Beating the crowd
I love shopping at Aldi. A piece of Heimat at Kelvin Grove. Though when I left Germany Aldi was not in existence, I am drawn to the store, as if by magic. Take the pre-Oktoberfest specials for example, Sauerkraut, red cabbage, mustard, and Pretzels galore. I wait in anticipation at my local store with trolley in tow, to grab as many jars as decently permissible. I travel from store to store to stock up my annual supply, much to my poor suffering husband, Geoff’s dismay, ‘I’m going to be sick just being in close vicinity of that Sauerkraut.’
‘I love Sauerkraut, it is so healthy,’ is my usual and pointless retort.
Now, ever since my friend Deborah mentioned that she would love to be in possession of a collapsible wooden picnic grazing table for her outings on the beach, I had been watching the ‘market’. I saw one at the newsagency, with what I considered tacky images; I saw one at a home store, with what I considered too high a price tag. I had googled sites and could not find what I was after.
Then, lo and behold, I perused the weekly Aldi catalogue, and you know what I found, yes, exactly what I was after, plain, I could paint it, and very reasonably priced, I could buy it. The item being so attractive, that I felt compelled to buy one also for my daughter and one for my son. Both love going to the beach. Anxiously I awaited the day of the special offering.
At 8:15 am I arrived at my local store, did the Covid-check-in and waited with a crowd of people. Musingly I assessed if they were the beachy type who would want to buy what I was after, seeing that the tray had such an attractive price tag. The minutes and seconds ticked by very slowly. Eventually the store opened, three minutes past the designated time. I was in with the rest. Most seemed to stream with purpose towards the end of the aisle where the new specials are usually on display. By now I lost the others, strode around the isle once, and twice, but the sight of collapsible wooden picnic grazing tables, eluded me. Ah, transport issues, I thought while lusting after the liqueur-filled cherry chocolates. When, out of the corner of my right eye I perceived a queue of about four women lingering in front of the entry to the storage area. What are they waiting for? What do they know that I don’t? Are they after my object of desire? Whatever they are waiting for, it might just be worth my while to hang around.
I surreptitiously took my position amongst them. And sure enough, after a while a very nice bespectacled young man came out with some folded trays under his arm.
Yes, I got one for Deborah, one for my daughter, and one for my son. I took them to the car. On impulse I returned to the store, after all I was still checked-in, and got one for myself.
I am looking forward to manoeuvring bubbly, glasses, nibbles, and a
game of chess with Geoff on my collapsible tray immersed in the pleasurable ambience
of gentle incoming waves.
We had a very convivial meeting, and heard enjoyable, funny and humorous stories from Linda, Martin and Margaret. Carmel read beautiful prose by David Malouf. All of which led to stimulating and thought-provoking discussions, especially with Martin throwing in some Albert Einstein quotes.
Alas, before
all this, our valiant leader was confronted with a little package that had her
name on it. What could it be? Who gave it to her? Well, well, and double well. Nancy
turned the package, gently joggled it, put it next to her ear, and with
puzzlement across her face, opened it. Her surprise and amazement were
priceless. I dare say, it might have made her day, amongst other things no doubt.
Once settled, she was ready for the photo shoot, as evidenced below.
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| Nancy with her trophy cup |
Needless to say, we all had a wonderful morning. Wish you had been there.
Last week’s topic of the Writers of Seville writing exercise was about ‘A ritual’. While swimming my not always ‘daily’ swim and reflecting on Martin’s ritual of ‘weekly shopping’, I realised the morning swim was my ritual, though recently fraught with danger.
Three days’ ago, I proceeded to clean the lap pool. As usual, I balanced along the pavers after having scooped out whatever can float on the surface like leaves or insects. Then I lifted and hooked up the electric lead that connects the Dolphin automatic robotic pool cleaner high enough so that it would not decapitate me during my breaststroke.
I believe while engaged in that task, at the corner of the low end, I must have lost my footing and thumped, bottom first, into the pool; hat, glasses, shoes, included. It happened in a split second. Emerging my head from the water with my feet including sandals up in the air already, I immediately felt some pain in my right foot and toe. I marvelled that the water did not seem to be as cold as usual, probably because I still had my hat and glasses on. Proceeding to the step, I sat and assessed the damage to my body. Everything still seemed attached, though I could not ignore the pain in my right foot. Nonetheless I completed the ritual by hosing the pavers and submerged myself back into the water without the gradual immersion antics since I was already soaked.
