Lady Hester Stanhope

  In December, my daughter and I took a trip to Lebanon.  When we  lived in the Middle East in the 80's, we had  heard about the splendor of Beirut as the "Paris of the Middle East".   At the time few people went there because of the civil war.  Peaceful now, we were eager for the opportunity to visit.

  Besides Beirut, we seriously considered  a visit to Joun (Joon, Djoun) which is in the south.  This was my daughter's idea.  She wanted to see the final home of Lady Hester Stanhope.
 
  Lady Hester falls directly into the category of eccentric early 19th century women travelers.  Her mother had died when she was very young, and her father, an inventor, ostracized his six children.  Hester was the only one who stood up to him and was subsequently disowned.  However her uncle, William Pitt the Younger, invited her to live with him.  In fact,when he was premier in 1804, 28-year-old Hester was his hostess,  That was a happy high point for her.  She was witty and outspoken and could talk about politics and philosophy and other intellectual topics to her heart's content.  She had her first love affair during this period, but it was rather scandalous and the fellow was assigned to a posting overseas.  Her uncle died of ill health in 1806, and had made provisions for a small pension for her and her sisters.  However she didn't have the mobility as before.  She moved to Wales, but still was restless.  So in 1810 she set off, with her maid, a young doctor, and her brother James, for Gibralter.  She met a dashing young man along the way-- Michael Bruce, and together they traveled to Turkey and Greece, and then Egypt.  Along the way, she devised a plan to go to France, and ingratiate herself with Napoleon, with the purpose of  finding a way to get information back to England.  Fortunately the ambassador to France didn't issue a passport. 

Lady Hester Stanhope would have worn a necklace like this

  Here starts the Desert Queen segment of her life.  After they arrived in Egypt, Hester set about learning Arabic and Turkish.  On one of their expeditions they lost all of their clothes, so she put on what was available--Turkish attire--and found it comfortable.  From then on she dressed in flamboyant Turkish costume.   Arab leaders were impressed with her presence and unusual style, and received her, calling her Queen Hester.  She showed uncommon courage in her desert journeys among the Bedouin.  She amazed the Arabs with her man's dress and refusal to wear a veil .  Then Michael was recalled back to England, and that romance seemed to fizzle.  Hester decided to stay in the Middle East, and  eventually ended up in Joun, where she built a house on top of a hill.  She spent money she didn't have, and finally the British government cut off her pension to pay her debts.  At this point she became truly eccentric and reclusive, and penniless.  Her maid died; the other servants stole from the house, and she walled herself in her house before dying  alone with hundred of stray cats.  The faithful doctor, Charles Meryon, recorded her story.

So we seriously considered hiring a car and driving to see her house.  But then we learned that all that is left of Lady Hester's house is about two feet of ruins. Reluctantly we gave up that expedition and chose to visit  Byblos--the oldest inhabited port city in the world.

But the tragic story of Lady Hester Stanhope is haunting, and I can see that we might make it there some time in the future.

The Essence of Dining

 My daughter and I went into a busy mall in Abu Dhabi to have lunch.  She steered me towards an Indian food place she had tried before. It wasn't fancy. We sat down near a window, and pointed to a picture of an Indian plate of food that looked good.  The cheerful Filipino waitress made sure we were comfortable, and brought our fruit drinks.  After our food had come, and we had started dipping into sambols and  dals and vegetables, the waiter came out and asked, "Are you having a good time?"

A cappuccino in Beirut where we also had "a good time"

That is so much more to the point than "Is everything okay?" that I had to write it down.  

Why do I like beads so much??

Not exactly beads:  necklaces.  Beaded necklaces is what I collect, make and desire. 

I'm giving a talk tomorrow at a local gallery, and so this is the question that I will attempt to answer.  Gemstones, fine jewelry, gold chains and all don't really interest me. Antique jewelry does.  Separate beads are interesting, but it is the old beaded necklace that holds my attention. Why?

My parents were born in Arizona, and the fact that we visited grandparents in  Flagstaff when I was little is certainly a factor because the first jewelry I saw was large chunky necklaces of turquoise and silver.  I suppose it defined jewelry for me.  Later, on my first posting overseas in Jordan in 1980, I saw the large silver necklaces the bedouin women piled around their necks.  Then I scrutinized the amber, coral and turquoise beads adorning Tibetan , Asian and African women.  In South America I saw the huge quartz and stone necklaces of the ancient American cultures.

I will wear all of these for my talk tomorrow

I have the ironic problem that the beads I collect are valuable in their own right, but I've put myself in a jewelry buyer's market.  So where a bead buyer would appreciate the value of the beads I use, he only wants the beads. Yet the jewelry buyer usually wants a beautiful  necklace and doesn't care about the value of the beads.  There is a gap between the immediate beauty, and the historical and artistic value of the components that is bridged with education. 

