I've been waiting all summer for my beloved figs to ripen and now, when they finally have, I'm going out of town for a few days. I'm going to have to eat a lot today, as these guys have a very, very short window of maturity. By next week, it'll all be over.

Here are the things you need to know about me and figs:

1) I had never tasted one in my whole life until a few years ago, when my cranky neighbor Joel dragged me across the street so I could try some off of his tree. Joel's crankiness, of course, is a bit of an act--he's 86 now and is entitled to it--and we love him not despite of it but but because of it. Anyway, I tried this fig and I was hooked. If you've only had a Fig Newton in your life and think that's what a fig tastes like, you're missing out. Real figs don't come from Nabisco and they don't have a cookie surrounding them. They're actually like a mixture of every great fruit you've ever had, all in a tiny, perfectly formed bell.

2) Beware of what you wish for. Joel took my newfound love for figs as gospel and within a few days a tree was planted in my front yard. That's the way Joel works. He doesn't really tell you he's about to plant a tree in your front yard--a fairly big decision for most folks--but just goes ahead and does it. It was all good because the tree was only two feet tall and we didn't think there was any harm.

3) The tree ain't two fee tall any more. Only three years later, the fig tree has taken over the front of our property and towers over everything, including my very patient neighbors to the left, who can't drive into their driveway without swiping fig leaves. (We've promised to cut it back after harvest.) I've never see a faster growing tree in my life.

4) By the beginning of next week, we will have hundreds and hundreds of figs. Combined with Joel's slightly older and larger tree across the street, we're talking thousands of figs. A lot of figs. Usually Cooper and I will go out and I'll eat a few and Coops will eat a few and then we'll put some in a bag to give to some fig newbie. We've gotten pretty good and knowing which ones are ripe and which ones need 24 hours more. Last year, some construction workers stopped to ask what all the fuss was about and we gave them some figs to try. They were hooked within ten seconds.

5) There are lots of things one can do with figs, but whatever you do, avoid Joel's last idea: He walked into my house one day last August and plopped a bottle of figs preserved in Vodka on my table and then waited for me to try them. Joel does love his vodka, in particular one gorgeous bottle I brought back from Ukraine. Since I'm not a vodka drinker, I stare at the bottle for its design and Joel drinks the contents. It's a win-win situation. Anyway, the prospect of these alcoholic figs was fairly unappetizing, especially as I stared at the recycled Starbucks Frappuccino bottle he had used for the experiment. I'm certain I told him I had just eaten and would try them later, for dessert. That's my Joel.

So if you're in the neighborhood, come on by and pick your own. Next year we might have to have our very own First Annual Matt Mendelsohn Photography Fig Festival and Pie Bake-off.

Take care,

Matt

Well, after recent posts involving my great-uncle and Maya's great-uncle, a return to normalcy and weddings. And what a wedding it was. Last week I had the pleasure of shooting a two-day spectacular, complete with nine changes of clothing for the bride and groom. Okay, I'm joking, but not by much.

Mehan Dossani and Rohan Virginkar came to me earlier this year having seen the photos I shot at the wedding of their friends Lily Fu and Scott Claffee. That wedding was a Jersey Shore blast, complete with Philly cheese steaks, Bon Jovi and a morning after romp in the surf. And so I knew that any friends of Lily and Scott would have to have as much fun.

I wasn't wrong. Last weekend began with a small ceremony at home so Mehan and Rohan could sign their marriage contract, under the guidance of an imam. It was an intimate little group, though the laughter in the house made it seem much larger.

Later that evening, we all re-converged on Mehan's family home for a mehndi ceremony under the stars. It was a beautiful night, with everyone, including yours truly, decked out in gorgeous saris and kurtas. (It didn't occur to me until it was too late to have someone take a photo of me.) It was fun to see all of Mehan's friends being helped into their saris and having bindis affixed by family members. I've shot many an Indian wedding before and I never get tired of seeing this endless parade of saffrons and greens and deep reds. I know white is still the color of choice in weddings, and my saying any different won't change a thing, but boy, we westerners don't know how much we're missing!

 

I would talk about all the food and dancing, but I fear that I would mangle all the proper names. Suffice to say, there was incredible drumming, tasty samosas and lots of dancing involving sticks. (See I just did it. Now someone is going to have to leave a comment an tell me what those sticks are actually called!)

After all of that pageantry and color, one could have slept until noon the next day and watched some golf. But Mehan and Rohan had other plans. On Saturday night, they started all over again, this time with a more formal affair at the Ritz Carlton. Or was that the Ritz? I've seen rooms transformed before, but this really was a spectacular transformation, so great that I didn't believe I was in a Washington hotel anymore. Between the stage and the ancillary seating areas with colorful cushions, the room looked more liked a set.

And the drum beat began anew....

To see a mini gallery of photos from Mehan and Rohan's wedding, click here.

फिर मिलेंगे

Matt

You've heard of "Wrong Way" Corrigan, the famous aviator who, in 1938, flew from New York to Ireland instead of Long Beach, California? Well, tonight we're feeling a bit like "Wrong Date" Corrigan.

