France: What changes, What Stays the Same

 

Let’s start with what has changed as this list will definitely be shorter.

Currently taking my vacations in France, I was pleased to be able to fill up my refrigerator in the evening (except on Sundays). An increasing number of small neighborhood super markets now stay open until 10 pm. Even in La France Profonde, the name given to the whole of France outside Paris and the French Riviera, many restaurants now welcome patrons until 9 pm. The most extraordinary event took place in Tours, a small town in the Loire Valley renowned for its magnificent Renaissance castles. On a week day, we were served lunch at 2 pm! This is unheard of.  The Saint-Honoré restaurant deserves a Michelin star.

Another noteworthy improvement is the opening hours of department stores in Paris. Nowadays one can shop until apéritifs, drinks before dinner. A visit to le Bon Marché, the upscale Rive Gauche department store, can be enjoyed until 8 pm. This schedule hasn’t really caught up with the locals as the store was nearly empty except for a few Brazilian tourists checking Brazilian swimsuits. With summer in mind, le Bon Marché is promoting trendy Brazilian items from accessories to body care.

On the other hand, the -what stays the same list- is long.

There is something which, year after year never changes: that is the feline invasion of my small garden in the village of Calvisson in the south of France near Provence. The neighbors’ cats use it as an oversized litter box.  One of my first task is the time-consuming and malodorous poop scoop. At the same time, cats have to be bluntly warned not to return. In this area, human ingenuity shows its limitation as felines consistently outsmart man. It is very frustrating to learn that Calvisson cats react to chemical repellents as if catnip weed! Spraying fresh pepper keeps them away for a limited period of time until the next rain. The local cats belong to a fearless breed and to this author’s despair always return to the crime scene

This requires major remedies. All other solutions exhausted, a toy gun was purchased with a magazine of plastic foam bullets. Even from a very short range, the gun scares the living day lights out of the cats. It is very satisfying to see a cat running for its life, even if these stubborn beasts sneak back in when one looks the other way. Scoreboard: Humans 2, cats 1 until October, when owner gone, cats will re-occupy the garden.

Slow changes epitomize France. Visitors sometimes wonder if France lives on a different planet. It holds out against its perennial foe, la mondialisation, or globalization, like Asterix the Gaul against the Romans. French people only work 35 hours a week and enjoy five weeks of vacations a year.  Work stoppages are nonetheless recurrent. Strikes are a way of French life. Labor strikes are answers for everything. In the matter of strikes the French are head and shoulder above the competition; they even go on pre-emptive strikes, just in case. The French word for strike is grève, but it is not used in France. The customary term is mouvement social which sounds innocuous and less offensive than strike! In English, social movement doesn’t mean strike!

Mid-June, in a four-day period, France suffered two mouvements sociaux in the transport sector. One affected air transport and the second SNCF, the state railways. For good measure, during one day these two strikes overlapped leaving millions of travelers and commuters stranded, scrambling for alternative transports. Fortunately, the patron saint of travelers St Christopher was on my side, I providentially escaped both strikes. I flew to Paris one day before the beginning of the air controllers’ strike. The railways strike ended the day I took the train back to Calvisson.

During my trip to the Loire Valley, a UNESCO World heritage site, friends and I visited the Renaissance castle of Azay-le-Rideau (photo). This small 16^th century castle looks like a gem reflecting in the river. It is one of the most visited in the region. Like many French castles it was largely built with ill-gotten money. Azay was the property of the King’s treasurer-general who doubled as the mayor of the near-by city of Tours. After a damning royal investigation, fearing for his life the treasurer fled France.  Since it had been built with money looted form the public purse, the king rightly confiscated the chateau.  Recently, another French treasurer (budget minister) had to leave his post in disgrace for having hoarded dirty money in a secret Swiss bank account. Et plus ça change….

 

                    

Actually, this year a change took place in my Calvisson garden. Contrary to previous years, the persistent villains, the cats have been one-upped by… snails. At night, an army of gastropods munch all the garden’s new plants. In the morning one can see the snail’s shiny slime on the garden slabs. They ate my potted basil not even leaving the stems. Hearing my misfortune, friends from Cannes on the French Riviera suggested that all the basil-fed snails should be harvested for cooking. To add insult to injury, they even emailed me recipes for basil & garlic escargots. Instead, I purchased some slug control and let it work. Finally, one by one, I picked up the survivors and threw them over the wall into my neighbor’s garden. Let him eat snails.

                         

Catherine and Her Twelve Toy Boys

 

For nearly four decades Empress Catherine II (1729-1796) ruled Russia like a hermaphrodite creature. She alternated female finesse with male ruthlessness. She was a powerhouse in the council chamber as well as in her bed chamber. Her deft and intelligent leadership contributed to transforming a backwater country into an assertive European nation. Her self-confidence was enhanced thanks to the performance of twelve younger but hunky gentlemen who successively catered to her sexual needs. Expandable, they were generously rewarded when dismissed.

I have just finished reading the delightful biography Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman by Robert K. Massie (Random House, 2011). Catherine the Great is still fascinated biographers who have written hundreds of biographies in tens of languages. Massie’s biography was the second one I read. Decades ago, I read in French Henri Troyat’s landmark Catherine the Great, which is more a novel than a biography.

There was nothing conventional about Catherine’s life. In 1762, she became Empress of Russia by setting up a coup d’état against her wretched and eccentric husband, Tsar Peter III. Soon after Peter died in mysterious circumstances, probably murdered by his wife’s fellow conspirators. Catherine was therefore an usurper. During her long reign, she had to look over her shoulder. No less than 26 pretenders to her throne plagued her reign, some more threatening than others. One even claimed to be her husband. Actually, during her reign, Catherine had fewer lovers than competitors.

Robert Massie is sympathetic to Catherine and does not pass judgment over her taking the throne in such an unorthodox and ruthless manner. Some historians have been trying to rehabilitate the short-lived reign of Peter III, however few miss him.

Sophie (her original Christian name) had been summoned to Russia from Germany to become the teenage bride to the Russian heir, also German born. Catherine began to write her memoirs at an early age. One can suspect that she was not always entirely candid. Her memoirs are her legacy, a vehicle to justify her actions. A couple of unsavory facts have been concealed or water down. These memoirs remain an important source of information for countless biographers. 

      Catherine,(left) Gregory Orlov (middle) Gregory Potemkin (right)

        

Catherine’s life reads like a novel. She wrote that at the beginning of their marriage, Peter was more a friend than a lover. She further claimed that her husband never consummated their marriage and that her first son, Paul, was the fruit of her first extra-marital affair with a courtier. Paul who was born after 8 years of marriage, not only looked very much like Peter but acted as erratically as him when he succeeded his mother. Catherine may not have been entirely truthful on this issue.

She had three lovers while married. As a widow, she collected nine more. Many of them were former Guard officers. She was a serial amoureuse: she couldn’t function without love. She was straightforward about her lovers who always escorted her. Her favorites were multi-tasked: in addition to their bed duties, they ran errands and even undertook official missions. They became younger as she aged, toy boys in today’s parlance. Catherine’s last toy boy could have been her grandson. Sometimes she treated him as if he was.

Peter III was killed by the brother of Catherine’s lover du jour, Gregory Orlov. She considered marrying Gregori out of love and gratitude, but changed her mind. She was confronted with the same power/love dilemma as Queen Elizabeth I of England before her. By taking a husband, a woman relinquished most of her independence. Having just secured the throne for herself, Catherine did not want to share power with anyone not even a loved one. Needless to say Gregory felt devalued but he had enough common sense to stick around.

In additional to Paul, Catherine had three other children, all out of wedlock. Her pregnancies were clandestine and she is not remembered as a doting mother.

Catherine was very much her own woman; she was the first truly enlightened autocrat and her achievements and leadership talents are still praised. Her sexual life was considered scandalous by European standards. Conversely, the affairs of Catherine’s male peers were praised. In her memoirs, she acknowledged her sexual needs with confidence, a very non-conformist behavior for an 18^th century woman. Obviously Catherine the Empress of Russia could get away with it.

At the outset of her reign in 1762, she was at her sexual peak. In this man’s world, Catherine may have felt very lonely, and sex was the therapy she needed to boost her confidence and self-esteem. Her lovers were selected with care. The résumé of a would-be toy boy needed to include the following attributes: speaking several languages, French being a must as Catherine used it in her correspondence with luminaries such as Voltaire; love of culture; good taste; witty pillow talk; tact; interest in politics; and hunting and horsemanship.

Her successive lovers were obviously aroused by the power and prestige their function carried, as well as the financial rewards. In today’s parlance, they received a golden handshake when dismissed. In her roster of lovers, three were not toy boys. They made names for themselves with Catherine’s help and prodding. One became the last king of Poland, and two others distinguished princes. Her real soul mate was Gregory Potemkin who was totally devoted to her. She had deep feelings for him during her entire life. Potemkin even had a famous battleship of Bolshevik fame named after him. He had many useful talents and Catherine took advantage of them. His most noteworthy accomplishment was to enlarge Russia by grabbing territories from the Turkish Ottoman Empire. Rumor has it that Potemkin may have been Catherine’s second husband.

In love, Catherine was a trend setter. She made use of toy boys long before the term was even coined. She also understood the value of golden handshake to ensure that a deal ended amicably. There is a secret garden she hides as Bruce Springsteen would sing, and she kept a few skeletons in her closet. Was she a regicide? Did she secretly marry Potemkin? History is on her side as in politics the end justifies the means. Contrary to the craziest myth, Catherine died of a stroke alone in her lavatory, not crushed by a horse during an equine intercourse.

Catherine is also remembered for her brainy quotes such as: “Men make love more intensely at twenty but make love better however at thirty” and “I like to praise and reward loudly, to blame quietly.”

Farewell Maggie

 

Margaret Thatcher exited the world (with a capital W) on a fateful day in November 1990.She had been betrayed by her ego and sense of self-righteousness and the emasculated Tory grandees showed her the door of 10 Downing Street.

Today she died.

I was an early fan of Maggie. Not a Briton, I never paid much attention to the intricacies of her political agenda, controversial or not.For me, she was a woman who had broken the glass ceiling.She was the first woman to lead a major western nation since Elizabeth I and Catherine the Great! Unlike these two rulers, she was neither a daughter nor a widow.She was a bottom-up elected politician.She reached the top of the British political pyramid through hard work, determination, and her unwavering positions.

In the macho political environment she was the odd one out.Not a feminist, she didn’t mentor other women; to the contrary she relished her queen bee status in her cabinet.Her friends and allies piled compliments on her.Her rivals, enemies or even negotiation opponents fell over themselves in portraying her as a virago.The Soviets allegedly coined the term Iron Lady. Foes went on records with gross and sexist comments.Sadly, the French were the crudest in this department. When Maggie stood her ground in negotiations, exemplifying typical Gallic misogyny, President Chirac reportedly said that she was a housewife who wanted his balls on a tray.

Maggie Thatcher epitomized the stateswoman.When she was ousted in 1990, she was replaced by a non-entity and, for the British Tory party, it has been downhill since. Thatcher is the true role model for women who want to make a difference in politics.So ladies, get on with it, stop moaning and go for it. Remember who said: “In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman.”

Brazil Reality Show

  If the recently elected pope is Argentine, God is Brazilian. During a private audience, Dilma the president of Brazil good-humoredly reminded Pope Francis of this fact. God is Brazilian is the title of a 2003 Brazilian film. Visitors to Brazil are also reminded of it. Brazilians are thankful for being blessed with a rich and well-endowed country, marvelous weather, great music, and beautiful women among other pluses. The Argentine pope should pay attention. Dilma may have taken the opportunity of meeting the pro-poor people pope to promote her government know-how in reducing poverty. She might even have offered to co-operate with Francis’s multinational Catholic corporation to fashion family allowance schemes. Pope Francis needs to launch similar schemes to regain the upper hand over the populist policies of the followers of the late President Chavez of Venezuela. Thanks to its bolsa familia schemes, Brazil has managed to notably reduce abject poverty without creating a cult-like devotion among the beneficiaries. Statistics indicates that Brazil is the most populous Catholic nation in the world. This record may not hold for long as the Evangelists grow at the expense of the Catholic flock. The Evangelists are aggressively converting souls in the big cities’ favelas. Their message predominantly appeals to the urban poor and the emerging lower middle class. This Evangelical church is increasingly politically outspoken. Its gospel is so conservative that a large number of the recently converted no longer want to march with the samba schools during Carnival. They feel that Carnival is evil. Non Evangelists complain of the forceful proselytizing drive of the pastors. One Assembly of God pastor, Marco Feliciano who is also a congressman is making headlines. Thanks to shady dealings and back scratching among members of the House of Representatives, Feliciano was elected to chair the Human Rights Committee of the House. Feliciano has a left a track of racist, sexist and homophobic Tweets; he is unrepentant and for good measure not ashamed of collecting large amounts of money from his flock. To ensure that money is quickly paid into the church account, he customarily requests the credit card pin of the church-goers. His church was the first in Brazil to collect 10% tithing through credit card payment. Feliciano lives in an ostentatious house and has six imported cars. Since his election, endless demonstrations have prevented the Committee from doing any work. Following the public outcry, the House’s fellow members are trying to figure out how to remove Feliciano without losing face. On the other hand, Pope Francis has gained “pope star’ status in Brazil. He is expected to come to Rio in July 2013 to attend World Youth Day. This Catholic youth festival may attract as many as 2.5 million visitors and out stages both the Word Cup (2014) and the Olympic Games (2016). Thanks to these two events, Rio is enjoying an overdue urban renewal. The city is relishing its new status as the “place to be”. The downtown harbor area is being totally spruced up. Donald Trump is projecting a couple of showy corporate towers. The subway is being extended so commuters can zip from their homes in the expanding western suburbs of Barra to the downtown business centers. In the meantime, all these construction sites make the life of Cariocas painful. On the bright side, the city is bubbling with events and projects. Notably, two outstanding museums have opened. One is dedicated to Latin American art (Casa Daros) and the other to Rio’s culture (Museo de Arte do Rio, MAR). When both Sugar Loaf and Corcovado hide in the clouds, the frustrated tourists will have worthwhile alternatives. Rio is no longer only relying on its natural beauty; it is becoming a city of culture to emulate Paris or New York City.

  

To host the soccer World Cup, Brazil agreed to upgrade and even rebuild several stadiums before a June 2013 deadline. So far, only one, the Minerão of Belo Horizonte is fully completed; the others are unacceptably behind schedule. Red tape, corruption, over optimistic planning and plain incompetence are the main causes for the delay. Shockingly, the laggards are the principal venues: São Paulo Itaquerão and Rio Maracana stadiums. To add insult to injury, the Brazilian soccer team is far from being in top form; so far, it has only managed draws against less prestigious teams. It is very vexing for the host country. The structure of the legendary Maracana stadium is old-fashion. It had to be partially rebuilt to offer the level of comfort international fans deserve. Infrastructure around the stadium has still to be built. Everything was more or less going according to plan until an embarrassing glitch popped up.

                           


Not everyone in Rio is pleased with this frenzy of urban renewal. For decades, without hindrance, a native Indian community from the Amazon had been squatting in a 19^th century derelict building, the former Indian Museum. To enhance its legitimacy, the community renamed itself the Maracana tribe. This rebranding was not sufficient to avoid eviction from the site. The Rio municipality wanted to raze the building to make way for a parking for the stadium. The Indians refused to leave willingly. The tug of war lasted for weeks and attracted media attention to both Indians and building. During the final scuffle, the police used tear gas and the Indians bows and arrows. It was an unbalanced fight and the urban Indians were forcibly removed from their home. The Indians lost the battle, but the historic building won a new breath of life. It will be refurbished to become another museum, that of the Olympic Games.

                                

The Maracana tribe has been provided with temporary accommodations in a less urban part of Rio. In Brazil, museums have more support than Indians; a local politician even stated that the Indians’ place was in the forest!

PS. Pictures freely downloaded from the Internet O Globo).

There is no free lunch in Jackson, Wyoming.

 

Jackson Hole is a mountain ski resort located at the southern tip of Grand Teton National Park in the state of Wyoming. If the top one percent of Americans in terms of wealth ski in Aspen Colorado, the 1% of the 1% head to Jackson Hole. At the end of my winter tour of Yellowstone National Park, I visited the town of Jackson which lies below in the valley; it qualifies as “posh rustic”.

                                 Grand Teton Mountain Range.

After indulging on wildlife and raw nature in Yellowstone National Park, I was ready for culture and history in Jackson. I paid a visit to the small museum of the Historical Society. Although native hunter-gatherers and French Canadian fur trappers occasionally set up camps in the inhospitable valley, Jackson was only settled for good in the 1870s. In addition to the expected paraphernalia used by the early settlers, the walls of the museum displayed pictures from the many films which were shot around the city. I was particularly interested in the pictures from the classic Western movie Shane shot in 1953, with George Stevens the director and Alan Ladd the lead actor.

I had seen Shane in the 1960s but barely recalled the plot except for a bloody saloon scene, a staple of Western films. The pictures and their captions brought back memories and interesting tid-bits. One of the settlers’ log cabins still stands in the Gros Ventre Wilderness of the Grand Teton National Park. Although Ladd played a gunslinger, he couldn’t shoot straight, and the actor Jack Palance could not ride a horse. In spite of these shortcomings, the film was a great box office success.

The friendly on-duty guide stated that the museum needed more display space. She proudly informed me that in February 2012, Quentin Tarantino brought his film crew to Jackson to shoot footage for his latest film Django Unchained. The filmmaker uses the snow-capped Grand Teton mountain range as a backdrop for the action. I had not yet seen the film and became very curious. Subsequently, I asked my wildlife tour guide to show me some of the locations as well as the Shane legendary log cabin.

Jackson is a fitting environment for Django, the promising bounty hunter. He had recently been freed from shackles by Dr. King Schultz, a German itinerant dentist cum bounty hunter with an aversion for slavery. It is in this snowy valley that Django, the former slave gets his first on-the-job training by his smooth-operator mentor.

Django, Dr. Schultz, & human booty. Courtesy of Q. Tarantino. Grand Teton Mountain Range in the background.

On our way to check a fox den in the Gros Ventre hills, we stopped by Kelly Warm Spring where Django takes an invigorating bath. The den was empty, so we returned to the plain where a couple of lazy moose where lounging half hidden in the thick snow. We drove past the National Elk Refuge and headed back to town.

With their dead human booty, Dr. Schultz and Django are also seen riding by herds of elk and bison on their way to cash their rewards. When I finally saw the film this particular footage brought back memories of my sleigh ride in the Elk Refuge. The day was polar cold and the thick blankets thrown on our knees didn’t do much to warm fingers and feet. In winter some 7000 Rocky Mountain elk take refuge north of Jackson. It is a migration dead end as the city was built on the elk migration route towards the south. The refuge was established 101 years ago to prevent the elk from starving to death during the harsh winter months. When the native grass is gone, alfalfa pellets are distributed to supplement the elk feeding.

   

Such a large concentration of elk, big horn sheep, mule deer and bison attracts other opportunistic animals mainly bald eagle, coyotes and even wolves. “Welfare” is a word excluded from the American lexicon and the elk are not enjoying a free lunch. They actually contribute to their upkeep. Mid-March the elk start dropping their antlers; Refuge staff, helped by the Jackson District Boy Scouts, collect the antlers and organize the once a year May auction. In average, US$ 77,000 is collected. Eighty percent of the proceeds are donated to the US Fish and Wildlife Service towards the feeding program and the Refuge management.

     

Apparently, Tarantino was so taken by the magnificent herd of elk and bison that he decided to add an additional scene to his film. Django Unchained brings the elks a bonus in food and publicity. Their fees were not disclosed.

Fire and Ice: Yellowstone National Park in Winter

 

Yellowstone is one of the coldest spots in the United State of America. In winter it is appropriately referred to as the deep freeze with temperatures frequently falling to minus 66 degrees Fahrenheit (minus 54 Centigrade). Yellowstone is both frigid and white, as snow abundantly falls, even sometimes during the summer months. Some three million tourists flock to Yellowstone National Park during the April-October season. Since winter access is very restricted and the visit is not cheap, only 100,000 tourists visit between December and March. I was one of these happy few. As expected, it was polar cold and white.

But there are splendid rewards for hardy visitors. They are welcomed by spectacular crowd-free scenery, unflappable wildlife and an awe-inspiring thermal system.Yellowstone is the oldest nationally protected area in the world.

       

The park was founded in 1872 when President Ulysses S. Grant signed the Yellowstone National Park Act. At the time, ecosystem protection was both an untested and forward-thinking idea. Subsequently, the creation of the park generated a multitude of controversies, arguments and quarrels which still enliven the visits of today’s inquisitive tourists. The national park idea encapsulates the concept of sustainable development-which was coined more than a century later-namely to protect nature for today’s enjoyment without compromising the enjoyment for future generations. This concept is still polemic in the 21^st century, imagine then! Yellowstone National Park is an American icon to visitors and an abhorrence to many citizens of Montana, Idaho and Wyoming, the three states that it straddles.

Yellowstone is literally loved to death, in the grip of mass tourism in the summer months. Democratic access to the park conflicts with conservation goals and sustainability objectives. A winter visit offers a very undemocratic way of escaping this dilemma. The thick snow fittingly blankets the footsteps of mass tourism.

Yellowstone is an extinct super volcano produced by a 16.5 million years old hot spot inferno. The last eruption took place 600,000 years ago. Fire (molten rocks) rages at only 3 to 5 miles below the surface. The park is a steaming and bubbling cauldron of hot springs, fumaroles, geysers and mud pools. This cauldron is actually a restless sunk volcano, a caldera which shakes, rises and sinks as per the mood of the hot spot underneath the earth crust. Up to 5000 mild earthquakes are annually recorded.

If winter gives Yellowstone a break from human assault, the season is not free of controversies. Winter is the playground for the park’s predators, the wolves and the snowmobiles! Their respective fans are on opposite sides of the fence. The former wants more wolves and no snowmobiles. The later want unobstructed access to the park and believe that a good wolf is a dead one. My goal was to sight the wolves (reportedly a US$ 35 million a year business) in the Lamar Valley in Eastern Yellowstone and get close to the bison (another much maligned species) without being pestered by noisy and polluting snowmobiles.

 

           

Life is tough in the snow covered cauldron. If the wolves make the best of the season, their prey and the other species are struggling to stay alive. To keep warm, bison, coyote, and elk mill around geysers and hot springs, and tourists flock to the rustic warming huts. Although few, they are strategically located within the park. Their on-duty ranger is a welcome presence. Even lowly places such as the heated lavatories, become much sought after places. Yellowstone rangers are the park’s guardian angels, even more so in winter when their skills and park knowledge contribute to keeping casualties low.

Snow coach transportation is an experience not to be missed. The Bombardier snow coach, a model which has not evolved much since the 1930s, is the most fun to ride. Equipped with front skies and rear tracks, this retro snow coach can speed at 40 km per hour. During our week in Wonderland we had plenty of traffic excitement. One of our four Bombardier snow coaches drove into a ditch and had to be abandoned. Fortunately, no one was injured in this freak accident. The same day, the rear of the snow coach I was riding was hit and damaged by a speeding snowmobile. The snowmobile driver crashed on the road. Medic and doctors, all of them rangers were quick to come to the scene and the injured fellow was taken to the hospital. Reckless driving, accidents, noise and smoke pollution have compelled the park management to drastically reduce the number of snow mobiles. Mother Nature is certainly thankful.

 

        

Winter in Yellowstone is a world of superlatives. The pristine snow covered wilderness is overwhelming, intimidating and even awe inspiring. Stillness is only broken by the rumbling of the geysers, the bubbling of the mud pods, the roaring of the waterfalls and the howling of the wolves.

Winter is the best season to spot wildlife, except bears which hibernate. We spotted six healthy wolves at a distance, small brown and grey dots on the snow. With powerful spotting scopes we were able to observe the pack frolicking for half hour, until we got too cold and stiff. In January 2013, eighty one adult wolves and eight pups were recorded, down from over 120 in previous years. Disease, fight and shooting have taken their toll. A wolf venturing outside the park is a dead wolf as both the states of Montana and Wyoming authorize killing. Last year, several collared wolves were shot.

 

       

No need for spotting scopes to watch the bison; they roam everywhere. Their population is estimated at around 4000. Winter is tough on the herd. Foraging for grass under the deep snow is an exhausting activity. Bison look easygoing enough but they have a short fuse, and are fast and agile. They can charge without warning. I took a solitary morning stroll around the famed Old Faithful geyser to enjoy the geothermal activity. The ranger had warned me that there was some bison activity in the vicinity. Right he was. Suddenly, I faced a herd of females with their calves standing on my track. They were taking advantage of the warmth provided by the hot springs. It was far too cold to wait for them to move off and it was too long to go back on my track. I made my escape in a foot-deep fresh snow.

 

            

During this detour I met another local denizen. At first, I was apprehensive, a wolf or a coyote? To strengthen my resolve, I decided that it had to be an inquisitive coyote. By the time my cold-stiff fingers reached for my camera in my warm pocket (batteries lose their energy in subfreezing temperatures) the beast had disappeared into the bushes. I walked fast towards Old Faithful looking over my shoulder. Later, I was told that coyotes customarily lurk in this area.

 

                

The winter wilderness of Yellowstone is a world of contrasts, serene and eerie, gentle and wild, still and thundering, ethereal and earthy. I found the mist-shrouded West Thumb Geyser Basin particularly intriguing and inspiring. Words cannot describe the beauty of this surreal landscape. The color, light and thermal activity keep changing during the day. It is a magical show of ice, snow, colorful fumarole and haze.

 

                   

In winter, days are short and temperature is extremely cold. Many landmarks are off limit, as only bits of the park are accessible by snow coach. Walking, snowshoeing and cross country skiing are challenging in deep snow, and do not get you very far. The bitter cold forced me to restrict my exploration. Between my hourly visits to the dependable Old Faithful Geyser, I reluctantly stayed indoors and warmed up by the fire place of the Old Faithful Snow Lodge. Because so few people are fortunate enough to visit the park in winter you feel privileged to be part of an unspoiled but glacial Wonderland.

Lula, Dilma and Pelé: Brazil, a country of first names and creative monikers.

 For eight years Brazil was headed by President “Squid”. The former president was universally referred to as Lula, squid in Portuguese, his trade-union-days nickname. Now Dilma is holding the office. Dilma is her first name; in Brazil she is very rarely referred to as President Rousseff. Pelé is a soccer icon, few people actually know or even bother with his real name, Edson Arantes do Nascimento.  Joaquim, and Macarrão are two names which are currently making the front pages of newspapers in Brazil.

Over the past month, they have become household names. Joaquim is a first name and Macarrão is a nickname (Portuguese for macaroni). But these two persons cannot be further apart. Joaquim Benedito Barbosa Gomes is a judge and the new president of the Brazilian supreme court. Macarrão, a handy man cum driver, is now in jail for helping his boss, Bruno, murder his mistress. Bruno, a famous soccer player, is awaiting his own trial. Macarrão’s real name is Luiz Henrique Romão, which was certainly mentioned in court but not in the street. Macarrão is a common nickname given to men and domestic animals that are laid back or tend to get confused and muddle-headed.                 




Many Brazilians are not called by the names which are typed on their ID cards. It may be just as well, as names are traditionally very long. Surnames are commonly double barreled. Brazilians have long been legendary for their single-name tags. This tradition carries an additional exotic element, as creative nicknames often replace the given first name. Soccer players notably use nicknames, a common practice in sport. Yet the national love for informality and whimsical monikers often lead to the ridiculous and the vulgar.

Sociologists have long indicated that referring to a person by his or her first name was very much a “New World” practice. Brazilian phone books still list people by their first names instead of their surnames.  When this blogger first came to Brazil to work in a large mining company, she was referred to as Dra Beatriz, or Dr. Beatriz. Her immediate boss went by the title of Dr. Lyrio, his surname; another boss of hers was identified as Dr. Breno, his first name. The highly respected CEO of the company was universally known as Dr. Eliezer, his Christian name. Local conventions are loose; background, personality, track record and lifestyle may influence the choice of name and nicknames.

Brazil doesn’t seem to have any baby-naming law. In Brazil as in the United States of America, parents can name their babies almost anything. However, Brazilians are head and shoulders above the Americans in terms of creativity when selecting the names of their children. True, the registry officer may object to a name which could cause ridicule or be offensive. Yet in the north-east region of Brazil unconventional and improbable names are routinely registered. Parents seem to have great expectations for their offspring as the list below implies. Among a very long list, these names stand out: Anjo Gabriel Rodrigues Santos (Gabriel Archangel).
Dysney Chaplin Ribeiro.
Elvis Presley da Silva.
Hericlapiton da Silva (Portuguese pronunciation for Eric Clapton?).
Ludwig van Beethoven Silva.
Maicon Jakisson de Oliveira (mangled version of Michael).
Marili Monrói de Oliveira.
Marlon Brando Benedito da Silva.
Sherlock Holmes da Silva.                                                                              
Colapso Cardiaco da Silva (Cardiac Arrest).                                                               
Ladigaga de Almeida Souza.
And my favorite is: Ceu Azul do Sol Ponente do Nascimento, which can be translated into Blue Sky of Sunset do Nascimento.

In addition to the names of celebrated soccer players, show business and soap opera characters, the names of victims of notorious murders are frequently chosen by parents. As a matter of fact, in 2012 many baby girls were given the name Elisa, the name of Bruno’s murdered mistress. Isabela, currently the most popular name in Brazil, is also the name of a murder victim, an infant in São Paulo.

Unique to Brazil, race-related nicknames don’t irk much. At school a very dark skinned boy will be referred to as Negão (from the Portuguese Negro, a somewhat affectionate name for an Afro Brazilian buddy), or as Feijão (black bean). A person with a very white skin will be dubbed Tapioca. The childhood’s nickname may stick into adulthood. Singer and former minister Gilberto Gil has a daughter named Preta which means black (feminine). When he tried to register her name, the registry officer first refused but Gil got his way by agreeing to add Maria to Preta. He argued that there were many Rosas (Rose), Blancas, Biancas (Blanche is white in French) and Violet, so why not Black! Preta followed in her father’s footsteps, she is a famous singer.

Pages after pages could be filled with the peculiar and often incongruous monikers of soccer players and candidates for local elections. Recently the New York Timesran an article titled “Where Daniel the Cuckold and Zig Zag Clown Vie for Office” (September 16, 2012) to express its admiration of the vitality of Brazilian democracy. Although there are some restrictions on exuberant names the candidates can select to promote themselves, almost anything goes. Many people with names like Batman, Obama, and even an Elvis Didn’t Die ran for the municipal elections. Many of these silly nicknames convey hints of friendliness, familiarity and even of affection. Conversely they very well illustrate the rough and tumble of today’s Brazil.

Apparently a bill to restrict baby-naming freedom is circulating in the Brazilian congress. Its sponsor is Congressman Paulo Sérgio Paranhos de Magalhães. He doesn’t seem to have a nickname. Should we hope the bill doesn’t pass?