Monthly Archives: July 2015

Fleeting Summer Memories – First Voyage, First Love

 In early 1949 I received the good news that I had passed with honors my Senior Cambridge final exams in New Delhi. As a result I was thrilled to learn from my parents that they had decided to send me to London University to gain an engineering degree as well as to the Royal Academy of Music for a Licentiate Performer’s Diploma.

So, in the late summer of that year, and for the very first time, I saw the sea and sailed on it. Those were the days of the big passenger liners, before rapid air travel put an end to leisurely ocean voyages. My ticket was on the liner Strathaird, pictured below on the brochure of its owner, the P&O – formally known as Peninsular & Oriental Steam Navigation Co.


It took just over a fortnight to reach England, but there was never a dull moment on the voyage from Bombay (now known as Mumbai) via Aden and the Suez Canal to Port Said and westward via the Strait of Gibraltar to Southampton/London. (The upper blue dots in the map below from Bombay across the Arabian Sea and the upper ones through the Straits of Gibraltar on to London mark the actual sea route.)

Sea Voyage

On board, and soon after the boat set sail, I bumped into an attractive brown-haired English damsel about my age – she was then all of sweet 16! – and her name was Jeanie. As my abiding hobby was, and has been, Western Classical music and piano-playing, I couldn’t help but think of one of my favorite songs, Stephen Foster’s Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair, as soon as we first started chatting on the foredeck overlooking the dark blue Arabian Sea.

StephenFosterCIncidentally,  Foster  was not what you might take to be a “classical” composer, yet some of his best-loved songs have been used in orchestral compositions. Consider, for instance, Ernest Bloch’s quoting Old Folks at Home in his ‘America’; Aaron Copland’s citing Camptown Races in his ‘A Lincoln Portrait’; and the same goes for Elie Siegmeister in his ‘Prairie Legend.’ But, by a long shot, my all-time favorite has been Foster’s beloved song Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair.

Since neither Jeanie – the person on board, that is! – nor I had a berth to oneself, the breakfast room was our venue of choice each morning to chat and talk about this and that. As the day wore on, we would play deck quoits or a card game or simply stroll in the brisk salty air. And, of course, we occasionally took to the dance floor on special evenings during the long voyage.

By the time we disembarked in Southampton we were more than fast friends and talked about meeting each other ashore in ‘Ole Blighty’ ere long. Alas! It was ne’er to be, because despite my best efforts – there were no social media in those distant days of yore! – I never met Jeanie again during my five years in her homeland.

However, “Jeanie” the song lives on in my heart and in my fingers. Off and on, when I’m at the keyboard doodling away, I recall a bright summer’s day on the high seas, even though it was so many moons ago; and the words come back as well, when I hear the incomparable John McCormack singing it (in 1934) in a recording on YouTube.

Before you leave this page, take a moment to check out the song right here and follow the opening lyrics below:

John McCormack: Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair
“I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair,
Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air;
I see her tripping where the bright streams play,
Happy as the daisies that dance on her way.”

Copyright © 2015 Azim Lewis Mayadas


Mountain of Light

  – or Molehill of Loot!

Long a simmering source of friction – and fiction! – between India and England has been the famous Koh-I-Noor (Mountain of Light) Diamond that since 1865 has adorned the (literal) British Crown. Koh-i-Noor_new When not worn as part of the regal headwear of Her Royal Majesty it is housed in the Crown Jewels collection at the Tower of London. Indeed, on more than one occasion during  visits to that city I’ve been one of a constant flow of visitors who has gawked at The Diamond, even though it is no longer its original blockbuster size. Back in 1947, when India gained its independence from Britain, it claimed that the Koh-I-Noor had been taken away illegally and that it should be given back to India. Then, when Queen Elizabeth II made a state visit to India marking the 50th anniversary of its independence in 1997, many Indians in India and Britain demanded the return of The Diamond. On 21 February 2013, while visiting India, David Cameron, the UK Prime Minister, said inexplicably that it would be ‘illogical’ to return the diamond.

