Shall We Can-Can, Girls?

Moulin Rouge - in Montmartre , center of Paris' night life

Well then, skirts up, legs up (revealing the underwear ), high kicking, provocative movements of the body , black stockings, hats with feathers - following the music of Offenbach's Gallop Infernal from 'Orpheus in the Underworld' - that's can-can.

The legendary Moulin-Rouge Cabaret, marked by a red mill on its roof , located in Paris-Montmartre ,was inaugurated in October 1889 offering, to this day, extravagant shows mixing circus, dance, theater, music-hall. The basic concept of the show is based on fabulous settings, original music and ...beautiful girls. This cabaret has played host to many celebrities: Edith Piaf, Yves Montand, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzerald, Elton John, Liza Minelli etc.. By the way, one is not allowed entrance to the show if dressed in casual garments.

Moulin-Rouge ( French for red windmill) became the most famous cabaret in the world , to a great extent, due to the 'can-can' dance performed on its stage in chorus line style . The can-can was viewed, especially in its very beginnings, as vulgar, indecent, scandalous, decadent and erotic, meant to sexually arouse the male audience.

(It should be mentioned that this dance was the basis for the 1960 musical film "Can-Can" starring Frank Sinatra and Shirley McLaine).

I once joined a can-can workout course (the other options were folk dancing and belly dancing). Can-Can does wonders to the body; the dance is very demanding and exhausting physically , but the fun is great and it's an excellent way of keeping fit.

The workout took place in a vast hall, doors closed, and yet people from outside this hall managed somehow to peep into what was going on inside.

One day, after workout, I entered the cafeteria and a guy addressed me with : 'I thought you were supposed to wear white panties not beige ones'. Cheeky. I was furious, but I kept calm and said to him in a very cool voice: 'The beige you saw, was the colour of the skin; to your information we were wearing no panties at all'- and left him speechless; ha, ha , ha.

Rothenburg ob der Tauber

Rothenburg is a charming little medieval town above the river Tauber in Bavaria, Germany. It has remained unchanged for centuries, with red roof houses overlooking the river, encircled by walls and towers which offer great views of the city, cobbled lanes, churches, historical buildings, a medieval Crime Museum (displaying devices of torture and execution) . The market place (Marktplatz} is the center of the town, and its most famous building is the Town Hall (Rathaus).

Christmas is not so far away, so it 's a proper time to mention the fact that this town has the reputation of being "town of eternal Christmas"; it specializes in Christmas gifts and souvenirs, local shops selling them all year round. In December its center becomes a big Christmas market. There's also a Christmas Museum exhibiting traditions of Christmas decorations , ornaments and figures.

I had a rather unpleasant incident while in pleasant Rothenburg. At that time, I started collecting tiny mechanical wrist watches as a hobby. I saw some nice models in a store in the center of the city, so while there, I opened a small pad to write down prices and features of the several displayed watches , in order to make a buying decision.

A saleswoman seeing me look at the watch items and scribbling in my pad started to yell at me; she thought I was some kind of spy for another store. I tried to explain to her in my very broken german what I was doing, but she kept on yelling. Judging by her accent she was hungarian, not german , which is a different mentality. Anyway, I decided to give up my purchase plan , and to avoid further embarrassment I left the store.

I then entered a nearby coffee shop and ordered a slice of 'black forest' cake and an esspresso. Suddenly, as from nowhere, the 'hungarian' appeared at my table asking for forgiveness and trying to drag me back to the shop, promising a big discount. It appeared that someone who had witnessed the incident reported it to the manager and she was in trouble. With my mouth full of the delicious cake I told her zu spat, that is, too late. I've just decided to give up my costly hobby. and I'm celebrating my decision over the german traditional black forest cake.

Would she care to join me? ( After all, I felt a bit guilty about the whole thing; maybe I should have asked permission prior to my writing down the info about the watches). 'To Hell with work', she said, and accepted my invitation. aLL's wELL tHAT eNDS wELL.

town wall encircling the historic center

A Lesson in Kindness

Horse Memorial Statue

Seldom does one see such display of compassion and tenderness for an animal , in a work of art, as that in the Horse Memorial bronze statue in Port Elizabeth, South Africa - known to be one of only three memorials in the world dedicated to horses.

