Heathrow Airport is a byword for Hell on earth. I waited 1 hour for Chloe to get out of immigration controls, where she was questioned because apparently she didn't look like her passport photo. She was even quizzed about where she went to school, and who her form tutor was. Why is it so hard to love the UK?
While I was waiting, some bloke with stacks of luggage steered right into me and then said I shouldn't be standing there. And called me a silly cow. Really, really hard to feel the love!
Fortunately, on earth, there is a way to escape Hell. Jump on the M25 and keep driving. The next time we do a long haul trip, I am definitely paying to escape via my favourite airport. Not naming names, in case the rest of the world crowds in with me.
Monday, 31 August 2009
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
Paragliding from France to Switzerland
I have been so spoilt by Karin during this trip. The trip around Lac Leman was already amazing, you can see the pictures of the trip on Facebook, but with this paragliding thing, all I did was express a wish to go paragliding and well, Karin just arranged it all. Karin you are WONDERFUL. Big Hugs. So, how to describe my paragliding experience? To begin with, I thought, this will be great. I will be taking off, we’ll be in the air, then we land. It’s tandem paragliding so how hard can it get? Someone else does all the hard work, and I just enjoy the view. And besides, it amused me that I would take off from France, where Mont Saleve is, and land in Switzerland.
Actually, what happened was that when we reached the top of Mont Saleve, from which we were to take off, a few things happened simultaneously: 1) I realised (finally) how high we were, about 1500m. Well, that’s plenty high for me. 2) The pilot I was allocated solemnly said he didn’t speak English. My Internal Control freak flared up, and in the process shut down access to the French part of my brain so I couldn’t say ‘in any case, please explain everything to me before we go’. Since I must have stood there gaping, Pilot man just said, ‘don’t worry, you run a bit and then there will be a bit of drop and we’ll be airborne’. AAAAAAAAHHHH. I have to run into emptiness aka thin air? This is not normal behaviour. Of course it was too late to chicken out now. Chickens can’t fly.
Meanwhile, Min, who was also paragliding, was being given lots of instruction by her pilot, and I was slightly envious but my French language facility had just closed down hadn’t it? So instead I went into a debate with my inner control freak about how on earth I was supposed to entrust my life to a stranger who doesn’t speak English and sanguinely says ‘trust me’ because he is ‘serieux’.
Here is Min flying:
Then, probably because God noticed me silently freaking out, the wind died. It was like He was saying, ‘Keep breathing and when you are ready I will send the wind. Finally the wind returned. I did an embarrassing battle cry and dashed down the slope like a duck waddling into the air. Suddenly we're airborne, and I'm thinking crap............
While pilot man says, hang on, you're not yet secure in your seat and I’m bitchily thinking crap that is because you didn't brief me properly before. Of course, since my French facility was temporarily suspended, plus he was holding the controls I was not about to make any smart comments. In any case, since I’m writing this, you all know I didn’t die.
Being airborne - - well, different people have different experiences. Min, adventurous and sporty, was probably thrilled with the technicalities of it all. I had had no briefing and couldn’t even commence the discussion. So I can only report on the sensation of being airborne. Tandem paragliding is pretty weird. You’re putting your life in someone else’s hands. Literally. To be in a situation where I have to trust someone else is not good for me. When Pilot Man took his hand off the cords to point out Lausanne to me, my internal freak finally remembered enough French to say, err, don’t take your hands off the cords!!! Aagh, this man holds my life in his hands, and he just took one hand off. Oh Crap......
I did manage to relax enough to survey the view. I don’t know how. We flew over the forest by the hillside. We saw a tiny little chateau nesting on an outcrop of the Mont. We even saw Mont Blanc. We saw the Jet d’Eau. We saw the Whole of Geneve, and beyond. I noted that chaque maison a une piscine, which is even more evidence, in my warped survey, that Geneva is full of wealthy people.
On being airborne, we spoke about being like the birds. My internal control freak muttered 'Icarus', and I slapped her down. Instead I thought of Haruhi, who said that to fulfil her dream, she had to go through many experiences. So in the same way, if I want to be a writer, I must go through many experiences too.
Then, gradually, we got closer to the ground. Pilot Man pointed out that you can tell because the temperature gets warmer, and it was true. So I started worrying about the landing. Did I have to do more duck waddling? Pilot man said ‘no problem, it will be nice and easy, you’ll see. I didn’t entirely believe him, but in fact, as he promised, it was incredibly easy. The gentlest of landings. It was more like floating down. No hard bump like with an airplane. I was laughing madly when we landed, because this was the biggest surprise of all.
