tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40666042888042458002024-03-18T11:02:59.617+08:00If music be the food of love...Stories from Jo Cadilhon, who lives both his professional and personal lives for the production and sharing of delicious food; with music always playing in the background.Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.comBlogger182125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-54604880268136956492023-07-21T18:05:00.000+08:002023-07-21T18:05:19.217+08:00E la mensa prepariamo con ricchezza e nobiltà<p>Five years after singing <a href="http://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2018/07/e-all-usanza-teatrale-un-azion.html">Mariage of Figaro with Opéra des Landes in 2018</a>, the timing of my summer holiday this year allowed me to take part once more in the choruses of the <a href="https://www.opera-des-landes.com/">Opéra des Landes</a> for another of Mozart's Italian operas on a libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte: Cosi fan tutte. </p><p>Just like in Figaro, the chorus only makes three short appearances on stage and one backstage. I had already sung the piece with Bangkok Opera in 2006, and the chorus was in desperate need of tenors. So I negotiated with the chorus master to let me sing the production with my joining only two rehearsals before the dress rehearsal. It worked! This is a recollection of what happened back- and off-stage.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxFWcq0X-czTn-zuDtd7KV905eWwGkV-JQZxko4s4r9wH1k9TEWCt2TCH6dlLf7JHne2qQ15zofHRM71JsCOVrou_KB7fCgVmhY5so7fuSuju8tSMiAluEk0HLCC2KUC6JIOozbN8AvGMrDwTK1lvs2JNzHeF90GPGzC38_Z4d50qaiXmlfrf7mTYCs0/s3494/20230715_153530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1909" data-original-width="3494" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRxFWcq0X-czTn-zuDtd7KV905eWwGkV-JQZxko4s4r9wH1k9TEWCt2TCH6dlLf7JHne2qQ15zofHRM71JsCOVrou_KB7fCgVmhY5so7fuSuju8tSMiAluEk0HLCC2KUC6JIOozbN8AvGMrDwTK1lvs2JNzHeF90GPGzC38_Z4d50qaiXmlfrf7mTYCs0/s320/20230715_153530.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This production had already been given in other cities and five of the six soloists had already worked with each other and the conductor. On the other hand, the lead tenor and the chorus were discovering the staging and we only had three days to learn our roles and actions on stage. On the day of the dress rehearsal, the props for the stage were still being set up by the stage technicians while the artists were rehearsing on stage.<p></p><p></p><p>The trickiest part for everyone was that in the small theatre of Soustons there is no orchestra pit. Therefore, the small ensemble of musicians is always put on one side of the stage and the conductor is also on the far-side. This was problematic for many of us because the stage setting in this production involved an inner central box into which all people on stage had to turn their gaze. When deep inside the box, or on its outside, it was difficult or even impossible to see the conductor. Thus, many of us had to sing by ear and sometimes get off-time, or turn our head towards the conductor but then we would be told off by the stage directors for not looking into the central box! To help out, the stage technicians installed a loudspeaker hidden behind a curtain on the opposite side of the stage from the musicians so that singers on that outer side could hear the music more clearly and in time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqp6d0GS11eXgVeJavy6Ml2qxzxZGPrRxVVhnDYlXnRb8tMSYeClfq75ss681kMvC6E1FZ_b__vyJVmO9HmmeaIyI2VaTR84jWOjt2nKnzI9l3EBwKaKN_xVIcfoYPqJCchGn_lYbMGET2pSDezXh37ixKAfibWl4GNYxyMT1sS1RNhYFmtNJTka0a8g/s3022/20230716_191250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="770" data-original-width="3022" height="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqp6d0GS11eXgVeJavy6Ml2qxzxZGPrRxVVhnDYlXnRb8tMSYeClfq75ss681kMvC6E1FZ_b__vyJVmO9HmmeaIyI2VaTR84jWOjt2nKnzI9l3EBwKaKN_xVIcfoYPqJCchGn_lYbMGET2pSDezXh37ixKAfibWl4GNYxyMT1sS1RNhYFmtNJTka0a8g/w400-h103/20230716_191250.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>At the dress rehearsal the last change of costume for the two men soloists inevitably did not work out as planned: they failed to metamorphose themselves back from Albanians to Italians in the only two minutes they had backstage. So they cheated by wearing their Western trousers and shirt under their Oriental embroidered livery and turban. They also kept their Oriental shoes on for the final scene. However, given that the whole costume colour scheme was off-white, the audience probably did not spot these details.</p><p>All in all, we all had lots of fun and the two shows were close to sold out with a total of 800 people coming to see us and enjoy the show. You can read a French musical critic's viewpoint and see photos of all of us on stage <a href="https://olyrix.com/articles/production/6951/cosi-fan-tutte-mozart-da-ponte-brecourt-perez-benameur-fabing-gouron-croce-despaux-wozniak-pancrazi-telega-saint-martin-roubet-piccone-orchestre-opera-eclate-choeur-amateur-landes-festival-17-juillet-2023-article-critique-compte-rendu">here</a>, and see some film footage of the dress rehearsal taken by the local TV channel <a href="https://france3-regions.francetvinfo.fr/nouvelle-aquitaine/landes/dax/video-le-festival-opera-des-landes-choisit-mozart-pour-rendre-hommage-aux-femmes-2813717.html">here</a>.</p><p>Cosi fan tutte<br />Wolfgang A. Mozart, Chamber orchestra of Europe, Sir Georg Solti, Decca</p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com040140 Soustons, France43.75562 -1.32663815.445386163821155 -36.482888 72.065853836178846 33.829612tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-2180890399123099212023-07-16T17:27:00.000+08:002023-07-16T17:27:30.103+08:00On England's pleasant pastures seen<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDKTiMh1lBqY22b-UOFO-JBDv-ticShynhu7_VlditgWKgRsXeGZ7WdU9jsZJC1VKgljz7g8XMprGxDqJ7G6qu1DPfTBI1dSJoS3UOVOVz_3W57YADdpLlQuKrYtG5FZ6ajtvsbyOnwzDF-Cf9cWBQAG4BlnVoS-Ao3_qe2W1sLJ8b0wxvSc1zYBkhAY/s3648/Me%20with%20pint%20of%20cider%20Manchester%2020230710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDKTiMh1lBqY22b-UOFO-JBDv-ticShynhu7_VlditgWKgRsXeGZ7WdU9jsZJC1VKgljz7g8XMprGxDqJ7G6qu1DPfTBI1dSJoS3UOVOVz_3W57YADdpLlQuKrYtG5FZ6ajtvsbyOnwzDF-Cf9cWBQAG4BlnVoS-Ao3_qe2W1sLJ8b0wxvSc1zYBkhAY/w150-h200/Me%20with%20pint%20of%20cider%20Manchester%2020230710.jpg" width="150" /></a>I used to take regular trips to the UK at least once a year. I enjoy its green countryside and usually cheerful folk in small cities and rural areas. Going through my previous articles in this blog, I realise my last trip to the UK was in <a href="http://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2019/04/skies-are-blue.html">April 2019</a>. Covid put a stop to my international travelling for several years.</p><p>Now that it is again possible to travel easily in and out of China, I took a summer holiday to Europe and went for a nine-day, three-Nations tour of England, Wales and Scotland. I had announced my trip to all the friends whose email address I had and who were based or had a connection with the UK, giving them the choice of meeting place in either London, Monmouth (Wales), Manchester or Edinburgh when I was passing by. Unfortunately, the dates of my trip also coincided with summer holidays in the UK so many of my friends were away too. I only got to meet two of my friends and their spouse. I thus spent the rest of my time visiting new places, trekking or running along well-signed footpaths, enjoying the new British gastro-scene and shopping for new clothes and textile items.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8NDFKUZSSmW4aImhrb1bAhNjtfC44v8bqyEV_AB9IVYmhDIU9AbVdXMetcBXFh_fWr6c4LEzSDCtuHVYFpVaL7imrLR2JHKQQhuMEnRvZYR9iq9WlTNYRwiXd8e3EBN_iGjb4miL5EnSGneIXOc6rKrcP61T_IFTzrrCDYAIuD6Bizdf0_80eP8lt1Y/s2944/Me%20at%20Chepstow%20train%20station%2020230710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2944" data-original-width="2208" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8NDFKUZSSmW4aImhrb1bAhNjtfC44v8bqyEV_AB9IVYmhDIU9AbVdXMetcBXFh_fWr6c4LEzSDCtuHVYFpVaL7imrLR2JHKQQhuMEnRvZYR9iq9WlTNYRwiXd8e3EBN_iGjb4miL5EnSGneIXOc6rKrcP61T_IFTzrrCDYAIuD6Bizdf0_80eP8lt1Y/w150-h200/Me%20at%20Chepstow%20train%20station%2020230710.jpg" width="150" /></a>In the past I had always driven around the UK as a car is the easiest way to reach out-of-the-way rural areas of outstanding beauty. This time I chose to take trains throughout my trip despite the threat of widespread industrial action. There was no disruption in the end. I only had a tight change of platform in Birmingham on my way to Manchester because of the late arrival of my first train from Gloucester. For once, all the photos in the article are selfies in different places along my tour.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbModSDe-YYzxk6vo16OqL9lIHWoTEPczP64w2udbjYARC4JGk2IgpvM5wFDKy6bQ3wSa-oijmFn3kSxGoSj81DTLW1oswz_ZehBMun2zDvg2gKWS5YOxPzc9t9QBr-5EGQHMV_u8OsPe1ZP56385s0jyb7LAHo3Gz8wSBgck-60z7Xxkm0C6RC_7PldA/s3491/Me%20in%20London%2020230706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3491" data-original-width="2368" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbModSDe-YYzxk6vo16OqL9lIHWoTEPczP64w2udbjYARC4JGk2IgpvM5wFDKy6bQ3wSa-oijmFn3kSxGoSj81DTLW1oswz_ZehBMun2zDvg2gKWS5YOxPzc9t9QBr-5EGQHMV_u8OsPe1ZP56385s0jyb7LAHo3Gz8wSBgck-60z7Xxkm0C6RC_7PldA/w136-h200/Me%20in%20London%2020230706.jpg" width="136" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFz01BC0MZW7XZKibfJMBh93dV6DPDQe2QUk77k-IVLfYUUwVs3vPqJvfIWBFZEr64GEER3peYLOLqsQbpXChLenvwFTlPJLJC5AuqwD7jFKSGiupSH5nAwKLsVrVq7PSVmJoPzI4RFOOI-ilmoPq66OQmaeQ11amD7kAxgJbVWz1BQvkMYy2aZkhQnvo/s2944/Me%20in%20hedge%20shadow%2020230707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2944" data-original-width="2208" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFz01BC0MZW7XZKibfJMBh93dV6DPDQe2QUk77k-IVLfYUUwVs3vPqJvfIWBFZEr64GEER3peYLOLqsQbpXChLenvwFTlPJLJC5AuqwD7jFKSGiupSH5nAwKLsVrVq7PSVmJoPzI4RFOOI-ilmoPq66OQmaeQ11amD7kAxgJbVWz1BQvkMYy2aZkhQnvo/w150-h200/Me%20in%20hedge%20shadow%2020230707.jpg" width="150" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I started off with a night and half-day in London where it was as busy as ever although I tried to stay away from the major tourist attractions. By 2pm it was really starting to get unpleasantly busy with tourists, so I took a train down to Kent. As none of my friends had expressed interest to meet me in London, I accepted the invitation of my friends Hannah and Tim to stay a few days with them in the smaller town of Otford. We enjoyed delicious food together. I went on a long and sunny five-hour walk along the North Downs Way and had to take two trains to find my way back to Otford.</p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ivaYLCUUYkhA-w9i2c-5vJEZl_a_yFJquJ26_EEFwt-HY8aK42f4xHGDSmCAf5h2APbkj6aILAgp9KcEyUav37Q6h-nWNo5cgFdSWVuI7ENnhhWQrv9NZzYF6uZ3iDzPVbm82PqkhiNzlmF8xxJRP9G2UyTgA6bQGHBsNVgbGd1OB3UU_Pe5onbC8os/s2944/Me%20and%20Spartacus%20Monmouth%2020230709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2944" data-original-width="2208" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ivaYLCUUYkhA-w9i2c-5vJEZl_a_yFJquJ26_EEFwt-HY8aK42f4xHGDSmCAf5h2APbkj6aILAgp9KcEyUav37Q6h-nWNo5cgFdSWVuI7ENnhhWQrv9NZzYF6uZ3iDzPVbm82PqkhiNzlmF8xxJRP9G2UyTgA6bQGHBsNVgbGd1OB3UU_Pe5onbC8os/w150-h200/Me%20and%20Spartacus%20Monmouth%2020230709.jpg" width="150" /></a>I moved across the country from Kent to Wales for a few days with my former food marketing <a href="https://www.profdavidhughes.com/">Professor David Hughes</a> and his wife Susan. The weather started deteriorating but we still enjoyed delicious local meats and the vegetables Susan produced herself in her allotment. I got very cosy with their old cat Spartacus. I got baffled trying to read signs in Welsh.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_dbjYpRKEXXZEyEVccLEWvzVAiOxb8n4xYFGeLOqu-RJQ_cVfiNeCwg1V_nwJl5H7wvkbWjGV_M5c9ulsoujPlCiyY059PMkrx9m0gqMlqnuukciCa1NQC1azoistdHd5CGOBfcVas--WfM91tB1-PNY8LfVbCobUhjVfGJiOvKuKB61Q03yWGaQOGY/s2944/Me%20with%20Welsh%20sign%2020230710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2208" data-original-width="2944" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_dbjYpRKEXXZEyEVccLEWvzVAiOxb8n4xYFGeLOqu-RJQ_cVfiNeCwg1V_nwJl5H7wvkbWjGV_M5c9ulsoujPlCiyY059PMkrx9m0gqMlqnuukciCa1NQC1azoistdHd5CGOBfcVas--WfM91tB1-PNY8LfVbCobUhjVfGJiOvKuKB61Q03yWGaQOGY/w200-h150/Me%20with%20Welsh%20sign%2020230710.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-C7PtRHFYKkh87z9ibpXpfjo5dRxqlASEB6EXY5kBMyuVT66dRDYdSNbe7uZ97nxm-5E6Yfe-ekJFn3npoPOrdFjhHjsoPk0MVwUTg6secHT5y1l6dwrZ6pMRSjllXpVrMsgVUPELAM4QOFR8qxG-VNbMpGEg8jXYxz71pHOi3qF9gFLHyZVYutvhTM/s2944/Me%20along%20Manchester%20canal%2020230711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2944" data-original-width="2208" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-C7PtRHFYKkh87z9ibpXpfjo5dRxqlASEB6EXY5kBMyuVT66dRDYdSNbe7uZ97nxm-5E6Yfe-ekJFn3npoPOrdFjhHjsoPk0MVwUTg6secHT5y1l6dwrZ6pMRSjllXpVrMsgVUPELAM4QOFR8qxG-VNbMpGEg8jXYxz71pHOi3qF9gFLHyZVYutvhTM/w150-h200/Me%20along%20Manchester%20canal%2020230711.jpg" width="150" /></a>From Wales, I made a stopover in Manchester, where I had never been before. The architecture of the city is very surprising: there is no consistent heighbourhood housing style. Each individual house has a style spanning from the 15th to the 21st century, whatever the style of its neighbouring houses. This creates a disconcerting kaleidoscope of a city. I took a long walk along a canal heading North of town; with all the locks they had to pass, I was walking faster than the long boats. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQndcWX9sgix-0R1k0iAIRvNPyxQfKATOvYOH3SaJ4DquWzpTT0gdmEQkefatoRRPpP67kIDElJN8Dxr1Rm97M3gWfX_9dh2ggyOWgHXmMqcA26ngZypTyanysQhF85SLYnXRAw_fwjUcrScaMEpfSYbkWBJmS1fcS44ExxhMYGLjQ31YitHxj9EjyssU/s2944/Me%20with%20Edinburgh%20castle%2020230712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2944" data-original-width="2208" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQndcWX9sgix-0R1k0iAIRvNPyxQfKATOvYOH3SaJ4DquWzpTT0gdmEQkefatoRRPpP67kIDElJN8Dxr1Rm97M3gWfX_9dh2ggyOWgHXmMqcA26ngZypTyanysQhF85SLYnXRAw_fwjUcrScaMEpfSYbkWBJmS1fcS44ExxhMYGLjQ31YitHxj9EjyssU/w150-h200/Me%20with%20Edinburgh%20castle%2020230712.jpg" width="150" /></a></p><p>I was thrilled to take a Trans-Pennine Express service North from Manchester to Edinburgh. We passed through beautiful countryside. The Scottish weather was unwelcoming for tourists: showers and sunny spells throughout my day in Edinburgh. I shopped my way along the Royal Mile for woolen textiles and souvenirs. I went to listen to evensong at Saint Mary's Cathedral. The choristers were sadly on summer holiday too; the music was artfully sung by a visiting choir from Texas. I got to taste Scottish tapas. It seems to be the latest food trend in fashionable urban centres: sharing several small portions of food set on the table for all. Rather than ordering a main dish each, the diners order several small dishes to share. </p><p></p><p>I thoroughly enjoyed this trip back in the UK and hope to go back more regularly, choosing a base point to enjoy more of the local scene and greenery.</p><p>Jerusalem<br />Hubert Parry, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1x8wouy3mE">Royal Choral Society</a></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Édimbourg, Royaume-Uni55.953252 -3.18826727.643018163821154 -38.344517 84.263485836178845 31.967983tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-14295104600612052382023-07-06T16:36:00.003+08:002023-07-06T16:40:14.236+08:00Summer days drifting away to those summer nights<p>My last week of June has been very busy getting all my work done before my summer vacation. I've also been very busy outside of work.