Rain. Manchester's known for its rain. When I first left home, moving just 100 miles or so further south, colleagues used to laugh at me for always turning up to work with an umbrella - even if the sun was shining. There, in the east Midlands, you could predict the weather pretty accurately. It didn't always rain. Here on the wet, west side of England, you can expect rain more often. And particularly in Manchester where the prevailing winds bring rain clouds in off the Irish Sea; these then break on the first line of hills and dump their cargo on the city and surrounds.
Apparently, we're going to get more of it as the winters get warmer and wetter.
I've just watched a TV programme showing what rain did to Boscastle, a picturesque village in a narrow valley somewhere near the coast in south western England. Within hours, flash floods destroyed the place, sweeping cars into the sea and knocking down centuries-old buildings.
Rain. Floods. Tsunamis. They seem to be this week's theme.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Sitting in the dark
Three more days to go. I've still not written my Christmas cards and haven't a clue about New Year's resolutions. I'm at home alone, bliss. Mother and Bud are out looking at speakers, CD players etc for her. My 'free time' between family Xmas and family NY is slip-sliding away, gradually being swallowed up by family things and family visits. Assert yourself jj before it's too late.
But what do I want to DO? I want to go out walking on a Lakeland hilltop. But the weather's so grey, miserable and all pervading gloomy (it's just gone 4pm and it's already dark here) that it's not conducive to outdoor pursuits - even if the ice is melting.
OK, I want some time to myself. Heh, that's what I've got right now. Should I design my New Year greetings and write one of those round-robin letters to all the faithful friends who've sent me cards and will be wondering if I've dropped off the planet? No, I can do that when the others are back.
One precious hour alone. It's a rarity nowadays. Used to be the norm - acres and acres of time to myself. I have one hour. What shall do? Play the piano? Done that. Ring a friend? No, first I'm going to sit, just sit, go deep into the quietness - and see what emerges.
Speak to you later.
But what do I want to DO? I want to go out walking on a Lakeland hilltop. But the weather's so grey, miserable and all pervading gloomy (it's just gone 4pm and it's already dark here) that it's not conducive to outdoor pursuits - even if the ice is melting.
OK, I want some time to myself. Heh, that's what I've got right now. Should I design my New Year greetings and write one of those round-robin letters to all the faithful friends who've sent me cards and will be wondering if I've dropped off the planet? No, I can do that when the others are back.
One precious hour alone. It's a rarity nowadays. Used to be the norm - acres and acres of time to myself. I have one hour. What shall do? Play the piano? Done that. Ring a friend? No, first I'm going to sit, just sit, go deep into the quietness - and see what emerges.
Speak to you later.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Tsunami
Yes, I'm appalled by the scenes of devastation in the wake of the tsunami. Hard to even begin to think how it must be to have your whole family, your whole village and region wiped out like that. Why do these things always hit the developing world? I do think the international community should have seen to it by now that there's some sort of warning system in the Indian Ocean. Even a few minutes' warning would save some lives.
So humbling to see the force of nature and to realise that for all our scheming and planning, we're just little players on a board that can be wiped clean at any point...
One little story stands out among the many I read in this morning's Telegraph: an Australian guy who died taking a photo of the incoming wall of water. Taking a photo? Man, what happened to your instincts? I know my reaction would be to RUN LIKE HELL. Not that that guarantees survival, of course. Luck has to be on your side too.
So humbling to see the force of nature and to realise that for all our scheming and planning, we're just little players on a board that can be wiped clean at any point...
One little story stands out among the many I read in this morning's Telegraph: an Australian guy who died taking a photo of the incoming wall of water. Taking a photo? Man, what happened to your instincts? I know my reaction would be to RUN LIKE HELL. Not that that guarantees survival, of course. Luck has to be on your side too.
White Christmas in sunny MAN
Hi, I'm back. Back at Mum's super duper computer in grey, wet, fleein' cold Manchester. We've had a good Christmas - in fact a WHITE CHRISTMAS - and, yes, the turkey was nice, thanks! Still finishing the leftovers. Just viewed the Aruba pics to get a bit of sunshine in here. Otherwise, not much to report. One trip into the city. It was packed. I lost my appetite for shopping the minute I saw all those competing shoppers. So dived into a bookshop instead - Waterstones - and emerged with a book on how to use DNA testing to trace your ancestors. (As I have no descendants, I've got time to think about things like that.)