Karin was there to greet me, with her camera. She had filmed the last two minutes of my flight. Sugoi! I was flapping with excitement, now that I was back on land. Woo Hoo! Looking back on the footage that Karin took, I was really uselessly flapping while Pilot Man calmly undid the straps for me. I am such an idiot. Min said afterwards she thought Pilot Man fancied me. Probably a good thing for me, because maybe otherwise he wouldn’t have put up with my crap. So you see, Sunday was a great day out. Quite unlike any other I've known, and the paragliding was far, far by far better than flying an airplane.
Thank You, God for being with me and making all this possible.
Actually, what happened was that when we reached the top of Mont Saleve, from which we were to take off, a few things happened simultaneously: 1) I realised (finally) how high we were, about 1500m. Well, that’s plenty high for me. 2) The pilot I was allocated solemnly said he didn’t speak English. My Internal Control freak flared up, and in the process shut down access to the French part of my brain so I couldn’t say ‘in any case, please explain everything to me before we go’. Since I must have stood there gaping, Pilot man just said, ‘don’t worry, you run a bit and then there will be a bit of drop and we’ll be airborne’. AAAAAAAAHHHH. I have to run into emptiness aka thin air? This is not normal behaviour. Of course it was too late to chicken out now. Chickens can’t fly.
Meanwhile, Min, who was also paragliding, was being given lots of instruction by her pilot, and I was slightly envious but my French language facility had just closed down hadn’t it? So instead I went into a debate with my inner control freak about how on earth I was supposed to entrust my life to a stranger who doesn’t speak English and sanguinely says ‘trust me’ because he is ‘serieux’.
Here is Min flying:
Then, probably because God noticed me silently freaking out, the wind died. It was like He was saying, ‘Keep breathing and when you are ready I will send the wind. Finally the wind returned. I did an embarrassing battle cry and dashed down the slope like a duck waddling into the air. Suddenly we're airborne, and I'm thinking crap............
While pilot man says, hang on, you're not yet secure in your seat and I’m bitchily thinking crap that is because you didn't brief me properly before. Of course, since my French facility was temporarily suspended, plus he was holding the controls I was not about to make any smart comments. In any case, since I’m writing this, you all know I didn’t die.
Being airborne - - well, different people have different experiences. Min, adventurous and sporty, was probably thrilled with the technicalities of it all. I had had no briefing and couldn’t even commence the discussion. So I can only report on the sensation of being airborne. Tandem paragliding is pretty weird. You’re putting your life in someone else’s hands. Literally. To be in a situation where I have to trust someone else is not good for me. When Pilot Man took his hand off the cords to point out Lausanne to me, my internal freak finally remembered enough French to say, err, don’t take your hands off the cords!!! Aagh, this man holds my life in his hands, and he just took one hand off. Oh Crap......
I did manage to relax enough to survey the view. I don’t know how. We flew over the forest by the hillside. We saw a tiny little chateau nesting on an outcrop of the Mont. We even saw Mont Blanc. We saw the Jet d’Eau. We saw the Whole of Geneve, and beyond. I noted that chaque maison a une piscine, which is even more evidence, in my warped survey, that Geneva is full of wealthy people.
On being airborne, we spoke about being like the birds. My internal control freak muttered 'Icarus', and I slapped her down. Instead I thought of Haruhi, who said that to fulfil her dream, she had to go through many experiences. So in the same way, if I want to be a writer, I must go through many experiences too.
Then, gradually, we got closer to the ground. Pilot Man pointed out that you can tell because the temperature gets warmer, and it was true. So I started worrying about the landing. Did I have to do more duck waddling? Pilot man said ‘no problem, it will be nice and easy, you’ll see. I didn’t entirely believe him, but in fact, as he promised, it was incredibly easy. The gentlest of landings. It was more like floating down. No hard bump like with an airplane. I was laughing madly when we landed, because this was the biggest surprise of all.
Karin was there to greet me, with her camera. She had filmed the last two minutes of my flight. Sugoi! I was flapping with excitement, now that I was back on land. Woo Hoo! Looking back on the footage that Karin took, I was really uselessly flapping while Pilot Man calmly undid the straps for me. I am such an idiot. Min said afterwards she thought Pilot Man fancied me. Probably a good thing for me, because maybe otherwise he wouldn’t have put up with my crap. So you see, Sunday was a great day out. Quite unlike any other I've known, and the paragliding was far, far by far better than flying an airplane.
Thank You, God for being with me and making all this possible.
Walking with Aston
Walking with Aston
Karin is dogsitting. So we have a dog to love and look after, just for the week. After lunch, to work off the calories, we went walking along the river, all three of us, plus dog, just like a happy family. It was lovely.
