Monday, December 27, 2010

Visiting the Mayans

When we decided to take an all-inclusive holiday on the Mayan Riviera, we wanted to see more of the Mayans than the waiters and maids, so we signed up for some tours to some of the amazing archeological sites in the area: Chichen Itza, Tulum and Cobá. The tours included being picked up at the hotel, driven around in buses at high speed to the various sites, lunch and sometimes beer, and usually a dip in a cenote, the deep, interconnected, natural pools of pure cool turquoise water that dot the landscape, seemingly carved, perfectly round, out of the limestone rock that covers the whole of the Yucatan peninsula. Of course, the centrepiece of each tour was a guided visit to the archeological site, which provided a great deal of information about the Mayan civilization and the ruins that are now almost all that is left of it, the conquering Spaniards having burned the hundreds of books in which everything had been carefully recorded, believing them to be connected to devil-worship.

We had expected that by taking three tours, with some material inevitably repeated, we would be able better to fix the main aspects of the Mayan culture in our old memory circuits. As it turned out, a combination of factors resulted in this not being the case, so the following account is probably peppered with errors. This is partly because my memories of the dates and events we were told about are often at odds with Ana's recollections, and I am not usually right all the time. As well though, each guide gave out pieces of information which did not immediately appear to be compatible with what we'd learned from the other guides, or with what the same guide had said a few minutes before, or with logic and common sense.

Our first guide, Roberto, an abbreviated form of whose name, Beto, was hung around all our necks before we were allowed to leave the bus at Chichen Itza, was excellent. He had an amazing command of dates and celestial movements and Mayan history and culture. It turned out he had attended special seminars at Chichen Itza, offered by the federal Tourism authorities in conjunction with the National Archeological and Anthropological Institute. He was also very clear, his English almost perfect apart from an attractively trilled r, and he had a pedagogical facility which most of my university colleagues, including myself, would have given their eye-teeth to possess.

From Roberto, standing in the huge stone ball-park at Chichen Itza, we learned about the ball games which have been used by the Mayans as religious ceremonies since many hundreds of years before Christ. Each “game”, we learned, was in fact a reenactment of the creation of the world, when the Mayans had to go down to the underworld to get things going, so to speak, and to this end had played and won a ball game against the gods. We learned that the ball in the reenactments was made of rubber and bounced a lot, that the players could only use their buttocks to hit it and get it through one of the impossibly high stone hoops placed on the walls, though some think they might also have used knees, elbows and shoulders, and we learned about the three theories of what happened at the end of the game: maybe the captain of the winning team was decapitated, as a blood sacrifice, or maybe it was the captain of the losing team, or maybe no one was really sacrificed, the whole reenactment being symbolic, so that the sacrifice itself was also symbolic.

Pointing out that Mayan was still spoken today by the local inhabitants, Beto taught us to say Bashka Walik (hi) and a couple of other words I've forgotten, and reminded us that the Mayans were only one of 68 ethnic groups in this amazing country of Mexico, most with their own languages. He showed us how the heads of Mayan infants were flattened by putting them into a sort of wooden vice for some months after birth, and that the resulting cranial deformation had somehow become a mutation so that many Mayans even today have flattened heads, even though they no longer use wooden vices on their children. Roberto was also the one who showed us how Mayan houses were built, gesturing with impeccable timing at two that appeared fleetingly on one side of the bus as we hurtled down the freeway. He explained that the thatched roofs were very sturdy, completely waterproof, except when it rains (no, no, it's a joke), and only needed replacing every 20 years or so. It is because Mayan houses are so completely biodegradable, with the roofs made of palm thatch and the walls made of sticks through which the wind can pass (it's very hot here, even in winter), that none of the houses from the classical or later periods remain. Only the thousands and thousands of temples, pyramids and other ceremonial and defensive buildings and walls, made out of stone, are still littered around the countryside, all over the Mayan territory, which covers the Yucatan peninsula, Chiapas, Tabasco, Honduras, Belize and Guatemala, a huge area.

Our second guide, Susana, at Tulum, was herself Mayan. She spoke clearly but extremely quickly and from her we found out a lot more surprising things about the Mayans. She told us unequivocally that the losing team captain in ball games was killed off as a human sacrifice. She told us that Mayans with flattened heads were not around any more because only nobles had flattened their children's heads, and all the nobles were killed by the Spaniards. When she told us the thatched roofs used on the workers' houses only lasted ten or twelve years, we ignored the discrepancy and asked her what sort of palms were used, and she waved around her arm helpfully to take in two or three different sorts of tree and said, oh it was just palm leaves like these, ordinary palm leaves.

Tulum was a much smaller city than Chichen Itza, with only about 5000 inhabitants, and was founded quite late, in fact it was still there when the Spaniards arrived in the sixteenth century, whereas Chichen Itza had been abandoned centuries before. Tulum was an astronomical centre, not a religious one, and there were no pyramids, just a castle, and a few other buildings with essentially astronomical purposes. Tulum is also on the sea, and has a beautiful beach.

