Er... WhatsApp Doc?

Er.. What's app Doc?

Okay – I'll come right out with it - I hate WhatsApp! I'm tempted to follow this up by saying that I also hate smart phones in general but that would be very far from the truth. In fact I think smart phones are remarkable pieces of technology. Just look at what they can do. They can take photos and film videos, pin point your location and plan a route to somewhere else. They can give you online access to more information that anybody will ever need They can schedule your appointments, scan your shopping and wake you up. You can do your banking with them, plan and book your holidays, watch films and play games. You can even use them to make telephone calls! They make the communicators used by the crew of Starship Enterprise in the Star Trek films and TV series look quite basic. No, I'm not a modern day Luddite.. What? You don't know what a Luddite is?... well –  just Google it on your smart phone … In fact I admire most inventions even if I don't embrace them all. However they do all have one important and the same drawback, namely that human beings are allowed to use them! And that's where it all goes wrong.

Despite all the obvious advantages of global mobile communication and all the amazing features of these pocket sized technological wonders they seem mostly to be used for playing games, exchanging lunch photos or resolving petty arguments in cafés and pubs. We used to sit around drinking with friends while discussing a whole range of topics, as the evening wore on the subjects would become both more trivial and more heated. But - at closing time each of us would go home happy in the knowledge that we had been right. Now someone is bound to spoil the fun by checking the facts on their phone proving at least some of us wrong while at the same time bringing the conversation, that may well have entertained us the whole evening,  to an abrupt end.

Of course, in developing countries where the infrastructure was poor, mobile telephones have vastly improved communication and they have certainly saved people from death and danger. However, when I hear customers in the supermarket calling home to ask whether they should buy milk or plain chocolate cookies I sometimes wonder if all the time, effort ,research, development and ingenuity was really worth it!

So- what's up with WhatApp then? Well, here again it's not a question of me not moving with the times. I have a Facebook account, a Twitter account, LinkedIn and a few other accounts besides and I spend quite a lot of time using them. The point is, though, I don't carry them around with me. I read and post articles, photos, cartoons, columns or chat,  in private without disturbing other people. And that's the problem with WhatsApp (and Messenger), besides giving my partner yet another reason not to listen to me, it is overall, everywhere and, more often than not, intrusive. It's great that we can have free, easy and immediate contact with people all over the world but that doesn't mean we have to do it all the time!  Frequently, in company, some of the gathering will have a least half an eye on their screen, while others will be openly reading or answering messages. WhatsApp is addictive. If proof was needed I found it last summer half way up the Caucasus mountains. Lunch had been arranged in a small restaurant that was officially not yet open, there was a beautiful view, a friendly greeting, the table was already laid and full of delicious looking food BUT there was also Wifi...within seconds every member of the group, the driver, the guide, the guides wife, the assistant guides and all the mountain bikers were checking to see how many messages they had missed during the previous two hours driving or cycling! I was surprised, annoyed, embarrassed, and a little sad. Well, okay, to be honest, I was mostly very hungry and eager to get on with the eating part but you get the picture.

I have a computer, a lap-top and a tablet and as I have already mentioned I use quite a range of social media nonetheless it was a long time before we bought our first computer, not because of any resistance to modernity, technological advance or change, quite the reverse in fact.
I predicted that once I had a computer a disproportionate amount of my day would be spent sitting in front of a screen. And that is exactly what happend, that's what I do, for work and play, for pleasure and education, for social contacts and self promotion and sometimes just to pass the time. So now you have a clue to the real reason that I still have a very-far-from-smart-phone and no WhatsApp. You can forget everything I have written above – the plain truth is I'm afraid that when I do get a smartphone, and that is inevitable, I will be at least as bad as everybody else and maybe a bit worse than some! 

Dutch Uncles

Dutch Uncles

A 'Dutch Uncle' is an English term for a person who issues, direct, critical and severe comments and/or advice in order to 'educate'.. whether advice has been asked for or not.

