AUTUMN TART

“Youth is like spring, an over-praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.” - Samuel Butler

Autumn has come bringing with it delectable fruits and vegetables. The new season apples are delicious at the moment as are juicy blackberries, bright pumpkins and persimmons, sweet plums and pears. I had an apple for lunch today and it was juicy, crisp and rich with a fruity aromatic smell. The inclination then came to me to have home made Tarte Tatin at the weekend. We have a good recipe and it will be just the thing for weekend breakfast!

Tarte Tatin
Ingredients – for the filling
    10 crisp eating apples
    Juice of 1 lemon
    150 g vanilla sugar
    1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
    1/8 tsp ground cloves
    80g unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
For the short-crust pastry
    180 g plain flour flour
    a pinch of salt
    90g unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
    2 and 1/2 tbsp ice-cold water
Fresh cream to serve with

Method
1. First make the pastry: Sift the flour and salt into a bowl. Add pieces of the butter over the flour. Rub the butter in, until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs, then add the water, a little at a time, mixing thoroughly. If the dough is still crumbly after adding all the water, add a little more water. The moment the dough coheres into a single ball, stop the mixing. Wrap in cling film and put in the refrigerator while you prepare the apples.

2. Preheat the oven to 180°C

3. Peel the apples. Cut one in half, then cut one of the halves into two. Cut the other apples into quarters and remove all the cores. Put in a bowl and toss with the lemon juice to prevent browning.

4. Sprinkle the sugar into a large oven-proof round pan in a thin layer. Heat gently over low heat, watching it all the time, as some of it will brown before others. The sugar should melt to a dark brown liquid all over without burning. Remove from the heat and immediately scatter about one-third of the butter over the sugar. It will bubble instantly.

5. Place the half apple, cut side up, in the middle of the pan. Arrange a tightly packed wheel of quarters around it. Dot with the remaining butter. Sprinkle with the spices. Place over a gentle heat to start it cooking. Remove from the heat.

6. Roll out the pastry to a circle just bigger than the pan. Drape it loosely over a rolling pin and then place over the apples. Tuck the pastry down the sides of the pan to seal in the apples (take care you don’t touch the hot pan!).

7. Bake in the middle of the oven for 25-30 minutes, until the pastry is cooked. Remove from the oven and leave to cool for 10 minutes.

8. Cover the pan with a serving plate and flip the tart over onto it. Rearrange any stray fruit. The fruit should look glossy and caramel brown. Serve with fresh cream on the side.

I am going to Brisbane for the day tomorrow as we have our graduation ceremony there. It will only be a day trip, but I am still a little put out by it.

Enjoy your weekend!

ANOTHER EARTHQUAKE...

“I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.” - Agatha Christie

Another shudder of the earth has caused another tragedy, this time in a remote part of China. This latest fatal earthquake with over 600 people dead and close to 10,000 injured has failed to attract the coverage of the Haiti or Chile earthquakes so far. I heard about it on the radio this morning and then searched the internet for news, but had difficulty in getting something concrete and accurate. Even the exact part of the quake defied my initial attempts to locate it with Google maps. The newspaper this afternoon relegated the news to page 10 with a couple of short paragraphs. More bodies are expected to be recovered with the poverty and remoteness of the region making it difficult for rescue efforts to be carried out.

This latest earthquake brings home what may be a truism: The West has selective awareness and filtered sensitivities to events around the globe. There are some events in some geographies and certain nations that will arouse immediate interest, sympathy and wide media coverage, while others will hardly register or will be given limited media coverage. Our prejudices follow us even in the expression of our altruistic tendencies and our help to fellow humans may be coloured by our carful filtering of the information that reaches our emotional response centres.

The remoteness and poverty of the Qinghai region, located on the northeastern part of the Tibetan Plateau, coupled with the poor weather conditions with biting cold, wind and sleet will make rescue efforts difficult. There is little hope for the people trapped in rubble, who are thought to number about 300-400. People are clawing through the rubble with their bare hands to try and save the trapped. Dozens of children were apparently amongst the dead. Later on tonight the news reports started to come in and supply the terrifying pictures to satisfy the ghouls amongst us. The same images that we saw not too long ago in Chile, in Haiti, in Indonesia…

The terrible part of all of this is that lives have once again been interrupted. Not only the ones prematurely ended, but even the lives of the survivors who have to cope with the terrible loss of loved ones, homes, memories, keepsakes. Imagine that happening to you! The accessibility and yet remoteness of all these terrible things happening around the world can make us immune and blasé about the gut wrenching tragedy that those who experience them first hand feel. Reading the newspapers, seeing the news on TV, accessing the internet provides us with an endless supply of terrible news from every corner of the earth. Overload…

The essence of the tragedy still remains. Some are dead, many are injured, some are trapped and dying. Survivors are going hungry and cold in some remote corner of the earth. We ignore them at our peril. Today it is they in this position, tomorrow our turn may come.

PARTING'S SWEET SORROW

“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.” – William Shakespeare

One of the sorrows of love is parting. As Shakespeare has put it in his famous oxymoron, the “sweet sorrow” of parting is balanced by the future sweet joy of reunion. But time drags when one is separated from one’s beloved and there’s more sorrow than sweetness in the waiting. The keenness of the separation is whetted by the distance and time that prevents the lovers meeting and the longer the separation the keener the sweetness of the reunion.

Here is a poem dedicated to all those who are suffering this exquisite dulcet melancholy, but especially for T…

Parting’s Sweet Sorrow

The moon alarmed has hid behind a cloud,
The wind is whistling and the rain will fall.
And in my room my restless breath heard loud;
My solitude a gnawing pain, a soft grey pall,
A deadening fog, an empty echoing hall.

You write to me as you roam and sail the seas,
The words of love a hollow echo of your voice.
And in my empty room my heartbeats freeze
As your insistent absence will not let me rejoice;
I have to cope, there is no other choice.

