15 September 2008

arretez de massacrer le français !

Posted by Catherine Butsch under local knowledge
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There is an advertisement that I have seen all over the Paris Métro. It shows a typical British Bobby who is badly beat up. He’s holding up his hand as if to say, “STOP! I’ve had quite enough!”
Iarretez de massacrer l'anglais

Stop massacring English!

The ad reads: “Stop massacring English!” The idea is, of course, that if you buy this company’s English courses, you will ostensibly stop “massacring” the English language.

I’ve been in Paris for a week now, and this ad got me to thinking, if there was some French guy (complete with beret, cigarette, and baguette in hand, naturally) who got a smack every time I made an error in speaking, what would he look like?

Well, he would probably be in pretty bad shape. In fact, he’d probably still be lying on the floor, quivering from the time I said I thought “the window was delicious.”

The language barrier was not something to which I gave a lot of thought before coming to France. I have been studying French since kindergarten (I have the Atlanta public school system to thank for that one), and I have been to France twice before and got along just fine.

But I haven’t taken a French class since my first semester freshman year at Duke, and it turns out that that is plenty of time for your brain to start to rot.

Yes, I remember the basics. I can order in a restaurant and talk to shop owners just fine. But it turns out that there is a big difference in being able to buy a stamp and being able to show your personality and wit in conversation.

 

15 September 2008

Sí o No?

Posted by mark kurzrok under local knowledge | Tags: , , , , |
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In two weeks, Ecuador will hold a constitutional referendum. Every citizen over 18 is obligated to vote. If ratified, the new constitution would be the country’s 20th since 1830. As important as the upcoming US presidential elections might be back home, the long term consequences of September 28’s vote will almost certainly be more dramatic for this country.

The constitution is the project of leftist president Correa. From limited conversations, it seems that those for “Si” generally view it as a victory for social causes, most notably free education and healthcare, while many of those for “No” believe it dangerous as a means for the executive branch to hoard power in the way Chavez has in Venezuela or as an undermining of family values, with same-sex marriage and women’s right to abortion as the primary concerns.

The entire country is caught up in the political firestorm. Debates dominate radio waves and television screens, and propaganda pervades media outlets. Supporters of both sides wave flags and yell through microphones on the corners of crowded intersections. Community constitution readings and support-groups in public parks are the norm. Strong-opinioned arguments can erupt anywhere and almost without notice. From bars to taxis, dinner tables to sidewalks, excitable Ecuadorians plead, shout, and agitate for their side. Any Ecuadorian of voting age can be defined by their alignment por el “Sí” or el “No”.

I have never seen such widespread interest and passion for politics, and this is especially notable given that distrust of the government is so common, and that political instability and unrest have been a staple since the country’s founding. Never before has the population been so included in charting the course for their country, and a huge proportion is taking advantage of this new-found power by becoming informed, engaging in debate, and being vocal for their side.

As debate, anxiety, and political furor reach fever pitch, only one thing will remain certain: The 28th will be an unbelievable day to be in Ecuador, and to be an Ecuadorian.

 

9 September 2008

Opening Weekend

Posted by Ashley Holmstrom under Uncategorized
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My Monday morning: watching American Sunday night football from 10am-1pm with a couple of friends and a few random Australians in an engineering lounge. Luckily for me, ESPN’s coverage of the Colts and Bears was broadcast here on our humble channel 10. And even more luckily for me, being the Chicago native I am, the Bears pulled off the upset and won.

Don’t worry, I’m not posting merely to brag – it has cultural significance as well, I swear. A couple of firsts occurred for me Monday morning and a couple of things stood out:

1. I’ve never watched football with people from a foreign country. Some liked it, some didn’t. A couple of the guys knew as much as the Americans present and even belonged to their own fantasy leagues. A couple of the guys could have cared less.

2. I’ve actually never watched football from a foreign country… at 10am on Monday. Just wait til next week… my Bears play the early Sunday game, so at 3am Brisbane time on Monday, I will be watching…somehow, though I haven’t quite figured out how.

