6 IMG_3380-A

“Leave your kilos behind. 20% off on all slimness products.” (Does she really need it?). Xmas and new year’s eve are just around the corner. I thought I’d put together a last pot-pourri post for the year. Above: Pharmacy window, Paris, 2018.


24 Buddhas. Bayon temple, Angkor Thom, Cambodia. January 2018. The heart of serenity. (I shall go back!)


The owl. By little sister. c. 1997.


Naf-Naf, Paris La Défense. 2018. (Naf-Naf is both one of Disney’s three little pigs and a French clothes and fashion brand.


Stood up. Bogotá, Colombia.


Tequila for my brother. (Alacrán = scorpion). (Pic might work out well in B&W?)

2016-08-02 13.04.32

Le père Tanguy. Old man Tanguy, by Van Gogh, Rodin museum, Paris. I’ve said it before: I find it fascinating to see what other artists hang on the walls of figures such as Rodin or Monet. There had to be some inspiration.


“Lovely Rita, meter maid.” Gas meters, Mexico city.


Belgian Prime Minister Ric Hochet, trying to get into Nadine’s room by the window. Nadine is Commissaire Bourdon’s niece. Bourdon just dropped the rubbish bag outside the door. Brussels, early 2000’s. Latest news: Ric Hochet was never Prime Minister of Belgium. Charles Michel is the one who just resigned. Word goes Michel is eloping with Theresa May(be).


“Roaring twenties” by my mother, Renée. c. 1995.


Om mani padme om. Bayon temple. Angkor Thom, Cambodia.

2016-07-29 19.25.01

Un noir regard. Artist: Dries Van Noten. Quai Malaquais, Paris, 2016.


Before the yellow vests. Paris Metro, July 2018.


Hello sadness. (Bonjour tristesse) An hommage to Françoise Sagan.


Greed surveying the world. Flea market, Saint-Ouen, Paris.


My brother’s “new” car. A vintage 60’s Mercedes station-wagon. Rue des Vignolles, Paris. 2018.


“I’m free!”. Paris.


Bouquet, by my father, 1997.


Nature will win. Ta-Som Temple, Angkor, Cambodia.


R2D2’s girlfriend. Saint-Ouen Flea Market, Paris. She used to date C-3P-Oh.


La veneranda Saffo. The venerated Sapho. Rue Saint-André-des-Arts, Paris.


Look up. Always. Rue Jacob, Paris.


Traffic jam. Mexico city. Yesterday.


Undercover operation, la butte-aux-cailles, Paris.


Sophia Loren lived here. Les Halles, Paris.


Hibiscus, by my mother Renée, Mexico, 1997.


Blue smile, Mexico city, 2018.


Stéphanie Lung playing hopscotch, Penang, Malaysia, 2017.

Thank you for hopping along on Equinoxio’s Time-Space shuttle. Your visits make this blog worthwhile. Flying to Colombia on Sunday for a fortnight. Posting and traveling don’t combine too much. Hence the longer post. A merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all.


84 thoughts on “X-Pot-M-pou-A-rri-S

  1. The ruins fascinate me. How did they build them, what are the holds in the rock for in the picture Om mani padme om. Bayon temple. Angkor Thom, Cambodia? neat round holes? Hugs

    • Built around 9-12th century AD. I don’t see holds. Probably a stone foundation. The faces of Buddha are carved (enormous) stones put one on top of the other. I haven’t seen mortar either. I suspect it’s the shear weight of the stones that keep the sculptures together? Some temples are made of bricks. And there seems to be mortar. But for the major temples and sculptures: just weight. (Confirmed on a few sites I just looked at)

  2. Artistes talentueux en tous genres, y compris quand il s’agit de conduire un char qui n’a plus d’âge ! Merci, Brieuc, et un joyeux Noël et une toute belle nouvelle année, très sereine et très excitante, à toi.

    • De même Gilles, en ce qui concerne le “char” mon frère a longtemps conduit une ancienne ambulance militaire avec toutes ses couleurs, ce qui lui facilitait beaucoup la circulation!

