English Weather

It's the end of July and most of England's underwater while at the same time most of Europe's on fire and there was a tornado in Poland. What you would call typical English weather really, except it's just spread a bit further than usual.

However, but! Today the sun came out, the temperature soared into the early twenties (centigrade), and I went out without my coat on!

I guess it'll be back to normal tomorrow.

I hope you are not being damaged by your weather!

Over Here

By chance I was just reading the stories of some Chinese immigrants to Liverpool. This is interesting to me for lots of reasons, particularly because I come from near Liverpool.

Still lots of people are emigrating from lots of different countries to lots of other countries. East London is still welcoming immigrants, like it has done for a long time, though you don't hear much Yiddish round there any more.

The thing is, even if you have lived in the same place all your life, you have got there from somewhere. Even if you think there is nothing before we are born, it is still somewhere else, somewhere not here, not now. So that's worth thinking about. Welcome!

The stories I read are nearer the bottom of the page which you can find here. It seems people had to work very hard.

What Lurks Outside

Before history began, so we are told, dangers outside were rife. The vicious Sabre-toothed Tiger (ancestor of door-to-door insurance salesmen and cold-callers) provided continuous threats to existence. Fires, floods, and epidemics cast their nets of peril far and wide.

Today we have caves, of a sort, to keep us safe. In cities they keep us a bit too safe sometimes - personally I prefer the idea of being somewhere nice in the outside to the idea of being insulated in a little rabbit coop. Though I do live in a house! It's highly convenient, I admit!

So to get away from it all, I only had to step outside and look for some fresh air.

Now that has changed!

Anti-smoking laws and so on mean it's getting pretty bad to be outside anywhere near people, especially in London! So much cigarette smoke everywhere! And staying inside isn't necessarily better since the smoke all blows back in through the doors!

Having to go outside to smoke is probably not too annoying in the summer. I wonder how people will feel in the winter?

From 1st July 2007 in England you are not allowed to smoke in public places such as bars and restaurants. A vicar is not allowed to smoke in his (or her) study if people visit regularly! Fines are of the order of £50 (€70, $100) or £2,500 if a business allows it! I was quite pleased to hear that smoking is going to be less popular, because it is not particularly popular with me. It's already very expensive so I'm not sure it's good to take all that money from people in fines. It's not necessarily good to prohibit things, but smoking is different to drinking, where after all, the drink stays in its glass and we are not affected by "passive drinking".

I think this is all supposed to stop people from smoking, perhaps in the hope that health might improve. Governments used to make a lot of money from tobacco taxes etc but they are realising that, like the slave trade, there is less and less mileage in it.

It's a nuisance now that the outside is full of cigarette smoke. It might be better to get it out in the open though.

I don't really care if there is a law against it (though I was rather pleased when I heard)...I mainly care that people will stop doing something that they don't really enjoy. If smoking is a good thing, smoke on! I'm sure there are worse things...but I feel like this one is fairly nasty. What about a nice breath of air?

Aaah....

New News

I went to a camera show run by Nikon which purported to be for professional photographers (I am not one, but, you know, when you know the right people....). However I had the feeling that professional photographers would more likely be outside being professional photographers rather than attending a show.

I was not entirely wrong, and you can follow my way of thinking by looking here! Look, it's scantily-clad women wielding industrial welding equipment! It looks like it - anyway they certainly make a lot of sparks! Wow, that looks exciting. Evidently it is supposed to be exciting anyway! And we can imagine that Nikon have pitched this about right, if a lot of the people who buy camera equipment are the same people who buy camera magazines and car magazines and so on. They always have women in, posing in a rather demeaning way (it demeans lots of people!). Oh well, they get paid for it I suppose. You probably get paid more for being an astronaut though....they could try that instead.

So anyway, there were similar types of females featured in a so-called "catwalk opportunity". Also one man, much to everyone's disappointment I am sure. Indeed, nearly everyone attending in the guise of photographer was a man, many many many of whom found it necessary to carry their cameras around their necks so as to show off what they've got, how much it cost, and how many megapixels it has. A lot of them were funny grey men...rather odd, it was.

I would have thought a camera show was not necessarily a good place to learn about photography. For example, it must be a similar type of thing to wanting to learn about music at a piano show, or about painting at a paintbrush show (I've never heard of a paintbrush show, this is entirely fictional), which is to say, it's possible but unlikely.

However the technical side of photography is sufficiently important (important if you want to get it right without guessing, as Ansel Adams wanted to teach us to - though guessing is possible, just time-consuming) that some of the presentations must have been useful.

I did learn a few things. I learned about the history of digital photography - e.g. the first digital camera had less then 2 megapixels of resolution and cost around £20, 000! Also I heard someone from Nikon saying that megapixels were not everything - other factors define a good camera. Interesting to hear that from the top of the camera production tree.