The Netherlands is full of Dutch Uncles (and Aunts),”Well of course it is”! you will say, but I do mean the country is full of people who conform to the above definition, it is an intrinsic part of the Dutch character. Although national stereotypes can be misleading they do usually have some basis in reality. In The Netherlands, whatever the activity, there will always be somebody telling you how you could, and indeed should, be doing it differently and better ...and they will not let a lack of knowledge on the subject prevent them from doing so.

For a foreigner living in the country it is a constant but minor irritation. When just about everybody is telling you the best and/or correct way to do just about everything you soon learn to shut out or ignore virtually all unsolicited advice... even the good bits! Among the Dutch themselves it seems not to be a problem, I suppose, as each individual knows best, they sort of cancel each other out. Which could explain why socially and politically they mostly manage to end up with a compromise rather than a conflict!

No, …it's when Dutch people travel abroad that this national characteristic becomes something of an embarrassment.  
In Hungary I once had to persuade a Dutch couple not to tell a restaurant owner how he should make goulash!

The Dutch are great travellers but I can't help feeling that they see travel less as a learning experience and more as a teaching opportunity!
But you don't have to take my word for it. I'd like to refer you to the Dutch travel writer and TV program maker Jelle Brandt Corstius. In his book ' The general Guide to Travelling in Difficult Countries' he refers to this trait as the Preacher Complex: Ask any foreigners who spends a great deal of time with Dutch people what they really think of the Dutch and, after a few drinks, nine out of ten will say “They are overly opinionated and always know best”. “We” (the Dutch) he says “think of ourselves as messengers, as missionaries spreading our Dutch ideals and way of life. But let me assure you, the rest of the world is not desperately waiting to hear our message”!
The message, by the way, has a great deal to do with ' The Work Ethic' ….
'Work ethic': a belief in the moral value of work... basically – if you work hard you will become a 'good person' and go to heaven.
I have always suspected, despite what the literature may say, that this concept was thought up and introduced by rich factory owners who then laughed all the way to their tennis clubs. In America it is referred to as the Protestant Work Ethic but in The Netherlands it is a national characteristic that crosses religious boundaries...yes, only in The Netherlands, even non-believers and Catholics can be Calvanists! The Dutch as a nation are traditionally thought of as sober, hard -working and down to earth. However, I wouldn't like you to think that the Dutch don't have fun, of course they do, but the work ethic is so ingrained in their DNA that they still tend to think that fun has to be earned or is a reward for hard work and diligence.

This summer I travelled with a group of Netherlanders in Georgia, as with other Dutch groups I had previously accompanied, they soon started to critiscise the imperfect state of the infrastructure, the poor maintenance of the buildings, the neglected commercial possibilities and the lack of initiative, industry and effort shown by the inhabitants. In just a few days they had observed, judged and concluded. They were ready, happy and willing to tell anybody who would listen how, why and what the Georgians should do to improve themselves, their cirumstances and their nation.

Now - put simply, the Georgians are the exact opposite of the Dutch. They are variously described by themselves and in the literature  as lazy or laid-back, it is a matter of opinion which. Whatever your point of view, however, it is an undisputed fact that Georgians prefer eating, drinking, making music and having a good time with their friends and families to hard work......

.... and  to be honest.... I can't find much wrong with that!

Hualing City

HUALING CITY

If you fly into Tbilisi after dark, from the airplane window it's impossible to miss the huge, fully illuminated box-shaped structure at the edge of the city. This is the 5- star Hualing Hotel, the prominent figurehead of the Hualing City project. Stretching down the hill behind the hotel are a collection of apartment blocks known locally as the Chinese district. Not that there is much Chinese about it except that is was built and financed by a Chinese company. The architecture is a little different and less austere than the neighbouring apartment buildings but none of the staff or residents in this complex are Chinese. There are no Chinese signs, shops or restaurants. Curiously, though, as you punch in your entry code at the front door a recorded voice will greet you in Chinese.

