An Author Thing

An interesting thing .

Actually no, having played with it a few times, I find it sublime.

Thanks to Sunset Shazz .

What Shannon and Di did ...

Yesterday was one of 'those' days ...

Shannon wandered in from Brussels, making me laugh even as I was on the tram going to meet her train. She smsed me, something like 'Is Malines Mechelen in French?'

I laughed outloud on the tram, wondering where she might be and had to write back 'I've got no idea but don't get off there', highlighting the problem of a country where every town has two names.

She smsed a few minutes later, the ticket inspector had clicked her ticket, she was on the right train ... and so, in just two sms messages, you have the constant dilemma of the expatriate-type.

Where am I?
Am I on the right train?

So we arrived in the same place as per plan and came home on the tram. We hadn't seen each other in a while, so we caught up on news, talking of her studies and my plans for the future ... that kind of stuff.

After lunch, I have no real idea of why we decided we might move the 2 couches here in the lounge but we did. It wasn't straight-forward but it was done and seemed like the new arrangement might work.

Looking around we realised that moving the couches meant moving the dining table ... and so we did, taking off the blue tablecloth revealing the woodfinish.

But moving the table meant moving the computer desks ... and the file cupboard and that large plant on the hearth.

And it was all looking rather nice when Shannon the decorator noticed the lavender plants on the balcony. We wandered out, she had a few ideas as we put up the table and chairs then dug out the large sun umbrella.

Inspired by her vision we went to the plant shop and chose a few 1 euro plants, in flower, and carried them home ... repotting immediately. She loaded some onto a ricketty wooden set of steps and voila, the balcony was transformed in ways I hadn't envisaged.

Needless to say, I was easily convinced when she suggested we lift the small fridge up onto the freezer, freeing up space. It looked good too.

So ... Gert had left his apartment at 8am with no idea of my plans, since there weren't any ... and his face was a delight when he walked in.
He loves it all.

Shannon and Gabe stayed for one of those lovely hot summer evening dinners, where you eat out on the balcony, drinking that last bottle of Spanish white wine and telling stories of times past, laughing like children sometimes ... Shannon is master of a certain storytelling genre.

A friend back in New Zealand once told me that she changed her house almost weekly as a way to stand being stuck in one place ... as I look out over the lounge this morning, I can see what she means ... and so it is that we travelled yesterday, changing place.

Poetry Thursday

This week's Poetry Thursday idea was that there are phrases we say over and over. Each day brings its own comfortable (and not-so-comfortable) routine. This week's (completely and totally optional) idea is to bring poetry into the everyday.

Think about the roles you play in your life and the phrases you use in these roles. Are there certain sentences you find yourself saying over and over? Phrases that tumble out of your mouth frequently? Use one (or more) of these phrases as a starting point for a poem. You could incorporate them into your poem or use them as a prompt to start writing.

a poem from a bad day in a country not my own

i have become an ‘in-process immigrant’
a life different to all i have known before.
i’m an undesirable now
a 'stay-at-home huisvrouw' too.

i have become the 'i'm sorry' mother daughter sister friend
the one who says, ‘i’m sorry, i’ll be home as soon as they allow me to work,
i often add, ‘but they told me something different when i applied for visas …
i expected to be home in january.

sometimes i whine now,
gnashing my teeth on occasion.
and yes, perhaps i am becoming less.
we shall see…

Come Dance All Around the World...

I found this youtube over at Andrea's site and watched Matt dance his way round the world.

Quirky amusing ...

Not only that, I worked out the technology for loading it onto my blog ... it's simpler than I imagined (just before you imagine me clever).

Kevin Sites: The Soccer War

Kevin Sites writes an interesting diary entry on the problems of being a war journalist.

An extract: I know what a body looks like after it's been hit with mortar fragments, improvised bombs, 7.62 rounds from an AK-47 and 5.56 rounds from an M16 or an M4. I know what a human head looks like after it's exploded from a sniper shot. I've seen bodies burned, blown apart, submerged in cars and wrapped around tall trees from the force of a tsunami.

Here's the problem, as any soldier, police homicide detective, doctor or coroner will tell you: after a while that pit in your stomach you first feel when you confront the aftermath of violent death goes away. The flood of emotions, the pondering, "what if it were my child, parent, friend, me?" stops. Soon you feel nothing at all.

