Erkan's post titled UNESCO to declare 2007 'The Year of Mevlana' set me searching for more information. Erkan had linked to a newspaper article that began, Culture and Tourism Ministry Undersecretary Mustafa İsen said 2007 was the 800th anniversary of the birth of famous Turkish philosopher and poet Mevlana, and therefore they submitted a proposal to UNESCO to officially declare 2007 as the “Year of Mevlana” to mark the 800th anniversary of his birth.
You see, I twice saw the Sufis perform their Whirling Dervish in the Mevlevi Monastery in Istanbul. They stunned me but it's something you need to see for yourself.
The Lonely Planet wrote, Tucked away off a street named after one of the great poets of the sect, Galip Dede, the museum centres on an 18th-century lodge, within which is a beautiful octagonal wooden dance floor. Here, for the benefit of visitors, the sema (ritual dance) is performed by a group of latter-day Sufi devotees. At 3pm a dozen or so dancers unfurl their great circular skirts to whirl round the room in an extraordinary state of ecstatic meditation, accompanied by haunting music.
Searching the web I discovered a blog titled Sufi News and Sufism World Report and there Dr. Alan Godlas from the Department of Religion at the University of Georgia writes that, On the occasion of the 800th anniversary of Mevlana’s birthday, the great Peace Competition of Mevlana, otherwise known as Rumi, the great Iranian poet of the 13th century AD, will be held in Konya, Turkey in 2007.
I also noticed Wiliam Dalrymple's name on his site and was curious; Dalrymple is one of my favourite travel writers. He hooked me when I read his book titled In Xanadu, A Quest . But back to the Sufi site and it seems that Dalrymple has made a movie called Sufi Soul .
In it, Dalrymple travelled across South Asia — from Morocco and Turkey to Pakistan and India — finding out about this religion. The hour-long film covers quite a few aspects of Sufism — the whirling dervishes inspired by the poet and Sufi saint Rumi, the underground Sufis in Istanbul who have been forbidden to practice, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and his nephew Rahat and even the qawwali sessions in the Nizamuddin Dargah.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Blogging and me
I posted the extract from Paulo Coelho because my habit of writing is as contrary as his ... my blog has become my way of trying to organise the habit of procrastination into a daily result. But I wonder, is a routine of reading and walking and taking time to think really procrastination?
To write you have to take things in, you have to savour or process them, you need time unless you are fortunate and have a mind you can manage, as some writers have.
My habit has become reading and blogging on the mornings I'm free, recovering in the afternoon and running errands, and then writing fictional things has always been something I've done in the night, after midnight preferably.
But I write of my writing so lightly ...I haven't yet learned to take it seriously, to give it the respect it needs, allocating it the hours we all give to 'real' work.
And when are you a writer ... when you write or when you are published?
The blog has become my halfway home, the place where I 'write'.
Obviously, as the saga of moving countries and gaining legal residency and permission to work dragged on, I realised I had a need for something that measured my hours and output. I have no income, I have nowhere I am required to be in these days ... and so my blog serves a double function; a reason to write and a kind of business .
It has become my measurement of time spent and today, when I fed my url details in at the 'How much is your blog worth' Business Opportunities Blog, I discovered that my blog is presently worth $15,807.12.
Not bad, I thought to myself ...
The real test will come in the months ahead when I have to prepare and present a real-life businessplan in the hope of impressing people in Belgie with my desire for work and a Professional Card. Mmmm, let's see how that goes.
To write you have to take things in, you have to savour or process them, you need time unless you are fortunate and have a mind you can manage, as some writers have.
My habit has become reading and blogging on the mornings I'm free, recovering in the afternoon and running errands, and then writing fictional things has always been something I've done in the night, after midnight preferably.
But I write of my writing so lightly ...I haven't yet learned to take it seriously, to give it the respect it needs, allocating it the hours we all give to 'real' work.
And when are you a writer ... when you write or when you are published?
The blog has become my halfway home, the place where I 'write'.
Obviously, as the saga of moving countries and gaining legal residency and permission to work dragged on, I realised I had a need for something that measured my hours and output. I have no income, I have nowhere I am required to be in these days ... and so my blog serves a double function; a reason to write and a kind of business .
It has become my measurement of time spent and today, when I fed my url details in at the 'How much is your blog worth' Business Opportunities Blog, I discovered that my blog is presently worth $15,807.12.
Not bad, I thought to myself ...
The real test will come in the months ahead when I have to prepare and present a real-life businessplan in the hope of impressing people in Belgie with my desire for work and a Professional Card. Mmmm, let's see how that goes.
I love the way Paulo Coelho writes of the act of trying to write, in his book titled The Zahir.
I notice that I go through the same process as I did when writing my first book: I wake up at nine o'clock in the morning, ready to sit down at my computer immediately after breakfast; then I read the newspapers, go for a walk, visit the nearest bar for a chat, come home, look at the computer, discover that I need to make several phone calls, look at the computer again, by which time lunch is ready, and I sit eating and thinking that I really ought to have started writing at eleven o'clock, but now I need a nap, I wake at five in the afternoon, finally turn on the computer, go to check my e-mails, then remember I've destroyed my Internet connection; I could go to a place ten minutes away where I can get online, but couldn't I, just to free my conscience from these feelings of guilt, couldn't I at least write for half an hour?
I begin out of a feeling of duty, but suddenly 'the thing' takes hold of me and I can't stop. The maid calls me for supper and I ask her not to interrupt me; an hour later, she calls me again; I'm hungry, but I must write just one more line, one more sentence, one more page. By the time I sit down at the table, the food is cold, I gobble it down and go back to the computer - I am no longer in control of where I place my feet, the island is being revealed to me, I am being propelled along its paths, finding things I have never even thought or dreamed of. I drink a cup of coffee, and another, and at two o'clock in the morning I finally stop writing, because my eyes are tired.
I go to bed, spend another hour making notes of things to use in the next paragraph and which always prove completely useless - they serve only to empty my mind so that sleep can come. I promise myself that the next morning, I'll start at eleven o'clock prompt. And the following day, the same thing happens - the walk, the conversations, lunch,, a nap, the feelings of guilt, then irritation at myself for destroying the Internet connection, until I, at last, make myself sit down and write the first page ...
I notice that I go through the same process as I did when writing my first book: I wake up at nine o'clock in the morning, ready to sit down at my computer immediately after breakfast; then I read the newspapers, go for a walk, visit the nearest bar for a chat, come home, look at the computer, discover that I need to make several phone calls, look at the computer again, by which time lunch is ready, and I sit eating and thinking that I really ought to have started writing at eleven o'clock, but now I need a nap, I wake at five in the afternoon, finally turn on the computer, go to check my e-mails, then remember I've destroyed my Internet connection; I could go to a place ten minutes away where I can get online, but couldn't I, just to free my conscience from these feelings of guilt, couldn't I at least write for half an hour?
I begin out of a feeling of duty, but suddenly 'the thing' takes hold of me and I can't stop. The maid calls me for supper and I ask her not to interrupt me; an hour later, she calls me again; I'm hungry, but I must write just one more line, one more sentence, one more page. By the time I sit down at the table, the food is cold, I gobble it down and go back to the computer - I am no longer in control of where I place my feet, the island is being revealed to me, I am being propelled along its paths, finding things I have never even thought or dreamed of. I drink a cup of coffee, and another, and at two o'clock in the morning I finally stop writing, because my eyes are tired.
I go to bed, spend another hour making notes of things to use in the next paragraph and which always prove completely useless - they serve only to empty my mind so that sleep can come. I promise myself that the next morning, I'll start at eleven o'clock prompt. And the following day, the same thing happens - the walk, the conversations, lunch,, a nap, the feelings of guilt, then irritation at myself for destroying the Internet connection, until I, at last, make myself sit down and write the first page ...
Everest News.com
Slowly but surely I'm working my way through my Favourites list, rediscovering the items I filed in a 'safe place' ... so safe that I rarely revisited them.
Everest News is one of my well-used sites, superb if you're interested in the climbing world. EverestNews is loaded with current news, facts and information on mountains, expeditions and climbers. The site is updated continuously as news from expeditions comes in. In addition, we have links for books and gear and a comprehensive archive that grows daily.
Everest News is one of my well-used sites, superb if you're interested in the climbing world. EverestNews is loaded with current news, facts and information on mountains, expeditions and climbers. The site is updated continuously as news from expeditions comes in. In addition, we have links for books and gear and a comprehensive archive that grows daily.
Radio New Zealand and Maureen Dowd
Back home in New Zealand I loved National Radio ... most particularly interviews by Kim Hill. Today I was going through the recent archives of her Saturday morning show and found that she had interviewed Maureen Dowd, Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times columnist.
Sunshine
This morning I felt like I understood why the ancients worshipped the sun ... it was lovely to find it shining today. It fills the apartment, making life seem good after our long grey winter.
And someone believes they have finally solved the puzzle of why it took so long for me to get permission to reside here in Belgie. A ex-colleague of Gert's pointed out that I was making the very suspicious move of trying to come into Europe meanwhile most people dream of a life in New Zealand.
And someone believes they have finally solved the puzzle of why it took so long for me to get permission to reside here in Belgie. A ex-colleague of Gert's pointed out that I was making the very suspicious move of trying to come into Europe meanwhile most people dream of a life in New Zealand.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Proust said ‘a book is a product of a different self than we manifest in our habits, our social life and vices.’ This is true. The inner self of a writer, the self destined to live beyond the flesh, is not always visible in the writer’s daily life. But the writer’s true voice, once discovered, is congruent with the writer’s soul.
This voice is what all writers seek, and very few find – to raise a cry that is integral to one’s soul. Here is the paradox of writing. You can’t hide behind words. What and who you are shines forth on every page – whether you pretend objectivity or not. You strip down to the essential self.
Erica Jong,
The Devil at Large
This voice is what all writers seek, and very few find – to raise a cry that is integral to one’s soul. Here is the paradox of writing. You can’t hide behind words. What and who you are shines forth on every page – whether you pretend objectivity or not. You strip down to the essential self.
Erica Jong,
The Devil at Large
Hiroshima
Harvey Molloy, a New Zealand writer and teacher, has written an interesting post about Hiroshima , a book by John Hersey.
The CliffNotes he links to open with this:In September 1945, young John Hersey was sent to the Far East on assignment for the New Yorker and Life magazines. He had already published three books, Men on Bataan, Into the Valley, and A Bell for Adano, with the latter bringing him the Pulitzer Prize earlier in May. His original intention was to write a piece about Hiroshima based on what he could see in the ruins of the city and what he could hear about the bombing from its survivors. In Tokyo, Hersey met Father Wilhelm Kleinsorge, the German priest of his book. Hersey soon added five more survivors to the book by interviewing people Kleinsorge directed him to as well as by screening many other Japanese survivors. Hersey wrote the story and brought it back to William Shawn, the general manager of the New Yorker, in August 1946.
The CliffNotes he links to open with this:In September 1945, young John Hersey was sent to the Far East on assignment for the New Yorker and Life magazines. He had already published three books, Men on Bataan, Into the Valley, and A Bell for Adano, with the latter bringing him the Pulitzer Prize earlier in May. His original intention was to write a piece about Hiroshima based on what he could see in the ruins of the city and what he could hear about the bombing from its survivors. In Tokyo, Hersey met Father Wilhelm Kleinsorge, the German priest of his book. Hersey soon added five more survivors to the book by interviewing people Kleinsorge directed him to as well as by screening many other Japanese survivors. Hersey wrote the story and brought it back to William Shawn, the general manager of the New Yorker, in August 1946.
Missing Istanbul
I came here to write a sad post about missing Istanbul. I'm homesick for everything I loved about it today. It's warmth, the noise, the chaos, the friendliness, the life ... maybe that's what I miss most of all, the life. Istanbul is a city full of life and the living. 
But Aynur Dogan's music was playing as I wrote and it's impossible to hold onto the sadness. 'Ahmeda' is stunning, 'Ni Diyem' made me smile and I love 'Heseniko'. She's worth listening to if you can find her music.
Tarkan's 'Kiss Kiss' is another ... I defy anyone to listen to it and not smile. I introduced Gert's children to him and they loved it too.
When I'm missing Taksim, I dig out 'The Waltz of the Butterfly' ... really, it was the music that so many of the shops on Istiklal Caddesi played out onto the street and it became the music that I most associated with those days of strolling through Istanbul. Beste's mother bought me the cd on my last night there.
I miss the people ... Beste and Jason who took me home for Chechen food over in Kadikoy; Kagan and his family ... the Sweet Bayram and Ramazan feasts with them and the stories they might still laugh over when they think of this yabanci breaking things in Ankara. The kindness of Nilay, Mutlu, Evran, Lisen and Yakub, Remzi ... the stunning warmth of so many people.
And then there's the students and oddly enough, I miss them and dreamed of them yesterday, I was reapplying for a job in the first school I taught in.
