Absolute Trygve

Cake and Eat It

2012-01-21T11:19:00.006-05:00

No season in New York is complete without a trek to Joe’s house, and aroma-tidbit time.
“When do you want to come for geranium-jasmine cake?” he asked.
Well, of course I answered as any sane person would: “As soon as possible please!"
And so I went last night, up to visit him at the north end of a bare and wintry Central Park.

The cake was flavored with geranium absolute (yes, absolute, deal with it) with rose filling and jasmine sambac frosting.
I mean please.

Need I say anything about these flowers affinity for butter, for cream, for sugar? What better home for jasmine than buttercream frosting?

Since there is not a lot of description I can go into, lets go with the gustatory version of a picture being worth a thousand words.
Just make it yourself.

I don’t have his exact recipe for the cake but any decent recipe for white cake will do, just as long as you make it with real ingredients, and don’t use an instant mix. Try Joy of Cooking, or any good cookbook if you don’t have your own recipe and add the essential oil (or absolute) as you’re creaming the butter and sugar. Joe used three (3) drops geranium absolute. It’s gonna bake in there. Needn’t be strong, just palpably there.

For the icing just make a simple rich heavy one. I agree with Joe in that a lighter icing, for example a whipped, egg whitey one, will not give the essential oils (or absolutes) their due respect. Just stick to traditional American (French) style and you’ll be fine. Remember, butter, cream and sugar are friends of aromatics wallah. Don’t use a canned or instant or packaged frosting. If you are intimidated because you don’t cook, don’t worry, just look at a frosting recipe. It’s easy, really. It will be better if you make it yourself with your hands. It's basically butter and sugar and maybe milk or cream. Add the eo or absolutes when you're combining ingredients.

Joe made 2 separate bowls and used 2-3 drops of oil in each. For the filling frosting he used Rose Ruh, (you can use rose otto,) and the frosting (icing) was jasmine sambac absolute.

The combination of geranium cake with rose filling was sublime; they married exquisitely. Of course they did. Look at the love and commonality geranium and rose share, after all! And that Sambac, like a fairy queen, sprinkling her magic sparkle in blessing.

You could seriously seduce someone with this cake. Or just make a miracle.

Ice Cream School

2012-01-14T23:41:00.004-05:00

What a fabulous little reality blip I just sailed through. For anyone out there interested in the business of Ice Cream, and this certainly applies to anyone who might own a dairy, you can’t do any better than the Penn State Ice Cream Short Course held every year at Penn State University in insanely cold central Pennsylvania.

Be forewarned if you’re planning on doing this course! It’s super intensive and they will slam a ton of information (and ice cream,) into you, relentlessly, for 15 hours every day. Considering it’s not that far removed from what I already do, a short hop to gustation from olfaction, it’s different in other ways. There’s no attached trade show with dueling vanilla venders, Belgian chocolate makers, and local/organic/hand milked/cow caressed/grass fed dairies clamoring for your tiny business.

Nope, it’s a big, well known, and widely understood industry, unlike essential oils. Meaning that whereas essential oils are not really known to the general public, at least not in the depth that we know them, everyone knows milk, and cows, and ice cream. So the information reflected this. We learned about mixing ingredients, about freezing, and pasteurizing milk. We did lot of chemistry, micro-biology, and even physics! We ate a lot of ice cream. We did get into vanilla in depth, as a matter of fact, and even made a blend of different origin vanillas to compete in a blind taste test next week. We did quite a bit with chocolate.

What kind of people come to this class? Dairy farmers. Ice Cream makers. Frozen dessert companies. Entrepreneurs. Even though it’s unlikely that all the information will be relevant to you, some of it will be. This is the well known and respected ice cream course and it’s not going to show you how to make ice cream in the sense of do a nice little maceration of fresh peppermint, or give you ideas about new flavors, but it will show you how to make ice cream in the practical sense of percentages of milk fat, serum solids, and this type of unromantic but highly pragmatic information.

Stripped bare like this, ice cream is a little more intimidating yet straightforward than I thought, It’s less happy discussions about mangos and apples and more in the sense of a guy in overalls with a milk stool, a cow and a mop. But it’s better like that, to learn practical information than to trade creative tidbits like matchbox cars. Cause all that creativity is swimming around inside anyway.

Speakers and presentations run the gamut from absolutely fabulous and ultra-engaging to an endurance test. This being Penn State, there is a lot of history thrown about, like the fact that the Berkey Creamery was started in 1865, and they originally made only butter! There was no refrigeration, no pasteurization, ice cream was something that happened in the moment, so you had to actually be there when it was made if you wanted to try it. And they have pictures of all this. It’s fascinating. Today the creamery uses all the milk produced at the diary barns and then brings in about 30% more just to make enough products for the town that feeds off Penn State, and they also make ice cream for the White House. It’s good ice cream and you can’t get more American than Penn State. Even the Naval Academy from Annapolis showed up at the hotel. It’s a full American experience; big and healthy, large cows, athletes, butterfat, comfortable inns glowing in the snowy night, a cozy fire roaring, alpha all the way.

So why did I go?? Well, I had my reasons, and they changed once, twice and three times while I was there. It’s always better to do something, if you can, and I could.
Does this mean we’ll have constant ice cream in the store? Hmmmm. Maybe, maybe not.
It gave me something to think about.

Something else I thought was just great: there is a class for this. I went to an essential oils training course at Purdue University in Indiana in 1996-1997. That course also covered a lot, but it wasn’t really geared towards getting people into any kind of business, except, perhaps, research. In the ensuing years I taught myself a lot of things. All those ice cream formulations? Yes, very difficult and complex but at least we don’t have to figure them out for ourselves! I mean, we have a method to find solutions. We can just have an idea, come up with a few numbers and plug them into some equations. We don’t have to figure out the method of the equations too!

I am so exhausted! I thought I could work on my taxes in the evenings!! That was fanciful! We started at 8 am sharp every day, and had our coffee and breakfast in class. Lunch was in the next room, and the afternoons were either more of the same or labs. Dinner and alcohol was usually taken in the main room again over meetings, questions & answers, homework. I felt I had to have wine every night, in self defense, as I could feel my arteries hardening, and my heart racing as we plowed through dozens and dozens of ice cream tastings. Every night I could barely wash my face before falling into bed and corpse-like sleep, waking with difficulty and rising from a deep hole the next morning, to stagger downstairs and sit blinking though the mornings classes, sipping coffee and trying to focus. It was grand.

Met a lot of nice people, a variety, not the kind of people I usually meet. Dairy farmers, mostly. Doesn’t do to limit oneself, dear.

So what now? We’ll see. Maybe not what you think.

Penn State Creamery

The Seven Year Itch

2012-01-01T12:56:00.002-05:00

Wouldn’t it be kind of cool to actually start every year off again, fresh? Pretend you can carefully pick and choose the the things you’re taking with you, leaving the rest in a psychic trash bin? We’d probably make that even more of a disaster, if we had the choice! As it is, we just lurch ahead, freighted with all the crap we’ve gathered along the way. Some of us learn from it. Some of us just bang our heads.

This will begin the seventh year of writing this blog! It’s insane. I can’t even remember the original reason I started it, but I think it was to chronicle the trip I took across Africa with Jonathan in early 2007. It was a rally, of old junker cars. You weren’t supposed to spend over £100 on a car and all cars were donated in Bamako (or Banjul) at the finish. Our team was “Ex Marks the Spot.” Jonathan is my ex, obviously. We kept separate blogs of our adventures with the Mauritanian army, the djinns of Morocco, the groove of Mali, and of course, that indescribable entity, the Sahara. And our wheezing yet gallantly tenacious 1984 Volvo station wagon. We are both lucky we didn’t kill each other.

Then, instead of letting the blog slip away, I found I liked writing it, and tried to highlight traveling for essential oils, investigating what certain terms mean, like “organic”, “fair-trade,” “endangered,” “attars,” “natural” and “ethically grown.”
I’ve done pretty well with that, and the only trouble, actually, is that I can’t seem to travel enough these days to investigate new oils. Between the enormous amount of energy (and money) I’ve invested in Oman, and the move in New York, traipsing around Madagascar has been out of reach, no matter how many times I almost get there. When I go chasing something nowadays, it’s usually to India, where even though I will flail about, I know where to go to find sandalwood, agarwood, jasmine. Or I go to Southeast Asia.

The blog also became a catharsis throughout my Omani journey. The first year in Oman I was attached to someone who was helping me, and the second year I was helping him. The third year with him went from one extreme to the other with a sad final result. My process and journey have been very organic, in that I didn’t come with a plan, and the plan that eventually unfolded changed several times, as possibilities leapt up. The first year was quite blind, actually. Like feeling my way alone down a dark passage. The second year I was snatched up by the Diwan of Royal Court Affairs, and the third year, it has been my own vision and plans. It’s still unfolding organically.

The first year I could still write about what was happening with me, and Oman, and frankincense, and the frangipani enfleurage, and even my friend, although I referred to him obliquely, of course. I was blindly in love with Oman then.

The second year, with the attachment to the Diwan being the biggest thing in my life, I couldn’t even whisper about it. I was floating on air for the first part of that association, and gradually became disillusioned over the year. But it was not the Diwan itself that disillusioned me; and it was nothing to do with His Majesty, whom I adore. It was the antics of the Minister at the time, and some of the people attached to him, wallah. It’s no secret any longer. I have told a few people about it, in Salalah, because the episode didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth. It’s when I became less blind, although still in love with Oman. Since it took up most of the year, and was excruciating in its devolution, the only loyalty I feel is toward His Majesty and his Diwan, not the (ex) Minister, his wife or his facilitator. Course, can’t write details, even though that Minister is no longer at his post. The “Frankincense Revolution” saw to that. I resigned from the project and delivered my letter to his office 10 days before he had to stand down.

This past year I wrote less, as my personal posts became fodder for people with bad intentions. Combine that with the discretion needed to not mention people, and therefore situations which could lead to the guessing of those same people. Back on my own, supposedly with my original guy, after a couple of months I realized that Americans don’t need sponsors. That set me free, although the ramifications are still shaking things up. Can’t write too much about that though, too new, too fresh.

I do enjoy writing this blog. It’s hard to say why. I don’t get a lot of comments, and I’m not sure how many people read it. Someone does. Hi There! Although I do occasionally go off on a political rant, this is not meant to be a commentary on social issues, even though I obviously have plenty of opinions. It’s a personal blog, for someone whose personal life is largely her company and related things, like looking for sandalwood oil. But it gives me a sense of satisfaction. I thought perhaps it was time to stop, but I really don’t want to.

I do hope that this year, the fourth one in Oman and the seventh one for AbsoluteTrygve, will have some interesting entries on certain oils and flowers I’ve got my eye on, in a couple of places I’ve been salivating over. And I hope to finally be able to chronicle my progress with Enfleurage Middle East, without incurring the wrath or envy of those nearby.

Reaching a Plateau

2011-12-16T12:18:00.007-05:00

Too bad it’s not always a straightforward battle like you might find in Taekwondo. Someone throws a punch and you block it, move out of the way, kick them, punch them back. But it’s good training for all kinds of attacks, really. Before I did martial arts and even for a long time as I was training, I thought black belt was the goal, the destination. It is, but what isn’t apparent is that it’s only a goal, the first of many, merely a place to rest for a moment and then start the serious work.

All I can say is WOW.

The new store in New York is up, and ready, and open, and furnished, and absolutely lovely. Still not 100% finished as we have a few small touches to complete. This store was a group effort and would simply have not happened without the help of Tom and Jon, Stacy and Christina, Ken, Freddy and Daniel. Tom, as usual, takes everything upon himself and was completely responsible for every aspect of the new store. Awning, furniture, colors, coordination, you name it, he did it. And Jonathan flew out to NYC several times, dealt with the construction crews, painted, designed things, worked with Tom, etc. Because of them I was able to actually be away from New York as the new store was being built. That’s unheard of. Mind you, I was here for several months before construction started, and we only got the building permits 2 days after I went back to Oman. I was not able to make it happen any faster.

In Oman things changed quite dramatically. I have the new space, and everything is filed, registered, discussed, signed, and ready to go. Jealousy and malice can be kicked down the stairs where they belong, not clinging to my back. We have the full protection of Omani law. There is no more question of being held to the winds of whim and subterfuge. Seems like quite a bit of ugliness and shocking betrayals were unearthed, thank God at the end of the vulnerable phase. Alhamdulilah. It’s fantastic, and hard to imagine, but true. It was quite a journey, but it appears I have arrived, and now for a quick breather, and to survey the climb ahead, and then continue, older, scarred, tougher and wiser, Mashallah.

On a sad note, I lost my Landcruiser, it was killed under the most unlikely circumstances. Can’t write about those circumstances of course, at least not at the moment. But even though I, and all my friends, miss that wonderful, intrepid and awesome vehicle, it was a price I paid for knowledge, clarity and freedom. I will buy another. There is so often a silver lining.....

That which doesn’t kill us.... makes us stronger. Or so they say.

One other sad note--I had written about bringing a new oudh from Laos in from Oman. This was our first new batch of Laotian since........2007. It had been sitting on a shelf in Vientiane, waiting for me to take it, for years. It was the last batch of Super Lao, completely irreplaceable. I can safely say this was an oil I was planning on keeping in my private collection for the rest of my life. It didn’t make it. It was seized by US Customs as it did not have the fairly newly mandated CITES certificate. I believe that agarwood as registered as CITES appendix II in 2006. I think that oil has also been included as a product which is supposed to be registered with CITES since 2009. Not sure about these dates, but as I have written at length in the past, personally, I think the whole CITES thing, (when it comes to agarwood--I think it’s great and necessary for the trade in endangered animals) is misguided, prone to misuse, confusing and without any link at all to what it is ostensibly for, to protect agarwood. But they don’t care what I think, and now that lovely bottle will sit on some bureaucratic shelf in the bowels of JFK until someone either steals it, or pours it out. There is no discussion, because the people enforcing this believe they are doing something highly moral. And I agree with them when it comes to regulating the trade in animals. There is no end of trouble for all kinds of people due to the CITES agarwood thing, and I don’t mean me. I mean all the people in NE India and around the world who must deal with the agarwood mafia since their industries were declared null. CITES certificates are bought and sold just like how you’d expect. It’s got nothing to do with the reality of an ethical harvest. Never occurred to me to get a certificate for this batch--I’ve been sitting on it so long. My bad there. Anyway, it’s gone. For the few who read this and were looking forward to trying it......sorry. We all knew there would be an end to oudh. So here we are. The farmed and inoculated crap is also subject to CITES by the way........If you’ve got oud, hold onto it. I can tell you the good Laotian stuff is now gone. As for most of the other origins....I have no idea. Our speciality was Lao, as everyone who knows us knows.

Back here in New York, the holiday season is here, and for once it’s not a horror show. The new neighborhood is just great, we don’t feel crushed, choked and hammered. We feel.......good. Weird.

It’s all small businesses, lots of old ones, pretty decorations, no big corporate anything, nice people, not as many drunks, plenty of trees and dogs.....and it’s still Greenwich Village. I walked down Bleecker the other night with Tom...Those absurd corporate luxury boutiques no longer irritate me. I don’t give a damn if Burberry Brit pays $70,000+ a month for a small space on Bleecker. I’m gone. And the first of the discount stores has moved in, across from the new Jimmy Choo boutique. The pendulum will swing back, and I am so relieved to be away from all that.

Ironically, the new Enfleurage is more “upscale” than any of those pricy places--our old store was the old Village style, and very colorful, friendly, informal, and I have to admit, dated. It’s a complete switch. The new store is an ocean of calm serenity, solid and with a modern almost Japanese feel to it. We have a tester bar with seats, for our essential oils, and three small bays with our new candle line, incense and herbs. The coconut palm floors glows with warm reds and browns. Even our logo is new and decidedly more elegant, modern, and aesthetically pleasing than the last one. Our color scheme is now earth tones, browns, tans, colors of the desert. You can feel the stress drain out of your face as you come into the new Enfleurage. It’s where we all want to be, all the time. It’s intimate and cozy, yet clean and spare. Very happy.

Hello West 13!

2011-12-01T11:14:00.007-05:00

That's a palm wood floor, folks. Coconut palm, Wallah. See how it glows? Love love love that.
No furniture yet, we will be on boxes for this, our soft opening.
Grand Opening coming up Jan 2. Sign up for the newsletter or check our facebook page for updates.
This new store is so homey and cozy we should probably offer robes and slippers, a seat by the fire, and a chilled martini or a cup of cocoa to all who wander in.
Did I mention our next door neighbor specializes in Rare Wines?
Could there be a better match? In heaven? Lilac chocolates is around the corner too....

And not only that! Coming soon! The finest, most succulent, all rounded and roasted robustness, new and old, already aged, super rare new Laotian Oudh.
That's right. Even though we continue to slowly sell our down our Super Lao, we have a new batch, one that's been sitting, awaiting, aging and maturing in Vientaine, and now, finally makes the journey to us.
It's 2 or 3 years aged, and one of the last batches from wild trees. Distilled on-site in Northern Laos, from the distiller to me here in Oman and carried by me, very soon, to New York. I'll be bringing some of our new batch of frankincense oil, hand distilled by me in Salalah, to help ring in some holiday cheer too.

Enfleurage Middle East has a new home! We found the perfect location, and slowly slowly it's coming along. Probably would be faster if I wasn't split between New York and Oman, but that's the way it is, I can't help it! Say hello this spring! And start thinking about that future trip to the sweetest place on Earth, The Sultanate of Oman. We're here.

So long, So sad

2011-11-29T14:53:00.001-05:00

Bye, Bleecker

Everything Happens at Once

2011-11-23T04:31:00.007-05:00

Doesn’t it just? We are closing the Bleecker Street Store this week. Saturday is the last day I think. I’m not there for it, and thank heavens for that. I would need a double intravenous valium infusion, for sure. Or an entire bottle of scotch and a couple of packs of cigarettes maybe. Or maybe just a good slap. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about it. We are moving to a smaller space, on a more reasonable street, kind of like how Bleecker was when we originally moved there. In fact, I’ve been whining for years about wanting out of that situation. But still.
It’s like losing an organ.

Some people ask if this is business or pleasure and I can’t even understand the question. I have my logo tattooed on my arm for Gods sake. What does that tell you? Not the name, just the lotus, But still. Is that business or pleasure? No wonder I take things personally. I suspect many if not most of us in this business (or pleasure) feel the same way. Who are you without your company? Wanna make a judgement on that? Is it pathetic? Or is it enviable? Maybe it depends on how you are who you are. My friend Cary was a “day trader” in the stock market. He could make ridiculous money. But he tied his health to the market and so he died when the stocks fell. That’s not how I mean. I still have that soft pink lotus winking at me from the inside of my arm.

We were on Bleecker street since 1997. That’s 14 years. That’s a long damn time, especially for a California girl. New York seems like it has more permanency and Salalah even more so. With people I mean, not the city skyline. Will there be phantom pain, like a missing leg? Or will it be like missing a part of my heart? Maybe that’s what kills us---people dying, great disappointments, illnesses, betrayals, endings, and each one gives a little phantom pain in the heart, until the scales tip. But we all have different thresholds of course.

Excuse my maudlin musings. I am actually not sad about closing. We have another, new store, opening just a few days away, and it’s even in the Village still. I’m not complaining; we could have stayed. It will be a relief, like pulling a tick out maybe. The new store promises to be even sweeter, and we will focus on what we originally intended to focus on all those years ago but couldn’t, because we had to have all that other stuff for the people who just wandered in off the street not necessarily looking for pure jasmine oil, but for a hostess gift, say.

Without getting psuedo-spiritual about the dual nature of existence, blah blah blah, there certainly are a few different emotions going on. It’s been an intense, crazy, and unknowable couple of weeks, I feel like a buoy.

So I’m glad not to be in New York this week, It will be hard for those sweet creatures who are there doing the work, but I don’t think any of them will mistake closing the store for organ shut down. It will just be sad. It’s the “end of an era.”

Enfleurage was originally built by Patrick Dias, and even using some of the structure from Trygve Aromatics, the store he built before that, on Jones Street. He did a great job, and even though he (as a theatrical designer and carpenter,) said it was built to last a couple of years, it has lasted until today. I can’t even imagine how they are going to tear down the back room, with those insanely sturdy shelves that could hold a herd of rhinoceros. I’m sure the next tenant will tear down, though. Patrick built a barrel vault ceiling, single-handedly as well. He worked completely illegally, without a permit, and half of it on the sidewalk, in the winter, in incredibly cramped conditions, while Robear and I just got in his way. He did a genius job, really perfect work.

We did a renovation in 2007, after 10 years, and a couple of repaintings. Hassan Ech-Chaouy did the renovation, switching the energy and feng-shui of the store completely around, and updating the look, infusing it with a fresh loving vibe while leaving the perfect infrastructure intact.

All of the other large and small changes, and all of the painting, decorating, methodology, maintenance of the vital organs, and life support was done by Thomas Carson and Stacy Amber. They had the help of many other people, but these two are the two. If not for Tom and Stacy Enfleurage would have closed years ago, no question. Tom has been with Enfleurage since 1998 I think, and Stacy since 2001, I think again. That’s a long damn time as well. If it wasn’t for these two, there is no way I’d be out carousing about the planet, looking for agarwood and distilling frankincense. There is no way we’d have a new company in Oman either. Hell, I’d probably be addicted to anti-depressants or dead.
Or the store would be gone.

Now I am so fortunate we have a fantastic, knowledgeable and loyal staff. Tom, Stacy, Christina and Ken all have specialty areas they excel in, as you know if you’ve been in the store. Inshaa Allah all will go well with the move. I understand the new store is looking fantastic and for this I have to thank Jonathan Smith, who has gone way over and above the minimum necessary to ensure this. Without him, we would be foundering deeply and mortally, in construction hell. But since Jon knows everything, and speaks the language of drywall and waiscotting, and is not terrified by barrels of little electrical things with coils and prongs, he is the only conceivable person who can speak the contractors language, as this world is a mystery to me, and in fact to all of us.