The yellow autumn leaves swirl in the blowing wind
The rain now falls in sheets, the street deserted, void.
Sleep will not come to me, my mind to you is pinned,
Thoughts of your face, your touch, your voice I can’t avoid;
I wish that your departure I could rescind.

Time flows unctuously through the sleepless night
The curtain pulled back allows the street light entry.
The rain, the hidden moon, the sickly yellow light:
My only companions, my loneliness the faithful sentry.
When you are absent all my nights are white.

Jacqui BB is hosting Poetry Wednesday

GENDERCIDE

“If women didn’t exist, all the money in the world would have no meaning.” - Aristotle Onassis

What are little girls made of, made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice, and everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of.

What are little boys made of, made of?
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails, and puppy dog tails,
That's what little boys are made of.
                                       Nursery rhyme

I read once again with horror about the major problem of female infanticide and feticide (“gendercide”) that remains rampant in China and India. Female infanticide has been a feature in many cultures through the ages, and has probably been responsible for many millions of female fetus and infant deaths. The problem is most acute in China and India, the most populous countries in the world. These countries have a strict population control policy coupled with a strong culture of male supremacy, and gendercide is continuing to occur with alarming regularity there. In all cases, female infanticide is an indication of the low status accorded to women in many parts of the world.

In January 2010 the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences demonstrated what can happen to China if girl babies are killed. Within ten years, the Academy reported, 1 in 5 young men would be unable to find a bride because of the reduced numbers of young women (this is a figure unprecedented in a country at peace – compare the shortage of marriageable young men after the first world war in Europe!). In China, a specific word “guanggun” (meaning bare branches) describes this shortage of bachelors. The shortage of females seems to have become more acute between 1990 and 2005, amongst other factors, linked to the one-child policy, (introduced in 1979).

Unfortunately, China is not the only country affected by gendercide. Parts of India have sex ratios as skewed as anything in China. In other East Asian countries, like South Korea, Singapore and Taiwan there are also high numbers of male births compared to female. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, former communist countries in the Caucasus and the western Balkans show a strong preponderance of male births. The traditional patriarchal values of these societies seemingly have been revived as soon as the communist regime was overthrown.

Social scientists are predicting all sorts of consequences that will arise in these societies once the shortage of females becomes widespread. Women may become a commodity, especially in terms of their social and reproductive functions. Prostitution is likely to rise, warn the experts, as will rape and homosexuality amongst the males. A trade in stolen children and nubile women may also be an observed effect.

Once again, the inhumanity of humankind astounds me.

The Wagoner’s Lad



Oh hard is the fortune of all womankind
They’re always controlled, they're always confined
Confined by their parents until they are wives
Then slaves to their husbands for the rest of their lives.

Oh I am a poor girl, my fortune is sad
I’ve always been courted by the Wagoner’s Lad
He’s courted me daily, by night and by day
And now he is loaded and going away.

"Your parents don’t like me because I am poor
They say I’m not worthy of entering your door
But I work for a living, my money's my own
And if they don’t like it, they can leave me alone"


"Your horses are hungry, go feed them some hay
Come sit down beside me as long as you stay"
"My horses ain’t hungry, they won’t eat your hay
So fare thee well darling I’ll be on my way".

Oh hard is the fortune of all womankind
They’re always controlled, they’re always confined
Confined by their parents until they are wives
Then slaves to their husbands for the rest of their lives…
                                                                          British folksong

SYRIANA

“The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.” - Dorothy Parker

We watched Stephen Gaghan’s 2005 film “Syriana” at the weekend. The cast featured George Clooney, Matt Damon, William Hurt and Christopher Plummer. The idea was admirable and the plot ever topical and worthy of coverage. However, this was one of the most boring movies we have watched in the last few months. The writer/director is well out of his depth and the result is a film that we “all have to see because it concerns us” but which unfortunately causes great distress not because of the subject matter but because of the pedestrian way in which it has been made. Add to that a director who wants to gain “avant-garde brownie points” – hence perhaps the disjointed nature of the narrative.

I was completely interested in the subject matter, I am aware of the dirty games that are played with oil around the world, I have read about the corrupt politics and have seen documentaries that deal with the issues. I looked forward to the film, especially after having read some of the favourable reviews of the movie. Imagine my disappointment when I spent over two hours trying desperately to become involved in this convoluted and overly didactic film. I was repelled by all the characters and could not sympathise with anyone – not even the supposed good guys! That’s bad in a movie!

The film set out to be a whistle blower of CIA’s involvement in supporting America’s big business interests (surprise?) It was also to show that by meddling in the very complex politics of the region, the CIA continually creates the very problems it is trying to “resolve” and therefore contributes to the continuing lack of stability in the Middle East and which result in, for example, terrorism (oh, really?!). The battle to control the US (and therefore world) supply of oil is the main theme of the movie, but references are also made to the global arms and drug trades (hmmm, they’re related, are they?). There are token references to human relationships and some dialogue that attempts to join the disjointed mess of the plot together. The actors try very hard, but unfortunately end up being very trying.

I wanted this movie to be a hard-hitting, involving, clear and incisive exposé of an important cluster of interrelated international issues. However, all I got out of it was a muddled, very poorly written, rambling attempt to “disclose” something that we all knew and it did it in a patronising and boring manner. The acting was dull and I fail to see how George Clooney won a best supporting actor Oscar for it! The filmmaker failed in delivering an engaging and interesting movie. I was not involved, the film did not draw out an emotional response from me. I neither laughed nor cried, was not amused, was definitely not captivating.

