AN INDIAN POEM

“The land of dreams and romance, of fabulous wealth and fabulous poverty, of splendour and rags, of palaces and hovels, of famine and pestilence, of genii and giants and Aladdin lamps, of tigers and elephants, the cobra and the jungle, the country of hundred nations and a hundred tongues, of a thousand religions and two million gods, cradle of the human race, birthplace of human speech, mother of history, grandmother of legend, great-grandmother of traditions, whose yesterdays bear date with the moderate antiquities for the rest of nations – the one sole country under the sun that is endowed with an imperishable interest for alien prince and alien peasant, for lettered and ignorant, wise and fool, rich and poor, bond and free, the one land that all men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for the shows of all the rest of the world combined.” - Mark Twain

In the news these last few days is a report about the fabulous treasure found in an Indian temple in Kerala State, in southern India. The treasure trove was found in the subterranean vaults of the 16th-century Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple that honours Lord Vishnu in Thiruvananthapuram. The vaults of the temple that had been sealed closed for over 100 years were opened on the instructions of the Supreme Court following a complaint from a local advocate alleging mismanagement by the temple trust. It is believed that most of the treasure was deposited by the royal family of Travancore. The family’s descendants still control the temple.

The treasure includes bags of gold coins, diamonds and other jewels and solid-gold statues of gods and goddesses. It is estimated that the valuables are worth about 22 billion dollars, and this without including the contents of the still sealed Section B, a large space expected to reveal another sizeable collection of treasures. Temples in India often have rich endowments, mainly derived from donations of gold and cash by pilgrims and wealthy patrons. This temple, however, has assets that dwarfs the known fortunes of every other Indian temple. Temple wealth is meant to be used by administrators to operate temples and provide services to the poor, but the administration of the temples’ wealth often become the subject of heated disputes and controversies.

The Supreme Court ordered the opening of the vaults at Padmanabhaswamy to assess the wealth of the temple after a local activist, T P Sundararajan, filed a case accusing administrators of mismanaging and poorly guarding the temple. The apex court has proposed the appointment of a museum curator to catalogue, photograph, and preserve the treasure. Two former judges of the Kerala High Court appointed by the Supreme Court are supervising the inventory of the treasure. The court would also decide which items should be conserved, which displayed in the museum and which others to be kept in safe vaults. Representatives of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) and members of the temple trust were present when the treasure was unsealed.

The court warned of serious consequences if any party claims ownership of the treasure. Kerala State would not seek control of the temple or its treasure, a step that some activists have recommended. The Supreme Court will decide what happens to the treasure and the rest of the temple, which sits in the heart of Kerala’s capital, Thiruvananthapuram, once it has established the total value of the holdings (this could take months to finish).

Kerala has been a spice-trading centre for millennia and P.J. Cherian, director of the Kerala Council for Historic Research, said: “Traders, who used to come from other parts of the country and abroad for trading in spices and other commodities, used to make considerably generous offerings to the deity, not only for his blessings but also to please the then rulers.” The treasure trove is hard to imagine, including hundreds of kilos of gold coins issued by the erstwhile kingdom of Travancore, the British East India Company, the erstwhile princely state of Venice, Mysore and even some of Australian origin; a four-foot-tall gold statue studded with emeralds; jewel encrusted crowns and 15-foot-long gold necklaces.

Quite apt then to have an Indian poet provide the poem for today’s Poetry Wednesday offering:

Alabaster

LIKE this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.

Therein I treasure the spice and scent
Of rich and passionate memories blent
Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove,
Of song and sorrow and life and love.

                            Sarojini Naidu (1879 – 1949)

Sarojini Chattopadhyay was born at Hyderabad on February 13, 1879 the eldest of a large family, all of whom were taught English at an early age. At the age of twelve she passed the Matriculation of the Madras University, and awoke to find herself famous throughout India. Before she was fifteen the great struggle of her life began. Dr. Govindurajulu Naidu, later to become her husband was not a Brahmin, even though of an old and honourable family. The difference of caste roused an equal opposition, not only on the side of her family, but of his; and in 1895 she was sent to England, against her will, with a special scholarship from the Nizam. She remained in England, with an interval of travel in Italy, till 1898, studying first at King’s College, London, then, till her health again broke down, at Girton. She returned to Hyderabad in September 1898, and in the December of that year, to the scandal of all India, broke through the bonds of caste, and married Dr. Naidu.

During her stay in England she met Arthur Symons, a poet and critic. They corresponded after her return to India. He persuaded her to publish some of her poems in 1905 under the title “Golden Threshold”. After that, she published two other collections of poems, “The Bird of Time” and “The Broken Wings”. In 1918 the collection “Feast of Youth” was published. Later, “The Magic Tree”, “The Wizard Mask” and “A Treasury of Poems” were published. Mahashree Arvind, Rabindranath Tagore and Jawaharlal Nehru were among the thousands of admirers of her work. Her poems are in English, but their soul is Indian.

In 1916, she met Mahatma Gandhi, and she totally directed her energy to the fight for freedom. She would roam around the country like a general of the army and pour enthusiasm among the hearts of Indians. The independence of India became the heart and soul of her work. She was responsible for awakening the women of India. She brought them out of the kitchen. She travelled from state to state, city after city and demanded rights for women. She battled long and hard for the self-esteem of the women of India.

In 1925, she chaired the summit of Congress in Kanpur. In 1928, she went to the USA with the message of the non-violence movement of Gandhiji. When in 1930, Gandhiji was arrested for a protest, she took the helm of his movement. In 1931, she participated in the Round Table Summit, along with Gandhiji and Pundit Malaviyaji. In 1942, she was arrested during the “Quit India” protest and stayed in jail for 21 months with Gandhiji.  After independence she became the Governor of Uttar Pradesh. She was the first woman governor. She passed away on March 2, 1949.

DISTANT WARS

“War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good. We will not learn how to live together in peace by killing each other’s children.”-  Jimmy Carter

I saw a middle-aged man on the train today, and he immediately attracted my attention for a number of reasons. One could immediately tell he was an ex-soldier from the medals he wore on his lapel, an RSL badge, and thrown in for good measure a red poppy – a relic from Anzac Day, no doubt. Although he wore a suit (which had seen better days), shirt and tie, he was still wearing his military boots. He was carrying a large bag, a rolled up display poster and a folding table. He was getting into the City early, and would be setting up a table to sell something or other for RSL fund-raising. His gaze more than anything was what transfixed me. An intense gaze and a serious countenance, eyes that were looking out, yet strangely unseeing. He stared straight ahead and his lined face was grave, while his calloused, gnarled hands that were holding onto his baggage firmly had obviously been through a lot.

The reports of more Australian soldiers being killed in foreign conflicts immediately came to mind. This man was one of those that had served and obviously survived. The row of medals on his coat indicated that this soldier had been through battle, had taken part in many missions, had killed, had seen some of his comrades injured, or perhaps worse. His presence on the morning commuter train was incongruous. However, the way that he looked out of his seemingly disciplined and imperturbable façade indicated that all was not well inside. There was a rawness of soul that still managed to seep through the chinks of his armour.

Whoever has seen active duty, has fought in a war, has confronted violence of that magnitude first hand is forever changed. I looked at his hands again and imagined them holding a gun, pulling the trigger, could see the bullet travelling with lightning speed through the air, finding its target with lethal accuracy. I could hear the repeated gunfire, the explosions, the shouts of the people, the cries of children. War is an ugly truth that we try and push out of our minds as much as we can. It is easy in countries like ours that are far removed from conflict and where we are able to live our cushy lives in pursuit of our self-indulgent goals whatever they may be. This ex-soldier’s presence on the commuter train jarred and forced people to acknowledge these foreign conflicts that Australia is involved in. I wasn’t the only one who had observed him…

News just in tell us of a decorated Australian commando on his fifth deployment to Afghanistan that has been shot dead in a firefight with insurgents. This is the eighth commando to die in the conflict and the 28th Australian soldier killed there since 2001. Sergeant Todd Langley, 35, from the Sydney-based 2nd Commando regiment, died from a gunshot wound to the head during the battle in southern Afghanistan on Monday. His death follows that of another decorated veteran commando, Sergeant Brett Wood, 32, killed by an improvised explosive device in May. He was on his third tour of Afghanistan.