Meanwhile, I am in Muscat, about to give another interview, about the new project here. At last everything is finished, the paperwork is done and filed, a space obtained, my personal status enhanced and secure. After this I tie up a few loose ends, bugger off to a couple of trade shows in nearby countries, and then rocket back to New York, leaving all my life here for what is hopefully the last time for a long time, and hurry back as soon as possible to start the actual work on our new Omani company. I knew the second half of this year would be busy, but....wallah.

It feels weird and strange though, to be here as Enfleurage Bleecker Street breathes its last breath, even as 13th Street gets slapped into life and Salalah gets conceived........

2011-11-04T17:42:00.007-04:00

After three months out of Salalah, I have to admit it feels like I left it for too long. I was on fire when I left here, flying high on the ice cream, only to go back to New York and have it suck the life out me like a spider sucks a fly. Wallah.

We got the building permit 2 days after I arrived back in Muscat. It took 4 months. Why? No reason, other than New York does its best to thwart any activity by any small business. Ironic that the slogan is “NY Loves small business!” What a bunch of crap.

We rented a space for the new store, and all we are doing is renovating the inside. There are no structural changes, nothing on the outside, but with the psuedo-legal garbage they make you dance through, paying constantly, you are lucky to even get to the stage where you can build. It’s a total scam from start to finish.
Really it made me angry.

Now I understand why you can see a sign that a store has been rented and six months later nothing has happened. And just think if you are waiting for an alcohol permit!

Enfleurage was built with no permits, totally “illegally.” But we didn’t have the ability this time. Anyone who can build without permits will do it to avoid the city and all the outstretched palms-bureaucracy. You can bet those big companies, like all the LVMH owned boutiques now on Bleecker aren’t bothered, though. They just pay, having almost unlimited funding, and no need for their stores to make a profit, or even pay their own bills, anyway.

The rents they pay are ridiculous. On Bleecker street, west of West 10th, you find rents for $26,000, $42,000 and even $74,000. That’s monthly, people. Think Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, Burberry Brit, Tommy Hilfiger, etc.There is no way Bleecker can support those rents. The stores are the size of Enfleurage, 500 square or thereabouts. It’s not 5th Avenue. Just amounts to advertising for those big companies pretending to have small trendy boutiques and it’s chic to one on Bleecker.
Annoyed? Disgusted? Yup. Totally.

Anyone out there wanting to open a business in NYC? Good luck to you.

Only thing that saves me from becoming a normal embittered New York business owner is that I have Oman.

And, of course, that we are opening that new shop, albeit a couple of months late.

Anyway, things are slow here as usual, and can be frustrating but so far nothing on the scale of NYC. More fun developments from America: Verizon no longer considers businesses under 100 employees “small business.” Instead, we are “mass market,” meaning there is not even a dedicated phone line, and they can’t be bothered with any customer service. Go on and try to call them if you don’t believe it. My friend was just told by Citibank, where he has banked for 16 years, that he would now pay $22 monthly for the privilege of having a checking account there. When he objected, he was told that he was “a class C customer” due to his balance being below class “A” and “B” customers, presumably. HSBC (British/Chinese) here in Oman declined to open a business account for me as my worth was less than the minimum million+ Rials needed (and to be kept undisturbed in the account for several months.)

2011 is the year that we finally are actually told, straight out, and flat out, by these disgusting large corporations, that we are so insignificant that it’s not even worth it for them to sell us their services. Think about it. Pass me my fiddle, and let me play while they burn.

Here in Oman we have the chaos of Cyclone Keila, which is a lovely storm, because you can be correct with any prediction. You can find a website, complete with radar, affirming whatever you like, telling you that it’s over, that it’s just now coming, that it doesn’t really exist, that it’s sitting on top of us, whatever you like. And it’s not just Omani weather reports. With the chaos in Muscat it seems Oman is not very organized with its weather communication. 14 dead so far......Doesn’t help that there was another Cyclone Keila back in June. Must be a mistake. Chaos!! Remember our “hurricane Irene” in New York a couple of months ago? Just hype really. I had thought it was the city overreacting so as to avoid disaster but now realize it was just a cynical news story.

Anyway, my garden is almost completely denuded of leaves. So sad. There is terrific damage to innocent banana and coconut trees all over Salalah and this morning people were out surveying the carnage.

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Michelle Krell Kydd writes a great blog dedicated to all things olfactive and gustatory. It’s called Glass, Petal, Smoke. This latest entry is just terrific; she writes about a periodic table of Smell. Featuring a table of “smellaments,” the Cognac Aroma Wheel and a completely insane page of podcasts called Chemistry in its Element, Distilling the Compounds that Count. Interested in the essence of LSD? How about Chloroform, Cholesterol or Cisplatin? How about Mustard Gas? Luciferin? Formaldehyde? Tetrahydrocannabinol? I’m putting a separate link to it at the bottom. It’s wicked weird and cool.

Glass, Petal Smoke

Chemistry in its Element

A Step Forward

2011-10-26T02:11:00.008-04:00

How often can you say we have actually evolved in our behavior as a species? This means different things to different people but to me, the news today from San Diego California gives an unexpected jolt of surprising pleasure.
Just watch your own reaction. You may find it interesting.

Sea World is a water and sea life based amusement park with branches in California, Texas and Florida. They specialize in shows involving Orcas, those beautiful black and white whales who live in the Northern Oceans. Most Americans probably have some recollection of these shows from childhood.

The whale swims around a concrete pen, jumps around, takes a trainer around on its back, and gets a treat of fish. And this seems normal to us.

PETA, which stands for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, is an organization easily faulted for their heavy-handed tactics, yet does a lot of good. Here is their mission statement:

"People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) is the largest animal rights organization in the world, with more than 2 million members and supporters. PETA focuses its attention on the four areas in which the largest numbers of animals suffer the most intensely for the longest periods of time: on factory farms, in the clothing trade, in laboratories, and in the entertainment industry.

We also work on a variety of other issues, including the cruel killing of beavers, birds, and other "pests" as well as cruelty to domesticated animals. PETA works through public education, cruelty investigations, research, animal rescue, legislation, special events, celebrity involvement, and protest campaigns."

PETA is suing Sea World for Violating the constitutional rights of the Orcas, claiming they are being held in slavery. Which of course they are. Rather than summarize it, here is the text from the PETA website:

“In the first case of its kind, PETA, three marine-mammal experts, and two former orca trainers are filing a lawsuit asking a federal court to declare that five wild-caught orcas forced to perform at Sea World are being held as slaves in violation of the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. The filing—the first ever seeking to apply the 13th Amendment to nonhuman animals—names the five orcas as plaintiffs and also seeks their release to their natural habitats or seaside sanctuaries.

The suit is based on the plain text of the 13th Amendment, which prohibits the condition of slavery without reference to "person" or any particular class of victim. "Slavery is slavery, and it does not depend on the species of the slave any more than it depends on gender, race, or religion," says general counsel to PETA, Jeffrey Kerr.

The five wild-captured orca plaintiffs are Tilikum and Katina (both confined at SeaWorld Orlando) and Kasatka, Corky, and Ulises (all three confined at SeaWorld San Diego).

"All five of these orcas were violently seized from the ocean and taken from their families as babies. They are denied freedom and everything else that is natural and important to them while kept in small concrete tanks and reduced to performing stupid tricks," says PETA President Ingrid E. Newkirk. "The 13th Amendment prohibits slavery, and these orcas are, by definition, slaves."

Orcas are intelligent animals who, in the wild, work cooperatively, form complex relationships, communicate using distinct dialects, and swim up to 100 miles every day. At SeaWorld, they are forced to swim in circles in small, barren concrete tanks. Deprived of the opportunity to make conscious choices and to practice their cultural vocal, social, and foraging traditions, they are compelled to perform meaningless tricks for a reward of dead fish.

Our understanding of animals grows every day. Animals are no longer regarded as "things" to dominate, but as breathing, feeling beings with families, dialects, intellect, and emotions. Just as we look back with shame at a time when we enslaved other humans and viewed some people as property less deserving of protection and consideration, we will look back on our treatment of these animals with shame. The 13th Amendment exists to abolish slavery in all its forms—and this lawsuit is the next step.

The orcas are represented in the suit by what the law refers to as their "next friends": PETA, Ric O'Barry (a former orca and dolphin trainer and the star of the Academy Award–winning documentary The Cove), renowned marine biologist and orca expert Dr. Ingrid N. Visser, Orca Network founder Howard Garrett, and former SeaWorld trainers Samantha Berg and Carol Ray.

The groundbreaking suit was filed in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of California in San Diego.

Please help animals imprisoned by SeaWorld today. Click here to write to The Blackstone Group—the company that owns SeaWorld—and ask that it immediately set in place a firm and rapid plan to release the animals to sanctuaries that can provide them with an appropriate and more natural environment.”

Posted by PETA

So what do you think? Do you think that animals are here to use and abuse as we see fit? Do you think a society can be judged on the way it treats its weakest members? And alongside children, elderly and handicapped, doesn’t that include animals?

I don’t think there is much of an argument for keeping the Orcas captive, personally. Watching highly intelligent and exquisitely beautiful mammals do pointless tricks for the glee of crowds can’t be good for kids, as it will teach them that even if such spectacles are not right, they are still normal.

I realize we live in a world filled with human slavery. And that many if not most people find it perfectly ok to eat factory farmed animals. Many if not most people are not concerned at all with how animals are treated because we are the dominant species and even if you beat your dog in public view, it’s your business because its your dog. And that many if not most people don’t give a damn if or how we share the planet with our wild friends, and that most people for sure don’t think about elephants in a circus, orca at sea world, the millions of unwanted pets that die every year, big cats in cages throughout the world, dancing bears, animal parts in Chinese medicine, and the list goes on and on and on.

Many of us can’t even treat our own families decently. Most of us have serious problems and are unhappy in some major way. Most of us will join a mob if given the chance, and most of us are pretty easily led into dehumanizing other groups of humans, through religion or via color, sexual orientation, or ethnic background. It’s a pretty sad situation.

I wish I didn’t see the world as bleakly as I do, but then again, I’ve earned it, getting to this age and not taking anti-depressants.

If we lived in a truly just society, what would it look like? Would we still use animals the way we do? Or would we live with them differently? Would we still feel entitled to capture them from the wild, ripping them from their families and enslaving them for our amusement? Or would we take a different approach, perhaps going to see them in the wild, and enjoying their wildness and freedom rather than trying to choke it off?

This urge to catch something and imprison it must be natural. People do it to each other all the time. Men love my independence, and immediately want it for their own, taking it from me. Lots of men do that to women, as women are naturally more free in their beings I think.

Any opinions on this? What do you think of Sea World? Have you been? What about PETA? Have you had an experience with them? Do you think this is a good move? Are you relieved? Can you imagine a world where every creature is respected?

For more information on Orca

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA)

SeaWorld

Quick meal in Muscat

2011-10-24T05:14:00.005-04:00

Just a quick restaurant review. Here’s a little no name biryani place in old Muscat. I was starving the other day and saw the open door. He closes for lunch (get used to it if you’re in Muscat) but grumbled I could have some vegetable biryani if i took it to go.
I’m usually starving here as this hotel has nowhere to eat and nothing in the neighborhood, which must be escaped from daily, due to the horrific road work. So unless I have a big social lunch, I’m often driving around looking for anything decent to eat about 2.

I will call the proprietor Karim. I can’t remember. He’s Indian. I received a normal biryani container, with 5 side dishes........2 of them were moong dahl. One was the normal hulled and split variety, and perfectly seasoned, completely delicious, and the other was either a black dahl or the whole, green mung dahl. It’s cooked in some sort of turmeric/coconut/chili sauce and I kept thinking about it for days. went back three times without success, finding him closed, out or without food!

Two of the side dishes were vegetables--potatoes. One, a potato curry similar (but not exactly like) what you might find in a superlative dosa joint, and the other one a dry potato dish! It shocked me for some reason. They were small potatoes I think, and cut in little circles. maybe mixed with a mallow? That one I ate right out of the little container.
The last dish was a sambar and I don’t usually even like sambar but ate it like soup.
The meal was spicy in just the perfect amount that tickled my throat, and easily the best biryani I’ve had around here
It’s nothing like that pea and chopped carrot filled biryani you find everywhere. Just rice and spices.

He’s a little out of the way for most day to day business unless your business includes old Muscat. Go toward Ministry of Finance, and just before you turn in for parking on the left, before the roundabout that gives you a view of Al Aram Palace, turn right and then an immediate left. He’s on the right.

It’s the equivalent of being in Midtown Manhattan. He’s the delivery guy for that whole area. Everything is super fresh! And my entire meal, which is actually two meals, easily, is about 1.600 RO.

2011-10-19T09:37:00.005-04:00

So glad to be back in Oman. Got all my paperwork to do, and it’s taking some time, wallah. Of course it is! Nothing like trying to build a store in New York, though. I couldn’t even write about it--was too irritating. It took 4 months to get the building permit.
One of New York’s slogans is “NYC loves small business!” Propaganda of nearly Soviet proportions. Anyway, we got it and the new store will be open now......sometime around December 1. Of this year.
Inshaa Allah.
But it’s going to be lovely!!!! That’s one thing I can promise

Elsewhere, it’s time to clean some stuff up, and pay attention to some of this crap floating around the internet. I’ve been hearing some very strange stuff, here and there.

So let me clarify a few things:

Enfleurage is expanding, and we have opened a branch of Enfleurage in Oman. It’s done. It’s legal, finished, and nearly up. We have a distillery in Salalah and sweets and ice cream production. It’s an Enfleurage company, not a joint venture with any Omani, Swedish, American or Australian company. And we are certainly not shutting down our New York operation, obviously!

We are moving the New York store off Bleecker to West 13th Street. That’s right near Integral Yoga and the neighborhood is nice and pretty and frequented by locals and pups. Most businesses seem to be owned by actual human beings. We won’t have the foot traffic of Bleecker but we are really happy and prefer this nice new space so we can do what we do best, focusing on essential oils and natural incense. We won’t be carrying any more items made from anyone else. And we are making a few new things with jasmine and frankincense.

There is no truth to any rumor tying us in with any large company, my God! We continue to be a small enterprise, and we will not be taken over by any multinational anything!!

We are redoing the website. It’s taking a long time, for sure. In the meantime, our old site is still up, as you can see if you browse it. Sure, it’s a little antiquated, but it’s a very old site, from 1996. We were one of the first companies to have one. It was originally called aromata.com. The site is a little sad to get rid of, but we are slowly getting it changed over.
We even have a new logo!

There is no truth in anyones claim that I have verified, certified, approved, okayed, or am otherwise shilling for any company, small or large, dealing in any aromatics, and agarwood, sandalwood and frankincense in particular. I have seen my words on quite a few websites originating in SE Asia claiming I say their agarwood (or sandalwood) is the best, the only pure one, whatever. Not true. I have nothing to do with any of these companies. They’ve stolen my information, without exception. Imagine how surprised I was to see it out there. The only agarwood or oudh I stand by is ours.

There also is no truth to the rumor that our Omani company has anything to do with any company in Australia purporting to be dealing in frankincense or agarwood. We don’t supply them, we don’t support them, we don’t have any ties at all to them. I have been told they even use our name! I think it’s some sort of sad imitation, a cheap copy. I was shown a web-listing, and it appears they know nothing at all about frankincense anyway; they are not affiliated or associated with us at all.

Back in New York we are doing classes now, and yes, we plan to not only expand them, but also to offer them with aromatic travel. This is still in the future though. We have a lot of new things coming down the pike and even though time goes too fast it also goes too slow! Everything takes time, it’s so annoying! I always want to do everything now.

After 16 years in business in New York City, (Trygve Fragrances was established in 1995,) growing and expanding slowly, surviving September 11, 2001 as a downtown company, surviving the world-wide recession (so far,) not to mention the rise of the internet and online shopping, and the emergence of near total corporate culture, both of which combined to kill so many small businesses, we finally know ourselves well enough to pare ourselves down to our essence, so to speak.

16 years and still alive in New York, we have now expanded to the Arabian Gulf. I’m proud and happy, and there is no way in hell it would have happened without the care, concern and and hard work of our core team: Thomas Carson, Stacy Amber, Christina Dille, and Ken Nakamura. These are the people who have made and continue to make Enfleurage into a well known and highly respected company specializing in Aromatics from the Natural World. We have also had many, many loyal and fierce supporters over the years, and I can’t list them now because I have no access to Enfleurages computers. Except of course Jonathan Smith, who is nothing short of heroic.

Here in Oman, much as I would like to, I can’t thank anyone, due to (mostly one person’s) near fanatic obsession with secrecy. So I’ll refrain, lest anyone find out.....what, I’m not sure. But if you’re reading this, and you’re Omani, and you think I’d probably like to thank you, then it’s likely you’re right, and I probably would like to thank you! You know who you are, all skulking and insinuation aside...for help with logistics, officials, financials, would-be-bullies, helping me navigate odd situations, pacifying jealous women, supporting me in uncomfortable exchanges, driving off over-friendly men, helping me through byzantine corridors, to understand cultural translations, in all sleuthing and secrecy, and of course with inside information. I couldn’t have done it without you! It’s been a long slow haul, lots of it uphill, and even after years here I can’t speak straight about it! Well, Inshaa Allah, I don’t want anyone to feel left out. One day I’ll write a full accounting...once more people are retired.......

It’s quite a transition to make, from Bleecker Street aromatic landmark, to a newer, sexier, sleeker, more sensual embodiment. We won’t have to spend so much energy on what goes on randomly outside; we will be all about these exquisite oils and delightful incense, and our energy will be available for this. In addition to this, we have our new Omani distillery, cloaked in secrecy, who’s future plans are only known to a couple of us, but it will be my pleasure to announce later. Happy days!

In New York, we’ll be tucked in among the trees, next to a rare wines shop (oh yes!) and across from an all vegan vitamin shop, with herbalists on staff, next to one of America’s oldest yoga centers. Within a few blocks we have everything we need; you could say it’s the Mauritania of New York. Coffee shops, vegan food, tons of interesting restaurants, organic avenue juice, lilac chocolate, and much more we haven’t even noticed yet. Lots of good looking pups, health-conscious people, and an easier to manage space with plenty of electrical outlets.

I knew the second half of this year would be rough, but we are doing it. Almost there, Al Hamdulilah.

A Good Experience in the Mall!

2011-10-16T14:11:00.005-04:00

I arrived here in Muscat the other day with a completely dead laptop. The hard drive had been replaced in NYC, but the replacement was “bad,” and just before I went to the airport I had to race back to the (Mac certified) shop to see why it was dead. They told me the hard drive was “bad” (and I paid $260+) and so changed it out for a new one. But no time to reload any data on it. Not a word of apology though. It would have been polite even if it wasn’t technically their fault. It’s happened to me more than once with “bad” hard or software, so you figure it happens to other people too, so it follows that you might figure that maybe someone would check the quality of those hard drives and other electronic crap. Their attitude was the usual impersonal and minimum engagement one we get so much and nowadays passes for politeness. I hate it but I guess I’m in the minority.

So I arrived here with a raw new hard drive with no data on it and a time machine back-up I had made and what a surprise (haha) that I couldn’t get it to back up to restore the data. Details of what happened next are about as interesting as hearing the minutiae of someone’s court case, so all I’ll say that the new Mac store, it's called "Mi Store" in City Centre Qurum, went above and beyond the call of duty, especially as I never bought anything from them. There is only one guy who knows anything and so he had to juggle everything and everyone but he spent an incredible amount of time with me, over two days. He patiently and bluntly explained what he could and couldn’t fix, never getting annoyed at my endless questions. The first day was just getting the saved load of crap onto the computer.

The second day I just had to deal with the programs that didn’t come over properly--itunes, word, my broadband, and quicken. He fixed itunes, and found a better solution for word and quicken, so I am bailing from them. I always did hate quicken but after 4 years had still not abandoned it. So all well there. And Mac’s “Pages” effortlessly changes word files. I didn't spend one cent in there! I just have macs!

Nawras, on the ground floor of the same mall was also excellent. In fact, it’s possible they were even better. The laptop couldn't recognize the modem, and the lovely, polite, and brilliant Omani technician fixed it and installed a better one. He fixed my broadband on the ipad--it had been declared unfixable. There had been a scene the night before, with the sim and a missing part, and a needle and disaster. And he upgraded the software on both that and the laptop. And all these things were done with a smile, and happily and for free, except the 2RO charge to buy a new sim card. Yes, I'm a Nawras customer, but still. Wallah it was ridiculous.

Compare it to that disgusting Verizon Business in New York declaring all companies under 100 employees “mass market” instead of "small business" and not even thinking enough of our business to have a phone number! (You can upgrade your account on line--but for moving or cutting services, forget it. It's cheaper for them to just let you stop paying and then send a collection agency. I swear the guy I eventually got on the phone told me this--he was from "Medium business" 100-500 employees) Or t-mobile, horrible company, that will not allow me to do anything in a store, including buy a new blackberry. I am supposed to do it online or on the phone (that they don’t answer) because I am a business account. Last time I wanted to upgrade my blackberry, as the old one had died, t-mobile informed me I could either find something on my own or pay $499 cash for theirs, as my plan did not apply. (This is in America, where most people get huge discounts on phones in return for signing service contracts.) I wound up buying a blackberry, (probably stolen) from one of the employees in a transaction conducted outside and for cash. And that one was dead within 2 months, only to be replaced in Salalah, with an upgrade, and they rescued all my destroyed information too, for 3 RO. And they delivered it. With a smile. That from Yassar Mobile at the edge of souq harami.

Seriously, I can’t stand hearing this complaining about customer service here in Oman or how it’s inferior here in any way whatsoever. Look in your own damn backyard! Unless you’re Swiss or something, the light of nostalgia is coloring your views, trust me. If you live in New York City, you will be nodding in agreement, I think. An occasional surly clerk does not poor customer service make. It's like when Americans, used to the worst airlines in the world, get to fly a decent airline, outside the USA, and their shock at not being yelled at by the flight attendants; never mind being greeted, smiled at, helped with their luggage and served a meal with cutlery even on a short flight. This is something most people never expected to experience again in their lives. To have people greet you and smile, even if you have to smile first, is nectar. Who cares if they don’t always have a ready answer? Here in Oman you can still find people who care to find an answer.

Royal Opera House Muscat Opening

2011-10-01T19:59:00.003-04:00

Oman just doesn’t disappoint. It’s almost terrifying.