Half an hour later, having completed my fifty laps, five rounds of marching in the deep end, fifty scissor jumps, fifty hip rolls, and two spine curves, I exited the water for another ritual – the shower.
Three days later, I gaze at my sore foot; the second toe is purple red, the ankle is swollen. I do have some bruising and swelling on my left leg and my shoulders ache. How providential that this incident took place in the pool since the cold water was no doubt the best remedy. They do say that cold compresses are best for injuries. The moral of the story, if you must have a fall, make sure it’s into water and not during a shopping ritual.
I can’t remember exactly how many years I have lived in Brisbane though I could work it out if I really wanted to. It matters not, but what matters is that in all those many years I have never visited an attraction that appeals to visitors not only locally but from interstate and overseas alike. A place so close to home, a place I have driven past so many times but never thought to visit - Australia Zoo. But our friends Vlanes and Anna enticed us to a visit. For his birthday Vlanes wanted to feed a carrot to a giraffe. Why not, what a lovely thing to do for your birthday. Personally, I would probably prefer to feed myself some bubbly, but I am always open to new experiences.
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| On our mission to feed a giraffe |
Vlanes and Anna picked us up at 8 am. Why so early? Surely it won’t take the whole day to visit
a Zoo. Well, not only did I learn that it does, but I also was amazed by the
huge terrain with over 100 acres and the many animals who inhabit it. No wonder, the Zoo runs a
number of passenger shuttle around the grounds from one attraction to another. The
ride is breezy and comfortable, and I was glad that I didn’t have to walk.
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| Australia Zoo mode of transport |
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| Aldabra Giant Tortoise |
The next species was the Komodo Dragon. They often produce large amounts of saliva when expecting food. The saliva contains several bacterial strains as well as toxins produced by venom glands located in the lower jaw. The jaw is equipped with 60 sharp recurved serrated teeth that it uses for pulling and shearing flesh. The longest tooth can be up to 2 cm long. They get up to 100 kgs, live on the Indonesian island of the Komodo Archipelago and they eat deer, wild pigs, livestock, carrion, and even small Komodo Dragons. They can use their forked tongues to detect carrion from an amazing 11 kms away. On this image you can see its long tongue. Juveniles eat rodents, insects, birds, and eggs.
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| Komodo Dragon |
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| Tasmanian Devil |
You can’t go to a Zoo in Australia without seeing the iconic Koala. This one gave us a nice pose by showing his best features. Male koalas rub their chests on trees to mark their territory. The dirt patch on his chest is where his scent gland secretes an oily substance. It has been likened to ‘eucalyptus cologne.’
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| The ever-adorable Koala |
Our next stop were the Meerkats. They live on the Southern West Coast of Africa, live up to ten years, are up to 30 cm tall and eat mainly insects.
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| Striped Meerkat striking a pose |
Their dark eye
patches help reflect the glare of the sun while the translucent inner eyelids
prevent sand from getting into their eyes. They have long curved claws that
enable them to dig up food and to move sand for burrows. Their stripes are an
excellent camouflage in tall grasses. Meerkats are very vocal, not just for alarm
but also to reassure the group. No wonder they are widely used in advertising.
Our next stop was the picnic area. Anna had prepared a yummy lunch with an amazing quiche whose recipe I am awaiting. It started to dawn on me why a whole day is necessary to see most of what there is to see. Refreshed and revived we took the transport to the African area.
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| One Rhino |
There we encountered
not only one but two and more rhinos. They have been around for over 50 million
years and haven’t changed much since prehistoric times. Their diet is
herbivore, their lifespan is up to forty years, and they weigh up to 2,300 kg. After
elephants, rhinos are the second largest species of land mammals.
Their thick skin protects them from sharp grasses and thorns. These beauties cover their skin in mud to protect them from the sun and biting insects. It also helps them to stay cool. A wide, square lip distinguishes the white rhino from other rhino species. They graze grass low to the ground.
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| Two Rhinos |
Sadly, up to three rhinos are poached every day in South Africa for their horns. At least a facility like Australia Zoo ensures the survival of its inhabitants.
