L for Lara, ABC Wednesday; Thursday Theme Song

Omar Sharif

Julie Christie

French composer and conductor Maurice Jarre was asked by film director David Lean to compose a theme for the character of Lara, played by Julie Christie in the 1965 movie Doctor Zhivago, based on Russian writer Boris Pasternak's Nobel Prize-winning novel about the years surrounding the Russian Revolution.

Lara's Theme remains to this day one of the most recognizable movie themes ever written.

— Wikipedia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=issQMeNinIQ

Later, lyrics by Paul Francis Webster were added to the music and eventually recorded as the song Somewhere, My Love by Connie Francis. The most popular recording of the song, however, was made by Ray Conniff with his orchestra and singers.

Posted for ABC Wednesday

and also for

Thursday Theme Song

K: Kalinka, ABC Wednesday, Thursday Theme Song

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Srk5SpVTsE

Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya!

V sadu yagoda malinka, malinka moya!

Akh, pod sosnoyu, pod zelenoyu,

Spat' polozhite vy menya!

Ay-lyuli, lyuli, ay-lyuli,

Spat' polozhite vy menya.

Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya!

V sadu yagoda malinka, malinka moya!

Akh, sosyenushka ty zyelyenaya,

Nye shumi zhe nado mnoy!

Ay-lyuli, lyuli, ay-lyuli,

Nye shumi zhe nado mnoy!

Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya!

V sadu yagoda malinka, malinka moya!

Akh, krasavitsa, dusha-dyevitsa,

Polyubi zhe ty menya!

Ay-lyuli, lyuli, ay-lyuli,

Polyubi zhe ty menya!

Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya!

V sadu yagoda malinka, malinka moya! 

© Photos by Richard Schear

and Kay Davies

Sasha, one of the guides on the Viking Surkov tried to teach this song to my husband and other passengers as part of the onboard Russian lessons. I don't know how successful Sasha was with the others, but Dick, who is only fractionally more musical than I am (and I am not at all), didn't get past the first line. He is partial to the song, however, and will sing that one line over and over and over.
It would be untrue to say the rest of our holiday with Viking River Cruises became unbearable, however, because I often stayed on the ship while Dick, humming happily, went on shore excursions without me.
Ah, peace and quiet!
This song seems to be very popular at Russian weddings.
The following English translation of this song has been edited to avoid excessive repetition, of which there is much. In the video (link above), the chorus is repeated repeatedly, to the delight of the wedding guests. The singer has a wonderful voice. Do listen to him, and watch the bride's face. She's so happy!

Little snowberry, snowberry, snowberry of mine!
Little raspberry in the garden, my little raspberry!

Ah, little pine, little green one,
Don't rustle above me,
Ah, rock-a-baby,
Don't rustle above me.

Ah, you beauty, pretty maiden,

Take a fancy to me,
Ah, rock-a-baby,
Take a fancy to me.

Little snowberry, snowberry, snowberry of mine!
Little raspberry in the garden, my little raspberry!

Posted for ABC Wednesday

and also for

Thursday Theme Song

J for jeans: ABC Wednesday, Thursday Theme Song

I don't know how much of it was true, but we used to hear stories about Russia during the Soviet years, and one of the worst horror stories (to young Canadians) was the absence of jeans. No blue jeans in the USSR.
Then there were the accompanying stories: "If you wear jeans to Russia, and pack more in your luggage, you can make a fortune selling them."
I don't know anyone who ever did that, but I do know we saw people wearing jeans in various towns in Russia last month. Of course, tourists wore them, but I tried to select photos of people who looked like locals in blue jeans.
Did we actually see any jeans for sale? If we did, we neglected to take pictures.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FO3zbAUkjN8

© Photos by Richard Schear

and Kay Davies, August, 2011

Natascha in blue jeans

Svetlana with a pony tail

Although we’re very far apart

Ekaterina stole my heart

Marushka in blue jeans

Is the Russian darling I adore

Yaneta’s a very special angel too

A fairy tale come true

Milana in blue jeans

Is everything I hoped she'd be

A teenage goddess from Russia

And she belongs to me

They said there were no blue jeans in their world

But what they said is out of date

Now there are blue jeans in their world

And in them they look great

Well, okay, some of them look great, and some of them (see behind her) don't!!