Years in construction, 10 years after it was first conceived, Oman’s Royal Opera House Muscat opens October 14^th with Puccini’s Turnadot, followed by Placido Domingo sings to Oman.

Other performances scheduled for this year include Renee Fleming and the Royal Philharmonic, American Ballet Theatre performing Don Quixote, an evening with Andrea Bocelli, Cellist Yo-Yo Ma with the London Philharmonic, Jazz at Lincoln Center with Wynton Marsalis, Bizet’s Opera, Carmen, and Swan Lake by The Mariinsky Ballet Company of St. Petersburg.

There are plenty of other choices too. Have a look at the website.

Seriously. Yes, it’s the Middle East. Yes, it’s even the Gulf. So throw your preconceptions away, they won’t work here. Unique in the Gulf, you won’t see anything like this in Dubai, or even Doha. His Majesty Sultan Qaboos is absolutely lovely.

A lot of people are kinda blasé about it. Not me.

Oman is perfect.

Royal Opera House Muscat

Ms. Harris Goes to Washington

2011-09-25T16:02:00.010-04:00

Last week I decided I had to get out of here, even just for the day. So I popped off to Washington for a meeting of the National Council of US-Arab Relations. And why not? I’m on their mailing list. The topic was “What Lies Ahead for America in Arabia and the Gulf? Analyses and Prognosis.” Well, Okay.

Here’s from their website:

“Congressional & Public Affairs Briefings

The National Council on U.S.-Arab Relations periodically sponsors public educational programs on Capitol Hill and around Washington, DC where an assemblage of domestic and internationally renowned specialists analyze, discuss, and debate issues of importance to the relationship between the U.S. and the Arab countries, the Middle East, and the Islamic world. These events examine how best to strengthen and expand mutual Arab-U.S. trust, confidence, and benefits while examining a range of complex issues, interests, and policies.”

There were a few guys, from the Gulf Research Center:

Dr. Abdulaziz Sager, Chairman and Founder, Gulf Research Center
Dr. Christian Koch, Director, Gulf Research Center Foundation
Dr. Mustafa Alani, Senior Advisor and Research Program Director, Gulf Research Center

The moderator was

Dr. John Duke Anthony, Founding President and CEO, National Council on U.S.-Arab Relations

I’m not sure what to make of this. Strangely, the NCUSAR is a charity, dedicated to promoting understanding across cultures. A noble goal, surely, but……? Giving money to help the US and the Gulf counties make more deals strikes me as a little disingenuous. Think I’ll continue with Medecins sans Frontiers, myself.

The guys on the panel were all knowledgeable, and I’m sure they spoke well. I have no memory of what anyone said though, except that the overall essence was that the GCC is some sort of solid block and should act as such? And many of us know that Oman and KSA, just to randomly pull two names out of the air, are a wee bit different. In every way. I couldn’t help but feel that Oman is above lots of this stuff, in the sense that Oman’s (HM’s) goal for the country seems to be for the improvement of people’s lives, not just a few people. (Yes, yes I know it’s not perfect.)

Maybe it was just over my head. Judging from the discussion, it looks like there will in fact be a future between the US and Arabia, surprise surprise. There were a couple of American guys in the audience who had served in Oman (as diplomats) and they seemed nice and normal. For that kind of thing I mean. I felt I couldn’t read the subtext.I will go to another one sometime and maybe be more receptive as I'll know what to expect.

I guess I just feel a huge disconnect between my ideas etc and those of these policymakers. Of course! But really, when I think about it, shouldn’t there be some similarities? I am American. I have a business in the Gulf. I am constantly trying to understand this language and culture, and misunderstandings are one of the biggest pitfalls, especially in Salalah. I even deal in oil, albeit another kind of oil! Anyway, to trot out my old metaphor, I felt like a cat in a cabbage field.

They had nice food though.

Perfectly understandable was the sweet little Sultan Qaboos Cultural Center. Of course, it’s completely adorable. A cute, bricked, plant festooned walk with tables outside in the middle of a blossoming garden lead you to the unassuming door in this Dupont Circle townhouse. They have an exhibition going on downstairs, highlighting some of Oman’s many crafts. Oman really has a colorful and rich craft history: fabrics, frankincense, silver, copper, weaving, leather, kanjals (Ceremonial daggers) and the like. In fact, it’s common for other, nameless countries in the vicinity to appropriate these crafts and then pretend they are originally theirs. Such behavior is of course common, even in my business, but whereas in my case it’s just creepy and very “Single White Female,” in Oman’s case it’s the whole national heritage!

This exhibition attests to the rich variety of Oman’s culture and heritage. The visiting artisans who went to Santa Fe for the Folk Market this summer made many of the pieces on display. Some beautiful things to be sure!

I talked to a friendly young American scholar, who was about as enthusiastic and knowledgeable as can be. It’s weird to talk to an American who has been to Salalah. Good-weird I mean. I am almost over eager to hear their impression. I kept grilling him on his impressions of Salalah.

Anyway, I didn’t stay too long as I was on my way to this other thing.

But if you are in Washington, stop by the Sultan Qaboos Cultural Center, small, sweet, surprisingly rich and very friendly and interesting! Just like Oman!

If you live in NYC, I recommend going to Washington, for the day at least. It’s clean, friendly, quiet, polite and well put together. Roses bloom right on the street, wallah. No wonder people think we’re a superpower. Gone are the old impressions Washington used to painfully give. I’m sure there’re still plenty of horrors (I mean of the drug/street/crime variety,) but I saw just quietly humming metros with excellent low lighting, good sandwiches, and plenty of announcements of free and high quality things to do. And, maybe, there is a lot of belief around. There is an earnestness. People go to Washington with an agenda, to get something done, and they believe strongly enough in it to go to Washington about it. The escape from constant cynicism is a relief. You do see the nuts (whomever you think they are) because everyone is there, but it’s their capital too, after all. I encountered no hostility, no aggression, and no one following me down the street begging for my money, my time, and my signature. Everyone said hello. Some of them even introduced themselves. People even stood aside to let others off the train before they boarded. I swear.

Sultan Qaboos Cultural Center in Washington DC

National Council on US-Arab Relations

Gulf Research Center

We Have Lost so Much

2011-09-11T11:35:00.002-04:00

I see flashes and hear sounds of that country I was from, the United States.

I didn’t expect to feel anything today.

There is so little authenticity now, everything is for show. It seems there are no emotions left, except those ones somehow accepted by this new world: anger, hatred, triumph, vengeance, pride, outrage, glee. Nothing deeper.

I guess plenty of us do remember the world of only a decade ago. You could see people crying and quietly resting while Paul Simon sang and while the names are read.

It’s hard to describe.

Whatever happened, all you intellectuals can debate it.

But those planes—such a load of hate, such a violent explosion of hate.

And, stupidly, hastily and predictably, we answered in kind. In so doing, we lost ourselves.

Much of the memorial today is beautiful. Singing. Water.

But there is still plenty of the same old moronic war and vengence talk.

Did “the terrorists” win? You bet they did.

But perhaps “terrorists” needs to be better understood. Who are they, really?

Our way of life? Gone.

Our country? Done.

I mean this in the way that I think matters, and it’s hard to explain if you are not American, or if you are very young. The parts of America that appear to matter to the ones in charge are not the parts I would have thought.

Locked in perpetual war, in economic free fall, civil rights lost, every personal moment caught on TV, private lives trotted out on the internet, spy cameras everywhere, our moral standing in ruins, a small group of wastafarians and corporations running everything, concentration and conversation disappearing in favor of twitter updates and sound bites……the effort to live like a real human being becomes harder and more frustrating.

What did we gain from the attacks on September 11? We accessed some dark part of ourselves and it got out, and took over. We did the same thing as was done to us, even though we hurt enough to turn that hurt into something else. We didn’t take that road though. We took the easier one, the war one, the one that humans usually take. And so here we are, once again in the circle of history.

We humans are truly morons. We never learn.

I am so glad I was here on September 11. I will always remember it, the terror, the heartbreak, the horror. The smell. The other hurt people, and the possibility that together, something good would come out of it.

Now, 10 years later, it’s like waking up in a strange land.

I don't know who to credit this picture with. I'm sorry.

Don't Blink, or the World Might Change and You'll Never Find it the Same Way Again

2011-09-09T18:36:00.005-04:00

I want to write about something that has nothing to to with anything I usually write about, as I'm completely fed up with just about everything right now.

Long ago, as a tot, I used to watch a cartoon. It was black and white, and had three animals in it, and there was something about outer space. I used to watch it in the far corner of the house where I could watch tv and be forgotten about.

One day my parents came in and said let's go, we're going to buy a new car, and they turned off the tv. Well, I just howled because I loved that show and now I was going to miss it! My parents weren't too interested in my hysteria, for God sake I could watch it tomorrow. Or next week. Whenever it was on.

Off we went to the Chrysler dealership, with the new car smells and those little colored flags that fluttered all over the parking lot. My brother was probably still in blob-stage. It was Los Angeles 1969.

The next time I tuned into that show--It was called the Incredible 3, or the Amazing 3, it wasn't on. In fact, it was never on again! Yes, this is true, never! I remember crying more to my parents but of course they had no answers and obviously weren't going to pursue what happened to a cartoon. I missed it though! The characters we all animals and they did good things!
But it never came back on!

Worse, it completely disappeared! As I grew older, and would occasionally ask people if they remembered it, none did. Ever. I couldn't even rememer the name exactly.
Maybe I was making it up.

For the next 40 years I wondered, intermittently, about this show, if it ever existed. No one ever knew. I asked a couple of animator friends. Nope. Asked people from Disney. Nothing. Even the ones who grew up in LA like me. Not like I was obsessed, but if I met someone really into animation, I sometimes asked. It just seemed weird and kind of nightmarish that not only was it never on again, and never in the TV guide, but that no one ever knew about it.

I asked a film archivist. And a few other people at PBS, and various studios over the years. Obviously, I had made it up, and it's only a cartoon anyway. Even though it's not important it disturbed me on a deep level because if this was not true, then what else??!

Once or twice I asked people who were really interested, as they were cartoon mavens and thought they knew every one of them but hadn't heard of this. And these people would really look! But no one ever found anything.

Until one day Stacy did! On the internet of course. God knows how.

It was a Japanese cartoon! The Amazing 3. A cartoon that took on very progressive subjects, peace, poverty etc. This was during the American war in Vietnam. The idea being some space travelers were visiting the earth to see if it had to be destroyed to keep peace in the rest of the universe! They sucked up the first three creatures they found, and used their bodies as disguises: a horse, a duck and a rabbit. Needless to say, there was no hope for us, too warlike, and we were scheduled for demolition, but given a temporary reprieve at the last minute until the earth kid who pleaded our case said we could grow to love each other if we had time to mature up and so we were given the same time it would take him to grow up.

Apparently, the entire English-dubbed series in America was lost in a studio fire, probably right after I watched that last episode when my parents hauled me off to the Chrysler lot! Years later some surfaced in Australia, somehow, and the clips you can see on the internet are those. The show in Japanese ran for years, I think. It started in 1965 but LA didn't receive it until 1969.

I think it was only shown in LA and NY and only for a short time. So if you weren't a little kid in 1969, and didn't have a TV you could get away with watching on your own, then you didn't know about this show and even though there are apparently some fans out there eager to see the series anew, I don't think it has critical interest.

But for many Americans of a certain age, and perhaps a certain geographical area, those childhood TV shows for the bulk of our collective cultural memory. Sad perhaps but true. If you live in a country with traditions, you might find this funny, or sad or laughable, and even if you live in other parts of the US, like the Midwest or east. But for some of us.....those TV shows were a pretty big deal and still made up a large percent of collective memory. Not all, but plenty. I stopped watching TV in 1974. Maybe that's why I turned out like this.

Anyway, I found the whole thing interesting. Mostly I think because it feeds my sense of paranoia. And how a kids fears can so easily materialize. How do you know there aren't monsters under your bed? Or some freak hiding in the closet? Has it ever happened to you? Something that was important disappearing, and no one else recollecting it?

Amazing 3 anime site
Amazing 3 wiki

Announcement!

2011-08-04T12:56:00.004-04:00

Happy Birthday to my new Omani company, Enfleurage Middle East.

That took some time and effort. And patience. Jesus.

Way tougher than the Black Belt, Mashallah.

It took years. I wrote about some of it. But nowhere close to all of it.

I am really, completely, relieved and happy. And so tired, lost a lot of blood.

I learned a hell of a lot, mostly about people. And made some good friends, and another life, and another me.

Almost three years since the odyssey began.

And I am still alive, albeit with some big scars, and some permanent shifts of belief and perception.

And not only still alive, but stronger, (Because that which doesn’t kill you……) and my new company, my new Omani company, (a phrase I will not tire of for a long time,) is completely fabulous, with the capabilities of everything I had hoped and more, and which I can’t reveal, of course…….other than.....here it is!

Ramadan Mubarak!

2011-08-02T02:07:00.009-04:00

First, I want to wish all my Muslim friends, and anyone else reading this, whether Muslim or not, a warm, sweet, satisfying and delightful Ramadan.

For those of you who don’t live in a Muslim country, which means probably most people reading this, you may not know that today is the second day of Ramadan here in Oman.

If you live in a big American city, all you might notice that cabs drive worse than ever, and your driver may be irritable. Well, he’s probably fasting. Most taxi drivers in NYC are Muslims: Pakistanis, Egyptians, Maghrebis, West Africans, etc. And those poor guys with the food carts!

Because the Islamic year is based on a lunar calendar, every year sees holidays just a little bit earlier. The month of Ramadan is no exception. In 2010 Ramadan began in mid-August. This year it’s the beginning of August. 2009 was beginning of September. All dates are vague anyway and no one knows until the night before. The month begins with the sighting of the moon, and this still means a couple of old, respectable guys in the desert peering out into the distance. Tradition!

All holidays, at least here in Oman, and certainly in the rest of the Gulf, are announced only a day or two before. You can forget about buying those 14 day advance airline tickets. So while it keeps westerners off balance, it’s kind of nice. Keeps things fresh somehow.

While the concept of Ramadan usually means no eating or drinking to most westerners, it’s way more than that.

From dawn to dusk, no eating at all, no drinking (even water,) no smoking, no sex, no gossip, no lies, no music. No oral medications! Injections only! But there must be exceptions to that. After dusk it’s time to eat and drink, then pray. Then eat more and you can smoke too. No sex except with your lawful spouse. That means no sex with boyfriends/girlfriends even though they supposedly don’t exist in any case, but that is balderdash of course. The no sex rule is taken very seriously though. Music is frowned on all the time during Ramadan, at least here in Oman, but it can be found. Still not supposed to gossip or lie. Or make a spectacle out of oneself.

To put it in our terms, it’s like a meditation retreat with lots of praying. Ramadan is about humility, charity, forgiveness, patience….The month focuses on prayer and contemplation of God. It’s very personal and also reinforces strong bonds between you, your family, friends, tribe, and other Muslims.

It’s good for women to cover their hair, and I do if I’m in a village, although not in Salalah. The idea behind this is to stop anyone feeling jealous if you have nice hair, and not to show yourself sexy in any way because if someone finds themselves thinking about you and your hair then they have broken their fast. You are your brother’s keeper.

As important as it is for you personally to fast, you must not do anything to harm others fasting. And since fasting is more than food and drink, you must take care not to arouse in others the same emotions that you are trying to sublimate in yourself.

And charitable acts are expected now, whether feeding the poor, volunteering with the elderly or handicapped (sorry, I forget the current mot de jour,) contributing to care of famine victims in Somalia, or what have you.

As dusk approaches, and the time for sundown prayer approaches, people gather for Iftar, breaking the fast. In Oman this is usually a couple of dates and a tiny coffee and then, as your system gets a grip, you go and pray together, washing yourselves first.

After prayers, which, incidently, are done en masse five times a day, with all your family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, strangers, etc, it’s time to eat.

Then it’s a big meal, with lots of tea, and sweets and smoking, and and and…..Then you are free for the night.

Some countries party all night and sleep all day. Oman doesn’t. It’s almost a normal schedule, just an hour of so later than usual.

Despite some initial grumpiness (everyone has to come to grips with it, and the first couple days are hard,) most people like Ramadan. They say it’s only for one month! Imagine us, a culture with the attention span of gnats, saying fasting all day is only for one month!

In the West, some holidays repeat every year, like Christmas. The others, like Easter, are known years in advance to people who care about them. In any case, they are mostly one-day holidays, with the exception of the week between Christmas and New Years, and even that one is not universal. Not like Ramadan or Eid. The best we have otherwise are the (faire le pont) long weekends. And those are not universal either. Imagine having 7-10 day stretches of holiday, where all businesses close, and having several of these a year. And then the entire month of Ramadan, where even though people insist it’s “work as normal,” not a lot gets done…

But to me the biggest difference is the sense of belonging people have here. It might bug them much of the time, and lots of people want the freedom of the individual lifestyle, at least when they think about and romanticize it. Its true that everyone here knows your business and butts in and judges you, but you also feel part of something larger, and supported, and cared for. Even for men groaning under responsibility, they have so many support systems, familial, tribal, government, etc, that it’s simply a different experience than we have. Where we might have more freedom, and even the people who butt in don’t have society’s sanction to butt in, for most of us, we are islands unto ourselves. If we mess up, we’re hosed.

I don’t think either system is perfect, but I think they both have great points. I’m not really part of the Omani system, so I can’t really understand it. Ramadan is a lonely time to be a foreigner here, unless you have a family. I thoroughly enjoy my anonymity in New York and my freedom of course. But I also love the sense of belonging I get here, even if it’s actually relatively minimal. Too much of it would choke me anyway. To me, what I have already seems like a lot. Alhamdulilah.

Ice Cream for Sale

2011-07-24T15:53:00.005-04:00

How many foreigners get the chance I just got? I am the first, for sure. I was invited (yes, invited,) to set up my own table in the Salalah Haffa Souq—that’s the Frankincense souq, and it’s really, actually, truly a traditional, Arabic Souq. It’s not modern, there is no mall attached, no corporations at all, and I love it there. Since this is the big season for visitors from the Gulf countries, we were slammed the whole time. I didn’t even bother to post my signs in English. Arabic only.

The past three weeks have been better for my Arabic language skills than the entire three years before it, Wallah.

So here’s what I did.

Every morning I finished making my day's Ice Cream—it’s the flavor of Frankincense, and quite strong! Then I would make the batch for the next day as it has to chill and the process is two-step. After this batch was cooked, and cooled and then put away to chill and everything cleaned, I took the batch I had finished that morning, each now frozen in individual cups, packed them in some ice chests and hauled off to the Souq during the slowest part of the day. It’s Khareef here, and that means monsoon. It’s gray and misty and rainy and Salalah is packed with people from all over the Gulf, who have come to relax in the mist, enjoy the chill, drink fresh coconuts, and gaze at the sea. Traffic is hideous.

Once at the Souq, I waited for the restaurant guys to bring my freezer outside for me. Then I plugged in, unloaded my ice cream, locked it up, and fled before I got mobbed. I could only make a little over 100 a day, maybe 110.

Later, just before dusk, I came back, parking where I could, and carrying my bag of spoons, change, bags, etc. As I walked through the outer reaches of the market, instead of cat calls, I heard “Ice Cream!” Once at the table I set it up, cleaning the surfaces, adorning it with a cloth, my signs, a box of tissue, my little sample cup and a plastic Tupperware container of spoons. And, during this last week, my notebook for email addresses and comments.

That is not something normal to this culture, giving the email accounts. I had to explain to everyone why I wanted their email addresses, even though my friend wrote a sign for me, explaining it. Some left their phone numbers, some men passed hidden phone numbers rolled up in money, or wrote them on other pages where no one else could see them, or took pictures of the email page with their cell phone, thinking it was my email address. But lots of people signed up. And quite a few wrote comments.

Usually I was busy even before I was set up. The first few days it was Marie, who came with me and jumped into it headfirst, chatting people up, giving tastes, and even coercing people over. The next week or so it was me doing that. I felt shy and speak terrible Arabic but it sure improved fast. I kept realizing with astonishment that I could say whatever I wanted, usually. I even made a rhyme or two. The last week, though, I stopped calling out to people because the Ice Cream was selling too fast. I made my capacity, dictated by the machine, and I came out about 5:30. Was sold out in 3 hours maximum every night. Once night it was only an hour and a half, so I had to try and make it last.

I loved the experience of being there. People are really friendly and they can’t ignore you, not really. Not like New Yorkers do. They can’t help but be friendly and polite and come for a taste of Frankincense Ice Cream. They can’t help it wallah! It’s such an easy sell: Ok, give me two!

It’s really good Ice Cream, and even though it’s two and a half times the price of regular ice cream, people still came for it over and over. Sometimes someone would be so suspicious! And once they tasted it? They turned into little pups, so happy!

You can’t hide your mood. If you feel like crap everyone will know. You have to honestly and truthfully shift your mood. And then quickly your mood actually shifts. Every night my mood was all exclamation points, even if I felt bad or ill.

So much action! Fantastic to see all the people go by and the little local dramas. I sure did see another side of Oman. The guys around me were all Indians selling food and they have very long hours: from 9 in the morning to 2 in the morning. Chickpeas, mango, corn and french fries: Dingu-amba-durra-patates! The Omanis all sell frankincense and bakhoor. And honey.

My table and freezer were across from the two big frankincense stores and right outside “Arabian Gallery.” That’s a big store, about twice the size of Enfleurage, lined with counters and maybe 12 staff manning them for this season, while wheelbarrows arrived every hour or so, bearing 40 kg sacks of frankincense. A constant stream of shoppers made the slow rotation around the store, sampling resins, trying perfumes, I wish I had a video of it, all the regional clothes and ways of tying musars (scarves men wear on the head) from Oman, the Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Qatar…..

My Ice Cream was something new, original and delicious (esli, jadid wa lathid) and everyone commented on that and asked where I was from. I usually apologize for being American, if only to lighten the mood. So many people asked where they could find it in Muscat or Dubai. All I could say was: Soon, God willing, please sign the guest book so I can inform you!