Also, contrary to what you might have been expecting from the above, there was A PHOTOGRAPHER! Yes, a professional photographer (so there was at least one!) called Bruno Barbey, showing many of his pictures and saying a little bit about them. It was quite exciting because I had recently seen some of his pictures in a book called Magnum Ireland so now I caould see that he was a real person! He was officially there for the purpose of telling us that he now uses a computer and a printer to make exhibition prints (rather than developing them the okd way) and has been satisfied with the results. Also he appeared to endorse digital photography -he laughed when he said this though, probably because it's what everyone seems to talk about. My identification test for people who say they are interested in photography is: what is the first thing they say when I mention the subject. Often, in fact nearly always, they say "What camera do you use?" - indeed, this is an interesting topic, and I often wonder what camera people use, however it is probably somewhere down at the bottom of the list of interesting topics, because, as Ken Rockwell says on his completely useful website, it's not the camera that takes the pictures. Yes, it is your brain! When Edward Steichen took a portrait of Isadora Duncan at the Parthenon in 1921, he borrowed a Kodak camera from the head waiter at his hotel. Looking at his amazing photographs, I can only assume that he knew what he was doing!

Bruno Barbey seemed a bit embarrassed (did you know there is a place called Embarrass, Wisconsin? Also one in Minnesota) to be talking about digital, I don't really know why. He said it was very good for shooting in the dark. Perhaps that is the only time he would use one? Ha ha, actually night photography is good, you just have to hang around a bit while the camera gets enough light in it so you can see something. He probably meant digital photography sees into the darkness very well. This is true since the manufacturers has concentrated on optimising for the dark areas in an image - they decided they wanted dark patches to have more visible detail, The result of this is that they have been successful, and consequently digital images burn out to white in the highlights very easily - analogue film took bright light more gracefully.

Howeveritmaybeso, M. Barbey showed us his pictures shot on film (some using Kodachrome, which was developed by Godowsky's son Leo (who married Gershwin's sister) and his school friend Leopold Mannes (who was a president of the Mannes College of Music, founded by his parents)), and very good they were too. This is the one I remember first:



(See a bigger one here) It's interesting because it has little colour yet in the scale of colours it has, there is great variation (the red umbrellas - and the red hat! - in the middle are very exciting, I think). It shows an excellent control of proportions and colours, and is a very resonant image. Things that are good make me feel calm or give me a sense of wonder or make me feel I am part of them, and that's what I feel with this image. That he could achieve this as a photojournalist is something we can be amazed at. Nobody sets these pictures up, you know - good photographers have to be good improvisers.

He talked about painters a little bit (e.g. Matisse) so you can see he was interested in the image more than the hardware. Actually that is a little bit of a redundant statement - we can see he was interested in the image from his images!

So that, my friends, was what I learned from the Nikon show. It was a while ago but still newsworthy, I hope?

Here is the news

Afternoon!

Today we have a short film for you, courtesy of the Daily Telegraph.

The film is about rugby, the sport not the place, not the school either. It is an old Pathé News bulletin which tells us of England's first win against the All Blacks (New Zealand), in 1936. What was notable about that win was that two first-half tries were scored by a 20-year-old Russian prince, Alexander Sergeyevich "Obo" Obolensky. The Obolensky family settled in Muswell Hill after the 1917 Revolution, so that was what put a Russian prince within reach of the England selectors.

Now you can see him scoring! And listen out for the old-style English pronunciation and vocab! (Requires Windows Media Player - you have it if you are using Windows)

Iceland 1973

What is this a picture of?

It is people in the town of Vestmannaeyjar, Iceland, in 1973.

They are doing something. What?

They are spraying water to stop their town being destroyed by a volcanic eruption!

The eruption started at 1.55 a.m. on Tuesday 23rd January. Luckily the fishing fleet was in harbour because of bad weather so all 5000 people could be evacuated from the town. I was very pleased with them all. Everybody was praised for their calmness, which is what you need in an emergency.

The volcano calmed down about 5 months later. Now the population is back to 5000.

The picture was taken by Svienn Eirikksen, fire marshal of Vestmannaeyjar.

Surf Rescue

Johann Weißmüller was born in Freidorf which at the time was in Austria-Hungary but is now near Timişoara in Romania. Very soon he moved with his family to America. He was a good swimmer and trained hard while he worked as a bell hop at the Plaza Hotel in Chicago. It all worked out very well when he won his first Olympic swimming title in 1924 (Paris). In all, throughout his career he won five Olympic Gold medals and one Bronze, and broke sixty-seven world records. He never lost a race.

And then he became Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle.

Johnny Weissmuller was the Tarzan I remember from the films. They were black and white, and had lots of interesting things happening. I remember the Elephants' Graveyard, trains of native bearers carrying the white man's luggage, Cheeta the chimpanzee, giant spiders and their deadly webs, and the strange fauna of the jungle. There was always a dinosaur somewhere in the jungle for some reason. It was a Dimetrodon, I seem to remember. And don't forget that Tarzan could speak to the animals too. "Ungawa!" meant something. "Simba!" meant something too. It is Swahili for Lion and he said it to lions so that makes sense.

Let's go back in time and find out something else.

When Johnny won his first Olympic medal, he beat someone. That person was called Duke Paoa Kahinu Mokoe Hulikohola Kahanamoku and he came from Hawaii. When you hear the phrase "The Big Kahuna", you now know that it originally referred to him.

Duke (named after Prince Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh) had set the world record that Johnny broke in 1922 (that was before they met at the Olympics). He won many medals himself, but is more famous as the inventor of modern surfing. He experimented with many improvements and alterations to surfboard design but his best-remembered board was the one he called his "papa nui". It was 16 feet long and weighed 114 pounds (4.8m, 52 kg). That was the board he was using on the day the big waves came, one of which would take him from surf zone to surf zone in the longest ride of his life. Let's hear him tell about it now.

But the day I caught 'The Big One' was a day when I was not thinking in terms of awing any tourists or kamaainas (old-timers) on Waikiki Beach. It was simply an early morning when mammoth ground swells were rolling in sporadically from the horizon, and I saw that no one was paddling out to try them. Frankly, they were the largest I'd ever seen. The yell of 'The surf is up!' was the understatement of the century.

In fact, it was that rare morning when the word was out that the big 'Bluebirds' were rolling in; this is the name for gigantic waves that sweep in from the horizon on extra-ordinary occasions. Sometimes years elapse with no evidence of them. They are spawned far out at sea and are the result of cataclysms of nature -- either great atmospheric disturbances or subterranean agitation like underwater earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

The danger lay in the proneout or wipeout. Studying the waves made me wonder if any man's body could withstand the unbelievable force of a thirty- to fifty-foot wall of water when it crashes. And, too, could even a top swimmer like myself manage to battle the currents and explosive water that would necessarily accompany the aftermath of such a wave? Well, the answer seemed to be simply -- don't get wiped out!

From the shore you could see those high glassy ridges building up in the outer Diamond Head region. The Bluebirds were swarming across the bay in a solid line as far northwest as Honolulu Harbor. They were tall, steep and fast. The closer-in ones crumbled and showed their teeth with a fury that I had never seen before. I wondered if I could even push through the acres of white water to get to the outer area where the buildups were taking place.

...Bushed from the long fight to get seaward, I sat my board and watched the long humps of water peaking into ridges that marched like animated foothills. I let a slew of them lift and drop me with their silent, threatening glide. I could hardly believe that such perpendicular walls of water could be built up like that. The troughs between the swells had the depth of elevator shafts, and I wondered again what it would be like to be buried under tons of water when it curled and detonated. There was something eerie about watching the shimmering backs of the ridges as they passed me and rolled on toward Waikiki.

I let a lot of them careen by, wondering in my own heart if I was passing them up because of their unholy height, or whether I was really waiting for the big, right one. A man begins to doubt himself at a time like that. Then I was suddenly wheeling and turning to catch the towering blue ridge bearing toward me. I was prone and stroking hard at the water with my hands.

Strangely, it was more as though the wave had selected me, rather than I had chosen it. It seemed like a very personal and special wave -- the kind I had seen in my mind's eye during a night of tangled dreaming. There was no backing out on this one; the two of us had something to settle between us. The rioting breakers between me and shore no longer bugged me. There was just this one ridge and myself -- no more. Could I master it? I doubted it, but I was willing to die in the attempt to harness it.

Instinctively I got to my feet when the pitch, slant and speed seemed right. Left foot forward, knees slightly bent, I rode the board down the precipitous slope like a man tobogganing down a glacier. Sliding left along the watery monster's face, I didn't know I was at the beginning of a ride that would become a celebrated and memoried thing. All I knew was that I had come to grips with the tallest, bulkiest, fastest wave I had ever seen. I realized, too, more than ever, that to be trapped under its curling bulk would be the same as letting a factory cave in upon you.

This lethal avalanche of water swept shoreward swiftly and spookily. The board began hissing from the traction as the wave leaned forward with greater and more incredible speed and power. I shifted my weight, cut left at more of an angle and shot into the big Castle Surf which was building and adding to the wave I was on. Spray was spuming up wildly from my rails, and I had never before seen it spout up like that. I rode it for city-long blocks, the wind almost sucking the breath out of me. Diamond Head itself seemed to have come alive and was leaping in at me from the right.

Then I was slamming into Elk's Club Surf, still sliding left, and still fighting for balance, for position, for everything and anything that would keep me upright. The drumming of the water under the board had become a madman's tattoo. Elk's Surf rioted me along, high and steep, until I skidded and slanted through into Public Baths Surf. By then it amounted to three surfs combined into one; big, rumbling and exploding. I was not sure I could make it on this ever-steepening ridge. A curl broke to my right and almost engulfed me, so I swung even farther left, shuffled back a little on the board to keep from pearling (nose-diving).

Left it was; left and more left, with the board veeing a jet of water on both sides and making a snarl that told of speed and stress and thrust. The wind was tugging my hair with frantic hands. Then suddenly it looked as if I might, with more luck, make it into the back of Queen's Surf! The build-up had developed into something approximating what I had heard of tidal waves, and I wondered if it would ever flatten out at all. White water was pounding to my right, so I angled farther from it to avoid its wiping me out and burying me in the sudsy depths.

Borrowing on the Cunha Surf for all it was worth -- and it was worth several hundred yards -- I managed to manipulate the board into the now towering Queen's Surf. One mistake -- just one small one -- could well spill me into the maelstrom to my right. I teetered for some panic-ridden seconds, caught control again, and made it down on that last forward rush, sliding and bouncing through lunatic water. The breaker gave me all the tossing of a bucking bronco. Still luckily erect, I could see the people standing there on the beach, their hands shading their eyes against the sun, and watching me complete this crazy, unbelievable one-and-three-quarter-mile ride.

I made it into the shallows in one last surging flood. A little dazedly I wound up in hip-deep water, where I stepped off and pushed my board shoreward through the bubbly surf. That improbable ride gave me the sense of being an unlickable guy for the moment. I hoisted my board to my hip, locked both arms around it and lugged it up the beach.

Without looking at the people clustered around, I walked on, hearing them murmur fine, exciting things which I wanted to remember in days to come. I told myself this was the ride to end all rides. I grinned my thanks to those who stepped close and slapped me on the shoulders, and I smiled to those who told me this was the greatest. I trudged on and on, knowing this would be a shining memory for me that I could take out in years to come, and relive it in all its full glory. This had been it.

I never caught another wave anything like that one. And now with the birthdays piled up on my back, I know I never shall. But they cannot take that memory away from me. It is a golden one that I treasure, and I'm grateful that God gave it to me.

Duke appeared in 13 films in various parts, and in 1925 he used his surfboard to rescue eight men from a capsized fishing boat in heavy weather in Newport Beach, California.

It's nice to know that exciting things happen sometimes. Also that fun can be useful. Playing is not just a waste of time!

Manxman

Ned Maddrell died on December 27th, 1974. He was the last native speaker of Manx, the language of the Isle of Man (in the sea between England and Ireland - have a look!)

Here is a quotation from a newspaper article about him written around 1959 (I can't tell you what newspaper it's from because I found it on the internet where everything has no source and is either true or not, though mostly not)

Ned Maddrell, who went to sea at 13, found he was able to keep his Manx "alive" by talking to Gaelic-speaking sailors on British ships. He was brought up in the remote village of Cregneash, where "unless you had the Manx you were a deaf and dumb man and no good to anybody."

This was not the case in the towns. "Nobody there wanted to talk Manx, even those who had it well. They were ashamed, like. "It will never earn a penny for you," they said". Ned is a sprightly old man, a trifle deaf but very proud of his role as one of the last native speakers. "They have tape recordings of me telling legends and stories in Manx," he said "in Ireland and in America and in places you never heard of."

You can hear Ned speaking on this page.

They have revived Manx since then, but like Cornish and Hebrew, it is likely not the same language now we have lost the connection. Still, a good variety of languages is positive I think. I mean, it gives me something to write about, and linguists something to argue about! Oh yes, and it gives people something to talk about at home - in their own language!

Crown Clowns

The Crown Jewels of England are well known. I suppose they are the number one thing in this country to try and steal. Or, you could just admire them at the Tower of London without resorting to crime, which, after all, does not pay.

We had some other Crown Jewels, but one of our Kings (John of England) lost them. Yes, he lost them! He was near the bit of sea known as The Wash, and they got washed away. Deary me.

Then Oliver Cromwell took over many years later. He was not a King but a "Protector", and what he was protecting us from was Kings, among other things (he also protected us from theatre, Christmas, and fashionable haircuts). Having examined the record of one previous head of state, we can be glad Oliver was also protecting the Crown Jewels (which obviously need a lot of protecting, particularly at high tide). However, he didn't do a very good job, because all that is left of the Jewels of that time is three swords and a spoon. And you try fighting with a spoon. Possibly this is why he stopped protecting us, gave up and a big nest of Kings started growing again as Charles II returned from France where he had been visiting relatives for some time. Now that the English had resolved to stop cutting off the heads of Kings etc, it was safe to return and start thinking about new crowns and so on. Crowns are known for being uncomfortable, but let me tell you, you'd be glad of the feeling as long as it meant you still had a head to keep the crown on.

Right, who's going to lose the Jewels next? Oh, and have you looked behind the fridge?

The Hag

I remember a funny thing. It must have been around in the 1980s or 90s. It was a kind of coffee. It came in a jar, and on the jar was the name of the coffee: Café Hag!

What is Hag?

–noun
1. an ugly old woman, esp. a vicious or malicious one.
2. a witch or sorceress.
3. a hagfish.
[Origin: 1175–1225; ME hagge, OE *hægge, akin to hægtesse witch, hagorūn spell, G Hexe witch]

—Related forms
haggish, haglike, adjective

—Synonyms 1. harpy, harridan, virago, shrew.
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

So you see why it was a bit strange. Here it is (I could only find a German picture but it is similar):

Yes, that is the Hag! What a funny thing to sell in England. But as we know, there are lots of product names that haven't travelled well. Remember Coca-Cola (the cocaine-free sugar drink)? In China they picked a translation that meant "bite the wax tadpole" or "female horse stuffed with wax". Now it is called "happiness in the mouth", I hear. In Taiwan they said "Pepsi will bring your ancestors back from the dead" (Come alive with the Pepsi generation). Jolly Green Giant (something to do with frozen vegetables) in Arabic means Intimidating Green Ogre. Clairol's Mist Stick (for hair curling) is all about manure in German.

So what is Hag all about? Well I can tell you now. It was the first decaffeinated coffee, created through a process, invented by Dr. Ludwig Roselius, which was patented in Germany in 1906. Dr. Roselius supported numerous artists as well as one called Adolf Hitler (he met him in 1923) so you can put that in your cup and stir it too. Café Hag, OK, "HAG", pronounced Haaaahhhhg in the adverts, comes from Kaffee HAG, the original German name, which is short for Kaffee-Handels-Aktien-Gesellschaft. Which means something like Coffee Company. So no hags there. Kaffee-Hexen-Aktien-Gesellschaft would have been better (made by witches).

The French name was Café Sanka (sans-caffeine, san-ka: caffeine-free) and this name was used in the US, where Roselius had been selling his Café HAG since 1914, but he had his company and trademark confiscated by the Alien Property Custodian since it was the First World War and he was now an ENEMY!

So you see the dangerous and exciting world of coffee! Now you know why everyone shakes after they drink it.

Boy

I like this one. By Henri Cartier-Bresson.

L'Arbre du Ténéré

L'Arbre du Ténéré, the Tree of Ténéré, was the most isolated tree in the world. It stood in the Sahara Desert 400km from any other tree. It survived by tapping the water table 36m below the surface.

All this space around it, yet it was damaged by a lorry sometime in the 1940s or 50s.

Then in 1973 it was knocked down by another driver. Now it is dead.

A metal tree was put in its place - yet to be destroyed by drivers.

more deckchairs!

Deckchair

Who or What is Chopin?

Who or what is Chopin?

How often do we think of France or French things in connection with this composer?

To me, it seems that there are a lot of French connections in the mind. Well, he did live in France mostly so maybe that is not surprising...but he wasn't French, was he?

Or was he actually a "French Composer"? He lived in France, he is sometimes considered a/the precursor of Debussy and the Impressionists, on classical compilation albums he is generally played by somebody with "François" somewhere in his name (in my experience), his name appears often as "Frédéric François Chopin", and while the French are of course perfect and don't need any help from outside (except for using 98% English words with "le" in front of them), I think they like to keep a connection with this man. The French Composer, Chopin. Actually, his surname is French, isn't it. Well, that's not his fault.

There is nothing at all wrong with being French. Ask a Frenchman!

So this would not be a problem in itself. Unless of course it were to turn out not to be accurate.

You see, I always believe there is a real "hidden character" to every composer, or every piece of music (since composers change sometimes, if you're lucky). We listen to CDs and play in competitions and it all sounds like general "Piano Music" - or if someone wants to sound like they have a personality then they can do extreme things with the music like making sudden explosions, playing very fast or slow, etc. etc. - and at all times there is only a little bit of a distinction made between the feeling or character of the different works. I suppose the emphasis is on the piano playing, in fact, which seems like it would make sense. But given a choice between hearing the music of the composer or the music of the pianist, which would you choose? You see what I mean.

So to me Chopin was always maybe a little bit boring or something, a bit hard to grasp what it was all about. It seemed to have no particular style of its own, since it was THE style of the most popular piano music ever written. It got so famous, it had become a headline with not much personal contact to be had. Marilyn Monroe often did that kiss for the cameras, and that was "Marilyn Monroe", but was there more? I'm sure Marilyn was in there too somewhere. Oh, and Norma.

My understanding of Chopin got somewhere when I was looking in the book "Chopin: Pianist and Teacher" which I think is a useful book and I recommend it, although I don't have a copy myself. In this book there is a picture of a page from Chopin's teaching diary (he started at 8 in the morning!), and what gave me a big clue was how he had written the days of the week. On Wednesday it said "Pon."

What is Pon.? It is short for Poniedzałek - Polish for Wednesday. I know we already knew Chopin was from Poland but seeing, in his own writing, that he thought in Polish meant I now understood that he was a distinct personality with his own character. He wasn't French, he was a human person who came from Poland and was Polish. Nobody is entirely national, you can't just characterise music as "Polish" because there are always other influences and directions it takes. Particularly with Chopin who had a lot of input from Italian Opera and Bach, to mention two.

Just seeing "Pon." didn't tell me much about this composer. But it helped me realise that there was something to find out.

I think clues are valuable. There is always a clue in there somewhere if you are patient and listen.

Now I think of Chopin in the same sort of "drawer" as Bartók. It helps me, it may not help you, but I hope this helps somehow!

(Now one often sees his name written "Fryderyk Franciszek Chopin", which I'm sure is not the full story either - but then we can never be completely sure of having the full story on anything - we have to keep looking just in case!)

Trips

I found this tool:



I think these are the places I have been.
I haven't been to Alaska though! (Is that the bit at the top right corner?) Neither have I been inside the Arctic Circle! (These just depend on which countries "own" certain places - I ticked the box for USA and Norway so that's why I'm now a great Polar explorer)
It would be nice to see more detail - but it's quite interesting all the same. I wonder which bit will go red next?


create your own visited countries map
or vertaling Duits Nederlands

Israeli-Lebanese Conflict Protest

Today there was a march in central London largely by Muslims protesting against the actions of Israel in the ongoing Lebanese conflict. Men and women separated as usual, the protest passed through the centre of London in four waves.

Children were represented both in person, carried in the arms of a parent or in pushchairs, and symbolically, shown by the presence of tiny black coffins also carried in the arms of demonstrators.

Pre-prepared orange placards were held up and as each crowd passed it chanted slogans, repeating the words of a few young men in their midst with megaphones, reading from cards.

The sight of the black coffins, both small and man-sized, was the most dramatic aspect, yet for me this visual imagery was matched by the chilling sound of the women's high voices shouting the Takbir, "Allahu Akhbar" (الله أكبر).

Not normally chilling, although sensational media might have us hear it otherwise, the phrase meaning God is Great is traditionally used in a rich variety of circumstances. But today it appeared provocative, the verbal missile of one religion hurled at another. Perhaps I misread the intention, but to my eyes it appeared that this protest was not against war and aggression, seeking conciliation, but was instead a protest against another country, people, and, perhaps, religion.


Other slogans to be heard were "Down With USA" and "George Bush Go To Hell". Perhaps I did not misunderstand after all. It seems unequivocal at least as far as the US is concerned. I could not hear everything they shouted but other chants were less pithy, for example "Death, Destruction, Full of Dark". It may have been more poetic but it didn't make me feel much better.

I don't believe we fully know what is at the root of the tension between Israel and Arabia. Clearly it is difficult. Clearly I wish there would be more understanding. Perhaps this is impossible. I'm sorry to say that I have sympathy for the cultures on both sides of this question. Only sorry because it doesn't seem a very popular viewpoint to take. In a war is it most dangerous to be in the middle?

I should know better than to criticise either side of the conflict - and I do, because I wasn't criticising.

We could potentially learn a lot from both of these religions. I'm sure the greatest winners would be the two cultures themselves, if they could do the same. But they are concerned about their own true possessions (land) and while that is very understandable, to me I do not see that ownership can ever be much more than ink on the map, when all one finds on either side of the line is people and...more people. I will say no more about that.

The procession has passed by now, without incident. I hope the same fortune will befall these simple, hopeful words. (Hopeful that no-one sees this as critical of Islam - which would be as foolish as taunting Israel when we have seen what she can do many times before...)

---

FridgeCam

I have been keeping my eye on this FridgeCam (a Web Cam inside a refrigerator) for some time. It is in Kawasaki, Japan.

I always wondered if it was real. Now I have evaluated it, I can confirm that things do get eaten! The contents of the fridge changes. But you must wait and see.

If you want to make your own FridgeCam, there are instructions on this page:

http://www001.upp.so-net.ne.jp/gardens/make.html

Good Luck! And don't get too cold!

Java Earthquake and Tsunami July 2006: Links

Here are some links for more information on the Java Tsunami that happened yesterday.


Help Jogja blog (Bahasa Indonesia/Indonesian)
Indonesia Quake Help Wiki
News bulletins from Indahnesia.com,
Sumerbatikan blog - Hans van den Broek, who lives in Java and is raising funds to help
Indonesia Help
Another blog with local information
Wim and Phillip's site (Nederlands/Dutch)

A Lot On Your Mind

Some people have a lot to think about. They have problems.

One person writes from Germany that her friends and some of her family are stuck in Lebanon, with no access to the outside. The only things coming in are missiles. She says her friend has put up a blog - you can see it here. I don't know if it helps, but it is there, so you can see what it is. (I didn't like it the first time but it made more sense when I looked again.)

That sort of anxiety, the kind that comes from having bits of your city explode all night, is a higher level than most of us are used to. Fear of imminent and unpredictable death is very exacting. I cannot deny that they have a lot on their minds.

Coincidentally, another person writes from Germany to say that she has problems. The future is uncertain, and she can't sleep at night. She has a lot on her mind. But at least she is not in a war situation.

People need help but what help can we give?

And you cannot help them because you too have a lot on your mind.

---

When someone says they are afraid because the future is uncertain, that seems OK to me. I mean the second part is OK: that the future is uncertain. I agree, it is.

What you see coming towards you out of the shadows is unknown. That is more or less given. But to be afraid of this, while understandable, is...not helpful. I am glad that the future is not a given, because that way it can throw anything at me that it wants to. If I could control it totally it would not be as interesting. Even my imagination is not enough for that.

There is uncertainty, but of that one thing at least we can be certain. It isn't a joke! It just shows you that you have nothing to worry about - you KNOW that something surprising is going to happen, sometime. And once you get your life under control you can start to plan things, so it is not a total gamble.

There is still a risk, though! But chance enough that you might win.

----

And in Java they have problems too. Also see my list.

----

So, as you can see, many people need help. In many different ways.

But I think you can see that your problems are not as bad as you thought.

Except they sort of are, because if there is a big problem somewhere in the world then it is our problem. Yet, problems are not as bad as you think. If there were never any problem then nothing would ever improve. Do you see?

The future is never certain, even when we have reached it. That is worth remembering too.

The past? We forgot it. If we remember it, we may have got it wrong but not know.

We only have now. It's a good now. I wonder where it will go next?

Steepish!

The world's steepest street is Baldwin Street in Dunedin, New Zealand. The slope is 20° or 38%!

Ideally hot

My mission: to constantly write about hot temperatures and sunshine until everybody gets tired of me!

On the same subject...

They all laughed at Christopher Columbus, when he said the world was round. That's what Frank Sinatra said, anyway, and he should know, as one of the world's leading experts on Columbology (or is that the study of Columbo?). Well, anyway, they all laughed when I said my ideal temperature is 30°C. But today it has been revealed as the truth! Yes, that was today's temperature and it was perfect. So I just have to find somewhere that hot to live. Easy! If I pick 30° as the average temperature, that could be fine at a steady 30 all year round (where is this place?) or unfortunately somewhere that oscillates between 0 and 60°....hmm. Luckily I can't think of where that place is either! Phew!

Paderewski's Parrot

Paderewski had a parrot. He got it in New Zealand. It would scratch at the door when he was practising. Then when it was let in, it would perch on his pedalling foot. At certain moments it would exclaim,"Lord, what beautiful music!"

I read this in The Paderewski Memoirs. There is no mention of the parrot on the Internet, which is why I had to tell you the story myself. If you ask me, there is something wrong with people. Fancy not knowing about this parrot!

Reminiscence

Tasten: the Ballhaus, Berlin – it was May
What really happened? It’s not easy to say…
The programme read “Ian Pace: Verdi Transcriptions”
A charming idea full of tuneful inscriptions.

For thirty-two years they had grown more and more
Until they encompassed Books One through to Four.
But the composer Mike Finnissy, Verdi’s arranger
Unknowingly put Ian Pace in great danger.

The first and the second books went by quite calmly.
But out in the night was a whispering army…
By the light of the moon they rose up to embrace
Their campaign to silence the pianist Pace.

“You were OK at first, but the next book’s the worst!
We wish that you’d never sat down and rehearsed!
You should never have thought about starting to learn it!
But you did, and that’s why we say Ballhaus: Let’s burn it!”

Then a bottle was thrown
And it fell like a stone
And unFinnissy flames billowed out.
Men ran round in a panic
Increasingly manic
And Jeremy started to shout.

Folks looked up from their paella
At the blossoming fire
Their faces all lit up with red.
In the ensuing fracas
They all dropped their tapas
And ran out to see who was dead.

Would they find Ian Pace
Lying flat on his face,
The piano a pile of ashes?
Would the Tasten be stopped
Since the bottle had popped
And consumed it with murderous flashes?

“NO! I triumph over anti-imperialist subversives!”
Shouted Ian majestically over the sound of the flames.
Or something similar.

But the army receded
Defeated, conceded
The flames never gathered the power they needed.
The Ballhaus was saved
So the audience waved:
“We’d prefer if this concert proceeded!”

And it did.

Ian knew if he stopped and he failed to finish he
Might risk the rage of the powerful Finnissy.
After Books One and Two, he returned with the Third. He
Continued and finally finished his Verdi!

The rest of the festival? It was much calmer
With more of the music and less of the drama.
The black and white keys sounded notes by the million
And people came in (some police, most civilian).

Magda attacked the piano, her performance thus leading
To displays full of energy…also some bleeding.

For a good cup of tea, how far will a man go?
The answer, in music, came from our friend Django.

With a burning of rubber and soundtracks galore
This bass player goes with his foot to the floor
He finishes the course while the others are starting
A long-distance driver, we thank him – he’s Martin!

Tasten, Tasten…

Masked men came there to fight but floated into the night
They all ran away and are free.
The fire never stopped it, so Tilbury topped it
With Feldman’s Palais de Mari.

THE END

Thanks Magda, Michael and Jeremy!

Antworten

The answers are:

1. He is twitching because...he owns a coffee shop! He really was shaking quite a lot, rather like Tweek in South Park (whose parents give him a lot of coffee because they own a coffee shop).

2. The venue was firebombed! But the fire went out and Ian Pace could continue his performance of Finnissy's Verdi Transcriptions. That explains why several large policemen came out of the door as I went in for my rehearsal on Sunday morning!

3. Django Bates rhymed lemon with demon-strate. Only once, he did not base his entire performance on this feat!

Berlin was more relaxed than London. And hotter! Agh! Or Ach, in German.

Berlin Facts

I am back!

Here are some handy facts about Berlin:

1. Somewhere in the Prenzlauer Berg area of Berlin, a man is twitching. He is twitching quite a lot.

2. When a performance of Michael Finnissy's piano music gets out of control, burly berlin policemen get called in.

3. It is easy to rhyme only with lonely, maybe with baby, but only one person could rhyme lemon with demonstrate.

Answers tomorrow.

The Berliner Klaviertage 2006 were impossible: it was impossible that such interesting pianists could ever play in the same city, in the same festival, over three days - most of them on the same night! Amazing. It was very very good and I hope they get the opportunity to have a lot more piano festivals.

Ellipsis...

I'm just popping out to Germany for a bit, do you need anything? A pint of Milch, a loaf of Brot?

Back soon!

Wikipedia...and Durians

Wikipedia is an online encyclopaedia (/encyclopedia) that anyone can edit. It is quite useful, because there are now so many facts available there. Imagine, a book that's always growing! It is not perfect, of course, but I think the principles are pretty sound. I am in favour of it - any complaints that could be made about it are a bit pointless because it is the best we have.