</p><p><span style="text-align: center;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8H03yWhirXYJrEXJGLNRwnR4ZICMjFqwBp9BW_wj-joXEUzMjnAi3jsvV1jXJ1O25LkD5GgQi5c1SL_LzhjNJlnByH_btbFvb3kfhA3Y_OqzQhfl_rt4Uhd1-epooF6gH5XFnOcs9ipVAlSiDZ4lear1MeDtqwW3RqMwOn7kqrG3OHDi0ZQj40zXXms/s4000/Phryge%20surplombant%20Huanghe%20lac%2020230625.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm8H03yWhirXYJrEXJGLNRwnR4ZICMjFqwBp9BW_wj-joXEUzMjnAi3jsvV1jXJ1O25LkD5GgQi5c1SL_LzhjNJlnByH_btbFvb3kfhA3Y_OqzQhfl_rt4Uhd1-epooF6gH5XFnOcs9ipVAlSiDZ4lear1MeDtqwW3RqMwOn7kqrG3OHDi0ZQj40zXXms/w200-h150/Phryge%20surplombant%20Huanghe%20lac%2020230625.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>For the dragon boat festival long week-end, I travelled to Lanzhou for a few days of hiking along the Yellow River with <a href="https://www.beijinghikers.com/">Beijing Hikers</a>. My highlight from this trip was the many colours and forms that the river took depending on the topography it flowed through. Despite its name, the Yellow River turned to blue in a lake created by a dam along its course. I was accompanied on this trip by the smiling handicapped mascot of the 2024 Paris Olympic games, a phryge. It looks like a red smurf hat and is a symbol of liberty. We shot lots of photos together as part of a promotional campaign to introduce the <a href="https://cn.ambafrance.org/bienvenue-aux-phryges">values of next year's Paris Olympic games</a> to the Chinese netizens through a series of short stories on the Chinese Twitter-like Weibo platform of the mascots visiting various emblematic Chinese sites.<p></p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCFO8hKaJa1UFBlw9MMWqKYPTlTaG3Gj5mLUIigfAbNSrVPBKQ6I5agqU08egNhCmDU0YyS8YnmEAW5QxE5Y7rozR1aidS12JmPAOCxuP26OdHys25BJq2f16bYPE1LNPtik-reiqF-vNaTPIfZNJikQcEzVgECejfwBw8s-eZypOd1IjsrGChLb8p0s/s4032/R%C3%A9cital%20nuits%20d'%C3%A9t%C3%A9%2020230703.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCFO8hKaJa1UFBlw9MMWqKYPTlTaG3Gj5mLUIigfAbNSrVPBKQ6I5agqU08egNhCmDU0YyS8YnmEAW5QxE5Y7rozR1aidS12JmPAOCxuP26OdHys25BJq2f16bYPE1LNPtik-reiqF-vNaTPIfZNJikQcEzVgECejfwBw8s-eZypOd1IjsrGChLb8p0s/w150-h200/R%C3%A9cital%20nuits%20d'%C3%A9t%C3%A9%2020230703.jpg" width="150" /></a>On Thursday 29 June I gave a solo recital of French Romantic melodies together with pianist Cheng Tong. After a trial recital last year which only attracted 8 people because of covid-phobia, this time I sang a full-length programme of 12 pieces in front of 44 people. For the first time, I realised the difficulty of singing live, solo and for a long time: one needs to deal with voice quality but also interact with the audience, say a few words of introduction before singing, keep going although the pianist and I realise to our horror we are no longer in synch... It was an exhausting learning experience. The audience nonetheless seemed to enjoy the show. I was fortunate to have lots of singing friends come to listen to me: I already have a group of fans in Beijing.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1shHCTuysEgQ9Kse_Rq7AuLQyOLvXlf78XZu3tVd_h6DjlLFH5AtboXR9PSQqxW0UQfSsosbDsv8WBdssEMj_8t1o7ZN8tW3o_oHK76tgtCKpTaNTkn010Bw4IpVgRTq0bHZc1WaoSAI-wOfjKveOlVtLspF5Ju0U5tnUlMaHPZePCy-35ZbM_XSkuk/s4032/Nuits%20d'%C3%A9t%C3%A9%20fans%2020230703.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1839" data-original-width="4032" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd1shHCTuysEgQ9Kse_Rq7AuLQyOLvXlf78XZu3tVd_h6DjlLFH5AtboXR9PSQqxW0UQfSsosbDsv8WBdssEMj_8t1o7ZN8tW3o_oHK76tgtCKpTaNTkn010Bw4IpVgRTq0bHZc1WaoSAI-wOfjKveOlVtLspF5Ju0U5tnUlMaHPZePCy-35ZbM_XSkuk/w320-h146/Nuits%20d'%C3%A9t%C3%A9%20fans%2020230703.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDN3Xzh9aAoTtg2veAPTrEgiyXkekjrkjFq4wiJu2UOimFGlVPv7OuFhGyoQYAxaNmqytOHFPsMjgIJYGhgXtoEnb71OGv4ActZuILjE-o-L2dnPHBOZC-IsBouBHeWy21GuTqCJKRFJ6yMPG4Sv_829TR4fBCj6-FI7mRF2OAwPgFZDig6_CoP1wECNg/s3648/20230701_115300.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDN3Xzh9aAoTtg2veAPTrEgiyXkekjrkjFq4wiJu2UOimFGlVPv7OuFhGyoQYAxaNmqytOHFPsMjgIJYGhgXtoEnb71OGv4ActZuILjE-o-L2dnPHBOZC-IsBouBHeWy21GuTqCJKRFJ6yMPG4Sv_829TR4fBCj6-FI7mRF2OAwPgFZDig6_CoP1wECNg/w150-h200/20230701_115300.jpg" width="150" /></a>Finally, just before leaving China for France, I travelled to Taiyuan in Shanxi province to take part in the wedding ceremony of my French cousin Henri who had met and got married to a Chinese lady in France. This was the Chinese side of the wedding and I was the only representative from the French side. The ceremony was very colourful and well choreographed to maximise photo opportunities. The music was loud; the lights multicoloured and very bright; but the banquet was a delicious assortment of local Chinese delicacies.</p><p>It has been a tiring week, made all the more exhausting by the scorching temperatures reaching 40°C during the day over the last month. I am now glad to have left the heat of Northern China for the more temperate European weather for my three weeks of summer vacation. </p><p>Summer nights<br />John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, original soundtrack from the motion picture Grease, </p><p>Recital photos: Autumn and Katia Wistoff</p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904211 116.40739511.593977163821151 81.251145 68.214444836178842 151.563645tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-37036378511913233762023-01-24T21:18:00.000+08:002023-01-24T21:18:57.572+08:00We'll find such lovely things to share again<p>It has been three years since covid had prevented me from seeing friends in France freely, especially those with children. End 2020 I thought best not to visit friends so as not to spread the virus. End 2021 I chose not to see anybody indoors and unmasked for fear of catching the virus and not being able to go back to China. Now that I have been fully vaccinated, and having caught covid just before leaving for my holiday one month ago, I felt free this year to go on a big tour of France to visit my friends who were available to see me!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssjAAxskeK3mY8nzbwAxVYHgnE5Rd6w3xaxvaOuzGRV8IzUkHYRUgtISjzacVAOZpdkW-ZB1Gnr-DMOfHN-Z4bw98ZVZUUR-GNAnMCyQtu47KpAtlOdZ8pC6dkaWXT2QuDc_6WTOlSnYHfbCFtIVIa1enjDoYkK3I4F7Qo9bG9QMsSKbDdIAq9Gap/s4160/Atlantique%20%C3%A0%20Anglet%201%2020230105%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="4160" height="96" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssjAAxskeK3mY8nzbwAxVYHgnE5Rd6w3xaxvaOuzGRV8IzUkHYRUgtISjzacVAOZpdkW-ZB1Gnr-DMOfHN-Z4bw98ZVZUUR-GNAnMCyQtu47KpAtlOdZ8pC6dkaWXT2QuDc_6WTOlSnYHfbCFtIVIa1enjDoYkK3I4F7Qo9bG9QMsSKbDdIAq9Gap/w400-h96/Atlantique%20%C3%A0%20Anglet%201%2020230105%20(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNobSsX8YvvNjBHXN-dWE4m0BUuCzWP5xuP_awxkm76lEp_YtvdcAxvS6JSz3lEpdqXswf_vmcQMHx5bXSsKhe4T20VRnP0QjKdM0qznkd5kS8tltVxOpqSfh_Hrd7NzThp3R-WSajlVYGvi4m4ZU7PTAnjMvTiqw6QQyrGjayfEa7xgnK-a8ZE1L/s4160/Petit%20Bayonne%2020230105.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNobSsX8YvvNjBHXN-dWE4m0BUuCzWP5xuP_awxkm76lEp_YtvdcAxvS6JSz3lEpdqXswf_vmcQMHx5bXSsKhe4T20VRnP0QjKdM0qznkd5kS8tltVxOpqSfh_Hrd7NzThp3R-WSajlVYGvi4m4ZU7PTAnjMvTiqw6QQyrGjayfEa7xgnK-a8ZE1L/w150-h200/Petit%20Bayonne%2020230105.jpg" width="150" /></a>My tour of France was principally centred on the sea, friends and food. I left my parents' country house in Southwest France on 3 January for Bayonne, still on the Atlantic coast and close to the Spanish border. I finally took the time to visit the historical centre of Bayonne which I had not managed to stroll through during the three years that I was <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2020/10/passing-through-sometimes-happy.html">stationed in that region from 2017 to 2020</a>. I did go back to the beach in Anglet where I would sometimes go for a lunchtime swim break when visiting my colleagues who were posted there. I also went back to the local restaurant serving delicious and simple local food for a bargain, targeting the armies of builders, painters and carpenters who are constantly erecting new houses on this highly sought-out coastal area.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3Lg30ahDKby1v1tTJAEVFdZ5Yi3YLebEuvEB-NbkkMw4ETgqwHOjM-qa83LCgLwbDPMOB7DCIC9ftPZS03Ao33lKY7E1PttTC4aoYYs-CWWdgKnSo_rsRibH9Ax6o5EbFcPs1286Nc3yTCpLgGDtILnxIgJUvMsfp9E_epl1GT6ZqmoEt6Unl-I6/s4160/Coteaux%20et%20Pyr%C3%A9n%C3%A9es%20Ste%20Colome%2020230107.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3Lg30ahDKby1v1tTJAEVFdZ5Yi3YLebEuvEB-NbkkMw4ETgqwHOjM-qa83LCgLwbDPMOB7DCIC9ftPZS03Ao33lKY7E1PttTC4aoYYs-CWWdgKnSo_rsRibH9Ax6o5EbFcPs1286Nc3yTCpLgGDtILnxIgJUvMsfp9E_epl1GT6ZqmoEt6Unl-I6/w200-h150/Coteaux%20et%20Pyr%C3%A9n%C3%A9es%20Ste%20Colome%2020230107.jpg" width="200" /></a>I rented a car in Bayonne and drove all the way to Nice on the other side of France by the Italian border. There was unfortunately no snow for skiing in the mountains this early winter so I spent all my time seeing friends and former colleagues. My first stop was in Pau from 4 to 7 January. I had seen most of my friends and former colleagues already last winter or when I had left town two years ago. I enjoyed deliciously crafted food at <a href="https://www.restaurant-louesberit.com/">L'esberit</a> and <a href="https://www.maynats.fr/">Maynats</a> restaurants. The foody scene in Pau is becoming increasingly elaborate and it is more and more difficult to find an empty table in a good restaurant by chance. Bookings are highly recommended even for the simplest bistro. I managed to be there to see the new year's concert of the Pau orchestra and choir, which I was part of when I used to live there: a great show with lots of jokes between pieces and the usual festive Blue Danube, polkas and other classical hits. This being the 20th anniversary of the new year's concert in Pau, the producer had interwoven the Happy birthday theme into several of the orchestral pieces as a clever leitmotiv emerging from the music all along the concert. <br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93Onod1uzrKHaMYX8zi5o72A1CWO4TTifCWuAFhI8FVHM3hB_M6ZefB_0T-qJ-N2BBeBtAdkW_zqqdd18-UrWlKFF_Q45zLPEcXF-okcfg_efuzdIghYdnqzPzXijLlXZh7EVq66gd2-ztK26cu2OTmA-Rgji6xjlBgXB5Fm_4k6oKKpX9P6Ss0kM/s2592/Me%20and%20Brittany%20&%20Phoenix%20in%20Agde%2020230110.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93Onod1uzrKHaMYX8zi5o72A1CWO4TTifCWuAFhI8FVHM3hB_M6ZefB_0T-qJ-N2BBeBtAdkW_zqqdd18-UrWlKFF_Q45zLPEcXF-okcfg_efuzdIghYdnqzPzXijLlXZh7EVq66gd2-ztK26cu2OTmA-Rgji6xjlBgXB5Fm_4k6oKKpX9P6Ss0kM/w200-h150/Me%20and%20Brittany%20&%20Phoenix%20in%20Agde%2020230110.jpg" width="200" /></a>I drove along the Pyrenees mountains to the Mediterranean Sea for my next stop in Agde where I was hosted by Brittany S. with whom I had <a href="http://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2010/01/we-had-band-and-we-tried-real-hard.html">sung in small ensembles when we both lived in Bangkok</a> in 2009. However, we had met again since then and our latest reunion was in Nairobi eight years ago when Brittany and her husband Bruno C. were driving through Eastern Africa with all their possessions and themselves tightly fitting inside a van. Their small house just by the beach had a marvelous view on the sea and they prepared delicious vegetarian food during my stay there, sharing viewpoints about life with their volubile son Phoenix.</p><p>I continued hopping along the Mediterranean to visit my current Beijing colleague Julien B. who was also on holiday at his parents' house in the oyster-producing village of Bouzigues, close to Sète. Unfortunately, there was an administrative order preventing all the seashells to be consumed because of a temporary food safety problem. However, they had prepared and frozen lots of stuffed mussels, a local specialty, before Christmas and I got treated to a delicious home-cooked meal of Mediterranean seafood in Languedoc style.<br /></p><p>From Bouzigues, I drove on to Montpellier where I stayed with my postgraduate school batchmate Vianney H. I had last seen him in the Summer of 2020 when I had come to Montpellier for a job interview. I also took the opportunity to meet some of my former colleagues from <a href="https://www.cirad.fr/en">Cirad</a>, some of whom were on the opposite side of the job interview table last time I had seen them, or with whom I had worked in <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2015/02/and-this-little-piggy-stayed-home-not.html">Vietnam when I was based at ILRI</a> in Nairobi eight years ago. This was an opportunity to share insights on covid management in France, Vietnam, Western Africa and China. To take a break from the feasting of the past two weeks, I had very simple fare of butternut soup and pasta with grated cheese at home with Vianney, who was ridden with flu and had no appetite himself.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQffvfwUzIGlorjhZUqMqwqryzfBp-i7xkhi_4aPgv5NCaJtgfB0AGNG9BEW13W6rz2evz9gx2ivl33Mi0OKG0XQ4UzZWDQZoOy6cUm4oFuOYnFe1CvVAZ7-fIpzuNXHiIJx78xSxWbVgyxEHaqBsMS4sP-9_UsCGNyN5EgVcjuzL0N4V6vUXT7o85/s4160/Marseille%20vieux%20port%2020230112%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1487" data-original-width="4160" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQffvfwUzIGlorjhZUqMqwqryzfBp-i7xkhi_4aPgv5NCaJtgfB0AGNG9BEW13W6rz2evz9gx2ivl33Mi0OKG0XQ4UzZWDQZoOy6cUm4oFuOYnFe1CvVAZ7-fIpzuNXHiIJx78xSxWbVgyxEHaqBsMS4sP-9_UsCGNyN5EgVcjuzL0N4V6vUXT7o85/w400-h143/Marseille%20vieux%20port%2020230112%20(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQQjBAgZc2ZG9uZalxOY1X0jibgTLiKcg5qHRNaVhh2IsMJ3JWXb6bH3_B6lEacnsdyerTHbFBphxQaNxUTvj6sJDghUI3y7O4Zcong7-ILE4RBJAX0RlULNpBaOVxE932D2SihOH8d8gq4MPt-tP1RQnRWxlVsaYIS5OejFlOIS2iQ9LwJXIVZBQ/s4160/Bouillabaisse%2020230111.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQQjBAgZc2ZG9uZalxOY1X0jibgTLiKcg5qHRNaVhh2IsMJ3JWXb6bH3_B6lEacnsdyerTHbFBphxQaNxUTvj6sJDghUI3y7O4Zcong7-ILE4RBJAX0RlULNpBaOVxE932D2SihOH8d8gq4MPt-tP1RQnRWxlVsaYIS5OejFlOIS2iQ9LwJXIVZBQ/w200-h150/Bouillabaisse%2020230111.jpg" width="200" /></a>I then moved on to Marseille where I met up with <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2010/04/let-us-drink-and-be-merry.html">Thibault V.</a> whom I had last seen in 2017 just as he had come back to Paris from Cameroun and I was moving out of Paris for Pau. He took me to the <a href="https://lemiramar.fr/">Miramar</a> to sample an enormous serving of traditional bouillabaisse fish soup. I had more local seafood with deep-fried squid rings and baitfish, along with lots of olive-based veggie dips the next day in a small provençal restaurant on the old port of Marseille after visiting the exhibition dedicated to Mediterranean food cultural heritage at the new <a href="https://www.mucem.org/">Mucem</a> museum of Mediterranean civilisations.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nzAcTjG0keEeNaB2Nfrk_JmxxdIU5HUQjT2gexOW_5D7qUcQHr1ZaSpAv3xvMJCIpx9pIlx7V-Z4MlK5bB6fXz_FRJaYugFe5sKlhz0gdZKc9-R9SNxGI5dIetqbAUI1LD2WmMFy3Og9e7WLWqaf6BMap6hgrbipqTg-as8Nuo0nZ3MV24KdN1zU/s4160/Saint%20Paul%20de%20Vence%2020230113.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1675" data-original-width="4160" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nzAcTjG0keEeNaB2Nfrk_JmxxdIU5HUQjT2gexOW_5D7qUcQHr1ZaSpAv3xvMJCIpx9pIlx7V-Z4MlK5bB6fXz_FRJaYugFe5sKlhz0gdZKc9-R9SNxGI5dIetqbAUI1LD2WmMFy3Og9e7WLWqaf6BMap6hgrbipqTg-as8Nuo0nZ3MV24KdN1zU/w400-h161/Saint%20Paul%20de%20Vence%2020230113.