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Photo of four geese in Oxford, England by David Holmes.
Four years of blogging; 1,925 posts; numerous friendships; much joy. Thank you! Merci. Gracias. Dank u.
To celebrate, I'm giving away unique brocante finds to four readers. Please leave a comment saying why you read Paris Parfait. Winning names will be drawn from a hat on Thursday, Feb. 4th.
Sunset at Ajloun Castle, Jordan.
Birthday greetings to His Majesty King Abdullah of Jordan, who turns 48 today. Am looking forward to returning next month to the beautiful Hashemite Kingdom.
When His Majesty was still HRH Prince Abdullah, he was an avid sportsman and champion rally car driver, in addition to his official duties. I have fond memories (and many photos) of those days, when I handled press and publicity for then-Prince Abdullah's team. His winning Opel Manta rally car is currently on display at the Royal Automobile Museum in Jordan (photos in an upcoming post).
Money exchange sign in historic downtown Amman, Jordan. After exchanging their money for Jordanian dinars, many foreigners (and locals) like to shop in the popular gold souk.
The vast array of 24-karat and 18-karat gold offerings may prove irresistible (although my daughter Jordana showed remarkable restraint).
Important to keep one's sense of humor, when confronted with such tempting choices. In the Middle East, gold is considered an essential part of a bridal dowry.
Years ago I bought a 24-karat gold bracelet and ring at the Amman gold market. When I was living in New York, the price of gold soared and I sold the jewelry at a profit.
Fancy a shopping expedition in Amman? An unexpected cancellation has left one space available for our Journey to Jordan March 1-8. Go here for more information about this chance to visit Petra, one of the New Seven Wonders of the World and for landscape photography tips from Zohrab.
My daughter Jordana using an antique weaving loom in Madaba, Jordan.
"We all have our own life to pursue; our own kind of dream to be weaving. And we all have the power to make wishes come true, as long as we keep believing." - Louisa May Alcott
"Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together." - Anais Nin
"We sleep but the loom of life never stops and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning." - Henry Ward Beecher
Thick cobwebs and dirt collect in an oeil de boeuf window in a chateau near Versailles. The 19th-century house has been unloved and unlived in for years. The elderly owner has put the property up for sale.
Wooden shutters are flung wide to invite fresh air. The sunlight reveals cobwebs and winter's debris encasing the windows.
I hate to see beautiful old - and often historical - properties left to decay. My photographs of the crumbling Edmond de Rothschild estate, as well as of various Paris landmarks are in an upcoming book about ruined chateaus of France. It's due out in February; will provide more information after the author notifies me of the release date.
Zohrab, November, 2009, Amman, Jordan.
I first met Zohrab in September, 1979 in New York. He was His Majesty King Hussein of Jordan's photographer; I was a young reporter covering the King's address to the United Nations General Assembly, as well as his meetings in New York.
Since then, Zohrab has become something of a legend in Jordan. He traveled with and photographed King Hussein and members of the Royal Family for many years. After King Hussein succumbed to cancer, Zohrab switched his focus to landscape and nature photography.
Zohrab is the author of ten stunning photography books. His award-winning work has appeared in countless magazines and other publications and was featured on CNN's "Inside the Middle East." Zohrab continues to take portraits of the Jordanian Royal Family. He also trains his lens on special features and events. Besides his diverse photography work, Zohrab is the managing director of The Capital Amman magazine.
I was thrilled when Zohrab agreed to provide landscape photography tips in Petra during our Journey to Jordan March 1-8. A last-minute cancellation has left one space available for this trip. It's a unique opportunity to see one of the New Seven Wonders of the World - and other historic sites - through the eyes of a master photographer! If interested, please contact me by February 1.
My Marrakesh
Meanwhile, my clever friend Maryam's blog My Marrakesh is a finalist in the 2010 Weblog Awards competition. Many of you are familiar with Maryam's lovely blog blending design, style, travel and shopping - always shopping - as well as references to her human rights work. So please go here and scroll to the right to vote for My Marrakesh under the Best African Weblog category.
Stacked stones and Roman pillars, Jerash, Jordan.
Roman pillars and stone walls, Jerash.
My daughter Jordana in Jerash, November, 2009.
"A great building must begin with the unmeasurable, must go through measurable means when it is being designed and in the end must be unmeasurable." - Philadelphia architect Louis Khan.
Am busy building the foundation for new projects. Back Monday with another post. Hope you're enjoying your weekend!
