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The Louvre….After Dark

For me the magic of the Louvre begins after night falls.  Usually, the crowds have dissipated and the admission price is discounted.  Bonus! 

I love the shimmer of the light reflecting off the water

And the moon shining from above

I love the glow of the lights from within

It takes on such a different personality, you almost don’t recognize it as the same place you saw during daylight

Turn around and behind you is the l’ Arc du Carrousel.  And you thought l’Arc du Triomphe was the only one worth seeing…

Can you see the Eiffel Tower peeking out on the left?

And again, my favorite shot, taken at night.  I love that the moon is visible between the diamond left of the center.

Which one is your favorite?  What are your favorite after dark shots?  And while we are at it, there has always been controversy revolving around the modern Pyramids by I. M. Pei….so let’s take a little vote.  Yeah or Nay on the Pyramids?  I’ll weigh in…I’m a yeah!  I love the juxtaposition of the new modern lines of the pyramids and the old ornate curves of the architecture.  It creates more of visual interest. Your turn. 

Louvre Courtyard

The outside of the Louvre is just as stunning, grand and spectacular as the inside in my opinion, so I thought I would prove it to you.

Look how tiny the people are in comparison to the building.  You have no idea how small you feel.

This one was taken from inside the pyramid entrance.  It is my favorite.

Grand is the only word that seems fitting.  I love the fountains against the backdrop of the facade.

I love the details, like the lampposts

While others are busy mingling around the art, I sneak peaks out of the closest window and take pictures.  I love the layers in this shot.  Beauty lined up one right behind the other…

Then, as the sun starts falling, I head back to the same spot to notice the subtle difference.

Here I go again…taking  pictures out of the window of the courtyard below.

The colorful sky sets the backdrop and makes the whole picture.  It is amazing how light can change the feel of a place. 

Dusk leads to night fall.  Check back next time for the magical shots of the Louvre Courtyard after dark.

Holiday Card Swap

Well, the winter months are settling in, and before we all run out of time (and money), I thought we could have a bit of Holiday cheer.  I wanted a fun way to give my heartfelt *Thanks* to all of you loyal readers that have made the past year a blessing.  How do you feel about a Holiday CardSwap? 

The Art of the Handwritten Note has gone by the way-side, what with email and all, but I think getting a handwritten card is underrated!  There is something special, something personal about how the card is selected, or the message that is written, for your eyes only.  Funny cards, artistic cards, religious cards, inspirational cards.  So many cards, so little time!  And I especially love cards around the holiday season.  The glitzier and sparkly-er the better!

So, here is what I am proposing.

If you are interested in giving and receiving a Holiday Card, leave a comment on this post, then email me your name and address.  I will send you a Holiday Card.  When you receive mine, you can return the favor, and send one back to me.  All cards that I receive ( oh, the more the merrier) will go into a drawing, and I will pick a winner that will receive a little holiday gift from moi.  I may throw in some awards for the funniest, cutest or most creative card.  I will also be sharing pictures of all the treasured cards received, so it will be a Holiday feast for the eyes when we are done!

So, what do you think?  In the mood for a little card swappin?  I’ll throw you a little helpful hint for two of my favorite wintery characters during the Holidays….Penguins & Snowman!  They both melt my heart!

Photo:  Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree, 1987, by James G. Howes

Olive Season

In France and Italy, olive season is coming to a close.  It usually begins in October and runs through November.  In some parts of Tuscany though, it can begin as early as September.  It all depends on the weather and conditions of the season.

I think I have read too many books and seen too many movies about olives.  I conjure up all these images and fantasies about olives, olive oil, olive trees and the like. I guess I am just O-O, olive obsessed!  I love the knotted, gnarled tree trunks, the graceful branches, the shimmery silvery grayish-greenish leaves, that remind me of sage; the fat, plump fruit that is just bursting with golden, nutty, juicy nectar. 

For some reason I have this burning desire to be part of the harvesting process.  There is nothing I would like better than to be driving through the Tuscan hills of Italy or Provence in the south of France and happen upon rows and rows of beautiful terraced olive trees propping up wooden ladders, with miles of netting strewn about below catching the ripe fruit.  I would gladly swerve my car to the side of the road, run up to the grove and excitedly offer my inexperienced help!  I am sure at this point, the local police would be summoned to remove the crazy American from their land and I would be carted away quicker than a rancid olive, mixed in with the otherwise perfect bunch. 

