Of Dreams, Beer, Bars, and Cars . . .

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Whilst on vacation, some people dream of sitting at a lovely table and eating fine meals outdoors with great scenery ; while others dream of lying in a hammock with beer and admiring the simply stunning view from the back porch looking out on somewhere like la Réunion Island's valley of the Saint Denis River. And once in blue moon, one can dream and live both dreams at the same time in a place like this . . .
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Other people from a very early age dream of driving fast orange sports cars . . .
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While other people daydream while driving a little too fast and their car ends up like this one . . .
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Or like this one . . .
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Some people take care and drive carefully to the beerhall (Bourbon and Phoenix are the two most popular local beers on la Réunion) where they park their sports car while sipping a few beers in the cool shade of the bar, and then get a friend to drive them home . . .

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And if you had a car, would you park it anywhere near a tree which looked like this one ? I'm not sure that I would, and I didn't . . . I didn't want to have to explain to the rental car people how I'd left my car on the street near a ravenous looking tree, and it was gone when I came back . . .

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A Day to Remember . . .

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This past Easter Sunday, the 4th of April, through a series of coincidences (as with most things in life) and a little bit of collective will, the authors of five blogs found each other in the long line of people waiting to get into the Maison Européenne de la Photographie to see, on its last day, the exhibition of photographs by Elliott Erwitt that had been runninng there since early February. The expo was titled "Personal Best", and encompassed over sixty years of Erwitt's fabulous photography. It was a real treat so see Erwitt's photos presented so beautifully in very large format prints, in such a lovely setting, and with such excellent company. Erwitt's photos were simply stunning . . .
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© Elliott Erwitt / Magnum Photos
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This next of Erwitt's was among my favorites . . .
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There were people dressed in black and white looking at these black and white photographs of people looking at pictures at an exhibition . . .
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I couldn't help wondering if Elliot Erwitt might have had in mind a title for this next photo of his something like, "Horse & Horse's Ass" ?
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Also being exhibited in parallel with the Erwitt show was an awesome exhibition from Philippe Bordas, with a selection of photos from over 20 years in Africa, of a rare emotional power. . . this gentleman was wearing a rather large snake around his neck . . .
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© Philippe Bordas
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The Philippe Bordas work included a long series of wrestlers and other athletics shots from Africa . . .
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A fellow blogger was caught here photographing one of Bordas' luminous portraits. They simply glowed. Although not very visible in this image, the person holding the digital camera here was none other than Nathalie, of Avignon in Photos . . . more photos with her below . . .
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This next is of course the delightful author of Spit & Baling Wire, who shall remain un-named here, (unless she says I may) but who goes by the nickname "The Pliers". A joy to see her again after meeting her for the first time at the airport when she finally arrived for good in France. And she came in the good company of her husband, and his brother and sister as well. Her smile is perhaps the most contagious I've ever seen on anyone . . .
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The third blogger present that fine afternoon was Peter, of Peter's Paris, an amazing blog in which he provides beautifully detailled accounts of his un-ending strolls through Paris. Pictured here with Nathalie who was dressed in red that day (see her photos of people in red on her blog) . . .
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This next portrait of Peter was taken by Nathalie, who very kindly sent me a copy . . .
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The next two shots of Peter were taken by myself. Unfortunately I don't have a photo of the fourth blogger who was present that afternoon, but I can only recommend that you visit Catherine's blog The Five Of Us, which is brimming over with humorous stories about life, illustrated with many funny photos . . .
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And it was Peter who took this shot when Nathalie wasn't looking, thus catching the fifth blogger of the day . . . Mr Toad of the Magic Lantern, camera in hand . . .
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After the photo expo we all piled into a nearby café for crepes and cider or other refreshments, where this odd piece of art (?) adorned the wall . . .
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As we had just come out of Elliott Erwitt's show which featured several of his unforgettable dog photos, I couldn't resist doing a couple of dog portraits in the nearby streets . . . which I can only dedicate to Jilly of Riviera Dogs, who is a friend of Nathalie's, and would have been here that day I'm sure if she could have . . .
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If you are interested in seeing the photos which Elliott Erwitt selected as his Personal Best, I can only recommend you make a trip to Amazon.com where the exhibition book of the same title can still be found.
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Getting Out of Hock . . .

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This past week can only be described as having been pure hell; and it is not over yet, will be working again Saturday and Sunday too. I was given a tiny little whisk broom and a dustpan, and asked to sweep up all of the ashes from that ash-hole of a volcano in Iceland. It is slow and tedious work. What I really need are snowplows and giant vacuum cleaners, but no, just me and my little broom against twenty trillion tons of cinders. It may take a while to get back to normal. And I'm missing you all. Well, we may be a little down, but we're not out for the count, hopefully soon things will return to normal, and then visits to your blogs will resume. Thanks for your patience and understanding . . .

