This one goes out to all the wannabes out there...
I, for one, am currently doing my utmost to blend in with the locals here in Spain. This is no mean feat, as despite my best efforts, my frequent butchering of the language and quite blatant lack of natural 'latin' attitude soon become painstakingly apparent. Which serves to render me all the more flustered and I this commit even more crimes against the Spanish tongue. (Mierda.)
Yet all is not lost, as fortunately there are still those who will take pity on a bumbling Brit and relish the chance either to practice whatever English they've picked up along the way or at the very least give zealous correction of the many linguistic errors made.
The ultimate triumph for me, however, did not come in sophisticated conversation with a handsome stranger (alas!), nor bantering with the locals in the bar, nor even in finally achieving the blissful art of the siesta, but in being able to understand and be understood by a three-year-old (well, for the most part anyway). The awesome ramblings of a Spanish toddler - or one of any other nationality, as it happens - are difficult enough to comprehend with a language in common. So imagine my delight when I found that I had substantially mastered this second language to follow (again, most of) his chatter, and thus try to answer his inspired questions - with a lack of response on my part hereby indicating the difficulty of providing an adequate answer to a child's inquisition rather than linguistic fault for once.
I would therefore like to impress upon you, dear reader, that should there be something you'd like to do, somewhere you'd like to go, or more importantly, someone you'd like to be, and you have the opportunity to put it into practice, then go for it! Take that chance, try your hardest, and enjoy it while you do. If it's within the realms of your human capability (and is not harmful to others) then you should make every effort to realise your dreams, for, as they say, life doesn't have a dress rehearsal... This is it. Feel it, believe it, love it, eat it, think it, see it, be it, do it while you can. And take a few moments each day to enjoy what you're feeling, believing, loving, eating, thinking, seeing, being, doing, as who knows if or when it'll happen that way again! It's all very well and good planning for the future or reflecting on the past, but if we spend all our minutes thus occupied we'll forget to actually live life itself... Once again, I find myself coming back to repeat my mantra, but here it is anyway: carpe diem. Be yourself, as nobody else will do it for you. (Unless your name is Elvis Presley, in which case I think there are a few people who'd like to have a word...) Go out and live your life the way you'd like to live it, and make the most of what you've got and what comes your way. Work hard, play hard, live hard. And don't forget to smile!
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
Monday, 24 September 2012
A tale of two cities...
Of all the gin joints in all the world... Actually, all the gin joints currently seem to be in Madrid. It's the latest thing, apparently. (I suppose they feel they've been missing out on good ole G+T and want to make up for lost time - and hats off to that!) But that's another story. The tale I wish to tell is that of global citizenship. People across the world still love and care for one another, there's no doubt about it. And despite our differences, it's always possible to make new friends in the strangers you come across, even in far-off lands, as they accept you into their lives. With some, it's down to a mild interest in your differences and similarities. For others, it means welcoming you into their homes and families with open arms. Either way (or anywhere in between) it's apparent that life is too short to keep our distance, we have to make the most of whatever and whoever comes our way, and if that means being a bit more open to life's passers-by then so be it (within the limits of personal security, naturally). You will, I'm sure, be familiar with the ditty 'if life gives you lemons [insert positive turnaround here]' - well I'm saying 'if life gives you new friends, share your lemonade/tequila slammers/[lemon-based product] with them and enjoy the heck out of it all... 'Do unto others' would be another way of putting it - if you'd want you and yours to be accepted and treated well when in a new place, then make sure to do the same within your own realm.
But on a lighter note, my current blithe musings are as follows: it seems that no matter where you go in the world (potentially with the exception of that as-yet uninhabited corner of deepest darkest peru, naturally), there are people patterns - there are incredibly similar habits and the same set of residents repeated in every city.
