Xenophobia

Xenophobia

(An intense or irrational dislike or fear of people from other countries)

As the result of a recent royal visit the Chinese government will be sending two giant pandas to The Netherlands next year...

Hartlepool is a town on the north east coast of England. The story goes that during the Napoleonic Wars a monkey was washed ashore. It was the only survivor of a ship wreck and was dressed in a military uniform, presumably to amuse the crew. Under  interrogation it refused to answer any questions so the citizens of Hartlepool concluded that the monkey must be a French spy and it was summarily sentenced to death by hanging. Easy mistake to make, they had almost certainly never seen a monkey or a Frenchman before.

There is a long history of societies, rulers and citizens, blaming outsiders for local problems. Even more so if the outsiders have a different language, skin colour and religion! It is an easy way of covering up ones own short comings or relieving frustrations. Foreigners are apparently born with an overwhelming desire to take our jobs,our money, ravish our wives and kidnap our children. Currently there is a loud and vocal coalition of xenophobes, racists and nimbies who have decided to target the most vulnerable of all foreigners; refugees. As far as they are concerned refugees risk 

their lives crossing oceans on small unseaworthy boats, walk all the way across Europe in all weather, suffer hunger, thirst and indignity as they are shunted from one border crossing to another, just to annoy us! Alongside threatening the safety of our wives and children they are profiting from our welfare and health systems and taking our jobs. And that is not all: a British politician recently blamed motorway traffic congestion on asylum seekers and a here in The Netherlands a local lobby group seriously claimed that accepting refugees in our town would create a parking problem! It is surprising that they have not blamed asylum seekers and refugees for the poor performances of the national football team and the recent grey, dull, depressing weather!
Attempts to provide accommodation for refugees are frequently met with loud protests and these protests are often supported by an aggressive and violent lunatic fringe who are a greater threat to public safety than any group of refugees will ever be!

The really worrying thing is that despite the invention of radio, film, TV and the internet things have not improved much since that monkey incident. There is so much information available but the protesters can't or won't be bothered with it. They are almost as uninformed as those inhabitants of Hartlepool 200 years ago. They are either unable or unwilling to read and understand a few simple facts.

I could go on but I really don't think any of the people who need the facts explained will be reading this!

...let's just hope that when the Chinese pandas eventually arrive in Rhenen, a small town in the centre of The Netherlands they will not be greeted by angry protesting mobs claiming that the Pandas are taking up cage space that should be used for indigenous species and that their fields are being filled with foreign crops in order to feed them! 

Ah well....at least these days they won't be mistaken for foreign spies, arrested and executed.........….will they?

Sarajevo

 

Sarajevo
 
No – it was not love at first sight! How could it be when even the city's own publicity says the best things about it are the surroundings and the inhabitants? The city itself is, indeed, not specially attractive. There is an unremarkable river and not much noteworthy architecture. Many buildings are scarred, damaged, neglected and decorated with graffiti. Of course it does have its good points, like Bascarsija, the historical and cultural centre of the old city. A network of small streets, formerly a bazaar. Too many tourists and far too many souvenir shops for my taste. On the other hand it has a multitude of busy, attractive street cafés and restaurants. Ideal places to do what Bosnians everywhere like doing best: meeting friends, drinking coffee, chatting and watching the world go by.
From Barscarsija it is well worth taking the walk up the steep hill to the Yellow Fortress, even in the blistering heat. There you can sit on a pleasant grassy, tree shaded terrace and have a cool drink while looking out over the whole city.

