Photos

It is a surprising but true urban myth that people living in the so-called ‘Third World’ think if their photo is taken, then their soul is captured inside the machine, and then pressed onto paper. They seem to be under the impression that their soul has been trapped: caged, you could say- and this will somehow prevent them from continuing to the next life after death.

I have no idea if this is true- having not yet died, it’s impossible to know. I do know that not everyone in the third world believes this- but there is an element of fear in seeing yourself on a piece of paper, and from a trip backpacking in India, I know at least a few uphold the superstition.

I’ll never forget when my mother took the photo of a young boy in India - his reaction was so unusual to me, it has remained in my mind clearly to this day: a feat which my maths homework has yet to accomplish. Mum took the photo whilst the boy watched curiously from his perch on a slightly rotting gate- when the flash went, he gave a little cry and threw his hands to his face, but realizing quickly there was no danger, he relaxed almost instantly. Mum came closer whilst he watched warily, although he smiled a little as she spoke to him (she’s good with kids). When she turned the digital camera round to show him his photo, he nearly fell off the gate in surprise- then he grabbed the camera and peered more closely at the tiny image, all but pressing his nose to the screen. He poked different parts of his face that he saw in the camera and rubbed his hair. Then he started to giggle, and laugh hysterically- he called his friends over, and all of them stared at the camera with expressions ranging from blank confusion to great amusement.

Eventually the boy gave Mum back the camera- smiling from ear to ear, and when we left, he and his friends chased after the truck, waving and laughing. His grandmother tried to give him to us; so he could have a better future, since he was an orphan and she knew she did not have much longer to live. We couldn’t take him, of course- but I wish we’d found out his name.

I only mention this because it seems a polar opposite to the far east’s obsession with photography. I’ve even seen the Hong Kong Chinese taking pictures of themselves and each other next to unremarkable office building, in Hong Kong! I’ve never understood it, and was only more bewildered when I had a close encounter of the Chinese Polaroid kind.

I was paddling in the sea, on a beach with some friends of ours- occasionally diving and jumping off the pontoon, but otherwise minding my own business- when two random Chinese guys came over and asked me, in poor and heavily accented English that was nonetheless polite, to take a photo with them.

At first, I presumed, so bizarre was their request, that they were asking me to take a photo of them with the camera a young girl who I could only assume to be their sister was holding. I gestured for the girl to give me the camera, getting out of the surf and wondering if my salty hands would damage it, when the boys shook their heads and repeated their request. Blushing and confused now, I asked them why, but they just repeated the question again, and I guessed that they either didn’t understand, or chose to ignore my own inquiry.

Unhappy and uncomfortable, I stood impassively, trying for a closed mouth smile as the girl took a photo with the boys on either side. Afterwards, they thanked me profusely, and I returned to paddling with our friends, waiting for them to burst out laughing or receive some loud exclamation from their friends or ask someone else for a photo. But they did none of the above, simply taking a few photos with each other and the girl before packing up their things and going to the pier to catch a boat back to wherever they came from.

I still don’t know what that was about- but I can see the convoluted attraction in a world based entirely upon artificial image in different places, with different people, at different times of your life- trying to preserve it on glossy paper, even as it slips away; because you can’t see it with unclouded eyes. A cage for our soul, or simply our eyes- perhaps the camera has provided a trap, albeit a pretty one, which is almost impossible to escape…Or maybe not: I wouldn’t know, I can only speculate.

I may have been some time...

Well, you've got to love Captain Oats, what with the heroic last words and all. You probably don't love me as much though, and it's understandable- I mean, I haven't posted in...how long? You see, THIS is why I never used my diary... Anyway, I'm NOT going to bore you with trips to Cambridge, Typhoon 8's in Hong Kong, random excursions to Wales and Somerset. I most certainly will NOT be mentioning scaling waterfalls and bathing in fresh water streams- or speed boating and yacht racing and nearly ripping my leg open in shark/pink dolphin infested South China sea on a paid job. And there's no way I'm even mentioning the massive black, yellow, red and green spider that was in the banana plantation next door and looked like something from a joke store in a completely non funny way. I'm not going to bore you with tales of the burmese python having been caught after eating a dog a month, including huskies. I will not drone about going boogie boarding in Australia, or missing the Perseid meteor shower but seeing wild dolphins, the milky way and numerous shooting stars. Surprisingly however- that then leaves me without that much to say. Oh well, maybe next time.
From somehwere in Australia, listening to 'Daydreamin' Blues', Kat.

