This is going to be my next instrument. I want a vielle à roue, I need it, it is calling to me day and night with its buzzing sound.
The model I am envisaging for the moment. It's basic, but reliable, and dear God do I want to play it : The Chinook.
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est trad. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est trad. Afficher tous les articles
mardi 24 juillet 2007
lundi 23 juillet 2007
Gennetines
Mud. And Music. Those were the themes of this last weekend. We left Paris at 5PM to arrive at the small village of Gennetines (pop. about 600) at 10PM. Then we needed to find a place to park amongst the winding country roads and cattle fields. Done, but it was about 2km away. Next came the tent. It was dark, and it had been raining, so he needed to find a flat, relatively dry spot. I don't know how he did it in the dark, but he set up the tent pretty quickly. It was a beautifully clear night, and I could hear the strains of European Folk music from 5 different groups melding as thousands of dancers twirled the night away from some distant field.
I saw two shooting stars that night, so I made two wishes, one for his happiness and one for mine.
After the folly of establishing our home for the weekend, the dancing could begin! I jumped right in, and dancing until 3am. This was the evening of the bourrée. I danced 2 memorable ones, and even a good polka. I never dance a good polka; I underestimate it too much. There were no good scottishes, though, except after the Sunday workshop. I learned a boatload of variations. If we end up dancing a scottish as our wedding dance, it is going to be amazing.
There were musicians everywhere, dancers everywhere. I am firmly resolved to begin playing the vielle à roue (hurdy gurdy) once I have the funds to buy one! They are extremely rare in the US, less so in France, but still difficult to find. And expensive. But man are they beautiful. Same goes for the accordion, but since I prefer the vielle, I will try for that one first.
We learned the dance I have been waiting 3 years to learn--the polska. It's a Swedish dance, quite slow and dignified, and always graceful if you do it correctly! It's rare to see it at balls, but it is quite breathtaking to see two dancers glide then begin to turn effortlessly on the dance floor. He made a good effort, it's a dance we will have to work on a bit more before perfecting it.
Mud. It was a veritable mud bath. The first evening, I stepped in puddles everywhere because it was dark and the puddles were black as everything else around. It was useless to take a shower because once I stepped out of the cold/lukewarm water, my sandaled feet needed to pick their way over muddy terrain to return to my tent or the festival. I just stopped caring. It felt good to have some earth between my toes anyway.
Food? Of course we ate!! Those were the best sandwiches ever! And even better, he had brought some corn on the cob to grill. Ah happiness.
Of course, with a total of 10 hours of driving and I don't know how many hours of dancing that weekend, we were both exhausted when we arrived home, no to mention dirty. That was one of the best showers of my life! And my large bowl of pasta covered in cheese was perfect. All of this was done with the drone of the vielle and the punctuated tones of the accordion choreographing my movements. I bought two CDs, "Repliques" by the excellent group DJAL and a CD from the group Frères de Sac because they had a polska. I actually prefer the one from Frères de Sac because their music is more traditional. DJAL plays a lot with different tonalities and phrases, but I think they've lost some melody compared to their other two CDs. Oh well. They are both wonderful additions to my collection.
I find that I prefer the music at the festivals more than the dancing. I am just itching to get my hands on a vielle, just wait. One day!!
In the meantime, I do need to get all this dirt from between my toes.
I saw two shooting stars that night, so I made two wishes, one for his happiness and one for mine.
After the folly of establishing our home for the weekend, the dancing could begin! I jumped right in, and dancing until 3am. This was the evening of the bourrée. I danced 2 memorable ones, and even a good polka. I never dance a good polka; I underestimate it too much. There were no good scottishes, though, except after the Sunday workshop. I learned a boatload of variations. If we end up dancing a scottish as our wedding dance, it is going to be amazing.
There were musicians everywhere, dancers everywhere. I am firmly resolved to begin playing the vielle à roue (hurdy gurdy) once I have the funds to buy one! They are extremely rare in the US, less so in France, but still difficult to find. And expensive. But man are they beautiful. Same goes for the accordion, but since I prefer the vielle, I will try for that one first.
We learned the dance I have been waiting 3 years to learn--the polska. It's a Swedish dance, quite slow and dignified, and always graceful if you do it correctly! It's rare to see it at balls, but it is quite breathtaking to see two dancers glide then begin to turn effortlessly on the dance floor. He made a good effort, it's a dance we will have to work on a bit more before perfecting it.