Susana spoke at length about the human sacrifices performed at Tulum, though they were few and far between, apparently just once every 52 years, which corresponds to the length of time the combined lunar and solar cycles need to complete. The sacrifices were mostly self inflicted, she said, performed by priests and nobles on themselves. They would wait for an eclipse and then in front of the people would insert an obsidian knife into their genitals, catch the blood on a piece of paper (Roberto had told us they had bark, but hey...), and then set fire to it, the smoke ascending and apparently stopping the eclipse. The nobles and priests had tables that allowed them to predict the eclipses and other astronomical events, but the people didn't, so they were impressed and the nobles were able to maintain their power.

According to Susana, whose real name was May, she said, Tulum was an important trading centre and the most important port on the Caribbean side of Mexico, because it is situated at the only break in the great barrier reef that runs all the way up the coast. Ships would sail up the reef until they saw the break, only a few hundred yards wide, and then turn in to land and trade. Like the rest of this part of the Yucatan, she said, Tulum had no agriculture, the land being too poor. There were only a few inches of topsoil on top of the limestone, which is why the trees in the tropical rainforest are disappointingly small and stunted. Everything had to be brought from hundreds of kilometres away, from the other side of the peninsula, near Merida and Campeche. And since the Mayans had discovered the wheel but not used it for transportation, people had to walk, and everything had to be brought in on people's backs.

Our third guide was Arsenio, another Mayan. He was actually born in a Mayan village 25 kilometres away from Cobá, itself kind of lost in the middle of the jungle, and moved to Cobá where he learned Spanish and is now learning English. Arsenio, being from around Cobá, appeared not to have very warm feelings about Chichen Itza, which of course is much better known. Arsenio insisted a lot, then, on what made Cobá better, especially the fact that it was much much bigger than Chichen Itza. In fact, while Chichen Itza had several dozen temples and pyramids, Cobá had six thousand, and hundreds of thousands of other structures in stone. 98 percent of these structures have yet to be rescued from the jungle which grew over all the Mayan sites once they had been abandoned. Cobá, he said, had at its height more than 50,000 inhabitants and covered over 70 square kilometres. It was the second largest city in the Mayan empire, after a place in Guatemala. From Arsenio we were surprised to learn that the Mayans had built causeways, a bit like Roman roads, out to the four cardinal points from the central watchtower in Cobá. He made a circle in the dust to show how, from Cobá, one road went 100 kilometres straight to Chichen Itza, another 70 kilometres to Tulum, and two others similar distances north and south. The causeways were elevated, because of flooding in the rainy season, rising between one and six metres above the surrounding ground, and they were built of stone with rubble filling. He then drew a much larger circle encompassing Chichen Itza, Tulum and the other ends of the causeways and said 70 square kilometres, all this belonged to Cobá, which we found a little confusing.

According to Arsenio, Chichen Itza had been taken over by Toltecs after the Mayas, something that Roberto had never mentioned, and it was the Toltecs who had indulged in human sacrifices. The Mayas had never gone in for that sort of thing, he assured us, they were, and still are, a civilized people. We were also a little bemused by his explanation of how one of the pyramids at Cobá had been built. It had nine levels, and each level had been added on top of the other at 52 year intervals, corresponding to one of the astronomical cycles we already knew about. This seemed strange. Unlike Roberto, Arsenio also seemed to have a big problem with dates. This pyramid was discovered in 1984, he said, but restoration work began in 1979.

Arsenio, who was definitely a real Mayan, chattering away to fellow Mayans on the site in fluent Maya, taught us to say Becha Bel, which means hi, and also told us that the thatched roofs lasted from ten to twelve years (compared to the 20 years of Roberto). He proudly put the number of ethnic groups in Mexico at 49, whereas we still believed there were 68.

Mexico is of course the place chewing gum (chicle) is originally from. The Wrigley company made a fortune by adding lots of sugar and selling it worldwide, until they finally discovered an artificial way to produce it, but here real chicle is still available on trees. Arsenio squatted down under a chicle tree and showed us how to squeeze the white stuff from a little nut thing, stir it on a leaf, and produce white chewing gum. Later, when we visited his native village, a nice American girl handed out little pieces of white Wrigley's to the little brown children, not having understood Arsenio's explanations and not noticing apparently that their parents, and indeed some of the children themselves, were already busy chewing the real stuff and had to spit it out to dutifully munch on the foreign product.

The visit to the village, Chanchen, apparently one the few traditional Mayan villages still keeping to the ancient ways, was very instructive. There are 25 families, all with a dozen children, married at 15 or 16, and they live in a sort of collective, completely self-sufficient, one family specializing in growing corn, another in basket weaving, another growing herbs, etc. They trade among themselves to get what they need. This of course is slightly at odds with what Susana had told us about there being no agriculture, which we had had a hard time believing anyway. We asked about schools for the children. When Arsenio was growing up, there were none, he said (he seemed to be about 30 years old). We learned from the elders, from all this (waving his hand around to indicate the trees, the houses, the stones). But now there is a primary school, yes. But it isn't mandatory. In fact, as he'd told us, no one in the village spoke any Spanish. The women tried to sell us a few dresses, but communicated in gestures and Mayan which we couldn't understand.