  3. Your father’s bouquet is very delicate. The Penang photo reminds me that I need to visit – just for the street art! The traffic jam photo is interesting… what does the artist really want to say? Pollution is bad?
    Great post, Brieuc 🙂 How do you celebrate Christmas over there in México?

    • The strange thing about my father is that, when we were kids and asked him to draw something, he always claimed he couldn’t draw. 😦 (I suspect my mother drew a sketch and he painted!)
      Pollution is very bad in Mexico. I am getting concerned.
      Xmas is as anywhere else. But we’re going to Colombia on Sunday to spend the end of year with my wife’s family.
      New year celebration is quite different. Will post about it next year.
      Meanwhile: Joyeux Noël, Lumi, to you and your family, et bonne année.

      • Joyeux Noël et bonne année ?😊 de même. It’s still the 25th here in Colombia. I hope you had a lovely xmas with the little ones running around. Do you or your husband have brothers ans sisters? Nieces and nephews?

      • Unfortunately no. My brother has no kids and hubby is an only child. So our family is small! The little ones have no cousins 😢 And I’m not in touch with mine! I bet it’s completely different over there!!! I once knew some Mexicans (in France) and one guy was telling me they always had 100 guests at Xmas: just the closest family! 🤣

    • Absolut(e) no-no. This is my brother’s workshop. He deals in old furniture, which means fixing a thing or two. He is quite good with wood. (And he finally wears protection glasses when working…) The Tequila is our annual gift from Mexico.
      Merry Christmas and a happy new year. 🙂

    • I have all of them, I think. Handing out some to our daughters. (Too many and not enough walls). Besides, there’s not many to share them with anymore, my little sister’s “gone” more than 20 years ago. And my brother lives in Paris. Not sure he has much room. But. But. You have a point. I will ask him if he wants a few paintings. Watercolours that don’t weigh much and fit in a suitcase. Thanks for the idea… 🙂
      Merry christmas. (In Oregon?)

  4. Vibrant eclecticism, wonderful. Love botanical drawings and your mother’s must be a treasure. Only the slimming products advert just before Christmas? Ouch. Season’s Greetings.

  5. I was waiting, on Tuesday, on a bench in Chambéry’s Palais de Justice (long story) and I noticed the wallpaper (?) is the same as the surface on which your mother Renée painted that “Roaring twenties” sketch… Is that some kind of wallpaper? I’ve seen it only in France!

  6. Also naff (2 f’s) means ‘pretty crap’ in UK lingo. I don’t know if the meaning has traveled.

    Why a full glossy poster by some metres? Is it a Bogota thing?

    What’s your take on the yellow vests young Fidelio?

    Ha ha! Love the croc. It’s so random.

    Oh so both mami and papi are artists?!

    I’ve never understood painting on book pages and newspapers – and yet it is somehow quite effective and I still quite like it.

    Quite masterful some of them. They look like commissioned pieces like the You Make Me Strong One.

    Yes, I enjoyed my retroactive late 2018 shuttle ride. As you know Wilhelm I’m not one to complain but the seats were too hard.

  7. There are artists in your family, Brian ji. Beautiful paintings by your parents and the owl by your sister is adorably colourful. My favourite graffiti was the Belgian one.
    Trust your year has started off on a sparkling note.

    • Arundhatiji dear! I have been thinking of you. Around end of year, wondering whether you guys had gone home for Xmas and new year. I hope you were and were treated to delicious food, and heated discussions on Singapore with your brother! 😉 Your name also pops in my mind as I am finishing the Ministry of utmost happiness. What a book!
      And yes, all three had talent. They are gone now but left us colourful memories. (The grafitti in Brussels are great, especially for an avid Belgian comics collector as myself.)
      My very best wishes to you and your loved ones. 🙂

      • The Ministry of Utmost Happiness was an interesting read. I have been always in love with her style of writing. Writers like Amitav Ghosh, Vikram Seth, Julian Barnes and her make my heart sing when I read them.