Mmmmmm, so it is that today I am missing Istanbul .
But Aynur Dogan's music was playing as I wrote and it's impossible to hold onto the sadness. 'Ahmeda' is stunning, 'Ni Diyem' made me smile and I love 'Heseniko'. She's worth listening to if you can find her music.
Tarkan's 'Kiss Kiss' is another ... I defy anyone to listen to it and not smile. I introduced Gert's children to him and they loved it too.
When I'm missing Taksim, I dig out 'The Waltz of the Butterfly' ... really, it was the music that so many of the shops on Istiklal Caddesi played out onto the street and it became the music that I most associated with those days of strolling through Istanbul. Beste's mother bought me the cd on my last night there.
I miss the people ... Beste and Jason who took me home for Chechen food over in Kadikoy; Kagan and his family ... the Sweet Bayram and Ramazan feasts with them and the stories they might still laugh over when they think of this yabanci breaking things in Ankara. The kindness of Nilay, Mutlu, Evran, Lisen and Yakub, Remzi ... the stunning warmth of so many people.
And then there's the students and oddly enough, I miss them and dreamed of them yesterday, I was reapplying for a job in the first school I taught in.
Mmmmmm, so it is that today I am missing Istanbul .
Monday, March 20, 2006
A New Ocean
Geologist Dereje Ayalew and his colleagues from Addis Ababa University were amazed and frightened. They had only just stepped out of their helicopter onto the desert plains of central Ethiopia when the ground began to shake under their feet. The pilot shouted for the scientists to get back to the helicopter. And then it happened: the Earth split open. Crevices began racing toward the researchers like a zipper opening up. After a few seconds, the ground stopped moving, and after they had recovered from their shock, Ayalew and his colleagues realized they had just witnessed history. For the first time ever, human beings were able to witness the first stages in the birth of an ocean, was the beginning of an interesting article I found in der Spiegel today.
You have an image, say the burned man in 'The English Patient', then you have to unearth the story: the connections between that man and this nurse and that woman from 10 years earlier. The story is discovered by unearthing small bits and pieces - a bone here, a shoe here, an anecdote. It becomes a discovery that's not chronological. The crucial thing you discover about a person may happen at the very end, as opposed to the beginning.
The way we discover our friends in some ways.
Michael Ondaatje
Interview, June 2000.
The way we discover our friends in some ways.
Michael Ondaatje
Interview, June 2000.
Culiblog
I'm not sure how to describe this blog post I found via the blogher roll but it's incredibly thought-provoking.
Culiblog writes, In January 2004, Dutch artist Renzo Martens produced his forty-four minute art film, Episode 1, a documentation of an extensive art performance. Martens travelled to the hottest hot spot war that he could find at the time of making the film (Chechnya, 2002), and in this 'setting' he pointed the camera, not at the war's victims and/or perpetrators like most (news) cameras do, but back upon himself. In Episode 1, Martens asks his Chechen and Russian Federation subjects, 'What do you think about me?'
And ends with: Of course Martens created this film for an art context, and the film articulately addresses contemporary art issues. Quite possibly Martens would be appalled that I consider his film to be 'useful', not just for artists and an art public, but as a tool to talk about the causes of war, hunger and the politics of emergency food distribution. And the question that Martens dares to ask amidst flying bullets, UN press conferences, annoyed Russian soldiers, women in food queues and refugees living in tent camps, the initial struggle that it initiates in the interviewee and in me, the audience, as I am simultaneously embarrassed by this question, but know that it is a question that can air-lift all of us actors out of the immediate and into a larger, more important discussion. Complexity is not complicated.
Culiblog is a culinary weblog by Debra Solomon, an artist and designer based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. The blog focusses on food, food design and innovation ...
Culiblog writes, In January 2004, Dutch artist Renzo Martens produced his forty-four minute art film, Episode 1, a documentation of an extensive art performance. Martens travelled to the hottest hot spot war that he could find at the time of making the film (Chechnya, 2002), and in this 'setting' he pointed the camera, not at the war's victims and/or perpetrators like most (news) cameras do, but back upon himself. In Episode 1, Martens asks his Chechen and Russian Federation subjects, 'What do you think about me?'
And ends with: Of course Martens created this film for an art context, and the film articulately addresses contemporary art issues. Quite possibly Martens would be appalled that I consider his film to be 'useful', not just for artists and an art public, but as a tool to talk about the causes of war, hunger and the politics of emergency food distribution. And the question that Martens dares to ask amidst flying bullets, UN press conferences, annoyed Russian soldiers, women in food queues and refugees living in tent camps, the initial struggle that it initiates in the interviewee and in me, the audience, as I am simultaneously embarrassed by this question, but know that it is a question that can air-lift all of us actors out of the immediate and into a larger, more important discussion. Complexity is not complicated.
Culiblog is a culinary weblog by Debra Solomon, an artist and designer based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. The blog focusses on food, food design and innovation ...
Blogher.org
Websites are conversations appears on the homepage of blogher
It's a site worth checking out.
BlogHer’s mission is to create opportunities for women bloggers to pursue exposure, education, and community. They're building a guide to women bloggers. In 20+ popular topics, you will find lists of blogs by women and constantly updating guides to what's hot, written by contributing editors.
It's a site worth checking out.
BlogHer’s mission is to create opportunities for women bloggers to pursue exposure, education, and community. They're building a guide to women bloggers. In 20+ popular topics, you will find lists of blogs by women and constantly updating guides to what's hot, written by contributing editors.
The Physics of Friendship
I was reading while eating lunch and found this on Erkan's blog.
The Physics of Friendship from PhysOrg.com
By comparing people to mobile particles randomly bouncing off each other, scientists have developed a new model for social networks. The model fits with empirical data to naturally reproduce the community structure, clustering and evolution of general acquaintances and even sexual contacts.
[...]
Maps and I
I have this idea that I can't read maps and so whenever possible, I turn them in to written directions. If pressed I can do it but it almost hurts. However I think I give the impression I can read maps and so it was that Gert seemed surprised when I invited him to guide me, my notebook and pencil through some of the Antwerpen walks yesterday.
Many pages of scribbled notes were made as he struggled to read the badly-scaled maps which gave me hope that finding my way around Rome alone wasn't some kind of bizarre fluke and merely confirmed the Lonely Planet make maps most people can use. I don't know, personally I like to look down at instructions that read 'left onto Hoogstraat, next right onto St Jansvliet etc ... it's my preference when driving too.
Bruges is simpler, although the map I use there is just as badly scaled as my Antwerpen one but there's some kind of natural flow thing that goes on there. I haven't worked out whether it's the other tourists and their maps leading the way or the fact that the Bruges walking map follows some kind of naturally occuring route of alleyways and squares.
To make things more complicated, left and right has always been guided by the small faint l-shaped scar on my left hand ... imagine me learning direction in Nederlands class. Only I knew why I was smiling as the audio cd played out directions we had to follow on the map in front of us. Naar links and naar rechts are clear, it's just working them out fast enough to get them down on that map when all is in Nederlands.
Anyway, enough about maps ... the photographs came from our wanderings. The window is part of the medieval Priory of S. Salvator on Pieter Potstraat and the open door is part of the De Zwarte Panter Art Gallery, situated in the 16th century Sint Julianusgasthuis on Hoogstraat, Antwerpen.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
e-marginalia.com
George from e-marginalia wrote a comment that left me smiling one of those something nice just happened to me smiles.
He wrote, Just blogged you (e-Margonaut Sighting!) and Wandering Woman over at Meandering Margaux. I passed along the poem that Wandering Woman posted as well as your blog motto (title?) to our readers... Great stuff! And great site. I've added both of your feeds to my reader, and I'll keep an eye on your reflections. Also, scanning your blog, I was pleased to see that you've been visiting our websites! Thanks for visiting annd come back often. We're psyched to have you.
- George
I love reading the e-marginalia site but oddly enough, I never expected to 'appear' there myself. I loved what they wrote in their 'about'... e-Marginalia is a whimsical hybrid, conjoining the name of our site with one of the most delightful words in the English language, marginalia. Defined as the notes recorded in the margins of a text, marginalia is that most human of human tendencies to annotate, expound, reference and illustrate. e-Marginalia aspires to become a collective forum for travelers to annotate, expound, reference and illustrate, to contribute and share the artifacts of our travels. Let us fill the blank margins with ruminations, lessons, wonders and confabulations.
This is how they describe their daily blog If e-Margaux.com IS immersion travel (and we like to think it is), then Meandering Margaux is the heart and soul of immersion travel. It's what we're thinking, doing, wondering, visiting, hoping, whispering and shouting. Meandering Margaux is our daily blog. Read it! It'll keep you current, keep you inspired and keep you dreaming. Guaranteed...
He wrote, Just blogged you (e-Margonaut Sighting!) and Wandering Woman over at Meandering Margaux. I passed along the poem that Wandering Woman posted as well as your blog motto (title?) to our readers... Great stuff! And great site. I've added both of your feeds to my reader, and I'll keep an eye on your reflections. Also, scanning your blog, I was pleased to see that you've been visiting our websites! Thanks for visiting annd come back often. We're psyched to have you.
- George
I love reading the e-marginalia site but oddly enough, I never expected to 'appear' there myself. I loved what they wrote in their 'about'... e-Marginalia is a whimsical hybrid, conjoining the name of our site with one of the most delightful words in the English language, marginalia. Defined as the notes recorded in the margins of a text, marginalia is that most human of human tendencies to annotate, expound, reference and illustrate. e-Marginalia aspires to become a collective forum for travelers to annotate, expound, reference and illustrate, to contribute and share the artifacts of our travels. Let us fill the blank margins with ruminations, lessons, wonders and confabulations.
This is how they describe their daily blog If e-Margaux.com IS immersion travel (and we like to think it is), then Meandering Margaux is the heart and soul of immersion travel. It's what we're thinking, doing, wondering, visiting, hoping, whispering and shouting. Meandering Margaux is our daily blog. Read it! It'll keep you current, keep you inspired and keep you dreaming. Guaranteed...
Absinthe
Until Sal wrote his post I knew very little about Absinthe and really, I still know so very little about it although he did have this to say, Absinthe has a nasty history, but it does taste good when mixed correctly (and not abused...too much). The cocktails in my photo were 5:1 water to Absinthe ratio. That's pretty humane. Then again, the Absinthe straight was 100 proof. ... it seems like something I shouldn't play with. Anyway, my local guide and I were out in the city today and we spotted this poster.
Politics ...
Politics is the family at breakfast. Who is there and who is absent and why. Who misses whom when the coffee is poured into the waiting cups. Can you, for example, afford your breakfast? Where are your children who have gone forever from these their usual chairs? Whom do you long for this morning? What rhythm is it that pushes you to hurry toward pleasures life has promised you, or to a confrontation you wish you could win just this once? Where are the children of this mother who, in her slightly crooked spectacles, sits knitting a pullover of dark blue wool for the absent one who does not write regularly? Where is your gentle chatter, your splendid isolation, your lack of need of the outside world for even a few moments? Where is your illusion laid bare by the newspaper lying on the cane chair at your side? What small act of forgiveness are you training yourself to perform today? What reproach do you wish to utter? And what reproach do you wish erased? Who threatened your wonderful mistakes, staying up to spoil your night? Who ruins your sweet inconsequential things with the awe of his authority and his driver and his servants and his happy bodyguards? Who imported this small, shiny teaspoon from Taiwan? What giant ships ploughed the seas to bring you some trivial piece of primitive gadgetry from Stockholm? How did the flower merchants make their millions and build their fine houses from selling the bouquets carried by mothers and sisters to graveyards that are always damp: raindrops, flowers, and tears. You question why even the silence in the graveyards is wet. Politics is the number of coffee-cups on the table, it is the sudden presence of what you have forgotten, the memories you are afraid to look at too closely, though you look anyway.
Staying away from politics is also politics.
Politics is nothing and everything.
Mourid Barghouti
I Saw Ramallah
Staying away from politics is also politics.
Politics is nothing and everything.
Mourid Barghouti
I Saw Ramallah
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Nederlands and the Naughty New Zealander
Gert and I have this ongoing discussion about whether I should become fluent in Nederlands ...
You see, back in New Zealand I sometimes imagined how it might be to live in a culture where I could only observe, silenced by my lack of a language. Sometimes it held a certain appeal ...
Needless to say he would like me fluent but I've tried to point out the benefits. How can I be a terrible part-time stepmother if I can't speak the language, and even better, the children will be fluent in English long before they reach Engels lessons at 13 in school.
Then there are the gatherings of extended family but I've learned an impressive amount just by watching and oddly enough he's discovering most of his family speak English, just not with each other. It cuts out the smalltalk about weather and groceries and there have been magical moments, like the look on Gert's face when he discovered his father could speak fluent English.