Mud. It was a veritable mud bath. The first evening, I stepped in puddles everywhere because it was dark and the puddles were black as everything else around. It was useless to take a shower because once I stepped out of the cold/lukewarm water, my sandaled feet needed to pick their way over muddy terrain to return to my tent or the festival. I just stopped caring. It felt good to have some earth between my toes anyway.
Food? Of course we ate!! Those were the best sandwiches ever! And even better, he had brought some corn on the cob to grill. Ah happiness.
Of course, with a total of 10 hours of driving and I don't know how many hours of dancing that weekend, we were both exhausted when we arrived home, no to mention dirty. That was one of the best showers of my life! And my large bowl of pasta covered in cheese was perfect. All of this was done with the drone of the vielle and the punctuated tones of the accordion choreographing my movements. I bought two CDs, "Repliques" by the excellent group DJAL and a CD from the group Frères de Sac because they had a polska. I actually prefer the one from Frères de Sac because their music is more traditional. DJAL plays a lot with different tonalities and phrases, but I think they've lost some melody compared to their other two CDs. Oh well. They are both wonderful additions to my collection.
I find that I prefer the music at the festivals more than the dancing. I am just itching to get my hands on a vielle, just wait. One day!!
In the meantime, I do need to get all this dirt from between my toes.
lundi 16 juillet 2007
Ouvre-lui
That must have been what my heart was telling me from the moment I met him. It must, because that is exactly what I did, and I have never looked back. And now, one tumultuous and happy weekend later, we are engaged to be married. I don't know when exactly, but in time.
Because we are currently living 6,000 miles apart, we consider this engagement as a promise as well as a wish, a wish to share our daily lives. When it happens. I am not worried because we each have things to finish beforehand.
Saturday was simultaneousy exhausting and energizing. I sprang out of bed at 7am to dance in the park as usual, and came thundering back to blare music and serenade him in the light of the rising sun. Of course, he was a little miffed at not being able to sleep in, but he really didn't mind.
We set out in the morning to recoup the ring. In the meantime, we could see the July 14th parade along the Champs-Elysées. Or rather, we could see the military airplanes soar overhead. It was impressive to watch the lines of planes in formation, and the streaks of blue, white and red painted across the sky.
I wore my red dress to mark the day.
The evening began early; we dressed in our finest to be able to traipse around the gardens of Versailles at dusk. Dinner at le Valmont was spectacular. The decor was quaint and influenced by Louis 15 style furniture. The walls were painted a jovial yellow and the chairs were covered in blue and yellow damask. Service was prompt, but the waiter was clearly stressed.
I ordered a flan de foie gras accompanied by a salad with truffle oil for an entrée. My main dish was pavé de veau avec petits pois et crème truffée. He ordered lieu (pollock) couvert de graines de sésame avec une sauce orange, accompagné par céléri. I don't like celery, so that worked out well.
And finally, dessert. It was lovely. I ordered a symphonie de 5 desserts: glace pain d'épices, crème brûlée, soupe aux griottes, crème d'ananas et carré de chocolat noir. Delicious. I could not finish.
He ordered a parfait de chocolat avec crème chantilly.
We finished just in time for Versailles. The sun was setting as we arrived, and since Versailles is constructed in alignment with the sun (the sun rises directly in front of the palace, and sets directly behind it), the entire gardens were illuminated by the soft orange glow of the setting sun. The fountains closest to the palace were on. The palace was lovely as usual.
The evening consisted of a promenade throughout the gardens, each of which was illuminated and animated by either voices reciting Molière's plays, baroque music, electronic music, video, or some sort of combination of it all. The promenade began in the Salle de Bals, which began pouring water when we entered the grove. It was magnificant to see the water spilling over the stony terrasses, between enormous golden luminaries to the soft tone sof baroque guitar. It has been a dream of mine to see the Salle de Bals, and there I was, there when it was just beginning, at dusk.
We had about two hours to roam the gardens. Other tourists in the gardens looked at us and whispered amongst themselves that it was a wedding. I certainly felt splendid, in my long, sequined ao dai that stretched to the floor in one long sweep of satin. He looked brilliant in his dark brown striped suit, lightly striped white shirt and rich gold cufflinks that had previously belonged to his grandfather. They hadn't been worn in fifty years, but after a washing, turned out magnifique.
It was such a sensory experience: the sound of water rushing amongst the baroque statues. Running through the gardens to find the next great treasure, following the sounds of animation.
The evening finished on the Grande Perspective, under a spectacular fireworks display--spectacular for its sophistication, not for its size. These were well-conceived, choreographed fireworks. It was subtle.
Of course, I wasn't watching the fireworks the entire time because he took the ring from his pocket just then to offer it to me. So that was that. We were "officially" engaged on July 14, 2007 in the gardens of Versailles.
