolutely going in there,” I said out loud.
I jammed the bike up against some rocks to keep it from flying back down the hill, and pulled out the fancy camera.
It occurs to me, rather belatedly, that some of the Norwegian personality can be explained by the land they grow up in as children. I feel like I can relate, because even at the age of 50 I still have dreams on a weekly basis that are set in the redwoods where I grew up. That quiet, dark, introspective, slightly spooky environment is like a layer that the rest of my personality has been built over. It feels like that internal quiet place is of a piece with the quiet, comfortable-feeling atmosphere I sometimes experience when there’s a crowd of Norwegian people indoors, talking softly or just reading, sharing tables, sitting closer to each other than strangers ever would back in my home town. A layer fades away and we all become trees, arranged comfortably in our forest.
Environment isn’t decisive, of course, but I think it can be responsible for trends.
Even if your house is smack in the middle of town, you may have enough grass for a few sheep.
About this time I rounded a corner and saw a thing I’ve only seen a few times before in Norway: An honest-to-goodness dumpster. At some point, jerks disposing of e-waste had either shoved their things into the dumpster and a disposal crew had rejected them, or the jerks hadn’t even made it to the dumpster and just dropped their trash nearby in the dirt.
Eating dinner and sorting photos while I wait for the reception desk to open.
When the proprietor arrived, he insisted on walking with me to the edge of the property so we could inspect the camping area together, even though I was already familiar with it from riding around. It was a lovely chunk of grass right on the shore, set nicely apart from the cabins. He seemed worried it wouldn’t be nice enough for this disheveled foreign visitor. I told him it was perfect.
He was curious about my route and gear, and reminisced about bike trips he’d taken years ago. I was quickly learning that my “I’m on a bike tour” conversations usually have a different shape in Norway, because so many people in the country are either bike tourists themselves, or used to be. They’re way more likely to say “What a great trip!” and less likely to say “You’re crazy!”
He wished me “all the best weather and luck” for my journey, just in case he didn’t catch me in the morning.
Okay, NOW it’s time to eat this brownie I’ve been hauling around all day…
Okay, NOW it’s time to eat this brownie I’ve been hauling around all day…
Last chore of the day: Finally eat that brownie!
Escaflowne Corner, Episode 4
What do we learn in this episode? Nobody listens to Hitomi, the kingdom’s training and giant robots are completely useless, and the fort burns when the enemy that was really obviously going to attack in the previous episode decides to attack in this one.
So, we actually learn nothing, because we knew all of that by the end of the last episode. It’s strange that such a fast-paced plot could feel like filler.
The Eurovelo-1 took a few liberties, passing through neighborhoods and hopping across a big highway. At one point it borrowed an access road inside a golf course. All of it was better than busy roads though!
Is there some city ordinance declaring that all houses be white??
Aha, I knew I’d find horses around here eventually.
The road leapt uphill and zig-zagged, and I went even slower than usual. When I spotted an enormous building that looked like a repurposed factory I had to investigate.
What’s this curious building? It’s the Sjølingstad Uldvarefabrik!
About Sjølingstad Woollen Mill (English taken directly from sign)
Sjølingstad Woollen Mill was established in 1894 and produced yarn and fabrics until 1984. In 1986 the idea of reopening the mill as a “working textile museum” was launched. The spirit of days gone by still linger in these buildings where fabrics are produced on the old machinery, driven by our water power station with a turbine from 1913.
A visit to the museum during the summer season gives you the possibility to get a guided tour around the factory. You learn the history of the mill, and follow the production line from raw wool to finished fabrics.
I parked the bike right out front in the empty parking lot, and rang the bell. About a minute later a woman came walking around the side of the building. She explained that since it was a very slow day, she’d been doing chores on the opposite side of the complex. There were no tours scheduled, but she said she would give me an abbreviated version, and I was welcome to take pictures. Awesome!
A number of these old machines are still in regular use, even now!
The machines are still in regular use! The original factory was a building behind the current one, made of wood, and full of more of such machines. But in the early half of the last century, it got struck by lightning and burned down. I didn’t ask how many times it was struck over the years before the fire happened, but I suspect lightning was inevitable, keeping that many giant metal machines this far up near the top of a steep hill. I can almost visualize the giant haze of potential charge, pulling down on the thunderclouds… KACHOWW!!
