tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673907461132750822024-03-05T04:11:51.247+00:00Talita TwoshoesNew Horizons. Positive.Mental.Attitude. Music. The Arts. My Life choices.Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-37783888796644640062015-04-16T21:55:00.000+01:002015-04-16T21:55:39.917+01:00Changing Lanes<h3>
The journey of my career path so far... </h3>
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(my thoughts on how to change career... many times, and whether it matters)</h4>
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I went to a talk the other week at The School of Life by John Gray (Straw Dogs) and Alain de Botton (The School of Life). In it Alain asked John what he thought about the two great myths of our time - The myth of career, and the myth of love. John answered that the career was dead, but both "Work & Love are not entirely dissimilar - both show we are of value to other humans".<div>
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When i look back on my myth of a career so far, it doesn't make sense in any standard bureaucracy. I can imagine companies receiving my CV and thinking: </div>
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1) Who the hell are Earache Records? </div>
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2) What does this girl want from her career? </div>
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3) How has she worked at all these festivals and done all this stuff, she must be lying? </div>
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4) She clearly doesn't know what she wants to have tried all these different things. </div>
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5) This is not the standard, reliable background / formation I would like our employee to have, lets go with someone with more consistent experience.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1E51-4KBFs7dOEmqw-LO1cixKrnJ9hGCCHnpEp_9ku7RU3OzN9OG9tBdeqJm5bHI4b37fI4TRCP0-igcZ4ueVb22T4UqUFsnMFwFLgYu6HjsUGM72GN5I_FeOVIEIDXuLuh7Gc9GPg0/s1600/420089_343851122301794_1422127849_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1E51-4KBFs7dOEmqw-LO1cixKrnJ9hGCCHnpEp_9ku7RU3OzN9OG9tBdeqJm5bHI4b37fI4TRCP0-igcZ4ueVb22T4UqUFsnMFwFLgYu6HjsUGM72GN5I_FeOVIEIDXuLuh7Gc9GPg0/s1600/420089_343851122301794_1422127849_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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(Here's a photo of me giving a weird motivational speech at Uxfest, </div>
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Islington Academy (now o2) in 2006)</div>
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(Not in any particular order) I've worked as a youth worker, i ran projects at a children's charity, I've presented rock radio, i have run a french hip hop club, a rock festival, i have a degree in french and European studies, i have managed bands, i have a degree in theatre from a french university, i have presented on Japanese TV, i have been a TV researcher, I've worked in a theatre box office, I managed publicity for a record label, I've worked on festivals in all sorts of places, I've been an artist liaison, I've been a backstage manager, I've done crowd management, i worked at the Olympics, i made a film about graffiti artists that was never seen, i ran social media campaigns, i went back to school again, i discovered a love of painting, i went freelance...</div>
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A lot of these things seem similar to me. They have different job titles, but to me, as i was the same person when i was doing all these things, the skills have all been mine and I look at it as just a normal progression. </div>
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I don't want to make this blog about CV writing because honestly there is nothing as galling as writing and rewriting your bloody CV, let alone reading a blog about it. I still find writing a CV <i>the most mind numbing thing on the planet </i>apart from maybe listening to party political broadcasts, BUT i have learnt a few things about having a myth of a career that goes across 'different industries' - </div>
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1. How people like CVs to look is really personal to them. You cannot anticipate the way people like CVs laid out.</div>
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2. People do check LinkedIn (even though it is super annoying)</div>
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3. Seeking help is important - i was so lucky with two people in particular (Thank you Ewa and Jon) helping me out over the years trying to gather my thoughts, find the right language and to...</div>
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4. Break your work experience down into skills</div>
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- The skills will really tell you where you're at, where the gaps are and where you can go next...</div>
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Anyway, enough about CVs, what i wanted to get to is a lot of people are still surprised that i left Rival Sons last summer (Isle of Wight Festival 2014) and then 2 months later started working for the Zoological Society of London. It seems like a big change... but is it really? If you look at the skill set to me there is a lot of overlap... because i am the same person!</div>
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<br />You may already know how much i love Rival Sons. Without overstating it, these guys have supported me, been grateful for my work, been my true friends and generally done a lot more than most bands would for their publicist. So you can imagine that it was a very difficult decision to say goodbye to working with them after being there from day dot. </div>
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John Gray was right, when he said "Work & Love are not entirely dissimilar - both show we are of value to other humans" - I have always felt immensely valued by Rival Sons, but my myth of a career path needed to go a different route. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-IcY8uER86xqR-24A-HJ7IrkXy6OVMyZGM2rVWyk-vzhEgVIR-dwknQ8BodwprJaAiFMKBqA7pi74wAwM6OtupMwCfiHioyq-9tu5TlLOgLTVJT_7IJjd6o4N_R9Zn19zuqB4zIUt9U/s1600/10592945_10152728778726772_7200243092047045885_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-IcY8uER86xqR-24A-HJ7IrkXy6OVMyZGM2rVWyk-vzhEgVIR-dwknQ8BodwprJaAiFMKBqA7pi74wAwM6OtupMwCfiHioyq-9tu5TlLOgLTVJT_7IJjd6o4N_R9Zn19zuqB4zIUt9U/s1600/10592945_10152728778726772_7200243092047045885_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here are Rival Sons on the set of Letterman last year, wishing me Happy Birthday. What a band.</div>
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My heart has never really been with music publicity, my heart was with the Rival Sons, with the music, with the creativity. Truth be told at times i disliked doing music publicity. I fell into it and it was never really a career choice i made. After 6.5 years at Earache and 2 years freelance, the <i>other</i> stuff i did over and above publicity, was more important to me than being between rock (n'roll) and a hard place in the no-win game that is music PR. That's not to say i didn't have a lot of fun, and i am very grateful for many of the opportunities i got, but for a long time, for myself, i needed something else.</div>
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It seems to me that there are few places to progress to from the role of a female music PR, and i can't understand why anyone would want to be a music PR forever. Even if you are working with the best bands, your existence is dependent on their choices as if you are living vicariously through them. Maybe you switch sides and become a journalist, maybe you tour, maybe you do film PR or similar. None of these options appealed to me.</div>
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I needed time to find my own creativity, and to get to what i really wanted and needed. After i left Earache Records in 2012 i began to realise how much i love all forms of art. I was lucky that although my strange myth of a career path was too diverse for many HR managers, it did allow me a spectrum of experience in the Arts, enough that through my skill set i could apply for the job i now have a the Zoological Society of London running their Arts & Culture programme.</div>
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What i want to say to people with a real range of talents who have worked in lots of different creative sectors, is - don't think you have to take the direct route in your chosen job. Having multiple strings to your bow actually affords you a strange kind of freedom outside the bounds of the 'myth' of the career path, and a perspective that is so useful to a future employer - and if a career itself turns out to be a myth in future years, as predicted by John Gray and Alan De Botton, then you will be in a much stronger position.</div>
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Rely on yourself and your hard-won skills, because whatever job you're in, you're still the same person. After all, your job isn't your identity.</div>
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Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-21643027532382424652011-09-10T04:55:00.000+01:002011-09-10T04:55:22.438+01:00Absence makes the blog grow fonder?
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You know how they say in
music the absence of sound is as important as the melody – the rests are as
vital as the tune? Or in art how the negative space is what makes the painting
– well it’s the same with blogs right? Hence the past year without a blog – is
as important as the blog itself… right? SURE.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">... in any case - Tadaima! I'm back!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And about to head to India for 3 weeks, so expect lots of musings on Indian culture, and trying to get back into the swing of blogging regularly, it was something i enjoyed immensely (rather like talking to myself in public)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">;-)</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-19362492593373982082010-06-25T21:16:00.002+01:002011-04-04T13:14:35.587+01:00Live without Fear<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wrote most of this blog over 4 months ago... but i haven't felt able to post it </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You may have noticed, that i haven't blogged for quite a while</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">because of ongoing issues... but here goes</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">- - - </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I recently read an interview maybe in the evening Standard with a lady who i can't remember the name of now who would be termed by E! Entertainment channel as a cougar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her famous boyfriend is 20 years or so younger than her, and she’s just very happily, become pregnant. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m sure if I googled it I could find out who she was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It wasn’t so much the fact she was a cougar and dating a younger man that resonated with me, and has made me type this little missive, although of course, it did strike a chord, but it was that she said her main motto and plan has always been to live without fear.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’ve been thinking about this a lot. To live without fear. Fear of getting older, Fear of going out with someone younger. (That’s just in terms of the context of this article) But fear can permeate so many things. Fear is anxiety, fear is worry, fear is stress, fear is in some ways guilt. And all of it is pretty much unnecessary. I’m sure my Dad being infinitely practical and pragmatic would say “Talita, fear is a natural defense” and that “Fear would save neanderthal man from the beast” Yes, its true that fear can give you the edge you need. Like performers going on stage. Or broadcasters getting behind the mic. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that to live without fear is an admirable goal I think, and something that makes me admire this lady (who I can’t remember the name of) who tries to live her life without it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I once read a Buddhist monk say “My religion, is to live, and die, without regret”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think this is very similar to living without fear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Recently I’ve come up against a situation that made me scared, having fear of something is a horrid feeling. And that’s over and on top of the normal anxieties and fears you get as a PR i.e. “Will I get this album’s press sorted in time” and “How the hell am I supposed to fit all this in?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fear, like anger, really being scared of something is a horrid feeling that seems to swim in your gut then pop up in your mind. I don’t like it. And what’s more, I’m not the kind of person who would shrivel, I like to summon up courage and go and deal with it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Is it possible to live without fear?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes I think I have too much fear and hence safety in my life. When I got mugged last year and they got away with nothing, I think it helped that I’m to a degree always on my guard and that I wasn’t too coy to shout loud, and that I wouldn’t let go of my stuff. Arseholes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I like to think I don’t put myself in harms way too much. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But surely all these “security” measures enable me to live without fear? Or are they just the opposite?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anger is always the first emotion that is thought about when it comes to talking about destructive emotions. But I think sometimes that fear is just as bad. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fear of rejection for example, and fear of what other people think. I wonder if people didn’t feel burdened by these things how much more they might achieve, and how much closer to their dreams they may reach?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After all, if you don’t ever try, then you’ll never know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My aim is to live without fear.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I think that I’m still practising.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think I'll finish with some awesome Iron Maiden lyrics and say how excited i am about seeing them at Sonisphere this year...</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCp588HXuHrTsbWEhrA7Z80_9AFEzcfYCt7TKJNdKK43PUsLCYhHeRasGNBk6N8hhnLUAYB0omIsZ7FbSiT_5vFcTbk1A69r08padXNikdXg08_V8dlgDejwwheOAgAlIYfC3MXx4hGr4/s1600/09.Fear_Of_The_Dark.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCp588HXuHrTsbWEhrA7Z80_9AFEzcfYCt7TKJNdKK43PUsLCYhHeRasGNBk6N8hhnLUAYB0omIsZ7FbSiT_5vFcTbk1A69r08padXNikdXg08_V8dlgDejwwheOAgAlIYfC3MXx4hGr4/s320/09.Fear_Of_The_Dark.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">I am a man who walks alone<br />
And when I'm walking a dark road<br />
At night or strolling through the park<br />
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When the light begins to change<br />
I sometimes feel a little strange<br />
A little anxious when it's dark.<br />
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Fear of the dark,fear of the dark<br />
I have constant fear that something's always near<br />
Fear of the dark,fear of the dark<br />
I have a phobia that someone's always there<br />
<br />
Have you run your fingers down the wall<br />
And have you felt your neck skin crawl<br />
When you're searching for the light ?<br />
Sometimes when you're scared to take a look<br />
At the corner of the room<br />
You've sensed that something's watching you.<br />
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Have you ever been alone at night<br />
Thought you heard footsteps behind<br />
And turned around and no-one's there ?<br />
And as you quicken up your pace<br />
You find it hard to look again<br />
Because you're sure there's someone there<br />
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Watching horror films the night before<br />
Debating witches and folklore<br />
The unknown troubles on your mind<br />
Maybe your mind is playing tricks<br />
You sense,and suddenly eyes fix<br />
On dancing shadows from behind.<br />
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Fear of the dark, fear of the dark<br />
I have a constant fear, thought you heard<br />
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark<br />
I have a phobia that someone's always there.<br />
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When I'm walking a dark road<br />
I am a man who walks alone</span></span></span></div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-12554252789710060522010-03-05T00:36:00.000+00:002010-03-05T00:36:15.080+00:00Amadou and Mariam<div class="MsoNormal">My new found love for Amadou and Mariam</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I just thought I would note that although I love metal I love many other types of music and my current new love is Amadou and Mariam. They remind me of a cassette tape I used to have of Habib Koite. And I think they’re fab.</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt;">Here’s a youtube:</span><br />
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</span><br />
<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fbDqorrAhgY&hl=en_GB&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fbDqorrAhgY&hl=en_GB&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-60589973630759842052010-03-04T19:51:00.000+00:002010-03-04T19:51:14.361+00:00Istanbul<div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Istanbul</st1:place></st1:city></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last year I aimed to go to <st1:city w:st="on">Buenos Aires</st1:city>, <st1:city w:st="on">Istanbul</st1:city> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tibet</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Its nearly a year ago now that I made it to <st1:city w:st="on">Buenos Aires</st1:city>, and its nearly 6 whole months ago that I made it to <st1:country-region w:st="on">Tibet</st1:country-region>… but I didn’t make it to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Istanbul</st1:city></st1:place> – but this year 2010 I did! And I have already. Tick!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">No, really, I don’t think about countries and cities as something to tick off some never ending list. Cause in reality once you’ve visited them once they’re not “done” and you never can see everything - in my whole life in London i've never "done" London and Tibet, for me, will never be “done”- it's a love affair! And Bhutan, so beautiful I will long to go back to for a long time I should think (its very expensive!)</div><div class="MsoNormal">But there’s a lot more to discover! And when an opportunity to go to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Istanbul</st1:place></st1:city> came up with my boyfriend (travelling with my boyfriend and not alone… shocking, I know!) I of course said YES!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Istanbul is a very interesting city, not only because of the geographic setting at the very cusp of Europe and Asia, and of course because of the fascinating architecture and Iznik art, which I did a lot of looking at – but because of the history of the place and for me, the historical religious mixture and the changes between Christianity and Islam, and the relationship between the two.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were staying right near the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia that sit almost opposite each other, and are both mosques, although once the Hagia Sofia was a Basillica.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghik26Ukge_iGqjWBPpBldWWJcFQ-0dDl5Fya4jptG0OuLqM-IX0EnoG0h0cTL5euKDEyYHkrGdNA4MKvLhA8DMxUg-wpdBOvyTCqQqU1YDuxtTpc9Lv3ezOY0PDoNgfhxhdecTt3K6Js/s1600-h/IMG_5330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghik26Ukge_iGqjWBPpBldWWJcFQ-0dDl5Fya4jptG0OuLqM-IX0EnoG0h0cTL5euKDEyYHkrGdNA4MKvLhA8DMxUg-wpdBOvyTCqQqU1YDuxtTpc9Lv3ezOY0PDoNgfhxhdecTt3K6Js/s320/IMG_5330.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi91rTiP7_MTHkmqetFsfZQUu-ReeuptPS9PW30Jair7jd-3N2N6_YhbFSlIJbyOYDMkwK3OTxIabIO471OYi9mSX9taDQr0othN6lIOB0KTYZutuhlTVWwsCj-LCk1qcrXVp3C5BX6g0/s1600-h/IMG_5564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi91rTiP7_MTHkmqetFsfZQUu-ReeuptPS9PW30Jair7jd-3N2N6_YhbFSlIJbyOYDMkwK3OTxIabIO471OYi9mSX9taDQr0othN6lIOB0KTYZutuhlTVWwsCj-LCk1qcrXVp3C5BX6g0/s320/IMG_5564.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hagia Sofia and Blue Mosque</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Hagia Sofia is fascinating, it is grand, and magnificent and very impressive. With mosaics of Jesus and Mary still on the walls, but crosses that have been removed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7kdhFHhLk53XDvm88PdwuF6REXGSQfexmAja3JAbwiqemQk3QluPrZ9nM6F-xlhPV2ySA4294fHnteZJfK1KOQ4UitRQgpon2Tx7oevFv9JNaEdcff4RB-RLw7j9qzAtOqw0FTtbD7g/s1600-h/IMG_5338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY7kdhFHhLk53XDvm88PdwuF6REXGSQfexmAja3JAbwiqemQk3QluPrZ9nM6F-xlhPV2ySA4294fHnteZJfK1KOQ4UitRQgpon2Tx7oevFv9JNaEdcff4RB-RLw7j9qzAtOqw0FTtbD7g/s320/IMG_5338.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTm11KVYTQVM9yrfHpVxxbi2AyTi_45zP211rm9xjfW-Jztf_hOz7X7GXT0nWxixpgO30j6Pdiixd-kN3yhm6GdNavjGwlX3pZ37h4zWuyeaDzPB916-Hkyk3tnH2uWln2_rbi0Cg3hFY/s1600-h/IMG_5345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTm11KVYTQVM9yrfHpVxxbi2AyTi_45zP211rm9xjfW-Jztf_hOz7X7GXT0nWxixpgO30j6Pdiixd-kN3yhm6GdNavjGwlX3pZ37h4zWuyeaDzPB916-Hkyk3tnH2uWln2_rbi0Cg3hFY/s320/IMG_5345.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDJg4RJQGtuag8_FAxhoP1Fysmje-buduvAskcc3fc1VFjHrpJBlEMxIc-AqOEMuJqM-Xy4qv8KfFLWFkq4Ndm_nQr26l6xXY-Ptl1N7VMlLvvdcHol9NEzFareWlTuY1QrLBZGfOn_g/s1600-h/IMG_5370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDJg4RJQGtuag8_FAxhoP1Fysmje-buduvAskcc3fc1VFjHrpJBlEMxIc-AqOEMuJqM-Xy4qv8KfFLWFkq4Ndm_nQr26l6xXY-Ptl1N7VMlLvvdcHol9NEzFareWlTuY1QrLBZGfOn_g/s320/IMG_5370.JPG" /></a>I can't see those crosses<br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWr-RGoxXYz5EUbEpr2uWZd8gH2DWsd3q6ndErnm5Yk6M59MAHMBX3_uOdn1_pVCvFmKXMD51XibJTc4EuoxnJlXM94HFpQhyY6oBEYlD3IxHoVQ4AXpl8eFKybEVYX6DDaWXCZak0EA/s1600-h/IMG_5359.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWr-RGoxXYz5EUbEpr2uWZd8gH2DWsd3q6ndErnm5Yk6M59MAHMBX3_uOdn1_pVCvFmKXMD51XibJTc4EuoxnJlXM94HFpQhyY6oBEYlD3IxHoVQ4AXpl8eFKybEVYX6DDaWXCZak0EA/s320/IMG_5359.JPG" /></a>Mihrab in the Hagia Sofia<br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQsNFqgzqsHbwWjhbVUAySy-t548n8Z1rixBAX9EU_SlTsnpO6OOr2sAwYOu-CHgxySPjx-mSOUrD8yfTRdw3I2bKFkJYGUfWasq_BckU1l2YItAwGKn_plGSc2nGwchJKobfWmcRMRQ/s1600-h/IMG_5342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQsNFqgzqsHbwWjhbVUAySy-t548n8Z1rixBAX9EU_SlTsnpO6OOr2sAwYOu-CHgxySPjx-mSOUrD8yfTRdw3I2bKFkJYGUfWasq_BckU1l2YItAwGKn_plGSc2nGwchJKobfWmcRMRQ/s320/IMG_5342.JPG" /></a> This is where you get to look out of if you're a girl! So lucky!<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is one angel with a face, whereas the other angel’s faces have been covered over as I believe in Iznik art you cannot represent people or animals.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGe6eWQh5xuQOfH2GZdbN-UhveL6NexUqB-YqBywiDek10BpYstcpkAj344rbfik_vH2Xukj_NKAJRjkjDnoojFgx4x58nQg3RuCJbcDk3OSwKkEgZicaWE84EpxpRJGmgbd69h6kNXbo/s1600-h/IMG_5328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGe6eWQh5xuQOfH2GZdbN-UhveL6NexUqB-YqBywiDek10BpYstcpkAj344rbfik_vH2Xukj_NKAJRjkjDnoojFgx4x58nQg3RuCJbcDk3OSwKkEgZicaWE84EpxpRJGmgbd69h6kNXbo/s320/IMG_5328.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Which is why you end up with such lovely tiles, which I saw quite a lot of!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtJa-w0qywuP0g9JfkQBOEo63DLEiNuQ-hXp7KdIMKnVPT-w_OFP46f0cjD-3_-tkqq1a-wCAYiIEI0gpIiiAe7NYUhOtyNEfqRKBzwohXLcFi2I4hfx6NrEwoKuzCQeyMHkc1yQ_-vc/s1600-h/IMG_5404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtJa-w0qywuP0g9JfkQBOEo63DLEiNuQ-hXp7KdIMKnVPT-w_OFP46f0cjD-3_-tkqq1a-wCAYiIEI0gpIiiAe7NYUhOtyNEfqRKBzwohXLcFi2I4hfx6NrEwoKuzCQeyMHkc1yQ_-vc/s320/IMG_5404.