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| Zebras frolicking |
Giraffes live up to 25 years, like the rhino their diet is herbivore, and they reach up to 6 m in height. They live in Africa.
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| Giraffe feeding |
We could see two giraffe calves. When they were born, they were already taller than a person of 1.8 m in height.
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| Feeding a carrot to Forest |
Australia Zoo holds
the Guinness World Record for the world’s tallest living giraffe, Forest. At
5.7 metres to the top of the ossicones, Forest towers above the rest of his
kind. His record was verified on 4/12/2019.
After Forest, we took the train to the bird and crocodile show. I tried very hard to take photos, alas the birds were too quick and my reach for the camera was too slow. I was amazed how the birds flew to their designated areas on cue.
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| Part of the family |
The crocodile show
took place next. It was nice to see the family: Terri, her son Robert, and her
son-in-law Chandler handle the crocodile spectacle. Photos of Bindi and six
months old baby Grace were displayed on the big screen.
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| Mother and son |
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| Chandler and Robert with a baby croc |
I also understand now why it was a good idea to leave early in the morning, as we still did not manage to see everything. Well, there will have to be a next time.
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| Happy Birthday, Vlanes! |
What If?, the Writers of Seville second anthology after the publication of Ripples and Reflections, was launched last Saturday by Nancy Cox-Millner, the illustrious founder and leader of the Writers Group. Working through personal challenges and ably assisted by Robyn Ashford-Martin, Nancy propelled the Group’s second anthology culminating in this crowning event to much acclaim by all present.
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| Nancy launching What If? |
If you are looking for Drama, Humour, Quest, Mystery, or Sci-Fi, the 270
page What if? covers the genre. Fifteen authors render narratives
ranging from dark spirits lurking in umbrellas; two species in a last battle
for survival; tyrannical politicians subverting a nation’s constitution dis-empowering
the people; a little boy’s twisted vision of an unattainable dream; only her
knowing the terrifying power of music; to other similarly intriguing topics.
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| It's all in this book |
Any writer will agree that seeing your work printed in a published book,
is extremely rewarding. Those contributors who were present showed their pride
and joy and I am sure those who were absent due to moving either intra- or interstate
are equally happy reading about it. During the stimulating regular meetings
encouragement, camaraderie and constructive feedback has fostered the launch of
several members’ individual book publications.
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| The end result of all the hard work |
In her speech Nancy acknowledged that the anthology was a labour of love by all concerned and gave a big thank you to Michelle Hartog and Linda
Stewart for their sterling editing. True to her spirit, Nancy is already
dishing out homework for the Group’s next, and third, anthology. As is evident she
ensures that the Writers of Seville keep writing, and, isn’t that what it is
all about?
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| Big applause for Nancy! |
Friday 27 August
1920s Themed Celebrations for Nancy's 70th Birthday
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| looking gorgeous in red |
The illustrious leader of our Writers of Seville writing group invited us to celebrate her milestone 70th Birthday at the Mt Gravatt Bowls Club to a theme of the roaring Twenties. And she did look gorgeous in red. Us Writers felt very privileged to rejoice with Nancy, her family, and friends.
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| being indulged by the boys |
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| Nancy with her group of writers |
In line with the 1920s theme the birthday cake was in the shape of a black hat. It was stunning and delicious.
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| cutting the birthday cake |
We left Nancy in the realm of her family and more days of celebrations. You see, Nancy is a twin. Friday was her night, her sister’s celebration was on Saturday, and I believe a family celebration was happening on Sunday. Could there be a triplet? Perhaps by the time our Writers group meets next, Nancy won’t be in need of extra caffeine.
Wednesday 25 August
Not having travelled overseas for more than two years I can’t help myself looking through photographs, movies, and youtube experiences shared with fellow travellers in other capital cities. So when Geoff came across our trip to Hungary and its capital Budapest it brought back memories of all sorts.
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| Hungarian Parliament House photo courtesy of my friend Dallas |
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| dancing on the Chain Bridge |
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| Hungarian State Opera House |
We took the red carpeted marble staircase to the upper levels and before ascending further asked for more directions. And again, we were subjected to brow raised perusal and courteous instructions to follow the attendant. But we did not go upstairs. Instead the door to the left was opened and we were beckoned inside and shown the two seats in front. When I say in front, I am talking about the Dress Circle Box with three chairs near the balustrade and three empty seats behind. These are the seats that would have been reserved for Empress Elizabeth and Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria-Hungary. And here were Geoff and I, in their Box. After calming our excitement, we looked down to the front row, waiting to catch Jill’s eye so that we could grace her with our royal wave. And wave to her we did.
