Run Forrest Run!

France

Simplicity of a photograph

Here’s a photo I took in the Luxembourg gardens in Paris some years ago. I think it’s quite nice, even if I took it. Something about capturing life’s moments in Paris …

Things we don't need

So happy, and thank you!

Well, if you might have noticed that my site has reverted to its deep-winter look, that’s because some idiot in China hacked and destroyed my beautiful world. I’ve had to kill everything out and start over with this primitive version. So it will take a few days to get things rolling again. May the Powers Above strike dead all the hackers. You know, with a bolt of lightning straight down through each and every one of their heads.

Cognac

The Russians are here

This was published about a year ago in the International Herald Tribune, but remains an accurate picture of the Russian presence in the Cognac business these days. IMG_0870

By Kyle Jarrard

COGNAC, France: Russia may be the land of vodka, but it’s an amber alcohol from France that has sparked a Cognac Rush in the land of hyper-rich oligarchs and aficionados.
And it’s not just the very well-to-do in Russia who are driving this phenomenon, it’s the newly moneyed middle layers of society as well. These days, no festive occasion is minus its eye-catching bottle of Cognac - crystal de rigueur and nestled in a fancy chest - the older and more expensive the better.
All of the Big Four Cognac houses are omnipresent in Russia. Hennessy leads the way by far, with Rémy Martin, Martell and Courvoisier battling it out for their share. In the thick of the fray are also many smaller houses, like Camus, Delamain and Otard, each with its top-notch Cognacs.
Russia is the world’s No. 7 market for Cognac, a rank it only recently achieved after a long climb up the ladder. About 5.3 million bottles went there in the year that ended in July, 49 percent more than the same period a year before. Three-quarters of that is older Cognacs and the rest, younger grades. In contrast to other markets, where entry-level Cognacs are rocketing, sales of aged grades are rising fastest in Russia.
“Russia is a country that has always loved its alcohol,” says Alain Philippe, director of Cognac’s oversight body, the BNIC. “So when you take that love for alcohol, mix it with a lot of purchasing power, you get a lot of people looking for high-quality products, and Cognac answers the call.” In his view, “there is no limit” to how much the market can grow.
Hennessy had its first sale in Russia in 1825, to a distributor in St. Petersburg. Since the end of the Soviet Union, its presence in Russia has expanded powerfully, with half the sales in Moscow, another portion in St. Petersburg and the rest spread across the country.
All of Hennessy’s grades have found solid niches in Russia. Bernard Peillon, the house’s president, says, “We’re working the top end of the market, focusing on businessmen and businesswomen, people with rising buying power. And as the Russian economy grows richer and Russians gain more and more buying power, there is going to be a tremendous geographic expansion of this market as well.”
Peillon notes that Hennessy is eager for Russia to enter the World Trade Organization because “barriers will fall, taxes will shrink and consumer prices will decline,” he said, adding, “Accessibility to our products will grow even easier, and we’ll be able to develop our brand quite rapidly.”
Hennessy, meanwhile, is going after a modern clientele, Peillon says, the new, sophisticated, highly educated consumer who covets fine products and carefully seeks out the best. “You only have to witness the tremendous thirst that Russians have for luxury products to know this is true - whether they’re in Russia or on the Riviera, skiing at Courchevel or dining in Paris,” he says.
Hennessy’s ultra-Cognac-dream is Beauté du Siècle, an ornate treasure chest with, among other luxury items, a Baccarat decanter containing a blend of Cognac whose oldest parts date from 1907. Only 100 are to be made and will sell for €150,000, or $220,000, with delivery by a Hennessy board member in person. More down to earth in Russia is Hennessy’s Ellipse, a €7,000 Baccarat decanter with an assembly of Cognacs dear to seven generations of Hennessy’s master blenders.
Rémy Martin also reports double-digit sales growth in Russia in recent years, making the house the “strong No. 2 in the market,” says Stephen Carroll, the house’s marketing director. “It is the super-rich in and around Moscow and also the emerging middle class in Moscow, St. Petersburg and in the regions who are really driving this market.”
“Cognac was very popular in czarist times,” Carroll says, “and Rémy Martin first imported Cognac into Russia back in the 1890s. Under the Soviet Union, brandy from Armenia and Georgia was very popular. But in the past few years, fueled by a rapid rise in real incomes, consumers have been trading up to imported Cognac. There’s a reverence for the true Cognac flavor.”
Rémy Martin’s two top-selling high-end Cognacs in Russia are its XO, largely Grande Champagne with a touch of Petite Champagne, which goes for €250, and the Louis XIII, which combines an incredible 1,200 Cognacs, some of which are a century old, and sells for about €2,000.
Martell’s high-end gem is Création Grand Extra, in a bottle shaped like a Roman arch. It is filled with Cognacs from the Borderies, for a fruity taste, and from Grande Champagne, for spiciness, and sells for €300.
Lionel Breton, chairman and chief executive, foresees widespread growth for Martell in Russia.
“This is a rapidly growing market to which we bring a whole range of Cognacs - from VS to XO to the very oldest types - and we’re well positioned. It’s a priority market for Martell. With our VS, we’re focusing on those drinkers eager to learn about Cognac. With the rest of our range, we appeal to people who have money, people who covet top-quality taste, who like our bottles and our international cachet.”
Courvoisier is consolidating its spot among top brands in Russia, with sales soaring 150 percent in four years. This year the house introduced a range of high-end Cognacs to the Russians, the better to position itself in a market where, it says, Cognac represents about a third of all imported spirits.
Most recently, Courvoisier debuted XO Impérial to promote “our deep historical ties with Napoleon I and our two centuries of rich history,” says Jennifer Szersnovicz, the brand’s public relations manager. The €220 Cognac is a blend of the top three Cognac growths that are several decades old. It is followed in age by Courvoisier’s Initiale Extra, from Grande Champagne and the Borderies, at €550; Succession J.S., in a limited edition of 2,500, which comes in a replica of a lockbox owned by Napoleon and sells for €3,000. The summit of the range is L’Esprit de Courvoisier, in a Lalique decanter, a blend of the oldest Cognacs the house possesses, for €5,000.
Camus vaunts one of the oldest relationships with Russia. Cyril Camus, its president, says, “We were the official supplier to the czar, then market leader during the Soviet era, and so today we have the privilege of having a client base that wants our kinds of Cognacs, ones that are rich in tradition, unique in style and based on five generations of know-how.”
Camus’s high-end offerings in Russia include its Vintages: single-year Cognacs selected from the period 1962 through 1989. One especially stands out, Le Pionneau 1969, which sells for €2,700. The house also offers its Jubilee (€2,000), Extra Élégance (€550) and XO Borderies (€335).
Delamain is a smaller player, but Russia is its No. 1 market. This Grande Champagne specialist has just produced the ultimate “Voyage,” a leather gift box with a Baccarat decanter of some of the house’s oldest Cognacs. Price: €7,500. About 175 of them have gone to clients in Russia.
Otard is going after the 30- to 50-year-olds, in Moscow mostly, with a wide range, from VS to 1795 Extra, priced from €60 to €575. Lhéraud and Meukow are two other important houses.