When the security guard pulled out the stainless steel tables from the morgue vault holding the bodies of the children, I felt nothing. Well, not exactly. I felt bad, and correctly so, that I was part of a media horde descending on people during their most intimate moments of grief. I justified it, as I have had to in the past, with the belief that the world needs to understand the victimizations of war.

During a discussion about this occupational hazard, a close friend told me that the numbness was the survival instinct needed to do the job at the moment that counts, the strength necessary to hold it together to complete the task.

And while that may be true, there are times, like when my camera flash is going off within the grimy, white tile room of that Kashmir morgue, that I wish I felt something — something for those children still dressed like children, in T-shirts, jeans and sneakers despite their shredded bodies and burnt faces.

Wandering in Flanders Field

I spent the day wandering over farmland exploring WWI battlefields in Mesen, buying farm fresh eggs and strawberries.

I accepted an invitation to coffee in the farmhouse kitchen, adding fresh cow milk to that coffee and listening while the Mesen dialect Dutch flowed round me ...

It was a good day.

In Flanders Fields

Tuesday I'm off to Flanders Fields and will wander the old battlefields where the Kiwis fought during World War One.

I'm involved in a rather delicious project that comes together in time for the 90th commemorations of the Battle of Passendaele and Mesen next year.

We will be walking over a landscape that contains an unimaginable tonnage of unexploded shells ... oddly enough, I find this thought rather sobering.

A late summer might mean the Flanders Fields poppies are still out ...

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

Prospect Magazine

Erkan linked to an interesting article in a magazine I hadn't heard of ...
Prospect magazine was launched in October 1995 by its present editor David Goodhart, a senior correspondent for the Financial Times, and chairman Derek Coombs. The aim was to launch a monthly that was "more readable than the Economist, more relevant than the Spectator, more romantic than the New Statesman," as Sir Jeremy Isaacs subsequently described Prospect.

Prospect has acquired a reputation as the most intelligent magazine of current affairs and cultural debate in Britain. Both challenging and entertaining, the magazine seeks to make complex ideas accessible and enjoyable by commissioning the best writers, editing them vigorously and packaging their work in a well designed and illustrated monthly.

Sabrina Ward Harrison, Artist

I discovered the website of the woman who wrote Spilling Open: The Art of Becoming Yourself. The book is a multimedia journal that captures and records the life of a young woman and artist. The text from the book is intended to be experienced with the art.

Introduction

The great American poet Walt Whitman said that there is a time we must "wash the gum from our eyes and dress ourselves for the dazzle of the light." He looked at men and women struggling with their lives and said, "Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore, now I will you to be a bold swimmer, to jump off into the midst of the sea, rise again, not to me, shout! and laughingly dash with your hair."

I'm feeling rather disheveled and crooked (I seem to be seeping out at the edges). I am Sabrina Ward Harrison. I am twenty-one. This is my book. I often feel an overwhelming pressure to "have it all together." What is "it"? I feel young. I am young.

Childrens book artist and author Maurice Sendak described his creative process as a "descent into limbo." This describes my entire life lately. The more I look around and listen I realize that I'm not alone. We are all facing choices that define us. No choice. However messy is without importance in the overall picture of our lives. We all at our own age have to claim something, even if it's only our own confusion. I am in the middle of growing up and into myself.

This book is my life in progress. A growing expedition through the tangled and unfilled-in parts of understanding my life, my truth and myself.

I want to share it.

Welcome inside.

Gnawa Diffusion, Musicians

Identity cannot be determined by decree. It comes from the very soul of the population.
Amezigh Kateb

Samir, over at The View from Fez wrote up one of Morocco's top groups, Gnawa Diffusion.

I was curious and went searching for what I could find in English and listened to a little of the music ... loved it. There was this interview but Samir has written them up well, why not give you a taste of what made me curious to know more.

The story of Gnawa Diffusion goes back to 1992 when eight talented musicians, mastering different music styles, toured France and neighbouring countries and performed in bars and streets.

Headed by Amezigh Kateb, son of the famous Algerian writer Kateb Yacine, Gnawa Diffusion have acquired fame in France, the country which has had a long tradition of producing bands specialised in ‘métissage' (musical fusion).

