Anyone who has ever been on a package holiday will be able to empathise with this blog post, and other who have not, will surely be able to sympathise with my particular stance on this watery subject.
When on Holiday I enjoy watching people. Indeed, when I am in Britain I enjoy watching people, it is not a holiday exclusive activity. With the obvious mixing of nationalities which only happen in this situations a wide range of new types of people to watch are available, making almost 50% of the pleasure of being holiday in this activity alone. In particular, the Germans are a very nice nationality to watch.
This is because they are so diametrically opposite to the British ways of social interaction.
Queuing
This is an activity that the British are mocked by the rest of the world for, but in any event, a good queue is something that no matter how hard we try we cannot not adhere to. When waiting to get onto the Catamaran San Frangisk the British members of the party, who we had arrived with from our hotel, formed an orderly queue in the direction of the passport office which we required to file through to enter Italy. This was formed out of nothing, with no signs saying "Queue this way", and no instructions to order ourselves, we just did it. When the Germans and Croatians (and the Russians, Swedes, Slovenians, Hungarians and Bosnians) arrived after us, they just piled through our routine line, and the majority of our queue were aghast at the sheer unfathomable queue debauchery that had taken place.
Our OCD need to order the queues in time descending order* is something that over hundreds of years of order we have became proud of, and even do it without noticing it.
I think, that if Hitler was a dinner guest he would be very chatty, with his Grand Plan, and Final Solution would be a rather heated topic of discussion, but when it came to waiting in line for the bathroom untold chaos would commence.
Sun Lounger Etiquette
When on Holiday the hotels all have guidelines about beach towels on loungers at the pool side, and the majority of them note that you "must not place towels to save your place if you do no intend to use them". The British, in the same fashion we have for queues, enjoy adhering to rules such as these, out of respect for the person who spent time and effort to think how to write such a rule, and the disaster effects of miss use of the responsibility given to honour those said rules.
The Germans, who I am beginning to pick on slightly, do not known this rule. It was written in German, so no defence there. They just place their towels, head off for a few hours, and return expecting the towels to still be there. Normally this would only be slightly annoying, but when the commander a section of loungers around an umbrella, the British take a stance.
That Umbrella is free game.
I watched many people do silent tango's over an umbrella and sun loungers, which could have easily been solved, by just taking the things, and talking loudly in English when they start talking loudly in German.
Unrelated, by a smidgen
I started watching Band of Brothers two weeks ago, and just finished watching it. The ninth episode, "Why We Fight", shows the 101st Airborne finding a concentration camp towards the end of the second World War. It was the first time I can remember actually feeling some kind of emotion at anything on the television, with a lump in my throat. It still amazes me to read that the rest of the world had no idea of Hitlers Final Solution, and is not something to be made light of, which I did above.
The war(s) , and the men who fought and died for their country's sake, for King and country, and everyone who reads this owes them much more than I can write here. My point is this; I think that if we were called to fight right now, I would be slightly inclined to refuse (you can use the excuse that you are a Quaker, which is a dream ticket to a relaxing time on the home front or in a prison) because I have not encountered a risk as great as the German invasions. If one such as that was to happen, I think I would fight, but how many of today's youth would volunteer as the Easy Company did in Band of Brothers.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
The Holiday 2: A fairly horrible moment.
Have you ever seen Hitchcock's "The Birds"? I have not, but I can see how the master of suspense is able to make a rather chilling, frightening, and mostly disturbing film about said subject. But, I cannot fathom however, that any one would obtain an irrational fear of birds from watching the film. I know of people (mostly female) that find walking through George Square is a task, due to all the flying birds.
The problem with this fear is that unlike a Tiger, Elephant or a large car, birds are at least 5 times larger than most human beings, and don't really present that much danger to us as a species. They are scavengers, rodents, and very beautiful at times, especially the Peacock, to advance their chances of attracting a mate and Bill Oddie.
My loving companion, the sun worshipper, finds these particular things absolutely terrifying, and can be scared to her wits end by even the slightest chance of attracting the attention of one of these birds, and actively becomes very sweaty, edgy, and to the point of absurdity, even physically violent to anyone who derides her of this fear.
On our trip to Venice, we assembled in Per San Marco, which apart from having a truly gracious and well positioned name, is home to approximately 3000 pigeons, something that it is very famous for.
At this point we shall leave the point of this post and go wildly off at a tangent. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to build a bunch of building that would become a large city on a series of sand banks. They tried to build on it, noticed it was impossible and actually circumvented the problem by drilling millions of trees into the ground to build their buildings on. What a waste of effort! Just move across the beaches, to the mainland, and build a city that does not flood every day during the autumn, one that in 40 years will not be under 50ft of water.
