So here is some:
I’m tired and have just written up a storm about colonial Brazil. I’ve accomplished more in one hours this evening than I have in the past few months on this subject and can finally hope to finish my assignment tomorrow.
A few weeks ago I received an email from the university in Minnesota regarding open positions as a professor’s assistant. In exchange for working 10 hours a week my student fees would be waived and they would pay me an additional $5,000.00 per year. Seeing no reason why I should not at least try I applied. The process was fairly simple, my curriculum vitae and a two-page application to fill out. This afternoon I received an email from the director of the history programme informing that they have approved my application and the position, should I want it, will be made open to me. After receiving a fast notice of acceptance, a quick and early response which a seemingly favourable outcome for a nice flat, excellent help in planning my degree, and now a job offer that will make my financial future certainly more secure I can’t help but thinking that I made the best possible choice in accepting the offer to read history in St Cloud.
Today France will have its first round of elections to evict Sarkozy from the Elysee, umm, I mean, elect its president. Sarkozy, initially elected only by a moderate margin, has managed the task of making himself the most unpopular president in French history. For a country that has challenged, with some success, the United States for most inept leadership, this is no mean feat.
Sarkozy, my French friends advise me, will not be missed. His style, more suited to Dallas or Miami than Toulouse or Bordeaux, has grated on the collective French nerve.
It seems that the election will not be fought so much on ideas and politics as it will be on the man. That a man who was described by Chirac as a “pup” and “less known that Mitterrand’s Labrador” will almost certainly be France’s next president can be explained no other way.
What is disheartening is that Hollande’s platform, if carried out, would be disastrous for France. Read more…
Summary of Life
GREAT TRUTHS THAT LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE LEARNED:
1) No matter how hard you try, you can’t baptise cats..
2) When your Mum is mad at your Dad, don’t let her brush your hair.
3) If your sister hits you, don’t hit her back. They always catch the
second person.
4) Never ask your 3-year old brother to hold a tomato.
5) You can’t trust dogs to watch your food..
6) Don’t sneeze when someone is cutting your hair..
7) Never hold a Dust-Buster and a cat at the same time.
8) You can’t hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.
9) Don’t wear polka-dot underwear under white shorts..
10) The best place to be when you’re sad is Grandma’s lap. Read more…
I’ve been waxing nostalgic recently. Perhaps it’s because once again I’m ready to pick up my life and move it to a new, unexplored place. Perhaps it’s also because of the frustrations felt by having a life that’s not come together quite as planned. Maybe the reason why I’m writing this is because I saw my hairline receding today, not bad, but the skin around my temples is growing a bit more exposed — that and the fact that I see more and more grey hair.
I’ve grown wistful about the things I’ve never seen. I wonder, how is it in Spain? Is it beautiful or only disappointing? How are things really in Portugal? Is it really a country where one can lose onself drinking a bica, watching the sun go down over Lisbon? Read more…
After watching this video I don’t know how anyone could resist passing up the opportunity to visit our dear and eternal leader’s wonderful country!
All things must come to an end. This cliché is a point that keeps raising itself in the back of my head. All things must come to an end. I’m in San Francisco, again, and none too pleased about it.
The Kyoto portion of my holiday did not go especially well. I arrived, but a bit late. What was to be seen was a decent sunset. The hotel itself was acceptable, but not spectacular. The quality of the customer service was excellent, though a bit cool. Instead of simply giving me a key they gave the key to an employee who carried my luggage to my room, prepared a cup of tea for me, and personally showed me how to operate all technological equipment in the room. The particular assistant I was given had a German surname, leading me to speak to her alternating in German and Japanese with some English thrown in. It was only when I had finished that she admitted that she could only speak English and Japanese — her father being an American-born great-grandson of a Swiss German immigrant.
The second, complete, day was supposed to hold the promise. Alas, the weather conspired against me. Read more…
I woke up early on my second full day in Korea. My old friend had arranged for me to be guided through Seoul by two of her old friends, both Korean men in their mid-20s. One, like me, is a Korean history graduate student. The other holds a degree in kinesiology and is a certified swim-instructor. Due to my inability to read signs clearly written in the Roman alphabet I was 15 minutes behind schedule, having travelled north instead of south and only realising it 4 stops later.
After a few hours of discussions on topics ranging from Korean history to the universal commonalities of prehistoric implements we went to have lunch. For those who do not know, I am quite fond of Korean food. Nabchae bokum, octopus in a red chilli sauce, is my absolute favourite dish. The two called around to find the best restaurant serving that and my favourite new alcoholic beverage, makgeolli. The Nabchae bokum really was excellent, and fresh. After receiving the order the cook went to the octopus tank and took out three mid-sized and lively octopi killing and cleaning it just before chopping it up to cook with the sauce and spring onions. The lunch was incredible. It’s difficult to describe the sensation one gets from eating a fresh, properly-prepared Korean meal. Whatever it is, it is magical. They refused to let me pay, or even contribute. My attempt was met with insulted looks and a brusque refusal. Read more…
The flight to Korea was long, but generally pleasant. That Asiana is rated one of the best airlines in the world is understandable. The service is decent (though Cathay Pacific is better, I think) and the in-flight entertainment is acceptable. (Again, Cathay Pacific’s is much, much better) The seat was comfortable and there was more space than I have sadly grown used to. The flight was not completely full and only two out of the three seats in my row were filled. The other passenger, an intelligent and pleasant man on his way to New Delhi via Seoul, a certain Mr Singh, helped to pass the time with conversation ranging from Sikh history and philosophy to discussions on the finer points of Nehru and Jinnah’s policies during the end of the Raj. The food on the flight was also quite good. It tasted much like something that could be found at a decent restaurant. Read more…
Tomorrow I will run away. Well, actually, taken an aeroplane and fly away. I’m not quite energetic to sprint across the Pacific Ocean from San Francisco to Seoul. My journeys in Asia promise to be quite busy. In Korea I will be met by an old acquaintance, a Koreanwho is eager to take me around with one or two of her friends. Other than perhaps feelings bit like Gulliver it has all the makings of an ideal situation. She knows the country, language, and how to prevent me from getting into trouble. One of her friends, who might be joining us, would like to help me with my graduate programme as he has already gone through it. My proposal to write about Korean history has been accepted and the only thing left to worry about is the final details.
Dongdaemun (actually, my hotel is in this area), Namdaemun, Insa-dong, Suwon, the palaces… The food, the Han river, the bridges… The lights of the city, the smells, the sounds. The quixotic excitement, the realisation that not even 50 miles away is North Korea, one of the most insane lands that side of San Francisco or a Livingstone supporter’s house.
After Korea comes what promises to be even busier… Read more…
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