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| Hungarian State Opera House interior |
We settled down in comfort on our own in our Box and enjoyed every minute and every second of the most beguiling performance in the most stunning venue and the most royal of seats, as seen below.
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| our royal seats |
Sunday 22 August
During a lively Writers of Seville zoom session last Saturday, the discussions turned to topical issues and Erica said, ‘with facemasks now, the sale of lipsticks has gone down, but the sale of earrings has gone up.’ Yes, I can relate to that, why bother wearing a lipstick when no one can see it and if you do, it marks the facemask. Earrings, well, so good thus far. That was Saturday.
Sunday Geoff and I decided to visit the art exhibition at the Bribie Island Arts Centre. Salivating over the expectation of delectable patisserie, we drove into the carpark at 12:55 pm only to witness a lady removing the Café sign. What? Don’t they close at 4 pm? No, they don’t. They close at 1 pm on Sundays. Thinking we might just squeeze in, we were firmly told at the door that the Coffee shop was closed.
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| one lonely earring |
Very pleased with my new acquisition I tried them on in the car, they were so lovely, ‘I really, really love them,’ I told Geoff. So, unlike 'mask on, mask off', I kept the earrings on.
We went for a little walk along the foreshore and entered a restaurant. Yummy food and inviting ambience, it was most enjoyable. So nice and relaxing but the time came to leave and head back to the park we had come through. Approaching people on the esplanade reminded me of the mask requirements and being the law-abiding citizen that I am, I reached for my mask but not without touching my new purchases. What, why was I thinking plural when it was clearly singular. Yes, you got it, I was only wearing one earring. We retraced our steps for the next hour and enquired at the restaurant with no success. I should have been more vigilant – but I had to experience Erica’s dire observation myself to understand why the sale of earrings is on the rise.
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| Lone boat in the sea |
On arrival, after settling in, I set out for a walk along the enticing beach. The designated life saver’s area was in front of my unit block and there I spotted a lady, in bathers, walking towards the curling foam of the water. Oh, that must be so cold, but gingerly she pursued, and bent her knees until she was immersed up to her neck in the sea. Her extended body bobbed gently with the incoming rolling waves. As I took off my Croc clogs to test the temperature, I thought flippantly that she must be from Victoria, no local would brave the cold like that. Alas, tipping my toes into the water’s froth, it was not icy or even that cold, so I just rolled up my trousers up to my knees and strode along the ripple’s edge. Breathing in the refreshing sea spray I felt its goodness spread throughout my body. With a swing to my step, I reached the start of the off-leash area assigned for people’s pets in no time. I turned and walked back into the direction of my starting point.
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| view towards the lifesavers lookout |
Being overcast, the fluffy grey, white cumulous clouds danced gently over the horizon. One lone man cast his line in anticipation for a catch. Seagulls had gathered in a group on the sand and took off over the waves as I encroached on their territory. A rugged-up couple waved to me in passing. Soaking up the vast seascape, I felt myself lighten, freeing of anxiety, and looking forward to constructive creativity.
The following day I sorted through my writing paraphernalia in an endeavour to pick up where I had left too many weeks ago. Initially overwhelmed I tried to be methodical in my approach. I was spurned into action knowing that the afternoon beckoned with another fulfilling walk along the shoreline.
As my productivity
kicked in, I kept on thinking about the lady having fun frolicking in the sea. Something
else happened to me the morning after I had seen on the news that people in
Tasmania had gone into the ocean for the annual winter solstice. I reflected
that my toes did not freeze when they had touched the water and since I had
brought my swimmers and a towel, I should endeavour to go for a quick dip. No
sooner hesitantly thought than boldly done. And I had fun. I felt invigorated, alive,
and wonderful. After a short while in the water I resumed my, by now established
daily routine.