We were in Georgia to prepare, ride and guide a mountain bike tour in the Caucasus. While we were not on the road we had the use of a functionally furnished apartment.
During the first couple of days, not yet knowing our way around and the hotel being such a prominent landmark we would be picked up and dropped- off at the hotel main entrance, where after being greeted by the doorman and smiled at by the receptionists we made our way through the vast lobby out the rear door and on to our humble apartment. At first we had no Wifi connection so we would regularly pop into the hotel to catch up on our mails and messages or , as the apartment was not air conditioned, just to escape the heat for a while.

Walking through this project you will notice that, although it is less than three years old, bits are falling off or are broken and not everything is working quite as it should. On the other hand it is pleasantly landscaped, well maintained and watered lawns with plenty of pools and fountains where children may be paddling in the water under the 'bathing forbidden' notice. The complex is surrounded by a wall, there are guards at the entrances to give the residents a sense of security and the men a sense of having a job. There seem to be a lot of them and not much for them to do. In the daytime it is quiet, people are at work or indoors avoiding the sun. Others leave the city to spend part of the summer visiting grandmother in the countryside or mountains. In the evenings, after dark, there is a pleasantly relaxed atmosphere, some of the remaining residents are sitting around on the walls or doorsteps exchanging gossip while the children play. The adults are friendly and helpful, the children even more so, they are eager to use the few words of English they have learned at school. Since 2008 English is the official second language in Georgia, replacing Russian.

If New York is known as the city that never sleeps then Tbilisi is the city that goes to bed late and doesn't want to get up in the morning. Even in this relatively quiet corner of the city the traffic and street noises go on until deep into the night .. but in the mornings it's quiet ….in Georgia it is, so I'm told, impolite to make appointments or do business before 10am!

Opposite the lower gate you'll find a fruit and vegetable stall under a parasol and a taxi halt where the drivers wait in the baking sun for fares. You may well, like us, get to know the regular drivers quite well, taxis are cheap especially if you know the going rate and they realise you're not a 5-star tourist. The neighbouring district consist of huge grey apartment blocks in varying degrees of decay and neglect, decorated with weeds and washing lines that  add a touch of individuality and a reluctant charm.  In, under and between these concrete blocks, if you take the trouble , you will discover several small general stores, grocers and bakers. Take a short walk further downhill past kiosks where you can fill plastic bottles with cheap beer, an overgrown building site, two wrecked cars and a dubious looking garage and you will be surprised to find 'Ori Tona' an attractive, modern, bar, brewery and restaurant. A row of polished copper brewery kettles form the background and an attractive young waitress will help you choose from a variety of beers. There is every chance that someone at a nearby table will offer you a glass of vodka... and a sausage.

Even closer to the complex, on the other side of the road, between the car-wash and a second hand car tyre dealer, another surprise, the sign says take away pizza but it is a cool and pleasant place just to sit on the original and modern patio and drink coffee (or beer), the is pizza optional.

For a more perverse pleasure you can visit 'The Family' supermarket directly next to the Hualing project... simply because it is such a contrast with the rest of Georgia! Everywhere else whether in cities, villages or small towns even the smallest general stores are fully stocked sometimes leaving little space for customers. Shop owners and assistants, well - most Georgians, are open, helpful, friendly and often inquisitive. Not here! Here you will find an amazing oasis of unfriendliness and bad manners. In this, clean, fresh, well laid-out, spacious supermarket there are always some empty shelves and everyday products are frequently unavailable The staff (the family?) are at best disinterested, at worst openly irritated if you happen to interrupt a delicate nail varnishing session or an important telephone conversation.

One morning a new girl at the check-out smiled at me, we never saw her again!

