MAY nearing a close, Desi would like to join the Parisians, MAY !?

The "cultured" people of France are fanatically proud of their traditions -- If you were a tourist asking a local in Paris in Parias: Where do I find the best cake shop in town? You may get a nonchalant look, and the coy Parisan may not answer you in English though he/she knows how to speakIT. He/she will say the equivalent in French, gesturing with his/her dainty and: THAT way!

For this Sundae's RUMINATION, I borrow an article from MI, focusing on why the French ENJOY the month of May; Desi likes IT for different reasons, BUT WE - French and Malaysian -- ARE PROUD OF OUR DEMOCRATIC TRADITIONS, Yes?

ENJOY "the petite wickedends" -- les ponts --the gay Pareesians have inenuously carved out to ENJOY life:~~~~~

   

Parisians adore May, the month of ‘les ponts’

MAY 26, 2013

Helen Hickey is a British freelance journalist living 40 floors up in New York City's Upper East Side with her hubby, cat and four children who miss everything Malaysian, even those dodgy traffic cops.

PARIS, May 26 — Off with the beret hats, hello dark sunglasses and spiffy sandals. Parisians are smiling (it’s official): spring is in full swing and their much beloved month of May est arrivé! 

This dreamy month is truly blessed with bank holidays offering the winter and desk weary a chance to escape for an extended weekend away, or “le petit weekend” as the French have so daintily named them.

Not much can stop Parisians in their vigorous pursuit of one; not even a recession, which France quietly slipped into in mid-May. This is because they are not considered a luxury, but a necessity, a series of rehearsals in preparation for the biggie — August’s month-long summer vacation just around the corner. 

May holds the dubious crown of the month of “les ponts” (“bridges” in French). It alludes to the artful way French workers take days off between a given bank holiday and the preceding or following weekends, resulting in rather handsome “p’tit weekends” without impacting too much on their annual holiday allowance. 

There are four public holidays in May: La Fête du Travail, May 1, Labour Day, workers’ day off; Armistice Day WWII, celebrating the end of World War II in Europe, May 8; L’Ascension, May 9 and La Pentecôte, May 20. The latter two are connected with France’s Catholic heritage.

Even by Malaysian standards — having witnessed the birth of Malaysia Day and Thaipusam as public holidays during our posting there — that’s a pretty impressive number. 

May kicks off the start of the silly season of endless holidays in France. — Pictures by Helen HickeyBetter still, two fall midweek making rich pickings for the “pont” aficionados who have the chance of engineering a five-day “not-so-p’tit weekend”, and I suspect causing havoc on the work front. 

My husband bucked the trend and worked for all four. Sweet. If it hadn’t been for the birdsong and my children’s chatter among the gently bobbing boughs of our garden’s horse-chestnut trees, now heavily laden with their lantern-shaped blossoms, it would have been very lonesome on our ghostly street of houses, sealed with their imposing window shutters.

“It’s not quite as bad as August” my French doctor offered on a recent visit, when apparently Paris truly empties. “But don’t expect your children to be doing much work in May.” What I had taken to be a mischievous comment has proven correct: there’s more lethargy than learning in the lessons and the kids are becoming more fractious by the day.

This month, street sellers dotted around the open-air markets of Paris sell the delicately scented May flower called Lily of the Valley.To be fair, France’s President François Hollande has been busy. He should be commended for staying on task, not on holiday, and passing the same-sex marriage “Bill 344” this month, joining 13 other enlightened countries who have done the same. 

Pulling off such a feat in this deeply traditional and predominantly Catholic country was both courageous and astonishing. There’s been mass rightwing street protests over the past months, and in very macabre turn of events, a well-known French historian shot himself at the altar of the Notre Dame Cathedral in a desperate bid to summon up opposition to same-sex marriage in France.

There’s been some whingeing in the press recently about these heavyweight bank holidays: should they be scrapped given France’s economic woes?  

Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris: A well-known rightwing historian shot himself at its 850-year old altar as a rant against the recent signing (May 17) of France’s same-sex marriage legislation.According to a recent study by the French National Institute of Statistics and Economic Studies “Insee”, getting rid of bank holidays would allow France to save more money. The study showed that the reduction of total workdays in 2013 (two fewer than in 2012) claimed a 0.1 per cent loss in yearly Gross Domestic Product.

Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea, particularly given France’s return to the dark doldrums of recession for the third time in four years. The Portuguese government has just cancelled four national bank holidays for the next five years, claiming the country cannot afford to take time off while it wrestles with its austerity programme. 