That said, it really is quite quaint, beautiful, and charming. As an engineer, I can see past all that, and note that the Italians, and more specifically the Venetians were barking mad, and deserve the large burden of a few billion € that is costing to build a massive wall to protect the city from the water. The task it like trying to save an ice cube from the cold. (Thanks Modest Mouse).
Back on track, Hazel believes that these pigeons have one thing on their mind;
KILL ALL THE HUMANS!
This is wildly inaccurate. When you realise they do not have conscious thought you realise the in affect these birds will have.
The very next day we were sitting in the poolside bar having lunch, when I glanced upon the resident seagull. It was just hanging about, casing the joint for food. Only after a few moments did I actually see the bird, and noticed it had no beak. Instead, there was a sort of area of space occupied by nothing other than not beak. Its mouth area was charred, blackened and ripped to shreds. This was rather unsettling, and promptly caused to burst in laughter at the the horrible and comical sight, but also recoil in revulsion at this animal's suffering. I added that there just so you don't think of me as a callous bastard.
Hazel, on the other hand, thought of it her worst nightmare. I pointed out it would only be able to lick her face, which caused her more suffering. Saddeningly a couple tried to feed the poor thing, but having no mouth is sort of licked it, pushed it about a bit, and looked at the couple apologetically. "Sorry, I understand your sentiments, but I have no mouth you see, so this might be a little tricky." Imagine trying to eat a slice of toast with no arms and no jaw.
It was pretty harrowing, funny by the nature of Hazels worry for its presence. She was jumping about in her seat, trying to "avoid its gaze in case it sees me and wants to come next to me", and asking "Where is It!?", and generally making quite a scene of her self, much to my sadistic enjoyment. I tried to console her by explaining it had been reduced to a effective flying dog, but this worried her even more.
Other couples saw this, and were understandably worried, but none of us tried to put the poor bird of it's misery, we were too worried about the seagull.
On a nicer note, who wrote "The Birds"?
The problem with this fear is that unlike a Tiger, Elephant or a large car, birds are at least 5 times larger than most human beings, and don't really present that much danger to us as a species. They are scavengers, rodents, and very beautiful at times, especially the Peacock, to advance their chances of attracting a mate and Bill Oddie.
My loving companion, the sun worshipper, finds these particular things absolutely terrifying, and can be scared to her wits end by even the slightest chance of attracting the attention of one of these birds, and actively becomes very sweaty, edgy, and to the point of absurdity, even physically violent to anyone who derides her of this fear.
On our trip to Venice, we assembled in Per San Marco, which apart from having a truly gracious and well positioned name, is home to approximately 3000 pigeons, something that it is very famous for.
At this point we shall leave the point of this post and go wildly off at a tangent. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to build a bunch of building that would become a large city on a series of sand banks. They tried to build on it, noticed it was impossible and actually circumvented the problem by drilling millions of trees into the ground to build their buildings on. What a waste of effort! Just move across the beaches, to the mainland, and build a city that does not flood every day during the autumn, one that in 40 years will not be under 50ft of water.
That said, it really is quite quaint, beautiful, and charming. As an engineer, I can see past all that, and note that the Italians, and more specifically the Venetians were barking mad, and deserve the large burden of a few billion € that is costing to build a massive wall to protect the city from the water. The task it like trying to save an ice cube from the cold. (Thanks Modest Mouse).
Back on track, Hazel believes that these pigeons have one thing on their mind;
KILL ALL THE HUMANS!
This is wildly inaccurate. When you realise they do not have conscious thought you realise the in affect these birds will have.
The very next day we were sitting in the poolside bar having lunch, when I glanced upon the resident seagull. It was just hanging about, casing the joint for food. Only after a few moments did I actually see the bird, and noticed it had no beak. Instead, there was a sort of area of space occupied by nothing other than not beak. Its mouth area was charred, blackened and ripped to shreds. This was rather unsettling, and promptly caused to burst in laughter at the the horrible and comical sight, but also recoil in revulsion at this animal's suffering. I added that there just so you don't think of me as a callous bastard.
Hazel, on the other hand, thought of it her worst nightmare. I pointed out it would only be able to lick her face, which caused her more suffering. Saddeningly a couple tried to feed the poor thing, but having no mouth is sort of licked it, pushed it about a bit, and looked at the couple apologetically. "Sorry, I understand your sentiments, but I have no mouth you see, so this might be a little tricky." Imagine trying to eat a slice of toast with no arms and no jaw.
It was pretty harrowing, funny by the nature of Hazels worry for its presence. She was jumping about in her seat, trying to "avoid its gaze in case it sees me and wants to come next to me", and asking "Where is It!?", and generally making quite a scene of her self, much to my sadistic enjoyment. I tried to console her by explaining it had been reduced to a effective flying dog, but this worried her even more.