One of the nice things about the guides was the jokes they told. Jokes told by guides can be very bad, but these people were really funny, so much so that we wondered at one point if they didn't all subscribe to some distribution list of funny things to say to tourists, although it's true they all seemed to have different jokes. Roberto said, as we drove past the cathedral in Valladolid: The people on the right side of the bus can look up and see the façade which was built in the 17th Century. The people on the left side of the bus can look over and see the people on the right side looking up at the façade. Arsenio showed us a large iguana on a tree, saying it was a male. It's easy to tell, he said. The males move their head in a nodding motion, up and down. The females move their heads from side to side. He showed us a Mayan papyrus (Roberto had told us that papyrus was Egyptian, whereas Mayans used tree bark), with a hierarchical set of pictures of the people, priests at the top, then nobles, then the higher professions like astronomers, then the middle class, carpenters, traders, tour guides... and finally the slaves and the agricultural workers. Not all the jokes were funny of course. Susana showed us an ancient stone structure that looked as if it was about to fall over. You may wonder why it's like that, she said. It's just that we Mexicans love tequila. This was one of the lamest tequila jokes, of which there were many.

Pictures of the visits can be found on this page.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Colm Tóibín

The Irish novelist Colm Tóibín, who is gay, has an interesting take on the abuse of young boys by priests. According to the Irish Independent: "Although not abused by priests in the Wexford school he attended, he positively fancied some of them. "Aged 15 or 16," he tells interviewer Susanna Rustin, "I found some of the priests sexually attractive, they had a way about them . . . a sexual allure which is a difficult thing to talk about because it's usually meant to be the opposite way round"'.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

No comment...

Nice headline:

"NYU professor to have camera surgically installed in back of his head"

Nice phraseology (talking about Isis, a new cell phone payment system):

“Isis intends to deliver a complete mobile wallet experience"

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Technical point

According to the Vancouver Sun, Canada has decided not to follow the U.S. lead to ban alcoholic beverages containing caffeine. The legal reasoning behind the U.S. decision, which considers the caffeine an unsafe additive, is explained soberly by a former FDA employee:

"The presumption under the law here in the U.S. is if you're using a food additive in a manner that is not approved by the FDA, then it is unsafe as a matter of law, even if it doesn't pose a risk," said Carvajal, who worked at the FDA for five years until leaving in 2007.

"It's a technical point, but we could have something here that is both unsafe in the legal sense and unsafe in the everyday meaning of that word."

That is a very nice technical point.

Friday, August 13, 2010

French Policemen


Read in France-Ouest yesterday that the criteria for becoming a policeman in France have been changed. They no longer include height, corpulence and capacité d'élocution. So you might come across a policeman now who is small, round and unable to express himself clearly.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Barcelona


In the metro I sat opposite an older couple, 70's maybe, with a very small dog between them. The woman was suntanned, had carefully done hair, several gold chains around her neck, with things hanging from them, and very white capris which really showed off the veins and swellings and puckerings on her lower legs. On her feet she had pink polka dot sandals, with a tight strap around her ankle, adding to the swellings no doubt, and a little hole at the front where three of her toes stuck out strangely, with dark brown painted toenails. She kept leaning over to talk to her husband, caressing the dog who twitched a lot and had one of those permanent snarls but seemed otherwise quite pleasant, and then every time she'd move her hand a little further over and leave it cupping his crotch (the husband's). It was weird.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Massachusetts Now


"It is not a foregone conclusion, [a lawyer for the U.S. Justice Department] said, that the federal government would withhold funding if Massachusetts allowed gay married couples to be buried in veterans' cemeteries." (quoted in Boston.com)

You wonder how many of these happy newly-weds are clamouring to get into the local cemeteries.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Watching TV


BBC weatherman, reassuringly: It won't actually be wall-to-wall rain...

Then there's the relentless ad on CNN for Clear Essence, "specially formulated skin products for people of color; eliminates black spots".

Saw part of a program about Coca Cola yesterday. The presenter was saying that the great thing about their ad campaigns over the years was the way they got people to associate Coke with great life experiences. The Coke woman nodded and offered an example: Yeah, we wanted people to realize that nothing goes better with a good hot dog than a coke.