I sometimes correct ridiculous spelling mistakes and things, as I am reading. I haven't written anything longer than one paragraph, since I am not really an expert on anything! Today I updated my User Page. You can read there a lengthy diatribe about Wikipedia! Hooray!

I wanted to write about durians today, but there is not time. For now, here is a relevant picture instead!


Other facts of the day: I have realised that I don't really like chocolate. Also wheat makes me sleepy, on the whole. So I will be watching out for those!

Enormous and Hideous

I needed to get to the Royal College of Music in Kensington. Since it was so sunny I walked through Hyde Park to get there.

Now, I know that the Royal College of Music is in front of (or behind) the Royal Albert Hall. And I sort of knew that there was something called the Albert Memorial behind (or in front of) that. I thought I would probably find it alright. It's true, I did.

As I approached the A.M., I could see that I would be there quite soon. Ten minutes later, I still hadn't got any closer despite continuous ambulatory motion of the legs (walking). Was it a medium-sized monument in the middle distance, or was it a large monument further away? Now I can tell you: it is an enormous monument a bit further away than I thought!

The other thing that it is (as you may have guessed from the title today) is hideous. Hid-e-ous. It seemed to me that it was not very tasteful, at least. This was partly because it was too big (it seems that when humans get pleased with themselves they build big things to show they rule the earth!) but mostly because it was black and gold. Well, I don't much like black-coloured things anymore because they look gloomy, and the gold just seemed wrong too. But you see the whole of the Victorian era was about being dark and gloomy. I am thankful that England is recovering a little now.

The Albert Memorial was commissioned by Queen Victoria (1819-1901, reigned 1837-1901) in memory of her husband Prince Albert.

I like the trees better. Some of them are big, too...

English Weather

Expert Expounds as Expected

Derek Mitchell, an international security expert, described the incidents outside the White House as " a huge embarrassment".

He added: "The Chinese wanted to beam back to Beijing pictures that are perfect. But most of the White House preparations of pomp and pageantry were poor."

Read it again: "The Chinese...beam back to Beijing/pictures that are perfect....preparations of pomp and pageantry were poor".

??

Is this deliberate?

b_ b_ to b_
p_ that are p_
p_of p_ and p_ are p_

??

Derek Mitchell, an international security expert, is either a bit of a media professional and thinks alliteration will Make his Message Memorable, or he is naturally blessed with poetic skills that he doesn't know about!

Picks

Here are two recommendations for you.

One is Don Markstein's Toonopedia, a "vast repository of toonological knowledge", or, in other words, lots of information about cartoons. Very important in my opinion.

I also found an all-around panoramic view of the Forbidden City in China. You need Quicktime to view it (download free here). Just click on a circle where you want to have a look, then when it has loaded, move the cursor and you will be able to see all sorts of things!

I hope you find them interesting. I have just taught my computer to write in Japanese, so you are lucky you can read this at all! It wants me to write only in Japanese and never in English now! Eek!

Why have I done this? Because I have a sideline-blog at mixi. There is not much to read there, also you can't read it unless you are a member! And you can't read it unless you can read Japanese...or can guess the right buttons to click (like me...). But I thought I would mention it!

さようなら！

I would like to think you could read those characters in your browser...I wonder if you can? If not, they say: sayoonara! - goodbye!

Jingle Pot

I have a book called 1001 Natural Wonders You Must See Before You Die. I wish it were called 1001 Natural Wonders You Must See. Of course I will see them (if I do manage to see all 1001 of them) before I die. Or should all books change their titles now?

"OXFORD DICTIONARY OF ENGLISH - FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT DEAD"

"THE DA VINCI CODE - BESTSELLER, READ BY LIVING PEOPLE THROUGHOUT THE WORLD"

"THE PICKWICK PAPERS - THE TIMELESS FAVOURITE OF THOSE MILLIONS WHOSE FINGERS WERE ABLE TO GRASP ON TO LIFE SUFFICIENTLY TO BE ABLE TO TURN ITS PAGES"

The girl at the checkout looked at me with a funny look. As if she thought I was going to die in the next month! Maybe I accidentally picked the book out of the 'Terminal Illness' section? I don't think so.

I have seen several books called "Something Something, Blah Blah Blah, ...BEFORE YOU DIE". I suppose the publisher imagines the title will lend a certain urgency to your book browsing. You must buy the book ...BEFORE YOU DIE!

We could add it to all sorts of things we want to sell. Decoding Skin - Philip Howard's Solo Piano Album of Music to Listen to Before You Die!

Back to the 1001 Natural Wonders book. I didn't count them. I believe there are 1001. They said it, that's good enough for me. And they are all very natural and wonderful, just like it says.

I don't know the meanings of foreign place-names, but some of the English names are quite funny. Things are often odd or eccentric in England - it is good, one of the main positive features of this country in my opinion.

There was one I remembered. A cave somewhere. Pothole is a word for a hole in the road, or apparently also for a cave - a very big hole in the road, I suppose. That could explain a little bit about the funny name...

JINGLE POT

Well, I liked it!