We walked as far as the Bel Air Hospital (for the old and also the mentally unstable), so that was my second hospital during my tour of Switzerland.
The other was Montchoisi (super posh) when we visited Yvan. However, time goes supersonic when you’re having fun, and we had to rush to do the final thing for the day. Paragliding off Mont Saleve.
Karin is dogsitting. So we have a dog to love and look after, just for the week. After lunch, to work off the calories, we went walking along the river, all three of us, plus dog, just like a happy family. It was lovely.
We walked as far as the Bel Air Hospital (for the old and also the mentally unstable), so that was my second hospital during my tour of Switzerland.
The other was Montchoisi (super posh) when we visited Yvan. However, time goes supersonic when you’re having fun, and we had to rush to do the final thing for the day. Paragliding off Mont Saleve.
Monday, 24 August 2009
A Vietnamese Lunch in Geneva
Vietnamese lunch at the Lotus
Karin, Min and I went to the Lotus for lunch. We ended up talking to the chef and, again, it was a privilege to listen to someone who obviously loves what they do. If anyone goes to Geneva and wants Vietnamese, I recommend this place. Try their Tofu Hap, and for tea, you must have the Oeil de Dragon. It’s a red flower that opens up in hot water.
Karin, Min and I went to the Lotus for lunch. We ended up talking to the chef and, again, it was a privilege to listen to someone who obviously loves what they do. If anyone goes to Geneva and wants Vietnamese, I recommend this place. Try their Tofu Hap, and for tea, you must have the Oeil de Dragon. It’s a red flower that opens up in hot water.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
An Unexpected Mass
Sunday 24 August was an amazing day.
As background, I have been in Switzerland, staying with Karin and Min. My first two days have been summarised as photo albums in Facebook, and eventually I’ll get round to a fuller report, but I’m writing backwards first. So I start with Sunday.
It goes in four parts: The Russian Orthodox Church, A Vietnamese Lunch, A walk with Aston (borrowed dog) and Paragliding from France to Switzerland, which I took as the title of this entry.
The Russian Orthodox Church
I was supposed to go to Les Collections Baur on Sunday for a quick tour around the museum, which is famous for its Chinese collection. It was closed when we got there, but I was able to attend mass at the Russian Orthodox Church instead. I was thrilled. I have long wanted to see an Orthodox church, and it was even more of a privilege to have been able to attend mass.
What's different? No pews. More women wearing scarves. More beautiful children. Lots and lots of babies. Lots of old people too, who sat on chairs placed along the walls of the church. Meanwhile, everyone else gathered in the main part of the church, which was the size of a very large living room. People went to confession at the front of the church, in a corner. A priest dressed in blue and silver embroidered robes would then cover your head with his robe when giving absolution. Behind a partition, a group of young ladies led by an old man sang exquisite plainchant like what I expect to hear when I get to the gates of heaven.
Then suddenly Head Priest appeared. He wore a dome on his head. Also had heavily embroidered robes on. He was there to feed the congregation, while another priest recited a prayer in French. Pretty fast. Even Karin couldn't quite make out what he was saying, and she is French. In an orthodox church, the babies get fed first, with a spoon. Yes a communal spoon. No fear of H1N1 here boys and girls. Then the older kids are fed. No spoon. Finally the adults. There’s a lot happening during a Russian mass. At the side, there was also bread and wine for the kiddies. It’s very sweet scene. Karin noticed and commented that the kiddies were downing the wine like juice. On reflection, perhaps it was juice but one can't be sure. I did ask about the pieces of unleavened bread wrapped in white muslin, with identifying labels laid out on a table at the back of the church. A very kind Russian lady tried to explain to me in English, but realised the limit of her linguistic abilities and found someone who could explain in French for us. From what I understand, the bread is paid for beforehand, and when the priest bakes the bread he then sets portions aside for collection. It worked out really well for me, because I had thought I wouldn’t be able to go to mass but ended up with a wonderful experience at a different church instead. Sorry, I didn't take pictures of Mass, because I thought it would be disrespectful.
As background, I have been in Switzerland, staying with Karin and Min. My first two days have been summarised as photo albums in Facebook, and eventually I’ll get round to a fuller report, but I’m writing backwards first. So I start with Sunday.
It goes in four parts: The Russian Orthodox Church, A Vietnamese Lunch, A walk with Aston (borrowed dog) and Paragliding from France to Switzerland, which I took as the title of this entry.
