In American dollars, this Iranian-made rug was about $350.
Kashani left Iran after the Shah was ousted. He worked as a banker in Iran, but here in Paris he sells carpets, pocketbooks, jewelry and objets d'art.
The Shah left you alone, he said. The new Islamic governments intrude into your personal life. See poem at the end of post. Like most poems I write, I had no idea what it would be about till I'd finished. "It's not about the rug merchant," said Martha at the Writers' Group. "It's about your brother."
In Paris, we stayed at the Hotel Joyce. The concierges were friendly and helpful. Many were from North Africa like the gentleman below from Tunis.
"It's important you know," he said. Samuel thought he was Muslim. Prejudice against Jews and blacks is fierce in Paris. I wish I had worn my menorah earrings so everyone would know.
When she couldn't figure it out, she asked Pascal, a very funny man, who helped us. He introduced us to Anny, below, saying, "This is my wife."
Then, "we're divorced."
She and Sarah became fast friends. One nite, Sarah met Anny and her boxers for practice.
"They're just like my boxers," said Sarah. Most are from the West Indies, like Anny herself, who is from Guadeloupe.
Mine were all dead when I got home. And my pansies were all eaten. Not by squirrels, but by deer.
My feet held out pretty well. Brought two pair of shoes. My Vasque sneakers and some lo-heeled black boots that I could pull off when we went thru security and that I could slip off when we were on the plane or else in the theatre.
Visited the astonishingly beautiful Garden of the Luxembourg, complete with fountains, a lake, sculpture, and picnicking couples.
Every meal includes wine.
When I was a teenager, I sat in the Cleveland Public Library and read the mystical book "A Night in the Luxembourg" by Remy de Gourmont. Sarah read it too.
Our fast-paced Cruise made me want to linger in cities and take our time. Hence, our trip.
The Musee de la Luxembourg.
It was an exhibit by artists whose paintings represented inspiration through dreams and night visions. We were astonished at our luck in finding both museum and the artwork. I bought a dozen postcards and mailed them off after buying French stamps at a post office.
Different story today, of course.
When we were out and about and hadn't eaten in a few hours I would sit on a bench and check my sugar. Once it was 44. It's low when it gets below 70.
I always carried 'granola bars' with me, except when I forgot, but I'd rather eat real food. So we bought some cheese and I ate a lovely bright-orange clementine.
Roy Lichtenstein retrospective (1923-1997).
Doesn't Chairman Mao make you laugh? How many starvations was he responsible for? China is still paying the price of his horrific Cultural Revolution. Just finished the book "China's Son" by Da Chen which tells the story from a child's perspective.
ew Directions logo. Perhaps Roy was the first to invent this sunrise which has become a famous logo today.
Thank goodness! I just remembered. It's fresh tuna with a tapas sauce.
Paris is a huge melting pot, like NYC and London.
used to be a RR station.
Sarah dropped me off at the museum and then went to meet her boxers. Je confesse I was minorly terrified to be on my own. But she clearly outlined the course of my evening.
Took me 45 minutes to find a cab. Oh, my aching feet.
As I sat on a bench, I got the shock of my life. Three young soldiers, carrying assault rifles across their chests, walked along the sidewalk.
Quick! I said to myself as they passed. Get your camera out. It was in my zippered front pocket and I got this distant shot of them.
Jerszy Kosinski did a long monologue on the Johnny Carson Show about the power of a man in uniform.
Since there were no cafes around to gaze upon it, we stopped at a concession stand. Sarah got a bagel and butter, while I bought a hot dog.
Mona Lisa is infinitely patient, living in her little cage in one of the buildings, with endless people staring at her.
When he found out we were Americans, he exclaimed, OBAMA!
Our bedroom looked much like this. Sarah went to a 'pharmacie' to buy earplugs b/c the woman in the next bed snores like a lumberjack.
Morgan et toi, Sarah's favorite clothing store.
Until, that is, her pocketbook was stolen. She and I were in the fitting rooms. I sat, bored to death, guarding our purchases.
Dyou have your pocketbook? I asked Sarah.
Yes, said Sarah, looking at it on the bench.
Sarah then left the dressing room for a few seconds to exchange sizes.
When she returned the pocketbook was gone.
The sales girl was not concerned. She refused to call the police.
Sarah and I returned to the hotel where we cancelled our credit cards.
Then Sarah went to the police station to report it stolen.
I went up to the room where I went on the laptop to divert myself from the minor tragedy.
Half an hour later, the phone rang.
The concierge, Jennifer, told me the pocketbook had been found.
"You left it at the creperie,"she said. Of course, we never ate at the creperie and knew where it had been stolen from.
I ran downstairs - we were in room 401 - to ask Jennifer to call the police station to contact Sarah.
That's how we got the purse back.
The thief took 200 euros and all of the Metro tickets.
Sarah's carte d'identite was in there, as was my diabetes paraphernalia.
Tomro Sarah will write a letter to the management of Morgan et Toi.
It's bad business to have your salesgirls stealing pocketbooks.
I goggled 'steve madden carryon' and look what came up.
THE RUG MERCHANT
Mon frere passed out
on the Persian carpet
in his bedroom
and was never heard
We loved our David,
say it in French, and
it’s beautiful, like our
young brother who was
born with a fine but
In Mr Hashani’s shop
in Paris he laid before us
carpets from the world over
A small one caught my eye
Reds like the reddest apple
for Snow White
Dark Blues like Van Gogh's sky
It was not
I want to tell you
the most beautiful carpet
I have ever seen
yet I had to have it.
My eyes fixed on Mr Hashani
a small man in a sweater-vest
with eyes I can only call
defeated since he left his native
land for Paris
a place of refuge
Although I shall never really know
I believe he gave me a special price
as he turned it over and showed me
where the weaver had plunged her needle
again and again
and I pictured my brother
at home in my living room
sitting on the rug
and working his long
fingers through the tiny
lifted in song.