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-u8vCUfSR2o0splEqy9AXCjqsoVFGF2NNk9PnwRjlOpcEzE9uFSH0Nl90_NQV9AA3l2B0x9Rjx0_Ey98CwqkXPXE4JsdOu56ht9jl3mtZo1Lndf0qbW7m6nirFZABjnJ_aPH4EhglI90/s1600-h/IMG_5531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-u8vCUfSR2o0splEqy9AXCjqsoVFGF2NNk9PnwRjlOpcEzE9uFSH0Nl90_NQV9AA3l2B0x9Rjx0_Ey98CwqkXPXE4JsdOu56ht9jl3mtZo1Lndf0qbW7m6nirFZABjnJ_aPH4EhglI90/s320/IMG_5531.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Blue Mosque is not as impressive inside as the Hagia Sofia, but still very beautiful. Unfortunately its surrounded by carpet salesmen claiming the Mosque is closed, and so you have to visit their shop. Errrr…</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG45SnIZVrB6haGS2ywAgbwqsy9rpVcG9CsXqdy2CVvy77Mesl0aN4GbFK89PRwBzW20O7Jeygr1gOlSd-mxb1sWWWr0Kr5l7_dW32Qz8ylGgukS22v561JD5eAmWeDkiMjK4bJ49QjJw/s1600-h/IMG_5568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG45SnIZVrB6haGS2ywAgbwqsy9rpVcG9CsXqdy2CVvy77Mesl0aN4GbFK89PRwBzW20O7Jeygr1gOlSd-mxb1sWWWr0Kr5l7_dW32Qz8ylGgukS22v561JD5eAmWeDkiMjK4bJ49QjJw/s320/IMG_5568.JPG" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We visited lots of wonderful places The Hagia Sofia, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dolmabahce Palace</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolmabahçe_Palace )The Architectural museum, The Roman cistern, The Chora Church and i sat through a call to prayer in one of the mosques which was captivating and lovely.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVQksg6OLrfTTqon6CyMKmbNwccssH4YFdHcPWDPYWw9_gaVGqCoPCRAPxF-VSlnPe_4dTOq9NcoGK4e51wiBXILo2Xb1vIJ5evpVh5XRwKg9IfQoomIOBYRmVPWsfLw1pUODAhlRaaQ/s1600-h/IMG_5386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVQksg6OLrfTTqon6CyMKmbNwccssH4YFdHcPWDPYWw9_gaVGqCoPCRAPxF-VSlnPe_4dTOq9NcoGK4e51wiBXILo2Xb1vIJ5evpVh5XRwKg9IfQoomIOBYRmVPWsfLw1pUODAhlRaaQ/s320/IMG_5386.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Roman Cistern</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR21lCtHYpVied85ZkFWi142SZ-l1oo0BzignhgHUMsEqY8NvRkT3q5uWmm_mR0aHeeqLwyelBGaBGueDymDxTDTQ01Pb50sjL6pzmI6dcCbKlTuXlJG-V1eL1BIU2xn1OfiHreckVlrc/s1600-h/IMG_5595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR21lCtHYpVied85ZkFWi142SZ-l1oo0BzignhgHUMsEqY8NvRkT3q5uWmm_mR0aHeeqLwyelBGaBGueDymDxTDTQ01Pb50sjL6pzmI6dcCbKlTuXlJG-V1eL1BIU2xn1OfiHreckVlrc/s320/IMG_5595.JPG" /></a>Mary and Joseph having a snog on the wall of the Chora Church 14th C<br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeezufZoiy4lbaImZ7ZJDpgEfZdZSPW2AlERCf2iRUBXR39zO7UU30H7JFeMrOuM2LYilDSRPLJ7lkOuHLvxKv2wkfZLUjwJjL39n_jE3uiXfQ4s082z07aD1h3Qk0wswcEjK1w0mnGQ/s1600-h/IMG_5602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzeezufZoiy4lbaImZ7ZJDpgEfZdZSPW2AlERCf2iRUBXR39zO7UU30H7JFeMrOuM2LYilDSRPLJ7lkOuHLvxKv2wkfZLUjwJjL39n_jE3uiXfQ4s082z07aD1h3Qk0wswcEjK1w0mnGQ/s320/IMG_5602.JPG" /></a>I said no no no no no - early backing dancer breaking out the attitude, 14th Century religious pop video. Bling.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was particularly interested in The Topkapi palace and their “The sacred trusts” rooms. In those rooms was not only some very interesting panels explaining some of Koran and the Muslim Old testament beliefs (I have never finished reading the Koran myself, although I intend to one day!) but also Abrahams saucepan, St John the Baptists arm, Somebody else’s turban (sorry! Joseph's! As in he had a coat of many colours!) and The Prophet Mohammed’s cape (sorry, its a blessed mantle). Or at least lots of boxes that may have housed his Blessed mantle.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhsEuObMxrOEFljTvR72JrzfidzvgtWyIjdb8impIgZZb-Ai0rT3rxLPkN2ty6PEzEB83OWkp1npEAtYrTq64AmYBsliJsgUoEYhs3U6WU7qiMG1x7BUDCSwffl6qACRlG_ApjOghSn4/s1600-h/arm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhsEuObMxrOEFljTvR72JrzfidzvgtWyIjdb8impIgZZb-Ai0rT3rxLPkN2ty6PEzEB83OWkp1npEAtYrTq64AmYBsliJsgUoEYhs3U6WU7qiMG1x7BUDCSwffl6qACRlG_ApjOghSn4/s320/arm.jpg" /></a><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">I like this idea of religious artefacts. Its fun. Humans need tangiable things to look at. But I do think that it was one of the 10 commandements something about idolatry. Oh no wait false idols. So does that include statues of Jesus, <st1:city w:st="on">St John</st1:city> the Baptists arm, a splinter of the cross, the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Turin</st1:place></st1:city> shroud and the Prophet Mohammed’s cape? Or does it just refer to Pop Idol, Golden calves and the Pantheon of Greek gods in painted marble?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Out of all the religious artefacts I’ve seen I most like St. John the Baptist’s arm at the Topkapi, and the idea of St. Therese’s bones (these are in Liseux) cause they have magic (sorry, not magic, holy) powers that can heal!</div><div class="MsoNormal">Hell yes!</div><div class="MsoNormal">I mean Heavens yes!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am the worst kind of sceptic. A sarcastic one.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh maybe I am the best kind of sceptic. An interested one. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Topkapi treasury is very impressive too, talking of golden idols, the jewels the sultan wore are amazing!</div><div class="MsoNormal">I especially was a fan of the Topkapi dagger with the HUGE emeralds. <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Amazing!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrAvnSiGaXmPkht91buYEix3BTuX_zA2Z2imUeL7nU1DFvbqrv3l0qU3OTl06pVOleO6HRv9Cda82mEo_kmi_6nxPJmrH76fcEZ454QXhHIoB6EtYDyXVWvyHqDZMDvqVTL6EvE3ieWRQ/s1600-h/IMG_5417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrAvnSiGaXmPkht91buYEix3BTuX_zA2Z2imUeL7nU1DFvbqrv3l0qU3OTl06pVOleO6HRv9Cda82mEo_kmi_6nxPJmrH76fcEZ454QXhHIoB6EtYDyXVWvyHqDZMDvqVTL6EvE3ieWRQ/s400/IMG_5417.JPG" width="400" /></a><o:p> </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">We took a ferry and crossed over to <st1:place w:st="on">Asia</st1:place> for a few hours. (It takes 20 mins) but I enjoyed the “other side”, it had some interesting markets, and everything seemed to be a bit cheaper than the European side.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Also the view of the hazy skyline of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Istanbul</st1:place></st1:city> that is so recognisable because of the hundreds of Mosques, maybe even thousands is great from the ferry.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSQTmhrTlC9EkE6OLjj9_W_QB0fzqWx4ZQENbkeRKK__qs0D2M91KaVcO4XeB17AUj4zJJqDMzmUIeG1ORwded1Xd3z8gZJ_vV8E2XJC91VlFdDNV7qM4N7PZpKVvAqyicf0rxzUe_rc/s1600-h/IMG_5432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkSQTmhrTlC9EkE6OLjj9_W_QB0fzqWx4ZQENbkeRKK__qs0D2M91KaVcO4XeB17AUj4zJJqDMzmUIeG1ORwded1Xd3z8gZJ_vV8E2XJC91VlFdDNV7qM4N7PZpKVvAqyicf0rxzUe_rc/s400/IMG_5432.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The weather wasn’t that great, as it was February, But it was warmer than snowy <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">England</st1:country-region></st1:place> which was a welcome break, and it felt like I hadn’t seen the sun in forever! So I was very happy to drink apple tea with my face in the sun by the Bosphorous!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh, and I suppose I should mention that Apple tea has to be one of my new favourite things and I think I’ll go and make myself a cup right now! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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p.s. Please note my little cats of Istanbul photo diary:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzFoXncVxFvUnxMeHUVLR87FSh0AImImsJWB7md9OIWcmq7yC9j0s6mEEVWBwp1EXOYxSuYU-hkaOxTaQ4FeZLPvhowz7JsOaCflkSUh0Dq3AYHFUYhJYTv8qdZtsX-cVD0yQhFrPQws/s1600-h/IMG_5440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzFoXncVxFvUnxMeHUVLR87FSh0AImImsJWB7md9OIWcmq7yC9j0s6mEEVWBwp1EXOYxSuYU-hkaOxTaQ4FeZLPvhowz7JsOaCflkSUh0Dq3AYHFUYhJYTv8qdZtsX-cVD0yQhFrPQws/s320/IMG_5440.JPG" /></a>Cat on photos</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFje218PFngD4kmMI2kDKilQvsx6i4ZtOzS9iEPy73DziF2gYQ7kPVKErnf5F8m2AQjUdV4zwysI0kOJPLw0SH5diAOTo2oD3kD22bBvAETk8NBap5LlJMBmqbq87autTDdyVu-tjvGQ/s1600-h/IMG_5513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFje218PFngD4kmMI2kDKilQvsx6i4ZtOzS9iEPy73DziF2gYQ7kPVKErnf5F8m2AQjUdV4zwysI0kOJPLw0SH5diAOTo2oD3kD22bBvAETk8NBap5LlJMBmqbq87autTDdyVu-tjvGQ/s320/IMG_5513.JPG" /></a>Cat chased up tree by dogs who look very proud of themselves<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjG95mJuXap46Z4UmkgqivZjqf_o-y7fQX5RuIDstwerQfavVTcjELXTr3kGs9Kd6gL6ppBBEVLElVY8IbLd62iFtT-kbdelwPdp8-m10SnYlPqQgEsC0UobJSSBtX9XvR3WOQ1tGdhA/s1600-h/IMG_5444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkjG95mJuXap46Z4UmkgqivZjqf_o-y7fQX5RuIDstwerQfavVTcjELXTr3kGs9Kd6gL6ppBBEVLElVY8IbLd62iFtT-kbdelwPdp8-m10SnYlPqQgEsC0UobJSSBtX9XvR3WOQ1tGdhA/s400/IMG_5444.JPG" width="225" /></a>Two cats, and lots of fish</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-74347850102979862682010-02-26T10:55:00.000+00:002010-02-26T10:55:16.822+00:00Paris Paris<div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city> <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I do have a love affair with <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city>. I love affair with the people there that I adore (I am vehemently against this sentiment of a lot of British people “Oh I love <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1:place>, but unfortunately it’s full of French” 1. Generally speaking I find French people lovely 2. Some of my family and best friends are French 3. The snooty French are hilarious! Loosen up!) and with the <st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city> that I see through films like “Les amants du pont neuf” and “Subway” and “Amelie”, and also with the great memories I have from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place>. Plus of course the general French culture and the specific Parisian culture, that is oh-so-more-impressive right? <st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city> <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place></div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, its rare that I have a band play in Paris, for all its delights, it doesn’t attract metal bands all that often, especially not those under a certain level… and that level is generally very different in France to in the UK as French metal culture is a really strange fish.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve been trying to study French metal culture for… a long time now. Probably at least 10 years.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I used to think that for a metal band to work in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> they used to have to be beautiful, artistic, or politically active. </div><div class="MsoNormal">That’s what I used to think. And to a certain degree it still holds true, but it’s so much more complex than that. Taking into account the French laws about airplay of songs in French and the national support of French bands before those from abroad, the whole approach is different.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would like to theorise that it’s something to do with the influence or lack of influence of the 1950’s teenage confidential style rebellion that happened in the States. Unlike in the UK or the US the parental power structure didn’t seem to be undermined to such and extent and the respect for your elders, and the natural chic obeissance seemed to continue unabashed with the new rock n roll / beatnik / free thinkers being acceptable by the artistic French rather than repelled.</div><div class="MsoNormal">But that of course would be too huge of a generalisation, and it’s to a degree an unfounded hypothesis. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I have thought about these things and wondered though. The 80’s seemed to be missing the impact in <st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region> that it had in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>. No Maggie Thatcher. And their best attempt at Heavy metal was … Trust?