In the main city squares of Europe and also in other parts of the world, there's always some statue of a man ( king or national hero) sitting on a horse in a domineering posture . Here it's the opposite. The man, a soldier, is knealing to allow the horse to quench its thirst from the bucket held in his hands. The soldier shows both kindness and responsability towards the loyal animal placed under his charge.

The Horse Memorial in the lovely city of Port Elizabeth commemorates all those horses that fell serving their masters during the Anglo-Boer war; The inscription on the base reads:"The greatest of a nation depends not so much upon the numbers of its people or its territory as in the extent and justice of its compassion." The base of the statue incorporates a drinking trough.

The story has it that a lady by the name of Harriet Mayer was the president of a commitee for collecting money to erect this statue. When unveiling the statue, The Mayor of the city thanked Mrs. Mayer and insisted in using a figure of speech about her: "she had worked like a horse" he said. I would say, she had probably eaten a lot of roughage too, to get the money.

The Wailing Wall & the 'CNN interview'

the 'women's only' section

I haven't been there for quite a while. I keep away from crowds, and there's always a crowd at the Wailing Wall, the remaining wall of the Temple of God, in the old city of Jerusalem. People are coming here from all over the country and from abroad to feel the presence of God, touch and kiss the sacred wall stones, pray for divine mercy, weep, insert a wish note (tzetel) into the cracks of the wall and between the stones.

The types of wishes on those notes are endless: health, success, finding a spouse, procreation, guidance from God in personal problems, long life etc...
Nowadays, people can send their prayers and wishes by e-mail, by fax and even by Tweeter (Some see all this as sacrilegious, I haven't got an opinion yet on this matter).
Anyway , as far as I know, the slips of paper are collected twice a year and burried on Mount Olive ( the place from which, so it is believed, God will begin to redeem the dead at the end of the days).

There's this famous joke (Oh God, please forgive me!), about a CNN journalist who interviewed an old jewish man who had been going to the Wailing Wall to pray every day for a long time:

- Sir, how long have you been coming to the Wall and praying?
- For about 60 years.
-What do you pray for?
- I pray for Peace between Jews and Arabs.
-How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?
- Like I'm talking to a wall.

Between Bocelli and Beethoven

During the last ten years of her life, my Mom was completely blind and deaf. The full blindness came after a long battle with the glaucoma eye disease; the hearing problems started when as a young woman she got beatten on head and ears by a german officer ; over the years it gradually worsened and deafness became permanent condition.

Mom's intense blue eyes ( that stayed beautiful and open till her last moment) and her delicate shaped ears never leave my thoughts. There are times when I think of her, wish to lie down and just cry - to make it up for all those terrible moments when I wanted to cry but I couldn't, I had to be strong for her sake.
It is in times like these that I seek the proper atmosphere ; I turn to the voice of the blind italian tenor Andrea Bocelli, and to Symphony nr.5 by the huge deaf german (how ironical) composer Ludwig van Beethoven .

Andrea Bocelli is relatively young, handsome and...blind. He was diagnosed in early childhood with glaucoma, and at the age of 12 after an accident he lost his sight. I like it both when he sings with or wihout a partner, his voice stirring up in me the right emotions.



Beethoven wrote his Symphony nr.5 at a time when he was struggling with his deafness. It sounds very angry and stormy . The beginning of the symphony is dramatic, the end is considered triumphant. I never cease to wonder how a deaf man like Beethoven could compose such mighty sounds. Anyway, I'm totally and utterly enslaved to this symphony; it helps me take out all the anger and frustration I've accumulated regarding my mother's fate.

The Pink House

It stands on elevated ground, at the intersection of two streets. It has arched windows, cute semiround balconies, a decorative wood entrance door , and an ornamented iron gate ,all of which add elegance to the building. A long garden separates it from the next house's garden. Most of the time the house was uninhabited, or at least so it seemed, and that gave way to speculations and gossip in the small neighborhood. The owners of the house, apparently French citizens , are probably here now as the house looks refreshened lately.