Tonight's programme is: eat, watch TV, try to find three more pieces in the impossible 1,500 nearly-all-green jigsaw and, maybe, go to the pub.
The snow's melted now and only the cold is left...
Tonight's programme is: eat, watch TV, try to find three more pieces in the impossible 1,500 nearly-all-green jigsaw and, maybe, go to the pub.
The snow's melted now and only the cold is left...
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
How the turkey got its name
Ever wondered why your Christmas turkey's called a turkey? A friend has just sent me an e-mail with a lovely story from Giancarlo Casale on how the bird got its name. Via Google, I find that another blogger has already posted the story in full, so take a look: Gobble Gobble.
The only details not included in that version are Sr Casale's details. According to my informants, he's PhD in History & MES, doing/has done a dissteration on 'Ottoman-Portuguese Relations and the SixteenthCentury Origins of Globalization' at HarvardUniversity Centerfor Middle Eastern Studies and is also one of the editors of the "Harvard Middle Eastern and Islamic Review".
The only details not included in that version are Sr Casale's details. According to my informants, he's PhD in History & MES, doing/has done a dissteration on 'Ottoman-Portuguese Relations and the SixteenthCentury Origins of Globalization' at HarvardUniversity Centerfor Middle Eastern Studies and is also one of the editors of the "Harvard Middle Eastern and Islamic Review".
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Unthinkable
Clilcked onto Google news this morning and read the story about the baby born after her mother was kidnapped, killed and cut open. Horrific. I'm reeling. How can something so unthinkable happen? How come so many unthinkable things are happening in our world? What the hell are we all thinking?
Watch what you think. It might happen.
Watch what you think. It might happen.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Today
Today, I bought a mini Christmas tree, complete with red baubles and gold frill around the base. It's our only decoration. We're minimalists when it comes to Christmas. It all starts happening on Thursday when we go to Manchester. Home to Mum.
Today, I baked a cottage pie - minced beef, carrots, onions, mushrooms and a topping of mashed potato sprinkled with grated cheese. It was a hit with Bud who asked for a second helping. JJ's not a wizard in the kitchen, you must understand. Using the oven is a rarity for me.
Today, I baked a cottage pie - minced beef, carrots, onions, mushrooms and a topping of mashed potato sprinkled with grated cheese. It was a hit with Bud who asked for a second helping. JJ's not a wizard in the kitchen, you must understand. Using the oven is a rarity for me.
Today, we stuck the memory card from the new camera into a machine in a shop in Leidsestraat and printed out 42 of our 150-odd holiday snaps. Instant magic!
Today, we had SUNSHINE for the first time since returning from the Caribbean.
Today, I read that someone valued the comment I left on their blog; they felt it came just at the right moment. The Universe moves through me too? What a wonderful thought.
Today was all round a pretty good day.
Friday, December 17, 2004
That's the life!
One of the hotel beaches. The locals are have free access but aren't allowed to use the beds.
Babe on a beach
Yes, that's me in the shadows and yes, the sea really is that colour. Baby Beach, Aruba.
From a sunny place, with love...
Heh, I have a cable connection now, and have managed to get the photos from the new digital camera into the computer. What a feat. So here are the first of the holiday pics. This flower's in bloom on a small, sunny island in the Caribbean.
Kadushi
Hello, I'm a cactus. An Aruban cactus, on Aruba. Here, we call me 'kadushi' - Papiamento for, well, 'cactus'.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Adopt a chicken
Yes, you heard me right. A chicken. A real live, fluffy, egg laying chick. It's possible in Holland. A colleague told me about it yesterday. It's easy:
You pay 29 euros for a year for a chick with your name on it. Every month you can go to your assigned natural food shop and pick up the eggs from your chick, sent by the farmer. And you have access to a webcam so you can keep an eye on your chick and make sure it's having a good life.
And it's not a joke. This is a genuine initiative of a bio-farmer somewhere in the wild east of the Netherlands. If you can figure out the Dutch, you can read about it yourself on: adopteereenkip.nl. You can even arrange a gift chick for a Dutchman you like...