The trams, I feel, have to be included in the list of attractions. Sarajevo is a long, narrow city and the tram lines run along the whole length of it. Rickety, shaky, creaky and noisy these battered streetcars, some have survived the siege, some 'hand-me-downs' from other cities, provide a regular, frequent, colourful, and popular means of transport and a mobile meeting place.
By chance we were staying at the wrong end of town, in Butmir, close to the tram terminal. The ride into the old town took us through parts of the city we would otherwise have missed.One day we just did the round trip – a 23km city tour for just €0.80!!!!
Another advantage of being at the wrong end of town was being close to the Tunnel of Hope.
I should point out a few things here. Firstly I avoid monuments, museums or places related to genocide, massacres, atrocities and human suffering. Secondly: without avoiding the issue it was not our intention to visits museums or monuments related to the Balkan War and thirdly, to be honest, I had never heard of the tunnel. However, several local residents recommended it and it was within walking distance........
Built in 1993 this badly lit, badly drained, cramped tunnel under the NATO controlled airport was the only connection between the inhabitants of Sarajevo and the rest of the world during the longest siege in modern history. The Serbs had surrounded the city and after failing to capture it in a few days, as planned, they turned to a policy of demoralisation and attrition. Daily, random rocket attacks and snipers targeting anyone who moved. The world watched on as the citizens of Sarajevo held out for nearly four years with no gas, electricity, little food and few weapons. Many were killed by sniper fire while trying to fetch drinking water.
Arguably this tunnel, supplying food and weapons, saved the city.
The museum is in the small, remote house that hid the entrance.
This simple and somewhat understated exhibition: 25 metres of the original 800 metre tunnel, a diagram map, a self-explanatory film and a modest collection of artifacts, stimulated a variety of emotions. It gave the battle scarred buildings a context. The suffering of the inhabitants during years of constant bombardment, sniper fire, hunger, cold and lost lives became a stark, close and recent reality.
We went in the morning. It was not the most uplifting way to start the day!
But the siege is also a story of courage, commitment and cooperation. Sarajevo has for centuries been proud of its multicultural society. A city where east meets west and churches, Catholic and Orthodox, stand alongside Mosques and Synagogues. Where tensions between religious and ethnic groups were rare and 'mixed' marriages common place. Unlike other conflicts resulting from the demise of Yugoslavia, the citizens of Sarajevo: Bosniaks, Serbs and Croats, fought and suffered together, united in the defence of their city and its way of life.
For various reasons,including some boundary changes,Sarajevo is demographically less of a multicultural society than it was but that does not mean that attitudes have changed. It is a city populated by friendly, welcoming, easy-going and open- minded people. There is a relaxed, tolerant and generally optimistic atmosphere. Ethnic and religious backgrounds, like elsewhere in Bosnia, seem not to be an issue. I began to believe that there may, after all, be an antidote to racism, xenophobia and religious bigotry. Over the days I warmed to the city, yes, even to Barscarsija.

Sarajevo is a town with a big heart and an important message.
It is not the prettiest city I have ever seen....
but hey.....looks aren't everything!

Dream On

Tamila, a friend in Georgia, posted “ Everybody has a secret and unfulfilled dream........”

Dream On

Do you ever do those tests on Facebook? Well, I know some of you do, I've seen the results! What is your ideal car, what Disney character would you be, where is your ideal holiday destination or what animal would you be in another life? According to some of them the car that most suits me is a Lamborghini, I should live in Germany and I am 83% lion and 7% weasel, whatever that may mean! So,I admit it, I do them occasionally, strangely not when I'm bored but more often when I'm really busy, as a delaying tactic or for a break. It is, of course all a lot of nonsense. The last one: 'What kind of child were you', by chance, got it right, I was, according to the result a daydreamer. Spot on, I was a lot of other things as well but certainly I was, still am, a daydreamer.

You know how older people will go into a room and then not remember why they were there, well, I was always like that... my mind was always somewhere else. It got me into quite a lot of trouble at school, although it also provided me with some amusement. Having the reputation for not paying attention,one of my favourite tricks was to gaze out of the window while paying 100% attention to what the teacher was saying. When he inevitably tried to catch me out in front of the class I was able to give a perfect answer, leaving the teacher looking, if not stupid, at least a little bemused!!!

Despite being a day dreamer I have never had a special dream, desire or wish. I mean one thing, above all else, that I really, really, want to do or see. I am sometimes slightly envious of those who do. I'm afraid I don't have the focus or dedication, my dreams are many, changeable and fragmented. To be honest, I tend to loose interest in things that take a long time to achieve. Daydreaming, however, is not just about unfulfilled dreams and wishes it is also about fantasy and escapism, handy tools for dealing with reality, which is not always a bundle of laughs.

One of the advantages of growing up in a major metropolis was weekly visits to the cinema and almost as frequent visits to the theatre. However as I was mostly taken by my mother I got to see more than a few Broadway/Hollywood musicals. There were a lot of them about at the time. I am told that I was always well behaved at the theatre, indicating that the rest of the time I probably wasn't. I certainly enjoyed our trips to the theatre in general but as a small boy I had my doubts about musicals. The dancing did go on for a very long time and it got in the way of the story and, although these musicals often involved soldiers, sailors or cowboys there was an awful lot of falling in and out of love and very little, if any, real action. At least Shakespeare plays, which I could barely understand at that age, had the occasional sword fight.

For the adults, however, musicals were the ultimate fantasy.. an escape from the dull, grey, austere post war reality of Great Britain, to a place where the sun was always shining, where there was singing and dancing in the streets and everybody lived, danced, and sang happily ever after! 

