Paris Parfait

Sensitive skin

Glow by Randall LaGro, oil on board, photo courtesy of the Blue Rain Gallery, Taos, New Mexico

This poem was written for the Sunday Scribblings´prompt "Skin." I wrote it in 15 minutes while drinking tea in a Starbucks in Seville. So let´s consider it a first draft!

The sensitive skin I´m in seems
increasingly thin,
much affected by slings and arrows.

Once it was tougher,
hardened by repeated exposure
to cities´ fast pace.

Bracing
for whatever came next
without flinching or looking away.

At a certain point,
detachment became a matter of course;
enduring trials; strengthening resolve.

Hidden effects on the psyche
at last register on the face:
skin becomes almost translucent.

Anxiety and resentment surface,
bringing fine lines and shadows
lurking among the freckles.

Denying attempts to mask pain and grief,
suppressed for years
as a means of survival.

Despite the best moisturisers,
skin indelibly imprinted
with time´s stealth passage.

A map of war wounds,
detailing experiences happy and sad:
I choose to be glad.

Table for two?

Would you want to eat here? A local restaurant has dining tables set up directly across the sidewalk from a skip filled with construction materials.

Spanish television

On Thursday I was walking down Siepres when I saw a TV Espana crew ambush these people. Apparently the woman had quite a lot to say, whatever the topic. The guy who owns the internet place where I´m writing this told me that Spanish television is notorious for going up to people and shoving a microphone in their faces. He said most Spaniards run in the opposite direction if they see a television crew approaching.

The horrid hotel

The Hotel Ducal - aka as the "horrid hotel" in Sassy in Seville - is the white building behind the green crane. When you´re in Seville, best to avoid it!

Not exactly racehorse material

This poor old carriage horse was sweltering Friday afternoon under the scarce shade of an orange tree near La Giralda in Sevilla. The horse kept pawing the pavement and tossing its mane. These workhorses stand for hours in the blazing sun, waiting to ferry tourists to local attractions. The usual routes have been corrupted by construction: the main road fronting La Giralda is filled with cranes and heavy machine used to build a light rail network.

Night owls

Night view of La Giralda, Seville

I am a night owl in a city of night owls. Should be a perfect fit, right? I´m fine with staying awake until 2 a.m. if I can sleep until at least 7; preferably 8. But when I´m awakened at 6 a.m. by the hotel staff´s noise while preparing breakfast, followed by motorcycles and garbage trucks, I´m not so pleased. By 8 a.m. the noise became a concert, with more motorcycles, the construction crew down the street and crying babies en route to the creche at the other end of the street. This is where siestas come in handy, I suppose.

The B&B where I was originally booked - and where I am now -is a traditional stucco building, with arched doors and windows and beautiful azuelos. And the room? Well it has a certain rustic charm -make that very rustic. It´s on the ground floor and has 12-foot ceilings and a wrought-iron grilled window covering - at about the nine-foot level. This means I can´t look out the window, so it´s a bit like being in a high-ceiling dungeon.

The television is mounted at the ten-foot level - the only way to watch it is flat on your back in bed, but as the screen is so small, it´s hardly worth the effort. The only light comes from a single overhead fixture, which isn´t enough to illuminate the room properly. As there´s not a single electrical outlet in the bedroom, I have to charge my cell phone and camera in the bathroom.

Last night, after the joy of ironing clothes on the table in the hotel´s small breakfast room, the enterprising manager found an extension cord. So now I can plug the extension cord in the bathroom and iron on the desk in the bedroom! Such fun. I know I shouldn´t complain - these are pretty small annoyances in the grand scheme of things - but I just need more light. It´s depressing not to be able to look out the window or have enough bright light to see what you´re doing. At the moment, there´s no other room available.

The manager has gone out of his way to be accommodating after the little fiasco upon my initial arrival. When I returned with my luggage and told him who I was, he blurted "I thought you were younger!" "Thanks. Thanks a lot," I said. "No, because you were phoning me from the school and I thought you were a student. Also, your voice sounds really young." "I am a student, " I said. "A mature student."

But he´s right about the student bit. Seville is filled with students, most of them college age. Perhaps there will be some fellow "mature students" in my class, which starts Monday.

Dining alone

Dining alone in the evenings is the thing I find most difficult about traveling. I still feel shy when walking into a restaurant on my own - especially since I don´t speak the language. Last night I went into a lovely restaurant and ordered four tapas dishes. Of course, I was able to eat only a third of the food, as the portions were huge and the food wasn´t what I thought I ordered. But it was fine, accompanied by a nice glass of Sangria. And I dined early enough to avoid the 10 p.m. dinner hour for most locals.

On the way back to the hotel, I saw an Yves Saint Laurent bag filled with clothes hangers. Apparently a department store had thrown them out. So I took them to the hotel and showed the manager, who was aghast at the serendipity. Earlier I had requested more hangers, but he´d looked in the housekeeping cupboard and couldn´t find any. Finding the hangers in a French bag did seem a bit odd. I took about 12 of the hangers and asked if he wanted the rest for the hotel. He said as they were really nice, he would take them home.

Joaquin Cortes tonight!

At the end of my first hectic afternoon in Seville, I asked the concierge how I could get a ticket to see the famous flamenco artist Joaquin Cortes perform Mi Soledad Friday night. He phoned me and said tickets were still available at a department store nearby. So after much kerfuffle in finding the ticket office, I got one of the few remaining tickets - for 100 euros! A bit extravagant, but after the day I´d had (see Sassy in Seville) I deserved a treat. No doubt the performance will be worth every centime. It´s at 10 tonight at the Plaza de Toros de Sevilla. That´s the bull ring and as my seat is close to the stage, perhaps I´ll be sitting in the bullring!

Cortes´s performance caps a month-long celebration of flamenco in Seville. Famous flamenco dancers and musicians from throughout Spain have been performing at venues around the city.

Now what to wear, in this heat? Of course I brought all the wrong clothes. Everyone in Seville is walking around in summer things, although the stores are filled with fall clothes. After welcoming my favourite season of fall in Paris, it seems as though I´ve been catapulted back to summer.

Asking directions

You would think I´d be the one needing a map. But so far, three Spanish people have stopped me on the street to ask directions. All I could do is throw up my hands and smile. Realising their mistake, they laughed and walked away.

Meanwhile, the sun is shining on the Guadaquavir, it´s 2 p.m. and I must find a place for lunch!

Sassy in Seville

The plaza surrounding La Giralda, Seville

Yes, I´ve had to get a bit sassy, after a series of misadventures involving various hotels in Seville have tried my patience.