3. I’ve never watched football with someone who truly hated it. I quote (in response to a great tackle), “Five against one?? That’s so ridiculous. This game is ridiculous.”  and (sarcastically in response to a head-butt-nearly-turned-into-a-fight after a play) “Ooo, I hit him with my helmet on… I’m tough.”  It was really funny, especially since he had just sat down and didn’t know there were Americans there.

But seriously, it was a lot of fun and it felt so good to see some football again. And I won my fantasy game by nearly 25 points… and it’s my first time ever in a fantasy league… and I had the second highest score overall in the league. Ok, that was bragging.

 

9 September 2008

SI SE PUEDE

Posted by mark kurzrok under local knowledge | Tags: , , , , , |
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Two days ago I witnessed an event that can capture the essence of almost any country outside the good ol’ USA – a national soccer game.

This one didn’t disappoint.

Ecuador took on Bolivia in one of their first qualifiers for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. My host brother Martin lamented the quality of our “Selección” and told me that his Tricolor, as the yellow, red and blue clad squad is lovingly referred, had to capture a win against one of South America’s historically poorer teams to remain in good enough standing to be able to hope for a spot on the world’s largest futból stage.

This was the first time I donned Ecuadorian colors (bright, but badass) after a summer vowing a Guatemalan identity to anyone who would listen. But for a game of this level I had to throw away pretenses and get on the right side – I saw what happened to the few Bolivians who showed up and cheered for their loan goal, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Si se puede”, or “yes you can”, is the go-to cheer after any nice move, and its proliferation throughout the game definitely fixed it as the national team’s motto. As fond as the Ecuadorian fans were of this one, they were just as, if not more ecstatic to chant “hijo de puta, hijo de puta” (translation inappropriate) at the referees after any even marginally questionable call. Bolivians, bad calls and misplayed balls were all to be showered with imaginative and impassioned expletives.

Goals for the Ecuadorian side were magic – and there were three of them. Horn-shrills, high-pitched whistles, beer, arms, toilet paper, and newspaper shreds shot through the air during exceedingly extensive periods of chaos steeped in elated joy and sound.

3-1 Ecuador. I can get used to this.

 

8 September 2008

We’re blue because we’re blue

Posted by Ashley Holmstrom under Uncategorized | Tags: , , |
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I come from a world of Duke blue and Blue Devils, and here I have found myself embraced in Australia by blue skies and… Blue Dogs. 

Since I arrived, Emmanuel College has been my home away from home. Oddly enough, our colors are “Duke” blue and white. I walk around, seeing everyone wearing their sweet blue and white-striped rugby jerseys and I can’t help but smile about how good it feels to see the familar but also how much fun the experience of a residential college has been. 

Amazingly (and frighteningly!) enough, I have nearly reached the half-way point of my time in Australia. For the past two months, I have been living in St. Lucia, a suburb of Brisbane in Queensland, the Sunshine State. My residential college houses about 300 Australians and 50 international students, mostly under-grad, but some grad and post-doc as well.

We live in a variety of two-story brick wings situated around a grassy courtyard and alongside the dining hall and gym. My wing, affectionately known as Micky, is named Meiklejohn after the Dr. Reverend John Meiklejohn, (could his parents not have come up with a more original first name?!?) first president of Emmanuel when the college was founded in 1911.

I have found the residential college system amazing, and am thrilled that I was placed here instead of an off-campus apartment. I have the rest of my life to live in an apartment or private home, not the case for living with 40 other peers. Most of the kids are two years younger. Funny story: typically, American study-abroad students are in their junior year, so most of us are 20 and 21 years of age. Oddly enough, most of the kids in my wing are first-years (except my fellow Americans), so therefore only about 18. At first, it made me feel old to constantly meet people two years younger, I must admit, but now, it just seems normal.

