The man who taught the world to sing
Every night, a million karaoke machines come to life. But the man who invented them missed out on a fortune by failing to patent his invention. David Mc Neill met him
Published: 24 May 2006
For a man who lost out on one of music's biggest pay-cheques, Inoue Daisuke is in fine form: a toothy smile spreading over the big, rough-hewn face of a natural comedian.
The good humour comes in useful for interviews like this, when he is inevitably asked if he regrets not patenting the world's first karaoke machine, which he invented in 1971. After 35 years, during which his unlikely contraption has conquered every corner of the globe, accompanied by the sound of a billion strangled, drink-sodden earthling voices, the question must sound like the whistling of an approaching bomb. But the smile stays in place.
"I'm not an inventor," says the 65-year-old in his small Osaka office, where the first version of the karaoke machine sits in a corner. "I simply put things that already exist together, which is completely different. I took a car stereo, a coin box and a small amp to make the karaoke. Who would even consider patenting something like that?"
"Some people say he lost $150m," says Mr Inoue's friend and local academic Robert Scott Field. "If it was me, I'd be crying in the corner, but he's a happy guy who loves people. I think it blows his mind to find that he has touched so many people's lives." Many in Japan now know, thanks to television specials and a 2005 movie biopic, that Mr Inoue was a rhythmically challenged drummer in a dodgy covers band in Kobe when he hit on the idea of pre-recording his own backing tracks. The band had spent years learning how to make drunken businessmen sound in tune by following rather than leading, and drowning out the worst of the damage, so Mr Inoue knew the tricks of the trade when the boss of a steel firm asked him to record a tape for a company trip to a hot springs resort.
Karaoke (literally, "empty or missing orchestra") was born. Mr Inoue and his friends gave it a leg-up by making more tapes and leasing machines to bars around Kobe. Taking the machines for a spin cost 100 yen (£1) a pop - the price of three or four drinks in 1971 - and Mr Inoue never thought it would make it out of the city.
By the 1980s, karaoke was one of the few words that required no translation across much of Asia. Communist China embraced it, and even made it a standard feature in some cars. Hong Kong sent it back to Japan as karaoke boxes, small booths where friends and family could torture each other in soundproofed bliss. Every evening across Asia, thousands of the booths judder into life on a toxic cocktail of booze and tin-eared singing. The pastime even has its own lingo. A K-King is a maestro of the small, subtitled screen. A K-Lunch an indigestion-inducing karaoke lunch. Mr Inoue, however, languished for years in international obscurity. But in 1999, after karaoke had stomped noisily into the US and Europe, Time magazine astonishingly called him one of the 20th century's most influential Asians, saying he "had helped to liberate legions of the once unvoiced: as much as Mao Zedong or Mahatma Gandhi changed Asian days, Inoue transformed its nights". "Nobody was as surprised as me," he says.
In 2004, he was given the "Ig Nobel Peace Prize" by Harvard University, a joke award presented by real Nobel winners. He received a standing ovation after calling himself the "last samurai", and attempted a wobbly version of the Seventies Coca-Cola anthem "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing." Standing on the same stage with the man who invented the comb-over hair style, Mr Inoue was awarded an empty cereal box and a certificate, which hangs today in his Osaka office. The Nobel laureates in turn (or in revenge) murdered the Andy Williams' standard "Can't Take My Eyes Off You". Mr Inoue loved it.
"I wish I spoke English," he says. "It would make life easier, and I could go to the US again, do speaking tours and make some money." Now his life is the subject of a fictionalised movie, called simply Karaoke, currently on DVD release in Japan and starring an actor considerably better-looking than the weathered, plump drummer of 1971.
"At least they got someone tall to play me," he laughs. A typical Osaka businessman: amiable, fast-talking and with a slightly untamable air, Mr Inoue once tried working in a proper company, but baulked at wearing the salary-man's uniform, the dark pinstripe suit. "I looked like a rocker and it didn't go down very well. I wasn't cut out for that life."
He didn't use a karaoke machine until he was 59, but loves to listen to syrupy pre-1960s ballads. His favourite English songs are "Love is a Many Splendoured Thing" and "I Can't Stop Loving You" by Ray Charles. "They're easy to sing, which is good because I can't sing at all," he said.
Mr Inoue is tormented by daft questions, but takes them in his stride. "People approach me all the time and ask me if I can't help their husbands sing better, and I always say the same thing. If the singer was any good, he would be a pro and make a living at it. He's bad because he's like the rest of us. So we might as well just sit back and enjoy it."
These days, he makes a living selling, among other things, an eco-friendly detergent and a cockroach repellent for karaoke machines. "Cockroaches get inside the machines and build nests, chew on the wires," he says.
Friends say he is the ideas man, while his wife, who works in the same Osaka office, helps bring them to life. In the 1980s, he ran a company that successfully managed to persuade dozens of small production firms to lease songs for eight-track karaoke machines. But in the early 1990s, laser and dial-up technology left the firm behind. Bored and depressed, he had a breakdown, but bounced back to life thanks to his dog - "I had to look after it, and it got me out of the house". He keeps a huge portrait of a Labrador in his office and says his next business venture will involve dogs.
Not everyone, of course, thanks Mr Inoue for his invention. A recent Japanese movie called Karaoke Terror depicts a bunch of bored, middle-aged women and a group of college kids, both obsessed with karaoke, who go to war with each other, destroying a whole city. Karaoke as almost too easy a metaphor for the emptiness some see in contemporary Japanese culture.
Meanwhile, the little box Mr Inoue unleashed on an unsuspecting world shows no sign of dying. The global industry for machines and tunes continues to grow, and television shows like Pop Idol have helped a once maligned pastime become respectable. The truly dedicated can warble simultaneously with partners thousands of miles away, using the internet. Even churches are not safe - some have installed karaoke machines to improve hymn singing.
Not surprisingly, some people have reacted badly to the onslaught. Many pub landlords would rather die than hear "Bohemian Rhapsody" sung by a drunken stag party ever again, and karaoke venues around the world occasionally erupt into violence. In one of Thailand's most famous cases of karaoke rage, a Bangkok policeman shot and killed a customer after he heckled him for singing the same tune four times.
But the pony-tailed businessman believes the little box he put together in Kobe has done far more good than harm. "As something that improves the mood, and helps people who hate each other lighten up, it has had a huge social impact, especially in Japan. Japanese people are shy, but at weddings and company get-togethers, the karaoke comes out and people drink a little and relax.
"It's used for treating depression and loneliness. Go to old people's homes and hospitals around the country and there is a karaoke machine. I keep hearing of places where karaoke is huge - like Russia - and it is used as therapy. It makes people happy. When I see the happy faces of people singing karaoke, I'm delighted."
The film of Mr Inoue's life supports the idea that karaoke is socially useful. Kicking off with a grim list of suicide statistics among middle-aged Japanese men, it depicts a salary-man losing his job, wife and son after he is fired. He starts singing karaoke and finds a new purpose in life.
"We went to see the movie together," remembers Mr Scott Field. "They got these good looking actors to play him and his wife, so he was really happy. Afterwards he said: 'I get letters and e-mails from all over the world and now they've made a movie of my life story. You can't buy things like that.'"
For a man who lost out on one of music's biggest pay-cheques, Inoue Daisuke is in fine form: a toothy smile spreading over the big, rough-hewn face of a natural comedian.
The good humour comes in useful for interviews like this, when he is inevitably asked if he regrets not patenting the world's first karaoke machine, which he invented in 1971. After 35 years, during which his unlikely contraption has conquered every corner of the globe, accompanied by the sound of a billion strangled, drink-sodden earthling voices, the question must sound like the whistling of an approaching bomb. But the smile stays in place.
"I'm not an inventor," says the 65-year-old in his small Osaka office, where the first version of the karaoke machine sits in a corner. "I simply put things that already exist together, which is completely different. I took a car stereo, a coin box and a small amp to make the karaoke. Who would even consider patenting something like that?"
"Some people say he lost $150m," says Mr Inoue's friend and local academic Robert Scott Field. "If it was me, I'd be crying in the corner, but he's a happy guy who loves people. I think it blows his mind to find that he has touched so many people's lives." Many in Japan now know, thanks to television specials and a 2005 movie biopic, that Mr Inoue was a rhythmically challenged drummer in a dodgy covers band in Kobe when he hit on the idea of pre-recording his own backing tracks. The band had spent years learning how to make drunken businessmen sound in tune by following rather than leading, and drowning out the worst of the damage, so Mr Inoue knew the tricks of the trade when the boss of a steel firm asked him to record a tape for a company trip to a hot springs resort.
Karaoke (literally, "empty or missing orchestra") was born. Mr Inoue and his friends gave it a leg-up by making more tapes and leasing machines to bars around Kobe. Taking the machines for a spin cost 100 yen (£1) a pop - the price of three or four drinks in 1971 - and Mr Inoue never thought it would make it out of the city.
By the 1980s, karaoke was one of the few words that required no translation across much of Asia. Communist China embraced it, and even made it a standard feature in some cars. Hong Kong sent it back to Japan as karaoke boxes, small booths where friends and family could torture each other in soundproofed bliss. Every evening across Asia, thousands of the booths judder into life on a toxic cocktail of booze and tin-eared singing. The pastime even has its own lingo. A K-King is a maestro of the small, subtitled screen. A K-Lunch an indigestion-inducing karaoke lunch. Mr Inoue, however, languished for years in international obscurity. But in 1999, after karaoke had stomped noisily into the US and Europe, Time magazine astonishingly called him one of the 20th century's most influential Asians, saying he "had helped to liberate legions of the once unvoiced: as much as Mao Zedong or Mahatma Gandhi changed Asian days, Inoue transformed its nights". "Nobody was as surprised as me," he says.
In 2004, he was given the "Ig Nobel Peace Prize" by Harvard University, a joke award presented by real Nobel winners. He received a standing ovation after calling himself the "last samurai", and attempted a wobbly version of the Seventies Coca-Cola anthem "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing." Standing on the same stage with the man who invented the comb-over hair style, Mr Inoue was awarded an empty cereal box and a certificate, which hangs today in his Osaka office. The Nobel laureates in turn (or in revenge) murdered the Andy Williams' standard "Can't Take My Eyes Off You". Mr Inoue loved it.
"I wish I spoke English," he says. "It would make life easier, and I could go to the US again, do speaking tours and make some money." Now his life is the subject of a fictionalised movie, called simply Karaoke, currently on DVD release in Japan and starring an actor considerably better-looking than the weathered, plump drummer of 1971.
"At least they got someone tall to play me," he laughs. A typical Osaka businessman: amiable, fast-talking and with a slightly untamable air, Mr Inoue once tried working in a proper company, but baulked at wearing the salary-man's uniform, the dark pinstripe suit. "I looked like a rocker and it didn't go down very well. I wasn't cut out for that life."
He didn't use a karaoke machine until he was 59, but loves to listen to syrupy pre-1960s ballads. His favourite English songs are "Love is a Many Splendoured Thing" and "I Can't Stop Loving You" by Ray Charles. "They're easy to sing, which is good because I can't sing at all," he said.
Mr Inoue is tormented by daft questions, but takes them in his stride. "People approach me all the time and ask me if I can't help their husbands sing better, and I always say the same thing. If the singer was any good, he would be a pro and make a living at it. He's bad because he's like the rest of us. So we might as well just sit back and enjoy it."
These days, he makes a living selling, among other things, an eco-friendly detergent and a cockroach repellent for karaoke machines. "Cockroaches get inside the machines and build nests, chew on the wires," he says.
Friends say he is the ideas man, while his wife, who works in the same Osaka office, helps bring them to life. In the 1980s, he ran a company that successfully managed to persuade dozens of small production firms to lease songs for eight-track karaoke machines. But in the early 1990s, laser and dial-up technology left the firm behind. Bored and depressed, he had a breakdown, but bounced back to life thanks to his dog - "I had to look after it, and it got me out of the house". He keeps a huge portrait of a Labrador in his office and says his next business venture will involve dogs.
Not everyone, of course, thanks Mr Inoue for his invention. A recent Japanese movie called Karaoke Terror depicts a bunch of bored, middle-aged women and a group of college kids, both obsessed with karaoke, who go to war with each other, destroying a whole city. Karaoke as almost too easy a metaphor for the emptiness some see in contemporary Japanese culture.
Meanwhile, the little box Mr Inoue unleashed on an unsuspecting world shows no sign of dying. The global industry for machines and tunes continues to grow, and television shows like Pop Idol have helped a once maligned pastime become respectable. The truly dedicated can warble simultaneously with partners thousands of miles away, using the internet. Even churches are not safe - some have installed karaoke machines to improve hymn singing.