We were really so excited to mark the 80th anniversary today of my wife Maya's great-uncle's legendary first-ever circumnavigation of the Mediterranean, a trip that energized the Greek nation back in 1928. The problem is, though, we just realized that the date of that pioneering trip was actually two months ago, 6/8/08, and not 8/6/08. Tripped up by that darned European custom of putting the day before the month!

Anyway, what's two months among friends? This is still the 80th anniversary year and there is nothing "wrong way" about the exploits of Evangelos Papadacos (Theo Vangeli, or Uncle Vangeli, as Maya knew him when she was growing up in Athens). He is still considered a great  hero in Greece, and is grouped among the early pioneers of aviation.

Here's what Theo Vangeli did:

Back in 1928, when long distance air travel was still left only to legendary explorers with names like Lindbergh and Byrd, Evangelos Papadacos piloted a Breguet 19 aircraft bearing the name "Hellas" on the very first trip around the Mediterranean. According to a newspaper article from the time of his death, Papadacos made the trip, which covered 12,000 kilometers, in 78 hours and 30 minutes. Flying with his navigator, Captain Adamidis, the pair's route took them on the following course: Leros--Aden--Haleppi--Benghazi--Algeria--Casablanca--Gibraltar--the Pyrenees--Orleans--Paris--Monaco--Vienna-Belgrade--Bucharest--Sofia--Philapopouli, and, finally, a landing in Salonica. And while American aviation lore of that time is firmly entrenched in the Lindbergh saga, one can't underestimate how important Vangeli's trip is from a European perspective.

In this obituary, which bears the headline, "Evangelos Papdacos, 'Ace of the Airways' Dies," we learn a lot about the flight. (And no, I don't speak Greek, but my wife and mother-in-law certainly do, especially when they don't want me to hear something.) Here is the account of the flight's triumphant last leg back to Athens:

"The Breguet 19 took off from Salonica in the afternoon, accompanied by ten planes which flew with them to Athens, while another two performed above Tatoi (the former summer palace of the Greek Royal Family). The atmosphere vibrated continuously from the military marching, the cheers and the applause of the crowds.

It is beyond description what happened at Tatoi when the "Hellas" landed. The crowd broke through the protective police lines, embracing Papadacos and Adamidis and smothering them with kisses, flowers and national tears of pride.

Filled with emotion, the two heroes stood with difficulty as the Secretary of War congratulated them and awarded them medals, diplomas and commemorative cups."

(For a little video clip, go here and fast forward to the 7:15 mark. It gives you a good sense of the journey.)

I spoke with my mother-in-law (and one of The Dark Slide's most loyal readers)  tonight. She remembers that around Vageli's 80th birthday, the television crews all arrived at the Athens home to do interviews. "He was very well known--very famous," she recalled. "Everywhere he stopped on that historic flight he was greeted by heads of state and showered with gifts. In Paris, one of the most famous French aviators of that time welcomed him with his squadron."

 

It's hard, obviously, for us to imagine ourselves back in a time when there were no daily non-stops from JFK to Rome. Nobody cramming too-large suitcases into overhead compartments, no announcements that "folks, we're number eleven for takeoff," and no such thing as a seat that boasted extra legroom. Explorers like Theo Vangeli and Charles Lindbergh, whose famous flight took place one year earlier, subjected themselves to brutal conditions, freezing temperatures and sleepless nights, all so that we can enjoy--if enjoy is still a word one can use--the benefits of their pioneering exploits in aviation.

Sure, flying may not be what it once was, in this age of high fares and high tension, but the next time you take a quick trip from Paris to Milan, and think, "Well, that didn't take very long," give some props (groan) to Evangelos Papadacos.

Oh, one more thing. Remember how I said that we messed up on the date of this anniversary-- that Theo Vangelis' flight really took place on 6/8 and not 8/6? I wish I had a camera this afternoon to record Maya's face when, after pondering our mess-up for a moment, she looked up from her computer and screamed the following:

"Wait a second! June 8th is Alexandra's birthday!!"

That puts our daughter's birth, to the very day, on what would have been the seventy-fifth anniversary of her great-great-Uncle Vangeli's trip.

Update, 8/6/08, 11:00: Thanks to the efforts of a certain someone, we have just added a photo of Theo Vangeli holding Maya-- looking a lot like Alexandra, I might add--on the day or her baptism in 1970.

Things just keep getting curiouser and curiouser.

Take care,

Matt

So I have some exciting news about moi, for a change.

I'm happy to announce that I'll be having my first overseas exhibition this fall, a show at Le Mémorial de la Shoah, the French Holocaust museum in Paris. Titled "Dans les pas des Disparus," I'll be displaying a collection of photos from Les Disparus, my brother Daniel's bestselling book about our search to unravel a 65-year-old mystery surrounding the murder of my relatives in Poland. Les Disparus (The Lost, here in America) has been a huge success in France, winning the Prix Médicis étranger, the highest literary award for a non-French author. (Previous winners of the prize include Doris Lessing, last year's Nobel Prize laureate for literature, Joseph Heller, Philip Roth and Milan Kundera. Not bad company.)