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEU8wwDq6OTOQW0xXYEjaLOql0wMbfy5W072hLBCvddRATnMI5yAnMj58Z5-zzmXOZkxG4mvSZULR75zqqL470sF8kKlreQBUyKV3dZPkDT6zTC_9NGwDAxfkm3bOvPPA2YQ91scGutklprnHL3AeAM4b6TyoxI4SX-osg3blCtDjIEwWiu1FVpxh/s4160/Nice%20promenade%20des%20anglais%20beau%20matin%2020230114.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1790" data-original-width="4160" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEU8wwDq6OTOQW0xXYEjaLOql0wMbfy5W072hLBCvddRATnMI5yAnMj58Z5-zzmXOZkxG4mvSZULR75zqqL470sF8kKlreQBUyKV3dZPkDT6zTC_9NGwDAxfkm3bOvPPA2YQ91scGutklprnHL3AeAM4b6TyoxI4SX-osg3blCtDjIEwWiu1FVpxh/w320-h138/Nice%20promenade%20des%20anglais%20beau%20matin%2020230114.jpg" width="320" /></a>My last Mediterranean destination was Nice from 12 to 14 January where I jogged along the famous Promenade des anglais, went to visit the sites where Henri Matisse had painted colourful art, went to the opera house for a staged show of Schubert Lieder, and ate more seafood in Mediterranean style. Overall, my trip along the Mediterranean allowed me to taste many facets of the Mediterranean diet. However, having eaten in rather large quantities, it would be difficult to still call it a diet in these circumstances.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6X-sRx-zhtiv_m2Ed2TKyya7jYuMQKw_7DP9n113e73me77qdvI8aFtnO0rLmo6FXTYhCS4ZCLM8cumEPzJ6oiG4-GjQK9yfwiYGojzkt5tX9fQRDHVtZrOthu3RIAHmjDz5h1bsr29YcYl4xRCp8Crj1pE4m4gVw8H_ctwnvWCe1sInW_G6KPQpE/s4160/Nice%20vieux%20port%20vu%20d'avion%2020230114.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2033" data-original-width="4160" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6X-sRx-zhtiv_m2Ed2TKyya7jYuMQKw_7DP9n113e73me77qdvI8aFtnO0rLmo6FXTYhCS4ZCLM8cumEPzJ6oiG4-GjQK9yfwiYGojzkt5tX9fQRDHVtZrOthu3RIAHmjDz5h1bsr29YcYl4xRCp8Crj1pE4m4gVw8H_ctwnvWCe1sInW_G6KPQpE/w400-h195/Nice%20vieux%20port%20vu%20d'avion%2020230114.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihoPW_s2lbHSfx5FJK1bkI_gIBWVdLMCGGaEqJq9l-jyl22s96E_Tv_rBpwyF9WvmIrYaSSmonPUDuj9nisKUjdxcU-spgdNzi0dAfx7XFk3jzcpAfiXY6eMSUHh87_kvh2GBvLR5dudVIMby6KbmMZgqaT3WO6spGVUn8hwXAJGjpgLgxSZpCTkOt/s1024/Me%20and%20Thomas%20&%20S%C3%A9gol%C3%A8ne%20in%20Brest%2020230123.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihoPW_s2lbHSfx5FJK1bkI_gIBWVdLMCGGaEqJq9l-jyl22s96E_Tv_rBpwyF9WvmIrYaSSmonPUDuj9nisKUjdxcU-spgdNzi0dAfx7XFk3jzcpAfiXY6eMSUHh87_kvh2GBvLR5dudVIMby6KbmMZgqaT3WO6spGVUn8hwXAJGjpgLgxSZpCTkOt/w150-h200/Me%20and%20Thomas%20&%20S%C3%A9gol%C3%A8ne%20in%20Brest%2020230123.jpg" width="150" /></a>After four days' of shopping and seeing other friends in Paris, I took a train to the Western-most part of France in Finistère (meaning, the end of the Earth!) in Brittany. I had more seafood and lots of the local crepes specialty while also meeting with very old friends. I met Thomas V. and his family in Brest. Thomas was a high school student with me in the Netherlands from 1988 to 1991. However, we had seen each other again afterwards, most recently when we were both Parisian in 2016. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDWBFvJSxVqmq1P49u-n-QckjkLVMmzow-ewx2h3G5cw1JxCF8spmRYTF42_2hibo0OZfAxOSezlOsE7NT7K_N-ZgIIDFAZQbPb7zjIwKc1dFn-xv5ixnMoQyC4T1S8RtHZIYOotU7uOqxEE0TMNCdTorgdf--yQWTYkm38kl_yYaZFfiyuOFxMAR/s4160/Chapelle%20Quimper%2020230119.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcDWBFvJSxVqmq1P49u-n-QckjkLVMmzow-ewx2h3G5cw1JxCF8spmRYTF42_2hibo0OZfAxOSezlOsE7NT7K_N-ZgIIDFAZQbPb7zjIwKc1dFn-xv5ixnMoQyC4T1S8RtHZIYOotU7uOqxEE0TMNCdTorgdf--yQWTYkm38kl_yYaZFfiyuOFxMAR/w150-h200/Chapelle%20Quimper%2020230119.jpg" width="150" /></a>I then went South along the Brittany coast to Penmarc'h in French Cornwall from 19 to 22 January spent with Cyril A. Cyril and I were boarding together during graduate school in Paris. Although we were not from the same batch year, we kept close contact after graduating to different postgraduate schools. I had visited him in Montpellier and he came to visit me in Bangkok in 2009 but we had not actually seen each other in 14 years. The big surprise was that Cyril happened to live just 50 km away from his graduate school boarding mate Michel D., whom I had probably last seen in 2002, more than twenty years ago!</p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43AId0500dHE-QpXD5h87UcF_ThZKL08V0Ltwk1qa444gyE8Ch4BR74hGdvM_2T2E8aaNwtzVZeLpqXBLU5sPyErWk5b55NEJpNvuHWHlLnL7gBz98qeYgNJvBTGoG_GHSrY6Vfd_kZbR4QS9LDIQEiuH7KTIKDPm_nUNwogs7I3cYPngbospPyD3/s4160/Pointe%20de%20la%20Torche%20vue%20Nord%2020230119.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43AId0500dHE-QpXD5h87UcF_ThZKL08V0Ltwk1qa444gyE8Ch4BR74hGdvM_2T2E8aaNwtzVZeLpqXBLU5sPyErWk5b55NEJpNvuHWHlLnL7gBz98qeYgNJvBTGoG_GHSrY6Vfd_kZbR4QS9LDIQEiuH7KTIKDPm_nUNwogs7I3cYPngbospPyD3/w200-h150/Pointe%20de%20la%20Torche%20vue%20Nord%2020230119.jpg" width="200" /></a>I found it very satisfying to interact freely again with old friends after three years of covid wariness about in-person meetings. I am now back in Paris with my parents but I will still be meeting with many of my Parisian friends in the coming days. This tour of France reinforced my strategy to keep regular contact by email, Whatsapp and post cards with my good friends. Although we do not see each other often, when we do meet, it seems like just yesterday and there is little catching up to do. We just need to exchange the latest news and enjoy our mutual company, until the next time comes to meet again. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_I6aDfmSrlTGUxYlDTDEZvNWliAmcQ_iyExJTRO-Yw2hqriqpkHmmLK1-N_ieV9HKXy2JsvipPFjkTTNMxTa90GYbFZX8Pc7jC91wTNeAoRgrP92V2LBPjJtoq00BFc-H5pr6i_JlNG8Jz2eTv4BHUlDK2SH40R-i5UvkMGbioAwizXze93pXxbca/s4160/Pointe%20du%20Raz%2020230121.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1644" data-original-width="4160" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_I6aDfmSrlTGUxYlDTDEZvNWliAmcQ_iyExJTRO-Yw2hqriqpkHmmLK1-N_ieV9HKXy2JsvipPFjkTTNMxTa90GYbFZX8Pc7jC91wTNeAoRgrP92V2LBPjJtoq00BFc-H5pr6i_JlNG8Jz2eTv4BHUlDK2SH40R-i5UvkMGbioAwizXze93pXxbca/w400-h158/Pointe%20du%20Raz%2020230121.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>We'll gather lilacs<br />Ivor Novello, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T29bxIh_krI">Julie Andrews</a><br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-89658959715830623632022-12-24T21:02:00.005+08:002022-12-25T00:44:11.607+08:00Tis the season to be jolly<p>With covid sweeping unhindered in Beijing, I caught the virus mid-December, which was rather unpleasant and tiring. More distressing: it prevented me from hosting guests for celebratory pre-Christmas dinners and the music we were supposed to sing for the third Sunday of Advent service went unsung because nearly all the singers had caught covid! </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeK2PohjcKTv9Q9UAbl29ychdi8YwHjymhQ-GzqN3-OsLmUfNMmsTfsF6PAbw56qI0HOsJR8UoMtHt4C2BSiq0_jrcb_s126s9WTuRxPef544NSpNRgwgwpO6xq5IExAWOGzLuu3uGlLWZn-8kFqayIQlCJBNJE3MpdyhIGhHa7G0de1o3cIg5Emy/s2314/Christmas%20lights%2020221220.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2087" data-original-width="2314" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeK2PohjcKTv9Q9UAbl29ychdi8YwHjymhQ-GzqN3-OsLmUfNMmsTfsF6PAbw56qI0HOsJR8UoMtHt4C2BSiq0_jrcb_s126s9WTuRxPef544NSpNRgwgwpO6xq5IExAWOGzLuu3uGlLWZn-8kFqayIQlCJBNJE3MpdyhIGhHa7G0de1o3cIg5Emy/w200-h181/Christmas%20lights%2020221220.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So I was releaved to get out of morose Beijing on 17 December for a few days of duty travel to Hong Kong. It was an opportunity to meet up with my brother and sister-in-law, whom I had not seen in the flesh since <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2019/06/miya-sama-miya-sama-on-nm-ma-no-maye-ni.html">June 2019</a>! We shared many delicious dinners in the restaurants which were reopening after the Hong Kong covid spell of last spring. I even enjoyed the rather kitch Christmas spirit pervasive throughout the city: Christmas decorations and lights, carols suffusing out from all the sound systems of malls and lifts, gourmet goods and ingredients in the shops and supermarkets. All these things were sadly missing in Beijing this past month.<p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgbnM670KnZFiJSXZAiB5_WeMMGIWZK5irOqOMiMYeot3GhRpFmu3LYl1FM19EDQaRXXoLYyX1-7v6mW-w-3_2LO548IFvI76agkIUo7Blv6vCY9dehp8lt6euIAFyZSjkH2ZSj2IKCeiwesNpkJnGLGMbG_y2vEQJ5ePyS3W7RbGBEHZ5Yb66MbX/s4000/Vue%20du%20bureau%20HK%2020221221.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgbnM670KnZFiJSXZAiB5_WeMMGIWZK5irOqOMiMYeot3GhRpFmu3LYl1FM19EDQaRXXoLYyX1-7v6mW-w-3_2LO548IFvI76agkIUo7Blv6vCY9dehp8lt6euIAFyZSjkH2ZSj2IKCeiwesNpkJnGLGMbG_y2vEQJ5ePyS3W7RbGBEHZ5Yb66MbX/w200-h150/Vue%20du%20bureau%20HK%2020221221.jpg" width="200" /></a>The weather was wonderfully sunny during my six days in Hong Kong. I went out for a hike in the new territories with my brother. I took a day off to roam around town and on the bay. The skyline is always impressive and uplifting.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_AsgDj5pC3bB7-5wIcpyvp8OMMmp-aU1vdoEWmagBDrI0jcMfwlHJyFqZtNGByp0-kdEvNUmyPGv3ItN0lYMyoXVSmoQELJjGa2dJT5URCkNJfy6DpBbSUImk_rmvj5M8a0TsSyZI_xmkTbbTD3uM57Nx5Us1UZMjUWs7KbI-dE-1_rIC_PgmHBJE/s4000/Kowloon%20tower%20from%20star%20ferry%2020221219.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_AsgDj5pC3bB7-5wIcpyvp8OMMmp-aU1vdoEWmagBDrI0jcMfwlHJyFqZtNGByp0-kdEvNUmyPGv3ItN0lYMyoXVSmoQELJjGa2dJT5URCkNJfy6DpBbSUImk_rmvj5M8a0TsSyZI_xmkTbbTD3uM57Nx5Us1UZMjUWs7KbI-dE-1_rIC_PgmHBJE/w150-h200/Kowloon%20tower%20from%20star%20ferry%2020221219.jpg" width="150" /></a></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I have now arrived back in France for Christmas with my parents and the rest of my family.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Deck the halls with boughs of holly<br />Nana Mouskouri, Christian Christmas songs<br /></p><p><br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Hong Kong22.3193039 114.1693611-5.9909299361788442 79.0131111 50.629537736178847 149.3256111tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-89165674104273138842022-09-18T18:10:00.001+08:002022-09-18T18:12:14.624+08:00While thus we agree, our toast let it be<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lHswLd_I8bv-ginRQsFQWAWlmuAcJHE1b5Y15pfP3FucTN86Q9yZVmBwZNc1CkrH5bxddGjqF5uieOlWacTdq4-UhJMO-3y6XjosCu-a0vEXN_7jo9ESy9JunuOCsqQ7Zc8y8EyUU02HuxBr815TxytXZFcjgFIEu6oQpJMLNhSlgU8HUN9JskxF/s1503/Kantorei%20sextet%2020220918.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1503" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lHswLd_I8bv-ginRQsFQWAWlmuAcJHE1b5Y15pfP3FucTN86Q9yZVmBwZNc1CkrH5bxddGjqF5uieOlWacTdq4-UhJMO-3y6XjosCu-a0vEXN_7jo9ESy9JunuOCsqQ7Zc8y8EyUU02HuxBr815TxytXZFcjgFIEu6oQpJMLNhSlgU8HUN9JskxF/s320/Kantorei%20sextet%2020220918.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />One of the activities I have taken most pleasure in during my time in Beijing has been singing with a group of men in an octet. I created the octet with seven other singers from the <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2020/12/in-bleak-mid-winter-frosty-wind-made.html">Deutsche Kantorei Peking</a>: four tenors and four basses. We call ourselves "The deep side" of the Kantorei.<p></p><p>We have been rehearsing regularly for small projects linked to the German evangelical church, or to produce our own concerts in bars around town. We sing an eclectic repertoire of music going from Renaissance to modern arrangements of popular music; we explore the German-, French-, English-language repertoires, with some attempts at traditional songs in exotic languages such as Basque. </p><p>Most important for me, this group is also a source of companionship and good fun. Apart from the singing, we also take the opportunity to share a meal and drinks at each rehearsal and after our concerts. <br /></p><p>Not only do we enjoy singing, eating and drinking together, but our audiences also enjoy our performances. We still have to work on knowing our parts better so as to lift our heads out of the scores and interact with our audience; we are told this eye contact is still missing. We will be working on it for our future gigs. We already have two producers who want us to sing again in their venue. </p><p>Despite covid sometimes preventing all eight singers to take part in an event, those who are left still keep singing with glee! <br /></p><p>The Anacreontick Song<br />J.S. Smith, The Hilliard ensemble, The singing club, Harmonia mundi<br /></p><p><br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904211 116.407395-39.9428134091607 -24.217604999999978 90 -102.96760500000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-60374550049175623212022-09-12T11:15:00.000+08:002022-09-12T11:15:30.266+08:00Where have all the flowers gone?<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Yesterday I
visited Yuanmingyuan, the Garden of Perfect Brilliance*, in the northwest of
Beijing. It is part of the complex of summer palaces built by the early Qing
emperors from the 17<sup>th</sup> century. Here, the rulers and their court came
for green scenery and fresh air outside of the central Forbidden City. Like the
more famous Summer palace complex just to its West, Yuanmingyuan was destroyed
by French and British military troops in 1860.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Entering
the complex from the East gate, I took a quick look at the <a href="http://www.yuanmingyuanpark.cn/ymyen/PV/">map</a> of the garden
and saw there were lots of palaces and temples marked out. I eagerly started my
visit. I first strolled through the section featuring the remains of the imperial
palaces built in Western-style architecture. When visiting historical sites in
China, I am often disappointed by the general practice of reconstructing or
refurbishing old heritage buildings so that they look very colourfully new.
This makes for good photo opportunities but I personally find the historical
patina more attractive than vivid colour contrasts. In Yuanmingyuan, the chosen
archaeological principle seems to be radically opposite to what I have seen in
other Chinese historical sites. Only the baseball-pitch size walled labyrinth among
the Western-style structures had been reconstructed to its original appearance.
The marble columns, doorway capitals and balustrades were all that were left of
the other palaces. I moved on to the much larger complex of traditional Chinese
architecture buildings.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-Fo6hPX-yjhpyadPzL_7DCPCQhNIytWfcAMRnZ0i6Z8QF7A9FsoQfEy1W0cvl4bOjw0369rpgAK15YPz3X-PTgUpB_iGdeVObg09MmlBByJSChOPLBNFK1ghNM2JcGL89i-Jp96EenXBW5ErfCy-qsqKPDjJ4oUcRVMDT7GvKvIEmdSK9Dhg67ij/s4000/Yuanmingyuan%20lotus%20sea%2020220911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-Fo6hPX-yjhpyadPzL_7DCPCQhNIytWfcAMRnZ0i6Z8QF7A9FsoQfEy1W0cvl4bOjw0369rpgAK15YPz3X-PTgUpB_iGdeVObg09MmlBByJSChOPLBNFK1ghNM2JcGL89i-Jp96EenXBW5ErfCy-qsqKPDjJ4oUcRVMDT7GvKvIEmdSK9Dhg67ij/s320/Yuanmingyuan%20lotus%20sea%2020220911.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I first
circled the convoluted lake of Changchunyuan, the Garden of eternal spring. The
whole surface of the lake was covered by a sea of lotus, their large leaves
like plates balancing on the top of a field of twirling poles. The lotus blooms
had already wilted off. I had to imagine what a sea of lotus blooms could have looked
like at the beginning of the Summer.<p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">For the
next three hours, I wandered through a very large garden with nothing much to
see other than the foundations or floor plans of illustrious old buildings.