Back to the alps- part two from Easter

So, I'm back, and since I'm ludicrously far behind, I think I'll just get started. So, where were we? Oh yes, graveyard barbeque's. Right, lots of things happened after that- include my mother and I dicing with death around the arc de triumph, and never actually following the cycle paths or going the right way down a one way street. No, I realise its not safe- actually, I realised it wasn't safe when a sixteen wheeled lorry overtook me and the wing mirror almost clipped my ear- it wasn't exactly chamomile tea on the relaxation meter I have to say. Anyway, eventually, we took our bicycles back; only to find that my mother bike wouldn't go back inside the funny beepy metal thingy. (don't ask, I'm not good with machines) Anyway, what it came down to was that it was getting dark and my mother was panicking, which was when the parisien bike people turned up. Which as also when my mother got down on the pavement on this funny little road island outside the Gare de Lyon and upended her handbag onto the ground- now in full panic mode. Amused I tried to get her to calm down- we hadn't broken or lost the bike, that much was obvious and now the authorities were here to help, not punish. My mother however, could see and hear nothing but the idea of a 300 euro fine,a d continued searching frantically through assorted tissues, tickets and makeup. The guy looked at me, and we began to have a conversation in french about what had happened, what they could do, and why my mother was bordering on the realms of the clinically insane. Eventually, everything was ok. Well, sort of ok, until we met up with my Dad a few days later and he told us we'd spent something like 800 euros on our little cycle. Suffice to say we won't be doing that again. Now, I think it's time I mention my brother's location- you may be wondering where in the general area of France, Hong Kong, and Sheffield he'd actually ended up, whilst me and my parents were on our whirlwind romp through Paris. Actually, he was in the Alps already with my Grandparents, where he was skiing up and down and doing stunt man jumps through more physical space than my mother, father and I covered in all our three days in the French capital. Unfortunately for me, this meant that when I got there, my reputation as skier extraordinaire was somewhat diminished. Still, we had fun, bombed (as in skiied fast down) black runs with my grandpa and father, leaped off ice jumps, chussed down blues for the hell of it and just had a laugh. Eventually, after my grandparents left, we even convinced Mum-who's slightly less sure of herself when it comes to standing on two 5cm wide planks of fibreglass and sliding down ice covered mountains-to actually come out as well. As much as I think we made progress, I have to admit my low point was definitely when, at a rest stop restaurant just off the piste, my mother leaned forwards whilst I supped my coke and told me there were a lot of similarities between me and Hitler. Suffice to say I comically spurted my last mouthful in shocked amusement- I mean, I thought I'd been being nice! Still, all it took was a cup of the best hot chocolate in the world from a cafe called Face Nord to settle our disagreement, and we ended up leaving the alps through the half building, half tent that was the airport in relative happiness- neglecting to mention to my brother the crazy guy in the parisien metro who thumped me for sitting down, and the other one who was about 23 who wanted to know if I wanted to go for a drink. When it comes to multi national 12 year old brothers, some things are better left unsaid.
Will update with part 3 soon, keep reading!

BLAST!!!!!!!!!!

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European travel and the metro

hi again!!! first off, minor error in my last post-Vivaldi's four seasons, not Mozart .sorted? ok back to the blog. My great European holiday ( cue fanfare) began with a visit to Wales. Yeah okay maybe not the grandest beginning, but at least I can work my way up?!? ... right? Possibly not normally , but since I am not exactly an ordinary teen my holiday dipped and rose and lead me to live out of my multinational suitcase. Wales was good actually. Well, I was there for three days and slept for two days and nights straight, so, whilst I was Wake it was good...and amazingly missing that oh so famous welsh weather condition-rain. That was a relief. Then my mum turned up and we went to Paris . Yup, due to afore mentioned exhaustion I outed on the actual French exchange, but that didn't stop my mum hopping on a plane from hong kong and zooming back to sunny wales for our own personal vacance a la France . So off we went to Paris. I have to mention I've been to Paris more times than I've been to London in the past seven years ( not including visiting heathrow) so I wasn't sure how my mum could possibly find anything new for us to do. She did however, and the first day of my Parisien vacation I spent on a bicylce in the sunshine: cycling down the banks of the Seine; round the back of the Notre Dame cathedral and into the plaza outside the Louvre. Not that I'm showing off or anything . (word to the wise: hot chocolate outside the Louvre is delicious and picturesque but ridiculously expensive). On the same day we cycled entirely uphill, to then walk uphill to that oh so famous graveyard: the pere lachaise . Well the glorious dead were gloomily inspirational and the uphill hike took care of a major part of the old ' blancmange'. In fact everything was going swimmingly in that restplace of the dead until we got picked upnby the graveyards tour guide. Now, you might possibly be wondering why the graveyard has a tour guide. Some of you may think it's not in the best of taste, others may think it's unnecessary. This is surprisingly not the case- because the particular graveyard my mother and I wee walking the Streets of (got a clue yet??)- had 10,000 graves with 70,000 corpses decaying beneath the cigarette butt littered soil. a whole city of graves, complete with building like temples etc. Anyway, back to the guide- who babbled at us in French , said he thought my mother was my sister and showed us lots of famous graves, but not the ones we wanted to see. His most brilliant moment however was his description of how to get buried in the graveyard ... "well," he says in his thick french slur, " first, you 'ave to be born in Paris,and zen 80,000 euros to be buried for one hundred years "( enthusiastic waving of hands to my mum and my gasps of astonishment)" and zen.. BARBECQUE! Me, I can barbecque myself, my wife and my two sons for 3,000 euros. Only if you are famous can you stay here forever". Well, it was an interesting dialogue and later, when he'd left us we saw a large chimney near the top of the graveyard at which point my mum looked at me knowingly and said, "ah hah, zere is ze barbecque"
more updates and parts 2 and 3 of my interesting holiday coming soon.
-- Post From Moi