Posted for ABC Wednesday

and also for

Thursday Theme Song

Camera Critters: live, or carved in Mandrogy

© Photos by Richard Schear, Mandrogy, Russia, August, 2011

Posted for Camera Critters

hosted every week by Misty Dawn.

Thanks, Misty!

To see other critters from other parts of the world, please click

HERE!

With Real Toads: The Golden Damsel

I've recently discovered a wonderful writers' group at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. The members of the group post challenges on a two-week revolving basis. Today's challenge from Ostensible Truth is to write something about the photo provided, with the focus on history, a legacy, something washed up, lost or left behind.
Within these fairly wide parameters I have chosen to write a review of an imaginary book written by an equally imaginary archaeologist on the subject of a beautiful golden face washed up on an island, then left behind after a tsunami destroyed the island. For this style, I thank Lisa Ricard Claro who provides us with Book Blurb Friday every week. I guess I'm still in book-blurb mode, although this "review" is twice as long as one of Lisa's book-jacket blurbs.

•

I am also linking today to Weekend Writer's Retreat at Grandma's Goulash, which asks for a piece of original work. The words are mine, but not the photo. This is a fictional review of a non-existent book.

Photo prompt provided by O.T. @ I.G.W.R.T.

The

Golden

Damsel

by Harrick Hayes

Reviewed by Kay Davies

Hal knew he would dedicate his whole life to the search for The Golden Damsel. He knew she existed: his father had given him a photo taken after the first wave of the tsunami revealed her, before his private helicopter picked him up and the second wave hit.

The second wave had been so powerful it had smashed his father’s legs as he dangled from the ’copter’s cables. Then it had destroyed the island

Confined to a wheelchair, Harrick Hayes had written books about his experiences as an archaeologist and, at the same time, raised Hal to know everything he needed in order to find The Golden Damsel. He never mentioned her to anyone else, however, not in his books, his TV appearances, or his interviews. Most particularly, no mention was ever made of her in any movie based on the archaeologist’s works.

After a more than extensive education, which covered aspects of geography, archaeology, oceanography, meteorology, climatology, metallurgy, and innovative travel methods, Hal started his search at the spot in the Indian Ocean where the island used to be.

Opinions on its location had varied and, while the searches for it had been many and exhaustive, the island had never been found. Because it had been inhabited only by birds and marine life, all nations assumed it had been a floating island destroyed by the tremendous force of the tsunami. Hal’s father, however, had the exact coordinates of the island’s location at the time of The Golden Damsel’s discovery.

This latest book by Harrick Hayes tells how he accompanied his son on a specially-fitted expedition ship, complete with submersibles for one, two, three or more trained personnel. What they discovered on the sea floor at those precise coordinates will shock and surprise the world.

Joining his previous seven volumes on bookstore shelves next week, The Golden Damsel will thrill and delight all readers.

Book Blurb Friday: helicopter photo

TERRITORIAL

DISPUTE

At first they thought the satellites were wrong, but it didn’t take the scientists long to realize—a new island had emerged in the south Pacific.

They conferred quietly. No one else had mentioned it. It wasn’t in the flight path of any airline, didn’t lie on any shipping routes.

Impossible? One would think so, but there it was.

The scientists met with the government minister in charge of satellite information.

“It is nowhere near Russia,” he said. “Closer to Australia.” The southern hemisphere didn’t concern him particularly. He was not a scientist. “Their satellites will notice it soon.”

It wasn’t soon enough, however. Hours later, when a pilot flying shark-watching tourists out from Noosaville heard his passengers exclaiming loudly in Japanese, he looked down, then called his boss.

Did the island, therefore, belong to Russia, Japan, or Australia?

Read the new novel by Rocky Cairns to find out.

150 words, not including title

Posted for Book Blurb Friday

wherein Lisa Ricard Claro of Writing in the Buff, supplies a photo (this week by yours truly, the unfittie) and invites us to imagine a book by an equally imaginary author, then write a "blurb" for the back of the book to convince readers to buy it. We must do this in 150 words or less, using the supplied photo as a prompt.

Note:

Another writer-blogger asked if the pilot shown in my photo is my husband. No, my husband is not a pilot. This was taken on our trip to Kauai, Hawaii, last year.

Thursday Theme Song: flight of...

