Sunday 31 July 2011
Tuesday 26 July 2011
Sunday 24 July 2011
Friday 22 July 2011
Thursday 21 July 2011
Festivus
For those of you not familiar with "Seinfeld", Festivus is a festivity invented by George's father to boycott Xmas. If Xmas is all about giving and thanking and being merry, Festivus is all about grievances, pointing fingers and basically bringing up to the surface all the irritation that has been boiling up inside before it actually explodes.
The idea in "Seinfeld" is obviously to ridicule George once again, about his family and the very unique way they live.
But if you think about it it's not a bad idea per se.
Having a Festivus from time to time would certainly help living Xmas with a better spirit and a clear conscience.
And maybe because I'm not feeling well and I fear this Xmas is going to be a complete disaster if I don't do something to change the actual course of things, that is not only my arrhythmia but also all the stress and the anxiety that caused it, I'm going to humour this original festivity just for a few lines.
And since the main source of anxiety and stress cannot be eliminated just yet, the only way to feel better is to get off my chest all the other small, but bothering nonetheless, things.
For instance!
What is it with people and not answering emails, or sms, or voicemails?
You receive a message from a friend who asks for help, you answer immediately and that's it... no thank you, no info about how it's going, nothing.
You send a message to congratulate someone on their birthday and... nothing.
You leave a voicemail asking for information and.... nothing.
I've been busy, extra busy in my life, sometimes even working 70 hours per week or even more but I've never been so busy that I couldn't be polite.
Because that's what it is: rudeness.
Seriously, the social outcome of this global financial crisis is that everyone has become rude.
You invite them at your place, they bring their dog, the dog makes a mess and they just leave it like that.
They arrive at an appointment 45 minutes late and the thought of offering an apology doesn't even cross their minds.
They don't help out because as they so conveniently announced as soon as they showed up, they had a terrible day!
Maybe I grew up in a very "peculiar" family, and yes, I know I did, but I was taught to always, always, no matter what the problem was, suck it up and make things happen.
And that's not just my family, really, it's the whole philosophy of the region where I come from.
You fall off the bike? Pick yourself up and try again until you can ride the bloody thing! And no calling off for mummy, mummy is not there for you.
You have to ask for a mortgage, you're burned out at work, you have health problems? Suck it up and keep on going.
As a result us people coming from the plains we hate the waterworks.
We just cannot stand the girls getting hundreds of get-out-of-jail free cards because they burst out sobbing when they should own up and accept the responsibilities of being an adult.
I'm sure everyone knows one example or 2. The classic one is the "work-howler". There was this girl I once knew who point blank decided to get herself a promotion and went to human resources to cry her eyes out. Result? What do you think?
It's a sort of a magic switch: every adult has to fence for themselves up until the moment in which someone opens the tap and then all of a sudden she's magically off the hook, cause poor thing she's crying!
Maybe I'm just jealous cause for the life of me I cannot cry! Really there was this time at school when we were called in at the principal's office to answer about an allegedly very bad thing we had done (I don't remember what), there was just the 2 of us, we sit there waiting almost giggling (that's how much we cared) until the principal arrives and my classmate starts sobbing miserably, she's so so..o..o..rry! Shocked at first by that sudden change I pathetically try and squeeze my eyes to produce the magic water but nothing! Guess who got the punishment?
Anyway! This Festivus must be working cause I feel better already!
Happy Festivus!
But above all, Happy Xmas for tomorrow!!!
The idea in "Seinfeld" is obviously to ridicule George once again, about his family and the very unique way they live.
But if you think about it it's not a bad idea per se.
Having a Festivus from time to time would certainly help living Xmas with a better spirit and a clear conscience.
And maybe because I'm not feeling well and I fear this Xmas is going to be a complete disaster if I don't do something to change the actual course of things, that is not only my arrhythmia but also all the stress and the anxiety that caused it, I'm going to humour this original festivity just for a few lines.
And since the main source of anxiety and stress cannot be eliminated just yet, the only way to feel better is to get off my chest all the other small, but bothering nonetheless, things.
For instance!
What is it with people and not answering emails, or sms, or voicemails?
You receive a message from a friend who asks for help, you answer immediately and that's it... no thank you, no info about how it's going, nothing.
You send a message to congratulate someone on their birthday and... nothing.
You leave a voicemail asking for information and.... nothing.
I've been busy, extra busy in my life, sometimes even working 70 hours per week or even more but I've never been so busy that I couldn't be polite.
Because that's what it is: rudeness.
Seriously, the social outcome of this global financial crisis is that everyone has become rude.
You invite them at your place, they bring their dog, the dog makes a mess and they just leave it like that.
They arrive at an appointment 45 minutes late and the thought of offering an apology doesn't even cross their minds.
They don't help out because as they so conveniently announced as soon as they showed up, they had a terrible day!
Maybe I grew up in a very "peculiar" family, and yes, I know I did, but I was taught to always, always, no matter what the problem was, suck it up and make things happen.
And that's not just my family, really, it's the whole philosophy of the region where I come from.
You fall off the bike? Pick yourself up and try again until you can ride the bloody thing! And no calling off for mummy, mummy is not there for you.
You have to ask for a mortgage, you're burned out at work, you have health problems? Suck it up and keep on going.
As a result us people coming from the plains we hate the waterworks.
We just cannot stand the girls getting hundreds of get-out-of-jail free cards because they burst out sobbing when they should own up and accept the responsibilities of being an adult.
I'm sure everyone knows one example or 2. The classic one is the "work-howler". There was this girl I once knew who point blank decided to get herself a promotion and went to human resources to cry her eyes out. Result? What do you think?
It's a sort of a magic switch: every adult has to fence for themselves up until the moment in which someone opens the tap and then all of a sudden she's magically off the hook, cause poor thing she's crying!
Maybe I'm just jealous cause for the life of me I cannot cry! Really there was this time at school when we were called in at the principal's office to answer about an allegedly very bad thing we had done (I don't remember what), there was just the 2 of us, we sit there waiting almost giggling (that's how much we cared) until the principal arrives and my classmate starts sobbing miserably, she's so so..o..o..rry! Shocked at first by that sudden change I pathetically try and squeeze my eyes to produce the magic water but nothing! Guess who got the punishment?
Anyway! This Festivus must be working cause I feel better already!
Happy Festivus!
But above all, Happy Xmas for tomorrow!!!
Wednesday 20 July 2011
Wonders of India
Wonders of India, a set on Flickr.
From the tour "North India Tour - 13 days" with Himalayan Glacier Trekking:
http://www.himalayanglacier.com/tours-in-india/177/north+india+tour+.htm
Our Xmas in July
One of the things that I miss here in Australia is a white Xmas.
Being European and having lived in the north I know that not every Xmas in Europe is a white Xmas, snow comes later generally in the middle of January and goes on until the beginning of April.
Therefore when it snows in December everyone is keeping their fingers crossed with the hope to wake up on Xmas day, look outside the window and instead of seeing the usual boring frost, seeing a nice soft white blanket covering the roads.
When it happens it's wonderful. Normally we don't really like snow as it makes everything difficult and unless you're a kid and your school has to closed down for a few days (yep, you're free to be jealous, when I was a kid I had to stay home PLENTY of times because of the snow.. ahaha...), you're not thrilled that your car is covered by 15 cm of thick snow and that it's taking you 3 times as long to go to work.
But when snow comes for Xmas everyone is happy.
Who wouldn't be?
Xmas is just a better Xmas with the snow!
The atmosphere is more festive because it looks clean (at least for the first 4 or 5 hours, then everyone starts walking on the snow and that makes it dirty and greyish), the sounds travel a longer way because of the pureness of the air (not scientifically tested but who cares?) but not all the sounds, nope, strangely the only thing you can hear on a Xmas morning if it has been snowing are Xmas carols coming from the hi-fi system of your neighbours or from the local churches.
The air is crisp and together with its coolness it carries many delicious fragrances, because if it has been snowing mums are happier and they cook better (again, poetic licence, please allow it), kids are less whiny and they help out with the sweets but no sooner than having opened all the presents below the Xmas tree!
A white Xmas is a blessing, jokes a part, it gives hope for a better year to come and for a warm family reunion. Everyone put all their grievances aside and they join in the spirit.
Yes, a White Christmas is something that I will always miss dearly.
But Xmas in Australia has got a few advantages, the heat makes it a perfect day to go to the beach for example, although I would steer clear of Bondi since it will be packed with sunburnt backpackers and you will have to circle for hours looking for a parking.
If you do manage to get a spot look for the "surfing Santas" in between the waves, they go for a nice photo!
This year Steve had a brilliant idea! To cheer me up he booked us for a Xmas-in-July dinner!
I guess I'm not the only one missing a "winter Xmas" and although there won't be any snow, having a Xmas dinner in the cold will remind me of the nice Xmas atmosphere we have in Europe.
A jolly group of people is having a Xmas Festival in the Blue Mountains to make it even more real and I'm sure there will be Xmas dinners everywhere in Thredbo.
We're not going that far, we're just staying at the foothills of the Blue Mountains but it will be cold!
And for once I'm actually looking forward to it :)
Being European and having lived in the north I know that not every Xmas in Europe is a white Xmas, snow comes later generally in the middle of January and goes on until the beginning of April.
Therefore when it snows in December everyone is keeping their fingers crossed with the hope to wake up on Xmas day, look outside the window and instead of seeing the usual boring frost, seeing a nice soft white blanket covering the roads.
When it happens it's wonderful. Normally we don't really like snow as it makes everything difficult and unless you're a kid and your school has to closed down for a few days (yep, you're free to be jealous, when I was a kid I had to stay home PLENTY of times because of the snow.. ahaha...), you're not thrilled that your car is covered by 15 cm of thick snow and that it's taking you 3 times as long to go to work.
But when snow comes for Xmas everyone is happy.
Who wouldn't be?
Xmas is just a better Xmas with the snow!
The atmosphere is more festive because it looks clean (at least for the first 4 or 5 hours, then everyone starts walking on the snow and that makes it dirty and greyish), the sounds travel a longer way because of the pureness of the air (not scientifically tested but who cares?) but not all the sounds, nope, strangely the only thing you can hear on a Xmas morning if it has been snowing are Xmas carols coming from the hi-fi system of your neighbours or from the local churches.
The air is crisp and together with its coolness it carries many delicious fragrances, because if it has been snowing mums are happier and they cook better (again, poetic licence, please allow it), kids are less whiny and they help out with the sweets but no sooner than having opened all the presents below the Xmas tree!
A white Xmas is a blessing, jokes a part, it gives hope for a better year to come and for a warm family reunion. Everyone put all their grievances aside and they join in the spirit.
Yes, a White Christmas is something that I will always miss dearly.
But Xmas in Australia has got a few advantages, the heat makes it a perfect day to go to the beach for example, although I would steer clear of Bondi since it will be packed with sunburnt backpackers and you will have to circle for hours looking for a parking.
If you do manage to get a spot look for the "surfing Santas" in between the waves, they go for a nice photo!
This year Steve had a brilliant idea! To cheer me up he booked us for a Xmas-in-July dinner!
I guess I'm not the only one missing a "winter Xmas" and although there won't be any snow, having a Xmas dinner in the cold will remind me of the nice Xmas atmosphere we have in Europe.
A jolly group of people is having a Xmas Festival in the Blue Mountains to make it even more real and I'm sure there will be Xmas dinners everywhere in Thredbo.
We're not going that far, we're just staying at the foothills of the Blue Mountains but it will be cold!
And for once I'm actually looking forward to it :)
Sunday 17 July 2011
Sydney Blues and the World Press Photo 2011
Thanks to a recently discovered heart condition, many worries concerning any number of things ranging from an abusive parent living a million miles away and still making me feel like bird poop thanks to the wonderful invention that is the telephone, to an apartment to sell, to almost weekly bad or at best average news from the other side of the world, and thanks to the fact that even starting to explain everything is actually making me feel exhausted, I found myself in a state of mind that could only be described as the winter blues.
Yep, I'm blue.
Truth is I haven't had much time to relax during the holidays what with having to call my dad at 2 am cause he wouldn't answer the phone earlier, getting bad cough from the pollution and still having to put up with it after 2 weeks that we got back, constantly worrying about checking my email to monitor the situation up north and down south.
It might be a way for my body to tell me to take a break, even though to some people I might look happy-go-lucky, let me tell these people, try and go through all the things I've been through in the last couple of years and then we'll see if your heart doesn't start skipping beats like mine does.
Anyway.
We went to the World Press Photo 2011 at the NSW State Library today and as usual I was appalled at how some photographers take the word "photojournalism" and take it to whole different levels, and I'm not talking good levels.
The first level is what I call "the gore": the worst detail you can get with your camera, and the more in-your-face it is the better.
You've got photos of a pile of naked corpses? Bring it on.
An extremely disturbing photo of an illegal abortion in Kenya (and thank me if I spare you the details of just HOW disturbing this photo was)? We'll take it.
A lonely open-mouthed, open-eyes severed head on a beach? Sure, why not?
And just when you thought you've been over the worst and looking ahead you cannot spot any more gore, do not congratulate your guts yet, you've reached the second level.
The second level is what I call "the hidden horror".
It refers to all those photos that do not show any blood or bits of brains or dissected body parts, au contraire they seem rather innocuous, a boy in a field, a skinny woman and a baby, a flying human torch... Ok, a part from the last one you've got to admit that the rest doesn't seem threatening. And this is where you're wrong!
Got a completely out of focus, blurred and crooked photo of a man sleeping in a field? If you want to sleep at night do NOT read the caption. And since I'm pretty fed up of not sleeping I will not quote the caption either.
I don't know what's worst, honestly, it's become a race to shock you out of your mind.
Why do photographers feel they have to show the unthinkable, erasing with a click what little scraps of dignity these victims have left? Is it because the unstoppable spreading of the media circus has rendered us immune to anything less than "unspeakably horrible"? Have we become so hard to impress that we don't know the meaning of the word respect anymore? Only because a photo of a desperate mother crouching over the massacred corpse of her 5 year old daughter wins an award does it make it acceptable to print that same photo and distribute it around the world in million of copies for our thirst of blood to be sedated?
If the most violent act a human being can conceive does not raise any other concern than "is there enough light?" where are we going from here?
And then you want to take a photo with an ultra wide angle of St Mary's cathedral's interiors to try a nice effect and off course you're kicked out by the guardian, because THAT would be wrong.....
Yep, I'm blue.
Truth is I haven't had much time to relax during the holidays what with having to call my dad at 2 am cause he wouldn't answer the phone earlier, getting bad cough from the pollution and still having to put up with it after 2 weeks that we got back, constantly worrying about checking my email to monitor the situation up north and down south.
It might be a way for my body to tell me to take a break, even though to some people I might look happy-go-lucky, let me tell these people, try and go through all the things I've been through in the last couple of years and then we'll see if your heart doesn't start skipping beats like mine does.
Anyway.
We went to the World Press Photo 2011 at the NSW State Library today and as usual I was appalled at how some photographers take the word "photojournalism" and take it to whole different levels, and I'm not talking good levels.
The first level is what I call "the gore": the worst detail you can get with your camera, and the more in-your-face it is the better.
You've got photos of a pile of naked corpses? Bring it on.
An extremely disturbing photo of an illegal abortion in Kenya (and thank me if I spare you the details of just HOW disturbing this photo was)? We'll take it.
A lonely open-mouthed, open-eyes severed head on a beach? Sure, why not?
And just when you thought you've been over the worst and looking ahead you cannot spot any more gore, do not congratulate your guts yet, you've reached the second level.
The second level is what I call "the hidden horror".
It refers to all those photos that do not show any blood or bits of brains or dissected body parts, au contraire they seem rather innocuous, a boy in a field, a skinny woman and a baby, a flying human torch... Ok, a part from the last one you've got to admit that the rest doesn't seem threatening. And this is where you're wrong!
Got a completely out of focus, blurred and crooked photo of a man sleeping in a field? If you want to sleep at night do NOT read the caption. And since I'm pretty fed up of not sleeping I will not quote the caption either.
I don't know what's worst, honestly, it's become a race to shock you out of your mind.
Why do photographers feel they have to show the unthinkable, erasing with a click what little scraps of dignity these victims have left? Is it because the unstoppable spreading of the media circus has rendered us immune to anything less than "unspeakably horrible"? Have we become so hard to impress that we don't know the meaning of the word respect anymore? Only because a photo of a desperate mother crouching over the massacred corpse of her 5 year old daughter wins an award does it make it acceptable to print that same photo and distribute it around the world in million of copies for our thirst of blood to be sedated?
If the most violent act a human being can conceive does not raise any other concern than "is there enough light?" where are we going from here?
And then you want to take a photo with an ultra wide angle of St Mary's cathedral's interiors to try a nice effect and off course you're kicked out by the guardian, because THAT would be wrong.....
Friday 15 July 2011
Of botched botox and other stereotypes
Have you ever wondered how come when for whatever reason you go to a plastic surgeon the receptionists always, and I mean always, display some of the doctor's finest work?
Well, Steve and I had to go to his hand surgeon, let's call him Ron.
First of all as soon as you get to the place it's a bit disappointing, you expected a mansion with water fountains and ultra modern furniture and what you see is actually a very small rented space out of a building with no garden and no water cooler, let alone any water feature.
Then you make your way to the receptionist and off course everyone calls you by name, not only you but the receptionist calls the doctor by name. "Ron told me you would have been here today"..."I'll tell Ron to write the letter"... "Ron...Ron... Ron...". Call me old fashion, but all this instead of making me feel more at ease is actually making me feel ripped off. I mean, if this guy can't even get his receptionist to show him some respect, it's got to be over rated! Even at the shabbiest hospital doctors aren't called by their names!
Anyway, I can't really complain since I'm not the patient and we're not paying one single cent, so I'll just say that I hope he's as good as the health insurance thinks he is.
And then it hits me, gradually though, I look at the first receptionist's slightly uneven eyebrows, particularly when she's expressing surprise and scepticism as Steve explains that he should have an appointment. That eyebrow is freakishly high! It almost touches her hairline (just like in the last movie with Jennifer Aniston btw)! That can't be right!
Then, stricken with suspicion I turn around to look closely at the second receptionist but she's facing away from me. In a second she turns over and I'm speechless: those must be the biggest lips I've ever seen in my life! I'm curious to hear her talk now cause I seriously doubt she can utter a word with those!
To my disappointment she doesn't say anything, but I can't grieve on that too much since there's a third receptionist coming towards us and I'm starting a little guessing game with myself, nose job? boobs? lypo?
Nope, she looks normal... let me have another look, nope, nothing done.... ummm, maybe she's too young... She sits at the desk and asks a few questions to botched botox and then looks at us and says:"Forgive me, it's my first week and I'm still learning a few things". Ahhhh, ok, you're new... give it time then!
Jokes a part, we're very glad everything's going ok with Steve's injury, at least one good thing this week!
Well, Steve and I had to go to his hand surgeon, let's call him Ron.
First of all as soon as you get to the place it's a bit disappointing, you expected a mansion with water fountains and ultra modern furniture and what you see is actually a very small rented space out of a building with no garden and no water cooler, let alone any water feature.
Then you make your way to the receptionist and off course everyone calls you by name, not only you but the receptionist calls the doctor by name. "Ron told me you would have been here today"..."I'll tell Ron to write the letter"... "Ron...Ron... Ron...". Call me old fashion, but all this instead of making me feel more at ease is actually making me feel ripped off. I mean, if this guy can't even get his receptionist to show him some respect, it's got to be over rated! Even at the shabbiest hospital doctors aren't called by their names!
Anyway, I can't really complain since I'm not the patient and we're not paying one single cent, so I'll just say that I hope he's as good as the health insurance thinks he is.
And then it hits me, gradually though, I look at the first receptionist's slightly uneven eyebrows, particularly when she's expressing surprise and scepticism as Steve explains that he should have an appointment. That eyebrow is freakishly high! It almost touches her hairline (just like in the last movie with Jennifer Aniston btw)! That can't be right!
Then, stricken with suspicion I turn around to look closely at the second receptionist but she's facing away from me. In a second she turns over and I'm speechless: those must be the biggest lips I've ever seen in my life! I'm curious to hear her talk now cause I seriously doubt she can utter a word with those!
To my disappointment she doesn't say anything, but I can't grieve on that too much since there's a third receptionist coming towards us and I'm starting a little guessing game with myself, nose job? boobs? lypo?
Nope, she looks normal... let me have another look, nope, nothing done.... ummm, maybe she's too young... She sits at the desk and asks a few questions to botched botox and then looks at us and says:"Forgive me, it's my first week and I'm still learning a few things". Ahhhh, ok, you're new... give it time then!
Jokes a part, we're very glad everything's going ok with Steve's injury, at least one good thing this week!
Thursday 14 July 2011
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