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| not cold at all |
The following and my last day, I decided to go for dip again before the 10 o’clock check out time. That morning the undercurrent was quite strong, pulling me hither and thither. As I contemplated leaving, a couple entered the surf. They were very friendly and suggested that I join them further out in the calmer currents, away from the crashing waves. In no time at all a whole group of people appeared and jumped into the swells. Introductions were made and I found out that these amazing people go for a swim every morning, summer and winter, all year round. Wow. In between swallowing mouthfuls of water and accidentally kicking somebody’s body in the tumbling tide, I found out that this ritualistic gathering had grown organically. A year ago someone went for an early morning swim and was simply joined by other likeminded people. They now meet around 7:00 am in winter, and 6:30 in summer. Because I had gone for my dip the day before at 6:40, I had just missed them. After about 40 minutes of having lots so fun we left the water. This group often gets together for coffee after their swim.
If only I had known
about their existence when I had first arrived. Though, now, that I do know, I am
looking forward and will be prepared to join them on my next get away.
Wednesday 16 June
A few weeks ago I attended my first Nia Class at Kenmore and loved it so much that I committed myself to attend regularly. For those of you who don’t know what Nia is, let me tell you it is foremost fun. Its technique strengthens your body, makes you feel oh so good, and keeps you fit and healthy while moving to groovy tunes.
Nia combines martial arts with those of dance, yoga, and healing. It blends transformational movement in a holistic and joyous manner with the result that you feel rejuvenated, nurtured, and emotionally composed. The Nia stages encompass various techniques using circular, horizontal, and vertical movements. Sessions are not boring, as routines change depending on which part of the body is the focus of the class.
Ildika has completed the Nia White, Blue, Brown, and Black Belt levels and the 5 Nia Stages training. She facilitates and establishes one Nia routine before moving onto a new one. This enables participants to gain confidence with the choreography thus fostering a freeing of emotions to engage with the music and an immersion into the spirit of the moment. Ildika’s motto is to share the movement magic that soothes and nourishes the mind, body, and spirit. And magic she spreads.
Thursday 29 April
Overseas travel is still not possible. A trip to Sydney to see
La Traviata had to be cancelled due to a three-day lockdown before
Easter. So, what to do in Brisbane? Yes, go to Goma. Yes, go the movies.
Yes, go to the Museum of Brisbane, but what happened there?
A Stephen Nothling puzzle presented and channelled itself to me.
And I am not one to do puzzles. Though I must admit that I had bought a
million-piece set of Velázquez’s
Las Meninas
from the Prada in Madrid for my then four-year-old granddaughter. I thought
the little blonde princess might speak to her, having the same hair length
and colour.
Velázquez’s Las Meninas
Needless to say, the puzzle pieces bag was taken out of the package, touched and admired, and put back into its box again, where no doubt it still lies in pristine condition. That was some years ago when you could take a trip.
Now I blame my darling friend Anoushka. You see, she, amongst her many other talents, like writing astounding narrative, doing exquisite glass mosaics, doing the most amazingly intricate crocheting covers, also does puzzles. If Anoushka, you have guessed by now that I adore her, does puzzles it must be alright for me to do one too. Hence the enthusiastic Nothling purchase that has since skyrocketed my budget, generally toppled my life, and prompted my other half to retreat to the garden shed.
With a professional approach I bought a 1000-piece puzzle satchel on the internet. No sooner in possession of same, I came to realise that it was not big enough for the gazillion pieces. So, I ordered a bigger board with four pull out sections. This is where the house was turned upside down, well the dining/living room in the first place with a flow on effect to the remaining rooms. We have managed to secure a small area at the table for breakfast, the rest being occupied by you know what. The number of times that I am crawling under the table looking for a dropped piece does not amuse me anymore. I am also wondering if all pieces are present because there are so many gaps and nothing to fill them with.
Not only the house, but my life is also affected. Searching for a missing
piece I bend over the board, sit down, and many hours later, still in PJs,
unwashed, unkempt I tear myself away without the missing bit in its proper
place.
Progress is awfully slow, why I ever thought that one afternoon would see me with a completed work, is beyond me. It has been weeks, and the few thrills when I find the correct piece, are outweighed by the frustratingly slow progress. It amazes me to have entertained the thought that a four-year-young child could complete an intricate 1000 piece puzzle.
Then what? Should I take up glass mosaicking?