And if that doesn't grab you, how about adopting an apple tree? Your very own apple tree - complete with your name on a plaque if you wish - and the chance to pick the apples yourself or have them sent to your nearest whole food shop. See: adopteereenappelboom.nl.
Oh yes, and you get webcam access to your apple tree as well...
Isn't that just simply whacky and wonderful? I think I want a chick and an apple tree. And I'm going to keep an eye on them during the day, from the office.
Have you heard of similar ideas in your country? Tell me. I want to know.
You pay 29 euros for a year for a chick with your name on it. Every month you can go to your assigned natural food shop and pick up the eggs from your chick, sent by the farmer. And you have access to a webcam so you can keep an eye on your chick and make sure it's having a good life.
And it's not a joke. This is a genuine initiative of a bio-farmer somewhere in the wild east of the Netherlands. If you can figure out the Dutch, you can read about it yourself on: adopteereenkip.nl. You can even arrange a gift chick for a Dutchman you like...
And if that doesn't grab you, how about adopting an apple tree? Your very own apple tree - complete with your name on a plaque if you wish - and the chance to pick the apples yourself or have them sent to your nearest whole food shop. See: adopteereenappelboom.nl.
Oh yes, and you get webcam access to your apple tree as well...
Isn't that just simply whacky and wonderful? I think I want a chick and an apple tree. And I'm going to keep an eye on them during the day, from the office.
Have you heard of similar ideas in your country? Tell me. I want to know.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
The Prince is dead, the Prince speaks
Back at the office for half a day. Been to the doctor. Lungs checked, everything OK. (Typical, isn't it, I didn't cough once while there.) I'm still tired but recovered from yesterday's dip. Considered deleting that last post but, what the hell, it's the truth so you can read it...
Voice from the grave
Great story on the news last night. Prince Bernhard, the Dutch Queen's father, has spoken from beyond the grave. We've just buried him, on Saturday - or, rather - stashed him away in the Royal cellar of the church in Delft.
But for the last months of his life, he'd spoken his mind about various aspects of his life to two Dutch journalists from the popular newspaper 'De Volkskrant' ('The People's paper'). The interviews were published yesterday in a special supplement of the newspaper.
Among the highlights:
The Prince recognised not one (as already known) but two illegitimate daughters - one aged 50, living in the USA and one of 37, a French woman.
He's left his inheritance to all six daughters - the two mentioned above plus the other four who include Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands. (I find this brilliant, though it would be totally unacceptable in the British Royal Family!)
He's told the nation that the Dutch Royals have far less money than we thought they had. According to him, 'Trix' - Queen Beatrix - had to ask him for money to pay for the wedding present for her son, Willem Alexander. She's going to love that...
What intrigues me is the picture of this old man - he was 93 and had been suffering from lung cancer for some time - lying on his death bed, surrounded by his family, telling them he was at peace with his imminent demise and all the time knowing what would come out once he was dead. Wicked. Great little scene for a film...
Voice from the grave
Great story on the news last night. Prince Bernhard, the Dutch Queen's father, has spoken from beyond the grave. We've just buried him, on Saturday - or, rather - stashed him away in the Royal cellar of the church in Delft.
But for the last months of his life, he'd spoken his mind about various aspects of his life to two Dutch journalists from the popular newspaper 'De Volkskrant' ('The People's paper'). The interviews were published yesterday in a special supplement of the newspaper.
Among the highlights:
The Prince recognised not one (as already known) but two illegitimate daughters - one aged 50, living in the USA and one of 37, a French woman.
He's left his inheritance to all six daughters - the two mentioned above plus the other four who include Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands. (I find this brilliant, though it would be totally unacceptable in the British Royal Family!)
He's told the nation that the Dutch Royals have far less money than we thought they had. According to him, 'Trix' - Queen Beatrix - had to ask him for money to pay for the wedding present for her son, Willem Alexander. She's going to love that...
What intrigues me is the picture of this old man - he was 93 and had been suffering from lung cancer for some time - lying on his death bed, surrounded by his family, telling them he was at peace with his imminent demise and all the time knowing what would come out once he was dead. Wicked. Great little scene for a film...
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Gremlins
I didn't sleep a wink. Tossing and turning till four in the morning. Got up, ate a piece of toast, sat on my sofa with smoke coming out of my ears.