When I was a child we were often warned by our parents that it was risky to pull angry faces... in fact we were told that if the wind changed our faces would stay like that forever. I have news for my parents, it's not the wind it's a mid-life language change, most particularly one that involves rrrr rolling, a disconcerting number of consonants per word, reallocating vowel sounds and learning new words often splattered with 'i's' and 'e's' ... oh yes, a New Zealander's speaking dream.
It has become apparent that the way I pronounce my 'a' is a Dutch 'r', my 'e' is an 'i' and my 'i' is apparently a Dutch 'e' ... stunning when you realise that Gert doesn't consider these my worst pronunciation problems ... he offered up 'schuim' and 'huichelachtig' and was laughing when he said, 'See' as I tried to repeat them.
It's an ongoing discussion; a debate that heats up on occasions and cools right down to the point where I am a malleable student of Nederlands. I'm not sure if I wrote of it but I did pass my Nederlands 1.2 examination ... a low grade for the speaking but I have until September to immerse myself in conversation at home (or convince Gert about the merits of me remaining blissfully ignorant) ;)
You see, back in New Zealand I sometimes imagined how it might be to live in a culture where I could only observe, silenced by my lack of a language. Sometimes it held a certain appeal ...
Needless to say he would like me fluent but I've tried to point out the benefits. How can I be a terrible part-time stepmother if I can't speak the language, and even better, the children will be fluent in English long before they reach Engels lessons at 13 in school.
Then there are the gatherings of extended family but I've learned an impressive amount just by watching and oddly enough he's discovering most of his family speak English, just not with each other. It cuts out the smalltalk about weather and groceries and there have been magical moments, like the look on Gert's face when he discovered his father could speak fluent English.
When I was a child we were often warned by our parents that it was risky to pull angry faces... in fact we were told that if the wind changed our faces would stay like that forever. I have news for my parents, it's not the wind it's a mid-life language change, most particularly one that involves rrrr rolling, a disconcerting number of consonants per word, reallocating vowel sounds and learning new words often splattered with 'i's' and 'e's' ... oh yes, a New Zealander's speaking dream.
It has become apparent that the way I pronounce my 'a' is a Dutch 'r', my 'e' is an 'i' and my 'i' is apparently a Dutch 'e' ... stunning when you realise that Gert doesn't consider these my worst pronunciation problems ... he offered up 'schuim' and 'huichelachtig' and was laughing when he said, 'See' as I tried to repeat them.
It's an ongoing discussion; a debate that heats up on occasions and cools right down to the point where I am a malleable student of Nederlands. I'm not sure if I wrote of it but I did pass my Nederlands 1.2 examination ... a low grade for the speaking but I have until September to immerse myself in conversation at home (or convince Gert about the merits of me remaining blissfully ignorant) ;)
Riverbend writes from Iraq
Riverbend has written her latest account of life in Baghdad today ...
She begins with the title, 'Three Years...'
It has been three years since the beginning of the war that marked the end of Iraq’s independence. Three years of occupation and bloodshed.
Spring should be about renewal and rebirth. For Iraqis, spring has been about reliving painful memories and preparing for future disasters. In many ways, this year is like 2003 prior to the war when we were stocking up on fuel, water, food and first aid supplies and medications. We're doing it again this year but now we don't discuss what we're stocking up for. Bombs and B-52's are so much easier to face than other possibilities.
I don’t think anyone imagined three years ago that things could be quite this bad today. The last few weeks have been ridden with tension. I’m so tired of it all- we’re all tired.
Three years and the electricity is worse than ever. The security situation has gone from bad to worse. The country feels like it’s on the brink of chaos once more- but a pre-planned, pre-fabricated chaos being led by religious militias and zealots.
She begins with the title, 'Three Years...'
It has been three years since the beginning of the war that marked the end of Iraq’s independence. Three years of occupation and bloodshed.
Spring should be about renewal and rebirth. For Iraqis, spring has been about reliving painful memories and preparing for future disasters. In many ways, this year is like 2003 prior to the war when we were stocking up on fuel, water, food and first aid supplies and medications. We're doing it again this year but now we don't discuss what we're stocking up for. Bombs and B-52's are so much easier to face than other possibilities.
I don’t think anyone imagined three years ago that things could be quite this bad today. The last few weeks have been ridden with tension. I’m so tired of it all- we’re all tired.
Three years and the electricity is worse than ever. The security situation has gone from bad to worse. The country feels like it’s on the brink of chaos once more- but a pre-planned, pre-fabricated chaos being led by religious militias and zealots.
Reel Journalism - Screenings & Symposia
I received a Dart Center Newsletter today and am so envious of anyone who can actually attend this symposia; envious but sharing anyway.
Follow the link for further information about the Dart Center , suffice to say, it's a global network of journalists, journalism educators and health professionals dedicated to improving media coverage of trauma, conflict and tragedy. The Center also addresses the consequences of such coverage for those working in journalism.
WASHINGTON, D.C.—Academy Award-nominated films "GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK (Best Picture) and WAR PHOTOGRAPHER (Best Documentary Feature) highlight three days of films depicting the world of journalism at American University's School of Communication Reel Journalism Screenings & Symposia, March 23-25 at the Greenberg and Wechsler Theatres.
Other Screenings include the Washington, DC premiere of DEMOCRACY ON DEADLINE: THE GLOBAL STRUGGLE FOR AN INDEPENDENT PRESS and a sneak preview of DATELINE AFGANISTAN: REPORTING THE FORGOTTEN WAR.
Panel discussions to explore and explain how journalists work, demystify the news business and discuss the important role of journalism in society as a whole will follow each film. Panelists will include Dart Center field director Bruce Shapiro and Ochberg Fellows Lori Grinker, photojournalist and author of AFTERWAR: Veterans from a World of Conflict, and Scott Wallace, television producer and photojournalist.
Also appearing: Frank Bond, Newseum producer and former CBS WUSA-TV anchor; Nick Clooney, legendary journalist (and George Clooney's father); Bob Edwards, XM Satellite Radio host; Patricia Finneran, festival director, AFI SilverDocs; Christian Frei, director of WAR PHOTOGRAPHER; Bill Gentile, producer and director of DATELINE AFGANISTAN; Casey Murrow, Edward R. Murrow's son; Lynne Olson and Stan Cloud, co- authors of The Murrow Boys; Ken Silverstein, Los Angeles Times reporter; and Cal Skaggs, producer and director of DEMOCRACY ON DEADLINE.
TICKETS: Free for children & students w/ID & $5 general admission for selected events. Visit american.tix.com or call 202- 885-2527 for ticket information.
Reel Journalism is presented by AU's School of Communication, in partnership with WAMU 88.5 FM, the Newseum, Visual Aids Electronics, Center for Social Media the SOC Undergraduate Council, the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma, WUSA CBS9 and Swiss Embassy. For a complete schedule of events visit Reel Journalism Screenings & Symposia (www.soc.american.edu) online or call Bettina Fisher, Reel Journalism program director, at 202-885-2074.
email: feedback@dartcenter.org
phone: 1 (800) 332 · 0565
web: http://www.dartcenter.org
Follow the link for further information about the Dart Center , suffice to say, it's a global network of journalists, journalism educators and health professionals dedicated to improving media coverage of trauma, conflict and tragedy. The Center also addresses the consequences of such coverage for those working in journalism.
WASHINGTON, D.C.—Academy Award-nominated films "GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK (Best Picture) and WAR PHOTOGRAPHER (Best Documentary Feature) highlight three days of films depicting the world of journalism at American University's School of Communication Reel Journalism Screenings & Symposia, March 23-25 at the Greenberg and Wechsler Theatres.
Other Screenings include the Washington, DC premiere of DEMOCRACY ON DEADLINE: THE GLOBAL STRUGGLE FOR AN INDEPENDENT PRESS and a sneak preview of DATELINE AFGANISTAN: REPORTING THE FORGOTTEN WAR.
Panel discussions to explore and explain how journalists work, demystify the news business and discuss the important role of journalism in society as a whole will follow each film. Panelists will include Dart Center field director Bruce Shapiro and Ochberg Fellows Lori Grinker, photojournalist and author of AFTERWAR: Veterans from a World of Conflict, and Scott Wallace, television producer and photojournalist.
Also appearing: Frank Bond, Newseum producer and former CBS WUSA-TV anchor; Nick Clooney, legendary journalist (and George Clooney's father); Bob Edwards, XM Satellite Radio host; Patricia Finneran, festival director, AFI SilverDocs; Christian Frei, director of WAR PHOTOGRAPHER; Bill Gentile, producer and director of DATELINE AFGANISTAN; Casey Murrow, Edward R. Murrow's son; Lynne Olson and Stan Cloud, co- authors of The Murrow Boys; Ken Silverstein, Los Angeles Times reporter; and Cal Skaggs, producer and director of DEMOCRACY ON DEADLINE.
TICKETS: Free for children & students w/ID & $5 general admission for selected events. Visit american.tix.com or call 202- 885-2527 for ticket information.
Reel Journalism is presented by AU's School of Communication, in partnership with WAMU 88.5 FM, the Newseum, Visual Aids Electronics, Center for Social Media the SOC Undergraduate Council, the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma, WUSA CBS9 and Swiss Embassy. For a complete schedule of events visit Reel Journalism Screenings & Symposia (www.soc.american.edu) online or call Bettina Fisher, Reel Journalism program director, at 202-885-2074.
email: feedback@dartcenter.org
phone: 1 (800) 332 · 0565
web: http://www.dartcenter.org
Friday, March 17, 2006
Sandy McCutcheon, Writer
Exciting news at the View from Fez ... Samir writes, the book I was promoting on my recent visit to literary festivals in Australia was my latest novel 'Black Widow' .
From the review on The View from Fez: "We have not survived Beslan. We are no longer the people we were before September the first. We are different people now. Deep in all of us, like deeply buried shrapnel, lies the legacy of those days. Like so many others, it has become part of who we are. We are Beslan."
Sandy McCutcheon has taken a tragic real-life event and expanded it out into a fascinating “what-if” scenario that blurs the line between fact and fiction. The impotent feelings of rage that I should imagine are experienced by every victim of terrorism are given vent in Black Widow a tale that chronicles a carefully planned and executed act of revenge.
From the review on The View from Fez: "We have not survived Beslan. We are no longer the people we were before September the first. We are different people now. Deep in all of us, like deeply buried shrapnel, lies the legacy of those days. Like so many others, it has become part of who we are. We are Beslan."
Sandy McCutcheon has taken a tragic real-life event and expanded it out into a fascinating “what-if” scenario that blurs the line between fact and fiction. The impotent feelings of rage that I should imagine are experienced by every victim of terrorism are given vent in Black Widow a tale that chronicles a carefully planned and executed act of revenge.
Michele Falzone
A friend sent me a link to a travel photographer called Michele Falzone. I wandered in his Istanbul Gallery and loved what I found there. He introduces himself as a young Italian freelance photographer with a passion for travelling, photography and computer engineering. He's wandered all over the world , his photos are beautiful.
Reading the World
I've just read the world and I love how it makes me feel as I adjust to finding a life in this new world. I miss people. Belgian society is just a little more difficult to break into and I've been slightly lost in the extremes created by socialising politically while being 'in-process-unemployable'. Next week I begin interviewing people, so I know things will change - it's only a matter of getting out there. 
Anyway, reading the world ... let me show you a little of the people who made me smile today. Sahara Sara made me laugh when I read her comment about life as an aid worker in Elizabeth's Afghanistan blog . She had written 'I think what isn’t understood is how much of our work is like any other job - in front of the computer. I’ve had malaria, been in a wee bit of a plane crash, gotten stranded in villages, been medically evacuated, and pedaled miles through the jungle on a bike that was way to big for me. But that’s really not normal, right? I almost feel like I am feeding into that adventurous image that really doesn’t exist. I mean, showing up at your local military doctor who speaks only spanish with a stool sample in an empty peanut butter jar and trying to mime that you’d like them to check for parasites…kinda takes the glamour out of our lifestyle a wee bit. She's an American currently living and working in the Democratic Republic of Congo and she writes a good blog.
Sal made me laugh with his post titled Looking for Comedy in the Spanish-Speaking World and Wandering woman in Spain made me smile too, with her 'top-12-things-i-hope-my-spanish-neighbours-and-colleagues-don't-find-out' post.
Erkan's blog led me over to Istanbul metblogs where I read, with some envy, of the Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibition on at Pera Musuem. I shouldn't be envious, I did manage to discover free exhibitions while living in Istanbul. Two of my favourite photographers ... Robert Capa and Sebastiao Salgado were discovered on different occasions while strolling down Istiklal Caddesi in Taksim but it would have been nice to have been there for Henri's work.
A girl can clearly want too much sometimes but reading the world was almost 'enough' today.
A belated postscript. D.Ma has posted a Friday special that left me laughing. You need the sound on ... (that was a note to self really, the Marcel Marceau rabbit was less interesting).
