I had another stationary world tour (which is hard not to do in London). A month a go I started an intensive British Sign Language course because I had always wanted to reach out to the most isolated communities of which the Deaf communiy is one. As part of the new language practice my teacher suggested I attend the Deaf Club once a week what made me immediately very nervous since I am a complete beginner. However when I arrived all my worries disappeared. I was warmly welcomed by the receptionist when a man in his early thirties signed to me if I am a beginner. I signed yes and that I am hearing. He signed: "No worries, me beginner too, deaf." Me: "LOL! Beginner and also deaf, how?" He: BSL beginner. Deaf, yes but from Syria." Me: Oh OK sorry.
Of course I realized how silly I was thinking only hearing people can be beginners. We were joined by four deaf students and two teachers one hearing and one deaf. Itwas the most confused, colorful, joyful team ever. An Indo-Portuguese thirty-something woman, a late twenties lady from Australia, a gentleman from the USA, a Japanese and a Syrian. It's almost incredible how varied non-verbal languages can be. Someone asked me how come Sign Languages aren't the same. I asked them back how com we don't all speak the same language? The answer is logical. Different societis perceive different notions in different ways and will therefore describe them the way they see them as do verbal people with words. Of course we all had a few bloopers each but on a positive note the man from the USA says BSL is much more logical and expressive than its American counterpart. All in all I loved the place and can't wait to go back again!
Thursday, 24 February 2011
Thursday, 20 January 2011
Generation M
A teacher of mine once referred to my generation (I was born in 1988) and younger as the Generation M. When asked what he meant by that he said M is short for millennium, as in the New Millennium. Two recent birthday parties that I attended made me not only remember but also think about that particular neologism. Generation M need not necessarily be Generation Millennium. How about Generation Modernity, Menace, Movement (due to globalization) but the most fitting alternative, in my opinion, would be Generation Mix. At the two house parties that I attended within a space of a month I managed to meet:an English-Iraqi, a German-Indonesian, a Uruguayan-Swede and a Scottish-Ghanaian. Even in my mother's reception class 4/12 of the children are intercontinental with English fathers and Turkish, Egyptian, Syrian and Zambian mothers respectively. Apart from leaving me feeling bland, bleached and boring in this ultra colorful city it also made me wonder whether this trend would have a positive or a negative impact on world metropolas as a whole. The first thought was that it cannot be anything other than positive. With 90% of the future generation coming from four continents who's going to fight who? In case most are taught both of their parents' language plus the one of their home country everyone will understand everyone and there would be no need for translators (wait, that's bad because I'd be put of business and might need to get a real degree [mock shudder]). At first glance the only negative effect would be on artificial tan and hiar product companies with all the losses that's they would make. However, jokes aside, there may be negative outcomes., the first one being, the rise of extreme parties due to a feeling of threat in the older, more mono ethnic generation coupled with the ever deepening economic crisis and large-scale migration.
Having read this week's edition of the London Student my suspicions are becoming more founded in fact after having read that five USA states have banned Hispanic Studies (my degree grrr)from their universities because it is a national securicty threat [rolleyes]due to the existance of some extreme factions of the Mexican population working on joining Alamo and other parts of the USA to Mexico. Having attended a few courses with a sizable elderly population I have heard the "we are disappearing, no point being English any more" discourse many times. Not wanting to enter in a philosophical discourse of what they actually mean by English (since technically it would be a MIX of Roman, Viking, Celt and Anglo-Saxon) I found myself nodding weakly and thinking "silly oldies". What I didn't do however is trying to put myseld in their shoes. I treid really hard to imagine being a 65 year old lady whose all three sons managed to marry Japanese ladies (I know a person in this situation). My age group wouldn't even bat an eyelid but to the old lady it most probably means dinner table clash and unrecognizable grand-children.
The second issue may be the children of those rainbow unions feeling like a suspended bridge belonging neither here nor there. However, this will be a rare case since most of those children come from stable partnerships where they identify as both rather than neither. But what about quite a few pleasure babies (my PC neologism for a one night stand/donor offspring) that I also know. It must be devastatingly hard being a mono-ethnic pleasure baby let alone otherwise. Around half a dozen that I do know, admitted having identity issues throughout their entire childhood and adolescence and always ending up identifying with the absent father's side (human psychology=fascinating). One my two patrilinealy Spanish friends admitted that' she'd only teach her children Spanish even thought her grammar is "rubbish"(her words) and her Danish perfect and the other one seems to always try and somehow "get" flamenco but never quite manages to do so.