Considered: throwing a bit of furniture around; kicking The Man up the backside and pulling the covers off the bed; screaming till the windows fell out. Decided none of this would be wise and settled for a good snarl and a few punches at the air. Then turned on the light and skimmed through the first six chapters of a study book on Portuguese. Might as well do something with the anger...
Somewhere in the middle of all this I found myself remembering scenes from my teens where a male relative who shall be nameless had been openly flirting with other women while his wife sat by looking small and helpless. I remembered anger and pain lodging in me somewhere deep down as I, her daughter, soaked up her humiliation. It surprised me to discover that hurt, well hidden among all the other wounds from that time. Surface and disperse, Hurt, you've had your time...
Funny, what these gremlins have uncovered.
Today I got up feeling (a) worn out (b) pissed off (c) sullen (d) withdrawn. Remembered a book I have called 'The Power of Now' by Eckhardt Tolle. It's one of those books about being open to what happens, working through pain, not resisting the 'now'. Sounds good in theory. Can it be applied now as I'm dealing with a self-made drama that hasn't happened yet? (Read yesterday's entries if you're confused.)
I don't know, but reading those few pages from that book has made me feel better. Like something opened up. As though I've released myself from my own claustrophobic clench. Can breathe a bit more easily. I've taken my sister Rachel's advice and made an appointment with the doctor. I'd like her to examine my chest, you understand, not my head... I've showered, washed my hair, put on some clean clothes, thrown another bundle of holiday washing into the machine, made myself a cup of mint tea and considered the possibility that it could be FUN to go to a party with a bunch of Russians.
Ugh.. hold on a minute, I'm just having another mental spasm...
Let's just deal with NOW. Bud's just come home, as it happens - that wasn't what I was expecting - and has announced himself in Papiemento at the door. We have this kids' game of asking for a password. "A donkey without a tail," he said. I won't bother to analyse that... He's not well himself and has just snapped at me for not immediately replying to something he said. Heh ho, here we go. Where's that book?
Considered: throwing a bit of furniture around; kicking The Man up the backside and pulling the covers off the bed; screaming till the windows fell out. Decided none of this would be wise and settled for a good snarl and a few punches at the air. Then turned on the light and skimmed through the first six chapters of a study book on Portuguese. Might as well do something with the anger...
Somewhere in the middle of all this I found myself remembering scenes from my teens where a male relative who shall be nameless had been openly flirting with other women while his wife sat by looking small and helpless. I remembered anger and pain lodging in me somewhere deep down as I, her daughter, soaked up her humiliation. It surprised me to discover that hurt, well hidden among all the other wounds from that time. Surface and disperse, Hurt, you've had your time...
Funny, what these gremlins have uncovered.
Today I got up feeling (a) worn out (b) pissed off (c) sullen (d) withdrawn. Remembered a book I have called 'The Power of Now' by Eckhardt Tolle. It's one of those books about being open to what happens, working through pain, not resisting the 'now'. Sounds good in theory. Can it be applied now as I'm dealing with a self-made drama that hasn't happened yet? (Read yesterday's entries if you're confused.)
I don't know, but reading those few pages from that book has made me feel better. Like something opened up. As though I've released myself from my own claustrophobic clench. Can breathe a bit more easily. I've taken my sister Rachel's advice and made an appointment with the doctor. I'd like her to examine my chest, you understand, not my head... I've showered, washed my hair, put on some clean clothes, thrown another bundle of holiday washing into the machine, made myself a cup of mint tea and considered the possibility that it could be FUN to go to a party with a bunch of Russians.
Ugh.. hold on a minute, I'm just having another mental spasm...
Let's just deal with NOW. Bud's just come home, as it happens - that wasn't what I was expecting - and has announced himself in Papiemento at the door. We have this kids' game of asking for a password. "A donkey without a tail," he said. I won't bother to analyse that... He's not well himself and has just snapped at me for not immediately replying to something he said. Heh ho, here we go. Where's that book?