Ah well – there is nothing wrong with fantasy unless it becomes your reality...

and there is certainly nothing wrong with dreams as long as they don't become obsessions.

As a result of these early cinema/theatre visits I have a disproportionate knowledge of musicals from that era. Of a theatre form I don't really like and of songs and music that are really not my thing at all. I wouldn't usually admit it but I can quote whole chunks of songs from some of these musicals. That must be why this lyric, from the stage and film musical 'South Pacific' sprang immediately to my mind:

                  “ You've gotta have a dream.

                    If you don't have a dream

                    how you gonna make a dream come true"

 

                                                                                                                                            July 2015

Reverse Culture Shock

Reverse Culture Shock

It was never my intention to write either a travel blog or a diary but it is inevitable that several of my columns, like this one, contain elements of both. The first half of May I spent in Bishkek where among other things I was to be a guest speaker at various places including universities and a private language school. Now I know many of you would take this sort of thing in your stride but for me, despite jumping at the opportunity, it was something of a challenge. I am not a teacher or lecturer, I have never been much of a public speaker and, despite having done some acting, I suffer from stage fright. For these reasons I requested an informal setting and asked that the stress be on question and answer sessions. Armed with some photos, a guitar, my book and a vague plan I embarked upon my 'college tour'. Each venue was different, some had taken my request more seriously than others but the atmosphere was mostly relaxed. The most sessions began with a short series of photos , I talked about my book and ended all of them with one of my own songs. In between a fair amount of improvisations was called for depending on the group. On the whole though there was plenty of room for dialogue. For three of the most frequently asked questions I had no answer:

1) Who is your favourite footballer? - Yes I do watch football sometimes but I'm not really a fan as such, to make things worse the first time I was asked this question my mind went blank, I couldn't think of the names of any footballers, so I couldn't even fake it!
2) This question was formed in various ways but basically what the students in this emerging and struggling democracy wanted know was why two countries, Great Britain and The Netherlands, both great promoters of democracy and proud of their democratic heritage, had non-elected heads of state; Kings and Queens to be precise!- There is no good answer to that and certainly no short one!
3) What was my biggest culture shock in Kyrgyzstan? - I had no answer to this one either. I don't have a favourite footballer, I really don't understand why we still have kings and queens and as I hinted in my very first ever column I rarely experience culture shock. Mostly the place where I am seems the right and natural place to be, I adjust easily, maybe too easily sometimes.

Also I am, seriously, more often struck by how similar we all are despite the cultural, religious and social differences.

I certainly can't remember any great culture shock the first time I visited Kyrgyzstan, yes, of course, it was different, otherwise there would have been no point in going, but there was no shock.
Because I have regular contact, sometimes daily, with people in or from Kyrgyzstan it was surprising to realise that this recent trip was only my third visit to the country. There was something of a homecoming feel about it. Even the potholes in roads leading to the city centre were familiar, although some of them had grown up a bit since my last visit, got larger, bigger and deeper, some had even invited friends to join them to form small pothole communities, while just a few had disappeared, however, as I discovered while cycling around the city, they had simply moved to another district!

No, with a few exceptions, the nearest I come to culture shock is when I return from a trip. I am unreasonably disappointed that, back home, nothing has changed. While I have been away doing all sorts of exciting things, experiencing new sights, sounds and smells, meeting new people and/or old friends the folks back home have been getting on with their daily lives, jobs, chores, children's parties and parent problems. While I may be bubbling and bursting to share the stories of my travels many of them will not even have noticed that I was gone!

But that is not the worst thing, after all in a few weeks they may well be off having their own adventures.. No, the worst thing is that after the shortest time for me too it's business as usual: appointments, bills, taxes, deadlines, routines and daily rituals.

After just a few days it's even hard for me to believe that I have been away.......

…....“Obla-di-obla-da, life goes on”

The Story of...the making of...

The story of...the making of...

Many of you will have followed the twists and turns on the way to the publication of my book 'Letters to Kyrgyzstan' a collection of illustrated columns. Some may even be fed up hearing about it, while it may well have passed others by unnoticed. What most of you will not know is that, until I was approached,

I had no intention of publishing a book.

At the risk of repeating myself let's go right back to the very beginning. I have no idea why an article about mountain biking in Kyrgyzstan specially appealed to me, after all in the outdoor magazine I read regularly there were plenty of exotic and unusual destinations to choose from. Maybe destiny - but no, I don't believe in destiny. Anyway the idea slipped slowly to the back of my mind until several years later it was rekindled by the smallest possible advertisement in a cycling magazine. The tour advertised was neither too difficult or too easy. It combined culture, nature and physical effort and, added to that, it was affordable! We were a little worried about travelling in a group with a guide/translator even though we ourselves had been tour guides for many years. That problem was solved, however, when we were joined by two friends. So, in effect, we took our own group with us.

