Daphne Transformed - Sculpture by Renée Sintenis

Daphne Transformed

I was born in sweat and traces of blood,

then grew young and tall and smooth, 
lips like apricots.   His desire was relentless

as he stalked me through mortals’ fields,

and I was trapped in velvet skin, sweating shame
beneath his fetid hunter's breath.

Today I’m unassailable in my leaves and ivy chokers,

replaying days of freedom,

storied nights of goddesses and men….

It’s been so many years since he transformed me,

and no one dares to touch my cracking bark.

Books will tell you I was beautiful, then saved,

but I know the curse of beauty, how I’ve changed, 

that tears are merely amber and what myth is.

Alexa Intrator

June 2012

Sculpture by Renée Sintenis, 1930, 

courtesy of The Sackler Gallery

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Puss on a Peugeot

Cat on a Hot Tin Hood
+ + +

aka Puss on a Peugeot

Notice his choice of car with a sleek, aerodynamic look
in a dark grey that enhances his black and white fur pattern. 

He also appreciates the interior,

with its selection of velvety scratching rugs.

  

Photo sent with love from Rosemary

Chrome nostalgia: Cars I have known

The black 1949 Chevy!
Pre-seat-belt and safety-seat of course, I could roll from one side to the other cranking open the main windows and wedging the small triangular windows, or sling my wrists through the soft side-straps or poke at the fabric covering the ceiling. If memory serves, the direction signals were small reflector flaps that rose up from flat grooves on the left and right sides of the car. And the Chevy was black. All Chevies of that vintage were black. In fact most cars on the road in Geneva were black.

The upholstery was very soft, there was a radio that didn't work, a speedometer that waggled between 0 and 85, but I was the back-seat princess in my big black limo.

Car number two, the Vauxhall.  I believe we had a new 1955 model in light gray, a change from black, and we loved it.  Smaller than the Chevy, but more modern, it served us well.  I identified with it because it looked like it was wearing braces like me.
But we crossed the ocean several times, and when we returned we needed a second car, and it was.......

A 1957 Austin Baby A!  My father was proud to have purchased a demonstration vehicle, new but at a used price.  It had cream seats and a little parp-parp horn, and seemed perpetually cheerful. So were we --no way you could be broody in a Baby A. Look at that cute little snoot.  It was dark green and adorable.

The next 'big' car was a used Humber Hawk, which lasted about a year. It needed repairs often, not a real winner, but it reminded us of the Vauxhall.

This was replaced by a short-lived older Humber Super-Snipe. We adored its cushy leather seats and back-seat fold-out trays in polished burl that were oh so luxurious. But it was always in the shop, a real albatross (who was my father's car dealer?)

At some point there was a Simca, then another. And possibly a Renault Dauphine for about five minutes. Here's the 1961 Simca Aronde, but I must check facts with both brothers to get the complete institutional memory. I recall learning to drive on a small Simca with snapping gearshift that slipped backwards on moderate hills. Terrible gears. Oh well. 

Back to the US for a year's sabbatical, my father borrowed a spare car from his brother who owned Franklin Auto Glass in Philadelphia:  a Chrysler, 1951 or perhaps even a bit older than that. two-toned cream and maroon. A bit creaky but fun with white-wall tires and lots of chrome.

Ah, and then the Riley!

My dad went retro with a 1949 model-- dark green with a sticky beige rubber roof.  It was a sprawling, low-slung car and not unobtrusive. It had a sort of roar that cleared animals from the road before we'd rounded the bend. It had dark ivory seats and the heavenly smell of good leather.
However there was a defective muffler, and for about half a year we inhaled noxious fumes and had to keep the windows open all winter. We all loved the Riley, but the garagiste couldn't repair the toxic leak. We couldn't inhale leather minus the fumes. We had to sacrifice style for health.

Another Simca.         Bor-ing.


I moved to the US, got my driver's license at age 21 and ended up sharing a

BMW 2002, a spiffy car which I totalled on the Baltimore-Washington Expressway :--(( ........

