48 Years Later ...

In early June of 1964, despite flooding from heavy May rains and a heavy snow melt from the Rockies that had burst dams, carried off bridges and chunks of the paved highway and other roads in the north-central part of my birth state of Montana, my intrepid father drove me in the family car to the "Big City," aka Great Falls, where I would board an airplane for the first time in my life. This journey would take me to a truly large city, Philadelphia, PA.  There I would meet with several other groups of prospective Peace Corps Volunteers to be physically and mentally assessed beyond our initial qualifying physical and mental assessments and have our teeth and eyes checked. Providing that no previously indiscernible disqualifying tendency had emerged in the meantime, I would join the Morocco III group. Together, we would go on to Princeton University for a couple months of training in languages, pedagogical methods, Middle Eastern and North African cultural studies, contemporary American issues and a bunch of miscellaneous other skills deemed necessary for our survival in North Africa for the next two years.

There were generally two routes to get us to Great Falls. One was the highway, which had not suffered the flooding with grace, and was also the longer route - 120 miles. The other was a gravel road, which had the advantage of being shorter (90 miles) and from all accounts, was less damaged. According to local lore, it had once served as a bootlegging route dating from the days of Prohibition. We took the bootlegger route that day and had little trouble. But in many respects, there has been a lot of water under a lot of bridges since that day in 1964.

Morocco III turned out to be an exceptionally close-knit group - and so most of us have remained these many, many years later, in large part due to the driving force of one member, our beloved "J-J," aka "Jean-Jacques." This is not at all his real name, of course, but he chose it "back in the day" and it is how we all remember him best.

Since 2004, J-J has tirelessly worked with other members of the group to organize Morocco III reunions every four years, with the location generally being determined by the hosts. Thus we have met in Saint-Paul, MN, in Sacramento, CA and this year, in beautiful Martha's Vineyard. Today, I received some photos from the reunion, which I was unfortunately unable to attend.

We are not an "exclusive" group. If other returned Morocco PCVs happen to be in the area, occasionally they also show up and are welcome. Generally we like to do whatever is most done, thus some attendees tried their hand at fishing, reminiscent of the fishing some did on the North African side of The Pond.

But the real draw this year was something that the New England coast is well-known for: lobster with roasted ears of corn!

Everyone clearly had a wonderful time! 

Affordable Health Care

It is with some relief that I have read that the Supreme Court of the United States (aka "SCOTUS") today upheld the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act ("ACA"), referred to sneeringly and nastily as "Obamacare" by too many in the US Republican Party whose parents apparently never taught them civilized manners.

Of course, partisan politics in the US, coupled with corporate media bias against anything that might actually make President Obama look good, and fact-checking all being what they are, several of the major news organizations immediately broadcast to the world that SCOTUS had declared the ACA "unconstitutional." Many of us are old enough to remember - if just barely - the last time that US media got the facts so wrong, when newspapers announced that "Dewey Beats Truman" in November 1948.  Of course, it was just the opposite.  Truman won that election.  In 1948, the news services had more of an excuse. It actually took a while to count the votes in those days. Because of the faux pas of today's contemporary media, late-night comedians will have fodder for their jokes stretching into weeks. Some are already referring to this media fiasco as President Obama's "Truman moment."

Much as I may be dissatisfied with the ACA's provisions for not being a national health service like the majority of effective health systems in the world - including the developing world - its provisions have enabled many of my fellow citizens to purchase health insurance coverage, some for the first time in their lives. Under the ACA, the insurance companies that make a business out of what should be a human right can no longer deny coverage to individuals who suffer from the often vague disqualifier known as a "pre-existing condition."   This so-called "pre-existing condition" was all too often a moving target in its identification, serving more the financial interests of the insurance companies than the legitimate health interests of us all.