It all started in Paris. I was waiting outside my apartment building for the taxi to take me to the airport. As the taxi arrived, I stepped into some lovely fall leaves on the ground, with an unexpected bonus. It seems one of my lazy neighbours hadn´t bothered to take his or her dog directly across the street to the park. Instead the dog had done his messy business amidst the leaves on the sidewalk. And I was wearing LK Bennett driving loafers, which have lots of ridges on the sole. So you can image the mess. I spent the first few minutes at Orly removing the last vestiges of French chien! Merde!

Thankfully, the Iberia flight to Seville was uneventful. The taxi ride from the airport was fine. And when I arrived at the B&B, the receptionist watched me get out, pay the driver and struggle with my two bags. I showed her my written confirmation of my booking and she nodded. Then she said there´s something wrong with the water in my room, so they were sending me to another hotel.

I argued with her as best I could, considering that she barely spoke English and I knew only a few words in Spanish. But she was adamant there was no room at the hotel; alas, the manager was nowhere to be found. So she gave me a map with the alternative hotel circled, phoned a taxi and off I went, with a bad feeling about this unexpected turn of events.

And I was right. As the taxi approached a construction site with a huge hole in the ground, to my dismay, the driver stopped at a dated building next to the site. I went inside, where an elderly gentleman informed me I was there for one night at the same price as the other B&B. I asked if the hotel was air-conditioned and he replied, "Ah, who needs air-conditioning in this weather?" Uh, someone like me who was just getting used to lovely fall weather in Paris?

Then he took my passport and copied it into his computer. When he handed me the printout to sign -apparently for police verification - every part of my name was wrong. I said, "No, that´s not my name." He shrugged, assuring me it was "of no consequence." Not to him, maybe. By this time I had the dreaded feeling that things were about to go from bad to worse. He gave me the key and I took my luggage to the sixth floor. I took a deep breath, before opening the door to a box room containing a bed with a brown bedspread, a chair and a desk - no lamp, television, air-conditioner or accoutrements of any kind. The blinds were drawn and I opened them to see - what else from the top floor - a splendid view of the construction pit!

Obviously, this just wouldn´t do. These days I´m a little old to be roughing it. And I was in a fury that the reservations I´d made in June had seemingly disappeared into thin air. So I phoned the language school and explained my predicament. They said they would phone around and try to find alternate accommodations. Meanwhile, I walked around the neighbourhood near the Cortes Ingles department store, going into one hotel after another to find them fully booked.

I got out my French cell phone and again called the school, but they´d had no luck. So after a series of phone calls with confusing directions (I´d left my map in the horrid hotel), I arrived at the school. Its location was only a few blocks away, but the route through narrow pedestrian streets was inaccessible by taxi. The staff phoned practically every hotel in town, even one across the river in Cartuja - all were full!

I was beginning to despair, because there was no way I was staying in that horrid place. So I asked Jessica of the school staff to phone the B&B where my original booking was and ask questions in Spanish. She spoke to the manager, who had just arrived. He spoke to me in excellent English and said it had all been a big misunderstanding - that the receptionist had thought I was staying only one night. I asked how that could be, considering I had presented her with written confirmation of the length of my stay and he had no answer. Apparently whatever problem had sent me to the horrid hotel would be resolved by the next morning.

This still didn´t resolve the issue of where I could stay that night. Finally, a staff member suggested Hotel Colon, a four-star hotel that actually had a vacancy! So I went back to the horrid hotel, retrieved my luggage, paid the bill (I´ll argue that with the B&B manager later) and went off to the (relatively) luxurious air-conditioned room with a small balcony. And phoned my husband saying I wish I hadn´t come to Seville, it had been such a horrid afternoon. Of course, I was just hot, tired, irritable and hungry - by this time 6 p.m. and I hadn´t eaten or had so much as a cup of tea all afternoon.

The next morning things improved when I arrived at the original B&B to confirm that a room was actually available. The receptionist was full of apologies and said, "Oh, yes, come now and bring everything." So I went to the Hotel Colon, a short walk away, retrieved my luggage, checked out and got a taxi. And the taxi driver - even though there was a sign pointing towards the direction of the B&B, with the name of the B&B clearly in his line of vision and even though I´d showed him the name and address of the hotel written in Spanish - he pretended not to understand any of these things. I had to direct him past every sign clearly pointing to the hotel. He was feigning ignorance, trying to run up the meter.

As the hotel was only a short distance away, the meter read two euros. But he immediately switched it off, hoping I wouldn´t see that and insisted I pay him four euros. I argued with him that the meter indicated two euros; he claimed the other two were for my bags. I knew that wasn´t true; besides, he´d been rude since the moment the hotel bellman put my bags in his cab. Obviously, he was just trying to take advantage of a tourist. The sad thing is, he probably behaves this way with every tourist who gets in his cab.

I frowned at him and gave him four euros, but no tip. I went inside to the B&B, where of course, the room wasn´t ready. So I left my bags and went exploring. More about that in the next post.

Hurricane Run favourite at Longchamp

The champion Hurricane Run is led around the parade ring at Longchamp, Paris.

This is the second time I've run the above photo of Hurricane Run and it is hoped it will be Hurricane Run's second year in a row to win the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe Lucien Barriere this Sunday at Longchamp in Paris.

Hurricane Run's main competitors include the Japanese-owned horse Deep Impact; the German-owned horse Shirocco, also trained by Andre Fabre, Hurricane Run's French trainer; the French-owned horse Pride and the Irish-owned horse Dylan Thomas. As of this writing, 12 horses are scheduled to compete, although the cut-off for race entries is Thursday.

The Arc is the most famous horse race in Europe, run every year since 1920 at Hippodrome de Longchamp in the Bois de Boulogne, Paris. On 18 August 1854, the Paris city council authorised the town prefect to acquire property in the Bois to build a racetrack. Under terms of the June 1856 lease, the City of Paris granted French racing authorities 60 hectares at Longchamp (from 1st July 1856 to 30 June 1906).

According to Longchamp records, on 15 December 1856, the state accorded the "Société d'Encouragement" the right to run the "Autumn" race series previously featured at the Champs-de-Mars.

The first ever race was run at Longchamp on Sunday 27 April, 1857 in front of a massive crowd. The Emperor Napoleon III and his wife Eugénie were spectactors, having sailed down the Seine on their private yacht to watch the third race. Until 1930, many Parisians would travel to the track via steamboats and paddleboats, the journey about an hour to the Pont de Suresnes.

The royal couple joined Prince Jerome Bonaparte and his son Prince Napoleon in the Royal Enclosure alongside the Prince of Nassau, Prince Murat and the Duke of Morny, an avid racegoer. Non-aristocratic members of the upper classes were not permitted into the Royal enclosure and watched the races from their carriages on the lawn.

The card for the opening day contained five races. The first horse ever to cross the finishing line was Eclaireur, in the black and red colours of Auguste Lupin. A short length behind was Miss Gladiator, destined to become one of the most famous brood mares in French racing history when she foaled the celebrated Gladiateur, whose bronze statue still stands at Longchamp's main entrance.