On the final note, one wonders if this whole mix and match trend is actually just fashion. You know, trying something new. Maybe the next measure of old fashioness will be having a partner from the same continent lol.
Disclaimer: This was meant to be a curious, humorous blog. Hopefully nobody was offended :-)
Having read this week's edition of the London Student my suspicions are becoming more founded in fact after having read that five USA states have banned Hispanic Studies (my degree grrr)from their universities because it is a national securicty threat [rolleyes]due to the existance of some extreme factions of the Mexican population working on joining Alamo and other parts of the USA to Mexico. Having attended a few courses with a sizable elderly population I have heard the "we are disappearing, no point being English any more" discourse many times. Not wanting to enter in a philosophical discourse of what they actually mean by English (since technically it would be a MIX of Roman, Viking, Celt and Anglo-Saxon) I found myself nodding weakly and thinking "silly oldies". What I didn't do however is trying to put myseld in their shoes. I treid really hard to imagine being a 65 year old lady whose all three sons managed to marry Japanese ladies (I know a person in this situation). My age group wouldn't even bat an eyelid but to the old lady it most probably means dinner table clash and unrecognizable grand-children.
The second issue may be the children of those rainbow unions feeling like a suspended bridge belonging neither here nor there. However, this will be a rare case since most of those children come from stable partnerships where they identify as both rather than neither. But what about quite a few pleasure babies (my PC neologism for a one night stand/donor offspring) that I also know. It must be devastatingly hard being a mono-ethnic pleasure baby let alone otherwise. Around half a dozen that I do know, admitted having identity issues throughout their entire childhood and adolescence and always ending up identifying with the absent father's side (human psychology=fascinating). One my two patrilinealy Spanish friends admitted that' she'd only teach her children Spanish even thought her grammar is "rubbish"(her words) and her Danish perfect and the other one seems to always try and somehow "get" flamenco but never quite manages to do so.
On the final note, one wonders if this whole mix and match trend is actually just fashion. You know, trying something new. Maybe the next measure of old fashioness will be having a partner from the same continent lol.
Disclaimer: This was meant to be a curious, humorous blog. Hopefully nobody was offended :-)
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Another Year Abroad
Hello, everyone! I've got some really good news. I am on my year abroad again apart from the fact that I am actually not. Well, that's to say I am not physically in in another country but I feel exactly as if I were. With the festive season nearing so rapidly and London becoming whiter by day due to the snow I am honestly having a really hard time believing I haven't crossed any borders.
The winter wonderland is everywhere (especially around my university). There is a cafe serving thick, mint, hot chocolate and warm apple juice spiced with cloves and cardamom, opposite an open air ice rink decorated with hollies and mistletoe. Being an almost part-time student I make sure I make the most of this bliss and as much as I abhor the cold I must say: "I adore winter!"
The winter wonderland is everywhere (especially around my university). There is a cafe serving thick, mint, hot chocolate and warm apple juice spiced with cloves and cardamom, opposite an open air ice rink decorated with hollies and mistletoe. Being an almost part-time student I make sure I make the most of this bliss and as much as I abhor the cold I must say: "I adore winter!"
Monday, 18 October 2010
Premonitions
I always thought the notion of a premonition is something abstract that only animals can feel. I heard many countryside stories of horses running away, scattering to all four sides of the compass before an earthquake would happen. However, I never had a thought that people area able to have similar feelings and according to me all psychics were fakes. Until 06/07/2005 the night before the London tube bombings.