Apart from serving as an informal direction indicator ("you get to the pink house, and then you turn right,/left/go straight ahead"), this small architectural gem painted in vintage pink has been an inspiration for those wishing to build a house with an old world charm.

One evening, some two years ago, I was on my way home , from a visit to an aquaintance of mine who was very ill. I was naturally in a sad, pensive mood, When I got close to the pink house, I noticed something which diverted me from my gloomy thoughts. There was a big light in one of the windows , and I saw a man intensely gesticulating and talking to someone in the room. I got curious, and since there were no dogs or electronics I approached the fence with no fear, in order "to get a better view".

As I was staring at the window trying to identify the person, someone from behind twisted my arms as if in an atempt to tie my hands. It was a terrifying moment until I heard "Guess who". It was the slightly retarded man who lived in the vicinity. I was trembling, and in pain from his grip . All I could do is to warn him never again to come near me . He seemed shocked at my angry reaction and kept muttering I'm sorry, I'm sorry. He thought he was showing his friendship for me, he said. He always looked so weak, I could never have suspected the strength in his hands. He was also so very timid and well-mannered, I couldn't have believed he would dare touch me.

From that evening on I lost all interest in the pink house, I learnt to mind my own business , and I also gave more thought to the less fortunate people such as the above mentioned handicapped man.

The pink house before the recent "refreshment"

Moscow 2009 - Red Army Choir

The most famous and well-known russian songs such as Kalinka, Katyusha, Ochi Chorneye are best performed, to my mind, by the Red Russian Army Choir. This choir has great voices , and the uniforms that go with it never fail to impress an audience.

However...they cannot go on singing year after year, decade after decade using the same dry army style. 'Kalinka' and 'Katyusha' are songs with a speedy tempo and require choreography, 'Ochi Chornye' needs a woman with black burning eyes on the stage. That's a new era , they have to adjust.

As kids we were crazy about singing the refrain of Kalinka (little snowberry ), and we derived pleasure from the fact that it generates the word... 'kaka' (shit, in many languages). It goes like this: Ka - lin-a- Kaka - lin-a - kaka - lin-a - ka-moya.

[This reminds me of something about the Israelis ( not the kids, the adults).They love the names of two places in the world: Guadalahara in Mexico, and Harare in Zimbabwe. Why so? Well, these two names include the word 'hara' which in spoken hebrew means 'shit'. So the stand-upist will say something like this to his audience: "Last year I was at the soccer games in Guadalahara. Believe me , I didn't lick any honey there." ].

Well, things become more serious when we get to Katyusha, the second song. This song is about a young girl , Katyusha (the diminutive of Katya) , longing for her beloved who's away on military service. So far so good, but the russians gave the song's name to the deadly rocket they had invented. The katyusha , mounted on truck for mobility, is the pride of its russian creators and the sweetheart of the arab terrorists, but our people in Israel get hurt by it.

Now, back to the Red Army Choir. I've been following their video clips of the last years, and there were some minor attempts to introduce slight changes, but the outcome was usually ridiculous. Their main problem seemed to be with Ochi Chornye (Black eyes ,also translated as Dark eyes). It has more than one version . but basically , the song is adressed to a woman with "black eyes, burning eyes/passionate and splendid eyes/how I love you ,how I fear you". It's kind of hard for some colonel in the best and most fearful army in the world to play the role of the unhappy lover in front of some gypsy-like woman.

Surprise, Surprise. The Red Army Choir finally did it all. in its guest appearance at the Eurovision Song Contest 2009 in Moscow . They sang all these three songs and more, with the appropriate addition of dancers and dark eyed women (nice compromise - the colonel doesn't have to sing to a particular dark-eyed woman; he's surrounded by several of them).

Notice the difference between the two soloists: the first one who sings Kalinka, is a light version, in white uniform with licked hair, more like Elvis Presley.
The soloist of Ochi Chorneye is the classical soloist of the Red Army. What a Man! What a Voice!

Enjoy!

NESSIE

Humoristic postcard featuring Nessie with a long neck

After all these years (since 1933), with so many film expeditions and sonar experiments ,the mystery hasn't been solved yet, that of the water creature from Lochness in Scotland, affectionately referred to by the diminutive Nessie. So far, a lot of theories, but nothing definitely identified.