Not surprisingly, some people have reacted badly to the onslaught. Many pub landlords would rather die than hear "Bohemian Rhapsody" sung by a drunken stag party ever again, and karaoke venues around the world occasionally erupt into violence. In one of Thailand's most famous cases of karaoke rage, a Bangkok policeman shot and killed a customer after he heckled him for singing the same tune four times.
But the pony-tailed businessman believes the little box he put together in Kobe has done far more good than harm. "As something that improves the mood, and helps people who hate each other lighten up, it has had a huge social impact, especially in Japan. Japanese people are shy, but at weddings and company get-togethers, the karaoke comes out and people drink a little and relax.
"It's used for treating depression and loneliness. Go to old people's homes and hospitals around the country and there is a karaoke machine. I keep hearing of places where karaoke is huge - like Russia - and it is used as therapy. It makes people happy. When I see the happy faces of people singing karaoke, I'm delighted."
The film of Mr Inoue's life supports the idea that karaoke is socially useful. Kicking off with a grim list of suicide statistics among middle-aged Japanese men, it depicts a salary-man losing his job, wife and son after he is fired. He starts singing karaoke and finds a new purpose in life.
"We went to see the movie together," remembers Mr Scott Field. "They got these good looking actors to play him and his wife, so he was really happy. Afterwards he said: 'I get letters and e-mails from all over the world and now they've made a movie of my life story. You can't buy things like that.'"
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
From: ivone_colaco@comcast.netTo: sharonvaz@yahoo.com (Sharon Vaz), indynell40@hotmail.com (Manuela Sousa), ams0315@yahoo.com (Amiya Scaria), erapose@gmail.com (Elsa Rapose), mmenezes@titangoa.co.in (Maju Menezes), sharmila_machado@arnotts.com (Sharmila Machado), savio_dsouza@yahoo.com (Savio Dsouza), dsouza-marshfield@adelphia.net (Sanita Dsouza), dsouza5@comcast.net (Maria Dsouza), Dscynthy@wmconnect.com (Cynthia), hilda_carneiro@hotmail.com (Hilda Carneiro), Michelle.Beauchemin@stryker.com (Michelle Beauchemin), alexannay@aol.com (Anna)Subject: Interesting facts about BananasDate: Tue, 23 May 2006 14:43:37 +0000
This is interesting.
After reading this, you'll never look at a banana in the same way again.
Bananas contain three natural sugars - sucrose, fructose and glucose combined with fiber. A banana gives an instant, sustained and substantial boost of energy.
Research has proven that just two bananas provide enough energy for a strenuous 90-minute workout. No wonder the banana is the number one fruit with the world's leading athletes.
But energy isn't the only way a banana can help us keep fit.
It can also help overcome or prevent a substantial number of illnesses and conditions, making it a must to add to our daily diet.
Depression: According to a recent survey undertaken by MIND amongst people suffering from depression, many felt much better after eating a banana. This is because bananas contain tryptophan, a type of protein that the body converts into serotonin, known to make you relax, improve your mood and generally make you feel happier.
PMS: Forget the pills - eat a banana. The vitamin B6 it contains regulates blood glucose levels, which can affect your mood.
Anemia: High in iron, bananas can stimulate the production of hemoglobin in the blood and so helps in cases of anemia.
Blood Pressure: This unique tropical fruit is extremely high in potassium yet low in salt, making it perfect to beat blood pressure. So much so, the US Food and Drug Administration has just allowed the banana industry to make official claims for the fruit's ability to reduce the risk of blood pressure and stroke.
Brain Power: 200 students at a Twickenham (Middlesex) school were helped through their exams this year by eating bananas at breakfast, break, and lunch in a bid to boost their brain power. Research has shown that the potassium-packed fruit can assist learning by making pupils more alert.
Constipation: High in fiber, including bananas in the diet can help restore normal bowel action, helping to overcome the problem without resorting to laxatives.
Hangovers: One of the quickest
ways of curing a hangover is to make a banana milkshake, sweetened with honey. The banana calms the stomach and, with the help of the honey, builds up depleted blood sugar levels, while the milk soothes and re-hydrates your system.
Heartburn: Bananas have a natural antacid effect in the body, so if you suffer from heartburn, try eating a banana for soothing relief.
Morning Sickness: Snacking on bananas between meals helps to keep blood sugar levels up and avoid morning sickness.
Mosquito bites: Before reaching for the insect bite cream, try rubbing the affected area with the inside of a banana skin. Many people find it amazingly successful at reducing swelling and irritation.
Nerves: Bananas are high in B vitamins that help calm the nervous system.
Overweight and at work? Studies at the Institute of Psychology in Austria found pressure at work leads to gorging on comfort food like chocolate and crisps. Looking at 5,000 hospital patients, researchers found the most obese were more likely to be in high-pressure jobs. The report concluded that, to avoid panic-induced food cravings, we need to control our blood sugar levels by snacking on high carbohydrate foods every two hours to keep levels steady.
Ulcers: The banana is used as the dietary food against intestinal disorders because of its soft texture and smoothness. It is the only raw fruit that can be eaten without distress in over-chronicler cases. It also neutralizes over-acidity and reduces irritation by coating the lining of the stomach.
Temperature control: Many other cultures see bananas as a "cooling" fruit that can lower both the physical and emotional temperature of expectant mothers. In Thailand, for example, pregnant women eat bananas to ensure their baby is born with a cool temperature.
Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD): Bananas can help SAD sufferers because they contain the natural mood enhancer tryptophan.
Smoking & Tobacco Use: Bananas can also help people trying to give up smoking. The B6, B12 they contain, as well as the potassium and
magnesium found in them, help the body recover from the effects of nicotine withdrawal.
Stress: Potassium is a vital mineral, which helps normalize the heartbeat, sends oxygen to the brain and regulates your body's water balance. When we are stressed, our metabolic rate rises, thereby reducing our potassium levels. These can be rebalanced with the help of a high-potassium banana snack.
Strokes: According to research in "The New England Journal of Medicine, 'eating bananas as part of a regular diet can cut the risk of death by strokes by as much as 40%!
Warts: Those keen on natural alternatives swear that if you want to kill off a wart, take a piece of banana skin and place it on the wart, with the yellow side out. Carefully hold the skin in place with a plaster or surgical tape!
So, a banana really is a natural remedy for many ills. When you compare it to an apple, it has four times the protein, twice the carbohydrate, three times the phosphorus, five times the vitamin A and iron, and twice the other vitamins and minerals. It is also rich in potassium and is one of the best value foods around So maybe its time to change that well-known phrase so that we say, "A banana a day keeps the doctor away!"
PASS IT ON TO YOUR FRIENDS
PS: Bananas must be the reason monkeys are so happy all the time! I will add one here; want a quick shine on our shoes?? Take the INSIDE of the banana skin, and rub directly on the shoe...polish with dry cloth. Amazing fruit.
This is interesting.
After reading this, you'll never look at a banana in the same way again.
Bananas contain three natural sugars - sucrose, fructose and glucose combined with fiber. A banana gives an instant, sustained and substantial boost of energy.
Research has proven that just two bananas provide enough energy for a strenuous 90-minute workout. No wonder the banana is the number one fruit with the world's leading athletes.
But energy isn't the only way a banana can help us keep fit.
It can also help overcome or prevent a substantial number of illnesses and conditions, making it a must to add to our daily diet.
Depression: According to a recent survey undertaken by MIND amongst people suffering from depression, many felt much better after eating a banana. This is because bananas contain tryptophan, a type of protein that the body converts into serotonin, known to make you relax, improve your mood and generally make you feel happier.
PMS: Forget the pills - eat a banana. The vitamin B6 it contains regulates blood glucose levels, which can affect your mood.
Anemia: High in iron, bananas can stimulate the production of hemoglobin in the blood and so helps in cases of anemia.
Blood Pressure: This unique tropical fruit is extremely high in potassium yet low in salt, making it perfect to beat blood pressure. So much so, the US Food and Drug Administration has just allowed the banana industry to make official claims for the fruit's ability to reduce the risk of blood pressure and stroke.
Brain Power: 200 students at a Twickenham (Middlesex) school were helped through their exams this year by eating bananas at breakfast, break, and lunch in a bid to boost their brain power. Research has shown that the potassium-packed fruit can assist learning by making pupils more alert.
Constipation: High in fiber, including bananas in the diet can help restore normal bowel action, helping to overcome the problem without resorting to laxatives.
Hangovers: One of the quickest
ways of curing a hangover is to make a banana milkshake, sweetened with honey. The banana calms the stomach and, with the help of the honey, builds up depleted blood sugar levels, while the milk soothes and re-hydrates your system.
Heartburn: Bananas have a natural antacid effect in the body, so if you suffer from heartburn, try eating a banana for soothing relief.
Morning Sickness: Snacking on bananas between meals helps to keep blood sugar levels up and avoid morning sickness.
Mosquito bites: Before reaching for the insect bite cream, try rubbing the affected area with the inside of a banana skin. Many people find it amazingly successful at reducing swelling and irritation.
Nerves: Bananas are high in B vitamins that help calm the nervous system.
Overweight and at work? Studies at the Institute of Psychology in Austria found pressure at work leads to gorging on comfort food like chocolate and crisps. Looking at 5,000 hospital patients, researchers found the most obese were more likely to be in high-pressure jobs. The report concluded that, to avoid panic-induced food cravings, we need to control our blood sugar levels by snacking on high carbohydrate foods every two hours to keep levels steady.
Ulcers: The banana is used as the dietary food against intestinal disorders because of its soft texture and smoothness. It is the only raw fruit that can be eaten without distress in over-chronicler cases. It also neutralizes over-acidity and reduces irritation by coating the lining of the stomach.
Temperature control: Many other cultures see bananas as a "cooling" fruit that can lower both the physical and emotional temperature of expectant mothers. In Thailand, for example, pregnant women eat bananas to ensure their baby is born with a cool temperature.
Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD): Bananas can help SAD sufferers because they contain the natural mood enhancer tryptophan.
Smoking & Tobacco Use: Bananas can also help people trying to give up smoking. The B6, B12 they contain, as well as the potassium and
magnesium found in them, help the body recover from the effects of nicotine withdrawal.
Stress: Potassium is a vital mineral, which helps normalize the heartbeat, sends oxygen to the brain and regulates your body's water balance. When we are stressed, our metabolic rate rises, thereby reducing our potassium levels. These can be rebalanced with the help of a high-potassium banana snack.
Strokes: According to research in "The New England Journal of Medicine, 'eating bananas as part of a regular diet can cut the risk of death by strokes by as much as 40%!
Warts: Those keen on natural alternatives swear that if you want to kill off a wart, take a piece of banana skin and place it on the wart, with the yellow side out. Carefully hold the skin in place with a plaster or surgical tape!
So, a banana really is a natural remedy for many ills. When you compare it to an apple, it has four times the protein, twice the carbohydrate, three times the phosphorus, five times the vitamin A and iron, and twice the other vitamins and minerals. It is also rich in potassium and is one of the best value foods around So maybe its time to change that well-known phrase so that we say, "A banana a day keeps the doctor away!"
PASS IT ON TO YOUR FRIENDS
PS: Bananas must be the reason monkeys are so happy all the time! I will add one here; want a quick shine on our shoes?? Take the INSIDE of the banana skin, and rub directly on the shoe...polish with dry cloth. Amazing fruit.
And the weather? It'll be raining fish
By Ian Herbert
Published: 23 May 2006
The fishermen of Great Yarmouth still talk about the day four years ago when, instead of having to venture out in search of whiting and herring, their catch came to them. Silvery sprats - dead but still fresh - carpeted the gardens of a row of houses after falling from the sky near the seafront.
The Norfolk town may find itself with more, if a report by a firm of commercial weather forecasters is anything to go by. British Weather Services (BWS) lists such improbable places as Great Yarmouth, east Manchester and Southampton among the places most likely to experience strange objects falling from the heavens as a result of a collision of atmospheric instability.
"You need converging air, warm land mass, instances of lightning and thunderstorms and chances of tornadoes," Jim Dale, at BWS, said. Global warming also increases the likelihood, and objects caught up in the weather system can be carried a few miles.
The main theory about their arrival is that the objects are drawn into a whirlwind, or waterspout - spiralling, rising air which builds up under thunderclouds before being deposited elsewhere. Falling fish are common when the waterspout has formed over the sea, sucking up its contents. Frogs, toads, tomatoes, periwinkles, straw and even lumps of coal have also been known to fall after the waterspouts form.