Interestingly, here in Switzerland, the Swiss system is not national health care as it is in France. It is more like the US system in that we must all purchase private insurance. The difference here however is that the companies are regulated and controlled by the State. The costs are eminently reasonable. And even politicians of the right-wing here are absolutely scandalized at the thought that anyone should ever have to go bankrupt because of health care costs.

It's about time that something reasonable was decided by this SCOTUS. I am still rankling - as are many of my fellow citizens - that the majority have apparently decided that corporations are people (!!) and, along those lines, just two days ago struck down a 1912 law in my birth state of Montana that was intended to address outside corporate interference in state and local elections. So I was astonished when Chief Justice Roberts, who has slavishly followed the lead of the most radical judicial activists against the interests of the American people, actually voted with the so-called "liberal" justices in upholding the constitutionality of the ACA.

That took a lot of courage in today's very nasty political climate. And I will acknowledge courage when I see it.

The Way We Were ... And Are

On 27 June 1981, HWMBO and I first "tied the knot." We had met each other a mere six months earlier, so yes, it was a whirlwind romance. At the time, we were both working in Morocco, I as a USAID contractor, he with his company's commercial contract with the Moroccan Government. Both of us were single parents; in fact, our sons were in school together and they knew each other before we even knew "of" each other, let alone had met. We were a LOT younger then than we are now, but neither of us was a twenty-something, even then. Our hair had a lot more color in those days. In my case especially, there was also less poundage. Sigh! If only ...

Fast forward 31 years to today. Yes, it's been that long. The husband of one of my French neighbors insists that we should only be able to count half of each of these more recent years because HWMBO and I are physically apart so much. But we still count each milestone as a full year nonetheless.

We'll be together again soon. Even though it's never quite soon enough.  

My Transplanted Provence

One of my favorite places to visit is the beautiful southern area of France known as Provence, with its blue sky, vivid bright colors, fragrant flowering plants, medieval villages perched on hillsides, olive groves, vineyards, Alpine foothills and, of course, the Mediterranean beaches near Cassis, Saint-Tropez, Cannes, Nice and further along the French Riviera into Italy. For a quick overview, see this short video.

The coast of Provence has some of the earliest known sites of human habitation in Europe. Primitive stone tools found there date back to 1.05 million years BC. This is patent evidence that even some of my earliest ancestors found the area conducive to settling down, finding food, building homes - although the earliest were cave dwellings - and raising families. Eons after these cave dwellers, the first pastoral peoples came, bringing flocks, agriculture and even industry. There is evidence that the first pottery production in France began in Provence, around 6000 BC. Various new peoples discovered the area, displacing or blending in with the earliest settlers until finally the two main groups were Celts and Ligurians.  Then the Ancient Greeks discovered the area and created their first permanent settlement at Massilia (modern Marseille), making it one of the major trading ports of the ancient world.

But where the Greeks would settle, the Romans would not be far behind. Ultimately the Romans would conquer the whole of Gaul, later to become France. When I first studied Latin, I well remember working my way rather tediously through selected parts of the Commentarii de Bello Gallico written by Julius Caesar about his experiences in the Gallic War, as well as his frequent references to "Provincia" (now Provence). Since Caesar's days, many peoples have come and gone in the area: some willingly, some not. The last warlike invasions occurred there on 15 August 1944 when the Free French, accompanied by other Allied troops, had to reconquer their own country. Nowadays, invaders come from all over the world, armed principally with their pocketbooks and credit cards, to enjoy "la belle vie" as it is thoroughly enjoyed there.


The last time I visited Provence was in 2009 when Healer Sis was visiting. While we certainly enjoyed traveling and seeing the beautiful sights, upon our return to Switzerland we realized that we already had a lot of the ambiance of Provence right here, but without the crowds. Vineyards and mountains are here in abundance. I have a lovely little beachfront right on Lake Geneva. Best of all, it's only a five-minute walk from here. As for other typical sights of Provence, such as lavender

and brilliant scarlet poppies,

I can see them every day as I ride my bicycle.

In fact, all I have to do is look out on my balcony

and I have my transplanted Provence right before my eyes!

The Undefeated

From 19-23 June this year, Royal Ascot, one of the world's oldest and most prestigious race meets was held at Ascot Racecourse in the UK. Ascot Racecourse dates back to 1711, when it was founded by Queen Anne. Fittingly, its inaugural race was Her Majesty's Plate, for a prize of 100 guineas. The early version of that race was open to any horse, mare or gelding over six years of age and consisted of three heats, each of which was four miles long. Today, races at Ascot have been mightily shortened from those early ordeals. Here is an interactive timeline with historical highlights of the past 300 years. 


Royal Ascot is considered the "pinnacle" of the racing calendar at Ascot. During her 60 years as the UK's reigning monarch, Queen Elizabeth II has never failed to attend the meet, arriving each day in a horse-drawn carriage, often with other members of the Royal Family in attendance. A timelapse of the procession can be seen here. Once the Royal Procession has passed before the stands and the Royals have been comfortably settled in their sky box, the day's activities are officially launched.


Press coverage is often focused more on those who attend and how they are dressed, as if the meet were a fashion show, and attendees are only too happy to conform to the rigorous dress code. Those who remember the film, My Fair Lady, will no doubt remember the Ascot Racecourse scenes. A memory jog can be found here. And yes, the men do still wear top hats and tails. Other than dress length modifications, the women's coordinating dresses and hats are still very much de rigueur and l'ordre du jour. That 19th century Ascot crowd would feel quite at home at Ascot today - insofar as style is concerned.


But the real stars of the show, IMO, are the horses and their respective entourages, including owners, trainers, jockeys, grooms, stablepersons, etc. There were many gallant horses who ran, not all of them winners. As usual, there were many associated human interest stories. But over the course of the five-day meet, there were two standout horses: Frankel and Black Caviar.


Frankel is a British thoroughbred colt, undefeated in ten starts prior to the Ascot meet, who has been the highest-rated racehorse in the world since May 2011. At Ascot, he extended his winning streak to 11, adding a convincing victory in the Queen Anne Stakes, as shown here. Once Frankel turned on the speed, there was no question as to the outcome. Wow!


Black Caviar, on the other hand, is an Australian thoroughbred mare, rated as one of the top racehorses in the world. She had 21 wins to her record before making the 10,000+ mile journey to Ascot to race outside her native Australia for the first time. Her target was the Diamond Jubilee Stakes. Her fans in Melbourne, Australia were clustered around a large TV screen after midnight their time, hoping to see her add a 22nd victory to her record in real time.


Well, for a few heart-stopping moments, no one was sure exactly what had happened. She was in the lead until the last couple seconds when two French horses rushed up and it looked as if one of them might have just beaten her. It also seemed as if her jockey had misunderstood where the finish line was and had started to relax instead of continuing to urge her on. Thankfully for her fans worldwide, Black Caviar had just managed to keep her head in front, as shown here.   


For Black Caviar, however, being undefeated throughout her career has had a price. The latest word is that she apparently suffered two muscle tears and bruising to her hindquarters - exactly when and how are not clear. That she was still able to run - and win - in the circumstances is very impressive. Best of all, it appears that her racing career is not over yet, although she will have a good, long, and well-deserved rest before she races again.  

Rail Travel - Swiss Style

In these retirement years when for the most part, I don't have tight schedules to follow, I am able to enjoy observing the world. Thus, instead of routinely driving to Geneva, Lausanne or other points within Switzerland when visiting friends, I generally try to take the train. I find that I actually have time to view the countryside this way, rather than having to keep my attention on road conditions, signals and other drivers. Railroad stations here are centrally-located, so one arrives right in the middle of town, even in the tiny ones.

So long as one's visit is short, a one-way ticket can actually be used for traveling within one's destination city as well as for the return journey. For example, if I want to go to Geneva or nearby Nyon, but the whole visit will not last longer than two hours, one-way ticket purchase will suffice and will include the local buses and trams. A one-way ticket to Lausanne allows me a "grace period" of four hours, which is plenty of time for short visits to friends and the return trip. For longer periods of time, it's better to buy a day pass, which is still generally less expensive than two one-way passages.

The Swiss Railway (SBB/CFF) has a website that provides excellent information, including timetables and rail fares, in four languages: French, German, Italian and English. It was formerly a national institution, but since 1999 has been a special corporation whose stock shares are held by the cantons. Those of us who are residents generally purchase demi-abonnements (half-fare travel passes, locally referred to as the "demi-abo") for periods from one to three years. These entitle us to travel anywhere, anytime within the country for half-price, even if we merely purchase our train tickets at a ticket machine a few minutes before the train leaves.  If one books longer trips enough in advance, one may also find that special fares are available for which a demi-abo is not even needed. But these fares quickly sell off, especially during peak travel periods.

When arranging for train travel to Italy last year, for example, I was able to get special fares both for the trip to Milano and for the return to Geneva that were even less than the demi-abo fares would have been. Because HWMBO, who does not have a demi-abo, would be accompanying me on the return trip, I used the special fare for his ticket from Milano and purchased a half-fare ticket for myself. No, I was not pulling a fast one. I was merely following the suggestion of the very helpful ticket agent. Note: the smaller stations use only machines, but those situated in cities like Geneva and Lausanne have ticket offices, including associated travel agencies that will book hotels, etc. as well. These are the best places to get information from actual human beings, all of whom are multilingual (in case of linguistically-challenged travelers).


On Wednesday, I traveled to Lausanne to visit friends and was delighted to catch one of the sleek new double-decker trains. Here is "my" train, just after arrival in Lausanne.

Here is the railway car (wagon) that I rode in. And yes, I chose a seat on the upper level. What fun!

The large "2" indicates that this car is for second-class passengers, which is what most passengers - including me - choose to pay for. But there was nothing "second-class" about this car, believe me! 
    

Midsummer

I find that my spirits begin to lift around 20-23 December each year, dependent on when the winter solstice actually falls and the days begin to grow longer. Similarly, my spirits acknowledge the high point of the year with elation, that day when we have the most daylight hours. The summer solstice falls around 20-22 June. Inexorably, it occurred again this year, on 20 June. Now begins the shortening of the daylight hours, gently at first, then quickening after the autumn solstice until we rush headlong into days of darkness once again. My mood ever so gradually reflects this.

The waning of daylight affects our circadian rhythms, those fascinating processes intrinsic to us that are controlled by light and dark. They let us know when to sleep, when to wake, when to be active and when to rest. Light is literally a life-bringer; dark can be a life restorer. Light and Dark have their designated places in our life cycles. So long as each is kept in balance, they can help us to retain our own centers and our wholeness. Seriously imbalanced, they can cause physiological or psychological illness, even to trauma and paranoia. There is good reason why continuing periods of bright light are used by torturers, for example. We thought that such things were of the past, certainly not used by "civilized" societies.

We were wrong.

To our ancestors, whole rites and rituals developed around these special periods of the year. My own ancestors, Celts for the most part, used to celebrate by dancing around bonfires to help increase the Sun's energy. Druids (Celtic priests) used to celebrate the day as the "wedding of heaven and earth," giving rise to the tradition of June brides because June was considered to be a lucky month.

Of course, this is mostly latter-day reconstruction of events. When there were Druid priests, there was no June as we know it. Just how did those priests know when Midsummer occurred? Or Midwinter, for that matter? There were no calendars then, at least none that we have found. Did they base their calculations on the Sun, or the Moon? After all, the Lunar Year is significantly shorter than the Solar Year. Perhaps this moveable feast varied by significantly more than a few days each year, at least until the Julian calendar imposed dates and months.


For me, Midsummer is always a time for musing, for the beginnings of a sadness that once again, another year has climbed to its midpoint. Many I knew and loved who began 2012 as HWMBO and I did have not even lasted to this point. And we are ourselves growing grayer as we begin the descent.

Rite of Passage

This past weekend, the small university where I have been teaching - in order to support my retirement "jet-set" lifestyle (LOL!) - held its annual commencement ceremony. The exercise was held at the Grand Hotel Kempinski in Geneva, formerly known as the Hilton or Noga-Hilton. There have been lots of changes over the past 18 years, which is as long as I have lived here.

There were 56 students in all: 24 undergraduates and another 22 graduates. Did I mention that the university is literally tiny? But what we lacked in quantity, we made up for in variety and internationalism. The students were from 30 different countries around the world. Some hailed from the Middle East; some from South and Central America; many came from Asia, even the South Pacific. Some came from Europe, particularly Central Europe and former SSRs that spanned both Europe and Asia. There were even a couple students from the United States among the graduate students.

We faculty members were dressed in red robes while the students wore black.  

Former Swiss President, Micheline Calmy-Rey, and current Secretary General of the Club of Rome, Ian Johnson, were the featured guest speakers. I was not adept at getting a frontal view of Ms Calmy-Rey, just  catching her as she was departing.

But I managed to catch Mr. Johnson amid the photographic flurry of parents and friends, after the ceremony

when both students 

and professors posed in the frame of Geneva's famed jet d'eau.

Our young female graduates appeared to outdo one another in footwear, although at times we feared for their safety as they teetered about, extremely glamorous, but very precarious.

Following the graduation ceremony and the photo ops, there was a reception at the hotel

where relieved students and their families could relax and enjoy the beautiful scenery.

That evening, we all returned to the hotel for a gala dinner and ball. Hurrah! The Class of 2012 has now officially been launched into the world - hopefully to find professional satisfaction and meaning in their young and hopeful lives.

In Memoriam

This past weekend, Fathers' Day was celebrated in the US. During my youth, my extended maternal family in Montana held an annual family picnic to celebrate the occasion, with my maternal grandfather - the patriarch of my mother's side of the family - as the honored guest. His seven sons-in-law, my father and uncles, were also honorees. But Fathers' Day was most emblematic of Grampa K.

My paternal grandfather and my uncles and aunts on my father's side of the family all lived farther west - most in Washington state. I don't recall ever celebrating Fathers' Day with them, at least not on the day itself.

In September 1966, however, Grampa K passed away. Good farmer as he had become, he had duly completed his fall harvest, returned home, eaten dinner with my grandmother and gone to bed early. The next morning, he simply never woke up. It was a real shock for the family because there had been no indication whatsoever that Grampa K was in ill health. If anything, it was my grandmother whose health was dicey. Grama K lived on until 1983, however. She left us on the day before her 92nd birthday.

Once Grampa K was no longer with us, the annual Fathers' Day picnics became sporadic, finally sputtering out altogether. Of course, we older cousins had grown up and away, several of us moving out of state - in my case, out of the country altogether - and our parents were also busy with the needs of their growing families. But after Grama K's death, those of the youngest cousins who had become adults and were still based in Montana decided to reinstate the traditional family picnic, if for no reason than to give their own children the same sense of family community we had all experienced while we were growing up.  While attendance of us "outsiders" usually depends on whether we're in Montana at the time, a core group of Montanans makes a point of getting together on the day in a central location, usually a small community park.

The last time that HWMBO and I were able to attend the picnic was in 2008, during our six-week cross-country trek from Maryland to California and back. The picnic was also a happy occasion because it commemorated the 60th wedding anniversary of Aunt E and Uncle PJ. At the time, Aunt E was one of three remaining sisters. Uncle PJ was the last uncle survivor. Happily, both are still with us.

This past weekend, those in Montana gathered for the annual picnic, but with a more sobering theme. This year the picnic also served as a family memorial for my Aunt L, who passed away in April. Aunt L had not wanted a funeral or any other event. In fact, she had donated her body to a medical school. But as we who are left behind know well, funerary events are for us the living, for the closure that they provide. So those of Aunt Lil's children and grandchildren who were able to travel to Montana - all now live outside the state - joined the rest of the family to remember her there. Those of us who could not attend sent memorial tributes to be read and compiled for her family.

Here are some photos of Aunt L as she was at the picnic in 2008.

RIP Aunt L! We love and miss you.

A Week of Women

It's been some time since I've posted. Last week was busier than some have been recently. But it was also an eventful week for women - some very well-known, some known less widely.

Major festivities began over a week ago for the Diamond Jubilee of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, who acceded to the throne of the British Commonwealth in 1952, when she was not even 26 years old. The British channels that I receive courtesy of my local cable company were full - indeed they still haven't finished - of coverage of events, reminiscences and anecdotes about the Royal Family and its various vicissitudes over the years. For those who are interested, here is a link to the Official Website of the British Monarchy.

Because of our English heritage and also because my mother's name was Elizabeth (when I was little, I believed that the Queen had been named after my mother - OK, I was pretty sheltered), I have always paid attention to the British Royal Family. I am not alone in this, although some people I know would die before they would ever admit their own interest. So, during part of last week - especially when the weather was rotten - I reviewed episodes of The Tudors on DVD.

Yes, I do realize that the current Royal Family is "Windsor." But it was Henry VIII, a Tudor, who so famously - or infamously - broke with Roman Catholicism way back when to found his own Church so that he could get the annulment/divorce that the Catholic Pope had denied him. I have always wondered how history might have been different if the Pope had not been so stubborn, which probably would not have been the case had Queen Katherine's family not been so powerful. After all, many monarchs of the time had annulments granted.  Or even how different it might have been had a much later king, George III, been a tad more understanding about the early colonists' grievances in the Americas. But my alternative histories were not to be.

Last Thursday and Friday, another very famous woman, the courageous Burmese opposition leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, passed briefly through Geneva, then Bern, on her way to Oslo, belatedly to collect the Nobel Peace Prize that she won in 1991. Unfortunately, her passage through Switzerland was not physically pleasant for her as she was taken ill after finding the "plane trip out to the West extremely exhausting and a little bit disorienting because [she] couldn't adjust to the new time as quickly...."

But my last woman reference for this post is State Representative Lisa Brown, who was little-known outside the US State of Michigan until the memorable day last week when she dared to utter the word "vagina" while protesting a GOP measure intended to restrict - yet again - women's reproductive choices. The delicate ears of the GOP Representatives were so afflicted that they would not allow her and another legislator, Barb Byrum, to speak again - on any subject - for the remainder of the session because "what she said was so offensive." Today, Rep. Brown has been joined by other Michigan women lawmakers in a public recitation of the 1996 play, "The Vagina Monologues" on the Michigan Capitol steps.

Hey there, Good Ole GOP Boys, if you are so offended by the anatomically correct term "vagina," then don't try to regulate it! Frankly, if there is anyone who is offensive, it is you!  

Union Rags and Camelot

For those who follow the US Triple Crown thoroughbred races, it will come as no surprise that there was no Triple Crown winner there this year. We have known that there would not be since last Friday, when the one horse, I'll Have Another, that had any chance of becoming the first US Triple Crown winner in 34 years was pulled from the race, as described in my preceding post. As it happens, I'll Have Another was also retired from thoroughbred racing altogether. He will live out the rest of his life trying to produce little horses like himself. This is only a bad outcome if you were one of the fans hoping to see him win the Belmont Stakes, the third jewel in the US Triple Crown races, yesterday.

The Belmont turned out to be a good race even without the Triple Crown hoopla, won by a horse called "Union Rags." You can see a podcast of the race here. May the racing career of Union Rags continue safely!

But on this side of "The Pond," there is still hope for a Triple Crown Winner. In the United Kingdom, there is much excitement in the air about the prospect of the first UK Triple Crown winner since 1970. In the UK, the three races that comprise the Triple Crown are the 2,000 Guineas Stakes, the Epsom Derby (pronounced "dah-by" in the UK) and the St. Leger Stakes. The Guineas is the shortest race and the St. Leger Stakes is the longest.

This year, a beautiful horse with the princely name of "Camelot" has won both the 2,000 Guineas (shown here) and just recently - on 2 June - the Epsom Darby (shown here) in front of the British Royal Family - with Queen Elizabeth II in attendance as part of her Diamond Jubilee festivities.

Those who follow racing in both countries will not be surprised that most British races - both flat races and steeplechases - are run on turf (natural grass surface). This is also the case in the rest of Europe. In the US, more flat races, including all of the Triple Crown races, are run on dirt or synthetic tracks.

If I were a horse, I would prefer to run on turf. But that's just MO.

Aficionados will also not be surprised to see - as in the Guineas, where there were several candidates vying for the win - that the horses often use the whole track. That is, instead of all horses grouping together on one side for the running of the race, there may be an entire group racing together completely on the other side, or even down the center of the track. This can also be seen in this year's Guineas. Fewer horses were entered in the Epsom Derby, mostly because Camelot is seen as a superhorse. Judging from the Derby, where Camelot was still pulling away from the field at the finish, he proved the point. Even the usually imperturbable British announcer showed more than modest excitement in the final moments.

I also have a personal soft spot for Camelot - not simply because of the name, which brings back memories both of Arthurian legends and the Lerner and Loewe musical, which I loved. It is also because of the era it signifies for me in my own country. "Camelot" - rightly or wrongly - was used to refer to the Kennedy Administration, the last era of national innocence that I can remember, as far remote from today's events in the US as the legendary Arthurian "Camelot" ever was from events in Britain today. Finally, Camelot's trainer and jockey are a father-son team, Aidan and Joey O'Brien. Because "O'Brien" was my maiden name, I will always be rooting for an "O'Brien combo" - especially where horses are concerned.

So I am still able to hope for a Triple Crown winner this year. It's just that I'll have to hope for one on this side of The Pond.

Sadly, I'll Have Another Won't

As one who has been a devoted admirer of horses for as long as I can remember, I routinely pay attention to thoroughbred racing, horse shows and other equine events. I attend in person whenever I can. When I was much, much younger, I used to try to wheedle rides from whoever owned a horse whenever I could. The greatest disappointments of my youth were that my family did not live on a farm and that I didn't have a horse of my own. I must confess that I badgered my long-suffering parents unmercifully about both.

Just about when I had accepted my horseless lot in life, my father received a two-year old pinto as barter for an outstanding bill. Of course, as we lived in town, finding a pasture for "Lucky," as I dubbed this astonishing bit of fortune that had appeared in my life in deus ex machina fashion, became a major project over the following years, with Lucky being ferried to several different locales during his time with my family. Unfortunately, Lucky's arrival late in my sophomore year in high school occurred only shortly before my departure for the Big City for my last two years of secondary school, so a lot of his care and riding over the years actually fell to my hapless younger sister, Artist Sis. Unsurprisingly, she likes to remind me about this from time to time.

But Lucky is only a sidebar in this post. He certainly deserves at least one post of his own! My main topic today, however, features an American thoroughbred horse known as "I'll Have Another."  I'll Have Another has been making headlines in the United States because he has so far won two of the three races that make up the US Triple Crown of thoroughbred racing. On the first Saturday in May, he won the 2012 Kentucky Derby decisively, as can be seen in this video. Two weeks later, he won the 2012 Preakness Stakes in one of the most thrilling finishes I have ever seen, as shown here.

This meant that in 2012, there was a real chance that I'll Have Another could be a Triple Crown winner, something that has not happened since 1978! All that remained was the last hurdle: the Belmont Stakes, scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

But alas, even the possibility of a Triple Crown winner is not to be this year. In today's news, there was a very disappointing report. I'll Have Another will not run in tomorrow's race. After a workout this morning, the horse experienced swelling in his left front leg. The veterinarian declared the swelling to be the beginning of tendinitis. While this situation will hopefully not destroy the horse's racing career, it will certainly put an end to the dream of a Triple Crown winner in 2012 - at least in the United States.

But there is still a chance of a Triple Crown winner in the UK this year. So there is still room for hope! More on that in another post.

Nyon Promenade

Nyon is the small city between my village and Lausanne. What makes things very convenient for me as a resident of the canton of Vaud is that most of the cantonal administrative offices that I have most need to consult with can be found there, e.g., a branch cantonal tax office for any tax questions, the Swiss equivalent of the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) for vehicle inspections, renewal of plates and drivers' licenses, as well as chain grocery stores and other retail outlets, as well as local shops, that allow for plentiful "hunter-gathering."

But Nyon is also a beautiful city, with plenty of other reasons to warrant a visit. So when I visited the Spring Festival there last weekend, I also took some time to stroll about before returning to my apartment. Here, for example, some of the festival goers who preferred more substantial fare than was offered at the stands, have begun choosing places at this brasserie, dating back to the 16th century.

Further on, more al fresco dining possibilities were available in the Place du Chateau.

Here, looking back at the Place from the passageway inside the chateau, we have a different perspective on those hoping to find a bargain on a used bicycle.

On the west side of the Place, the road leads to the Musee Romain, that displays artifacts dating back to the Roman conquest and occupation of this area

under Julius Caesar,

with steps leading to what used to be a small Roman forum, as has been depicted on the side of the building now situated there.

Heading from the chateau down this passageway towards the lake,

my attention was caught by this display - a colorful version of Durer's Rhinoceros - in an art gallery show window,

before arriving at the lakefront, where sightseers were waiting for the next lake steamboat.

I always enjoy visiting Nyon. Each time, I find something new!

Locomotion

The Spring Fair was not the only event featured in Nyon this past weekend. There was also a secondhand bicycle sale taking place near the chateau. Sorry for the glare reflecting off this piece of modern art that is currently being displayed in the same area.

Nearby was an exposition of different models of bicycles that anyone courageous enough could try to master. The kids were really getting into the trials.

But the kids were not the only ones to try out an odd bike or two.  I wonder how this one would do on hills.

Here is a very brave young one trying out a unicycle.

For those who wanted to ferry the young ones about town in comfort, there were other options.

The flags flying in the rear of that picture indicate the police station. One is the Swiss flag and the other is the flag of Nyon. But the police eschew bicycles for these babies, parked in readiness behind the station.

All told, if I couldn't have one of the horses in yesterday's post, this is the ride that I would have liked.

It may not be as eco-friendly as the bicycles, but it certainly is an elegant means of locomotion.

Spring Fair

On Saturday, nearby Nyon held its annual Spring Fair - just in time because 1) it's nearly Summer and 2) it began raining on Sunday and the rain hasn't stopped yet! Saturday was a beautiful day. The Alps were - almost - visible.

So I hopped on the train Saturday morning and hied myself to Nyon. My idea was not an original one.

Lots of people were browsing among the open-air stalls featuring specialties like nougat,

sausages from the Valais

and chanterelles, the golden mushrooms that are my favorites.

Beach apparel for the approaching summer holidays fluttered in the breeze, 

while some people checked out footwear.

Well, hello!  Where did you come from?

These two lovelies were basking in the sun in the middle of town as advertisements for their owner's blacksmithing skills. There is an anvil in the foreground here.

 There was more - for another day's post.