'Ness' in the Hebrew language means 'miracle', and that makes me think of the many 'miracles' in that area of Inverness (the small capital city of the Scottish Higlands) and the Lochness lake, due to the phenomena of Nessie.

First and foremost, it brings a lot of tourists who bring a lot of money and so help develop the place . The area attracts people of high quality : scientists, journalists, photographers and others who 'put the region on the map'. Moreover, from my brief visit here in the past, I recall feeling an unusual inner peace (calm, relaxation) and an unusual silky quality of my skin and hair. To my mind, it is the presence of something undefinable (Nessie??) about this part of Scotland that makes one feel here good in a strange way.

Anyway , the lake (Lochness) is long and straight and there's a castle (ruins of a castle, more precisely) on its bank. From what I'd read and heard, the sightings of Nessie occurred mostly in the area around this Urquhart castle. Well, I have a theory of my own . It goes like this: I say there's no smoke without fire. Too many testimonies indicate the presence of some special creature. some sort of animal or fish with both aquatic and non -aquatic skills in this area of the lake. To get to it , the castle of Urquhart will have to be completely demolished; this castle is, in my humble opinion the key to the mystery . But that won't happen , the demolition, as the castle is considered an historical, preserved site - part of the scottish heritage. So, the mystery will probably remain unsolved for a long, long time - perhaps forever.

Here are some photos with the castle and the lake from various angles.

A Taste of Sweden

Palm trees welcome at Ikea

Greta Garbo, Ingmar Bergman, Ingrid Bergman - famous swedish names associated with great movies, Alfred Nobel - famous swedish scientist, the name behind the Nobel prize, "Abba" band, eurovision song contest winners - famous swedish name in lovely lively music, and... Ikea - famous swedish name in home design concept. Not bad, Sweden.

Ikea's concept is based mainly on two principles: 1. flat pack of furniture and of smaller home stuff, which reduces expenses of transportation, minimizes damage , and frees storage space. 2. do it yourself work by the consummer - assembly of components with the help of wordless instructions (drawings). Due to this concept, the consummer usually gets good quality for a relatively low price.

2009 Ikea catalog front cover

Once a year, Ikea sends to each address a colorful , 300 page catalog that displays their home products for that year and includes a lot of useful information.

The merchandise is designed by Swedish designers (the materials and work though come from many countries on the globus). At the store's restaurant one gets to eat "swedish meat balls", and there's also a tiny food shop which sells swedish made food products. such as frozen fish, crackers, coffee, chocolate.

The trip to Ikea is not always rewarding. Last year , for example, I bought a non -electric , originally designed kettle, which was supposed to shriek when water reaches boiling point. Well, it did not shriek, and I felt cheated.

Before I set out to Ikea store, I have no way of knowing whether I'll find the catalog items I'm looking for, as checking with the store by phone is a nightmare, and their website tells you only if a certain item is or isn't in the inventory. If the required stuff (usually small items) is in the warehouse, they won't fetch it for you, and will probably tell you to come next week or so.

Ikea is the only store, as far as I know, that requires to see your ID card when paying with credit card. That really makes me nervous. I hide my ID card so well that I can't remember in which one of the pockets I put it, and now with all the packages, they expect me to start looking for it. Ha! And God forbid if there's a mistake in the bill; they don't fix it on the spot but send you to the customers' service where you have to take a number and wait in line.

Luckily, there's delicious ice cream at 'the end of the road' and this makes it up for everything.

warehouse store structure

'Digging' at Bezalel market

No one really knows where the good stuff, sold here at ridiculous prices ,comes from. No one dares ask how this merchandise from well-known store chains and top fashion designers has turned up here, and who are these people that sell it. It is believed that there's a worldwide net which gets hold of the fine stock of surpluses. and distributes it , probably by dubious means, to its members in various countries . As for the people who sell it - my favorite place, for instance, is run by a drug addict, quite a character.