15 March
Stop the Silence on Gendered Violence
Eva and I went to the March for Justice protest and marched through the streets of Brisbane onto Parliament House. Eva had made up our signs which are visible at the back of this photo featured in the German newspaper Der Tagesspiegel.
I met up with Deborah who marched with her friends. It was great to see so many people of diverse gender and age who felt strong enough about the issue of gendered violence to gather at the meeting point in front of City Hall.
What was also great, to see the Premier of our State attend the rally in front of Parliament House surrounded by her ministers.
This movement started when Brittany Higgins came forward and exposed the unacceptable behaviour of those power brokers in high office who set the tone of mis/culture that some follow. Unfortunately, this kind of behaviour is entrenched in Australian society. That is why is so encouraging to see thousands of people who demonstrate their passion to put an end to this kind of distasteful conduct and mindset.
‘Carmen, you look fabulous. That white costume really suits you. It
compliments your tan.’ Unable to control my enthusiasm, I continued:
‘Let’s get out of here and have some lunch!’
‘Where shall we go?’
‘Oh, let’s see what comes up!’
We walked along the arcade, casting glances at the patisserie, a burger joint, and a sushi place. Unable to decide we crossed Adelaide Street, checking out more eateries without enthusiasm.
‘Ah, what’s that’ Carmen exclaimed. ‘This is seriously inspiring. Not only gourmet sandwiches, but heaps to choose from. Why don’t we get some and just sit – somewhere?’ She vaguely gestured her right hand in a semi-circle.
Never being one to go past sourdough bakes without a little, and sometimes big, indulgence, I did not need convincing. Carmen chose smashed avocado with feta, and I had my old favourite: ham, cheese, and tomato. That and two cappuccinos sent us on our way. But where to?
‘Let’s take the travellator, there are heaps of benches in the grassed area above. I’ve been here before!’ I obediently followed my leader.
There were indeed heaps of benches, but few were unoccupied. We trudged past the fortunate who were biting into their morsels of food with relish. I started to regret not having pursued our search for a place that would provide seat, table, and service when I spotted a bench in the distance. ‘Over there, there’s just one person, surely we can share. What do you reckon?’
‘Yep, it will have to do!’
We strode forth with purpose. I was first reaching the seat: ‘Excuse us, do you mind if we sit here?’
'No, mate, that’s ok.’
I wish I had been less hasty in my approach as he looked like a permanent resident of the parklands, but he appeared to be friendly enough. Rolling her eyes towards the heavens Carmen sat down next to me. Sandwiched between the two I proceeded to unpack our bagged toasties while Carmen balanced the cups. The guy next to me cast his right eye onto our provisions. I could not help myself: ‘Would you like a square?’
‘No, matey, I’ve eaten. Thanks, anyway.’
I wished more and more to have made a different choice for our luncheon. Yet, the surroundings were pleasant enough. The leopard tree behind us provided shade with dappled light shining through. A few birds were gathering, heading towards our feet while keeping a respectful distance.
‘Hm, that’s delicious,’ Carmen licked her left thumb.
I just could not help myself. ‘Be careful with that avocado sliding on your white outfit, Carmen. Here, have my serviette!’
‘Thanks, Mum!’
Ok, I deserved that. The sandwiches were delicious. We munched away and started to relax. Even the guy next to me seemed to have dozed off.
‘Good choice for lunch, Carmen!’ No sooner uttered when our peaceful setting was shattered by a splat from the sky, a blob on Carmen’s white shoulder and her instantaneous: ‘Oh, no. Shit!’
‘Carmen! Don’t say that! You are asking for it!’
This week's 300 word writing exercise set by Writers' of Seville was on the topic: How to conquer writing procrastination.
My phone can stay in the kitchen. It never rings, unless someone wants to sell me something, and if it should, I’ll probably need a break anyway. The scene for writing is set. I rub my hands with glee.
Alas, I wonder if there are any emails that I should read? Important prose hints from Writer of Seville’s Robyn? Or a bill perhaps, that needs to be paid? Better check before I immerse myself into my composing process.
Just deleted seventy-eight junk emails about bitcoin, beautiful Russian girls, and Viagra. The headlines of the day are same as same as.
But, what’s that? A new Scandi crime series on Netflix? Oh, am I not perfectly set up for a long viewing session? You bet!
