ABOUT SOMETHING THAT REMINDED ME OF THIS WONDERFUL SCENE

Last Thursday, 8.55 p.m. When the class seemed to be ending up and some of the students were going to stand up so as to begin our extended weekend, Emilio, with a simple gesture, made us sit down again. You can see something similar to this at the beginning of this YouTube clip extracted from Tarantino's Pulp Fiction.  

It appealled me how wonderfully Emilio, unconsciously, made Samuel L. Jackson's gesture. We were dying to leave, so our most sincere apologies must be presented. However, it was "Puenting Tarantino's" fault!

DURING THE EXAM PERIOD

Exams, we love them so much. Should they not exist, we would have to create them! Thank God as soon as they finish, we run away on holidays!!

At the end of the term, people are so fed up with all the school stuff that some years ago, I hanged a sheet of paper with the above inscriptions printed from the noticeboard of the staff room at my school.

I promise it was just a joke, but some colleagues spent some time hitting their head against the wall. I wondered what would have happened if I had asked them for some small change... lol

PEACE, A VID

In last week's activity, my group and I chose LACK OF RESPECT as the most serious global issue, as the one that affects the world in a sadder way, taking into consideration what it can convey in a bigger scale. We must not tolerate that some people are denigrated due to reasons namely the colour of their skin, the fact that they are women or the sexual condition.

I hope you will like both the video and the song. I know you will share this message, "Peace will come to me." May peace be with you!

IRELAND STUFF

Good evening,

To complete my presentation about Ireland, I want to include this video. You can see some boys, called "knackers", naughty boys that you can never know what they're up to, steering a shopping trolley, with a drunkard inside. A Garda (Irish police) car bumps into them and ask them to bring back the trolley - in Spain it would have been different indeed - while the boys don't seem to be even worried about the situation. The drunkard says, "I'm not going home!", which made me burst into laughter.

Unfortunately and as I said in my speech, the alcohol consumption is a real problem in Ireland. People usually have a "black celebration" in the evening, that one when you don't have anything to celebrate. Drink with moderation, it's your responsibility.

NARRATION

Et voilà...

THE FIRST IMPRESSION SELDOM MATTERS

Experience has always been considered a kind of mastery in people’s life. People may not be somehow appropriate in situations they have not faced before. Thus when the sensible become aware of a behavioural mistake, they must try not to do it again.

During my Erasmus spell, in 2003, I paid my friend Néstor a short visit in Dublin. I arrived in the city on a spring day at 5pm and Néstor, who by that time was working, had given me his address. After some time seeking the house, there I was knocking at his door and a short, dark-complexioned, East Asian man opened it. Immediately did I think, “Poor Néstor! He must be broke; he can only afford to live with a tramp.” After introducing ourselves, he struck up a conversation. His name was Shiful and was Bangladeshi. I will always remember that he was gazing at a Michael Jackson music video in which the departed singer was characterized as a statue as he exclaimed, “I want to go to this place!” I realized that he was both naïve and enthusiastic. He showed me their house, half in ruins. They shared it with some everlasting moss. I entered their filthy, two-square-metre bathroom, the only one where you could do number two, wash your hands in the washbasin and your feet in the shower at the same time! He worked for fifteen hours a day as a chef. Not only was he hard-working, but he was also vital. He stated that he would develop his profession for a period of time, in that his ideal job was to rest free from worry.

Life teaches lessons every day. “Optimistic people make us grow old happy,” would preach my grandma. I judged Shiful by his appearance. Then I got to know a person in a million. 

HALLOWEEN

Thank God Halloween ended. For the first time I have celebrated this Celt-Yank tradition. Being a child I would disguise myself under a costume, but only in Carnival. Now I remember putting on a tracksuit pretending to be Benito Floro, Real Madrid's coach in the 1990s, with his glasses and his grey hair and his annoying personality.

Halloween has never been, however, my cup of tea. Hence, the fact that I had not thought of becoming a monster creature. Life is hard, sometimes. On becoming an English teacher there is some sacrifice prior to All Saint's Day. I had always refused to be Frankenstein, but this year it all has changed. The secretary of my school went to Lidl - she doesn't know how I adore her - and purchased all the Halloween stuff the school could afford (more than the Junta de Andalucía's budget would expect, for sure). Therefore, during the weekly seminar meeting the question of Halloween was proposed. We would have to hang the ghastly creatures, pumpkins, witches silhouettes and so forth and so on. My sister's school lent us a lovely head of Fester Adams. I did disguise myself. In spite of the fact that I was reluctant. I was Scary Skeleton for 15 minutes, during which I frightened a pupil of mine, as I changed my clothes in the classroom so as not to be seen, taking advantage of the break.