I cannot recommend that you see this film. It is full of self-importance and pats itself on the back too hard and too loudly. Empty vessels make the loudest noises…

ART SUNDAY - KIRCHNER

“The problem in defense is how far you can go without destroying from within what you are trying to defend from without.” - Dwight D. Eisenhower

For Art Sunday today, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner (1880-1938), who was born in Aschaffenburg in Germany. He studied architecture in the Technische Hochschule at Dresden, and painting in Munich. In 1905, he and his colleagues founded the Die Brücke group. He was the leader among the German Expressionists at the time. In 1911, Kirchner moved to Berlin and the complexity of Berlin’s urban cavalcade prompted him to capture it on canvas. Berlin’s social life, the women, the glamour and all of Berlin’s artificiality were captured by Kirchner’s “bold lines and clashing colors.” The First World War was soon to follow and it would deeply effect Kirchner’s concentration on his art.

Kirchner participated in the field artillery of the First World War. He served in the 75th Artillery Regiment. However, in October 1915, he was discharged because of lung disease and because of several nervous breakdowns. The artist, in fact, would never recover from the persecutions of the Nazis. Later in the Second World War, the Nazis condemned him as a degenerate artist and confiscated 600 of his works. Kirchner was unable to handle so much hatred and he committed suicide on June 15, 1938.

His painting from 1923 “Kaffeetisch”, Oil on canvas, 119 x 120 cm, Museum Folkwang Essen shows a lapse into cheerfulness as with bright colours and simple direct forms he depicts an intimate coffee party where a family are enjoying the simple pleasures of life. The intent gazes of the two women deep in conversation, the tender gesture of the little girl holding her mother’s hand and the rapt attention of the father as he looks across to his wife are a tender testament to the quiet domesticity that Kirchner had missed in the trenches of the first world war and which he could see threatened as the storm clouds presaging the second world war were gathering.

OLD AGE IN SPRING

“To know how to grow old is the master-work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.” - Henri Amiel

Old age is something that we have to come to terms with if we survive long enough. Sickness is one of its attendant misfortunes and for some of us, these two ills will cause much pain and sorrow. What is the best season to die for an old sick man? Spring I think, for to die in such a glorious time of the year surrounded by the blooming flowers, birdsong, the warming sun and the promise of so much life bursting forth after the dead winter surely is a promise of a victory of life over death, of joy over despair, of healing over sickness?

Here is Edvard Grieg’s “Våren” or “Last Spring”. It rejoices in spring, but it is to be a last spring, for the poet knows that he will see no other. Between 1877 and 1880, Grieg produced a set of songs as his Op. 33 on texts by the so-called “peasant-poet” of Norway, Aasmund Vinje (1818-1870). The composer had been greatly inspired by the then-late poet’s verses, so much so that after completing the set, he decided to arrange two of its songs for string orchestra, this one The Last Spring and The Wounded Heart. The last Spring is a hauntingly beautiful and sad piece of music, but are not our sweetest songs, the saddest also?

The singer is the Norwegian singing sensation Sissel, who sings this song in a disarmingly simple and straightforward manner without a trace of sentimentality. Enjoy it!

A HALAL LUNCH

“We are all dietetic sinners; only a small percent of what we eat nourishes us; the balance goes to waste and loss of energy.” - William Osler

I had a very busy day today, spent with some fellow academics who were visiting our College from Malaysia. The meeting was very successful and we ended up signing a memorandum of understanding that will allow our two organisations to co-operate in our educational goals. I took them out to lunch, mindful of their religious dietary restrictions as they were Muslim. We have a plethora of restaurants very close to our College in the City and these can cater to a wide variety of tastes and dietary demands: Australian, Asian, European, American, African cuisines are all well represented in their endless varieties, but also there are vegan, vegetarian, classic, new, experimental cuisines, etc.

We ended up going to Chillipadi, a contemporary Asian restaurant which has the added benefit of being 100% certified Halal. This means that Moslem people can eat freely as the meal is prepared according to the religious restrictions placed on diet by Islam. “Halal” in Arabic means “lawful” or “legal” and as it applies to food, it means that certain foods or components of food are forbidden, while what is allowed has to be prepared in prescribed ways. “Halal” is the opposite of “Haraam” meaning “Harmful” and hence forbidden.

The Quran specifies the forbidden (Haraam) substances and foods as:
•    Pork (flesh of pig, swine)
•    Blood
•    Animals slaughtered in the name of any other god except Allah.
•    All that has been dedicated or offered to an idolatrous altar, or saint or divine being
•    Carrion
•    An animal strangled, beaten to death, killed by a fall, savaged by a beast of prey (except that which has been slaughtered subsequently, while still being alive)
•    Food over which Allah’s name is not pronounced
•    Alcohol and other intoxicating substances.

Any allowed meat which is to be consumed has to be killed by ritual slaughter called “Dhabiha”. This consists of a swift, deep incision with a sharp knife on the neck, cutting the jugular veins and carotid arteries on both sides of the neck, but leaving the spinal cord intact. This method is believed by Muslims to kill instantly and painlessly, thus humanely, for the animal. Fish and most sea-life are excluded from the Dhabiha rule.

For lunch at Chillipadi we ordered several plates which had placed in the centre of the table and we then shared around. We had tea and iced water to drink. We ate the following:
•    Laksa noodles with seafood
•    Penang prawn noodles
•    Curry chicken rice
•    Thai beef salad
•    Vegetarian Mee Goreng with eggs
•    Vegetarian Nasi Goreng with eggs

The food was quite nice and my Malaysian guests were very complimentary and enjoyed it very much.

In the afternoon I had a three hour meeting, which left me quite exhausted. Just as well the weekend is looming ahead, I’m looking forward to the break!

I JUST WISH I WERE A DOG...

“We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults.  Heaven has accorded this to us in the uncritical canine attachment.” - George Eliot

I read the news with great dismay and my faith in the human species greatly diminishes each day. What monsters we humans are! What new horrors are we yet to commit, what terrible deeds to shock and terrify each other? What new ways to kill and maim, torture and humiliate shall we discover?

