Back on Greenwich
I've made a mistake. Remember adhorting you only to send mail labelled "priority"? It thought the same was not necessary from the UK, but yesterday I received three airmail stickers with my stamps. I am afraid certain postcards (O. will know what I'm referring to) will arrive much too late...
And, once again, it has been demonstrated how poor, still, my command of the English language is (c.q. tonight's post).
At the moment I am listening to Debussy's Petite Suite. And Oh! how I long for Paris! ("La Anna Mobile"...)
This makes me think of l 'Auberge Espagnole once again. I would like to offer you a small hermeneutic deliberation on the symbolic meaning of North and South (and West). In this movie, a French young man travels to Barcelona. His studies are boring, his mother is boring, his professional prospects are boring, and even his girlfriend is a bit, well... In Barcelona he discovers a different life, of warmth, passion, parties, colour&emotion, etc. blabla. In the end he has to retun to Paris and finds it as grey and dull as ever. His new job is a disaster and he flies back into his memories of Spain. The interesting thing about this clichéd plot is the fact that it doesn't set off a dull, protestant, Germanic country like the Netherlands or Denmark or Germany of perhaps Sweden, against a passionate Catholic country like France (this is the cliche as we are used to it in the Netherlands). As it is a French movie, from a French perspective, the cultural North-South divide interestingly has shifted south, this time to be positioned in the Pyrenees. The idea of a place where life is more interesting, more sparkling, is still there, only of course it cannot be envisioned in the country the protagonist lives in. So, it has to be moved elsewhere. Each instance this is done, though, it is moved South. This is an interesting phenomenon, and I still have to investigate where this mechanism stops and South becomes North (does it have to do with climate?) . At the Equator? Or already in the deserts at the latitude of 30 degrees? Perhaps this is a nice assignment for Y to look at during her stay in Ghana?
All this concerns the protagonist (Xavier/France) and the antagonist (Spain/various characters); but what about England? England is the outsider in the film. Neither the lover nor the desired, it is simply the most rotten place on earth - or so it it depicted. The only character in the film firmly identifying himself as British is a chauvinist pain-in-the-ass - until in the end he as well has captured the Spanish spirit and defends it against new British invaders. Remember: this is a French film. Interesting, isn't it?
However, this is the movie's stance. Personally I think most British guys over 20 are pretty nice, so please don't get me wrong. The movie has much more to offer than this, though, which is why I could so enjoy it and quite seriously identify with several characters.
Lunch of the day: unsmoked, fried bacon on lettuce on soured cream on bread, and (Hong Kong, not Javanese) soy sauce sprinkled on top of it all.
Oh, before I forget: anyone knows what are netkousen in English (I'm sure F does)?
This weekend we will make the annual leap back to Greenwich Mean Time (at the moment we are still on British Summer Time). Does Dutch summertime end as well this Sunday?
I just realise that I might have been writing some things about the Royal Albert Memorial Museum that seem contradictory. On the one hand, I have praised the rariteitenkabinet-like qualities of the galleries, on the other hand I have shown my dispproval of the ahistorical jumble of tales that was the ethnographic tour. I owe you (and the guide) an explanation.
In the first place I think that particularly on the topic of ethnography/cultural anthropology one should be extra careful with the way you present your collection. You should make sure that other cultures are not presented as primitive, unchanging, self-contained societies entirely relying on a unified set of customs, and not on the contribution of its individuals. In the second place I think that a museum's collection and even its set-up may confirm to nineteenth-century (and older) ideals (in which way we at once learn al lot about Western history, as well), as long as more recent insights are presented along with it, and as long as something as flexible and as much able to incorporate recent develpments as a tour, is used to present these newer insights.
About my studies: I have finally finished a fantastic book written by Southern, synthesising a multitude of insights (that were recent in the 1940ies by the way) into a very readable and enjoyable and clever etc. exposition of cultural change in Europe from ca. 1000 to 1200. Next on the list is a book by one of his pupils, Bartlett, writing about the same topic, only fifty years later. I'm very excited!
All this reading, by the way, of standardworks in Medieval History, has to take place in the Old Library, where they have these books that are not on loan. I have found the Old Library a particularly comfortable place to study. Normally, study desks in libraries are surrounded by even more, and even more interesting books than the one you are supposed to study, which results in a lot of distraction and little work being done. The Old Library however, houses Exeter's collection of Middle Eastern Studies. In other words: no distraction whatsoever, for I cannot read the backs of these books anyway. (Although I did figure out the Arabian alphabet.)
Time to face the dilemma: should I wear a poppy? I decided not to. To crudely summarise my reasons: they are presented as a sign of victory, at WWII, WWI and at wars today (even if under the disguise of compassion). And I don't believe in military victory. They are presented as a proud celebration of British Ex-Service Men (and women, they no doubt added recently). The sufferings of the losers are not mentioned - and personally I do not sympathise more with the bulk of British soldiers than with German soldiers, even during WWII. Moreover, donations are aimed at relieving the discomfort of, again, ex-service people, while I don't see how it makes a difference whether you cannot walk because you hit a mine, or because you happened to be present at an explosion in a coalpit, or because you were shammying the windows of your gov'nors manor, fell off the ladder and acquired a spinal lesion.
Enough of this serious matter now. A recipe:
Warm three tablespoons of milk with 150g marshmallows until they have melted. Remove from heat and add 100g of rice crispies (what the hell are those?). Place on a flat tray covered with greasproof paper. Cool, slice , serve. We'll try that as soon as I get back!