I gave out a lot of tastes, it was such a pleasure. And when my Omani friends came to see me, the looks on their faces were priceless. I made a shocking spectacle. But they all acted cool and ate some Ice Cream. And they all got into the vibe and started pulling people over and telling them about it. I met quite a few interesting people.

Every night the people responsible for my appearance in the Souq sat in the café across, drank tea and watched, laughing. Apparently the atmosphere was considerably lightened. I believe it. Not sure how much laughing usually goes on during the long Khareef days in Haffa Souq, but there was plenty of it every night I was there.

Word got around pretty quick. Not only that the Ice Cream is really good, and made from real frankincense, and locally made every morning in my home, but I’m an American and it’s just not done, never seen before, an American (woman no less) selling something she makes fresh daily, in that Souq. And the last week people were complimenting my Arabic, which doesn’t mean that much, since they are so polite, but it does mean something as I can yammer on now (just in time to go back to America!!!!! Hell!)

The first few nights it was tiring and I didn’t think I’d work the table alone. By the time I finished night before last, I was so sad to stop, and looked forward every night to my evening in Haffa. It was not tiring, but energizing, and I felt more enthusiastic about it than I have for anything else in quite some time. There was no time to do anything else—my house didn’t get cleaned in a month, and it was all I could do to pick up my laundry! Forget cooking. And hell to drive around Salalah. My life has been my house, that market, and the bi-weekly sojurn to Lulu for supplies.

What else can I say? There was plenty while it was happening but I never had a minute to write down. Now I can only look at the whole experience as it slowly processes through me. I would like to spend a few months working in that market. It was seriously one of the most fun things I’ve ever done in my life.

For anyone reading this who feels sad or depressed, just remember that you never know what can happen. And just because something is impossible doesn’t mean you can’t do it. Really, anything, Wallah.

Home Alone

2011-07-02T14:02:00.002-04:00

Sometimes it’s just nice to do it. After learning that the electricity was not yet hooked up at my new market stall, I strolled off for a walk.

We had such a good response last night, short though it was, due to my lack of a freezer and melting ice cream. Well, who knew ice cream doesn’t keep in a cold box? Anyway, while we were open it was wild. I do believe this is the first foreign (meaning westerner) table ever in the Haffa Souq. And with Luban Ice Cream, that perfect marriage of cream and frankincense…….All our customers were local Dhofaris and people loved it!! Really it was a warm welcome. And of course I gave away some to my neighbors, and as time goes by, I will figure out more. This ice cream is more than a tasty treat of frankincense. It’s a little mind altering, mood manipulating, and gives a happy cozy satisfaction. We’re pettin’ people on the inside…How not?

But not for me today, khallas and oh well. I went for a walk and then sat on the beach. Late afternoon, early evening in Salalah in July……Fog and mist come in and the only things I could see were the white foam from the surf and the glow of the hotel in the distance. I might have been the only person on earth. It was almost cold. And almost dark. And the birds were settling in for the night up on the lawn as I walked back.

I live at the edge of the world, where the mists swirl in silently and my frangipani trees rustle and kiss the air.

Here at home, I realized the evening is mine. Isn’t it wonderful when you suddenly have a free evening? I’ve got candles lit, and my walls a’flicker…And in the oil vaporizer?

New Mexican Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentada) and California Coastal Artemisia (Artemisia californica). Something like that—those latins might be off. I can’t be bothered to check.

Some potatoes are roasting, and…..we’ll see.

It’s just a beautiful night here in Dahariz.

Ice Cream, Anyone?

2011-07-01T07:34:00.002-04:00

I didn’t want to post this until we were actually up and running but have been scooped, so to speak, by Secret Salalah!

Today is the first day of Khareef Festival and also the launch of my new table in Haffa Souq introducing fresh handmade ice cream made with our own sharp snappy and sparkling local frankincense oil. This is the same oil we have in the store in New York, and it’s distilled by me, here in Salalah.

The ice cream is rich and creamy smoothing and soothing, and of course, when you’re eating frankincense, the world becomes more sublime.

Turns out this creamy sweet nest of bovine warmth makes an exquisite bed for frankincense, who knew?

Well, everyone will probably be as surprised as I am. Frankincense means a lot to the people of Dhofar; I can only hope they come and enjoy my ice cream.

Female Genital Mutilation--still common

2011-06-10T08:32:00.003-04:00

Rarely if ever have I re-posted something, but in this case, I feel compelled. Since most people reading this are maybe natural fragrance enthusiasts, I'm gonna warn you, this is not about anything lovely, lively and fragrant. It's about Female Genital Mutilation. If you don't know what it is, then read on.
Save the Clitoris

Uncorked! Some Voices from the Natural Perfumers Guild on its 5th Anniversary

2011-06-01T09:31:00.016-04:00

The Natural Perfumers Guild is a loose kind of organization, the requirements of which are merely an appreciation of natural perfumes. That means perfumes are made using only natural essential oils and absolutes and related extracts. The idea being, naturally, that using the distilled essences of living, breathing, oxygen making, water sipping, sun drinking, chlorophyll making, fragrant little beings, who are persuaded to hand over to us their scent, their soul, and their essential life-force, is far preferable to playing with synthetic substances, in every way.

We (natural perfume enthusiasts), don’t care if those poor little sad synthetic liquids are cheaper, or that every batch is an exact replica of the one before, even though consistency is very important to large commercial productions. It doesn’t matter to me if those synthetics are partly natural, or entirely unnatural, even if they smell good, as some of them undeniably do……they are just not that interesting to play with.

Essential oils vary, like tomatoes and avocados, grapes and coconuts. Depends on geography, climate, soil, harvest, skill of distiller, and many other things. Essential oils, coming directly from plants as they do, have seasons, and harvests.

Some total freak aroma geeks will remember, as I do, the excellent summer distillation of 1998 (I think) geranium from Yunnan. And we notice the more and more common climatic catastrophes hitting patchouli, rose, and so many other plants. Essential oils are increasingly affected by Climate Change, a phenomena the effects of which have already been felt throughout the globe, but which, for some odd reason, we Americans alone still debate the existence of…… And combine this climate roulette with the low yields and the virtual disappearance of Indian sandalwood oil and wild agarwood means that essential oils, especially the floral absolutes and some of the rare woods, can be stupidly expensive. Absolutely ridiculously expensive, and no end in sight.

So why go out and pay a ton of money for oils which are only available in their season, often require hyper-competition to obtain (Corsican helichrysum or wild high altitude French Lavender, etc), vary enormously from year to year, are cloaked in deception, give all kinds of international shipping headaches due to varying flashpoints, and require patience and expert distillers to extract, and then are fussy about how they are stored? You should see what I go through to get frankincense resin! Why? Wouldn’t it be easier and cheaper to call the lab supply or big fragrance house and spend a couple of thousand of bucks and have yourself a studio??? Lots of companies do exactly that, and still call themselves “natural.”

Well, yeah, I’m sure it would make much better financial sense and it would be easier for sure, but then, I don’t care about easier, and I’m not financially brilliant I guess, because I won’t be using those synthetic oils—they are dead. That is really the crux of the matter---essential oils are living breathing life energy whereas those man-made oils are nothing at all. There are an unknowable number of constituents of real rose oil. Man made rose oil? Only the most plenteous constituents need apply. The way we humans tend to think, simple, violent, self-absorbed creatures that we are, is that only the major constituents matter. Maybe it’s a little like the G8?

Once someone sent me a box of samples of “rose oils” from his company, all synthetic, of course, and all different grades and prices, from the one that smelled like toilet cleaner to “Taif Rose.” (Taif is an area of southern Saudi Arabia with a tiny rose harvest, and the miniscule amount of oil obtained stays in Saudi Arabia, yet every perfume shop in the Middle East professes to carry it.)

I sat with someone from the rose growing area of Morocco, who wasn’t a rose farmer, but still had a sensitive nose and started sharing rose oils with him, from the worst to the best, and every 10 minutes or so showing him the next grade up. To each he said “Yeah! That’s rose!!” and then when he smelled it again, after smelling the next grade up, was appalled he’d liked the one before, (still following me?) on and on until we got to the Taif Rose and this one, I said, was Taif Rose. He was relieved and amazed that each and every rose scented oil had seemed ok at first but upon smelling a better version had been shown to be what they were, imposters! The first one now smelled like lighter fluid. After another 10 minutes or so I cracked another vial under his nose and his eyes got big and jumped up and shouted, “What’s that?!?” It was real rose. Rose otto, mister. Make no mistake about that one. And you can imitate all you want but the finest labs and the best of science are all pathetic in the face of real rose.

Should get to the point

This post is meant to be part of a collective blogging exercise to celebrate the 5-year anniversary of the Natural Perfumers Guild. So, theoretically and probably in actuality, you will be able to click and zip over to any of the aroma blogs listed to read more about the who’s, whys, when’s, what’s and where’s of other natural perfumer bloggers. The point of this collective blogging exercise is to discuss why we love natural perfumery or what led us to it. Obviously, I followed my nose.

Ok, to answer the question, for anyone still reading this lengthy post. I have to lay the blame for my expensive hobby cum business at the foot of loving to travel and, as much as I cringe to say it, my fascination with intrigue. I was always skulking about the back alleys of the planet, and once I began to see and understand what essential oils were, and how they seemed, how they smelled, who they were, and where they came from, then it was a relief to marry my skulking with my smelling. And since you can usually find essential oils in some of the most out of the way places on earth, and often under the control of mafias, and since the straight answer you get depends on what you want to hear, it’s really something I took an interest in. That’s the intrigue side. As I said, I don’t really like easy things, and I’m hardly ever in that thing they call your “comfort zone.” What I do like is finding things, especially if they are not supposed to be there, or if they are impossible things. I’m not one of those people who flies down to a capital city, checks into the 5 star, has a couple of meetings, smells some oils in the lobby, does a quick photo-op and goes back to the airport and flies out to the next stop. I’m the person who smells the oils in the lobby and then spends the next couple of weeks wandering about the countryside, by bus, barge or thumb, looking for anything interesting.

Since I’m an olfactory-oriented human, with strong interest in audio, gustatory and tactile stimulation, this way of finding many holy grails delights and enthralls me.

Even though I get angry, furious, at the duplicity I regularly encounter, and the complete rip-offs, I am also charmed and enraptured at the stories these oils tell, the people involved, the immediate political situation, and how essential oils are a vital part of life the world over. And when I find some great distiller, whose oils sparkle and snap, in clear perfect juicy Technicolor crispness, I am thrilled. That person’s art, and feeling will come through the oil, and again, it’s something big commercial distilleries don’t usually manage, and synthetics never never never do.

But I want to stress that I didn’t start to love essential oils, or natural perfumery, or anything at all because of traveling. And I didn’t travel because I wanted or needed anything to do with essential oils. My interest and love for essential oils grew out of its own seed, a seed that was probably planted by my parents, and growing up in a magnificent natural setting in Santa Barbara, California. The fact of my love for essential oils paralleling my somewhat adventurous life was a happy coincidence. The two facets became more and more inextricable as I realized that searching for something I suspected might exist would take me to cool places I might not have ordinarily gone, like Paraguay’s northern Chaco in 2006, (Palo Santo.) Or to Assam in 2010 (Agarwood.) Or Oman from 2006 and now permanently in residence there (Frankincense.) And I’ve come across some crazy things, like a riverside distillation of wild sassafras in northern Laos, a secret sandalwood distillation in Uttar Pradesh, and in Vietnam, dual distillations of Guava (for liquor) and patchouli (for essential oil) amid a flowering grove of grapefruit trees! As anyone with an imaginative nose will realize, that last one was insane. I still haven’t recovered!

Finally, let me say that in my opinion, you can get down and dirty with lots of things: perfumes, shampoos, and laundry soap, whatever. Usually it’s because of someone accompanying that product, someone whose own aroma sets it on fire. But that’s as far as it goes. Even though some of my fondest and most lively, if embarrassing, moments are tied up with stuff I can’t even guess at the origins of, this kind of thing should be seen for what it is; and it can’t be mixed up with……..citrus blossoms, for example. The former is a scent memory, and it’s personal, subjective, and can’t translate out. Orange blossoms, lavender, roses, jasmine in bloom….? c’mon. You might have any number of personal experiences with these magnificent beauties, but just because you have a relationship with them, doesn’t mean they aren’t as lovely as you thought they were. They are what make me dance in the garden.

Omani Roses!

2011-04-06T10:26:00.013-04:00

I can’t quite believe how sweet the air is, and what on earth is it? There is an undertone of roses, and then roses cooking and then lavender, mint, myrtle, and all these crazy aromatic plants that are distilled up here in Jebel Akhdar.

I feel drugged. Could it be the kilo of these insanely redolent pink roses spilled out on my bed, just because I can? How about the stout and strong chunky lavender bunches we picked? Hard to say why, but I feel like a drunken sailor.

I drove up here from Salalah yesterday, way too fast, it’s true, but for once no one yelled at me. Staying at the unusual and cute Jebel Akhtar Hotel, which no longer has the worst food in Oman. I say it’s an unusual hotel because……for example, the bathroom floor near the toilet burned my feet. The man at the desk gives the most bizarrely incorrect information. When I rang to ask if the harvest had started this past weekend or next, he said roses would be coming in 2 or 3 months……that sort of thing.

But never mind because this hotel is very nice and even though it is a little pricy for what you get, never mind. It’s cool and the breeze comes in my window and there is big space outside. The air smells more than divine. And it’s quietish. Although some of the reason for that might be that tourists are a bit put off due to this being the constantly-in-upheaval Middle East.

So here I am with all my crap: alembic, cold box full of ice cream, 6 tupperwares full of candy, a box of Luban oils, a couple gallons of hydrosol (all completely potable now,) my normal amount of clothes, and the back of the car full of the usual things I have in the back of my car in Salalah: chair, mats, blanket, pillow, firewood….I am laden.

This morning I was up and out early to see the harvest in action as the dew dries. Went up to Al Ayn, and walked through the village down to the terraces, greeting everyone as effusively as I could. I think they have had some problems with tourists here. No matter, everyone was nice to me and I bounced down some slopes, danced along the falaj, skipped and tripped through brambles and along fences high above the valley, and came to rest on the edge of a cistern, fed by falaj from ground water far above. I felt like a ladybug.

It’s the beginning of the season here so if you are in Oman, or anywhere in the Gulf, and planning to come, or thinking maybe it might be a good idea, however vaguely, to come, then for goodness sake, come, this harvest goes on another 3 weeks…..And the rosebushes are packed with buds. The air is sweet rose cream, you can’t imagine.

I sat there on the edge of the falaj, in the gurgle of the water, and watched the day begin, as men and women wandered onto the rose terraces to pick flowers. Wallahi, as I have picked up the habit of saying, it’s just divine. The soft and sweet scented air, the gentle morning breeze, the people quietly engaged in a serene and calm useful activity….. I sat there until the bees arrived, and then I went to photograph them.

These roses are Rosa rubigosa and you can damask me to death, but you got nothing on these intoxicating pink beauties. Every step I stopped to inhale another lovely burst of pink wonder, of pink sweet, of pink rose sugar, of pink spun sugar roses! I wanted to swoon but would have likely fallen to my death had I done, so refrained.

After some time I found myself back up top near the car and sped off to meet Salim, my guide. We went immediately to the Aromatic Plants Distillation Factory as run by Handicrafts. They apparently do all kinds of distillation here, including roses and even Luban, and peppermint, and lavender, etc, although right now it’s only roses of course. They distill in glass and distill for hydrosol. This hydrosol they sell locally here, in Nizwa, and at a special handicraft showroom in Muscat, which I never knew the existence of, naturally.

But it sure was interesting to see this! Who knew? Lots of people I’m sure, but I wasn’t one of them. I always feel like I should have known about stuff like this.

Most of the rosewater comes from the Omani traditional distillation, which I finally have seen in action and have pictures of. You have these clay type ovens and gas going in, let’s say 4 rings, for four burners. The roses are crammed in a ring, in a pot inside, over the fire, and a small pot placed in the center of them. Above this is a hole, upon which is placed a pot of cool water. This is the condenser, kind of. The roses sweat and steam and condense on the underside of that cool pot, dripping back into the small pot resting in the center of the roses….does that make sense? The rosewater is taken without the roses going near any water! It’s almost creepy!! That water comes out of the soul of the roses themselves….Wow. It’s what gives them that smoky scent. Someone poured a few (boiling hot) drops on my hand and hours later it’s imbued me (and no blister either.)

The smoky Omani rosewater may be an acquired taste, but I can tell you it’s possible to acquire it. Just don’t try to compare it to Bulgarian or anything we think of as “rosewater.” The best use for it is in Omani Halwa, which is nothing like anything you know as “halwa” unless you have had the Omani one specifically. It’s a strange, ultra rich and oddly compulsive mix of ghee, sugar, pectin, pistachios, saffron, cardamom…..and when it’s from Barka then you are in fat city in more ways than one. It’s really, terrifically good. But wait til you get the Barka one and then you will understand the Omani rose harvest 100%.

Salim pointed out the Jebel Akhtar lavender to me. It’s just a weed growing everywhere, and luxurious in its stout, strong feistiness. If lavender is Laurel and Hardy, the Dhofari one is Laurel and this crazy Jebel Akhtar one is Hardy. Well, maybe not exactly, but where I have to cajole and manipulate the Dhofari one to give me a little love, a little juice, to shoot a little lavender scent into my nose, to get my fingers stinking with it, this Jebel Akhtar one plays no such games. He is generous and vibrant and my hotel room is reeking of him. He even has the stamina to go up against the roses. Not only are my fingers (on the un-burned-with-rosewater hand) covered with his scent, but so are my clothes. As if that weren’t enough, he comes out of the ground willingly and easily, flowers throbbing with life and excitement. I’m having a high old time with this lavender. Loving him.

Later we went by an old man’s house, where he had a traditional rose extraction going on. (Believe me the villages smell good around here.) He had given the best room in the house to some roses, picked this morning, and I bought a kilo of fresh and sweet, succulent pink sugar roses, to take to bed with me tonight, just because I can! Wallah.

Such Drama!

2011-04-02T09:31:00.010-04:00

What a lovely week has passed. As we wait through the slow tick tick tick of Omani bureaucracy I have been busy making food with frankincense and finding new Luban groves.

First, the groves. My friend suggested we spend an afternoon exploring an area I certainly knew nothing about. With the vague goal of previously seen (although not by me) wadi of small but sturdy trees, we set off in the direction of Mughsayl, where most of my favorite trees live, including the Old Lady trees. But before reaching the coast we veered off into a labyrinth of tracks and completely by accident found ourselves in a huge wadi with the biggest trees I have ever seen. Such a dramatic landscape! These trees, as you can see, are a little taller, a little lither perhaps, and they face the winds and sun like the neghdi trees out towards the desert. None of these trees were tapped for gum recently, and I kept jumping out of the car to feel them and listen to the wind gently flapping their peeling bark. I can vouch 100% that if you ever feel annoyed and like you’re being attacked by some ugly energy, that holding a frankincense tree will fix you in seconds. I guess I am a tree hugger. I know I’m a tree hugger! As usual, my friend was pressed for time and back we roared to Salalah but I shall go out to visit these new beauties on my own, now that I know where they are.

A word about shopping. Probably no one will really get this, but when I first arrived in Salalah to stay, and had to shop for food, this was a few years ago, the alternatives we meager. It wasn’t a big deal, and I never missed western food, or a variety of food, but, for example, you couldn’t find bread, except that Lebanese flat bread. The one store that had a variety was teeny tiny, not such good quality, and horribly pricy. I ate a lot of eggs, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, arugala, bananas, and some fish. A decent capsicum pepper was a treat. Now, about the same time as the protests began here in Salalah, the largest Lulus in the Middle East opened. The place is insane. It wouldn’t be odd in New York, except that it’s really big. First thing I saw was organic brazil nuts. Wallah, I swear. There is a huge emphasis on local and organic vegetables and they are fresh! 13 kinds of cheddar cheese. Parmesan. Gorgonzola. Endive for Gods sake. Smoked salmon. An Indian chaat bar. Croissants. And and and. So this, combined with our recent dearth of decent restaurants, has put me in the kitchen more often and I’m making goat cheese, and frankincense ice cream, candies, and lots of cool things with sesame and coconuts.

The garden looks great, despite a goat attack. And my house is cuter than ever. Distilled a few different things, although without much luck I have to say. Holy basil, some strange shrubs, that sort of thing. But the Luban distillation goes on apace, and I’ve figured out a few things that make the oil stronger and more complex than before. By working exclusively with the largest of my stills these few months, I’ve been able to make some comparisons and that has benefited the oil.

I’m not going to write anything about the frankincense revolution except to say that it’s still not over, and people have been sitting-in here in Salalah since February 24 I think. There have been demonstrations all over the Sultanate and there was some violence in Sohar. But His Majesty has made some changes and I believe he will make more, and over all, I think people are just enjoying the hell out of striking and marching and demanding things. Omanis have the right to peaceful protest, unlike certain other countries in the region.

The weather is getting hotter, and humid. The flowers love it. Still not too hot to camp though. And the ocean is clear turquoise, warm and lovely, and full of sea creatures.

It sounds as though not a lot has changed since I began writing about Salalah but it has. Trouble is, most things I can’t write about, due to this being a small town, and the way it is here, and then of course a lot of things are personal. My distillery has been top secret from day one, and even though some huge changes have come about, not the least of which involve the protests, it’s still top secret! One day “soon”, though, I will have something lovely to show.

I completely forgot to mention this and published too quick! If you want to read an interview with me on Michelle Krell Kydd's aromatic blog Glass Petal Smoke then click here . It's brand new!

When the Going Gets Weird, The Weird Make Cheese

2011-03-22T10:28:00.010-04:00

We don’t have anyone making good local cheese here. Even now, with the advent of new huge and amazing Lulu’s, where we have 13 (thirteen) kinds of cheddar behind the cheese counter alone, I was still determined to try for myself to make goat’s cheese. And why not?

I found an easy, non-rennet using recipe on the internet, and holy hell in a handbasket was I shocked at how good it was. The original website can be found at the bottom of this post.

It’s so easy to make, it’s almost a joke.

You need

A litre of goats milk. I used this UK highly pasteurized one but will try it with Salalah raw as soon as opportunity knocks.