Pack Chat

Pack Chat

When trying to fit our bicycles and everything we need for the trip into two boxes without exceeding the weight limit demanded by the airlines swearing usually helps! Compromises will have to be made there will be last minute changes, additions, readjustments and, almost certainly, some arguments...ah - but that's all part of the game.
Shortly after writing this we will be on our way. Ahead of us five weeks without radio, TV or newspapers and only occasional internet. Which means five weeks without politics... hasn't there been a lot of that around this last year. People in Africa walking for miles and queuing for hours in the burning sun in order to vote while in America half the electorate just didn't bother! In Britain they're still suffering from a post- referendum hangover as they realise what a fine mess they've got themselves into. The votes were so splintered in the Dutch elections that it is proving difficult to form a coalition government and probably impossible to form one that will last. The French elected an unknown. The Germans stuck with what they had... and the snowball of right-wing populists, at least temporarily, has been halted...possibly due to the emergence of green parties and a resurgence of old- fashioned socialists but the election of Trump as leader of the western world may have been a bigger influence!
Meanwhile my part in the whole democratic system is a very small one. I mean really small! When Britain leaves the EU I will loose my European citizenship and my right to vote for the European parliament and that was one of the few opportunities I had. I've been away from England too long to be eligible to vote in Britain and, of course, as I'm not Dutch I'm not entitled to vote in the their national elections. Just about all that's left for me to vote for is my local city council and 'Holland's got Talent' !

Despite being unable to participate directly in the democratic process, when an election is approaching I log into the Dutch online voting advice site – to play my political version of 'Fantasy Football'. Twenty-eight parties took part in the recent Dutch election and due to the polling system many of them had a real chance of winning at least a seat or two. To find out who I should or would vote for, if I could, I fill in the lengthy questionnaire and the answer is usually GroenLinks (The Green Left Party) the clue is in the name. However this year it came up with PvdD (The party for the Animals) which is not as fluffy as it sounds, in fact PvdD is slightly more green and slightly more left than GroenLinks! So no real surprise there.

When I left The British Isles politics was fairly simple there were just two main parties to choose from and only one other that had any serious chance of winning seats in parliament. Due to various changes there are now more options, so just before the recent, hastily organised, general election in Britain I looked for, and found, an online voting guide. Again I filled in the questionnaire, as with the Dutch version there were several items that I know, or care, little about, but I did my best to be honest and accurate. This time the result was less predictable.... it turns out that this Englishman, living in The Netherlands with an Irish surname, possibly a mad, deaf or French grandmother who has been at various times  mistaken for an American, Canadian, Russian and more frequently German or Scandinavian is, according to this site, a Scottish Nationalist!
Now, that has certainly given me something to think about....

…..but that's not all... with everything already packed and puzzled into two large bicycle boxes, weighed and reweighed... there is plenty of time left for doubt and indecision: should I take an extra pair of cycling shorts , have I packed too many socks and too few underpants......OMG it's 40 degrees in Tbilisi! I won't be needing that thick fleece jacket then...maybe another T-shirt instead....and
…should I take bagpipes instead of my travel guitar........................ ?

 

Old Man in Tights

Old Man in Tights

My nephew in Christchurch, New Zealand posted on Facebook that he was enjoying lunch at ' The Bicycle Thief'. I assumed that the name of the restaurant was a reference to an Italian film classic. My nephew wasn't too interested in this or any of my other less serious speculations about the origins of the name but remarked that fat, middle aged cyclists dressed in Lycra should have their bikes stolen to prevent them appearing in public. He considered them an eyesore. I didn't take his comment personally as I am not fat and, to be honest, even stretching the definition to its limits, I can no longer claim to be middle aged.

 

As it happens, I do have some sympathy with his comments. Skin hugging Lycra shows every bulge and bump on a body and some bodies have an awful lot of bulges and bumps to show. To make things worse many XXL or XXXL wannabe racers choose to wear size WT clothing (WT = Wishful Thinking) and it doesn't help that the current generation of cycling shirts taper at the waist making even quite fit people look a bit bulky around the middle.

Generally sportswear evolves to suit a  specific activity. It is designed primarily for it's functionality not for fashion. In this case the function is cycling not strutting around town or going to the market. Most people don't look too bad in cycling clothes while they are on a bicycle and if they do, well, they'll be out of sight in a few seconds. However off the bike it's a different story! Shoes for racing bikes have cleats under the soles, that click into the pedals, designed for more pedalling efficiency but making walking difficult, clumsy and, sometimes, even dangerous. Cycling shorts have a cushioned pad sewn into them to ease the contact between the cyclists backside and the rock-hard racing saddle. Generally the pads that provide the best cushioning are the ones that are the most unsightly and most uncomfortable when walking!