It is only the outward manifestation of what we have both felt for a long time.
Oh beauty.
Because we are currently living 6,000 miles apart, we consider this engagement as a promise as well as a wish, a wish to share our daily lives. When it happens. I am not worried because we each have things to finish beforehand.
Saturday was simultaneousy exhausting and energizing. I sprang out of bed at 7am to dance in the park as usual, and came thundering back to blare music and serenade him in the light of the rising sun. Of course, he was a little miffed at not being able to sleep in, but he really didn't mind.
We set out in the morning to recoup the ring. In the meantime, we could see the July 14th parade along the Champs-Elysées. Or rather, we could see the military airplanes soar overhead. It was impressive to watch the lines of planes in formation, and the streaks of blue, white and red painted across the sky.
I wore my red dress to mark the day.
The evening began early; we dressed in our finest to be able to traipse around the gardens of Versailles at dusk. Dinner at le Valmont was spectacular. The decor was quaint and influenced by Louis 15 style furniture. The walls were painted a jovial yellow and the chairs were covered in blue and yellow damask. Service was prompt, but the waiter was clearly stressed.
I ordered a flan de foie gras accompanied by a salad with truffle oil for an entrée. My main dish was pavé de veau avec petits pois et crème truffée. He ordered lieu (pollock) couvert de graines de sésame avec une sauce orange, accompagné par céléri. I don't like celery, so that worked out well.
And finally, dessert. It was lovely. I ordered a symphonie de 5 desserts: glace pain d'épices, crème brûlée, soupe aux griottes, crème d'ananas et carré de chocolat noir. Delicious. I could not finish.
He ordered a parfait de chocolat avec crème chantilly.
We finished just in time for Versailles. The sun was setting as we arrived, and since Versailles is constructed in alignment with the sun (the sun rises directly in front of the palace, and sets directly behind it), the entire gardens were illuminated by the soft orange glow of the setting sun. The fountains closest to the palace were on. The palace was lovely as usual.
The evening consisted of a promenade throughout the gardens, each of which was illuminated and animated by either voices reciting Molière's plays, baroque music, electronic music, video, or some sort of combination of it all. The promenade began in the Salle de Bals, which began pouring water when we entered the grove. It was magnificant to see the water spilling over the stony terrasses, between enormous golden luminaries to the soft tone sof baroque guitar. It has been a dream of mine to see the Salle de Bals, and there I was, there when it was just beginning, at dusk.
We had about two hours to roam the gardens. Other tourists in the gardens looked at us and whispered amongst themselves that it was a wedding. I certainly felt splendid, in my long, sequined ao dai that stretched to the floor in one long sweep of satin. He looked brilliant in his dark brown striped suit, lightly striped white shirt and rich gold cufflinks that had previously belonged to his grandfather. They hadn't been worn in fifty years, but after a washing, turned out magnifique.
It was such a sensory experience: the sound of water rushing amongst the baroque statues. Running through the gardens to find the next great treasure, following the sounds of animation.
The evening finished on the Grande Perspective, under a spectacular fireworks display--spectacular for its sophistication, not for its size. These were well-conceived, choreographed fireworks. It was subtle.
Of course, I wasn't watching the fireworks the entire time because he took the ring from his pocket just then to offer it to me. So that was that. We were "officially" engaged on July 14, 2007 in the gardens of Versailles.
It is only the outward manifestation of what we have both felt for a long time.
Oh beauty.
vendredi 13 juillet 2007
Friday the 13th
One day more,
another day another destiny....
At last, the sun is shining in Paris. At last, he has reserved a restaurant for the day of our engagement. www.levalmont.com. It is a classic French restaurant, I have chosen my menu already! The one we were hoping for was long booked in advance. No worries, we'll look beautiful no matter what.
I am just a bit sad there is no one to photograph us all dressed up and glowing. That will have to wait for some party. But we will try to take pictures in the Parc Monceau, with my ao dai, before we leave for the Grandes Eaux Nocturnes at Versailles. I do wish my family could be here for the occasion.
Still miffed about the lack of photographer, but I am glad that he is coming tonight. And we are going to chat with my mother.
Tomorrow...we need to fetch the ring, visit with his sister, and I desperately need to dance early in the morning before all of this.
another day another destiny....
At last, the sun is shining in Paris. At last, he has reserved a restaurant for the day of our engagement. www.levalmont.com. It is a classic French restaurant, I have chosen my menu already! The one we were hoping for was long booked in advance. No worries, we'll look beautiful no matter what.