So what is college life like, one might ask? All meals are provided for us. Food is pretty simple, sometimes of a very typically dining hall variety (dried meat, lots of rice) but for the most part, it’s really good. I’m happy about the constant selections of veggies and salad (and dessert!) at dinner and fruit in the mornings. As long as I have fresh food, I’m always happy. Sidenote: I’ve eaten more carrots and PB-and-J toast here than ever before in my lifetime. No complaints though… they are delicious.

In addition to the constant supply of food I do not have to buy or cook, college has many other perks, including one free load of laundry a week. Being the girl I am, I still do a load myself because heaven forbid I would ever mix darks and whites. People also clean our bathrooms, vacuum our floors and empty our trashbins from our rooms. Sounds good hey? As my mom said before I left, why would I ever want to leave here? Answer: I’m still searching for that answer. (haha, just kidding mom… I’ll come home, I promise!)

One of my favorite things about college has been the social perks. You can always find someone to go out with or stay in and watch a movie. Meals are often hour-long affairs as you chat up you tablemates and get all the latest gos (This seems obvious, but gos = Australian slang for gossip). Being part of a residential college is the best way to hear about any party on or around campus and often scores you free bus rides to such events. Living with Australians also gets you the inside scoop on places to travel, how to get there, and who might give you a free ride to the beach next weekend.

Lastly, and one of my favorite parts, Emmanuel has many sports teams that compete in the Intercollegiate league against the other, and obviously inferior (!) colleges. So far, I’ve seen a fair share of soccer, rugby and basketball. It’s a great chance to meet everyone and I think we often have way more fun on the sidelines than they do in the game.

Given that Emmanuel’s colors are royal blue and white, looks like I should have brought more Duke shirts with me after all :) Eh, no worries, I’ll just have to wait until my super-sweet rugby jersey comes in. As our college song goes… we’re blue because we’re blue, because we’re blue… Go Blue dogs!!

 

6 September 2008

Русский Язык

Posted by sweeneyt under Uncategorized
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I have nothing to say, nothing to think. I don’t understand what I am reading; there are strange symbols. People come up to me in the street and I nod and mumble. Vodka–I understand you. I have been reduced to infancy, savagery; life is palpable.

 

6 September 2008

The Expat Fraternity

Posted by Yousef AbuGharbieh under local knowledge | Tags: , , , |
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The other day one of my friends met a man named Flavian downtown. Flavian, of an ambiguous European ethnicity, was carrying a cat in a cage. My friend, who last week took in one of Cairo’s more emaciated street cats, was looking for a vet.

They had nothing in common, except they were both white and presumably both spoke English.

My friend: “Do you know where the closest vet is?”

Flavian: “Sure, follow me.”

Welcome to the Expat Fraternity.

Though not as much as in India, there is a certain measure of solidarity among all the Western expats in Cairo. The common experience – being far from home, getting consistently ripped off by cabbies – is enough to bond them. Many of them have been abroad so long that they don’t seem quite like they’re from their native country either. They’re caught precariously in some nether region of confused geography.

I’m not quite an expat, not by any stretch. I still know where I’m from, but there are times when I feel that so many things about America that are fading from my memory, so many smells, tastes and textures that I’ve forgotten.

I can even feel my English skills fading. There are times when an Arabic words seems much more appropriate, or even when I find myself – unconsciously, mind you – saying something horribly awkward in English that is a direct translation from its Arabic equivalent like, “I’m in the street coming.”

I met Flavian the other night at a dinner party. I never did figure out where he was from.

 

5 September 2008

Weightless

Posted by Zena Cardman under Photos, Wilderness | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , |
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I am officially at Woods Hole now, which I guess means it’s time to bid farewell to the Arctic as far as blog posts go.

We left Axel Heiberg on one of the windiest days I’ve ever seen.  Upper Camp, where we had been staying further north on the island, was experiencing some nasty cloudy weather, so we took a gamble and hiked a few miles south, in the hopes that the plane would have a better chance of landing there.  The clouds may have actually been better, given the incredible gusts ripping through Lower Camp, and unpredictably changing directions every few minutes.  If I unzipped my jacket and held its edges out like sails, the wind literally lifted me off my feet.

