Night of Bellydancers

The night is for the bellydancers.

They are students and teachers from Claribel's Raks Sharki Studio.

They are seasoned performers, on-going students and newbies; they danced their best for their fellow dancers, friends and family.

I have said it before, and I say it again - there is something honest and sincere about the dancers who perform on this platform.

And there is a lot to be said about the principal/owner of the dance studio who continues to provide this opportunity for the dancers and their fans.

Night of Chili Crab

We had planned a Chili Crab night with the friends but it was a long time coming because of busy work/travel/social schedules. Finally, it was D-Day.

It was such a biggie with the guys. A whole week before the date, the man went every day to the crab vendor to check on the supply of fresh crabs. The man's BFF said if there were no crabs at this one location on the day, they will both source from another vendor across the island.

Thankfully, picking up the crabs did not pose a problem. In fact, the crabman helped us select the crabs.

Then the furious cooking among the friends. The final spread - freshly rolled Vietnamese spring roll (not featured in picture), sambal prawns, fried bee hoon, chili crabs. We actually had to struggle to put away some of the cakes came dessert time.

We had a grand time putting the dinner together. But, oh the work!

I think we will let the Chili Crab restaurants do the cooking the next time Crab fever hits.

Doggy love

A cousin and an uncle lost their pet dogs after a brief period of age-related illness. Understandably, the two men are devastated and in inconsolable mourning.

I wish I could do or say something to make the grief more bearable. I wish they could be more like me and talk about their loss. But no, they are grief stricken, and family members insist that no mention be made of the dogs.

While I respect their wishes, I still think it is too bad that the men and their families take this approach.

My ace dog passed away many years ago. I still tear up when I talk about her. I had dogs after her, and I loved every one of them dearly and cared for them as much. They in turn gave me many happy years of doggy fun and love. But my ace dog is the only one who can walk on water, you see.

The grieving is normal and inevitable. But there are so many good memories to cherish. So, grieve in whatever form it takes, and take however long is necessary.

Just do not shut off the mind and heart to another mutt who is waiting to share his doggy life with you. When you are ready to love again.

The Belly Dance Hip Scarf

There are many reasons women are attracted to bellydance: the sensuous body movements, the intoxicating music, the middle-eastern environment.

I think it's a lot more basic than that. I think we just love the bellydance costume and all the accessories :)

It all starts with the hip scarf. It is the single item that separates the belly dancer from all other dancers no matter what exercise gear she wears to practice.

So when I noticed the only woman in practice class without a hip scarf, I lent her mine. And I watched with amazement how she kept looking herself in the mirror as she went through the paces, loving how the coins on the hip scarf went dingly-dangly jingly-jangly as she moved.

I don't know why she hasn't gotten herself a hip scarf by now. Maybe it's the money. Maybe she feels she's too old to be wearing something so showy. Whatever.

At the end of practice, I told her to please keep the scarf. She protested. Then she offered to buy it off me.

No, I insisted. I told her I wanted her to have it. That it would make me very happy to see her keep it and enjoy dance with it.

She finally accepted the offer. With the slightest of a shy smile, she said a soft "Thank you". Then she caressed the hip scarf one more time before carefully folding it and tucking it into her bag.

I have to admit I feel darn good seeing how much she loved the hip scarf. I hope she keeps dancing for a long, long time...

When in France...

I was in France two times - in September a year ago, and again in September that just was.

I remember the beautiful old-world architecture, the strikingly beautiful countryside, the great wining and dining experience. Most of all, I remember the wonderfully hospitable friends and friends of friends who went out of their way to show us the place they call home.

I also remember the surly and resentful treatment I got from the very people whose job it is to provide help and service.

Like the tight-lipped monsieur or madam working the information booths who would not want to give me information;

Like the airline that cancelled my flight for no known reason and their ground crew would offer no alternative transport to my next destination;

Like the VAT refund counter at CDG where there is a perpetual long queue,

and after all documentation are grudgingly vetted and stamped, the angry monsieur/madam points sharply at the mail drop across from them where I am to mail my precious documents,

and I walk up to the mail box measuring all of 30cmX20cmX15cm (12inX8inX6in) and ram my one envelope into the overfilled receptacle, daring it to burst and dump its contents unceremoniously on the floor in protest.

Francophiles try to convince me that the French are not really rude.

They tell me that the French people are reluctant to speak English because they don't think they speak it well enough.

That I must never approach a French person and ask, "Can you speak English please." Instead, I am to say with a sing-song lilt, "Bonjour, mademoiselle/monsieur", followed by "parlez-vous Anglais, s'il vous plait". Did that. Did no good.

That the French are more reserved, and do not respond to strangers with a smile, unlike, say. the gregarious Americans.

