The (Not So) Mysterious East

While Mr. Muscato is off with the family in Egypt, I've been blessed with a visit from My Dear Sister, en route to Very Important Meetings in India (the Sandlands being, if nothing else, an excellent stopping-off point).

She makes an excellent house guest, as we have remarkably similar tastes, dislikes, and bedtimes (three crucial things, I think, for anyone sharing quarters, even briefly, even if Mr. Muscato and I have long since reconciled ourselves to very different thinking about the third of these important qualities).  As this is a very long weekend hereabouts, celebrating the Eid al Adha (the second of Islam's two principal holidays, and in terms of its effects on local life, essentially Christmas Week), we've been revelling in our leisure, reading a great deal, eating tremendously well, and only occasionally doing something in recognition of her status as, more or less, a tourist.

Today, for example, we went exploring up in the Big City, driving up to Dubai early enough to have some hope, mostly realized, of missing the heaving holiday crowds of vast families out for a good time.  In the course of our day, we enountered the charmingly Moorish court above, with its graceful arches and fountain topped with sculptures of flyin falcons, and I only wish I could tell you it was in some forgotten corner of an obscure traditional souq.

Instead, I must confess, it's a relatively quiet corner of the otherwise relentlessly futuristic Dubai Mall, home to a vast skating rink, a vaster aquarium, and something like a dozen Starbuckses, one of which is more or less just out of the frame (as are a Pinkberry and the local Forever 21 - the shops at Dubai Mall being a genuinely mixed bag, running from Dior to, well, Forever 21).  Nothing, really, in Dubai, is quite what it seems.

I did score on the shopping front, as the Mall also features both what is likely the best bookstore in Arabia, a huge and entrancing branch of Kinokuniya, Japan's finest bookshop, and an almost equally large branch of Virgin Megastore, a shop that feels increasingly retro in a world of music downloads and streaming movies.  At the former, I picked up the newly published volume of the selected letters of Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother (I had no idea she was such a prolific correspondent - it's thick as a brick, and I can only hope its chockablock with choice barbs about the Duchess of Windsor), while at the latter I got a bargain-basement price on a DVD of Death on the Nile, a film that, given its rather extraordinary cast and its association with my favorite place (or at least my favorite river), I'm ashamed to say I've never seen.

So that's what we're up to, on this pre-Halloween weekend that looks to be the start of a stormy week for any Gentle Readers on the U.S. East Coast.  How about you?

Gloriana 2.0

Sixty years today; hard to imagine it, doing that job, day in, day out for 60 years. Let alone doing it so very well. Say what you will, she has a marvelous smile.

Her mother, of course, was famous for hers. I've always found it a rather practiced smile, determined to charm, at its least successful verging on the fixed.

No, I think the Queen's is more like that of her grandmother, the redoubtable Queen Mary. It's altogether a less predictable phenomenon, but all the more endearing for it.

One can't, I suppose, wish her sixty more. You know what I do wish, though? That she's with us for a good long time, long enough to see her first-born's first-born have his first. And that that child is a girl, the first ever British heiress apparent. She'd have a thing or two to learn from her great granny...

A King and Two Queens

Here at the Café, you will have observed, except when deeply exercised, we generally steer clear of things political. When those matters are of local concern, that seems to me only a combination of sensitivity to local feeling and common sense. Still, I can't help calling attention to a story highlighted by sterling local blogger Muscat Confidential, although not really for the reason he's picked up on it.

It appears, you see, that some perfectly dreadful-sounding jumped-up member of Parliament has, over the years, occasionally visited our quiet little corner of Arabia, which the deeply trashy Daily Mail has seized upon to include in his catalogue of otherwise quite dull transgressions. Like all official visitors, he has departed with a trinket or two, which is apparently Not Allowed, or at least the cause for some holier-than-thou finger-wagging.