India

Lessons on yoga and life

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This was published last fall in the International Herald Tribune and The New York Times

By Kyle Jarrard

PONDICHERRY, India: The first sound in the morning is crows, right at 5. Then we hear waves off the Bay of Bengal slapping the shore. In the garden, a man meditates while walking quickly over the lawn of the ashram guesthouse in the dark. Along the shore, other men pace the beach in the silver jetty light. Fishing boat lanterns like stars ride the black sea south to north.

My wife and I have come to Pondicherry in southeast India mostly for the yoga. The classes used to be held in one of the many parcels of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram scattered across the colonial city. But for this retreat, there’s a new venue, and to get there you have to be on Ajit Sarkar’s bus by 5:45 a.m. There are 20 or so of us, nearly all from France.

Ajit, in his 70s now, grew up in this famous ashram with his parents, who went into the retreat founded and inspired by the yogi and guru Sri Aurobindo and his vision of universal consciousness and peace. In this idyllic world, Ajit learned everything from ballet to track to gymnastics, but especially yoga, a skill he has taught with acclaim for decades both in India and in France. His official retirement since 2003 is a fiction of contentment.

It’s the school he’s building that keeps him going, in addition to being in top form himself. We, the chosen students, by contrast, can barely see straight in the shadowy dawn as the bus heads off through Pondicherry. For the first few blocks the streets have French names: Rue Dumas, Rue Suffren, Rue Romain Rolland. Then we leave town and head south over fetid canals and clogged streams, through trash-heaped neighborhoods thumping with all-night Hindu festival music while men in dhotis stand around sipping tea out of plastic goblets. Cows with brightly painted red and green horns meditate in the middle of the road as we plunge into the lush Tamil Nadu countryside.

Vellai Thamarai: imagine going to a school named White Lotus. It’s not yet entirely finished but is supposed to be by January. Nearly every villager in Cinna Kattupalayam lines the road to greet our bus with cries of hello and bonjour. On a Monday morning, the children are beside themselves at the prospect of going to school. There are enough smiles for a thousand mornings.