When I first traveled back to Ukraine with my three siblings in 2001, I thought that I was embarking on a good news story, something that I could easily divorce myself from. Years later, I can't really say that anymore. Though my great-uncle Shmiel Jäger, his wife Ester and their four daughters were murdered long before I was born, I certainly feel very close to all of them now. My middle name is Jaeger, a name I always hated as a kid--David or Marc sounded better at the time--but now I feel incredibly lucky to have been given it.

Obviously I'm happy that the photographs I took on the many trips I made with Daniel--from Australia to Copenhagen to Ukraine--will be seen in a slightly (!) larger format than they originally appeared. I know I've made jokes about how small they were in print, but obviously The Lost is not a picture book. The original intent behind the photographic documentation of the people and places of The Lost was always as an accompanying exhibition.

I will be taking part in a discussion about The Lost and my photographs on Sunday, October 5th. Le Mémorial de la Shoah is located at 17 rue Geoffroy-l’Asnier in the 4th arrondissement. My brother Daniel will be on hand as well. If you're interested, you can go to the museum's web site, here.

Since I led off this post with a photograph I took on our February trip to France, a dusk image shot in front of the Paris Opera House, I'll close with a photograph of an opera house that always conjures much sadder emotions for me. L'viv, a beautiful city in western Ukraine, has its own grand opera house. But as we walked down Prospect Svobody, its main boulevard, on a rainy August day back in 2001, listening to the old-timers sing folk songs and swap stories on park benches, I couldn't help but think of the tens of thousands of Jewish residents who never got the chance to see old age.

Take care,

Matt

Sorry for the delay, gang. I'm a week behind and it's all because of technology. Between changing email servers (and losing thousands of old messages in the process), new phones and hard drive failures, it's been a challenging few days here at Matt Mendelsohn World Headquarters. In the end, everything worked out fine, though I admit there were times I was ready to bite someone's head off.

(Without a doubt, the lowest point came when our new Google Apps email wasn't working and I tried to actually contact a human being at that company. Trust me when I tell you there aren't any human beings who actually work there. Not a one. And if I had to try and guess one more password word puzzle--you know, those twisting teasers like "karpuzziness" and "schnizzleoppittt" that confirm you're not a spammer--I would have really gone off the deep end. It's hard enough to spell schnizzleoppittt when it's displayed straight and proper. But throw in those gyrating letters and my blood pressure starts to rise real fast.)

Anyway, beautiful wedding pictures of beautiful couples always calm me down a bit and so I'm here to show you a few sneak peeks from the wedding last Saturday of Lauren Davis and  Vance Townsend. As had been the case, it was just a glorious day for a wedding and I was happy to be away from my computer!

I met Lauren and Vance through a former wedding couple, Beth and Chris Burger, who were married at St. Matthew's a few years ago. I'll always remember their wedding because it yielded one of my favorite church pictures ever, this overall (left) from the back of the nave. I usually don't like to take too many chances while the vows are going on, but I couldn't resist throwing on my 16mm for just a few moments to get this image. I know Beth and Chris agree.

Well, times flies when you're having fun and I'm happy to report that Chris and Beth have an adorable son, C.J., who was the ring bearer for Vance and Lauren this past week. As I've said many times before, that's one of the great things about weddings: the generational connections that tie one to another.  I love seeing old friends at new weddings, especially when there's a new little one to show off or a former bridesmaid-now-turned-bride.

As usual, I knew things would go smoothly when I got to Lauren's family home to shoot some of the getting ready pictures. Lauren was standing at the door with a big coat hanger attached to her back, delicately propping up her veil. Hanger aside, she looked radiant. The light in the living room was soft and a big classic Bentley was waiting patiently in front of the house.

Things were fun and easy from the start--especially when Lauren noticed that Vance's letter to her had a slight little spelling correction on the envelope. We all laughed at the sweeteness of it. (Vance, I'm not poking fun, I swear. It was really nice. But you will get grief over this for years to come, man!)

From there it was off to Holy Trinity, which, like St. Matthew's, is one of my favorite places to shoot. It's always accessible and bright, and always yields beautiful images. My old buddy Cliff, who I worked with twenty years ago at United Press International, assisted me from the balcony. Afterwards we all jumped in the Bentley and cruised over to the Capitol. It was a tad hot (okay, it was scorching) but we had fun waving back at all those tourists in their Tourmobiles from our Bentley. We even had a chance to hop on over to Union Station to take some pictues in the shade. No matter how many times I go to this one spot, I always have to shake my head and tell myself that we're not in Italy. (Just watch: every photographer will start going over there now and ruin it! It always happens this way.)

And after all that, it was back to the Fairmont, where guests wined and dined themselves for a while and danced and danced for an even longer while. It was really a perfect day and I wish Lauren and Vance the best. To see a mini gallery of their wedding, click here.

As for me, I'm off to Richmond tomorrow to work on an upcoming story. In a few days I'll post again, this time with photos from another great wedding this weekend. And I'll also be able to let you in on a secret that involves, me, my pictures and a certain museum in the City of Light.

Take care,

Matt