Monday, May 31, 2010

Ministry of Gender and Children


Just heard on the BBC news that the two gay men sentenced to 14 years in prison in Malawi have been pardoned. Steven Monjeza and Tiwonge Chimbalanga had been given 14-year jail terms for "gross indecency and unnatural acts" after celebrating their engagement. However, the Minister of Gender and Children (sounds like an Alberta ministry) said they must change their behaviour or they will be rearrested. Reaction in the villages is extremely unfavourable: "Kelvin Kaumira, in his 60s, said the community was "fuming" over the incident. "People here are furious," he said. "There are so many beautiful women in this village looking for a hand in marriage." Google helpfully added to the BBC on-line article an ad for Gay and Lesbian Cruises. I kid you not (though other people's ads will not all be the same as mine, which also include one for British ex-pats).

Friday, April 30, 2010

Gas Prices


Just did an interesting calculation on MilesGallon.com. It shows that although gas prices in Spain are almost double those in Canada ($1.60 a litre compared to $0.95), the fuel efficiency of cars almost compensates, so that total driving costs for gas are just about 30% higher.

My 1998 Daewoo Lanos in Spain just did 820 km on 61 litres of gas (two fills), which is 7.4 litres per 100 km, and since the price here is 1.196 euros, or $1.60 per litre, the cost was about 12 cents Canadian per kilometre.

My 1998 Toyota Corolla in Canada does about 9 litres per 100 km, and since the average price of gas in Calgary is now around 95 cents, the cost is 8.5 Canadian cents per kilometre.

So it costs me 8.5 cents per kilometre in Canada and 12 cents per kilometre in Spain.

Newer small cars in Spain are much more efficient, commonly getting about 6 litres per 100 km, whereas in Canada, even my almost new Honda Fit, which is supposed to be super economical, only gets around 10 litres per 100 km. If you compare new cars, then, the cost of driving in the two countries is almost the same.


Sunday, April 25, 2010

Le


So Lesotho means "Land of the people who speak Sesotho", does it? According to Wikipedia anyway. Amazing how much meaning you can cram into a couple of letters!

Saturday, April 17, 2010

There but for...


Today I helped our friends Francisco and Dolores move out of the apartment from which they were evicted (because Francisco was taken advantage of by a big construction boss and lost a horrible amount of money and his apartment) to a new one they're renting. There were lots of helpers and we worked all day, from 8.30 in the morning till, in my case, 6 in the evening, with a short break for pizza. When you move out of an apartment in Spain (and many other European countries), you take everything with you: water heaters, air conditioning, sinks, ovens, light fixtures... so there was a lot to dismantle, as well as a lot of furniture and an incredible amount of stuff to put into boxes and bags.

At one point, everyone left in vans and cars to take the first load to the other apartment and I was left with the upstairs neighbour taking down curtain rails, which turned out to be very complicated, slow and tiring (because of the position you had to put yourself in). The neighbour's wife was helping and when we'd finished I said I needed a rest and a beer so we started talking and once again I started to remember how little we pampered middle-class Canadians really appreciate the sorts of lives such a lot of people have to lead, even those who seem to be living normal lives in so-called advanced economies.

I mentioned I was retired and she said I don't think we'll ever be able to retire. You have to work legally for thirty odd years to get your full state pension and she'd spent the first 13 years, from age 16 to age 29, working for someone who didn't declare her. So no social security contributions for all that time, nothing that would count towards a pension. And it's almost worse for older people, she said. If you get laid off at 55 like her neighbour just did, and you can't find a job, so you can't contribute for the last years, you don't get a pension at all. (If you're poor enough, you do actually get a special one, maximum about $450 a month, not much to live on.)

Her husband's firm just got rid of him under a new scheme in Spain (ERE) that lets a firm make you redundant without paying you any compensation because they promise to take you back if they can, so you get some unemployment pay, but not the full amount because the firm keeps paying your benefits, so you're kind of laid off but still attached to them. You don't get full unemployment until the firm goes bankrupt, which didn't take long in this case apparently, so he's been on full unemployment since February, no prospects of a job (he's in construction), and no one seems to know what happens to the normal compensation.

She's very happy though because she finally got a legal job cleaning schools. They can't give you more than a year's contract, of course, and then you have to go on unemployment for four months before you can start again, but by filling in for people who have taken leave for some reason, you can sometimes actually work during the four months that way and she's ended up working all the time for three years. Actually when you think about it, she said, we've been very lucky.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Altea

Some kind person has posted a set of beautiful photos of Altea, whither I'm off this week:

Friday, April 2, 2010

Ah, Windows!

One of the things about Windows that really annoys me is that it talks too much. Of course, I don't like the fact that it's big and slow, or that it isn't very good at doing some of the things it's supposed to do, or that it often doesn't seem to know what's going on. But coming back, after three years living mostly with Ubuntu, has made me realize how much Windows just blathers on. I like terseness and efficiency: I have been spoiled, I suppose.