We live in peaceful times in a country ostensibly at peace. We work, play, shop, pursue our pleasures, laugh and carry on with our lives, cosily insulated from adversity, civil unrest, conflict or all-out war in other parts of the world. Our media bombard us with inconsequential inane “news” about sports, celebrities, new products, fashion, food and entertainment while “feel-bad” news like war, disease, conflict, anti-government demonstrations are relegated to second place, something to mention as quickly as possible and immediately forget. The “serious” newspapers and magazines are obligated to carry more extensive articles on these “bad news” items, but there are big colourful advertisements right next to these, about luxury cars, watches, perfume, jewellery. Yes we acknowledge those “bad news” items, but we move on quickly to the glossy advertisements – much more appealing…

Here is such an item that fails to register in most people’s mind any more: “Twin suicide attacks ripped through the city of Taji north of Baghdad, killing at least 35 people, after Iraq suffered its deadliest month so far this year in June. Thirty-five people were killed and 28 injured when a car bomb and an improvised bomb exploded simultaneously outside a government office where national identification cards are issued, and the provincial council offices.” We glance at this and most people would not read further than the first sentence. “Iraq, bombs, death – what’s new?” the reader would ask and move on to something more engaging: Princely weddings perhaps, or the latest sexual escapades of some Hollywood celebrity…

I wonder what news the ex-soldier on the train is interested in? Is he one those who keeps up with what our troops are doing in foreign conflicts? Does he and his comrades get together and reminisce, comment on these latest news items, have a view, lobby politicians perhaps? Or maybe they would want to forget? Would they immerse themselves in the mundane inanity that whitewashes our attention daily in such an aggressive manner? The wearing of his medals and his fund-raising activities for the RSL would suggest to me that he would do the former. His presence behind his stall, the poster above him and the fund-raising merchandise on his portable table would be a reminder for the rest of us that somewhere on some battle front, an Australian soldier is pointing his gun across some expanse at some enemy. Someone’s son, brother, husband, uncle, cousin, boyfriend, colleague, mate is facing death daily. Someone who may become one of those pesky little news items that we glance at and move on from: “Australian soldier shot dead in a firefight with insurgents…”

The soldier got off one station before mine. A young man who was also getting out offered to help him with his baggage. The soldier looked surprised and turned half-smiling to the young man to thank him and politely refuse his help. “You’re a gentleman,” he said to him, “Not many people would be offering to help. I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ve been through worse…”

MOVIE MONDAY - ALL HEART

“One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can’t utter.”   James Earl Jones

Yesterday was a cold winter’s day with wind and rain. In the gray gloom of the afternoon we sat down in the warmth of our home and as we hadn’t had any lunch, we popped some corn and armed with bowls of its fragrant floccules we watched a movie. This was a movie that I had seen in a cinema when I was living in Holland when it had first come out and I remembered it as good one. When I saw it at our DVD shop I got it, as I was keen to watch it again. It is the 1993 Vincent Ward film, “Map of the Human Heart”, an Australian, Canadian, French and UK co-production. This is an ambitious film and deals with a number of significant themes, however, at the heart of the plot is a tender love story that begins in childhood and continues until the characters’ maturity.

In the 1930s an Eskimo “half-breed” named Avik lives with his only surviving relative, an elderly grandmother in the north of Canada. He encounters a map-maker, Walter, who becomes a father figure for him. As Avik learns to speak English by helping Walter with his surveying, it becomes apparent that he has contracted the “white man’s disease”, tuberculosis. Walter takes the boy with him back to Montreal where he leaves him to be treated at a sanatorium. Avik meets a fellow child-patient there, the “half-breed” French Canadian girl named Albertine. Their friendship blossoms and together they get into all sorts of mischief annoying the strict Catholic Sister Banville. Albertine is cured and departs from the sanatorium leaving Avik heartbroken. When he too is cured, he returns to his own people and his grandmother. His return is at an unfortunate time when there is dearth of game, for which he is blamed as he has now been contaminated by the “white man’s ways”. Now a young man, he teams up with Walter on a return expedition and signs up for the war. He’s assigned to a bomber group and has good luck in bombing flights over Germany. Near the end of his service time, he chances to run into Albertine again, who is working in bomber command, and the two rekindle their friendship, which has turned into something more, for Avik, at least. Unfortunately, all sorts of misfortune dogs their relationship and part of it relates to Albertine’s desire to pass herself off as a “pure blood” white woman.

Both Jason Scott Lee and Robert Joamie who play the older and younger Avik do a great job with their roles and are quite convincing as the Inuit boy who grows into a troubled “white man’s” manhood. Anne Parillaud and Annie Galipeau who are cast as the older and younger Albertine do equally well, although their roles are not as meaty as Avik’s. Patrick Bergin cuts a dashing figure as Walter until the viewer’s sympathies are alienated by his character’s development and changing behaviour. A young John Cusack as a mapmaker makes a cameo appearance and the iconic Jeanne Moreau is a convincing Sister Banville and has some memorable one-liners (“And this is Hell, where all the Protestants are!”). Ben Mendelssohn, the Australian actor, has a good supporting role.

The direction is good, although one could (in a mischievous and carping mood) complain that Ward has used every cliché in the book and that he favours melodrama and coincidence to move his story along. The movie is poignant and has a good story, which overcomes most of its faults. It is a memorable film and the tender-hearted viewer may find it quite sad and heart-wrenching, while greatly involving and engaging. The jaded cynic will be on the lookout for faults and will do much to criticise the film on every count. Vincent Ward invested his pay off for his work on “Alien” (1992) to finance this film, which says something about his commitment to it and his belief in its worth.

The music by Gabriel Yared is appropriate and underlines the drama in the film in a supportive and apt way. Eduardo Serra’s cinematography is beautiful and he does much with the lonely frozen expanses of the arctic, the fiery bombing of Dresden, the flying sequences and the panoramic views of countryside. Visually, this is a greatly stimulating film and there are many scenes in it that are quite memorable and haunting. The ending of the film is quite heart-rending and the camera work is especially good.

We saw the movie on DVD and it ran for 109 minutes, although the original film was much longer than this (4-5 hours long, I believe, perhaps one could hope that will be released as mini-series). It would be good to have watched a director’s cut as I am sure some of the abruptness of some scenes would be eliminated and some subplots would have been allowed more time to develop into stronger supporting frameworks for the main story. The sweeping epic of the story would have been allowed to flourish even more and the character development would not have been as forced.

The themes of the film relate to family, personal identity love, death, and man’s inhumanity to man. Throw in some prejudice, search for one’s place in the world and the despoliation of our environment and you have a very full bag for the 109 minutes of the film. One could classify this movie as a romantic drama, but it had more depth than a typical “chick flick” and one that most men would enjoy equally well. We found it a tough film to watch as it was intense and generated some strong emotions, however, it was also a good film, one that we would recommend to our friends (but maybe not to some of our acquaintances).

ART SUNDAY - DIEGO RIVERA

“The painter can and must abstract from many details in creating his painting. Every good composition is above all a work of abstraction. All good painters know this. But the painter cannot dispense with subjects altogether without his work suffering impoverishment.” - Diego Rivera

For Art Sunday today, a Mexican artist who profoundly influenced American painting in the first half of the twentieth century. Diego Rivera was born in Guanajuato, Mexico in 1886. He began to study painting at an early age and in 1907 moved to Europe. He spent nearly fourteen years in Paris, and he encountered the works of such great masters as Cézanne, Gauguin, Renoir, and Matisse. As any great artist, Rivera needed to establish for himself a new form of painting that would express his own artistic sensitivities as well as one that could express the complexities of his era and be able reach a wide audience. When he began to study the frescoes of Renaissance Italy he knew that he had found his medium. Thus establishing his strong belief in public art and his view of the fresco as a means of expressing himself, Rivera returned to Mexico.

Fresco means “fresh” in Italian and it describes a work which done on a wall (mural) on freshly-laid plaster. The paint is applied directly on this surface and seeps into the wet plaster, giving a brilliant and durable work as the plaster dries. Using the large-scale fresco form in universities, museums, train stations and other public buildings, Rivera was able to introduce his work into the everyday lives of people. As an artist, Rivera focussed on human development and the effects of mankind’s technological progress. He wanted to tackle the grandiose themes of the history and the future of humanity. As a Marxist, Rivera saw in public frescoes a viable alternative to the elite walls of galleries and museums (or even the walls of the homes of the rich). His fame grew in the 1920s, and he completed a number of large murals depicting Mexican history. His work appealed to the people and its colourful, easily accessible pictorial elements provided a decorative and political motifs which they could contemplate. His work made a commentary on the progress of the working class and criticised capitalism and its exploitation of the worker.

In 1930, Rivera visited the USA for the first time. In November 1930, Rivera began work on his first two major American commissions: The first for the American Stock Exchange Luncheon Club and the second for the California School of Fine Arts. These two pieces subtly incorporated Rivera’s radical political views, while maintaining a sense of simple historical depictions as requested by the organisations that commissioned his work. As an artist, Rivera had a gift to condense a complex historical subject (such as the history of California’s natural resources) to its essential parts. For Rivera, the foundation of history could be summarised in the historical view of the struggles of the working class.

