Winding down this year's adventure in the lotus land. Have to saddle up and ride into the... oh, yeah, sunrise -- heading toward the sunset would, after about a mile, put me in the ocean.
Ron and Claire will be back in a few days after an incredibly long flight from Australia. From what they say about the Blue Mountains west of Sydney, and Coogee Bay, it was worth it. Seeing New Zealand and Australia is Nancy's big ambition: wonder if we'll ever get there?
Started off this serenely beautiful Saturday morning with a short trip to the Seymour Duncan office/plant, only a few miles away in a technology park (and a very park-like one) tucked between the hospital and acres of securely fenced-off nursery. He started out winding electric guitar pickups at the local Jensen's Guitar shop, and like Leo Fender and Les Paul, there was no one who could stop this innovator. No one there, but I wanted to pay my respects.
Then on to one of the several ethnic festivals held in Oak Park each summer, this one a shout-out to all things French. Last year I went to the Greek/Balkan one, and someone told me the Caribbean event earlier in the summer is a great one, too (I can imagine!). One person dreamed up the French weekend 22 years ago and his project is going stronger than ever. The newspaper article this morning stated that the only other big French festival in the U.S. is in Milwaukee, of all places. The many Coast Live Oak trees shared their generous dappled shade while the very many food vendors shared their perfect-looking products with an obviously hungry crowd. My goal was to snag one of those irresistible crepes, but the line was a kilometre long. I settled for a napoleon at the booth next door; messy but quite fine. I then settled in by the little open air stage to see three quality musical acts that would be hard to find anywhere else but, say, at some hip college venue.
Mme. Fichot, a French-Chinese singer and accordionist, sang in French, Russian, Chinese and Spanish (!) clear as the proverbial mountain stream. A more mature but very energetic lady followed with Edith Piaf songs, and then an instrumental quartet lyrically toured through Django Reinhart, tango and gypsy numbers. The instrumentation was delightfully various: accordion, guitar, upright bass, clarinet/flute/sax, keyboard, violin and several handheld gourd-type percussion thingys.
Geez, now I have to add going to Australia, and gypsy jazz cafes in Paris, Budapest or Buenos Aires to the bucket list. So many places to wander, so much to wonder at.