Let's take a simple example. A couple of years ago, when I plugged in my new HP printer for the first time, Ubuntu quietly did its stuff and after a few seconds (yes, a few seconds, on a run-of-the-mill laptop) it posted a nice little message: Your printer is now ready for use. That's all. Simple, perfect. It's all you need. But Windows doesn't understand this. No, no. When it's not ignoring you completely, so you wonder what on earth is going on, it has this compulsive need to chat: it can't resist informing you about all the important stuff it's doing, like an incompetent plumber substituting witless commentary for real expertise. So this is the story: I plug the printer into my new Windows 7 laptop and wait, but nothing happens, no message, no telltale swirling of the little circle to tell me something's going on. I try to print something, but the printer isn't among the devices I can choose to print on, which I assume means Windows hasn't got it ready yet. Finally, after a couple of minutes (it's true my little laptop is a bit slow), I click on Start, then on Devices and Printers, then on the HP Printer icon (3 clicks so far). Windows tells me the device isn't working properly and needs to be troubleshot. Would I like Windows to troubleshoot the device? (That's another thing: it talks to you like a two year old: Would you like Mummy to tie your shoelaces?) I click OK and a window comes up with little messages flitting across the top: Downloading Troubleshooter. Detecting Problems. Gathering Information about your Devices. Checking for Spooler Errors (and the list goes on, and I couldn't care less; doesn't it know normal people aren't interested in these things?). Finally it tells me there's no driver for the printer. Would I like Windows to find a driver? Again this need to engage in conversation: why on earth would any normal person not want Windows to find a driver at this point? I say sure, and go back to the document I want to print, but now suddenly everything's working: the printer icon is there in the print dialogue box, it's become the default, my document prints. Awesome! In my enthusiasm, I almost forget my frustration.

This sudden resolution of the problem, apparently without any connection to the steps you are chattily being guided through, is actually quite typical of Windows. Another time, it tells me a program is preventing Windows from shutting down and that I should click on Cancel to go back and close it, then when I click on Cancel, Windows shuts down anyway. Apparently, one process was working on closing the program, but neglected to tell Windows chatterbox, the part that's responsible for talking to the client. And that's the problem: Windows has MPD, multiple process disorder. Like the different personalities in multiple personality disorder in humans, the processes in MPD function independently and don't know about each other. Some of them are pretty good at doing their stuff, others less so, but they go about their business in their own little corner and don't consult each other most of the time. In addition, the Windows chatterbox not only doesn't know about the other processes, it doesn't really understand how Windows works. It's like the technical support person you get on the phone who's been told to ask certain questions and suggest certain solutions but who doesn't really understand your computer any more than you do. When the Windows chatterbox finds a problem, it suggests a series of steps which seem plausible, and are certainly very detailed and technical, but never manage to solve anything. And you know it's not very smart because it does things like telling you a program has stopped working, asking if you want it to see what happened and then telling you, after a long pause, that the program stopped working correctly. (I'm not sure of the English, but on my Spanish Vista it said "El programa dejó de funcionar correctamente.")

Of course, Windows does a lot of cool stuff too, much of it copied from others (but hey! who's suing?) What I don't understand is how so many just silly mistakes get left in. One example among many and then I'll shut up: I connect my beautiful new red Logitech cordless mouse to my old Ubuntu computer and it works: not after a few seconds, immediately. I connect it to Windows 7 and it doesn't work. After about five seconds, there's a muffled beep and up pops a message saying a device has been connected. I wait a little more and in the end the mouse works. OK, so not too bad, just a little slow. But wait, it gets funnier. Another day, I plug the mouse (actually you plug in a little stick that talks to the mouse) into a different USB port and it doesn't work. Soon there's a muffled beep and up pops a message saying a device has been connected. Neither the Windows chatterbox nor the process that checks ports apparently knows that this was the same mouse they installed the day before, connected to a different port, so we go through the install procedure all over again. It seems to be a little quicker this time, but Windows is definitely working on something. Amused, and remembering that my computer has three USB ports, I plug it into the third one. Again there's the muffled beep and the same message. I call my son and we laugh a lot. But then the next time I plug the mouse in (you unplug it every time you shut down to save the battery), I get a different message: "A storage device was connected. If this device is a port multiplier, only port 0 of the port multiplier will be active." How can Windows not recognize my mouse, which visits it so regularly and works so well with it? How can it now see it as a vulgar storage device? It's a mouse, not a squirrel! But every day now the same message appears as soon as I plug in the mouse. I am seriously thinking of buying a port multiplier to see what Windows thinks it is.

PS. Windows now comes up with the same message about a storage device whether I plug it in or not. And it changes my keyboard from US International (so I can do accents) to standard US and then to French Canadian all within a few minutes inside the same program. And I've told it to stop indexing because it slows the computer down in Thunderbird something wicked and it assures me indexing is stopped, but when I open Thunderbird it still says "Indexing message 1 of 12", actually indexing the new spam I can't delete until it's finished indexing it...