Our arrival at Manas Airport, Bishkek, coincided exactly with a solar eclipse. Now what are the chances of that? This should have been enough to get one of us made Emperor of all Kyrgyzstan but I guess as we were shuffling through customs at the time the moment passed. It must have been a good omen though. Our trip was all we had anticipated and much more. Kyrgyzstan is a fascinating and beautiful country and the Kyrgyz people are charming, friendly and hospitable. Our guide was an important part of a truly memorable experience. Before, during and after the tour we had time to get to know many of the other people involved in this small indigenous travel company. Most were young women, either students or recently graduated. They were intelligent, eager and above all they wanted to play a part in developing their new nation. Okay, it didn't escape me that they were also very attractive young women! However it was their refreshing idealism that was particularly appealing. It was a pleasure to be around them. I wanted to do something in return. As most of the guides were studying English I decided to write a monthly column. To provide some intelligent, up to date, informative and hopefully amusing texts for them to use, discuss and pass on.

We are still in contact with several of those we met on that trip. Some have become close friends. We have been back for a more physically demanding mountain bike tour. We have assisted and promoted Kyrgyzstan in various ways, including helping at travel fairs here in Europe. And..after a hesitant start the readership of the columns has grown, no longer restricted to Kyrgyz students and non- native English speakers, they are now spread and read in many parts of the world.

When, on the strength of some cartoons I had provided for a friend's book, a publisher asked if I would like to publish a book of my own work. It seemed too good to be true. I was cautious at first. It was too easy, it is notoriously difficult to get a book published. On the other hand I didn't have much to loose. The columns were already written and for the most part I would be using existing illustrations.

Well OK then – why not?

After a couple of years of delays, broken promises and missed publication dates the first books did arrive on Christmas Eve 2013 – hurrah! ….However the first mistake was on the cover, my name was spelled wrongly, inside it was far worse, some of the columns had lost all meaning as whole chunks of texts had 'wandered' into the wrong story!

The books were withdrawn from sale. The publisher acknowledged all the mistakes and then promptly ceased business before they could be corrected and reprinted. ' Letters to Kyrgyzstan' was left in a publishing limbo. Yes, it had been too good to be true. Luckily I had not lost a great deal of money but I had wasted a whole lot of time and effort and had used up some good will along the line.

I pretty much decided to abandon the project.

So, you can imagine, it came as a great surprise, when friends in Bishkek contacted me a short while ago announcing that they had found a printer and they wanted to finance and publish the book. Even more surprising when the whole thing was agreed, initiated and finished in just a few weeks.

Writers of columns frequently begin with an observation and then go all around the houses before eventually returning to their starting point. Well, it's much the same with this collection of columns. The original inspiration was Kyrgyzstan, it was written and illustrated in The Netherlands, passed on to an English publisher and a German printer before ending up right back where it all started.....in Bishkek!

Excuse me is this your Balalaika?

 

“ Why do you want to learn Russian?”

Well, it was just a whim, an impulse. I stumbled across an online language learning site and clicked 'Russian'. The introductory lesson was free and very easy. The course was affordable, … well why not? To be honest there are an awful lot of reasons why not, it just happened that not one of them occurred to me in time! I paid the fee and enrolled.

“What use is it to you?”

Okay not entirely impulsive- the idea had been lingering somewhere in the backwaters of my brain for a while, since our last visit to Kyrgyzstan to be precise. Being asked to guide a bicycle tour in Georgia this year was the trigger. In my heart I would prefer to learn Kyrgyz and/or Georgian but these languages, like Dutch are in an international perspective, more or less useless. Russian can be of use in both of these countries and in all the former soviet states.

I also have to admit that 'learning Russian' may be a bit of an exaggeration. I have set my sights rather low. In the first instance I will be happy if I can manage some daily activities: do the shopping, ask directions, arrange accommodation and decipher a menu. Discussing the meaning of life will have to wait a while!

So I paid my money, started the course and finished the first three lessons in no time. I did all the exercises, filled in all the blanks and put most of the words or letters in the right places. I felt quite proud until I paused to reflect and realised that I hadn't actually learnt anything at all. Well, not any Russian anyway.

I had discovered a few things though.