¼ cup of lemon juice. I don’t know if limes work as well

optional:

half a clove of grated garlic

salt to taste

fresh herbs

whatever else you think might be good in this cheese

Equipment:

A heavy pot you feel confident heating milk in

Candy thermometer (or meat thermometer, any kind of thermometer that can take going into food.)

Colander

Deep bowl to put under it

Cloth to strain the cheese. Cheesecloth is probably way too porous so if you use it, use plenty of layers. Better to use a clean white cotton cloth.

Pour the milk into the pot and heat it up on medium. It needs to get to 180 F exactly.

Don’t bugger off, wait for it, and turn off the heat exactly at 180 F.

Pour in the lemon juice and stir it once or twice.

Give it about a half minute. It should curdle but it won’t look like it; it will just look kind of weird and perturbed.

Meanwhile, place your cloth in the colander and put it over the deep bowl.

Ladle the milk into the cloth and you will see that it has in fact curdled.

The whey goes out through the bottom and the curds are trapped in the cloth.

Tie it up, making sure all corners are tied so nothing runs out.

Make some sort of knot from the remaining lengths of cloth, and you will have to stick a wooden spoon handle through it and hang it up like you see in the picture. Doesn’t matter how you do it. It just has to drain and drip. Probably a good idea to keep both the colander and the deep bowl under it so it can drip in peace.

Leave it alone for a while, a couple of hours anyway.

When you come back to it, just open that bag and scrape the soft cheese out into a bowl. You should taste it first and then you will have an idea about what you want to add to it. I have only done the grated garlic and salt but today I will put in some thyme as well.

I think it will blow your mind.

It’s interesting that here in Salalah, where a few years ago you could barely find bread, now has the largest Lulu’s in the Middle East. And this, combined with a recent dearth of restaurants, have made me try to make food that I wouldn’t consider making in New York: Frankincense ice cream, frangipani sorbet, goat cheese, and of course the hard candies that I posted about before. Happily, I have plenty of people to cook for!

Original recipe on serious eats

His Majesty Sets a Great Example

2011-03-07T11:18:00.001-05:00

Just a couple of hours ago His Majesty Sultan Qaboos issued 8 Royal Decrees dismissing several Ministers as per the demands of the people of Oman. Two days ago he dismissed his two top advisors, including the Minister of the Diwan of Royal Court and now the shake up in the government (and it is not a “reshuffle”) is going further with many Ministers now out. The Finance and Economic Ministries are going to be spilt apart and become several separate, smaller Ministries. This is a direct answer, an accommodation to the ongoing protests throughout the Sultanate. There are yet three remaining who people say need to go: the Minister of Manpower, the Governor of Dhofar and the Head of the police, the last due to the killing of the protester in Sohar last week. But I’m sure they will follow.

How many days did the demonstrations begin here in Oman? I think they began February 25, 9 Days ago. I was with a couple of friends, Dhofaris, and they were thrilled. This is in fact an extremely important and historic turn of events.

What better way to respond to the unrest in your country than by actually listening to the protesters? My God. HM Sultan Qaboos sets another historic precedent, especially in this part of the world. Look at what it took to get rid of Ben Ali, of Mubarak, to still get rid of Gadaffi, of Ali Saleh, and Saudi Arabia declaring beforehand that protests will not be tolerated at all in the kingdom. This is completely new territory as far as I know.

It calls into question what is a Monarchy and what exactly is democracy. Because eviscerate me if you will, but this looks suspiciously like the will of the people to me. I read all this snide drivel on websites comparing HM to the Borgias and the Medicis and lumping him into the same category as those royals in KSA and the like. Well, I think no one understands Omanis love for HM except Omanis and the occasional foreigner who has been honored to be here throughout this period of great change. Sultan Qaboos has nothing in common with those desperate power crazed individuals who rule over so many countries in the Middle East and North Africa. I truly believe that HM has one love and that is his country and its people. And therefore he is doing his best to do as his subjects will him to do, and smartly.

I expect we shall have more Royal decrees in the days to come and I am thrilled and delighted to be able to be here at this wonderful and historic time, with Omani friends, and witness what must surely be a unique set of circumstances in this world.

Riveted by Revolution

2011-02-19T16:59:00.002-05:00

I keep writing about this and an internet connection never seems to come up and then the whole thing changes, and other things happen.

I am in Germany, at the Bio Show, the giant Organic show in Nürnberg. It was really busy and occupied several entire days but the rest of the time I’m just glued to the TV.

As of this writing, the hottest spots are Libya, Bahrain and Yemen. There are other places though, where demonstrations exist, of course: Djibouti, Jordan, Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, and Algeria.

Who’s going to be the next people to throw off their oppressive yoke? Libya? Colonel Qaddafi has called in foreign mercenaries, from Africa I think, to kill his own people as they demonstrate. Most of this is going on for the moment in Benghazi, Libya’s second city. Again, for the moment, Tripoli is still a Qaddafi stronghold. Just before I came to this restaurant, the people of Bengazi overwhelmed the building where the security forces were shooting from, the same place the Colonel stays when he visits Bengazi. The democracy demonstrators were going to kill whomever was inside and had been shooting at them. This live on Aljazeera.

In the hour since I wrote this, it seems Tripoli is amassing a demonstration against the regime!

Protests are spreading west as far as I know, which means that soon they should be in Tripoli, where the Colonel and his sons have taken personal control of the attack on the democratic movement. Colonel Qaddafi has ruled Libya for 41 years…….he doesn’t want to go, and we shall see if he resigns like Mubarak last week, or flees for his life or is torn apart by his own people. But I think his time is almost up. It’s electrifying to watch.

Bahrain! Who would have thought this would happen in a Gulf country? Even in a predominantly Shia one. All Gulf countries are not alike though, as I live half the year in one, so let me just say that. But the Royal family of Bahrain pulled a really boneheaded move in having their security service attack unarmed and sleeping protestors. They used rubber/steel bullets, and then live rounds, and prevented ambulances form picking up the wounded, and the hospital was completely overwhelmed and of course rapidly became a focal point for their appalled populace. Amazing they didn’t see that coming. Al Jazeera had video of people shot dead in the street and then the Bahraini foreign minister babbling that they actually didn’t do it. The Crown Prince has just now ordered the police and army away from the Pearl Roundabout, which was where they massed before, so the demonstrators are back there again now, but this time shouting Death to the King.

Bahrain is a tiny Kingdom, but it’s unbelievably important. Not only does it house our (American) navy, but the majority (but not the Royal family) is Shia, and that means it is likely to be of considerable interest to Iran, just across the water there. If Iran wanted to control the entire Gulf, Bahraini support would be key, as well as support from the Shia in KSA’s Eastern Province. Don’t forget the two big enemies in the region are Saudi Arabia and Iran. Iran is a large, rich, powerful and sophisticated country with a long and glorious history whereas Saudi Arabia is basically a figment of the imagination. Check.

We shall see what will happen in the next few days in Bahrain.

And Yemen! I have to admit the footage didn’t look too organized the first couple of days, but the movement has swelled incredibly fast and there are demonstrations and calls for Ali Saleh to leave office (after 30? Years) and the new epicenter is Tai’iz. That’s where all our Yemeni aromatics come from. Huge crowds fill the screen and I am amazed. The winds of change sure are blowing. Being Yemen, more people are probably armed than there would be in any other country.

Yemen’s a bit of a wild card. The population is still expanding very fast. They are almost out of water. It’s completely tribal, and people identify more with their tribe, than, say, with an idea called “Yemen.” Plus there is a rebellion in the north already, on the border with KSA, of the Houthi tribe, who are also Shia in fact. And the south is fighting to separate again, as usual. Plus those Al Qaeda guys feel welcome and happy enough to stay. And there are plenty of Salafistis romping about. Yemen is also a highly armed (and polite) society, even more than Texas. Kalashnikovs, handguns, and daggers make up most men’s personal accessories, with bigger grenade and rocket things available if you need them. And most of the country is stoned on qat every day, which aids fantasy—my Yemeni ex-boyfriend would lay all evening on pillows in the Mafraj, cheek bulging with qat, guns all over the house, a stream of unemployed young men coming and going, the economy in ruins, and me, a presence with so much potential for so many people that we had to carefully orchestrate every move out of the house, and say “Habibiti, the security in Yemen is really very good….it’s not us, not Yemenis, doing this, it’s Emirati spies!” and so on.

Oh, I don’t live in Yemen, by the way; it’s Oman, which is an ocean of calm gentle serenity, albeit next to Yemen. In fact, the American yacht that got hijacked today was on its way to Oman (Salalah) from India. It’s the loveliest place I know.

When Eastern Europe fell I was in Yemen and now that Yemen is falling I’m in Germany!!! But this time I get to watch it. When the Berlin wall fell we had been out in the wilds and got back to Sana’a to see the cover of what we thought was a joke copy of Newsweek. We did follow the end of Ceaucescu via the telex printing in the Cairo Hilton hotel lobby, and now it’s Al Jazeera, thank God for it.

And speaking of which………Americans! Doesn’t anyone find it strange that AL Jazeera is not available in the USA? Even though they have a Washington bureau……Whatever excuse your cable company gives you is a load of crap. It’s censored, baby.

There most certainly is call for it, and interest in receiving it. And if you confidently assert “it’s the left wing version of Fox” then just stop talking right now before someone hears you and log in on your computer. Amazing how people can dismiss it without even watching it. It’s aljazeera.net/English. Note that it’s “net” and not “com”--the “com” version is fake. You can watch it on your computer, and if you want to watch the live channel you can get it on Livestation from the UK. It’s all very easy to do and highly addictive. I urge you to go to it and see the big notice on their homepage to demand Al Jazeera in the US. I recommend it if you’re interested in world news. They don’t discuss American Idol or that pathetic Lohan woman. But they do a bang up job covering these revolutions.

I hear there’s demonstrations scheduled for Morocco tomorrow….

Anyone out there following the Scarab Revolution?

2011-02-03T06:08:00.003-05:00

Here in Oman the video feed from Cairo glows from every TV set. Al Jazeera is covering the story 24/7, despite being banned in Egypt, having their Cairo bureau closed and equipment seized.

Soon to be ex-president Mubarak has lit his country on fire in the face of mass protests demanding that he leave office. 17000 criminals have been let free to menace the population, in a rash bid to prove that only the government can prevent anarchy, and to impel the brave protesters in Tahrir Square to go home and protect their families from bands of ravening thugs.

He shows his true colors more as time passes and his options shrink. He has no problem sacrificing as many people as needed to remain in power.

Do you use our oils? Perhaps our Neroli? Egyptian Jasmine? How about Tagettes, Parsley, Thyme, Geranium or Marjoram? Carnation? Cassie? Violet Leaf? Those all come from Egypt, and our suppliers house and office sits but 500 metres from Tahrir Square.

Early this morning I received an email from him, as internet has come back on, albeit severely limited.

According to Al Jazeera, real shooting began about an hour after he sent this.

“We are all doing fine.____--____'s sister--is the only one who got wounded by a shotgun shot. But not seriously, thank God.

Very difficult situation... It's an understatement... We have been, _____ and I, on Tahrir Square these last 3 days. Today has been very bad. The President's speech yesterday night has set things ablaze: it's turning into a civil war. Friday will be a bloodshed if the old man doesn't get the message.

Airlines completely disrupted because of the curfew, only landing charter flights to extrude expats. Houses being looted by policemen disguised in protesters: we have been caught a number of them carrying their police id.

The regime set free 17'000 criminals from prisons to create havoc and break the protesters will by trying to force them back home to defend their families and belongings.

We are 500m from the center of Tahrir Square which regime thugs have encircled trying to force out the peaceful protesters there.

At night barricades are set on each side of our building to protect it from being infiltrated. Military forces are on the streets. Police forces have completely disappeared.

That's all for now. Pray for the 'Scarab Revolution' to carry the day and the old man to get the message... quickly!”

Photos courtesy of AL Jazeera

Al Jazeera English

Hosni Mubarak Wikipedia

Mimosa & Ginger Salt Water Taffy

2011-01-04T13:46:00.007-05:00

I have so much appreciation for those old taffy-pulling machines you used to see when you got off the subway in Coney Island. When we made taffy the night before last we pulled it by hand!!

My friend Joe, the wild man of making and baking using essential oils, absolutes (yes, absolutes,) city harvested berries, and the like, showed up at my New Year’s get together with a bag of impossible things. Salt water taffy! Remember that chewy, fragrant candy wrapped in wax paper, the one that threatens to pull out your dental work? It’s a traditional American candy although not so well known these days. It’s usually associated with beaches, as in as in beaches with boardwalks, and to me that means east coast but I think it’s found in some spots of northern California and Oregon as well. Not a Santa Barbara thing. Seems like it’s associated with roller coasters.

Anyway, these candies were mimosa/jasmine, made with the absolutes, and they are strong and fragrant like you can’t believe. The whole house rocked with redolence as we tried them. I was up at Joe's place two nights later to make more, this time mimosa and ginger.

Salt water taffy is a little more difficult than the hard candy we made before, a little more touchy. Like a soufflé perhaps. Kinda.

We used

14 ½ oz sugar
1 ½ cups water
1 cup karo syrup
1 teaspoon kosher salt (hence the name salt water taffy)
1 tablespoon white vinegar
1 ½ tablespoons unsalted butter
essential oil flavoring—we used about ¼ teaspoon ginger oil and a pea sized dollop of mimosa absolute
a few drops food coloring, why not?
Powdered (icing) sugar to dust the cookie sheet with at the end (optional)

Then you need to have

A non-stick (preferably) cookie sheet lined with plastic lined freezer paper, which you have buttered.
Pot, about 4 qt
Whisk
Candy thermometer
Wax paper cut to size
Clean hands or even gloves (if you use gloves, butter them)

Let me say it again. Clean hands. Salt water taffy will clean your hands very well so unless you want nyc subway flavored taffy, or 14th street flavored taffy or escalator handle favored taffy something equally as disgusting, wash your hands again.

Combine the sugar, water, corn syrup, salt and vinegar in a 4 qt pot over medium heat. (if you’re cooking in a reactive metal, then wait to add the vinegar until almost ready.)

After it boils, put in the candy thermometer. You want the temperature to rise to 200F (93 C.) let it boil.

When it reaches 200 F then take the pot off heat, add butter, essential oils and food color and stir with the whisk. Pour it onto cookie sheet.

The mimosa absolute, which is quite hard, melted in about 30 seconds.

Let it cool until you can deal.

We forgot to put in the butter and so ran it over the top as the mass cooled on the cookie sheet.

Then, when it’s cool enough to touch, you can scrape it off the plastic lined freezer paper and start pulling and twisting it. Pull and twist, pull and twist, as long as you can pull, and as twisty as you can. The aeration will give it a silvery sheen and that will cut through the color a bit so be bold with your colors.

Keep twisting and pulling, and you can even butter your hands a bit. It will help. The taffy will stick to your hands like oobleck, like you can never get loose, but it will start to coalesce as time passes and prefer sticking to itself.

Eventually it will become cool and less pliable. Then it’s time to fashion it into long ropes and just cut it with scissors and let pieces rest on a non-stick cookie sheet. Joe’s previous batch was stickier, so he dusted the cookie sheet with powdered (icing) sugar. I like the effect of it, personally.
Don’t let the pieces touch! Once they kiss you will have a hard time prying them apart.

You can cut some wax paper up in pieces maybe 2 x 2 inches. This can change, depending on fast you get the hang of it.

Way To Go

2010-12-29T16:45:00.004-05:00

It’s not the first blizzard we’ve had. But to see how well we have dealt, you might be forgiven for thinking so. Our lame mayor, Michael Bloomberg, managed to get elected again, for a third term, despite the 2 term limit. For some reason, many people like the fact that he “runs the city like a corporation.” Whatever.

So maybe they are plowing streets according to how much money they generate? Because even here in Manhattan we are not really plowed. 7th avenue has 2 lanes open. Some side streets are plowed. Some are not.

Now maybe I’m brain addled, but I remember we always had big snow plows. I think they were orange. Where are they now? All I saw are city garbage trucks with dozer fronts attached. And they were plowing sorta near the ground, not actually on it. And they are nowhere to be seen today (wed) or yesterday.

The mayor has said that the reason we are not plowed out is because of ”the parked and abandoned cars.” Well, I think there were cars both parked and abandoned in the past, and we managed to move the snow. He offers this great advice: “Go see a broadway show.”

And the outer boros are even worse shape, but everyone seems to think that only Manhattan is plowed. Well, Manhattan is not plowed, although compared to the outer boros, it’s less terrible. And where in hell are the plows, not the garbage trucks with plows attached, but the actual snow plows? Who did we sell them to?

Watch the YouTube video of NYC Sanitation destroying a Ford Expedition

More sage words from Bloomberg: “it’s supposed to be warm this week; the snow’s gonna melt.” Thanks, genius.

Tom flew in from Cleveland yesterday, on American Airlines, to LaGuardia. It took him 8 hours to get out of the airport. 2 ½ hours on the tarmac, another 1 ½ in a bus (!?) to get to the terminal, then 2 hours to get the carry on luggage, then hours in the taxi line. And the worst of it is there were no airline employees. Everything is now automated to save money so no one is in charge of anything. Oh, and no plows at the airport either, only little rinky dink little ones like you’d plow a driveway with, and only one of those was working anyway. And half of the LaGuardia employees called in sick.

For some reason, Americans are so used to terrible service and no one giving a sh*t, and no one accountable, and no one in charge, that we continue to sink into the quagmire. Airlines are a perfect example. Many Americans still think we have the best airlines and the entire world is in the same state as us and suffering through the same quality of service as we have here. Well, if you have a choice, don’t fly any US based carrier, as they are uniformly abysmal. And internal flights in this country………it’s probably better in Africa. Seriously.

There were also at least 3 flights (Cathy pacific and British Airways) from Hong Kong and London that came in and the passengers had to stay overnight on the planes because there were no gates open and then customs had gone home!

I bet our local government rented our plows out. Supposedly we don’t have any money here in NY. Right. Doesn’t anyone remember our snowplows? What in the hell is it with these garbage trucks and their temporary plows? Where did our plows go?

What a mess.

So Much Fun!

2010-12-14T10:36:00.019-05:00

Last night I went to my friend Joe’s. He had come trotting into Enfleurage a few days ago and showed me some new candy he’d made with essential oils: Ylang Ylang/Jasmine Sambac, Lemon Myrtle/Spearmint, Anise Hyssop. So what could I do?

Joe likes to make things; he harvests blackberries from Central Park every summer, (that’s the actual fruit, not electronics,) and crab apples, Hawthorne berries, rosehips, linden flowers, etc. He cans apples, plums, peaches, from the framer’s markets, and makes sorbets, jams, and cordials. He lives at the north end of Central Park, on the edge of Harlem, just above the treeline, so at night the lights on the buildings abutting the park look like they’re rising out of the jungle mists, as if we are gazing at Mayan temples.

Armed with tiny bottles of essential oils, I arrived last night out of the fresh cool rain.

We set to work.

The first batch was Roman Chamomile and Italian Mandarin; the second batch was Omani Frankincense and Bulgarian Rose otto. The third was German Chamomile and Bulgarian Lavender and the last was……..Gardenia Enfleurage from Colombia.

The first three batches used approximately ¼ teaspoon essential oils and the gardenia took ½. Otherwise the recipe was the same.

You will need a table with enough room to work and unimpeded access from the stove. Keep your animals away.

Here’s what else you need:

Another person to help

A pot, preferably copper, something that heats evenly and you can pour from.

At least 2 cookie sheets, non-stick ones. Grease one with butter and put plenty of icing sugar on the other one.

Spatula

Whisk

Couple knives or a pizza cutter

Scissors

Candy thermometer

White sugar

Icing (powdered) sugar

Karo syrup

Essential oils of your choice

Food coloring (it will be cuter.)

Here’s what we did.

In the pot, which in Joe’s house means a copper polenta pot, pour in 2 cups white sugar, ¾ cup karo syrup and ¾ cup water. Turn on heat to medium. Stir a couple of times. Don't forget the water. I forgot to take a picture of it.

Let it come to the boil, which will occur about 120F, then you can turn up the heat, put in the thermometer and even a lid to cover most of the goop in the pot.

Then watch that thermometer like a falcon and as soon as it hits 300F turn it off, add your ¼ teaspoon essential oils (or a little more if you’re doing gardenia) and food coloring. Stir it, whisk it, quickly, and get it off the fire and pour onto the greased cookie sheet.

Do it fast and competently—keep kids and pets away because the molten candy mix at this point is like boiling frankincense or napalm. If it burns you, it’s going to stick to you and keep burning.

It should be a frothy brew by now and you can have a second person use the spatula to help scrape out the pot as you pour it onto the cookie sheet.

It’s going to harden fast.

Once it’s on the cookie sheet, give it a minute or so and then take a couple of knives and start to mess with it, the idea being that you want to move the molten candy to the powdered sugar covered cookie sheets as soon as possible, the hotter the better.

Once you’ve managed this, you’ll need to manipulate it, to flatten it, although not too much, and then cut it into strips using a pizza cutter, or knives, or whatever, and then cut crossways with the scissors you have ready. The strips should retain a “pillowy” shape; if you flatten it too much the edges will be sharp. You’ll see how it is once you do it. All the while you can roll this around in the icing sugar.

The candy will be hardening like crazy the whole time, and it’ll be really hot while you’re working it with your hands, so it’s not a good project for kids because it’s right on the edge of burning you for real.

Once you’ve got the pieces cut and sitting stunned and happily in the powdered sugar, then gather them up, and put them in a strainer if you like, to shake off the excess sugar.

And there you go.

In a nutshell, it’s combining the ingredients to a critical mass where they can all accept each other, then shape them as fast as you can as they cool.

So far, the favorite seems to be the Gardenia although we also have votes for sambac/ylang ylang and anise hyssop. If you are in New York, please do come by to try the candies! And I probably need to say this: We made these using Enfleurage essential oils. Any good essential oils will work, but synthetic oils will not.

What More Could I Ask For?

2010-12-11T13:47:00.004-05:00

We’ve still got an astounding variety on offer here at the Union Square Greenmarket. Last week I bought all the maple cream I could find, one of America’s nicest natural gifts! It’s ludicriously delicious. You needn’t even put it on something, just a small spoonful out of the jar is completely awesome.