Everyone knows at least one Russian composer, even if they only know his last name — Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
My favorite, however, has always been Rimsky-Korsakov, because he wrote The Flight of the Bumblebee.
I didn't know his first name until now (it's Nikolai) but I did know he had written Scheherazade and Song of India. Our late father, who was a musician in the 40s and 50s, made sure my brother Clint and I knew these things.
I also didn't know, until now, about Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, while still a member of the Imperial Russian Navy, teaching at the St. Petersburg Conservatory. Outside the building is a statue of the instructor/composer, who referred to himself as a student, because he learned so much while teaching at the Conservatory.
Dick and I visited the Conservatory for a performance of Swan Lake (written by Tchaikovsky) during our holiday with Viking River Cruises last month. When we attended a performance by the Russian Folk Orchestra Moskva in Moscow a couple of weeks later, we heard them perform Flight of the Bumblebee, composed (in case you weren't paying attention) by Rimsky-Korsakov.

Wikipedia photo

Photo by Richard Schear

On the very left, the unprepossessing-looking washed-out-green building is the Conservatory, while the more imposing and photo-worthy edifice, front and center, is the Mariinsky Theatre, which we did not attend.

Unfortunately for us, we also did not attend the Edmonton (Alberta, Canada) International Jazz Festival in June of this year, which featured the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra led by the wonderful Wynton Marsalis.

Photo by: Rick MacWilliam, edmontonjournal.com

Trumpeter Wynton Marsalis at the Edmonton International Jazz Festival at the Winspear Centre. 

So, I offer you instead, a rather good (but very short) YouTube video of Wynton Marsalis playing (did you guess?) Flight of the Bumblebee. Yes, on trumpet.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yvaw2NtJgDc&feature=related

I first heard Flight of the Bumblebee played on trumpet by Rafael Méndez when I was a teenager. If I knew, I had forgotten until now that the great Harry James also played it. I'm sure Dad never had a recording of it, or Clint and I would have heard it plenty of times.

Posted for Hootin' Anni's musical meme
Thursday Theme Song
Thanks, Anni, and I'm not always this long-winded (trumpet joke, LOL).
To see what songs inspired other bloggers this week, please click HERE!

Watery Wednesday: St. Petersburg, Russia 2

© Photos by Kay Davies and Richard Schear, August, 2011

One of the tours on our Russian holiday with Viking River Cruises wasn't a shore excursion, but a trip through several of St. Petersburg's smallest canals, then out onto the Moika River in a boat with a local guide. We had a very different view of the city this way. Dick always had his camera ready.

Posted for

Watery Wednesday

wherein 2sweetnsaxy invites us to

get our eyes wet!

Ivan IV, Ivan Ivanovich, and Ilya Repin

All photos from Wikipedia.

The letter I is for Ivan IV (Ivan the Terrible); his son Ivan Ivanovich; and the artist Ilya Repin whose painting (below) of the two is probably the most famous picture of Ivan the Terrible.

The painting of Ivan IV at right is by Viktor Vasnetsov.

Ilya Repin, self-portrait

Ilya Repin's painting of Ivan IV and his dying son, Ivan Ivanovich.
The father struck the son during an argument which ensued after Ivan IV beat Ivanovich's pregnant wife because he disapproved of her clothing. And some people say he wasn't terrible?

1861 painting by Vyacheslov Grigorievich Schwarz, of Ivan IV meditating at his son's deathbed.

Ivan IV admiring the sixth of his eight wives, Vasilisa Melentyeva, in an 1875 painting by Grigory Semyonovich. He soon decided she wasn't as admirable as she appeared, however.

Posted for ABC Wednesday,

Mrs. Nesbitt's alphabetical meme, hosted by her faithful team.

To see how other bloggers used the letter I, please click HERE!

Mellow Yellow taxis, tea, and buildings

Yes, the trademark is registered, even in Russian!

We saw many yellow buildings in St. Petersburg on our Viking River Cruises shore tours last month—a fascinating, informative and fun Russian holiday.

© Photos by Kay Davies and Richard Schear


Posted for  Mellow Yellow Monday
hosted each week by Drowsey Monkey. Thanks, Drowsey!
To see what yellows made other bloggers feel mellow, please click HERE!