By Ian Herbert
Published: 23 May 2006
The fishermen of Great Yarmouth still talk about the day four years ago when, instead of having to venture out in search of whiting and herring, their catch came to them. Silvery sprats - dead but still fresh - carpeted the gardens of a row of houses after falling from the sky near the seafront.
The Norfolk town may find itself with more, if a report by a firm of commercial weather forecasters is anything to go by. British Weather Services (BWS) lists such improbable places as Great Yarmouth, east Manchester and Southampton among the places most likely to experience strange objects falling from the heavens as a result of a collision of atmospheric instability.
"You need converging air, warm land mass, instances of lightning and thunderstorms and chances of tornadoes," Jim Dale, at BWS, said. Global warming also increases the likelihood, and objects caught up in the weather system can be carried a few miles.
The main theory about their arrival is that the objects are drawn into a whirlwind, or waterspout - spiralling, rising air which builds up under thunderclouds before being deposited elsewhere. Falling fish are common when the waterspout has formed over the sea, sucking up its contents. Frogs, toads, tomatoes, periwinkles, straw and even lumps of coal have also been known to fall after the waterspouts form.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Here are some facts about the 1500s:
These are interesting...
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water..
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats
and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying . It's raining cats and dogs.
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could
mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to
the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had
been there for quite a while.
Hence the rhyme, Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their
bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon.. They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all
sit around and chew the fat..
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper
crust.
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They
were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
The local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening
these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus,
someone could be, saved by the bell. or was considered a ...dead ringer..
And that's the truth...Now , whoever said History was boring ! ! !
These are interesting...
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water..
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats
and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying . It's raining cats and dogs.
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could
mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to
the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had
been there for quite a while.
Hence the rhyme, Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.. Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their
bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon.. They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all
sit around and chew the fat..
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper
crust.
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They
were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
The local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening
these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus,
someone could be, saved by the bell. or was considered a ...dead ringer..
And that's the truth...Now , whoever said History was boring ! ! !
"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God" (Luke 12:6, NIV).
William Cowper, poet and hymn writer, who lived from 1731-1800 in England, apparently suffered from fits of melancholy and frequent attacks of spiritual despair which led to two suicide attempts.
On one of these occasions during a time of deep despair and a dark night of the soul, on a foggy night he set out from his home in London with the intention of jumping into the Thames River to end his life.
He got hopelessly lost in the fog and wandered blind for some time. Eventually, lost and confused, he walked into a home to get out of the fog. And the home he walked into? It was his own.
He sat down and penned the words of the beloved hymn:
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
William Cowper, poet and hymn writer, who lived from 1731-1800 in England, apparently suffered from fits of melancholy and frequent attacks of spiritual despair which led to two suicide attempts.
On one of these occasions during a time of deep despair and a dark night of the soul, on a foggy night he set out from his home in London with the intention of jumping into the Thames River to end his life.
He got hopelessly lost in the fog and wandered blind for some time. Eventually, lost and confused, he walked into a home to get out of the fog. And the home he walked into? It was his own.
He sat down and penned the words of the beloved hymn:
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Symbolik des Rosmarins
Durch die attraktiven blassblauen Blüten wird der Rosmarin auch gerne als Zierpflanze kultiviertAls Symbol repräsentierte Rosmarin die Liebe (Troubadoure überreichten der Dame ihrer Wahl Rosmarin, Ophelia band Hamlet einen Rosmarinkranz als Zeichen ihrer Treue; in Deutschland trugen Bräute lange Zeit einen Rosmarinkranz, bevor die Myrte in Mode kam), aber auch das Gedenken an die Toten.
Die alten Ägypter gaben ihren Toten Rosmarinzweige in die Hände, um die Reise in das Land der unsterblichen Seelen mit ihrem Duft zu versüßen; in Griechenland wand man Totenkränze aus Rosmarin. In der Literatur taucht Rosmarin als Totenpflanze bei Shakespeare und Hebel auf. Rosmarin und Thymian trug man als Sträußchen gerne bei Begräbnissen und Prozessionen. Man hoffte, auf diese Weise gegen ansteckende Krankheiten gefeit zu sein. In London war es Anfang des 18. Jahrhunderts üblich, dass jeder Trauergast, der einen Sarg zum Friedhof begleitete, vom Diener des Hauses einen Zweig Rosmarin überreicht bekam. Einerseits trug man diesen Rosmarinzweig als Symbol der Erinnerung, sein Duft half jedoch auch, den Gestank des Todes zu übertünchen. Sobald der Sarg ins Grab gelegt war, warfen alle Trauergäste ihre Rosmarinzweige ins Grab hinab.
Als Symbol des Todes taucht Rosmarin auch in folgendem Gedicht der Volksliteratur auf, dessen Verfasser unbekannt ist:
Ich hab‘ die Nacht geträumet
Wohl einen schweren Traum;
Es wuchs in meinem Garten
Ein Rosmarienbaum.
Der Kirchhof war der Garten,
Ein Blumenbeet ein Grab,
Und von dem grünen Baume
Fiel Kron und Blüten ab.
Die Blüten tät ich sammeln
In einen goldnen Krug;
Der fiel mir aus den Händen,
Daß er in Stücke schlug.
Draus sah ich Perlen rinnen
Und Tröpflein rosenrot.
Was mag der Traum bedeuten?
Herzliebster, bist du tot?
Durch die attraktiven blassblauen Blüten wird der Rosmarin auch gerne als Zierpflanze kultiviertAls Symbol repräsentierte Rosmarin die Liebe (Troubadoure überreichten der Dame ihrer Wahl Rosmarin, Ophelia band Hamlet einen Rosmarinkranz als Zeichen ihrer Treue; in Deutschland trugen Bräute lange Zeit einen Rosmarinkranz, bevor die Myrte in Mode kam), aber auch das Gedenken an die Toten.
Die alten Ägypter gaben ihren Toten Rosmarinzweige in die Hände, um die Reise in das Land der unsterblichen Seelen mit ihrem Duft zu versüßen; in Griechenland wand man Totenkränze aus Rosmarin. In der Literatur taucht Rosmarin als Totenpflanze bei Shakespeare und Hebel auf. Rosmarin und Thymian trug man als Sträußchen gerne bei Begräbnissen und Prozessionen. Man hoffte, auf diese Weise gegen ansteckende Krankheiten gefeit zu sein. In London war es Anfang des 18. Jahrhunderts üblich, dass jeder Trauergast, der einen Sarg zum Friedhof begleitete, vom Diener des Hauses einen Zweig Rosmarin überreicht bekam. Einerseits trug man diesen Rosmarinzweig als Symbol der Erinnerung, sein Duft half jedoch auch, den Gestank des Todes zu übertünchen. Sobald der Sarg ins Grab gelegt war, warfen alle Trauergäste ihre Rosmarinzweige ins Grab hinab.
Als Symbol des Todes taucht Rosmarin auch in folgendem Gedicht der Volksliteratur auf, dessen Verfasser unbekannt ist:
Ich hab‘ die Nacht geträumet
Wohl einen schweren Traum;
Es wuchs in meinem Garten
Ein Rosmarienbaum.
Der Kirchhof war der Garten,
Ein Blumenbeet ein Grab,
Und von dem grünen Baume
Fiel Kron und Blüten ab.
Die Blüten tät ich sammeln
In einen goldnen Krug;
Der fiel mir aus den Händen,
Daß er in Stücke schlug.
Draus sah ich Perlen rinnen
Und Tröpflein rosenrot.
Was mag der Traum bedeuten?
Herzliebster, bist du tot?
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose thirsty mouth is pressed
against the earth's sweet flowering breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
and lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
a nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
but only God can make a tree.
– Joyce Kilmer
a poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose thirsty mouth is pressed
against the earth's sweet flowering breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
and lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
a nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
but only God can make a tree.
– Joyce Kilmer
Thursday, April 13, 2006
English language nears the one million-word milestone
By Rupert Cornwell in Washington
Published: 13 April 2006
It will not be of much comfort to President George Bush and others who, on occasion, struggle to make themselves understood. But some time soon the English language, according to at least one reasonably authoritative source, will create its one-millionth word.
The Global Language Monitor (GLM), a San Diego-based linguistic consultancy, reckoned that on 21 March (the vernal equinox) this year, there were about 988,968 words in the language, "plus or minus a handful". At the current rate of progress, the one-million mark will be reached this summer.
And how does the GLM know? It started, it says, with a base vocabulary drawn from major dictionaries that contain the historic core of the language. Then it created its own algorithm, or formula, called the Predictive Quantities Indicator (PQI), that measures the language as found in print, electronic media, and on television and radio. That establishes a rate of increase in the creation of new words, and the import and absorption of foreign words into English.
No one argues about the huge richness of the English language - fed by Germanic, Scandinavian and Latin streams, unrivalled in its readiness to borrow from every language, and mercifully free of tiresome bodies like the Academié Française to decide what counts and what does not.
The process is only reinforced by the universality of English. True, more people (more than a billion) may be native speakers of Mandarin Chinese than of English (an estimated 500 million or so, roughly the same as Hindi). French, incidentally, only limps into the top 10 with 130 million native speakers.
But if there is such a thing as a world language, it is English, spread first by the British Empire, then by the economic, cultural and military juggernaut of the US, and now by the internet. And, at every stop on the way, new words are coined, or scooped up from other languages.
But how many and how fast? The GLM claims that its projected figures are conservative - and in fact some estimates put the total of English words at two million or more. The devil lies in definition: what constitutes a new word? Does slang count? And what about archaisms and obsolete words? Another study, the Life and Times of the English Language, by Robert Claiborne and published in 1990, puts the number of words at no more than 600,000. The latest edition of the Oxford English Dictionary contains more than 300,000 head words, and some 615,000 "word forms," that include the head words, plus combinations and derivatives. By contrast, Websters Third International Dictionary has 54,000 word families - base words, inflections and derivations.
But no one should feel intimidated. The average vocabulary of an educated native English speaker is about 24,000 to 30,000. Shakespeare used 24,000 words - 1,700 of which he is claimed to have invented.
Nonetheless, with an active vocabulary of just 3,000 or so, you can get along pretty well. And if you are stumped for a word, just make one up. It seems to have worked in the past for the most powerful man in the world, so it could work for you as well. The chances are, it will soon be swept up in the boundless net of the Global Language Monitor. You never know, it might even be the coveted number 1,000,000.
Comparing languages
* Up to 20 per cent of the words used by Global Language Monitor come from hybrids such as Chinglish and Japlish. Words from Chinglish include the business terms "drinktea", meaning closed, and "torunbusiness", meaning open. Bushisms such as "uninalienable" and 'misunderestimate' are included.
* English is evolving faster than other languages. This year's additions to the Oxford English Dictionary include "podcast" and "offshoring".
* Spanish linguists say there are 225,000 words in contemporary use.
* The largest edition of the Duden German-German dictionary contains about 200,000 words
* The Russian language has just reached the 125,000 mark.
* French has 100,000 words, one-sixth of the figure used in the UK.But the Academié Française, the body that defines the language, recognises 25,525.
Kate Thomas
It will not be of much comfort to President George Bush and others who, on occasion, struggle to make themselves understood. But some time soon the English language, according to at least one reasonably authoritative source, will create its one-millionth word.
The Global Language Monitor (GLM), a San Diego-based linguistic consultancy, reckoned that on 21 March (the vernal equinox) this year, there were about 988,968 words in the language, "plus or minus a handful". At the current rate of progress, the one-million mark will be reached this summer.
And how does the GLM know? It started, it says, with a base vocabulary drawn from major dictionaries that contain the historic core of the language. Then it created its own algorithm, or formula, called the Predictive Quantities Indicator (PQI), that measures the language as found in print, electronic media, and on television and radio. That establishes a rate of increase in the creation of new words, and the import and absorption of foreign words into English.
No one argues about the huge richness of the English language - fed by Germanic, Scandinavian and Latin streams, unrivalled in its readiness to borrow from every language, and mercifully free of tiresome bodies like the Academié Française to decide what counts and what does not.
The process is only reinforced by the universality of English. True, more people (more than a billion) may be native speakers of Mandarin Chinese than of English (an estimated 500 million or so, roughly the same as Hindi). French, incidentally, only limps into the top 10 with 130 million native speakers.
But if there is such a thing as a world language, it is English, spread first by the British Empire, then by the economic, cultural and military juggernaut of the US, and now by the internet. And, at every stop on the way, new words are coined, or scooped up from other languages.