A few days' ago, my friend Ros from Perth had forwarded some idiomatic expressions, such as 'don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater'. This originated, according to the accompanying explanation, from England. There in the Middle Ages, a baby was, after father, mother, possibly uncles and aunties, and siblings, the last to be put into the bathtub. By that time, the quality of the water was such that it was difficult to distinguish anything floating in it.
The old Greeks and the Romans loved to bathe. Apart from hygiene the Greeks
liked to toughen up their bodies by swimming. Wealthy Romans spent half a
day in the Thermes. There are lots left in Italy and this one is in
Trier/Germany.
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| Trier |
Places in Germany like Baden-Baden derive their name from it (bathing).
After the fall of the Roman Empire the bathing culture was forgotten. In the early 1500s Arabs who visited Europe commented on the dirty people in Christian countries.
A communal bathing culture was gradually established as depicted here:
This was a popular and jolly pastime until the emergence and spread of syphilis in 1600. Only in 1900 became bathing again socially acceptable.
Das Kind mit dem Bade ausschütten
(to throw the baby out with the bath) meaning don’t be too eager to
accomplish something - was first used in Germany in 1600.
6 February
The writing exercise for the Writers of Seville Group for today was 300 words on the topic of either the best or the worst party I have been to:
The stars were in alignment, it was planned so well. Bubbles and canapes on the lawn near the pool, a small live jazz combo in the background under the palms. People I wanted to impress had accepted. Solange Diego, dilettante extraordinaire, her presence essential at any gathering, glamorous, gutsy, and oh, so full into your face. To not be noticed by her at a party ensures you to be condemned as being The Invisible till the next revelry. And who would want to be that in our illustrious little group of wannabes. Humphrey Roe de Batton, known amongst us simply as Rawbottom, of which he was aware taking it as a badge of honour, gossipy old fart that he was. Not to forget Dahlia, simply Dah-lia, being the omnipotent link to any social fete’s success. You had to be singled out for a brief tête-à-tête, complimentary or otherwise, that was the pinnacle of anyone’s ego. How I and the others tried our hardest to catch her acerbic wit by dressing most outlandishly.
Close to my dressing table, draped over the mannequin, I kept my sleek tiered skirt. Its diaphanous multi-colours - imagine deep purple, the brightest of pink, the darkest of blue, interwoven with golden and black stripes - reflected in the mirror dazzling my vision. Attired in my black leotards and leggings, I applied the magic that would transform my face to that of Greta Garbo. Gallant Alistair placed a flute of bubbly near my workspace. Yum, soo delicious.
What? Whose voices can I hear wafting upstairs? Solange, Humphrey and Dah-lia are distinctly dominating the ebullient puffery. They are here already! I rush down, my long-awaited moment to impress - in my body suit and flesh coloured leggings.
10 January
My friend Beate sent me an excerpt of a letter written by Heinrich Heine from the island of Helgoland on 1 July 1830. He expresses his thoughts about issues relating to America. How applicable are these musings in present times?
Following is my translation. If some contents offend, stop reading. If you do continue, bear in mind the time of Heine's penning and his famed acerbic tongue.
"Or should I go to America, to this enormous prison of freedom, where the
invisible chains would press on me more painfully than the visible at home,
where the most repugnant of all tyrants, the mob, exercise its raw rule!
You know, how I think about this goddamned land, that I once loved when I did not know it… And yet I have to publicly praise it, because of the duty to the métier,… you dear German farmers! Do go to America! There you will find neither princes nor aristocracy, all the people there are equal, equal louts…with the exception of course of a few millions, who have black or brown skins and who are being treated like dogs! The actual slavery that is abolished in most of the North American provinces, does not disgust me as much as the brutality with which the free blacks and the mulattos are being treated there. Whoever stems merely in the slightest degree from a negro and reveals, even if no longer in colour but in facial features, such lineage, has to endure the greatest insults, insults that seem fabled to us in Europe. In the process these Americans give much credence to their Christendom and are the most eager church goers. They learned such hypocrisy from the English, who by the way, left them with their worst characteristics. The worldly benefit is their actual religion and money is their god, their only, almighty god. Consists then today’s religion in god’s monetisation or in becoming god of the money?"
Heinrich Heine, Ludwig Börne. Eine Denkschrift. Zweites Buch (1840), (Brief aus Helgoland vom 1. Juli 1830).
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