The Russian Orthodox Church
I was supposed to go to Les Collections Baur on Sunday for a quick tour around the museum, which is famous for its Chinese collection. It was closed when we got there, but I was able to attend mass at the Russian Orthodox Church instead. I was thrilled. I have long wanted to see an Orthodox church, and it was even more of a privilege to have been able to attend mass. What's different? No pews. More women wearing scarves. More beautiful children. Lots and lots of babies. Lots of old people too, who sat on chairs placed along the walls of the church. Meanwhile, everyone else gathered in the main part of the church, which was the size of a very large living room. People went to confession at the front of the church, in a corner. A priest dressed in blue and silver embroidered robes would then cover your head with his robe when giving absolution. Behind a partition, a group of young ladies led by an old man sang exquisite plainchant like what I expect to hear when I get to the gates of heaven.
Then suddenly Head Priest appeared. He wore a dome on his head. Also had heavily embroidered robes on. He was there to feed the congregation, while another priest recited a prayer in French. Pretty fast. Even Karin couldn't quite make out what he was saying, and she is French. In an orthodox church, the babies get fed first, with a spoon. Yes a communal spoon. No fear of H1N1 here boys and girls. Then the older kids are fed. No spoon. Finally the adults. There’s a lot happening during a Russian mass. At the side, there was also bread and wine for the kiddies. It’s very sweet scene. Karin noticed and commented that the kiddies were downing the wine like juice. On reflection, perhaps it was juice but one can't be sure. I did ask about the pieces of unleavened bread wrapped in white muslin, with identifying labels laid out on a table at the back of the church. A very kind Russian lady tried to explain to me in English, but realised the limit of her linguistic abilities and found someone who could explain in French for us. From what I understand, the bread is paid for beforehand, and when the priest bakes the bread he then sets portions aside for collection. It worked out really well for me, because I had thought I wouldn’t be able to go to mass but ended up with a wonderful experience at a different church instead. Sorry, I didn't take pictures of Mass, because I thought it would be disrespectful.
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
From Manga to Shakespeare
Manga manga manga. I think I am becoming otaku, is what Chloe would say. Hein, since I spent so much time yesterday immersing myself in manga, I might as well use that experience to write and reflect on what I have read. The latest manga I've been reading is Zettai Kareshi. In English, it is embarrassingly titled 'Absolute Boyfriend'. Created by Yuu Watase of Fushigi Yuugi fame, this is shoujo from the grandmother of teenage romance. Na haha ha, so I suppose you might even call her the Japanese Barbara Streisand, but she really is original, so I should stop comparing.
I felt moved to write a review on Zettai Kareshi, because I thought it seemed very much a kind of predecessor/inspiration for another runaway hit series, titled 'Ouran High School Host Club'. What am I reading? Now I am done reading War and Peace, I'm pissing my time away reading teenage Japanese fiction...?
But onwards with the Zettai Kareshi discovery. 16 year old Riko Izawa has balls. She will actually ask guys to be her boyfriend, although they consistently reject her. Feeling utterly dejected and longing for love, she has an opportunity to trial an 'ideal lover' so her adventures start. Of course the robot is gorgeous, and being shojo, all kinds of romantic complications arise. Warning for parents, this is POISON for young girls. They will end up thinking young handsome too-good-to-be-true men are to be found just around the corner just waiting to rescue you.
In the end, Riko does fall in love in the robot, not because of his obvious 'lover' programming, but because of his attempts to become more human, which are much more endearing. She also realises the flesh and blood version Boy-Next-door who also loves her, is a bit of a hunk, too. Choices, choices. Don't worry it is a bitter sweet ending, that makes us all feel good about the world.
I think Zettai Kareshi is a predecessor for Ouran High School Host Club, because
1) The two male leads, Naito Tenjou (blond, a bit stupid, ridiculously handsome) has similar traits to Tamaki Suoh (blond, a bit stupid, ridiculously handsome).
The Flesh and blood rival Soushi Asamato is dark haired, megane (bespectacled), also ridiculously handsome, but more serious, just like Kyoya Ootori.
2) Cute little boy with kick ass abilities? Check out Yuki Shirasaki(tech genius) versus Honey sempai(martial arts demon)
Add the episodes from where Naito Tenjou, being so good looking that he is invited to work at the local 'Host Club' where he is astoundingly successful with the ladies. This is a great germ of an idea that blossoms plausibly into a full blown teenage host club at an exclusive private school in Japan ala Ouran.