Anyway, reading the world ... let me show you a little of the people who made me smile today. Sahara Sara made me laugh when I read her comment about life as an aid worker in Elizabeth's Afghanistan blog . She had written 'I think what isn’t understood is how much of our work is like any other job - in front of the computer. I’ve had malaria, been in a wee bit of a plane crash, gotten stranded in villages, been medically evacuated, and pedaled miles through the jungle on a bike that was way to big for me. But that’s really not normal, right? I almost feel like I am feeding into that adventurous image that really doesn’t exist. I mean, showing up at your local military doctor who speaks only spanish with a stool sample in an empty peanut butter jar and trying to mime that you’d like them to check for parasites…kinda takes the glamour out of our lifestyle a wee bit. She's an American currently living and working in the Democratic Republic of Congo and she writes a good blog.
Sal made me laugh with his post titled Looking for Comedy in the Spanish-Speaking World and Wandering woman in Spain made me smile too, with her 'top-12-things-i-hope-my-spanish-neighbours-and-colleagues-don't-find-out' post.
Erkan's blog led me over to Istanbul metblogs where I read, with some envy, of the Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibition on at Pera Musuem. I shouldn't be envious, I did manage to discover free exhibitions while living in Istanbul. Two of my favourite photographers ... Robert Capa and Sebastiao Salgado were discovered on different occasions while strolling down Istiklal Caddesi in Taksim but it would have been nice to have been there for Henri's work.
A girl can clearly want too much sometimes but reading the world was almost 'enough' today.
A belated postscript. D.Ma has posted a Friday special that left me laughing. You need the sound on ... (that was a note to self really, the Marcel Marceau rabbit was less interesting).
Another Wandering Woman
I found something a bit special today ... another wandering woman over in Spain. Her poem delighted me and her stories of life in Salamanca made me want to write of her here.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
The Besieged Press in Baghdad
An interesting article in Der Spiegel by Orville Schell of Salon.com
He writes, As America approached the third anniversary of its involvement in Iraq, I had gone to Baghdad to observe not the war itself, but how it is being covered by the press.
Part 2.
He writes, As America approached the third anniversary of its involvement in Iraq, I had gone to Baghdad to observe not the war itself, but how it is being covered by the press.
Part 2.
Stunning Art?
Der Spiegel surfed the net and found Spamgraffiti; is a series of online installations created from spam.
Each environment is created by spooling through one email account and visually articulating the spam on a series of layers. Newer spam appears above and slowly filters out older spam below. As the rate of spam increases over time per account, the page itself appears less and less like the previous generation.
Each screen showcases the 25 most recent spam in the account.
Each environment is created by spooling through one email account and visually articulating the spam on a series of layers. Newer spam appears above and slowly filters out older spam below. As the rate of spam increases over time per account, the page itself appears less and less like the previous generation.
Each screen showcases the 25 most recent spam in the account.
A Post for Diede
There is a creature in the Nederlands, an old friend really, casting doubt on my way of spending today ...
Dear Diede (otherwise known as Mr Independent Leader, courtesy of the DNA test),
In pursuit of perfection, I am home and babysitting. Gert's 8 year old son is with us this week and on the couch with a fever. He's engrossed in childrens television, a spell only broken by his desire to pop the digital thermometer under his armpit and report each new reading in Nederlands.
I have served him lunch on the couch, soothed his forehead with a cold facecloth, offered a fever pill which he has so far refused with an admirable stubborness, given him water and cuddled him whenever it all got too much for him.
This morning Gert stayed home while I popped out and picked up my long-stay visa identity card. No mean feat and a long walk in the cold, snow fell briefly ... and I managed to coax both conversation and laughter out of my very uncommunicative processing officer. He even mocked me about my claim that New Zealanders didn't really carry identity cards. He asked if it was because we all knew each other ... as you know, this could almost be true.
And anyway, I have moved my blog to the position of 'my interim business' due to the situation of being caught between countries and in a state of partial non-existence.
To conclude, my mocking friend, it could be that I have actually achieved far more in my workday than you ... definately in the area of multiple-functionality ;) (and yes, it's a word, specially in my world).
Dear Diede (otherwise known as Mr Independent Leader, courtesy of the DNA test),
In pursuit of perfection, I am home and babysitting. Gert's 8 year old son is with us this week and on the couch with a fever. He's engrossed in childrens television, a spell only broken by his desire to pop the digital thermometer under his armpit and report each new reading in Nederlands.
I have served him lunch on the couch, soothed his forehead with a cold facecloth, offered a fever pill which he has so far refused with an admirable stubborness, given him water and cuddled him whenever it all got too much for him.
This morning Gert stayed home while I popped out and picked up my long-stay visa identity card. No mean feat and a long walk in the cold, snow fell briefly ... and I managed to coax both conversation and laughter out of my very uncommunicative processing officer. He even mocked me about my claim that New Zealanders didn't really carry identity cards. He asked if it was because we all knew each other ... as you know, this could almost be true.
And anyway, I have moved my blog to the position of 'my interim business' due to the situation of being caught between countries and in a state of partial non-existence.
To conclude, my mocking friend, it could be that I have actually achieved far more in my workday than you ... definately in the area of multiple-functionality ;) (and yes, it's a word, specially in my world).
A Free-Wheeling Creator writes ...
I was catching up on news from the blogs on my links list and Cat in Rabat had posted this interesting psychology test ... apparently I'm a Free-wheeling Creator. The quiz takes a little time to answer but it was interesting and now, if you run your cursor over the coloured boxes, the me that answered the questions is revealed. Sigh, I'm not sure what happened to my empathy ... I thought it was one of my better attributes.
My Belgian Identity Card
I have my Identity card which didn't excite me as much as I imagined it would ... contrary creature that I am.
This is only my 'certificate of inclusion in the aliens register' ... valid for 6 months, to be reapplied for after 5 months and I just read 'this document does not permit the holder to engage in any gainful occupation' which I knew but you know how it is when you become so focused on one permission that you forget the rest of the process. Now relearn all that is possible ... we did have a plan that we filed as the process dragged on.
Meanwhile I've started work on two ideas ... they're not unlike the half-finished climbing interviews manuscript I have with me, and similar to the series of interviews I wanted to do while living and working too hard in Turkey. I've begun to feel comfortable in this Belgian world, I can find my way round and have made interesting contacts ... and so it is, if 'gainful occupation' is prohibited for now then clearly it is time to write.
This is only my 'certificate of inclusion in the aliens register' ... valid for 6 months, to be reapplied for after 5 months and I just read 'this document does not permit the holder to engage in any gainful occupation' which I knew but you know how it is when you become so focused on one permission that you forget the rest of the process. Now relearn all that is possible ... we did have a plan that we filed as the process dragged on.
Meanwhile I've started work on two ideas ... they're not unlike the half-finished climbing interviews manuscript I have with me, and similar to the series of interviews I wanted to do while living and working too hard in Turkey. I've begun to feel comfortable in this Belgian world, I can find my way round and have made interesting contacts ... and so it is, if 'gainful occupation' is prohibited for now then clearly it is time to write.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Salut!
In celebration of the most progress I've made as an immigrant in 6 months, I have poured a small glass of red wine and opened the Brie that Debbie and I didn't finish ... if I wasn't alone, I would share.
An odd day ...
I came here to write a sad grouchy post.
You see, after spending 5 days as a tourist and expat I woke with the courage to revisit the local District huis and enquire into the ongoing saga that is my 'in process' status.
It takes some courage because it's the building where you find out that you are no one from no where and there is nothing you can do that will improve anything about your situation. I usually come out feeling so much worse than when I went in due to the fact that I realise I'm an immigrant as opposed to a traveler or an expat worker and as such, it could be that I'm not welcome in Europe.
So it went badly ... the woman informed me that two different colleagues in her office could never have quoted me the 6-8 weeks timeframe for processing. I presumed this made me a lying in-process immigrant, which felt a little depressing after 5 days spent as a delightful tourist/expat type. We were very polite to each other though.
I decided to stay out in the sun and wandered into the city centre. I popped into my favourite secondhand bookshop and found Gert a book titled 'Slipping into Paradise - Why I live in New Zealand' by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson. It seemed entirely appropriate today ... let him be the immigrant, I'm superb at sympathy and the Kiwis will take care of him while he waits to get legal.
Lunch and gift-giving over, I returned home only to have the doorbell ring. I ignored it at first because I was in the midst of being sad but thought the elevator man would be annoyed if he had to ring around to get into the building so ... on asking who it was, I learned it was the police.
He asked where I lived, and I asked who he wanted.
He sighed and said he wanted me, the New Zealander. I guess my accent was a small give away, that and the fact we were speaking English. ;)
The outcome of his visit is so stunning that I am almost lost for words, and as a result I think this post is particularly badly written however ... he was the man from the politiecontrole, making sure that I live where I wrote on my application for a long stay visa ... I'm just hoping that word hasn't got out that I am some kind of lying in-process immigrant. We talked, he did the paperwork and I have to go back to District Huis tomorrow with papers and photos and things ... I think this means something good but let's wait and see.
You see, after spending 5 days as a tourist and expat I woke with the courage to revisit the local District huis and enquire into the ongoing saga that is my 'in process' status.
It takes some courage because it's the building where you find out that you are no one from no where and there is nothing you can do that will improve anything about your situation. I usually come out feeling so much worse than when I went in due to the fact that I realise I'm an immigrant as opposed to a traveler or an expat worker and as such, it could be that I'm not welcome in Europe.
So it went badly ... the woman informed me that two different colleagues in her office could never have quoted me the 6-8 weeks timeframe for processing. I presumed this made me a lying in-process immigrant, which felt a little depressing after 5 days spent as a delightful tourist/expat type. We were very polite to each other though.
I decided to stay out in the sun and wandered into the city centre. I popped into my favourite secondhand bookshop and found Gert a book titled 'Slipping into Paradise - Why I live in New Zealand' by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson. It seemed entirely appropriate today ... let him be the immigrant, I'm superb at sympathy and the Kiwis will take care of him while he waits to get legal.
Lunch and gift-giving over, I returned home only to have the doorbell ring. I ignored it at first because I was in the midst of being sad but thought the elevator man would be annoyed if he had to ring around to get into the building so ... on asking who it was, I learned it was the police.
He asked where I lived, and I asked who he wanted.
He sighed and said he wanted me, the New Zealander. I guess my accent was a small give away, that and the fact we were speaking English. ;)
The outcome of his visit is so stunning that I am almost lost for words, and as a result I think this post is particularly badly written however ... he was the man from the politiecontrole, making sure that I live where I wrote on my application for a long stay visa ... I'm just hoping that word hasn't got out that I am some kind of lying in-process immigrant. We talked, he did the paperwork and I have to go back to District Huis tomorrow with papers and photos and things ... I think this means something good but let's wait and see.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
The Vagabond's Journal
El Glaoui from the View from Fez wrote up a blog titled The Vagabond's Journal
I like that it offers a way of traveling while standing still ...
The authors write: Inspired, we've decided to push our wanderings as far as our imaginations will take us. We welcome you to travel with us, and we hope we can satisfy your Inner Vagabond with our stories, photos, and discoveries.
I like that it offers a way of traveling while standing still ...
The authors write: Inspired, we've decided to push our wanderings as far as our imaginations will take us. We welcome you to travel with us, and we hope we can satisfy your Inner Vagabond with our stories, photos, and discoveries.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Antwerpen ... city of sunshine and ice puddles
Tonight is about resting after a day spent exploring the historic centre of Antwerpen. Debbie and I walked through Groenplaats, Grote and Kleine Pieter Potstraat, the Town Hall, Grote Markt and its Brabo Fountain and the exquisite hidden alleyway that is Vlaeykensgang ... a 16th century alley of shoemakers. 
We wandered through Handschoenmarkt ... originally a small cemetery, later a market place for 16th century fur and glove sellers. Onze Lieve Vrouwe kathedraal, with its 123 metre spire was the gothic masterpiece we located ourselves round as we journeyed.
In Hendrik Conscienceplein we visited the grand baroque church called Carolus Borromeuskerk, built in 1621 by Jesuits hoping to attract the faithful back to church in the aftermath of the Contra-Reformation ... stunning of course.
We passed by the Vleeshuis but had to move on due to lack of sunshine on this 3 degree day of sunshine and ice.
We moved onto the Waterfront walk ... titled 'City Meets River' and began with the Belgisch Loodswezen, a neo-gothic building from 1896, we rested on the steps and enjoying the sunshine.
We chose to walk along the edge of the River Scheldt and photographed barges and buoys, chatting as chicks do when they're walking alone. I think I fell in love with Antwerpen again, the winter has been hellishly grey but showing it to a stranger on a sunny blue-sky-kind-of-day made me see it again, and I loved what I saw.
We walked along the Zuiderterras to the cafe-restaurant of the same name. We admired the Entrepot du Congo building ... a 19th century building that was built as a warehouse for colonial goods, across the road from the spot where the famous 'Congo boats' used to berth.