I am just a bit sad there is no one to photograph us all dressed up and glowing. That will have to wait for some party. But we will try to take pictures in the Parc Monceau, with my ao dai, before we leave for the Grandes Eaux Nocturnes at Versailles. I do wish my family could be here for the occasion.
Still miffed about the lack of photographer, but I am glad that he is coming tonight. And we are going to chat with my mother.
Tomorrow...we need to fetch the ring, visit with his sister, and I desperately need to dance early in the morning before all of this.
mercredi 11 juillet 2007
Happy
I am happy, happier than I have been in so long. Maybe happier than I have ever been. And him too. Ah, joy.
2 rings
Yesterday, we found our rings. Engagement ringS. I figure, it is best to show the commitment now, and he isn't the type who wears jewelry anyway. There is no point for any other wedding ring for him.
I haven't told anyone really. Just some people who don't really care, and my best friend. I think I am waiting to actually receive the rings and exchange them first.
In any case, it was wonderful to have the future father-in-law come along. He is adorable, and he thought of a lame excuse to come to Paris just to be with us. It was special for him and my fiancé because they have never discussed relationships before. In fact, Father-in-law lost his ring years ago only to find it this week because he remembered that, one year after his marriage, he placed his wedding ring in his wallet. That was over 30 years ago. Strange how memories work. He even offered it to us for my fiancé. We will still order our own ring, but I have the feeling my fiancé will be wearing his father's wedding band.
Future sister-in-law joined us as well because she works literally next door. It was good to share the moment with his family, especially since my own is so far away.
I like sharing things. I am just a little bummed out that things had to be so rushed. I was on my lunch break from work, and had to cross all of Paris to meet them. And lunch was actually a sandwich that my heart had bought for me to take back to the office. My mind was in such a whirlwind, and I think I was nervous that my inlaws were nearly all there. It was kind of an intimate moment, because it was to find some physical incarnation of our commitment, but it wasn't because of the spectators. I don't mind, of course. I am just rarely placed in the center.
In any case, it was a special day. I am so glad to be able to share it with my inlaws, and I am so lucky to love all of this family! Not just my fiancé. There are so many aspects of this relationship that share their roots in old stories and history; it seems like a natural progression of events. The diamond belonged to my fiancé's grandmother, and was specifically designated for my fiancé's engagement. We would probably never have met if it weren't for our shared Vietnamese heritage, and it provides for a richer experience. Our wedding, when that day arrives, will be a traditional Vietnamese one, at my parents' home.
But of course, there is something about this city of Paris, the city of light. Anything that occurs here assumes a rosy glow. It is a city of stories and romance, of candlelight and spectacle. I cannot say when or how we will exchange these two rings, but any ceremony will be personal. Just two of us. He seemed so happy after the whirlwind at the jeweler's, and that made me happy.
Happy.
I haven't told anyone really. Just some people who don't really care, and my best friend. I think I am waiting to actually receive the rings and exchange them first.
In any case, it was wonderful to have the future father-in-law come along. He is adorable, and he thought of a lame excuse to come to Paris just to be with us. It was special for him and my fiancé because they have never discussed relationships before. In fact, Father-in-law lost his ring years ago only to find it this week because he remembered that, one year after his marriage, he placed his wedding ring in his wallet. That was over 30 years ago. Strange how memories work. He even offered it to us for my fiancé. We will still order our own ring, but I have the feeling my fiancé will be wearing his father's wedding band.
Future sister-in-law joined us as well because she works literally next door. It was good to share the moment with his family, especially since my own is so far away.
I like sharing things. I am just a little bummed out that things had to be so rushed. I was on my lunch break from work, and had to cross all of Paris to meet them. And lunch was actually a sandwich that my heart had bought for me to take back to the office. My mind was in such a whirlwind, and I think I was nervous that my inlaws were nearly all there. It was kind of an intimate moment, because it was to find some physical incarnation of our commitment, but it wasn't because of the spectators. I don't mind, of course. I am just rarely placed in the center.
In any case, it was a special day. I am so glad to be able to share it with my inlaws, and I am so lucky to love all of this family! Not just my fiancé. There are so many aspects of this relationship that share their roots in old stories and history; it seems like a natural progression of events. The diamond belonged to my fiancé's grandmother, and was specifically designated for my fiancé's engagement. We would probably never have met if it weren't for our shared Vietnamese heritage, and it provides for a richer experience. Our wedding, when that day arrives, will be a traditional Vietnamese one, at my parents' home.