France currently ranks fifth on the scale of European countries in terms of the number of annual bank holidays along with Spain, the United Kingdom and Sweden. But given President Hollande’s haemorrhaging approval ratings — currently the lowest of any modern French leader with more than two-thirds of the population giving Hollande the thumbs down — he’ll be in no rush to rock those p’tit weekends, so interwoven into the fabric of the French way of life.

And as I listen to my friend’s alluring accounts of their adventures north in “La Bretagne” (Brittany), arguably the top destination for “les ponts” month — the sailing, the invigorating salt air on breezy coastal walks or grazing on dejeunersof a crisp vin blanc and fresh moules (mussels) — I say: “Vive le p’tit weekend!” 

* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.

Lily of the Valley has a spring-rain fresh fragrance with a hint of jasmine and soft undertones of lime.

DESIDERATA: will tell WHY May is so specail to him/her/it when I do come back (Godwilling, insyaAllah, remember?)from his Kapitalistik CONtinental brunch lusting from2.00PM till 5!, then linger for an early dinner sizzling Steak or grilled lambchop at 5**** lunge in Furong if vv can find one, if knot, settle for 3*** can du! --if one of my bourgeosie (check sperring OK!) pardners is paying!


Meanw'ile, be a gOog boi/gal, click hear! ~~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvr2n9q8t3I


CHOW!

which can mean:

Seeya later OR Come, let's makan!


****************************************************

Keeping my promise to continue poetic recalls, here's somthing sombre @7.11PM:

#wan>: Knot too AP a post BUT still, it's as good as it cometh, Life's a rollercoaster of The GOoD, the Bad and the Ugly! Try to ENJOY, OK! 

From page 36, MIDNIGHT VOICES and Other Poems, first published about se7en years ago, and &7"th heaven is Desi's ;lucky number!

A Reluctant Lament in May

May 13, 1969 -- do we remember?
Life's fabric isoft strong, yet tender
Can withstand the elements even in a flood
But man's foul mood, tearing all asunder

I want to make this my motherland
Many of fellow Malaysians chorus in similar trend
But ill mouths and ill minds
They can't see our love
Sight closeted within their racial blinds

Some slog to get by with two jobs
Others born into privilege behave like mobs
Ninety percent of us shed
Blood, sweat and tears
So that the other 10 percent
Gallivant in wine, women and bed

They then question our loyalty
Meanwhile they reap the oil royalty
We dutifully pay our taxes
Meanwhile they squander in madness
Monuments are built to meet the sky
Thye see gods and goddesses on high
Wrapped around karaoke lasses' bosoms
Behold, lo and hi
With our blood, sweat and tears

At the slightest sign of trouble
To safer havens they and lovers flee
Meanwhile they "yum seng!" in glee
Thy ask: Why art thou overseas?
Come back to serve your Motherland
****Meanwhile, they who stay, they smother

Oh Mum's the Word
The majority lament
Why bother?


PS on May 27, 2013, See how heART I laboureth for Ye? 

It's just days after GE13
Nue minSTER/MONSter of Home Affairs declare:
If thou no like our electoral system
MIGRATE!
So my dear fellow Malaysians -- some 47% of  you Voted BN/UMNO eh?
You think the leopard of evil regime will change its spots?
My poem writ se7en years ago (see highlighted last stanza...****coloured thus)

"HAS ANYTHING CHANGED?"



NOTE: I'm copying tis in LONG hand, can I come back to cuntinue? NOW DONE in the early hours The Day After ~~ See how heART Desi worketh for THee? Bye me endless rounds of tehtarik by the Parisian cafe, cun, anywan? Bring Audrey Hepburn along OK! Will try to serenade her wit' Moon River, may even reprise Andy Willy's Voiz K!:):)



*************************************************************************************#2>> Sumthin' Nostalgic from about FIVE YEARS BACKm boleh?

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Ode on Lust Dae in May

An Ode is a song normally full of joy. Sometimes man finds joy in big things, some in small things and some rare ones in Nothing.

Desi enjoys the simple things in Life. I'm God-fearing, hence I don't hesitate to chide some Young&Articulates when they boldly declare they don't believe in One. Then how do you distinguish Right from Wrong? Ethics? Is that sufficient because you find Homo sapiens is one quite bent on justifying his own frailties and foibles. I believe we need Conscience -- private to Self, and Public to Community, to lead a life of meaning.