Fat middle aged Lycra covered men either on bicycles or waddling around town with pads in their pants may not be a pretty sight, nonetheless, I can't agree with my nephew that they should be banned for spoiling the view. In the first place because, based on this criteria, masses of overweight and over fed people wallowing in unsuitable swimwear  would have to be banned from our beaches. In the summer city parks and centres would have to be cleared of all the fast- food-seeking, ice-cream-eating, oversized population in undersized clothing exposing  excesses of bellies and buttocks! Even if this was desirable or legal how could it be implemented? It would take an army of Ayatollahs with sticks and/or thousands of strategically placed templates that people would have to be able to pass through in order to obtain access to the streets, parks and beaches!

Furthermore endurance sports, like running and cycling, have become increasingly popular recreational activities for men and women of all ages, shapes and sizes. Cycling is now not only a sport but also a 'life- style' statement. It has become cool, trendy and, as a result, big business! Due to this popularity bike wear has become a little more attractive as well as being functional, the prices of cycling related products have rocketed and, as my speed and strength gradually diminish, I am increasingly being passed on the hills by faster, fitter and younger cyclists....

 

 

So, to be honest I don't want to ban overweight and under trained, Lycra wearing, middle aged cyclists at all. In fact I want more of them, many more. Why? Because while overtaking them as they struggle, swear and sweat their way up hilly roads or mountains tracks I can feel a lot better about myself and my own performance!

But to be fair, at least these middle aged men are trying..

...what really irritates me are those people, fat or thin, who pass by on their electrically powered bicycles. They are not dressed in Lycra but, more often than not, they have  annoying and totally unjustified superior grins on their faces!

Bloody Mary

Bloody Mary

Recently there was an election here in The Netherlands, weeks and months of facts, half facts, false facts and sometimes no facts at all. Somehow between the wall – to – wall political propaganda in the regional newspaper a small announcement by the local history society caught my eye. Mainly because the article mentioned Bloody Mary. It was the first time I had seen the name since I came across it some fifteen years ago in an English book about pirates. This notorious female pirate had once owned a bar in Breda, the city where I live. Usually the local newspaper and tourist board are eager to claim anything or anyone with even the slightest connection to the town but Bloody Mary has gone almost unnoticed.
So –while the news media is now mostly speculating on which complicated coalition of parties will be governing the country for the next four years – let's forget about politics, relax and I'll tell you a story:

Mary Read was born in England and, for inheritance reasons, was brought up and dressed as a boy. She went into service but soon tired of being a servant, enlisted in the navy as a cabin boy before jumping ship and joining the British army in Flanders. She fought in several battles and fell in love with the handsome Flemish corporal with whom she was sharing a tent. At some point, as one of the contemporary accounts puts it ' she found a way to make him aware of her sex'. According to the same account he was 'surprised and delighted' at this revelation - I bet he was- but, surprisingly considering her later reputation, she made him promise to marry her before they went any further. He did. They did. When the military campaign was over they left the army, got married and became owners of the Three Horseshoes bar and restaurant in Breda. The actual site of this bar is uncertain but one of the possible locations suggested by historians is very close to the café that I most frequently visit.