Sometimes, there was just a green field or a small hill with a signboard in
front of it indicating this was the location of a former early Qing dynasty palace.
The signboards were sometimes just 50 meters apart. This place used to be
densely built up with palaces, pavilions, temples and man-made gardens. And
then it struck me: the choice not to rebuild the structures to their former
glory was probably the wiser one to make the visitor imagine how vast and grandiose this
Imperial Summer palace must have been and realise how stupid mankind is each
time it irremediably destroys a part of its own priceless cultural heritage. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">* Thanks
to Josh D. for the poetic translation</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Where have
all the flowers gone<br /> Joan Baez<br /></span></p>
<p></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904211 116.40739511.593977163821151 81.251145 68.214444836178842 151.563645tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-73516754763355948532022-06-18T12:02:00.002+08:002022-06-18T12:02:35.867+08:00There, above noise and danger, Sweet Peace sits crown’d with smiles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfetyCQhpfjeYEhOG1JsoO2Hhf9vrzd-U1uvKElOMw3q7CPkJbuzAgABnJ38Og2Z9Uchmc2C8VdGplp7_PpqI4Lpg3_8hEPObYQNUz5TSh8kAe92e1x5mVVA68pkqFn-Pa8SJh9vnjSOAutlHtZSo9xvgf9Ecjvj_7qQ8xoiuzD60UJb5mMaTaCRjH/s4000/20220612%20verdure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfetyCQhpfjeYEhOG1JsoO2Hhf9vrzd-U1uvKElOMw3q7CPkJbuzAgABnJ38Og2Z9Uchmc2C8VdGplp7_PpqI4Lpg3_8hEPObYQNUz5TSh8kAe92e1x5mVVA68pkqFn-Pa8SJh9vnjSOAutlHtZSo9xvgf9Ecjvj_7qQ8xoiuzD60UJb5mMaTaCRjH/w150-h200/20220612%20verdure.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><p> </p><p>Since I have come back to China in February I have not been able to leave the municipality of Beijing because of very strict covid prevention measures in China. With the situation coming back under control I have finally managed to leave Beijing for a long weekend in the coastal southeastern city of Xiamen.</p><p></p><p>It was wonderful!</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQK857pDO-7RS6iPqZDw_XR3vny78BIYyJGJrkJD7iMAYCKhnn6nPrVDGLyeKT0OzY764VcgeBt3ReG6lbc4W1EuaAmS6yejZCQAJ-wmHVUhkSIL72yUO1-vVsql65UIlc6XCn1jq0xY1jYK-Yo1wOABgXPjKr-dJSnS5sNoP4VFFPgIn3u3HCeqgM/s4000/20220612%20all%C3%A9e%20ombrag%C3%A9e.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQK857pDO-7RS6iPqZDw_XR3vny78BIYyJGJrkJD7iMAYCKhnn6nPrVDGLyeKT0OzY764VcgeBt3ReG6lbc4W1EuaAmS6yejZCQAJ-wmHVUhkSIL72yUO1-vVsql65UIlc6XCn1jq0xY1jYK-Yo1wOABgXPjKr-dJSnS5sNoP4VFFPgIn3u3HCeqgM/w200-h150/20220612%20all%C3%A9e%20ombrag%C3%A9e.jpg" width="200" /></a> </p><p> </p><p>I must admit that it rained all four days that I was there so the weather was extremely humid, and so was everything one touched. However, the strong downpours made the day-time temperatures more bearable than if the sun had been shining strong. </p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfpVYHeYRsJP0zCBWBIY3kGydLJ7Ix1Zs-JK10zgx-QxJnt_aXSdH0HyL9OaXaUgmV_9U5E7h9BKIR4X1FyMJtV6Y0JuNf0JPnwgM4OaU6xkQM4s725Op3i8St2Dw-FeWW1eXq85pde8nW-oTkQm47f2liNng263rnREtY38qu1Q9SLWRKyJZBqQ7/s4000/20220611%20b%C3%A2tisse%20humide.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfpVYHeYRsJP0zCBWBIY3kGydLJ7Ix1Zs-JK10zgx-QxJnt_aXSdH0HyL9OaXaUgmV_9U5E7h9BKIR4X1FyMJtV6Y0JuNf0JPnwgM4OaU6xkQM4s725Op3i8St2Dw-FeWW1eXq85pde8nW-oTkQm47f2liNng263rnREtY38qu1Q9SLWRKyJZBqQ7/w200-h150/20220611%20b%C3%A2tisse%20humide.jpg" width="200" /></a> The hot humid weather, the sound of heavy rain falling on the roof and streets, the lush green vegetation, the seaside air, the mix of colonial and modern architecture, clean streets and public toilets, the delicious local food specialities and seafood, the sound of Hokkien spoken by the older folks... It all reminded me of Singapore. So I felt very much at home on Xiamen island and on its Gulangyu islet. </p><p> <br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgR5Vp2_cvVRrtI2vF1mg3-r2FGCunGLWIbAusO1hXujaXxWQODeGt2s-5eGRINRlnGUfc89jBJ1RkxZSPZpQssusyKFg8q2NNbVSzqiimbv8_AqZFfER_xYCnLlbTOEXnwlaQfnhjiPOY1PFZb67fzodi03IGJplA3pr2DfprUTGHV60csZJHtm4/s4000/20220612%20temple%20de%20nuit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgR5Vp2_cvVRrtI2vF1mg3-r2FGCunGLWIbAusO1hXujaXxWQODeGt2s-5eGRINRlnGUfc89jBJ1RkxZSPZpQssusyKFg8q2NNbVSzqiimbv8_AqZFfER_xYCnLlbTOEXnwlaQfnhjiPOY1PFZb67fzodi03IGJplA3pr2DfprUTGHV60csZJHtm4/w200-h150/20220612%20temple%20de%20nuit.jpg" width="200" /></a> <br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRLi1ELrNQyGwRPpZ7Uei4EoVJv5Z6OBwbhlkMlrdiO2pt4MFY-Q2TmG0xKjlxe-NZtMFENeA3UJo7k6EmuyMTBHVWUuB6GyF-exgdLpVtAX75KpExrQueDElyKQorr6Dhz44tFljk8Kyp63AxTSKKIB1kptCx9SLENs_ChGWYzmt3EfHMJmWMZeHY/s4000/20220612%20racines%20banyan.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRLi1ELrNQyGwRPpZ7Uei4EoVJv5Z6OBwbhlkMlrdiO2pt4MFY-Q2TmG0xKjlxe-NZtMFENeA3UJo7k6EmuyMTBHVWUuB6GyF-exgdLpVtAX75KpExrQueDElyKQorr6Dhz44tFljk8Kyp63AxTSKKIB1kptCx9SLENs_ChGWYzmt3EfHMJmWMZeHY/w150-h200/20220612%20racines%20banyan.jpg" width="150" /></a> </p><p>Strolling and getting lost within the array of narrow streets of Gulangyu with its early-20th-century buildings was very soothing. I enjoyed walking for hours without a goal while knowing that I would certainly come accross something very interesting and without ever getting lost on this small islet. At random moments, one would hear the sound of a piano being played in one of the houses or numerous music schools.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik08GiPh4vF_lJNQKunyg6NS4UFKGLKg4fwQTEj3XiS-ljgm4XRhSg9HGx7PyzOWowOCNFmXXvfRA2LrzmT1HkYwhz0qTOydBJ8iHkWcvqjXaFx_RNiVnJ9c2nfxb0CyjvfqI0B1z060HtqKgkOzfuZUWS9cVmyvFSdNdL29HPSjHJs--eisrELe1C/s4000/20220613%20jardin%20zen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik08GiPh4vF_lJNQKunyg6NS4UFKGLKg4fwQTEj3XiS-ljgm4XRhSg9HGx7PyzOWowOCNFmXXvfRA2LrzmT1HkYwhz0qTOydBJ8iHkWcvqjXaFx_RNiVnJ9c2nfxb0CyjvfqI0B1z060HtqKgkOzfuZUWS9cVmyvFSdNdL29HPSjHJs--eisrELe1C/w200-h150/20220613%20jardin%20zen.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Sipping several of the local tea brews was one highlight of my stay. Fujian is very famous for its teas.<br />Sipping tea while admiring old buildings; <br />sipping tea by the seaside; <br />sipping tea in a Zen garden: <br />I had time to reflect on my current situation and plan for other travel projects in China. <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSkXx8BR5qn4GjvNyU8eHvJB2x507-dBlegcx5qlVKpVE_e-TZY5DrEepSf45OcBR5ah64M9tnpN7ns-aqOX2bxHn3zgMpCOHn2DS4_mxdp_NW8TvOIKIEnNKlHqOxz2iFNOdf3110EId5VtPRLoOsiqIyvgCuXGGAGvPs9af_mxDDH92c-hLgCcQ/s4000/20220613%20bonzes.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSkXx8BR5qn4GjvNyU8eHvJB2x507-dBlegcx5qlVKpVE_e-TZY5DrEepSf45OcBR5ah64M9tnpN7ns-aqOX2bxHn3zgMpCOHn2DS4_mxdp_NW8TvOIKIEnNKlHqOxz2iFNOdf3110EId5VtPRLoOsiqIyvgCuXGGAGvPs9af_mxDDH92c-hLgCcQ/w150-h200/20220613%20bonzes.jpg" width="150" /></a></p><p></p><p></p><p> </p><p></p><p> </p><p>There is a country far beyond the stars<br />C. Hubert Parry, Songs of farewell, Choir of Trinity College Cambridge, Conifer<br /></p><p></p><p></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Xiamen, Fujian, Chine24.4795099 118.0894799-3.8307239361788454 82.9332299 52.789743736178849 153.24572990000001tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-47601194334382850332022-02-05T11:50:00.001+08:002022-06-18T12:05:58.617+08:00I want to break free<p>After five weeks of home leave in France, I have managed to fly back to China. I had chosen Shanghai as my port of entry because the municipality had until very recently the friendliest quarantine rules for newcomers into China: 14 days of strict quarantine with medical observation in a hotel room followed by 7 days of self monitoring and free to roam within Shanghai.<br /><br />I have just completed my 14 days of quarantine. The hotel dedicated to the quarantine of diplomats in Shanghai has the advantage of its majestic views overlooking the Huangpu river. I was not fortunate to get a CBD Pudong view, but the northern side view was still interesting with cargo ships cruising by and the regular crossing of ferry boats. The lounging armchair in the bedroom was particularly welcome to sit by the window and enjoy the view.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwSWyW-1C7-ArFXc0tL4b-b3wgB7AiMVR71btj0K2AwyGIQncfjSVZBCm36trQnYoKrkRUE3P0-r5sh2xwcLE5vx4ZLxqtEgF_gG-RT7VfzeqHZdjOleu6dwJllRjw6jDMS_9tKnhKqDpH2zBIvAOQQVLJIjIzu4AhenhCRVsDMqiiK5S-r3dzakmZ=s4160" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwSWyW-1C7-ArFXc0tL4b-b3wgB7AiMVR71btj0K2AwyGIQncfjSVZBCm36trQnYoKrkRUE3P0-r5sh2xwcLE5vx4ZLxqtEgF_gG-RT7VfzeqHZdjOleu6dwJllRjw6jDMS_9tKnhKqDpH2zBIvAOQQVLJIjIzu4AhenhCRVsDMqiiK5S-r3dzakmZ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>My daily meals were delivered to my bedoom door three times a day. The fare was of good quality, varied and nutritious with lots of vegetable dishes. It was all Chinese food, including breakfast with its steamed buns and salted vegetables. I did not get as large a variety of steamed buns in the morning as during my previous <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2020/11/get-them-while-theyre-hot-buns-buns-buns.html">quarantine in Tianjin</a>, so the morning breakfast was the least interesting meal of the day. However, I was treated to a custom-addressed gift basket from the municipal foreign affairs office containing fresh fruit, chocolate and biscuits. It was a welcome addition to the ordinary quarantine fare.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjEi52ECe5Y0TmcOaOONWzZ-1ZeQ1pjmXYaSheSB7z1RstolQ7JT-gX6nXb0kMCBU-wlN6HJFsZxrgwib9PMtytULOnT-sWrBK_scqRWpcQmG-JeVkMbUsd2s35Opsd0Nj-bMi33uEFBs_jvb8RWGQj8kUySWKSmN9TsoWApxgQZfNZjIXrSt7FePV=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjEi52ECe5Y0TmcOaOONWzZ-1ZeQ1pjmXYaSheSB7z1RstolQ7JT-gX6nXb0kMCBU-wlN6HJFsZxrgwib9PMtytULOnT-sWrBK_scqRWpcQmG-JeVkMbUsd2s35Opsd0Nj-bMi33uEFBs_jvb8RWGQj8kUySWKSmN9TsoWApxgQZfNZjIXrSt7FePV=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p>My quarantine coincided with the lunar new year festival this year. When I asked whether we would get some sort of culinary treat for the new year, I was told that it was likely though I should not be expecting anything extraordinary. On new year's eve, I got an extra box of Chinese dumplings for lunch and for dinner. Dumplings are a traditional family meal for Chinese new year symbolising all the good wishes you pack into them with the mince. I was thrilled to get another extra box on the 1st-day-of-the-year lunch and on the 2nd-day-of-the-year lunch containing balls of glutinous rice filled with sweet sesame paste. Glutinous treats are another staple dish for the lunar new year because their gooiness is a symbol of all the good wishes sticking to you for a long time.</p><p>Despite the culinary extravaganza and the stunning room view, I must admit the 14 days stuck inside my bedroom did become a bit boring. There is a limit to listening to music, reading e-books and surfing the Internet. I did do some physical and vocal exercises every evening, but these are no substitute for a jog out in the park or the community of choral practice. Working days were easier to pass as I could telework with my colleagues sending me tasks to do remotely. This time, I was undergoing quarantine with six other colleagues from the French embassy. We had created an online chat group to share impressions, news and jokes. It made this quarantine a bit easier than last time when I was really alone.<br /></p><p>The bad news came in early during the quarantine: because of the Omicron covid variant taking over the rest of the world, and in the run-up to the Beijing Olympic games, Shanghai municipality had decided to reinforce the health safety conditions of its quarantine to avoid covid cases appearing. The first 14 days of quarantine with medical observation are now followed by 7 more days of quarantine with self observation. I have changed hotel last evening. The hotel room is smaller; the view from the window on a carpark with palm trees bundled up for the winter is underwhelming; I am served my food three times daily at my bedroom door; I will still undergo two PCR tests this week. The only difference with my first 14 days of quarantine is that I now take my own temperature and report it to the hotel management twice a day.<br /></p><p>I made the most of the long evenings alone to send out emails with my new year greetings. It is still time to wish all my readers a roaring lunar year of the tiger.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5gfr_LvAIsvMVOc7auJR6bGqdRoc5lplUN1JHmDJ53lxm5n-ENaBNr-US7IIED-G5V9RuvnchfJOcGyMYPedG9ctGz7rjdb8sVnDI6KiSFKFbGIbxkmgLLHmarOdRLZTQFGqCHOGFY_xzg-XsXSFcHg50ZL0cdobRcjn75h-F2eg55KuBCPrJEBOv=s941" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="941" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5gfr_LvAIsvMVOc7auJR6bGqdRoc5lplUN1JHmDJ53lxm5n-ENaBNr-US7IIED-G5V9RuvnchfJOcGyMYPedG9ctGz7rjdb8sVnDI6KiSFKFbGIbxkmgLLHmarOdRLZTQFGqCHOGFY_xzg-XsXSFcHg50ZL0cdobRcjn75h-F2eg55KuBCPrJEBOv=w400-h275" width="400" /></a></div><p>My wishes are in the bubbles: Break free of outdated ways of thinking; Safety; Tranquility; Friendship; Powerful; Delicious food; Music.</p><p>I want to break free</p><p>Queen, The works, EMI</p><p>Comic strip: Hergé, Titin Cigars of pharaoh, Casterman<br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Shanghai, Chine31.230416 121.4737012.9201821638211563 86.317451 59.540649836178844 156.629951tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-79502624500414643922021-10-09T20:34:00.000+08:002021-10-09T20:34:41.659+08:00The autumn leaves<p>It had stayed relatively warm and summery in Beijing until only this week. To get some fresh air and some sense of autumn, I had two solutions: go up in latitude or go up in altitude.</p><p>I did both!<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NyyS1Q1inMnvMChT98jtWRWhe-wF9fnVwRIojXrrFjbyA83LeP0l3RGFgJ3LV405c7WyifD62rVE1z0PHN8ilpubSfG3DHm_FOcgCIzvCcJqmdlyMDSc5gLEzHNoC69EqHQUgbbe22w/s2048/Autumn+leaves+20210920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NyyS1Q1inMnvMChT98jtWRWhe-wF9fnVwRIojXrrFjbyA83LeP0l3RGFgJ3LV405c7WyifD62rVE1z0PHN8ilpubSfG3DHm_FOcgCIzvCcJqmdlyMDSc5gLEzHNoC69EqHQUgbbe22w/s320/Autumn+leaves+20210920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>First in mid-September, I went with my friend Josh to Jilin in the Northeast of China, just by the North Korean border. I climbed up <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2021/05/untitled-musings-on-spring-travels.html">Changbaishan again</a>. However, we were puzzled by the impossibility to walk up the volcano. A bus took us along with other visitors into the national park, up the mountain and dropped us 500m below the crater. We only had 1 500 steps up a concrete staircase to walk before reaching the top. In this northern province, the leaves on the trees were bearing beautiful autumnal colours.<p></p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbj5dfryzLd3bsYzqtgi4eNXvf6g-GVrum8G40G7dk9Hegan2Xy2RzLH_ZoxD9M2BGvuItdr2HO8fNk9ROPZnwxsiY2sFNuXcEJuRaTUSkRbezriRDmPICZ9h_O0jObNVC_ltSZS8MWI/s2048/Temple+tib%25C3%25A9tain+20211003.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbj5dfryzLd3bsYzqtgi4eNXvf6g-GVrum8G40G7dk9Hegan2Xy2RzLH_ZoxD9M2BGvuItdr2HO8fNk9ROPZnwxsiY2sFNuXcEJuRaTUSkRbezriRDmPICZ9h_O0jObNVC_ltSZS8MWI/s320/Temple+tib%25C3%25A9tain+20211003.jpg" width="320" /></a>And again last week, I travelled with my colleague Julien (with whom I had visited <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2021/07/without-rush-and-pace-back-east.html">Xinjiang</a> and <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2021/08/not-cloud-in-sky-got-sun-in-my-eyes.html">Qinghai</a> this Summer) high up above 4 000m on the Tibetan plateau in Sichuan province to the Yading valley national park. Just like in the national parks of Jilin and Xinjiang, we were bused along with other tourists from the main entrance at the bottom of the valley up to the main visitor centre inside the park. From there, we shunned the crowded minibuses that ferried visitors into the upper part of the valley and found a pathway where we were allowed to walk through the autumnal landscape unhindered by the crowds. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMg2jxe2KvLrPMGg76nXB98M-y4lv8RhMfBEORGM4ZpsLFVfSthOvkZIsAkV4jfNs4Yi2UrCRZW4FVf4JYWX2H2SZO0FomJ6iYLU9uC5IWztr5YtDmMuEDQ3NKPZnPGDAQY8yi_mKx90/s2048/Champignons+20211007.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1565" data-original-width="2048" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWMg2jxe2KvLrPMGg76nXB98M-y4lv8RhMfBEORGM4ZpsLFVfSthOvkZIsAkV4jfNs4Yi2UrCRZW4FVf4JYWX2H2SZO0FomJ6iYLU9uC5IWztr5YtDmMuEDQ3NKPZnPGDAQY8yi_mKx90/w200-h153/Champignons+20211007.jpg" width="200" /></a>In both Jilin and Sichuan, I ate very tasty fresh wild mushrooms at nearly every meal: stir-fried with other vegetables and meat, stewed in a pot with country chicken, boiled in a hot pot to give a strong umami flavour to the broth. In Jilin, I saw many locals picking mushrooms from the forests we visited, filling up several bags with them at each picking session. Collecting and eating wild mushroom are indeed an essential part of autumn for me having passed many autumn holidays in my parents' forest country house in Southwest France.