In 1932, at the height of the Great Depression, Rivera visited Detroit. Henry Ford commissioned him to decorate the walls of the Detroit Institute of Arts with a depiction of the history of the American Worker. Completed in 1933, this fresco depicted industrial life in the United States, concentrating (aptly, both in terms of location as well as the personal interests of his patron) on the car plant workers of Detroit. It is interesting that Rivera’s radical politics and independent nature did not draw as much negative criticism as one would have expected. Though the fresco generated controversy, Edsel Ford (Henry’s son) defended the work and it remains today Rivera’s most significant painting in America. Rivera, however, did not fare nearly so well in his association with the Rockefellers in New York City.

In 1933 the Rockefellers commissioned Rivera to paint a mural for the lobby of the RCA building in Rockefeller Center, called “Man at the Crossroads”. This work was to depict the social, political, industrial, and scientific possibilities of the twentieth century. In the painting, Rivera included a scene of a giant May Day demonstration of workers marching with red banners. The clear portrait of Lenin leading the demonstration was what inflamed the patrons, rather than the subject matter. When Rivera refused to remove the portrait, he was ordered to stop and the painting was destroyed. That same year, Rivera used the money from the Rockefellers to create a mural for the Independent Labor Institute that had Lenin as its central figure.

Throughout his life, Rivera remained a pivotal figure in the development of a national art in Mexico. His tempestuous association with fellow-artist Frida Kahlo (1907-1954) was a notable highlight of his life. While a young painter, Kahlo communicated with Rivera, whose work she admired. She asked him for advice about pursuing art as a career. He recognised her talent and encouraged her artistic development. This led to an intimate relationship, which resulted in their marriage in 1929, despite the disapproval of Frida’s mother.  Their marriage was often troubled. Kahlo and Rivera both had strong temperaments and numerous extramarital affairs. The bisexual Kahlo had affairs with both men and women, including Josephine Baker. Rivera knew of and tolerated her relationships with women, but her relationships with men made him jealous. For her part, Kahlo was furious when she learned that Rivera had an affair with her younger sister, Cristina. The couple divorced in November 1939, but remarried in December 1940. Their second marriage was as troubled as the first. Their living quarters were often separate, although sometimes adjacent.

In 1957, at the age of seventy, Rivera died in Mexico City. He is considered one of the greatest Mexican painters of the twentieth century. His influence on the international art world was considerable. Among his many contributions, Rivera is credited with the reintroduction of fresco painting into modern art and architecture. His radical political views and his dramatic personal life have kept biographers busy since his death. In a series of visits to America, from 1930 to 1940, Rivera brought his unique vision to public spaces and galleries, enlightening and inspiring artists and laymen alike. His impact on America’s conception of public art was seminal. In depicting scenes of American life on public buildings, Rivera provided the first inspiration for Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s WPA program. Of the hundreds of American artists who would find work through the WPA, many continued on to address political concerns that had first been publicly presented by Rivera. Both his original painting style and the force of his ideas remain major influences on American painting.

The fresco above is from the series in the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City, completed in 1934 and is entitled: “El Hombre in Cruce de Caminos” (Man at the Crossroads). Lenin figures prominently here and above him the May Day parade. This is Rivera reconstructing his destroyed Rockefeller Center work on more sympathetic walls… The folly and potential wisdom of mankind are contrasted and man as the master of the universe and his own fate is shown in the centre of the work. Man at the crossroads must choose between prosperity and progress or destruction and annihilation.

WINTER

“Older, we must move, and stay, and move again, to keep our life-giving ties alive, for this movement is our fountain of age. And there's a freedom in realizing this, a new freedom to move or stay, new necessities and possibilities of choice.” - Betty Friedan

It was a busy Saturday today with many things that got done around the house, as well as a visit to our friend in the nursing home. She was very glad to see us and to give her a treat we took her out to lunch. She enjoyed that very much and during our meal she had some flashes of insight and surprised us with a few comments that revealed her past acuity of mind. However, at the same time it was sad to see her obvious decline and mostly witness her increasingly dementing state.

The nursing home itself was big and bright and clean with many staff around. However, there was not one happy face that we saw amongst its residents. One could see despair, sadness anger, forbearance, resignation or typically apathy drawn on the faces of the discarded elderly. Passing through the main lounge area, there was a collection of old people sitting and doing nothing except staring vacantly ahead. The television playing annoyingly and irrelevantly hardly registered on their minds and the highlight of the day for many of them would be a meal, perhaps. We were the only visitors there and as we took our friend out there were some glances of envy, not a single smile.

As if to redress the slightly bitter taste left in our mouth with the nursing home visit, we went out to dinner tonight, eating Chinese again at the Crown Casino restaurant, “Silks”. The food and service was good, but a little overpriced for what one receives. Nevertheless it was a good night out and it was surprising to see how many people were out and about in the City, the Casino and all the restaurants, cafés and bars.

For Music Saturday, here is Jascha Heifetz playing a “Melodie” from “Orfeo ed Euridice” by Christoph Willibald von Gluck (transcribed by Heifetz). The accompanist is Emanuel Bay.

CARAMEL EVENINGS

“It won’t do to dream of caramel, to think of cinnamon, and long for you…” – Suzanne Vega

I had a very busy day at work today with not a spare moment to even sit down and think. Meetings, people coming to see me, preparation of submissions, going to an external seminar, sending off regulatory documentation, budget matters and then finally in the late afternoon a goodbye function for one of our long-serving staff members who is retiring. When I got home I was pooped…

Although we have been having some beautiful fine and sunny days, as soon as evening falls, the temperature drops quite considerably and a dark night soon follows. This is the best time in winter for coming into a warm house and having a hot dinner with a rich and gooey dessert!

Apple Caramel Cake
Ingredients - cake
•    1 and 1/2 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
•    2/3 cup vegetable oil
•    2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
•    1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
•    3 medium eggs
•    1/3 cup milk
•    2 cups flour
•    1 tablespoon baking powder
•    2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and coarsely chopped

Ingredients - Caramel Topping
•    2/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
•    1/3 cup butter
•    1/3 cup heavy cream
•    1 teaspoon vanilla essence

Method

• In a mixing bowl with electric mixer, beat together sugar, oil, cinnamon, and vanilla.
• Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.
• Mix in the milk, flour, baking powder, and salt, stirring just until blended.
• Stir in apples.
• Pour apple cake batter into a greased 25 cm square pan.
• Bake at 175°C until cake springs back when touched lightly in the centre (about 30 to 40 minutes).
• Meanwhile, combine brown sugar, butter, and cream in a heavy saucepan over medium heat.
• Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to a simmer; continue cooking and stirring for 6 minutes.
• Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla.
• With a fork, pierce cake all over. Pour hot caramel topping over the hot cake.
• Serve warm or at room temperature with a dollop of clotted cream.

LONG-DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS

“In true love the smallest distance is too great, and the greatest distance can be bridged.” - Hans Nouwens

The internet has revolutionised our life in all sorts of ways. Communication, entertainment, education, publishing, networking, commerce, business, etc, etc, etc. However, the internet is also a major way that we socialise and meet potential partners. The virtual environment is conducive to rapid exchanges of intimate details and many people utilise the electronic medium to find their “perfect” match. Numerous “matchmaker” sites exist and they range from the casual “clip-joint” type of site where one-night stands are arranged to the genuine relationship-building sites where the object is a match that leads to marriage or other long-term arrangements.

Matchmaking of course is nothing new and in many traditional societies quite a large number of marriages are the result of the efforts of specialist matchmakers. It is perhaps not surprising that most of these marriages are very successful and last a lifetime long. An astute matchmaker seeks individuals who are well-suited, socially, physically and intellectually, and who share similar values and can communicate effectively with one another. Love is given every opportunity to flourish in such matches. The specialist skills of the matchmaker who gets to know a very large number of available singles and does a “best-match” exercise can be a very effective way of building a successful and long-lasting relationship.

The ease with which we communicate through the internet and the large variety of online forums that make meeting your “perfect” match more likely explain the popularity of this medium when one is searching for a mate. The electronic medium can provide a “safe” environment for frank discussions where people may exchange candid disclosures about all sorts of things: Politics, religion, sex, prejudices, music, books, sports, hobbies, etc. One may then find a partner with whom one shares much and can communicate with on a non-physical level.

The problem in many cases is that with the reduction of the world into a global village through the wonders of the world-wide-web, one’s perfect match may live in Outer Mongolia or the permafrost of Lapland, while one is happily ensconced in the tropical paradise of Vanuatu. The dilemma then is, where to go with this budding relationship? Long distance love affairs do not last the distance, but a new survey has shown that Australians are not daunted by geographical separation. This is of course nothing new in this vast land of ours, which is so far away from the rest of the world!