And there are still fresh roses! They don’t smell as lovely as the ones you find in the summer, but they are fresh and lovely locally grown roses, so I’ll just shut the hell up and arrange them on my table, thank you very much. Gorgeous!!

This week I picked up a Christmas wreath made entirely of rosemary and thyme—aromatic and beautiful. And also was pleased to find herbs still available all over the market. You can see the tarragon and thyme in the photograph. I got the tarragon for accompaniment to the yellow potatoes I can’t remember the name of, but which are buttery, rich and flavorful all by themselves, and utterly delectable with tarragon (or savory) butter.

The thyme is already partly gone, along with all the mushrooms, sautéed for my breakfast. They were so fresh, and earthy tasting, like truffles, with that slippery texture mushroom have when they’re very very fresh. Just a little salt and pepper along with the thyme, and a little butter! A dish from heaven! That bread you see on the right is an intense caraway rye, sour and moist, nothing so wonderful as that eastern European bread, dense with rye, assisted with caraway, a bread whose heritage is the Siberian Taiga, the woods of Poland, long cold dark winters, and root vegetable soup taken by the fireside! Believe me, when the temperature is dancing around freezing, you can do worse than these foods!

I got a couple kabocha squash here, and love love love them, as I do every year. This season I am obsessed with baking them with a little water then mashing and roasting with dark rum and maple cream and some caramelized onions on top……You could substitute maple syrup, I would think, if you don’t have maple cream. Serious comfort food!

Siberian kale! Well, I’m one of those people who loves the greenmarket at this time of year. It’s such a pleasure to cook with the late fall vegetables, there is something so intense about it, that the light and pretty summer ones just will never know. And one thing I just love is kale, and not just for its completely superior health benefits. If you are one of those who makes fun of kale, then you are probably buying that tough, gnarly stuff. Try Russian kale, that’s the one with the serrated leaves. It’s much smaller and softer than the traditional huge and tough kale, poor thing, but it’s tender and sweet and you can bake it with hazelnuts or walnuts and parmesan, or whatever you like of course, and you will find yourself standing over the counter eating it right out of the pan as it comes out of the oven. Really, then you will become a kale dork like me.

That cauliflower is destined for great things too. I still have not found a better way of making cauliflower than the same way I’ve been doing for a year or two, and again, it’ll have you eating right out of the pan, so if you make this for company, buy double the amount you’ll need because you may need to bribe yourself with half of it.

Don’t even need to cut it, just pull it apart if you like, doesn’t matter. Put it in a heavy pot with tight fitting lid. This is essential. Very heavy pot. It will come out kind of weird it you use a namby-pamby pot, use anything heavy, like I said.

Add some olive oil, and a few cloves of garlic. You can chop the garlic or not, doesn’t matter. It will turn into sweet brown crispy treats. Doesn’t matter how much, once you do this you will see how it is and then you can adjust the garlic as you like next time. Toss a little salt in there if you care to, and maybe a couple of fresh green chilies or dry red chilies, or a little kashmiri pepper, or whatever hot thing you love, as long as you like it for what it is, and probably not sauce. If you’re not sure, leave it out.

Stick the tightly lidded pot in the oven on a high temperature, like 400 and you will put it higher as it cooks if there is not much browning going on.

So caramelize an onion or two when the cauliflower is roasting in there, and don’t do it over high heat but medium. It takes longer but your cauliflower is in there for at least a half hour so don’t fidget and procrastinate. Use a big frying pan, and non stick is fine although it’s good to pour a little olive oil in there, and slice those onions in as thin a rounds as you can, then let them go until they are medium to dark brown and curling, then add a little sugar (like a teaspoon or so) and stir it up with them and then turn off the heat and those onions will kind of stiffen. You’re going to sprinkle most of the onions in with the cauliflower, and toss a few more on top if it makes it into a serving bowl.

The cauliflower should brown and even caramelize on the bottom, and you can stir it every so often. It will fall apart as you touch it with the spoon, and it’s stupidly good.

maple foods Deep Mountain Maple

bread Hawthorne Valley Farm

nyc greenmarket list of farmers

Say what?

2010-12-07T23:35:00.004-05:00

“The United States is pleased to announce that it will host UNESCO’s World Press Freedom Day event in 2011, from May 1 - May 3 in Washington, D.C. UNESCO is the only UN agency with the mandate to promote freedom of expression and its corollary, freedom of the press.”

It gets better……

“The theme for next year’s commemoration will be 21^st Century Media: New Frontiers, New Barriers. The United States places technology and innovation at the forefront of its diplomatic and development efforts. New media has empowered citizens around the world to report on their circumstances, express opinions on world events, and exchange information in environments sometimes hostile to such exercises of individuals’ right to freedom of expression. At the same time, we are concerned about the determination of some governments to censor and silence individuals, and to restrict the free flow of information. We mark events such as World Press Freedom Day in the context of our enduring commitment to support and expand press freedom and the free flow of information in this digital age.”

This is from the official Department of State page.

Read the entire press release here.

Breathtaking, isn’t it?

May God Protect Julian Assange

2010-12-02T11:22:00.002-05:00

From an archive of his personal blog, iq.org
Wed 03 Jan 2007 : Witnessing

"Every time we witness an injustice and do not act, we train our character to be passive in its presence and thereby eventually lose all ability to defend ourselves and those we love. In a modern economy it is impossible to seal oneself off from injustice.

If we have brains or courage, then we are blessed and called on not to frit these qualities away, standing agape at the ideas of others, winning pissing contests, improving the efficiencies of the neocorporate state, or immersing ourselves in obscuranta, but rather to prove the vigor of our talents against the strongest opponents of love we can find.

If we can only live once, then let it be a daring adventure that draws on all our powers. Let it be with similar types whos hearts and heads we may be proud of. Let our grandchildren delight to find the start of our stories in their ears but the endings all around in their wandering eyes.

The whole universe or the structure that perceives it is a worthy opponent, but try as I may I can not escape the sound of suffering. Perhaps as an old man I will take great comfort in pottering around in a lab and gently talking to students in the summer evening and will accept suffering with insouciance. But not now; men in their prime, if they have convictions are tasked to act on them."

That's why.

To access the archives of iq.org
http://web.archive.org/web/20071007093903/http://iq.org/

A Trip to the Thai Distillery

2010-11-20T22:36:00.007-05:00

It’s a big one, near Ayutthaya, and I was a little leery. They do some distillation and solvent extraction on demand and so our Thai lotus is done there.

I needn’t have worried.

For one thing, it was women. And while some, if not most of the best distillers I know are men, men tend to take themselves incredibly seriously. It doesn’t mean they are jerks, necessarily, but you always have to watch them carefully, which they love of course

But here we had 2 lovely women, who started out professional enough, and were certainly knowledgeable and always delightful, but soon our group enthusiasm won over and we were picking flowers in the gardens, making tiny bouquets, taking photos, swooning in happiness, dancing around…..all the things that ylang ylang and champa and limes can make you do if you’re happy about it.

Thailand has done some experiments recently, with ylang ylang and rose! The ylang we will have in the store, as soon as the wheels of commerce begin to turn. There is not a lot of it, and it’s a delicate, almost hesitant ylang ylang, a little timid perhaps, a bit shy, but wonderfully sweet and full bodied, as though unsure of usurping the place of the Malagasy Dowager Ylang Ylangs! We’ll still keep those, for sure, those sweet sisters are our ylang ylang family, 1, extra, and complete, but there’s always room for one more, an adopted friend.

Thai rose I shouldn’t even write about because we will not be carrying it…not my fault! It proved too expensive to cultivate. Cultivating roses for essential oil is as much of a commitment as getting married, and more so in many places. It’s really, impossibly, undoably, expensive. Pity, because the rose concrete, which I smelled, was very nice. I had been prepared to feel pity for it, a poor tropical lowland rose, but it was robust and beautiful. Couldn’t pay its own expenses though, and the land has gone on to other things. Sad, but no need to dwell on it.

We’ll be carrying Winter Lemon as well. Please remember that none of these oils are in the store now, and they have not even yet made the first slow grinding steps out of South East Asia. I will write a newsletter about them when they do come. As it is, I can’t thoroughly describe any of these oils because I either don’t have samples, or they are packed. But the winter lemon had a bright sunniness about it, like the eagerly absorbed winter sun in a place like Vancouver or Moscow.

Thai Lime is another lovely, and we will have this regular Citrus Swingle, which smells like a Christmas Party (everyone found this uproarious) and also the Kaffir lime, Citrus hystrix I think. It’s a really strange looking citrus, almost like it was once a bigger one, and then got squished down, but actually looks more like a brain, or the tracks a worm might leave in sand. There’s a whole lot of other things going on in there beside that limonene, let me tell you! It’s the Greek Chorus of citrus! And we’re going to have the leaves too, maybe, which smell closer to the peel than petitgrains usually do, kind of like a wild west version of the peel! Maybe we’ll call it Cowboy Lime!

Perhaps someone has noticed, perhaps not, but we don’t offer Chinese oils at Enfleurage.

We have a ginger from there, because it took a long time to get the Vietnamese one last time, which, incidentally, is made with fresh rhizomes (as opposed to everyone else, including the Chinese, who make it with dried.) But that’s the only Chinese oil and we have taken liberties with ginger in the past. We used to carry one just one CO2, and yes, it was ginger. I don’t know why ginger is singled out for this, and it’s not just the fresh thing because we also have an unusual Anise, also from fresh fruit, also from Vietnam, but I am getting way off the subject. All I want to say it that……we’re going to bring in another Chinese oil. Osmanthus! It’s been like a silly quarrel! Can’t remember what happened, why we stopped it. I think our Osmanthus supplier disappeared and I have never been comfortable buying essential oils from any Chinese companies (please, no accusations!) But even though the origin of these flowers (those little tiny adorable sweet olive flowers!!) is Chinese, we will get it here, and it is lovely…I nearly cried, it’s been so many years!

One of the most exciting oils for me, and I am thrilled to welcome him back, is Plai! Our plai guy disappeared; such is the case with so many small distillers. But now we are going to have this strong and assertive plai! He is like a tiny General! Plai immediately comes out, and declares himself. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” is something he’s never heard of! He’s always a variation of the papaya lying on the sandy bank of the Mekong in the middle of the afternoon! And he likes it there. Maybe he’s the papaya at 3 o’clock, and maybe at 4. Maybe he has the peel on and maybe not. I will know more when he comes, because I was enraptured, entranced, just to smell him again, but had so many oils to play with, that although I kept coming back to the plai, I did not sit quietly with him.

There is another new Basil, Hairy Basil! The botanical name (which I am suspicious of anyway, as regular readers will know,) might be Ocimum americanum. I didn’t think there was any way in hell I could get talked into yet another basil for that store. We already have exotic basil, linalool basil, holy basil, verbena basil, and goodness know what else, but this one is do damn American smelling, and I mean it in the best possible way. He is reliable and strong, and smells exactly like basil should smell, pure, unvarnished, middle-of-the-road, apple pie, yes ma’am, tip your hat basil. He’s like a Sunday afternoon barbeque, a Harley Davidson, an Iowan cornfield basil. He’s a straight and true, unadorned, what-you-see-is-what-you-get basil. He is the Navy Seal of basils!

Not my fault here either; I call them as I smell them.

Then there was the Guava Leaf. This one I don’t know about. At first this oil was completely sweet, too good to believe, almost like a strange kind of guava candy, even a little too sweet at times, but still complicated and very interesting, very likable. As an hour passed though, he changed, with darker notes, woody notes, bitter notes, complicated textural tones and soon nothing of the original sweet fruit was there, leaving me to wonder if I had smelled it in the first place. I could not recognize this latter aroma with the one I had first let out of the bottle, dropped onto the tester strip. It was a complete surprise, and completely untrustworthy. Perfumers will probably like it but it’s going to take a lot to get used to him, and be able to predict his movements well enough so as to work with him when other oils are involved. All in all, this oil was all over the map, kind of like my ex-boyfriend. You think you’re getting one thing, and whammo, you get another! But in a bottle of essential oil it could be interesting!

The last oil I want to speak of is one that my staff will kill me if I buy, I know it. Because we had it long ago, and it was around forever. It was one of those oils that smelled interesting, but not pretty, and enough of a culinary treat that it was marked forever. That oil is “lesser galangal.” But here in Thailand he is called “fingerroot” and that sounds better, so we’ll go with that. This oil also has nothing in common with that sad little bottle of wishful thinking we have had for years. He was quite complicated too, but whereas the guava leaf turned into something entirely different than what I thought he was, the finger root is just a complicated and interesting oil. He seemed a little boring and rooty to begin with but only a few seconds in he was flipping out new tendrils of scent faster than a three card monty dealer. Sharp, sour, mossy, sassy, muddy! I kept coming back to him, going in for one last sniff, one more time, ok, one more…..

I guess that’s all I have time to write about, not so much the trip as the oils I tried, and in some cases, the plants were outside, happily represented. I even had a big misconception cleared up. I was always under the impression that yellow champaka was bakul.
Not logical, I know, but I had been shown this by someone who has a reputation as an essential oil guru. I never questioned it too much because I don’t live near yellow or even white champaka. I rarely see it. Bakul are these little teeny tiny wiggy ones. They are a little bigger than osmanthus (of course!) but probably 1/6^th the size of a jasmine petal……

Some Fish Eat

2010-11-20T00:03:00.005-05:00

One of the things I like the most about Buddhist temples is that no one can be harmed within. That goes for fish as well. Can’t touch ‘em. Some fish apparently know this and they tend to stick around.
Tiny businesses can crop up with this opportunity.
Here is one, selling bowls of fish food. And this attracts more fish. These pictures were taken in Ayutthaya, Thailand, as we hurled two bowls of fish food into the river. That’s all.
The people I was with really like fish.

Lotus Harvest

2010-11-19T11:20:00.006-05:00

I went, yesterday morning, to some lotus ponds where the lotus we buy for Enfleurage comes from. First of all, since I know there will be a few people who are just itching to discuss this, let’s get it over at the beginning. There are lotuses and there are water-lilies. Lotuses are Nelumbos and they come in pink (which are also called red) and white only. They open at night, but don’t necessarily close during the day, I don’t think. Some do. Anyway….

Lotuses have those big, extremely edible and fantastic seed pods, and water-lilies don’t. Lotuses can apparently regulate the temperature of its flowers, like warm blooded animals do.

Water lilies are not even related to lotuses. They are Nymphaea. They don’t have the big interesting seed pod but they are delightful anyway and water-lilies come in many colors, like blue. Both lotuses and water lilies smell boldly technicolor, bright and strong and floral in weird ways, and although they smell similar, they do smell different from each other and even color to color.

But, that said, unless we are having this exact discussion, we refer to blue water-lilies as blue lotuses. Sorry, I know it bugs a few people, but that’s the way it is. It’s easier and cuter, a double whammy.

Pink lotuses open at night, as I said, and blue ones and white ones open in the daytime. (White water-lilies I assume open in the say and maybe the white lotuses open at night.) It’s hard to know since they don’t necessarily close at all.

All the lotus ponds I visited were mono-chromatic, at least for the most part. I did spot a couple of pink volunteers in the corner of the blue pond, etc. But the majority are all pink, all blue, all white.

Since the lotuses are picked primarily for drying and eating, pesticides are not used. Instead, catfish troll beneath the surface eating worms, bugs, and any other bottom dwellers.

The lotuses are harvested by guys going out with big floating buckets. The harvesters don’t have to go out in little round boats like they do in India’s lotus harvest because even though there are some snakes, there are “not too many.”

This is winter here in Thailand and that doesn’t mean cold—it means there is a breeze, but the flowers don’t like it so much and so there are not too many lotuses out, compared to the summer.

I have to admit I was skeptical in the past. I had never seen enough blue lotuses (waterlilies) to accept that blue lotus oil could be available on the open commercial market but now I get to eat my words, which would taste better with a crunch of fried lotus root to go with.

We ended the day with an overnight to a remote little rural resort, saturated with incredible night blooming flowers and thousands of orchids. Right outside my window was completely insane Quisqualis, not even creeping but somehow turned into a large bush growing out of an anthill. Once the sun was gone all hell broke loose. I was dizzy all night as thousands of fat and assertive blossoms exploded in drunken glee. Oh yeah.

For more photos please visit the Enfleurage Facebook Page

Completely Out of Control

2010-11-11T09:38:00.002-05:00

You’d think I was coming off 1 year in the Sahara the way I reacted. But it was just 7 weeks in Salalah. I don’t feel deprived in Salalah; there are no foods I crave. It’s perfectly fine. I don’t even shop at the little store catering for expats.

But I went to the big Gourmet Market in the Bangkok Emporium today. Now, I’m from New York, and we have considerably well stocked supermarkets there. But let me tell you, Whole Foods, Fairway, Zabars…none of can touch that Gourmet Market, especially when you’re coming from Salalah. My God I bought fresh Passion fruit and Beet juice! Cherry blossom infused green tea! Little chive cakes that are to die for. They’re glutinous and then get fried to order. Then they cut them up with scissors. Just packed with chives too. And those little coconut thingies, like the milk, or cream, fried in tiny iron coconut treat fryers.

I had a treatment today, and if you are in Bangkok or heading here, I heartily recommend Urban Retreat Spa and there are a few of them. I go to the one at Phrom Phong. The therapists are excellent. I usually see Phet, who is well-named, and today I saw Pla (which I thought was the word for fish, but never mind.) She is also excellent. I had a whole body scrub that was so necessary I can’t even explain, and now my skin is so soft! I should do this all the time. Normal women do. But for some reason I usually don’t manage it, preferring unpleasant things I guess. I really don’t know. Then I had an hour and half massage.
Tomorrow I’m going for an hour just on my head and neck and another hour on my feet!
It’s not the cheapest place in Bangkok, and I doubt men will get happy endings there, so if those are your concerns, then go to Nana. But it’s still really well priced, no matter what economy you’re coming from. So if you want seriously good bodywork, then try Urban Retreat Spa. There are also branches at Asoke and Phrom Chai.

Also today I visited the Thailand Creative Design Center, up on the 6th floor of Emporium, the main reason in fact, that I was at the Emporium. They seem to be an excellent resource not only for their well-stocked library, specializing in books on all types of art and design, but also for their resource and information center, as the title implies.

It’s a shock and a half, being here after Salalah, it’s just very…..very..…plentiful. Kind of like Mauritania.

Urban Retreat Spa

Thailand Creative Design Center

Mauritania

The Wonders of Ain Garziz

2010-11-10T22:46:00.003-05:00

There I was, out at Ain Garziz the other morning, looking for a glimpse of the Rock Hyrax, a fat, cute and irritable little beast about the size of badger I think, yet related to elephants. We sell the poop, concentrated as an absolute and then diluted in alcohol, at Enfleurage, under the name “Africa Stone.”

I think the poop (and pee) we have in the store comes from southern Africa, and I suspect that the only reason it was collected in the past is because it could be collected, as the hyrax uses latrines instead of just pooping everywhere it goes, like horses or dogs. Or elephants. And I guess if you live in someplace like the Kalahari, it makes sense to try everything you can.

So the local people traditionally used hyrax effluvia for medicine, and no, I don’t know for what exactly. I read they also used it for perfume but this is too much for me to think about.

My attention was drawn to the presence of hyrax by Mr. Muhammed Shanfari, who trolls the Dhofari countryside taking excellent photos and then posting them on the internet. His flicker account will be listed at the bottom of the post and also in the “links” column to the right. He’s an encyclopedia of knowledge, and can rattle off names of obscure (to me) plants and animals in Latin, Arabic, English and Jebali. He’s got lots of pictures of our delicious and hardy Dhofari lavender too.

So, there I was out at Ain Garziz, looking for the hyrax, and of course also for lavender but where to even begin looking. Supposedly they are both, lavender and hyrax, everywhere. But I was feeling a bit grumpy, despite the lovely morning, since I am still in a holding pattern, after an eternity in one. I do get little nibbles of delight, as the future gets dangled in front of my eyes, and then disappears into yet another holiday, and then it’s back to watching for a small animal, whom I know the existence of through his poop, and standing idly in the sunshine.

No one was around, except a few technicolor birds and I figured eventually a hyrax would scurry down the rocks in front of me. But then my phone rang and I took the call, plonking down on the nearby bench and bending down over my knees while I listened to some explanations. Although what he said was probably quite interesting, I completely forgot to listen because everything at my new eye level was lavender! It was all lavender, lavender for days, sprouting out of every rock, clinging to every crag, gathered happily in the dust, waving tiny purple flowers about, hoping to catch the eye of a bee I guess. It seemed that lavender had snuck in one night and replaced every other plant with itself in some kind of demented frenzy.

I was happy about it. And hopped over the balustrade to examine closer. This being Salalah, the land and the weeds and every flower is owned by someone, and so I didn’t gather a great wracking armload of lavender to go throw in the still, although I wanted to. But I did take a couple of tiny little wisps of lavender and rush home to put them in pots. They remain there, upright and hopeful after three days. Inshaa Allah they will be there, and happy and alive when I return from Thailand.

Here is Mr. Shanfari’s photo stream on Flickr.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/shanfari/

The photo of the lavender at the beginning of this post was taken by me, and it's a soft and green, plump little coddled one, grown in a greenhouse near Muscat. The Garziz ones are tougher, more wily and fiercer.

At Long Last

2010-10-31T23:13:00.002-04:00

Well, it’s finally happening, the barest stirrings of the new distillery are beginning to rumble. As usual, everything is top top secret. Where? Can’t say. With whom? Can’t say. Who, what, when, where and how? Let’s just say me ++, fabulous distillery ++, as soon as possible, here in Oman of course, and an entirely impossible set of chance and circumstances.

And it’s gonna be cool. Like really ultimately, fabulously, insanely cool. I’m working with some extremely interesting people, and we are all on the same page; we are bringing together the beauty and utility of ancient design in a new, clean, green and uniquely Omani way. Plus I love that the entire scenario is completely impossible. When something’s impossible it’s always sweeter when you finally make it happen.