</div><div class="MsoNormal">You’d think some industrial town like <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Le Mans</st1:city></st1:place> or something could have produced a Black Sabbath? Or as opposed to actually going on strike the French workers could have voiced their dispute through thinly veiled satanic references and slowed down, heavied out blues rock?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Come on then you french readers – tell me what happened? What went wrong in the evolution of French heavy metal culture?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Wrong you say? Wrong? There’s nothing wrong with French Heavy metal culture…</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well… it’s true recently there’s been Gojira who’ve risen over all other French heavy metal bands to make it onto the world stage. But still the evolution of Heavy metal culture in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> is a puzzle to me. </div><div class="MsoNormal">One that I don’t know any of the answers to, and will continue to make half cocked theories about.</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so the advent of Hellfest comes around. The first proper metal festival in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">France</st1:country-region></st1:place>. And it goes from strength to strength every year. But its not in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place>, its in Clisson. Because there really couldn’t possibly be a heavy metal festival in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place>… <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> is way too chic!</div><div class="MsoNormal">But really – I think metal is regarded a way more provincial than it is in the UK with only bands like Ulver really hitting the target with a French Parisian crowd. (Are they metal at all these days?) With their arty political beautiful ex-black metal musings they are perfect for a French audience. <br />
And I was lucky to see them at La Cigale in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> last week.</div><div class="MsoNormal">And I was lucky to see Evile. One of my first thrash bands to play <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Paris</st1:city></st1:place> ever. I had to go and try and get French press there to see them. Ulver and Evile, you couldn’t get two more different bands. One at Glaz’Art – a small venue near Porte de la Villette on the Wednesday night, the other at La Cigale in Pigalle on the Friday night (in a sit down theatre).</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thrash is apparently coming back in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wonder where it went in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know it disappeared into Metalcore and grunge and all sorts in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t really know where it went in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>, because sometimes I’m not sure it was ever there in the first place. As thrash per se. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m sure that Metallica could sell out shows in secondes in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>, but I suspect they may be termed “Hard Rock” and not metal or thrash at all.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, the French metal scene will remain a conundrum to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Not to mention the appearance of the dreaded hippy. (and I mean with dreads and dogs who juggle)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItia8Nb5zy2kbR522rk1gpfjF7tCrbsAIxNjDWZDEze4n0wZHyacJE45iXmYyeF08yfdi5O9yUahCb8768QL5k2WFAOCG4zjCPheCP9H5s3CWegDGI6AEa46ay87UP7BTRmavLwj4xow/s1600-h/IMG_5106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItia8Nb5zy2kbR522rk1gpfjF7tCrbsAIxNjDWZDEze4n0wZHyacJE45iXmYyeF08yfdi5O9yUahCb8768QL5k2WFAOCG4zjCPheCP9H5s3CWegDGI6AEa46ay87UP7BTRmavLwj4xow/s400/IMG_5106.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, I spent 4 days in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> last week, flying the thrash (which is pronounced trash in French, which makes it sound like glam and/or rubbish) banner and once again trying to work out</div><div class="MsoNormal">What is French metal culture anyway?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0rOiEwpaj2ta3jct1dVnQSxKj_DYDJpRJMPZc5SVck6DkEr5ahIH-OCCeu2utoqCv8wX1IR_2MR6rxOlDabxE1KFFkGB0f81yDFN5lLNcA0ViVAlevDSTQU83I9JNCzeM5moTodOC_U/s1600-h/IMG_5169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV0rOiEwpaj2ta3jct1dVnQSxKj_DYDJpRJMPZc5SVck6DkEr5ahIH-OCCeu2utoqCv8wX1IR_2MR6rxOlDabxE1KFFkGB0f81yDFN5lLNcA0ViVAlevDSTQU83I9JNCzeM5moTodOC_U/s400/IMG_5169.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Evile in Paris</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmILqp0snZ2aXX-xPOcf-5Z96yQweV2oF3FlsmUKbzKYkACLeojLIrSQkB-PUBOv5L3ze2tLSFMuRwlSNe1lRTMjDx8r8sKC1r02ibS4L7M8m1fVrsLB9EnkHgfV9YpZgra0UBvpipjk/s1600-h/IMG_5292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmILqp0snZ2aXX-xPOcf-5Z96yQweV2oF3FlsmUKbzKYkACLeojLIrSQkB-PUBOv5L3ze2tLSFMuRwlSNe1lRTMjDx8r8sKC1r02ibS4L7M8m1fVrsLB9EnkHgfV9YpZgra0UBvpipjk/s320/IMG_5292.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hellfest meets Terrorizer and Gallimard in Paris</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPR_WX_1mayvXZOormQtT-tQ94Tx0HHf8maMAYs7p0AU7f8nH-NOuybPUvilUxwEUD1M4ImsjYS5RY5tMpXj5x_rkhoL_7ZV_RDJNeyNLj4zB7fdNruxRCnMBCHg-7yXQCFO6J-8S-z0/s1600-h/IMG_5271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPR_WX_1mayvXZOormQtT-tQ94Tx0HHf8maMAYs7p0AU7f8nH-NOuybPUvilUxwEUD1M4ImsjYS5RY5tMpXj5x_rkhoL_7ZV_RDJNeyNLj4zB7fdNruxRCnMBCHg-7yXQCFO6J-8S-z0/s320/IMG_5271.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Joel birthday celebrations in Paris, bless him - 1st Evile tour, becomes a dad for the first time on the first day of tour, then celebrates his birthday in Paris!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-32397716087410854612010-02-26T10:42:00.000+00:002010-02-26T10:42:09.437+00:00<div class="MsoNormal">Recent travels</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So we’re already well into February and I still haven’t written down any new year’s resolutions, and I haven’t written a list of places to visit in 2010 either… not that that’s stopped me travelling – I’m writing this from my second plane journey this year on my way to Istanbul!</div><div class="MsoNormal">My first holiday of the year, and my first holiday since the <st1:place w:st="on">Himalayas</st1:place>, I’m very excited! And very unprepared! I haven’t done my research!</div><div class="MsoNormal">All I can tell you is that <st1:city w:st="on">Istanbul</st1:city> was on my list of places to go last year along with <st1:country-region w:st="on">Argentina</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tibet</st1:place></st1:country-region>. And that I achieved the other two. So when the opportunity came up to go to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Istanbul</st1:place></st1:city> with my boyfriend and his family I said yes please!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But firstly let me tell you about what I’ve been up to so far this year. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dublin</st1:place></st1:city>:</div><div class="MsoNormal">I went to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dublin</st1:place></st1:city> for 1 day in January! How extravagant! I left very early one Saturday morning and came back late the same night for a Gama Bomb photoshoot and interview for Kerrang magazine. It was the preference of the photographer to do the trip all in one day, and the flight to <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Dublin</st1:city></st1:place> is under an hour, so I didn’t mind, although travelling is really exhausting and so I felt pretty wiped out the next few days after that.</div><div class="MsoNormal">All I saw of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dublin</st1:place></st1:city> really was the airport, a café, a pub, another pub, the cold, the river and the airport again. Which was a bit rubbish as far as writing about travel adventures go. It was the second time I’d visited Dublin though, the first time having been with school to take part in the “Model United Nations” conference where I was representing France on the issue of Nuclear Disarmament (I think I was 17). All I can say about Dublin then, was it involved drinking, and snogging two boys, one Irish and one Brazilian, and passing hundreds of notes around the conference which contained suggestive national pastimes of the French to delegates from other schools / countries.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would like to think my notes worked, as I did end up improving international relations through kissing.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, my experience of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dublin</st1:place></st1:city> was limited both times and I apologise to Dubliners for that, as I know your city is beautiful and I was woefully sidetracked both visits.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, Gama Bomb – the photoshoot was for a Kerrang feature on them after the release of their new album “Tales from The Grave in Space” which we (Earache) firstly released for free last November (2009). The day was very cold! Our photographer was the lovely Ashley Maile, and everything went very smoothly I’m delighted to say. Gama Bomb are one of those bands who I’m lucky to work with, as they are a right bunch of characters and Philly is a real card, who knows the difference between a trilby and a fedora, and could tell you how best to cut a figure in a waistcoat. Which maybe aren’t the normal traits you would associate with the frontman of a thrash band?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L4ceJDqHGMI7z3-E0GLHs7I6pCSWae4n1_XYBHVuC_nX0WbEYiLDrGQ-Tus17CMJE4_OHHQ0hSY1LzmTbNJ9DAErn6XdbpPDk0G0Kl1PnaCpCMeqpkNEZrvE2I8FQws5uKwrtN_tMq0/s1600-h/IMG_4376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L4ceJDqHGMI7z3-E0GLHs7I6pCSWae4n1_XYBHVuC_nX0WbEYiLDrGQ-Tus17CMJE4_OHHQ0hSY1LzmTbNJ9DAErn6XdbpPDk0G0Kl1PnaCpCMeqpkNEZrvE2I8FQws5uKwrtN_tMq0/s320/IMG_4376.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJY_eMAaExR5xE2VethBMkgRJ9xOHAjAxdkHuyRZodYqJINg75k-5D6VYN8XQVxTURjvm1-xeu4WyGH8m-eBpcnCvK8dtGYwmOEakSA3KDEsCqO5vLBtIKH-UmA5wR931IXf8thUyplM/s1600-h/IMG_4375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJY_eMAaExR5xE2VethBMkgRJ9xOHAjAxdkHuyRZodYqJINg75k-5D6VYN8XQVxTURjvm1-xeu4WyGH8m-eBpcnCvK8dtGYwmOEakSA3KDEsCqO5vLBtIKH-UmA5wR931IXf8thUyplM/s320/IMG_4375.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, first trip out of the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region> in 2010 done and dusted.</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-37116510251962056502010-01-18T12:33:00.000+00:002010-01-18T12:33:18.847+00:00Festivals 2009 / Festivals 2010<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year i went to 8 festivals:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hammerfest (April)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Legacy festival (May)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rock Hard festival (May)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Download festival (June)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hellfest (June)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Metal Town (June)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sonisphere festival (July)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bloodstock festival (August)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(+ Damnation)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that seemed to me quite a lot - more than i've ever done in one summer before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This year, 2010 i think may be even better (worse!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I'm looking forward to it already!</span><br />