Van Roosmalen Huis is a 'must see' for all newcomers to city. It was built partly as a homage to the great Austrian architect Adolf Loos, who used black and white stipes in his unrealised design for the Parisian home of Josephine Baker.
Frozen and starving, we wandered into Chicco di caffe on Wiegstraat where the woman fed us delicious food that Debbie was inspired to photograph.
Slowly, we meandered back to Tram 24 via the traffic-less shopping street ... Debbie shopped and I quietly accompanied her as all true tourist guides do, unendingly patient and uncomplaining ... however when Debbie read my descripton she was slightly outraged about my misrepresentation and so it goes that I should probably confess that the final shopping may have been partially about me locating tester bottles of my favourite, horribly expensive perfume ...
It was a lovely day and I am becoming a rather good (while remaining modest) Antwerpen guide.
We wandered through Handschoenmarkt ... originally a small cemetery, later a market place for 16th century fur and glove sellers. Onze Lieve Vrouwe kathedraal, with its 123 metre spire was the gothic masterpiece we located ourselves round as we journeyed.
In Hendrik Conscienceplein we visited the grand baroque church called Carolus Borromeuskerk, built in 1621 by Jesuits hoping to attract the faithful back to church in the aftermath of the Contra-Reformation ... stunning of course.
We passed by the Vleeshuis but had to move on due to lack of sunshine on this 3 degree day of sunshine and ice.
We moved onto the Waterfront walk ... titled 'City Meets River' and began with the Belgisch Loodswezen, a neo-gothic building from 1896, we rested on the steps and enjoying the sunshine.
We chose to walk along the edge of the River Scheldt and photographed barges and buoys, chatting as chicks do when they're walking alone. I think I fell in love with Antwerpen again, the winter has been hellishly grey but showing it to a stranger on a sunny blue-sky-kind-of-day made me see it again, and I loved what I saw.
We walked along the Zuiderterras to the cafe-restaurant of the same name. We admired the Entrepot du Congo building ... a 19th century building that was built as a warehouse for colonial goods, across the road from the spot where the famous 'Congo boats' used to berth.
Van Roosmalen Huis is a 'must see' for all newcomers to city. It was built partly as a homage to the great Austrian architect Adolf Loos, who used black and white stipes in his unrealised design for the Parisian home of Josephine Baker.
Frozen and starving, we wandered into Chicco di caffe on Wiegstraat where the woman fed us delicious food that Debbie was inspired to photograph.
Slowly, we meandered back to Tram 24 via the traffic-less shopping street ... Debbie shopped and I quietly accompanied her as all true tourist guides do, unendingly patient and uncomplaining ... however when Debbie read my descripton she was slightly outraged about my misrepresentation and so it goes that I should probably confess that the final shopping may have been partially about me locating tester bottles of my favourite, horribly expensive perfume ...
It was a lovely day and I am becoming a rather good (while remaining modest) Antwerpen guide.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Middelheim ... again
Today has been more about relaxing and enjoying the illusion of sunshine and warmth from behind double-glazed windows ... Antwerpen has been bathed in stunning sunshine however outside the temperature hasn't climbed much above 2 degrees celsius. 
Anyway there were places we still wanted to show Debbie and so today was all about Middelheim Open Air Museum and its 300+ sculptures representing an overview of 20th century sculpting. It was nice outside, as long as the breeze didn't touch you and body parts were covered.I've just been reading the 'city walks' book ... Debbie and I are curious to see how many city routes we can actually explore tomorrow, after my 9am Nederlands speaking examination. I'm not sure how serious I am about this series of 1.2 exams and I guess others might be wondering too ... my dilemma is that I didn't really 'get' Nederlands grammar and sentence construction to a point where I feel comfortable or confident about moving on. And I'm not sure I want to move up to the next level until I have worked it all out. For me it's more about being able to actively use the language and less about passing the examinations ... sure I can pass if I study but no I can't use it well yet.
We'll see.
Globalisation
Jeyavel in Bangalore wrote an interesting post on Globalisation
In it, he has Friedman's explanation of his three phases of globalization:
Globalization 1.0 between 1492 to 1820 A.D.: You went global though your Country which was the agent of the development.
Globalization 2.0 between 1820 to 2000 A.D.: The Company, full with cash to fund marketing and sourcing activities, went global in quest for further profits.
Globalization 3.0 from 2000 onwards: The Individual has received access to the global field; think of yourself as a company that can interact and transact with another 3 billion individuals. Cool, exciting and terrific.
Friedman’s ultimate success formula:
“Curiosity Quotient” plus “Passion Quotient” is always bigger than “Intelligence Quotient”
CQ + PQ > IQ
[from: René Seifert's Insights]
In it, he has Friedman's explanation of his three phases of globalization:
Globalization 1.0 between 1492 to 1820 A.D.: You went global though your Country which was the agent of the development.
Globalization 2.0 between 1820 to 2000 A.D.: The Company, full with cash to fund marketing and sourcing activities, went global in quest for further profits.
Globalization 3.0 from 2000 onwards: The Individual has received access to the global field; think of yourself as a company that can interact and transact with another 3 billion individuals. Cool, exciting and terrific.
Friedman’s ultimate success formula:
“Curiosity Quotient” plus “Passion Quotient” is always bigger than “Intelligence Quotient”
CQ + PQ > IQ
[from: René Seifert's Insights]
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Snapshots from Bruges
We were finally warm in De Stoepa and I noticed the sun on this vine in the window. 
And I loved the way these bicycles were just there leaning against a wall in an unknown street ... unknown due to the fact I am always lost and Debbie has no need to know, since she is a seasoned traveller.
Fate ... ?
An odd thing happened today. 
Debbie and I caught the 9.43am train to Bruges ... two guys sat next to us and we both noticed the one next to me because there was something almost familar about him, despite the fact that we didn't exchange more than a few words on the hour and twenty minute trip west. He and a large group left our train at Gent.
We wandered in Bruges, missed trains that we could have caught at 3.03 and 5.03pm ... doubling back after time spent in De Stoepa to visit the Hospital of Saint John, we ended up catching the 6.03pm train home to Antwerpen.
We had 4 facing seats to ourselves but noticed the train filling up fast when we reached Gent and so we shifted our bags. I looked up and saw him ... the guy from the morning. I smiled, he greeted me, I asked 'how he was', using Nederlands in my best 1.2 manner, as he and his sister sat down next to us.
It was lovely ... a second chance at talking to someone I'd regretted not knowing. He told us he was named after 'the English Prince ... pausing for dramatic effect he added, 'Charles'. And we all laughed when I introduced myself as Di.
We talked all the way home but later, over a traditional Stoofvlees and frieten dinner by Gert, we realised how odd it was that he had ended up on our carriage ... there were at least 8 others to choose from; other times too and if you know anything about life in Belgie, you'll know that you can't choose your carriage, you can only rush for a seat.
Before saying goodbye again, we all laughed about meeting next time I'm heading to Bruges ... and so it goes that I'll know to look out for a lovely 60+ Belgian man who goes by the name of Charles.
Debbie and I caught the 9.43am train to Bruges ... two guys sat next to us and we both noticed the one next to me because there was something almost familar about him, despite the fact that we didn't exchange more than a few words on the hour and twenty minute trip west. He and a large group left our train at Gent.
We wandered in Bruges, missed trains that we could have caught at 3.03 and 5.03pm ... doubling back after time spent in De Stoepa to visit the Hospital of Saint John, we ended up catching the 6.03pm train home to Antwerpen.
We had 4 facing seats to ourselves but noticed the train filling up fast when we reached Gent and so we shifted our bags. I looked up and saw him ... the guy from the morning. I smiled, he greeted me, I asked 'how he was', using Nederlands in my best 1.2 manner, as he and his sister sat down next to us.
It was lovely ... a second chance at talking to someone I'd regretted not knowing. He told us he was named after 'the English Prince ... pausing for dramatic effect he added, 'Charles'. And we all laughed when I introduced myself as Di.
We talked all the way home but later, over a traditional Stoofvlees and frieten dinner by Gert, we realised how odd it was that he had ended up on our carriage ... there were at least 8 others to choose from; other times too and if you know anything about life in Belgie, you'll know that you can't choose your carriage, you can only rush for a seat.
Before saying goodbye again, we all laughed about meeting next time I'm heading to Bruges ... and so it goes that I'll know to look out for a lovely 60+ Belgian man who goes by the name of Charles.
Bruges ... St Bonifacius Bridge and Rotting Men
One of things I can't ignore here in Belgium is the number of statues of men who almost appear to be bogmen ... kind of rotting while still active warriors. It's a quirk I haven't studied as yet so please forgive me my ignorance. Today we found some stunning sculptural samples near the Groeninge Museum. 
However Saint Bonifacius Bridge is lovely and I photograph it each time I'm in Bruges. Today I had lined up the empty bridge in the camera ... pressing the shutter just as a small child ran past me. I loved the result.
Drinking As A Religion?
Yesterday Debbie and I slipped into het Elfde Gebod, otherwise known as The Eleventh Commandment and in seeking santuary from the rain and the cold, we had found an ideal place to engage in enlightened conversation.
Today, frozen and wandering in Bruges, we found ourselves in De Stoepa ... which translates as The Stupa and is most simply described as a spiritual monument.
A coincidence ...?
Who can tell but once again we'd found a refuge and two hours of enlightened conversation ensued over just one Rodenbach and a Duval.
Friday, March 10, 2006
The Butchers Hall, Antwerpen
Debbie photographed The Vleeshuis. It's the 500 year old gothic building sandwiched between the other two buildings. Literally translated Vleeshuis means 'Meat House', however everyone in Antwerpen knows it as the Butcher's Hall and it's one of the oldest surviving buildings in Antwerp. 
The original Butchers Hall was built in 1250 and functioned as a meat market where butchers sold their merchandise but by the beginning of the 16th century Antwerpen had become Europe's third largest city and was its most important trade center. The existing butcher's hall couldn't cope with the growing population and so the butcher's guild commissioned a new building that was completed in 1504.
It lost its prime function in 1810 when the French occupying forces abolished the guilds and it became a storage depot and theater during the 19th century. In 1899 the city acquired it and after restoration it reopened as a museum in 1919. It displayed a heterogeneous collection of historic objects, including pottery, drawings, lace, weapons and jewellery.
The museum is currently closed. A part of its collection will be moved to a new museum dedicated to the history of Antwerpen. The Butcher's Hall will reopen in the middle of 2006 as the City Sounds Museum, a museum of music.
The original Butchers Hall was built in 1250 and functioned as a meat market where butchers sold their merchandise but by the beginning of the 16th century Antwerpen had become Europe's third largest city and was its most important trade center. The existing butcher's hall couldn't cope with the growing population and so the butcher's guild commissioned a new building that was completed in 1504.
It lost its prime function in 1810 when the French occupying forces abolished the guilds and it became a storage depot and theater during the 19th century. In 1899 the city acquired it and after restoration it reopened as a museum in 1919. It displayed a heterogeneous collection of historic objects, including pottery, drawings, lace, weapons and jewellery.
The museum is currently closed. A part of its collection will be moved to a new museum dedicated to the history of Antwerpen. The Butcher's Hall will reopen in the middle of 2006 as the City Sounds Museum, a museum of music.
The Eleventh Commandment
Well ... being the ignorant bunny I am, I foolishly asked my assorted audience what the Eleventh Commandment was. When Debbie and Gert stopped with their laughter they mentioned 'The 10 Commandments' and it all came flooding back to me ... too late. My facesaving thought of 'Thou shall drink' was stated by Gert and I went back to my writing. 
Debbie, an old friend from England is over and saving me from madness brought on by being an in process immigrant. But better still, she understands almost every word that I say, even a mumbled mocking. She has even gone so far as explaining the structural linguistic faults in my Kiwi speak ... 'all my 'i's' sound like 'e's' and my 'e's' sound like 'i's'. Of course she's exaggerating however it does explain the Pole and Romanian on the floor laughing over my pronunciation of Brad Pitt ... apparently I said Bread Pet. I doubt this.Anyway ... today we popped into het Elfde Gebod, otherwise known as 'The Eleventh Commandment' in old centre city Antwerpen. It's a lovely pub ... filled with statues of saints but of course. Debbie has forbidden publication of the photos I took of her however we do have the pub pics and you'll just have to take my word that the Frambozen beer was kind of superb.
The Pigeon and The Panther
Sometimes ... when you go wandering with me, you get lost.
In my defence being lost isn't the end of the world and maybe life is all about what you find on the way to where ever you're meant to be going. Today Debbie and I were lost for a while but we did find the Black Panther. It's an art gallery now but it used to be St Julianus gasthuis, one of the oldest charity houses in Antwerpen. It was founded in 1303 and it was a place where the homeless could stay a few days.
Debbie spotted the Panther and I couldn't resist taking picture of the pigeon asleep on its back ...