Watery Wednesday: Peterhof Palace

© Photos by Richard Schear

Before we left for our Russian holiday with Viking River Cruises, my husband and I watched some TV specials about the country, and one of the places I wanted to see in St. Petersburg was the Peterhof Palace, with its acres of fountains. I imagined myself sitting happily under a tree, watching the beautiful waters, while Dick did most of the walking, but the day of the Peterhof Palace tour dawned dull, wet and unappealing. I couldn't imagine myself singing in the rain while he wandered around with his camera. So I sent him off, with an umbrella to protect his camera, and stayed warm and dry myself on the Viking Surkov.
Balancing a large camera with a long lens, while trying to keep it all dry under an umbrella, had a slightly negative effect on my intrepid photographer's assignment for the day, but he did come up with some lovely shots anyway.

Once tourists got past the water trickling from this pagoda-shaped fountain, they were able to stay dry underneath it.

Posted for Watery Wednesday hosted by 2sweetnsaxy who invites us to get our eyes wet!

To see what sights wetted the eyes of other photo-bloggers, please click
HERE!

Succinctly yours: practice

For her Succinctly Yours meme, Grandma, of Grandma's Goulash, provides a photo and asks us:
How low can you go?
Use the photo as inspiration for a story of 140 characters OR 140 words, she says.

She also provides us with the Word of the Week: practice.

I usually like to try for 140 characters, including spaces and punctuation.

For years a school on weekdays, a church on Sundays, the building became the location for Dr. Fred's practice when he could no longer drive.

140 characters, including the word of the week.

To see how the photo prompted other writer-bloggers, please click HERE.

Magpie Tales: we can do it

Photo prompt provided by Magpie Tales

The old truck was up to its rusty rear axle in gravel, but Dad wasn't about to ask for help.
"Come on," Mom pleaded, "if you won't let me call a tow truck, at least let me call the guys down the road. You know Ed and Elroy have that big tractor. In low gear, it could pull a diesel locomotive."
"And I know Ed and Elroy have better things to do with their big tractor than pull me out of a hole I got myself into," Dad replied. "Sure, I know they can do it, but they'll laugh themselves silly at the same time. Now look," he said, "I have an idea."
Mom rolled her eyes as if to say, "Here we go again!"
Dad picked up a stick and began drawing in the dirt. "Now, if I..."
"Never mind sticks in the dirt. Come into the house, have a cup of coffee, and show me on paper. Kids!" she called to us, "you two come and help me understand what he's saying."
We had been observing, and talking amongst our two selves, and had a couple of ideas of our own, so we happily went along.
A pot of coffee, several glasses of milk, and what seemed like a ream of paper later, Mom was no closer to understanding than she had been when Dad was drawing with a stick. However, we had been watching, and listening carefully, eventually producing our own pencils and pointing out places where we thought Dad's plan could be improved upon.
"Hey," he said once, "that's a good idea."
And, "Well, I should have thought of that," he said a while later. "Now, if we put this here, instead of there, what do you think?"
"Right!" we said, together.
"Now this will move this way," I added, "and then the truck..."
"Then the truck will come out," said Dad.
"Okay!" we yelled, "let's go! Let's get 'er out."
"Wait a minute," Dad said, and walked over to Mom, who was stirring something on the counter. He kissed her on the cheek.
"Thanks, honey," he said. "You were wonderful. If you hadn't insisted I come into the house, I'd still be out there scratching in the dirt like a cave man. I don't know how I'd ever manage without your help."
Mom smiled, closed her eyes and kissed him on the forehead as he winked at the two of us.
"Let's go, kids. We'll have 'er out in a jiffy."
It wasn't quite a jiffy. The preparations took a lot of time, finding just the right materials, getting them into just the right places. However, we finally got the old truck out of the gravel.
We went back to the house, smiling and congratulating one another for ingenuity, talent, skill, brainpower, and anything else we thought might have contributed to the operation.
"I've just taken an apple cake out of the oven," Mom said as we trooped in. "So you get cleaned up, George. And you get into some clean clothes, you girls, then we'll taste some. Maybe one of these days, you two scientific females might even want to learn how to bake."

Fiction posted for Magpie Tales hosted by Willow.
To see how the photo, which Willow provided, has inspired other writer-bloggers this week, please click HERE!