A survey of 120,000 Australian singles showed that about a quarter of respondents would have no qualms in packing up and moving to a new location in order to find love. Moving interstate or even overseas was not unreasonable for 27% of people asked, and 54% said that they would relocate if the person they were to join was the “right” one. Those who had never been married before were more likely to move than those who had married before and single men were more willing to move than single women to join their soul mate. In Australia, Northern Territorians were the ones most likely to move so as to be with their love, while on the other side of the coin, South Australians were the most loathe to do so. The survey also compared Australians to a similar survey done in the US and it found that Australians are 12% more likely to move for love than Americans!

Internet romances need caution and often people are disappointed, but I am also aware of some very successful matches made on the net. Distance can be a problem but the course of true love never ran smooth. It seems that if the chemistry is right, distance is no object for the determined couple…

LDR noun, abbrev.
Long-Distance Relationship: An intimate relationship that takes place when the partners are separated by a considerable distance. In 2005, according to The Center for the Study of Long Distance Relationships, an estimated 2.9% of US marriages were considered long-distance, with 1 in 10 marriages reported to have included a period at long distance within the first 3 years. This means that in 2005 approximately 3.5 million people in the US alone were involved in long-distance marriages.

FOGGY BRAIN

“The problem with getting older is you still remember how things used to be.” - Paul Newman

A family friend of ours was admitted into a nursing home this week. She is in her eighties and although she lived alone up till now, her increasing signs of dementia and inability to look after herself forced her family to decide that she would be better off living in a 24-hour care environment. She had done her utmost until now to conceal her memory loss and confusion. Her stratagems were ingenious to say the least, but her increasingly bizarre behaviour and her inability to cope with everyday tasks, the simplest chores and routine forced her to finally break down and admit that things were not at all normal.

It is a sad situation and it was painful to watch this woman that we knew well and liked, going through such a terrible ordeal and realise that her mind has been gradually deteriorating. We had to concede that over time, her normally alert bright eyes became increasingly dull and vacant and that her smile was a rarer and rarer occurrence. Her amusing and wry comments, engaging conversation and keen sense of humour gradually disappeared; firstly into confusion, then into outlandish incongruousness, then incoherence and now what lies ahead is complete apathy.

The loss of one’s mind is a loss of identity. Dementia robs the person of their selfhood, their perception of who they are and what makes themselves as individuals. The loss of higher mentation dehumanises and makes of the person a thing. How can one cope with this loss of self as one perceives it disappearing? How can the people who love that person cope with that living death?

My Foggy Brain

The fog creeps and covers the landscape
In a pall of gray – like a winding sheet
Around a corpse recently dead.
My mind dulls, and ashen woolly thoughts
Flit in and out of my consciousness; now like butterflies,
Now like strange visitors, intruders in one’s house.

The wintry mist obscures and blunts perception,
The cold numbs me and the wetness seeps in,
Drenching my clothes, chilling me to the marrow.
Sunlit memories of childhood are vivid, with scents, aromas,
The woody, resinous smell of newly sharpened pencils
On the first day of school… Last week, wasn’t it?

The twilight yields its realm quickly to night
And as darkness falls, I am disoriented, yet strangely alert,
Feeling like a nocturnal creature: I must go out, go there!
The days all merge into one and no matter how hard I try
I cannot remember what I had for lunch, if did have anything,
Where I was five minutes ago, or who the person I talked to was.

In darkness I wander, searching for some unknown goal,
My random peregrinations having some higher purpose
That I cannot divine; yet its all-important gravity, overwhelming.
I see my wedding day clearly, attended by my adult children,
I hear old familiar songs, sounding new and fresh;
And who is this strange child calling me “Grandma”?

Summer falls heavily this year and freezes everything it touches.
Snow falls and merges with the white hair of the old woman
Staring at me reflected in some shop window, waving to me as I wave to her.
Who is this person who apes my every move? Where am I?
I wore a pink chiffon dress yesterday at my birthday party, I turned seven…
I was so happy…Why is this old woman staring at me crying?

IT MISSED!

“Science fiction films are not about science. They are about disaster, which is one of the oldest subjects of art.” - Susan Sontag

Yesterday we had a near miss with an asteroid that came dangerously close to the earth. The name of the object is 2011 MD and fortunately it flew by harmlessly but at the terribly close distance of only 12,000 kilometres (a hair’s breadth in astronomical terms!), which is 32 times closer than the moon, and closer than geosynchronous satellites. Astronomers in the Southern Hemisphere were able to spot the asteroid with fairly modest telescopes as a fast moving bright spot. Though this celestial object came close, it is not a distance record holder. Earlier this year, a tiny asteroid flew by even closer - within 5,500 kilometres of the earth’s surface.

Asteroid 2011 MD is 10 metres long and was discovered last week by telescopes in New Mexico. Scientists say asteroids this size sail past Earth every six years. If 2011 MD did hit us, then it would more than likely break up in the atmosphere and give us an amazing display of fireballs and meteors. Quite a light show! It is unlikely that an object as small as this would cause grave effects. However, asteroids larger than 25-30 metres are more likely to impact the ground and have more serious consequences (depending also on where the impact occurs – an asteroid impacting in Paris will have different effects to one hitting the middle of the Pacific Ocean).

There are about 8,100 Near-Earth Objects (NEO) that have been discovered and about 827 of them are asteroids with a diameter of approximately 1 km or larger. About 1,236 of these NEOs have been classified as Potentially Hazardous Asteroids (PHAs). NASA currently plans to launch a probe to visit one of these PHAs and return samples of the asteroid to Earth. That mission will launch the OSIRIS-Rex asteroid probe in 2016 to rendezvous with the space rock 1999 RQ36 in 2020. The target asteroid is 580 metres wide and has a 1-in-1,800 chance of hitting Earth in the year 2170, and a 1-in-1,000 chance of slamming into us in 2182.

2011 MD was part of a group of Earth approaching asteroids called “Apollo Class”, which regularly crosses the orbit of the Earth and thus has a slight but noticeable chance of striking Earth. Not every asteroid approaching Earth is quite as benign as 2011 MD has proven to be. About two years ago, asteroid 2009 DD45 which was 61 metres long, approached us and had it struck Earth, it would have been with the force of a nuclear blast, similar to the presumed object that fell on Siberia in 1908, causing an air burst in the multimegaton range, flattening 25 square kilometres of forest. One of the largest Apollo asteroids, named Geographos, was discovered in 1951. Geographos is several kilometres in diameter. A strike on Earth by an asteroid the size of Geographos would be an extinction level event on the scale of the object that destroyed the dinosaurs. Looking at the near future, we still have the threat of asteroid Apophis to deal with, which is looming ever closer, a possible impact occurring on April 13, 2036.

In Egyptian myth, Apophis was the ancient spirit of evil and destruction, a demon that was determined to plunge the world into eternal darkness. This seemed to astronomers a fitting name for the asteroid hurtling towards Earth from outer space. Apophis is 350 metres long and was discovered in 2004. Scientists are ever since monitoring its progress and have discovered that this asteroid is on a potential collision course with our planet.

NASA estimates that if Apophis impacts earth, it would release more than 100,000 times the energy released in the nuclear blast over Hiroshima. Thousands of square kilometres would be directly affected by the blast but the whole of the Earth would see the effects of the dust released into the atmosphere. Astronomers are imploring governments to decide on a strategy for dealing with this event, in a case of reality imitating art – the art in this case being science fiction movies!

If you have seen the 1998 film “Armageddon” you will be familiar with the possible effects of asteroids impacting the earth. The film looks at the possibility of destroying the asteroid in space before it has the chance of hitting the earth. Another 1998 film “Deep Impact” also looked at the possibility of an impact with a comet.

Scientists initially put the risk of impact of Apophis at 1 in 233, which is almost a certainty in cosmological terms. Subsequent studies upgraded the probability to 1 in 43. However, refined studies, more accurate measurements and some serious number crunching led to a downgrading. As of October 7, 2009, the odds of an April 13, 2036 impact have been reduced to about 1 in 250,000. So you can sleep soundly tonight!

MOVIE MONDAY - CHILDREN'S FARE

“We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults. Heaven has accorded this to us in the uncritical canine attachment.” - George Eliot

Occasionally when scraping the bottom of the “specials” basket at the DVD shop one may find a film that one will get, albeit one that one would never have considered getting at full price. Such was the case with a movie that we saw at the weekend. The only reason we got it was because of sentimental value… We used to own Chihuahuas and they were both beautiful dogs with a wonderful temperament. Hence seeing a movie with two chihuahuas on its cover brought back memories and we got it to watch. It was Raja Gosnell’s 2008 “Beverly Hills Chihuahua”,  produced by the Disney studios. As such, one could immediately tell this was produced for the children/family market and one’s expectations are immediately toned down somewhat.