If we are talking here of logic, then what occurred in Oxford University just over 2 years later (this month in fact) seems to make it clearer by way of  the striking outcome at the Debating Society held in the Oxford Union: there the House decided overwhelmingly in favor of the proposition that The Diamond be returned to India as part of a larger reparation that Britain owed India for its 200 years of colonial rule. The ‘victor’ in the debate was current Indian Member of Parliament Dr. Shashi Tharoor, who courteously, but forcefully – and logically – made the argument for appropriate reparations by Britain before an attentive House. See this YouTube video featuring Dr. Shashi Tharoor at Oxford Debate in July 2015.

[A Little History Lesson: According to Edwin Streeter in his Great Diamonds of the World, the first authentic reference to the Koh-I-Noor is made in the memoirs of Babur, founder of the Mogul Empire, who conquered India in the 16th century. BaburAjpg His son, Humayun, found the diamond in the treasure house of Bikermajit, aka Bikramjit, the defeated Hindu Rajah of Gwalior. HumayunB Babur tells how the stone was once the property of Sultan Ala-ed-din, who ruled part of Hindustan from A.D. 1288 to 1321. The stone came into Ala-ed-din’s treasury in 1304, after he conquered the Rajah of Malwa, in whose family the gem had been an heirloom from “time out of mind.” The Emperor Babur delighted at getting his hands on the fabulous jewel: he had it evaluated by the most famous judge of diamonds in India who declared it to be so valuable that it was worth “half the daily expenditure of the whole world.” From then on the stone changed hands many times, but never for gold.

In 1739, by an artifice, it fell into the clutches of the Persian warlord Nadir Shah, who invaded India and defeated Mohammed Shah. Nadir Shah Nadir seized all the treasure in the Royal Palace at Delhi, but the great diamond he coveted was missing. In vain the Persian Prince hunted up and down the country for the missing gem. The conquered Mohammed Shah refused to disclose its hiding place. One night a woman from Mohammed Shah’s harem crept into Nadir’s tent and told him that the diamond was hidden in the folds of Mohammed Shah’s turban. Nadir was jubilant. He immediately organized a great durbar, to which he invited Mohammed Shah. Then he skillfully made use of an ancient Indian custom rarely omitted between princes of equal rank on State occasions: he asked Mohammed Shah to “exchange turbans” with him as a sign of friendship and respect. Mohammed, taken completely by surprise, had no alternative but to exchange his immaculate turban for the Persian’s greasy sheepskin headdress.

Immediately that Nadir had the turban in his hands, he ordered the festivities to cease, and rushed to his tent, where he ripped open the turban to pieces. The harem woman was right; the gem he coveted rolled out of the cloth on to the beaten earth floor of the tent. When he saw the stone glistening in the dim light, Nadir was so overcome that he fell on his knees, crying out “Koh-I-Noor!”

From then on the stone was known far and wide by that very name. However, the Koh-I-Noor didn’t bring Nadir any better luck than his predecessors had had. He was murdered. The next owner of Koh-I-Noor was Nadir’s feeble-minded son, Shah Rokh, who inherited it on his father’s death, along with the rest of the Royal treasure. Immediately disaster overtook him. A powerful prince, Mir Allim Khan, who wanted to get his hands on the diamond, went to war against him. After a terrible battle Rokh was defeated. But, although he had his eyes gouged out and boiling oil poured over his shaven head, and though he was beaten and starved almost to death, he refused to disclose where the gem was hidden. With incredible courage and cunning Rakh kept the jewel in his possession until he died in 1751, when he bequeathed it to Ahmed Shah, founder of the Durrani Afghan Empire.

The Diamond again changed hands several times in quick succession. Everyone who owned it found it brought violence and bloodshed with it. In 1813 Ranjit Singh, known as the Lion of the Punjab, had the stone set in a magnificent bracelet, which he wore on all public occasions. He was a tyrannical, brutal ruler, and when he was dying his councilors advised him to appease the gods by presenting the diamond to the famous shrine of Jaganath (origin of the Anglicized Juggernaut). The dying king is said to have agreed to this by nodding his head. His councilors rushed-off to the Royal Treasury to get the stone from its vault, but the Crown jeweler, suspecting some skullduggery, refused to give the jewel up without a written order from the King. But by the time the councilors got back to the King’s apartment he was dead. History doesn’t say what happened to the poor unfortunate jeweler.