</p><p></p><p>Autumn leaves<br /><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWsOERt6Gxw">Jazz Music Korea</a><br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904199899999988 116.407396311.593966063821142 81.2511463 68.214433736178833 151.56364630000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-31719089302703016112021-08-08T11:31:00.000+08:002021-08-08T11:31:25.069+08:00Not a cloud in the sky, got the sun in my eyes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWEJfBye8fkXJxrOJQqLmm2meA6AQpdwGljcq_7UJ7cPOEWLQKwk436Z011EWS-s9viai-AEE0AKrK77vsMQSnw5JQBLuD39Xw4fdrnpdK8N6X5gxkZH3vi0ErxXhvmAfox0IQ5l0Ixo/s2882/Yaks+sur+route+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1091" data-original-width="2882" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWEJfBye8fkXJxrOJQqLmm2meA6AQpdwGljcq_7UJ7cPOEWLQKwk436Z011EWS-s9viai-AEE0AKrK77vsMQSnw5JQBLuD39Xw4fdrnpdK8N6X5gxkZH3vi0ErxXhvmAfox0IQ5l0Ixo/w400-h151/Yaks+sur+route+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>After ten days spent travelling around <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2021/07/without-rush-and-pace-back-east.html">Xinjiang</a>, my colleagues Julien, Fred and I boarded a day train for an eight hours' journey to the northern part of the Tibetan plateau in Qinghai. We started from the inner depression city of Turpan at sea level, passed through vast expanses of desert, steppes, croplands, grasslands and mountains to alight 2 500 m higher in the altitude city of Xining. </p><p>The feature that struck me most on the Tibetan plateau was the intense blue colour of the sky. There was no dust or smog to dim its hue. The sun shone particularly strong, burning our eyes and skin. </p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3hYXkaC1PEewHKD-mmwCswMHApK1dDQGmNmIT9JycifToRAhymdXGOT0xtIw1JlAbWx1tKDkQG_5WfaHYtreqKkVLEaMKZhZA_Mn26KsK_zSx7DIPzv33VtX4jz81LMUcGADzKHUdA2c/s2048/Temple+tib%25C3%25A9tain+2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3hYXkaC1PEewHKD-mmwCswMHApK1dDQGmNmIT9JycifToRAhymdXGOT0xtIw1JlAbWx1tKDkQG_5WfaHYtreqKkVLEaMKZhZA_Mn26KsK_zSx7DIPzv33VtX4jz81LMUcGADzKHUdA2c/s320/Temple+tib%25C3%25A9tain+2.jpg" width="320" /></a> On our last day, we trekked between 3 500 and 4 000 m elevation. I got the confirmation that I am prone to altitude sickness above 3 200 m : although the hike up was not particularly steep, I was panting throughout the way up, lungs and hamstrings in pain for lack of oxygen, aching back of head and neck. Despite the beautiful landscape, the hike was not pleasant for me in these high-altitude conditions. Meanwhile, my two travel companions were still prancing up the mountain, unaffected by the lack of oxygen.</p><p> </p><p>The grasslands were filled with cattle, sheep, yak and horses. Surprisingly for such large areas of land, there were many fences criss-crossing the plateau to limit the herds of each livestock owner to their individual plots. Although our guide told us some shared and communal grazing did exist, these were always organised on private plots.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczEEQjGX9BFOoeRevYQNtuojZ5n8SqbQNA3u1umQ0yoBSK58LLAI7lpS25lTUjdFBAD5oPdhmRupmRtypZdawsiJEzwY0mp2IZ-2rcx288jrb3S8vPzLJD5gLcCN_3WnRAeGhmy5Fj5k/s3028/Yaks+moutons+cl%25C3%25B4tures+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1039" data-original-width="3028" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhczEEQjGX9BFOoeRevYQNtuojZ5n8SqbQNA3u1umQ0yoBSK58LLAI7lpS25lTUjdFBAD5oPdhmRupmRtypZdawsiJEzwY0mp2IZ-2rcx288jrb3S8vPzLJD5gLcCN_3WnRAeGhmy5Fj5k/s320/Yaks+moutons+cl%25C3%25B4tures+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>We kept eating lots of mutton-based dishes. Vegetables were even scarcer in the Tibetan diet than in the Uyghur fare. We discovered the very filling barley-and-yak butter-flatbread tsampa.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1j1Yhm1vSeuYOWq8RzDaTPN0yzfPEQegHnTnZo0o7JmxstoLSu1Oftd4o2oRrrBUmRSRsMO8tt1T1hKW20gWHMeDpVQy-L6HESjZvU6CmKO4kOmI36ZQvxfvxNaiMSZWUAqJrAc4PwYY/s2048/Lac+Chaka+sali%25C3%25A8re.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1j1Yhm1vSeuYOWq8RzDaTPN0yzfPEQegHnTnZo0o7JmxstoLSu1Oftd4o2oRrrBUmRSRsMO8tt1T1hKW20gWHMeDpVQy-L6HESjZvU6CmKO4kOmI36ZQvxfvxNaiMSZWUAqJrAc4PwYY/s320/Lac+Chaka+sali%25C3%25A8re.jpg" width="320" /></a>I mentioned the Qinghai skies were blue. But when clouds did form over the mountains and were swept by altitude winds across the skies, they formed incredibly distinct masses of suspended cotton floss.</p><p>Top of the world<br />The carpenters, A song for you, A&M records<br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Xian de Gonghe, Préfecture autonome tibétaine de Hainan, Qinghai, Chine36.284107 100.6200317.9738731638211533 65.463781 64.594340836178844 135.77628099999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-56991766490630152732021-07-28T23:51:00.000+08:002021-07-28T23:51:48.919+08:00(Without rush) and the pace back East<p>I have been on a fascinating 10-day holiday trip with two colleagues around the western province of Xinjiang. We flew to the western-most commercial airport of Kashgar and from there hopped around from site to site by car, train and airplane, slowly making our way back towards the Northeast. We have seen amazing landscapes, mesmerizing historical and cultural sites, rode a camel and ate lots of mutton. However, the part of the trip I want to highlight is the music we encountered on most of our stops.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTvRBDFelNqU9US9jRpdc2zWXCDg2TAq2-PVGPQPc46M1zEyuz9eM3ZV8KLEE7yG5AKR0Az-qpZd27pDVO_wCFYDEHMQpWA0lhs0f1vw5OkXzKJWt4NZHgL_tVdcX9GtHEZDufMkiS44/s2788/Fresques+Iliter+d%25C3%25A9tail.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1128" data-original-width="2788" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTvRBDFelNqU9US9jRpdc2zWXCDg2TAq2-PVGPQPc46M1zEyuz9eM3ZV8KLEE7yG5AKR0Az-qpZd27pDVO_wCFYDEHMQpWA0lhs0f1vw5OkXzKJWt4NZHgL_tVdcX9GtHEZDufMkiS44/w400-h161/Fresques+Iliter+d%25C3%25A9tail.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>It looks like music has been a vibrant form of expression for a very long time in this region at the centre of Asia, a real crucible of cultures and religions. Already in the 3rd century AD, the buddhist frescoes of the Kizil grottoes depicted heavenly angels and local dignitaries playing all sorts of instruments to accompany the Buddha's ascension to nirvana.</p><p>Whether we were in Tajik, Kazak or Mongolian regions, there was music
playing in the shops along the streets or from the tea rooms and bars.
All markets had at least one shop selling instruments. Local tunes were
often transformed by a beat box into a modern pulsing house number; we
heard the local language being adapted to rap-style rythms. <br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaIq4B1V5_y8Xlmjch7CKrszLwgkTynfB_lDwSB9ZrcTUeHJ9BZofGMsbYX8Eopgd2B8imBmYg3NdB9aPFi7-35HgThe4hWHw4uG3k9KGPuBDAQmDgaFOV2WgCBZMjmtVl45fkzYYGw_U/s2048/Salon+de+th%25C3%25A9+Kashgar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaIq4B1V5_y8Xlmjch7CKrszLwgkTynfB_lDwSB9ZrcTUeHJ9BZofGMsbYX8Eopgd2B8imBmYg3NdB9aPFi7-35HgThe4hWHw4uG3k9KGPuBDAQmDgaFOV2WgCBZMjmtVl45fkzYYGw_U/w320-h240/Salon+de+th%25C3%25A9+Kashgar.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p></p><p></p><p>In one of the ancient tea houses of Kashgar, a group of what looked like just friends of the tea house owner took their instruments out of their cases and gave the tourists and usual patrons an impromptu concert of traditional music.</p><p>In the 10th century Bezeklik grottoes, frescoes once again showed more musicians playing all sorts of instruments at the head of the reclining Buddha. Outside the grottoes, an old man kept the tradition going and invited one of us to improvise some music with him.</p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwaSKolm8syMrw7VGFnYpY0o5fAqFXIy00ehnA8j7qjJeIZGLlStQPTTcyfAlFqrwU0K3I3zImacdyY4LiNjKQF3OGzAciJZO-MFRpOZ9WqXrp1M-Vev-5MVg7YutkTRFl6dmHpnVBtSw/s1440/Julien+%25C3%25A0+la+cithare+Turpan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwaSKolm8syMrw7VGFnYpY0o5fAqFXIy00ehnA8j7qjJeIZGLlStQPTTcyfAlFqrwU0K3I3zImacdyY4LiNjKQF3OGzAciJZO-MFRpOZ9WqXrp1M-Vev-5MVg7YutkTRFl6dmHpnVBtSw/w150-h200/Julien+%25C3%25A0+la+cithare+Turpan.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Is it not fascinating to witness the importance of music recorded in this region throughout the ages?<br /><p></p><p>Go West<br />Pet shop boys, Discography: the complete singles collection, Parlophone</p><p>Photo of Julien with Tajik drummer: Frédéric Bessat<br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Tourfan, Xinjiang, Chine42.951303 89.18975214.641069163821157 54.033502 71.261536836178848 124.346002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-19502235591149582052021-07-28T20:26:00.000+08:002021-07-28T20:27:41.561+08:00It's just another brick in the wall<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvlyFg20B12l7vV8hvAiq4HauOaZujT0cn8Czue6hH2C-ZuZ1fc0hBcixuz_p4K2K1USRML3R7VT8z8Y-W_hz-V098FWvKyNBe4AqLYEyuB_0nLuaQOosX6pQJxf21CC58tWElSwhQr44/s2048/Great+wall+West+end+20210614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvlyFg20B12l7vV8hvAiq4HauOaZujT0cn8Czue6hH2C-ZuZ1fc0hBcixuz_p4K2K1USRML3R7VT8z8Y-W_hz-V098FWvKyNBe4AqLYEyuB_0nLuaQOosX6pQJxf21CC58tWElSwhQr44/w200-h150/Great+wall+West+end+20210614.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Chinese tourists generally tend to congregate in photogenic places to take pictures of themselves, which they then post on their online social networks. <p></p><p>Most Chinese tourists therefore try to cram as many photogenic spots into their travel plan in order to assemble as many tiles as possible to construct their online photo wall.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymlgxBP-OweJ144iPhTWyx4SbptAwmvuYthuioTujTSdlJ-yGckXqPCuJwBXuZbh3-hWDu5v_o7iRFPEOtGumIc9xp65PReuRIx-e-ehvIDZeVEfWUVHS_ApkIMTMmYtwcrInKg60CA4/s1632/Great+wall+unrepaired+20210216.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="1224" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymlgxBP-OweJ144iPhTWyx4SbptAwmvuYthuioTujTSdlJ-yGckXqPCuJwBXuZbh3-hWDu5v_o7iRFPEOtGumIc9xp65PReuRIx-e-ehvIDZeVEfWUVHS_ApkIMTMmYtwcrInKg60CA4/w150-h200/Great+wall+unrepaired+20210216.jpg" width="150" /></a> </p><p> The Great Wall of China undoubtedly has many photogenic spots along its 5000 km. It also flanks or bears many challenging trekking trails for hikers based in Beijing. </p><p> In line with the Chinese practice of picture tourism, here are three individual bricks I gathered from the the Great Wall:</p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>The Western-most beacon tower overlooking a large ravine in Gansu province.</li><li>An unrepaired Ming dynasty section of the wall North of Beijing perched on top of a mountain ridge.</li><li>The Eastern-most beacon tower plunging into the sea in Hebei province.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjme3o9tJMGEODYhKHUyB9f5u-w32nYmP_BY_uoDzzLD4rmQG0ogh__Hm1LbBfpT-BIP3FIB5K5Xl-Tf-8z7NnHbjDPfg2ybzr4mmluY_nFUzVSluo9i5Mz2FKL3XsVcAi5YO49l0e99po/s2048/Great+wall+East+end+20210710.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjme3o9tJMGEODYhKHUyB9f5u-w32nYmP_BY_uoDzzLD4rmQG0ogh__Hm1LbBfpT-BIP3FIB5K5Xl-Tf-8z7NnHbjDPfg2ybzr4mmluY_nFUzVSluo9i5Mz2FKL3XsVcAi5YO49l0e99po/w200-h150/Great+wall+East+end+20210710.jpg" width="200" /></a></li></ol><p>And there are many more more-or-less photogenic Great Wall sites for me to explore all around Northern China. </p><p>Another brick in the wall<br />Pink Floyd, The wall, Capitol.<br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904199899999988 116.407396311.593966063821142 81.2511463 68.214433736178833 151.56364630000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-35088940965234014542021-05-09T23:03:00.001+08:002021-05-09T23:03:25.272+08:00Untitled musings on spring travels<p>After three months spent within the boundaries of Beijing municipality from mid-January to mid-March because of travel restrictions between provinces to avoid any risk of covid-19 spreading within China, I was very happy to see all sanitary restrictions on internal travel lifted. This meant I could once again start travelling to keep discovering this very large country.</p><p></p><p>In the past three weeks, I have found my way into three completely different ecosystems. All had fascinating landscapes and food.</p><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMKCcWQGXC0ju5ZCsRsJ3a1qnXtU1VcFRhJKAy4rs6ZXsP0L0esmWXqEdBqx3u7UyLwUWhzZy-vDFuboR7Xm67FhTx1xF5RFbhIb3loDKUizVQOwcsxPF00z4Ra_pcolaZMvwPf8e8UQ/s2048/20210415+Me+on+Changbaishan.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpMKCcWQGXC0ju5ZCsRsJ3a1qnXtU1VcFRhJKAy4rs6ZXsP0L0esmWXqEdBqx3u7UyLwUWhzZy-vDFuboR7Xm67FhTx1xF5RFbhIb3loDKUizVQOwcsxPF00z4Ra_pcolaZMvwPf8e8UQ/w150-h200/20210415+Me+on+Changbaishan.jpg" width="150" /></a>Mid-April, I went for a few days of holiday in Changbaishan, Jilin province in the far Northeast of China along the border with North Korea. The weather was still chilly and the vegetation was only just coming out of its winter stage. Flowers were very scarce, most of the trees had not sprouted their new leaves yet. I ascended the sacred mountain of the Korean people where fresh snowfall the previous day had blanketed every thing under a thick layer of snow. So I ascended the mountain in a 4x4 vehicle and none of the walking paths were open to visitors. I will have to go back at a better time of the year to trek up the "Ever-white mountain". I particularly appreciated the hearty and simple northeastern food: meat-and-potato stews, saurkraut and kimchi, wild plants and mushroom harvested from the birchtree forest and tundra, maize-based bread and noodles, the best roundgrain rice of the country. </p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNhvnMAY-k0vkeLfZvIxeUs2dfZ-iH5hERVpJMbrA61DYeyg8Xs7SUI5h0X7m9qNqjy3sBH-0QvRreuaS_d6ejwuibJPrC-EIX19dVRP9gohAC5lK0yYKrCdYWY716a36aErqEGwIw3Y/s2048/Me+in+Fujian+tea+garden+20210422.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNhvnMAY-k0vkeLfZvIxeUs2dfZ-iH5hERVpJMbrA61DYeyg8Xs7SUI5h0X7m9qNqjy3sBH-0QvRreuaS_d6ejwuibJPrC-EIX19dVRP9gohAC5lK0yYKrCdYWY716a36aErqEGwIw3Y/w150-h200/Me+in+Fujian+tea+garden+20210422.jpg" width="150" /></a> The following week, I flew South to Fujian province where I visited the tea gardens of Anxi Tieguanyin tea. The hot tropical climate had generated lush green vegetation covering all the mountains and hills. The tea bushes were neatly trimmed in lines along the higher slopes of the mountains because their ideal growing altitude was between 800 and 1200 m high. The food was extremely varied; some of the dishes were spiced up with infused or deep fried tea leaves. As we were presented with the local tea to taste wherever we went, I tasted a wide variety of different Tieguanyin teas over the three days of my stay there, and came back home with several boxes of Anxi Tieguanyin tea.</p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8CWzQqPtncfdSLWT60wPy7Gr-o0lgRYF4GDMUTymy9NaGZmp0M7KF77saa7teg8ckV7U72pOxyid2IRsUKYgAFwi9ul532tEk_-CzmmezlrZb-tJGDsEbwnjTGB_di3GrlhvQ2jiO2o/s3416/Camels+in+Tengger+desert+bandeau.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3416" data-original-width="921" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8CWzQqPtncfdSLWT60wPy7Gr-o0lgRYF4GDMUTymy9NaGZmp0M7KF77saa7teg8ckV7U72pOxyid2IRsUKYgAFwi9ul532tEk_-CzmmezlrZb-tJGDsEbwnjTGB_di3GrlhvQ2jiO2o/s320/Camels+in+Tengger+desert+bandeau.jpg" /></a> </p><p>Last week, I flew off to the border between Ningxia and Inner Mongolia for three days of trekking in the Tengger desert of Inner Mongolia organised by <a href="https://www.beijinghikers.com/explore-china/view/1655/into-the-tengger-desert-inner-mongolia-5-days/">Beijing Hikers</a>. The landscape was unlimited sand desert dunes. Our group sailed through the sand dunes in 4x4 vehicles driven by expert local drivers. We trekked through the dunes on the soft sand and ate a lot of sand and dust with a strong wind blowing for a full 24 hours. It was no use trying to swipe the sand out of our tents, it came back in immediately. The best surprise from this desert trek was the food truck and local chef that followed our group to cook delicious fresh local dishes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The desert grass we would trample along our trek actually had culinary value with a slight chive taste when boiled and served seasoned as a cold apetiser dish. We ate all the parts of a lamb in every possible form: roasted, boiled, stir-fried, oven-dried... After three exhilirating days of trekking and camping in the middle of the desert without running water, the first shower in the hotel room back in Yinchuan town was a real godsend. </p><p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0QCzFXeW3XtWHjwhEpRIFqwJFQ0waPJDDE9xhDMdUqdR6HQ8FgKHO3ME3szcankPZZDjpgA8po-3ftXlYB-HkddC5ZmzFqCZDo9qv8buMCNEHKg62_bg8pTi8IZN5yAs9Ttv8Jt8ZRQ/s2048/20210504+Me+in+Tengger+desert.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy0QCzFXeW3XtWHjwhEpRIFqwJFQ0waPJDDE9xhDMdUqdR6HQ8FgKHO3ME3szcankPZZDjpgA8po-3ftXlYB-HkddC5ZmzFqCZDo9qv8buMCNEHKg62_bg8pTi8IZN5yAs9Ttv8Jt8ZRQ/w150-h200/20210504+Me+in+Tengger+desert.jpg" width="150" /></a></p><p> </p><p>So much variety within one very large intriguing and diverse country. Meanwhile, a pandemic rages and kills outside...</p><p> </p><p><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/tomserviceblog/2014/aug/11/symphony-guide-vaughan-williams-pastoral-symphony">Pastoral symphony</a>, Ralph Vaughan Williams</p><p>Adrian Boult and London symphony orchestra, Emi classics<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /></p><p><br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904199899999988 116.407396311.593966063821142 81.2511463 68.214433736178833 151.56364630000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-2376166045716955462021-02-28T19:33:00.000+08:002021-02-28T19:33:06.167+08:00The winter is driven away and spring is returning anew<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2EuAHWae2Cay2swCbIXQCzAJKFTVQ3bXhlFxCpP9edxE70NsADwU1wvdmKwup6cKBzFdww2KzgrdU7on_uE2xTCuHJXk_W1DXtWZI3Zn22mXbFEdxAUFZXGAW7LkLE_Ns2qlhRUoUFU/s2048/Cit%25C3%25A9+interdite+20201206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1783" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2EuAHWae2Cay2swCbIXQCzAJKFTVQ3bXhlFxCpP9edxE70NsADwU1wvdmKwup6cKBzFdww2KzgrdU7on_uE2xTCuHJXk_W1DXtWZI3Zn22mXbFEdxAUFZXGAW7LkLE_Ns2qlhRUoUFU/w174-h200/Cit%25C3%25A9+interdite+20201206.jpg" width="174" /></a></div> <p></p><p>I have survived my first winter in Beijing. It has been quite a shock for me to move from the relatively mild winters of Southwest France to the harsh and freezing winters of Beijing's continental climate. </p><p>Riding to work on a bicycle by -18°C and winds blowing straight out of the steppes of Mongolia was particularly unpleasant. Luckily, the ride only lasts 15 minutes so it is still bearable with the right amount of clothing. </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zovBFGWgWIIuLsXBV-Sh8j3G9ywPoBjA9zIf1XxhApU11AHcsybpNi7wBr527Gq7SMB0F9m1D0BrApdzHcYzfF2EOoz4W4uoJPKOFuMlWvLmsc_DHo833DNW8mAZSIMwRWQ9_IebBFE/s2048/Great+wall+repaired+20210216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zovBFGWgWIIuLsXBV-Sh8j3G9ywPoBjA9zIf1XxhApU11AHcsybpNi7wBr527Gq7SMB0F9m1D0BrApdzHcYzfF2EOoz4W4uoJPKOFuMlWvLmsc_DHo833DNW8mAZSIMwRWQ9_IebBFE/w150-h200/Great+wall+repaired+20210216.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>On the other hand, I joined a trek on the Great Wall in mid February under strong winds blowing at -10°C. I think that has been the most demanding trek I have ever done up to now because of the freezing wind. Stopping and taking out gloves to relace my hiking boots for just 2 minutes meant 30 minutes trying to get my body and fingers warm again.<p></p><p>The one real advantage of the Mongolian winter wind blowing over Beijing is its pushing air pollution away. It is thanks to the wind that the city can enjoy wonderful blue skies and clear sunlight. </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJYogxXPHhBBS3oyTJZ_49OHvHvPD-6Ao5XPO3WtrvBCT-l1UwLYe9V_P0gMjoO8HKFN21K3CD-zFoYrHE9h9Isj4f5GeCYjOd5OHJW9Iz94Nko5BrmVDOxsdSXisqP6i12HC15N4B2I/s2048/Beijing+smog+20210228.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJYogxXPHhBBS3oyTJZ_49OHvHvPD-6Ao5XPO3WtrvBCT-l1UwLYe9V_P0gMjoO8HKFN21K3CD-zFoYrHE9h9Isj4f5GeCYjOd5OHJW9Iz94Nko5BrmVDOxsdSXisqP6i12HC15N4B2I/w200-h150/Beijing+smog+20210228.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <p></p><p>Having had to stay indoors for four consecutive days of air pollution and depressing smog over the Chinese new year holiday, I think I now prefer cold temperatures and harsh winds to humidity and smog.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxOUzZ7lTfEpNozMREepZyd_xI732kTpt2M658WPmDBE_9uwXakVs6o6xrbmSlX0erRrj2m-wsrt-RBEee_99hhsgGhq8SWf2itFzDu-ucMMOxVj2Zwps3tUEIbvE9govf8dhStOA-lM/s2048/Temple+du+ciel+20210221.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1507" data-original-width="2048" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwxOUzZ7lTfEpNozMREepZyd_xI732kTpt2M658WPmDBE_9uwXakVs6o6xrbmSlX0erRrj2m-wsrt-RBEee_99hhsgGhq8SWf2itFzDu-ucMMOxVj2Zwps3tUEIbvE9govf8dhStOA-lM/w400-h294/Temple+du+ciel+20210221.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>Waltz of my heart <br /></p><p>Ivor Novello, James Shearman, from the original motion picture soundtrack of Gosford Park, Decca </p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904199899999988 116.4073963-0.62514363529795247 46.0948963 80.433543435297935 -173.28010369999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-9486133919392297052020-12-29T17:58:00.000+08:002020-12-29T17:58:56.031+08:00Raise your glasses for a toast to a little bit of chicken<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQd6jDyTqA9qpXbqrLR6zh67AKtLPXpGaoN0OvM2J5L-p7GTG9E2s8DOJw-sP78xgJWOwbZ0JRUfilnBcObpj6Mrn0CChyphenhyphenxrFvFpFOOkGpwlVmu3DIIPrO8ItLCVDX_sp6wSr_tFgjT0/s2048/IMG_20201226_100244.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQd6jDyTqA9qpXbqrLR6zh67AKtLPXpGaoN0OvM2J5L-p7GTG9E2s8DOJw-sP78xgJWOwbZ0JRUfilnBcObpj6Mrn0CChyphenhyphenxrFvFpFOOkGpwlVmu3DIIPrO8ItLCVDX_sp6wSr_tFgjT0/w150-h200/IMG_20201226_100244.jpg" width="150" /></a> I am blogging again for work, though not about my work.</p><p>The cultural section of the French embassy in Beijing asked us agricultural counselors to write a series of articles around Christmas-time French food culture for Chinese readers, who are more accustomed to dipping all kinds of ingredients in boiling soup within hot pots during winter. </p><p>After discussing various possibilities and topics, we agreed I would write a series of three articles on French traditional poultry Christmas recipes. I have tried to write the articles so that they are reader-friendly for both French and Chinese readers. </p><p></p><p>The three recipes come from my family's cooking books:</p><p><a href="https://www.faguowenhua.com/fr/news/no%C3%ABl-d%C3%A9couvrez-les-plats-traditionnels-fran%C3%A7ais">Hen in the pot</a></p><p><a href="https://www.faguowenhua.com/fr/news/recette-de-no%C3%ABl-chapon-r%C3%B4ti-farci-aux-marrons">Roasted capon with chestnut stuffing</a></p><p><a href="https://www.faguowenhua.com/fr/news/no%C3%ABl-en-petit-comit%C3%A9-avec-le-magret-de-canard-fa%C3%A7on-rossini">Duck magret Rossini style</a></p><p>Ironically, I did not cook any Christmas meal this year. Although I had moved into my new apartment on the 22nd, my cooking utensils have still not arrived from France. The more important consideration for me was to be with family for Christmas. So I flew to Shanghai where I enjoyed a very juicy roasted chicken for Christmas lunch with the only family members I have in continental China: my Singaporean cousin Annie and her family. </p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pRoPxIHR_OKEJFAoDpl_vmI-YQE1vxXxvxQhsGwQD0JLj21UDKAyUoo-7cxxCr_vB1vMsnA8yVCgzsmVrNvx58IaOapFSUGqMITwireaJWp16FXo8xK_c6GUzfprcVpz2jUI88v5LWc/s1440/mmexport1608940621689.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pRoPxIHR_OKEJFAoDpl_vmI-YQE1vxXxvxQhsGwQD0JLj21UDKAyUoo-7cxxCr_vB1vMsnA8yVCgzsmVrNvx58IaOapFSUGqMITwireaJWp16FXo8xK_c6GUzfprcVpz2jUI88v5LWc/s320/mmexport1608940621689.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Chicken fried<p></p><p>Zac Brown band, Home grown, Atlantic <br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Shanghai, Chine31.230416 121.4737013.0869263151913096 86.317451 59.37390568480869 156.629951tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-85319322938641958132020-12-07T13:42:00.000+08:002020-12-07T13:42:55.159+08:00In the bleak mid-winter, frosty wind made moan<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It is
already bitterly cold in Beijing with night temperatures always below freezing and
only just above freezing when the sun is shining. So, in the weeks coming up to
Christmas, I am delighted to be preparing the festive season with warm
friendly feelings, hot comforting mulled wine and carol singing. After five years
living in France where the tradition of carolling has unfortunately disappeared,
I am very pleased to renew with Christmas carols, although I have to sight-read
and learn a whole lot of new tunes, in German! I have joined the Deutsche
Kantorei Peking (DKP). </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Having just
arrived in Beijing, I immediately started looking for a choir to start singing
again. I was particularly keen on finding a good quality choir as choral
practice has been virtually banned since last March in France because of
covid-19; I needed my fix of community singing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I was first
confronted with the obsolete nature of the worldwide web in China. All the
references I could find to international choirs or choral societies in Beijing
on the Internet were outdated from 2018, if not earlier. I finally found a QR
Code for the Chinese instant messaging app Wechat to contact a singer in the
French-speaking Maurice Ravel Choir of Beijing. Unfortunately, the French choir
was not recruiting new members until February next year. However, I asked whether
there were other international choirs in town and the lady I was in contact
with said she would ask around for me.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">On Friday
afternoon of last week, I got a Wechat message putting me in touch with another
person who could introduce me to the German DKP. Only 30 minutes later, after a
series of instant messages on Wechat with a British DKP singer now stranded in
Hong Kong, I was in contact with a German Beijing-based singer and the Japanese
Chairwoman of DKP. The latter asked to give me a call. They were singing carols
the next morning for the German Christmas market in Beijing; could I come join
the singing? All I needed was a very warm black coat because we would be
singing outside. I usually do not like busking concerts, but this opportunity
was too good to miss. So, the next morning, I was given a folder with the music
and off we went into the cold singing carols in German beside giant plastic
Christmas tree and snowman. We were glad to enjoy warm mulled cider, mulled beer, hot dogs and sauerkraut in between the carolling sessions. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvgkC0qYLTBOmR3QBSwIQZMTBwYtbogz5aq56c3r1NJ9zr1QhNEKk99Yke-pze-X-Dhe66prlR3H2EwEQEhaIXhJz4xpRlw_JPUK9_oDbS8OED02BOtAFGkE88YNa0ktFOxBji4fcB58/s1440/DKP+Kempinski+Christmas+market+2020.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvgkC0qYLTBOmR3QBSwIQZMTBwYtbogz5aq56c3r1NJ9zr1QhNEKk99Yke-pze-X-Dhe66prlR3H2EwEQEhaIXhJz4xpRlw_JPUK9_oDbS8OED02BOtAFGkE88YNa0ktFOxBji4fcB58/s320/DKP+Kempinski+Christmas+market+2020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span> <br /></span></p><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqOZ73NOxCA5dOPl4oYm-uqasmYJhHjvAxDx6lMKRYH537HiFlBLczv7FoqB2QmYMtXcdEMVUmTnfd9UnxLydy-ssyAbLcfBTQ0Kz6Km9czlid8g7kctAnim0Lt3sgZX81BShyphenhyphenNDDgvg/s2048/Carols+at+Rechenberg+December+2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1469" data-original-width="2048" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqOZ73NOxCA5dOPl4oYm-uqasmYJhHjvAxDx6lMKRYH537HiFlBLczv7FoqB2QmYMtXcdEMVUmTnfd9UnxLydy-ssyAbLcfBTQ0Kz6Km9czlid8g7kctAnim0Lt3sgZX81BShyphenhyphenNDDgvg/w200-h144/Carols+at+Rechenberg+December+2020.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>One week
later, choir members were invited to a private teatime party in one of the German
members’ clothes shop for more carol singing, more mulled wine, raisin bread
and ginger biscuits. We sung through most of the German carol song book
together for over an hour. I left rather tired but elated just as the pianist
was starting to get “jazzy” on my more familiar English and American carol
repertoire. I hope he will stay inspired until next week. We will be carolling
again at the Beijing German Embassy School next Sunday!</span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In the
bleak mid-winter<br />Gustav
Holst, Stephen Cleobury and choir of King’s college Cambridge, Holst: the
composer of the planets, Warner</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Photo DKP, snowman and Christmas tree: Christine Bérillon<br /><br /> <br /></span></p>
Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904199899999988 116.407396311.593966063821142 81.2511463 68.214433736178833 151.56364630000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-50448575923140579752020-11-22T18:56:00.001+08:002020-11-22T18:56:57.616+08:00Run run run run... To run away from you... Run run run run...<p>Continued from the last post <a href="http://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2020/11/get-them-while-theyre-hot-buns-buns-buns.html">here</a>.</p><p>So I arrived very relaxed at the Victorian era <a href="http://astortianjinhotel.com/">Astor Hotel</a> in Tianjin around 7pm for what I was hoping would be a quiet weekend to get used to seeing normal people up close without face masks agains, and to get to experience crowded streets and shops without keeping distances for fear of covid-19.</p><p>But there seemed to be a problem with my quarantine exit certificate. The hotel staff pointed to me that my certificate stated that I had just finished my 14 days of quarantine but also that I was invited to go home and stay there without coming out for another seven days! Having connected to the hotel free wifi, I could now register into the Tianjin healt kit app which gives green or red QR codes according to one's health status. Mine was green: I should normally be able to roam free around town. I also tried to point out that I had no home in China and that I did not know anybody in Tianjin. The hotel staff would not check me in. They called the booking agent who called me to say that the situation had changed since I had made the booking two weeks before and that they would cancel the hotel reservation with no penalty. However, I now knew for certain that no other Tianjin hotel would check me in for the weekend. I had to leave Tianjin.</p><p>Indeed, what had happened while I was obliviously confined in my quarantine room was the discovery of 4 covid-19 cases in Tianjin three days before I came out of my safe bubble. The situation in Tianjin had changed dramatically with everybody wearing face masks and travel restrictions for people entering and leaving the municipality. I signalled my predicament to my embassy colleagues in Beijing by instant messaging on WeChat. They immediately set into action to talk to the local Tianjin government and ask them to allow me to stay thanks to my diplomatic status. The reply was straightforwardly undiplomatic: the French government should make all efforts to get me out of Tianjin as quickly as possible. I had to leave Tianjin. </p><p>My embassy colleagues told me to go to the train station, catch a fast train to Beijing and try to get a room at the hotel I had planned to check into after the weekend. I sent an Airbnb message to my Beijing host but there was no instant reply. Checking out the Airbnb website, I could see they had no room available for the night. So I asked my embassy colleagues to find a room for me in a Beijing hotel that would accept guests just coming out of quarantine with an official certificate stating they had to quarantine for seven more days at home. Luckily, they already had to deal with a similar case and immediately booked nights for the weekend at the <a href="https://www.kempinski.com/en/beijing/hotel-lufthansa-center/">Kempinski Hotel</a> close to the embassy. I was to send an update when at the train station.</p><p>So I took a taxi with my two enormous and heavy suitcases for the train station. Dropped off in the underground car park of the station, I found my way to the front door using several escalators. There was a queue of people in front of the train station, all fidgeting with their mobile phones. Guards wanted to the see the Tianjin health code status of all people entering the station. There was no free wifi network around so I switched on my data roaming and managed to download a green health status QR code and got into the train station with my two enormous and heavey suitcases. The result was that my French phone operator texted me indicating that I had used up all my prepaid talk time with that one quick data sharing. <br /></p><p>I then had to pass through my luggage and myself through X-ray scans. I found the ticket booth and purchased a ticket for Beijing using cash after one unsuccessful try using my French credit card. My train would leave in 40 minutes. I managed to pass a second security check and moved up a floor to the departure hall. By that time, it was already 9.10pm and I had last eaten lunch at 11.30am. I found a small shop selling Chinese fast food and gulped a hot bowl of beef noodle soup in just 10 minutes, thinking to myself that my original plan had been a leisurely Western dinner with meat roast and potatoes doused in gravy, a glass of imported red wine...