Monday, December 13, 2004
Russian roulette
DANGER. Russian lady has invited my buddy to her birthday party in January. She wants her Russian friends to meet him as she's talked so much about him. (He said he'd come if it was all right for his girlfriend to come with him...) So I'm stuck with going to a party that I don't want to go to and where the hostess doesn't really want to see me... Or staying at home and spending an evening telling myself I'm being cool, mature and unpossessive with my guy. Like hell I will, I'm going to that bloody party, come what may. I've got one month to find something suitably subtly head-turning to wear. Now that's a challenge!
Life' tough, isn't it, having a man whose students just love him. (It's the same with his patients when he's doing acupuncture, by the way, they remember him years afterwards.) Guess I'm just lucky...
[Alarm bells sound in background. JJ exits left to find paper handkerchief and examine pale face in mirror].
Anyway, how old is this Russian woman? ...
Life' tough, isn't it, having a man whose students just love him. (It's the same with his patients when he's doing acupuncture, by the way, they remember him years afterwards.) Guess I'm just lucky...
[Alarm bells sound in background. JJ exits left to find paper handkerchief and examine pale face in mirror].
Anyway, how old is this Russian woman? ...
Tell me what you think....
Home alone again. The guy's out, giving a private lesson to a Russian lady. He's teaching her Dutch, I hope... Hmm. He did shave off his three-day-old beard before driving over to her place. He wouldn't. Would he? Ah, shucks, girl I'm not feeling up to worrying about things like that at the moment.
Pneumonia?
I'm wondering if I've been suffering from pneumonia. The cough's coming from somewhere down near my lowest ribs. Feel like my lungs are floating somewhere in the hull of an old ship(wreck). It's probably just bronchitis but it's certainly deep. The word tuberculosis springs to mind suddenly...
Advice
I need some advice. Here's the problem: He wants to live on a tiny island in the Caribbean which he left 40 years ago. She can't stand the heat and would prefer to be somewhere nearer the cool British Isles. Neither of them wants to be in Holland for too much longer.
Do you have any suggestions? Anyone out there know of a place somewhere in between?
Atlantis would have been all right. That was supposed to be somwhere in the middle of the Atlantic, wasn't it?
All suggestions welcome.
Pneumonia?
I'm wondering if I've been suffering from pneumonia. The cough's coming from somewhere down near my lowest ribs. Feel like my lungs are floating somewhere in the hull of an old ship(wreck). It's probably just bronchitis but it's certainly deep. The word tuberculosis springs to mind suddenly...
Advice
I need some advice. Here's the problem: He wants to live on a tiny island in the Caribbean which he left 40 years ago. She can't stand the heat and would prefer to be somewhere nearer the cool British Isles. Neither of them wants to be in Holland for too much longer.
Do you have any suggestions? Anyone out there know of a place somewhere in between?
Atlantis would have been all right. That was supposed to be somwhere in the middle of the Atlantic, wasn't it?
All suggestions welcome.
Beards, saris and Indian dreams
Monday morning and I'm still sick. Too sick to work, but well enough to blog. Hem... Bud's out so I've got home rule for a couple of hours.
Unshaven
Bud's got the beginnings of a beard. I think it makes him look distinguished. He's worried he might be accosted on the street as a Muslim fundamentalist. He hasn't grown it deliberately. Just didn't shave for three or four days and I told him he should leave it on. He finds it surprising that the beard is silver-coloured. That does bother him a bit.
Saris
It was his daughter's birthday yesterday. He rang her to wish her a Happy Birthday (and I remembered to congratulate him, as they do in Holland 'Congratulations on your daughter's birthday'). He's promised her a bass guitar but she's told him she'd like something else instead - a sari. Why? She'd recently seen on a photo how Indian she looks. So she's decided to wear a sari to her school graduation. Bud is touched. He's about 25% Indian origin, felt no link with the place until recently, and has felt that his kids - living with their mother - didn't really identify with his side of the family at all. So the request for a sari was quite a surprise and a sort of compliment. Actually, his daughter could just as easily be taken for South American - Peruvian - something like that.
Indian dreams
Last night, after the phone call about the sari, I dreamt that my car was stolen in England and that my Chief Suspect was the husband of an Indian woman in a purple sari who'd been explaining to Bud how she was linked to him (Bud) via the family tree! I had a vague feeling of a large, Asian family trying to stifle me before I ended the dream and woke up. I told Bud and he immediately leapt out of bed and peeked between the slats of the Venetian blinds to see if our car, parked across the road, was still there. It was. Phew. Don't know what the dream says about me and India.