It is interesting how many children’s picture books, novels, films and TV series are being made in recent years. It seems that ever more and more are being produced and there is quite a vast array of very ordinary stuff out there. However, the market niche is a lucrative one and it always amazes me to see young children or even babies in the back of four-wheel drive cars, with eyes transfixed to the TV monitor, watching on DVD some children’s show or another. No matter how short the trip the DVD is an easy solution for keeping kids occupied and quiet. Needless to say that at home the TV and DVD player are always on the go and kids tend to spend more and more time exposed to this form of entertainment. Very much unlike my childhood where TV was always live and strictly rationed – a privilege not a right.

The worst offenders nowadays are the inane animated series that take silly ideas and elevate them to the heights of absurdity. For example, karate-practicing (and suitably dressed) dinosaurs that fight on the side of good trying to overcome the forces of evil as exemplified by sabre-wielding alien bird-like predators in space suits, or some such bilge. The premise is outlandish, the plots repetitive and mind-rotting, and the whole quality of production low and nasty. These types of shows are produced on conveyor-belt types of establishments and are preparing the young viewers for the adult brainless equivalent, the daily soap opera.

One thing about Disney movies in the past was the relatively high standard of production, the use of classic stories and fairy tales as the starting point and the strong “messages” or “morals” that they had embedded within them. These features aligned themselves with most of the classic children’s literature in this respect, where the object of the story was to not only entertain, but to also play a role in shaping young minds so that they were edified and cultivated in some positive way. In recent times, more and more children’s literature and films are produced mainly for entertainment and may in fact have quite a opposite effect to educating or raising the moral, spiritual, and intellectual level of their audiences. Perhaps this is considered old fashioned now, and to actually have such a goal may be looked upon with impatience, cynicism and disapproval.

“Beverly Hills Chihuahua” is one of the latest breed of Disney films (pardon the pun!). This is not based on any classic story or fairy tale and it is a live action film not an animated feature. It does grant dogs anthropomorphic characteristics and they do talk to one another as people do, sharing in this respect elements with similar works in children’s literature: “The Wind in the Willows”, “Aesop’s Fables” and “Winnie the Pooh” for instance. One can see that the prime purpose of this film is entertainment (and entertainment of children mainly), however, it does retain that underlying morality mentality, and it is a vehicle for edification. The plot revolves around Chloe, the Beverly Hills Chihuahua of the title, who is a spoilt, pampered pooch complete with designer clothes, expensive jewellery, and a lifestyle to equal that of rich and famous humans. Her owner, Vivian, leaves on a business trip and her niece, Rachel, is left to dog-sit Chloe. Rachel is a party girl and decides to join with her two friends to go to Mexico, for a vacation. Chloe wanders off, is dognapped and finds herself in an illegal dog-fighting establishment. She is rescued by Delgado, an Alsatian who will help her get back to Beverly Hills. The man who runs the dogfights finds out that Chloe is worth a kingly ransom and he sends his Doberman, Diablo, after her. Rachel, and Vivian’s Mexican landscaper, Sam, and his chihuhua, Papi who is in love with Chloe, are on the hunt to find her and get her home safe and sound.

The plot is thin and the moral lessons are delivered with a sledge hammer, however, one should constantly remind oneself that this is a movie aimed at young children and primarily made for entertainment. Along the way, some important messages are given, more or less effectively, generally not very subtly, but at the same time in a comic manner making the moral pill easier to swallow perhaps. Rachel’s prejudice against the Mexican “gardener” is an example that is held up for ridicule. Chloe’s pampered lifestyle contrasted with the homeless street dogs is a warning against the loss of one’s true value systems when one is endowed with riches. Chloe’s return to her “national” and “racial” roots in Chihuahua, Mexico where she meets a colony of proud Chihuahua warrior dogs and learns to bark, is a lesson in the virtue of never forgetting your roots and being proud of your heritage. It all has a happy end of course and everyone gets their just desserts.

It is a fun movie for young children and the parents may enjoy watching along with their offspring, while doing a cryptic crossword perhaps. We enjoyed the Mexican settings, which were picture postcard perfect and idealised – well-suited to a fantasy world as portrayed in the film and any dog-loving person will adore the pooches, even spoilt Chloe. True to formula, the dog voices are provided by some well-known actors including the likes of Drew Barrymore (Chloe), Andy Garcia (Delgado), Plácido Domingo (Monte), George Lopez (Papi). The music score by Heitor Pereira is unobtrusive and appropriate while the direction is conventional and unobjectionable. A sequel was made based on the success of this movie (cost $20 million, $94.5 million gross February 2009 in the USA).

ART SUNDAY - OPERA

“An opera begins long before the curtain goes up and ends long after it has come down. It starts in my imagination, it becomes my life, and it stays part of my life long after I’ve left the opera house.” - Maria Callas

It is said that Opera is the queen of arts as it combines so many different types of artistic expression to create a unified whole that is seen in the performance on stage. When you think about it, there is music (both its composition and performance), singing, dancing, acting, stage design, costumes, lighting, special effects – to mention a few of these creative forces at work. It is an art form that is highly stylised and admits no middle ground, you either love it or you detest it. Its followers can get as passionate about it as a football fan is about his team and players. Its detractors cannot understand what all the fuss is about and what all that caterwauling on stage is meant to be.

Opera appeals to me as it is a magical mirror of life and its vicissitudes. The way that it presents our common experiences and shared emotions, feelings, and the way that we all react to certain situations can prove to be a powerful insight into our innermost being. And of course the music makes it all so much more immediate and can strip naked our emotional reserve and make us very vulnerable to the stimuli that reach us in that darkened auditorium. The setting draws us in and the highly artificial environment of the stage acts as a lens to focus emotions quite sharply and make us participate in the drama taking place. How easy it is to then find parallels with our own life and experiences…

Of course even the most ardent opera fan has some favourite operas and some that are not all that sympathetic to one’s sensibilities. I particularly dislike Puccini’s “La Bohème” but I like his “Madam Butterfly”. “Carmen” and the “Pearl Fishers” of Bizet are perennial favourites of mine, as are most Verdi operas, with (perhaps surprisingly) the exception of “Aida”. The aria “Celeste Aida” grates on my nerves so much! Mozart’s operas are wonderful as are Rossini’s. “Norma” of Bellini and “Don Pasquale” of Donizetti I like, but Wagner’s music dramas are not my cup of tea. Gluck’s reformed classical style is appealing and his masterpiece “Orfeo e Euridice” strikes a chord with me.

Most baroque operas are firm favourites, with Monteverdi’s “Orfeo” and “L’ Incoronazione di Poppea” ranking very highly. Handel’s operas are wonderful, as are those of Purcell, including the marvellous “Dido and Aeneas”. Rameau’s “Les Indes Gallantes” is a firm favourite, as are some of Cavalli’s operas, for example, “La Callisto”.

Yesterday we went to see one of our favourite operas, “Faust” by Charles Gounod. It was staged by the Melbourne Opera Company in the Athenaeum Theatre. “Faust” is one of the most popular operas in the repertoire and it is perhaps easy to divine the reason. The music is absolutely delicious and there are many well-known arias and choruses, including Marguerite’s famous “Jewel Song” and “The King of Thule”, Mephistopheles’ “Golden Calf” and “Serenade”, Faust’s “Salut demeure” and Valentin’s “Even Bravest Hearts may swell”. The “Soldiers’ Chorus” and the famous Waltz are recognisable tunes by even the non-opera buff person in the street.

“Faust” is adapted from Goethe’s magnum opus of the same name, the story of which he took from German folk tales and various historical tidbits. Both play and opera tell the story of Dr Faust’s pact with the Devil to regain his lost youth in order to experience love and pleasure – things he did not sample while engaged in his “serious” life work on philosophy. The object of his love is the innocent Marguerite, who falls in love with him deeply and purely. A prime character in the work is Mephistopheles, a personification of the Devil, who aids Faust to win the heart and affections of Marguerite. The debauched girl is destroyed by her affair with Faust, who not only abandons her once she is with child, but who also kills her brother. Faust is damned, but Marguerite achieves ultimate salvation.

It is a powerful story and although Gounod has sets it in the conventional manner of a 19th century French composer, the emotional power of the music is quite amazing and its popularity since its first performance attests to the genius of the composer. The full opera (with obligatory Act V ballet) is rarely performed nowadays, perhaps a pity as the ballet contains some gorgeous music and is a showpiece for some phantasmagorical stagecraft. Acts IV and V were conflated in the production that we saw, with what some opera purists may say is a result of tighter dramatic punch and no balletic distractions.