In Kingston, Jamaica, Garsha Wilson a taxi driver is accused of raping a 12-year-old girl, then strangling her. After thinking she was dead, he buried her in a shallow grave and covered it with rocks. Unfortunately for him and luckily for the girl, she was indeed alive, only unconscious, and she was able to dig herself out of her grave and raise the alarm.

In Russia, two men are being tried for killing, then chopping up a 16-year-old girl, cooking and serving her flesh with potatoes for dinner. Maxim Golovatskikh and his friend Yuri Mozhnov, both 20-year-olds, drowned and then butchered the hapless girl. Their excuse was that they were “hungry and drunk”. One of the jurors at the trial became ill after looking at the graphic photographs provided by the police. Remains of the girl were disposed of in a rubbish skip.

Brian Jones, a 63-year-old jilted husband in Britain stabbed his ex-wife to death as she was preparing to celebrate the end of their 10-year marriage with a “divorce party”. A lover was involved and the husband who was visiting a friend of his next door to the matrimonial home “snapped” when he saw a banner up with the inscription “The Party’s Here” and a picture of himself with the message “Pin the Tail on the X”.

Yet more bombs have ripped through apartment buildings across Baghdad, while another bomb exploded in a market, killing 50 people and injuring more than 160. Al-Qaida insurgents have been blamed by officials as the country struggles to come to terms with an unresolved election result. It was the fourth set of attacks with multiple casualties across Iraq in five days…

In Kyrgysztan, about 50 people died yesterday in riots in the capital while nationwide the death toll may be higher than 100 people. The dead had multiple gunshot wounds, the police being the ones suspected for the slayings. More than 500 people are also thought to be injured. Opponents of the president Kurmanbek Bakiyev took control of the country after the day of violence, which ended with Bakiyev fleeing the capital.

And then a ray of sunshine amongst the gloom… A guide dog helped his blind master David Quarmby, a British man 61 years old, to reach home (after a journey of nearly 200 km) before it collapsed and died of a cancer. The man had no idea his dog was dying of a malignant spleen tumour. The man had no idea the dog was sick, the only indication that something was wrong being its refusal to gobble up its usual doggy treat. When they got home and the dog was taken to the vet after it collapsed, the malignancy was found. I’m afraid the news is bad. The dog died as it was given anaesthetic to prepare it for surgery and its master is inconsolable.

Sometimes, I just wish I were a dog…

ABOUT LOST DREAMS

“The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young.” – Oscar Wilde

I was reading a friend’s blog today and she mentioned in one of her posts how she was considered by people around her as “old” while she herself never thought of herself as “old”. I am getting to the stage now where I think of myself as beginning the down hill ride to where old age resides. And how quickly one may tumble down that hill, especially as one nears the final few stretches to the bottom. The greatest surprise of all perhaps is all the while one is growing old, one is still feeling young. What a shock that can be if one is buoyant and bursting with youthful enthusiasm and verve, if one is laughing and thinking young and then, wham! One inadvertently gazes into a mirror and who on earth is that …old person staring back?

Perhaps the most disheartening part of growing old is the loss of one’s youthful dreams. The loss of the illusions, the fantasies, the ideals of youth is a shocking realisation. Whether this loss has occurred despite ourselves, whether it has occurred as consequence of our life’s vicissitudes, or whether we have done it voluntarily, it hardly matters. What matters is the hopelessness of that awareness, which truly ushers in a very rapid senescence.

This poem I wrote several years ago when I discovered that a good school friend had “progressed” in the world and had “fallen into” a very good position in the public service, had “married well” into a family of influence and “enjoyed the good life”… When I met him after many years I could hardly recognise him but unfortunately we had nothing to talk about as we had no longer anything in common.

The Ballad of the Grand Bureaucrat

And so I got tired of talking of the moon,
The flowers, the flying birds, the blue skies above.
Princes on white chargers live only in fairy tales,
Together with Beauty, the elves and trolls.

The years have passed by and I no longer fantasise,
No more accept my mind’s creations without thought.
I grew older, and all my boyhood dreams died,
While my tender heart was still young…

Now everything I see, with cool logic I view,
Before I speak I think all things through.
The world’s a liar, a relentless, cruel, unjust master
Who will crush you if you don’t think as he does.

I exchanged my innocent childish hopes
With facts, inhuman numbers, hard calculations.
A marriage by proxy, the bride’s dowry rich,
As a result, all at the office call me “Sir”…

And if sometimes the tie chokes me,
I rarely remember my childhood fables,
And in the realm of my office, I quickly forget
All babyish nonsense and the make-believe.

I reign, I order, I command, I’m the man in charge
Everyone trembles when I raise my voice.
A public servant and bureaucrat though I be,
The public is ill-served by me.

The rules and protocol, laws, regulations I know off by heart,
And only if one oils my wheels will I do what I should…
The whole world’s a sinking ship with rotting timbers,
Who am I to start stopping the hulk’s holes?

It’s only in the darkness of my bed in blackest night
That I often wake in fright –
My childhood’s lovely pastel-coloured dreams haunt me
But now torture me as nightmares unrelenting…

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday. Visit her blog for more poetry!

MINE DISASTERS

“Who can hope to be safe? who sufficiently cautious? Guard himself as he may, every moment's an ambush.” - Horace

News of the coalmine disaster in West Virginia has landed on my computer screen. This is right after the dramatic rescue of miners in Shanxi, China after spending nine days in a flooded mine a few days ago. China has a long history of mining accidents and many miners have unfortunately perished, as the safety standards are not as high as they are in most other parts of the world. The rescue effort yesterday and the miraculous return of 115 miners to the surface surprised everyone not least the Chinese themselves who are used to many a fatal mining accident on a regular basis.