The members of the band have succeeded in fusing their individual influences into a collective sound. They mixed the traditional music of Gnawa with different styles, including rap, raggae, jazz and rai.

Amazigh Kateb seems like an interesting man who is making a difference with the group Gnawa Diffusion. Samir wrote: Amezigh, the leader of the group, arrived in France in 1988 at the age of 16. He has been closely involved with the struggle to defend immigrants' rights and eradicate racial prejudice.

There was another interview here and in it he explains: The problematics of language have been an issue since the birth of the Ghanawa Diffusion. This brings me back to an incident that took place in the French city of Lyon during a celebration of Eid al-Fitr (Lesser Bairam).

After the concert, a young man came to me and said that he did not remember a better conversation or happier moment with his mother than during the concert, when she kept calling upon him to translate sections of my music into French or English. This is what we hope for: forcing our Arab and French audiences to interact.

My writing in colloquial Arabic, the language of my childhood, started during my secondary school days when I defied the teachers. When I started singing here in France, a French musical producer asked me to write in French because of market demands, a request that I turned down despite the difficulties that faced our first album, “ Algeria,” in 1996.

I found this quote elsewhere and it seemed a good note to end on ... a hopeful note.

I sincerely believe that culture in general, and music in particular, are our weapons for a better future.
Amazigh Kateb.

Teaching Resources

I receive a weekly 'Quick Resource' email from skop.gabriel@okm.gov.hu - a stunning resource for teachers of English. The worksheets cover diverse topics ... using the newspaper, human rights in language teaching, blogging, poetry and language teaching, the communicative approach, idioms and Earth Day to name just a few.

This week, I followed his resource link home to Global Dimension , a unique website for teachers. A helpful guide to books, videos, posters and websites which bring a global dimension to teaching. From climate change to poverty, water to fair trade, you can find resources for all age groups and subject areas. The site also includes other features which will help you develop a global dimension within your school curriculum, such as teaching ideas, curriculum information and contact details for local centres and school speaker services.

Another Quick Resource sheet offered up Icebreakers , games that get your class ready to learn.

A useful resource ...

Poynter Online

Poynter Online regularly email interesting articles.

The latest interesting thing is this article titled 'Fifty Writing Tools: What's in Store'.

They explain. For the last two years, these 50 essays describing writing strategies have lived on the Poynter Web site, helping journalists improve their craft. Your support for these writing tools has led to two exciting developments.

The publisher Little, Brown plans a Sept. 1, 2006 launch for the book version: Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer. At the request of the publisher, we'll soon be taking these 50 essays down from the Poynter site.

They are yours to peruse until July 1. In their place will appear something now: Writing Tools -- The Blog. I'll use the blog to discuss examples of the writing tools, both old and new, and to create new ways to guide and inspire writers.

5.30am and ...

It all begins around 5.30am here in Antwerp.

I'm not sure what wakes me first ... the Turtle Doves or Pigeons cooing on the balcony where I feed them during the day, or the mosquito. There's usually just one mosquito but surely that's all it takes to wake a village.

Instruments of torture, with their distinctive whine ... too small to focus on with eyes still needing sleep. And then, on these hot summer mornings, you become aware of the fact that even a sheet is too warm ...

You're beyond ignoring the mosquito but you can't deal with it without getting up and now you're awake you realise the bite on your left hand is already throbbing and there may be a bite on your right foot too.

5.30am and the birds are out there doing their thing. The Turtle Doves, along with a Magpie, a Pigeon and 2 Jackdaws are drawing up ownership lines. The sun is just rising and the little forest below your window is alive with birdsong ... you can already hear the motorway hum a few kilometres away.

A coffee with toast may repair things, you doubt it but at 5.46am you really have nothing to lose ...

The Fun Never ends in the 21st century ....

Der Spiegel writes about the fact that: Russia is constructing a floating nuclear power plant for remote regions that could provide energy for coastal cities. Environmentalists warn of a catastrophe at sea. And nuclear proliferation experts point out that the ship would use weapons-grade uranium to generate electricity.

Elif Shafak, Writer

Gert's Belgian newspaper had an interview with Elif Shafak , a Turkish writer who was born in France and spent her teenage years in Spain before returning to Turkey. She's an interesting woman, with five novels, the most recent written in English.