But how many and how fast? The GLM claims that its projected figures are conservative - and in fact some estimates put the total of English words at two million or more. The devil lies in definition: what constitutes a new word? Does slang count? And what about archaisms and obsolete words? Another study, the Life and Times of the English Language, by Robert Claiborne and published in 1990, puts the number of words at no more than 600,000. The latest edition of the Oxford English Dictionary contains more than 300,000 head words, and some 615,000 "word forms," that include the head words, plus combinations and derivatives. By contrast, Websters Third International Dictionary has 54,000 word families - base words, inflections and derivations.
But no one should feel intimidated. The average vocabulary of an educated native English speaker is about 24,000 to 30,000. Shakespeare used 24,000 words - 1,700 of which he is claimed to have invented.
Nonetheless, with an active vocabulary of just 3,000 or so, you can get along pretty well. And if you are stumped for a word, just make one up. It seems to have worked in the past for the most powerful man in the world, so it could work for you as well. The chances are, it will soon be swept up in the boundless net of the Global Language Monitor. You never know, it might even be the coveted number 1,000,000.
Comparing languages
* Up to 20 per cent of the words used by Global Language Monitor come from hybrids such as Chinglish and Japlish. Words from Chinglish include the business terms "drinktea", meaning closed, and "torunbusiness", meaning open. Bushisms such as "uninalienable" and 'misunderestimate' are included.
* English is evolving faster than other languages. This year's additions to the Oxford English Dictionary include "podcast" and "offshoring".
* Spanish linguists say there are 225,000 words in contemporary use.
* The largest edition of the Duden German-German dictionary contains about 200,000 words
* The Russian language has just reached the 125,000 mark.
* French has 100,000 words, one-sixth of the figure used in the UK.But the Academié Française, the body that defines the language, recognises 25,525.
Kate Thomas
By Rupert Cornwell in Washington
Published: 13 April 2006
It will not be of much comfort to President George Bush and others who, on occasion, struggle to make themselves understood. But some time soon the English language, according to at least one reasonably authoritative source, will create its one-millionth word.
The Global Language Monitor (GLM), a San Diego-based linguistic consultancy, reckoned that on 21 March (the vernal equinox) this year, there were about 988,968 words in the language, "plus or minus a handful". At the current rate of progress, the one-million mark will be reached this summer.
And how does the GLM know? It started, it says, with a base vocabulary drawn from major dictionaries that contain the historic core of the language. Then it created its own algorithm, or formula, called the Predictive Quantities Indicator (PQI), that measures the language as found in print, electronic media, and on television and radio. That establishes a rate of increase in the creation of new words, and the import and absorption of foreign words into English.
No one argues about the huge richness of the English language - fed by Germanic, Scandinavian and Latin streams, unrivalled in its readiness to borrow from every language, and mercifully free of tiresome bodies like the Academié Française to decide what counts and what does not.
The process is only reinforced by the universality of English. True, more people (more than a billion) may be native speakers of Mandarin Chinese than of English (an estimated 500 million or so, roughly the same as Hindi). French, incidentally, only limps into the top 10 with 130 million native speakers.
But if there is such a thing as a world language, it is English, spread first by the British Empire, then by the economic, cultural and military juggernaut of the US, and now by the internet. And, at every stop on the way, new words are coined, or scooped up from other languages.
But how many and how fast? The GLM claims that its projected figures are conservative - and in fact some estimates put the total of English words at two million or more. The devil lies in definition: what constitutes a new word? Does slang count? And what about archaisms and obsolete words? Another study, the Life and Times of the English Language, by Robert Claiborne and published in 1990, puts the number of words at no more than 600,000. The latest edition of the Oxford English Dictionary contains more than 300,000 head words, and some 615,000 "word forms," that include the head words, plus combinations and derivatives. By contrast, Websters Third International Dictionary has 54,000 word families - base words, inflections and derivations.
But no one should feel intimidated. The average vocabulary of an educated native English speaker is about 24,000 to 30,000. Shakespeare used 24,000 words - 1,700 of which he is claimed to have invented.
Nonetheless, with an active vocabulary of just 3,000 or so, you can get along pretty well. And if you are stumped for a word, just make one up. It seems to have worked in the past for the most powerful man in the world, so it could work for you as well. The chances are, it will soon be swept up in the boundless net of the Global Language Monitor. You never know, it might even be the coveted number 1,000,000.
Comparing languages
* Up to 20 per cent of the words used by Global Language Monitor come from hybrids such as Chinglish and Japlish. Words from Chinglish include the business terms "drinktea", meaning closed, and "torunbusiness", meaning open. Bushisms such as "uninalienable" and 'misunderestimate' are included.
* English is evolving faster than other languages. This year's additions to the Oxford English Dictionary include "podcast" and "offshoring".
* Spanish linguists say there are 225,000 words in contemporary use.
* The largest edition of the Duden German-German dictionary contains about 200,000 words
* The Russian language has just reached the 125,000 mark.
* French has 100,000 words, one-sixth of the figure used in the UK.But the Academié Française, the body that defines the language, recognises 25,525.
Kate Thomas
It will not be of much comfort to President George Bush and others who, on occasion, struggle to make themselves understood. But some time soon the English language, according to at least one reasonably authoritative source, will create its one-millionth word.
The Global Language Monitor (GLM), a San Diego-based linguistic consultancy, reckoned that on 21 March (the vernal equinox) this year, there were about 988,968 words in the language, "plus or minus a handful". At the current rate of progress, the one-million mark will be reached this summer.
And how does the GLM know? It started, it says, with a base vocabulary drawn from major dictionaries that contain the historic core of the language. Then it created its own algorithm, or formula, called the Predictive Quantities Indicator (PQI), that measures the language as found in print, electronic media, and on television and radio. That establishes a rate of increase in the creation of new words, and the import and absorption of foreign words into English.
No one argues about the huge richness of the English language - fed by Germanic, Scandinavian and Latin streams, unrivalled in its readiness to borrow from every language, and mercifully free of tiresome bodies like the Academié Française to decide what counts and what does not.
The process is only reinforced by the universality of English. True, more people (more than a billion) may be native speakers of Mandarin Chinese than of English (an estimated 500 million or so, roughly the same as Hindi). French, incidentally, only limps into the top 10 with 130 million native speakers.
But if there is such a thing as a world language, it is English, spread first by the British Empire, then by the economic, cultural and military juggernaut of the US, and now by the internet. And, at every stop on the way, new words are coined, or scooped up from other languages.
But how many and how fast? The GLM claims that its projected figures are conservative - and in fact some estimates put the total of English words at two million or more. The devil lies in definition: what constitutes a new word? Does slang count? And what about archaisms and obsolete words? Another study, the Life and Times of the English Language, by Robert Claiborne and published in 1990, puts the number of words at no more than 600,000. The latest edition of the Oxford English Dictionary contains more than 300,000 head words, and some 615,000 "word forms," that include the head words, plus combinations and derivatives. By contrast, Websters Third International Dictionary has 54,000 word families - base words, inflections and derivations.
But no one should feel intimidated. The average vocabulary of an educated native English speaker is about 24,000 to 30,000. Shakespeare used 24,000 words - 1,700 of which he is claimed to have invented.
Nonetheless, with an active vocabulary of just 3,000 or so, you can get along pretty well. And if you are stumped for a word, just make one up. It seems to have worked in the past for the most powerful man in the world, so it could work for you as well. The chances are, it will soon be swept up in the boundless net of the Global Language Monitor. You never know, it might even be the coveted number 1,000,000.
Comparing languages
* Up to 20 per cent of the words used by Global Language Monitor come from hybrids such as Chinglish and Japlish. Words from Chinglish include the business terms "drinktea", meaning closed, and "torunbusiness", meaning open. Bushisms such as "uninalienable" and 'misunderestimate' are included.
* English is evolving faster than other languages. This year's additions to the Oxford English Dictionary include "podcast" and "offshoring".
* Spanish linguists say there are 225,000 words in contemporary use.
* The largest edition of the Duden German-German dictionary contains about 200,000 words
* The Russian language has just reached the 125,000 mark.
* French has 100,000 words, one-sixth of the figure used in the UK.But the Academié Française, the body that defines the language, recognises 25,525.
Kate Thomas
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
http://www.classicalnotes.net/classics/trout.html
The Death and the Maiden Quartet, written in 1824 by Franz Schubert, just after the composer became aware of his ruined health, and D. 810 in Otto Erich Deutsch's thematic catalog of Schubert's works, is a string quartet in four movements:
Allegro, in D minor and common time
Andante con moto, in G minor and divided common (2:2) time
Scherzo: Allegro molto, in D minor and 3:4 time
Presto, in D minor in 6:8
The opening movement is, along with that of the preceding and next quartet and that of his string quintet, among the most extended and substantial in his chamber music output, if not in his output as a whole. It is a sonata form movement whose exposition encompasses three main key regions, D minor, F major and A minor.
The second movement is a theme — taken from his macabre song Der Tod und Das Mädchen (D 531 in Deutsch's catalog) — and five variations, with coda.
The third movement's main theme can also be heard in one of a set of piano dances; its lyrical D major trio varies its 'repeats'.
The relentless finale-tarantella is a sonata-rondo in form — a rondo whose first episode returns as the last, and whose central section contains elements of development. Its coda promises major-mode triumph, and snatches it away.
This is one of the quartet works, along with Beethoven's quartetto serioso that Mahler arranged for use by a string orchestra, mostly by doubling some of the cello parts with double basses.
[edit]
Appearances in Film and Television
Besides the 1994 film Death and the Maiden directed by Roman Polanski, Schubert's quartet has been used in the score of at least the following:
The 1983 French film Le Bâtard
The 1996 Russian film President i yego zhenshchina
The 1996 Jane Campion film Portrait of a Lady
The BBC TV production of Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking
The Death and the Maiden Quartet, written in 1824 by Franz Schubert, just after the composer became aware of his ruined health, and D. 810 in Otto Erich Deutsch's thematic catalog of Schubert's works, is a string quartet in four movements:
Allegro, in D minor and common time
Andante con moto, in G minor and divided common (2:2) time
Scherzo: Allegro molto, in D minor and 3:4 time
Presto, in D minor in 6:8
The opening movement is, along with that of the preceding and next quartet and that of his string quintet, among the most extended and substantial in his chamber music output, if not in his output as a whole. It is a sonata form movement whose exposition encompasses three main key regions, D minor, F major and A minor.
The second movement is a theme — taken from his macabre song Der Tod und Das Mädchen (D 531 in Deutsch's catalog) — and five variations, with coda.
The third movement's main theme can also be heard in one of a set of piano dances; its lyrical D major trio varies its 'repeats'.
The relentless finale-tarantella is a sonata-rondo in form — a rondo whose first episode returns as the last, and whose central section contains elements of development. Its coda promises major-mode triumph, and snatches it away.
This is one of the quartet works, along with Beethoven's quartetto serioso that Mahler arranged for use by a string orchestra, mostly by doubling some of the cello parts with double basses.
[edit]
Appearances in Film and Television
Besides the 1994 film Death and the Maiden directed by Roman Polanski, Schubert's quartet has been used in the score of at least the following:
The 1983 French film Le Bâtard
The 1996 Russian film President i yego zhenshchina
The 1996 Jane Campion film Portrait of a Lady
The BBC TV production of Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking
Der Tod und das Mädchen
[Das Mädchen:]
Vorüber! Ach, vorüber!
geh, wilder Knochenmann!
Ich bin noch jung, geh,
Lieber!und rühre mich nicht an.
[Der Tod:]
Gib deine Hand, du schön und zart Gebild!
Bin Freund und komme nicht zu strafen.
Sei gutes Muts! ich bin nicht wild,
sollst sanft in meinen Armen schlafen!
-- Matthias Claudius (1740-1815)
[Das Mädchen:]
Vorüber! Ach, vorüber!
geh, wilder Knochenmann!
Ich bin noch jung, geh,
Lieber!und rühre mich nicht an.
[Der Tod:]
Gib deine Hand, du schön und zart Gebild!
Bin Freund und komme nicht zu strafen.
Sei gutes Muts! ich bin nicht wild,
sollst sanft in meinen Armen schlafen!
-- Matthias Claudius (1740-1815)
Friday, April 07, 2006
Life expectancy of women exceeds men's for first time
By Jeremy Laurance, Health Editor
Published: 07 April 2006
For the first time in history, women now outlive men all around the globe. The milestone is as significant as the eradication of smallpox 30 years ago but is unlikely to be celebrated with the same fanfare, researchers say.
In the West, women have been outliving men for more than a century. Deaths from cancer, heart disease, suicide, accidents and Aids are all higher among men. In England and Wales life expectancy for men last exceeded that for women in 1841.