We take our yoga classes on the roof of the new school, under a tall, thatched structure with open sides. Most of the people in the assembly know their hatha-style yoga; others stumble a lot — but soon everyone gets into the flow, despite the great sensual distractions: banana groves to the north wavering in the gold sunlight; rice paddies to the east where a few dozen women bend weeding at daybreak; thick coconut trees to the west that invite the eye to enter and roam; and to the south, the village, overlain with teak, drumstick and casuarina trees, where cooking-fire smoke rises and every dog yaps at everything.

There’s a blessed break around 9 to boat a mile or so down a green stream, which takes us to the sea for an hour’s swim in view of a towering blue Hindu temple. The coast here was struck hard by the tsunami in 2004. In the tiny Pondicherry district alone about 600 lives were lost. But the 10-meter, or nearly 35-foot, waves didn’t roll up to the future site of Vellai Thamarai, and the village was spared the worst.

By the time we return, school classes are under way, and the air rings with voices of children shouting out their ABCs. The young Tamil teachers in dazzling saris instruct the little ones to greet the visitors as we fill the classroom doors and windows. A few of them are still crying for their parents who’ve left them for the day. One or two sleep soundly on mats, others sip warm milk and sugar, still others reach out to shake our hands.

Classes in Indian culture, taught by Ajit or his wife, Selvi, guide us through the thickets of marriage, life in the Aurobindo ashram, techniques of meditation and the Hindu pantheon. We discuss the future of the school, how the rice and bananas growing on adjacent fields help the bottom line, how financing from the government is sparse and how much the project depends on donors. The director of the school works without pay. He and the social worker and even the building superintendent follow the guiding principle of sharing the labor; many a midday found all of them squatting in the kitchen with the cooks snapping green beans or peeling onions and ginger. Hierarchy counts for nothing here; helping one another is everything.

It is a balanced community working toward the same goal: educating children to rise above a dirt-floor existence. Families of four in Cinna Kattupalayam get by on 125 rupees, or less than $3, a day. Most parents are agricultural laborers. A half day’s weeding, from 6 a.m. to noon, in the rice paddy earns a woman about 60 rupees; men building the school make slightly more. Women carrying sand and bricks on their heads to the roof stop and watch the Westerners struggle with yoga and ask us to take their photos with our digital cameras.

In the afternoon the children continue their classes, and the yoga initiates rest a while. Older kids with siblings in the school come around after the city bus drops them off and query us about France and America, then pose for pictures and show off the yoga positions they’ve picked up. Selvi teaches a class in Indian music; others take a dance course and learn the precise, spine-defying steps of a classical south Indian art. All the culture notwithstanding, it’s hard not to fall asleep in the thick heat and dream.

Our afternoons at Vellai Thamarai wind down through exercises to relax the body and mind, and then a regimental workout until 6, with Ajit pushing us all to the tips of our muscles. The schoolteachers and nurse come up and join us, which makes for a lot of laughter as Ajit tacks between French and English to keep us all on our toes. But it’s the tricky headstands that truly challenge us all, despite Ajit’s reverent description of the ease with which Nehru practiced this healthy habit.

The short, brutish trip back to town is another unforgettable piece of India. Our bus passes others dangerously, and the others pass, too: tons of steel packed with innocents hurtle straight at each other until the last second. It is an articulate game of chicken played out with nonstop honking but never any gesticulating and no vulgarities. Only the Westerners clutch their chests.

At day’s end, there’s no energy left for anything but a cold shower and a check of the seaside view. It might be 9 o’clock. Waves roll in. Men and women stroll the shore together, and now and then you can hear a bottle break. I picture the school, still not done, out there in the tropical dark, a drop in the ocean of all India’s needs, but for all that it is everything.

As I fall into bed, I hear the innumerable crows. They go on late into the night, along with deep laughter of men and rusty strains of music and crackling volleys of firecrackers. Only much later, about 3 a.m., does it truly get quiet: the only time, they say, that anyone in India can hear to think. I sit up. I listen, and it’s as though I’ve never listened before.

Cognac

The essence of Cognac

cognac“Now, gentlemen, we begin on our Cognac. Here words fail me. Nothing in the annals of literature can capture the essence of Cognac, drunk amongst like-minded friends, after a fine meal. You know this, all of you; I am telling you nothing you do not know. Did Racine ever succeed? Did Hugo capture its essence? Did Voltaire or Diderot pin it down? They did not. They were too aware of their limitations even to try, and who am I, businessman that I am, to presume where men of genius have failed?”

– Claude Bronsen, in “The Dream of Scipio” by Iain Pears

Cognac

Best Cognac labels anywhere

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Without a doubt the world’s best collector of Cognac labels is Paul Ronne. He lives down in Cognac country, has collected for years and has one of the most impressive assemblies of these beautiful etiquettes ever seen. I’d seriously recommend his Web site at www.cognac-paul.com

Miscellaneous

My web site lives!

Today is the first day in the life of my new web site. I’m not sure I can stand the excitement!