They are coming tomorrow, the charming antiques dealers with passion for provenance and beauty. As I survey the spilling-over cabinet de curiosites that my apartment has become - in preparation for the dealers and their checkbooks - I find my eyes welling with tears.
Tears for the white ironstone collection that never got displayed in a glass-doored black wooden cupboard; a sob for the 1930s chandeliers that were never suspended over a dining table or a bed and the 19th-century lithographs that were never hung on walls already crowded with art offerings. And especially, tears for the children's games, toys and baby things that there's simply no room to keep for future grandchildren. All these collectibles have been thwarted by the lack of space in this tiny Paris apartment.
I know; I know in my heart, that these are just things. And material possessions don't matter. But when I found these particular things - here, there and yonder - in flea markets and brocantes and antiques stores - I allowed myself to imagine the house these one-of-a-kind treasures might grace. I envisioned finally having a home; actually living in just one place; feeling "safe" (even though I don't believe safe havens exist); becoming intimately familiar with the creeks and moans of a building.
I didn't expect to live in the same tiny apartment for ten years, constantly searching for creative ways to enhance our very limited space (albeit in a wonderful neighbourhood).
In part because of my over-active imagination when shopping - or changing style preferences - I've given away furniture to a friend in England and three friends in France. I've loaned furniture to another friend. Still, what remains is too much for this tiny apartment and I don't expect our next space in Amsterdam to be all that much bigger.
As I've gone through my collections and contemplated selling or giving items away, I recognise a familiar pattern: years of living out of a suitcase, traveling from place to place, always moving. Every time I felt too "settled," I'd sell my furniture and move, taking only my clothes, books, dishes and favourite art and my daughter's clothes and toys or putting everything but the essentials in storage.
Nine suitcases
Once we left nine suitcases in Amman, never to be retrieved. Long story; let's just say a friend charged with their safety proved negligent. Another time I went to the US for two months, leaving two boxes and two suitcases with friends who worked for the UN. I returned to find these "friends" sold my things, including three original oil paintings that were gifts from the artists! No, they didn't give me the proceeds and seemed genuinely surprised by my indignation.
In 1989 in San Francisco, I left precious belongings with a friend, while I went to the Middle East on assignment. She vanished, taking my things with her. So I have become accustomed to possessions disappearing (and so-called friends taking advantage of my good nature).There's something in me that longs to be settled; to finally unpack all those bags (real and virtual) and stay in one place. But there's another part of me that is panicked at the prospect - which is why I sell things for a song, in order to move. That's why I have nearly 40 suitcases in the wine cellar, testimony to my conflicted nature: love of travel, as well as acquisition/nesting. Many a trip I've returned bearing an extra bag to carry shopping finds. I've also loaned bags to friends visiting Paris whose shopping finds exceed their luggage capacity.
While I still don't have that home, I find myself wanting less things and more space. Yes, there are books and photographs and treasures I'm holding onto, no matter how small the space I inhabit. But the things that are important to me are the tools I need to create and communicate: my computer; my cameras; my lenses. All the rest is just window-dressing. And I learned long ago I don't need any of it to survive and even thrive.
Photo above shows a small portion of a "sewing" table, ready for the antique dealers.
Musician in Petra, Jordan.
I have spent the entire weekend sorting through my antiques and collectibles, preparing for an antiques dealer's visit this week. The husband-and-wife team are bringing a big truck, so I'm hoping they'll take away certain pieces of furniture, as well as many other items. Then I'll have more space to breathe and fewer items to move early next year to Amsterdam.
I've also been going through my closet, gathering summer clothes for a French relief project for Haiti. Have donated money, as well, but wish I could do more. Having been through the Lomo Prieta earthquake in San Francisco in 1989, I've been struck by horrific photos showing the marked contrast between that damage and the current devastation in Haiti.
Most San Francisco residents will agree that if you have to be in an earthquake, San Francisco is the place to be: they know what to do. Fire, rescue and emergency services and much of the population are prepared for such an eventuality. Also, many buildings have had "earthquake-proof" retrofitting or renovation. In the '89 quake, I was on the 36th floor of the Pacific Telesis Tower, which swayed on giant springs, but didn't fall. In contrast, Haiti's across-the-board destruction is a stark reminder that most of us have much for which to be thankful.
The last few days I've been watching and reading the news from Haiti in small doses. In between, I've been escaping into Robert Mitchum films of the 1940s and '50s and trying to clear the never-ending email backlog.