Melbourne Opera Company Ltd was founded in 2002 as a non-profit public arts company dedicated to producing opera and associated art forms at realistic prices. It is a company committed to the development of young artists, regional touring, and having dealings characterised by openness and transparency. The Board is elected annually by the financial membership, which is open to all. Repertoire and casting decisions are taken by an arms-length artistic subcommittee. Melbourne Opera is now second only to the national company as the most active opera company in the country (Australian Opera being the foremost, obviously). This result has been achieved relying mainly upon philanthropic support.

Melbourne Opera Company believe that open competition between opera companies is healthy, providing opportunities for future excellence and greater choice for audiences. In contrast, Berlin, a city smaller than Melbourne, has three major companies as well as a number of smaller houses. Melbourne Opera is active in broadly promoting the art of opera, and works to co-ordinate seasons and subscriptions between all Melbourne opera managements.

The production of “Faust” that we saw yesterday was quite good, although there were some weak areas, understandable perhaps as there were many substitute singers rather than the full original cast. Michael Lapina as Faust did a fairly good job in the male lead role, although on a couple of occasions his notes were shaky. Yang Liu as Valentin was perhaps the weakest of the singers, his notes not hitting true on more than a couple of occasions. Top honours go to Lee Abrahmsen as Marguerite who shone in this demanding role not only with her beautiful singing but also with her impressive stage presence and good acting. An excellent Mephistopheles was sung and acted with gusto by Eddie Muliaumaseali’i whose sonorous bass was satisfying musically and provided a firm anchoring point for many a scene.

Considering the chorus comprises mainly an amateur force, they did a good job of the demanding and powerful choral pieces that form a showcase for this opera. The famous waltz provided an opportunity for a pretty mini ballet around a maypole (a little clunky here and there), while the soldiers’ chorus was perhaps a little understated. Greg Hocking conducted very well and managed to evince a good orchestral sound from his instrumental team that were crowded together in the small orchestra pit. For a group that doesn’t play together often, this orchestra managed to produce a cohesive and professional sound for this difficult, magnificent score. A hooded organist in one of the side-stage boxes and the celestial chorus from upper circle were appreciated by the audience in a theatre that provided good acoustics in a rather intimate way.

The stage settings and lighting were a little disappointing, but one must remember that the Athenaeum is a small theatre and the opera company is a small one. However, a few touches of imagination would have made the settings so much better. Costumes were for the most part good although a few here and there were disappointing (Bacchus’ body suit was lamentable).

Overall we enjoyed ourselves and it is great to see our own Opera company tackling such an epic work in a spirited and courageous manner. True to its mission statement, this company provided a very good quality entertainment at an affordable price. Melbourne is the artistic capital of Australia and stage musicals, opera and plays are always in demand by a discriminating and refined audience. Melbourne Opera’s success in this city is testimony to its talented and committed personnel and artists.

À PARIS...

“America is my country and Paris is my hometown.” - Gertrude Stein

A colleague left yesterday for a trip to France and it was his last day at work before his holiday. We talked about all sorts of things and I recommended a host of things to do and see in various places. Paris of course is a favourite… Many other friends and acquaintances are also leaving for trips overseas at about this time. It is a good time to escape to the summery northern hemisphere just as winter is setting in here. I felt a little envious as it looks like this winter we shall not be travelling very far at all.

Writing about France and Paris just now made me feel very nostalgic. We have been to France about a dozen times and enjoyed every single trip. We have stayed in Paris, Marseille, Lyon, Bordeaux, Arles, Toulon, Avignon, Nîmes, Strasbourg. Have driven through the Côte d’ Azur, Provence, Lorraine and Alsace, and of course the Île de France. French food and French music are just two of the wonderful things one can enjoy there (not to mention the art, history, culture, scenery, architecture…). We have many favourite French singers, most of them hailing from the wonderful years of the sixties. One of them is Enrico Macias.

Enrico Macias is a singer/composer who was born in Constantine, Algeria in 1938, to a Spanish father and a French mother. He migrated to France in 1961, during the Algerian war of independence. Shortly after arriving in Paris, he composed a song about leaving his country. The song “Adieu, Mon Pays” (Goodbye My Country) eventually became his first major hit, not only in France, but around the world . The lyrics describe the emotional difficulties experienced by those who have been forced to leave their homelands, families and friends.

Enrico Macias as a singer, composer and guitarist, together with his low-key charismatic personality and rich romantic vocal tone, crosses international boundaries. He is one of those singers one can listen to and connect with, and it is not even necessary to understand the language of the songs in order to fully appreciate the extraordinary feeling, power and emotion of Enrico Macias. Besides French, he has recorded in several other languages, including Italian, Spanish, Hebrew and English. In addition to his 40 plus years of artistic career, he has actively been working towards contributing to world peace and the protection of human rights.

Here is a great song of his, “Paris, you have taken me into your arms”.






Paris, tu m’as pris dans tes bras

J’ allais le long des rues
Comme un enfant perdu
J’ etais seul j’ avais froid
Toi Paris, tu m’ as pris dans tes bras.

Je ne la reverrai pas
La fille qui m’ a souri
Elle s’ est seulement retournée et voila
Mais dans ses yeux j’ ai compris
Que dans la ville de pierre
Ou l’ on se sent etranger
Il y a toujours du bonheur dans l’ air
Pour ceux qui veulent s’ aimer
Et le coeur de la ville
A battu sous mes pas
De Passy a Belleville
Toi Paris, tu m’ as pris dans tes bras

Le long des Champs Elysιes
Les lumieres qui viennent la
Quand j’ ai croise les terrasses des cafes
Elles m’ ont tendu leurs fauteuils
Saint-Germain m’ a dit bonjour
Rue Saint-Benoit, rue Dufour
J’ ai fait danser pendant toute la nuit
Les filles les plus jolies
Au petit matin bleme
Devant le dernier creme
J’ ai ferme mes yeux la
Toi Paris, tu m’ as pris dans tes bras

Sur les quais de l’ Ile Saint-Louis
Des pecheurs, des amoureux
Je les enviais mais la Seine m’ a dit
Viens donc t’ asseoir avec eux
Je le sais aujourd’ hui
Nous sommes deux amis
Merci du fond de moi
Toi Paris, je suis bien dans tes bras
Toi Paris, je suis bien dans tes bras
Toi Paris, je suis bien dans tes bras
Toi Paris, je suis bien dans tes bras.

And my translation:

Paris, you have taken me into your arms

I was walking through the streets
Like a lost child
I was alone and I was cold
But you, Paris, took me in your arms.

The girl who smiled at me –
I’ll not see her again;
She only turned around and smiled, and there it was:
In her eyes I understood
That in this city of stone,
Where one feels foreign,
There is always joy in the air
For those who want to love.

And the heart of the city,
Was beating under my feet
From Passy to Belleville,
You Paris, you ‘ve taken me into your arms

Along the Champs Elysées
In the lights that come shine;
When I crossed the terraces of cafes
They offered their seats.
Saint-Germain said hello to me
I danced all night
On Saint-Benoit St, on Dufour St
The prettiest girls
From early morning’s pale light
To the last gleam of evening,
Till I have closed my eyes,
You Paris, you taken me into your arms.

On the quays of the Saint-Louis Isle,
There are fishermen and there are lovers.
I envied them, but the River Seine said to me:
“Come and sit down with them and be part of it all”.
I know, Paris, that today
We are friends!
I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Paris, I feel so good in your embrace!

HOT SOUP FOR WINTER

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: It is the time for home.” - Edith Sitwell

Although it was a mild day today, and we even had some sunshine, I did not get much of a chance to enjoy it as I was very busy at work. I spent the whole day in meetings, on the telephone, talking to staff, and answering a bumper number of emails. By the time I got home, it was already dark and it had started getting cooler. It was good to enter a warm house and be greeted by the aroma of dinner cooking.

There is nothing better during winter than a hot soup. It warms one up, revives and refreshes while being tasty and nutritious. Here is a recipe today that foots that bill very well. A classic Potato and Leek Soup, also called “Vichyssoise”. There is much debate as to whether this is a French or an American recipe, and the battle of origins across the Atlantic still rages!

Jules Gouffé (1807 – 1877) was a renowned French chef and pâtissier. He created a recipe for a hot potato and leek soup, publishing a version of it in his “Royal Cookery” of 1869. He was nicknamed: L’ apôtre de la cuisine décorative (The apostle of decorative cooking). He had a deep influence on the evolution of French gastronomy by gathering an immense knowledge which he wrote down in his Livre de Cuisine and his Livre de Pâtisserie.