But in the developing world, women have been held back by the high risk of bearing children.
The biggest killer of women of childbearing age in the developing world is childbirth.
Professor Danny Dorling, of the University of Sheffield, and colleagues writing in the British Medical Journal, say: "We will never know with certainty the exact year in which women everywhere can expect to live on average longer than men, but this year - 2006 - is as likely as any." The authors describe it as "a remarkable achievement".
Professor Dorling said: "The reason for the increase in female life expectancy has got to be improvements in care during pregnancy and the presence of a midwife or other skilled attendant at birth.
"There is still a long way to go but things have improved enough to put women ahead everywhere."
The explanation for the female advantage in life expectancy has taxed health experts for years. Sir Donald Acheson, the former chief medical officer, argued that it was due to hormones. Testosterone-fuelled young men died in accidents and violence while their less driven female peers lived quieter and safer lives, he said. Later in life, men died of heart disease from which women were protected by the female hormone, oestrogen.
But Professor Dorling warns in the BMJ that the gender gap is narrowing as women have become more emancipated and adopted lifestyles more like men. In England and Wales, the gap was widest in 1969 - with women living 6.3 years longer on average.
Smoking is the main reason why it is now narrowing again, which was taken up by women later than men. Deaths from smoking in men peaked in the late 1960s, reflecting smoking habits 20 or 30 years earlier, but were still rising in women until the late 1980s.
The authors warn this year's milestone may not be a permanent achievement. "The largest remaining untapped market for cigarettes is made up of women in poorer countries," they note.
Women versus men: the statistics
* In developed countries, average life expectancy is 79 years for women and 72 years for men.
* Among centenarians worldwide, women outnumber males nine to one.
* Zimbabwe is one of the few countries where men outlive women. The average life expectancy for men is 40 whereas for women it is only 38.
* The mortality gap is widest in Russia where females outlive men by an average of 13 years.
* Men are more likely to smoke and drink than women.
* Oestrogen in women combats heart disease by helping to reduce levels of harmful cholesterol.
* Men are four times more likely to die during the "testosterone storm" between the ages of 16-24. This is often as a result of reckless and/or violent behaviour, such as dangerous driving or fighting.
* About 125 men are conceived for every 100 women but problems that develop in the womb - cerebral palsy, premature birth, stillbirth, deformities - are more likely to afflict males.
* Women have stronger immune systems than men, which scientists think may be designed to combat the rigours of childbirth.
* Men are twice as likely as women to opt for unhealthy snacks during work, such as crisps.
* Of the 72 major causes of death, only five affect more women than men. These include breast cancer and pregnancy.
Tom Harper
For the first time in history, women now outlive men all around the globe. The milestone is as significant as the eradication of smallpox 30 years ago but is unlikely to be celebrated with the same fanfare, researchers say.
In the West, women have been outliving men for more than a century. Deaths from cancer, heart disease, suicide, accidents and Aids are all higher among men. In England and Wales life expectancy for men last exceeded that for women in 1841.
But in the developing world, women have been held back by the high risk of bearing children.
The biggest killer of women of childbearing age in the developing world is childbirth.
Professor Danny Dorling, of the University of Sheffield, and colleagues writing in the British Medical Journal, say: "We will never know with certainty the exact year in which women everywhere can expect to live on average longer than men, but this year - 2006 - is as likely as any." The authors describe it as "a remarkable achievement".
Professor Dorling said: "The reason for the increase in female life expectancy has got to be improvements in care during pregnancy and the presence of a midwife or other skilled attendant at birth.
"There is still a long way to go but things have improved enough to put women ahead everywhere."
The explanation for the female advantage in life expectancy has taxed health experts for years. Sir Donald Acheson, the former chief medical officer, argued that it was due to hormones. Testosterone-fuelled young men died in accidents and violence while their less driven female peers lived quieter and safer lives, he said. Later in life, men died of heart disease from which women were protected by the female hormone, oestrogen.
But Professor Dorling warns in the BMJ that the gender gap is narrowing as women have become more emancipated and adopted lifestyles more like men. In England and Wales, the gap was widest in 1969 - with women living 6.3 years longer on average.
Smoking is the main reason why it is now narrowing again, which was taken up by women later than men. Deaths from smoking in men peaked in the late 1960s, reflecting smoking habits 20 or 30 years earlier, but were still rising in women until the late 1980s.
The authors warn this year's milestone may not be a permanent achievement. "The largest remaining untapped market for cigarettes is made up of women in poorer countries," they note.
Women versus men: the statistics
* In developed countries, average life expectancy is 79 years for women and 72 years for men.
* Among centenarians worldwide, women outnumber males nine to one.
* Zimbabwe is one of the few countries where men outlive women. The average life expectancy for men is 40 whereas for women it is only 38.
* The mortality gap is widest in Russia where females outlive men by an average of 13 years.
* Men are more likely to smoke and drink than women.
* Oestrogen in women combats heart disease by helping to reduce levels of harmful cholesterol.
* Men are four times more likely to die during the "testosterone storm" between the ages of 16-24. This is often as a result of reckless and/or violent behaviour, such as dangerous driving or fighting.
* About 125 men are conceived for every 100 women but problems that develop in the womb - cerebral palsy, premature birth, stillbirth, deformities - are more likely to afflict males.
* Women have stronger immune systems than men, which scientists think may be designed to combat the rigours of childbirth.
* Men are twice as likely as women to opt for unhealthy snacks during work, such as crisps.
* Of the 72 major causes of death, only five affect more women than men. These include breast cancer and pregnancy.
Tom Harper
By Jeremy Laurance, Health Editor
Published: 07 April 2006
For the first time in history, women now outlive men all around the globe. The milestone is as significant as the eradication of smallpox 30 years ago but is unlikely to be celebrated with the same fanfare, researchers say.
In the West, women have been outliving men for more than a century. Deaths from cancer, heart disease, suicide, accidents and Aids are all higher among men. In England and Wales life expectancy for men last exceeded that for women in 1841.
But in the developing world, women have been held back by the high risk of bearing children.
The biggest killer of women of childbearing age in the developing world is childbirth.
Professor Danny Dorling, of the University of Sheffield, and colleagues writing in the British Medical Journal, say: "We will never know with certainty the exact year in which women everywhere can expect to live on average longer than men, but this year - 2006 - is as likely as any." The authors describe it as "a remarkable achievement".
Professor Dorling said: "The reason for the increase in female life expectancy has got to be improvements in care during pregnancy and the presence of a midwife or other skilled attendant at birth.
"There is still a long way to go but things have improved enough to put women ahead everywhere."
The explanation for the female advantage in life expectancy has taxed health experts for years. Sir Donald Acheson, the former chief medical officer, argued that it was due to hormones. Testosterone-fuelled young men died in accidents and violence while their less driven female peers lived quieter and safer lives, he said. Later in life, men died of heart disease from which women were protected by the female hormone, oestrogen.
But Professor Dorling warns in the BMJ that the gender gap is narrowing as women have become more emancipated and adopted lifestyles more like men. In England and Wales, the gap was widest in 1969 - with women living 6.3 years longer on average.
Smoking is the main reason why it is now narrowing again, which was taken up by women later than men. Deaths from smoking in men peaked in the late 1960s, reflecting smoking habits 20 or 30 years earlier, but were still rising in women until the late 1980s.
The authors warn this year's milestone may not be a permanent achievement. "The largest remaining untapped market for cigarettes is made up of women in poorer countries," they note.
Women versus men: the statistics
* In developed countries, average life expectancy is 79 years for women and 72 years for men.
* Among centenarians worldwide, women outnumber males nine to one.
* Zimbabwe is one of the few countries where men outlive women. The average life expectancy for men is 40 whereas for women it is only 38.
* The mortality gap is widest in Russia where females outlive men by an average of 13 years.
* Men are more likely to smoke and drink than women.
* Oestrogen in women combats heart disease by helping to reduce levels of harmful cholesterol.
* Men are four times more likely to die during the "testosterone storm" between the ages of 16-24. This is often as a result of reckless and/or violent behaviour, such as dangerous driving or fighting.
* About 125 men are conceived for every 100 women but problems that develop in the womb - cerebral palsy, premature birth, stillbirth, deformities - are more likely to afflict males.
* Women have stronger immune systems than men, which scientists think may be designed to combat the rigours of childbirth.
* Men are twice as likely as women to opt for unhealthy snacks during work, such as crisps.
* Of the 72 major causes of death, only five affect more women than men. These include breast cancer and pregnancy.
Tom Harper
For the first time in history, women now outlive men all around the globe. The milestone is as significant as the eradication of smallpox 30 years ago but is unlikely to be celebrated with the same fanfare, researchers say.
In the West, women have been outliving men for more than a century. Deaths from cancer, heart disease, suicide, accidents and Aids are all higher among men. In England and Wales life expectancy for men last exceeded that for women in 1841.
But in the developing world, women have been held back by the high risk of bearing children.
The biggest killer of women of childbearing age in the developing world is childbirth.
Professor Danny Dorling, of the University of Sheffield, and colleagues writing in the British Medical Journal, say: "We will never know with certainty the exact year in which women everywhere can expect to live on average longer than men, but this year - 2006 - is as likely as any." The authors describe it as "a remarkable achievement".
Professor Dorling said: "The reason for the increase in female life expectancy has got to be improvements in care during pregnancy and the presence of a midwife or other skilled attendant at birth.
"There is still a long way to go but things have improved enough to put women ahead everywhere."
The explanation for the female advantage in life expectancy has taxed health experts for years. Sir Donald Acheson, the former chief medical officer, argued that it was due to hormones. Testosterone-fuelled young men died in accidents and violence while their less driven female peers lived quieter and safer lives, he said. Later in life, men died of heart disease from which women were protected by the female hormone, oestrogen.
But Professor Dorling warns in the BMJ that the gender gap is narrowing as women have become more emancipated and adopted lifestyles more like men. In England and Wales, the gap was widest in 1969 - with women living 6.3 years longer on average.
Smoking is the main reason why it is now narrowing again, which was taken up by women later than men. Deaths from smoking in men peaked in the late 1960s, reflecting smoking habits 20 or 30 years earlier, but were still rising in women until the late 1980s.
The authors warn this year's milestone may not be a permanent achievement. "The largest remaining untapped market for cigarettes is made up of women in poorer countries," they note.
Women versus men: the statistics
* In developed countries, average life expectancy is 79 years for women and 72 years for men.
* Among centenarians worldwide, women outnumber males nine to one.
* Zimbabwe is one of the few countries where men outlive women. The average life expectancy for men is 40 whereas for women it is only 38.
* The mortality gap is widest in Russia where females outlive men by an average of 13 years.
* Men are more likely to smoke and drink than women.
* Oestrogen in women combats heart disease by helping to reduce levels of harmful cholesterol.
* Men are four times more likely to die during the "testosterone storm" between the ages of 16-24. This is often as a result of reckless and/or violent behaviour, such as dangerous driving or fighting.
* About 125 men are conceived for every 100 women but problems that develop in the womb - cerebral palsy, premature birth, stillbirth, deformities - are more likely to afflict males.
* Women have stronger immune systems than men, which scientists think may be designed to combat the rigours of childbirth.
* Men are twice as likely as women to opt for unhealthy snacks during work, such as crisps.
* Of the 72 major causes of death, only five affect more women than men. These include breast cancer and pregnancy.
Tom Harper
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Scientists find 'missing link' to land vertebrates
By Steve Connor
Published: 06 April 2006
An amphibious creature that lived 375 million years ago has turned out to be a "missing link" in the chain of events that led to the emergence of the first fish-like animals to walk on land.
The animal bears all the hallmarks of a primitive land animal, with limb-like appendages, a crocodilian head and tooth-filled jaws, but it still retains scales, fins and gills.
Scientists have described the discovery as one of the most important in the description of the evolutionary origins of all land-dwelling vertebrates. The "fish with fingers" lived in semi-tropical water and probably used its front limbs to prop itself up or to walk in rudimentary fashion on dry land for short periods.
Scientists found fossils of the creature, ranging in size from four to nine feet long, on Ellesmere Island in the Canadian Arctic, which 375 million years ago was part of a subtropical landmass that straddled the equator.
The researchers have called the species Tiktaalik roseae after an Inuit word for "large, shallow-water fish". Its description is published today in the journal Nature.
Neil Shubin, a professor of biology at the University of Chicago and one of the leaders of the research team, said: "Tiktaalik blurs the boundary between fish and land-living animals in terms of its anatomy and its way of life. This animal is both fish and tetrapod; we jokingly call it a 'fishapod'.