Other couples saw this, and were understandably worried, but none of us tried to put the poor bird of it's misery, we were too worried about the seagull.
On a nicer note, who wrote "The Birds"?
Sunday, June 17, 2007
The Holiday 1: Sun, The Immortal Nemesis of the Scot.
Manz of the readers of mz blog, which I am sure there are manz, will notice, and will simulataneouslz be shocked to find out, that I am indeed still on holidaz. I am writing this from inside our hotel, which is on the island of Sv Nikola, just of the coast of Croatia (Hrvatska), 2 minutes from the port of Poreć. The reason whz I am posting is that;
It is roasting outside. I have decided to shelter indoors for the moment, whilst mz sun loving companion laps it up, burning the cancerous UV razs straight into her skin. I was burned on the first daz, after having mz Tshirt off for no more that 20 minutes.
The internet cafe is free. Our brochure stated that, for a small fee, the internet was available, so natruallz I waited till late on to ask about it, onlz to find that it was free. Unfortunatlez, the PC has a rather interesting kezboard, of which the Z and the Y kezs have been swapped around, so I have, for the sake of noveltz, decided to ignore this rather annozing, but totallz anglicised feature of the kezboard.
I have just finished reading Richard Dawkin's "The God Delusion", a rather incredible read. I was put onto the case bz mz friends Derek and Andrew, who will I am sure, gain a buyy from reading their names in this world famnous and read bz millions work of fantastic literature. We were discussing religion and other beliefs, and were trulz surprised bz mz Agostic belief about the Universe. Orignallz, I was admittadlz confused, surprised bz the wonder of the universe but a little in worrz of the implication of the whole thing. Mz agnotisicsm, which I thought was the perfect alleviation to this problem, was the onlz real ideal for the universe to be seen.
I was verz much wrong.
I think, after reading twice, I am now a full atheist. Mz argument, which I based on improbabilitz was complotelz blown out of the water, and rightlz so. Mz desit logic stated that for such a thing as improbable such as the origin of life to have happened, there must have been some sort of catalzst, a "creator". Mz improbablitz was not going as far to saz, and logicallz, is the probbablitz of such an event so high, that if there was to be an eventual creator, his mere existence is more improbable than it just hapopneing on its own? This argument, along with others such as the removal of chance in the evolutionarz theorz, and thez debunking of the whole Christian faith, has amayed even me.
Those who I know, the majoritz are unreligious, and should read this. Those, the minoritz, who are religious, should also read it, and give me a proper argument for the existence of God. If zou can after reading it, I will be verz impressed to hear from zou.
More will follow, including, not exclusivlez;
Germans
The British Queue
Venice
A Seagull with No Beak
and
Free, Unlimited, On tap Beer and Wine.
It is roasting outside. I have decided to shelter indoors for the moment, whilst mz sun loving companion laps it up, burning the cancerous UV razs straight into her skin. I was burned on the first daz, after having mz Tshirt off for no more that 20 minutes.
The internet cafe is free. Our brochure stated that, for a small fee, the internet was available, so natruallz I waited till late on to ask about it, onlz to find that it was free. Unfortunatlez, the PC has a rather interesting kezboard, of which the Z and the Y kezs have been swapped around, so I have, for the sake of noveltz, decided to ignore this rather annozing, but totallz anglicised feature of the kezboard.
I have just finished reading Richard Dawkin's "The God Delusion", a rather incredible read. I was put onto the case bz mz friends Derek and Andrew, who will I am sure, gain a buyy from reading their names in this world famnous and read bz millions work of fantastic literature. We were discussing religion and other beliefs, and were trulz surprised bz mz Agostic belief about the Universe. Orignallz, I was admittadlz confused, surprised bz the wonder of the universe but a little in worrz of the implication of the whole thing. Mz agnotisicsm, which I thought was the perfect alleviation to this problem, was the onlz real ideal for the universe to be seen.
I was verz much wrong.
I think, after reading twice, I am now a full atheist. Mz argument, which I based on improbabilitz was complotelz blown out of the water, and rightlz so. Mz desit logic stated that for such a thing as improbable such as the origin of life to have happened, there must have been some sort of catalzst, a "creator". Mz improbablitz was not going as far to saz, and logicallz, is the probbablitz of such an event so high, that if there was to be an eventual creator, his mere existence is more improbable than it just hapopneing on its own? This argument, along with others such as the removal of chance in the evolutionarz theorz, and thez debunking of the whole Christian faith, has amayed even me.