Monday, March 22, 2010

Dreaming

I'm at home with my family watching a movie that was recommended to us but which turns out to be incredibly boring. As well, most shots seem to cut people's feet off, just at the ankle. This really annoys me. The more scenes there are with feet missing, the more frustrated I get. Andy appears and asks me if I can help him: he's giving swimming lessons to some young girls further along the beach and he needs me to hold their hands while they float and kick their legs. Will it take long? Oh, only about an hour and a half. I get up and leave with him, thinking I'm not really interested in this movie anyway.

We end up in a store where he had to buy some stuff and at the cash register I take out a package I had under my shirt and show it to the cashier, to prove it's not something I'm stealing. But it contains a furry animal sort of thing that I've apparently picked up and that costs $17. I know I have no bills, but I manage to find $17 in coins and hand them over. But of course, this is the U.S. and they don't accept toonies. I desperately search for bills or something American, while the queue behind me gets longer and the cashier moves off with me to a little bar close by in the store where he has a couple of beers. I finally ask if there's an ATM anywhere and he shows me where to go. I go down some stairs and a sort of mall and finally find the machine.

I decide for some reason to use my new Mastercard which I haven't activated yet. I know that it will activate on first use. But the machine is American and doesn't seem to want to accept it. In fact, it deactivates it so it's no longer useable. I decide to try to find another ATM (the guy said there were two) and use my Visa. I walk down corridors and then out onto streets with unattractive buildings, and almost get lost, but eventually I get back inside the mall and find the machine, but when I put my card in, instead of asking for my pin, it first of all just dispenses $20, than displays the pin of (presumably) the previous client. There seems no way to get rid of this pin, which is long and complicated (and small and blurry). The guy behind me peers over my shoulder and suggests a couple of things, but nothing works, so I remove the card, thinking that with $20 I can at least pay for the furry thing.

As I'm leaving, I realize I have removed not just my card but a large cast-iron part of the ATM machine, so I go back to replace it. There is now a queue of around fifty people snaking back from the machine. I put the cast-iron piece back and walk away.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Caring for Health


1. The new U.S. health care bill forces people to buy expensive brand name drugs instead of generic ones, thereby increasing costs tremendously. (CBC)

2. U.S. health insurance companies are not covered by anti-trust legislation: they are free to collude on prices and policies. (CBC)

3. The new health care bill will maintain the status quo in place since 1976 for abortions: no federal money can be used to fund them. In any case, you can't get a legal abortion in 87% of the counties in the U.S. (mostly because doctors are afraid to perfom them) and yet 20% more abortions are done in the U.S. than in France, where they are covered under universal health care; twice as many abortions in the U.S. than in Germany. (Huffington, Time)

4. The US spends $7290 per head on health care, the UK spends $2992; infant mortality is 6.7 per 1000 live births in the US, as against 4.8 in the UK (and 3.8 in France); life expectancy is one year less in the US than in the UK, and three years less than in France. (BBC)


Friday, March 19, 2010

Headlines

Glowing fly sperm yields results (BBC)

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Steady as we go

The real problem isn't climate change, even man-made climate change, which of course is a bad thing and will almost certainly whack us. My son David just sent me
http://climate.pembina.org/blog/71 which is a great explanation of the present situation in terms of the science and its credibility.

No, the real problem is the fact that we're using up our planet's resources faster than they can be renewed, 1.3 times faster according to one measure. The way the earth has worked for a very long time now is by maintaining an equilibrium, a steady state: if you cut down trees, or they fall down in a storm or get burnt in a fire, new trees will grow to replace them; if you take fish out of the river to eat, others will take their place because there'll be more food to go around so more fish will survive; if you take water out of the river for irrigation, it'll eventually end up back in the system and fall back down again as rain, so there's no harm done. If you drop a grape in the garden, it will decompose and the ants and the fungi will get it and its goodness will go back into the earth and enrich it.

But this only works up to a point. When you cut down not just a few trees but all the trees on Easter Island or on Haiti, they don't grow back and the resource disappears. When you take huge quantities of water out of the Aral Sea or divert them from Mono Lake in Southern California, they start to dry up and ecosystems are destroyed. When you overfish, stocks become so low that if you don't stop, the fish disappear from the face of the earth and the waters thereof. And no trees, no water and no fish is a far worse scenario than no more oil, or no more coal, or no more natural gas, because you absolutely need the trees and the water and the fish, whereas there are all sorts of other possibilities for fuel: solar, geothermal, wind, nuclear, tides...

Now look at the global economy in the wake of the latest crisis. My god, people say, it almost stopped "growing"! No more "growth". We're so used to the metaphor, economies as living beings, that anything that stops them from growing must be bad. Living things need to grow, right? Those that don't grow well are "stunted", "retarded", "the runt of the litter", "krummholz". Not growing is a bad thing. Except that it's not. Nothing grows forever: at a certain point, when we've reached a good size, we stop. So do trees and fish and ants. Things that grow disproportionately are monsters. They scare us, kill us, gobble up little children.