But all of that, some fascinating personal details (which do cast the local travel industry in a more than usually interesting light) aside, that's all rather dull. The real interest of the story comes in the illustrations, which show for no evident reason the Sultanate's remarkable sovereign at various stages in his life, most thrillingly here posed between two of our favorite people. Look carefully and you'll note the wild-eyed creature in the background, who was also, for a while, you may remember, of some note. This was 1983, and HM is still fetchingly salt-and-pepper, and between his gold braid and his orders, almost able to challenge these merry wives of Windsor in terms of bling.

Even in such formidable company, I think he more than holds his own.

Birthday Girl: The Pearly Queen

This is the kind of photo that shows you why the Duchess of York drove Wallis Simpson mad: flyaway hair, fussy feathery coat-dress, and a beetle-browed face absolutely devoid of cheekbones. Of course, since the woman Wallis called "cookie" for her annoyingly cosy ways went on to have seven decades of the last laugh, I suppose you could say that the scorn of a brittle society hag didn't really mean all the much to the little Scots girl born on this day in 1900.

Yes, she would have been 109 today, and every now and then I'm really quite surprised she's not.

Sharing the day, of course, is our President, along with such jolly luminaries as Louis Armstrong, journalist Helen Thomas, the enchanting Miss Anita Page, and cult vocalist Miss Timi Yuro.

The Many Friends of Danny La Rue

The British press is now two days into what can only be described as light-hearted mourning, marking the passing of the nation's longest-running Sweetheart in Sequins. He's seen here with the previous record holder.

Is it just me, or does it seem possible that cocktails might have been being served in the Royal Box? I've never seen that tiara pushed quite that far back before.

Here, one stately work of art contemplates another; both look like they could use one of those dubonnet-and-gins that may have contributed to the royal disarray above.

No actual royalty here, but Mr. La Rue's just come from seeing her. At those investitures, there's usually a string orchestra playing light favorites. One would love to know what accompanied Danny's moment with Her Majesty - "I Enjoy Being a Girl"? "Baubles, Bangles, and Beads"?

Once again, no literal royalty, but I think this pair makes up for not having a picture with the actual Queen. Sadly, now, both have gone to the Grace Bros. branch above...

And only one queen here, but I can't resist dear Mr. Stewart's expression. Is he horrified, intrigued, just a little turned on - or a delicious blend of all three?

QM

"Why, yes - I do think it's high time for a nice cold gin-and-tonic. How very kind of you to think of it."

Mirror, Mirror...

"Well, duckie, not bad for a little girl from Glamis!"

Unfortunate Fashions

Seen vacationing here in northern Italy, Pope B16 looks relaxed and at ease.

Unfortunately, he also looks like a contestant awaiting her turn on the catwalk for the wedding gown portion of a Gertrude Stein Lookalike Pageant. Well, they have one for Hemingway - why not a little equal time for a far greater writer?

Birthday Cavalcade

Today's birthdays are a truly mixed lot, although when you get to thinking about them, they do share creativity, a certain élan, and a serious interest in the world around them. They are all, in their own ways, persons of marked qualities.

Qualities that include idealism and skepticism, embodied in Percy Bysshe Shelley...


As well as worldliness and wit, as in Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother (she would have been 108, bless her):

Not to mention charisma and an enormous generosity of spirit, as in the one and only Satch:

Add in selflessness, determination, and infinite courage, as with Raoul Wallenberg:

Perhaps sharing this anniversary bodes well for another birthday boy, 47 today. If all goes well, they are qualities he will need, in bulk.

Not to wax either political or sentimental, let's hope.

A Very Practical Lady

From London comes the news that over 700 items from the personal collection of the Queen Mother's longtime servant, "Backstairs" Billy Tallon, will be sold at auction this weekend - signed photos, gifts from the Royal Family, memorabilia...

Of them all, however, I can't imagine wanting anything more than this casual note; one that at a stroke summarizes all that was most adorable about that indomitable old lady, the former Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, last Empress of India, and vigourous centenarian:

I'm sure it was needed, and much enjoyed. She clearly took to heart the Scouting motto: be prepared.