Not just in characters, in terms of idealogy, too, Zettai Kareshi is a predecessor. Riiko, the female lead, is still a 16 year old idiot, who only wants to be loved and doesn't care much about exam grades or shaping a future (beyond being in love). Her parents are away for long periods and she feels lonely, so she thinks the answer is to have a boyfriend and be loved. By contrast, everyone at Ouran is not just ridiculously beautiful, they are all smart too. Haruhi, the female lead in Ouran, is a scholarship student who is set on becoming a lawyer. Kyoya is aiming for world domination. the Hitachin twins are genius at design. Even little Honey is going to create his toys conglomerate empire. So that's good propaganda (parent hat on again). It's arguable that love is the most important thing, but love without money is hard work, as we see in Zettai Kareshi, when Riiko can barely afford the 'maintenance costs' for her loverboy.
And here I return to my Shakespearean roots to recall what the Great Grandfather of romance had to say about the oldest of plots,
"The course of true love never did run smooth
...either it was different in blood,
... or misgraffed in respect of years
... or else it stood upon the choice of friends
...or if there were a sympathy in choice,war, death or sickness did
lay siege to it
...and ere a man hath power to say 'behold!'
the jaws of darkness do devour it up
So quick bright things do come to confusion."
If you want to be a writer, the theme of love and romance is always popular, enduring and global. It doesn't matter if you're a 15th century geezer writing for the Queen in England, or a 21st century mangaka in Japan. Even I, old cynic, ended up enchanted.
I felt moved to write a review on Zettai Kareshi, because I thought it seemed very much a kind of predecessor/inspiration for another runaway hit series, titled 'Ouran High School Host Club'. What am I reading? Now I am done reading War and Peace, I'm pissing my time away reading teenage Japanese fiction...?
But onwards with the Zettai Kareshi discovery. 16 year old Riko Izawa has balls. She will actually ask guys to be her boyfriend, although they consistently reject her. Feeling utterly dejected and longing for love, she has an opportunity to trial an 'ideal lover' so her adventures start. Of course the robot is gorgeous, and being shojo, all kinds of romantic complications arise. Warning for parents, this is POISON for young girls. They will end up thinking young handsome too-good-to-be-true men are to be found just around the corner just waiting to rescue you.
In the end, Riko does fall in love in the robot, not because of his obvious 'lover' programming, but because of his attempts to become more human, which are much more endearing. She also realises the flesh and blood version Boy-Next-door who also loves her, is a bit of a hunk, too. Choices, choices. Don't worry it is a bitter sweet ending, that makes us all feel good about the world.
I think Zettai Kareshi is a predecessor for Ouran High School Host Club, because
1) The two male leads, Naito Tenjou (blond, a bit stupid, ridiculously handsome) has similar traits to Tamaki Suoh (blond, a bit stupid, ridiculously handsome).
The Flesh and blood rival Soushi Asamato is dark haired, megane (bespectacled), also ridiculously handsome, but more serious, just like Kyoya Ootori.
2) Cute little boy with kick ass abilities? Check out Yuki Shirasaki(tech genius) versus Honey sempai(martial arts demon)
Add the episodes from where Naito Tenjou, being so good looking that he is invited to work at the local 'Host Club' where he is astoundingly successful with the ladies. This is a great germ of an idea that blossoms plausibly into a full blown teenage host club at an exclusive private school in Japan ala Ouran.
Not just in characters, in terms of idealogy, too, Zettai Kareshi is a predecessor. Riiko, the female lead, is still a 16 year old idiot, who only wants to be loved and doesn't care much about exam grades or shaping a future (beyond being in love). Her parents are away for long periods and she feels lonely, so she thinks the answer is to have a boyfriend and be loved. By contrast, everyone at Ouran is not just ridiculously beautiful, they are all smart too. Haruhi, the female lead in Ouran, is a scholarship student who is set on becoming a lawyer. Kyoya is aiming for world domination. the Hitachin twins are genius at design. Even little Honey is going to create his toys conglomerate empire. So that's good propaganda (parent hat on again). It's arguable that love is the most important thing, but love without money is hard work, as we see in Zettai Kareshi, when Riiko can barely afford the 'maintenance costs' for her loverboy.
And here I return to my Shakespearean roots to recall what the Great Grandfather of romance had to say about the oldest of plots,
"The course of true love never did run smooth
...either it was different in blood,
... or misgraffed in respect of years
... or else it stood upon the choice of friends
...or if there were a sympathy in choice,war, death or sickness did
lay siege to it
...and ere a man hath power to say 'behold!'
the jaws of darkness do devour it up
So quick bright things do come to confusion."
If you want to be a writer, the theme of love and romance is always popular, enduring and global. It doesn't matter if you're a 15th century geezer writing for the Queen in England, or a 21st century mangaka in Japan. Even I, old cynic, ended up enchanted.
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