In the spring of 1914, Longchamp opened its doors to the Grand Prix de Paris - at that time the world's richest race, with prize money totalling 300,000 French francs. At the beginning of August all racecourses were requisitioned for the war effort. Racing officially began again on 5 May 1919 at Maisons Laffitte, then at Longchamp three days later.

Since it was first run on 3 October 1920, the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe has become the world's foremost race for three-year-olds and above over the classic mile-and-a-half distance.The ‘Arc weekend’ brings together the best international thoroughbreds and offers the richest race card in Europe. In 2006, total prize money of over 4.2 million euros will be spread across 16 races on Sept. 30-Oct. 1, consisting of one Group 1 and four Group 2 events on Saturday and 6 Group 1 races on Sunday.

Almost half of this purse is allocated to the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe Lucien Barrière, with 1.14 million of the race’s 2 million-euro prize money going to the winner A popular social occasion, the Arc's race weekend is graced by elegantly clad women wearing fancy hats. Champagne is served at kiosks and typically a famous French actress presents the trophy to the Arc winner. Last year the presenter was Emanuelle Beart; the year before, Isabelle Adjani.

Sadly, I shall miss the Arc, but my husband has promised to phone me in Seville the minute the race is over. It is hoped the news will be that my favourite Hurricane Run has triumphed again! The weather will be a determining factor in the outcome - Hurricane Run doesn't like damp ground. Here's to a sunny Sunday in Paris!

Quick book meme

Plaza de Espana, Seville

Annie tagged me for this meme. The "rules" are to open the book nearest you to page 123, go to the fifth sentence and post the text of the next three sentences. I have only four books in English with me; this was the first I grabbed: Andalus: Unlocking the Secrets of Moorish Spain by Jason Webster.

"I decided to move things back to more personal matters, asking him how his family had reacted when he converted.

"It hadn't been easy; his mother was unhappy about his conversion. She felt he'd let down his father, who had died when Muhammad was only a teenager. None of his protestations about Spain's Muslim heritage washed with her and now he only saw her a couple of times a year in their home town of Ciceres."

In Andalus, the author attempts to discover Spain's hidden Moorish legacy and recounts some adventures along the way. The book also explores the Arab ancestry of modern Spain from the viewpoint of a Moroccan living in Andalucia.

Paulo Coelho's wisdom

Symbols of Sacred Beginnings by Land Eagle, Taos Pueblo, acrylic on paper, photo courtesy of the Blue Rain Gallery, Taos, New Mexico

In his book Like the Flowing River, Paulo Coelho talks about "The Catholic and the Muslim."

I was talking to a Catholic priest and a young Muslim man over lunch. When the waiter came by with a tray, we all helped ourselves, except the Muslim, who was keeping the annual fast prescribed by the Koran.

When lunch was over and people were leaving, one of the other guests couldn't resist saying: "You see how fanatical these Muslims are! I'm glad to see you Catholics aren't like them."

"But we are," said the priest. "He is trying to serve God just as I am. We merely follow different laws." And he concluded: "It's a shame that people see only the differences that separate them. If you were to look with more love, you would mainly see what we have in common, then half the world's problems would be solved."

Bush & Co.'s latest hits

It seems the mainstream media has missed the Bush administration's latest cost-cutting measures. For news about the stealth repeal of the Clean Water Act Protections and closure of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) library, see the links at the clever weblog Germany Doesn't Suck.

Chatou gardens

A windowbox garden container for Paris apartment windows or small balconies is one of the offerings at the 73rd Foire Nationale a la Brocante et aux Jambons underway at Chatou through Sunday, Oct. 1.

The town of Chatou near Paris boasts a lovely cottage garden planted in the city centre. It is adjacent to a public seating area located one block from the Chatou-Croissy train station.

Diverse finds at Chatou

When shopping at the brocante at Chatou last Friday, I visited only two stands (too many things to do before departing for Spain to spend much time browsing). Among my purchases were these 1950s enamelware cooking pots and 1940s decorative beaded and jet items used to decorate handbags. I'm planning to make the latter into tassles for antique keys or perhaps as decoration for evening bags or hats. The beaded item (center) might be converted into a brooch to pin on an evening sweater or jacket. Or maybe they will grace a Christmas tree? What do you think?

Framing the view

Arched doorway looking out towards La Giralda Cathedral, Seville, Spain

The view enchants us
anticipating delights
we venture further

This haiku was written for One Deep Breath's prompt "windows and doorways."

Kitchen collectibles at Chatou

Enamel coffee pots, "biggins" and coffee grinders, along with enamel utensil holders are some of the many kitchen collectibles for sale at Blandine Bavoux's stand at Chatou, near Paris. The brocante continues daily through Sunday, Oct. 1. If you're unable to get to Chatou, you can find many of these items online. The Jolie Trouvaille website is in both French and English.

A wooden cup rack painted green is flanked by a wall-mounted coffee grinder.

For the purist at heart, old-fashioned coffee grinders come in various colours - and they still work!

An enamel covered soup tureen dates probably from the 1950s, but its "shabby chic" floral and stripe combination is fashionable today.

Salt, flour and matchstick holders are available in a wide variety of styles.

A collection of heavy pewter pieces are used in serving meals or as decorative containers for fresh or dried flowers.

A rare earthenware and wooden spice cabinet features stylish retro storage solutions for sugar, cafe, rice and other pantry staples. Monogrammed tea towels are also on offer.

This glass and oak display cabinet holds a child's set of green enamelware, in excellent condition. The top shelf displays pastry dispensers for decorating cakes and desserts, along with a pewter measuring cup and other items.

Opening day at Chatou

My friend Gabrielle Turlan is pictured on opening day Friday at the 73rd Foire Nationale D'Automne a la Brocante et aux Jambons in Chatou, near Paris. The twice-yearly event draws antiques enthusiasts from around the world. The brocante is open from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. daily through Sunday, Oct. 1.

Among the beautiful items displayed at Gabrielle Turlan's stand at Chatou are a 19th-century Spanish marquetry chest and a Napoleon III silk dressmaker's form on a carved wooden stand.

A fall floral arrangement enhances this beautifully-styled stand at Chatou.

A gilded-cane French sofa's cushion is wrapped with a 19th-century paisley cashmere cloth, echoed by a second cashmere topping a dining table. A 1940s crystal chandelier is also pictured.

A 19th-century Spanish marquetry chest has a green velvet section for placing and selecting jewelry. The chest's top panel closes and locks, with its elegant marquetry design seamlessly intertwined in a repeating pattern.

A mid-19th-century miniature furniture model or doll's chest is topped with a white marble slab.

A tableau of an oval gilt-framed painting, crystal, candlelabras and hortensia frame an ornate hanging decorative chest. A backdrop of heavy tapestry drapes completes the look.