In my defence being lost isn't the end of the world and maybe life is all about what you find on the way to where ever you're meant to be going. Today Debbie and I were lost for a while but we did find the Black Panther. It's an art gallery now but it used to be St Julianus gasthuis, one of the oldest charity houses in Antwerpen. It was founded in 1303 and it was a place where the homeless could stay a few days.
Debbie spotted the Panther and I couldn't resist taking picture of the pigeon asleep on its back ...
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Singapore Airlines
Lordy lordy ... you know your life is a story when the guy at Singapore Airlines excuses himself to 'read the novel of your booking history'.
This particular booking history began 14 June back in Istanbul. I worked for a private school who were contractually obligated to pay my flight back to New Zealand at the end of the teaching year. Meanwhile I met Gert and before committing to the process of immigrating to Belgie, we decided we needed to be sure so I changed my original flight home to NZ from 2 August to 15 September 2005.
Time passed, Gert and I realised we were serious but that a free one-way flight via Istanbul to New Zealand wasn't as much use to me as I had imagined. A return flight from New Zealand, via the Belgian Consulate for New Zealaders which is based in Australia (for my Residency Permit), would incur some crippling costs, not to mention paying for an indeterminate stay in New Zealand without income. At the 11th hour we discovered the long-term visa application could made from within Belgium ... so we checked, 6-8 weeks blah blah, boring now ... to be processed, they told me.
So we gave Districthuis here my application and I altered my flight home, choosing the suitably far-off date of 17 March 2006, a date that I imagined (having read up on the 'in process' processes) would allow me time to become legal, apply for a Professional card and to have begun earning my own money here.
I love flying with Singapore Airlines. Their inflight service is superb but not only that, I'm discovering that their ground staff are incredibly helpful ... they helped me change my one-way ticket into a roundtrip and open it up for a year ... just in case.
March 17, 2006 is suddenly looming and instead of 6-8 weeks it's has been 6 months 'in process' and still counting. So I phoned the airline today, mortified about needing to change my flight home yet again.
Obviously there are now various new details to look into ... 6 months has passed since I rebooked and they possibly assumed I was a normal customer ... a lovely Economist magazine as opposed to this tatty old novel type. They need to ascertain how long my ticket is valid for ... one year after the day of booking or the day of flight which in turn changes the date that I lose the ticket forever; whether there has an alteration in ticket pricing due to me flying at a different time of year, etc ... but really, I'm grateful it could be held open so long.
But that Singapore Airlines man was so charming and helpful, as was the woman in Amsterdam last time. They'll get back to me in a couple of days ... novels aren't simple and pieces of my particular story are back in Istanbul.
Singapore Airlines, you are superb!
This particular booking history began 14 June back in Istanbul. I worked for a private school who were contractually obligated to pay my flight back to New Zealand at the end of the teaching year. Meanwhile I met Gert and before committing to the process of immigrating to Belgie, we decided we needed to be sure so I changed my original flight home to NZ from 2 August to 15 September 2005.
Time passed, Gert and I realised we were serious but that a free one-way flight via Istanbul to New Zealand wasn't as much use to me as I had imagined. A return flight from New Zealand, via the Belgian Consulate for New Zealaders which is based in Australia (for my Residency Permit), would incur some crippling costs, not to mention paying for an indeterminate stay in New Zealand without income. At the 11th hour we discovered the long-term visa application could made from within Belgium ... so we checked, 6-8 weeks blah blah, boring now ... to be processed, they told me.
So we gave Districthuis here my application and I altered my flight home, choosing the suitably far-off date of 17 March 2006, a date that I imagined (having read up on the 'in process' processes) would allow me time to become legal, apply for a Professional card and to have begun earning my own money here.
I love flying with Singapore Airlines. Their inflight service is superb but not only that, I'm discovering that their ground staff are incredibly helpful ... they helped me change my one-way ticket into a roundtrip and open it up for a year ... just in case.
March 17, 2006 is suddenly looming and instead of 6-8 weeks it's has been 6 months 'in process' and still counting. So I phoned the airline today, mortified about needing to change my flight home yet again.
Obviously there are now various new details to look into ... 6 months has passed since I rebooked and they possibly assumed I was a normal customer ... a lovely Economist magazine as opposed to this tatty old novel type. They need to ascertain how long my ticket is valid for ... one year after the day of booking or the day of flight which in turn changes the date that I lose the ticket forever; whether there has an alteration in ticket pricing due to me flying at a different time of year, etc ... but really, I'm grateful it could be held open so long.
But that Singapore Airlines man was so charming and helpful, as was the woman in Amsterdam last time. They'll get back to me in a couple of days ... novels aren't simple and pieces of my particular story are back in Istanbul.
Singapore Airlines, you are superb!
Location Location Location
I just realised I've lived in 18 different houses in 22 years ... 15 while married and advancing my husband's career. We bought twice ... different places as he worked his way up the ladder in different schools throughout the South Island of New Zealand ... Cromwell, Dunedin, Marlborough, Te Anau and back to Dunedin again.Later I lived alone in 2 homes in Istanbul and now there's this place where I live here in Belgium.
My favourites ... I dont think I have a photo of the home we owned near the harbour edge however, I have the one of the odd little cottage I rented after the divorce. They were difficult days but I had a sea kayak and could afford secondhand books and red wine sometimes ... it wasn't such a bad life, not bad at all actually. And I remember I could lie in bed and watch the sun arrive in the mornings ...
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Arounder
Der Spiegel writes ... If you're planning on spending your summer vacation in Europe this year, you no longer have to fear you'll end up wasting your precious time off someplace not to your liking. SPIEGEL ONLINE has found a snazzy Web site that offers 360-degree panorama tours of some of the continent's nicest cities. The very slick arounder.com combines views of top landmarks with maps and information on Copenhagen, Rome and many more locations. Not sure where you want to go this year? Check out the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona and then spring to the tip of the Matterhorn near Zermatt, Switzerland.
Arounder sigh, the Roma photographs are stunning!!
Arounder sigh, the Roma photographs are stunning!!
What Does It Mean to be an Aid Worker?
There's an interesting discussion going on over at candide.blogsome.com
If you have ever been curious about what it means to be an aid worker, then check out the post titled 'More on Aid Worker Nomenclature' (07.03.2006).
If you have ever been curious about what it means to be an aid worker, then check out the post titled 'More on Aid Worker Nomenclature' (07.03.2006).
Pondering and Wandering
My blog continues to morph and change shape ... as I get used to using the medium, as I define what it is to me.
Over the years I've developed a favourites list that slows my computer; a favourites list that was developed by a woman with an abstract vision of 'organisation'; a list that is impossible to use in a good way due to the sprawling nature of my curiousity and interests. It's only when I sit down and search through it that I refind the treasures I stored there.
And so bookcrossing.com was dusted off and brought back out into the light ... the search option on blogger means that I will be saved from the results of random collection in future and archives are simpler to scroll through.
Wandering again, I found this site called Pidjin and so out it comes too.
The beauty of blogging is that you don't have public expectations ... this is an electronic journal I'm happy to share but it's written for me.
Why do I do it?
I have to have something to account for my days while I wait to be legal here; a project; a connection to the world; a way of measuring how I spent my free time. If my blog was my business, would I have succeeded? A strange question ... perhaps not in these days when our worth is measured by career or income, by the vehicle we drive or the house that we live in.
Anyway Pidjin was created in order to provide a common ground on which artists of all media could converge to share their work as well as influence each other. Whether it be the color of paint, the form of a torso, the rhythm of words, or a story created by a song -- we hope members and viewers can find something in the work on Pidjin that resonates within themselves.
Over the years I've developed a favourites list that slows my computer; a favourites list that was developed by a woman with an abstract vision of 'organisation'; a list that is impossible to use in a good way due to the sprawling nature of my curiousity and interests. It's only when I sit down and search through it that I refind the treasures I stored there.
And so bookcrossing.com was dusted off and brought back out into the light ... the search option on blogger means that I will be saved from the results of random collection in future and archives are simpler to scroll through.
Wandering again, I found this site called Pidjin and so out it comes too.
The beauty of blogging is that you don't have public expectations ... this is an electronic journal I'm happy to share but it's written for me.
Why do I do it?
I have to have something to account for my days while I wait to be legal here; a project; a connection to the world; a way of measuring how I spent my free time. If my blog was my business, would I have succeeded? A strange question ... perhaps not in these days when our worth is measured by career or income, by the vehicle we drive or the house that we live in.
Anyway Pidjin was created in order to provide a common ground on which artists of all media could converge to share their work as well as influence each other. Whether it be the color of paint, the form of a torso, the rhythm of words, or a story created by a song -- we hope members and viewers can find something in the work on Pidjin that resonates within themselves.
Bookcrossing
I was reading this article about bookcrossing.com .
A Global Book Club's Traveling Titles by Ethan Gilsdorf: After finishing 'About a Boy' by Nick Hornby, a reader in New York City left it on a Starbucks magazine rack with hopes that someone would pick up the novel and read it. Two days later a reader from Delta, British Columbia, found the book, took it back to Canada, read it, and left it in the waiting room of a dentist's office, where it found its way into the hands of another local reader.
The tracking of such a literary journey is made possible by a unique online book club called BookCrossing.com.
"It's like a reading group that knows no geographical boundaries," says cofounder Ron Hornbaker, the president and CTO of Humankind Systems, Inc., a software and Internet development company with offices in Kansas City, Missouri, and Sandpoint, Idaho. "The books our members leave in the wild are free, but it's the act of freeing books that points to the heart of BookCrossing."
Over 49,000 members have registered more than 116,000 books, and both figures grow by about 600 per day. Over 20,000 different Web sites link to BookCrossing.com, which receives over 2,000 new visitors each day.
A Global Book Club's Traveling Titles by Ethan Gilsdorf: After finishing 'About a Boy' by Nick Hornby, a reader in New York City left it on a Starbucks magazine rack with hopes that someone would pick up the novel and read it. Two days later a reader from Delta, British Columbia, found the book, took it back to Canada, read it, and left it in the waiting room of a dentist's office, where it found its way into the hands of another local reader.
The tracking of such a literary journey is made possible by a unique online book club called BookCrossing.com.
"It's like a reading group that knows no geographical boundaries," says cofounder Ron Hornbaker, the president and CTO of Humankind Systems, Inc., a software and Internet development company with offices in Kansas City, Missouri, and Sandpoint, Idaho. "The books our members leave in the wild are free, but it's the act of freeing books that points to the heart of BookCrossing."
Over 49,000 members have registered more than 116,000 books, and both figures grow by about 600 per day. Over 20,000 different Web sites link to BookCrossing.com, which receives over 2,000 new visitors each day.
Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma - Awards
The Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma has announced the winners of the 2006 Dart Awards for Excellence in Reporting on Victims of Violence. The first-ever Dart Awards for radio coverage were given to the BBC, for a series about survivors of the Bosnian civil war, and PRI’s The World, for a series about survivors of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. This year’s newspaper award was given to the Lafayette, La., Daily Advertiser for a project about domestic violence.
It's an interesting site with links leading into more information. Judges selected two entries to receive the first Dart Awards for radio coverage. Return to Sarajevo by the BBC and syndicated on US stations—will receive a $7,000 prize. The winning team includes correspondent Allan Little and producers Peter Burdin and Philippa Goodrich. In the three-part series, Little and Burdin revisit Sarajevo 10 years after the Dayton Peace Agreement—and 10 years after they covered the war themselves. They revisit the scenes of some of the worst destruction, conduct new interviews with some of the people they met 10 years earlier and tells how survivors there have attempted to rebuild their lives after living through a bloody civil war.
It's an interesting site with links leading into more information. Judges selected two entries to receive the first Dart Awards for radio coverage. Return to Sarajevo by the BBC and syndicated on US stations—will receive a $7,000 prize. The winning team includes correspondent Allan Little and producers Peter Burdin and Philippa Goodrich. In the three-part series, Little and Burdin revisit Sarajevo 10 years after the Dayton Peace Agreement—and 10 years after they covered the war themselves. They revisit the scenes of some of the worst destruction, conduct new interviews with some of the people they met 10 years earlier and tells how survivors there have attempted to rebuild their lives after living through a bloody civil war.
Are We Complicit If We Stay Silent?
If we remain silent, are we condoning, or being seen to condone, the actions of a few extremists?
Lately I've read of two actions that have shocked me to the core. The Identity Soup being served in 'soup kitchens' run by extreme right elements in both France and Belgium was written up in der Spiegel and now a blogger in Austria writes her response to an extreme right advertisement in a newspaper there. The post is titled Burkah Blues.
I wanted to try and understand the seeming lack of reaction to extremist racism within Europe. It took some time but perhaps this paper goes some way towards explaining the thorny beast that is extreme right politics in Europe.
Jérôme Jamin, a researcher in Political Science at the University of Liège in Belgium writes .