"Most of the major joints of the fin are functional in this fish. The shoulder, elbow and even parts of the wrist are already there and working in ways similar to the earliest land-living animals," Professor Shubin said.
An amphibious creature that lived 375 million years ago has turned out to be a "missing link" in the chain of events that led to the emergence of the first fish-like animals to walk on land.
The animal bears all the hallmarks of a primitive land animal, with limb-like appendages, a crocodilian head and tooth-filled jaws, but it still retains scales, fins and gills.
Scientists have described the discovery as one of the most important in the description of the evolutionary origins of all land-dwelling vertebrates. The "fish with fingers" lived in semi-tropical water and probably used its front limbs to prop itself up or to walk in rudimentary fashion on dry land for short periods.
Scientists found fossils of the creature, ranging in size from four to nine feet long, on Ellesmere Island in the Canadian Arctic, which 375 million years ago was part of a subtropical landmass that straddled the equator.
The researchers have called the species Tiktaalik roseae after an Inuit word for "large, shallow-water fish". Its description is published today in the journal Nature.
Neil Shubin, a professor of biology at the University of Chicago and one of the leaders of the research team, said: "Tiktaalik blurs the boundary between fish and land-living animals in terms of its anatomy and its way of life. This animal is both fish and tetrapod; we jokingly call it a 'fishapod'.
"Most of the major joints of the fin are functional in this fish. The shoulder, elbow and even parts of the wrist are already there and working in ways similar to the earliest land-living animals," Professor Shubin said.
By Steve Connor
Published: 06 April 2006
An amphibious creature that lived 375 million years ago has turned out to be a "missing link" in the chain of events that led to the emergence of the first fish-like animals to walk on land.
The animal bears all the hallmarks of a primitive land animal, with limb-like appendages, a crocodilian head and tooth-filled jaws, but it still retains scales, fins and gills.
Scientists have described the discovery as one of the most important in the description of the evolutionary origins of all land-dwelling vertebrates. The "fish with fingers" lived in semi-tropical water and probably used its front limbs to prop itself up or to walk in rudimentary fashion on dry land for short periods.
Scientists found fossils of the creature, ranging in size from four to nine feet long, on Ellesmere Island in the Canadian Arctic, which 375 million years ago was part of a subtropical landmass that straddled the equator.
The researchers have called the species Tiktaalik roseae after an Inuit word for "large, shallow-water fish". Its description is published today in the journal Nature.
Neil Shubin, a professor of biology at the University of Chicago and one of the leaders of the research team, said: "Tiktaalik blurs the boundary between fish and land-living animals in terms of its anatomy and its way of life. This animal is both fish and tetrapod; we jokingly call it a 'fishapod'.
"Most of the major joints of the fin are functional in this fish. The shoulder, elbow and even parts of the wrist are already there and working in ways similar to the earliest land-living animals," Professor Shubin said.
An amphibious creature that lived 375 million years ago has turned out to be a "missing link" in the chain of events that led to the emergence of the first fish-like animals to walk on land.
The animal bears all the hallmarks of a primitive land animal, with limb-like appendages, a crocodilian head and tooth-filled jaws, but it still retains scales, fins and gills.
Scientists have described the discovery as one of the most important in the description of the evolutionary origins of all land-dwelling vertebrates. The "fish with fingers" lived in semi-tropical water and probably used its front limbs to prop itself up or to walk in rudimentary fashion on dry land for short periods.
Scientists found fossils of the creature, ranging in size from four to nine feet long, on Ellesmere Island in the Canadian Arctic, which 375 million years ago was part of a subtropical landmass that straddled the equator.
The researchers have called the species Tiktaalik roseae after an Inuit word for "large, shallow-water fish". Its description is published today in the journal Nature.
Neil Shubin, a professor of biology at the University of Chicago and one of the leaders of the research team, said: "Tiktaalik blurs the boundary between fish and land-living animals in terms of its anatomy and its way of life. This animal is both fish and tetrapod; we jokingly call it a 'fishapod'.
"Most of the major joints of the fin are functional in this fish. The shoulder, elbow and even parts of the wrist are already there and working in ways similar to the earliest land-living animals," Professor Shubin said.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Tosca
Composer: Giacomo Puccini
ACT I.
Cesare Angelotti, an escaped political prisoner, rushes into the church of Sant' Andrea della Valle to hide in the Attavanti chapel. As he vanishes, an old Sacristan shuffles in, praying at the sound of the Angelus. Mario Cavaradossi enters to work on his portrait of Mary Magdalene - inspired by the Marchesa Attavanti (Angelotti's sister), whom he has seen but does not know. Taking out a miniature of the singer Floria Tosca, he compares her raven beauty with that of the blonde Magdalene ("Recondita armonia"). The Sacristan grumbles disapproval and leaves. Angelotti ventures out and is recognized by his friend and fellow liberal Mario, who gives him food and hurries him back into the chapel as Tosca is heard calling outside. Forever suspicious, she jealously questions him, then prays, and reminds him of their rendezvous that evening at his villa ("Non la sospiri la nostra casetta?"). Suddenly recognizing the Marchesa Attavanti in the painting, she explodes with renewed suspicions, but he reassures her ("Qual' occhio al mondo"). When she has gone, Mario summons Angelotti from the chapel; a cannon signals that the police have discovered the escape, so the two flee to Mario's villa. Meanwhile, the Sacristan returns with choirboys who are to sing in a Te Deum that day. Their excitement is silenced by the entrance of Baron Scarpia, chief of the secret police, in search of Angelotti. When Tosca comes back to her lover, Scarpia shows her a fan with the Attavanti crest, which he has just found. Thinking Mario faithless, Tosca tearfully vows vengeance and leaves as the church fills with worshipers. Scarpia, sending his men to follow her to Angelotti, schemes to get the diva in his power ("Va, Tosca!").
ACT II.
In the Farnese Palace, Scarpia anticipates the sadistic pleasure of bending Tosca to his will ("Ha più forte sapore"). The spy Spoletta arrives, not having found Angelotti; to placate the baron he brings in Mario, who is interrogated while Tosca is heard singing a cantata at a royal gala downstairs. She enters just as her lover is being taken to an adjoining room: his arrogant silence is to be broken under torture. Unnerved by Scarpia's questioning and the sound of Mario's screams, she reveals Angelotti's hiding place. Mario is carried in; realizing what has happened, he turns on Tosca, but the officer Sciarrone rushes in to announce that Napoleon has won the Battle of Marengo, a defeat for Scarpia's side. Mario shouts his defiance of tyranny ("Vittoria!") and is dragged to prison. Scarpia, resuming his supper, suggests that Tosca yield herself to him in exchange for her lover's life. Fighting off his embraces, she protests her fate to God, having dedicated her life to art and love ("Vissi d'arte"). Scarpia again insists, but Spoletta interrupts: faced with capture, Angelotti has killed himself. Tosca, forced to give in or lose her lover, agrees to Scarpia's proposition. The baron pretends to order a mock execution for the prisoner, after which he is to be freed; Spoletta leaves. No sooner has Scarpia written a safe-conduct for the lovers than Tosca snatches a knife from the table and kills him. Wrenching the document from his stiffening fingers and placing candles at his head and a crucifix on his chest, she slips from the room.
ACT III.
The voice of a shepherd boy is heard as church bells toll the dawn. Mario awaits execution at the Castel Sant'Angelo; he bribes the jailer to convey a farewell note to Tosca. Writing it, overcome with memories of love, he gives way to despair ("E lucevan le stelle"). Suddenly Tosca runs in, filled with the story of her recent adventures. Mario caresses the hands that committed murder for his sake ("O dolci mani"), and the two hail their future. As the firing squad appears, the diva coaches Mario on how to fake his death convincingly; the soldiers fire and depart. Tosca urges Mario to hurry, but when he fails to move, she discovers that Scarpia's treachery has transcended the grave: the bullets were real. When Spoletta rushes in to arrest Tosca for Scarpia's murder, she cries to Scarpia to meet her before God, then leaps to her death.
-- courtesy of Opera News
Composer: Giacomo Puccini
ACT I.
Cesare Angelotti, an escaped political prisoner, rushes into the church of Sant' Andrea della Valle to hide in the Attavanti chapel. As he vanishes, an old Sacristan shuffles in, praying at the sound of the Angelus. Mario Cavaradossi enters to work on his portrait of Mary Magdalene - inspired by the Marchesa Attavanti (Angelotti's sister), whom he has seen but does not know. Taking out a miniature of the singer Floria Tosca, he compares her raven beauty with that of the blonde Magdalene ("Recondita armonia"). The Sacristan grumbles disapproval and leaves. Angelotti ventures out and is recognized by his friend and fellow liberal Mario, who gives him food and hurries him back into the chapel as Tosca is heard calling outside. Forever suspicious, she jealously questions him, then prays, and reminds him of their rendezvous that evening at his villa ("Non la sospiri la nostra casetta?"). Suddenly recognizing the Marchesa Attavanti in the painting, she explodes with renewed suspicions, but he reassures her ("Qual' occhio al mondo"). When she has gone, Mario summons Angelotti from the chapel; a cannon signals that the police have discovered the escape, so the two flee to Mario's villa. Meanwhile, the Sacristan returns with choirboys who are to sing in a Te Deum that day. Their excitement is silenced by the entrance of Baron Scarpia, chief of the secret police, in search of Angelotti. When Tosca comes back to her lover, Scarpia shows her a fan with the Attavanti crest, which he has just found. Thinking Mario faithless, Tosca tearfully vows vengeance and leaves as the church fills with worshipers. Scarpia, sending his men to follow her to Angelotti, schemes to get the diva in his power ("Va, Tosca!").
ACT II.
In the Farnese Palace, Scarpia anticipates the sadistic pleasure of bending Tosca to his will ("Ha più forte sapore"). The spy Spoletta arrives, not having found Angelotti; to placate the baron he brings in Mario, who is interrogated while Tosca is heard singing a cantata at a royal gala downstairs. She enters just as her lover is being taken to an adjoining room: his arrogant silence is to be broken under torture. Unnerved by Scarpia's questioning and the sound of Mario's screams, she reveals Angelotti's hiding place. Mario is carried in; realizing what has happened, he turns on Tosca, but the officer Sciarrone rushes in to announce that Napoleon has won the Battle of Marengo, a defeat for Scarpia's side. Mario shouts his defiance of tyranny ("Vittoria!") and is dragged to prison. Scarpia, resuming his supper, suggests that Tosca yield herself to him in exchange for her lover's life. Fighting off his embraces, she protests her fate to God, having dedicated her life to art and love ("Vissi d'arte"). Scarpia again insists, but Spoletta interrupts: faced with capture, Angelotti has killed himself. Tosca, forced to give in or lose her lover, agrees to Scarpia's proposition. The baron pretends to order a mock execution for the prisoner, after which he is to be freed; Spoletta leaves. No sooner has Scarpia written a safe-conduct for the lovers than Tosca snatches a knife from the table and kills him. Wrenching the document from his stiffening fingers and placing candles at his head and a crucifix on his chest, she slips from the room.
ACT III.
The voice of a shepherd boy is heard as church bells toll the dawn. Mario awaits execution at the Castel Sant'Angelo; he bribes the jailer to convey a farewell note to Tosca. Writing it, overcome with memories of love, he gives way to despair ("E lucevan le stelle"). Suddenly Tosca runs in, filled with the story of her recent adventures. Mario caresses the hands that committed murder for his sake ("O dolci mani"), and the two hail their future. As the firing squad appears, the diva coaches Mario on how to fake his death convincingly; the soldiers fire and depart. Tosca urges Mario to hurry, but when he fails to move, she discovers that Scarpia's treachery has transcended the grave: the bullets were real. When Spoletta rushes in to arrest Tosca for Scarpia's murder, she cries to Scarpia to meet her before God, then leaps to her death.