From then on the jewel remained in the treasure chamber of the Royal Palace at Lahore until the British annexed the Punjab in 1849. They took over the Lahore Treasury, the contents of which went to the East India Company in payment of a debt owed to it by the Lahore Government. Almost immediately the Koh-I-Noor was sent to England under heavy guard, coinciding with the 250th anniversary of the East India Company. The Diamond was presented to Queen Victoria on July 3, 1850 as part of the terms that ended the Sikh War.

Queen VictoriaB

Prince Albert took a great interest in the stone, and personally supervised its re-cutting by a Mr. Voorsauger, employee of the famous Amsterdam firm of Costers. Voorsauger came especially to London to cut the stone. On July 6, 1852, the Prince Consort put the gem on the mill especially built for the job, and the Duke of Wellington started the machinery. Before the stone was recut it weighed 185 1/16 carats and was valued at £140,000. The cutting took 38 days of 12 working hours each, and cost £8,000. In the process the gem lost 80 carats in weight. When the job was finished Prince Albert publicly denounced the result. He claimed that the brilliant design chosen by the Queen’s advisers had caused a heavy loss in the stone’s weight without achieving any visible good results.

Be it noted that ever since the Koh-I-Noor came to Britain it has been owned and worn by women – never by men – perhaps merely by coincidence, perhaps partly in deference to the old legend of death and mayhem that only a woman can wear it with safety. Now, once again, India wants this Mountain of Light turned by detractors to a Molehill of Loot returned to its lawful ancestral bosom. ]

Main Reference Sources: Wikipedia, Edwin Streeter’s Great Diamonds of the World, Bamber Gascoigne’s The Great Moghuls, Zelie McLeod’s India’s Tragic Gem (May 4, 1947), Azim Mayadas’s Private Collection of Books and Paintings.

Copyright © 2015 Azim Lewis Mayadas

The Long and the Short and the Tall

Bless ’em All! Bless ’em All! The Long and the Short and the Tall!!

No – this has nothing to do with that Malaysian jungle story made famous by a British film of the same name in the 1960’s, but with the more civilized re-creation of wilderness by the hand of man in the Franklin Park Zoo (Jamaica Plains) amidst the largely urban jungle that is Boston today.

Further to my gorilla-centric tale the last time I wrote, this blog is devoted to other denizens that are, well, known for being long, or short or tall, er, very tall. Few readers, for instance, would have seen live a long, shaggy animal known for its love of the ants (no, that phrase is not a misprint for love of the arts, nor is it used in the cuddly sense.) For those tiny creatures are the source of pure culinary enjoyment – and earthly survival! – to the anteater.

In all its galumphing shambling glory, that animal is recognizable by its elongated snout, bushy tail, long fore-claws, and distinctively colored pelage. It feeds primarily on ants and termites, using its claws to dig them up and its long, sticky tongue to collect them. The giant kind can grow beyond 7 ft. in length from snout-tip to tail-end. Judge for yourselves from my brief video below:

Along the same enclosed gallery of live exhibits were various smaller animals, but I was particularly taken with a pair of lemurs, which were shy in the extreme and wouldn’t reveal themselves in full to show off their long attractive ringtails. Still their innate attractiveness is still apparent from my photo of their snuggling in a wooded hideaway. Lemur at Boston Zoo[Lemurs are endemic to the island of Madagascar, and thereby hangs a tale harking back to the time when a pet male lemur, who responded to the name of Jerry, was presented to my family by a ship’s captain and his wife returning to the mainland.
One evening they dropped by to bring Jerry over with the aim of asking us to give him a home, as they knew we were fond of animals. He looked like a small monkey, only he had a slightly bushy tail with dark rings around it.
Jerry soon became a part of the household and daily life and never failed to entertain everyone with his merry pranks and mischieveness.]

Leaving the gallery, we headed for the wide open spaces where we soon spotted the zoo’s tallest inhabitants – giraffes! They certainly had free reign of their extensive domain and standing at some 15 feet high had, I imagine, a panoramic view of the gaping mortals looking up at them with awe and admiration in the bright sunshine.

Giraffe at Boston ZooB

Not to be outdone by members of the animal kingdom on display, I asked our Bostonian hosts to stand long, short and tall – not necessarily in that order – for an iPad snapshot, as we headed for the exit after an exhilarating and entertaining day at the zoo.

057The Bostonians (sans Papa working overtime at his Office)

Copyright © 2015 Azim Lewis Mayadas

Azizi – the Aww Factor in the Franklin Park Zoo!