I've also prepared some surprises for our upcoming trip to Jordan March 1-8. Registration is closed, but I'm planning another journey there in November. Two people already have signed up for that trip, which will involve off-the-beaten track travel, photography and more. Enrollment will be limited to ten; details will be announced later this spring. Hope you can join us!
After wasting nearly three hours today communicating with incompetent staff at an increasingly-greedy airline, I decided to focus on something good. I remembered this simple little coffee/tea stand on the road to Petra, Jordan...
...and these precocious little Bedouin boys at Kerak Castle.
An ancient castle...
...hosting a secret passageway with a ghostly apparition.
I thought about these beautiful Roman pillars at Jerash...
... and the bagpiper and drummer at the Jerash Amphitheatre...
And at last, a plane ticket using airmiles was procured for my daughter Jordana (pictured in November with a musician).
Hope your day is yielding many positive gains!
For days I've been waiting for enough sun to photograph my little home "office" (really just a corner of the salon, divided from the rest of the room by a bookcase). But the cold, grey winter's gloom persists. Finally, I took photos using only lamplight (the zinc urn/lamp once was part of a weather vane on top of a French chateau) and with the flash (below). The cabinet d' curiositie to the right of the desk is a Napoleon III bookcase, which belonged to a professor at the Sorbonne. His grandson - who prefers modern furniture - sold it to me for a song. The "Louis Louis" chair was a gift from my friend Di Overton.
My new 17" Macbook Pro and 24" display screen. Until late last fall, I was a lifelong PC user (I still have a PC notebook loaded with photos and a netbook for travel, as well). At left is my iPod and speakers. The rest is decidely low-tech, i.e. an Arts & Crafts clock, an Art Nouveau frame accented with silver and opals and featuring a photo of an unknown French soldier; two Napoleon III globes; a 19th-century wooden sewing basket holding stationary and several 18th-century books.
The mercantile drawers containing computer gear and office supplies are 19th-century French. The art at right is by Vanessa Valencia. (At left, washed out by the lamplight, is a watercolour of a woman walking in a storm near the Taos Pueblo). A tall scientific speciman cloche holds 17th-century French documents and a gilt fragment, while a small cloche contains Christine Mason Miller's collage "Your voice matters."
The red desk and bookcase are from Santa Fe, New Mexico. The wireless printer is on top of a small blue-grey chest from a French mercantile. A framed photograph of Afghan children is by Marianne Elliot. The Native American pottery oil painting is 19th-century French. A framed Italian prayer ornament is also 19th-century. Beneath it is a 2008 art piece by Jennifer Valentine. The Habitat bookcase (at left) holds mostly art and photography books featuring the work of Reza Deghati, Steve McCurry, David Alan Harvey, James Nachtwey, Galen Rowell, Sebastiao Salgado, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Dorothea Lange, William Albert Allard and others whose work I admire.
I'm hoping that next year when we move to Amsterdam, there will be enough space for a real office with a window, rather than a lamplit little corner. Won't you post photos of your own desk or space where you create?
Furry on avenue Jean-Baptiste Clement. Winter photos by David Holmes.
Bois de Boulogne.
No takers for the velo (bicycle).
Graffiti on a restaurant's gates.
Barbie at 50? A vitrine at Galeries Lafayette, Paris.
Galeries Lafayette. What about that cotton candy-like hairdo? This look may be a little risque for Barbie.
Vitrine on Boulevard Haussmann.
When you were a child, did you play with Barbie and/or Sindy (in Europe)? My favourite was Solo in the Spotlight Barbie. Remember Midge, Francie and Skipper?
Do you still have your childhood Barbies? My two brothers demolished mine, but my daughter Jordana still has a few of her favourites from childhood. However, she lost about 30 Barbies, when we left nine suitcases in the Middle East (when she was eight years old). A friend was supposed to bring them to London, but it never happened. Guess some other little girl enjoyed playing with Jordana's Barbie collection.
A cosmetics and perfume shop in Covent Garden, London. That slogan is so Barbie-like, isn't it?
Abstract light, Paris.
No doubt you're familiar with the expression "no good deed goes unpunished?" That's been the theme of the week for me. I've been so busy trying to complete projects for others, I've had little time to do my own work - or blog posts - I'd planned. It's a recurring pattern of behaviour for me, saying yes to multiple requests, when I should say no. What's frustrating - besides juggling too many balls in the air at once - is that all too often, the work I do to fulfill such favors is unappreciated. It leaves me feeling stressed and stretched too thin.