I’d secretly been hoping it wouldn’t be able to land, but in some crazy feat of expert piloting, the twin-otter managed to touch down at Lower Camp, after circling a few times to gauge the wind.

We were splashed with jet fuel as the pilots tried to fill up the twin-otter’s tank in the blustering wind.  In between gusts, I overheard the pilot say, “Young pilots think they’re going to live forever.  Me?  I’ve already lived forever.”

I wasn’t sure what exactly that implied for the flight ahead of us, but I guessed correctly that it was going to be a bumpy ride.  As we strapped down our cargo and began to buckle ourselves in, the co-pilot turned around and warned us:

Make sure you buckle those tight.  I mean … TIGHT.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long after the twin-otter took off from the tundra that we hit some serious turbulence.  We were actually weightless at one point, with all our jackets, cameras, and cargo floating right at eye-level.  I was videotaping the view out the window when it happened.  Unfortunately, I didn’t think fast enough to catch the floating stuff on camera, but it’s a fun video to watch nonetheless:

I get so wistful watching that landscape disappear below the plane.  I can’t wait to go back.  I’m addicted to the Arctic.

 

3 September 2008

Ramadan Kareem

Posted by Yousef AbuGharbieh under local knowledge | Tags: , , |
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In Cairo, little kids celebrate the beginning of Ramadan by lighting firecrackers and throwing them into the often crowded streets. Like most expat lessons, I learned this one first hand.

It’s a relatively innocuous tradition,  but it’s a little disconcerting to have something unexpectedly explode only a few feet away from you.

My roommates and I – the aganib we are – instinctively jumped and let out a flurry of curse words that, despite the language barrier, gave the street’s shabaab reason to laugh.

And why not, especially considering that we blow up bigger and flashier things to celebrate America’s birthday.

That night we were in Khan Al-Khalili - Cairo’s famous  street market in the heart of Islamic Cairo where the European downtown meets medieval Old Cairo. And the narrow streets were alive, even more so than usual. We struggled to get past the crowds shopping for all of Ramadan’s necessities – dates for breaking the fast and apricots for making one of Egypt’s most famous traditional deserts, qamar ad-din.

It’s one of the paradoxes of Ramadan – a month of of fasting and self-sacrifice – that more effort is put into
eating and entertainment. And even though the imams my rail against them, all of the best and new TV programs come out during Ramadan, in a fashion that is far more intense than May Sweeps.

But there’s more to Ramadan nights than a spirit of relaxation. The faithful do actually offer extra prayers and it’s not uncommon to find people – from lowly laborers to black-suit-clad businessman – readings from the Qur’an as they sit waiting for the next subway train.

And in another Ramadan irony, the poor often eat better than they do the rest of the year, because free tables of food are put out on the sidewalk during the night for passers by.

Just like Kolkata, Cairo has a particular rhythm. It’s a crowded city, a dense jungle that seems chaotic and Darwinian on the surface, but at its core its a friendly city. It’s a place where people can legitimately claim to feel safe walking anywhere at night, a place where violent crime and robbery are rare.

All people here – both Egyptians and foreigners – will tell you that if someone robs you, all you need to do is yell harami, thief. Anyone in the street will stop the thief and wrestle him to the ground.

This sort of public justice is indicative of a level of good-humored attitude of coexistence that persists here despite the heat and the poverty, especially in Ramadan when you would expect hungry and thirsty Egyptians to be most on edge.

 

3 September 2008

Sun Still Rises

Posted by Andrew Kindman under Uncategorized | Tags: , , , |
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I arrived in Madrid about a week and a half ago, and after exploring a bit of the city, soaking up the feeling, and letting all that white linen wash over me, I can say one thing for certain. Undoubtedly much has changed about Madrid over the past decades, but in so many ways it is still the city of Hemingway’s dreams. Dignified and proud, the light breeze is a real catharsis. As September begins, the city starts to fill back up as the regulars return from vacation. School begins soon – I’m studying at Universidad San Pablo – and I’ll be in and around Spain for the next 4 months. More to follow.

 

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