But of course, there is something about this city of Paris, the city of light. Anything that occurs here assumes a rosy glow. It is a city of stories and romance, of candlelight and spectacle. I cannot say when or how we will exchange these two rings, but any ceremony will be personal. Just two of us. He seemed so happy after the whirlwind at the jeweler's, and that made me happy.
Happy.
jeudi 5 juillet 2007
Stories
I consider the art of weaving stories is the greatest one can possess. It is magical to watch as a person develops a story, its setting, its characters, its events, all before a captive audience. Hearing a well-presented story could be better than watching television, better than reading sometimes. You can discover new interpretations of old stories or characters. The story can carry you away into any world you wish.
And then there are the stories that are woven, not as a happy diversion from life, but to fill in the gaps that compose our daily routines. What is your significant other doing at this time? Why haven't you heard from him or her in 3 days? Then it is perfectly natural to fabricate the response--of course, he is seeing X, Y, Z mistress. After not seeing him for a year, it is too easy to fall into one of those stories woven by doubt, even if you know they are not true. I am just trying to tell myself that they are not true, they are not true. Because they aren't. I know that, but reason doesn't win every time.
And then there are the stories that are woven, not as a happy diversion from life, but to fill in the gaps that compose our daily routines. What is your significant other doing at this time? Why haven't you heard from him or her in 3 days? Then it is perfectly natural to fabricate the response--of course, he is seeing X, Y, Z mistress. After not seeing him for a year, it is too easy to fall into one of those stories woven by doubt, even if you know they are not true. I am just trying to tell myself that they are not true, they are not true. Because they aren't. I know that, but reason doesn't win every time.
mercredi 27 juin 2007
Les soldissimes!
These are strange times. "What?" the interrogative spirit may ask. Why, the season of sales in France. Already, I fail to grasp the concept of government-sanctioned sales, but I find myself waiting in front of the Zara store on the Boulevard Haussmann in Paris nonetheless. I had called at 10pm two days before the beginning of the sales to verify that they were indeed opening early. Great, I could get my shopping done before work, and avoid the crowds as well!!
Well--that was what everyone else was thinking. I arrived at Zara at 7:30am, and I was not the first one there. By 8am, the crowds gathered around store entrances such as the Galeries Lafayette and H&M had swelled to nearly 50 at each one. Emotions ran high when the crowd at Zara saw the doors swing open around them, and Zara's remained closed. I felt a little antsy myself.... Finally, at 8:03am, one large metal door swung open, and 50 eager early shoppers squeezed through as the store employee desperately tried to both dodge them and open the second door. As for me, after one quiet push along the edge of the crowd, I was in.
I will admit, I had scoped out the store the weekend before sales to find the items I liked best, but during sales, stores empty their inventory, stuffing the front hangers with clothes. I knew what I wanted, so I quickly spied two skirts, and then darted upstairs to gather the shirts and dress I had chosen the weekend before. All right, I will admit it, I am crazy. But no more so than my fellow clawing, clothing-hungry camarades.
I was also short on time, with only one hour allotted to shopping before beginning work. So much the better, I could have stayed for hours. I ended up with exactly what I wanted, and some things left behind, either because they were not practical, or because i felt low on cash. No matter, it was a rewarding experience. I left Zara exactly one hour later, my small bag full, my list crossed out.
The sales are not over, so I may be back...you can catch me on the Boulevard Haussmann or Les Halles.
Well--that was what everyone else was thinking. I arrived at Zara at 7:30am, and I was not the first one there. By 8am, the crowds gathered around store entrances such as the Galeries Lafayette and H&M had swelled to nearly 50 at each one. Emotions ran high when the crowd at Zara saw the doors swing open around them, and Zara's remained closed. I felt a little antsy myself.... Finally, at 8:03am, one large metal door swung open, and 50 eager early shoppers squeezed through as the store employee desperately tried to both dodge them and open the second door. As for me, after one quiet push along the edge of the crowd, I was in.
I will admit, I had scoped out the store the weekend before sales to find the items I liked best, but during sales, stores empty their inventory, stuffing the front hangers with clothes. I knew what I wanted, so I quickly spied two skirts, and then darted upstairs to gather the shirts and dress I had chosen the weekend before. All right, I will admit it, I am crazy. But no more so than my fellow clawing, clothing-hungry camarades.
I was also short on time, with only one hour allotted to shopping before beginning work. So much the better, I could have stayed for hours. I ended up with exactly what I wanted, and some things left behind, either because they were not practical, or because i felt low on cash. No matter, it was a rewarding experience. I left Zara exactly one hour later, my small bag full, my list crossed out.
The sales are not over, so I may be back...you can catch me on the Boulevard Haussmann or Les Halles.
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