They had a gift shop and a small cafeteria. I spent a long time staring at their home-spun yarn, trying to work out which colors made a good combination for a knitting project.
I do believe this is the river that powers the factory!
This should be connected to a tiny grinder that dispenses birdseed onto a plate!
The route became a bike path, running alongside a busy chunk of highway. A few big trucks glided past. Looking at them, I realized I have a lot in common with long-haul truckers. We both carry a lot of stuff, move defensively around cars, and are focused on long distance. Also, we both bring a tiny living space with us: The trucker pulls into a truck stop and sleeps in their cab, and I pull into a campsite and sleep in a tent unfolded from my luggage.
I like this comparison more than the one between me and RV drivers … probably because I don’t like RV drivers. They’re not very pleasant to meet on the road. They tend to have no idea how big they are or what speed is reasonable.
Yes! I’m a highway snob! Yes, yes, aren’t we all. Everyone thinks they’re an above-average driver. It’s a statistical conundrum.
For a while there were actually so many houses along the road that it was impossible to find an anonymous spot to pee. Definitely an “old person on a bike tour” problem!
Part of the reason these houses can be built so close to water is, the tide does not change much here.
Similar to the ground cover I saw all over Iceland.
The road turned away from the coast and sent me up another massive hill. Soon I was looking at a lake instead of the ocean. Midway up, someone had decided to harvest some lumber.
Hmm; why would they put the combination to my luggage on a log?
I took a long break at the top of the hill. I’d been grabbing onto the guardrail at the edge of the road and resting while still seated on the bike. It was nice to walk around for a few minutes.
Moments later I was at the bottom of the hill, and near the shore again.
After the bridge I ran into a series of mega-steep hills. For the next three hours I cranked away. Some locals taking a stroll gave me indecipherable words of encouragement. Folks driving cars looked at me with an expression of wary respect like you’d give to someone who was insane but had clearly committed fully to their insanity.
As I descended into the town of Lyndal I saw yet another burned out house. Another candle left burning? Another space heater too close to a curtain? Who knows.
Okay, this is really looking like a pattern. What’s happening with fire safety in Norway?
I don’t know what the inscription actually is, but it might as well be “An Ode To Badonkadonk”
Half an hour later I found the campground, and rolled over to my numbered spot. The reception building was closed. No one came poking around while I was setting up my tent, so I figured the online booking had settled the matter.
There was a cooking area with a power outlet, so I charged my phone and battery and laptop all at once and vacuumed up the soup from the Thai place. Another day of burning too much energy. Good!
One of the things I’ve always struggled with in anime is the pacing of the exposition. Shows tend to base their scripts on manga, and that form being closer to “reading with pictures”, you often get multi-page hunks of exposition where people – or the narrator – ramble on for entire paragraphs instead of actually exchanging dialogue with each other. Meanwhile, the action always stops cold. If you don’t rewrite it, you get the same thing on the screen and the pacing is awful.
Escaflowne seems to be defying that pattern, but doing it badly: Instead of exposition dumps, you get no exposition at all. No one explains their history, or their reasoning, or their feelings. Characters have barely a chance to react or explain themselves before the plot skips forward to the next twist, which tends to end earlier than you expect, usually by interrupting a scene in progress. I’m on the third episode which means I’ve seen about an hour, and it already feels like way too much has happened and I barely know the characters, including Hitomi, whose purpose in life so far is to get dragged through time and space, freak out over visions she doesn’t understand, miss her mom, and continue to dream of getting kissed by a boy she likes. What else is going on in her head? No one knows…
And, while I’m complaining, what’s the deal with her gym bag? Hitomi teleports to a magical alternate world, okay, I’m suspending my disbelief for that. That’s why we’re watching Escaflowne. But every time Hitomi teleports, and no matter where she left it… her gym bag joins her? Mechs, cat-girls, floating fortresses, dragons, I’m rolling with all that because they’re unreal. But I know gym bags … and they’re not that helpful!