Five bodies have been recovered now, and those were the unlucky ones… Unfortunately 33 more miners are still missing, also suspected dead. The Chinese miners accused their bosses of ignoring warning signs of danger as water was noticed leaking into the pit days before the latest disaster. Unfortunately the workers’ pleas were unheeded and when disaster struck, everyone expected the worse. I can only imagine the terror of those trapped workers in the wet darkness as they ate pine tree bark from construction wood poles and drank cold water to stay alive for the eight days and nights they were underground... In any case most survived!

Which tragically is not the same for the American miners. Although safety standards and better working conditions are the case in the USA, the accident yesterday confirms the fact that mining is a dangerous occupation in any country of the world. At least 25 miners are dead and four are still missing. I think of this and the thought of these innocent lives lost while trying to earn a living for their families haunts me. Each of them left their families the previous day and went into the mine, the thought of death far from their mind. Each spouse, child, relative and friend waited to see them back after work but instead this tragic piece of news that interrupted so many lives by putting an end to some of them.

There will always be mines and there will always be accidents. However, it is up to us as a society to demand safe working environments for everyone who works for a living. It is up to us to ensure that mines are safe and that full precautions are taken to make this occupation as safe as possible. That is the only way to reduce the number of accidents and reduce the number of deaths. We must reaffirm our commitment to the prevention of accidents, injuries, illnesses and death in the workplace. We must demand prevention programs and the stringent enforcement of health and safety laws.

AND THE BAND PLAYED...

“What is tolerance?  It is the consequence of humanity.  We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly - that is the first law of nature.” -Voltaire

As all good things come to an end, so did this brief holiday over the Easter weekend. It was a beautiful, restful few days with friends, family, good food and beautiful weather. It is such pleasant, short and relaxing breaks that help us to restore our energy and assist us to find the courage to continue with our daily grind.

We watched an interesting movie from Israel today. It was Eran Kolirin’s 2007 “The Band’s Visit”, a film which he both wrote and directed. The plot is deceptively simple and pace is relaxed and gentle, with some remarkably good performances by Sasson Gabai and Ronit Elkabetz as the two leads, Tawfiq (the Egyptian band leader) and Dina (the Israeli shopkeeper).

The story concerns an Egyptian police band from Alexandria who goes to Israel for a concert to celebrate the opening of an Arab culture centre. The band arrives, but unfortunately due to a mix-up nobody is waiting for them at the airport and they decide to catch a bus and get to the town where they are expected to play on their own. They get hopelessly lost due to misunderstanding caused by a mispronunciation. They are marooned in a small town with nowhere to sleep and with little Israeli money. The kindness of the locals, headed by the outspoken Dina does a lot to highlight the commonality of human experience between the Arab and the Jew, the Egyptian and the Israeli, the man and the woman.

This is film that is made with consummate skill and is never forced. The story develops effortlessly and the interactions of the characters are natural and one can see that the tension between the two cultures and the two peoples dictate the initial awkwardness, suspicion and prejudice. The intimacy that develops between Tewfiq and Dina is a delight to watch and the help and advice one of the band members gives to a romantically challenged young Jewish boy is classic!

There is wisdom, gentle humour, earthiness and a delightful affirmation of humanity in this film. As a bonus, the music is very good and the song at the end of the film is worth waiting for as the credits roll through. Get your hands on it and watch it. It is an unexpectedly offbeat and delightful movie.

EASTER DAY AND RENOIR

“It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.” - P.D. James

Happy Easter! We have had a lovely day, relaxing at home, enjoying the company of family and friends. The weather was perfect, an autumn day full of mild sunshine, and we spent a great deal of it in the garden. The jasmine perfumed the air and the zinnias were blooming wildly in the background. There was soft music playing and we broke our fast with a delicious lamb roast whilst sipping some delightful shiraz.

What better way to celebrate this glorious Easter Sunday than with a Renoir? His “Le déjeuner des canotiers” (Luncheon of the Boating Party) remains the best-known and most popular work of art at The Phillips Collection, in Washington DC, just as Duncan Phillips imagined it would be when he bought it in 1923. Each character in the painting has been identified. The woman playing with a dog is Aline Charigot (who would become the wife of Renoir); the painter Gustave Caillebotte is sitting in front of her; the man with a top hat is Charles Ephrussi (the editor of the Gazette des Beaux Arts) etc.

The painting captures an idyllic atmosphere as Renoir’s friends share food, wine, and conversation on a balcony overlooking the Seine at the Maison Fournaise restaurant in Chatou. Parisians flocked to the Maison Fournaise to rent rowing skiffs, eat a good meal, or stay the night. The painting also reflects the changing character of French society in the mid- to late 19th century. The restaurant welcomed customers of many classes, including businessmen, society women, artists, actresses, writers, critics, seamstresses, and shop girls. This diverse group embodied a new, modern, egalitarian Parisian society.

Renoir seems to have composed this complicated scene without advance studies or under-drawing. He also spent months making many changes to the canvas, painting the individual figures when his models were available, and adding the striped awning along the top edge. Nonetheless, Renoir retained the freshness of his vision, even as he revised, rearranged, and created a beautiful work of art.

HOLY SATURDAY 2010

“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians.  Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” - Mahatma Gandhi

On this Holy Saturday, I am featuring a Greek hymn singer who has brought the chants of the Orthodox faith closer not only to many of the faithful, but also to many who were not aware of the glory of Byzantine hymnology. It is Petros Gaïtanos who is singing some of the Holy Week Byzantine hymns. This piece is encomium “E Zoé en Táfo” (Η Ζωή εν Τάφω – “Life in the Sepulchre”) that is chanted on Good Friday and laments the death of Jesus.



Christ, you, who are Life itself,
were placed in a sepulchre,
and legions of angels were astonished
by your condenscendence.

How is it possible for you who is Life itself to die?
To abide in a grave?
You, who has dissolved the rule of Death
and resurrects Hades’ dead?