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</span>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-86987333175211986062010-01-18T12:13:00.000+00:002010-01-18T12:13:23.752+00:00Advert in Kathmandu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZxoImQ4njZmZ252oy3TrcphmHsKRfrNF2UGqZ1V_ot_APgQ-i8q5xsyTHaRPye_IDqbJdLQrNdABCBkH9_TPmPkIb3pcYQuPrUPzqXieeSxXCvcxQhRXxIGb0Sdrk9ifMa_UMUS8KIY/s1600-h/Ktm1.JPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZxoImQ4njZmZ252oy3TrcphmHsKRfrNF2UGqZ1V_ot_APgQ-i8q5xsyTHaRPye_IDqbJdLQrNdABCBkH9_TPmPkIb3pcYQuPrUPzqXieeSxXCvcxQhRXxIGb0Sdrk9ifMa_UMUS8KIY/s400/Ktm1.JPG.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've been meaning to post these photos for a while, my friend in Nepal sent them to me. All the time i was in Kathmandu i kept trying to take a photo of this big advertising board at a crossroads there saying "China Forever" with a big picture of the Potala palace. But Kathmandu traffic doesn't really let you stop for photos. Kindly my friend Sunil did it for me! Thank you!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Why did i want a photo of these hoardings? Well, its just a reminder of the China tourism machine, that is brazenly promoting the Potala and Tibet as a part of the great Chinese empirical history. Its as much bollocks as the advert above it! If not more!<br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OtorCtFx0gdeYNeV4_KbatWrJz0J-0OxA-9qdxLB0qGK5k1bac6x0PeyWvf4JIUuUXvlt1MKMrjXJmMPvEYrcytyS0aMUi2hj7dZrm5iVf26dNUug4nAjXNyL07rsRO7QZXrmUGwcR0/s1600-h/Ktm.JPG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OtorCtFx0gdeYNeV4_KbatWrJz0J-0OxA-9qdxLB0qGK5k1bac6x0PeyWvf4JIUuUXvlt1MKMrjXJmMPvEYrcytyS0aMUi2hj7dZrm5iVf26dNUug4nAjXNyL07rsRO7QZXrmUGwcR0/s400/Ktm.JPG.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Still wanna go back though!Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-82580673430102123432010-01-18T12:04:00.000+00:002010-01-18T12:04:28.900+00:00Last years resolutions<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I like making New Year's resolutions. I like having a plan.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I tried to have a plan last year in 2009. Not only did i have 7 New years resolutions, but i also had a London paper horoscope for 2009 which i thought was a good plan to try and stick to. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwUtuBu-D8sc8TjIr84yjhmShgNLQIoN-bYoBZ_Tn6QXJsOAms-A0WAdUfaPDj4i-arOLyA2hD8T9H_2ZWAWt6a4VpvlLDWiB-EmQYJpkWKwnbY_WOOr_N1Q_iIb3WDHLl7FGr-j_nc0/s1600-h/IMG_4370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwUtuBu-D8sc8TjIr84yjhmShgNLQIoN-bYoBZ_Tn6QXJsOAms-A0WAdUfaPDj4i-arOLyA2hD8T9H_2ZWAWt6a4VpvlLDWiB-EmQYJpkWKwnbY_WOOr_N1Q_iIb3WDHLl7FGr-j_nc0/s400/IMG_4370.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">SO - how did my plans go?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I agree, i think 2010 was a fortunate year...</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But i didn't set up my own business, but i did plan some long-haul holidays...</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't find my soulmate, and i didn't fall pregnant...</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But, hell it was a good plan right? Haha!</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So how did i do with my own resolutions that weren't according to the stars?</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I did visit Tibet and Buenos Aires, but i didn't visit Istanbul.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't do much jogging. Its crap.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I did do my hip exercises. Sometimes.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I never passed my skating assessments.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't email a radio demo every fortnight. (But i really should have done)</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And i still don't have a paid radio show...</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">BUT you know, even if you don't achieve all of your plans, its good to have some goals, and a list.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I like ticking things off, and i like having things to look forward to.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So now i have to think about 2010. I'm not relying on the London paper horoscope this year. Instead i've bought a 2010 horoscope guide for £5.99. Surely the extra £5.99 will mean that its all BOUND to come true right? </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But now after having been to Tibet, i need to work out where i want to go this year, as after having done something you've been waiting to do for so long its difficult to know where to go next!</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At least i know i still have to get to Istanbul!</span><br />
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</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-6284964158420570632010-01-18T12:01:00.000+00:002010-01-18T12:01:46.826+00:00Talita<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">I've been meaning to write something about my name for a long time now, as i'm always getting asked about it, and its a subject that's obviously gonna be of interest to me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">So, i was named from a book of the stars my Dad had for navigation, that he'd picked up in Finland - or it was a Finnish book of stars - one or the other.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">My brother Rigel, and sister Capella are also named after stars.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">My Dad always told me my name meant "Third leap of the little gazelle" but actually it is the third leap in a row of stars that are called the "Three leaps of the little gazelle"</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0yo0-9x7Icb7Mnya2lyVLcPy2-vHolJo1z2DDu3VjQ5H3iX9ov9av9hhN_R20afolceZegpuL-oy-bb8CtROTT2g4cpgaCuvT8JJL3afg1AhSjfgwX2jNmoaPiecMYXO5Te6snc6-Eo/s1600-h/gazelle-picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ0yo0-9x7Icb7Mnya2lyVLcPy2-vHolJo1z2DDu3VjQ5H3iX9ov9av9hhN_R20afolceZegpuL-oy-bb8CtROTT2g4cpgaCuvT8JJL3afg1AhSjfgwX2jNmoaPiecMYXO5Te6snc6-Eo/s320/gazelle-picture.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">My Dad sent this to me last year when he found it online:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">"In addition to the famous seven stars of Ursa Major there are three pairs of stars that mark the feet of the bear. The Arabs imagined these as forming the tracks of a leaping gazelle. The pair Nu and Xi Ursae Majoris are called Alula Borealis and Alula Australis. The word Alula comes from an Arabic phrase meaning ‘first leap’; the distinctions ‘northern’ (Borealis) and ‘southern’ (Australis) are added in Latin. The second leap is represented by Lambda and Mu Ursae Majoris, known as Tania Borealis and Tania Australis, while the third leap is represented by Iota and Kappa Ursae Majoris, although Iota alone bears the name</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Talitha, from the Arabic meaning ‘third’."</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aoN7KhL_aGmM3fT5EskL7rwPbNydwt1n1j7QDZPvh5BrKoQk3O4amPpndgewFW-IjAn7MyWldwyoC-Ryc90PvykO0BIiuVdl9kRbduBIShmDZYlK38wfEB49wq8dPn9D4Xk8loIDTd0/s1600-h/Gazelle_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aoN7KhL_aGmM3fT5EskL7rwPbNydwt1n1j7QDZPvh5BrKoQk3O4amPpndgewFW-IjAn7MyWldwyoC-Ryc90PvykO0BIiuVdl9kRbduBIShmDZYlK38wfEB49wq8dPn9D4Xk8loIDTd0/s320/Gazelle_2.jpg" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVixLdr_sFMYplzGlyeCsXyrtMwY3MZegkSzEBGOwEoH9Hk-BRYY2jB4GDtwS_uetf9er-uWC_T0eSsbvbd2pc5ElQ3dceTAHCvkGoCLGR-dEGOkdle5it_etWO1-V8ft2iSBD_ynGLY/s1600-h/Three+Leaps+with+Pond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVixLdr_sFMYplzGlyeCsXyrtMwY3MZegkSzEBGOwEoH9Hk-BRYY2jB4GDtwS_uetf9er-uWC_T0eSsbvbd2pc5ElQ3dceTAHCvkGoCLGR-dEGOkdle5it_etWO1-V8ft2iSBD_ynGLY/s320/Three+Leaps+with+Pond.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I realised a couple of years ago that '</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mark the Evangelist' wrote in the Gospel of Mark: </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">"And Jesus took the damsel by the hand and said to her "Talitha Kumi" which means "Little Girl I say unto thee arise."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So in the story of Jesus' miracles he brought a girl back from the dead by saying "Talitha Kumi" (although she may have just been sleeping... ;-)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Little girl, get up!</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrOmkb3ptUT1tq-jALU4zg8Hx4ku7zw7VGEjEM-OCqIcimynzwAq_QV0s8nExmu4sL_Ro8c8whVF1aLgGayQ2b01UGb0C-ie4305JKyIQeaft10Yv883Da-2j52G3-zUm4GYejiSvx00/s1600-h/StMarkcoptic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxrOmkb3ptUT1tq-jALU4zg8Hx4ku7zw7VGEjEM-OCqIcimynzwAq_QV0s8nExmu4sL_Ro8c8whVF1aLgGayQ2b01UGb0C-ie4305JKyIQeaft10Yv883Da-2j52G3-zUm4GYejiSvx00/s320/StMarkcoptic.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here's St. Mark. Hiya!</span></span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_the_Evangelist">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_the_Evangelist</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Talitha (Kumi) is Aramaic; Talitha means 'Little girl' - Aramaic is the language that Jesus spoke.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyhojno-1s47ukt_8tj4PnABC9RP0dfarYKae1atpld4IDpakZGwf7NYoj_IvDoriAAS4iZ_vt4vWsEg5Z5dOGwlLnMu7POWz-LdyC-Hq3VkJg0RSn3pPtf6pAYin6yZhcTtHovQS_Ok/s1600-h/aramaic.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyhojno-1s47ukt_8tj4PnABC9RP0dfarYKae1atpld4IDpakZGwf7NYoj_IvDoriAAS4iZ_vt4vWsEg5Z5dOGwlLnMu7POWz-LdyC-Hq3VkJg0RSn3pPtf6pAYin6yZhcTtHovQS_Ok/s320/aramaic.gif" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pretty looking eh? I don't speak it, its a "dead language". But i find it fascinating - and would really like to see what Talita (Talitha - they're the same basically) would look like written down.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPWBB9PBGIkczrPiznbH9KaEfUJ0c_c3hpKVHuGq7Zv7P6RiHmO4qrd4g9d4bCzd8CVsmn1hb2XGh4_q-bU67lV0kMQDHEdDPnjoGWX223F0H0SReL5fBJX7G-2vUeq8A-ZhLTV4Ll20/s1600-h/ursamajor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPWBB9PBGIkczrPiznbH9KaEfUJ0c_c3hpKVHuGq7Zv7P6RiHmO4qrd4g9d4bCzd8CVsmn1hb2XGh4_q-bU67lV0kMQDHEdDPnjoGWX223F0H0SReL5fBJX7G-2vUeq8A-ZhLTV4Ll20/s320/ursamajor.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So...bears, gazelles, Aramaic, Arabic, the number 3, dead girls</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">and a star in the heel of the great bear, Ursa Major.</span></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I assume that "Talita" as opposed to "Talitha" is the Finnish or Nordic version, but that i don't know.</span></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So this is what i do know about my name and where it comes from.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And no, my parents weren't hippies.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And any other information always appreciated!</span></span>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-11427126752313953972010-01-01T12:58:00.000+00:002010-01-01T12:58:40.030+00:00Can't stop, won't stop - no rest for the Wicked!I hadn't blogged about "normal" life since my return from the Himalayas really, not because i wasn't having a normal life, but because i was too busy having my "normal" life...<br />