Kiki with Azizi Undertow

Saturday, July the 13th, was a brilliant summer’s day in the Northeast, and our family needed no prodding to savor Nature in the not-so-wild-but-welcoming Franklin Park Zoo in Boston.

Of moment was the celebration of a new-born baby gorilla christened earlier in the week with the name Azizi, which is Arabic for beloved, dear, darling and/or precious – take your pick.  Mother Kiki, seen above, lumbered about in the vast natural looking enclosure with her precious cargo carried undertow. She was soon overtaken by her fierce-looking mate, Kitombe, who strode proudly past us showing off his brawn and muscle:

015Not to be outdone in the genealogical department, the Zoo officials had created a family tree of our gorilla pair that would now have to be updated to show the latest progeny.
Meanwhile, here is where matters stood prior to Azizi’s birthday: you’ll note that both its parents are American-born – he in New Orleans, she in the Bronx.

Kiki and Kitombe

Kiki nursing Azizi

The video above would have clearly captured mother and infant except for the fact that the two drew a mini-mob of their close human relatives, who on bended knee oohed and aahed with delight at the couple’s proximity. Ah well – pretend that you were there as well!

All awhile, Papa Kitombe looked on amidst consuming large quantities of greens off twigs and branches in his spacious den as seen below. Are you kids out there listening, when your parents ask you to eat your veggies?!

Kitombe enjoying his Veggies

Copyright © 2015 Azim Lewis Mayadas

A Pauline Thread Through Thick and Thin

St. Paul’s Church, Landour, India 

St. Paul’s Church, Landour (Renovated Interior) in 2010

St Paul’s Cathedral, Calcutta

St Paul's Calcutta
St. Paul’s Cathedral, Calcutta (Interior)
St.Paul's Interior

“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects,
always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres –
St. Paul.”

As I take a moment to survey my time on this good earth for over eight decades, I cannot escape the fact that certain abiding tenets have informed my life choices – good or not so good. In the end they bespeak to my mind mainly of goodwill toward my fellow men and women that sustain me every time I venture forth into the world to retrace my steps along the way. They inevitably take me to those edifices that have most moved me, emotionally and spiritually, and buttress my belief in undying love that protects and perseveres.

Without obfuscation, I speak of a Pauline thread through thick and thin that runs in my very core since my arrival on this earth in the Himalayan mountain resort of Mussoorie.
St. Paul’s Church is located in Landour: the name itself is drawn from Llanddowror, a village in Carmarthenshire in southwest Wales. A small cantonment town contiguous with Mussoorie, Landour is a short distance as the crow flies from where I first saw the light of day in the Evelyn Nursing Home & Hospital situated in the valley 500 feet below.

Over the years that fact has drawn me ever so often back to the Queen of the Hills—as Mussoorie is best known in India—on a personal pilgrimage. Indeed, early in 2011, I was there once again after an absence of 5 years, refreshing my spirit in the shadow of the towering 23,000-foot peaks that eons ago spawned the holy Ganges River. And I was happy to see that the church had completed an overall renovation just a year earlier.

Twin Cities?
As an aside, Englewood, New Jersey, has been the Mayadas home for over three decades and during that time my wife, Lolita, and I have discovered certain similarities between our fair City of Englewood and Mussoorie-Landour. Both have historic churches: St. Paul’s here was established in 1865, the other in 1840. In preparation for its 150th anniversary, the latter undertook extensive renovation, particularly in insulating the sanctuary—that accommodates 250 parishioners—from the effects of the annual monsoon and the bitterly cold winter.

To that end, it was helped immeasurably by a well-to-do alumnus of Woodstock School, which in Mussoorie is the educational equivalent of Dwight-Englewood School: Now based on the US model of secondary and higher education, Woodstock was initially opened in 1854 by a company of British officers and two American missionaries; later, in 1872, members of the Board of Foreign Missions of the Presbyterian Church, U.S.A., purchased the school, and it is now the second-best known residential institution of learning in South Asia with strong ties to its sister school in Northfield, Mass., The Mount Hermon School.