If I was lucky enough to find an agriturismo to stay in during my next visit, I could become a farmer for a week and stay with a family in their home.  Never-mind the image of me in my overalls or the scratches, bruises and blisters that would cover my body.  I imagine sitting down at a large communal table after a hard days work and eating dinner with my fellow olive pickers, my family.  Our meal would consist of a hearty helping of country bread, drizzled with the freshly pressed oil, right from the mill that day!  I wonder, would the flavor be grassy, nutty, peppery or lemony?  And would they give me bottles of it to take home at the end of my stay (provided I left, of course) to share with my own friends and family?  Oh, if only *sigh*.

There is a mystery to this olive harvesting.  Everyone has a different spin on it.  Call it superstition, or years of local tradition passed from generation to generation.  Lets take the picking itself.  Some encourage the use your hands to pick, like milking a cow.  Others will swat you off your ladder sending you crashing to the ground, which would be followed by a tongue lashing of historic proportion if they saw you even touch the olive.  Instead, a bamboo pole is used to beat the branches until the ripe olives fall from the tree and tumble onto the netting, which is placed on the ground under the olives to act as a barrier and a collection tool. Many feel that an olive that touches the ground is, well, spoiled.    How is one to know what is best? 

The other thing everyone agrees on is timing. Timing of the picking and the pressing.  You have to wait for just the right moment to pick.  To soon and the olive doesn’t yield enough oil, to late and the oil will be bitter and not a good flavor.  Don’t pick in the rain or when there is dew or there will be too much moisture in the oil. Remember, that saying oil and water don’t mix?  I knew I would need that info someday! Don’t get me started on the color of the olive.  Thats a whole other set of rules!

The olives must be pressed as soon after they are picked as possible, to avoid mildew and for the best taste. Often this means driving crates of them straight to the mill the same day, to have them pressed.  If you are lucky enough to have the required kilos of your own olives, you will have pure oil that is only from your trees.  If you have less, yours will be combined with others that are below the minimum, and you will have community oil to share!  There are so many different kinds of pressing, but the best remains first cold pressing.  It is the first pressing, with no heat, which breaks down the delicate flavors.  It is the purest, best tasting, most sought after and therefore…most expensive oil.

Maybe it is the history of these trees that fascinates me.  One of the oldest trees, called the Olivier Millenaire, is in Roquebrune, France.  It is over 1000 years old.  To stand there in the grace of that beauty and history and wonder, how many hands have touched that tree? How many olives have weighted down its branches? What did the oil taste of and how many thousands of kilos has it produced?  How many have taken care to prune it and tend the fruit it would bare?  Who were those special gardeners and what was their preferred method? I would stand in awe.

So, if you live in olive country in France or Italy and are out in your olive grove, minding your own business, and are startled at the sight of a lunatic women, running full bore, arms flailing, yelling something that resembles, " I want to pick your olives"…well, um, it will be me.  And please, I beg of you, do not call the local authorities or you will be crushing a girls hopes and dreams.  And we don’t want that now do we?

Photo courtesy of Beyond Provence

My Luck Runneth Out

Well, as your read this, you may have guessed that I didn’t hit the jackpot on my weekend away.  If I did, I would have been on my way to Europe, but there is always next time.  As I returned from my trip yesterday afternoon, I would have believed that my not winning in Atlantic City would be the end of my lucky streak.  But as I was about to find out…it was instead, just the beginning of my Unlucky Streak. 

I returned home from my trip and sat down to the computer to catch up on my email and blog.  I attempted to send my dear friend and e-card for her birthday, which was yesterday.  It seemed to malfunction, so I kept trying and trying…until I finally gave up.  Today I got email confirmations stating that it went through….17 times!!!  My goodness, how she must hate me!!!  How many times can one open an e-card without getting peeved at you????

Then, just as I am about to save my blog post, I lost my Internet connection, and after numerous phone calls and more troubleshooting and wait time than I care to discuss (which Chris will tell you is not a pleasant experience as I have no patience and get aggravated by these things very easily)….it was not restored until 24 hours later…and I lost everything in the process!  *damn*

I had a toilet malfunction….let’s just leave that one at that! *crap* (literally and figuratively)

And last, but not least, as I get in the car to head to work this morning, my car won’t start. *damn it all to he#@*  Dead battery.  Dead as a doornail.  All day, calling around, Chris having to leave work and cancel his dentist appointment to come jump-start my car and take me to have a new battery put in.

And how was your day?