For me, the necklace tells a story of culture, history, art and fashion. It is a universal testament to  beauty, art and adornment.  Humans have  strung together cut stones, worked metal, and  hand made beads, and thrown them over their heads to make themselves more beautiful, or more special, or more valuable for thousands of years.

That's why I like beaded necklaces so much.

Three kids, Ten bags and a Dog

After nearly twenty-five years is the Developing World, I can remember some scary situations.  In the early 80's, the place my daughter took piano lessons was blown up by the PLO shortly after she had walked home; Laurie Berenson had her shoot-out/arrest in Lima, a couple of blocks away from us; my husband drove through an intersection in Colombo, Sri Lanka 7 minutes before the prime minister was blown exactly there; and my family had to be rescued by the marines in boats, out of our house during a cyclone flood in Colombo.  There were other tough adventures.  But hands down/no contest, the hardest thing ever for me was taking three little children on 30+ hour journeys in airplanes.

I did this several times.   There was the time when we boarded a plane in Oman, setting off on our journey, three children in tow.  Before we started,my son, age 2, turned and (accidentally)swooshed his cup of milk right into the stewardess's face.  Then, fifteen minutes into the flight, he went back to his window seat, pushed up my lunch tray, and changed the location of the lunch to the front of my chest. Then it was apparent that he wasn't well, and used up all but two of his diapers.  And this was the first 30 minutes, with at least 25 hours to go.

But the most amazing of all was the story of our trip from Maine to Lima Peru in 1994.  At the time, I was in Maine with the two boys, ages 11 and 7, and 3-year-old daughter.  We also had acquired a three month old lab puppy, Jenny.  My husband was going to move directly to Peru from the last post.  I was moving our stuff, ourselves, and our puppy on my own from Maine.

It started out smoothly.  We caravan ed to Bangor, Maine airport as I had three kids, 10 bags and a dog.  Jenny went off in the conveyor belt; the bags did too.  I felt liberated with only the kids.  We got down to Boston, changed terminals, got in line for our boarding passes to Florida.  As I stepped up to the counter the clerk said, "I wouldn't go to Florida if I were you.  Hurricane."   I looked at him.  "I have 3 kids, ten bags and a dog.  What would you do if you were me?"  "Stay in a hotel," was the answer.  Well that wasn't in the budget, so he told me I could apply for some kind of "mercy" flight back to Bangor.  We crossed to another terminal, had a conversation and got tickets back to Bangor.  Then they told me they had lost the dog.  Apparently a handler somewhere had let her out of her kennel.  In time they found the dog and brought her back up on the main floor where she promptly piddled because she apparently had a urinary infection.

Once in Peru, I collected beads like this Peruvian turquoise and these sterling silver beads

We flew back to Bangor.  A friend picked us up.   She generously let us all--sick puppy and all--stay with her as we had rented out our own cottage behind us.  Three days later we tried the whole thing again.  We made it to Boston, and then we made it to Florida.  When we got to Florida, I lined up to get my boarding pass.  The clerk said, "Sorry.  We are overbooked.  I don't have a boarding pass for you."    "That's impossible," I said.  "Do you know I have three kids, ten bags and a dog, and I started this voyage four days ago?" He shrugged.  I told my 11 year old, to hold on to both children, and I took the elevator up to the first class lounge.  I got in with my diplomatic passport, sat down next to a nice gentleman from Maine, and told him my story.  He went to the receptionist there and asked her if she could get us four boarding passes for that flight to Lima.  She printed them right out.  I thanked him,  returned to my children, and went to the (economy) lounge for boarding.    As soon as we were seated in the airplane, a voice from on high  said, " We are overbooked; we will pay $ 500 for each boarding pass .

On any other day I would have taken that offer.  But not on that day.  I had three kids, ten bags and a dog, and we were going to Peru.

Wandering in a Souk

"Souk" is simply the Arabic word for “market”.  The spelling is phonetic, so it can be souk or suq or suk.

 Tijuana was my first experience walking around in a crowded, colorful and noisy foreign market. Only ten and on vacation, I delighted in the vibrant colors and vivid life swirling around the many stalls.

 Twenty years later I found myself in the souk in downtown Amman; then, in rapid succession, Damascus, Cairo, Jerusalem, Baghdad, Bahrain, Istanbul,  Sudan (Omdurman),Limassol,  Muscat and Nizwa.   I still can’t imagine anything I would rather do more than stroll through the maze of shops in a covered market in the Middle East.

Purchasing was never the goal, though hunting was the game.  And in true confessions, there was hardly a souk adventure that didn’t result in some kind of purchase, even if only rose scented oil.  My personal hunt was always for antique stone or silver beads, and amber.   I found my Circassian  belt (see blog 12/15/10) in the deep recesses of the Junk Souk in Amman.  The best souks for the silver jewelry I sought were in Nizwa and Muscat (Oman).   Damascus was said to be tops for gold and carpets.  (Maybe.  My experience is that nothing beats a New England auction for oriental carpets.)   The markets in Peru are wonderful places to browse for handicrafts.  Colorful sweaters, silver vases, and Andean candles are eye candy for the Sunday ambler.