Why is it so hard to tell people about the extremist threat to democracy? A second explanation lies in the evolution of extremist parties over the past twenty years. In all European countries, there are laws to curb racist, xenophobic and "negationist" rhetoric. Enacted in response to the electoral success of extreme right parties, these laws punish incitement to racist behaviour, notably against foreigners and migrants. After many convictions in Belgium, France, the Netherlands and other countries, most of the extremist leaders have changed the way they talk about World War II and about migrants in general. To evade laws against racist rhetoric, they replaced their overt xenophobia with a defense of ethnic homogeneity. Instead of attacking foreigners, they advocated the right to cultural expression for their own people; they set aside their nostalgia for fascism to champion their European heritage. Except for the Front National with its leaders who maintain their negationist rhetoric, most of the parties tried to change their discourse in order to avoid legal challenges and to give a better image of themselves to the electorate.
Perhaps we all need to question our silences ... every country, every race, every religion. It's the 21st century, haven't we learnt anything?
Lately I've read of two actions that have shocked me to the core. The Identity Soup being served in 'soup kitchens' run by extreme right elements in both France and Belgium was written up in der Spiegel and now a blogger in Austria writes her response to an extreme right advertisement in a newspaper there. The post is titled Burkah Blues.
I wanted to try and understand the seeming lack of reaction to extremist racism within Europe. It took some time but perhaps this paper goes some way towards explaining the thorny beast that is extreme right politics in Europe.
Jérôme Jamin, a researcher in Political Science at the University of Liège in Belgium writes .
Why is it so hard to tell people about the extremist threat to democracy? A second explanation lies in the evolution of extremist parties over the past twenty years. In all European countries, there are laws to curb racist, xenophobic and "negationist" rhetoric. Enacted in response to the electoral success of extreme right parties, these laws punish incitement to racist behaviour, notably against foreigners and migrants. After many convictions in Belgium, France, the Netherlands and other countries, most of the extremist leaders have changed the way they talk about World War II and about migrants in general. To evade laws against racist rhetoric, they replaced their overt xenophobia with a defense of ethnic homogeneity. Instead of attacking foreigners, they advocated the right to cultural expression for their own people; they set aside their nostalgia for fascism to champion their European heritage. Except for the Front National with its leaders who maintain their negationist rhetoric, most of the parties tried to change their discourse in order to avoid legal challenges and to give a better image of themselves to the electorate.
Perhaps we all need to question our silences ... every country, every race, every religion. It's the 21st century, haven't we learnt anything?
Women in Europe
Today Erkan posted interesting news about a study on women in Europe which claims that they are better educated, earn less, and have fewer hours of leisure.
Women in some EU countries spend more than three times longer than men doing domestic work like cleaning, cooking and childcare. In contrast, men in many countries spend more than twice as much time earning money or learning as women do. The discrepancy is worst in mediterranean countries like Italy and Spain, but the example of Germany shows that even countries considering themselves well advanced in gender equality suffer from structural deficits: Insufficient childcare in Germany accounts for the lowest level of women's professional activity throughout the EU.
Women in some EU countries spend more than three times longer than men doing domestic work like cleaning, cooking and childcare. In contrast, men in many countries spend more than twice as much time earning money or learning as women do. The discrepancy is worst in mediterranean countries like Italy and Spain, but the example of Germany shows that even countries considering themselves well advanced in gender equality suffer from structural deficits: Insufficient childcare in Germany accounts for the lowest level of women's professional activity throughout the EU.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
A Wandering Turk
I found an interesting blog written by The Wandering Turk, presently exploring the Land Downunder.
He grew up in Ankara, now resides in Austin, Texas and he's doing a really good job of making me homesick for New Zealand. He's written of hangis and White Herons, of West Coast rain and kayaking, of walking on Franz Joseph Glacier and was photographed in one of those crystal clear streams that New Zealand does so very very well... the antidote is surely his post on the demon Sandfly.
He grew up in Ankara, now resides in Austin, Texas and he's doing a really good job of making me homesick for New Zealand. He's written of hangis and White Herons, of West Coast rain and kayaking, of walking on Franz Joseph Glacier and was photographed in one of those crystal clear streams that New Zealand does so very very well... the antidote is surely his post on the demon Sandfly.
Alliance of civilizations or alliance of people?
I was checking out Erkan's blog and followed one of his posts to this article titled Alliance of civilizations or alliance of people?
In it, Cengiz Aktar begins with:
Early last week we were in Brussels as part of lobbying activities linked to Istanbul's candidacy as Europe's Capital of Culture for 2010, and we spent the rest of the week in Algiers to participate in a congress titled “North-South Dialog on the Mediterranean.” Objectives and efforts were very similar: To find ways to best revitalize the remarkable cultural heritage of the Mediterranean basin in order to rediscover the art of living together, recreating the Mediterranean as an antidote to the current tensions and showing that geographic borders should not become cultural or political walls.
Three important nongovernmental organizations organized the meeting. The European Movement, formed after World War II; the Euro-Mediterranean Foundation, formed in honor of murdered Swedish Foreign Minister Anna Lindt; and the Biblioteca Alexandrina. More than 500 delegates from around the Mediterranean basin attended the three-day meeting.
In it, Cengiz Aktar begins with:
Early last week we were in Brussels as part of lobbying activities linked to Istanbul's candidacy as Europe's Capital of Culture for 2010, and we spent the rest of the week in Algiers to participate in a congress titled “North-South Dialog on the Mediterranean.” Objectives and efforts were very similar: To find ways to best revitalize the remarkable cultural heritage of the Mediterranean basin in order to rediscover the art of living together, recreating the Mediterranean as an antidote to the current tensions and showing that geographic borders should not become cultural or political walls.
Three important nongovernmental organizations organized the meeting. The European Movement, formed after World War II; the Euro-Mediterranean Foundation, formed in honor of murdered Swedish Foreign Minister Anna Lindt; and the Biblioteca Alexandrina. More than 500 delegates from around the Mediterranean basin attended the three-day meeting.
Sunlight and Visas
I have to write of the sunlight streaming down on me here at my desk today ... all the windows are open in celebration of this marvellously warm and sunny Antwerpen day.
I am oddly lost in this new world. Being 'in process' seems to mean that I have entered a slightly bizarre twilight world. It's difficult to explain but you don't get up in the morning with a place that you have to be, with a social group to interact with or a salary to earn. Perhaps the test is that you lose the exterior things that defined you ... you are left relying on who you are inside yourself.
I didn't move lightly and I checked with the authorities before making my long-stay visa application here back on 10 September 2005. 6- 8weeks said the very nice lady ... a timeframe that has stretched into 6 months of this limbo.
And I could surely do great things with that free time. I began my blog, started writing a novel, outlined a plan for a play with the Canuck; my business plans have been repeatedly gone over although not noted down formally, tentative structures and frameworks are in place, contacts have been made; I picked up a learn to run class for 20euro and began learning Nederlands 12 hours per week; I've wandered a little ... as finances allow but really, I'm just waiting to exist in this country I moved to because I found a man who inspired a country-moving action from me. A man with two children, who couldn't come my way.
The immigrant, the illegal alien ... is always 'the other' and suddenly here I am as the other ... it's not very nice, she writes, wrinkling her nose.
I am oddly lost in this new world. Being 'in process' seems to mean that I have entered a slightly bizarre twilight world. It's difficult to explain but you don't get up in the morning with a place that you have to be, with a social group to interact with or a salary to earn. Perhaps the test is that you lose the exterior things that defined you ... you are left relying on who you are inside yourself.
I didn't move lightly and I checked with the authorities before making my long-stay visa application here back on 10 September 2005. 6- 8weeks said the very nice lady ... a timeframe that has stretched into 6 months of this limbo.
And I could surely do great things with that free time. I began my blog, started writing a novel, outlined a plan for a play with the Canuck; my business plans have been repeatedly gone over although not noted down formally, tentative structures and frameworks are in place, contacts have been made; I picked up a learn to run class for 20euro and began learning Nederlands 12 hours per week; I've wandered a little ... as finances allow but really, I'm just waiting to exist in this country I moved to because I found a man who inspired a country-moving action from me. A man with two children, who couldn't come my way.
The immigrant, the illegal alien ... is always 'the other' and suddenly here I am as the other ... it's not very nice, she writes, wrinkling her nose.
Mediachannel.org
I was intrigued by this site and its mission statement: MediaChannel is concerned with the political, cultural and social impacts of the media, large and small. MediaChannel exists to provide information and diverse perspectives and inspire debate, collaboration, action and citizen engagement.
More than ever before, we are living in a media age and a media world. Nine transnational conglomerates dominate the global media; multibillion-dollar deals are concentrating this power even further. Yet we are also experiencing a technological revolution that empowers independent media, worldwide communication and innovative media projects for everything from community development to political action.
In the current climate, we all need to be aware of how the media operate. Making sense of the steady stream of info-culture requires background, context and interpretation. The vitality of our political and cultural discourse relies on a free and diverse media that offers access to everybody. Journalists and media professionals, organizations and activists, scholars and citizens all need improved access to information, resources and opportunities to reach out and build connections. MediaChannel has been created to meet this need at the dawn of the new millennium.
I found it while I was searching for information on the recent paradox of free speech in Europe.
More than ever before, we are living in a media age and a media world. Nine transnational conglomerates dominate the global media; multibillion-dollar deals are concentrating this power even further. Yet we are also experiencing a technological revolution that empowers independent media, worldwide communication and innovative media projects for everything from community development to political action.
In the current climate, we all need to be aware of how the media operate. Making sense of the steady stream of info-culture requires background, context and interpretation. The vitality of our political and cultural discourse relies on a free and diverse media that offers access to everybody. Journalists and media professionals, organizations and activists, scholars and citizens all need improved access to information, resources and opportunities to reach out and build connections. MediaChannel has been created to meet this need at the dawn of the new millennium.
I found it while I was searching for information on the recent paradox of free speech in Europe.
My Knee ....
I've spent the last week resting my left knee ... icing it, avoiding the 105 stairs from the ground floor to home while the elevator waits for its new ventilator ... I'd been a baby, wanting it to heal so I could keep on running.
Last night I went back to class, survived the news that the rest of the class had advanced to 2x15 minutes in my absence ... ignoring the ice on the track we set off.
I ran the first 15 minutes then walked for the 1 minute rest period ... I felt good. Then came the second 15 minutes ... my knee held together and I was happy beyond words.
We warmed down and there was a twinge in my knee. I knew it would need ice but it seemed minor. I came home, climbed the 105 stairs and could barely walk when I reached the top of the stairs. The terrible knee pain is back ... I'm so annoyed.
Last night I went back to class, survived the news that the rest of the class had advanced to 2x15 minutes in my absence ... ignoring the ice on the track we set off.
I ran the first 15 minutes then walked for the 1 minute rest period ... I felt good. Then came the second 15 minutes ... my knee held together and I was happy beyond words.
We warmed down and there was a twinge in my knee. I knew it would need ice but it seemed minor. I came home, climbed the 105 stairs and could barely walk when I reached the top of the stairs. The terrible knee pain is back ... I'm so annoyed.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Wandering
Psychiatrists, politicians, tyrants are forever assuring us that the wandering life is an aberrant form of behaviour; a neurosis; a sickness which, in the interests of civilisation, must be suppressed.
Yet in the East, they still preserve the once universal concept: that wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe.
The Songlines
Bruce Chatwin.
It is so difficult to understand that I can't just wander into a country at will ... I had never considered it until now but the concept of ownership by different groups within the same human tribe is quite odd when you're on the outside looking in.
I understand ... it's about civil society, taxes and an avoidance of chaos but still, I wonder how the world would be if we were all free to learn that we're not so different under the facade of societal, cultural and religious 'difference'...
Riverbend in Iraq wrote of an imaginary Iraqi Oscar ceremony in a way that made me want to offer applause for the courage it must take to keep blogging as Baghdad Burns in her blog. Wandermuse paints and writes her mind in ways that inspire me. Erkan is a Turk who gathers news and views that make me return to his site for his daily offerings. Shashikiran is a businessman, a marathon runner in training, and a man who writes of his world in beautiful prose. Doberman is a Finn who writes of a world that seems like New Zealand, one that I read in my 'own', accent and I could go on listing so many more blogs in which I recognise a common humanity ...
That is the blog world but I have friends in New Zealand, Turkey, America, the Netherlands, Italy,Australia, England ... I'm curious about the world and its people. And the best of learning Nederlands is surely the cultural mix of class ... Chechen, Iranian, African, Iraqi, Indian, Romanian, Polish, Portugese, Spanish, Greek, Moroccan, Turkish, etc ... we're people 'in process'. We're like cats meeting on neutral ground in a land that isn't our own. They make Dutch grammar bearable.
