Today is a monumental day in Burma - I refuse to call it Myanmar - although I can't help but notice the date and wonder if the Junta will let it go down then yell out "April Fool".
Nonetheless, an eternal optimist, I've lit a candle to Ywan Yin in their honour and hope against hope that it will all turn out well, despite not even Aung San Sui Kyi having hopes for it.
But yes Lovely Lady I will indeed be standing by, waiting for the outcome.
In the meantime, I can't say it better than to wish you luck with this, the song Bono wrote for you:
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Floods in Fiji.
Fiji is again having severe flooding in the North of Viti Levu. It's only months since the last one although everyone is saying this one is so much worse.
Deuba today.
This is my second attempt to post this blog. I'd just completed a long post on doing post-disaster Search and Rescue in Fiji when we were kids, but when I pressed "publish" the entire thing just vanished into the ether and I really don't feel up to writing those stories again, but they are good stories so I really should tell you about them one day, only not today.
Although I still have this snippet still left on cut-and-paste:
"Growing up in Fiji, after every cyclone, The Royal Suva Yacht Club would be out there, our boats trawling up and down Rewa River, doing Search and Rescue ... and I now recall those harsh days of hard, hard work - sitting on the prow of our boat, not wearing my too-cumbersome life-jacket, living up to my childhood nickname "Bright Eyes", watching out for for bodies, hopefully still alive, clutching to trees and logs in among the debris - as the very best times of my young life."
So all the stories on a few of the rescues have been lost, but one day ... one day ... when I'm not feeling so annoyed, I'll tell them again.
The little town of Ba, today.
Outside Nadi!
Today!
Today!
However Deuba, further south, is doing fine although the weather is not great:
And when I asked Allen how Sigatoka was going, I was sent this:
NOT Sigatoka today!
I was shocked until I looked closer and realised that, despite those enormous potholes, this is NOT anywhere in Fiji. NOT funny, Allen!!! OK, it may not be helpful but it's still kinda a little bit funny!
And here's the news story:
And here's the news story:
MICHAEL FIELD
Last updated 13:44 30/03/2012
South Pacific
A severe storm is causing massive disruption across Fiji and there are mounting fears of a big death toll.
The major towns of Nadi, Sigatoka and Rakiraki are under water and news websites report dozens of people are trapped in the fast rising waters.
A severe tropical depression brewed up last night south west of Fiji and there are concerns it will turn later today into a significant tropical cyclone.
Fiji has not yet recovered from a severe January storm which killed eight people and caused millions of dollars in damage.
The Fiji Meteorological Service says the western half of Viti Levu, Yasawa and Mamanuca groups, Kadavu and nearby smaller islands are being hit.
Fijivillage reports that a curfew has been imposed in Ba as rescue operations are launched to free people trapped in rapidly rising waters.
Fijivillage reported that ''10 people are now holding on to a branch of a tree in Elevuka Ba''.
Firefighters are trying to rescue dozens of others.
In Nadi – the home base for the tourist industry, people are trapped in trees.
A bus is fully submerged. No one knows what has happened to the occupants.
Air New Zealand has cancelled its flight to Nadi this afternoon. Air Pacific, which has cancelled all Fiji domestic flights, has also delayed all inbound flights into Nadi from abroad.
Last updated 13:44 30/03/2012
South Pacific
A severe storm is causing massive disruption across Fiji and there are mounting fears of a big death toll.
The major towns of Nadi, Sigatoka and Rakiraki are under water and news websites report dozens of people are trapped in the fast rising waters.
A severe tropical depression brewed up last night south west of Fiji and there are concerns it will turn later today into a significant tropical cyclone.
Fiji has not yet recovered from a severe January storm which killed eight people and caused millions of dollars in damage.
The Fiji Meteorological Service says the western half of Viti Levu, Yasawa and Mamanuca groups, Kadavu and nearby smaller islands are being hit.
Fijivillage reports that a curfew has been imposed in Ba as rescue operations are launched to free people trapped in rapidly rising waters.
Fijivillage reported that ''10 people are now holding on to a branch of a tree in Elevuka Ba''.
Firefighters are trying to rescue dozens of others.
In Nadi – the home base for the tourist industry, people are trapped in trees.
A bus is fully submerged. No one knows what has happened to the occupants.
Air New Zealand has cancelled its flight to Nadi this afternoon. Air Pacific, which has cancelled all Fiji domestic flights, has also delayed all inbound flights into Nadi from abroad.
This is my second attempt to post this blog. I'd just completed a long post on doing post-disaster Search and Rescue in Fiji when we were kids, but when I pressed "publish" the entire thing just vanished into the ether and I really don't feel up to writing those stories again, but they are good stories so I really should tell you about them one day, only not today.
Although I still have this snippet still left on cut-and-paste:
"Growing up in Fiji, after every cyclone, The Royal Suva Yacht Club would be out there, our boats trawling up and down Rewa River, doing Search and Rescue ... and I now recall those harsh days of hard, hard work - sitting on the prow of our boat, not wearing my too-cumbersome life-jacket, living up to my childhood nickname "Bright Eyes", watching out for for bodies, hopefully still alive, clutching to trees and logs in among the debris - as the very best times of my young life."
So all the stories on a few of the rescues have been lost, but one day ... one day ... when I'm not feeling so annoyed, I'll tell them again.
In the meantime, good luck everyone in Fiji. Stay safe and I don't envy you the clean-up, no siree, not at all.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Chairman Cy!
Gosh, I do love Feisty Hong Kong. It's only two days since that truly sinister and 'entirely dirty business' election for Hong Kong's new Head Honcho - whereby Beijing got their own Man into power - and already the jokes have started.
Here's the best of them so far:
Here's the best of them so far:
Chairman Cy!
For those of us who can't read Chinese, the buttons on his collar read "Wolf" "Wolf" because he's known in Beijing by that nickname, and his badge reads "United We Stand" ... a reference to our very strong belief that Chairman Cy fully intends to undermine our Basic Law of "One Country: Two Systems" were we are ruled BY LAW entirely separately from Beijing.
And the banner at the bottom reads "LIBERATE HONG KONG".
Next to Regina the placard reads "Western District (Beijing) rules Hong Kong, Article 23 (Chinese Patriot Act)"
And the folks at the bottom are The Minions: a CCP soldier, Lau Mong Hung, Cheng Yiu Tong, Fanny Law, Tam Yiu Chung, Regina Yip, two more Red Guard soldiers.
Bad times afoot, folks! Protest March on Sunday. Expect pepper-spray so bring milk!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Not Toady! Oops, a Freudian Slip!
I know I said I'd tell you what's currently happening in HK but all my photos seem to have something nasty attached - started happening yesterday - so I'm not risking putting them up today.
Wait a sec. Let me see if it's still happening:
Yes, all the photos I downloaded yesterday are damaged, but here's one I took on Sunday of the angry crowds who poured out onto the streets after the announcement of the new Chief Executive - the man I was previously calling "The Other Guy" since he wouldn't talk about himself, but who turns out to be known as The Wolf in Beijing Circles - and who got pepper-sprayed for their trouble. A sign of things to come?
Anyway, I'll sort out this photo problem before I post anything on the subject.
Have a nice day.
Wait a sec. Let me see if it's still happening:
Yes, all the photos I downloaded yesterday are damaged, but here's one I took on Sunday of the angry crowds who poured out onto the streets after the announcement of the new Chief Executive - the man I was previously calling "The Other Guy" since he wouldn't talk about himself, but who turns out to be known as The Wolf in Beijing Circles - and who got pepper-sprayed for their trouble. A sign of things to come?
Anyway, I'll sort out this photo problem before I post anything on the subject.
Have a nice day.
Monday, March 26, 2012
HK7s - 2012
If you don't already know, Fiji won The Cup this year.
In fact that's such wonderful news I should tell it to you again, this time in bold and with photographs:
Fiji 2012 had the most marvelous team ...
Or an even better shot all together in their slick new uniform.
... all entirely new, and so slick and skilled that even a day later whenever I shut my eyes I see a Fijian making a break from the scrum and dashing for the goal or flying through the air with the greatest of ease:
We sadly didn't get tickets this year, but Lisa was there in among the Fiji supporters in our usual spot and mobile-sent so many photos that I feel like I was there and thus I've stolen some of those photos to show you. (Sorry Lisa)
Hey, lookee here, I think Lisa may have posted this:
Lisa, honeybuns, from where this footage was shot I'm guessing you made this. If so, kudos and vinaka. It's indeed like being in there myself.
And, gosh, see what I've just found as well:
That's from Air Pacific and I have to say I'm currently in the most enormous charity with them because, when I discovered no one was live-streaming the Friday games down in Lockhart Road, I went on-line to find out what was happening and couldn't find anything at all, not even after an hour of searching, so I posted a snitty comment on a HK site about how it shouldn't be so difficult to find out what was happening with HK7s and Air Pacific posted back saying "Go here." and it was to the most glorious link that they'd put up that had "Everything 7s - 2012" with instant updates and the latest news and photographs, and also with live-streaming of all the games but regretfully blocked here in HK, which was most mean-spirited of us.
But what a good weekend. Saw none of the Friday games - boo hiss, you mean-spirited HK media outlets - but we watched all Saturday down at Devil's Advocate and it was indeed mighty and magnificent and we had the best ever chats with a bunch of South African supporters (who were supporting Samoa - so I'd have loved to have been with them when their own team stomped Samoa into the ground on Sunday.)
But it got sincerely hilarious when Australia came out in their brand new uniforms. Oh man, they are bad.
... and the other group right next to where the players do their pre-game warm-up stretches and they're all so GGGRRRRR and sexy!
And they're there every single year!
Well, that's all down to a couple of very exceptional ladies ...
In fact that's such wonderful news I should tell it to you again, this time in bold and with photographs:
Fiji won The Cup this year!!!
All photos by Lisa Tang.
And do note the fellow in chartreuse.
That is former GREAT 7s player,
Tomasi Cama Senior.
Want to see more? My pleasure!
We win!
And please note All Black Forbes' beard.
For years I've been finding it
inexcusably ugly
but for some reason this year I've been
loving it. No idea why.
Fiji 2012 had the most marvelous team ...
Lisa's photos.
Or an even better shot all together in their slick new uniform.
Stolen from Air Pacific site.
... all entirely new, and so slick and skilled that even a day later whenever I shut my eyes I see a Fijian making a break from the scrum and dashing for the goal or flying through the air with the greatest of ease:
Against England
in their desperately sad new uniforms.
Or this marvelous and delicious shot of Fiji rubbing a Frenchman's nose in the mud!
Go Fiji.
Remember Muaroa!
Remember the Rainbow Warrior!
(I will continue to hate the French
until they admit they were wrong
for what they did to our Pacific Region,
apologise to us
and do something to pay for the
horrendous epidemic of thyroid diseases
we now suffer from.)
And didn't we just LOVE looking at those scoreboards.
Scot Juliet took this photo
thinking it was just so SAD.
Oh Juliet honey, you couldn't be more wrong.
Hey, lookee here, I think Lisa may have posted this:
Lisa, honeybuns, from where this footage was shot I'm guessing you made this. If so, kudos and vinaka. It's indeed like being in there myself.
And, gosh, see what I've just found as well:
That's from Air Pacific and I have to say I'm currently in the most enormous charity with them because, when I discovered no one was live-streaming the Friday games down in Lockhart Road, I went on-line to find out what was happening and couldn't find anything at all, not even after an hour of searching, so I posted a snitty comment on a HK site about how it shouldn't be so difficult to find out what was happening with HK7s and Air Pacific posted back saying "Go here." and it was to the most glorious link that they'd put up that had "Everything 7s - 2012" with instant updates and the latest news and photographs, and also with live-streaming of all the games but regretfully blocked here in HK, which was most mean-spirited of us.
But what a good weekend. Saw none of the Friday games - boo hiss, you mean-spirited HK media outlets - but we watched all Saturday down at Devil's Advocate and it was indeed mighty and magnificent and we had the best ever chats with a bunch of South African supporters (who were supporting Samoa - so I'd have loved to have been with them when their own team stomped Samoa into the ground on Sunday.)
But it got sincerely hilarious when Australia came out in their brand new uniforms. Oh man, they are bad.
Oz debuts their new uniform.
Chartreuse? Seriously?
Can't believe your eyes and want another look?
Oz's Walk of Shame in front of the Fiji
supporters after losing to Fiji.
You should have heard the jokes. The sports bar was packed with a huge international crowd and everyone was sick with laughing at them - and isn't 'chartreuse' the most hilarious word to say - but the very best comment was from, guessing by the accent, a Kiwi guy, "I guess Julia had to give her hairdresser 'boyfriend' something to do. Afterall, what other role is there for First Handbag apart from designing Australia's new sports uniforms?"
But then the English team debuted their new uniform ...
... and the laughter grew even louder with everyone trying to guess what the players had been drinking before they threw up over themselves:
England's Walk of Shame past the Fiji supporters
after Fiji stomped them into the ground.
Johnson was saying that these two teams are sporting the brand new space age techno-suits all in some brand new fabric and kitted out with gadgets like GPDs and body-monitors. But don't they ask so many questions, the main one being "Why are they just so vile?" But also "Seriously? Chartreuse? Tang vomit?" and did anyone else notice that English team-player who ripped out his built-in techno-pack and hurled it in anger off the field? Very curious gesture and it made us wonder if they're heavy or itchy or if they just hinder movement.
And speaking of hindering movement, didn't Tonga do a great job of those black armbands. As you know, the King of Tonga just died in HK several days ago and the Tongan team was wondering if they should still go ahead with HK7s this year but HRH Princess Pilolevu ...
The Panuve family pays their respects
and offers condolences to Her Royal Highness
in HK.
... who was in HK at the time to pick up her brother for the journey home, gave it her blessing ... but we weren't the only ones who were wondering how badly those black armbands would hinter the team's movements, but we shouldn't have worried because they got around it so well with the slickest little number ever. GO TONGA.
But Saturday was such a good day for HK. In the past we were sad little wannabes, only invited to the party because we were the hosts, but then the All Blacks took us under their giant wing and coached us up until ...
GO HONG KONG!
... this year, 2012, when we had such a mighty Saturday beating Tonga 26 - 7, then Uruguay 17 - 14, and then China 29 - 5. Oh wow! I was so proud of us.
(I actually blogged a couple of years ago that I'd just met Robertson - seen above - playing guitar with a gang of NZ Maoris and it seemed so odd I asked him what was happening and he said The All Blacks come to HK to train up our HK team; a fact which is not widely known.)
However, although Saturday was such a pleasure for the Hong Kong Us, for the Fiji and Kiwi US, Sunday was the best day ever. Keith, a Kiwi, discovered that our local station HK Pearl was playing live-stream games all day, so yesterday we just lay around in our pjs, eating pancakes and loving every second as both New Zealand and Fiji brought down team after team, nation after nation, in the most amazing games ever, until we were the only two teams standing at which point Keith and I went all tribal and partisan on each other, waving our respective flags and madly taunting each other ... and we all know what happened next.
YAYYYYYY! GO FIJI!!!
Oh, and I have to tell you something odd. Just before the NZ-Fiji game, the Scot's commentator said something (I'm sure no one not from Edinburgh could properly understand him, but apparently those commentators were coming down with mystery ailments one after the other, and so they had to go with whatever they could get.) that sounded very like The Rock - Dwayne Johnson - had just send a message wishing New Zealand a big win in the Final and followed it up with saying that The Rock said that he'd always thought of NZ as "home" because he grew up there. And then he sent particular good wishes to the school boy All Black who had gone to his old school in South Auckland.
It was such a "say wot?" I raced to the computer and googled The Rock and discovered this: "For several years, Johnson lived in Auckland, New Zealand, with his mother's family. During this time his mother Ata ensured Johnson was exposed to one of the urban Polynesian cultural strongholds of the southern hemisphere. Johnson attended Richmond Road Primary School before returning to the United States with his parents."
Who knew any of this?
And since I had indeed heard it correctly, it looks like I understand more Scots than I knew.
What else should I mention that you won't read anywhere else?
Oh yeah, in the middle of an NZ game, just when we were both in stitches because the NZ team was so outstanding and the other team didn't have even a look-in, a non-Scot commentator was carrying on like the entire match was between the various NZ high-schools: "And there's a goal for Colston College." "And a goal for Te Akau High." "And another goal for Colston College." Oooh, such humiliation for the other International team ... when the live-stream stopped and it became the worst news imaginable:
The Chief Executive elections. And the Beijing Wolf had won.
Immediately there was shouting outside our window with protestors' loudly and angrily crying out what sounded like "I do a dickie." ...
No idea what that means, and I've undoubtedly heard it wrong, but I was so torn with one side of me wanting to stand at the window to film what was going down and the other side of me wanting to go back to watch the now-resumed game. And I regret to say that HK7s won and I missed out on getting footage of the police pepper-spraying protestors.
Hey, it's the HK7s! Don't hold it against me.
Anything else? Mmmm, if I think of anything else I'll slip back in here and pop it down, and tomorrow I'll do a post on the Chief Executive elections.
Oh, and I have to tell you something odd. Just before the NZ-Fiji game, the Scot's commentator said something (I'm sure no one not from Edinburgh could properly understand him, but apparently those commentators were coming down with mystery ailments one after the other, and so they had to go with whatever they could get.) that sounded very like The Rock - Dwayne Johnson - had just send a message wishing New Zealand a big win in the Final and followed it up with saying that The Rock said that he'd always thought of NZ as "home" because he grew up there. And then he sent particular good wishes to the school boy All Black who had gone to his old school in South Auckland.
It was such a "say wot?" I raced to the computer and googled The Rock and discovered this: "For several years, Johnson lived in Auckland, New Zealand, with his mother's family. During this time his mother Ata ensured Johnson was exposed to one of the urban Polynesian cultural strongholds of the southern hemisphere. Johnson attended Richmond Road Primary School before returning to the United States with his parents."
Who knew any of this?
And since I had indeed heard it correctly, it looks like I understand more Scots than I knew.
What else should I mention that you won't read anywhere else?
Oh yeah, in the middle of an NZ game, just when we were both in stitches because the NZ team was so outstanding and the other team didn't have even a look-in, a non-Scot commentator was carrying on like the entire match was between the various NZ high-schools: "And there's a goal for Colston College." "And a goal for Te Akau High." "And another goal for Colston College." Oooh, such humiliation for the other International team ... when the live-stream stopped and it became the worst news imaginable:
The Chief Executive elections. And the Beijing Wolf had won.
Immediately there was shouting outside our window with protestors' loudly and angrily crying out what sounded like "I do a dickie." ...
No idea what that means, and I've undoubtedly heard it wrong, but I was so torn with one side of me wanting to stand at the window to film what was going down and the other side of me wanting to go back to watch the now-resumed game. And I regret to say that HK7s won and I missed out on getting footage of the police pepper-spraying protestors.
Hey, it's the HK7s! Don't hold it against me.
Anything else? Mmmm, if I think of anything else I'll slip back in here and pop it down, and tomorrow I'll do a post on the Chief Executive elections.
However, before I put HK7s to bed for yet another year, I have to say something really really important:
Have you ever wondered how Fiji always manages to get such great seats in the HK stadium year after year?
Right at the front in two entirely different spots?
You may have noticed that each year there are two large groups of Fijians in the choicest ever spots. You've noticed, right?, how there's always one group right next to where the players come off the field so everyone can get autographs ...
Fiji mobs Fiji.
... and the other group right next to where the players do their pre-game warm-up stretches and they're all so GGGRRRRR and sexy!
And they're there every single year!
Well, that's all down to a couple of very exceptional ladies ...
Mrs Panuve on the left and Miss Hennings on the right.
... who go to the stadium at five in the morning in order to be at the front of the queue and who dash in the very second the gates open and drape Fiji flags all over the front three rows in our respective favourite spots, and then when the Fiji supporters finally turn up they take any of those seats still available.
What mighty and magnificent women! You know I think Fiji should build shrines and erect statues and write songs of praise to them because ordinary thanks simply doesn't seem adequate.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
HK7s 2012!
Yes, it's the last weekend in March and you know what that means, don't you!
Yes, it's our election for Chief Executive - which doesn't really concern us because we're not a Democracy - but it's not that which has everyone so excited.
HK's take on this weekend's
election for Head Honcho.
Nope, it's not our election. It's ... wait for it! ... the great and wonderful and magnificent Hong Kong Sevens, however we didn't get tickets this year to "The World's Greatest Party". There was a reason for that.
At the end of last year HK7s honchos announced they were only going to sell 1000 of the 40,000 tickets to HK locals, so we got all outraged and antsy and decided we'd boycott in protest. However, now it's about to happen - gates open in less than two hours - I'm so sorry I'm not going I'm scrambling around for spare tickets. Know of any?
But how outrageous is it that this event which we local Hong Kongers made into such a fun party everyone in the world wants to attend ... now can't get tickets without groveling or lining up all night. That's just wrong. In fact, it's wrong, wrong, WRONG.
And what makes it so very, very wrong is that this is actually HK's very own "Bacchanalia Festival", our "Rio Carnivale", our Lord of Misrule, our Abbot of Unreason, our Prince d'Sot ...
... it's Our Crazy Time when everyone Gweilo ("Foreign Devils") in this alien land gets all down and stupid and dresses up in crazy costumes and cuts loose first in the stadium and then in the streets.
Typical HK7s weekend!
Our current one gets pretty full!
But it used to be that the Chinese never got it, which was a big part of the fun, but increasingly they're loving it as much as the rest of us and taking part as well ... and that's fine too. Everyone here is so work-oriented I guess it's become an outlet that fills everyone's needs.
And now they're not letting us go. At least they're making it very difficult for us. And that's so very wrong, right?
However, we fully intend to find ourselves a lovely sports-bar down in Lockhart Road and spend this entire weekend waving the flag for Fiji - or NZ if the Fiji Team proves unworthy - but word is that this latest Fiji Team is spectacular and has the best chance in three years, the last time we won.
Our last win!
Yayyyy, GO GO HONG KONG SEVENS!!!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
6000 Years!
Ever since reading that Physicist C.P. Snow claimed that Historians were always the best pattern-recognisers, as a historian of sorts (I mean, I do have a degree in it.) I've felt obligated to think about patterns. And yes, it's been a lot of fun because I'm isolating ever so many odd little patterns everywhere in history.
Like, what is it about that strange historical pattern of women in Australia losing a single shoe in the midst of big dramatic events? Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard was only the latest of a long line of Cinderellas. But what is that about? Does it actually mean anything?
But then there's that thing about Americans always voting for the Presidential candidate with the most letters in his name, and Australians always voting for the fellow with the bushiest eyebrows. (Seriously, look at all the Prime Ministers Australia has ever had and the guys with the skinny eyebrows are all those who weren't voted in by the people. And always the bushier the eyebrows the more overwhelming the victory. Check it out some time.) (I think if Oz image doctors recognised patterns, they'd stop these ridiculous make-overs that include trimming and shaping politicians' eyebrows.)
And there's that nearly 400 year long pattern of women called Lady Diana Spencer being offered in marriage to a then-current Prince of Wales but someone in the then-current royal family always saying "This gives me a bad feeling. Such a marriage would end badly." Now THERE'S a pattern that, if recognised in time, would have saved a great deal of grief.
And that odd historical pattern in China about how those Dynasties always went through the exact same cycles but that's a pattern so complex that it would require an entire post of its own.
However, the oddest of all the patterns I've turned up is how the figure of 6000 years keeps turning up in the study of genetic diseases. Have you noticed that?
If you haven't, let me run through those for you:
First, there was that HK-Singapore study about "Guangdong Cancer" I've already talked about in here. Everyone thought it was caused by eating salted fish but it turned out to be a mutated gene that happened to a man who lived somewhere in Guangdong 6000 years ago.
Next came the study of breast cancer which turned out to be at least 40 different diseases, all entirely different from each other and all caused by different mutated genes. And then the researchers went looking into only one of these different cancers and it turned out that everyone who had it descended from the same woman who lived in Sweden 6000 years ago.
And that Chinese Black-Spot Lung Cancer which turned out that everyone who had it descended from the same man who lived in China 6000 years ago.
And that weird cell mutation that Elton John shares with those Ugandan truck-stop prostitutes and genetic studies showed they all descended from the same woman who lived in Africa 6000 years ago.
(Yes, Elton John freaked out when he found out about this and paid a lot of money to find out how it was possible, and it turned out that he has a Roman legionnaire from North Africa who entered his family tree 2000 years ago, an African soldier sent in as part of the two hastily-put-together new Roman Legions intended to quell the Boudiccan Uprising.)
And then there's my husband Keith and myself being horrified to discover we both descended from the same man whose genes mutated enough to distinguish him as a particular Ancestral Father who lived god-only-knows-where 6000 years ago.
There are lots of other cases I could give you, but I think I've said enough to convince you that something MUST have happened 6000 years ago that caused genes to mutate right across the globe.
But what causes genes to mutate? The only thing I can think of is radiation. But we're talking 6000 years ago. So what could have caused a blast of radiation right across the planet?
I was up all last night unable to sleep for thinking of this, and the only thing I could come up with was ... well, solar flares. Yup, that's what I think could have caused this.
We've just had a giant solar flare hit earth (here) and lots of scientists and politicians were saying that it would only disrupt all the various electrical systems on the planet, but speaking as a Pattern-Recognising Historian, I think we need to begin thinking that perhaps these radioactive solar flares also cause a great deal more.
So ... am I making C.P. Snow proud?
Like, what is it about that strange historical pattern of women in Australia losing a single shoe in the midst of big dramatic events? Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard was only the latest of a long line of Cinderellas. But what is that about? Does it actually mean anything?
But then there's that thing about Americans always voting for the Presidential candidate with the most letters in his name, and Australians always voting for the fellow with the bushiest eyebrows. (Seriously, look at all the Prime Ministers Australia has ever had and the guys with the skinny eyebrows are all those who weren't voted in by the people. And always the bushier the eyebrows the more overwhelming the victory. Check it out some time.) (I think if Oz image doctors recognised patterns, they'd stop these ridiculous make-overs that include trimming and shaping politicians' eyebrows.)
And there's that nearly 400 year long pattern of women called Lady Diana Spencer being offered in marriage to a then-current Prince of Wales but someone in the then-current royal family always saying "This gives me a bad feeling. Such a marriage would end badly." Now THERE'S a pattern that, if recognised in time, would have saved a great deal of grief.
And that odd historical pattern in China about how those Dynasties always went through the exact same cycles but that's a pattern so complex that it would require an entire post of its own.
However, the oddest of all the patterns I've turned up is how the figure of 6000 years keeps turning up in the study of genetic diseases. Have you noticed that?
If you haven't, let me run through those for you:
First, there was that HK-Singapore study about "Guangdong Cancer" I've already talked about in here. Everyone thought it was caused by eating salted fish but it turned out to be a mutated gene that happened to a man who lived somewhere in Guangdong 6000 years ago.
Next came the study of breast cancer which turned out to be at least 40 different diseases, all entirely different from each other and all caused by different mutated genes. And then the researchers went looking into only one of these different cancers and it turned out that everyone who had it descended from the same woman who lived in Sweden 6000 years ago.
And that Chinese Black-Spot Lung Cancer which turned out that everyone who had it descended from the same man who lived in China 6000 years ago.
And that weird cell mutation that Elton John shares with those Ugandan truck-stop prostitutes and genetic studies showed they all descended from the same woman who lived in Africa 6000 years ago.
(Yes, Elton John freaked out when he found out about this and paid a lot of money to find out how it was possible, and it turned out that he has a Roman legionnaire from North Africa who entered his family tree 2000 years ago, an African soldier sent in as part of the two hastily-put-together new Roman Legions intended to quell the Boudiccan Uprising.)
And then there's my husband Keith and myself being horrified to discover we both descended from the same man whose genes mutated enough to distinguish him as a particular Ancestral Father who lived god-only-knows-where 6000 years ago.
There are lots of other cases I could give you, but I think I've said enough to convince you that something MUST have happened 6000 years ago that caused genes to mutate right across the globe.
But what causes genes to mutate? The only thing I can think of is radiation. But we're talking 6000 years ago. So what could have caused a blast of radiation right across the planet?
I was up all last night unable to sleep for thinking of this, and the only thing I could come up with was ... well, solar flares. Yup, that's what I think could have caused this.
We've just had a giant solar flare hit earth (here) and lots of scientists and politicians were saying that it would only disrupt all the various electrical systems on the planet, but speaking as a Pattern-Recognising Historian, I think we need to begin thinking that perhaps these radioactive solar flares also cause a great deal more.
So ... am I making C.P. Snow proud?
Monday, March 19, 2012
Tornados Are Us!
It was one of those brutal moments when you're reading the newspaper and see something so huge your mind can't accommodate it so it takes several seconds to register, and then you think "OK, so this has happened in my town, but no, surely it can't have come through our place." but you keep reading and it just gets worse because ... yup, that's indeed your very own neighbourhood.
Hair stands on end!
Yup, you too have probably read that Townsville was hit by tornado. As you know, this is where we own a house.
I dashed straight on-line to find out more, and there was a lovely e-mail from Rick saying our house is still standing. So that's where I'm at right this moment, doing little happy-dances and joyously singing Elton John's "I'm Still Standing" at the top of my lungs.
Australia never used to have tornadoes. We used to have pretty little whirli-whirlis instead - spinning air and red dust - but then the whirli-whirlis started getting bigger and stronger until, about 12 years ago, we were out at Lady R's place in the Oz Outback when an enormous whirli-whirli swept through, ripping off the shed doors. Jeff said "That was so close to a tornado, you mark my words, within a year, Australia will see its first real tornado."
And it was almost exactly a year later when Toowoomba farmers told the media about this concentrated horror storm sweeping through their region claiming they'd been hit by a real tornado, and there was footage of the remarkably little damage, so Australia came out with that complacent and rather ugly "dingoes don't eat babies" self-assurance - oops, sorry, make that "Australia doesn't have tornados" - and they almost turned on those poor Toowoomba farmers EXCEPT a group of Climate Change scientists turned up, looked at the damage and said "Yup, this was a real tornado." and followed that up with "We've seen this coming. It was only a matter of when and where."
Naturally I immediately rang Jeff to congratulate him on his soothsayer-ing but he had absolutely no recollection of ever having said it. Very odd, yes?
Anyway Australia has had several tornados since, but always so remote from our lives I haven't bothered paying much attention to this particular proof of Climate Change.
But, dammit, this one has come very VERY close to home. I think perhaps the time has come to actually start to care about this Climate Change issue.
Hair stands on end!
Afterwards!
It happened this morning.
Yup, you too have probably read that Townsville was hit by tornado. As you know, this is where we own a house.
I dashed straight on-line to find out more, and there was a lovely e-mail from Rick saying our house is still standing. So that's where I'm at right this moment, doing little happy-dances and joyously singing Elton John's "I'm Still Standing" at the top of my lungs.
Australia never used to have tornadoes. We used to have pretty little whirli-whirlis instead - spinning air and red dust - but then the whirli-whirlis started getting bigger and stronger until, about 12 years ago, we were out at Lady R's place in the Oz Outback when an enormous whirli-whirli swept through, ripping off the shed doors. Jeff said "That was so close to a tornado, you mark my words, within a year, Australia will see its first real tornado."
And it was almost exactly a year later when Toowoomba farmers told the media about this concentrated horror storm sweeping through their region claiming they'd been hit by a real tornado, and there was footage of the remarkably little damage, so Australia came out with that complacent and rather ugly "dingoes don't eat babies" self-assurance - oops, sorry, make that "Australia doesn't have tornados" - and they almost turned on those poor Toowoomba farmers EXCEPT a group of Climate Change scientists turned up, looked at the damage and said "Yup, this was a real tornado." and followed that up with "We've seen this coming. It was only a matter of when and where."
Naturally I immediately rang Jeff to congratulate him on his soothsayer-ing but he had absolutely no recollection of ever having said it. Very odd, yes?
Anyway Australia has had several tornados since, but always so remote from our lives I haven't bothered paying much attention to this particular proof of Climate Change.
But, dammit, this one has come very VERY close to home. I think perhaps the time has come to actually start to care about this Climate Change issue.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Code-Breakers Are Us!
Having a great belly-laugh over the book "Secret Days: Code-breaking in Bletchley Park", about top-secret intelligence work in Britain during World War II.
And the bit I find so hilarious is an account of a huge fight among the bigwigs at Bletchley Park about who make the best problem-solvers, Physicists or Historians. The physicist and novelist C.P. Snow was adamant that every Historian he'd ever come across was a far better problem solver and recogniser of complex patterns than any Physicist, so, to test this theory, they brought a herd of Historians into the British Intelligence Service headquarters and gave them sets of complex problems to solve.
Guess who won?
Yup, hands down and without question, Historians were better problem-solvers and pattern-recognisers than Physicists ... so take that, Dr Sheldon Cooper!
And thus they had a great many Historians working on the code-breaking problem during WWII.
And speaking of code-breaking, I actually met one of the Enigma code-breakers. It was over a decade ago in Townsville one ANZAC Day on the afternoon after the ANZAC March when Keith's band was playing at an Irish bar full of veterans.
This was the first year that the ANZACs had instigated the policy of outing the frauds - those men who buy medals to wear on such occasions - so as Keith's band played I was having the best chat with a lot of lovely old veterans about how to spot frauds. They were telling me that the medals a fellow sported should always tell a coherent story and since this was a mind-blowing thought for me - that a person's medals tell a story. Wow! - I was pointing out different ex-soldiers and getting my sweet veterans to tell me all they could about each of them. And, yes, they were right: you can indeed tell an ex-soldier's entire war-time history from the honours they wear. And, yes, we spotted four frauds among their number who the other veterans at the bar asked to leave. And yes, violence was threatened.
And that's when an old man came in who was literally covered in medals; practically more than his uniform could handle, and all the vets at the bar practically fell over themselves in the rush to buy him a drink. "Tell me about him." I said, very definitely intrigued.
"Polish Army, British Intelligence." they told me. "Very important." "Those are the most important honours from every one of the Allied Nations" "Did something seriously big deal and very important.", "Hazarding a guess, I'd say he's most probably one of the Polish fellows who broke the Enigma Code." said one.
Karen was there that afternoon so, because her husband was Polish and she spent a lot of time at the Polish Club, I immediately went to ask her. "Yes, that's XXXX (I'm sorry but I've forgotten his name.) He's one of the five fellows who broke the Enigma Code." she says and so I'm immediately clambering for an introduction.
But that afternoon we couldn't even get close because he was surrounded and swamped by ex-soldiers and when I told Karen I was after a historical subject for my PhD thesis and I'd love to talk with him sometime, she said she'd arrange a meeting between us at the Townsville Polish Club for the following week ... which we did ... a very pleasant dinner where we talked about Mick Jagger of all people, who, it seems, was in close personal contact with this lovely Polish fellow because he had the most intense interest in Everything Enigma. Who knew?
However the bad news was that he'd already got a historian getting down his story so I couldn't have him, dammit. And since I've never come across anyone else who I'd like to do a PhD on, I still haven't got around to it.
So, yes, I once met one of the five Polish men who broke the Enigma Code, but not on that ANZAC Day afternoon, because I then went back to snuggling in the corner with my lovely elderly veterans, confirming their guess and learning how to read medals and ousting frauds ... but now my memory has pulled up that entire afternoon, I can tell you that I did meet him that day because later, after many drinks, I taught Enigma-cracker and an elderly Hasidic Rabbi from Israel how to dance an Irish jig and learning how to dance "Hava Nagila" to Irish shanties in return; the most hilarious experience imaginable. Yup, that was a really, really lovely day.
But look at that. Once again wayyyy off topic. I was meant to be talking about we HISTORIANS!!!
And I meant to tell you that once, while doing my first Masters, I was asked to take part in a brain functions experiment. The theory being tested was that Science folks do their problem solving in the left half of the brain (or is it the right?) while Humanities folk do their problem solving in the right half of the brain (or is it the left?). Naturally I was thrilled to take part, and so I was rigged up to a great many machines for the afternoon and given various problems to solve ...
... and the results of the tests showed that while Science folk do indeed problem solve in one half of their brain, we Humanities sorts use ALL our brains. Yup, we light up all over the place in both brain hemispheres.
So I guess C.P. Snow really did nail it and we Historians do indeed have what it takes to make meaning out of complex patterns. So ... yeah ... GO US!!!!
And the bit I find so hilarious is an account of a huge fight among the bigwigs at Bletchley Park about who make the best problem-solvers, Physicists or Historians. The physicist and novelist C.P. Snow was adamant that every Historian he'd ever come across was a far better problem solver and recogniser of complex patterns than any Physicist, so, to test this theory, they brought a herd of Historians into the British Intelligence Service headquarters and gave them sets of complex problems to solve.
Guess who won?
Yup, hands down and without question, Historians were better problem-solvers and pattern-recognisers than Physicists ... so take that, Dr Sheldon Cooper!
And thus they had a great many Historians working on the code-breaking problem during WWII.
And speaking of code-breaking, I actually met one of the Enigma code-breakers. It was over a decade ago in Townsville one ANZAC Day on the afternoon after the ANZAC March when Keith's band was playing at an Irish bar full of veterans.
This was the first year that the ANZACs had instigated the policy of outing the frauds - those men who buy medals to wear on such occasions - so as Keith's band played I was having the best chat with a lot of lovely old veterans about how to spot frauds. They were telling me that the medals a fellow sported should always tell a coherent story and since this was a mind-blowing thought for me - that a person's medals tell a story. Wow! - I was pointing out different ex-soldiers and getting my sweet veterans to tell me all they could about each of them. And, yes, they were right: you can indeed tell an ex-soldier's entire war-time history from the honours they wear. And, yes, we spotted four frauds among their number who the other veterans at the bar asked to leave. And yes, violence was threatened.
And that's when an old man came in who was literally covered in medals; practically more than his uniform could handle, and all the vets at the bar practically fell over themselves in the rush to buy him a drink. "Tell me about him." I said, very definitely intrigued.
"Polish Army, British Intelligence." they told me. "Very important." "Those are the most important honours from every one of the Allied Nations" "Did something seriously big deal and very important.", "Hazarding a guess, I'd say he's most probably one of the Polish fellows who broke the Enigma Code." said one.
Karen was there that afternoon so, because her husband was Polish and she spent a lot of time at the Polish Club, I immediately went to ask her. "Yes, that's XXXX (I'm sorry but I've forgotten his name.) He's one of the five fellows who broke the Enigma Code." she says and so I'm immediately clambering for an introduction.
But that afternoon we couldn't even get close because he was surrounded and swamped by ex-soldiers and when I told Karen I was after a historical subject for my PhD thesis and I'd love to talk with him sometime, she said she'd arrange a meeting between us at the Townsville Polish Club for the following week ... which we did ... a very pleasant dinner where we talked about Mick Jagger of all people, who, it seems, was in close personal contact with this lovely Polish fellow because he had the most intense interest in Everything Enigma. Who knew?
However the bad news was that he'd already got a historian getting down his story so I couldn't have him, dammit. And since I've never come across anyone else who I'd like to do a PhD on, I still haven't got around to it.
So, yes, I once met one of the five Polish men who broke the Enigma Code, but not on that ANZAC Day afternoon, because I then went back to snuggling in the corner with my lovely elderly veterans, confirming their guess and learning how to read medals and ousting frauds ... but now my memory has pulled up that entire afternoon, I can tell you that I did meet him that day because later, after many drinks, I taught Enigma-cracker and an elderly Hasidic Rabbi from Israel how to dance an Irish jig and learning how to dance "Hava Nagila" to Irish shanties in return; the most hilarious experience imaginable. Yup, that was a really, really lovely day.
But look at that. Once again wayyyy off topic. I was meant to be talking about we HISTORIANS!!!
And I meant to tell you that once, while doing my first Masters, I was asked to take part in a brain functions experiment. The theory being tested was that Science folks do their problem solving in the left half of the brain (or is it the right?) while Humanities folk do their problem solving in the right half of the brain (or is it the left?). Naturally I was thrilled to take part, and so I was rigged up to a great many machines for the afternoon and given various problems to solve ...
... and the results of the tests showed that while Science folk do indeed problem solve in one half of their brain, we Humanities sorts use ALL our brains. Yup, we light up all over the place in both brain hemispheres.
So I guess C.P. Snow really did nail it and we Historians do indeed have what it takes to make meaning out of complex patterns. So ... yeah ... GO US!!!!
Versions of Books!
This is in regard to a conversation I'm currently having with someone, so if you're not that someone you will probably not get it:
1) Back when I was teaching high school, I had to put together a unit on "Lord of the Flies" and used my own copy of the book to get together very interesting work tracing progressively through Ralph's dreams. Needless to say, the kids had no idea what it was about because the version they were given to read didn't have any reference to Ralph's dreams at all.
2) When I was teaching at university, we had teach a unit on "Pride and Prejudice", a book I thought I didn't have to re-read since I'd read so many times I thought I practically knew it off my heart. But then I couldn't understand the essay question - something about masks, cross-dressing and pretense - and thus realised I had to read the book again, and I couldn't believe it. There was so much stuff in the university version that wasn't in any copy I'd come across before: like Lieutenant Denny being both gay and a secret transvestite (I did wonder why none of the Bennet girls considered him husband material) who comes out of the closet at Lydia's behest and then Lydia adopts the male role and starts wearing men's clothes to compliment Denny's female clothes, scandalising everyone in town, and by the time Elizabeth returns from her holiday, things have gone so far the couple are planning a cross-gender faux marriage. Whoever knew - and I've read and heard many arguments about Jane Austen's character's conventional little worlds - that Jane Austen even knew about these sorts of things, let alone wrote about them.
3) Over the years I had a great many arguments about who Pip marries at the end of "Great Expectations". I KNEW he married that unnamed girl he met in India but all these very silly people kept insisting he married Estelle. I had read my childhood copy so many times, I knew that I knew what really happened but then, only a few years ago, after yet another argument, I reread the book just to reassure myself I was indeed right and everyone else was all wrong but to my horror I discovered that he did indeed marry Estelle. This remained a mystery for several years until I discovered that George Bernard Shaw was so outraged that Charles Dickens was forced to change the ending of "Great Expectations" - so that Pip marries Estelle - that he himself published the original Dickens version wherein Pip marries the girl he meets in India. And since he only published 1000 copies of this version, they are now worth a veritable fortune ... and, dammit, I have no idea what became of my childhood copy of this treasure.
4) There was a passage in Ernest Hemingway's "Snows of Kilimanjaro" about the jackals' footprints around a waterhole that I once used as my central thesis in a university essay. I was at that time into looking up imagery in my "Biblical Concordance" and it was there I discovered that the image of a jackal's footprints around a waterhole was in a reference to the punishment god metes out on those men who "put away a good wife in order to marry a rich woman", which is precisely what this mysterious novel is about: exactly tracing all the punishments each in turn. It was a clear as clear. However, when I submitted the essay, Nicholas said I had to rewrite it because there was absolutely no passage about jackal's footprints in the version I was MEANT to have read, which meant I was then as confused as to what the book was about as the rest of the world is.
So those are four examples of the great many I could tell you about how different versions of novels can really really screw you up.
1) Back when I was teaching high school, I had to put together a unit on "Lord of the Flies" and used my own copy of the book to get together very interesting work tracing progressively through Ralph's dreams. Needless to say, the kids had no idea what it was about because the version they were given to read didn't have any reference to Ralph's dreams at all.
2) When I was teaching at university, we had teach a unit on "Pride and Prejudice", a book I thought I didn't have to re-read since I'd read so many times I thought I practically knew it off my heart. But then I couldn't understand the essay question - something about masks, cross-dressing and pretense - and thus realised I had to read the book again, and I couldn't believe it. There was so much stuff in the university version that wasn't in any copy I'd come across before: like Lieutenant Denny being both gay and a secret transvestite (I did wonder why none of the Bennet girls considered him husband material) who comes out of the closet at Lydia's behest and then Lydia adopts the male role and starts wearing men's clothes to compliment Denny's female clothes, scandalising everyone in town, and by the time Elizabeth returns from her holiday, things have gone so far the couple are planning a cross-gender faux marriage. Whoever knew - and I've read and heard many arguments about Jane Austen's character's conventional little worlds - that Jane Austen even knew about these sorts of things, let alone wrote about them.
3) Over the years I had a great many arguments about who Pip marries at the end of "Great Expectations". I KNEW he married that unnamed girl he met in India but all these very silly people kept insisting he married Estelle. I had read my childhood copy so many times, I knew that I knew what really happened but then, only a few years ago, after yet another argument, I reread the book just to reassure myself I was indeed right and everyone else was all wrong but to my horror I discovered that he did indeed marry Estelle. This remained a mystery for several years until I discovered that George Bernard Shaw was so outraged that Charles Dickens was forced to change the ending of "Great Expectations" - so that Pip marries Estelle - that he himself published the original Dickens version wherein Pip marries the girl he meets in India. And since he only published 1000 copies of this version, they are now worth a veritable fortune ... and, dammit, I have no idea what became of my childhood copy of this treasure.
4) There was a passage in Ernest Hemingway's "Snows of Kilimanjaro" about the jackals' footprints around a waterhole that I once used as my central thesis in a university essay. I was at that time into looking up imagery in my "Biblical Concordance" and it was there I discovered that the image of a jackal's footprints around a waterhole was in a reference to the punishment god metes out on those men who "put away a good wife in order to marry a rich woman", which is precisely what this mysterious novel is about: exactly tracing all the punishments each in turn. It was a clear as clear. However, when I submitted the essay, Nicholas said I had to rewrite it because there was absolutely no passage about jackal's footprints in the version I was MEANT to have read, which meant I was then as confused as to what the book was about as the rest of the world is.
So those are four examples of the great many I could tell you about how different versions of novels can really really screw you up.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Figi Cannibals.
Lots of photos of Fijians bought by P.T. Barnum to display as freaks in his sideshow exhibits at his American circus have come to light. It's all news to us and causing a bit of outrage but I really don't want to go there.
Instead let me show you one of the photos that I find interesting on so many levels:
First off, "Ra Bian, the Dwarf". If you look closely, he isn't a dwarf; he's a perfectly formed man only with midget proportions. He makes me intensely curious because there's always been legends of a tribe of non-Fijian pygmies up in Vanua Levu, there before Fijians first arrived but so deadly Fijians quickly learned to be frightened of them and leave them alone.
When they first discovered Homo Flores in Indonesia, I started thinking about Fiji's pygmy legends because it's all very "Mmmmmm!" isn't it. However, they were so amazed at these little people reaching as far as Indonesia, I think it'll blow the tops of their heads off to consider they ever ended up as far away from Indonesia as Fiji. (Btw, did you know there are also pygmy tribes in North Queensland who were already there when the Murri Aboriginals arrived, purportedly between 40,000 and 60,000 years ago.)
So this image above of Ra Bian opens up so much speculation. Where did the Blackbirders who originally kidnapped him find him? Is he one of the mythical Veli Lekas of Natewa Bay? But much more importantly, what did P.T. Barnum do with his remains? It would be so interesting to examine them, wouldn't it?
And the second thing I find interesting about this photo is that they've all got names. Back in those days, photos of natives were usually just labeled "Natives of Wherever". When the Queen visited Fiji in 1953, she bought gifts of drawings and photos of "Natives of Fiji" that she'd had hunted up in all the museums, universities and ethography centres in England and Europe. These were given as gifts to the descendents of those "Natives" (a smart move considering those 19th century explorers and ethnographers usually took photos or sketches of only the highest ranking chiefs because their clothes were more strange and magnificent.) However the Queen's historians had a worst task beforehand identifying who the photos and drawings were of because ALL the records just said "Native of Fiji." No names anywhere in the records. But they did it - usually by working out where the sketches and/or photos were taken and who would be the most logical person to be in that shot - so great kudos to them.
But here, in this poster advertising P.T. Barnum's Circus, these "Natives of Fiji" all have names, almost unheard of back in those days.
So, OK, yeah, Fiji's damned annoyed that some of our own were kidnapped, sold off and put into a freak-show in America and I understand where that annoyance is coming from, but I think we should also acknowledge a certain level of enlightenment at work here. Sure, they may be freaks ... but they were freaks who were seen as individuals, so kudos of a kind to P.T. Barnum.
Instead let me show you one of the photos that I find interesting on so many levels:
Barnum's advertising poster.
First off, "Ra Bian, the Dwarf". If you look closely, he isn't a dwarf; he's a perfectly formed man only with midget proportions. He makes me intensely curious because there's always been legends of a tribe of non-Fijian pygmies up in Vanua Levu, there before Fijians first arrived but so deadly Fijians quickly learned to be frightened of them and leave them alone.
When they first discovered Homo Flores in Indonesia, I started thinking about Fiji's pygmy legends because it's all very "Mmmmmm!" isn't it. However, they were so amazed at these little people reaching as far as Indonesia, I think it'll blow the tops of their heads off to consider they ever ended up as far away from Indonesia as Fiji. (Btw, did you know there are also pygmy tribes in North Queensland who were already there when the Murri Aboriginals arrived, purportedly between 40,000 and 60,000 years ago.)
So this image above of Ra Bian opens up so much speculation. Where did the Blackbirders who originally kidnapped him find him? Is he one of the mythical Veli Lekas of Natewa Bay? But much more importantly, what did P.T. Barnum do with his remains? It would be so interesting to examine them, wouldn't it?
And the second thing I find interesting about this photo is that they've all got names. Back in those days, photos of natives were usually just labeled "Natives of Wherever". When the Queen visited Fiji in 1953, she bought gifts of drawings and photos of "Natives of Fiji" that she'd had hunted up in all the museums, universities and ethography centres in England and Europe. These were given as gifts to the descendents of those "Natives" (a smart move considering those 19th century explorers and ethnographers usually took photos or sketches of only the highest ranking chiefs because their clothes were more strange and magnificent.) However the Queen's historians had a worst task beforehand identifying who the photos and drawings were of because ALL the records just said "Native of Fiji." No names anywhere in the records. But they did it - usually by working out where the sketches and/or photos were taken and who would be the most logical person to be in that shot - so great kudos to them.
But here, in this poster advertising P.T. Barnum's Circus, these "Natives of Fiji" all have names, almost unheard of back in those days.
So, OK, yeah, Fiji's damned annoyed that some of our own were kidnapped, sold off and put into a freak-show in America and I understand where that annoyance is coming from, but I think we should also acknowledge a certain level of enlightenment at work here. Sure, they may be freaks ... but they were freaks who were seen as individuals, so kudos of a kind to P.T. Barnum.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Kiwi Oscar.
I've only just found out and I must say I am thrilled that New Zealand won the "Best Song" Oscar in 2012.
BUT just listen to the song that won:
When I first heard it my immediate reaction was "Oh Lordy, they MUST be joking. It sounds like something that Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" would write."
And guess what? When I said this to Keith two days ago, he gave me a strange look and said "Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" did write it!"
Immediately the song was forgiven and I was doing "Go New Zealand" air punches and happy dances.
But sanity has returned and again I'm thinking "Oh Lordy, what is WRONG with the judges?"
It's a bad song. In fact, it's a Bret-Song and they are all, by definition, truly dreadful. I totally adore Bret and Jermaine but in the name of calling a spade a spade Bret-Songs are always undeniably and completely CRAP!
Do you know HBO's "Flight of the Conchords"? It's a comedy series of outstanding excellence about two Kiwi singer-songwriters, Bret and Jermaine, trying to break into the music scene in America. It shows here in Hong Kong and Keith and I never miss it and not just because Keith is a loyal and patriotic Kiwi but mostly because it's so very funny:
But the central joke is that Bret is an atrocious songwriter and the music they make together as "Flight of the Conchords" can only be described as unbelievably and irretrievably BAD. Let me find one for you:
Absolutely and undeniably BAD, right? In fact, it's so very bad you simply can't stop laughing.
Another one?
Three years ago, when I sent these links to Lady R. she wrote back saying "I really don't like this sort of crap. Please don't send me any more."
And now "this sort of crap" has won a Best Song Oscar. Naturally I'm thrilled for Bret and for New Zealand but ...
... Bret-Songs really must be the WORST songs ever written.
I think once again America has shown that it really doesn't understand irony.
So nice when that pays off.
BUT just listen to the song that won:
When I first heard it my immediate reaction was "Oh Lordy, they MUST be joking. It sounds like something that Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" would write."
And guess what? When I said this to Keith two days ago, he gave me a strange look and said "Bret from "Flight of the Conchords" did write it!"
Immediately the song was forgiven and I was doing "Go New Zealand" air punches and happy dances.
But sanity has returned and again I'm thinking "Oh Lordy, what is WRONG with the judges?"
It's a bad song. In fact, it's a Bret-Song and they are all, by definition, truly dreadful. I totally adore Bret and Jermaine but in the name of calling a spade a spade Bret-Songs are always undeniably and completely CRAP!
Do you know HBO's "Flight of the Conchords"? It's a comedy series of outstanding excellence about two Kiwi singer-songwriters, Bret and Jermaine, trying to break into the music scene in America. It shows here in Hong Kong and Keith and I never miss it and not just because Keith is a loyal and patriotic Kiwi but mostly because it's so very funny:
But the central joke is that Bret is an atrocious songwriter and the music they make together as "Flight of the Conchords" can only be described as unbelievably and irretrievably BAD. Let me find one for you:
Absolutely and undeniably BAD, right? In fact, it's so very bad you simply can't stop laughing.
Another one?
Three years ago, when I sent these links to Lady R. she wrote back saying "I really don't like this sort of crap. Please don't send me any more."
And now "this sort of crap" has won a Best Song Oscar. Naturally I'm thrilled for Bret and for New Zealand but ...
... Bret-Songs really must be the WORST songs ever written.
I think once again America has shown that it really doesn't understand irony.
So nice when that pays off.
Monday, March 5, 2012
The Shanghai Tang Competition
Shanghai Tang ...
... is having a competition with prizes for those folks who correctly guess where their new flagship store is to be.
I MUST take part. I don't know the answer but I'm about to make finding out my mission. Yes, I know it's all a publicity exercise but I simply cannot resist anything Shanghai Tang ... and to win anything beautiful and free is definitely my idea of bliss.
If you don't already know, Shanghai Tang's flagship in Pedder Building on Pedder Street is no more. What happened was that in the middle of 2011 the American company Abercrombie and Fitch offered the landlord 2 1/2 times the rent and the totally disloyal lessor jumped at it, throwing out the most beautiful shop you've ever seen. Ah, you should have seen the vicious HK blogs on the subject.
It made me very cross at the time because, well, David Tang - the lovely fellow who started Shanghai Tang - is a local Hong Konger who possibly created the current distinctive and beautiful HK aesthetic whereas the other company is American and sells an aesthetic that is entirely NOT Hong Kong. I shudder to think what HK kids will start to look like once A&F opens its doors. Downtown Harlem?
And it was also wrong because David Tang was the fellow who saved the beautiful Pedder Building from the wrecking ball. And now it's this wonderful distinctive old building in among the glass-plate high-rise and so DESIRABLE some random Yank comes along and usurps it from him.
It's all so sad. Oh lordy, you should have seen the interior of Shanghai Tang: all Shanghai 1930s opium den decor with wonderful mosaics and coloured glass and carved dark wood. It was all so to-die-for, I do hope they recycled.
Anyway, Shanghai Tang - making a sino-fashion-statement out of the ousting - is currently to be found trading out of yurts on the roof of a ferry pier in Central:
... but now they want folks to guess where they'll be moving to next. With prizes for folks who guess correctly.
Since I cannot resist taking part I've been trawling through cyberspace looking for hints and I think I've found enough to know where to start looking: it'll be somewhere in Central and I think I've got to keep my eye out for an old four-storey granite building that is currently under scaffolding.
And if I manage to locate it, I will most definitely be taking photos. However, I may not be showing them to you. Hey, it's Shanghai Tang. I'm after the prize for myself.
the most beautiful store on the planet
- only Harvey Nichols comes close-
... is having a competition with prizes for those folks who correctly guess where their new flagship store is to be.
I MUST take part. I don't know the answer but I'm about to make finding out my mission. Yes, I know it's all a publicity exercise but I simply cannot resist anything Shanghai Tang ... and to win anything beautiful and free is definitely my idea of bliss.
If you don't already know, Shanghai Tang's flagship in Pedder Building on Pedder Street is no more. What happened was that in the middle of 2011 the American company Abercrombie and Fitch offered the landlord 2 1/2 times the rent and the totally disloyal lessor jumped at it, throwing out the most beautiful shop you've ever seen. Ah, you should have seen the vicious HK blogs on the subject.
It made me very cross at the time because, well, David Tang - the lovely fellow who started Shanghai Tang - is a local Hong Konger who possibly created the current distinctive and beautiful HK aesthetic whereas the other company is American and sells an aesthetic that is entirely NOT Hong Kong. I shudder to think what HK kids will start to look like once A&F opens its doors. Downtown Harlem?
And it was also wrong because David Tang was the fellow who saved the beautiful Pedder Building from the wrecking ball. And now it's this wonderful distinctive old building in among the glass-plate high-rise and so DESIRABLE some random Yank comes along and usurps it from him.
And the usurpers aren't even using
HK's traditional bamboo scaffolding
during the renovation.
Talk about Neo-Colonialism in action!
It's all so sad. Oh lordy, you should have seen the interior of Shanghai Tang: all Shanghai 1930s opium den decor with wonderful mosaics and coloured glass and carved dark wood. It was all so to-die-for, I do hope they recycled.
Anyway, Shanghai Tang - making a sino-fashion-statement out of the ousting - is currently to be found trading out of yurts on the roof of a ferry pier in Central:
Shanghai Tang Mongolian Village
Rooftop,
Rooftop,
Lamma Island Ferry,
Pier 4 (walking distance from IFC Mall.)
Central, Hong Kong
Central, Hong Kong
... but now they want folks to guess where they'll be moving to next. With prizes for folks who guess correctly.
Since I cannot resist taking part I've been trawling through cyberspace looking for hints and I think I've found enough to know where to start looking: it'll be somewhere in Central and I think I've got to keep my eye out for an old four-storey granite building that is currently under scaffolding.
And if I manage to locate it, I will most definitely be taking photos. However, I may not be showing them to you. Hey, it's Shanghai Tang. I'm after the prize for myself.
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