I was in Croatia at the time enjoying holidays with family and friends. It was 1 a.m. and an eerie feeling of coldness woke me up. I felt as if there was a mini-tornado whirling around me, making every tiny hair on my body stand up and giving me goosebumps. It was a sort of individual light tornado affecting only myself. A few seconds after I felt a strong pressure on my chest, not a suffocating feeling but rather the one of a heavy object laying on your chest and pressing you down. No cold sweat. Just a sinister silence. And then a flash thought appearing in my head. The thought: "Something serious will hit Central London tomorrow morning. Whatever it will be, quite a few people will die". Shivers. Second thought:"Gotta call my parents." I got up, sat down in a pitch black living room with the wireless in my hands turning it on and off. My first, llgical thought was not to call in order not to scare my parents into thinking they have a raving mad daughter. I thought they'd laugh it off and never believe me. But my second, in some way even more logical thought was: "I'm so sure. The feelings is too real not to be true. Albeit they hate the tube with a passion adn never go to Zone 1 during a workday, what if by chance they go tomorrow? It may make a difference whether they'd be alive.
I spent a good half an hour sitting there, switicing the wireless on and off, when I finally cincluded that I won't call not be thought of as mad and hyperblic nad that nothing will happen to them. I went back to bed but I coulnd't sleep that night. I kept tosssing and turning till aorund 6 a.m. when I fianlly fell asleep. Waking up at eight , I quiclky switched on HRT 1 (equivalent of BBC 1) and saw huge, red, bold letters staring at me:" Breaking News: London Underground exploded at 8:25 am today. Fifty dead. dozens injured." My heart skipped, not a bet but two, so I grabbed the phone and called home, nothing. My parents mobiles, nothing. A minite later mum was calling saying both her and dad are OK and that they aren't even near Zone 1. Ii felt a huge load off my chest and felt the luckiest teenager ever.
The same feeling paid a little visit in 2007 when I was on the Clapham train from Richmond. We stooped at Putney for longer than usual. I felt uneasy and when the mini-torndao came I was sure there was murder on the train. I jumped up pretending to be sick so the conductor would open the door. I took the bus home and the feeling didn't cease completely unitl I got into the flat. Six o'clcol news: Gang fight on sos and so train (my one) in coach 4 (I was in coach 5). One deceased.
When mum entered the house she told me that I look pale as if I had seen a ghost. Naturally, I said she was exagarating and that I am pale from the cold.
Someone told me the only people who have premontions of this sort are the ones who had near death or out of body experinces. I was confused. It amde sense but I had nevr had a near-daeth expereince or so, I THOUGHT.
I later found out that being a three monts premature baby, I had died for two minutes before the doctor managed to reanimate me and throw me into the incubator box. I was being born and dying at the same time.
Strange. But then, what else but strange things could be expected from someone whose alias is SIN BARRERAS? LOL
I was in Croatia at the time enjoying holidays with family and friends. It was 1 a.m. and an eerie feeling of coldness woke me up. I felt as if there was a mini-tornado whirling around me, making every tiny hair on my body stand up and giving me goosebumps. It was a sort of individual light tornado affecting only myself. A few seconds after I felt a strong pressure on my chest, not a suffocating feeling but rather the one of a heavy object laying on your chest and pressing you down. No cold sweat. Just a sinister silence. And then a flash thought appearing in my head. The thought: "Something serious will hit Central London tomorrow morning. Whatever it will be, quite a few people will die". Shivers. Second thought:"Gotta call my parents." I got up, sat down in a pitch black living room with the wireless in my hands turning it on and off. My first, llgical thought was not to call in order not to scare my parents into thinking they have a raving mad daughter. I thought they'd laugh it off and never believe me. But my second, in some way even more logical thought was: "I'm so sure. The feelings is too real not to be true. Albeit they hate the tube with a passion adn never go to Zone 1 during a workday, what if by chance they go tomorrow? It may make a difference whether they'd be alive.
I spent a good half an hour sitting there, switicing the wireless on and off, when I finally cincluded that I won't call not be thought of as mad and hyperblic nad that nothing will happen to them. I went back to bed but I coulnd't sleep that night. I kept tosssing and turning till aorund 6 a.m. when I fianlly fell asleep. Waking up at eight , I quiclky switched on HRT 1 (equivalent of BBC 1) and saw huge, red, bold letters staring at me:" Breaking News: London Underground exploded at 8:25 am today. Fifty dead. dozens injured." My heart skipped, not a bet but two, so I grabbed the phone and called home, nothing. My parents mobiles, nothing. A minite later mum was calling saying both her and dad are OK and that they aren't even near Zone 1. Ii felt a huge load off my chest and felt the luckiest teenager ever.