Those who I know, the majoritz are unreligious, and should read this. Those, the minoritz, who are religious, should also read it, and give me a proper argument for the existence of God. If zou can after reading it, I will be verz impressed to hear from zou.
More will follow, including, not exclusivlez;
Germans
The British Queue
Venice
A Seagull with No Beak
and
Free, Unlimited, On tap Beer and Wine.
Monday, June 04, 2007
The Tale of The Quest for Familiar Surroundings in a Strange Place
Scotland can sometimes be a greatly boring place, one of a rather insipid effect that shows that we as a nation have been hangers on for the last few hundred years, to the great English machine. Similarly, the English have had the fortune of the Union that Scotland's oil made Britain bloody rich, and staved of dependency on other nations for a few decades. But other times Scotland can sometimes take your breath away, and it is these moments than are the reason why I think I prefer it to any other country I have been to. Albeit a small list, but you get my point.
In the north of Scotland there are true wastelands, deserts, area devoid of significant human impact and with very little messing up of the surrounding area and pollution. I have been to many places where sitting outside, the only noise you can hear is the sound of the world ticking along, getting it done, producing the very things that have so improbably created life as it is here.
If you have never left the city, and looked at the sky unpolluted, listened to the world without car noises, or drank from a pure free flowing river rather than the tap, I put it to you that you have missed what a wonderful thing this country can offer.
I was in Peebles on Sunday and met a man who told me all about the old railways, the bridges, and some history that he was immensely proud to be telling me, and probably very happy for me to be listening intently. It is a very traditional town, which caused me problems. I was looking for a sandwich, and did not know where to go because I could not find a Tesco or Morrison's to purchase one from. Not even a Londis or a Newsbox. I gave up, and drove 18miles along the road to Galashiels, because I knew there was a Tesco there, and found a Currys, Matalan, Sainsbury's, McDonalds, and a Co-Op. It was like a big retail park in the middle of nowhere. Why did I have such a hard time finding a place to get something to eat? I think it because of my dependency of brands. My need for something familiar is the reason I think for the small corner shops, the independent brands, the small traders are all but vanishing. They don't have the familiarity of the advertised, famous brands that I am so used to seeing on the main streets in Glasgow, and in surrounding areas.
There was a Greggs in Peebles. However, much to my disappointment it was shut. Sunday trading for the win.
On an unrelated topic, I have been telling anyone who would listen how incredible Heroes is. It is a TV series very similar to X-Men, but has a resounding freshness to it that I cannot put my finger on. Using this website (stage6.divx.com) I watched every episode over 3 days, at HD quality. If you have a few hours to spare, become addicted, so I can talk to some about it.
Just realised that The Tales of Rock Steady might have finished, unceremoniously. I don't have anymore shifts, other than my projected work at Velvet Revolver and T in the Park. Tis a sad moment.
In the north of Scotland there are true wastelands, deserts, area devoid of significant human impact and with very little messing up of the surrounding area and pollution. I have been to many places where sitting outside, the only noise you can hear is the sound of the world ticking along, getting it done, producing the very things that have so improbably created life as it is here.
If you have never left the city, and looked at the sky unpolluted, listened to the world without car noises, or drank from a pure free flowing river rather than the tap, I put it to you that you have missed what a wonderful thing this country can offer.
I was in Peebles on Sunday and met a man who told me all about the old railways, the bridges, and some history that he was immensely proud to be telling me, and probably very happy for me to be listening intently. It is a very traditional town, which caused me problems. I was looking for a sandwich, and did not know where to go because I could not find a Tesco or Morrison's to purchase one from. Not even a Londis or a Newsbox. I gave up, and drove 18miles along the road to Galashiels, because I knew there was a Tesco there, and found a Currys, Matalan, Sainsbury's, McDonalds, and a Co-Op. It was like a big retail park in the middle of nowhere. Why did I have such a hard time finding a place to get something to eat? I think it because of my dependency of brands. My need for something familiar is the reason I think for the small corner shops, the independent brands, the small traders are all but vanishing. They don't have the familiarity of the advertised, famous brands that I am so used to seeing on the main streets in Glasgow, and in surrounding areas.
There was a Greggs in Peebles. However, much to my disappointment it was shut. Sunday trading for the win.
On an unrelated topic, I have been telling anyone who would listen how incredible Heroes is. It is a TV series very similar to X-Men, but has a resounding freshness to it that I cannot put my finger on. Using this website (stage6.divx.com) I watched every episode over 3 days, at HD quality. If you have a few hours to spare, become addicted, so I can talk to some about it.
Just realised that The Tales of Rock Steady might have finished, unceremoniously. I don't have anymore shifts, other than my projected work at Velvet Revolver and T in the Park. Tis a sad moment.
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