Window shopping

Paris has many monuments and cultural landmarks. One of them is Galeries Lafayette, one of the grands magasins dating from the 19^th Century. 

There is nothing on the eight floors of this palais du shop that is not designer branded (well, except the top floor, which has all the souvenirs) and very, very expensive. Merchandise is displayed like art work, only a few items at a time; I don’t even know how/if you’re meant to try anything on; it’s as though you’re supposed to admire and maybe purchase without the mundanity of practicality.

I mean:

I got a kick out of this guy having a video call in one of the cafés:

And I was kind of surprised that this dress was hanging...with wrinkles.

But let’s talk shoes. I walked around the étage des chaussures, shooting anything that caught my interest. Viz:

These boots were fascinating—literally thigh high, unless you’re a Bosnian WNBA player, maybe.

These boots would be for Republican governors wanting to make an impression post-hurricane:

And ankle straps are definitely a thing.

I love the wall o’ Crocs; they’re in the sneaker section.

Speaking of sneakers, Balenciaga would like a word.

No, I didn't buy anything.

 

Mon pays et Paris

As you’ve noticed, I’m in Paris, so seems like we should have something French for today’s earworm. Well, something Franco-American.

We’re having Josephine Baker, the Black woman who left the United States in 1925 to escape racism; she found her spiritual home in France and lived there the rest of her life. She was a fabulous star and served as a clandestine agent for her adopted country during World War II.

In 2021, after a years-long campaign to have her interred in the Panthéon, the resting place of France’s greatest heroes, a casket containing soil from places special to Baker (Saint Louis, Mo.; Monaco, where she’s buried; Paris; the South of France) was placed alongside Dumas, Voltaire, Curie, Jean Moulin and Zola.

This is one of her signature songs, “J’ai deux amours”

Flight time

Yesterday I left Sarajevo for Paris, on what I hope are the last flights I take on Croatia Airlines. But at least this time around, both flights (Sarajevo to Zagreb; Zagreb to Paris) left on time, and both I and my checked bag made it on the second flight. (Took me about 25 minutes to go through security because they had one single line and people from the Sarajevo flight had apparently never had to go through the security line before and they had to be guided through the entire process.) Technically, I had 65 minutes between my flights, but I got to the departure gate after last call for boarding.

Last Friday, the flight from Dubrovnik to Zagreb was more than an hour late taking off; the incoming aircraft didn’t even arrive at the gate until gone departure time. So I should have missed the flight to Sarajevo, except that it, too, was delayed for more than 90 minutes. I was the last passenger on the flight. When time came for beverage service, I said I just wanted water. 

Flight attendant asked, "No juice or wine?" 

"How long is this flight?" 

"You have time for a glass of wine." 

"Okay."

When he came through with the cart, this is what he gave me. I've never had a glass of wine poured that close to the rim.

BTW: Croatia Airlines apparently only flies prop craft into Sarajevo.

Anyhow, I thought I’d share with you some images from my flights into and leaving Sarajevo, which is in a valley surround by mountains. That makes for interesting turbulence. (The entire cabin broke out in applause when we touched down.)

I reckon Croatia Airlines hates Sarajevo—the departure flight was at 0630; I had to get up at 0400 to get an 0430 taxi. (But apparently Swissair hates Sarajevo, too; they had an 0610 flight out to Vienna.)

But here we are flying over a sea of fog.

And here are some pix flying over the Julian Alps from Zagreb.

Note the fog (or perhaps clouds):

This looked like a river of cloud to me:

Strategic matters

Came across this chess game while wandering around Sarajevo on Monday.

What was interesting was that the guy playing Black had no hesitation in making his moves, and there was much discussion amongst all present as to how White should make his.

 

 

Discovery

While I’m pondering how to talk about Sarajevo and Bosnia-Herzegovina, let me share with you a Bosnian artist I discovered. The exhibition just opened last week at the, uh, art museum, which I only visited because I came across it. But I was quite taken by Dobrivoje Beljkašić, whose works are being exhibited on the centenary of his birth.

It turns out that the majority of Beljkašić’s works were destroyed in an artillery bombardment on the old city hall, which was also the home of the National and University Library of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The attack was intended to destroy B-H’s cultural heritage. It did a good job—more than two million manuscripts, books and periodicals went up in flames.

Man—I thought I was going to get away from barbarism for a while. But when you're intent on genocide, you go after the spirit as well as the body.

Anyway, Beljkašić and his wife moved to Bristol, England, where they lived until his death in 2015. Although he had vowed never to paint again, he did in fact create more art.

What struck me was the variety of media Beljkašić used over the course of his career, and how he played with images. Viz:

Portrait off a Roma girl (1952, I think):

I loved this swaggering rooster:

Two takes on the Latin Bridge (titled the Princip Bridge):

Venice:

Drawing of a fantasy (note the date):

Coastal pathway in England:

Don’t recall what this was: