Luxor, Egypt: A hot air balloon ride

 Photo by Patricia Leslie 
What a grand way to celebrate a birthday, in a hot air balloon over Luxor with about a thousand others! (Not really; it just seemed that way.) 

No need to worry about falling over in the basket since we were about as crushed as Metro riders at rush hour. (When commuters used to ride Metro.  Auuuggghh! (Private DC joke.))


No fatalities, ever!  Said Tarek, the tour guide.  The name of the balloon "pilot in command" on the certificate says "AMR," and he was expert at guiding and driving the balloon, ascending and descending.
  
(Dear Reader, I hope you are not going to skip a trip to Egypt because you are afraid. (Two husbands on our Odysseys tour stayed home because they were afraid. Their wives came without'em. Well, actually one husband stayed home to job hunt which, I suppose, qualifies for an excuse to skip Egypt, but his wife said he was afraid, too.)

Anyway, Egypt is a bargain, folks, with all the sights you've learned about since childhood. You would not believe how far a dollar stretches, like for parchment bookmarks! (10 for one dollar. People I don't even know are asking me for bookmarks.)  

The Egyptians are so welcoming! It's nice to visit a country where Americans are liked and wanted and the subject of street greetings:  "Hallo!  Hallo!" shout the children in their British accents on their way to school. Dear Reader, if you are scared by terrorists, the terrorists win. Besides, you could die at home, in your kitchen or bathroom. Better to be in Egypt, having a good time and doing what you have dreamed about before you go kerplunk. Write and I'll tell you more.)

 The beginning of the balloon ride looks like the end. (Please see last photo.)Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie 
To reach the balloon liftoff, we were up well before dawn to catch the sunrise (and the balloon). This is one of those "have to do" things before you die.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie
 Right underneath those flames, it's a mite warm.  The workers covered the tops of their heads with their hands. Hmmm....

 /Photo by Patricia Leslie  Adios and farewell to everybody on the ground.
Photo by Patricia Leslie 
These fellows worked with the truck driver on our liftoff.  I think the balloon was attached by ropes to the truck which backed up and pulled on the attachments as we took off, but I really don't know what I am talking about, just observing.  The crew required for ballooning is huge! We always felt safe.

Photo by Patricia Leslie 
The fellow on the right steered this ship in the air, our captain of the sky. Well qualified and confident. More than once he said his balloon gave us a better, longer ride than the competitors in the sky (about six or seven other balloons). He did skim the tree tops and descend and escalate more than the others, I observed, because he must have known it was my birthday, and we were on the best ship in the sky. (Hod - Hod Soliman on Television Street in Luxor.)
Photo by Patricia LeslieSome of the competitors.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia LeslieCompetitors, below. We beat them to the sky.

Photo by Patricia Leslie  Up and up and away we go. This may be looking towards the Valley of the Kings (in the distance) where 63 tombs of the pharaohs have been discovered and where no photographs are permitted. 

King Tut's is one tomb open at this time.  When you descend into the tomb, you can see his mummy under a white covering, lying inside heavy duty plastic or a glass case with his head and feet exposed.  He was only 18 when he died and assumed the throne when he was nine or ten. He was the son of a brother and a sister, and King Tut married his half sister, a practice not unusual then but inbreeding led to early deaths.

Dear King Tut, I think you win the prize for Most Accomplishments in a Lifetime.  I am reading The Murder of Tutankhamen: A True Story by Bob Brier (although I understand most scholars now believe Tut died naturally) and my boss lady loaned me Howard Carter's Tomb of Tutankhamen which is hard to put down.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie  A firing of the jets to boost our elevation.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie That's the edge of the basket in the bottom of the photo.  If you think the basket holds a handful of people, multiple that by ten or more.

Photo by Patricia Leslie The fields are green, thanks to the vital Nile.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie  Many buildings in Egypt lack roofs which has something to do with tax savings. If the buildings are unfinished (and reserved for future generations), the taxes are lower (I think).

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie 

     Here comes the sun! here comes the sun 

     And I say it's all right

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right

(Thank you, Beatles)

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie Sun, ahoy, yonder, coming to the Nile.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie  I think our ship, the Royal Lily, is in the middle of the three ships in the foreground.

  Photo by Patricia Leslie  Luxor from the air.

 Photo by Patricia LeslieCan you see Luxor Temple below (right center)?

 Photo by Patricia Leslie  Luxor Temple from the air.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie Competitors in the air. You can never escape competitors, even up high.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie Egyptians burn their sugarcane fields after harvest.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie Roofless buildings

 Photo by Patricia Leslie Coming down

 Photo by Patricia Leslie  An invasion of privacy

 Photo by Patricia Leslie We beat competitors to the ground.  We had the best balloon and pilot.

Photo by Patricia Leslie I thought I was flying high in Napa Valley or in southern France.  I had wine on the brain.

Photo by Patricia Leslie  Where birds fly

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

Photo by Patricia Leslie

 

Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie

 Photo by Patricia Leslie The end, and the hardest part: getting out of the basket.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie  I'm glad I don't have to fold this big piece of laundry. About ten men were present to help us unload and lead us to the shuttle.

 Photo by Patricia Leslie  A'marching we shall go, through the sugarcane fields to the shuttle (and breakfast!  Yay!) I think the white truck on the right is to carry the deflated balloon back to the starting point.  This reminds me of billboards in the U.S. (?) where land owners receive rental payment. I hope these sugarcane owners receive payment from the balloon companies who land in their fields.

Photo by Patricia Leslie Poof!  And the balloon deflates!  Thank you, Claire, for an unforgettable birthday present!


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Anwar Sadat's and the Unknown Soldier's tombs, Cairo

/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

Above is the approach to the Unknown Soldier's tomb and memorial in Cairo. The monument was ordered by Egyptian President Anwar Sadat in 1974 to honor Egyptian and Arab soldiers killed in the 1973 war with Israel, which was the Yom Kippur War about taking back the Sinai.

Only seven years later, the monument also became the tomb of President Sadat after he was assassinated October 6, 1981 across the street from the memorial.  There he reviewed the annual parade to celebrate Egypt's crossing of the Suez Canal before he was attacked.

President Sadat and Israeli President Menachem Begin together were the recipients of the 1978 Nobel Peace Prize.

/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017  

Above is the tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Cairo where President Anwar Sadat is also buried. At the site, our Odysseys tour guide, an Egyptian, became emotional and said beforehand, that it would make him quite sad to visit the memorial, but for us curious Americans who well remember the tragedy, he would do it.  We were grateful for the opportunity to see the tombs and the site and remember.

 

Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

 Looking from the back of the grave marker to across the street at the reviewing stand where President Sadat was attacked and ten others, killed.  Four U.S. military members were among the 28 who were wounded in the assault by Islamic fundamentalists.

 /Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

 /Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

Across the street from President Sadat and the Unknown Soldier's tombs is the reviewing stand where President Sadat was killed. Note the raised guard station on the left/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

One of two guards who always stand to protect President Sadat's and the Unknown Soldier's tombs. The soldiers' rotations last four hours/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

 Another guard/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

 The same/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

 Art of the 1973 conflict  at the Memorial/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

Above the guard station at the assassination site a helicopter flies overhead, perhaps a security helicopter like the ones which crisscross Tysons, Virginia daily, perhaps to check on the C.I.A. building/Photo by Patricia Leslie, April 4, 2017

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Destination: Cairo

Changing planes in Frankfurt, Germany where two hours rushing through the beeeg (sic) terminal were almost not enough time to catch our next flight to Cairo (having to go through security again). The experience at Dulles last night was not nearly so bad.  The employees smiled (shock) and were right friendly/photo by Patricia Leslie

Update: Look!  Look! Blurry lights and an impressionist painting taken from the shuttle bus in Cairo on the way to the hotel which has security entrances with dogs and inspections of vehicles under and over, large gates, magnetometers, and x-rays of possessions.  I later learned (and observed) the Egyptian government supplies guards with AK-47s to accompany tourists whenever tourists are out in public.  We always felt safe. Pictures to come!/photo by Patricia Leslie

Look! Look!  Cairo has more traffic than DC, more people, too!  On the way to the hotel on this bus, I fell on top of the tour guide while searching the floor for my IPad when the bus driver had to suddenly lurch to a stop.  (He was very cute.  The tour guide.  I never saw the driver from my perch at the back of the bus.)  This was after the tour guide almost sent out a search party for me at the Cairo airport when I lagged and didn't show up.  Man!  I was at the back of the plane and we know how fast it is getting off when you're in the tail.  Claire says Egypt is a third world country, and I said "no way," laying on these luxurious Egyptian sheets in this palatial hotel, the Fairmont on the banks of the Nile River.  More to come!/photo by Patricia Leslie 

Reston's 'Rock of Ages' rocks all night

The cast of Rock of Ages by the Reston Community Players/photo by Traci J. Brooks

Run and get tickets to this fantastic show by the Reston Community Players on stage at the Reston Community Center.

It is so much fun, I loved, loved, loved it and would see Rock of Ages again. It's like a great book which you don't want to end. How many plays can you say that about?

From the get-go, Rock leaps from the runway and soars into the night sky. If you like 80s music or even if you don't, or can't remember any (I heard two 70-something gents say they were unfamiliar with the tunes, but they liked what they saw), this is a show you won't forget. (Or doze through.)

Were my dad still around (age 102 this month), he would have wanted to see it every night. (Read on.) Except for children and prudes, it's appropriate for all ages.

Ben Peter is woman killer and rock star Stacee Jaxx in Rock of Ages by the Reston Community Players/photo by Traci J. Brooks

Besides great music by Styx, Journey, Bon Jovi, Pat Benatar, Twisted Sister, Steve Perry, Poison and Europe and others, Rock is loaded with lots of simulated sex, raunchy moves (!), strippers' apparel and adult language.

A quintet of super-talented musicians assembled just for the show by Director Joshua Redford play from center stage throughout the performance, but their presence does not dominate, and their figures blend nicely in the background.

The standout in this band crowd is the electric guitarist, Noah Dail, who reminded me of Slash and was chosen by Mr. Redford on a tip, he told me at the after-party.

Alone, Mr. Dail (age 17) is a show unto himself, but ROA has a plot beyond the presentation of Mr. Dail's fantastic guitar-playing abilities.

It's "glam metal" 80s music set to a romance (natch, says the energetic and persuasive narrator, Brett Harwood as Lonny Barnett) between a gal (Claire O'Brien Jeffrey who is Sherrie) on a journey to acting stardom in Hollywood (ho hum), but a few detours crop up along the way, like a new boyfriend (Russell Silber is Drew Boley), a new "career," and a hot rock star sure to grab (ahem) any gal's attention. (Ben Peter is Stacee Jaxx whose role and performance I absolutely adored.)
 
The antagonists are Brent Stone and Richard Farella, who play the greedy developer and son, Hertz and Franz, seeking to disrupt real estate and the bar business. Both are realistic, and Franz almost brings down the house when he "changes." ("I'm not gay; I'm just German.")

The best vocalists IMO were Joey Olson who is Dennis Dupree, the angelic owner of the bar, and Bruni Herring, the madam of the house, whose stage name here is Justice. (Right.)

Carole Steele, the costume designer, expertly dresses the performers in 80s garb, and hair and makeup designers, Kat Brais and Molly Hicks Larson, deserve equal praise.

Director Redford's smarts show with his choice of professional pole dancers (Tara Leigh Willis and Erin Reese) whose dancing is hard to escape and sometimes detracts from the script with their twists, turns, and upside-down antics to make it look, oh, so easy. (Sure.)

The setting (by Dan Widerski) is mostly in a bar, and stale beer smells seem to waft through the hall, giving you a taste of how the production encapsulates the audience.  

The scenery can be a little too cluttered with all the actors, musicians, and action, but its transitions to a bathroom (a riotous scene), dock, house of ill repute, and other places smoothly convey.

Rock has something for everyone: music, heteros, homos, an infusion of religion for those in need, and, of course, dancing (by Chris Dore who also acts and with Farella, is the projection designer).

Thank goodness, there were no audience sing-alongs on opening night.

One mistake we made was passing up the lighters the ushers offer before show time. Take them! You'll be glad you did. A nice touch.

But decline the ear plugs which are not needed since the music will not blast you off your Rocker (but the show just might).
 
No wonder it's tied with Man of La Mancha for being Broadway's 28th longest running show. (Rock played there from 2009 to 2015.)

The book is by Chris D’Arienzo.

Other cast and crew members are Erich DiCenzo, Kristin Renee Reeves, Evie Korovesis, Kendall Mostafavi, and Philip Smith-Cobbs, Jenny Girardi, and Melrose Pyne.

Matt Jeffrey is music director and also plays the keyboard, Jocelyn Steiner, is the producer,

Colleen Stock, stage manager; Sara Birkhead, technical director; Jan Claar, lighting; Seth Sacher, sound; Mary Jo Ford, properties; Jennifer Lambert, set decoration; and Cathy Rieder, set painting.

Other musicians are David Smigielski, guitarist; Christopher Willett, bass; and on drums, Matt Robotham.

Thank you to the Arts Council of Fairfax County for partial funding.

Enjoy!

Ages: Not recommended for those under age 15.

Who: Reston Community Players
 
What: Rock of Ages

When: 2 p.m., March 19 and 26, 2017, and 8 p.m., March 24-25, March 31 and April 1.

Where: Reston Community Center, 2310 Colts Neck Road, Reston, VA 20191

How much: $25, adults; $21, students and seniors

Tickets: Buy online, at the box office, or call 703-476-4500 and press 3 for 24-hour ticket orders.

Language: A few F-bombs and more dirty slang drop every now and then.

Attention: Strobe lights and haze are used.

Duration: A little over two hours with one 20 minute intermission.
 
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The Dutch have extended their stay at the National Gallery of Art

Govert Flinck, Dutch (1615 – 1660), The Governors of the Kloveniersdoelen, 1642, oil on canvas
Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, loaned from the City of Amsterdam

Bartholomeus van der Helst, Dutch (1613 – 1670), The Governors of the Kloveniersdoelen, 1655
oil on canvas, Amsterdam Museum


Update:  The Dutch will stay through August 31, 2017!  Thank you, Dutch!

Earlier I had written:  It is with great sadness that I report that the handsome men pictured above have left the West Building at the National Gallery of Art where they have been in residence for the last five years.  (Now, you can still see them and swoon!)

As they moved from gallery to gallery, place to place, sometimes on opposite walls, sometimes together during their reign, I followed them, a groupie of 17th century Dutch Golden Age men!

They, like magnets to see their confidence, their bravura, their looks of invitation (the youngers), or, at least, that's the way I liked to interpret their expressions, all the while noting their similarities and differences and finding something new each time I dropped in for a visit.  

They welcomed me!  

They liked me! What fun it all was.  And yet, quoting Chaucer here, all good things must come to an end [of a relationship].

What can I tell you about these beguiling men? 

They were among Amsterdam's elite, all but one of them members at various times of the city council, who were also "governors" of the headquarters of the Kloveniers, one of city's three militia companies. Three were burgomasters (mayors).  Several were related by "strategic marriages."  

In the painting on the bottom is a woman on the right believed to be Geertruyd Nachtglas, who was the administrator of the Kloveniersdoelen, the militia's building, which is the setting for both pieces.  Ms. Nachtglas was appointed to her position after the death of her father (in the first painting, holding the drinking horn) and who, I believe, held the position prior to his daughter.

The works were painted 13 years apart by two classical Dutch artists: Govert Flinck, (1615 – 1660), and Bartholomeus van der Helst, (1613 – 1670). 

Both Flinck and van der Helst were "two of the most renowned portraitists of their time," says the handsome color brochure. Flinck trained under Rembrandt in the early 1630s and like his teacher, "specialized in both history paintings and fashionable portraiture."

To stand and study these works was always of immense pleasure during each visit, and subsequent trips to their residencies always revealed new "finds."

Look at their grandeur!  The majesty.  I tell you clothes make the man.  I still prefer a dressed-up man (tie) to the casual appearances most sport nowadays like he is on a perpetual trip to a soccer match.

But where was I?  

In the first, the painting on top, Flinck captures the more serious tones, expressions, and clothing of his gentlemen, including ghostly complexions of the dead. Blood flows more rapidly in the youngers below, illustrated by their ruddy flesh tones.

In the top, the men looking at the viewer seem sad, wistful, expressions absent from the second.  They seem distracted and weary.  Life is a long journey!  They exude the baggage they carry in their stern faces.  "Now, it's your turn."

The younger men seem to be having a better time, and look!  On the right are women. Clothing styles have changed.

Note the importance of the hands in both works, and how the artists emphasized them with light. See their gestures and the central figures in each, how each turns around to address the viewer, the man in the second who seems to say: "What are you doing here?  You want to join us?  You have news?" 

What does the pointing to the viewer's right mean?

These are but two of 135 known Dutch militia portraits created by artists in the Netherlands' Golden Age during the 16th and 17th centuries. The National Gallery's Henrietta de Bruyn Kops, who wrote the brochure, said at the exhibition's opening, that the men were "movers and shakers" of the Dutch Republic, "really big men."

Her Excellency Renee Jones-Bos, then the ambassador of the Netherlands to the U.S., who also spoke at the opening, called the "friendship between the two countries, enormous," which, no doubt, helped bring about their loan to the U.S.  (Dear Netherlands, we are exceedingly grateful!)

Which leads me to wonder that, with warmer relations between the leaders of Russia and the U.S., perhaps we can pursue loans from the Hermitage and vice-versa.  Maybe? 

