No backpack set.

It has long befuddled me that the greatest western European cities are so ignorant of the basic economic concept of supply-demand elasticity. Along with the airlines they seem unaware that there’s a choice between having ten tourists spending $1,000 each compared with one spending $10,000. While the revenue garnered is identical, the high cost version comes with immense benefits. Less pollution, less wear and tear on plant, equipment and infrastructure and, crucially, a state of affairs where the city is beautiful and approachable once more. And legroom is restored on the flying sardine cans passing as aircraft. There are no crowds and disease spread is far lower owing to healthy affluence and shortage of sources. And as for those comparing this elitism with that of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus, I aver that the $10,000 spender has likely earned his way to this rich reward, one to which his poorer cousin is not at all entitled. First he has to earn it. Then he can enjoy it. Otherwise he can simply check National Geographic.

A recent NYT article grudgingly admits that an empty Paris is infinitely preferable to one crowded with masses of unwashed tourists, each determined to get a glimpse of the Mona Lisa through the crowds and protective glass.

Before immigrating to the United States in 1977 I made it a point of visiting this most beautiful of western cities and while it may not have been as empty as it is today, it was certainly very approachable and livable, as my images disclose:

On the Champs-Élysées.

The colors of France on the Métro.

Sunset in the Tuileries Gardens.

Wedding in Parc Monceau.

At the Holocaust Memorial.

The oldest profession.

All images on a Leica M3 with 35mm Summaron and 90mm Elmar (the chair) lenses, using Kodachrome and TriX films.

Something good from Canada.

My community here in warm, friendly Scottsdale numbers many ‘snowbirds’ amongst its winter residents. These folk come from northern climes where you have to saw a hole in the ice to go fishing much of the year, and where bathing costumes are strictly things to be contemplated with longing.

Indeed, the splendid people across the road, hailing from Calgary, some 1,500 miles north of here, are members of Genus snowbird.

When they come here for their winter sojourn they do so on tourist visas, as they make their living north of the border. Now, unfortunately, the cretinous wanker in the Oval Office, aka Pig, has decided to refuse entry or extend visas for these furrners, so they are forced to hop in the old Ford and hightail it back home before ICE/INS/the Cops come knocking with arrest warrants. Their loss is my gain as they see to it that the contents of their normally burgeoning refrigerator end up in mine, as a sort of departure gift. They also have something of a cheese habit, meaning the fridge here is stuffed to overflowing with gouda, cheddars of various sorts, boursin, cream cheese galore and you name it. Indeed, you might accurately observe that we are extremely ‘long’ cheese:

Long cheese.

Thank you Maureen and Kevin for your splendid generosity, and safe travels back to the land of moose and maple syrup.

Meanwhile, if you crave the best in British supply chain management – and cheese – you need go no further than here.

In Scottsdale’s high desert.

America’s sports car.