Firstly: that I have never really learnt a language as a conscious process. I mean, like all children, I learnt my own language by a process of imitation, approximation and assimilation. At school they just extended, improved and polished it. I learnt Dutch in very much the same way as a child does, except the basis was laid in bars and cafés rather than at home and in the kindergarten. I tend to learn most things this way, whether it is sport, cookery, computers, bicycle maintenance or playing the guitar. Picking up stuff as I go along rather than studying, a process of trial and error rather than training or following a rigid program. The second, rather obvious, discovery was that, whether you learn properly or muddle along like I do, learning a language is much easier if you are living in, or visiting, the country where it is spoken. During daily transactions in shops, on buses or in the café you will need to use and understand words and sentences. Menus, advertisements, instructions and signs are a constant stimulation to learning and an aid to memory. All around people are talking, discussing, arguing, bargaining and telling jokes, unconsciously you will be absorbing the sounds and feel of the language.

I have none of this, no signs, sounds, external stimulation or support.

“ I'm sure you have enough friends and acquaintances who would happily speak Russian with you”.

That's true, I guess... but I would find it difficult and contrived conversing with them in a language other than the one we are used too speaking . Especially as I do not see any of them very often. I don't want to waste time together on conversations like: “My name is Bob, what is your name?” when we've been friends for several years. Our conversations and discussions about everything from food, films and sport to sex,religion and politics would be somewhat dull, restricted by my lack of vocabulary.

Yes, a little late it's true, now all the reasons not to learn Russian have occurred to me. Not the least of them being that, in my situation, there is no alternative to conscientiously following the lessons. With no external influences I will not be able to improvise or skip whole sections like I usually do. This may well prove to be a bigger challenge than the language itself!

Despite this, surprisingly not deterred or discouraged, I have gone right back to square one. Starting the lessons over again. Paying attention to what I am doing rather than treating the whole process as a test of my speed and visual recognition. I have now repeated and completed five lessons. I do the daily tasks almost daily and I revise more or less when and what I am asked to revise.

“ How much Russian HAVE you learnt?”

Well, I now know some of the letters of the Cyrillic alphabet, I've learnt some simple words and personal pronouns. But mostly I've learnt about Anna and Tanya. I know who Anna and Tanya are. I know where Anna and Tanya are. Anna and Tanya are at home (with Ivan?). I have learnt that Anna and Tanya drink. I have learnt what Anna and Tanya drink. They drink water, milk, juice, tea, coffee, beer, wine and, last but not least, vodka...

                         ....cheers!       Будем здоровы!

Zapaholic?

 

-zap-

With me it's a late night thing.

-zap-

A long time ago I gave up watching TV in the evenings...

-zap-

...at least on a regular basis.

At prime time there are so few programmes that interest me.

-zap-

The two main consequences of this are that the most productive part of my creative working day has shifted: I do most of my writing and drawing in the evenings...

-zap-

...and I seem to have relinquished all my rights to the remote control during peak viewing time.

-zap-

-zap-

-zap-

Though why I do it remains a mystery. A strange compulsion. I mean, I've already consulted the TV guide and established that there is not much for me in the way of education or entertainment. Even though my standards at this time of the night, after working all evening, are quite low.

-zap-

Do I somehow think that the TV companies will have changed or rearranged their schedules at the very last minute just to suit me?

-zap-

-zap-

Even I'm not that optimistic!

-zap-

Oh...and...by the way...we have cable TV with the minimum package, just 25 channels, so you'd think that I'd be zapped-out in no time...

-zap-

...not a bit... when I get to the end I zap right back again!

-zap-

Okay...eternally hopeful and lowering my standards yet another degree...let's try again...there must be something...

-zap-

What's this? Naked 'Celebrities' eating worms in the jungle? They must be really desperate...

for a career!

-zap-

Oh no ...yet another programme about sick people. I don't get this fascination with disease and injury on television. I mean, you wouldn't say to your family after Sunday lunch “ Come on, let's all go down to the local hospital and watch some people being seriously ill” would you? Or maybe YOU would?

-zap-

-zap-

Ah...this looks better...an old detective series. Em? Let's see..the body was found in a 10th floor apartment and the lift was out of order. They've arrested a lift engineer with a criminal record and a grudge against the victim...oh yes... and he had the murder weapon in his hand. So it's obvious...he didn't commit the murder. My bet is that it is either the young girl in a wheel chair with two broken arms and a cast iron alibi or an apparently irrelevant barman who appears too often and has too many lines for a bit part actor. Possibly they are in it together. ..damn...commercial break....

-zap-

...more commercials...

-zap-

...talk show repeat..

-zap-

-zap-

...hey...wait a minute... a film... and it's just started. It looks okay... I'll just get myself a beer and...

...OH NO!... IS THAT THE TIME!!!!!!!!

-click-