Europe

Sunday Auto May 19, 2013 @ 10:13 Rise Powered by Facebook Comments

Sten + Lex 2009 I met them for the first time when I came to watch them paint this May 18, 2013 @ 13:08 Amaro Powered by Facebook Comments

Viale Libia Metro May 18, 2013 @ 12:11 Rise Powered by Facebook Comments

Viking Cruises announced Friday that it's getting into the ocean cruise market -- in a small way.

In this Guest Post Matthew Barby shares his day with the elephants at the Dante Elephant Camp in Chiang Mai, riding the elephants and playing with them in the river as well as enjoying the company of Do-do the baby elephant. I spent some time, along with my partner, in the wonderful city of Chiang Mai in Thailand. Between us we had a long list of things that we wanted to do and places that we wanted to see, with seeing elephants being the prime focus of our excitement. We had spent a lot of time researching into the best places to go in order to spend time with elephants as well as finding out information on how the elephants are treated in the camps. We decided to visit the Dante Elephant Camp which was around an hour drive away from our hotel, Lanna Mantra, and cost us 2,500 Baht ($85) per person. This cost included the journey to and from the camp, a really good lunch, water throughout the day and a full day (9am-5pm) with the elephants. Elephant ride in Chaing Mai There are a lot of elephant camps across

Did you read the wonderful Irretrievably Broken on her grandmother? It's a raw and wonderful piece of writing and I commend it to you, even though it will leave you limp and drained. Persephone has been writing exceptionally beautifully about the death of her father too recently (that one I linked to is extraordinary. I went back and read it and it floored me again). And talking to IB, I was sent back, in search of anything that captured those feelings, to Matthew Parris on his father's death: on embracing the hard edged and durable nature of loss.I love these kinds of writing, difficult as they are to read. There's a clarity, a sense of emotions pinned down and powerfully expressed. I read them greedily, greedy for insight or catharsis; because I wish I felt, or had felt, something, anything, that clear. It will be ten years this year since my mum died and I can't shake the sense that I did grief wrong, somehow: that I didn't really allow myself to feel anything. The abrupt, shocking finality of an accident

And the one next to it. May 14, 2013 @ 21:15 Earlybird Powered by Facebook Comments

New handpainted poster in Pigneto. Signed Siromana. May 14, 2013 @ 21:12 Sierra And the one next to it…. Powered by Facebook Comments

Unless you are one of those blessed people with an outdoor space and a vegetable garden and the opportunity to grow your own sprightly things, chances are you only ever see heads of garlic in dried form, their ivory cloves enclosed in a papery husk. But I'm here to tell you that, as dried things usually go, those heads of garlic were once full of life and moisture, only freshly dug out from the ground in which they sprouted and grew. In France, where we have a knack for naming things in a clever way, we call this ail frais (fresh garlic), and it is a prized feature of springtime stalls, going for around 2€ a head (a little more if organic) in my neighborhood*. This is not a particularly cheap price to pay for a single head of garlic (dried and therefore shelf-stable garlic is less costly for distributors to handle) but the flavor of fresh garlic cloves is subtle and vibrant, and a perfect match to the new crop of vegetables that typify the season -- think asparagus, green peas, and thumb-sized potatoes. Alth

This is just a tiny post because God, it's been ages and it is a terribly poor show. Speaking of poor shows, I recall I had promised you details of the school fête. It has now faded to a merciful blur, much in the manner of this photo, where the Manneken Pis appears to be micturating on the heads of the 5ème primaire as they reenact the Battle of Waterloo.Mine is in the middle, in the red jacket. I was VERY PROUD of that all-expense-spared outfit until I saw Napoleon's lieutenant who was wholly superior in every way. Next to Wellington, in yellow, stands the Lion of Waterloo holding an inflatable beachball, which I believe represents the world, thus:Also visible: To the far left, Lucky Luke, the cartoon cowboy and half of one Smurf. To the right, possibly Charlemagne. Or, hmm. Maybe Charles V? I forget. There were several tepid plastic beakers of white wine in the Siberian schoolyard, where we huddled together for warmth, like penguins. It was late. It all got a bit fuzzy. Shortly after this photo was taken,