Other similarities are the hilly terrain, great for walking – along the Palisades, for instance – and exploring by inveterate hikers, as well as the sheer diversity of the population. Unlike Englewood, however, Mussoorie is a holiday destination during the summer months for hordes of tourists fleeing the hot Indian plains for a breath of cool fresh air and loads of outdoor activities such as horse-riding, sailing on local lakes and, of course, mountaineering.

The church in Landour was built in 1839 and first consecrated on 1 May 1840, by Bishop Daniel Wilson of Calcutta. From 1840 to 1947, the church was run by military chaplains and was the premier church for the cantonment being used primarily by the British residents of Landour associated with the area and the British Military Hospital during the British Raj.

The church was extended and renovated in 1855 with the walls raised to their present level and the east end enlarged to include a new choir, sanctuary and vestry. A second renovation was carried out in 1882, which saw the sheet metal roof replaced with thatch and a new deodar wood plank ceiling with sal wood support beams. This, however, appears to have had little affect on the cold and damp of the church: Chaplain J. W. Shaw commented in 1883 that the church walls had become “saturated and damp in the rain” – so much so that he felt it necessary to purchase three iron stoves to warm the church and vestry room!

1857 marked the year of the Indian Mutiny. The event was so named by the British;  in the church record it was referred to as the Insurrection and by Indian historians as India’s First War of Independence  – take your pick according to your ethnic background. Rev. W. J. Jay was the chaplain during that period (1856-1857) and regular services were held uninterruptedly until the present time.

Notably, complete Church marriage records are available from 1927 onwards. Featured among them are the names of many British citizens, including the parents of the storied British shikari (hunter) Jim Corbett, Christopher and Janet Corbett. In recent years, St. Paul’s has been administered by the established Church of North India or CNI.

College Student
During my years in London, pursuing engineering studies at City and Guilds College,
I went on occasion to Sunday services held at St. Paul’s Cathedral. The majesty of the building outside and inside invariably left me in awe as to what the hand of man can create in the service of the Almighty. I would have preferred to attend more regularly, but it was quite a journey by public transport – bus-cum-Underground – to make it in time regularly from my digs on Tottenham Court Road in spite of my best efforts. Nevertheless, the solemnity of the sung communion service accompanied by the grandeur of the mighty organ lifted my spirits no end to face the coming week crammed with learning the subjects included in my college courses each semester.

St. Paul’s Cathedral, London


Not only that, I had to spend a considerable swatch of time in going to my piano lessons each week at the Royal Academy of Music in another part of the metropolis. However, that was my first love in coming to England from New Delhi as a teenager, and was a source of inspiration to me when I felt in a fit of angst that life was slipping me by. And so it has continued to be years later, even when I returned to India and joined Bird and Company,  a leading commercial firm in Calcutta, the former capital of British India.

Business Executive
During my decade-long tenure as head of Bird’s Coal Companies in Calcutta, I was also the Trustee of the agency house’s Sir Edward Benthall Charitable Trust, which gave regular annual donations amounting to many lakhs of rupees to deserving charities, among which St. Paul’s Cathedral was the largest beneficiary.

One of my more pleasurable tasks each year was to make an appointment with the Bishop of Calcutta whose imposing diocesan building lay prominently on Chowringhee Road opposite the Cathedral complex and hand over to him the Trust’s handsome check personally. As a matter of course, it was expected of me as a prominent Anglican in the congregation to serve on the finance committee and the vestry of the Cathedral to ensure that its finances and administration were running soundly and smoothly respectively.

Another check went by mail to help a large home established amidst one of the tea-garden estates in the Northeast for orphans: most of them were children born out of wedlock; they had been sired and then abandoned by estate managers, who returned back to Blighty (Anglo-Indian for Hindustani ‘bilaiti’ for land of the British foreigner) at the end of their service contract with any one of many tea companies, which had extensive holdings in the states of West Bengal and Assam.

Full Circle

Now my Pauline journey hath ended in this sylvan neck of the woods. It has given me the gift of being within walking distance of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Englewood and a spring in my step to its portals – seen appropriately below in Springtime!

St. Paul's Entrance in Spring

Photo: Azim Mayadas

Earlier stops Stateside in Rochester, New York and Miami, Florida, failed to offer what I needed spiritually although they satisfied my – and my family’s – creature needs: good schools, good friends and a welcome lifestyle. Now that we are comfortably settled in Englewood, St. Paul’s takes on added significance. I joined it directly from my move back to the Northeast from Florida and soon became involved in its spiritual life, first as a parishioner and then as senior warden. Later, when it needed more help at a difficult time, I took on the role of Parish Administrator, which post I held for over five years until my retirement on June 30, 2014.