The price is a great bargain, but there's work to be done. One has to dig for the precious items deep into piles of clothes displayed both on the outside stands and inside the shops. And, in my case, when I get home I sometimes have to activate my sewing machine and make a few adjustments to the newly purchased items. But every effort is worthwhile. It's such a delight to wear a "Marks & Spencer"outfit , knowing that you paid for it five dollars only ! And I don't wish to know how the stuff got here. There, I said it.

"Bezalel" , a tiny clothing market (also of some home appliances and gifts) is situated in the very heart of Tel-Aviv city, close to its bigger brother, the 'Carmel' general market. It includes a short street and two small lanes. The attached photos were taken in the main street area.

I've received two kinds of reactions to one of the photos (guess which):

Men : ' Oh well, You had to capture only half of her and ruin a good photo'

Women: 'Why on earth did you have to bring in that half milk cow and ruin a good photo'

The truth is I haven't even noticed the 'a la Dolly Parton girl ' when I pointed to shoot. I'm definitely in favor of showing the whole thing. not half of it.

trouble with the nose or with the smell?

she's got lovely Love earrings

religious orthodox women looking for kids' clothing

interesting patch on the pants of the young woman

The lonely fisherman

catching fish

See the red spot on the steep rock? That's a young man dressed in a red shirt catching fish in the Bistrita (Bistritza) river in north east Romania. The name Bistrita has its origin in the slavic word 'bystrica' meaning serene water. Serene indeed, and not only the water, but the whole landscape surrounding it. It's not the same serenity one experiences at the Dead Sea, for instance, but still ,serene enough for a relaxation vacation and for catching fish.

Anyway, I saw the fisherman from the back and wanted to capture him from the front. So I went up the bridge, but I coudn't see him at all from there. I stretched my arm in the proper direction (where he was supposed to be) with camera face down, and clicked. Got him. (Who says I have no photographic skills? LOL). When enlarged , it is quite a nice picture with a cute , lonely fisherman. I like it.

It so happened that on that day, we had fish (good source for Omega3 oil) and mamaliga (polenta porridge) for dinner. With the local sparkling mineral water , it all tasted great.

road bridge over Bistrita seen from below

the road bridge

the serene waters of Bistrita

Yungfrau - forever young and cool

Where I live, summers are very hot and humid, so I often try to escape the sticky reality by letting my imagination run freely to cool, icy places I once visited. My favourite in this category is the Yungfrau, in the Swiss Alps. The german word 'yungfrau' is translated as 'virgin'. Indeed, there's a virgin kind of beauty about this highest mountain peak in Europe; all white and impeccable as if untouched. ( Sorry for the poor color quality of the attached pictures- the snow should, of course, be white, not yellow).

When you reach the summit (by clog rail which runs inside the mountain tunnel,) you witness a stunning view: bright blue skies, white snow capped mountains, the sun shining from above (sunglasses - a must). You feel you're on the Top of the world ,not only on the top of Europe, and that's a terrific feeling. The Yungfrau range of mountains has in fact three giant peaks, but only the highest among them bears the name of Yungfrau , and it is below this peak that trains arrive from the nearby charming little town called Interlaken, a well-known resort in the area.

Yungfrau with its snow, ice, and glaciars is the perfect place to dream about in these torrid days.

Oh, dear God , please have mercy upon our souls and send us now some of that mountain blessed coolness, so that we can enjoy the outdoors , and give up air conditioning, indoors!

Rural Touch

"Don't trust women and don't trust the clutch"- this piece of 'advice' was written on the back of a car in a village I visited recently in north -east Romania. Even in the 21st century, it appears there are still places where people have more confidence in horse -drawn wagons than in cars.

The guy in the first picture was waiting to 'upload' me in his rudimentary horse- drawn cart and take me to the village where I was supposed to meet with an old, confined to bed member of his family, someone who ,as a young peasant lass , used to come to the small town of my childhood, to help my mother clean the house and do the laundry.

Short after the ride started, the horse raised his tail and ...released a very bad smell in our direction. I looked at the driver; he seemed cool. Well, he's probably used to it, but I was almost asphixiated.