Unshaven
Bud's got the beginnings of a beard. I think it makes him look distinguished. He's worried he might be accosted on the street as a Muslim fundamentalist. He hasn't grown it deliberately. Just didn't shave for three or four days and I told him he should leave it on. He finds it surprising that the beard is silver-coloured. That does bother him a bit.
Saris
It was his daughter's birthday yesterday. He rang her to wish her a Happy Birthday (and I remembered to congratulate him, as they do in Holland 'Congratulations on your daughter's birthday'). He's promised her a bass guitar but she's told him she'd like something else instead - a sari. Why? She'd recently seen on a photo how Indian she looks. So she's decided to wear a sari to her school graduation. Bud is touched. He's about 25% Indian origin, felt no link with the place until recently, and has felt that his kids - living with their mother - didn't really identify with his side of the family at all. So the request for a sari was quite a surprise and a sort of compliment. Actually, his daughter could just as easily be taken for South American - Peruvian - something like that.
Indian dreams
Last night, after the phone call about the sari, I dreamt that my car was stolen in England and that my Chief Suspect was the husband of an Indian woman in a purple sari who'd been explaining to Bud how she was linked to him (Bud) via the family tree! I had a vague feeling of a large, Asian family trying to stifle me before I ended the dream and woke up. I told Bud and he immediately leapt out of bed and peeked between the slats of the Venetian blinds to see if our car, parked across the road, was still there. It was. Phew. Don't know what the dream says about me and India.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Say something, it's Sunday...
It's been a washout of a weekend. Not the weather - that's just been an endless dull, grey sky and bitter cold - I mean, I've just sat here and languished for three whole days. And I don't think I'll be back at work tomorrow either.
So, since there's not much to look at around this blog, Perhaps you'd like to visit a couple I found via BlogExplosion:
Zandria, an American in Amsterdam. She tells you more about the city than I do. This weblog has a really clean, easy-to-read layout. And I really like the way you Americans write. I could learn from it.
Via Zandria, I've discovered the side of Amsterdam life that I've never bothered to look at from close by. If you want to know what goes on in a sex show in the red light district, try Everyday Stranger. [Warning! Contains material that some of you may find offensive.] She's frank, if nothing else.
Oh drat, the internet connection's gone down so this post won't appear today after all...
So, since there's not much to look at around this blog, Perhaps you'd like to visit a couple I found via BlogExplosion:
Zandria, an American in Amsterdam. She tells you more about the city than I do. This weblog has a really clean, easy-to-read layout. And I really like the way you Americans write. I could learn from it.
Via Zandria, I've discovered the side of Amsterdam life that I've never bothered to look at from close by. If you want to know what goes on in a sex show in the red light district, try Everyday Stranger. [Warning! Contains material that some of you may find offensive.] She's frank, if nothing else.
Oh drat, the internet connection's gone down so this post won't appear today after all...
Friday, December 10, 2004
Excuse me while I cough...
From the Caribbean back to grey, cold, misty, gloomy Amsterdam - and a raging bronchial cough. It's so unfair. I've never smoked a single cigarette in my life - really, not even one - and here I am again with a cough that's turning my lungs inside out. Don't know whether it's Round 2 of the cold I had before going on holiday, my version of Bud's flu, the result of two weeks in an air-conditioned bedroom or the effect of going back to work and finding that everything's falling apart. Probably all of those and none. I have lungs that grew up in the damp north west of England in pea soup fogs...
You're special!
Just to make matters worse, my visitors statistics for this blog have plummeted in the past weeks. I'm not going to reveal figures. Let's just say that if you're reading this, you're part of an elite group. I'm really glad you called by!
So much for BlogExplosion. That only works if you keep throwing away vast tracts of time surfing through other BE sites. And it only seems to work for a couple of days. In other words, your site stats fill up with BlogExplosion visitors who've spent an obligatory 30 seconds on your blog in order to win some more credit (ie. visitors to their site). That said, I have found some very good sites via BE and it is maddingly addictive once you're on it. Guess I'll stay part of it and just go there now and again. But, from my experience, you can join without worrying about being run off the planet with visitors. The link's over there somewhere on the right if you want to try...