Because of many contributions to church and community attributed to me, I was recognized by the Diocese of Newark, which presented me with The David Paul Hegg II 2013 Lifetime Achievement Award.

Copyright © 2015 Azim Lewis Mayadas

Either / Or – An Aestival Dilemma Each Year!

Bowl of Cherries D

Proverb: Everything is going my way!

As they say, “Life is just a bowl of cherries.” And that lot above – atop my Saturday breakfast table  on the morning of Independence Day – is some of the best that Washington State has to offer at this time of year.

And so, as we enter the month of July, my thoughts turn not only to cherries so full of juice now and crisply edible to boot, but also to what summer has to offer my wife and me by way of relaxation. Either we remain close to home, so that both of us may enjoy the pleasure of dwelling in a familiar and comfortable leafy environment that is Englewood – with perhaps a twist here or a fling there to add some zest to the business of normal day-to-day living! Or we decide to take a dare with a bit of flair and derring-do and risk the unknown in an unfamiliar place or country that promises to offer us an unparalleled adventure of a lifetime – or two!

Needless to say – so why say it, you may well ask? – we normally tend to rely on past experiences, which turn out to be either ho-hum or wildly and unexpectedly exciting, albeit colored by hindsight and the passage of time that imbue our collective memory as if seen through rose-tinted spectacles.

To cut a long story short, one hot summer 12 years ago – almost to the day – we decided on the flip of a coin to head north to a cooler clime,  and thus began our own version of “A Tale of Two Cities.”

We traveled to our first stop Montreal, which is Canada’s  second largest mainly French-speaking city in the world after Paris.

We felt a thrill of excitement as we arrived in Montreal:
Montreal June 1993 001 So much to see there before our self-imposed deadline for sightseeing obliged us to head on to Quebec City without too much delay. For the record, the original “City of Mary” (Ville-Marie) was named Montreal after Mount Royal (the triple-peaked hill at its very heart.)
In 2006 it was named a UNESCO City of Design – only one of three such design capitals, the others being Berlin, Germany and Buenos Aires, Argentina.

[As an aside, Lolita and I had visited Berlin together on two occasions and can vouch from personal experience that Montreal and Berlin have a lot to boast about design-wise, but that does not account for the fact that the former is French to the core and Berlin, while quintessentially German, is much more cosmopolitan from a foreign visitor’s point of view.
On my own I’ve been to Buenos Aires for a fortnight, and I dare say it is the most European of cities in South America – something which is quite palpable as soon as one steps off the plane at its international airport. Without doubt, it well deserves to be part of the design-capital trio.]

Another unique feature, one that we explored quite a bit, is Montreal’s Underground City (or La Ville Souterraine) – a set of interconnected complexes, both above and below ground in and around Downtown. No visitor should miss the experience before leaving for  sightseeing other cities. I do have some photos of our underground foray, but the picture quality is poor due to inadequate lighting and insufficiently good to place in this blog.

Onward to Quebec City then:

Quebec July 1993 001

Soon after our arrival there the two of us could be found  strolling the cobblestone streets of Old Quebec – a journey back into time. The walled city has a unique European flavor about it and has been beautifully preserved after nigh on four centuries: to my mind, it’s the most romantic city in North America; and its Château Frontenac is a fairytale castle that amazes one and all in offering spellbinding views of the river and surrounding spectacular scenery. In sharp contrast, Rue du Trésor (seen above with Lolita) doubles as an outdoor art gallery;  it attracts a host of artists who display their work on the walls lining the narrow street.

As all good things must come to an end, so do my fond recollections of a brief – but  unforgettable – summer holiday spent with Lolita in two of Canada’s most distinctive and historical cities.

A Bowl of Cherries is immortalized by more than the proverb quoted at the outset. For instance, “Life is carefree”  and “Everything is going well.” It also serves as a resource for anyone who is celebrating lifes milestones, whether it be an engagement, birthday, graduation, new home or first foreign travel …

Copyright © 2015 Azim Lewis Mayadas