B.L.O.G.

Not exactly the Bamboo Forest of my childhood, but this will do! As a child I lived in a convent with many other children; and no way to escape the crowd, the noise, the praying, and the unexciting and insipid moments of the life of a child in a convent.  I found a secret place and every day at sunset I visited the nearby forest of bamboo where I would lie down and listen to the steady rhythmic heartbeat of the earth, or perhaps it was my own heartbeat.  For eleven years I performed this daily ritual; even in the rain I could feel this pulse as though I were connected by a root like umbilicus to the dark core of the earth. The forest in a child’s mind, in my mind is in the middle of a mystic setting, a majestic realm, a kind of a  kiva , a womblike vessel.  This enclosure had all the power of an ancient temple; it was a place of dying and becoming.  I was the sole priestess to decide my own fate.  I learned a way of being in the world and in trans...

Before I run off again for another hectic day with my sister in Luxembourg, I am going to post this little story, again about being in the Foreign Service... This was in Madagascar and I am not even sure if I had fun or not.  Anyway, here it is.  Forty years in the Foreign Service, and I swore that I would never, never, participate in any more of the women gatherings, women functions, or representing women of the Mission, etc.  And there I was, representing USAID again for two tiring weeks;  hopefully for the last time.  I couldn’t believe that I actually participated in creating the floral arrangement with a group of Malagasy women from the “Association Accueil Madagascar.”  For some strange reason, the younger women gathering around those flowers, started to talk about their lives, about my life, and their belief  that I was crazy, and I am not sure why!   Crazy in a good sense of the word, so they’ve said.  Well, I will ta...

Food is really something you grow up with.  You do not suddenly develop a taste for snails or avocado at the age of forty.  You gradually start eating those “strange” foods while you are a toddler because your mother constantly asks you to try at least one bite.  I remember giving my daughter Isabelle a coffee spoon of avocado and she did not really like it; but she did not gag, so it was OK.  My mother used to say that if they gag, you have to stop making them eat; but if they do not like it, then you can try again the next time.  To make a long story short, Isabelle now loves avocado, and other “strange” Southeast Asian foods. I originally come from Laos from a Colonial French family and I was raised to be French, but unfortunately, and to my mother’s dismay, I am very American.  Nevertheless I am an American with an intensive background in cultures and culinary.  I gave my grandchildren escargots, mussels, crabs (all kind of seafood), different ve...

Haiti, a country I learned to love.  I was not sure what to make of Port-au-Prince when I first arrived  (this will have to be in my next posting) ; then Barnett forwarded an email about participating in a Progressive Dinner.  I've always liked Progressive Dinners, and we did a lot of that in the Foreign Service.  I called the person responsible for coordinating the event and asked if we might end the evening at my house with desserts and coffee.  The answer was "yes."  That was my introduction to Robin.  It was a successful event, everyone went out of his/her way to make all of us newbies welcome.  I made lots and lots of Lao and Thai desserts using the mangoes and coconuts I found in Petionville. In a corner of my living room, I had a comfortable arm chair, a lamp, and a small table covered with books that I would pick up and read every morning while sipping coffee.  In particular, I like the Daily Spiritual Reading.  Robin actu...

Laos was not exactly an assignment for me since I was home, and I didn't depend on the American Community, and what was in itself a great thing.  Afghanistan was our first post, and back in 1976, spouses were not allowed to work.  Therefore, it was a lot of gatherings, shopping, book club meetings, thrift shop visits, traveling around the country  (which was a good thing) , cooking sessions, and of course parties. Those parties that ended in the morning, and I remember having to carry my shoes home I danced all night. Then there were the "dreaded" luncheons. I was in one of those dreaded luncheons at my neighbor's home.  The Ambassador and the Director’s wives were there.    I was about 26 years old, young, hot-headed, and quite obnoxious, “the hoity-toity princess” with a very loose mouth, I might add.    Now that I think about it, I was not sure why they invited me to begin with.    I was not always a pleasant person.    And...