I’ve been waiting for two years. Waiting and distilling and waiting and distilling. The first year I didn’t really know what I was waiting for and it became more and more clear as this year has passed. And I still couldn’t write about it. But finally the ducks are lined up, the monkeys have typed Hamlet, and pigs flew across the sky. And I still can’t write about it but maybe a few whispers here and there are ok.

What can I say about the new distillery? It’s…..in the middle of a citrus grove. That’s something else I always wanted, that citrus grove. The citruses here are different than those in California. I don’t even know how, except to say that they are Omani citruses, dignified and slower-ripening. I should be able to make some nice petitgrain oil, and one day, perhaps, possibly, neroli. I saw some pomegranates too. And mangoes, papayas, dates…..even olives. Oh, and lemongrass.

That’s the only hint, the only clue for now. If anyone in Oman reads this blog, and is curious, all I can say is that it’s time to go fishing.

For Americans Only--a rant

2010-10-23T04:50:00.000-04:00

I know I shouldn’t probably be commenting on this, as I’m sure it’s not supposed to be noticed. But really, is there no end in sight for the utter bonheadedness of American foreign policy in Islamic countries?

I’m not commenting on the $2 billion dollar aid package to Pakistan to “fight the Taliban.” Morons. Or all those idiotic drone attacks that “mistakenly” kill innocents in the same area. Idiots.

I’m not talking about the $60 billion to Saudi so they can buy our weapons. What the hell?
I’m not talking about the 100% support for Israel, no matter what it does, and our meek and weak attempts to ask them to please stop building settlement’s or at least slow down, when it’s convenient, please?

Our standing and respect on the planet continues to fall. Our policies in this part of the world quite obviously have no one with a lick of common sense or real knowledge at their helm. I know I had such high hopes for Mr. Obama. I think we all did. And I can’t necessarily criticize him because it’s more than him, and he has so many crises on his plate from the previous criminal administration.
Everyone from the Bush administration should be in court facing charges of treason in my opinion.
Look at the mess.

But here in the Middle East, while there are plenty of American diplomats and other people who understand the region, policy is quite obviously made by those who are completely ignorant of the Middle East, relying, presumably, on some balderdash they learned at university and in the dining rooms of Washington. Where is their street sense?

The Americans think they are fighting a “war on terror”? I think this is it. I don’t know which is more frightening, if the people who make these policies governing our position and involvement on Israel, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran, etc are just using their American logic and assumptions to further this end, unaware that not everyone thinks like us, or if that is just simply the pap that the American people are fed and the true reasons are more cynical and self-serving, corrupt. Is it stupid or evil?

Americans seem to realize we are not well liked as a country (even though individuals often are,) yet the policy makers, talking heads, and journalists toss that aside, taking comfort with the ace in the hole of “Well, everyone wants to come to America” like one cancels out the other. Can none of them see that the threat of terrorism is linked to how we are perceived, respected and liked?

Remember Sept 11? Almost the whole world was with us. But in the nine years since, the majority of the world’s opinion has turned against us, and it’s completely understandable why. If our goal is really in truly to promote freedom and democracy, then why do we continue to prop up corrupt regimes, to flout our own laws, and the Geneva Convention, to bomb and kill and destroy people’s lives? Because that is what we do. We somehow think we have to cram our vague, skewed vision down people’s throats, worldwide. And they should be grateful for it. I guess we figure if we just beat it into you long enough, you’ll eventually come to your senses.

Anyway, what prompted this? Something simple. There are a lot of American service people here, military. I don’t know what they are doing, and any facts would be superseded by rumors anyway. Now, Americans act a certain way, military included. I don’t mean drunk and obnoxious, I mean the great qualities that we are known for, that everyone loves, even in the Middle East. We are friendly, gregarious, outgoing. We are even polite! We are not ever snobs; we don’t have the class issues so many Europeans have. We talk to everyone, we are generous and even though we are usually appallingly ignorant, people expect this and still they enjoy us, because of those friendly, happy traits. Our accents are also considered charming. Yes, it’s true.

So here we have these American service people on r & r. And they act like…….mice. Rabbits. They are petrified of everything and everyone. It has to be a mixture of fear and the rules set for them before they leave their bases. They stare at the floor. They mumble an answer when asked a direct, yet normal and friendly question, even by me. One step up from “name, rank and serial number.”

Obviously, they have been told not to draw attention to themselves, not to identify themselves as Americans, like no one will know otherwise. I have never seen such a thing as this. I am obviously American. I’m walking around with a yoga mat and a sparkly beach bag. The young women I spoke to did not even realize I was from their country. They stared at their shoes. I asked a few simple questions, such as how are you? Where are you from? What are you doing here? Are you enjoying your time in Salalah?

Then I noticed others, quietly moving about the hotel in groups, speaking in hushed tones, having one beer only. Not that I expect them act like British military. That’s the other extreme. I’m glad not to be embarrassed. But even last year you could see marines or navy or air force hanging out, acting like normal people, laughing and talking.

These poor frightened lambs are children. How old were they when we invaded Afghanistan, 9? 10? Now here they are doing whatever it is they are doing, something terrible probably, and told to enjoy their time off but to be invisible. Are they scared of al Qaeda, or someone equally sinister coming to carry them off?

Americans are obvious, wherever we are, and even more so when in groups. You can spot us coming long before we arrive. By acting so timidly, these young people are not being unobtrusive. It just makes people wonder why. Has no one who comes up with these idiotic policies ever been to the Middle East? So what are local people saying? Well, I haven’t heard the full spectrum of rumor, but a couple of people have told me that they think these Americans have done something wrong, and now they are scared they will be found out.

Sure, it’s just what some local Omanis say. And there are plenty of weird and terrible and stupid rumors about us and you can’t control it. But do we really have to fan the flames? Need we pour gasoline on ourselves at every opportunity?

Why isn’t it possible for some of those people who make up US policies in the Middle East to actually pull their heads out of their asses and ask someone who knows? Ask advice from people such as H.M. for example. You want to wipe out support for the Taliban, Al Qaeda, etc? Then smarten up. Stop making the fire bigger and bigger. Why on earth do they think that pouring more money and more troops and more weapons into any of these hell pits will extract an ounce of good? On what basis do they form this opinion? Our victory in Iraq? Over the Taliban? In Vietnam?

And the more we show disregard to human life, for human rights, for the dispossessed, for anyone unlike ourselves, the deeper is the hole we are digging, and the further we have to get out.

Americans will often shut down at this type of accusation and say something along the lines of “You don’t like it? Leave.” It’s our usual expectation of a simple quick fix to everything. But make no mistake, our country is in shambles, and it’s thanks to the previous administration. We are no longer in a position to thumb our noses at the rest of the world, and impose our will as we see fit. But as we cannot access the past, we apparently also cannot access the future. We are alone in this by the way. The rest of the world remembers the past and looks to the future. Yet we exist in an eternal present, governed by reality TV, anti-depressants and fear.

Wake up, people!

I’m expecting hate mail for this post. You don’t have to agree with me, but I will remove any posts that are offensive or unsuitable to civilized, even if passionate, discussion.

Bathing in a Dead Frankincense Tree

2010-10-13T05:05:00.006-04:00

I took myself off to the trees and the beach yesterday. Had to see the Old Lady Trees. There is something of oak about them, their sturdiness, quiet rectitude, their enduring strength, the smell of a Sunday afternoon, the crisp delicate crinkle of dry leaves in the breeze. The sound of the wind in a frankincense tree is something akin to the sound of the wind in Joshua Tree.

The mid-day stillness was like a thing in itself and I decided to sit and meditate under a particularly solid tree. Yeah, right.

I know that 20 minutes of solid meditation a day is just terrific but if I ever got 5 minutes I would think myself self possessed by some Buddha-jinn.

I tried to do a minute, an entire one. But all in all did maybe 20 seconds, which was actually more likely 10 seconds. Pathetic.

Happily, my attention went to a nearby tree, dead and uprooted, but still with little green shoots. I think maybe Luban trees take some time to realize they have died because I’ve noticed this before. Death in Omani time I guess.

Gum still oozed from the trunk, and having burned in the sun, was covered by a black crust, like little melanomas. But I poked one and the most delicious creamy Luban honey-like cream ran out. I seized the opportunity! Poking my way through all the hard little black carbuncles I covered as much of my body as I could with the ooze! I would like to pretend that it just turned into cream in my hands but as I have said before, hot frankincense can be a textural nightmare and this was certainly a mess. No matter, Covered in horribly sticky goop and dancing about like an insane person, I must have been the image of feminine dignity. It smelled (I smelled) fantastic though, Luban with sweet flowers and the pain of waiting and time.

I managed to get myself to the car, and, after 20 minutes or so of brisk cleaning of the hands, unstuck enough to drive my demented self to Fizayeh beach, which was completely deserted, thankfully.

The water was spectacular, as usual, turquoise and seemingly tranquil compared to the still roaring breakers in Salalah. Only a tiny lapping at the edge. I sat down at the water line, keeping a wary eye out for the crabs, as the crabs here are crafty and violent, and will attack. But as I began to scrub at my legs and arms, a tiny wavelet came in and knocked me so hard it pushed me head over heels over the shells and rocks at the waters edge, shredding my leg. At least there was plenty of sea water to wash my wounds.

Never mind, I survived. And took my now wild self, dripping frankincense gum, coconut oil and blood, back to Salalah, where drama awaited. But at least I still smelled good.

Submerged in Salalah, Again

2010-10-10T04:37:00.005-04:00

If you ever wonder about time, and waiting, and waiting, and more waiting, then just ask me; I can tell you a thing or two about it.
Here I am, and still waiting.
Initially, I was waiting for someone. Now it’s someone else. In the meantime, I’ve not wasted time, but it’s easy to get critical: My Arabic should be better, whatever. It’s a little difficult to keep up a suitable level of enthusiasm. And of course no talking about it. With anyone.
I drank the kool-aid long ago.
Despite two years of difficulties, my original partner, or friend, or sponsor, or whatever he was, has remained my friend, and I, his. Actions speak louder than words, cliché or not. It has been quite a journey but I wouldn’t be here without him. He has made sure that I am safe and happy, as well as being my protector and confidant.
It’s quiet and calm here in Salalah, clean and serene.

This is two years now that I have been here, on and off to be sure, but two entire years since I committed to being and staying here and doing something interesting. The little garden is happy and boisterous. My car is gleaming and fresh. The stills are contentedly residing in their little corner of the frankincense room.
The ocean is still rough and red flagged every day. But it’s getting a grip.
I’m just hanging out this week, nothing much to do but wait. And wait.
Having some shishas, doing a little yoga, sitting with a few friends. Maybe cook some cheese biscuits.

For anyone reading this who has spent time in this part of the world, and I don’t know if the whole Gulf is like this, or just Oman, you will know exactly what I’m talking about when I say I’m waiting.
For New Yorkers, you’d have a stroke.
Just to put some waiting in perspective here…..it took over a year to get my house. Mind you, it’s my perfect little house and way better than I could have done rushing into it on my own. But it did take over a year.

It took 5 months to get my car. Mind you, it’s absolutely the best and most perfect Land Cruiser. Could never have found it either quickly or on my own. It’s the fierce model, made to Middle Eastern specifications, for desert driving, with a minimum of electronics to jiggle loose. Nothing fancy. Just strong as hell. Monster engine. And the best year, I’m told. I could never own this vehicle in my other life. It could probably drive right off a cliff and just keep driving after hitting the desert floor. I adore it.

Here in Oman, time drips like a slow tap. But even though I’m having a bit of a time with this latest round of waiting, it’s nothing compared to how I reacted during the era of looking for a house, for example. Getting used to it I guess.

I remember in spring, sitting in a café in Muscat and an American guy was livid because his new project was taking weeks longer than he thought to get going. Weeks longer! He was mad enough to spit, screeching about how things are different in Thailand. We were unperturbed. Weeks. Ha ha. Please. The elasticity of time is undoubtedly the biggest hurdle any westerner will find here, because you just have to deal. And we are not so good at that.

By elasticity of time I don’t mean that people don’t honor their appointments in a timely way. Even though the widely held perception here among western expats is that Omanis are late for everything, it’s not my experience. I’ve blogged about it before. In fact, in New York it’s much more common for people to either blow you off entirely or show up an hour late, or blithely call to say (when they’re already late) that they’re going to be another 15 minutes (because of the train) and you’re already in the restaurant, having arrived late yourself. It’s normal. Here, no way. Laugh all you want, I find Omanis to be the most on-time people I’ve ever met and it’s inspired me (out of embarrassment perhaps) to make an actual effort to be on time as well.

What I mean by elasticity of time is that you have to wait, and sit, and get to know people, and slowly, over the months and then years, relationships form, and this is all vital to what happens to you and your project. You can’t just blaze in and see people, meet dignitaries, sign documents, throw around some money, and think you’ve done anything at all. If you think you’re earned people’s trust or that they will speak frankly to you on the basis of that, then you are mistaken. Americans do tend to think like this though. I should know, I am one. You need to put in the time and show your face. With no family here, how can people know us? Know our character? There is no getting around it. The Omanis are not fools. Things may take time, but this slow deliberation should not be confused with foolishness or naivety. It’s a question of wanting to know with whom they are dealing. Motives are considered and qualifications assessed. Money, while gladly accepted, does not trump all else. These are some of the things you have to accept if you are going to have a project here.

Anyway, I’m still putting in time on faith, and drinking the Kool-aid whenever it’s offered. If you’re going to wait years for something, then I think Salalah is the best possible place to do it. When I look back on how much I’ve changed in every way, since just after Ramadan 2008, when I made the actual choice to stay here, it’s impressively shocking. Such a lot has happened. And such a lot has changed.

I feel good here, and even better now that some energy has shifted. Respected and petted. I’ve got a sort of a mini-vacation as I wait. So for the next few days I’ll be doing more of the same—hanging out with friends, doing some chores, writing a bit, going to the beach….. and waiting and waiting and hope to have some good news to write about soon! So Inshaa Allah things will turn out soon for me here. Maybe next week! As usual, I’m poised on the edge of something great!

Nja Mahdaoui at Bait Muzna Muscat

2010-10-10T02:59:00.004-04:00

Bait Muzna Gallery has evolved quite a bit, over the past few years from mainly being an outlet for camel pictures, dhow drawings, and other expat-centric souvenirs to mainly showcasing some very interesting modern art from Omani artists and the rest of the Arab world. The show going on just now is the fantastic Tunisian artist Nja Mahdaoui and the exhibit is Wajd. It goes on until late October so if you’re in Muscat, stop in and check out this gallery. It’s in Old Muscat, across from the Bait al Zubair museum.

Bait Muzna gallery no longer closes for lunch! It’s open from sometime in the morning (sorry) to 7ish pm. Closed Friday.

There are still a few pictures of camels and the like if you’re into it, but there’s much, much more than that.

I took in the Wajd exhibit last week and really enjoyed it. I love calligraphy even though I can’t read it. I’m not sure if his pieces are even actually verses at all. They may just be stylized…..writing? I don’t know but I sure do love the questions and feelings it invokes in me.

It’s a small gallery, you can just go any time you’re in Muscat or Muttrah with 30 minutes of liberty.

Bait Muzna Gallery

Don't Believe Everything You Read

2010-10-01T07:24:00.003-04:00

I couldn’t help but notice the claims from the blog of the owner of an essential oil company I won’t name, but suffice to say it’s a gigantic multi-level marketing company, headed by a man who is a bit controversial but who undeniably has a gift for marketing.

He says (repeatedly) in his blog that his company is the only one making frankincense essential oil in Salalah. What balderdash! He has recently (this year, 2010) set up two distilleries in Salalah, and is now writing (repeatedly) that he has supposedly asked this official body and that important person about his position as the only American company making frankincense oil in Oman and that these official bodies have confirmed it. He should also know that publishing information about meetings with important Omanis, whether real or not, is a mistake.

I don’t think that this American essential oil executive is so utterly naïve that he would not understand how information is (not) shared in The Sultanate of Oman, particularly “After 15 years of traveling to and from Oman, building relationships with the people there, and acquiring their trust”. I don’t expect that anyone, official or not, would have supplied him with concrete information regarding my presence in this country. However, it’s a stretch to think that he wouldn’t have heard anything about me, especially as he spends a little time in Salalah, in the same places that I do.

After all, I know quite a bit about how much time he spends in Oman, and how he spends it, and who he spends it with, of course. Salalah is a small town and I’ve been around for some years now. But unless he has only superficial interactions with locals then it is unlikely that he would not know about me. And he must have more than superficial interactions, since he’s set up his distilleries. Plus, I’ve met people who work for him.

I suspect that he has heard through the grapevine that there is another company, Enfleurage, which offers distilled-in-Oman frankincense oil and he has written about my supposed non-existence to boost the imagined exclusivity of his company’s presence in Oman. His company is somewhat built around the idea of “biblical” essential oils and naturally Frankincense is the main attraction.

Now, I have known he is in Salalah for some time, and I would not have mentioned it, except for these irritating blog posts he has put up. It’s an obvious swipe at me, and so I am responding. To quote him: “With respect and admiration for those who seek the truth….” And “Why must the talk about this sacred oil be marred with the negative side of the essential oil industry that is about money and power? Only those who are a part of that deception can answer that question.”
Do tell us then.

If you are essential oil enthusiast, then you probably know the company I am referring to. Anyway, for sure he is exporting some frankincense oil from Dhofar. That is undeniable. But he is not the only company. Nor was his the first. One more quote taken directly from his posting: “It is sad that there is so much deception in the world of essential oils.” Indeed.

Vasily Grossman

2010-09-18T01:16:00.006-04:00

All my life I have loved Russian writers. From Dostoyevsky to Tolstoy, Gogol and Lermontov, from Pushkin and Bulgakov, to Pasternak, Sholokov, Chekov, Solzhenitsyn, and the like. But recently, last year, I was introduced to Vasily Grossman, a contemporary of Maxim Gorky (whom I detested, actually.)

Well, if you’re casting about for something to read, if you’re looking to bone up on your understanding of the Soviet experience of the early days of Lenin, up through the 1940s, if you’re not faint-hearted and do crave absorption in some of the most compelling and brutal, cynical and clear-eyed writing out there on this subject, then pop on down to your local bookstore and grab a copy of "Life and Fate" or "Everything Flows."

Vasily Grossman was a journalist for the Soviet Red Star during the Second World War. He covered most of the major battles from the defense of Moscow to the fall of Berlin and his “The Hell of Treblinka” was used as evidence in the Nuremberg trials. The manuscripts of both “Life and Fate” and “Everything Flows” were seized and the books only finally published in the 1980s. Although originally perhaps a believer in Soviet Socialism, by the time the Second World War was over and Anti-Semitic threads began to weave through Stalin’s empire, Vasily Grossman began to question the existence of, and his loyally to, the USSR.

“Life and Fate” is a novel, really, but like “War and Peace,” which took in Napoleon’s invasion of Russia by following the Rostov, Bolkonsky and Bezuhov families, “Life and Fate” centers on the siege of Stalingrad and the Shtrum family. Because this is less a strictly factual and dry recollection of history, “Life and Fate” breathes and screams off the page, rising up like a demon, evoking the sights, smells, sounds, terrors, passions, and fears of one of the longest sieges of modern times.

“Everything Flows” is the one I just finished and it’s the story of a man coming back home to Leningrad after spending 30 years in a Siberian hard labor camp “without right of correspondence.” During this time Stalin has collectivized the farms of the Ukraine, which resulted in perhaps 30 million people starving to death. It’s gripping, to say the least. But it explains Stalin and Stalinism in a way that was new for me. I guess I never really thought enough about Stalin to understand how such a thing could have happened. But now I think I see, and it’s probably a good idea for anyone with an enquiring mind to read these books. They may surprise you and for sure they will shock and engross you. For sure.

Both of these books are translated by Robert Chandler.

Idyllwild Books has them (as well as other superb writers such as all of Ryszard Kapuscinski.) Idyllwild Books is a very happening and cool bookstore at 12 West 19th street in NYC. They specialize in travel books, and have some foreign language and some great kids books too. It’s small, and it’s up in the mezzanine off the street. They also offer beginning language classes for the more popular Romance languages. It’s quickly become one of my two favourite bookstores here in NYC. The phone number is (212) 414-8888. Website at bottom of page.

Three Lives is another great small, independent bookstore, in the Village, at 154 West 10th and they also pick and choose their stock carefully. There is a table of staff suggestions and that’s where I originally picked up “Life and Fate.” Phone is (212) 741-2069. Again, website at bottom.

Everyone in both of these bookstores is a voracious reader and will happily help you make your choices.

Idyllwild Books

Three Lives Books

Vasily Grossman Wiki

I'm Obsessed with This: Library of Dust

2010-09-06T17:31:00.010-04:00

I’ve been enjoying the work of a few people who have absolutely nothing to do with essential oils or aromatics.

David Maisel is an artist whose work, “Library of Dust” has just thrilled me. I heard about him on npr and immediately went to look at his website.

“Library of Dust” involves copper canisters containing the unclaimed cremated remains of 3500 abandoned mental patients of the state-run Oregon State Mental Hospital, in Salem. The cremains date from the mid 1880s to the 1970s.

Over time, the copper canisters have changed, oxidized, with the minerals blooming exquisitely, as the copper reacts with the atmosphere outside and the ashes within.

It’s better to just go look for yourself.

David Maisel has show on at the California Museum of Photography in Riverside, (at UC Riverside,) and has several other works you can see on his website, all disquieting, all compelling.

I can't seem to leave these pictures alone, they really touch something. You can go troll around his website. You'll probably want to take your time because all his work is really.....whatever it is. Not being someone who usually writes about art, most everything I try and say seems kind of lame, so I'll just post this, and besides Library of Dust, you can check out Terminal Mirage, the Lake Project, History's Shadow, Oblivion, The Mining Project, the Forest, Mount St. Helen's......that's probably all of it actually.

Some links are here

David Maisel Website

University of California at Riverside exhibit

Of a Minimal Mind

2010-08-13T13:07:00.004-04:00

At long last there seems to be a blip in the status quo, a disturbance, finally. It appears that my long limping yet ever robust Omani project is going to receive its much needed, much longed for and absolutely deserving shot in the arm. It’s a vitamin shot, an energy shot, an adrenaline shot. And it looks like it’s going to be the coolest thing ever. But of course I can say no more.