I've lived and worked amongst Turks who welcomed me and showed me of the immense value of family, and then I met this Belgian, moved to his country and finally ... after so long, began learning of the construct of difference; a construct that creates barriers and boundaries which in turn create illegal aliens, identity soups and extreme right political groups ...
"Dorothy ..., said the Bear, "you're not in Kansas anymore and you're an alien."
Yet in the East, they still preserve the once universal concept: that wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe.
The Songlines
Bruce Chatwin.
It is so difficult to understand that I can't just wander into a country at will ... I had never considered it until now but the concept of ownership by different groups within the same human tribe is quite odd when you're on the outside looking in.
I understand ... it's about civil society, taxes and an avoidance of chaos but still, I wonder how the world would be if we were all free to learn that we're not so different under the facade of societal, cultural and religious 'difference'...
Riverbend in Iraq wrote of an imaginary Iraqi Oscar ceremony in a way that made me want to offer applause for the courage it must take to keep blogging as Baghdad Burns in her blog. Wandermuse paints and writes her mind in ways that inspire me. Erkan is a Turk who gathers news and views that make me return to his site for his daily offerings. Shashikiran is a businessman, a marathon runner in training, and a man who writes of his world in beautiful prose. Doberman is a Finn who writes of a world that seems like New Zealand, one that I read in my 'own', accent and I could go on listing so many more blogs in which I recognise a common humanity ...
That is the blog world but I have friends in New Zealand, Turkey, America, the Netherlands, Italy,Australia, England ... I'm curious about the world and its people. And the best of learning Nederlands is surely the cultural mix of class ... Chechen, Iranian, African, Iraqi, Indian, Romanian, Polish, Portugese, Spanish, Greek, Moroccan, Turkish, etc ... we're people 'in process'. We're like cats meeting on neutral ground in a land that isn't our own. They make Dutch grammar bearable.
I've lived and worked amongst Turks who welcomed me and showed me of the immense value of family, and then I met this Belgian, moved to his country and finally ... after so long, began learning of the construct of difference; a construct that creates barriers and boundaries which in turn create illegal aliens, identity soups and extreme right political groups ..."Dorothy ..., said the Bear, "you're not in Kansas anymore and you're an alien."
Word Cloud Shirts
This morning, in a valiant attempt NOT to read about 'identity soup' in France, or Guantanamo Bay, American soldiers being shot by friendly fire and Iraqis hoping to survive the chaos in their world ... and while avoiding thought of more minor things like the 105 stairs from the ground floor to my door while elevatorless, or the fact it is snowing again, I webwandered and found this fun thing via this website and that website. Every blogger needs their very own word shirt. Go play ... you put in your website and it searches the site for words that you've used and creates your very own word shirt.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Not quite grown-up yet ...
You know when you were a kid and you were meant to be washing the dishes but you found the bubbles infinitely more fascinating and messed around with them instead of doing what you were meant to be doing ...?
Some things never change.
Wandermuse
I found a blogsite that roused me out of my cold Sunday Belgian Blues.
Wandermuse describes herself as an artist, painter, photographer, ponderer and wanderer. Links that take you through her site are down at the bottom of her blog ... it's well worth checking out. Also down there you'll find a section titled 'Travel and Encounters' ... I thought the creativity section was delicious.
Anyway, I've borrowed an extract from her most recent post titled Bare Your Soul just to share:
A painting is more than color, value, subject, composition...it resonates with your life experience, spirit of adventure, sense of humor, personal ideals and individual integrity...
Your art (whatever form it takes) is what you live.
Living a creative life is about pushing your personal envelope. When you push yourself physically, you feel it in those animal muscles you sometimes forget you have...and next time, you're stronger. Remember to stretch the "muscles" of your heart and your mind, too... You can read it in its entirety here.
Wandermuse describes herself as an artist, painter, photographer, ponderer and wanderer. Links that take you through her site are down at the bottom of her blog ... it's well worth checking out. Also down there you'll find a section titled 'Travel and Encounters' ... I thought the creativity section was delicious.
Anyway, I've borrowed an extract from her most recent post titled Bare Your Soul just to share:
A painting is more than color, value, subject, composition...it resonates with your life experience, spirit of adventure, sense of humor, personal ideals and individual integrity...
Your art (whatever form it takes) is what you live.
Living a creative life is about pushing your personal envelope. When you push yourself physically, you feel it in those animal muscles you sometimes forget you have...and next time, you're stronger. Remember to stretch the "muscles" of your heart and your mind, too... You can read it in its entirety here.
Global Voices Online and Snow in Belgie
I was webwandering after breakfast ... having begun the day with an Arctic expedition in search of the traditional Belgian Sunday morning breakfast food. You know it has occured to me that perhaps my name should be changed to Di, the Woman Who Brings Snow. I lived in Turkey for two years and during that time there were 3 or 4 'city-shut-down-type' heavy snowfalls ... now Belgium is having one of the snowiest winters in years. Then again, I might keep that quiet while 'in process'. Anyway, as a result of last night's snow we had to walk to our Bakkerij for Sunday pistolets and koffie koeken ... ahhh Belgie, so civilised. 
Later... replete to the point of 'I must run tomorrow or firemen will have to cut me out of the building', I was working my way through the list of blogs I like to check in on and came to Angelvox, found via Erkan's site. (By the way, why does America want Turkey to allow it to put battleships into the Black Sea, as posted as recent news on Erkan's blog.)Angelvox writes an interesting blog out of Istanbul but today I noticed she also writes for Global Voices Online .
I followed the link and checked it out: Global Voices Online is a non-profit global citizens’ media project, sponsored by and launched from the Berkman Center for Internet and Society at the Harvard Law School.
A growing number of bloggers around the world are emerging as “bridge bloggers:” people who are talking about their country or region to a global audience. Global Voices is your guide to the most interesting conversations, information, and ideas appearing around the world on various forms of participatory media such as blogs, podcasts, photo sharing sites, and videoblogs.
Our global team of regional blogger-editors is working to find, aggregate and track these conversations. Each day they link to 5-10 of the most interesting blog posts from their regions in the “daily roundups” section. A larger group of contributing bloggers is posting daily features in in the left-hand Weblog section, shedding light on what blogging communities in their countries have been talking about recently
You'll find some of the 'voices' here. Seems kind of cool and an antidote to what we are spoon-fed in our various countries of residence.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Riverbend's Latest Update from Iraq
Sometimes it's better to read how it is from someone who is living there ... and so it is when you read of Iraq.
Middelheim Openluchtmuseum, Belgie
We went real-life wandering today. Gert wanted to revisit Middelheim Openluchtmusuem (Open Air Museum) and the light was right for a little photography. 
The story of this particular park began back in 1950, when Antwerpen hosted a successful international open air sculpture exhibition. The success of it gave the then burgomaster (mayor) Lode Craeybeckx, the idea of creating a permanent exhibition of modern sculpture. Beginning with Rodin's work, it's a collection that now consists of more than 300 sculptures.
The park has earned an international reputation out in the art world due to the fact that it contains a representative overview of 20th century sculpting but more than that, it's a pleasure to wander there ... even on the days when using a camera means that you may lose fingers to frostbite.
The story of this particular park began back in 1950, when Antwerpen hosted a successful international open air sculpture exhibition. The success of it gave the then burgomaster (mayor) Lode Craeybeckx, the idea of creating a permanent exhibition of modern sculpture. Beginning with Rodin's work, it's a collection that now consists of more than 300 sculptures.
The park has earned an international reputation out in the art world due to the fact that it contains a representative overview of 20th century sculpting but more than that, it's a pleasure to wander there ... even on the days when using a camera means that you may lose fingers to frostbite.
Friday, March 03, 2006
I asked Gert if he'd look at the little quote I just posted.
He squinted and moved his face closer to his computer screen.
I said, 'It's too small?'
He said, 'Well I'd put some text with it.'
I said, 'Something like, I like this quote?'
He said, 'No. You should write, I know heaps of people who think that I have history-making potential.'
I was shocked.
He was surprised and said, 'Wasn't that what you were thinking of ...?'
I said 'No.'
He laughed.
Postcard from Brussels
Love it or hate it, the Atomium is the equivalent of the Eiffel Tower for the residents of the European Union's capital city. After years of exposure, the Brussels landmark was looking a bit shabby -- but it's back to its shiny glory after a €27.5 million renovation.
You can read of this monument; a cluster of nine silver balls linked by glistening tubes, towering more than 102 meters high (300 feet)in Der Spiegel.
You can read of this monument; a cluster of nine silver balls linked by glistening tubes, towering more than 102 meters high (300 feet)in Der Spiegel.
Pampered Child Syndrome
Alison just emailed me a link to an article she knew would interest me for all kinds of reasons, my experience of teaching in two private schools in Turkey not being the least of them.
If you're a teacher or have children, it's an interesting read in these days of politically correctedness.
If you're a teacher or have children, it's an interesting read in these days of politically correctedness.
Life ... it's a funny old thing
One of the things I had decided not to use my blog for was my blood and guts real life. It's not something that's on my mind all the time and it's not what I want to write of however it seems that my desire to present my world via things I've enjoyed or that interest me has offended some people.
No, no not those who matter ... or if so, they haven't bothered to write of it yet ... it is the strangers and hangers-on who have been morally outraged by my perceived smoozing it up in Europe.
Ahhh the dream of it. I have to laugh at the irony of meeting one of the only men I've ever known to pay child support in a generous and open manner after the divorce. (Don't be angry if you're another man doing the same ... it's only that I haven't met you, I promise.) Anyway, until I am allowed into this country as an official resident, my ability to earn is seriously compromised. They tend to throw out those who try a little 'under the table' work and having been threatened with jail for a pedestrian traffic infringement complicated by not carrying any ID, I'm not inspired to try it on here. I loved living in Istanbul, I come from New Zealand where I lived by the harbour with my own sea kayak ... Europe wasn't a plan, just this man.
I recently received a 9-page email (okay, so I put it into Word and noticed it was 9 pages long) from a person who, among other things, took over the benefits accrued in my old life. No, don't read bitterness here ... my divorce was an amicable one once we realised it was over .. . mostly amicable.
What intrigued me was the nature of the lecture from woman who has never met me ... I came out of the reading briefly confused about who I was and only reluctantly showed it to Gert, who came away stunned that someone could write what she'd written of me and things she had incomplete knowledge of.
I returned it to its own world via another more reliable source and set about forgetting it. It wasn't simple, there were more than a few poisoned darts that infected my life.
Meanwhile someone else, who chose to cloak themselves in anonimity in another country, began a quiet campaign of malicious comment on the blogs of friends, and oddly enough, it began to seem that my world had become crazier that ever ... not something lightly said when you've lived as I have.
I had these Tourette-like comments being made on my life ... and just like a sufferer of this disease, I had no control over those outbursts of others.
In strolls expat-Alison, a voice of such practical reason that I couldn't argue with her as she listened and was wise about my recent experiences ... and as we talked away the day over coffee and pasta, it finally became clear to me that it's not about trying to control how others think of me ... why should I; it's not even about trying to please everyone else, it's about getting on with my own life ... about doing the best that I can and that being enough.
In the past, I have occasionally asked for advice ... most particularly before heading off to Turkey after the divorce; a brand-spanking new university degree in my 35+ year old hand. A 16-year marriage and 4 geographical relocations, I was a mostly stay-at-home-mum due to the lack of employment opportunities in small town New Zealand, and so we ended up furthering the career of my then husband. Something we never considered in this period was 'life after the divorce' ... and so it goes that that life left me with the earning capability and career experience of a newly-graduated university student, with student loan debt ... that being exactly what I was in 2002, at an age when so many are successfully entrenched in a career.
So I was Turkey-bound with the blessing of many ...
But I did have to leave behind a daughter I love and admire more than anyone else in the world, even if she is surely responsible for more than a few of my grey hairs. She has the heart of a lion, she's intelligent, funny, insightful, and mocking in a way that lets you know that she's seen right through you. These last few years haven't been easy for her as she has struggled to live her life to a powerful drumbeat I didn't quite recognise.
I also left behind a life that I knew and understood; a half-written book of interviews with NZ climbers, one that had made it through to a second publishing meeting only to be rejected on the grounds it probably wouldn't have a big enough audience to be financially attractive to the publishing company back in those days, (and they told me all this in a way that made me happy to have had my first literary offering get that far). Of course I left things that I often miss deeply; family and friends, fresh air and open spaces, and an English I understood and could speak without a hail of mocking about vowel usage. But it seemed like the best option ... to grow fast, I had to explore other career paths and countries.
Justification over, I've made mistakes obviously but being briefly Catholic I have my own guilts to live with. But the last 24 hours has been about my hope that I've learnt something from the sadness that I've experienced in recent weeks ... I think that I've finally learnt that no one can really control their own life; you can own the illusion but stuff happens and you have to roll with it all and go on.
Normal blogging service shall now be resumed ... those who suffer from uncontrollable outbursts may do as you please ... or as you must.
Tot straks.
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