The ruler of all is beheld dead;
and in a new sepulchre is placed
he who has emptied all sepulchres of their dead.

Christ, you, who are Life itself,
were placed in a sepulchre,
and through your death you conquered Death
and sprung forth life into the world.

Strangest of paradoxes, and of inexplicable things!
the provider of my breath is carried breathless
by Joseph for burial.

Christ, you, who are Life itself,
were placed in a sepulchre,
and legions of angels were astonished
by your condenscendence.

Have a Peaceful Easter!

FASTING BEFORE EASTER

“More die in the United States of too much food than of too little.” - John Kenneth Galbraith

As it is Good Friday today, I thought I’d blog about fasting, which is a traditional way of eating in many of the Southern Mediterranean countries, like Greece, Italy and Spain.  The fasting is cyclical and reflects the traditions and proscriptions of the religious calendar, closely associated with seasonal cycles and the availability of certain produce. It is also closely tied to the life of the countryside, where farming activities often dictate what food is available when. With fasting of course, comes feasting to celebrate various holy days and feast days.

In the Orthodox faith, there are there are four major fasts during the year:
1) The Great Lent, which begins on a Monday, seven weeks before Easter. This Monday, called Katharí Dheftéra (Καθαρή Δευτέρα), translates as Clean Monday. Fasting restrictions are eased on weekends (not abandoned), and Lazarus Saturday and Palm Sunday (the weekend before Easter).
2) Fast of the Apostles, which lasts from one to six weeks, begins on a Monday, eight days after Pentecost, and ends on June 28th, the day before the feast day of Saints Peter and Paul. 

3) Fast of the Dormition of the Virgin Mary, from August 1st to 14th. 

4) Christmas Fast (Little Lent), from November 15th to December 24th.

Individual Fast Days
•    January 5th - eve of the Epiphany,
•    August 29th - the Beheading of St. John the Baptist,
•    September 14th - the feast of the Elevation of the Holy Cross, and
•    Wednesdays and Fridays.

Similarly, there are certain days when fasting is not permitted:
•    between Christmas (25th December) and the Epiphany (January 6th),
•    the 10th week before Easter,
•    the week after Easter, and,
•    the week after Pentecost (50 days after Easter).

The fasting that is necessitated by Greek Orthodox Church tradition is essentially one of vegan fare and the permissible dishes do not include any dairy products, meats, and fish. This may sound very Spartan, but there are many wonderful traditional dishes that are both nutritious and delicious. For example:

•    Artichoke hearts with vegetables in a light lemon-dill sauce that is a Greek classic.
•    Beans with capers, which is an easy dish that uses black-eyed peas with the tastes of onions, capers, and dill. Because it is often served chilled or at room temperature, it is called a salad, but it makes a good warm main dish too.
•    Broad beans and artichoke hearts are a delightful taste combination and a favorite main dish during the Lenten season. It can also be served as a side dish.
•    Lentils and rice is a vegan recipe for lentils cooked with rice, herbs, and spices and meets the most stringent Greek Orthodox guidelines for periods of fasting and the Great Lent. It also happens to be frugal, healthy, and delicious as a main dish.
•    Tomato and pasta soup is made with fresh tomatoes, vegetables, and pasta, which is a hearty soup and a cold-weather delight.
•    Legumes are an important part of the Greek diet, and lentil soup is a perennial favorite as well as a Lenten dish consumed during fasting periods in the Greek Orthodox faith.
•    Fresh French beans with tomato stew is a simple recipe but tastes delicious. Fresh green beans, tomatoes, herbs and spices are simmered together long enough for the tastes to meld. Served in larger portions, it is a main dish.
•    The national food dish of Greece is Fassoladha, is a hearty bean soup. It is a delicious dish that represents the best of Greek cooking: vegetables, herbs, and olive oil. There are many variations of this wonderful dish, and this recipe can be made with tomatoes or with lemon.
•    Chickpea soup is a warming and filling thick soup that isn't as appealing to the eye as it is to the tastebuds. It's easy to make, vegetarian- and vegan-friendly, with only a few ingredients.
•    “Spanakorizo” or spinach risotto is made with fresh spinach, and is a quick dish that is a meal both delicious and healthy.
•    Stuffed cabbage leaves is a very nice dish where blanched cabbage is stuffed with a mixture of rice and herbs. They are made into small rolls and make for an elegant Lenten dish.
•    Stuffed vine leaves with a filling of rice, dill, parlsey, spring onion, tomato, with a light sauce of lemon juice.
•    Stuffed vegetables (tomato, capsicum, zucchini, eggplant, potato – as illustrated above) can be made into a vegetarian version where the minced meat is omitted. Οne may also stuff zucchini flowers, when they are in season.
•    Salads are a very common fasting dish and a great variety of them exist in Greece. The term “Greek Salad” is perhaps misleading as there are an almost infinite variety of fresh, healthy, zesty Greek salads!

Remember, we eat to live, not live to eat!

Have a Happy Easter!

RELIGION

“All religions must be tolerated for every man must get to heaven his own way.” - Frederick the Great

Another long day at work today, but now I am looking forward to a break with four days of holiday. Easter is always a time of rest and relaxation here in Australia, as most people take the opportunity to go away and spend some time away from home, enjoying the autumnal weather. The religious aspect of the holiday is very much underplayed and if people go to church it is usually only for the Easter Sunday mass or service.

Greek Australians still maintain the traditions of the “old country” and the whole of Holy Week before Easter is devoted to religious activities and traditions surrounding the Passion and Resurrection. The Greek Orthodox church has often been referred to as the “Church of the Resurrection”, as its greatest holy day is Easter. Most Western churches place greater emphasis on Christmas, prompting the remark that Western Christianity is still in its infancy whereas Orthodoxy is mature. The criticism is unfounded and perceived degrees of importance assigned to different holy days cannot be used as a yardstick for the philosophical slant that one church may have compared to another, however, the Eastern church emphasises Easter as the “Feast of Feasts”.