Take, for example, the subterranean train system. In it, you'll find the one listening to music, the one napping, the one reading (quite often a girl worryingly absorbed in the latest trashy fad novel), the one with small children and sometimes the one who dares engage these tots in play (great fun wind the little mites up and leave them in the ever-capable hands of their parents. Win!), the one playing with their phone, the foreigner, the ones overdressed, underdressed, dressed in quite frankly bizarre concoctions of outfit... And with frequent use, you'll inevitably end up crammed in like sardines one day, and breathing free and easy the next. Go figure. But that's by the bye. The folks within are effectively still one and the same, just with a handful of new names, and a different way of talking.
So the next time you're out and about in a new place, be it, or not, your own country, take a sneaky glance at the people around you (and here I mean subtly as opposed to furtively, we are not trying to be creepy nor appear to dabble in espionage) and just see if you can see your friends/family/colleagues reflected in the faces of those you come across. Perhaps one day, you'll even meet yourself... who knows?
But on a lighter note, my current blithe musings are as follows: it seems that no matter where you go in the world (potentially with the exception of that as-yet uninhabited corner of deepest darkest peru, naturally), there are people patterns - there are incredibly similar habits and the same set of residents repeated in every city.
Take, for example, the subterranean train system. In it, you'll find the one listening to music, the one napping, the one reading (quite often a girl worryingly absorbed in the latest trashy fad novel), the one with small children and sometimes the one who dares engage these tots in play (great fun wind the little mites up and leave them in the ever-capable hands of their parents. Win!), the one playing with their phone, the foreigner, the ones overdressed, underdressed, dressed in quite frankly bizarre concoctions of outfit... And with frequent use, you'll inevitably end up crammed in like sardines one day, and breathing free and easy the next. Go figure. But that's by the bye. The folks within are effectively still one and the same, just with a handful of new names, and a different way of talking.
So the next time you're out and about in a new place, be it, or not, your own country, take a sneaky glance at the people around you (and here I mean subtly as opposed to furtively, we are not trying to be creepy nor appear to dabble in espionage) and just see if you can see your friends/family/colleagues reflected in the faces of those you come across. Perhaps one day, you'll even meet yourself... who knows?
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
And this season, it's all about maroon.
I'm excited. In the not-too-distant future I will be moving abroad (life win!) and starting a new job, and I just can't wait. The thrill of the unknown combines with the prospect of starting afresh, being able to recolour my life any which way I please, sparking a shiver of anticipation at the thought... Giddy ideas ensue. What to do? Where to explore? Who to meet? What to buy, eat, drink, watch, hear, see? How to feel?
Going away to a new place always presents challenges and opportunities galore. Clearly, some element of planning is necessary to ensure a safe transition, yet the most fun is to be had in discovering the hidden gems that only its residents would know about, and meeting a local character or two. Certainly, I'm going to miss my old haunts and my day-to-day people - friends, family, familiar faces - but it'll be wonderful to find some new ones.
And (packing for) all this change nicely coincides with the gear of the 'new season' arriving in shops across the city. September's colours and heavier cloths remind us that autumn and then winter are on their way, that we should be thinking about the things to come, wrapping up warm, opting for scarves instead of shades. I'm not going to go down the Christmas route as I'm in favour of getting excited for that when the time is right (December, and not before!) - but there are always things to brighten up the post-summer darkening. For those with late-year birthdays, result! It's nearly your turn. For those without, there's always fireworks season, the joys of mulling (a warm cider or wine is always a fine treat on a nippy day), the colour of the canopies ready to drop, and subsequent crispy foliage ready and waiting to be stomped in or thrown about, the absolute joy that is a snow day (need I say more?), being able to justify hot chocolate to warm the cockles from the cold, a blazing fireside or candelit window, curling up in a blanket with a good book, even just giving the long-forgotten winter coat a new lease of life... Bring it, winter. We're ready and waiting.
Going away to a new place always presents challenges and opportunities galore. Clearly, some element of planning is necessary to ensure a safe transition, yet the most fun is to be had in discovering the hidden gems that only its residents would know about, and meeting a local character or two. Certainly, I'm going to miss my old haunts and my day-to-day people - friends, family, familiar faces - but it'll be wonderful to find some new ones.
