Christkindelsmärik

These are from the so-much-fun Strasbourg Christmas Market, here. (Christkindelsmärik is Alsatian.) Julie continues to wrestle with her ambivalence towards fairy lights, here. You can listen to Mon Beau Sapin, here. Here is Kristin of French Word-A-Day on donner (a mignon Provençal tabby caught my eye). More anon.

La Luce della Luna {Moonstones}

Adularescence is an optical phenomenon, similar to labradorescence and aventurescence, produced most notably by moonstones. Adularescence is also commonly referred to as schiller or shiller. The effect is best described as a milky, bluish lustre or glow originating from below the surface of the gemstone. The schiller, appearing to move as the stone is turned (or as the light source is moved), gives the impression of lunar light floating on water (accounting for moonstone's name). Though white schiller is the most common, in rarer specimens, orange or blue lustres are produced. --quite by accident I happened upon this...it's punny, but not necessarily funny.--Wikipedia, moonstone gem

There's still a full moon. Looking at a pair of moonstone earrings--with the blue cast--on the desk.

Having a bit of a freak-out by the (to me) overwhelming interest on Facebook...I haven't known these people--save for one or two--in a million years. I lived a different life than they did in Strasbourg (& elsewhere, & since). Not better but so different. Or maybe it's just that I arrived in Strasbourg with a different background & future agenda. I was not innocent or naive, I was fleeing a very difficult family situation in America. Posted cassette tapes, bicycle-delivered telegrams, & even a few phone calls made it clear that I would not escape. I returned to try & fix it as requested. It did not work. I am so sorry that I moved back.

I cannot be the only one who feels this way. Yet, I do not want to offend & really, this could be a positive turn of events. A lot has happened to everyone, I know. I don't discount it. My list, though, elicits near disbelief in people who were here for it, one by one, incident by incident. Also, what kind of judgment will be made about me & my life.

I have looked--off & on for some years--for a person who would understand. It was my fault that we lost touch. By the time I responded to what turned out to be our last letter, it was too late. All the return addresses from a few years of correspondence (from Beirut, France, England, Spain, Costa Rica) were dead-ends & I cannot find her married surname. I'm not an obsessive but in the last 2-3 days this lost friend has become more important. She used to say 'old bean' & take me for tarte aux framboise near Place Kléber when I had no money & I do mean NO money. She was wise about these boy-men. She let me use her Fidji perfume. Pamela, I hope you are in good health, happy, & writing witty letters. Those lucky recipients.

Maybe my boundaries are too strict lately, but others' feel far too fluid--as things stand now. I am not rejecting people outright. Give me a little time please. [I will endeavor to make this more coherent but I needed to post it more quickly than I'd anticipated.]

Update Monday, 1.32pm - I should make it clear, I have some 'esplaining to do. I'm not anti-FB. Someone who means very well got very excited because he's new to it. If not for FB, I would not have reconnected with several people. We were looking for the other for years...& I have very good research skills.

Oh, maybe I'll scoop a bunch of this out & wait. Right now, I have a bunch of FB msgs to look at. I hope they're not mad at me. Let me also be clear that I contacted the person in question & sent him a msg about my distress--most of which has to do with me, not them--before I posted above. It was not a passive-aggressive act, which I loathe......

(photo via Rachel Follett on pinterest, via automatism)

What I'd Be

without you. Racing over here to see "who"? Not yet. On a summer (it still is) play-list, blaring out of a teensy speaker is God Only Knows. Trust me, it's very cool in a mix. Julie swoons every time that song, Bus Stop or Try & Catch the Wind play. She's such a flower child-cat. At the same time, she enjoys the remastered Exile on Main Street. She's super cool in a friendly way & I wish I were more like her.

No, the subject is - what would I be without having flown many years ago, 16 September, at age 17* to Strasbourg, France. (via Luxembourg. Alone, baby, alone.) It's not that I regret our fast communication & info tech. It would have made a huge difference in my life some years later in the Middle East--for the better, possibly saved some lives. I don't pine for the good old days; they weren't always so good upon further examination. Anyway, as nervous as I was, I had to make the decisions on my own. That made me more confident, or at least damn nervier, than most 17-18 year old people today. Listen, I was never going to have much support no matter where I went or lived. (Material support? None. So before I receive more messages of "you had money, you grew up with..." No I did not. (This part is To Be Continued.)

I knew there weren't too many chances in life. If you think that's pessimistic, I would say it's realistic. You get a chance, you damn well better take it. Sometimes you can create an opportunity--but it's not all you, a lot depends on fate (or whatever you want to call it), other people, world events. (BTW, I'm not a fan of taking advantage of another person & calling that an opportunity.) That's why I went to Strasbourg & not to Paris.