Lists of apprehension and excitement, and comments on soocer and paintball

Yo! So, yeah, in the ict room, again. It's starting to wear on me, eventually, I reckon I'll meld to be part of it- too freakin' slow computer, bad jokes and banned websites. Don't forget, the future's bright, the future's orange. (the phone company, in case you didn't know). Anyway, so, eventually, eventually, I'll get around to talking about Cambridge. Until then however, lets talk about the most recent events. These involve quad biking with an 8 year old, football (and discovering I have an 'accurate shot', that's a direct quote), Leeds, being dressed up like a doll and experiencing a...surreal talent show. First however, the talent show! Well.....where to begin? Every year, for a while now, our school has had a talent show. This year, due to the fact I have 24 extra curricular activities, one of them was helping to organise this (not that I got any credit). It doesn't matter though. Oh, and recently, in fact, since I began this post I went paint balling. A word to the wise- paint balling is great, however, pellets of paint that come at you at 180 miles an hour at close range into your un-padded leg really hurt, and give you MASSIVE bruises. Oh well, I guess I deserve it. I'm looking at the next few weeks with a mixture of apprehension and excitement which can be summed up in a small, mildly important list:

• The school play- 'The Kiteman' in which I am in every scene but two, and have three costume changes (but no shoes)
• My Nan's visit to see said play (I'm not sure if I'm more worried about her view on my room or the play)
• Finally going to see 'Slumdog Millionaire- I really hopes it lives up to my expectations after reading the book, and I urgently need to find a present/card for my friend's sister's birthday
• The field day I'm going on tomorrow for RAF (No, I have not ironed my skirt yet)
• The music festival or senior choir (I think I know the songs)
• My year's retreat on Tuesday (sure to be action packed with prayer, hail Mary's, coloured pens and paper and duck duck goose)
• And the French Exchange, which leaves at an unearthly hour of the morning, and from which I have to go to the house of a girl who seems nice enough, but who speaks as much English as I do french (see previous comment about languages and the mysteries of the bi-lingual), although, when I say she seems nice enough, it is an assumption from the two emails I've received from her a week before I go.

I would include packing, but there is absolutely no excitement in thinking about that, only apprehension, so it's not quite eligible. Anyway, that's about all for now, sorry it took me so long. Finished from the library. Ba-Bye!!

Hello I'm back again!!!!

I am currently sitting in the ICT room, in an English boarding school with the only English person in the room being me but also it's a great company from other countries that differently than English DO listen to you and know what to do in moments of crisis. Just to prove how scarily smart these people are- a Spanish boy, who is now speaking Spanish, wrote the last sentence from 'me.' Sometimes others brilliance astounds me. Perhaps I should go hide in a corner till I'm bi-lingual. Now said guy has got a cuddly pig which speaks Pig Latin- he's rapping with it, and no, I don't know how that's actually possible. I know I've neglected you all for ages and I'm so sorry. I just told Rafael to shut up. That is soooo cool. OK, maybe he's not the painter, but the sentiments still the same. Anyway, I've been up to a lot recently, including a day trip to Wales, seriously mental family visits (including a delicious second Christmas dinner, which was as unorthodox as the first) and the much talked of trip to Cambridge. I've played a piece from Mozart's four seasons as part of the string group in the spring concert, am currently involved in organising the Mwabuka (the school in Zambia that we are sisters with) talent show for next Thursday, am suggesting a summer fair for the school, getting closer to my Speech and Drama exams every day, trying to finish my English coursework and doing a mock Latin test. Otherwise, I'm not so busy. Oh, and there's the play which is in three weeks to consider . So look, I'm not trying to excuse myself, but I have been busy. Eventually, I'll get round to documenting the full Cambridge experience- including meeting a man who was, getting on, shall we say, with a box of risk under his arm and a tweed jacket, and an American man, who thought my patriotism was 'beautiful.' There might even be a bit about the strangest clock I've ever seen. (When I see strange, I mean it in a bad way) Anyway, that's all I can fit in for now. Adios!!!