And (packing for) all this change nicely coincides with the gear of the 'new season' arriving in shops across the city. September's colours and heavier cloths remind us that autumn and then winter are on their way, that we should be thinking about the things to come, wrapping up warm, opting for scarves instead of shades. I'm not going to go down the Christmas route as I'm in favour of getting excited for that when the time is right (December, and not before!) - but there are always things to brighten up the post-summer darkening. For those with late-year birthdays, result! It's nearly your turn. For those without, there's always fireworks season, the joys of mulling (a warm cider or wine is always a fine treat on a nippy day), the colour of the canopies ready to drop, and subsequent crispy foliage ready and waiting to be stomped in or thrown about, the absolute joy that is a snow day (need I say more?), being able to justify hot chocolate to warm the cockles from the cold, a blazing fireside or candelit window, curling up in a blanket with a good book, even just giving the long-forgotten winter coat a new lease of life... Bring it, winter. We're ready and waiting.
Giving something back. Quid pro bono?
’Tis the season to be generous, fa la la la... Actually, I’m a firm believer of giving what you can when you can, and that charity comes around full circle. ‘Do unto others...,’ yadda yadda.
Following the ‘Yes Man’ philosophy can certainly have its drawbacks – in terms of time and location constraints, let alone financially speaking! – but it does come with a sense of liberation. The knowledge that you may have helped someone or brightened up their day even the tiniest bit is soul-soothing indeed. You may well say ‘but I simply do not have the time, the patience, the energy!’ – but it is not about giving so much of yourself away that barely anything remains for you and yours. Generosity is shown in wishing someone a nice day (and meaning it!), in sharing a smile with a stranger (okay, not the creepy ones, but you get the gist), in donating leftover change, in waiting the extra second to hold the door for someone, in offering assistance or advice to the person in a pickle...
And no matter how full your plate, trust me, it is always worth saying yes if you do have the option to help someone out: this summer I ended up agreeing to four entirely separate projects scattered about the country (only the first of which was reimbursed). Upon realising what lay in store, my initial reaction went something along the lines of 'oh. dear. what have I done...' and I was regretting the quagmire of volunteer-based efforts to be required over the subsequent weeks. Yet I was rewarded with irreplacable experiences each and every time - definitely worth the slog!
Following the ‘Yes Man’ philosophy can certainly have its drawbacks – in terms of time and location constraints, let alone financially speaking! – but it does come with a sense of liberation. The knowledge that you may have helped someone or brightened up their day even the tiniest bit is soul-soothing indeed. You may well say ‘but I simply do not have the time, the patience, the energy!’ – but it is not about giving so much of yourself away that barely anything remains for you and yours. Generosity is shown in wishing someone a nice day (and meaning it!), in sharing a smile with a stranger (okay, not the creepy ones, but you get the gist), in donating leftover change, in waiting the extra second to hold the door for someone, in offering assistance or advice to the person in a pickle...
And no matter how full your plate, trust me, it is always worth saying yes if you do have the option to help someone out: this summer I ended up agreeing to four entirely separate projects scattered about the country (only the first of which was reimbursed). Upon realising what lay in store, my initial reaction went something along the lines of 'oh. dear. what have I done...' and I was regretting the quagmire of volunteer-based efforts to be required over the subsequent weeks. Yet I was rewarded with irreplacable experiences each and every time - definitely worth the slog!
For me, though, it's all about saying the unspoken thank yous, repaying the kindness shown over the years, both to you individually and to your world in general. It's about respecting the world we live in and all its people, and it's about looking out for those to come. It's about setting the best example possible for generations to come, and doing our best with what we've got. But this is starting to sound frightfully hippie, so let's just say we'll do what we can, and enjoy it regardless.
Monday, 20 August 2012
The Little People Know...
This is not, in fact, a reference to Les Mis (much as that is a wonderful work of musical theatre and deserves each and every homage paid). No, this piece bows down to the miraculous minds of the young, or at the very least, the young at heart.