.......and then buying my very own car:
A 1970 Fiat 850 Spider, convertible, red, sporty and dangerous! Powered by a sewing-machine engine, it made a great fuss of doing fifty, but fun!




Back to Europe in 1978 and it was a shared 1968 red VW Beetle that had already done too many kilometers, then a green VW Beetle on loan from a friend,

and then a used gray Datsun, a used red Honda Civic, a new gray Austin Mini-Metro that gave up the ghost before it was four years old,

a used Toyota,

a used dark green Nissan Almera (both great cars)...............

And today I have my 2010 Nissan Micra Lolita Lempicka

with all her little bells and whistles:

bluetooth look-ma-no-hands phone, GPS, leather seats, automatic transmission.

I guess I grew into it.

* * * 

Post-Scriptum

The Bugatti in a Box

What I haven't mentioned is the Bugatti that we didn't own.

A black pre-World War II Bugatti, probably the same 1934 vintage as the  above, was locked away in a garage on the grounds of the rental property we lived in for twelve years in St. Maurice, outside Geneva, from 1954 to 1966. It was mouldering away for years before we children found the keys up in the attic of the house and pried opened the door of the garage/box. There it was, in its very faded splendor: neglected? forgotten? Of course we showed it off to friends and acquaintances and acquaintances of acquaintances who loved cars.  Then one day it wasn't there. Disappeared.      

Bye-bye Bugatti. Hello cruel world. 

Chastened, we continued driving our used Simca and kept our eyes on the road.

One Year Already

One year now, and the wisteria has bloomed again,

Bicontinental Boomer is over one year old,
and the kittens are all grown up.

This began as a venture in online reflections delivered in nibbles and bites.

It has grown, people are reading and appreciating this blog

---over 3000 hits---

despite the fact that you can't even talk back to me.

A year older and not yet fossilized 
like this dude from Turin.

Thank you for reading and......keep on reading!

Shakespeare & Company (very good company)

The Shakespeare Group, The Shakespeare Study Group, The Shakespeare Class, The Group, Shaklovers:
The Shakespeare Group by any other name is still a fabulous perennial, an assemblage of retirees reading and celebrating the Bard on Wednesday mornings.
Over ten years. Longer actually, if one counts the years of original lectures given by George Steiner in an over-stuffed auditorium at the University of Geneva.

 "Prof. George Steiner used to give a course on Shakespeare’s plays during the winter term at the University of Geneva. He was brilliant but refused to use a microphone and so you had to be ready to dash in and get in one of the front rows.  The hall was always packed, almost entirely by "auditeurs of the third age," recalls Aamir Ali.
If they were 'troisième age'  over ten years ago---do the math: the average age is over 75, and some members have been well into their nineties.

When Steiner left Geneva for Oxford in the nineteen-nineties there was a cultural void. A colleague suggested Aamir carry on and give a course himself.
"Of course not," said Aamir  "there's no way I could even try."

The first meeting took place on 12 September 2001 (the day after the 9/11 disaster).
Friends and colleagues and Steiner survivors began gathering weekly to read aloud and discuss a play in depth, with Aamir Ali as respected teacher and coordinator, and active, at times vociferous participation of members.
The members bring different nationalities and cultural backgrounds to the table. Some grew up reading Shakespeare in other languages; some read classics at Oxford; some can name all the kings and queens of England; others have directed and acted in Shakespeare plays; one still calls up his ancient Greek, and all of us love the continuing thrill of Shakespeare's rich poetry and drama.

The Group started with Macbeth, followed by Julius Caesar, Hamlet, The Merchant of Venice, Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, King Lear, Twelfth Night, Romeo and Juliet and Coriolanus.
We await the upcoming release of the film Coriolanus starring Ralph Fiennes for a 21st century take on one of the stranger and more intriguing plays; it may fall short of great, but remains painfully relevant.

Members produce (excellent) essays on Shakespeare themes of their choice. For the last few years, the Group has regularly contributed a feature on a Shakespearean subject to the AAFI-AFICS Bulletin. We have our own library of Shakespeare books, videos and DVDs at the ILO.