Say something interesting jj!
Yep, I guess that this isn't the juicy, tell-all, packed with humour type of blog that really grabs one's attention. I confess that I've even thought twice myself about coming back here. But it seems like, having created this little nook in cyberworld and made contact with some of you, it's just not the done thing to go off and forget about it.
Photos
There will be photos very soon, promise! We spent three hours the other night downloading half a dozen programms, only to discover that our archaic Windows 98 can't receive the photos without another gadget between camera and computer. How embarassing to admit we're still on Windows 98. So we're getting 2000 or XP and then it will all start to happen!
What I find exciting...
Right now is - now here I'm about to lose even my last faithful readers - the fact that I seem to have discovered a gift for picking up 'new' languages very fast, based on the ones I already know. I'm already managing to read a fair portion of the newspaper in Papiamento. And last night I read a couple of chapters of a book in Spanish. True, I've had Spanish lessons during lunch hours at the UN in Vienna years ago and have done something on it since. But I've never really learned it like I've learned German or French.
And the subject of the book is even more exciting (for me). It's called ' De una a cuatro lenguas' - Ok, you can read that too 'From one to four languages'. It's a revolutionary method, developed by a group of linguists across Europe, which enables a Spanish speaker, for instance, to read Portuguese, Italian and French - and eventuallyl, understand the spoken word in those languages.
Bud actually got the book for himself, from the library. But I'm riveted already. I find the idea that within a few months I might be able to read the Portuguese blogs I've bookmarked just, well, EXCITING!
You're special!
Just to make matters worse, my visitors statistics for this blog have plummeted in the past weeks. I'm not going to reveal figures. Let's just say that if you're reading this, you're part of an elite group. I'm really glad you called by!
So much for BlogExplosion. That only works if you keep throwing away vast tracts of time surfing through other BE sites. And it only seems to work for a couple of days. In other words, your site stats fill up with BlogExplosion visitors who've spent an obligatory 30 seconds on your blog in order to win some more credit (ie. visitors to their site). That said, I have found some very good sites via BE and it is maddingly addictive once you're on it. Guess I'll stay part of it and just go there now and again. But, from my experience, you can join without worrying about being run off the planet with visitors. The link's over there somewhere on the right if you want to try...
Say something interesting jj!
Yep, I guess that this isn't the juicy, tell-all, packed with humour type of blog that really grabs one's attention. I confess that I've even thought twice myself about coming back here. But it seems like, having created this little nook in cyberworld and made contact with some of you, it's just not the done thing to go off and forget about it.
Photos
There will be photos very soon, promise! We spent three hours the other night downloading half a dozen programms, only to discover that our archaic Windows 98 can't receive the photos without another gadget between camera and computer. How embarassing to admit we're still on Windows 98. So we're getting 2000 or XP and then it will all start to happen!
What I find exciting...
Right now is - now here I'm about to lose even my last faithful readers - the fact that I seem to have discovered a gift for picking up 'new' languages very fast, based on the ones I already know. I'm already managing to read a fair portion of the newspaper in Papiamento. And last night I read a couple of chapters of a book in Spanish. True, I've had Spanish lessons during lunch hours at the UN in Vienna years ago and have done something on it since. But I've never really learned it like I've learned German or French.
And the subject of the book is even more exciting (for me). It's called ' De una a cuatro lenguas' - Ok, you can read that too 'From one to four languages'. It's a revolutionary method, developed by a group of linguists across Europe, which enables a Spanish speaker, for instance, to read Portuguese, Italian and French - and eventuallyl, understand the spoken word in those languages.
Bud actually got the book for himself, from the library. But I'm riveted already. I find the idea that within a few months I might be able to read the Portuguese blogs I've bookmarked just, well, EXCITING!
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Papiaranto
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Papiamento - the world language
Heh, they speak Papiamento here too. In the metro. I was out at lunchtime and just overheard two people babbling away in it. It was too fast for me to follow but I did realise what language it was. Normally, it would have passed me by. A girl using the platform telephone was also speaking in it.
The great thing about this little language is that it has a wonderfully simple grammatical system. (In that sense, it's quite like Chinese, would you believe.) It's accessible for English, Spanish, Portuguese and Dutch speakers. And by some fluke of history - a mystery still not worked out fully - it's very similar to the lingo spoken in Cap Verde, Africa.