</p><p>I then proceded up another flight of escalators to the main departure hall. It was huge and very crowded. My train platform was at the other end so I had to zig-zag between people and suitcases to reach my platform. Being a foreigner, I could not check myself in using the automatic check-in doors but had to show my ticket and passport to an attendant. She was busy explaining to another harried traveller that he could not get in. All the while, I was waiting to proceed while my departure time was approaching and I didn't know how far still I had to pull and push my two enormous and heavy suitcases before finding the door to my train coach. Luckily, finding my train seat was very easy once I cleared this third security check.</p><p>But I still had not managed to send my update to Beijing colleagues who were probably getting worried by now. Once in the train, I managed to get onto the free wifi network. I could then communicate with my Beijing colleagues to confirm I was on the train and give them the expected arrival time. One of them confirmed that my room at the Kempinski was booked and that he would be waiting for me in the hotel lobby. I should take a taxi from the Beijing train station and make sure I had a green health status on the Beijing health kit app. I tried accessing the Beijing health kit app but the system would always tell me there were too many people trying to access the app and that I should try again later. </p><p>I decided to wait a while. The fast train to Beijing is very fast. I had hardly found the time to relieve myself in the toilet, have a sip of water and rest for five minutes than the conductor announced that we would shortly be arriving in Beijing South station. Even the train ride had been stressful and I still had no green QR code to enter Beijing.</p><p>Luckily, there were no health safety checks when leaving the train station. After queuing in a very long line with other travellers, I boarded my taxi which wheezed me to the hotel. I only had the time to top up my prepaid mobile phone and decided I would stop stressing with technology and have the hotel staff help me to get the right QR code.</p><p>Indeed, the porter was reassuringly proficient with both English and WeChat, even though I was using the French language version. He deleted the Beijing health kit app that wasn't working, downloaded a new version and helped me get the text message code that would allow me to unlock my WeChat app, and then take a digital picture of my passport with my mobile phone finally to get the indispensable Beijing health kit green QR code that would allow me into the hotel. </p><p>My embassy colleague found me; I checked into my room. By the time I had calmed down, showered and enjoyed a cup of hot peppermint tea, I went to bed close to 1am. </p><p>From cloistered autarcy to 24/7-expected hyperconnectivity and Big Brother supervision in just a few hours... Welcome to modern China!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKvzKEi69-zxZAUH2LJQydzWEC8bSw8R854ZFLaO6BTxMlqk1DYiDHVUP-DdK5b2cQd4kNHso08AdsL7qyKfhVG9ia1ZyWWKIXLPMccQOsE8wRZhYKYwtBV4yhA7QL89xp8V_jsc7pwA/s2048/Autumn+leaves+Beijing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1309" data-original-width="2048" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKvzKEi69-zxZAUH2LJQydzWEC8bSw8R854ZFLaO6BTxMlqk1DYiDHVUP-DdK5b2cQd4kNHso08AdsL7qyKfhVG9ia1ZyWWKIXLPMccQOsE8wRZhYKYwtBV4yhA7QL89xp8V_jsc7pwA/w400-h256/Autumn+leaves+Beijing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Thorn in my side</p><p>Eurythmics, Revenge, RCA<br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Pékin, Chine39.904199899999988 116.4073963-2.208417284151551 46.0948963 82.016817084151526 -173.28010369999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-51543575866625878712020-11-21T11:08:00.002+08:002020-11-22T18:58:23.414+08:00Get them while they're hot - buns buns buns<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRco66OUa6yWu4QA12TOPkGyhueB0f-h0Skzo0GTRbdoLupWFW1M21OopKOmbyRgm_PO2MxGIygP3atKwyp4Nu3k0pw1qLRUZTE-p-_2WEuXKwYrV89CLw5lT-6FW22QlOhH8LcjbOr5o/s2048/IMG_20201115_074210.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRco66OUa6yWu4QA12TOPkGyhueB0f-h0Skzo0GTRbdoLupWFW1M21OopKOmbyRgm_PO2MxGIygP3atKwyp4Nu3k0pw1qLRUZTE-p-_2WEuXKwYrV89CLw5lT-6FW22QlOhH8LcjbOr5o/w200-h150/IMG_20201115_074210.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />I have just come out of 14 days' quarantine after having managed to get onto one of the last flights from France into China!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1jJZGyRXhVtT2_pBsm3FTpT5RjyCOg816MqsEwnALZ434C1VqePTKJtCAcYJmEmp0JCq6u_YJVSdRVUTewawX4IYoP5fvPMbdIzmO-kAwFmZbfLMIPiJobqAcfZMl8AOaBg5S6aeyro/s2048/IMG_20201114_072951.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1jJZGyRXhVtT2_pBsm3FTpT5RjyCOg816MqsEwnALZ434C1VqePTKJtCAcYJmEmp0JCq6u_YJVSdRVUTewawX4IYoP5fvPMbdIzmO-kAwFmZbfLMIPiJobqAcfZMl8AOaBg5S6aeyro/w200-h150/IMG_20201114_072951.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p>To protect the covid-free health status of the capital city, international flights bound for Beijing all land in Tianjin, around 110 km farther away to the East. And all travellers have to go through 14 days of quarantine in a hotel room assigned by the local government. We do not get to choose the hotel, nor the room, nor the view, nor the food. And of course, we are not allowed out of our bedroom and there is no room service.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinh8bcii49L63Fy3eLUQUyl5QDC2UdJiQKaeOoqY8QA67QC8oCAvK-Ko2EmoSOtPwLtsR1C8B8BCpNSgFUncYsthq3bJqoD_66yJQ9kZN6IXYOYljm9ZjeOGIrblTh04UCfIHXDquEn-s/s2048/Tianjin+Society+Hotel.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinh8bcii49L63Fy3eLUQUyl5QDC2UdJiQKaeOoqY8QA67QC8oCAvK-Ko2EmoSOtPwLtsR1C8B8BCpNSgFUncYsthq3bJqoD_66yJQ9kZN6IXYOYljm9ZjeOGIrblTh04UCfIHXDquEn-s/w200-h150/Tianjin+Society+Hotel.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I think I can consider myself lucky to have had pretty good quarantine conditions at the <a href="https://www.dusit.com/dusitd2-tianjin/">Society Hill Hotel</a>. My hotel room was suitably spacious at around 25m²; it was comfortable; I had a view on the sister conference hotel across the avenue, a large wooded park and the high speed railway with trains zooming past every 15 minutes.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik003INa3DrMnskGXUhEN-pZG5fA6aBkjMnwIHu4HdE6alLGnec605kCGGUONomfKx-qBvAwsi9omsa40smZkTnBZRV_5p51V02fRREtn-gUuQpvHagssBj60AiJ4VYW-bmBhXMcv5MhU/s2048/IMG_20201118_113320.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik003INa3DrMnskGXUhEN-pZG5fA6aBkjMnwIHu4HdE6alLGnec605kCGGUONomfKx-qBvAwsi9omsa40smZkTnBZRV_5p51V02fRREtn-gUuQpvHagssBj60AiJ4VYW-bmBhXMcv5MhU/w200-h150/IMG_20201118_113320.jpg" width="200" /></a>The room was equiped with essentials to last the 14 days alone: soap, shampoo, conditioner, toilet paper, tea bags, kettle, 8 litres of drinking water, a bar of soap to wash clothes, broom and dustpan, even a mop and bucket. I was lucky to be alone in a twin-bed room. I was therefore able to switch beds and towels half way through the quarantine.</div><p></p><p>The Internet connection was rather patchy but good enough to be able to telework on my new job. I am now one of the three counselors for agricultural affairs at the French embassy in Beijing, to cover China, Hong Kong, Taiwan and Mongolia. It is likely that I will not be able to blog about my work because of its classified nature. However, I will keep posting blogs on my travels, musical and culinary adventures.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_NLic0d7Eddjj_tLFqylKIJLK_B9kZ23sIyojz-gAwpXbE1Q5Zf2xQrvehubjD-6g_-qgrLuDJQD7-s9dhG_bo-AIuOHHW0TMDb9R0Wzd6LolWpIh4gfmrVk1oMx0PXLy0EuGXFfnLw/s2048/IMG_20201117_072314.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_NLic0d7Eddjj_tLFqylKIJLK_B9kZ23sIyojz-gAwpXbE1Q5Zf2xQrvehubjD-6g_-qgrLuDJQD7-s9dhG_bo-AIuOHHW0TMDb9R0Wzd6LolWpIh4gfmrVk1oMx0PXLy0EuGXFfnLw/w200-h150/IMG_20201117_072314.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>So back to my quarantine: the few people I crossed during 14 days starting from the airplane door until I got
out of quarantine were all clad in full protective equipment, masks,
goggles and extra transparent face screen. Outside in the streets,
people were strolling together unmasked, at least during the first week. The feeling was quite surreal. <p></p><p> Thanks to my teleworking during the day, I did not get bored. I had a Kindle stocked full of books for the evening and the weekends and could also download and listen to radio podcasts. The past 14 days have been like a restful moment to get over jet lag, observe the people on the streets outside, listen carefully and intently to the radio broadcast. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCv-s59pPjh2Z1xxhNwDPUqpusFJqC033KZO3swOwX0oDVwIQ-cvFH-1cRkZQ-lp2kbksBYWsdH7gTV2uFhPMYGUYGQtZ4LYSqwS0LXkb0awEz2SGgcgsWyZdfhY-JF2xHu9utMrSlQ5Y/s2048/IMG_20201120_080305.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGK90AMfNj8A4JqItDzgTH7qEVRyB2v77_hZVmoWdXu0pIMO4L660vDyo-0FAHFlWHFkNosiy7Q9x17kZbazb0UP1_HgjOqVRZZseBhoGH_4dnC0gBkCzawVZkFC6CflFz1pv6tyK76U/s2048/IMG_20201120_080305.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGK90AMfNj8A4JqItDzgTH7qEVRyB2v77_hZVmoWdXu0pIMO4L660vDyo-0FAHFlWHFkNosiy7Q9x17kZbazb0UP1_HgjOqVRZZseBhoGH_4dnC0gBkCzawVZkFC6CflFz1pv6tyK76U/w200-h150/IMG_20201120_080305.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>My food was served at set hours: 7.30am breakfast, 11.30am lunch and
5.30pm dinner. Somebody would deposit my food box on the console outside
my bedroom and knock on the door. When I opened the door, the long
corridor was already empty... <p></p><p>The food was of good quality and varied. Always Chinese food; there were no other options. Other quarantined guests were complaining bitterly on the chat group we were all on, or requesting exotic items like lemon or even croissants. I was quite content with the food served. We had our five fruits or - especially - vegetables per day, some meat or fish, rice or dumplings, soup or porridge. After insisting over two days, I was given a large box of chili preserve to spice up the food.<br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLH9EjgVtGy3bHwimGh5mSb9lwggAfSmlVSr6bcy3WvXumcXwcsptaJzK6Bdi339Hjv-OUnwWw1aGf_k3tQ54l8CSLN4dfFgIxt8i-o_RCNBIZlIU-G6g6Jlff-4kRKpYL2qj0UL-pQQ/s2048/IMG_20201119_113611.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLH9EjgVtGy3bHwimGh5mSb9lwggAfSmlVSr6bcy3WvXumcXwcsptaJzK6Bdi339Hjv-OUnwWw1aGf_k3tQ54l8CSLN4dfFgIxt8i-o_RCNBIZlIU-G6g6Jlff-4kRKpYL2qj0UL-pQQ/w200-h150/IMG_20201119_113611.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The only meal that was rather boring was breakfast. It invariably consisted of millet or rice porridge, some kind of raw vegetable salad, preserved turnip or carrot, slices of ham, a hard-boiled egg, and buns. The only variety came with: <p></p><p>1) the vegetables, which changed every day;</p><p>2) the preserved turnip, which was either just salted or spiced;</p><p>3) the buns. <br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLAVTGSJlsNpLjShFXyZlvrD9mWj0oKOVW-l8G2fAVaZFb5SMmRhNdEowB2dSspehdlm6LejEXMaBHE2O0h0_CT9FzjnH_f3VavHFwqHJJSE_XnXg5qe2a9c2mntwuB3hBPSFzPiqqNA/s2048/IMG_20201112_073105.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLAVTGSJlsNpLjShFXyZlvrD9mWj0oKOVW-l8G2fAVaZFb5SMmRhNdEowB2dSspehdlm6LejEXMaBHE2O0h0_CT9FzjnH_f3VavHFwqHJJSE_XnXg5qe2a9c2mntwuB3hBPSFzPiqqNA/w200-h150/IMG_20201112_073105.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I was actually quite surprised by the variety of colour and form of the buns that appeared each morning in my breakfast box: steamed buns coming in all sorts of colourful patterns and shapes, oven-baked buns, plain or filled with red bean, coconut or other sweet paste. <p></p><p>On the morning of day 13, when I opened the breakfast tray to find a pack of warm sterilised milk, 4 slices of very plain white bread, a cold fried egg, two slices of ham, a bunch of sliced iceberg lettuce and a tablespoon of mayonnaise, I even came to regret the Chinese breafast.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHH7e53cL8tApisKbr3d-1L-U3M7Yw4vGS3yMC2F73IV8jM43iknm0l1YKdMGkOiOVoGokWL_jSFut7Ptxqz2ZfcONqrlGxKU_8QpggoIsri0aahTC3OCpJ40D1ETpN3Ei9rTrPl7Pzg/s2048/IMG_20201118_073004.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHH7e53cL8tApisKbr3d-1L-U3M7Yw4vGS3yMC2F73IV8jM43iknm0l1YKdMGkOiOVoGokWL_jSFut7Ptxqz2ZfcONqrlGxKU_8QpggoIsri0aahTC3OCpJ40D1ETpN3Ei9rTrPl7Pzg/w200-h150/IMG_20201118_073004.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>My quarantine ended on a high note of beautiful sunny weather and the expected thrill of visiting the old city centre of Tianjin where I had booked a colonial style bedroom at the upmarket <a href="http://astortianjinhotel.com/">Astor Hotel</a>, to celebrate my renewed freedom with style.<p></p><p>The taxi ride from the quarantine hotel to the city centre was slow through the evening traffic jam. I was definitely very relaxed upon arriving at the Astor. And that is when the reality of modern China suddenly struck me a very hard blow.</p><p>To be continued... <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2020/11/run-run-run-run-to-run-away-from-you.html">here</a>.<br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3TitLF2omeK1P_8uOQbvKXO1iD9vkFUXNBqBTz2qDQ8EI_10YH3YVWj0AboGiWyQ2kxMj-AmRGZ2lzvmsJNhmxaTVfSWiFx3sI5_ixp_ibBnQ-JDPw2pdxAiMkB27-jrLggb9YelmAU/s2048/IMG_20201113_073512.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3TitLF2omeK1P_8uOQbvKXO1iD9vkFUXNBqBTz2qDQ8EI_10YH3YVWj0AboGiWyQ2kxMj-AmRGZ2lzvmsJNhmxaTVfSWiFx3sI5_ixp_ibBnQ-JDPw2pdxAiMkB27-jrLggb9YelmAU/w200-h150/IMG_20201113_073512.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />Hot cross buns, hot cross buns<br /><p></p><p>Traditional nursery rhyme, The tick tock boys, The children's favourites collection - the teddy bear's picnic and many others <span class="a-size-base a-color-secondary WebstoreAUILink" id="fromAlbum">
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</div>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Tianjin, Chine39.3433574 117.3616476-2.7692597841515365 47.0491476 81.455974584151534 -172.32585240000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-26316337956947666412020-10-18T18:03:00.000+08:002020-10-18T18:03:45.155+08:00Passing through, sometimes happy, sometimes blue<p>I have left Pau yesterday. The autumn weather has been cold and wet lately and the mountains were already snowclad when I left my empty apartment.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fkE3hBatKGuBJh58BpYa0J8EfhDFvOTG3pn_Qo6SSipLY3uZQGEj79ETIWDv-MKWUjNHis3qjdeLJgkp_ffni9W_48uKk-83szEcUgr-DvS5_nhRT4RuOGrKrwvroXPBEUQWiAUKr0M/s2085/Pyr%25C3%25A9n%25C3%25A9es+depuis+10+all%25C3%25A9e+Lamartine+201017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="2085" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fkE3hBatKGuBJh58BpYa0J8EfhDFvOTG3pn_Qo6SSipLY3uZQGEj79ETIWDv-MKWUjNHis3qjdeLJgkp_ffni9W_48uKk-83szEcUgr-DvS5_nhRT4RuOGrKrwvroXPBEUQWiAUKr0M/s320/Pyr%25C3%25A9n%25C3%25A9es+depuis+10+all%25C3%25A9e+Lamartine+201017.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>After over three years in charge of the administration of subsidy requests from local farmers, I have seized a new job opportunity.</p><p>From my time in the Southwest of France, I will particularly miss: </p><p>My parents' country house only 1 hour and 40 minutes' drive away. It was particularly easy to pop over for the weekend and enjoy their company, my mother's home-cooked food and the ocean nearby.</p><p>The farmers' market in Pau and all its delicious fresh food at very competitive producer prices.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7V-_dsos8iKzIqp50YjldzFc32pUAgs2CsxpMZO_iVutiYs-8FAicIQkEpRBFbrvR4441_zcGvpWDGPLrjIcEVtY6BI2OWYUrhOrOu9aYu1SM4ErK_-vtNPbh9ao3qBZ8_1kiR2zgS9I/s2048/Blondes+d%2527Aquitaine+estivant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7V-_dsos8iKzIqp50YjldzFc32pUAgs2CsxpMZO_iVutiYs-8FAicIQkEpRBFbrvR4441_zcGvpWDGPLrjIcEVtY6BI2OWYUrhOrOu9aYu1SM4ErK_-vtNPbh9ao3qBZ8_1kiR2zgS9I/w200-h150/Blondes+d%2527Aquitaine+estivant.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The Pyrenees mountains just one hour away. In winter I could be on the ski slopes in just over an hour from leaving home. In all other seasons I wandered through the network of footpaths crossing only a few human beings, but lots of free-grazing cows and sheep. I might even have been spied upon by a lone wild wolf on the Rey mountain one August day in 2019. Overall, I managed never to come back on a path I had already walked on during these past three years. Walking through the hills and mountains has been a rejuvenating experience, especially for my mind - very often absorbed by my job's responsibilities.<p></p><p>I start my new job tomorrow teleworking from my parents' country house while I wait for a visa and a plane ticket to reach my next destination...</p><p>Passing through</p><p>Leonard Cohen, Live songs, Columbia <br /></p><p><br /></p>Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com064000 Pau, France43.2951 -0.37079714.984866163821152 -35.527047 71.605333836178843 34.785453tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-14620524067075964542020-07-24T04:32:00.000+08:002020-07-24T04:32:10.090+08:00The sleepless nights I've had about the boy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In my second year in Pau, I met Guillaume. He had joined the symphonic choir of the local Pau and Bearn Country Orchestra (<a href="https://www.oppb.fr/" target="_blank">OPPB</a>) where I already sang. A barytone, Guillaume was of my age group. Within the large symphonic choir, I only had few interactions with him during rehearsals and concerts.<br />