Poll

'Everybody was snow-ball fighting...'

du-du du-du du du du du duu that slush was fast as lightening.... By the way, I don't own the original song. (Everybody was Kung fu fighting the song- Youtube it) Boarding can suck sometimes. Majorly. Sometimes you're so depressed and so sick of school you just want to pack a bag and run off down the road. Or maybe just punch the wall and scream you're head off. But sometimes, like today, it is totally AWESOME. So, it was snowing today- surprising really since we're in the middle of an English winter. Sadly, school was on. I know that sounds a bit childish, but to be honest I couldn't care less. To quote Garfield, 'I hate Mondays.' I also hate Maths, which I had a double period of.Anyway back to the story. It was snowing. Which was really cool. Our school is quite old, so it looked like a castle- you know the kind of thing, Harry Potter/Hogwarts sorta feel. Everyone (that's the boarders) was hoping the day pupils wouldn't make it in. But they did...sadly. Not all of them however, and not all the teachers either. The day was a collaboration of half full classes, clueless cover teachers and cancelled PE classes. I'm not really sure why they bothered. Of course- being the hormone charged teenagers that we are, with nothing much better to do, we had a huge snowball fight at break time. After break, there was a notice sent out by a member of staff affectionately (or not) known as General Franco. (Yes we know the historical background, we're not that original, we listen occasionally in class.) Apparently, no one was allowed outside. This made GF, already disliked, pretty much hated by every kid from 11 to 18. I mean, we had to watch the primary school kids up the road playing outside when we knew we couldn't. I know the health and safety blah, but seriously, the risque jollity of snowball fighting is hardly going to cause serious harm. As it turned out however it was all alright in the end. Because at the early end of school. (I think they all gave up), the boarding masters let us have free reign of the snow covered grounds. It was great. As I said, Awesome. Fantastic. Fabulous. So incredibly fun. We all went mental, and occasionally mobbed the teachers who were 'supervising'. We sledged on bin bags, made snow men, got ice down our bums, in our mouths,on our backs. We were out there for two hours. I wore my Mum's coat, because I wanted to remember her, and also because it's alot warmer than any of mine. Now I sit in studies, literally dripping, and feeling like laughing all the time. I know my face is bright red. I don't care. It's still snowing. I've got Cambridge this Friday and as travel arrangements are made I feel equally nervous and excited. If anyone linked with that is reading this, I have no credit and cannot answer, but I have received all messages. Fingers crossed school is canceled tomorrow, I'm going to have to love and leave you, tata!!!

Poll results!!!

Sorry, almost forgot, The results of my poll!!!! Well, Mr.Darcy and Iggy. I guess Fang and Edward have a way to go after all. The other thing is that a male writer wrote about Iggy. Maybe men do know what constitutes a girl's idea of good looks. Either that or pot luck. Of course, Darcy has romance- killer attraction. Any ideas for new polls?? let me know. My friends on Max-X, please comment, you can anonymously now and I miss you! MissLotti, I know you'll give me some ideas. AussieBum??? Ok, later!

Sleepovers and Australians-a brief insight

Hello. Again. I'm really excited. My bizarre life has taken another unexpected turn. I'm going to stay at Cambridge university! Which sounds almost as insane for a young teenager as it feels. I'm overly excited, but nervous too. Trust me to trip over or something in front of the most people at once. Oh well, fingers crossed. But you're probably wondering about the title, and if I'm going to relate it to the content of this post. I figure I probably should. A friend of mine, one of the ones that threw the party, invited me to her party. Her birthday was in December but we're all up for belated celebrations, especially when it means a chance to dress up. What can I say, my hormones are getting the better of me. Anyway, we went to quite a nice restaurant, although to my intense disappointment, the desert selection wasn't huge. (there were a choice of 2 sweets, or cheese. The brownie's were nice though) We had more estrogen than a charged up hen party, and I'm not sure the confined space was great for noise levels, but it was a real laugh. We went back to her house, and after a chick flick or so the burglar alarm went off. At 2am. That was OK though, since half of us were on a video chat to our host's Australian cousin, whilst the other half (including me) took advantage of the bathroom's under floor heating. Eventually we all got to sleep, then left the next morning, with half of us still in pj's. I got a lift back, and now I'm complaining about being trapped here to anyone who'll listen. There's nothing like hide and seek to remind you of freedom. Till next time! I'm hoping to get a hit counter so I know how many people have been on this, because I have no idea, by the way.