I went searching for more on her and discovered this essay which gives you a taste of her mind.

One image that is utterly difficult to put into words when writing in Turkey and in Turkish is the image of the threshold. A zone that belongs to neither "here" nor "there", neither "inside" nor "outside", neither "East" nor "West"… a space of ambiguity and in-betweendom is the most difficult to describe for a writer.

She ends her essay with something that I found quite beautiful ...
One can be multicultural, multilingual and yes, multifaith.
Writing fiction necessitates thresholds. Literature thrives upon the desire to transcend, to move far beyond our boundaries – be it in terms of national, ethnic, religious or gender identities. The ability to transform, to be as flexible and fluid as water, to step onto the thresholds…

People Series, 5 New Zealand

New Zealand Wine

You've got to love the people from the land downunder ...

Imagine a "wine with a whiff of "cat's pee on a gooseberry bush".

And quickly, I paste another section of text from the article Sal sent me, For the record, the "cat's pee on a gooseberry bush" description -- usually attributed to British wine critic Oz Clarke -- was a compliment.

Sal said he would be sticking to Spanish wines but I lived in Marlborough a while, the Cloudy Bay winery was a short bike ride away and I remember falling in love with one of their white wines ... Pelorus, the premium sparkling wine there.

The pale straw colour and aromas of ripe citrus fruits indicate the chardonnay origins of Pelorus nv. A bouquet of apple and lemon complements fresh bready notes derived from two years bottle ageing on lees. The deliciously crisp palate displays toasty, creamy complexity, enhanced by a lingering nutty finish.

Winemaker, Alan Scott said, Demand for sauvignon blanc wines in New Zealand appears to be flattening off but foreign markets -- which in the year to June 2005 took 50 million litres of New Zealand wine or over half of total production -- still cannot get enough.

"The US is desperate to get sauvignon blanc, it's just scary stuff".

I rest my case Mr DeTraglia ;)

The photo ... taken when I lived in Marlborough, surrounded by Montana, Cloudy Bay, Allan Scott and many other delicious wineries. It was stunning country.

Dinner in Brussels

Last night we drove over to Brussels to have dinner with two kiwis and their Belgian and French partners.

It was a lovely evening of memory and connections ... New Zealanders do that, we're kind of cute actually. There may some truth in the rumour that we all know each other ... there's surely less than 6 degrees of seperation.

It turned out that the woman from Greymouth had a cousin who had married into the same family as my cousin and that her parents had retired to the same tiny village in Canterbury as my uncle and aunt. But of course ... there's only 3/4's of a million of us in the South Island of New Zealand.

I love the connections, and the familiarity that you find in your own people while you're travelling. Both women have lived in Belgium forever.

Those Belgians are tricky, they pick up New Zealanders in places like Istanbul, Saudi Arabia and on overland trips that begin in Nepal then bring us all home to the wee country in the heart of Europe.

We drank Belgian beer with our roast lamb and potatoes, mashed carrots and parsnips. There was pavlova and whipped cream with oodles of fruit, a cheese board and French wine, conversation flowed easily and I was home again for a while.

I love finding these little pockets of home ...

Toots Thielemans, Musician

I'm listening to one more for the road as I work here today. Gert brought it home last night and I was curious.

The sun is shining again and the temperature is rising and this music suits the day perfectly.

Needing to know more about the harmonica playing Toots Thielemans who features on every track I went web-wandering and learned that Toots is Belgian, born in Brussels back in 1922. In 1952 he immigrated to the States and it seems the rest is history.

Quincy Jones said: 'I can say without hesitation that Toots is one of the greatest musicians of our time. On his instrument he ranks with the best that jazz has ever produced. He goes for the heart and makes you cry. We have worked together more times than I can count and he always keeps me coming back for more ...'

There were a few samples from the American press ... just to give you an idea.

SF Chronicle“An extraordinary improviser who can make the harmonica sing like Bird” “Nobody in Jazz plays melody with more grace and feeling than Toots Thielemans"

Washington Post
“This unassuming Belgian harmonica master “has wooed the world with a small instrument that, in his cupped hands at least, produces a hugely seductive sound”

Boston Globe
Jean Baptiste “ Toots” Thielemans is the “fountainhead of the modern jazz harmonica”

And so now you know ...

People Series, 4 New Zealand