Find of the day: Rain

It's raining in Paris - a lovely, steady cooling rain that freshens the air and lowers the temperature. Most of you probably are familiar with American designer Marc Jacobs' fragrance trio: Grass, Cotton and Rain. In Sephora today, I came across these gentle scents for the first time. Rain in particular is a wonderful fresh scent - an antidote to the overpowering heady perfume usually associated with bottled fragrance. So a bottle of Rain came home with me. My daughter painted the copy of the classic painting (pictured in the background) five years ago in an art class at the American School of Paris.

Technology glitch

Medicine Shield by Felix Vigil, mixed media, photo courtesy of the Blue Rain Gallery, Taos, New Mexico

Instructions written
in five different languages;
so why won't it work?

This haiku was written per Sunday Scribblings' "instructions." This is my shortest scribble ever!

Un espace aquatique

Behind this wire-mesh aquarium, various species of ocean life are depicted through handmade origami models of fish, sea turtles, coral and seaweed. I came across this exhibition Thursday at a shopping complex in Boulogne-Billancourt. Click photos to enlarge.

Life-size cranes made of origami - the Japanese art of folding paper - is part of an ocean life exhibition in Boulogne-Billancourt on the western edge of Paris. The crane is a symbol of good luck in Japan.

These boats accompanying the ocean life exhibit were fashioned of heavy paper. A large paper whale also was included (not pictured).

Thursday was a serendipitous day for being in the right place at the right time. First, I had a session with the French hairdresser. You may remember my last adventure with the French hairdresser (The Reluctant Blonde) back in March. Since then I went to a hairdresser in England, who was a talented colourist, but not quite as deft with the scissors.

Gwenelle, the talented but opinionated woman who usually cuts my hair - a red-headed impossibly-chic Parisienne - took one look at my hair and said "C'est bizarre, la coupe d'anglaise." (It's bizarre, the English haircut). Before that, she'd taken me to task for not speaking better French. Basically, she said, "Why bother learning Spanish? You should improve your French!" That's Gwenelle, who speaks not a word of any language other than French. Tres diplomatique.

After the hairdresser, I went shopping, then to the grocery store at the opposite end of our neighbourhood. I saw a poster advertising the film version of the book "The Devil Wears Prada," so stopped in the local theatre to check movie times. That movie hasn't opened, but Oliver Stone's "World Trade Center" was starting in five minutes. The night before, Ali and I had been walking down the street talking about September 11, when I glanced up and saw a billboard for "World Trade Center." So I impulsively bought a ticket and went in to watch the film.

It was a bit hard to take, because of the emotion involved - not only did all those people die tragically and the buildings collapse, I once had an office on the 46th floor of 1 WTC and spent many evenings with friends at the City Lights Bar and the restaurant on the 105th floor. After first meeting at an e-commerce conference, David and I had drinks at the City Lights Bar, before going on to dinner at Tavern on the Green. Like most Americans, the tremendous loss that day - nearly 3,000 citizens from 87 countries - hurts my heart. I still can't comprehend a New York City skyline without the Twin Towers.

Except for a couple of over-the-top scenes - which were supposed to be spiritual, but seemed overly contrived - I think Stone did a good job presenting the human story of the rescue workers, their families and the police and firemen who tried to help others that day, but became victims themselves. If you get a chance to see the film, I recommend it. But be prepared to shed a few tears.

Fernando Pessoa's Ancient Rhythm

Photo, New Zealand, 2005 by Marie-Claire Holmes

The Poetry Thursday prompt is "a song of yourself." I'm busy getting ready for five weeks in Spain and didn't have time to write a poem. So I've chosen The Ancient Rhythm, a timeless verse from Selected Poems by Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa (1888-1835).

The Ancient Rhythm

The ancient rhythm which belongs to bare feet,
That rhythm of the nymphs, pattern repeated,
When in the grove's shade
They beat out the dance sound,
Remember, you, and do it, on the white
Shore which the sea-form leaves dark; you, still
children
Who are not yet cured
Of being cured, restore
Rousingly the round, while Apollo bends
Like a high branch, the blue curve which he goldens,
And the perennial tide
Runs on, flowing or ebbing.

A special guest in Paris

Bienvenue a Paris! - My friend and fellow blogger Ali holds a French baguette in front of our apartment building's wrought iron gates. Ali came to visit Wednesday during a long layover in her trip from the United States to Maputo, Mozambique, where she lives.

Air France lost Ali's luggage, so she didn't arrive at my apartment as soon as she'd hoped. We had planned to make a quick dash to Notre Dame and a late lunch/early dinner on the Ile Saint Louis. Instead, we walked around my neighbourhood and across the River Seine to St. Cloud. Standing on the bridge, we could see La Defense and the Eiffel Tower, as well as all the lovely houseboats bordering both banks of the river.

Ali also accompanied me to the grocery store and boulangerie and my husband whipped up Spaghetti Bolognaise. At least Ali got to eat a French baguette and drink some nice red wine, during an all-too-hasty dinner. We phoned a taxi service, which typically arrives in seven minutes. Bien sur, last night the driver got lost and we had to phone for another taxi, delaying Ali's departure by 30 minutes.

The good news was by the time Ali arrived at the airport, they'd located her missing luggage. She then had a long flight to Johannesburg, another layover and a flight to Mozambique. No doubt she'll post about her experiences on her blog, once she recovers from all those flights!

It was wonderful meeting Ali in person, after communicating via our blogs and e-mail the past few months! She and I have lived in many of the same places in the United States and have much in common. Besides her work as a consultant and fund-raiser/grant writer for aid projects, Ali speaks several languages and is a talented jewelry maker. You can see some examples of her work in previous posts on her blog "Austin to Africa, Brasil to the Bay." She gave me a beautiful pair of silver, rose quartz and seed pearl earrings, which I immediately put on and am wearing again today. How lucky am I, to spend time with Ali and have a lovely memento of our visit!

We were so rushed, we forgot to take a picture together. It is hoped next time she travels to the States, she can spend more time in Paris - I'll be delighted to be her tour guide.

New look for Musee des Arts Decoratifs

A tall floor version of this 17th-century hand-forged iron candlelabra is in the Musee des Arts Decoratifs in Paris. Note the sharp pointed center, which could be used as a weapon! I found this one two years ago at a brocante in Chatou, just outside Paris. Obviously the seller didn't know its true value!

The Musee des Arts Decoratifs at 107 rue de Rivoli in the Marsan wing of the Louvre is my favourite small museum. It reopened to much fanfare last week, after an extensive renovation spanning ten years. During that time, alternating wings were closed as work was underway, while others remained open for public viewing.