His learning began under his father’s supervision who owned a pâtisserie in Paris. Gouffé became Antonin Carême’s pupil at the age of 16. He remained with this teacher for seven years. In 1840 Gouffé opened a shop in Paris, which would soon gain fame. He sold the shop in 1855 and then became inactive.  In 1867 he accepted an offer from Alexandre Dumas and the Baron Brisse to become chef de bouche of the Jockey-Club de Paris. While he held this position he began writing books that would ensure him renown and posterity. Most of his works have been translated into English by his brother, Alphonse Gouffé, Head Pastry Cook to Queen Victoria.

Julia Child maintains that Vichyssoise is an American invention and Louis Diat, a chef at the Ritz-Carlton in New York City, is most often credited with its popularisation. In 1950, Diat told New Yorker magazine: “In the summer of 1917, when I had been at the Ritz seven years, I reflected upon the potato and leek soup of my childhood which my mother and grandmother used to make. I recalled how during the summer my older brother and I used to cool it off by pouring in cold milk and how delicious it was. I resolved to make something of the sort for the patrons of the Ritz.”

The same article explains that Diat’s soup was first titled crème vichyssoise glacée. Diat named it after Vichy, a town not far from his home town of Montmarault, France. This is the classic iced version. I must admit that I am no fan of cold soup so my sympathies lie with the original hot French version.

Hot Potato and Leek Soup
Ingredients

2 onions
1 large leek
3 spring onions
2 tbsp butter
1.5 litres chicken stock
3 large potatoes
8 tbsp heavy cream
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp mace
8 tsp chives
1/2 tsp pepper
1 tsp salt
500 mL milk

Method

• Peel and roughly chop the onions.
• Trim off all the dark green part of the leek and spring onions and discard.
• Split the remaining part of the leeks and spring onions in half from top to bottom.
• Carefully wash out any mud and dirt (otherwise they are gritty) and finely shred the leek and spring onions.
• Peel the potatoes and cut them into cubes.
• Gently fry the onions and leek in the butter until they are soft.
• Add the stock and potatoes. Simmer the soup for an hour and blend it to a puree.
• Add the milk, salt, pepper, nutmeg and mace.
• Simmer the soup for another twenty minutes.
• Ladle the soup into eight small bowls.
• Snip the chives finely.
• Add a tablespoon of heavy cream and a teaspoon of chives to each bowl.
• Serve hot!

EARLY MORNING IN THE CITY

“When we pray to God we must be seeking nothing – nothing at all.” - Saint Francis of Assisi

Every morning I commute to work on the train. I catch an early train, which means that I am usually in at my desk just after 7:00 a.m. It takes a little will power during the winter months as I get up in the middle of the dark night, it seems. The train is surprisingly full, one of the benefits of being an early bird is that provided your train journey is concluded by 7:00 a.m., it is free. The other benefit of course, is that one can do so much between 7:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. when most other people get here. No distracting phone calls, no people knocking on your office doors, no meetings, no constant stream of emails that need to be looked at and acted upon.

An extra treat I sometimes allow myself occasionally is to stop for breakfast at one of the cafés in the lanes between Flinders St Station and work, which is further north. Today was a fine and mild morning and the warm glow of lights and the enticing aroma of freshly roasted and ground coffee from an open café was too much to resist. Many other people had the same idea as me and the patrons were not only commuters, but also many city residents who come down from their apartments for breakfast in one of these cafés, which provide an embarrassing choice of ambience, cuisine, décor and prices.

The clatter of cutlery and crockery, the whoosh of the steam and the bubbling of the milk as it is being frothed, the conversations from adjoining tables and the orders being given and acknowledged make for a particularly vital and invigorating mélange of sound that serves as a soundtrack for the rich visual stimuli. A mixture of people in all shapes and sizes, some happy some melancholy, the ugly and the beautiful, the lonely and the gregarious, the newspaper readers and the people watchers (like me!). The array of breakfast options being prepared and handed out is a delight to watch. The frugal toast or lone muffin, the omelettes, scrambled eggs, or the full cooked breakfasts such as bacon and eggs with grilled tomatoes and sausages, the sweet tooth choice of sticky waffles and syrup and there is always of course the healthy selection of cereals and fruit, muesli of various kinds.

Coffee is a Melbourne speciality and I am always amazed at the huge variety of types that one can choose from. Fully caffeinated to decaffeinated, light, medium and dark roasts, rich blends of beans to pure, single provenance pedigrees. Your choice of milk: Full cream, reduced fat, cow’s, goat’s or soy. Cappuccino, latte, macchiato, affogato, frappé, espresso, long black, short black, milk coffee, mocha chocolate, and the list goes on! And don’t think that the tea drinkers or herbal beverage consumers are hard done by either. Every kind of tea you can imagine, as well as the most exotic herbal infusions can be had as a matter of course with your waiter not blinking an eyelid while you give your pernickety order.

The morning papers are there to be read and if catching up with latest news is not your cup of tea first thing, there are always the crossword puzzle pages to hone one’s mind and ready it for the demands of the work day. “The Age” is the newspaper par excellence of Melbourne and its Cryptic Crossword is something that I am partial to in the morning. One is amused, somewhat challenged and greatly satisfied as the last clue falls into place and the puzzle is completed, just as one is swallowing the last mouthful of coffee.

As I continue up Elizabeth St, after having my breakfast (a two-shot latte with a blueberry muffin), it is advisable to walk briskly and work some of those calories off! Today on impulse I entered St Francis’s Church at the corner of Elizabeth and Lonsdale Sts. This is Victoria’s first Catholic church, built between 1841 and 1845. I was greatly surprised at the large number of people inside, praying. Perhaps penance after a sin of gluttony on the early morning breakfast table? Or maybe asking for divine intervention in an untoward turn of events in one’s personal or professional life? An early morning routine for many, an act of devotion and faith that needs to be formalised in such a setting…

The church has a beautiful Lady Chapel on its Western side and in the early morning darkness it is an almost magical place. The gaudy colours of the frescoes are toned down, the flickering of the devotional candles provide a beautiful soft light and the quiet of the hour is conducive to reflection and meditation. One may sit down and think, contemplate, pray, muse and ponder on all sorts of things. The most earnest prayers are not those that ask for something, nor those requests for divine intervention to resolve problems that we have caused for ourselves and only we alone can resolve. They are those prayers uttered in the course of self-examination and reflection on one’s status quo. Those that are the result of a self-judgment of our actions and their motives. Those that come after an evaluation of how seemly, how proper, how decent and honourable our existence is. Those prayers that allow our conscience to come forth and converse with us in a frank and open manner.

The rest of the walk to work in the dawn light was concluded in a positive frame of mind and in a mood that was cheerful and bright. One’s day can only go well after such an early jaunt through the City streets, with two stops of such different character…

prayer |pre(ə)r| noun
A solemn request for help or expression of thanks addressed to God or an object of worship: I'll say a prayer for him | The peace of God is ours through prayer.
• (prayers) A religious service, esp. a regular one, at which people gather in order to pray together: 500 people were detained as they attended Friday prayers.
• An earnest hope or wish: It is our prayer that the current progress on human rights will be sustained.
PHRASES
Not have a prayer informal: Have no chance at all of succeeding at something: He doesn't have a prayer of toppling Tyson.
ORIGIN Middle English: From Old French preiere, based on Latin precarius ‘obtained by entreaty,’ from prex, prec- ‘prayer.’

INTERNET USAGE

“The Internet is the first thing that humanity has built that humanity doesn't understand, the largest experiment in anarchy that we have ever had.” - Eric Schmidt

I came across an interesting website that features up to date world Internet Usage, Population Statistics and Internet Market Research Data, for over 233 individual countries and world regions. There are some amazing figures that are published there, including the number of users and the penetration rate in the population.

For example, in the USA there are 239,893,600 Internet users as of June 2010, which represents a 77.3% penetration; while in Australia, there are 17,033,380 users as of March/11, with a 78.3% penetration. Contrast this with Ethiopia where there are 445,400 Internet users as of June 2010, representing 0.3% of the population. In terms of the highest penetration, Iceland boasts 301,600 Internet users as of June 2010, but has the highest penetration worldwide at 97.6%. In terms of the highest number of users, China has 477,000,000 Internet users as of March 2011, with only 35.7% penetration. India is an interesting case with 81,000,000 Indians being internet users, yet this representing only 7% of the Indian population.

Nevertheless, the Internet is a busy place! It is interesting to contemplate that in 60 seconds, Google will receive 700,000 queries around the world, 168,000,000 emails will be sent and 98,000 tweets will be posted on Twitter. 13,000 iPhone Apps are downloaded every 60 seconds while in 60 seconds there will have been more than 370,000 voice calls on Skype. It is estimated that on 31st March 2011, there were 2,095,006,005 Internet users worldwide.