I may not do it again but I have to admit that it was fun. I gave my students some sweets, but the party finished within 20 minutes. They had to sit an exam. That was horror indeed.

All in all, Halloween is a globalisation festivity imported from the USA, the country in which everything is considered perfect. That is not bad, but our sense for this day is losing its importance. In addition, amounts of money are wasted, so the balance moves to the down side.

 

THE BRITISH UNDERSTATEMENT

It is a matter of fact that since the day that every Spanish person, among which, of course, I include myself, starts learning Shakespeare's language with the typical "hello, how are you?" dialogue, we become aware of some tags, i.e. those "thanks", "you're welcome" and their ever present "sorry", "excuse me" and so forth, which are highly appealing for us. We always think, "how well-mannered these people are!"

As soon as you get to know one of these, you see that the more polite a British person is, the less trustworthy. From this corpus, it is compulsory to comment on the below treble of utterances. By the way, we will know whether Emilio is British quite soon.

WHAT THE BRITISH SAY	WHAT THEY MEAN	WHAT WE UNDERSTAND

I only have a few minor comments

Please rewrite completely

He has found a few typos

About "Can the art of storytelling be preserved?"

The fact that the job of storytelling isn't one which provides its professionals with great amounts of money is widely known. Even in the areas of Middle East, where storytelling is supposed to be original, the task of telling stories must be regarded as something obsolete. It is also said that once nomads settled in towns, the tradition of storytelling began vanishing.

Furthermore, the modern society forces most parents to be far away from their children and, as a result, telling a tale becomes secondary as there is little time to do so; the nowadays' regular child usually relies on PlayStation to entertain him (or even her), but I'm afraid this isn't the most advisable pastime.

New technologies, more specifically the information and communication ones, are a drawback for oral storytelling. Can anyone think what had happened to minstrels if the Internet could have told their narration of feasts too?

Last but not least, what has really made me think is the point that topics for modern stories have been created the so-called "Arab Spring". People are more likely to know the events that have happened since 2011 by word of mouth than by watching documentaries about them or reading them in an encyclopaedia. I wonder if it'll turn out to be the reappearance of this magnificent tradition in those countries. Time will tell us.

WHAT I THINK PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW ABOUT TRAVELLERS AND TOURISTS

If I had to select a quote, I would choose Craig Heimburger's one, from TravelVice, "Tourists expect toilet paper - travelers carry their own".

One should always intend to have the habits of a traveller while even on a trip. As far as I am concerned, it would be a good idea to have uncle Matt, Gobo's uncle in Fraggle Rock, in mind, that is to say, expecting to find something new and worth seeing every time we take a turning.

With respect to Travellers and Tourists:

"Traveller" is a profession; "tourist" is a hobby.

Being a traveller represents visiting a place in a relaxed way, not paying so much attention to the well-known sights or monuments. It is enjoying the atmosphere surrounding a definite spot and getting in touch to its people, customs and traditions. A traveller spends quite a long time and a great deal of money on a journey.

Being a tourist refers to a constant haste for a period of time. A tourist visits a place and goes to a destination that a friend of his/hers told him/her and takes advantage of it to see the more attractions, the better. Tourists generally go to cheap hotels and eat bad meals and are not usually into the ways of life of the population of the place they visit.  

Good afternoon,

It's been quite long since I last wrote here. The time devoted to tenses, the preparation of Richard Burton's discussion and the lack of an Internet connection because of a broken router haven't let me enter my profile for twelve days. I'll try this kind of things not to happen again.

We'll be meeting next Tuesday at 6.30 pm hoping that Emilio will be fine so as to talk about Mountains of the Moon, a film that turned out to be a surprise (at least for me).

See you then!  

TRAVELLING TO IRELAND

In 2002 I was studying my degree on English philology and my family and I got to the decision that it was time I spent a year abroad as an Erasmus student. I chose Galway, in the Republic of Ireland and I have to say that it was a wonderful experience, out of which I have earned a great profit. Unfortunately, no member of my family was able to come to see me.