The Francophiles miss my point. I am not complaining about the private French citizen. I am griping about people whose job it is to provide information and/or service. I am saying it is almost a matter of national pride and duty for that country to be not nice to visitors.

Then other friends tell me it is all worse in England/Italy/Germany. I readily and easily take their word for it. I am just not interested to rank them ...

Biarritz and the Basque country

Biarritz on the Basque coast in South Western France was once a small whaling sea town. It became more renowned when Empress Eugenie (wife of Napoleon III) fell in love with the place and built her summer palace La Ville Eugenie (the present day Hotel Du Palais) on the beach.

Today, Biarritz is a popular tourist destination with much to offer: Basque culture and cuisine, beaches, golf, hiking trail, shopping etc.
What I remember most is how strikingly beautiful the place is - a battered coast that meets gentle hills and valleys. White buildings with timber trims painted brown, green, burgundy or navy hug the hill paths, while the majestic peaks of the Pyrenees lie beyond.

Open Road

Under a perfect autumn sky, the friends took to the open freeway and rode 55 km each way Bordeaux-Arcachon-Bordeaux. Like the heroes they still are:)

If you don't ride you don't know
Where I've been and where I'm going
It's all about the freedom of the open road

It doesn't matter if you are young or old
running with the pack or rolling on your own
It's all about the freedom of the open road

Joe Janiak

The Left Bank

The river Gironde runs through the Bordeaux wine region, dividing it into two distinct wine producing zones.

The Right Bank is hilly; the chateaux/vineyards are small (between 5 to 10 hectares), and the owner-operator lovingly tends his vineyard like his garden. The composition of the soil is clay-limestone-sand, and the grape of choice is Merlot. The wine comes across delightfully "fruity".

The Left Bank is flat, the chateaux are imposing massive architectural marvels of turrets and spires, the vineyards are 50-80 hectares or more and the owners are big, moneyed families or business. The composition of the soil is largely gravel, and the grape of choice is Cabernet-Sauvignon. The wine is distinctly berry-flavoured.
If one remembers nothing else about the Left Bank, one remembers the Big 5 of the most prestigious names in wine Chateaux: Latour, Lafite-Rothschild, Mouton-Rothschild, Margaux and Haut Brion.

And I was there. Wow...

Saint Emilion and the Right Bank

Saint-Emilion's fame is due to its wines but also to its historical and cultural inheritance. The walled hilltop village of St. Emilion itself, which has survived almost untouched from the Middle Ages was classified "World Patrimony" in 1999 by the UNESCO.
Ironically, given that St. Emilion can trace its wine-producing heritage all the way back to the Romans and the second century A.D., this village is also on the cutting edge of the push for a more modern style of Bordeaux wine, and the appellation is home to some of the most technically inspired wines in all of Bordeaux.

St. Emilion winegrowers have launched an ambitious, community-based biodiversity project to create miles of interconnected "green" corridors throughout the 20,000-acre region of Bordeaux in a bid for sustainability.

Little wonder that it is one of the most popular destinations in the wine producing regions of France.The attractive medieval village of cobblestone streets and ancient walls has it all - history, heritage and modernity.

Eating in Bordeaux and Biarritz

Eating is always a priority for any visitor to France - always an experience to re-live and re-hash long after one has left the country.
French food is diverse, and what sets French cuisine apart from other great cuisines is the culture of cooking with what is available locally.

I still remember the food experience from last year. Lyon boasts the most tantalising of sausages; the Rhone valley is famous for its fruit and young vegetables; the world's most exquisite desserts come from Provence and Cote d'Azur.

This time, in Bordeaux and the Basque country of Biarritz, I am in the land of seafood and heavy farm-based foods like pate, terrines, foie gras, confits, magrets.

I love Mephisto Shoes!

There is a lot of walking in travel. This is especially true of travel in the Old World, where one can expect to walk on miles of cobblestone pavements on hilly terrain.

I cannot bring myself to wear sports shoes for my romps in an urban setting. I would suffer aches in the heel, foot, leg, back, neck before I would commit such a fashion faux pas.

There are many shoes in the market that boast comfort wear. There must be as many varied opinions about what is considered comfortable. I have paid enough in terms of blisters, crushed toes, referred aches and pains, and money to learn which big name shoes do not live up to their advertisement.

Then, on this recent trip, I walked into Mephisto on 19 Rue Voltaire, 33000 Bordeaux.

That day, I walked into a world that knows shoes from overpriced over-rated foot wrappers. That day, my life is transformed. That day, my love for shoes was re-kindled.

That day, I stopped dreading long treks on hilly pavements of cobblestone.

September

was the month
I was in France again, exactly a full year later

- with the same traveling companions,
- but this time in Bordeaux-Biarritz
- and this time, the weather was all blue skies with brilliant sunshine and cool gentle breeze.

I could live here for a while, even if I don't speak their language and they won't speak mine.