So here's a few photos from my life since the return that i've neglected to talk about before....<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2 Days after getting home from the Himalayas my dear friend Myra arrived and we whizzed off with Lucy to see Cauldron with Wolf. I missed the whole Wolf/Cauldron tour apart from the very last date which happened to be in.... Dudley. 2 very different worlds, Buddhist Kingdoms and Heavy metal, but i love them both!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyC6Lo5lV2TcCaBcioF-WZggPIzSDE24jSJ1yqEPvQoUIOAhiOGZUtZDmxvud_C3cdf3Dx7UCUW8GP6kqQsJAIxje0mjVsXI6-FiGqdg1jo6bIMH3Lorajl6MFaA-Y0iyPqEVcK7_zPk/s1600-h/IMG_3051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkyC6Lo5lV2TcCaBcioF-WZggPIzSDE24jSJ1yqEPvQoUIOAhiOGZUtZDmxvud_C3cdf3Dx7UCUW8GP6kqQsJAIxje0mjVsXI6-FiGqdg1jo6bIMH3Lorajl6MFaA-Y0iyPqEVcK7_zPk/s400/IMG_3051.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Weekend after the Himalayas! Gatecrashing my sister's 40th birthday with some of my best buddies!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Caught in the Crossfire Halloween party where i DJed with Lady Starlight<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">www.caughtinthecrossfire.com<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlzAStHU6Ie_eaYw1rPZrtxtVddte2vwgXxQULOfG2KpIOCZoD2_F-YjNIoKny9zlABFIH18RPNCe6A4Biym7x0DuaTnMHmTLL_hZSl460Umj5r2i4WU_empnEEmVZ3XH6j1XFbeGLRM/s1600-h/IMG_3412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOlzAStHU6Ie_eaYw1rPZrtxtVddte2vwgXxQULOfG2KpIOCZoD2_F-YjNIoKny9zlABFIH18RPNCe6A4Biym7x0DuaTnMHmTLL_hZSl460Umj5r2i4WU_empnEEmVZ3XH6j1XFbeGLRM/s320/IMG_3412.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Paris where i visited my sister and her family and my dear Cecile!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTSY-JNiyFbK82Su7Qi0b93RavlYev11BVS8eCTIhjrdyB_rDxefjHDcKmd8F67Lpdm6DqmXWN0_wmE82HcC1KnQ65_xCtTvDYNoN3jOzlKZATazXCLR263-w4TiV6LhtCvgrr-ZsAq4/s1600-h/IMG_3534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTSY-JNiyFbK82Su7Qi0b93RavlYev11BVS8eCTIhjrdyB_rDxefjHDcKmd8F67Lpdm6DqmXWN0_wmE82HcC1KnQ65_xCtTvDYNoN3jOzlKZATazXCLR263-w4TiV6LhtCvgrr-ZsAq4/s400/IMG_3534.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Mike Alexander Memorial shows which i helped run with Ol from Evile in Leeds<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegP-feQ4SIT9pqZoSON4fc8TBUQ0MCMQfrrhazeXR7ZPBB-KqwUcOoAhuvTg_49P_lNRNNrPYP4YJ-zi6_KO5rG9mF8q6bn69XQ3GBUymYa5ykNnzXpqmCHEljGzKERS4pIjZGTLW8JU/s1600-h/IMG_3553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegP-feQ4SIT9pqZoSON4fc8TBUQ0MCMQfrrhazeXR7ZPBB-KqwUcOoAhuvTg_49P_lNRNNrPYP4YJ-zi6_KO5rG9mF8q6bn69XQ3GBUymYa5ykNnzXpqmCHEljGzKERS4pIjZGTLW8JU/s400/IMG_3553.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Leeds show with Joan, Mike's Mum<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8ws2YvWDwp8n21RmrYm36QgbHKW80kceJ2ag1GzcArYfh1oFajvhilYGDjQFeEb934teIxM8aX5a_n_kbRgTtXA7c-rmjTiIXvbWmU_RR8WOkO30FmvcKjJ-Xo-B0ePCrThI4dNh7tk/s1600-h/IMG_3783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8ws2YvWDwp8n21RmrYm36QgbHKW80kceJ2ag1GzcArYfh1oFajvhilYGDjQFeEb934teIxM8aX5a_n_kbRgTtXA7c-rmjTiIXvbWmU_RR8WOkO30FmvcKjJ-Xo-B0ePCrThI4dNh7tk/s400/IMG_3783.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">London show with all the bands that played - Seregon, Mutant, Gama Bomb and the covers team!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO99EjjE6pEMM_NsBVI_yhkJ1pCgestvmDEdNiwiX-2XA_AF_TgY97UR106aDVtLv9YW5Ulrr28hSjLZ4jxFo7OVKQhVPf3XX1TwrgEY75i4bj1G8iXd1FQ0yd3g4fwlFQ7C2ituuIdZc/s1600-h/IMG_3845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO99EjjE6pEMM_NsBVI_yhkJ1pCgestvmDEdNiwiX-2XA_AF_TgY97UR106aDVtLv9YW5Ulrr28hSjLZ4jxFo7OVKQhVPf3XX1TwrgEY75i4bj1G8iXd1FQ0yd3g4fwlFQ7C2ituuIdZc/s400/IMG_3845.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Earache Xmas party 2009!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuilaH1XT7SUyoP69SY6fa8vn6jxD3z1d4Z0BSi1dWI3dYHjiEDoJZlU2Q8kH1BxilJhSe0CCV1FFTuIinMN-3PxTE0Z2lgjnRZeIhAFcuKOTf4P0Wsu0rKcBzF4CIFFS1yVP42ZxDtQ/s1600-h/IMG_4137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuilaH1XT7SUyoP69SY6fa8vn6jxD3z1d4Z0BSi1dWI3dYHjiEDoJZlU2Q8kH1BxilJhSe0CCV1FFTuIinMN-3PxTE0Z2lgjnRZeIhAFcuKOTf4P0Wsu0rKcBzF4CIFFS1yVP42ZxDtQ/s400/IMG_4137.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Seamus - the best dyslexic Santa ever!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks Myra for helping me out with the Mike shows, and Lucy for the party and all of my friends for being so ace!! x<br />
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</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-36856094645421700522009-12-31T02:54:00.001+00:002009-12-31T02:56:49.128+00:00Crisis at Christmas<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.crisis.org.uk/images/logo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="124" src="http://www.crisis.org.uk/images/logo.gif" width="320" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This Christmas is the first i have spent in central London ever. So the perfect time to try something i had been meaning to do for a long time (and i'm sure everyone says that) - and that's "help the homeless at Christmas". A bit of a cliche maybe, but for a long time i've felt that the music business is way too cynical and self obsessed with the narcissistic and frankly unnecessary bureaucracy and mechanisms that forget the human element - and for me, especially coming from a background of doing Youth work and working with Young Carers sometimes it all feels a bit empty.</span><br />
</div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So i can safely say that it was with totally selfish motives i signed up to work at Crisis at Christmas this year. I signed up for 3 days 23, 26 and 27 December. Unfortunately i had a chest infection after all the hedonism of recent weeks and so didn't go on the 23rd. But i ended up going in on the last day the 29th too - so 3 days it was. And i think if i hadn't missed the 23rd i probably wouldn't have been ready for Christmas at my house - you know they say charity begins at home, and also i don't think i would have made friends with my new buddy Tara.</span><br />
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</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Crisis is the national charity for single homeless people. We are dedicated to ending homelessness by delivering life-changing services and campaigning for change"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 10px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="font-size: 1.4em; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Homelessness is an isolating and destructive experience and homeless people are some of the most vulnerable and socially excluded in our society.Homelessness is a problem throughout the UK, although it is more prevalent in urban centres, especially in London.Homelessness is about more than rooflessness. A home is not just a physical space, it also has a legal and social dimension. A home provides roots, identity, a sense of belonging and a place of emotional wellbeing. Homelessness is about the loss of these. Homelessness is costly to the individual, society and the state."</span><br />
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</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.crisis.org.uk/">http://www.crisis.org.uk/</a></span><br />
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</div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.crisis.org.uk/"></a>A crisis - a <span style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px;">crucial or decisive point or situation; a turning point. An emotionally stressful event or traumatic change in a person's life. A point in a story or drama when a conflict reaches its highest tension and must be resolved.</span></span><br />
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</div><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Its actually quite relaxing to go and volunteer somewhere where Im not in charge and not responsible for what's going on. All i had to do was do the jobs allocated with a smile on my face, which mainly meant guarding entrances and exits and chatting. It was no trouble and not hard.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fact, there were a lot of volunteers there - more than the "guests" at times it seemed. I chose the Hammersmith Day centre because it was closest to me, but in actual fact it occurred to me when faced with the reality that a Day centre is possibly the opposite of what's needed - a night centre would be better! But there was Crisis night centres too... just not the Hammersmith one - and to be honest, that i was before i understood a little bit more.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm a chatty person, if i wasn't i would have difficulty doing a radio show. So its natural for me to chat chat and make friends, and it doesn't bother me if they have a roof over their heads at night or not, its just a learning curve and maybe a way to spread some positivity.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been very lucky to travel a lot this year, and everywhere i go i like to try and understand. I think its normal to want to understand, and it was no different with "guests" at Crisis. I don't want to fall into the volunteer trap who's desperate for juicy stories of hardship, but of course as soon as i made friends its normal to want to know about each other, and wonder how this happened. I don't think anyone would choose to be on the streets. But from what i understand, the longer you are on the streets, the more difficult it is to get off them.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I suppose i should examine the terms i use, and people use to describe the homeless.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Homeless... just that term - ideas of a huge advancing or stationary army with fingerless gloves? </span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the Crisis guests and my new friends i'll call him "A" for the purposes of this blog told me that some of his friends call themselves Tramps. But he doesn't say he's a tramp, he says he's unfortunate. He's just had a run of bad luck and been unfortunate with the way things have turned out.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I say my new friends but it is very much a case of "us" and "them". You can't avoid the fact that there is a huge gulf between volunteers and guests. Us smarmy do-gooders and the people who are actually facing shit. Its easy really to take time out from University hols, office hols, Xmas hols to volunteer. I'm sure everyone volunteering was touched by the people they met and the things they saw. But the volunteers have the volunteer room that they go back to, and as we were reminded in the briefing everyday a fully stocked fridge to go home to.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"They" have no home.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every time i hear "they" and "them" in situations like this alarm bells ring. "Otherness" is a concept which permeates thought in situations of divison and doesn't aid moving forward in communication.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But as we were told many times - "don't give out your phone number or personal details to guests, here at Crisis this week you have a safety net... outside in the big wide world you don't"</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's inevitable however much you don't want the chasm to exist between "guests" and "volunteers", that it stands large in the room like an elephant no one points out; its there and we all know it. Volunteers might feel guilty about their affluent lifestyle, guests may feel embarrassed. There's a whole minefield of potential faux-pas to trip you up.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, the best thing to do is to go and be yourself and ignore that elephant as best you can, and in my opinion bring humour to the situation as much as possible.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Homeless in French "Sans Abri" - Without shelter. I suppose metaphorically and physically its true.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember watching a movie at University when studying the Nouveau vague or 80's cinema called "Sans toit ni loi" (without roof or law) which kept coming back to me this week. That film painted such a bleak horrid picture, with such a sense of hopelessness its hard not to think of it in terms of the people i've met and worry</span></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.docpoint.info/w/2003/2002/sans_toit_ni_loi_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="http://www.docpoint.info/w/2003/2002/sans_toit_ni_loi_1.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