What does this all mean?  Whatever you want it to mean, including the words of English poet Robert Herrick (1591-1674) writing in 1648 about the same time as the paintings "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time"  which has its basis in Ausonius or Virgil, and Horace (my high school English teacher would be so proud):

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today

To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

The higher he's a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

And, while ye may, go marry:

For having lost but once your prime,

You may forever tarry.

You see what art can do!

Gather Ye rosebuds While Ye May, by John William Waterhouse, (1909)/Wikipedia.



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Cartoon idea: Temper Tantrum Trump and Twittybird in the sandbox

Mar-A-Lago, South Elevation showing owner's suite and Baby House, 1100 S. Ocean Blvd., Palm Beach, FL, April, 1967/Photo from Library of Congress, Jack E. Boucher

Now, picture this:

He's in the throes of the Terrible Twos (or is it the Terrible First 100 Days, or, the Terrible First 100 Dazed?)

Whatever it is, he wears only a diaper and sits in his little sandbox, screaming and yelling, his hair flying, his arms flailing, while he tosses overboard many of his new toys (a plastic "Barbie" (aka Kellyanne Conway, in a very short (above knees) white dress while crouched on a sofa), Sean Spicer, Reince, Sessions).

Big tears splash from his eyes and roll down his cheeks, and spoiled Trump screams: "My way!  My way! I want my Twittybird!!" Waa-waa-waa

Secret Service agents in hip sunglasses, suits, crew cuts, all looking alike and holding AK47 rifles, stand nearby and eye Melania lustily.  She is seated under an umbrella in big sunglasses and provocative clothing.

Pecking away at a computer and wearing a hidden earpiece and no shirt, who but Putin, with a sly smile, in a beach chair, on a horse, or under the umbrella with grinning Melania.

The sandbox sits on the shores of Mar-A-Lago, yonder with palm trees standing erect, leaves blowing.

Off the coast a Russian ship (with flag) runs up and down the waters while Russian aircraft hover in the sky.

Standing at the sandbox watching the temper tantrum escalate are Bad Bannon (Grim Reaper per SNL) and Ivanka (in dress suit in heels in the sand) holding the Big Baby's favorite toy, Twittybird.

Says Bannon to the spoiled child: 

"You can have Twittybird back if you promise to behave and not click the Twitty too much! You've already broken your finger, and run down Twitty's battery and since you've thrown away all the environmental rules, we have no batteryless powered Twittys to give you!" 

Ivanka nods in agreement.

(Better punch lines, please write here.)

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Quick takes on 2016 Best Picture nominees

Sunny Pawar in Lion

Here are my impressions of the movies I have seen on the Best Picture list, plus Snowden which should have been included but wasn't (too political, I guess) and a huge thumbs up to Hell or High Water  
(already reviewed). 

La La Land - is for la la brain dead. After the first scene on the highway, it descends and never recovers.  A chick flick.  If you like dancing and singing, this one's for you but it doesn't have much meat.  No to Best Picture. (Attention: Carla:  Rafi will not like.)

Manchester by the Sea - yes, as depressing as rumored. A good story but if there's a movie with a more unpredictable, worse ending, I can't recall what it is other than, maybe, Ole Yeller.

Skip Manchester if you are experiencing an emotional upset, are downfallen, sick, sad, disturbed about the presidency, Ziki, alt-right, global warming or romantic ventures, need a pedicure, money, drugs, or can't find the remote. No to Best Picture (Carla:  I'm not sure how Rafi will like Manchester.  Better to stay at home.)

Lion - great all the way around.  Will win Best Picture unless (likely) overtaken by Fences (the trailer looks so mundane) or Hidden Figures, two movies of color and Figures about women, both very much in vogue today.  Neither movie have I seen but that's not stopping me to predict Hidden Figures (women and black women) will win.  

The prime weakness in Lion (they all have weaknesses) was the rush to finish the search.  More time should have been devoted to the hunt for his homeland rather than the buildup.  You'll understand if you see it.  

Nicole Kidman in Lion is good, but not good enough to be nominated for Best Supporting Actress, let alone  win. (Carla: Lion is a yes for Rafi.)

The Salesman - nominated for Best Foreign Language Film.  Dull.  One of those you keep hoping will take off, but it never leaves the runway. Acting, commendable, but nothing to write Aunt Frances  about. This is a "psychological thriller"?  Maybe to friends of the producer, to Iranians, or the critics (they are so predictable) but not to those of us accustomed to "psychological thrillers." (Carla:  No)

And that's all she wrote!

Sincerely,
patricialesli@gmail.com