-- courtesy of Opera News
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Los Machucambos - Pepito
Pepito mi corazón (Pepiti, Pepito)
Pepito de mis amores (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Pepito eres mi vida (Pepiti, Pepito)
Mi cariño, mi querido (Pepiti, Pepito)
Nunca comprendido (Ou-wa)
Nunca comprendido (Ou-wa)
Porque me intereso en ti
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Besa me (Besa me)
Entre tus brazos
Pepito mi corazón (Pepiti, Pepito)
Dame mas de tu cariño (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Pepito mi corazon (Pepiti, Pepito)
Pepito de mis amores (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Pepito eres mi vida (Pepiti, Pepito)
Mi cariño, mi querido (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta comprendido (Ou-wa)
Nunca comprendido (Ou-wa)
Porque me intereso en ti (Ou-wa)
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Besa me (Besa me)
Entre tus brazos
Pepito mi corazón (Pepiti, Pepito)
Dame mas de tu cariño (Pepiti, Pepito)
Y canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Pepito mi corazón (Pepiti, Pepito)
Pepito de mis amores (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Pepito eres mi vida (Pepiti, Pepito)
Mi cariño, mi querido (Pepiti, Pepito)
Nunca comprendido (Ou-wa)
Nunca comprendido (Ou-wa)
Porque me intereso en ti
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Besa me (Besa me)
Entre tus brazos
Pepito mi corazón (Pepiti, Pepito)
Dame mas de tu cariño (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Pepito mi corazon (Pepiti, Pepito)
Pepito de mis amores (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Pepito eres mi vida (Pepiti, Pepito)
Mi cariño, mi querido (Pepiti, Pepito)
Canta comprendido (Ou-wa)
Nunca comprendido (Ou-wa)
Porque me intereso en ti (Ou-wa)
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Quiere me (Quiere me)
Besa me (Besa me)
Entre tus brazos
Pepito mi corazón (Pepiti, Pepito)
Dame mas de tu cariño (Pepiti, Pepito)
Y canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Canta me asi (Ou-wa)
Con amor
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
"Daffodils" (1804)
I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).
I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).
Monday, March 27, 2006
Edith Piaf - Non Je Ne Regrette Rien Lyrics
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
C`est Paye, Balaye, Oublie, Je Me Fous Du Passe
Avec Mes Souvenirs J`ai Allume Le Feu
Mes Shagrins, Mes Plaisirs,
Je N`ai Plus Besoin D`eux
Balaye Les Amours Avec Leurs Tremolos
Balaye Pour Toujours
Je Reparas A Zero
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Car Ma Vie, Car Me Joies
Aujourd`hui Ca Commence Avec Toi
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
C`est Paye, Balaye, Oublie, Je Me Fous Du Passe
Avec Mes Souvenirs J`ai Allume Le Feu
Mes Shagrins, Mes Plaisirs,
Je N`ai Plus Besoin D`eux
Balaye Les Amours Avec Leurs Tremolos
Balaye Pour Toujours
Je Reparas A Zero
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Car Ma Vie, Car Me Joies
Aujourd`hui Ca Commence Avec Toi
GOANET READER
Memories of another Panjim...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I could write about Panjim forever, with no objectivity or clarity, but a chuckle and a tear. I won't mention that spectacular cyclone that lifted our neighbours' roof off and sent it clattering into the angry river flowing under the Patto bridge.
Memories of another Panjim...
By Isabel de Santa Rita Vas
She's quaint, they explain. How picturesque, they tell you. And you blink and take another good look. You've never thought of her in such adjectives. To you, she's full of nouns and verbs, she's your home town, where you've always done things, and who's mapped your life in subtle or more determined ways. To me, Nova Goa, Cidade de Goa, Panjim or Panaji are not sign-boards of plush hotels or sheeth-koddi eating-houses. They are the ever changing make-up your cosy mum wears when she goes to town.
I could write about Panjim forever, with no objectivity or clarity, but a chuckle and a tear. I could take vantage points from roof-tops I've climbed, to river parapets I’ve run on, could describe old schools and frisky school friends so exciting that I invariably prayed I'd fail the year, and please-God-let-me-remain-in-this-same-class-next-year. But I won't. I won't mention that spectacular cyclone that lifted our neighbours' roof off and sent it clattering into the angry river flowing under the Patto bridge. Some memories one does well not to share.
But lest I be accused of being excessively possessive, I shall establish my generosity and equanimity by letting you flick through some of these dog-eared memories. Maybe I shall tell you about sounds, about buying and selling, about moving around, about seasonal events, and if you have a stomach for more such jumble-sale stuff, then I'll show you some great faces from this album, all of a half-century old.
Panjim, to me, has been a melodious city.
The alvorada or the cheerful notes of a brass band at dawn on festive occasions -- this is one of the most gorgeous sounds of my childhood, almost as heart-warming as the bulbuls in the glowing sunrise one is too lazy to watch on other days.
The alvorada would be played by the Panjim Police Band wending its way round town on mornings of celebration and if there's an antonym to alarm-clock, here you heard it: a harmony-clock for the slumbering Panjimite. The same band would often play of an evening in the various garden band-stands, and all of us would crowd around, running in the periphery of our parents, waving out to small friends, craning our necks for a glimpse of the sparkling trombone.
A different sound, but oh-so-homey, is the song of the woman carrying a huge basket of salt on her head, or often following a gaddo full of salt, driven by her husband: "Mitt-zaiem-gue-e-e-e…"
To us sweaty kids swinging a school-satchel at noon (hey, nothing like the heavy-weight back-breaking monsters our kiddies today lug around ) the staccato call of the 'ice-fruit-walla', "aiiice-croatttt!" was irresistible, until we spied the sweaty vendor of the yellow and red lollies, lustily slurping them and smuggling them back into the ice-box.
In later years, a more natty young man had acquired himself a fancy hand-cart and went around dispensing mutton patties that he hawked in the most Mediterranean accents, “Pasteis de cabrito….”
The campa who did the rounds, bell and walking-stick in hand, announcing to the neighbourhood the death and funeral of a townsman or woman, he gave charm to the fact of death. The crows at even-tide, specially around the Campal river banks are the signature tune of holiday time, for those were the days when everybody went to Miramar of an evening to meet friends, listen to music, savour some juicy oysters, and scramble into the lacy edge of the waves. The town pealed church bells, carreira horns, and the hopeful sorticar's (lottery vendor) call "sort-abeitt...".
Looking back, the business of buying and selling was not a crass soul-less affair, but a ritual full of textures, smells, sound effects and light and dark, and people, one-to-one sort of folks that a small town accommodates.
Fish came to the house, or the fisher-ladies did -- who ever went to the market, I never knew there existed a Panjim market until I was a full-grown adult. The women-vendors and the women-buyers from the house had a daily ritual by the back steps, exchanging greetings and news, examining the visvonn or the bangddo with experienced hands, haggling for formality’s sake over the price.
As we helped hoist the heavy drippy basket to the lady's sturdy head, food and fellowship had been shared. If there were nice calvan (clams) this morning, some would be sent to the lady next door, who, granny said, could do with them.
To get our load of firewood, we walked downstairs to the river-front and purchased it from the boat that docked right below our verandah next to the Patto bridge; or from the bullock-cart that drove past; and for lighter fuel we carried a gunny sack to the carpenter next door for the huge loads of sawdust that he sold us for a few coins -- the odour of just-sawn wood, the flying curls of shavings and the “bai-go” greeting of the carpenter is all fuel for joy.
For paper and ink bottles we walked down the street a few meters to the Bholo shop, where Mr. Bhale somehow managed to locate for you whatever you needed from his cascading mountain of stationery. The chaos in the little one-door shop had to be seen to be believed, and we kids at home were accused by our mother of being disorganized and a lost cause, in short a complete 'bholo'.
For dress materials, we visited the Armazens Vaglo, where the older Mr. Vaglos, good friends of our grandfather, measured out yards of flowered prints for our Easter dress and saved a silk fan or a box of sweets and little posies of paper flowers for us at agarbatti-Diwali time. For 'bojes' we went to Café Real and for an ice-cream the place was Esquimo.
The celebrations seem to have been a-plenty: Christmas was mid-night Mass and visiting neighbours and relatives and sharing news of family and good wishes. Diwali was doing the rounds of the shops to say hello and good luck. Chathurti was a visit to all the beautifully decorated shrines of Ganapati within the houses of neighbours.
Lent was full of long winding candle-lit processions and opa-garbed men shouldering life-size dramatic statues, wending through the streets of the town. December was a shower of fireworks by the Church square and kaddio-boddio and white-sugar-cashewnut-sweets from Divarkar’s stall at the fair. Carnival was small brothers armed with cocotes, and the commencement of the school year in June was the glorious smell of new rain and freshly baked books and wagging fingers of parents, and splashy puddles to run through on the way back home.
Reminiscing about how we traveled, in, around and out of town, I am transported to another world, one that moved more leisurely, perhaps more thoughtfully.
My father's Morris Minor was so much a part of our childhood that it held no excitement for me -- unlike the previous -- Citroen? --- that needed an energetic manivela or henddel to chug it into motion.
The carro de cavalo was poetry pure and simple, since our grandparents never came back home from their evening drive in the carro pulled by a lovely pair of horses, without bringing something exciting to be tucked into our childish hands: a box of crayons, some peppermint.
But mostly we walked, to Church, to school, to the dentist. We got to know the town, and it grew close to us -- footpath, gully, hill, river, and sea-front. My dream was to travel by carreira -- those squat little buses that have quite vanished from our landscape -- which I finally did when I started commuting to College at Miramar, for the princely fare of four annas.
The bullock-cart trotted downtown too, laden with Mangalore tiles, or salt and what else? Single-bullock carts for passengers were more common after we had crossed the ferry to visit relatives in Divar. The rivers were busy thoroughfares from dawn to dusk.
Tonas (or larger boats) transported merchandise to town, canoas (or little canoes) carried a couple of people in them.
We set out in a lancha (launch) well-stocked with a lunch packet to visit our own village of Aldona; it was the ferry-boat that took us to Betim; the patmarim sailed in the distance and was excitedly pointed out to us, and the barge pregnant with mine ore sailed coldly by. The Bombay Steamer was a thrill beyond compare, and if you were coming home from Bombay for your holidays, your heart swam ahead of the boat, dreaming of the glint of tears in your parents’ eyes, of cashews and mangoes and the rang-te-teng band at the Chapel feast in Aldona.
The city was clean, though I have no idea who swept the streets. I remember no water shortage, ever -- we had plenty of wells that were later deliberately choked when the building fever began -- and no power cut, ever (the charm of candle light and petromax was reserved for the villages).
I never saw the town flooded even in the heaviest downpour. The houses had what an architect friend calls a good connection with the sky and a generous amount of protection and shade from its verandahs for the passerby. In the late 50s and 60s it had a fair quantum of road traffic but no real din on the streets.
Panjim was full of people -- or so I thought as a ten year old. My parents knew so many people. I always wondered how I would get to know all these nice folks on the streets who waved hello and pecked us on both cheeks. I decided that probably my parents would some day hold a large meeting and introduce me to all the people they knew. Alas, they never got round to it... but I still receive my quota of hellos, thank God.
Faces from my childhood are wrinkled with love and grace. Professor Kenkro who taught us drawing at the Liceu; Venkatesh, the old man with and unbelievable little queue on his tonsured head, who always came from Aldona with coconuts by boat; the six-footer of a family tailor whose name was Alfaiate Comprido (the long tailor), who remembers my brothers' names even today; the bhangui lady whose tough lot was to carry the night-soil in a can to the river-front; Laurente, our cook, who composed tiatr scripts in the attic. Friends, family, domestic help and a small town that was safe and home.
Decades later, Panaji is more democratic today. More cosmopolitan: many languages, many ideas. The handshakes cut across many old barriers. But I must confess the old town of the old days had a charm all her own.
It strikes me that it was a kind town that harboured my childhood and youth, probably a place of some privilege for me, a middle-class child.
Was I insensitive to those who must've been on the margins? A vague twinge gnaws at me. But the town did not isolate me, or so I hope. I am grateful for the safety, the human face of a small town, the roads, windows, doorways, river-ways and sea-ways she graciously provided to a child busy growing, asking, questing and -- quietly -- painting the town red. (ENDS)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: ISABEL DE SANTA RITA VAS teaches English at the Dhempe College of Arts and Science, Miramar. She's a member of the Mustard Seed Art Company, member of the NGO Positive People for HIV/AIDS awareness, care and advocacy, and a member of the Research Institute for Women, Goa.
This essay was first published in PARMAL, the annual journal of the Goa Heritage Action Group, under the title 'Painting The Town Red', from where it is being reprinted with permission. PARMAL is an easily-recommedable buy, priced at Rs 100. and can be purchased from the GHAG at ghaggoa at rediffmail.com or www.goaheritage.or See http://groups.yahoo.com/group/goaheritage
Memories of another Panjim...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I could write about Panjim forever, with no objectivity or clarity, but a chuckle and a tear. I won't mention that spectacular cyclone that lifted our neighbours' roof off and sent it clattering into the angry river flowing under the Patto bridge.
Memories of another Panjim...