</div><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are a few "guests" that stand out to me who i had the pleasure of talking to a lot. And i can honestly say that i won't forget them. Firstly theres "J". A chap who Tara and I spoke to first of all. He appears now in retrospect slightly shady, but very well versed in politics and geography and economics. Mr. Commerce. </span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He said he taught himself English from his 2 dictionaries he took with him when he left "The Soviet Union" English-Russian, and Russian-English. He sat with his 2 dictionaries in the library with a copy of Newsweek and TIME every day he said looking up words, and gradually learning to speak English.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He taught himself Dutch when he got to The Netherlands from sitting in a train station, and asking passengers waiting for their train to help him read a paragraph of the Dutch newspaper.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He taught himself French the same way.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He has a flat in The Netherlands he said and will go back there soon.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With a totally different temperament, and little to no interest in politics or commerce i suspect, unless to sell his paintings is "A"</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*A has a broken arm cause some arseholes jumped on it whilst he was asleep in Covent Garden. They kicked him in the face too. He likes being tickled. He likes talking about his paintings. Someone told him that he has real talent. He likes talking about posh people and taking the piss. He likes just chitchatting. </span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He sleeps rough every night. He smiles all the time (pretty much). He likes a bit of drama.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He kicked a bag of rubbish cause someone woke him up one morning too early. The bag of rubbish was full of bottles and he stubbed his toe. It still hurts.</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The day i didn't go to Crisis, i wondered about him, and looked forward to seeing him again, just like *D</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's my (bad) drawing of him:</span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What a sweetheart. First chatted about wrestling. Luckily because of Landphil i know a bit about it. *D likes the Undertaker</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Especially his fight with Kane and when he came in on a bike.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*D loves the trains, that's where he sleeps at night. Trains or night buses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He keeps himself to himself because he can't trust other people. Other homeless people steal his stuff he says. He has long fingernails that i looked at too much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*D tells us he got into debt, owed too many people money, and can't face them now. I told him he should declare bankruptcy and sort it out. He said he thinks he's going to go and visit his parents for New Year, but he's scared they're mad at him. I hope he can sort it out, i hope i told him the right thing - visit Citizens advice bureau!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He's a real sweet guy, so clearly aware of the dangers on the streets</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although According to *G of A+G it's not as bad as i might think it is, if you know what you're doing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't realise how shelters worked until speaking to *G. There's 30 places, in a different venue every night in West London. A+G have a map. And 30 people turn up at 8pm have food and can sleep indoors on the floor of a church/hall/community centre. There are normally 10 people waiting outside to see if someone doesn't turn up. If you don't turn up by 8pm you lose your place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You get turfed out at 7am and then A+G make a coffee last a long time in Maccy D's. A tea in a greasy spoon. The boredom, G tells me is a killer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">G was doing a degree in philosophy when he faced a series of unfortunate events. I dont know the nature of these events i never asked. But whether its because he's ashamed of his position or its just his way or ashamed of what happened or of the big elephant in the room G doens't look me in the eye alot, even though we spend a long time chatting over a few days. I tell him that i am curious about people everywhere, that i love to travel and find out about new cultures, and that sometimes i wonder if being street-wise translates as a culture, and if he can afford to look at people with curiousity. He tells me he tries to stay positive and not to pigeon hole or stereotype. Tries not to say "this person did this to me, and this person and this person, and they're all from the same place so that place must be bad". He grew up in West London, and when i ask him about safety on the streets, and tell him about what happened to me in Buenos Aires, and how i've thought a lot about it and if you know your territory you're always less vulnerable than a new comer - he told me its not as bad as i think out there and started talking to me about homeless people not being all bad. I said i didn't mean homeless people being bad, i meant the guys tanked up coming out the pub at 11pm looking for a fight. He told me that was why he always makes it by 8pm to the shelter, because its safer indoors at night time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Without giving me any details - i didn't ask for any, or want any - we talk about what a short slippery slope of unfortunate events it is to end up on the streets. I've decided its a lot closer possibility than most people think.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it seems to me, that the main thing, the main barrier which protects you is family.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the going gets tough, its rare to find someone in local councils who will go out of their way for you, days of queuing make no difference, especially to a single male on a housing list.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thats where irrespective of the elephant in the room, volunteers at places like Crisis can help, because its not a question of queuing, its a question of volunteers doing what they can, and as opposed to worrying about the chasm inside the centre, its more about working on the chasm that exists outside the shelter, as i can see without some of "our reality" the "street reality" becomes further and further away from hope, and what is needed to get off the streets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Crisis was well worth doing, i will hope to do it again next year, not just because it made me think, but because there's a good bunch of people both sides of that chasm, and its well worth keeping your eyes open and not being ignorant to it, especially at Christmas*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, Crisis! Thanks for letting me be involved! And for making new friends</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">:-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*see other post!</span><br />
</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-15943641038259635022009-12-30T22:55:00.001+00:002009-12-31T02:55:24.798+00:00Winter Solstice, Seasons Greetings and Merry Christmas<span style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://colonos.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/winter_solstice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colonos.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/winter_solstice.jpg" width="301" /></a><br />
</div><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">December 21st 2009 was the Winter Solstice - the shortest day of 2009. When the earth's axial tilt is furthest away from the sun, and when "traditionally" in Great Britain we would celebrate Yuletide....</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But what is tradition? How many years does it take to make a tradition? </span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 46 BC Julius Caesar established Dec 25th as the date of the Winter Solstice (now we know exactly what day is the shortest), since then the date has moved with varying calendars established by the church, and its strange to think, when we think about Christmas and the date of the solstice, that its not just the date of the pagan festivals that Christmas is celebrated on, but the existence of the date that is 25th December on the calendar which was dictated by the church.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ask what makes a tradition - now its a tradition that Santa Claus wears red - and we've all heard that this was because Coca Cola dressed him in red - but Sinterklaas in dutch folklore wore red robes and Tomte, who started to deliver Xmas presents in the 1840's in Denmark wore a red cap. The urban legend that Santa Claus wore red because of Coca-Cola is not infact totally true apparently Santa Claus wore a variety of colours prior to the Coca-Cola campaign but our current depiction of Santa Claus is probably more thanks to this chap:</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Nast"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Nast</span></a></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, what makes a tradition?</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here we are on the 25th December celebrating Christmas or Christ's Mass, the birth of the Messiah, Jesus Christ, the Christian God born as man from a virgin. But as we dont know his birth, and as all religions subsume other religious practises of the region that went before, Jesus was born on December 25th just as Coca-Cola is associated with Santa Claus.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Old festivals such as Jul/Yule are part of how we now celebrate Christmas - feasting, singing etc.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I can't help but feel a bit fraudulent</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A tradition doesn't have to date back centuries, but to someone who isn't Christian, its hard to tell what we're actually celebrating, don't get me wrong i'm grateful for a break. But i like to do it right.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mean Geimhridh, Celtic Midwinter "The point of roughness" is when in Welsh mythology Rhiannon (The horse Godess) was supposed to give birth to Pyderi. Interestingly enough Pyderi (after disappearing) appeared outside some stables.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mummer's Day - on Dec 26 - you could blacken your faces - Wren day on Dec 26th in Ireland - you could kill a wren and take it from house to house stopping for feasting</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alban Arthan - a Neodruidic English festival from 18thC gave gifts to the needy</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yule - from the Vikings and Germanic cultures began on the lunar midwinter and culminated on the arrivale of Juletid on midwinter. The Yule celebrations amalgamated alot of the traditions from all over Europe. A Yule log was burnt for Thor and feasting would continue as long as the log was burning (talk about heart burn).</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wiccan Yule, which i would love to explore more, is i suppose a neopagan amalgamation now. It is observed as one of the 8 solar holidays or Sabbat. Celebrated as the rebirth of the Great God and the newborn sun.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here we have a load of festivals all together to basically try and give hope in the dark and cold time (i assume realistically the opposite should be celebrated in Australia!). A missing birth certificate of Yeshua of Nazareth (what would they put for the father anyway?), an adopted date of 25th December and some adopted rituals - yule log, holly, ivy, mistletoe, giving gifts - celebration in a Bacchian style, celebration in a Pagan style and now celebration in a commercial style. Its funny to think that in Early USA in Massachusetts Puritans band Christmas because it was too heathen.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now we have an amalgam not only of Pagan, Christian, Celtic celebrations but also a mixture of stories from Dickens and films and all sorts that make Christmas what it is now. Not to mention adverts, commercial pressure and family pressure. (family love!)