It is encouraging to think that from a tool that was initially developed and used for military intelligence in the 1960s, the world wide web in its present form is an indispensable part of the lives of billions of people worldwide.

As it is Poetry Wednesday today, here is an amusing poem found (where else, on the internet) about social networking and blogging:

Community Creatures

A colony of bloggers secure in their topic
ranging in size from massive to microscopic.
The lesser ones surround and support the great
who set the direction for the others to debate.

A flock of forums grazing on knowledge
their shepherds guiding them to fresh foliage.
Free to chew the cud and relax within their walls
trusting the guardians to banish the jackals.

A hydra, a multi-headed oracle, it must be a wiki
tackling all problems from the simple to the tricky.
The multiple heads give it so much knowledge you see.
The only problem is... they do not always agree.

A mob of social bookmarkers, much like meerkats
take turns looking out and deciding what's good to peer at.
Hoping none of the sentinels is actually a pretender
directing them all according to their own agenda.

In the distance, a herd of social networkers
dashing all over the place. There's no room for shirkers.
Without any shepherds they all, every day,
have a role to play in keeping predators at bay.

©Adam Rulli-Gibbs 2007

WILD WEATHER

“Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.” - Victor Hugo

As we approach Winter Solstice in the southern hemisphere (which is to be June 22, 3:16am), the darkness reaches its peak with the longest night of the year and the shortest day. On this day, the Earth’s south pole is tilted as far away from the Sun as it will get. The Sun rises north of east, sets north of west and reaches 28 1/2° above the horizon at noon. It felt like it today with darkness being absolute when I left home this morning and darkness again greeting me as I came back home.

Last night we had a severe storm in Melbourne with high speed winds (reaching 100 km/hr in some areas), much rain and coldness. There was damage to property with some houses even losing their roof in the high wind, with the emergency services rushing to help. Fortunately our house was spared but it was a wild night. Lying in bed and listening to the wind and pelting rain outside was quite sobering when one also thought of the people whose house was damaged, or even worse of those homeless people that had to brave such a terrible night out there somewhere. It is a very heavy winter we are experiencing this year and the cheery voices on breakfast radio telling us that the snowfields are having good snowfalls are not really providing much relief or reassurance to those who are suffering the worse of the wild weather.

This morning there was news of more disruptions to flights in southern Australia because of a new ash cloud from the Chilean volcanic eruption drifting over Australia. Many local and international flights were cancelled and thousands of people had their travel schedules disrupted, being stranded in strange places. Once again the weather would not have made a holiday of their delay.

Wild Weather

The wind is howling and the rain is falling down;
It looks as though the world might end tonight – outside.
But inside our cosy nest, I’m warm as toast
And in your arms I’ll brave even judgment day, content.

The air is freezing and the hail is pelting the roof now
Its sound like the shots on some desperate battlefield.
We sip our wine beside the fire that crackles merrily
And while we kiss, the infernal noise could well be music.

The night is dark and winter’s might manifest tonight,
The longest night that looks as though it never will dawn.
I look into the twin suns of your eyes, their sparkle
Enough to light my darknesses and warm my winters.

A winter’s night, the darkness long and cold;
The world outside a harsh and hostile place.
In the haven of your love, your warm embrace
Carries me to a paradise where light and hope
Will annul all wild weather that rages outside.

MOVIE MONDAY - THE TIME TRAVELLER'S WIFE

“His older self had taught his younger self a language which the older self knew because the younger self, after being taught, grew up to be the older self and was, therefore, capable of teaching.” - Robert A. Heinlein

At the weekend we watched the Robert Schwentke 2009 film “The Time Traveller’s Wife”. This was quite a popular novel and subsequently an equally popular movie, however, we had neither read the book nor seen the movie at the height of their popularity. The movie was on special at our DVD store so we got it and watched it to find out what all the fuss was about. A friend said that it was better to read the (500+ page) book as it was excellent and the movie had left her disappointed as much in the novel was missing, even what she thought were essential characters and plot twists. We nevertheless decided to watch the movie rather than read the book. Sure enough, classic books often make terrible movies, but so many classic movies have been made from good books…

First, this is not a science fiction movie despite its title and despite the fact that the hero is a time traveller. The film is a bitter-sweet romantic tale that one would class as a typical chick-flick (we seem to be watching an awful lot of these lately…). Second, I confess to having an antipathy towards Eric Bana, the male lead, however, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and persuaded myself to watch the film with an open mind. Third, the movie used the time travel as a metaphor for separation and its influence on a relationship. This I found gimmicky and a good storyteller would have found a more plausible reason for the separation without influencing the gist of the story, which really isn’t about time travel or science fiction.

In short, the plot has as follows: Henry DeTamble (Eric Bana) has a genetic abnormality that causes him to travel through time unpredictably and without any conscious control of it. Adding to this embarrassment is the indignity of his clothes not travelling with him so he materialises in the past and future without a stitch on (this was comic relief, I guess?). Clare Abshire (Rachel McAdams) is the love of his life and eventually becomes his wife, hence the title. Henry’s escapades through time are often dangerous, terrifying and sometimes life-threatening as he ends up in unknown places and times. Although Henry is a mild-mannered librarian with an alcohol problem he manages keep himself in shape and has some interesting survival skills such as pick-pocketing, street fighting and picking locks, all of which stand him in good stead in travels. After variable periods, he always goes back to his “present time” but for some reason (he sometimes) cannot influence his future and past even though he knows about it and has opportunity to do so. At other times he can influence it and does so (this is a nagging inconsistency). When he is 28, he meets 20-yr old Clare Abshire, whom he doesn’t know. She knows him however, as he visited her on many occasions ever since she was a child of 6 years. His love blossoms (hers is a given) and leads to their marriage even though it is interrupted by all sorts of trials and tribulations related to Henry’s time travels. One of his trips, however, will have profound and tragic consequences…

Superficially, this looks like a good movie but the schmaltz factor is high. It definitely pulls all stops out to tug the heart strings. However, I felt that it was all too strained, despite the good performances of both leads and the supporting actors – (OK, Eric Bana was sometimes a trifle wooden, but I have confessed my prejudice, so take this comment with a grain of salt and judge for yourself if you see the film). There was much repetition in the film and plot really didn’t go anywhere much (it was always in the same place but in the past, present and future). The strength of the storytelling was meant to reside in the emotional vicissitudes of the characters and the tale of their persistent and strengthening love even in the face of enforced absences and the unpredictability of Henry’s absences.

I think this is the sort of film that you will dislike or like, there is not much middle ground. I overall disliked, especially on reflection. The unfortunate thing is that I do not wish to read the novel now, despite being told that it is so much better than the film. This is the trap that many an author has fallen into: Allow your book to be made into a movie and watch your book die…

ART SUNDAY - FATHERS' DAY

“He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.” - Clarence Budington Kelland

Pietro Ligari (Ardenno, February 18, 1686 - Sondrio, April 6, 1752) was an Italian painter of the classical era. He was born into a middle-class family, the Del Pelo, and took on the name of Ligari from a small hamlet near the town of Sondrio where the family lived. Pietro Ligari can be described as the greatest artist of the eighteenth century of the Valtellina region (the small Alpine valley on the border between Lombardy and Switzerland). At twelve years of age he went to study in Rome, where he was a pupil of Lazzaro Baldi, a follower of Pietro da Cortona, and while training there he absorbed the influences of Baroque painting.

After a trip during which he moved to various locations in Central Italy and Venice, Ligari settled first in Milan in 1710, and then finally in 1727 in Valtellina, where most of his works are to be found. There are many of these, with a significant collection of drawings and several paintings of his children Cesare and Victoria, who also became painters. Most of his oeuvre can be seen in the Valtellina Museum of History and Art.

Among the most representative of his art include “The Baptism of the Indian Princess” painted in 1717 for the Oratorio di Sondrio Palazzo Sertoli, a cycle of paintings and frescoes for the Palazzo Salis in Chur. While there he also oversaw the design of the Italian garden. He completed two altar pieces and the decoration of the apse and the apse of the Morbegno College.

Ligari was also an agronomist and architect (College of Sondrio, Lanzada Ossuary and the church, now destroyed, the bridge in Morbegno Ganda), but also dabbled in making clocks.

This is a painting of the artist’s father (Oil on canvas, 98 x 70 cm), currently in the Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan. The artist’s consummate skill in handling colour and form is shown in this dark and pensive portrait, which is not dated. The middle-aged man depicted here looks to the right with a brooding, concentrated gaze although his thoughts seem to be much further away than the object of his attention. There is respect, love and affection in this portrait by Ligari and one is conscious of the special relationship between father and son that must have existed here.

A very apt choice for Art Sunday today, as in the USA it is Fathers’ Day. Happy Fathers’ Day to all my readers in USA!