Anyway, after a few minutes I felt better and started to enjoy the green scenery around, the vast, open spaces with or without sheep and cows, humming to myself the only line I knew from a song that mentions horse and carriage: Frank Sinatra 's " love and marriage, love and marriage go together like a horse and carriage" . I was not very comfortable. I had to hold on to the man's arm with one hand , and to the bench I was sitting on ,with the other one, but neverheless I felt great. Besides, the ride was in a gentle tempo and lasted only about twenty minutes.

vast green fields

A couple of hours later, after exchanging kisses and presents with the target woman , and eating a copious meal with incredible dishes served by her daughter-in-law , I was to go back to town with the guy's niece in an even simpler cart (the third picture), as he was in a hurry to get to a wedding in an adjacent village. Well, it was me , the big adventurer, who insisted on a full cart journey, so I had to take what came along. This time it was even funnier. Me and the niece behaved like two bad schoolgirls shouting nasty words at the poor horse (I''m so ashamed!) , laughing , and leaving to God to protect us from the poor country road.

Back at the hotel, I thought about the horse. What a hard life the poor animal has, what an exploited creature, pulling people and loads in any weather. There are probably cases of malnutrition and general maltreatment too. I hope there's an association somewhere representing horse rights as there is for human rights, only something far more efficient.

Joyful evening at the Fortress

Place - the medieval fortress 'Cetatea' (the citadel) on a high hill overlooking the city of Brasov. It has four towers, a canon, and a 81 m deep well in the courtyard, weapons hanged on walls, statues of warriors.

The occasion - dinner at the restaurant of the citadel followed by a performance of a troupe of artists from the local Opera House of the city of Brasov. The place was packed with tourists sitted at tables on both sides of a long hall.

Well, the food was delicious, the wine opened the senses widely, and we were all happily waiting for the main dessert - the artistic performance with arias from well known operas, choreography with a pair of dancers, and fine instrumental music.

I liked it all, the music, the voices, the dances - except for one thing - the way the three male opera singers looked. They were out of shape (the belly stood out) and dressed in a sort of depressive outfit. The younger among them was dressed adequately for his love duets with the soprano, but the size of the tuxedo was big on him so he looked lost in it, and his shoes had ridiculously long, sharp tips (The three didn't know I'll be in the audience LOL..) .

the senior singer

the middle-aged singer

the junior singer, in a duet with the soprano

Apart from that, everything was just fine, considering the fact that the performers (for whom it was a way of earning some extra money) didn't have here the optimal stage conditions available at the Opera House in town.

the red-head mezzosoprano


the dancers

Finale

The programme ended with the orchestra playing some dance music to allow the guests of the restaurant to engage in dancing. Medieval walls or not, the happening within these walls was modern and lively.

The nuns' silent neighbouress

Ashes, dust, will remain of you

As this has always been the rule

Nothing brings you into this world

Nothing takes you away from it

Nothing of you will remain behind

Veronica Micle

4.v111 1889

(free translation from romanian - june 2009)

On one of the hottest days of last June, facing the tombstone of the young beautiful poetess Veronica Micle, I felt a deep sadness penetrating my soul. What a loss of talent and beauty ! I think the words, engraved on her stone, refer to the physical aspect of things . She herself left behind two daughters, poems, prose , admirers.- that's certainly no Nothing.

Veronica committed suicide two months after her lover (the great romanian poet Mihai Eminescu) died. She was burried in a tiny garden at the Varatec Monastery. This all women's monastery (with about six hundred nuns), surrounded by meadows and forests , housing fine paintings and furniture, always attracted writers, poets and scholars who found here the proper atmosphere for rest and creative work - and in Veronica's case, final peace.

Veronica and Eminescu, whom she lovingly called Emin, first met at her house where she hosted a literary salon. After the death of her husband (thirty years her senior), the two came close to each other planning to marry but , for some reason , it didn't happen. They both died in their late thirties.

There's some new material (letters) recently released by descendants of the Micle family, and it will probably serve as the basis of a great literary, romantic movie.

VERO & EMIN

view of Veronica Micle's grave -( june 2009)

the main entrance to the monastery (hidden by the van)

nun selling products of the monastrey's own bakery (2009)

people visiting the convent - (june 2009 )