I’ve had my eyes on these sandals for awhile, so when I finally saw them on sale, I jumped. I love the retro-ness of them, but my favorite part of these sandals make them modern- the metallic strap. They’re surprisingly comfortable and the short wedge is an added bonus. Sandals have never been a priority for me because, well, it’s San Francisco, but you’ll be seeing these guys a lot around here. In summation and in the words of my favorite Pink Lady, they’re peachy-keen, jellybean.
We have been waking quite early on the island, why I don’t know. But it does mean we catch the morning light, which is so cool and white. Up here in Imerovigli, the white villas reflect the tea-weak light and the huge caldera seems to absorb it.
This morning, before breakfast, we wound our way to a little church. It sits, loftily, high above everything else with a Greek flag flapping and wrapping itself around the flagpole with each smack of wind.
The light was cool, the sun gently nudging the island awake.
Happy Tuesday to all! Today we celebrate with new releases. As always the blurbs are provided by the book’s publishers.
The First World War is spreading across Europe, and Elizabeth Endicott has volunteered on behalf of the Boston-based Friends of Armenia to deliver food and medical aid to refugees of the Armenian genocide. There, Elizabeth becomes friendly with Armen, a young Armenian engineer who has already lost his wife and infant daughter. When Armen leaves Aleppo to join the British Army in Egypt, he begins to write Elizabeth letters, and comes to realize that he has fallen in love with the wealthy, young American. Flash forward to the present, where we meet Laura Petrosian, a novelist living in suburban New York. Laura has never really given her Armenian heritage much thought. But when an old friend calls, claiming to have seen a newspaper…
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Back in Germany.
We flew in over the alps with their caps of snow and clouds and then over southern Bavaria with its perfect, precise patchwork of paddocks, each a brilliant shade of green and bordered by full, round trees. Order and calm instantly seeped in, the lovely chaos and noise of the Mediterranean lost somewhere over the mountains.
Here there is no ocean, no wild winds that whip so furiously it feels like they want to take you to see the Wizard. The cars drive in a far more orderly fashion. The wine grapes grow on vines. The bakeries are full of laugenstangen and seed covered, brie-stuffed brötchen, not puff pastry snails stuffed with feta, or big wedges of moussaka pie. The church bells are back, loud, four times an hour, as intrusive as they are comforting. The conversations I hear coming up from the street and in through…
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