If it is not about buying, then what is it about?  The market experience stimulates all five senses.  As you enter you smell the coffee and the spices from the spice souk.  Then you are bombarded by sound.  People are everywhere and they call out to you:  “Madam, madam, come into my shop”.  “Madam, madam, I have something for you”. “Madam madam, do you like jewelry?”  It’s probably something to get used to, but it is part of the market game.  Your vision is jammed full of colors and crafts, and people.  And there are always wonderful barbequed meats, and tapas, and sweets, as well as tea with the carpet seller.   Textiles are there for the touching:  silks in Kashmir and Damascus, leather in Istanbul, alpaca wool Peru.

The markets I have visited all over the world are exciting to me because for all their noise and excitement they are usually family operated fine art or craft businesses.  Once you are in a stall--say for a carpet-- the vendor is energized, running around trying to find what it is he thinks you want.  If you mention something he doesn’t have, a little boy/son/nephew/brother runs to another shop, to said vendor’s brother/uncle/ cousin, to bring it in.  The asking price is usually twice the selling price.  And it is your job to whittle it down.  Tea and biscuits while you haggle, are of course, included.

The closest thing to a Developing World market or souk experience in the United States is a regional craft fair.  They’re nice.  But I yearn for the noise, the color, the intrigue, dark corridors, and pungent smells of cardamom spiced coffee in a Middle Eastern souk.

What is Amazonite?

The other day I was showing a talented jeweler some of my pieces.  I started with the first ethnic necklace I ever bought overseas.  In 1980, I purchased a Bedouin necklace from a Jordanian business man who cleverly learned where all the expatriate women lived, and rang their doorbells to sell his wares.  That first necklace was a double strand; the inside strand having a single pendant of a light blue stone.  At the time, I wondered if it was turquoise.  The only aqua colored stone I knew was turquoise.  But "Shifty" (his apt nickname) told me it was amazonite (accented on the second syllable).  As the years went by I saw more and more amazonite in the Middle East and Africa,  and learned more about it.

old and faded amazonite

It's a type of feldspar, named after the Amazon River.  It's found in the Americas (recently Colorado);and these days, mostly Russia.  However, the amazonite I love the most are those very very ancient beads, recently excavated in Mali.   Ancient Egyptian jewelry often  features lapiz lazuli, amazonite, and gold.  The old beads are irregular in shape and often faded to a light green.

They've traveled far in time and location, and been highly valued all the while.

Bead Collection on a String

  I'm new to the craft show gig, and so I have been working on my booth.  I'm getting there.  Due to the nature of my jewelry, I am aiming for across between a Middle Eastern souk and a museum display. At The Rockland craft show I was immediately aware that my booth was missing a banner.  The banner would be a one-liner describing the essence of my product.
  I'm the first one to acknowledge that my beaded jewelry has a small market.  I'm also the first one to say that I'm not a jewelry maker.  I am two things:  I am a collector and a designer.  One could call the jewelry a bead collection on a string.  Or an  (arguably) artistically arranged bead collection on a string.  Therefore my work will appeal to those people who naturally gravitate towards old, handmade, culturally interesting beads.  I have found that this is an acquired taste, stemming from some experience or knowledge.  Like caviar.  Or like hats which totally defy gravity.  The more you see it/ hear about it, or taste it, the more you embrace it, whatever "it" is.  In Paris I was told that now the "right" way to eat chocolate is to smear olive oil on top of it.
  But I digress, and I don't think my work is as avant garde as an oiled chocolate bar.  But the foreign and exotic beads are more interesting to women who have seen them before, in shops, books, or in their travels.  This is how I finally arrived at my slogan:  "Artful beaded jewelry for interesting women".  It would probably be more accurate to call them interested women, but, interesting serves a purpose. 

"amber", antique red glass bead, hand cut sodalite, Peruvian turquoise, coin silver African bead

  Each necklace, or strung bead collection, has a story to tell, which starts outside this country. For instance, the necklace above is an example.  The piece as a whole has an Indian or Tibetan look because traditional Indian/Tibetan jewelry uses amber, turquoise, lapis lazuli and coral (as does Moroccan!).  However, nothing on this strand is from India.  I bought the "amber" on this necklace from Hudu, a bead seller in Ghana.  Hudu was magnificent to look at because he always wore satin robes and a matching hat whenever he was in selling mode.  He sold me these beads as amber, but I'm sure now that they are fake amber (see earlier blog post, "The lure of amber").  The turuqoise on this necklace is Peruvian turquoise, which is chrysocolla, found in Peru.  The dark blue stones are not lapis, but Peruvian sodalite, hand cut in Peru.  The red beads here are antique red glass beads traded in Africa for many years.  The coin silver beads are authentically African, which I bought from Hider in Ghana.  It's an international bead collection on a string.