More than 5,000 objets d'art and pieces of furniture are on display in the nine floors overlooking the Tuileries gardens. Ten period rooms designed by interior decorator Francois-Joseph Graf are featured, including Pierre Chareau's library, originally designed for the French Embassy Pavilion at the 1925 Exposition Internationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industrials Moderne.

Among the other spectacular settings is the Armand Albert Rateau 1920s design for famed couturier Jeanne Lanvin's Paris apartment, with bright blue walls. Lalique doors from 1925 are another highlight of beautiful pieces selected from the museum's collection of 150,000 objects.

The museum also has an excellent gift shop, filled with innovative work by local artists and craftsmen, along with a fine library of art and design books. For more information, check out the web link (above) or telephone 01.44.55.57.50 (inside Paris) or (33) 1.44.55.57.50 outside France.

Out and about in Paris

Decorative ceiling at Galeries Lafayette, Paris, photo by Qingbo Sun

Today I've been out and about Paris, shopping at Printemps and Galeries Lafayette. When looking at fall handbags, I noticed that in some small boutiques such as Chloe and Gucci, barriers were set up to prevent too many people from entering at once! As though, 75 people suddenly were going to rush the handbag counter! Not likely, with those exhorbitant prices - i.e. 1,925 euros (more than $2,000).

At the Burberry counter at Galeries Lafayette, a female salesclerk was extremely rude, leaning directly in front of me to straighten a handbag a man had just put down. So in French, I said politely, "Pardon me for disturbing you." This is the normal expression here, both when interrupting someone to ask a question and when reminding someone they're out of order. She frowned at me and flounced off behind the counter. Was it because I was carrying a Longchamp bag? Needless to say, no sales commission for her today. (OK, I admit I bought a new Longchamp bag).

At the same department store, a dance troupe was performing in the middle of the main floor. So many people gathered to watch the act, the fire department arrived for crowd control. I never did figure out the occasion for the performance.

On the street, a man wearing a pin-striped suit and tie was holding a half-empty bottle of red wine and drinking straight from the bottle. In between swigs, he'd remember a stack of newspapers (similar to the Big Issue in London) balanced on top of a trashcan and offer one to passersby.

A young woman was walking down the street in a tres chic ensemble, complete with short skirt, black tights and high boots - and a jaunty newsboy cap, with the price tags dangling from the back. Evidently in her hurry to complete the look, she'd skipped a step.

And in another of those instances with which we struggle to understand French logic, a friend recently bought a new cell phone. Last week she was in Korea and the phone packed up. As it's still under warranty, she took the phone, along with receipt, warranty and original packaging back to the sales point in Paris. The customer service representative informed her she must write the company a deposit check for 120 euros - just in case the phone problem was caused by something she did wrong and the repairs weren't covered under warranty!

Autumn leaves

Gold leaf ornaments adorning a buffet cabinet key are from the Victoria & Albert Museum, London.

The One Deep Breath prompt is to write a poem in any form about "delicious autumn." Fall is my favourite season. Perhaps it's because I was born in September, or maybe it's because the rich colours of gold, rust, auburn, olive and brown flatter my complexion. Most certainly, it is because autumn signals not only the season's change, but renewed prospects within one's own life. It's back-to-school time, as well as back-to-work with renewed vigour, after summer's careless ease. And this fall I will be a student again, for the first time in many years.

Next week I'm off to Seville, Spain for an intensive five-week Spanish course. I will be testing my limits beyond the usual boundaries: living on my own for the first time in nearly seven years; pushing myself to ask tough questions and explore unusual places and forcing my mind to focus for hours at a time on learning a new language. As with all delicious autumn adventures, it is a challenge I enthusiastically embrace.

Ode to autumn

Warm palette of changing colours:
autumn leaves swirl
in the crisp cool air of possibility;
new beginnings beckon.

BB King celebrates his birthday in Paris

Blues legend BB King celebrated his 81st birthday Saturday in Paris. Photo, the Academy of Achievement,Washington, D.C.

Last night I sang Happy Birthday to BB King - well, along with about 2000 other admirers at the Zenith theatre in Paris. The King was in town as part of his farewell tour and my husband got tickets as a birthday present for another September baby.

To me, BB King is the epitome of the Southern gentleman of a certain generation: hard-working, honest, a good and decent man, despite not always getting a break. And his time on stage reflects his fine character and charm. His powerful music is interspersed with personal stories, exchanges with his band members and the audience. The sheer force of his personality is so strong, the music becomes almost incidental, as a thrilling background to King the man.

King's magic guitar-playing skills are as strong as ever, expertly making his favourite instrument Lucille sing. And his voice is still powerful. His skill as a storyteller draws the audience in, then he rewards his listeners by launching into one of his many stellar hits, such as Ridin' with the King and The Thrill is Gone. Listening to his voice and music, my heart was full.

His touching rendition of the classic You Are My Sunshine brought a tear to my eye. When my daughter was four years old, we often sang that song to each other. And she still has the music box that plays that tune, given to her as solace while I was traveling.

Despite his 14 Grammys, worldwide fame and legendry talents, King has remained true to his Indianaola, Mississippi roots. His good-hearted nature is evident in his pleasant manners. King spent much of the evening thanking the audience with his delightful drawl, "Ya'll have been so nice to us;" introducing and re-introducing his band members and paying tribute to their unique talents. King was accompanied by his family, who flew from the U.S. to celebrate his 81st birthday Saturday.

The Zenith is a nice theatre, except for the strange design of their concrete steps, which has people tripping and falling throughout the evening. Ushers with penlights lead you to your seats - but they've gone ahead to find the seat, leaving one manuevering the double steps - one long wide step topped by a short baby step - in darkness. Perhaps the design was for crowd control; sometimes French logic defies understanding.

King's opening act was an impressive band from Capetown, South Africa, but we never caught their name. By the time we'd gone through security and the slow process of being ushered to our seats, the band's set was well underway.

The Arcanum

This Haviland & Co. Limoges limited edition porcelain was produced for the 1925 Paris Exposition. I have a 64-piece set, purchased at an antiquaire near Versailles.

Arcanum - mysterious knowledge, language or information accessible only to the initiate; elixir. - Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary

As the Age of Reason dawned, some of the finest minds in 18th-century Europe were on a serious mission. They hoped to discover the secret formula for transforming base metal into gold. Charlatans and nobelmen competed with kings in an epic quest for the Arcanum.

Augustus the Strong, King of Poland and elector of Saxony, had a passion for amassing beautiful objects and artifacts. But the ruler's funds were diminishing rapidly, even as his appetite for objets d'art grew.

A young alchemist called Johann Frederick Bottger seemed to be the answer to his prayers. Bottger's claims that he could produce gold intrigued the king. But suspicious of Bottger's motives, the king threw him in a dungeon in Dresden. The king promised him his freedom if he could find the Arcanum.