The imagination of a child is true and boundless. It flexes and reshapes without a moment's hesitation, daring to reach out into the unknown, transporting its bearer to far-off lands and magical worlds, to new, or old, or impossible. It brings hope, fear, love, uncertainty, trust, faith... To those who have seen too many summers and deigned to grow world-weary, it seems absurd and abstract; to those who are well-versed in the lyrically obscure, or who are known to dabble in daydreams themselves, it is insightful and inspired - though far be it from the child to know his or her muse. Children are able to form wondrously varied opinions, and yet their naivety allows them the freedom to flit and change between the ideas that dart in and out of their heads... If they only knew what miniature philosophers they can be!
Having lived and worked with a selection of youngsters the last week, it has amazed me time and time again to witness firsthand the limitless exploration of young minds - the way they scamper off down one path and somehow manage to end up hopping across tangents, to find themselves on some entirely different, and oft never-before-trod route: ask a child a question and just see what narrative adventures you stumble across...
The choice pondering during the aforementioned week was this: "if you woke up one morning and you were just three inches tall, what would you do?"
Interestingly enough, when thus questioned, the 'adult' response (and here I use the term rather loosely) generally involved some sort of concealed espionage... worrying to say the least. But the children took that question and boy did they run with it. Responses ranged from 'climb inside a teddy bear,' 'tickle someone, but with my elbows, so they'd still feel it,' 'ride a paper plane' (in actual fact, these were all the genius of one individual mind - who'd have thought?!), 'make friends with the mice,' 'get a lift in someone's hat so you can see the world from up high,' to, quite simply, 'cry.'
Thus, I dare you to put it to the test (or even ask yourself if you don't have a whippersnapper to borrow), and watch the thoughts tangle, weave, and spiral away... what mysteries will you uncover?
The imagination of a child is true and boundless. It flexes and reshapes without a moment's hesitation, daring to reach out into the unknown, transporting its bearer to far-off lands and magical worlds, to new, or old, or impossible. It brings hope, fear, love, uncertainty, trust, faith... To those who have seen too many summers and deigned to grow world-weary, it seems absurd and abstract; to those who are well-versed in the lyrically obscure, or who are known to dabble in daydreams themselves, it is insightful and inspired - though far be it from the child to know his or her muse. Children are able to form wondrously varied opinions, and yet their naivety allows them the freedom to flit and change between the ideas that dart in and out of their heads... If they only knew what miniature philosophers they can be!
Having lived and worked with a selection of youngsters the last week, it has amazed me time and time again to witness firsthand the limitless exploration of young minds - the way they scamper off down one path and somehow manage to end up hopping across tangents, to find themselves on some entirely different, and oft never-before-trod route: ask a child a question and just see what narrative adventures you stumble across...
The choice pondering during the aforementioned week was this: "if you woke up one morning and you were just three inches tall, what would you do?"
Interestingly enough, when thus questioned, the 'adult' response (and here I use the term rather loosely) generally involved some sort of concealed espionage... worrying to say the least. But the children took that question and boy did they run with it. Responses ranged from 'climb inside a teddy bear,' 'tickle someone, but with my elbows, so they'd still feel it,' 'ride a paper plane' (in actual fact, these were all the genius of one individual mind - who'd have thought?!), 'make friends with the mice,' 'get a lift in someone's hat so you can see the world from up high,' to, quite simply, 'cry.'
Thus, I dare you to put it to the test (or even ask yourself if you don't have a whippersnapper to borrow), and watch the thoughts tangle, weave, and spiral away... what mysteries will you uncover?
Tuesday, 24 July 2012
Here comes the sun...
Sunshine is magic. This sounds like romantic drivel, I concede, but I do believe there must be more than just poetic rhyme or reason behind this, having witnessed first hand the way it changes not just individuals, but whole towns, cities, countries...
Sunshine gives us hope. It lights up the day, the place, the people. It reminds us of summer, of holidays, of barbecues. It brings laughter, frolicking in parks, strolls along the river...