As Aamir puts it:

"The purpose of the Group is not to qualify for any diploma or certificate or pass any tests; it is to learn from each other and to enjoy ourselves. Which we do."

And continue to do.
In September we're off and running with The Tempest.

     

 

THE EYES HAVE IT. BUT IF YOU DON'T HAVE EYES?

What's this about cataract surgery? In and out and off you go! Next?

I'm a bit jaded following a 'routine' procedure for cataracts. My left eye, operated on five years ago, worked out fine, but my right ('good') eye is not following anyone's protocol. It's a rebellious eye that appears allergic to most treatments but won't settle for no treatment.
(A bit like the Tea Party, wet and you can't reason with it).
I'm pretty sure it'll work itself out, but it has me weeping at operas for the wrong reasons and postponing plans......rats!

But who am I to complain? One of my dear friends Gowri went totally blind in the last few years, from being simply 'malvoyant'.  Through him I've met a number of his friends and associates who either blind or 'malvoyant', and am learning a bit more of how it is to live without apparent vision. Gowri's non-visual perception is remarkable--touch, smell, hearing, a total sensing of people and his environment give him what I consider remarkable vision. He can generally sense someone's age, and also when someone of the female gender is unusually attractive.
Qitai his black lab, playful and happy in and out of the house, is highly competent in his profession of seeing-eye dog: an all-round great canine.

Gowri, a wiz with his computer and his advanced cell-phone that reads out his text messages coming and going, still works in his own company. He goes to a crafts class on Wednesdays where he makes things like paper and cardboard letter-holder hedgehogs made out of recycled paperback books. In addition he runs every week, goes on long tandem bicycle rides, entertains and has an active social life (even in Geneva).  Last year he cycled from Geneva down to the Mediterranean over several days. And of course Gowri and a few others wanted to try hang-gliding, I mean why not? They loved it.

And all this because there are some remarkable sighted people out there who accompany and facilitate. Many are members of:

Achilles, a club for runners and walkers with disabilities. Eric, the original heart and soul and creator of  the Geneva branch of Achilles when he arrived at CERN from Columbia University to work on his PhD in physics, is now off to defend his thesis and begin the next phase of his life. Travels and further study, as he plans to train in nuclear medicine. From theoretical to applied, i.e. treating people, so I call it Particles for the People). One of the members, Pascale, went over to New York and ran in the marathon this past year. Thanks again to those helpers.
The Achilles Facebook page:
http://www.facebook.com/groups/159078522596/
and
Taupenivo, a Geneva tandem cycling association, a special one.  Taupe means mole (blind), niveau means level, and sounds like top-level. They're the ones who did the 2011 Descente du Rhône.
http://www.taupenivo.ch/guppy/

This weekend there's the Vivicittà race in Geneva, a twelve-kilometer walking/running race held in many cities simultaneously once a year. Guess who'll be there?

Here's another friend Jean-Yves grinning from the back of the tandem.

You can hear him on YouTube performing 'Achilles' which he composed in honor of the club.
Jean-Yves is a wicked good jazz pianist, one of the most sought-after musicians in Suisse Romande and well beyond. He has recorded many CDs.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXrPGq47zCU

I began this blog with a lament and different ideas, and then it sort of grew into this.
As my brother Jeff says:  it is what it is.

Swiss humor butts at sacred cows

OK, score one for Swiss humor:
http://www.tdg.ch/suisse/faits-divers/Peche-modeste-aux-poissons-d-avril-cette-annee/story/27024232

Emmentaler AOC had their own publicity coup: the public was invited to a tasting of the new cheese made from special cow's milk --  cows who were far less stressed than their fellow-countrycows: they were no longer subjected to the perpetual buzzing and whining of  flies.
Each cow had been assigned a personal gecko. The gecko devoured the flies.
(A gecko is visible on cow's right ear in above photo).
Ah, sweet symbiosis!
One could imagine the gecko whispering a special mantra into the cow's velvet ear.
Stress-hormone-free milk would flow......

Naturally people showed up for the special tasting only to discover the fishy taste of......poisson d'avril.*
                                                                                                               * April Fool's Day