Alas, the young man's efforts proved futile. After years of failing to create gold, Bottger stumbled upon the formula for another precious commodity: porcelain, the pure white translucent ceramic from China.

Early in the 18th-century, porcelain was produced only in the Far East, primarily in China and Japan. While silk, lacquer and spices were imported to Europe via the Silk Road - the overland route from Asia to the West - porcelain was too fragile to survive the journey. The few pieces that arrived in the West were shipped by Arab traders through the Gulf of Arabia or the Red Sea. Organised trade existed only on a limited scale until after Vasco da Gama's voyage of discovery in 1497 opened a sea route to China.

Porcelain was regarded by Westerners as a coveted rarity of the Orient. The porcelain's rare blend of fragility and glittering hardness made it impossible to cut by ordinary steel. The few pieces that have survived were often given to rulers as papal or diplomatic gifts.

As porcelain became more popular, it was imported in larger quantities. The fashion spread from mainland Europe across the English Channel where, English writer Daniel Defoe noted, porcelain was introduced by Queen Mary. He said the Queen had sanctioned "the custom or humour, as I may call it, of furnishing houses with chinaware, which increased to a strange degree afterwards, piling their china upon the tops of cabinets... and every chimney-piece, to the tops of the ceilings and even setting up shelves for their chinaware...till it became a grievance in the expense of it and even injurious to their families and estates."

Although Mary's fondness for china contributed to its popularity, the fashion was begun before she was crowned in 1689. Queen Elizabeth I encouraged her naval captains to appropriate Spanish ships bearing treasure from the East whenever possible.

Saxony's ruler Augustus was a shrewd buyer for expensive and rare porcelain, sending representatives to buy pieces whenever a private collection came onto the market or a ship's cargo was to be auctioned. In the first year of his reign, he is said to have spent a large fortune acquiring porcelain for his royal collection.

The Oriental porcelain Augustus favoured was made from the sixth century in the northern regions of China in the Hebei province. Western travelers had long tried to learn their secrets, without success. Bottger experimented with various kaolin clays and alabasters before finding the correct formula that rivaled Chinese porcelain in its beauty.

Bottger regarded porcelain as a precious material equal to gold or silver, having little in common with other forms of utilatarian ceramics. Augustus agreed to sponsor a porcelain factory, but continued to press Bottger to find the formula for making gold.

Information for this piece was compiled from magazine articles and books on French and Chinese porcelain. Read more research-driven pieces at Sunday Scribblings.

The subject of protests

Muslims around the world have turned out en masse protesting Pope Benedict XVI's remarks about Islam. The Pope has said he was sorry Muslims were offended by his speech. In a statement released Saturday, the Pope said he respected Islam and hoped Muslims would understand the true sense of his words.

In a speech Tuesday, the Pope quoted a 14th-century Christian emperor who said Prophet Mohammed had brought the world only "evil and inhuman" things. Many political and religious leaders in Muslim countries criticised the remarks and called for the pontiff to make a personal apology.

I understand why Muslims may have been offended by the Pope's words. I also understand why they were upset by political cartoons depicting the Prophet Mohammed. But if Muslims are offended by words and cartoons, why aren't they offended when their religion is hijacked by people like Osama bin Laden and his followers?

Those extremists commit terrorist acts and kill innocent people all over the world, claiming they are true believers and their inhuman behaviour is justified. So why hasn't the Muslim world protested en masse? Such terrorism and brutality is against every tenent of Islam and against every rule of Shari'a law.

The Koran does not condone violence or murder. Why aren't Muslims more vocal about those who dishonour the Muslim faith by committing these atrocities? The deadly acts of terrorists - who claim to be good Muslims - are far worse offenses than words and drawings. Why aren't the Muslims protesting Shi'as and Sunnis slaughtering each other in Iraq? Where is the outrage??!!

American 'dolls' write to Bush

Los Angeles-based freelance writer Kate Hahn's tongue-in-cheek piece "American Girl dolls write to President Bush" originally appeared at Timothy McSweeney's. It also was mentioned in Friday's edition of Mediabistro's fishbowlLA. An excerpt:

Felicity - A Colonial girl

It's 1774 and I am learning penmanship at Miss Manderly's school. I hope you find my quill scribblings legible, as I have a serious question about the inevitable War of Independence. The Patriots say we must fight in order to have a democratically elected leader, privacy rights and freedom of speech. Yet I understand that you, along with Messrs. Cheney and Rumsfeld, are dismantling these very things. This vexes me. When I am riding my realistically rendered chestnut mare, Penny, or sitting in my scaled-down Windsor writing chair, I ask: Why must our fittest young men die if the Revolution will prove meaningless? If you will make yourself king, should we not avoid the bloodshed altogether? Please write back to me at Merriman Farm, the Commonwealth of Virginia. Lives are at stake.

Samantha - A Victorian girl

Congratulations on a splendid job! I live with Grandmother in 1904 in a New York City mansion, where we enjoy the great rewards of our industrial economy. The other day, as we were riding through Central Park in our historically accurate sleigh, I was looking at my period-perfect stereoscope pictures and feeling sad that my friend Nellie will remain in the servant class for the rest of her life. Then Grandmother remarked that it is the strict societal divisions favoring the fortunate few that allow me to have things like my crystal lemonade set, which comes complete with a Battenberg-lace-edged tablecloth. It made me grateful that you are bringing back the economic divide that allows little girls like me to be so exceedingly happy! Please come to tea. We live in the white house with gold griffins on either side of the front door. Nellie will be outside with a scrub bucket, polishing them.

What's in a name?

La Jeep? Not exactly what you'd expect on a French wine label. My husband the wine afficionado is always sampling unusual wines.

This wine's label has a black-and-white photo of an American jeep in the middle of a French vineyard. Surely there's some sentimental inside story, although it's not revealed on the label. A nice vintage, I might add.

In Savigny-les-Beaune in Bourgogne, there's a wonderful restaurant called "Le Morgan," named after the French owner/chef's favourite British car! The wine goblet (pictured) is a Waterford crystal Millenium Peace design.

Unexpected treat

This lovely handmade birthday card was an unexpected treat in today's mail. The artist Colette Copeland of Toronto made this fabulous butterfly card by hand, adorning it with bits of fabric, lace, tulle, velvet ribbon and a button. Colette's latest creations - including beautiful collages, paintings and gift tags - are available at www.pomegranateplace.com.

The guard dog

The "guard dog" at a neighbourhood restaurant

Today my friend Gabrielle and I had lunch at Studio 38, which is "guarded" by a very large dog. As the dog sleeps directly in front of the doorway, one literally has to step over the dog to enter the restaurant. But the food is nice and the atmosphere genial - except for the diner seated on my left. She had finished her meal and blew smoke over ours, while we were eating. This is France, after all. Lots of smokers here; I should be used to it by now.