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Then in the summer of last year, Guillaume and I were both invited to join the smaller Ensemble vocal émergence (<a href="https://www.lacordevocale.org/groupes-vocaux/recherche-detaillee/64-pyrenees-atlantiques/pau/ensemble-vocal-emergence-eve.html" target="_blank">Evé</a>), which needed experienced singers to beef up the chamber choir for Brahms' German Requiem. With the intensive programme of rehearsals for this project, I got to know Guillaume better. Not only did he have a beautiful barytone voice, but he was also particularly friendly and easygoing, eager to give his time and energy to the musical projects of the symphonic and chamber choirs we were both in.<br />
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I happened to queue up for a jazz concert organised by a local association one night. Guillaume was there again, selling tickets and drinks during the interval for <a href="https://www.tonnerre-de-jazz.com/" target="_blank">Tonnerre de Jazz</a>. He was all smiles, still full of energy and mingling freely among the audience and the artists. At another memorable concert this past March, Guillaume had driven his SUV to fetch a Spanish jazz group who had been stranded by a rare snow blizzard while attempting to cross the Pyrenees for their gig. The audience waited patiently while Guillaume sped down from the mountain with the players. That concert was all the more emotional afterwards.<br />
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Getting to know Guillaume better, we discovered we both practiced long-distance running and started running together. It helped that we lived close by in town so it was easy to meet up in the evening to run around and out of town. Guillaume showed me all the small alleys snaking up and down the plateau at the edge of the city. This knowledge of the city centre's pedestrian shortcuts and staircases he generously transferred came in particularly handy during the covid-19 lockdown when I could run up to the regulatory 1 hour within a distance of 4 km from my house but still avoid running around in circles. While running together, we would always cross people that seem to know Guillaume and who would greet him warmly. This guy had a large network.<br />
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Recently I discovered Guillaume was also very active within <a href="http://www.pauavelo.fr/" target="_blank">Pau à vélo</a>, another local association promoting the use of bicyles within town. Indeed, I had seen him drive two bicycles: a cross-country bike when we met one morning to run together in the city's woods; and one of the dashing yellow electrified bicycles on rental by the city council on which he elegantly cruised through the city from work to various social events.<br />
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During the covid-19 lockdown we only glimpsed each other once or twice along the streets and only greeted each other from afar: me on my bike or on a solo run; Guillaume walking his terrier dog. When the lockdown was lifted we had agreed to start running together again and had made plans to meet the last week of May.<br />
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On 27 May, Guillaume and his bicycle were run over by a car at a city intersection. Broken spine. Unconscious for one month and a half. He did not wake up and died on 13 July. All his energy, generosity and warmth lost. What a waste!<br />
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Mad about the boy<br />
Dinah Washington, Queen of the blues, Mis</div>
Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com064000 Pau, France43.2951 -0.37079743.202684999999995 -0.5321585 43.387515 -0.2094355tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-85694904918466501662020-06-02T02:31:00.001+08:002020-06-02T02:31:22.081+08:00Lonely, you don't have to be lonely<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Finally out of lockdown!<br />
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The last time I had felt really lonely was in 2016 during a <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2016/11/horizon-to-horizon.html" target="_blank">10-day solo road trip in Western Australia</a>. Back then I had experienced loneliness being alone without any sound or company although in a limitless and grandiose scenery. I had driven for two days up North and then two days back down South across the bush, with only scarce FM radio signal and no music recordings with me.<br />
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During the covid-19 lockdown I experienced loneliness again for a full month. I was not bored. On the contrary, my time at work was extended to cope with the new working conditions: my whole team of 35 civil servants were suddenly all teleworking without the proper equipment or IT infrastructure. Though purely administrative, our mission had been declared "essential" by the government. So we had to find ways of ensuring we could keep servicing our clients remotely. I kept going to the office every day to make sure IT was working for all of my colleagues, sending by email the files on the server they no longer had access to, scanning incoming mail to them so that they could service our clients' requests. The office was deserted: we were usually 5 or 6 people in a building normally meant to hold 200. Anyway, we had to avoid each other for fear of spreading the virus. Lonely at work.<br />
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All my social singing and sports activities were of course cancelled because of lockdown. Lonely after work.<br />
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To make things worse, during the second week of March, my parents were still travelling in Australia and their flight back to France was meant to go through Singapore and Hong Kong to arrive in Paris, all three locations where the covid-19 virus was actively circulating. I was not sure they would be able to fly back safely. If they did fly back to Paris, would they have to self-isolate in a hotel full of other potentially sick people? In the French context of very strict lockdown enforced by police, would they be able to travel from Paris back to the much isolated -and thus safer- country house in Southwest France? Although the sanitary conditions in Pau were under control, all this uncertainty was very stressful for me.<br />
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At home, radio and internet worked fine. I had the radio going on most of the time to listen to soothing music. However, because working conditions were deteriorated, I would come back at home rather late in the evening and only had time to eat, wash and go to bed before going back to the office the next morning. I managed to keep myself occupied during normal weekends for the first month of lockdown in my small apartment. However, I reached my limit during the three-day Easter weekend. I felt really lonely all alone at home.<br />
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By then, my parents had safely come back to their country house from Paris and had passed their 14 days of self-isolation. I could go see them. My Director had suggested I go telework from my parents' house rather than be lonely at home and lonely at work. I gladly took his offer to issue me a special travel authorisation to leave Pau.<br />
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My second month of lockdown with my parents was much more pleasant. Gratned: very slow internet access in the countryside hampered my teleworking. However, I had space, diverse home-cooked food, and company. I was no longer lonely.<br />
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After the lockdown ended the three of us had a fresh haircut.<br />
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My name is Tallulah<br />
From the original motion picture Bugsy Malone, Paramount Pictures</div>
Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com064000 Pau, France43.2951 -0.37079743.202684999999995 -0.5321585 43.387515 -0.2094355tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-50464489841738760572020-03-19T06:13:00.001+08:002020-03-19T06:13:40.907+08:00I take a breath of air<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have just come back from a short but restful stay in the Alentejo region of Portugal. It was citrus flowering season. Everywhere I went, I could smell the lovely scent of citrus blossoms.<br />
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In the morning wafting up from the cloister of Evora cathedral</div>
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In the afternoon along the streets of Vila Viçosa</div>
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At night flowing down from over the walls hiding inner courtyards</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdobg-lJ40wJy2Q8L2Xusr7FkVshBXn_TKtSQEbxRj3TGv2pcEdcbfn6jnjqc9iZWNUBTbqo2ycc4mBwS3dZMn17CF-ok_9gQ-aZJ6YrneLC5tO4g0u5yj9tc1PCx0b5LXBI_3S28fqeE/s1600/Citronnier+de+nuit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="1600" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdobg-lJ40wJy2Q8L2Xusr7FkVshBXn_TKtSQEbxRj3TGv2pcEdcbfn6jnjqc9iZWNUBTbqo2ycc4mBwS3dZMn17CF-ok_9gQ-aZJ6YrneLC5tO4g0u5yj9tc1PCx0b5LXBI_3S28fqeE/s320/Citronnier+de+nuit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4N1bmVAa8z-FcmZDlY4JFmiUaL01YhkuyXkeNP13wz6a2RVvNyZ292Svwo4UEM9ZkSoCCJotvvA82O1SwmEkI3Sgz3KQdr9KPloTAK7VYL95uvysV8fnsJ47-ycUWXh651UAomZLdmso/s1600/Marmelade.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="1600" height="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4N1bmVAa8z-FcmZDlY4JFmiUaL01YhkuyXkeNP13wz6a2RVvNyZ292Svwo4UEM9ZkSoCCJotvvA82O1SwmEkI3Sgz3KQdr9KPloTAK7VYL95uvysV8fnsJ47-ycUWXh651UAomZLdmso/s200/Marmelade.jpg" width="200" /></a>Staying at the wonderful <a href="https://www.conventodoespinheiro.com/en/" target="_blank">Convento do Espinheiro Hotel</a> outside of Evora, lemons, sweet and bitter oranges were hanging from their trees in the courtyard. With the authorisation of the staff, I picked some fruits to bring back home. I now have my own citrus marmelade to remember the scent of Portuguese orange blossoms.<br />
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Orange trees<br />
Marina, Love + Fear, Atlantic records</div>
Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Évora, Portugal38.571431 -7.913501999999999438.472113 -8.0748635 38.670748999999994 -7.7521404999999994tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-12346382859499866902020-01-13T05:22:00.001+08:002020-01-13T05:22:59.167+08:00J'aurais voulu être un chanteur !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The last time I was involved in a <a href="https://jocadilhon.blogspot.com/2012/01/rapateeka-dodo-tah.html" target="_blank">very large production</a> in 2012, I was overwhelmed by the 2000-strong teenage crowd rising to their feet and giving us a long standing ovation in the Parisian Théâtre du Chatelet.<br />
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This year I sang in front of an even larger crowd in the Pau Zenith arena for a public dress rehearsal followed by three shows for the New Year's concert of the <a href="http://www.oppb.fr/" target="_blank">Orchestre de Pau Pays de Béarn</a> and its choir.<br />
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The repertoire was mainly classical: Wagner, Verdi, Tchaïkovski, Brahms, Dvorak. However, the atmosphere felt more like that of a rock concert with artificial carbon mist, traveling colourful lights and more than 3 000 people in the audience nearly filling up the large arena hall. The organisers counted that close to 12 000 people came to listen to us over the three shows and dress rehearsal.<br />
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The one migiving I have from this project was that the sound return for the choir from the microphones did not provide a good idea of the whole sound given by the orchestra and choir. I sometimes felt that I was singing only with my close neighbours and just the strings, brass and percussions. Nevertheless, the crowd must have had a better overall sound because everybody I met afterwards was delighted. <br />
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Le blues du businessman<br />
Michel Berger and <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" title="">Luc Plamondon,</a> Starmania, La Gagneraie</div>
Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com064000 Pau, France43.2951 -0.3707970000000386843.202684999999995 -0.53215850000003861 43.387515 -0.20943550000003869tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4066604288804245800.post-91033610750854223582019-11-01T17:25:00.001+08:002019-11-01T17:25:37.588+08:00A small house and an olive tree<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have spent my last two holidays in Mediterranean countries. I opted for short stints to get a quick feel of these places and their cuisine: just enough to want to return in future.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc-ij7Bxvf8aeoJqY-lN7n3Up6lY-Wis9TapJ6VYSXj2I5jCLqNpoQiqlmRCNeSb76zJbZh4kj7fqgGE4et1dciJ0qALnwwRDMg_n4pfqAT-grBMgp-6ZhIDMUeaTZuYv1IW_JzlKhFa4/s1600/Duomo+mosa%25C3%25AFque+paon.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc-ij7Bxvf8aeoJqY-lN7n3Up6lY-Wis9TapJ6VYSXj2I5jCLqNpoQiqlmRCNeSb76zJbZh4kj7fqgGE4et1dciJ0qALnwwRDMg_n4pfqAT-grBMgp-6ZhIDMUeaTZuYv1IW_JzlKhFa4/s200/Duomo+mosa%25C3%25AFque+paon.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwaOWz0BNfezFHxL5sX5hf2d8vsRqfw2bMpjnUKlUDUPkYq4gBuhaAF3xfk7uj7FCaGsFOr_0zzNODIg4muDdp_RBGiIQVGs9I02j5pHcJciqAUsBHOUMvvf_4lL0LYgnSzT3LQXy2wA/s1600/Florence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwaOWz0BNfezFHxL5sX5hf2d8vsRqfw2bMpjnUKlUDUPkYq4gBuhaAF3xfk7uj7FCaGsFOr_0zzNODIg4muDdp_RBGiIQVGs9I02j5pHcJciqAUsBHOUMvvf_4lL0LYgnSzT3LQXy2wA/s200/Florence.jpg" width="200" /></a>In September I visited my friend Simon Bordenave in Rome and we both went for a few days in Tuscany. We drove through the hilly landscape between the vine and olive groves and sampled delicious local food. I carried on with a few days to visit Florence and its cultural highlights. I was overwhelmed by the crowds in the city, preferring the quiet country lanes at sunrise for a morning jog.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi176Ix4VF9HwreyO7xp5PgzCzZhuZRF3oYy85-WVLwX76b4H2udkUdrYaQ5bCwe2NYdu1vsOeFUcIQ0mQWGDIfiSy6-tb3pJj6-qJqM7svwZmTjGb62XWKOD6nuWN64aDQKMuWMh0uqAY/s1600/Vall%25C3%25A9e+Toscane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi176Ix4VF9HwreyO7xp5PgzCzZhuZRF3oYy85-WVLwX76b4H2udkUdrYaQ5bCwe2NYdu1vsOeFUcIQ0mQWGDIfiSy6-tb3pJj6-qJqM7svwZmTjGb62XWKOD6nuWN64aDQKMuWMh0uqAY/s320/Vall%25C3%25A9e+Toscane.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRV4ZL6sF8flSJXXBJKPZrc_gzXINEPVQMbu2GYxZQGEkkH7UkZMfowmzwvLRV8FEJHmGAY0_Awut26DlufmVBmtv4e8Uzw4vy2UETeri8ZRZHYTvcvWWTOYoNz7PqjUqyvLJBTzif3Ek/s1600/Knossos+frise+des+griffons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRV4ZL6sF8flSJXXBJKPZrc_gzXINEPVQMbu2GYxZQGEkkH7UkZMfowmzwvLRV8FEJHmGAY0_Awut26DlufmVBmtv4e8Uzw4vy2UETeri8ZRZHYTvcvWWTOYoNz7PqjUqyvLJBTzif3Ek/s200/Knossos+frise+des+griffons.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XsE_ayzAePRzkNbCmGuYKR6sLsLYHUPQ-7tyMvEyOQOYfdtx1v10tQns_a8uMuVZWzxqvhhJTvST_3StcB3ysDllFuAhAIKke7zOXDT3gxh3hz72RT_522gYv_89I0dIaNxeOKGUl48/s1600/Cr%25C3%25A8te+c%25C3%25B4te+sud.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_XsE_ayzAePRzkNbCmGuYKR6sLsLYHUPQ-7tyMvEyOQOYfdtx1v10tQns_a8uMuVZWzxqvhhJTvST_3StcB3ysDllFuAhAIKke7zOXDT3gxh3hz72RT_522gYv_89I0dIaNxeOKGUl48/s200/Cr%25C3%25A8te+c%25C3%25B4te+sud.jpg" width="200" /></a>In October I flew further South to Crete. My goal was to wander through the mountains on this long narrow island although I stopped at Knossos to visit the remains and frescoes of this Minoan palace. The food was simple but delicious. The vistas in the Amari valley were stunning. The warm Mediterranean sea being only one hour's drive away from the island's central mountain range, I managed to take a dip every day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCLo_nTolG11acCnqmdNHOJUjHsNqy0l4yl791dQuhodT_qRAxJQ5CcaexRbgKlYO4IW4ciE6YQ4-s4NIwmEEALk_XJVBwMKdn3OCXkBqJObZKvYiDF2a8mjU8LhyHMxjTJegwh9kdQo/s1600/Vall%25C3%25A9e+Amari.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCLo_nTolG11acCnqmdNHOJUjHsNqy0l4yl791dQuhodT_qRAxJQ5CcaexRbgKlYO4IW4ciE6YQ4-s4NIwmEEALk_XJVBwMKdn3OCXkBqJObZKvYiDF2a8mjU8LhyHMxjTJegwh9kdQo/s320/Vall%25C3%25A9e+Amari.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Green fields, golden sands<br />
An other cup, Yusuf, Cat-O-Log Records</div>
Jo Cadilhonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06466843796347534448noreply@blogger.com0Mer Méditerranée34.5531284 18.0480105000000329.3064304 -23.260583499999967 59.7998264 59.356604500000032