I end the last day in May -- poets somehow eloquently dedicate many of their best works -- of Love and Passion -- to this fifth month in the ...... calendar, and so desi calims no exception.

Here goes an attempt at waxing a lusty wan:)

If thou knoweth thyself
You would not interfere with my thoughts in May
I deem this private domain sacred and sublime
Unless you brigeth me Joy amid Song, Women and Wine
No, I am not solde to lust and crust
It's just that I feel secure on a lass' bosom
Reciting to me Browning's verses not terse
And drowning manmade sorrows in rhythm and rhyme

How much do I love thee?
You have to to count the stars in the moonlit Malaysian sky
How much do you love mmee in return
I careth not lest I miss the fleeting smiles in they eye
It's not of riches on earth that I claim
It's not of Man's temporal fame
I seek a sincere heart
Making soft conversation
With just a French toast by my side
You pile it up with two layerings of peanut butter
served with thy soft touch of a caressing hand
I return the teasing with Ceylon tea with a fragrant additive
of Miss Sunthi (ginger, r'member?) and a smiling lemon
Ah, Malaysian soil can still be a wonderland
Leave alone those political theives
Just carve for thyself a li'l corner of its wondrous gifts
By rising sun, afternoon tropical heat and moonlit nights
We can savour steal a few unique Malaysian delites.

AND to top IT up, something more endearing and enduring from The Bard, via: shakespeares.sonnets.com XX:):):):):):):):):) EIgHTeen s-miles for the number XX8th: (XX according to my Ipohlang BUD aweOfHelen stands for KiSsEs innumerable times IF thou have the dimes!:you kixxeth till the face turns blue!)

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
   So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

This is one of the most famous of all the sonnets, justifiably so. But it would be a mistake to take it entirely in isolation, for it links in with so many of the other sonnets through the themes of the descriptive power of verse; the ability of the poet to depict the fair youth adequately, or not; and the immortality conveyed through being hymned in these 'eternal lines'. It is noticeable that here the poet is full of confidence that his verse will live as long as there are people drawing breath upon the earth, whereas later he apologises for his poor wit and his humble lines which are inadequate to encompass all the youth's excellence. Now, perhaps in the early days of his love, there is no such self-doubt and the eternal summer of the youth is preserved forever in the poet's lines. The poem also works at a rather curious level of achieving its objective through dispraise. The summer's day is found to be lacking in so many respects (too short, too hot, too rough, sometimes too dingy), but curiously enough one is left with the abiding impression that 'the lovely boy' is in fact like a summer's day at its best, fair, warm, sunny, temperate, one of the darling buds of May, and that all his beauty has been wonderfully highlighted by the comparison.



FOR THY EDUCATION, aMORE from phrases.org.uk~~~~~~~~~

---

The darling buds of May

Meaning

An appreciation of what is fresh and new.

Origin

The phrase refers to the opening buds that point toward the warm summer season ahead and to the freshness and exuberance of youth as it turns toward adult maturity. It probably refers not to the month of May directly but to the May tree (the Common Hawthorn) that flowers in England at that time of year. The hawthorn is important in the mythology of old England and there's a rich symbolism wrought from its standing as an early flowering common tree. Global warming has now given the UK a climate that causes May to begin flowering earlier, but I doubt that the 'darling buds of April' will ever catch on.

The legend of the Glastonbury Thorn is also related to the flowering time of the hawthorn. The story has it that when Joseph of Arimathea arrived in England from the Holy Land he stuck his thorn walking stick into the ground and it began to flower, and continues to flower each year at Christmas to mark Christ's birth. That's a myth but there are some facts that give it a little credence. The Glastonbury Thorn is unusual in that it does flower during the winter. There is a middle eastern form of the tree that flowers at that time and some would have it that this is what Joseph brought with him.

Not all the symbolism relating to the hawthorn is warm and inviting. The tree also has negative associations. In Ireland a hawthorn standing alone in open ground is known as a fairy tree and there is a strong superstition that to cut one is unlucky. Even in recent years roads in Ireland have been rerouted to avoid uprooting hawthorns. It is also considered unlucky and an omen of death to cut the blooms and bring them into a house. This may well have come about from the unpleasant aroma, which is like decaying flesh.

Back to the phrase itself, best known these days as the title of H. E. Bates' story of idyllic country life, which has been made into a successful television series. Bates took the title from Shakespeare who coined it in his celebrated Sonnet 18:)