Last night my husband and I had dinner at La Blanchisserie, a combination art gallery, jazz club and restaurant/cantine. La Banchisserie was once a French laundry and retains the beautiful original building, tall chimney tower, cobblestoned courtyard and beautiful brick walls. We were seated outdoors, with the only light from votives flickering on the tables and a small ground-level lighting system.

At a table nearby, an elegantly-dressed woman was sitting with her four-or-five-year-old daughter. During the first part of the meal, the woman talked incessantly on her cell phone, ignoring her daughter. In the child's bid to get her mother's attention, she wandered around the courtyard, rearranging glasses and table arrangements, running around the empty tables and plugging and unplugging the ground-level lights.

The woman completely ignored her child, until she unplugged the lights. Finally she stopped talking on the phone, insisted her daughter sit down and then chatted with her. The little girl was still loud, but stayed in her chair and ate her dinner - all she'd wanted was her mother's attention.

US report misleading, watchdog says

The UN nuclear watchdog has protested to the US government over a report on Iran's nuclear program, calling it "erroneous" and "misleading." In a letter leaked to reporters the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) said a congressional report contained "serious distortions" of the agency's own findings on Iran's nuclear activity.

The BBC reported that the IAEA also took "strong exception" to claims made over removal of a senior safeguards inspector. The IAEA said the letter was sent to the American government to "set the record straight on the facts." "This is a matter of the integrity of the IAEA and its inspectors," spokeswoman Melissa Fleming said in a statement.

The letter, signed by Vilmos Cserveny, a senior IAEA director was sent to Peter Hoekstra, head of the House of Representatives' Select Committee on Intelligence. The letter said an August 23 report by the committee was wrong to say that Iran had enriched uranium to weapons-grade level, when the IAEA had found only small quantities of enrichment at far lower levels.

The letter also said the IAEA took "strong exception to the incorrect and misleading assertion" that the agency removed senior safeguards inspector Chris Charlier for "allegedly raising concerns about Iranian deception" over its program. The report contained an "outrageous and dishonest suggestion" that Charlier was removed for not adhering to an alleged IAEA policy barring its "officials from telling the whole truth" about Iran. The letter said Charlier was removed at Tehran's request.

The wisdom of Jimmy Carter

Interviewed Wednesday by Larry King, former US President Jimmy Carter made some fascinating comments. Here are some excerpts:

The importance of negotiation

"...one of the worst things that any human being can do, any government can do is to address one of the most serious problems in the world in a person's human life and say this is my position. If you don't agree with me completely, I'm going to go in a closet and pout. I'm not going to talk to you. I'm not going to consider your concerns. And I'm not going to have any communication with you directly."

"And that's what we're doing now in North Korea. And that's what we're doing with the government of Syria. That's what we're doing with the government of Iran. That's what we're doing with the government of the Palestinians. We're saying, 'you don't agree with us;' therefore, we're not going to have any direct talks with you or keep direct communications with you."

Middle East peace efforts

"..The biggest problem (in the Middle East) has been caused by the total lack of any effort in the last five years to have a comprehensive negotiation between the Palestinians on the one hand and Israel on the other supported by the United States as a fairly objective mediator. This is a radical departure from the effort of all previous presidents since Israel has had an altercation with its neighbors and that included George Bush, Sr. It included me and all the others."

"But this administration has made no serious effort at all to bring the disputing parties together to act as a trusted mediator and to bring a comprehensive solution to the Mid-East situation, which obviously involves a two state solution with Israel living in its own borders, with the Palestinians living in their borders and supported by the international community under the aegis of the international quartet and based on the roadmap plans. That's what needs to be done. The United States I think is a major culprit in not orchestrating such peace efforts."

Dick Cheney's 'untrue statements'

King asked Carter for his reaction to Vice President Dick Cheney's assertion that criticism of the Iraq War emboldens United States enemies and makes allies doubt American resolve.

"Well, the vice president unfortunately has been consistently very careless with the truth. He still maintains some preposterous comments and attitudes toward the origins of the Iraqi war, the circumstances in Iraq now and he's had a policy in my opinion of deliberately trying to mislead the American people by making untrue statements and there's no reason to give any credence to his ridiculous claims that you've just described."

Leonardo exhibit opens in London

Self-Portrait, Leonardo da Vinci: "Anyone who conducts an argument by appealing to Authority is not using his intelligence, he is just using his memory."

Leonardo da Vinci: Experience, Experiment and Design opens today at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. The exhibition continues through 7 June, 2007. Tickets are available by telephone at 44(0)870.906.3883 or online.

The exhibition focuses on Leonardo da Vinci's most complex and challenging designs on paper.
Behind the diversity are a series of unifying themes in Leonardo’s vision of how the world works. The dominant theme is the mathematical operation of nature's powers. Leonardo believed that every part of nature mirrors the action of the whole, with the human body of a “lesser world” – lesser in scale, but not in wonder and complexity. Leonardo saw that everything is related to everything else.

The exibition is divided into four areas:

The Mind’s Eye - For Leonardo, sight was the noblest and most certain sense. It provided access to “experience," which indicates how nature works, according to mathematical rules. Leonardo considered knowledge that could not be certified by the eye was unreliable.

The Lesser And Greater Worlds - The ancient theory of the microcosm and the macrocosm suggested the human body contained in miniature all the operations of the world and universe as a whole.

Making Things - Leonardo performed many roles and undertook several tasks for his court patrons. While he performed such duties with enthusiasm, they took him away from making paintings and sculpture, upon which he pinned his hopes for fame.

Force - Leonardo’s dynamic vision of the natural world was that force was necessary for anything to move. Motion gave life to all things, but also exercised a potential for destruction.

Leonardo's 'Madonna of the Rocks'

Virgin of the Rocks, photo courtesy of the Louvre, Paris

Visitors to The Louvre, Paris can see many of Leonardo da Vinci's most famous works, including the Mona Lisa and Virgin of the Rocks. Leonardo painted the latter canvas (pictured) in 1483 for the Chapel of the Immacolata in the Church of San Francesco Grande in Milan. Scholars consider that the two canvases on this same subject - one in the Louvre and the other in London's National Gallery - are two versions of the same painting.

The Paris Virgin of the Rocks, painted entirely by Leonardo, first adorned the altar in San Francesco Grande. Leonardo may have given it to King Louis XII of France, in appreciation for settling a dispute over payment with those who commissioned the work. The later painting - now in London - replaced the original one in the chapel.

Minister admits ceasefire 'mistake'

The war in Lebanon lasted 34 days, left 1,393 people dead and another 5,350 injured. More than 1,150,000 people were displaced or made homeless. The damage amounts to more than £2.6bn. Exactly one month after it ended, a British Foreign Office minister admits that Tony Blair should have called for a ceasefire. An excerpt from Andy McSmith's article Thursday in The Independent, London:

A Foreign Office minister has conceded that Tony Blair's refusal to call for a ceasefire during 34 days of slaughter in Lebanon may have been a mistake.

The admission by Kim Howells, minister for the Middle East, reflects the growing worries of senior figures in government that Mr Blair's defence of US foreign policy at every turn is damaging his administration at home and abroad.

Mr Howells also conceded that the decision to oppose - with the US - the international demand for an immediate ceasefire was not properly explained to the British public. Mr Blair's isolated stance is seen as a major reason for the revolt that forced him to announce last week that he would be standing down within 12 months.

The Prime Minister's controversial approach to foreign policy - he has been criticised as President Bush's poodle - has begun to unravel of late. Yesterday, he was pleading in vain with Nato members to pledge 2,000 more troops to the troubled mission in Afghanistan, where 40 British servicemen have been killed in recent weeks.

In a further setback yesterday for the Prime Minister, Lord Falconer of Thoroton, the Lord Chancellor, denounced the US prison camp at Guantanamo as "a shocking affront to the principles of democracy." He had previously called it "intolerable and wrong." Mr Blair, though, refused to be drawn on those remarks. He has gone no further than to call the camp an "anomaly," and has steadfastly refused demands to intervene with Mr Bush.

Meanwhile, Amnesty International has accused Hezbollah of war crimes. The group said Hezbollah deliberately targeted civilians with rockets - a "serious violation of international humanitarian law."

Last month Amnesty released a report accusing Israel of war crimes in deliberately targeting civilian infrastructure in Lebanon. Amnesty has urged a United Nations inquiry into violations by both sides.

The latest Amnesty report said that "Hezbollah's rocket attacks on northern Israel amounted to deliberate attacks on civilians and civilian objects, as well as indiscriminate attacks, both war crimes under international law." The report said Hezbollah fired nearly 4,000 rockets into northern Israel, killing 43 civilians and forcing hundreds of thousands to flee their homes.

Someone else's voice

The Activists by Ramon Rodriguez, oil on canvas; photo courtesy of the Blue Rain Gallery, Taos, New Mexico.

The Poetry Thursday challenge is to "write like anyone but you." This poem was inspired by an article September 9 in The Independent, London about the humanitarian crisis in Gaza.The Israeli military and economic siege of Gaza has led to dire straits for Palestinians. Salaries have gone unpaid for six months; medical care is extremely limited and food, water and electricity resources are scarce.

Someone else's voice

Can you hear any voice other than your own?
Do you have any idea what we must endure
day after day, night after night,
with gunfire and explosions shaking the foundations;
reality's horror rivaling our worst nightmares?

Do you know what it means
to work every day for six months and not get paid,
because a blockade of shipments have created bankruptcy?
Do you understand what it's like
to try to feed your family when the market shelves are empty?

Would you share our frustration
if your child couldn't go to school
and learn how to stand up for himself
in a dangerous land of uncertainty,
because the electricity's cut and the road blocked?

Do you know what it is to walk miles for work,
petrol supplies long suspended?
Forced to run through a residential neighbourhood,
in the midst of a military raid-and-rout,
risking a bullet in the crossfire.

While the international community fails to act,
handicapped by politics and semantics,
do you understand the pain we feel
when we can't get a feverish child to hospital,
past a barricade guarded by soldiers?

Do you accept the bitterness poisoning our hearts
each time we have to bury another victim;
each time a relative is picked up
and sent to jail for questioning,
never to be seen again?

Can you imagine what it's like
to carve a life in this tiny strip of troubled land?
To feel powerless, at the mercy and will
of a brutal armed force,
caring little for our human rights?

Balcony jardiniere

This wooden jardiniere is early 20th-century French. Found last week in a Paris antiques shop, it's probably the closest I'll ever come to a white picket fence (and this one's pearl grey). As you can see, the 19th-century French urns on the bottom shelf need rust removed. Any volunteers?

Sad but true

An excerpt from Washington Post columnist Richard Cohen's article September 12, "Thanks to Bush, Bin Laden won."

"... (Bin Laden) succeeded beyond his wildest expectations when the U.S. responded to the September 11 attacks by invading Afghanistan and, in a beat, then going to war in Iraq. It remains mired in both countries to this day."

"From Bin Laden's standpoint, this has been a glorious victory, made possible, it has to be said, by the totally unforeseen incompetence of the Bush administration. It was so intent on going to war in Iraq that it would not finish the job in Afghanistan. So the U.S. took on the secular Saddam Hussein, whom Bin Laden himself would gladly have murdered. It has to be a wonderful thing when your enemy vanquishes your enemy."

"On Meet the Press Sunday, Vice President Cheney said if he had to do it all over again, he would still go to war in Iraq - "we'd do exactly the same thing," he said. Why? Is the man incapable of learning from experience? We now know from umpteen reports that there was no link between Bin Laden and Saddam. We now know that Mohamed Atta did not meet in Prague with Iraqi intelligence. We now know that Saddam had no weapons of mass destruction and that the Iraq war - which has cost America more than 2,500 lives, the respect of the world and billions of dollars - is for naught."

"How did Bin Laden get so lucky? How did he get so fortunate in his choice of enemies? The Bush administration not only validated his wildest dreams but went even further. By using torture, by the abuses of Abu Ghraib, by employing "extraordinary renditions" of suspects to countries where they could be tortured, by telling the international community to shove it, the U.S. is now reviled in much of the world."

"I was here on Sept. 11, 2001 - downtown when the twin towers collapsed. I would, to this day, kill Osama Bin Laden with my own hands. But I have to recognize that from his vantage point, somewhere on the Pakistan-Afghanistan frontier, he has won. What he had set out to do, he has done. That is more than we can say."

Hurricane Run ready for the Arc

Hurricane Run made a strong showing Sunday at an Arc trial at Hippodrome de Longchamp in Paris. The champion racehorse is expected to repeat his 2005 Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe victory at the Arc on Sunday, Oct. 1.

Hurricane Run is paraded around the ring prior to the Prix Foy Gray D'Albion Barriere Sunday afternoon at Longchamp. The Arc trial was run at a slow pace, with Shirocco edging Hurricane Run by a neck to win. But trainer Andre Fabre told reporters the only victory he's concerned with is victory at the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe on October 1. Hurricane Run won the Arc in 2005.

Hurricane Run trainer Andre Fabre (right) walks with Irish Jockey Kieran Fallon (center) and a French jockey (left) prior to the race Sunday at Longchamp.

Irish Jockey Kieran Fallon shares a laugh with Hurricane Run's trainer Andre Fabre prior to Sunday's race. Fallon is expected to ride Hurricane Run to victory in the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe on October 1 at Longchamp. Along with Ascot in England, the Arc is considered one of Europe's most prestigious flat races.