In July 2011, I was beginning my summer holidays, when my sister and I agreed to travel to Dublin. I was willing to show her the country that embraced me for nine months nine years before. Therefore, we booked two return flights to the Irish capital and meant to enjoy the "green country". Since I have a long-time Dubliner friend, Andy, I gave him a ring, but I got no response. After some missed calls and unanswered emails, I realised we would not see him. However, he called me back while my sister and I were queuing to enter the plane. He said he would not only be waiting for us at the airport but he would also give us a lift to our hotel. As soon as we landed on Dublin, an five-day adventure started. We took advantage of Andy's presence to have a tour guide all over the city: O'Connell Street and the Spire, the city centre, Trinity College, Dublin Castle and ... pubs. We paid a short visit to the most well-known ones in the area. We became accustomed to the Dublin atmosphere, both its people and its atmosphere. The journey was not, nevertheless, perfect. We had an everlasting breeze that made my sister doubt whether we were in summer. Moreover, the rain accompanied us, it travelled in our luggage as our toilet bags did. Andy was our leader into the Irish culture and he drove us to beautiful, nearby places, such as Wicklow Mountains and Dundalk although that was not enough for us: we wished to travel to Northern Ireland, to "the United Kingdom's branch in the island".

We did not ask Andy to go to "the North". I knew that, for him, it was just as going to someone's house with whom you had quarrelled some weeks ago. We got quite surprised when Andy told us that a cousin of his was killed in the IRA's terrorist attack in Londonderry in the 1980s and that he had never been to that part of the territory, consisting of six counties. We thought we would go there alone. Notwithstanding this fact, he agreed to. Thus, on the next-to-last day of our Irish tour, we headed for the north Northern Ireland, on the county Antrim's coast. After having withdrawn some pounds from the cash machine, we intended to visit the Giant's Causeway.

My sister got to know there that umbrellas are not useful in Ireland. In the photo I am on one of the thousands of the hexagonal, basalt columns. We were enchanted by the beauty of the landscape. We went trekking around the place and saw some cliffs, on which we took hundreds of photos of the North Sea.

The anecdote during the trip was that my sister was asleep for more than seven hours of the trip to Antrim and, every time she woke up, she got frightened by the cars on the left part of the roads. We still laugh at this memory.

THE ARNOLFINI MARRIAGE

 

THE ARNOLFINI MARRIAGE, Jan van Eyck (1433)

The Arnolfini Marriage is a painting accomplished by the Flemish artist Jan van Eyck in 1434. It is widely considered a masterpiece of the Flemish Primitives, which is thought to have been the pictorial trend between the Gothic and Renaissance periods in Northern Europe. This work of art, not higher than a metre, can be appreciated at the National Gallery in London.

In the forefront we can behold a man and a woman, holding hands, and a little dog in front of them. The former is wearing sober garments. A long, velvet, brown coat and the big, dark hat are remarkable. The latter is dressed in apple-green, with a sumptuously ornamented gown that covers a blue robe. Her head is covered with a white cap. In the background the rest of the dependency can be admired. On the right there is a magnificent, vermilion bed. In the upper part a six-branched chandelier hangs from the ceiling, under which one can read the inscription, “Johannes de eyck fuit hic” (Jan van Eyck was here). A convex mirror, a blood-red armchair and a brown rug occupy the central part of the picture. On the left hand-side the light enters through a wooden window. Behind the man there is a chest. There are some red fruits on that chest and on the window-sill. On the bottom left-hand corner a pair of clogs lie on the floor. 

The image seems to be solemn. Not for nothing, both of these people were noble. They are standing and, after the title of the painting, they are getting married. It is said that before the 15^th century couples could enter into marriage with their mere consent. The fact that one of the candles of the chandelier is lit despite the daylight was interpreted as the presence of God, Who gave His approval to the wedding. The green colour of the woman’s garments is seen as hope and both her white cap and the spotless mirror as purity. However, the ceremony appears to be clandestine in that the woman was supposed to be pregnant, something that had not been proved as the Arnolfinis did not have any offspring. The presence of a dog, a man’s loyal friend, can be taken as their desire to be parents. The red fruits are a symbol of the love the couple felt for each other.

I remember seeing this picture for the first time. It was in February 2000, while I was in an art history lesson. I was willing to pass all the subjects to sit the exams that gave an access to the university. By that date people were so nervous that almost anything from the lessons called our attention. Nevertheless, viewing not only this image but also The Polyptich with the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, by the same author, made me open my eyes wide due to their simplicity and beauty. It evokes me a time when I was yearning for living on my own, far away from my parents’ umbrella. I was eager to be on age and independent. This painting has nothing to do with this idea but that is what comes to my head when I watch it.

I've just got here. I'm glad to be a blogger!!