I'm back!! again...

Hi, I'm back!! I'm sorry, I seem to be becoming continually more and more neglectful of my poor blog. Oh well. If you want to read you'll forgive me, I hope. So...boarding. Yup, actually, it's kind of good. I have just realised how incredibly busy it is though. I mean, wow. I thought I was busy before. Then I found out about boarder's games and studies. We all have our failings. I also saw a football match. You can say I'm type casting, but I've got to admit, I didn't expect a football match in the derelict top gym of a private English boarding school to comprise of the top footballing nations in the world. South Africa, Germany, Spain, Australia and of course, good ol' England all turned up for the show. Except, the South African was about 6, and the two English players consisted of my brother and myself- let me tell you, my coordination is not only poor, it has repeatedly earned itself the right to a health warning. Any hoo, other than that, they threw me a surprise party!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was so awesome, really really cool!!! As for the more surreal side of my life, I had a happy birthday sung to me from Kaoshiung, Hong Kong, Australia, Spain and Somerset. Yeah- I know. Plus my Dad's organising for me to spend some time at Cambridge, which will be awesome if I get on top of my organisation and get it sorted. I got a LOAD of cards, so not all of them have been stuck up, but heaps of people said they read my blog so there- it's not just junk, it's (another) means of international communication. Hopefully my friend who lives near York will kidnap me from school soon,because I miss him. He has an awesome girlfriend too (by the sounds of it) and if she's good enough for him, I definitely want an introduction. I recently went to a disco. It was great, two of the Aussie gappies had a dance off (no one was really dancing except for the loonys: me and my two friends, one of whom is Spanish). It was really cool, and all these little kids coupled off, sorry, I hope I'm not too mushy, but I had to admit it was sweet. In answer to MissLotti, that's a really thoughtful idea, sadly I don't do servitude, hows about giving her the 2p I have left after my shopping trip and the cinema? Back to the blog though. It seems I have a party to go to again, and it's great- I'm worried about dressing down too much or dressing up too little. Oh well. I'll live...as long as I don't wear stilettos. It seems my taste in the opposite sex is intercontinental- hey, a life of travel can affect you in more ways than one! At the moment though, not to sound cliched (I can't get an accent on this thing) I feel like a caged bird. Still people are helping with that, and I suppose it's given me time to refine my non existent social skills. Anyway, better be off, cheerio chaps, and please comment!

I'm back!..from the abyss

Hi!! I'm back. Sorry I didn't update very quickly. I mean, I could bore you with the catch ups: Canoeing to a deserted village; climbing in abandoned houses; getting picked up by a gorgeous American stranger; having dinner at the Hong Kong football club (amazingly down Sports Road); being thrashed by a seven year old with the same name as my brother at bowling; eating in an Italian restaurant in Hong Kong for dinner on New Years Eve; then falling asleep before New Year; seeing the best film of all time- Twilight; or cirucmnavigating the globe with no one but a 12 year old with a better sense of direction than me. But I'm worried you might get uninterested, so I'm just going to pick up from here, okay? It's really great certain people are reading my blog, hi Cazz!!! Hi Heather!! I'm glad I'll be able to update you, and I'm sure you'll gather from you're knowledge of me and past exploits what is fact and what is fiction. I've started boarding at boarding school. It's actually kind of good. I have to admit I was a bit worried. I mean, who actually wants to live in school. I hear you echo my sentiment. Well, as it turns out, I do. Seriously, I know that sounds insane, but get this, wake up at 7.15am, have breakfast at 7.45, get cleaners to clean the dishes and take out the dishes and hang out in your room reading magazines and listening to music. Plus I get to hang out way more with my friends who board, and the others, feeling sorry for me, are inviting me to their houses even more often. I mean, I feel wanted! Plus so far, I've only got lost 3 times- and all I'm missing are hair ties, tights for cadets and a birthday present for a friend. Oh, and on my first day, I lost the key for my massive box of clothes in 15 MINUTES. So we got our friends to come in to school, on the last day of the holiday, at 6PM. Shortly after I used the spare key provided by said friends to open my trunk, I found my original key, UNDER MY BED. I know, don't ask. Anyway, it's the end of break, so I've got to wrap it up. Till next time!!! Please comment!!!!