Holy Week in the Eastern Orthodox Church encasulates the sanctity of the whole calendar year of the Church. Its centre of commemorations and inspiration is Easter, where the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is celebrated. Every Sunday is dedicated in the Eastern Orthodox Church to the Resurrection. One hundred days also are also directly dedicated to Easter, 50 before it for preparation, and another 50 after it for commemorating the glorification of Jesus Christ.

St John Chrysostom’s mass is the culmination of the resurrection liturgy, in which the congregation is enjoined to: “Take part in this fair and radiant festival. Let no one be fearful of death, for the death of the Saviour has set us free...O Death, where is thy sting? O Hades, where is Thy victory? Christ is Risen and Thou art overthrown. To Him be glory and power from all ages to all ages.”

religion |riˈlijən| noun
The belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, esp. a personal God or gods: Ideas about the relationship between science and religion.
• Details of belief as taught or discussed: When the school first opened they taught only religion, Italian, and mathematics.
• A particular system of faith and worship: The world's great religions.
• A pursuit or interest to which someone ascribes supreme importance: Consumerism is the new religion.
PHRASES
Get religion informal be converted to religious belief and practices.
DERIVATIVES
Religionless adjective
ORIGIN Middle English (originally in the sense [life under monastic vows]): from Old French, or from Latin religio(n-) ‘obligation, bond, reverence,’ perhaps based on Latin religare ‘to bind.’

WILLIAM BLAKE

“If the misery of the poor be caused not by the laws of nature, but by our institutions, great is our sin.” - Charles Darwin

I had a very busy day at work today, working uninterruptedly from 7:00 am until past five in the afternoon. I got an almighty headache afterwards and had to rush out. The afternoon was warm and sunny, beautifully autumnal. The train was packed and once again I thought of the poor people in the Moscow Metro bomb blast. Do we prepare ourselves every day, every moment to meet our death? We should…

William Blake for Poetry Wednesday today:

 HOLY THURSDAY

 Is this a holy thing to see
   In a rich and fruitful land, -
 Babes reduced to misery,
   Fed with cold and usurous hand?

 Is that trembling cry a song?
   Can it be a song of joy?
 And so many children poor?
   It is a land of poverty!

 And their sun does never shine,
   And their fields are bleak and bare,
 And their ways are filled with thorns:
   It is eternal winter there.

 For where'er the sun does shine,
   And where'er the rain does fall,
 Babes should never hunger there,
   Nor poverty the mind appall.

Aptly for Holy Week, today Blake’s observations on society and the inequality between rich and poor come to the fore in this poem written as a comment on the charity distributed to the poor around Eastertime. Blake thought charity to be evil, and that it was an easy way for the rich to make themselves feel better. He abhors the social system that allows the rich to become richer and the poor to become poorer. Usury (action or practice of lending money at unreasonably high rates of interest) is a word we seldom hear nowadays, though it is so widespread. Dante in his hell reserves delicious tortures for the usurers. Even in these bleak days of the “financial crisis”, the greedy banks and loan companies still continue to practice the state-sanctioned usury while the bankers grow fatter on their obscene salaries.

The poet bemoans the fact that even though these poverty-stricken children live in a rich land, they are dependent on charity to survive. If poverty were to be wiped out, one wouldn’t need charity nor pity. The hymns sung by the poor children to praise the glory of God cannot be heard by Blake and make him rejoice as all he hears are wails of despair, coming from children who protest their endless wintry lives.

William Blake (28 November 1757– 12 August 1827) was a complex man. He was a poet, illustrator, engraver, draughtsman, but his efforts, due to the unorthodox nature of his work, were highly unappreciated during his lifetime. Working as an engraver he learned many things, things that helped him to surround one of his poems with his own hand-coloured illustrations. Among his most important works are the “Illustrations of the Book of Job” (1825), and the hundred watercolours to Dante's “Divine Comedy”. A mystical and deeply religious man, Blake claimed he had visionary experiences. His social and political conscience railed against the prevailing academic painting of the eighteenth century.

TERROR, YET AGAIN...

“True courage is not the brutal force of vulgar heroes, but the firm resolve of virtue and reason.” - Alfred North Whitehead

The atrocious terrorist attack in the Moscow Metro yesterday has once again made me wince with consternation and distress. The reality of terrorism in our days is something that we are not permitted to forget as daily events around the world draw attention to desperate and extreme acts performed by minorities that attempt to draw attention to their cause. These are cowardly acts of blackmail and instead of support and sympathy (for whatever cause) they attempt to garner, all they do is to succeed in gaining the revulsion and opposition of any person with a shred of humanity within them.

I was not interested to learn more about which organisation or group was behind this latest mass slaughter in Moscow, or the reasons for this madness. All I want is that the perpetrators be found and punished as befits criminals and murderers of the worse kind. Sympathy with their cause or interest in their point of view is the thing most distant in my mind at this point. The image of masses of innocent commuters packed into trains making their way to work that were killed is with me as I get into my train every morning. These ordinary people like you and me, are the victims of terrorists not of liberation fighters, of assassins not of idealists, of fanatics not of visionaries.

One of the most distasteful aspects of the attack is that the suicide bombers were women. Even if these women had lost husbands and children, how could they sink into the same quagmire of hate and violence that destroyed their own families? Does killing several tens of innocent civilians compensate them for their loss? An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is a barbarity that is propounded by violent and uncivilised brutes whose motivation is the same as that of the criminal they are intent on punishing.