Unfortunately her husband was killed in a knife fight and a period of peace was bad for business, there were not enough officers in what was essentially a garrison town. She closed the bar, resumed male dress, reverted to the name Mark Read and rejoined the army for a brief spell before boarding a ship sailing for the West Indies. The ship was captured by pirates. She was persuaded to joined the pirate crew, which, it is said, she did with great enthusiasm. Later as part of a general amnesty she and the crew were pardoned. She then sailed on a merchant ship which was, would you believe it, boarded and captured by pirates! This is when she came into contact with another female pirate, Anne Bonny, and her infamous partner Captain Jack Rackham known as Calico Jack. Anne, who dressed in male clothes but was not disguised as a man, took quite a liking to the good-looking sailor. However, when Mark revealed that she was really Mary it is said that Anne was somewhat disappointed while, on the other hand, Captain Jack was greatly relieved!
The three of them joined forces to rob, steal and terrorize the coast of the Bahamas until they were eventually captured. According to witnesses the two women were at least as fierce and bloodthirsty as their male crew mates and before their final capture they were reportedly the last ones on deck still fighting while the rest of the crew had surrendered.
The whole crew were tried, found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging however both of the women were pregnant ( Mary had obviously let another crew member become 'aware of her sex') and so, according to the law at that time, they escaped the gallows.
By now you are probably thinking that this tale has been ripped from a cheap romantic novel and is about as believable as an election promise,  however  I can assure you, although some accounts do vary, the core of the story is true and well documented. Also, unlike an adventure book or film, the end is a bit of an anti- climax. It is likely that Anne Bonny was bought out of captivity by her wealthy parents. Some say that she married and became a respectable wife and the mother of several children but there is no real evidence to support this.   

And Mary Read? She died of a fever shortly after the trial.........

Twenty- eight political parties took part in the Dutch general election, one of them was the Pirate Party. It always amazes me that anyone votes for the most obscure and eccentric parties. Nationwide the Pirate Party scored .03% of the total vote. In the local context the number of people who voted for them was maybe just about enough to crew one small pirate ship!

When a Dodo Flaps it's Wings...

When a Dodo Flaps its Wings...

They say that if a butterfly in Japan flaps its wings it could cause a hurricane in, let's say, Galverston, Texas. That is a whole lot of pressure, blame and guilt to put onto one small butterfly but of course, although many people do, it is not meant to be taken literally. It's just a way of saying that seemingly unimportant incidents can start a sequence of events with far reaching and unexpected results. For example: about eighteen months ago in Bosnia a young pregnant woman, desperately in need of a toilet, was forced to stop at a remote café where we happened to be drinking coffee.. as a result I have recently been providing cartoons for a project linked to a zoo in Poland!

The aim of the project, Fundacja Dodo (The Dodo Foundation), is to stimulate the preservation of endangered species in their natural habitats.

Most of my work as a cartoonist has been for magazines,books, course material or information campaigns. In most cases I am asked to illustrate and commentate on particular themes, subjects, articles or news items. Despite the fact that I provide humorous drawings this can, and often does, involve a fair amount of research. At the very least I have to read AND understand all the texts in order to make jokes about them...even though the humour often comes from deliberately misunderstanding or oversimplifying the subject. I have become quite a specialist in management over the years even though I've almost never had what most people would call a ' proper job'. I have also had to learn, among other things, about local government, TV cameras, canteen food, coffee machines, carers and quality control along with sewers, social housing, street furniture, and sperm donation. Knowledge that mostly gets discarded or forgotten the moment I move on to the next job.

Anyway, currently I have spent a fair amount of time dredging the internet for information and pictures of various animals, some of which I had never even heard of before.

There is plenty of information to be found and much of it makes for interesting reading but my researches have raised a few questions along with the answers. For instance, the Saola, a gazelle-like creature, was only discovered in 1999 and since then it has rarely been seen. 'Rarely seen' does, however, mean that they have been seen more often since 1999 than before that date. So it could be that Saola are flourishing rather than facing extinction!

Along with the Saola the available literature describes several other of the foundation's target species as being exceedingly shy which raises another question: are these creatures really dying out or are they just not going out?

Well,OK, these may be the somewhat distorted reactions you can expect when you let a cartoonist loose on a project. If you are really interested the genuine facts and figures should soon be available for all to see when the English language site is ready, which, I believe, is the main reason for my participation.

The Fundacja is named after the now long extinct Dodo.

Unlike a butterfly, when a Dodo flapped it's wings not very much happened at all.
The Dodo was a large, slow, clumsy and flightless bird.
What I did learn from my online explorations was that it wasn't its size, lack of speed, lack of agility or lack of proper wings that caused this birds extinction. None of these characteristics would have been a problem but for one other property: unfortunately for the Dodo, it tasted really good!