Sunshine gives us spirit. It makes us braver, sexier, cheerier. It tans us, warms us, soothes us.
Sunshine makes the flowers grow, the birds sing, the people give...
Today a friend and I decided to take a stroll across the city. We meandered through the parks and by the lakeside at sunset, and en route stopped off for some frozen yoghurt to cool off in the unanticipated but very welcome heatwave. As we stood pondering the menu, flitting between old classics and new favourites, the young gentleman about to pay took us all by surprise when he asked the cashier if he could pay for the entire queue's orders. Despite the fact that he had an unlimited card that was on the verge of expiry, and thus could easily afford the charitable gesture, this sort of kindness does not usually come about, and on this occasion had probably surged from the madness arising from the excessive heat (another by-produce thereof as well as the desire for cold dairy produce, it seems). This man, this everyday hero, burst through the private bubbles of all involved, inviting us to share in his good fortune, for no other reason than that he could... I'm grateful to him for the gift (free pud - who wouldn't be?!) but I'm also grateful to know that human kindness and generosity is not a mere myth, but might be waiting around the corner, a pleasant surprise when you least expect it...
Social barriers apparently begin to crumble when the sun comes out. Not only in conversation, where discussing a sunny day is never a faux-pas introduction, but in interaction, where approaching a random stranger or joining in on their game/chat/debate becomes a lot more tolerable and thus commonplace on sunnier days. Bad humours are forgotten a lot more easily when there is no drizzle to keep the mood dampened, and rightly so!
Thus... sunshine is magic. It makes the air taste of possibility. It makes the city tingle. It weaves a spell that leaves us with rainbow sunsets and rosy reflections, it sets buildings aglow with its dying rays, casts a wondrous halo about the twilit streets, tantalises us with the promise of tomorrow... sunshine is magic.
Sunshine gives us hope. It lights up the day, the place, the people. It reminds us of summer, of holidays, of barbecues. It brings laughter, frolicking in parks, strolls along the river...
Sunshine gives us spirit. It makes us braver, sexier, cheerier. It tans us, warms us, soothes us.
Sunshine makes the flowers grow, the birds sing, the people give...
Today a friend and I decided to take a stroll across the city. We meandered through the parks and by the lakeside at sunset, and en route stopped off for some frozen yoghurt to cool off in the unanticipated but very welcome heatwave. As we stood pondering the menu, flitting between old classics and new favourites, the young gentleman about to pay took us all by surprise when he asked the cashier if he could pay for the entire queue's orders. Despite the fact that he had an unlimited card that was on the verge of expiry, and thus could easily afford the charitable gesture, this sort of kindness does not usually come about, and on this occasion had probably surged from the madness arising from the excessive heat (another by-produce thereof as well as the desire for cold dairy produce, it seems). This man, this everyday hero, burst through the private bubbles of all involved, inviting us to share in his good fortune, for no other reason than that he could... I'm grateful to him for the gift (free pud - who wouldn't be?!) but I'm also grateful to know that human kindness and generosity is not a mere myth, but might be waiting around the corner, a pleasant surprise when you least expect it...
Social barriers apparently begin to crumble when the sun comes out. Not only in conversation, where discussing a sunny day is never a faux-pas introduction, but in interaction, where approaching a random stranger or joining in on their game/chat/debate becomes a lot more tolerable and thus commonplace on sunnier days. Bad humours are forgotten a lot more easily when there is no drizzle to keep the mood dampened, and rightly so!
Thus... sunshine is magic. It makes the air taste of possibility. It makes the city tingle. It weaves a spell that leaves us with rainbow sunsets and rosy reflections, it sets buildings aglow with its dying rays, casts a wondrous halo about the twilit streets, tantalises us with the promise of tomorrow... sunshine is magic.
Friday, 20 July 2012
Creature Comforts
Then...
Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops. Balloons. Fireworks. Sleepovers. Popping candy. Starjumps. Pink lemonade. Hula-hooping. Make-believe. Party bags. Snowfights. Cuddly toys. Swings. Jelly and ice cream. Wishing wells. Skipping. Friendship bracelets. Dressing up. Action Man/Barbie. Midnight snacks. Fairytales. Staying up late. Water fights. Apple bobbing. Face paint. Frisbees. Food fights. Blanket teepees. Finger painting. Paper planes. Chinese whispers. Adventures. Candy floss. Marbles. Trolls. Collecting stickers. Free gifts in cereal packets. PG Tips monkeys. Cargo pants. Pop music. Toffee apples. Musical chairs. Space hoppers. Walkman. Discman. Pogo sticks. Rollerblading. Pass the parcel. Chocolate spread sandwiches. Pocket money. Riding without stabilisers. Gel pens. Bubble bath. Glitter. Calling for someone. Climbing trees. Grazed knees. Hamsters. Bubblegum. Tooth Fairy/Easter Bunny/Santa. Bouncy castles. Spaghetti hoops. Teddy bears' picnics. Go-karting. Sherbet. Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.
Now...
Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops... Cups of tea. Fresh laundry. Cut grass. Cupcakes. Really long grass. Comfy. Candles. Starlight. Cheesecake. Romance. Streetlamps. Burritos. Walks. Cats or Dogs. Freebies. Sun. Cocktails. Photography. Cosy beds. Novels. Dancing in the rain. Flip-flops. Beer pong. Cards. Concerts. Staying up to watch the sunrise. Sofas. Beach parties. Baking. Fluffy towels. Chocolate fountain. Missing someone. Kissing someone. Disco dancing. Tapas. Sightseeing. A full fridge. Cinema trips. Lattes. Pub quiz. Ice cream in pints. Outdoor ice rinks. House parties. Art. Surprises. Lunch out. Wine tasting. Mattress testing. Foreign accents. Glowsticks... Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.
Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops. Balloons. Fireworks. Sleepovers. Popping candy. Starjumps. Pink lemonade. Hula-hooping. Make-believe. Party bags. Snowfights. Cuddly toys. Swings. Jelly and ice cream. Wishing wells. Skipping. Friendship bracelets. Dressing up. Action Man/Barbie. Midnight snacks. Fairytales. Staying up late. Water fights. Apple bobbing. Face paint. Frisbees. Food fights. Blanket teepees. Finger painting. Paper planes. Chinese whispers. Adventures. Candy floss. Marbles. Trolls. Collecting stickers. Free gifts in cereal packets. PG Tips monkeys. Cargo pants. Pop music. Toffee apples. Musical chairs. Space hoppers. Walkman. Discman. Pogo sticks. Rollerblading. Pass the parcel. Chocolate spread sandwiches. Pocket money. Riding without stabilisers. Gel pens. Bubble bath. Glitter. Calling for someone. Climbing trees. Grazed knees. Hamsters. Bubblegum. Tooth Fairy/Easter Bunny/Santa. Bouncy castles. Spaghetti hoops. Teddy bears' picnics. Go-karting. Sherbet. Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.
Now...
Trampoline. Bubbles. Lollipops... Cups of tea. Fresh laundry. Cut grass. Cupcakes. Really long grass. Comfy. Candles. Starlight. Cheesecake. Romance. Streetlamps. Burritos. Walks. Cats or Dogs. Freebies. Sun. Cocktails. Photography. Cosy beds. Novels. Dancing in the rain. Flip-flops. Beer pong. Cards. Concerts. Staying up to watch the sunrise. Sofas. Beach parties. Baking. Fluffy towels. Chocolate fountain. Missing someone. Kissing someone. Disco dancing. Tapas. Sightseeing. A full fridge. Cinema trips. Lattes. Pub quiz. Ice cream in pints. Outdoor ice rinks. House parties. Art. Surprises. Lunch out. Wine tasting. Mattress testing. Foreign accents. Glowsticks... Campfires. Funfairs. Wellies and puddles.
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