And our economies are beginning to look like monsters. They've grown and grown and now they're too big, and they're gobbling everything up. And yet economists, and influential journals like The Economist or the Wall Street Journal, and the rest of the mainstream media, and therefore society at large, want them to grow more. Three per cent this year and maybe five per cent next year would be good, and so on for the next decade and the next century and the next millenium. Everything has to get bigger: GDP, businesses, towns and cities, our salaries. Zero growth, or, god forbid, negative growth, are unthinkable, the absolute worst thing that can happen to a country. You think?

Good economists, of course, people like Adam Smith and John Maynard Keynes, who thought carefully about the world they lived in, talked quite naturally about limits to growth. They knew that economies couldn't keep expanding forever and they didn't see zero growth as necessarily a bad thing. But we've forgotten that. All we want to do now is grow, and the only way to grow is to make sure there are plenty more people, and that these people consume more and more stuff. So the rich world, with its low fertility rates, has to make sure it has lots of immigrants to fill up the workplace (too often in ways that are exploitative, in terms of pay, dignity and rights) and make it possible to grow more, so we don't lose out to the rest of the world.

All this growth is based very largely on consumption. For things to go well in the economy, we have to consume more and more. Countries that don't consume enough are reprimanded: "Germany, like China, [said the Wall Street Journal on March 16] has come under international pressure since the 2008 financial crisis to rebalance its economy away from reliance on exports, and to contribute more to global demand." Germany and China aren't playing the game: they don't consume enough. What a disgrace!

When I was little, my family's consumption was almost exclusively food. Nearly all our furniture, our linen and our kitchenware were either inherited, or wedding presents my parents had received. From time to time we would replace a glass or a plate, but I remember we had the same two pairs of scissors, the same bowls, the same gas stove, the same table, the same beds until I was a teenager and beyond. We had the same radio for twenty-five years. We eventually bought a vacuum cleaner and a television, and I remember quite clearly replacing my father's armchair, because he'd burnt too many holes in it with his cigarettes, but these were very special cases, written down in a little book where we kept track of the important events in our lives: March 1946, Brian's broken arm; February 1949, Sandra born; September 1955, bought vacuum cleaner; June 1960, Dad's new armchair. When I was nine, I got a bicycle which I used to get around and all through high school I rode it four miles a day to school and back, rain or snow. For doing dishes we used a sort of cheesecloth the butcher gave us. There were no kleenex: we used newspaper when we had to. When I was fifteen, I worked as a delivery boy for two years so I could buy a record player, and after that I always asked for records for birthdays and Christmas. Needless to say, we lived in the same house during all this time.

This sort of life, where objects are part of your life for long periods and not replaced willy-nilly, where consumption is about food and a few necessities (now including cell phones), is of course how most of the world still lives. However, to the delight of latter-day economists, that is about to change: already, billions of people in India, China, and elsewhere in the developing world, are beginning to consume more. Their economies are growing at breakneck speeds, they are flooding the world with cheap goods, often amazingly attractive, like Ikea furniture. And all this stuff will be used, and then thrown away, to be replaced by something more modern, more fashionable, and probably less durable.

What's happening in the third world now is simply what has happened in the rich world over the last fifty years. My family, mostly after I left home, became a little more affluent and did enter the consumer society, just like everyone else around us. We started to buy things in plastic, which changed colour or cracked, so had to be replaced. We bought new crockery, an automatic washing machine, a new carpet, new sofas, several pairs of scissors that weren't very good. Now with a family of my own, we consume what I consider to be disgusting amounts of stuff, though because of the childhood I had, I insist on continuing to use items that still work: a thirty-year-old food mill, a chip pan, pressure cooker, tools and bottle openers that are older than my marriage, my mother-in-law's kitchen knife and sieves. If I were allowed, I would use socks with little holes at the toes, shirts with frayed collars, sweaters with worn-out elbows, ski-jackets with some of the puff gone out of them.




Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Let's be quite clear about this


The Economist, a socially liberal, economically reactionary, weekly magazine whose articles about the state of the world are invariably well-informed, comprehensive in scope, and clearly and humorously written, quite naturally prides itself on the accuracy of its information. When it makes a mistake, even a small terminological error, it apologizes and makes sure we know what's really what. So when it made a bubu in a story about India a couple of weeks ago, it didn't hesitate to set things right, even if its tongue seemed to be just itching to get into its cheek:

"Clarification: Last week's Banyan column used the term "Maratha" in a sense that was interchangeable with "Marathi" or "Marathi-speaker". "Maratha", however, also refers to one of the dominant castes in the state of Maharashtra, and so is potentially misleading. Many Marathis, in this sense, are not Marathas." (The Economist, February 27, 2010, p.48)

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Mice sex


The things people want to know! If you get on to a Q and A site, and give in to your need to click compulsively, you discover some fascinating stuff. I just came across the question "Is it normal for two female mice to mate?" The young questioner goes on to explain that one of her mice tries to mate with the other but the other one squeals and runs away. It's squealing right now, we learn. Best answer (for me): "They can't be lesbians, as that would be unnatural and God would hate them." Question: Is this tongue-in-cheek? Best answer: Probably not.