Honestly, this whole enterprise is beyond ridiculous without a camera. These because the girl has a tripod & she's dressed in a manner similar to 1970s non-awfulness. (It wasn't all bad.) I wore hats & still do, but I don't think I had one this floppy. The rest are for-real Strasbourg photographs. The second one, it's the real place & it's a pigeonnier, close to the Rhine where I used to walk (approaching it through the other shot, which is a wheat field surrounded by the Strasbourg forest).

I have to break this up into parts. And then fix them. Bear with me. There are lots of great links here & on Julie's blog, Giulia Geranium. The Clever Pup is pondering Paris & has some current, good information on hotels. She researches this stuff to a fare-thee-well...so take advantage of it. Also, Liberty of London Girl's London Fashion Week Survival Kit giveaway is on until Thursday, 23 September. I still don't know if it's only for UK visitors, so enter anyway. It's fun to read the posts in between hideous world news bulletins. For those worried about Tea Party Poopers & assorted lunatics (if not, wow, wake up), The Political Carnival is my favorite place to check in. I rely on Laffy & Paddy to keep my spirits up, too. They are stylish, tweeting troublemakers.

(*soon to be 18 but I still love that I turned 18 in France. I'm hopeless about it, just let me have that, OK? Merci.)

My Business, With the Cloud

There is a new exhibit at the Corcoran Gallery of Art & I will see it (the title is same as post, I'm not that clever). I don't like to say anything until I have done so, but the reasons are vented below. (So you can stop reading if you're sick of venting. However, it is not political venting.) Here's the review in The Washington Post. Update: Really, really click through the first link. Spencer Finch is such a wonderful artist & the little video is well-done.

The above wasn't in the plan (such as it is) but Strasbourg & environs photo searches have made it clear that the new-to-me printer must be installed to scan personal ugly old photographs. Too many online are quite nice--too nice. They do not capture the way it was then; it's too cleaned up, too fancy. Isn't there something between falling apart & overly groomed artifice? Yes, of course.

I inside-my-head shrieked as dishevelled people ambled by an Amnesty Int'l table (where I was turned down more than once by Muslim-phobe liberals & left wingers about petition signing, so there ya go, oof. No one "side" has purchase on idiocy, though it leans heavily...oh I said, no political venting.). I felt a paragon of style in jeans, a clean linen shirt, & sandals. Seriously. My hair was brushed. What is it with Americans walking about in pajamas & disgusting, stinky footwear? I thought, wow, if we were in the poorest neighborhood in Rome, it wouldn't look like this. The junkies clean up more than these people. Believe me, there are a lot of slobs in Rome. But during a festival or on Sunday, people do put on clothes before leaving home.

So it would seem, Haughty Madame, that you are advocating shabbiness in towns, but not people? No, of course not. But some places I lived, visited quite often have spiffed up so much that it's off-putting, sterile. I can almost (almost!) understand people who visit those theme parks (& Las Vegas) & pretend that they're Europe.

There are a couple of good shots of what I want & I'll post those later. Seems that if I write poems & prose (not travel writing) about Strasbourg & Alsace, I'll have a market, if I can create it. (Tim Walker photograph via the Telegraph)

Les bois

I had to put something else up. Too tired to find a poem (much less write one or write an essay/post) on solipsism (not the philosophical theory...the selfish bit). It's been a horrible time in our Silver Spring neighborhood (the Discovery Channel hostage situation).

Odour of Chrysanthemums

The short story title popped into my muddled mind a few hours ago. Snipping herbs & flowers, snapping off a few small vegetables (where I'm house/cat sitting), I sensed a change. Of course, it is late summer & it will be too hot for some time yet. I usually welcome the nearly imperceptible shift, the flip of the switch, to a new season. Not today, though, for all sorts of complicated reasons.

But what-ho? (Too much Jeeves & Wooster this summer. I'll be saying 'pip pip' soon.). A new mini-crisis on the literal horizon to divert me. (That's a good thing.) The entertaining birds in the back garden have cleverly timed the emptying of their feeders for this very moment--oh thanks les oiseaux. Now I'll be awake all night if I can't fill them before I collapse from fatigue (which I am about to do). Oh woe.

Strasbourg-of-the-past is what this twaddle above is about. Some of it anyway. Can you see why I drone on about the-rest-of-France & I-love-Alsace, just from that photograph? I hope so. Paris is grand, yes, but it is not the whole country.

[Strasbourg by thexmunichxromance via deviantArt & for good measure, another flower lady via style(dot)com archives]

December Evening in Strasbourg

Christmastime in Strasbourg--in all of Alsace--is gorgeous...best Christmas market in Europe. Absolutely. Also, tarte flambée (flammekueche in Alsatian), vin chaud, & the best of French & German cookies, pies, cakes, etc. I'll be taking flammekueche lessons from a friend's mother who is visiting the States for the holidays. Will try to remember photographs. Here's a little GG post with at least one photo credit.

Leaving the Station

I do miss Strasbourg & all Alsace, especially this time of year. Powerfully.

[photograph by Louis Faurer - 1960s originally via myvintagevogue flickr/no longer available; here is another link]