If we ever get tired of English, we could try Papiamento as a world language instead...
The great thing about this little language is that it has a wonderfully simple grammatical system. (In that sense, it's quite like Chinese, would you believe.) It's accessible for English, Spanish, Portuguese and Dutch speakers. And by some fluke of history - a mystery still not worked out fully - it's very similar to the lingo spoken in Cap Verde, Africa.
If we ever get tired of English, we could try Papiamento as a world language instead...
No hiding behind a cactus now
Back at the office. Miraculously, managed to remember the three passwords needed for opening the computer, my e-mail and the internet. Been here an hour now and that feeling's already creeping up on me that I've never been away...
Did I tell you that my efforts to learn Papiamento - not a pepper, but the language spoken in Aruba - were quite successful? To my surprise, I was able to understand a fair bit of what the locals said and to decipher accident reports and other exciting stuff in the local newspaper.
We even bought a Bible - one of the few books translated into Papiamento (only 300,000 people speak it) - and entertained each other last night by reading the Sermon on the Mount! "Feliz boso cu ta pober...." JC becomes 'Hesus' and somehow the translators have managed to get the word 'cactus' into the New Testament. Probably something like 'don't hide your light behind a cactus'. Makes it understandable for the islanders who see more cactuses than trees.
Did I tell you that my efforts to learn Papiamento - not a pepper, but the language spoken in Aruba - were quite successful? To my surprise, I was able to understand a fair bit of what the locals said and to decipher accident reports and other exciting stuff in the local newspaper.
We even bought a Bible - one of the few books translated into Papiamento (only 300,000 people speak it) - and entertained each other last night by reading the Sermon on the Mount! "Feliz boso cu ta pober...." JC becomes 'Hesus' and somehow the translators have managed to get the word 'cactus' into the New Testament. Probably something like 'don't hide your light behind a cactus'. Makes it understandable for the islanders who see more cactuses than trees.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Back 'home'
I'm back in Amsterdam. Badly in need of a week's holiday just lying on a beach in the Caribbean! (To those of you who've not followed the story - Bud and I have just come back from two weeks in Aruba, a tiny island off the coast of Venezuela in the Dutch Caribbean). It's cold and grey here and Bud's in bed trying to shake of the flu which floored him for two days on his sunny/abnormally rainy homeland. When it rains there, boy does it rain!
We've had an amazing two weeks. Very intense, sometimes not like a holiday - but, in the end, a holiday after all simply because we've been in another world. And we've had one once-in-a-lifetime evening - a meeting with Bud's cousin from his father's side - which was so extraordinary that it would have truly been worth it to go to Aruba just for that one evening alone. A mystery about Bud's family history - a scandal that we suspected but never thought would be revealed - was cleared up on that evening. And other pieces of the jigsaw puzzle may fall into place soon if we can meet up with an elderly aunt of his who, by chance, is in Holland this week; she's due to leave next weekend. The whole story would make a fantastic novel. I can't go into detail (don't want to lose my bestseller...) and we've been asked to be discreet out of respect for the families involved. Intriguing. More later..
Now I have to work out how to get some of my pics from the new camera - I chose the Pentax Optio S50 in the end - off the memory card into the blog. So watch this spot!
We've had an amazing two weeks. Very intense, sometimes not like a holiday - but, in the end, a holiday after all simply because we've been in another world. And we've had one once-in-a-lifetime evening - a meeting with Bud's cousin from his father's side - which was so extraordinary that it would have truly been worth it to go to Aruba just for that one evening alone. A mystery about Bud's family history - a scandal that we suspected but never thought would be revealed - was cleared up on that evening. And other pieces of the jigsaw puzzle may fall into place soon if we can meet up with an elderly aunt of his who, by chance, is in Holland this week; she's due to leave next weekend. The whole story would make a fantastic novel. I can't go into detail (don't want to lose my bestseller...) and we've been asked to be discreet out of respect for the families involved. Intriguing. More later..
Now I have to work out how to get some of my pics from the new camera - I chose the Pentax Optio S50 in the end - off the memory card into the blog. So watch this spot!
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