I’m in France, though. In Paris and as usual, I was wrong about plenty of things. I stayed here for about 9 months long ago…it was 1986 in fact. Maybe the long time span has something to do with it, but it’s like I was never here. It’s a completely new city, to me. Except the metro looks like they haven’t changed the trains since then.

I was not too enthusiastic about coming here, and really only did because I wanted to visit some friends. Hard to say why I had that attitude. Paris never did anything bad to me. I think it was an association with a man, naturally. God, the things we do in life for love, or what we imagine to be love!

So here I am and it’s August and there are tons of tourists for sure, but almost all the locals are gone and even though some businesses are closed and surely there are a few shops I will have to live without seeing this year, the streets are quiet! There is almost no noise! Plenty of people walking about, and the leaves are still fresh and bright on the stately old trees of central Paris. It’s beautifully lit, as always, and quiet enough to hear the fluttering of banners in the evening breeze. It’s just an incredible pleasure to walk the streets of Paris these soft summer nights.

Today I made kind of an obligatory pilgrimage, to the Serge Lutens boutique at Palais Royale. Ok, I heard all kinds of things about the unusual collections of perfumes with notes like gasoline, etc, but being more of an essential oil maven (loving gasoline nonetheless) I couldn’t relax and enjoy the scents for what they are; I had keep guessing. Galbanum! I yelled, upon smelling one of these bright metallic monsters. “I wouldn’t know” purred the salesman, “if you just pay attention to way the notes develop…” “Carrot!!!” I shrieked “You can choose a few to try on your skin and ….” “That’s vetiver, not frankincense!” I claimed unnecessarily. And so it went, but all in good fun, I wasn’t too obnoxious, I don’t think, I hope--didn’t get the feeling he wanted to kill me, and I didn’t emote any more dramatically than mentioned. I managed to leave wearing four, and liked the orange blossom I guess, but wouldn’t buy it as those perfumes reminded me of the 80s in a way, hard and brazen. I’m more into voluptuousness, abundance, and soft subtleties these days. No harm done though, I enjoyed the experience.

If you want to see this famous boutique, which is a bit of a “perfumista” pilgrimage site, the you can find it at 25 Rue de Valois and it’s sneaky because it’s not really there at 25 Rue de Valois.. That’s the back door. You will find the entrance in the Palais Royale itself, opposite the fountain. You have to walk around.

But before that I spent the better part of a day at the Institute de Monde Arabe. They have a museum, a library and a great bookstore with all kinds of books you just can’t find in the US, even some in English. There is a splendid roof terrace where you can take a pot of thé à la menthe.

Another “perfumista” pilgrimage site is the Guerlain store on the Champs Elysées and I have to admit it was a fun excursion. They have all the old standard perfumes out (or, rather, the in-line-with-ifra-standards reformulated versions) and the entire shop is sparkling gold glitter and exciting little chunks. I recommend it.

I’ve been a little ill since Muscat and so not really getting the culinary experience I would otherwise pursue. Probably a virus but it’s having a high old time running around in here.

Been hanging out quite a lot with my friend who used to manage the French Institute in Salalah, Manuel. He’s probably the only person on the planet who can understand what happens in Salalah. Being a foreigner, a westerner, and urban, he comes roughly from the same background I do, kind of, yet is open and entered Omani culture as much as possible, though he has enough sense of self so as to not get swallowed in Salalah’s slippery gullet. As I’ve said before, getting into and finding ones place in Salalah is like getting beaten into a motorcycle gang. As Manuel noted, “No one gets out of Salalah without getting hurt.” Salalah is quite a place, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else, but it is very very different and very very strange, even now. I think most Westerners who live there go insane. Seriously, actually, and permanently insane. But many were probably on the brink before arriving. So who knows? But it’s nice to sit and smoke a shisha in these absolutely lovely warm Parisian nights and discuss a place so important to both of us and so much a part of our lives and hearts.

And speaking of being wrong, as I usually am, what happened to the rude Parisians? I remember people being so mean! It’s the summer and most of them are gone, true, but of the ones who are left, you would think plenty of them would be irritable and nasty. I have been intimidated to speak French all my life because of my terrible accent that no one let me forget for one minute. Now? They are saying things like “Go ahead dear, your French is fine.” and “Yes, I understand you perfectly, you speak well.” Well, what the hell? Maybe over the years my accent improved? Maybe it’s trying to speak Arabic that improved it? Maybe the Parisians got nicer, more polite and more tolerant? But slowly I am becoming a little more confident in this language. Gee, it’s about time.

Still Here!

2010-07-11T23:50:00.003-04:00

Ha! I didn’t die or fall off the planet. It may seem so, but what with everything in Oman being very hush-hush at the moment, and moving my dwelling here in NYC from Midtown to Chelsea……well, that’s all. From not allowed to too busy.

But soon enough I’m off, and back to Oman, I’m happy about it, so delightful even though I’m no longer sick of New York. Moving was all I needed, having stayed grimly on in Midtown years past its expiration date…

My new apartment is insanely cute, and now even more so since the Trusty Mr. Smith came to paint. I will post pictures as soon as the bulk of the clutter is gone. And the neighborhood is fantastic. Such an improvement over the edge of Times Square. But it’s a big deal to move, particularly when you haven’t in a long time (13 years) and you’ve got all those things you accumulate when your parents are dead. I’m still in it.

Enfleurage is going through some changes, and we are updating the website, a huge deal nowadays. I know it’s old and rickety, but we were one of the first. That website dates back from 1996! So if you’ve seen it and think it’s hopelessly out of date, ok, you’re right, but we get credit for getting there so long ago! And it’s been redone before, although not recently, obviously. There are pages that people occasionally ask about, that I haven’t seen in a decade. Pages about agarwood sculptures for example. Well, that’s all changing now.

The economic outlook has not improved here in nyc and all of us are feeling it; we are all sad to see some old and established stores go out of business: Angelica Herbs, gone. Aphrodesia, gone. East West Books, gone. It’s basically just us and Flower Power now. Times change I guess, and it’s more and more difficult to run an old fashioned store, with a front door, and people to help customers, rent to pay, and all that.

Moving and throwing out so much stuff (about 65% of what I owned) made me also want to change and end some other extraneous things—old phone numbers, old attitudes, unhealthy relationships, I feel like a Tasmanian devil—the cartoon kind, spinning like a whirlwind and slavering. I’m really making some big changes.

And of course there’s Oman, where excellent things are happening, and hopefully I can elaborate more later. Still distilling and made some crazy discoveries.
I’m going to France before Ramadan, for the lavender harvest. Someone’s got to go, and I know it’s very generous of me to volunteer. Inshaa Allah I will soon take up this blog again as I get more settled here in my new flat, or once I get back to Oman.
There is an interview with me coming out July 20 I think on the NowSmellThis blog. I think the url is nstperfume.com. I will post a link when it gets closer. But I will announce it on the facebook page.

Oh the Glamour of it!

2010-05-16T05:12:00.006-04:00

Well, I’m happy to be back home in Salalah। It’s May, which is not a pleasant month, weather-wise. By contrast, New York is at its finest in May, although from what I hear, it’s freezing there. Not so here! I don’t even know what the temperature is, but the humidity is the cruel part. And my house, for some reason that would be an asset in many parts of the world, holds heat really well. When I come in at night, from sitting in the relatively cool breezes of a beach café, I can feel the waves of heat radiating form my home as I get out of the car. Add that to the heat from the distillation in my little kitchen here and I have to type holding my head away from the computer or I drip too much sweat on it.

Ah yes, the glamorous life!

I have a nice back door, which is open now, despite the work crew out there. A new home is going up a couple of feet from this one, killing forever my kitchen window breeze. A crew of Pakistani laborers toils in the heat, managing to find plenty of tasks in the corner of the lot that affords a view of the ridiculous spectacle I must make, marching around with hoses, and buckets and glass beakers. Oh well, the door stays open. I’m not closing off my breeze.

The heat and humidity are not so bad if you are not trying to keep pretty, actually.

And have plenty of water to drink.

The frankincense situation here has not yet improved. There is a little available, but the price is quite high. That’s Dhofari frankincense I mean. There is still Somali. But I’m glad to have all this stock I bought before. The price is now double. And of the old stock I have, it needs to be cleaned, so that’s me now, sitting on the floor of my frankincense room, sifting out dirt, separating the qualities, removing bark and twigs….seems to be working though, the distillation so far seems great, fingers crossed.

Status quo here.

I have some new lovely dark violet bottles, from Germany I think, and they are very superior in an ultra-violet way apparently. They look cool as hell for sure. And I’ve got a strong basis of four oils—frankincense in 5 ml, French lavender in 10 ml, Romance blend in 5 ml and Bulgarian rosewater in 30 ml with sprayers. All come in little Thai silk bags and they are proving pretty popular.

I think some of us might have a skewed vision of the frankincense journey from the insides of the tree to the bottle bought from your favorite shop. We tend to see things through the filters of what we’d like to see, pretty as can be. It’s like envisioning India as a calm peaceful place full of yogis oming everywhere and happy cows frolicking through the streets.

I know of few essential oils that some through a clean and careful journey from plant to bottle and sometimes I hear people saying things about sterilizing their glass bottles before decanting the essential oils. Does this happen? I can’t believe it. And laboratory clean is not how nature works.

Frankincense generates a lot of sweat. First of all, the harvesting labor is intense, uncomfortable and not well paid, involving weeks spent in the baking hot and humid mountains and nedj, scraping trees gently, going back over the same areas again and again, sleeping in rocks, dealing with snakes and bugs, and the police and army if Somali, and on and on, I’ve discussed this part before. But once you’ve got it bagged, and met your contact who pays you and takes it down to Salalah, then it’s back up into those mountains for you, and the frankincense continues its journey to the wholesale souk in Salalah, where he sits in big burlap bags of 40 (35) kilos, in a hot storeroom until it’s time to clean him. I admit that even though I have seen these guys, usually Indians or Bangladeshis, cleaning the gum, I didn’t appreciate it until I started doing it myself.

It’s sifted, the dust (and dirt) sifted out and this is the cheapest one you find bagged for sale in the shops. You didn’t even use to see it, but now with the shortage it’s all gotta go on the shelves. Then the little parts that are not supposed to be there get taken out—the barky and twiggy parts. They are not supposed to be there in the first place because knowledgeable harvesters gently scrape the tears off the tree, not making the tiniest nick. But of course this is a fantasy, like so many things. But there is not a whole lot of this, I don’t think, compared to what there could be. I feel like one of those women in India or Africa going through the pile of grain looking for stones. It’s hard on the eyes and the back, but I smell good!

So once it’s clean then it’s bagged in kilo (800 gram) plastic and goes for out for sale. And there’s your starting point for distillation, although I skip the plastic bag part. There is no drying, don’t know how that rumor started. It makes no sense at all. The wetter, gooier and stickier the better of course, and it also keeps it heavier!

I am half afraid I will wreck my computer dripping sweat onto it like this. But my skin looks great!

I’m sure my parents would be proud of me, sitting in the outer reaches of this Sultanate, spending my days hunched over a pile of tree resin picking out bits of bark. This is what came out of all those hopes and dreams! Works for me though.

Last year in June I got to make a documentary for France 2 with Sebastien Legay and Olivier Le Hellard. The name of the show is Envoye Special and it aired Thursday night and again Saturday and Sunday I think in French speaking countries. I haven’t seen it yet. I hope to put it on the website one day, and also a TV interview I did in Assam in February for Nagaon Today.

My house is fine and the garden did not suffer at all. In fact, it’s probably is doing a lot better than if I had taken charge of it. I feel well cared for here.

Salalah is changing like crazy. After so many years without change at all, suddenly money seems to be pouring in from everywhere, and big projects are at least slated to go up. It’s a bit scary, to project ahead 10 or 20 years. I can only hope that the magnificent natural beauty of Dhofar will not be compromised, and that the corporate mentality will not overcome this little Edenic nook. Inshallah.

As May progresses, the ocean becomes rough, and soon it will be no more swimming until after Khareef. Flowers love the heat and humidity though and frangipani is out for days. Every tree is like a pack of paparazzi, clamoring for attention as you pass.

We have a new café—it’s Café de Paris and it’s at the far (or near) end of Haffa beach and it’s just ridiculous. You sit at little wooden tables on the sand, drink a cappuccino, enjoy the roaring surf, the ocean breeze and night sky, for hours and hours and no one ever asks you to leave, or pesters you in any way. The next table is safely out of earshot. The whole night can pass like this. Say what you like about anywhere else in the world; it can’t touch Salalah.

Oudh Time at Enfleurage!

2010-03-30T17:33:00.007-04:00

I couldn't help but notice that we have collected a bunch of agarwood oils, 6 in fact. That’s ridiculous! The sheer number of them is a bit daunting, and since no one here is completely clear about them, I thought I should write a description of each. Helps me as well. All these oudhs are from two places: Laos and Assam, India. All were personally bought by me from the distillers themselves, in Laos and India. A couple of them are one timers, the Lao Super is winding down as it’s non-renewable and the boyah is hopefully repeatable. But only time will tell. I am so very fortunate to have this store in NYC. Where else can you stock 6 oudhs and actually generate interest in all of them?

Laos

Sompat—rich ripe fruity top, with underlying dirty, earthy balsamic, teeth tingling mouth watering characteristic so indicative of lao oud, followed by an ethereal subtly sumptuous, ecstasy fomenting bliss. As this oil evolves, a rooted, deep dark forest sense enters, with an almost vetiver-like (almost) sense of roots, mud and water, further along peppery notes come out, with the sharpness almost immediately ceding to the warm black pepper tones, and a bit of barnyard behind it. By this point, the oudh makes a nest in the back of the throat, creating an entire vibrating orgasmic world between the throat and the top of the head. After this a tobacco note begins to show, and with the road now open, this oudh just opens and flows, like the highway as you drive through the desert at dawn.

Keo—fruity, fecal, lots of higher, top notes, with a fertile, ripe, fermenting edge, rounding out with the deeper notes in more of a mid level, black cherry aspect. As this oil evolves, we come across a grim sweetness, not really sweet, but like a slightly overbearing yet happy drunk. Further along, a liquor fueled, rolling sense creeps in, with the deep earthy notes being hijacked by this alluring, siren song. There is a rich rotten underlying note, which is exciting in a way things are not supposed to be, according to society’s structure, so it’s a hidden kind of excitement, a forbidden kind of excitement.

Super—smooth, subtle, sophistication with all the deep harmonies present in a multi-layered symphony. There’s barn and there’s pepper, but these notes play like oboes and cellos, with the violin-like tobacco flower. Something of a musty unused attic plays the timpani. And deep rich loamy earth presents the bass, a fertile breeding ground for the strong bright and true unfolding of honeyed melodies. This oil can easily go into obsession when you bury your face in him. You might not want to come up for air! As I immerse myself in this most dominant of oudhs, my teeth tingle, and it’s almost impossible to take. The notes don’t easily unravel themselves; they play in a tight and taut formation but with a steady underscore of earth and roots, fertility and fecundity.

Boyah—This is the one we have called “cultivated” in the past. Boyah is agarwood distilled from uninfected, or white, wood. If your agarwood is solid at room temperature, then it’s boyah. While Boyah is not technically Oudh, it is agarwood. Boyah can be any quality, and this Lao Boyah is really a nice one. He smells like oudh, except a little more spastic and wilder, with the notes going crazy, all dirt, mud, fecal and pepper screaming over each other but it makes that throat-top-of-the-head connection. The body is bright and all aspects become integrated. As he wears in and on, this agarwood unfolds very tightly,revealing many if not all of the same notes found in Sompat.

India

Super Hindi --Sweet succulent woods and warm balsam start this delicious descent, all full and rich. It seems all consciousness comes to a head and the soft sweet undertone supports a heady balsamic heaven. This oil holds together well, changing perhaps less than the others as the minutes tick by. These are the highest most divine notes, and this oudh has them all. Super long lived, 24 hours later my teeth still tingle, and the balsam happy notes are still singling their joyous soft melodies.

Birrin--Sharp smoke and acids leap to the forefront of this fecal and fecund oil. This oil, more than any of the others, evokes the interior of the body. Rank and robust, the combination is nevertheless exciting and a little bit surreptitious. This is the rawest and most volatile of the oudhs. He is like a wild young man, completely out of control. But even though he might make you uncomfortable, there is something alluring and seductive about him, even if you feel a little weird about it afterward. Try as you might to stay away from him, I’m willing to bet you sneak a taste when no ones looking.

Bombay Chaat in Muscat

2010-03-17T10:45:00.006-04:00

For those of us who love Mumbai’s street snacks, it’s cold world outside the streets of Nariman Point, Breach Candy and Chowpatty. Bel Puri, Pani Puris, and Batatawaras just don’t have the same punch, the same taste. Finding these snacks outside will usually mean westernized versions, dumbed down and made fancier, in a misplaced idea that real Mumbai chaat will somehow offend, perhaps. Even here in Muscat, (and definitely in New York,) a chaat snack will lack!

But I am delighted to tell anyone who may be interested, that you can, in fact, find great chaat in Muscat. In Ruwi, behind the Star Cinema, around the back of the round building with an entrance from the outside, near the rubbish and the car park, up some concrete stairs. You can park at the Supa Save, as it’s right behind that too. It’s a teeny tiny place, and the entire seating area is a little porch with four tables. I think it must be hell in summer, but never mind. It’s called Babukara Snacks and the cook is a real Mumbaiker.

Their menu covers the whole gamut of Mumbai chaat, made and served in complete traditional style, and it’s terrific. I had pani puris and something that I don’t know the name of, two potato patties with chana dal, and about 6 sauces, and yogurt, and cilantro and powders and those little noodley things sprinkled on. It’s very inexpensive, and completely authentic. One of the people I was there with is from Mumbai, and she told me that it’s the best place in Muscat for these things, and while I don’t know all the hidden foods of Ruwi, I can attest to a fine meal. Phone is 99035361

Omantel has blocked my photo on the “about me” space on this blog. If you are not in Oman, obviously, you will not notice this, but if you are in Oman, you may notice. Hard to tell if someone finds me obscene or if they are just “protecting my privacy.” Weird. Anyway, guys, don’t you have anything better to do? I don’t see there can possibly be anything offensive or criminal about that photo. It just makes you look ridiculous.
If you are not in Oman and you are curious as to how I know it's blocked, when you click on my photo, you get the following message from Omantel:

"The blocking of this site was not a unilateral decision taken by OMANTEL. An overwhelming number of requests from the subscribers made us rethink our strategy and conform to the popular demand to block pornographic and certain hacking sites that encourage hacking such as this one.

OMANTEL is not unique in this industry to take such an action. Many ISPs in several different countries are taking steps to block such sites.

If you feel this message is in error, and the site you are visiting has been miss categorized, please fill in the following form: "

And then there is a link you can use to complain. It's

http://bp0.blogger.com/_zF6B1xoR_VY/RZaUSghGf8I/AAAAAAAAAAM/W6f_rukvftM/s320-h/selfcarolein.JPG

Here is the offensive photo, here on the right. If you cannot see it then Omantel is apparently blocking it constantly.

It’s back to the USA for me for a while. I’m off tomorrow night. So much has happened in the last few months that it’s difficult to remember where I was back in January. But now I know better than to write about it! All I can say is everything, on all fronts, is better and better, Alhamdulilah!

Total Score

2010-03-08T06:40:00.006-05:00

When I get excited I often revert to my native dialect, Southern Californian. Not something I can control I think. I have been known to say awesome and totally, dude and there are even worse ones but I will not readily admit them and those that have heard me have been asked not to repeat. Those from the 1970s Southern California beach culture will know the ones I mean. That said, I fully scored some awesome plants, care of my friend at the lovely resort nearby.

Four, count them, four, frangipani trees! One nerium; this is the gorgeous deep red velvet beauty I cavort with when no one’s around. He smells like sugar and spice dreams. If there was ever a tree (or large shrub) to plan a tryst with, this would be the one. So seductive! He is impossible to pass without grabbing a branch, pulling it down to my face and seriously passing a few seconds of bliss with, dude.

Also, 2 sage beauties, and two pairs of little guys I have go see as adults: Eranthium and Bedalanthus. I may have the spelling wrong.

Ironically, I have no yard. But we’ll take care of that. I have a paved-over area with concrete blocks and when the landlord drove by waving I chased his car like a Doberman, barking out my full reparatory of Arabic greetings and courtesies to his evident delight. I asked (this part mostly in sign language) if he would mind if I ripped up the concrete and he was still delighted, assuming he understood me. Of course no problem. I think he’s realized by now that whatever I do to his house is going to be awesome and different.

There was a terrible sun awning made of corrugated tin, mostly ripped apart in the wind and we got rid of that before it decapitated anyone. Next step is to find Jasmine to climb up the frame.

Next, I have very little information at this point but it seems someone in Salalah is making cheese! This was something I’ve been wishing for all year. It’s available at Istrakar Hypermarket and it’s a feta. Sort of a feta. They are learning but I think it’s pretty good and despite its young saltiness and rubbery feel, (more like halloumi,) I picked it over the more sophisticated cheeses of Egypt, Syria, Jordan and Saudi Arabia. I like local! I also found what look like Anaheim chilies, also local and have a super stash of Guerrero tortillas in my freezer. I think I’m looking at dinner!

I also received a great shipment of absolutes and concretes from India, from the same guy who supplies Enfleurage and Christian Dior, and my frankincense room is now well stocked with a variety of lovelies. Now I just need to find jojoba oil here in the Gulf.

Making lots of Luban oil and experimenting with my different stills. Things change dramatically in the 35-40 litre range, it seems to be the cut off point. 35 and under gives a lot of hydrosol (which so far is unfortunately too acidic to do anything with) and 40 gives oil at about the same rate but differing in color and constituents, presumably. Hardly any hydrosol comes out of that 40 litre still. And the still is super-duper high maintenance. The last time I used the 35, I just needed to keep filling the water bucket, and didn’t need to mess with the tubes at all. Progress I think. But the 40 just fusses and fidgets. We will do a Luban sample test tonight.

I noticed there are more beehives than usual scattered throughout the back roads here and so I plan to start the honey quest soon. All well in Salalah is what I want to say, Dude.