I have come to realize the greatest downside of this new blog-writing business: the more interesting my life is, the less I feel like taking the time to write about it. I recently came back from two weeks of vacation in France. I spent the vast majority of those two weeks in Paris visiting family, except for a few days on the Côte d’Azur.
My talented family never ceases to amaze me – their daily lives revolve around such things as playing traditional Russian music, building musical instruments, making pottery, publishing art books and listening to classical music. It was a real pleasure getting to relax with them for a while.
I went for a couple of short walks in forested fragments of the Parisian region (called “Ile de France”), but the best nature walks were in the Côte d’Azur region. A cousin of ours who I hadn’t seen in years now lives in Cagnes, and I resolved to go down and see him. My brother Julien came with me, but he was sick and couldn’t enjoy the trip as much as I did.
My talented family never ceases to amaze me – their daily lives revolve around such things as playing traditional Russian music, building musical instruments, making pottery, publishing art books and listening to classical music. It was a real pleasure getting to relax with them for a while.
I went for a couple of short walks in forested fragments of the Parisian region (called “Ile de France”), but the best nature walks were in the Côte d’Azur region. A cousin of ours who I hadn’t seen in years now lives in Cagnes, and I resolved to go down and see him. My brother Julien came with me, but he was sick and couldn’t enjoy the trip as much as I did.
Monaco was the highlight of the trip to the southern coast, closely followed by a morning hike near the Col de Vence. We also saw the Carnaval in Nice, looked for signs of an ancestor in Grasse, visited the old town of Cagnes, and relaxed on the seashore at Antibes.
I took advantage of airline problems and a delayed flight to leave a little early and spend a full day in Bahrain, which was not as rewarding as I had expected since I was not able to go out on a boat. Bahrain has the reputation of a “Las Vegas of the Middle East,” but I would rather call it “Saudi Arabia’s Tijuana.” My hotel room in Mana’ma was a near exact duplicate of a hotel room I had rented in Nuevo Laredo years before – down to the disco music thumping through the walls, the foreigner rates, and the tacky decoration that tries to hide a lack of maintenance. The only thing to remind me that I was in the Middle East was a prayer rug in the dresser, but no Qibla marker to point to Mecca. Within the hotel were entertainment facilities such as a restaurant, a pool, a massage parlor, a bar with Filipina prostitutes, a disco room, and a floor to which I didn’t have access but Saudi men seemed to enjoy. I was really tired, so I put in some earplugs and skipped on the Bahraini nightlife.
From the airplane over Saudi Arabia, near Mecca, I had just seen an amazing sunset that reminded me of the lava flows on the side of one of Hokusai's views of Mt Fuji. The dark clouds were torn by jagged openings through which glowed incredible glowing red trenches. It was so amazing that I had to point it out to strangers who had the misfortune of having gotten a seat away from the windows. They were also amazed.
The next day, I got to see Socotra cormorants, gray form Wester reef-herons, slender-billed gulls, one Caspian tern, lesser-crested terns (very common, their calls sound like they are trying to sneeze through a stirring straw), and lots of introduced species such as the ubiquitous mynahs.
Most of the waterfront was being extended and built-up in ways much more barbaric than Monaco. There are shore extensions being built hundreds of meters out from the already extended beach, and places where the map promises a nice beach walk but all that can be seen is giant backhoes, cement culverts and steel girders. I ended up visiting the interesting Bahrain National Museum, and drinking mango juice and tea while reading my book.
I found a quote in the “Bahrain Tribune” that throws an interesting light on tourism in Bahrain. According to the manager of a local hotel group: “Bahrain has nothing whatsoever to offer the world as a tourist attraction. No tourist is coming to see Bahrain’s touristic spots. If the dance floors and bars are closed then Bahrain tourism will close.” I would have loved to go see the “touristic spots,” but guided tours are in low demand and need to be arranged in advance.
On Ali Al Salem Air base, I found blue-cheeked bee-eaters, pied wheatears, stonechats, and a masked shrike. On Camp Buehring I found a dead Egyptian nightjar, but I was ordered not to touch any dead birds as there have recently been cases of avian influenza in the country. In fact, the platoon briefing had a special item in it just to tell me that I can’t touch dead birds.
I took advantage of airline problems and a delayed flight to leave a little early and spend a full day in Bahrain, which was not as rewarding as I had expected since I was not able to go out on a boat. Bahrain has the reputation of a “Las Vegas of the Middle East,” but I would rather call it “Saudi Arabia’s Tijuana.” My hotel room in Mana’ma was a near exact duplicate of a hotel room I had rented in Nuevo Laredo years before – down to the disco music thumping through the walls, the foreigner rates, and the tacky decoration that tries to hide a lack of maintenance. The only thing to remind me that I was in the Middle East was a prayer rug in the dresser, but no Qibla marker to point to Mecca. Within the hotel were entertainment facilities such as a restaurant, a pool, a massage parlor, a bar with Filipina prostitutes, a disco room, and a floor to which I didn’t have access but Saudi men seemed to enjoy. I was really tired, so I put in some earplugs and skipped on the Bahraini nightlife.
From the airplane over Saudi Arabia, near Mecca, I had just seen an amazing sunset that reminded me of the lava flows on the side of one of Hokusai's views of Mt Fuji. The dark clouds were torn by jagged openings through which glowed incredible glowing red trenches. It was so amazing that I had to point it out to strangers who had the misfortune of having gotten a seat away from the windows. They were also amazed.The next day, I got to see Socotra cormorants, gray form Wester reef-herons, slender-billed gulls, one Caspian tern, lesser-crested terns (very common, their calls sound like they are trying to sneeze through a stirring straw), and lots of introduced species such as the ubiquitous mynahs.
Most of the waterfront was being extended and built-up in ways much more barbaric than Monaco. There are shore extensions being built hundreds of meters out from the already extended beach, and places where the map promises a nice beach walk but all that can be seen is giant backhoes, cement culverts and steel girders. I ended up visiting the interesting Bahrain National Museum, and drinking mango juice and tea while reading my book.
I found a quote in the “Bahrain Tribune” that throws an interesting light on tourism in Bahrain. According to the manager of a local hotel group: “Bahrain has nothing whatsoever to offer the world as a tourist attraction. No tourist is coming to see Bahrain’s touristic spots. If the dance floors and bars are closed then Bahrain tourism will close.” I would have loved to go see the “touristic spots,” but guided tours are in low demand and need to be arranged in advance.
On Ali Al Salem Air base, I found blue-cheeked bee-eaters, pied wheatears, stonechats, and a masked shrike. On Camp Buehring I found a dead Egyptian nightjar, but I was ordered not to touch any dead birds as there have recently been cases of avian influenza in the country. In fact, the platoon briefing had a special item in it just to tell me that I can’t touch dead birds.
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