Something's got to give, so I'm streamlining my efforts and working only on those things that result either in personal satisfaction and/or monetary compensation; in better working and living conditions for those in need and education and/or justice and human rights. Ca suffit!
Will be back soon with current photos of my writing space for The Book Post. Here's what my desk looked like back in May 2006. Won't you submit a photo of your own writing space?
Paris Parfait at Etsy
My dear friend Di - she of the brilliant Designers' Block UK and stylish Ghost Furniture - has very kindly written a post about my new Etsy shop. Check it out; you never know what you may find, from one day to the next! Am still photographing and listing items daily. An Etsy link is in my sidebar. Merci bien!
When I saw this little Bedouin girl at Petra, leading a donkey larger than she, I was immediately struck by her determination. Somehow, she reminded me of my dear friend Gillian, who's always taking on intriguing projects, acquiring new skills, shaking things up, racing headlong down the road less traveled. Today is Gillian's birthday and no doubt, it's the beginning of a year of fun-filled adventures for her! I'm happy we'll get to spend some time together soon in Jordan. Won't you join me today in stopping by The Dreaming Press to extend best wishes to Gillian?
Late 19th-century piano, Paris.
In my eternal quest to find room for a piano, I've opened an Etsy shop. I'm selling most of my collection of white ironstone and many French and English antique and vintage collectibles that I've amassed over ten years in Europe. I have dozens and dozens of items still to list, so check back often to see if anything suits your fancy! It's a chance to buy French antique and vintage items without paying American dealers' trumped-up prices. Mind you, shipping from France isn't exactly cheap, but nothing can be done about that; at least La Poste and Chronopost are reliable (have had only one package go astray).
You can find a link to the Etsy shop in my sidebar (at left). The fabulous Vanessa Valencia designed my shop banners, using my photographs. Merci bien!
I've played piano since I was five years old, although a life moving from place to place as a journalist has pretty much denied me the space and opportunity to own a piano. The last time I had one was 1994 in Belmont, California (just outside San Francisco). In 1995 when my boyfriend and I broke up - and I moved to an apartment across San Francisco Bay and up a flight of stairs - I donated the piano to the Salvation Army. Am hoping the next move will include ample space for a piano (and tolerant neighbours).
Bridge of Aspiration, Royal Ballet, Covent Garden, London.
Have you seen the delightful film Man on Wire? It is the thrilling tale of Frenchman Phillipe Petit's 1974 stunning wire walk between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center. The story is fascinating, not only because Petit made history, but because he took a huge goal that seemed impossible and step-by-step - and with the help of his friends - made it happen. By sheer will, determination, courage and imagination, he spun his gossamer dreams into reality.
Each of us has a dream that we actively pursue or one hovering at the edge of our subconscious; perhaps we try to suppress it, concerned about what others may think. Maybe we worry that we're too old; too tired; too unprepared. Negative thoughts that we're not "good enough" are always ready to undermine any tentative progress. But the dream stubbornly persists, nevertheless. It tugs at our heartstrings and infiltrates our thoughts. We have flashes of wistfulness, wondering, "what if?" We have triumphant moments that seem to move us closer to our desire; at other times, setbacks - no matter how minor - leave us feeling confused and disoriented. And we wonder if the outcome is worth the effort.
Well I suggest to you, any obstacles that may appear are temporary. We are powerful. We have capabilities and strengths far beyond our imagination. We are blessed with magic and possibility. We may try to suppress the light we carry within us - for fear of outshining others - but that does no one any favors. Each of us has a purpose on this earth; a unique talent; a special gift.
"If you bring forth what is within you,
What you bring forth will save you.
If you do not bring forth what is within you,
What you do not bring forth will destroy you." —Jesus, from The Gospel According to Thomas
In the early years of my childhood, my family attended a Southern Baptist Church. The minister shouted terrifying hellfire and brimstone sermons, in contrast to the soothing songs we sang. One that lingers in my memory is This Little Light of Mine. An excerpt:
"This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine...
...Hide it under a bushel? No! I'm going to let it shine. Let it shine, all the time, let it shine..." In case you haven't guessed, my theme word for the year is "light." Light as bright as the eyes can stand: sparkling, dazzling, intense light, sometimes filtered in shadow or softened to a candle's glow. Through writing and photography, I plan to shine the spotlight on people, places and issues of interest in Paris, as well as in my travels. Won't you join me?