By Isabel de Santa Rita Vas
She's quaint, they explain. How picturesque, they tell you. And you blink and take another good look. You've never thought of her in such adjectives. To you, she's full of nouns and verbs, she's your home town, where you've always done things, and who's mapped your life in subtle or more determined ways. To me, Nova Goa, Cidade de Goa, Panjim or Panaji are not sign-boards of plush hotels or sheeth-koddi eating-houses. They are the ever changing make-up your cosy mum wears when she goes to town.
I could write about Panjim forever, with no objectivity or clarity, but a chuckle and a tear. I could take vantage points from roof-tops I've climbed, to river parapets I’ve run on, could describe old schools and frisky school friends so exciting that I invariably prayed I'd fail the year, and please-God-let-me-remain-in-this-same-class-next-year. But I won't. I won't mention that spectacular cyclone that lifted our neighbours' roof off and sent it clattering into the angry river flowing under the Patto bridge. Some memories one does well not to share.
But lest I be accused of being excessively possessive, I shall establish my generosity and equanimity by letting you flick through some of these dog-eared memories. Maybe I shall tell you about sounds, about buying and selling, about moving around, about seasonal events, and if you have a stomach for more such jumble-sale stuff, then I'll show you some great faces from this album, all of a half-century old.
Panjim, to me, has been a melodious city.
The alvorada or the cheerful notes of a brass band at dawn on festive occasions -- this is one of the most gorgeous sounds of my childhood, almost as heart-warming as the bulbuls in the glowing sunrise one is too lazy to watch on other days.
The alvorada would be played by the Panjim Police Band wending its way round town on mornings of celebration and if there's an antonym to alarm-clock, here you heard it: a harmony-clock for the slumbering Panjimite. The same band would often play of an evening in the various garden band-stands, and all of us would crowd around, running in the periphery of our parents, waving out to small friends, craning our necks for a glimpse of the sparkling trombone.
A different sound, but oh-so-homey, is the song of the woman carrying a huge basket of salt on her head, or often following a gaddo full of salt, driven by her husband: "Mitt-zaiem-gue-e-e-e…"
To us sweaty kids swinging a school-satchel at noon (hey, nothing like the heavy-weight back-breaking monsters our kiddies today lug around ) the staccato call of the 'ice-fruit-walla', "aiiice-croatttt!" was irresistible, until we spied the sweaty vendor of the yellow and red lollies, lustily slurping them and smuggling them back into the ice-box.
In later years, a more natty young man had acquired himself a fancy hand-cart and went around dispensing mutton patties that he hawked in the most Mediterranean accents, “Pasteis de cabrito….”
The campa who did the rounds, bell and walking-stick in hand, announcing to the neighbourhood the death and funeral of a townsman or woman, he gave charm to the fact of death. The crows at even-tide, specially around the Campal river banks are the signature tune of holiday time, for those were the days when everybody went to Miramar of an evening to meet friends, listen to music, savour some juicy oysters, and scramble into the lacy edge of the waves. The town pealed church bells, carreira horns, and the hopeful sorticar's (lottery vendor) call "sort-abeitt...".
Looking back, the business of buying and selling was not a crass soul-less affair, but a ritual full of textures, smells, sound effects and light and dark, and people, one-to-one sort of folks that a small town accommodates.
Fish came to the house, or the fisher-ladies did -- who ever went to the market, I never knew there existed a Panjim market until I was a full-grown adult. The women-vendors and the women-buyers from the house had a daily ritual by the back steps, exchanging greetings and news, examining the visvonn or the bangddo with experienced hands, haggling for formality’s sake over the price.
As we helped hoist the heavy drippy basket to the lady's sturdy head, food and fellowship had been shared. If there were nice calvan (clams) this morning, some would be sent to the lady next door, who, granny said, could do with them.
To get our load of firewood, we walked downstairs to the river-front and purchased it from the boat that docked right below our verandah next to the Patto bridge; or from the bullock-cart that drove past; and for lighter fuel we carried a gunny sack to the carpenter next door for the huge loads of sawdust that he sold us for a few coins -- the odour of just-sawn wood, the flying curls of shavings and the “bai-go” greeting of the carpenter is all fuel for joy.
For paper and ink bottles we walked down the street a few meters to the Bholo shop, where Mr. Bhale somehow managed to locate for you whatever you needed from his cascading mountain of stationery. The chaos in the little one-door shop had to be seen to be believed, and we kids at home were accused by our mother of being disorganized and a lost cause, in short a complete 'bholo'.
For dress materials, we visited the Armazens Vaglo, where the older Mr. Vaglos, good friends of our grandfather, measured out yards of flowered prints for our Easter dress and saved a silk fan or a box of sweets and little posies of paper flowers for us at agarbatti-Diwali time. For 'bojes' we went to Café Real and for an ice-cream the place was Esquimo.
The celebrations seem to have been a-plenty: Christmas was mid-night Mass and visiting neighbours and relatives and sharing news of family and good wishes. Diwali was doing the rounds of the shops to say hello and good luck. Chathurti was a visit to all the beautifully decorated shrines of Ganapati within the houses of neighbours.
Lent was full of long winding candle-lit processions and opa-garbed men shouldering life-size dramatic statues, wending through the streets of the town. December was a shower of fireworks by the Church square and kaddio-boddio and white-sugar-cashewnut-sweets from Divarkar’s stall at the fair. Carnival was small brothers armed with cocotes, and the commencement of the school year in June was the glorious smell of new rain and freshly baked books and wagging fingers of parents, and splashy puddles to run through on the way back home.
Reminiscing about how we traveled, in, around and out of town, I am transported to another world, one that moved more leisurely, perhaps more thoughtfully.
My father's Morris Minor was so much a part of our childhood that it held no excitement for me -- unlike the previous -- Citroen? --- that needed an energetic manivela or henddel to chug it into motion.
The carro de cavalo was poetry pure and simple, since our grandparents never came back home from their evening drive in the carro pulled by a lovely pair of horses, without bringing something exciting to be tucked into our childish hands: a box of crayons, some peppermint.
But mostly we walked, to Church, to school, to the dentist. We got to know the town, and it grew close to us -- footpath, gully, hill, river, and sea-front. My dream was to travel by carreira -- those squat little buses that have quite vanished from our landscape -- which I finally did when I started commuting to College at Miramar, for the princely fare of four annas.
The bullock-cart trotted downtown too, laden with Mangalore tiles, or salt and what else? Single-bullock carts for passengers were more common after we had crossed the ferry to visit relatives in Divar. The rivers were busy thoroughfares from dawn to dusk.
Tonas (or larger boats) transported merchandise to town, canoas (or little canoes) carried a couple of people in them.
We set out in a lancha (launch) well-stocked with a lunch packet to visit our own village of Aldona; it was the ferry-boat that took us to Betim; the patmarim sailed in the distance and was excitedly pointed out to us, and the barge pregnant with mine ore sailed coldly by. The Bombay Steamer was a thrill beyond compare, and if you were coming home from Bombay for your holidays, your heart swam ahead of the boat, dreaming of the glint of tears in your parents’ eyes, of cashews and mangoes and the rang-te-teng band at the Chapel feast in Aldona.
The city was clean, though I have no idea who swept the streets. I remember no water shortage, ever -- we had plenty of wells that were later deliberately choked when the building fever began -- and no power cut, ever (the charm of candle light and petromax was reserved for the villages).
I never saw the town flooded even in the heaviest downpour. The houses had what an architect friend calls a good connection with the sky and a generous amount of protection and shade from its verandahs for the passerby. In the late 50s and 60s it had a fair quantum of road traffic but no real din on the streets.
Panjim was full of people -- or so I thought as a ten year old. My parents knew so many people. I always wondered how I would get to know all these nice folks on the streets who waved hello and pecked us on both cheeks. I decided that probably my parents would some day hold a large meeting and introduce me to all the people they knew. Alas, they never got round to it... but I still receive my quota of hellos, thank God.
Faces from my childhood are wrinkled with love and grace. Professor Kenkro who taught us drawing at the Liceu; Venkatesh, the old man with and unbelievable little queue on his tonsured head, who always came from Aldona with coconuts by boat; the six-footer of a family tailor whose name was Alfaiate Comprido (the long tailor), who remembers my brothers' names even today; the bhangui lady whose tough lot was to carry the night-soil in a can to the river-front; Laurente, our cook, who composed tiatr scripts in the attic. Friends, family, domestic help and a small town that was safe and home.
Decades later, Panaji is more democratic today. More cosmopolitan: many languages, many ideas. The handshakes cut across many old barriers. But I must confess the old town of the old days had a charm all her own.
It strikes me that it was a kind town that harboured my childhood and youth, probably a place of some privilege for me, a middle-class child.
Was I insensitive to those who must've been on the margins? A vague twinge gnaws at me. But the town did not isolate me, or so I hope. I am grateful for the safety, the human face of a small town, the roads, windows, doorways, river-ways and sea-ways she graciously provided to a child busy growing, asking, questing and -- quietly -- painting the town red. (ENDS)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: ISABEL DE SANTA RITA VAS teaches English at the Dhempe College of Arts and Science, Miramar. She's a member of the Mustard Seed Art Company, member of the NGO Positive People for HIV/AIDS awareness, care and advocacy, and a member of the Research Institute for Women, Goa.
This essay was first published in PARMAL, the annual journal of the Goa Heritage Action Group, under the title 'Painting The Town Red', from where it is being reprinted with permission. PARMAL is an easily-recommedable buy, priced at Rs 100. and can be purchased from the GHAG at ghaggoa at rediffmail.com or www.goaheritage.or See http://groups.yahoo.com/group/goaheritage
Saturday, March 25, 2006
255-year-old tortoise dies in Kolkata zoo
By Indo Asian News Service
Kolkata, March 23 (IANS) Adwaita, the nearly 255-year-old
giant tortoise that roamed the Alipore Zoo here, has died.
The Aldabra-Seychelles tortoise had not been well for the
past few days. It was found dead by zookeepers Wednesday when
they went to his enclosure with medicine.
'He had developed a wound on his chest. He was not keeping
well. We were keeping a close watch on him,' West Bengal
Forest Minister Jogesh Burman said, mourning the death of
Adwaita, meaning the peerless one or the only one.
In deference to his more than two-and-half-century's
existence, this grand old resident of Kolkata was named
Adwaita by Burman last year and given more green space to
amble along.
The 250-kg male was a vegetarian. He was brought to the city
255 years ago by the British colonialists.
Adwaita was brought to the zoo 130 years ago after spending
years in the garden of Robert Clive (1725-1774), the victor
of the Battle of Plassey in 1757 who consolidated the British
empire in India.
When the zoo came up 130 years ago, the tortoise was shifted
to the premises.
Since then, the dark grey land tortoise has lived in a small,
rocky enclosure.
Alipore Zoo director Subir Chowdhury said there were
documents to prove the tortoise is about 255 years old.
'A tortoise of this species can live up to 320 years
according to available records. He may even be over 300
years,' Burman said.
If only the tortoise could speak, what a tale he would have
to tell!
There was an old tortoise that got sent off
Whose life had an East India kick-off
Tho’ never that nifty,
He made 200 and fifty
Which is more than Strauss and that Flintoff!!
By Indo Asian News Service
Kolkata, March 23 (IANS) Adwaita, the nearly 255-year-old
giant tortoise that roamed the Alipore Zoo here, has died.
The Aldabra-Seychelles tortoise had not been well for the
past few days. It was found dead by zookeepers Wednesday when
they went to his enclosure with medicine.
'He had developed a wound on his chest. He was not keeping
well. We were keeping a close watch on him,' West Bengal
Forest Minister Jogesh Burman said, mourning the death of
Adwaita, meaning the peerless one or the only one.
In deference to his more than two-and-half-century's
existence, this grand old resident of Kolkata was named
Adwaita by Burman last year and given more green space to
amble along.
The 250-kg male was a vegetarian. He was brought to the city
255 years ago by the British colonialists.
Adwaita was brought to the zoo 130 years ago after spending
years in the garden of Robert Clive (1725-1774), the victor
of the Battle of Plassey in 1757 who consolidated the British
empire in India.
When the zoo came up 130 years ago, the tortoise was shifted
to the premises.
Since then, the dark grey land tortoise has lived in a small,
rocky enclosure.
Alipore Zoo director Subir Chowdhury said there were
documents to prove the tortoise is about 255 years old.
'A tortoise of this species can live up to 320 years
according to available records. He may even be over 300
years,' Burman said.
If only the tortoise could speak, what a tale he would have
to tell!
There was an old tortoise that got sent off
Whose life had an East India kick-off
Tho’ never that nifty,
He made 200 and fifty
Which is more than Strauss and that Flintoff!!
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