The same feeling paid a little visit in 2007 when I was on the Clapham train from Richmond. We stooped at Putney for longer than usual. I felt uneasy and when the mini-torndao came I was sure there was murder on the train. I jumped up pretending to be sick so the conductor would open the door. I took the bus home and the feeling didn't cease completely unitl I got into the flat. Six o'clcol news: Gang fight on sos and so train (my one) in coach 4 (I was in coach 5). One deceased.
When mum entered the house she told me that I look pale as if I had seen a ghost. Naturally, I said she was exagarating and that I am pale from the cold.
Someone told me the only people who have premontions of this sort are the ones who had near death or out of body experinces. I was confused. It amde sense but I had nevr had a near-daeth expereince or so, I THOUGHT.
I later found out that being a three monts premature baby, I had died for two minutes before the doctor managed to reanimate me and throw me into the incubator box. I was being born and dying at the same time.
Strange. But then, what else but strange things could be expected from someone whose alias is SIN BARRERAS? LOL
Monday, 13 September 2010
Imaginary Car and the Shady Dealer
Warning: Some of you may have a difficult time believing this post but trust me it's ALL pure fact as nightmare-like as it may seem.
As I am about to take my practical driving test in about two months time, my family, instructor and I thought it may be a good idea to buy a manual car in order to get as much road practice as possible in between the driving lessons.
I spend half my free time on Autotrader these days in pursuit of a prefect car. My idea of the perfect car: Nissan Micra, side airbags, air conditioning. I am not fussy about color or gadgets but I am fussy about safety and I really want a Nissan because of it's kawai shape and huge headlights that look like kitten eyes staring back at you (yes, I am cheesy unless it went unrealized).
I saw what then seemed like the perfect car. Nissan Micra, full service history, MOT, etc all in best order. After calling the dealer I found out that the car is in Swindon but I considered it a worthwhile journey.
I arrived at the place and saw no Nissan in the parking lot. After ringing the doorbell an elderly Indian woman clad in traditional attire opened the door and told me her son (the seller) is still sleeping although I came at 12 noon as he told me to. Ten minutes afterward, a tall, skinny man of about 30 came stumbling down the stairs like a drunken bear, silently cursing the buyer and asking me who I am and what I was doing there. When I politely answered him and asked him if I can see the car he looked at me as if I just killed his cat and told me: "What car?" Me:"you know, Nissan Micra, royal blue that I spoke to you about yesterday." Him:" Oh, sorry mate, I sold that yesterday at nine." Me:"And you didn't have the courtesy to call and tell me so I wouldn't have to come all the way from London for nothing?" Him: "Oh,sorry, you know I have many buyers I can't keep track of it all, etc" Me: (thinking): Well, it's about time you learn to if you want to keep you most probably illegal job."
To top off the event he ended up offering me another Nissan, in a very sorry state to make up for selling the one that I actually wanted.
Honestly, the cheek some people have is unbelievable!
As I am about to take my practical driving test in about two months time, my family, instructor and I thought it may be a good idea to buy a manual car in order to get as much road practice as possible in between the driving lessons.
I spend half my free time on Autotrader these days in pursuit of a prefect car. My idea of the perfect car: Nissan Micra, side airbags, air conditioning. I am not fussy about color or gadgets but I am fussy about safety and I really want a Nissan because of it's kawai shape and huge headlights that look like kitten eyes staring back at you (yes, I am cheesy unless it went unrealized).
I saw what then seemed like the perfect car. Nissan Micra, full service history, MOT, etc all in best order. After calling the dealer I found out that the car is in Swindon but I considered it a worthwhile journey.
I arrived at the place and saw no Nissan in the parking lot. After ringing the doorbell an elderly Indian woman clad in traditional attire opened the door and told me her son (the seller) is still sleeping although I came at 12 noon as he told me to. Ten minutes afterward, a tall, skinny man of about 30 came stumbling down the stairs like a drunken bear, silently cursing the buyer and asking me who I am and what I was doing there. When I politely answered him and asked him if I can see the car he looked at me as if I just killed his cat and told me: "What car?" Me:"you know, Nissan Micra, royal blue that I spoke to you about yesterday." Him:" Oh, sorry mate, I sold that yesterday at nine." Me:"And you didn't have the courtesy to call and tell me so I wouldn't have to come all the way from London for nothing?" Him: "Oh,sorry, you know I have many buyers I can't keep track of it all, etc" Me: (thinking): Well, it's about time you learn to if you want to keep you most probably illegal job."
