Monday, August 25, 2003
As most of you already know, my home internet connection and I haven't been on particularly good terms lately. I had grown rather attached to the DSL connection in my school in Spain, which wasn't always reliable but at least reasonably fast. To find out that surfing the Internet at home took longer than pushing parlimentary reforms through the Diet came as, to say the least, rather a rude shock to me.
The consequences of this were too horrendous to mention. Suffice it to say that I was unable to check my email. Email!! I mean, Email is to a student what water is to a fish, or F4 is to Taiwanese girls. It takes a cruel person indeed to inflict email deprivation. Nevertheless, it happened to me, and I was forced to - get this - find alternative sources of entertainment.
To my pleasant surprise, I found that there are things in the world of print media that are actually funny. We have comics, Dave Barry, and what the Straits Times tries to pass off as objective reporting.
Consider the spread that appeared on Sunday regarding our future prime minister nad his 'image problem', with the following excerpts:Mr Peter Heng, a public relations specialist, is perplexed by Mr Lee Hsien Loong's image problem. That was not the impression he had in his early encounter witht he future Prime Minister. Back in the mid-1970s, Mr Heng was a manpower clerk in an artillery unit in Taman Jurong, and Mr Lee was one of his senior officers.
'One day, he gave me a lengthy document to type,' he recalls. 'He asked me politely, when as an officer he could just have ordered me to do so. If you talk about the perception of him being brusque and rude, he wasn't. He was gentlemanly.'
And another gem:Opposition MP Chiam See Tong (Potong Pasir) recalls how Mr Lee invited him to join a government delegation to China 1992.
'During the three weeks I was in China, DPM Lee treated all MPs in the delegation as equals, regardless whether he or she belonged to the ruling party,' he told Lianhe Zaobao. 'His sincere attitude left a lasting impression on me.'
So, let us review why, according to the Straits Times, Mr. Lee is a soft, gentle man.
1. He displays common courtesy in requesting tasks from other people.
2. He treats his all members of an elected government equally.
Pardon my ignorance, but isn't this expected of any decent human being? What kind of standards are we subjecting the words 'gentlemanly' and 'sincere' to if treating all members of a government delegation equally is considered to be a magnificent display of magnamity? The fact that Chiam expects to be treated as less than an equal just because he isn't part of the ruling party is a rousing endorsement of our opposition indeed.
Also interesting was how anecdotes that might have suggested just exactly how this image might have surfaced in the first place were notably absent.
So this is the state of reporting we have to deal with. But please don't take me too seriously. My word counts for little, since I'm not part of the ruling party either. So, thank you all for listening to me, and God bless all you gentlemen (and women).
nayko |10:40 PM
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
With my recent attempts at cooking, and bouts of shopping, some people might be concerned that I might be going crazy, or worse, becoming a Sensitive New Age Guy (TM). Never fear!! For last Saturday, I did one of the most manly things possible: I completed a cross stitch as a gift for my teacher here. Just kidding! You didn't think I'd REALLY do that, did you? (choose: a. No! b. No way! c. Never! You're the man!) What I really did was to go to the horse races.
So last Saturday I went to the races at Sanlucar de Barrameda, a town about 1 1/2 hours south of Sevilla. The Sanlucar races, of course, have their claim to fame - they're the oldest in Spain, having been operating since 1845 or something. According to the Sanlucar de Barrameda Horse Racing Association,The growing popularityof "the horse races at Sanlucar de Barrameda beach" is due mainly to the special charm of the places where the races are held; the natural , improvised race track is the strip of wet sand left bare with the evening low tide. The unusual setting (Spain's longest linearrace track), together with the beauty of its golden sunsets, is the scene of what has come to be called "the greatest show on the southern beaches".
It's no wonder, really, that the races are so successful if you think about it. I mean, they have a free racetrack that needs no maintenance, that people for some reason find infinitely more exciting than grass, and a stamp of approval from the tourism board. Anyway, our teachers in school recommended it quite highly, so much so that our school organized a trip to go, and so, being the young, innocent, impressionable students we were, we went.
This however, being a school excursion, was somewhat different from all the other trips I have taken, the main difference being that I actually had to get up early on Saturday morning. Since we had to meet at 1015 at some place that I didn't know the location of, I brilliantly figured that I'd need to get up at 9. So the day dawned bright and early, I woke up, stretched lazily, and looked at my clock.
Clock: 9:40.
Me: Wait, clocks can't talk.
Clock: Well, some can.
Me: The expensive ones. You're a 3 year old Casio that cost $7.
Clock: Shut up and use your imagination.
Me: Ok. Haha, 9.40, very funny. Do you want to show the correct time now?
At this point, I swear I was convinced I was dreaming, and was thus snug in the knowledge that I would wake up properly in a bit and find out that the real time was 8:40. So I closed my eyes and opened them again.
Clock: 9:41.
Me: Shit.
So of course I hurled myself out of bed and got out of the house in record time. Now, on mornings like these, you need eevrything to go right - the sun to shine kindly (ie not so brightly), the roads to be short, and to have nice signs on every corner telling you how to get to where you want to go. And, naturally, none of the above happened, and - oh, the shame - I got lost. I was crossing a bridge halfway, when a thought struck me: I'm not supposed to cross the river.
A genius revelation indeed. Anyway, I blame the road signs, which were really confusing. Things got so bad that I had to - and please PLEASE do not tell this to anyone else, particularly the cute chick I'm trying to impress - take out my map. This was a clear violation of Man Rule #2, but I was desperate that I even contemplated asking for directions (and therefore violating Rule #1) but fortunately did not succumb to the temptation, and eventually found my way, arriving 5 minutes before the bus was supposed to leave.
And off we went to Sanlucar. Now, the scenery between Sevilla and Sanlucar is really pretty, filled with endless fields of sunflowers and old farmhouses, and it all but exudes the radiant charm of rural beauty, heightened by its juxtaposition against urban sprawl. At least, thats what I heard, because I was asleep for 95% of the bus ride. Oh well.
We got there at noon, and lazed on the beach for a while (5 hours), until finally it was time for the races to start. Finally! We were hyper with anticipation. I mean, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see "the greatest show on the southern beaches". The following is a chronology of one race.
5.45 pm: A truck drives along the beach, bearing the start gate. Shimmer of excitement through crowd.
5.55: Police and Civil Guard descend upon beach, start clearing beach crowd away from sea. Another shimmer.
6.05: All of crowd gathered behind police line. Ugly man is pushing his chest hair against my back, on the pretext of "trying to get a better look". Liar. I try not to notice.
6.15: Race starts.
6.17 and 3 seconds: Horses race into view. So exciting!
6.17 and 15 seconds: Horses race out of view.
And I never found out what happened for the rest of the race. This REALLY makes me wonder why anyone would find a linear racetrack exciting, because there's no way for ANYONE to see the whole race.
Anyway, despite the awful anticlimax, I suppose I had a good time. I mean, the beach is always fun, if not for the sand, which we all hate, because it... gets.... everywhere. And horseracing, I decided, is a decidedly manly activity, so it's good that I went.
But really, it's no wonder women laugh at men so much.
nayko |1:53 AM
Friday, August 08, 2003
Ever so often, people are faced with monumentous choices, and wind up taking the one that is detrimental for so many others. The Spanish colonials chose to wipe out the Incas. Bush decided to invade Iraq. Kobe Bryant decided to sleep with some 19 year old tart. And I, on Wednesday, decided to cook.
Yes, I see the winces all around. The amount of cooking skill I possess, as most of you know, is approximately equal to the amount of respect Bush has for world opinion. Why, then, in the name of the good green earth, would I attempt cooking? I can assure all of you that it wasn't an easy decision. On the one hand, I faced the prospect of wasting a lot of time and resources, blowing up my entire flat, and (horror of horrors!) burning up my underwear. Oh yes, and I could have died too. But on the other hand - and this is crucial - I was hungry, bored, lazy and broke. So, with mounting dread and trepidation, I put a pot onto the stove, filled it up with water, got ready to turn on the gas, AND...
Realized there was no lighter around. Really. Consider the following facts.
1. There are 3 smokers in my flat (out of a possible 4).
2. They aren't always all that tidy.
The conclusion from premises 1 and 2 is simple: There is no point in me not smoking, because I will still die from lung cancer anyway thanks to all the second hand smoke. Woops, that's not right. What I meant to say, of course, was simply that I always find lighters lying around. Siempre. And on this one day, the day I decided to cook, there wasn't.
So I ended up making a sandwich with nice, non-inflammable bread, cheese, ham and pate.
And I challenge anyone to produce stronger proof that God exists.
nayko |10:57 AM
Monday, August 04, 2003
Well, I never got to come back after class on Friday, so I guess by 'later' I really meant 'les few minutes'. In any case, I can assure you all that there was a perfectly good reason why I had to run off so quickly after class. 5 of our group were leaving this weekend, and so all of us felt an overwhelming urge to go out, drink copious amounts of alcohol, and then commemorate their departure by burning the city down. Fortunately for Sevilla (and our criminal records), we chose not to submit to our ids, and instead went for a nice dinner at a nice restaurant and an even nicer menu (translation: must be read from right to left to avoid getting nasty shock at end of meal). It was quite sad for us, since we've basically hung out since Day 1 here, and I guess the significance of the different dates of our departures never really struck us until now. So we did the usual goodbye things: signed autographs, took pictures, drank, made public nuisances of ourselves, and so on.
It's paradoxical, in a way - I feel that 2 weeks has just zipped by really quickly, and yet I also feel that I've known the people I've met here for far longer. Perhaps it's due to the fact that I've been seeing these people virtually 12-15 hours a day. Still, I wonder how long all this will last. Like all human relationships, these friendships are bound to fade over distance and time, and it would be very foolish and unrealistic to say that I will get to see all of these people again in my life. Then again I could be wrong. Maybe it doesn't always have to be this way. I don't know.
A quick Spanish pop quiz for all of you: What is the meaning of the word 'Alhumbra'? Is it
a) The name of an ancient fort in Granada, the last bastion of Muslim influence in Spain, and site of some of the most magnificent architecture in Europe,
b) The historically significant place where the Reconquista of Spain by the Catholics finally came to an end with the defeat of the Muslims in 1492, or
c) A brand of beer.
The answer is, of course, d) Shouldn't it be spelled 'Alhambra?'. Anyway, that's where I was this weekend, along with what seemed like all the tourists in the world. The Alhambra is, incidentally, a), b), and (most importantly) c), and apparently 6 - 8000 people visit it every day. This figure seemed quite unbelievable initially, because it works out to approximately 1 person every 90 seconds, but when you arrive an hour before the place opens, at 7 am in the morning, and find that you're not the first people there, the figure seems slightly more realistic.
Personally I blame the Lonely Planet for all this. In it's guidebook for Spain, which only every other person here seems to have, it says that entry is limited, and suggests that you be there early to have a more realistic chance of getting a ticket. Yhis is the best example of a self-fulfilling prophecy if I ever saw one. So at 7 am, a whole hour before ticketing even opens, a fair sized crowd is outside the Alhambra, all clutching their Lonely Planets and thinking: "Damn, Lonely Planet is evil."
In my efforts to keep this place hyperbole-free, I shan't even attempt to describe the Alhambra. All I will say is that yes, it is really magnificent, Granada is a really lovely place, possibly nicer than Sevilla, and is definitely worth a visit.
My train ride back from Granada to Sevilla was one heck of a strange experience too. At the station, I didn't notice anything wrong with it, I mean, it was a train, with wheels, chairs, incredibly good looking people, etc. Then it started to move, and the first thought that ran into my mind was: "Am I incredibly good-looking, or what?" (Answer: What) Seriously, though, the first thought that occured to me was "Why on earth are we going backward?" Yes, the train authorities, in their infinite wisdom, decided to make the train run in the opposite direction the chairs were facing, like the seats right in front on an SBS bus, except that on a bus you take it for like 20 minutes and you feel sick, and this train ride was 3 1/2 hours long. I asked the guy next to me what on earth, and he said some horrendously strange gibberish which, for want of a better word, I shall call "Spanish." So I heroically tried to understand him, even whipping out my dictionary in the middle of the train, much to his amusement. Imagine having a conversation with someone. Now eliminate 2/3 of the words, and you get the idea of the situation I was in. Eventually, through much dictionary flipping, I finally managed to decipher what he was saying, which, by the way, was "the train driver is on crack."
At least SOMEBODY was entertained.
More stuff happened, which I wanted to write about, but once again it's time for class, so I need to go. I better be early or I wont get in! According to the Lonely Planet, anyway.
nayko |4:03 AM
Friday, August 01, 2003
All who were in Chicago this spring will surely remember how odd it all was. Spring was meant to be a time of glorious sunshine, when we could all cavort around in shorts and frolic in amounts of clothing approaching decadence. But of course those days never came and we were left stranded in 10 deg weather, stuck in long sleeves, sniffling and convinced that the next day would be a better one.
Now, as it turns out, there's a simple explanation for the messed up weather in Chicago this spring. It turns out that God decided to give up on Chicago and leave us to freeze in damnation as punishment for our moral decadence.
Just kidding!! The real reason is, of course, that Mr. Sun decided to take the wife and kids to Spain this summer. Of course, with the main man going to Spain, the rest of the hot people in the family had to tag along as well - Granny and Grandpa Sun, Uncle and Aunt Sun, Cat Sun, Dog Sun and Justin Timberlake.
As a result of this, the temperature around here for the past few days has been above 40. Two days ago it was 51 deg celsius. I realize that my current solution of whimpering and hiding indoors might not strike too many of you as being manly. I can, however, assure you that I have frightening plans to fight back, which include heinous crimes such as depriving Spain of more beer and wearing less clothing.
Ack time for class. Be back later.
nayko |4:04 AM