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It has been a little while since I last posted a poem; for some unfathomable reason this one surfaced from the cesspool, errrr, the archives this morning after a long and grueling night at the ash factory . . .

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. . . . . .Pawned
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Weary of financial woes
Scratched my head and wiggled my toes
Searching for an answer
Tired of the mounting bills
Wishing I could stop
A sudden notion hit me
Like a draft of magic potion
Why not simply cut out my heart
And take it to the pawn shop ?
It is surely worth a fortune
With its four chambers
That never miss a beat
Miraculous valves
Muscles that pump
Must be worth
At least a cool million
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And if that is not enough
Then why not my brain
With all of the riches
The damn thing contains
The pawn shop should pay
Through the nose
To their very last dollar
This brain has seen
The David in Florence
The Sistine Chapel
The Liberty Bell and the Mona Lisa
The Atlantic, Pacific, Mediterranean
University trained and well maintained
There is no doubt
This is a top dollar brain
And living without it
Would be a life with less pain
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What else could I pawn then ?
No matter how much you earn
It is never enough
Maybe my eyes
These miraculous eyes
Crystal balls
Presenting visions
Transforming reality
Maybe my lungs
Just reach down my throat
Pull them out like broccoli
With their magical ability
To extract oxygen from the air
Who needs to go on breathing
Anyway ?
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Trade in my liver
Trade in my bones
The marrow you know
Is quite good boiled on toast
Cold cash for my kidneys
And all of their stones
I know I’ll sleep easy
In fact I’m starting to doze
Once I’m entirely pawned
That will put an end
To these financial woes
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The only question remaining
It occurs to me with a shock
Is how the hell will I ever
Be able to get myself out of hock ?
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And if I ever could get myself out of hock, I'd be off to go looking again for my dream house, a suitable place to spend the rest of my days . . . found this candidate a while back. You gotta love the cedar shake siding, sets my knees to shaking . . .
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The Rites of Spring . . .

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There have been quite a few posts around the blogosphere of late about the joyous arrival of Spring, after what was, for those in the northern hemisphere anyway, a rather arduous winter, with memorable blizzards and frigid cold spells which left us all wondering about the reality of global warming. And celebrate we should, for Spring is indeed a wondrous time of year; why not indulge in multitudes of glowing, brilliant, luminous photographs of flowers under dazzling azur skies ? Why not actually go outside, get away from the computer screen, and inhale the heady odors of the real thing ? Ah Spring, hope springs eternal ! All sorts of flora and fauna come out of hibernation, with a spring in their step, a gleam in their eye, and bubbling with invigorating thoughts in their minds, yes, vivid, vigorous thoughts of reproduction.
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And I would not have been the roving reporter of all things strange and fabulous whom you are counting on to bring you something just a little bit different had I not produced this photographic essay when the opportunity arose, and arose, and arose again . . .
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All I can say is, I hope he took her out for a good dinner later, and offered her a big bouquet of Spring roses . . . Heaven help him, one can't help but marvel at his single-minded persistence, and her epic stoicism; this series of photos spanned at least half an hour . . .
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A spectator watched from a first floor balcony, running back and forth, wishing he could get into the fray . . .
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Dreaming of Desolation Row . . .

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Continuing on with the scenes from la Réunion Island in the Indian Ocean, this shot is from one of the most remote areas on the Island, other than the Cirque de Mafate where there are no roads. We took a narrow, winding, cliff-edge road to get to this place, but only about 50 years ago, there was no road, and the only way to get here was to hike about four hours, and then climb up the cliffs on ropes. In French the word for "rope" is "corde", and this place was named "l'islet à Cordes".

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Now, given that there was a rather serious and totally justified complaint from Arnaud out in India about the sunset photo in the previous post, who pointed out that there was no wrecked car on the beach in the image, I thought I'd better placate his penchant for desolate automobiles, or voitures désolées. As you can see more clearly here in this second photo, there is an immobilized wreck of a car that has come to its final resting place in this field in the high mountain retreat of the Cirque de Cilaos (note how crops have been planted around it !). Not a bad retirement home if you ask me. . . just look at the scenery. And speaking of retirement homes, you may be able to make out, if you squint a bit, the shacks on the hillside behind the bedraggled looking car. Yep, this place was looking mighty fine to me, may just have to go see if one of those dream shacks is for sale . . .