Friday, February 26, 2010

More Olympic Lows


What a pity that CTV rather than CBC, got the rights to show the Vancouver Olympics on Canadian television. Their coverage, mostly fine for individual events, is pretty dismal in most other respects. I never seem to know what the programming is going to be. Maybe there's a nice wrap-up of the day's or the previous day's events but, watching on and off all day most days, I haven't been able to find it, apart from a long-winded series of interviews and comments early on. The website has a nice feature showing the events and what channel they're on but the channel seems to be missing or wrong some of the time, and there's nothing to tell you about wrap-ups or other features, and announcements on the TV are few and far between.

Even worse, a large segment of the programming is devoted to sophomoric commentary and discussion in the studio and outside, by reporters who seem more interested in showing off their own personality and making stupid jokes than in informing and entertaining the audience. There are very few clear explanations of how the different events work (qualifying rounds, rules): they seem to expect us to know it all already. You have to suppose that CTV didn't have that many good sports reporters and had to rope in a lot of beginners, or specialists in other things. The only solid performance is from Brian Williams, the CBC transfuge, and a few professional athletes, led by Catriona Le May Doan.

Interviews of the wonderful young medallists and others by most of CTV's upbeat young reporters are poorly prepared, the questions ridiculously banal and repetitive. "So, how does it feel to have a gold (silver, bronze) medal?", "Did you ever think you'd be standing here today?", "How do you think your family feels about this?". They interviewed some young children one day, about to start a ski lesson: "So, Jeremy, are you excited?" That's called a leading question, and most kids allowed themselves to be led, but when one said "No", the interviewer seemed surprised and unprepared, turned away from the poor, sincere little boy and asked the next one: "And you, are you excited?" as if his friend was something of a loser. Come on! How about a real interaction, some spark of originality or humour?

And don't get me started on the website. It has lots of nice features, though some of them only work part of the time, apparently, and some (like the medals list) disappear one day and return the next. It's impossibly busy, with stuff blinking at you from all over the place. And it only updates some parts on the fly, so when Canada gets a gold you're updated in one section, but the number of medals stays the same and you have to refresh to be sure what happened. They had a nice series of photos of Canadian athletes during the first week, but you couldn't tell why they, rather than others, had been chosen, or what the series represented. (Now it's much better, there's a series of Canadian winners, and another of Canadians competing today. Seems like a no-brainer.) Having so much streaming video available is wonderful, it's true, and means you can see things you missed on TV. There's also the nice set of TV-like boxes you can browse through to see what is on during the day and what channel you can see it on, but they don't seem to distinguish between women's events and men's, so when it says Curling, CAN-SWE, you don't know which sex is involved. Sometimes, I get confused.


Please, CBC, make sure you get the next Olympics.


Olympic Lows


How on earth can McDonald's be the official restaurant of the Vancouver Olympics? Isn't fast food, and in particular the burger industry, largely responsible for the sorry state of our children's health and fitness? Like, obesity? And yet young, successful, attractive Canadian athletes appear on McDonald's TV ads, cheerfully promoting unhealthy food choices to kids who want nothing more than to be just like them. A fine example of how commercialized the Games have become, all idealism lost, just another cog in the big economic machine. And nobody seems to care, no protests, no one even talks about it! We should all be outraged.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Hedgehogs

Following another fascinating titbit from the BBC, about hedgehogs who had put on so much weight they couldn't curl up properly to protect themselves, I went to the British Hedgehog Preservation Society web page and was happy to see that efforts to care for and protect the British hedgehog continue apace. Readers are encouraged to "Join the British Hedgehog Preservation Society and receive regular hedgehog news, and the Hogalogue Catalogue." There is also a practical "If you have found a hedgehog in need of help, click here" and some breaking news: "BHPS Trustee Hugh Warwick got a hedgehog tattoo!!!"

Interest in the British hedgehog is high and anyone hoping to become a hedgehog rehabilitator needs to get a move on, because the March 21 Hedgehog Carer Course has only a few spaces left.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Headlines

Some fine headlines this week in the Calgary Herald:

Barrel racer fulfils dying cowboy's dream

Alberta hospital waits growing

Shell taps oilsands brakes

Energy review closed to public

Updated snow strategy coming


Monday, January 4, 2010

Chinglish

A nice glimpse of how Chinese speakers put ideas together is offered by some of the instructions for use of a recently purchased "rubber heat water bag" aka a hot water bottle:

"After filling water, must let the air in the heat water bag out and let the screw tight. Check if there is leak water phenomenon. When the heat water bag is used or storage must avert it to be weight on or stabed, not touch sour, alkali, oil and sunlight shoot."

Sunlight shoot. Nice. We are also warned "The heat water bag should not be put in the display window so long time, especially the display window in the sunlight shoot."