And, once again, it has been demonstrated how poor, still, my command of the English language is (c.q. tonight's post).
At the moment I am listening to Debussy's Petite Suite. And Oh! how I long for Paris! ("La Anna Mobile"...)
This makes me think of l 'Auberge Espagnole once again. I would like to offer you a small hermeneutic deliberation on the symbolic meaning of North and South (and West). In this movie, a French young man travels to Barcelona. His studies are boring, his mother is boring, his professional prospects are boring, and even his girlfriend is a bit, well... In Barcelona he discovers a different life, of warmth, passion, parties, colour&emotion, etc. blabla. In the end he has to retun to Paris and finds it as grey and dull as ever. His new job is a disaster and he flies back into his memories of Spain. The interesting thing about this clichéd plot is the fact that it doesn't set off a dull, protestant, Germanic country like the Netherlands or Denmark or Germany of perhaps Sweden, against a passionate Catholic country like France (this is the cliche as we are used to it in the Netherlands). As it is a French movie, from a French perspective, the cultural North-South divide interestingly has shifted south, this time to be positioned in the Pyrenees. The idea of a place where life is more interesting, more sparkling, is still there, only of course it cannot be envisioned in the country the protagonist lives in. So, it has to be moved elsewhere. Each instance this is done, though, it is moved South. This is an interesting phenomenon, and I still have to investigate where this mechanism stops and South becomes North (does it have to do with climate?) . At the Equator? Or already in the deserts at the latitude of 30 degrees? Perhaps this is a nice assignment for Y to look at during her stay in Ghana?
All this concerns the protagonist (Xavier/France) and the antagonist (Spain/various characters); but what about England? England is the outsider in the film. Neither the lover nor the desired, it is simply the most rotten place on earth - or so it it depicted. The only character in the film firmly identifying himself as British is a chauvinist pain-in-the-ass - until in the end he as well has captured the Spanish spirit and defends it against new British invaders. Remember: this is a French film. Interesting, isn't it?
However, this is the movie's stance. Personally I think most British guys over 20 are pretty nice, so please don't get me wrong. The movie has much more to offer than this, though, which is why I could so enjoy it and quite seriously identify with several characters.
Lunch of the day: unsmoked, fried bacon on lettuce on soured cream on bread, and (Hong Kong, not Javanese) soy sauce sprinkled on top of it all.
Oh, before I forget: anyone knows what are netkousen in English (I'm sure F does)?
This weekend we will make the annual leap back to Greenwich Mean Time (at the moment we are still on British Summer Time). Does Dutch summertime end as well this Sunday?
I just realise that I might have been writing some things about the Royal Albert Memorial Museum that seem contradictory. On the one hand, I have praised the rariteitenkabinet-like qualities of the galleries, on the other hand I have shown my dispproval of the ahistorical jumble of tales that was the ethnographic tour. I owe you (and the guide) an explanation.
In the first place I think that particularly on the topic of ethnography/cultural anthropology one should be extra careful with the way you present your collection. You should make sure that other cultures are not presented as primitive, unchanging, self-contained societies entirely relying on a unified set of customs, and not on the contribution of its individuals. In the second place I think that a museum's collection and even its set-up may confirm to nineteenth-century (and older) ideals (in which way we at once learn al lot about Western history, as well), as long as more recent insights are presented along with it, and as long as something as flexible and as much able to incorporate recent develpments as a tour, is used to present these newer insights.
About my studies: I have finally finished a fantastic book written by Southern, synthesising a multitude of insights (that were recent in the 1940ies by the way) into a very readable and enjoyable and clever etc. exposition of cultural change in Europe from ca. 1000 to 1200. Next on the list is a book by one of his pupils, Bartlett, writing about the same topic, only fifty years later. I'm very excited!
All this reading, by the way, of standardworks in Medieval History, has to take place in the Old Library, where they have these books that are not on loan. I have found the Old Library a particularly comfortable place to study. Normally, study desks in libraries are surrounded by even more, and even more interesting books than the one you are supposed to study, which results in a lot of distraction and little work being done. The Old Library however, houses Exeter's collection of Middle Eastern Studies. In other words: no distraction whatsoever, for I cannot read the backs of these books anyway. (Although I did figure out the Arabian alphabet.)
Time to face the dilemma: should I wear a poppy? I decided not to. To crudely summarise my reasons: they are presented as a sign of victory, at WWII, WWI and at wars today (even if under the disguise of compassion). And I don't believe in military victory. They are presented as a proud celebration of British Ex-Service Men (and women, they no doubt added recently). The sufferings of the losers are not mentioned - and personally I do not sympathise more with the bulk of British soldiers than with German soldiers, even during WWII. Moreover, donations are aimed at relieving the discomfort of, again, ex-service people, while I don't see how it makes a difference whether you cannot walk because you hit a mine, or because you happened to be present at an explosion in a coalpit, or because you were shammying the windows of your gov'nors manor, fell off the ladder and acquired a spinal lesion.
Enough of this serious matter now. A recipe:
Warm three tablespoons of milk with 150g marshmallows until they have melted. Remove from heat and add 100g of rice crispies (what the hell are those?). Place on a flat tray covered with greasproof paper. Cool, slice , serve. We'll try that as soon as I get back!
posted by Anna P.H. Geurts | 6:34 pm
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