It was an unassuming storefront with a killer name, Albion Beatnik Cafe, and an unassuming drizzly morning watched a couple of American drowned rats enter the premises. The Beatnik Cafe was the kind of place to peruse, pursue, and, hopefully, purchase for the pleasure of language. Our eyes swept the cubby shelves of literary wonders […]
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The artist on vacation is not necessarily constantly sketching. I’m not Jack Kerouac with his small notebook, pulling it out, writing it down, stuffing it back into a jeans pocket. Oh, artists observe all right, and we may take photos for future use. The Midlands of England have perhaps every single tint, shade, hue, and […]
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Paul Day’s sculpture is big (over 29 feet tall). It’s garish (its hugeness doesn’t help). But let’s talk about public art. Give anyone anywhere anytime a chance to criticize art, and they will. I was at the Tate Britain yesterday, and there was some absolute schlock–terrible, miserable, ugly, huge misshapen blobs of grossness. But it […]
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My small hotel in London is close to St. Pancras Station, which, together with King’s Cross Station, organizes certain trains, underground lines, and the Eurostar. Not St. Pancreas. If it were St. Pancreas, I might cross Euston Street everyday, bouquet in hand, to seek release from diabetes. But Pancras himself was a Roman who converted […]
First days in Paris, dazed in Latin Quarter sunshine That’s when I first noticed the polka dot scarf Wrapped around an elegant French neck An icy white background with orange, red, black, and navy spots Evoking the film star on location, the carefree woman I’d like to be. My son and I at a jazz […]
Green River Station. 7 AM Just down from Ray’s Tavern Padlocked, in hock, dry docked on Broadway Historic function mocked, doors locked, platform pocked with age and inattention Misery clocked year by year, maybe a beauty in its day A building now socked in the historical jaw. No place to sit except for a splintery […]
Friday, September 13, 2013
It’s another trip to Paris, and I’m different. Single now. Six years older. Living in a different US town. Not blogging everyday like in 2007. Not staying as long this time: five weeks instead of eight. Alone, except for the three-week visit of my middle son, who shared with me many long talks over espressos […]
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Monday, September 5, 2011
Published in 2011 Leaven Issue 2 The blustery drizzle of a January morning had thrown palm fronds on the ground and live oak leaves at my feet along winding dirt paths as I made my way away from the dry, quiet gift shop. And there it was, a building and a name that had guided […]
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Tuesday, December 14, 2010
We were 18 Dubai ex-pats on a bus tour of India in February 2005. The bus offered cool, dry, and luxurious travel, even without an onboard toilet. I sat near the back, unable to tolerate watching the crowded streets, the near-misses of kids, camels, and carts. Our driver’s calm approach to so many distractions was […]
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Wednesday, December 27, 2006
When can you let down your guard when you travel? In your hotel room? At passport control? Never? The tea was hot, the cream seemed fresh as I shared my digestives with Alec, the terrorist. I’d been waiting for him in the Dover tea shop for twenty minutes, and now we sat huddled at the […]
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