To top off the event he ended up offering me another Nissan, in a very sorry state to make up for selling the one that I actually wanted.
Honestly, the cheek some people have is unbelievable!
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Poseidon
The Fjor of Lim
On Mondaywe went on a boat trip to the Fjord of Lim located in the Istrian Peninsula. The boat was a tiny, picturesque, almost cartoon like with an effigy of the Viking dragon at the front. It could hold about 15-20 people. The sail started in the city of Rovinj and the boat moved northward. It was super windy and the boat was swinging right left and forwards just like a fairground boat.
This is where the irony kicks in. I NEVER go on fariground boats because I get ultra sick and sometimes start vomiting afterwards. However, somehow, I thought a real boat would be different since a few years ago in Venice there was no negative experiences most probably due to the siye of the boat.
This time it was different. As soon as we got moving the boat atrted bouncing up and down like a Tin-Tin cartoon and my stomach started following in its footsteps. First I felt a kind of rotation in my stomach then the sensation of standing yet moving, later a great dizziness where everything was blurry and a feeling of going to vomit but being unable to. It was a sensation beyond words that I don't wish upon anyone.
Good thing a co-passanger advised me to ist int he middle, lean back, ligt my feet up stomach level, look out and breathe deeply becaause otherwise I would have been sick.
The Fjord is not exactly a rugged, roccky, dramatic Fjord one find in Norway with a thin strip od greyish water running through but rahter a wide expansion fo seawater in between two soft, lush , green hills where there is still a possibility of waves.
I totally enjoyed the trip bugtwouldnot even dream of going on a boat ride longer than an hour ever again. Rottterdam will have to wait till I can pay to go by plane since a boat just simply won't do.
On Mondaywe went on a boat trip to the Fjord of Lim located in the Istrian Peninsula. The boat was a tiny, picturesque, almost cartoon like with an effigy of the Viking dragon at the front. It could hold about 15-20 people. The sail started in the city of Rovinj and the boat moved northward. It was super windy and the boat was swinging right left and forwards just like a fairground boat.
This is where the irony kicks in. I NEVER go on fariground boats because I get ultra sick and sometimes start vomiting afterwards. However, somehow, I thought a real boat would be different since a few years ago in Venice there was no negative experiences most probably due to the siye of the boat.
This time it was different. As soon as we got moving the boat atrted bouncing up and down like a Tin-Tin cartoon and my stomach started following in its footsteps. First I felt a kind of rotation in my stomach then the sensation of standing yet moving, later a great dizziness where everything was blurry and a feeling of going to vomit but being unable to. It was a sensation beyond words that I don't wish upon anyone.
Good thing a co-passanger advised me to ist int he middle, lean back, ligt my feet up stomach level, look out and breathe deeply becaause otherwise I would have been sick.
The Fjord is not exactly a rugged, roccky, dramatic Fjord one find in Norway with a thin strip od greyish water running through but rahter a wide expansion fo seawater in between two soft, lush , green hills where there is still a possibility of waves.
I totally enjoyed the trip bugtwouldnot even dream of going on a boat ride longer than an hour ever again. Rottterdam will have to wait till I can pay to go by plane since a boat just simply won't do.
Seaside Adventures
I am back from the seaside. I can't complain too much about the weather since it did not rain and it looks like our collective plea worked :-). It was quite windy and the sea wasn't exactly "let's play ball in the water" as far as temperature is concerned and I did need a few layers of dresses on the "beach" but other than that it was great.
As it's nearlyy always the case with me there were things worth wrtiting about that happened at the seaside although luckily, nothing of the falling over or getting lost type which I am usually famous for.
As it's nearlyy always the case with me there were things worth wrtiting about that happened at the seaside although luckily, nothing of the falling over or getting lost type which I am usually famous for.
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