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And as one wrecked car is never enough, I'd like to present another candidate for you careful consideration :
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And it does look like it was trying valiantly in its last throes to drive back up out of the ditch and onto the road, but just didn't quite make it, and gave up there. The little car that couldn't.

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And do pray let me know which you prefer, the sepia tones or natural rich green sugar cane colors ? I wonder how long this derailed creature will linger here, a monument to glorious plans gone wrong . . . had somewhere to go but didn't get there . . . got sideswiped instead and ended up somewhere else entirely . . .

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From a Tropical Island, With Love . . .

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Welcome to Main Street . . .

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Of Sunday Certitudes and Doubts . . .

Sunday afternoon here . . . I guess Sunday is as a good a day as any to think about religion a bit. If one must. Well, it's not entirely my fault, there's been some damn good writing going on over at Jimmy Bastard's place in the past day or two which couldn't help but get me started, given how he mentions religion in one way or another.
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Now listen, I don't mean to offend anyone, I know religion is a touchy subject to some, and others quickly swing into tempestuous vitriolic humours should anybody dare to question, or worse cast doubt upon certain sacred certitudes of which they are sure of. Are blogs like dinner tables then, where religion and politics should never be mentioned ?
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Well, whatever. While travelling on Reunion Island in February, I was somewhat fascinated by how visible certain symbols of people's religious beliefs were in many places. And couldn't help but photograph some such manifestations of spiritual beliefs.
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The Catholic church is quite alive and active both in France and on Reunion Island, with all its superstition and mythic certainty of its inalienable right to proclaim itself the most righteous of oracles for the voice of divine power on Earth. But the Catholic church has been getting alot of bad press of late. It would seem, if one can believe the allegations, that rather alot of Catholic priests in various places around the world have been helping themselves over the years to sexual favors from the young and innocent among the flocks they were supposedly guiding to higher levels of spiritual enlightenment. Sad, tragic even, but hardly surprising from an organisation that expects healthy male human beings to practice celibacy throughout their adult lives. The current Pope came out publicly stating (yet again) that the vows of celibacy and the fact that Catholic priests are forbidden to marry are not the reason for all the cases of sexual abuse practiced by some priests upon young members of their congregations. I would find that rather laughable, were the whole story not so reprehensible. Why is it then that we are not seeing an equal number of similar stories about other Christian religion's priests who are allowed to marry ? Go figure.
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Anyway, the whole entire subject of religion is one that I have little patience for. That people can be so entirely convinced that they are 100% right while all the others are dead wrong; and worse, try to impress upon me why I should adhere to their sect and no other, quickly blows my fuses. Heaven help the Mormons and 7th Day Adventists and Jehovah's Witnesses or whatever other bible thumpers may come knocking at my door. Our dog has very sharp teeth and hates to be bothered during his afternoon nap.
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I will end my rant here and get on to the photos. For me, religion is mainly an empty vessel, devoid of any real sustenance, other than a small amount of moral guidance, which for the most part should be common sense to any thinking individual. What chagrins me most about religions today is how much violence and hatred they still seem to spawn. And for some of them, one can't even joke about them without risking one's life. Whatever happened to the messages of tolerance and peace that supposedly were at the heart of such bodies ?
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An empty vessel, pillaged, tired, forlorn. Time to scrap it for something new . . .
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I wonder what prayer someone made when they left their bracelet on this figure in a mountain shrine ? As Leonard Cohen said, "When they said repent, repent, repent, I wonder what they meant?"
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This broken face of a Christ figure is the perfect embodiment to me of the current state of affairs in religion today . . . in need of considerable repairs. But like Humpty Dumpty, can the pieces be put back together again ? Should they be ???
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On the twisting and tortuous road that climbs from Saint Louis to Cilaos, this stark, forbidding church stood in a small village, just under the clouds. A verse from Matthew Arnold's lovely poem "Dover Beach" came to mind here :
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"The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world . . ."
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Fortunately there was a telephone and a fire hydrant in case anyone needed any help. The figure standing over the door of this church was one of the most fearsome I've ever seen of any religious art, those skeletal eye sockets could strike fear into the stoutest of hearts . . .
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These next two were inside the church in Saint Louis . . . a few lightbulbs out . . .

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Flowery roadside shrines were frequent . . .

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A shrine along the cliff face on a trail overlooking the Cirque de Mafate. I can see how people might think of religion in such places . . . from where this was taken, the fall could be long and the landing fatal. The fall is always looming I suppose, along the straight and narrow path . . .

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