        This year the flavour of the season was the Andaman & Nicobar Islands. My brother and his family holidayed there…’In Havelock…’ It was not a bad change. Also, my brother visited a friend’s eco-friendly B&B in rural Bengal. Naturally the rest of his conversations began with ‘In Bolpur…’ (I am a wicked sister).

        My best wishes to you and the family too! 🙂

      • You are a “wicked” sister. But only a loving sister can know a brother’s “weaknesses” and exploit them mercilessly.
        Haven’t finished the Ministry yet. Almost done. I am always intrigued at the apparent number of (very good) Indian writers nowadays. Not a chance of accessing them from here. (I’m kinda stuck with Kamala Markadaya and Rajiv Ray!)
        Be good Ma’amji. All the best to Hubby.

      • You soften the blow. 😀

        Actually the Indian writers have been around for some time. I read them first in my early 20s and was blown away by the artistry of their words. I thought Vikram Seth and Amitav Ghosh should be pretty accessible. I will look up Kamala Markadaya and Rajiv Ray. Thanks for the names. It is always exciting to discover more good writers.

        Thank you, Brian ji. I have conveyed your wishes to him. You have a good week ahead. 🙂

      • Markandaya (1924-2004) was born in Mysore. Satyajit Ray (sorry, wrong first name) I am sure you have heard of. He was born in Calcutta in 1924. Mainly a film director (The music room). Both were born in the British Raj. And brought a new vision.
        What I was referring to, is the fact that there clearly are many modern Indian writers difficult to access in the West. No distribution. I will have to start buying on Amazon. 😉
        Be good ma’amji.

      • Zounds, you know about Ray?! He is one of my favourites since childhood. That man was a genius. He wrote books which were bloody amazing (detective and science fiction) and his movies took you into another world. But then he had it in his blood. His father, Sukumar Ray, was a genius too who wrote the most fantastic nonsense rhymes I have ever read. In Bengali. I can go on. 🙂 Adi takes shelter when I get going about Ray.

      • Remember my family lived in India for two centuries. Up to my little sister. That makes for strong ties. They were mostly indigo planters in Chandernagor and Calcutta. Hence the interest. Ray is also well known in France for his movies. I saw the “Music room” (Salon de musique?) Magnificent. And I have on my shelves “La nuit de l’indigo” called “Stories” in the original. I might re-read it now that I have finished “The ministry of utmost happiness”.
        Shelter? Singapore? 🙂 I think you are just passionate. And Ray is well worth it.
        Bon week-end ma’amji.

      • True, I do have the memory of a pea but I remember it well. I did not know they were indigo planters. Intriguing.

        Jalsaghar, the endonym for Music Room. It was beautiful. I have a whole set of his books back in my Calcutta library and I miss them. Re-reading is such a pleasure even though there are mountains of unread books to conquer. Did you like ‘The Ministry…’?

        Shelter for Adi would be in Cornwall. 🙂 He is yet to be initiated fully into the loveliness of Ray. Unfortunately he met one of my British cousins who insists on making fun of Ray’s sensibility. In particular, a scene in Apur Sansar (The World of Apu).

        Hope your weekend is going well, Brianji.

      • Intriguing indeed. Christine Weston was a cousin of my grandmother’s. She wrote several novels on the subject: Indigo, The hoppoe.
        I brought most of my books here. Makes “shifting” a tad difficult, but books are the essence of (my) life. 🙂
        I loved “The Ministry”. Such a broad sweep of India. Tantalizing really. So much to… learn I guess?
        And Ray? There should be no rushing to “meet” such artists. It will come for Adi. (Haven’t seen the World of Apu. So much to see, so little time!)
        Apu made me think: my grandson calls me Baba! 😉
        Be good.

      • I will try and get hold of her books. They must be fascinating as portals into another age.

        Books are our treasures, after all. You made a good call.

        The Ministry presents another India, yes, the underbelly of India, if you will. One I have had a whiff of, but not really known.

        Bengalis call their fathers baba. But just as your grandson does, Adi called his grandfather baba too. Strange?!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s