The atrocity was preceded by yet another terrorist attack, this time in Athens, late on Sunday night. A 15-year-old Afghani boy was killed and his mother and his 10-year-old sister wounded when a home-made pipe bomb exploded. The boy was looking in a bag in a rubbish bin containing the bomb, when the blast occurred. The girl was taken to a children’s hospital with burns to her face and hands, as well as bruising. Her mother, who was in a state of shock, was also injured and taken to a different hospital. No group has claimed responsibility and the terrorist attack has blighted the streets of a residential area of another European city whose inhabitants are living a hard enough life already.

The bomb exploded outside the offices of the Hellenic Management Association, a non-profit organisation. Since a teenager was shot dead by a policeman in Athens in December 2008, there have been frequent attacks on public buildings. Most of these blasts have been blamed on far-left and anarchist groups, but typically these explosions have been minor and caused no injuries. Last week, three bombings targetted the offices of an ultra right wing party, a police immigration centre and a Pakistani immigrant leader’s home. The “Conspiracy Nuclei of Fire” group claimed responsibility for those bombings and said they were intended to highlight racism in Greece.

The father of the killed boy visited the site of his son’s death today. He and his family migrated to Greece for a better life. He couldn’t speak Greek or English but his sorrow was immediately and palpably intelligible as it needed no words to convey the immense sense of loss and devastation he felt. He knelt and wept at the steps where his son lost his life. He sobbed and bewailed his fate. He escaped terror in his own country, searching for a better life in a distant land and all he found was death and endless misery from now on. What sort of society are we becoming? The savage beasts of the jungle are less terrible and less brutal than we humans are. We take cut the thread of human life as easily as if we were chopping the stalk of a lettuce.

Dare we call ourselves civilised? Can such a civilisation survive? Hw can we end this chain of violence and terror we have become trapped by?

FACING WINDOWS

“Love unlocks doors and opens windows that weren't even there before.” - Mignon McLaughlin

Yesterday we watched a rather surprising film from Italy.  Surprising, as we had never heard anything of it and the only reason we got it to watch was the sleeve notes and the rather beautiful actress on the front cover. OK, I know, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover or a DVD by its sleeve, but call it a whim, we suspected that it was going to be a good movie and we were glad that we did. Apparently the movie has won several awards in several festivals, including best actress, best actor, best script, best film.

The film is Ferzan Ozpetek’s 2003 “Facing Windows” or to give it its Italian title, “La Finestra di Fronte”. It starred Giovanna Mezzogiorno as Giovanna, a young woman, married to Filippo (Filippo Nigro), living in a small, contemporary, suburban Rome apartment with their two young children. Across the road, is an apartment where a young, handsome man lives on his own, Lorenzo (Raoul Bova). The two of them see each other daily and a fascination develops into love. This is a love that is improper and condemned by society, so Giovanna tries to stifle her feelings for Lorenzo and instead takes out her frustrations on her husband who tries his best for the family by working night shifts and looking after his children.

The story is overlaid on another “improper” love affair, which took place in Rome in 1943. The connection is Simone (Massimo Girroti), who is an elderly man who has lost his memory and is “rescued” from the streets by Giovanna and Filippo. As Simone almost becomes part of the family (much to Giovanna’s initial consternation and annoyance), we learn of his story and his memories are revealed piecemeal and the strange parallelism between his improper love and Giovanna’s is slowly brought to the fore. Other commonalities also emerge, including Giovanna’s passion of pastry-cooking and Simone’s seeming expertise in this art.

The film is well-crafted, with an engaging story that keeps one immersed in the world portrayed in the screen. It explores the themes of racism, prejudice, intolerance, duty, responsibility and of course the different meaning that we give to the word “love”. It is an adult (though not R-rated) movie, and I am loath to call it a chick flick, although it was described like that by the video store guy. The cinematography is great, the music fantastic and the performances very good. We enjoyed it very much and recommend it most highly. Get your hands on it and watch it!

ART SUNDAY - THEA PROCTOR

“And she was fair as is the rose in May.” – Geoffrey Chaucer

Had a very relaxing Sunday today with no work being done at all! We went out for a drive in the morning, visited a Sunday Market and then came back home, had lunch and watched a movie. In the afternoon, I played some music and then we went out to dinner.

For Art Sunday today, and Australian artist, Thea Proctor (1879-1966) or to give her full name, Alethea Mary Proctor. She was born in NSW and studied under Julian Ashton in Sydney, and in London. Her work is notable for its great fluidity of line and the delicate colouration of her watercolour paintings along with black-and-white and hand-coloured prints. She specialised in relief prints and designs and her influence brought public attention to the linocut and woodcut.

Although Proctor's work was comparatively conservative, in Australia it was considered “dangerously modern”. In 1932 Art in Australia devoted an issue to her work. She taught design at Ashton’s Sydney Art School and privately, introducing many young artists to linocut printing, and in the 1940s taught drawing for the Society of Arts and Crafts.

Considered an arbiter of taste and always elegantly dressed, Thea Proctor wrote on fashion, flower arranging, colours for cars and interior decoration. She organized artists’ balls in the 1920s, designed the fashionably modern Lacquer Room restaurant (1932) for Farmer & Co. Ltd and produced theatre décor in the 1940s. In her latter years she continued to encourage young and innovative artists and to paint, in a looser, sensuous manner, carried out portrait commissions, exhibited regularly with the Macquarie Galleries and promoted the neglected work of her relation John Peter Russell. She commented: “I am not the sort of person who could sit at home and knit socks”. Unmarried, Thea Proctor died at Potts Point on 29 July 1966 and was cremated with Anglican rites.

The work illustrated here is in the Gallery of New South Wales and is entitled “The Rose” (ca1928). It is a woodcut, printed in black ink, from one block and subsequently hand-coloured. Such works explored form and colour in ways previously not attempted, and reflect the challenging thinking of the time and leadership demonstrated by Thea Proctor. In her works, she highlighted a modernist aesthetic link that Australia had not seen before.