</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strange to think that commerical pressure now has the same effect on us that religion once did.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like the idea of Alban Arthuan - the end of the month of the Elder tree, and the start of the month of the birch. The Elder and Birch stand at the entrance to Annwn the Celtic Underworld where all life was formed. What i would do with an Elder and a birch i dont know? Burn them like a yule log?</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These things are what you make of them i suppose. In every sugary sickening Christmas movie they talk about "The spirit of Christmas". The spirit of Christmas seems to me to be the spirit of many things and the spirit of none.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">December 8th this year was Bodhi Day, or Rohatsu. (Beginning of every December) The day that celebrates Buddha's enlightenment under the Bodhi tree in 596 BCE. He sat under the Bodhi tree for 8 days and on the morning of the 8th day he realized that everyone suffers due to ignorance, and that ignorance can be overcome through the Eightfold path.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know what ignorance at Christmas does but maybe on this day that most people have off work and that is relevant in so many paths, where familial and financial situations are highlighted it is important to remember those who are less fortunate to try to give hope for the future.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Eightfold path is:</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Division</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eightfold Path factors</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Acquired factors</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wisdom (Sanskrit: </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Praj%C3%B1%C4%81" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial; color: #002bb8; text-decoration: none;" title="Prajñā"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">prajñā</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, Pāli: </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">paññā</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">)1. Right view9. Right knowledge2. Right intention10. Right liberationEthical conduct (Sanskrit: </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sila" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial; color: #002bb8; text-decoration: none;" title="Sila"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">śīla</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, Pāli: </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sīla</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">)3. Right speech
4. Right action
5. Right livelihood
Concentration (Sanskrit and Pāli: </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sam%C4%81dhi" style="-webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial; color: #002bb8; text-decoration: none;" title="Samādhi"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">samādhi</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">)6. Right effort
7. Right mindfulness
8. Right concentration
</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bodhi Day is maybe the birth of Buddhism (although its origins were laid down way before), the day where Buddha suggested a way out from the endless cycle of birth, death and rebirth and became Enlightened</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strange that the way out that most of us are offered today is at the shops, and especially at Christmas.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, whatever and however you celebrate i hope you have a peaceful, hopeful and enjoyable time. With or without faith, but hopefully with feasting and maybe a Yule log.</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And maybe you may enjoy SSS's witty Xmas ditty</span></pre><pre><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://rapidshare.com/files/321679834/SSS_-_Merry_ChristmaSSS.mp3</span></span></pre><pre><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bodhi tree in Bhutan, Sept 2009</span></span></pre><pre style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></span></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pixieplots.co.nz/images/Elder1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://www.pixieplots.co.nz/images/Elder1.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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</span></span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Elder tree</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and Birch tree</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lullymoreheritagepark.com/images/Silver_Birch_Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.lullymoreheritagepark.com/images/Silver_Birch_Tree.jpg" width="180" /></span></a><br />
</div><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And a whole load of Holly</span></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.kc8hps.com/images/photos1/holly-tree-04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.kc8hps.com/images/photos1/holly-tree-04.jpg" width="400" /></span></a><br />
</div><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"></pre><pre style="white-space: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size: medium;">
</span></span></pre>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-35895005203788882952009-11-15T18:32:00.000+00:002009-11-15T18:32:35.842+00:00A month since the Himalayas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHZUFj3bpJj5uOPD8Dmld70iPe9p1oolRM6DDOemKwZTXU8gLZSbsP2GmQYQUU0peVeI0lHQFE2BpkDs5lIITemyO7aVN9axTnMJJ_dY3T-9PiNIrc8NJQR0sCfmfZwImyz2LsDSb4Qw/s1600-h/Dwarinkasdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHZUFj3bpJj5uOPD8Dmld70iPe9p1oolRM6DDOemKwZTXU8gLZSbsP2GmQYQUU0peVeI0lHQFE2BpkDs5lIITemyO7aVN9axTnMJJ_dY3T-9PiNIrc8NJQR0sCfmfZwImyz2LsDSb4Qw/s640/Dwarinkasdog.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>I assumed that when i returned from the Himalayas i would have time to think. To digest comfortably in my mind the wonderful things i'd seen like savouring a great chocolate and rasperry pudding. But oh no! Life doesn't stop so you can enjoy your memories... until you're old and can hardly remember them anymore!<br />
<br />
I've pretty much written about the whole trip as much as i can without naming names of people it might jeopardise and without boring you to death too much i hope!<br />
<br />
But i know there's a lot more to say and that eventually i'll think it all through.<br />
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I recieved this postcard in an email from that charming dog that bit me in Kathmandu. Nice to see he's thinking of me and survived to tell the tale (tail?)<br />
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I've stayed in contact with the people i met in Tibet, Bhutan and Kathmandu, and with all the people i went with. I believe one of them was responsible for this postcard above, and for these two videos below; which are loads better than the stuff i filmed!<br />
So thanks Peter and Jill!<br />
<br />
Tibet<br />
<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4B_M_REXodY&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4B_M_REXodY&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
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Bhutan<br />
<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tFnk30fIei8&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tFnk30fIei8&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-369344073967003552009-11-07T17:45:00.000+00:002009-11-07T17:45:23.224+00:00My last morning in Tibet. Heading home.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHu6KQPjJrwlC8aLcz1x7G2LyaPxSDd1rw9SWUHdQNTkftHj6f6mv80d9Ga01EUSXltO4TXTqLx7kiqkRX6TE6gRcv3lZO-tW3_6FGyz-g63-XadZ6deXZAHUtJoWmbfaAC_FuaNJ3aoc/s1600-h/IMG_2804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHu6KQPjJrwlC8aLcz1x7G2LyaPxSDd1rw9SWUHdQNTkftHj6f6mv80d9Ga01EUSXltO4TXTqLx7kiqkRX6TE6gRcv3lZO-tW3_6FGyz-g63-XadZ6deXZAHUtJoWmbfaAC_FuaNJ3aoc/s640/IMG_2804.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I woke up really early desperate to make the most of my last few hours in Tibet only to find that the front doors to the hotel were locked and i couldn't get out!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I went up on the hotel roof and stood looking at the Potala in the dark:<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPDHVhWVd3y8hSJRj9XoQhO6LpecXvr_4ihdSP8YmmdwD9o2CAwjAtNAmHRz_lcA5Z5XVPVDNUpIshjaNArhu0f6LmnVeFqORA9MqTFoYwPbJJqIC8f426LpFNSQZ8bfAIdQIiY_t1Ymo/s1600-h/IMG_2801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPDHVhWVd3y8hSJRj9XoQhO6LpecXvr_4ihdSP8YmmdwD9o2CAwjAtNAmHRz_lcA5Z5XVPVDNUpIshjaNArhu0f6LmnVeFqORA9MqTFoYwPbJJqIC8f426LpFNSQZ8bfAIdQIiY_t1Ymo/s400/IMG_2801.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">We had to leave at 7.30am. I eventually made it out of the hotel at 6.45, put my hood up, hurried down the pre-dawn roads past the armed guards, past the Tibetan lady roadsweepers, past a couple of people on their way to or from the Jokhang, past the empty market stalls to the Jokhang itself. What a site before dawn. I wanted to do another "Kora" of the temple before i left; with all the Tibetans and without the hustle and bustle of the markets later on.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With my hood up i was so obviously a westerner as i didn't want to disturb people in their morning ritual i just wanted to breathe it in and enjoy my last few hours in Tibet. I kept my camera on video round my neck in the hopes that people may understand what the Jokhang is like in the morning, especially those who don't have the chance to get to Tibet, because of visas or because of exile. So apologies for this video being a bit ropey, but i didn't want it to be obvious that i was filming because it would have changed the dynamics of the situation, and also if i got seen by the troops i would have got in big trouble.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Note the sounds of the Tibetans doing full prostrations and the prayer wheels they spin and the silence of the Jokhang before the dawn.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8k9wRMnCvDc&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8k9wRMnCvDc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I got back to the hotel in time for a quick cup of (green)tea before getting in the bus to the airport. I still can't believe it was over so quickly. We arrived back to the heat in Kathmandu, had a swim, went shopping in Thamel, ate a plate of chips, avoided the hotel dog, managed to pack everything up in one bag and then had a huge 6 course meal sitting on cushions on the floor with everyone from the group. Then before you know it it's Goodbye Himalayas i'm off back to London. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-gx3mMtDx6lqrAXQXa9jwP2o2M9l-bAuDQKWn47ksGv-_8VVrMtd9pCj05yIhBeTWdXJI5aMm_gDP0iEcuKhDzpVZ4BpFRMGOxQvFz3G7ZLAkczJMEl7m-K4qpCRPG9IdU5Ck8LJa-Y/s1600-h/IMG_2406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-gx3mMtDx6lqrAXQXa9jwP2o2M9l-bAuDQKWn47ksGv-_8VVrMtd9pCj05yIhBeTWdXJI5aMm_gDP0iEcuKhDzpVZ4BpFRMGOxQvFz3G7ZLAkczJMEl7m-K4qpCRPG9IdU5Ck8LJa-Y/s400/IMG_2406.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdrfPSFdEfFeBMGxhk1z6VYLCimaNlE5CUUHDRnKkzrZwHQz6vPhQ6M_4Iwz8Dg9Ykm7fWIDLRXHicVnIxOZwJRIwWA0-wXjsK_d-zAByd3Oj6on27pl_Ds_dS2MVyHB9scT2Q-zHHrw/s1600-h/IMG_2402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdrfPSFdEfFeBMGxhk1z6VYLCimaNlE5CUUHDRnKkzrZwHQz6vPhQ6M_4Iwz8Dg9Ykm7fWIDLRXHicVnIxOZwJRIwWA0-wXjsK_d-zAByd3Oj6on27pl_Ds_dS2MVyHB9scT2Q-zHHrw/s320/IMG_2402.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLWZcA3-826N15LIJxaJ6m6iARfIQrjWNI_M2cUAue_fwIZXWbvY1H12PYzKbtJunhWdSyuzNQU_s3G5cEZhmQe9rsez2UFC7mgYeDVvlqgPp1ICuhGLWzi_nqyMEQKB7ukZxDSa_gpk/s1600-h/IMG_2829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnLWZcA3-826N15LIJxaJ6m6iARfIQrjWNI_M2cUAue_fwIZXWbvY1H12PYzKbtJunhWdSyuzNQU_s3G5cEZhmQe9rsez2UFC7mgYeDVvlqgPp1ICuhGLWzi_nqyMEQKB7ukZxDSa_gpk/s320/IMG_2829.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_l-cXEXQEtdemREOeOT9F6e2mLVZleH5VoaZMQ2e-SawGCi6yK0nmd0nEaf4mNi_7FS8qKHQ7-ZtK1Asyw5YEkXMoVthGZ45JvcOtEPPaMofh8QRx1-IX9UAzh5lyVeD2-G9aZ_U-qUc/s1600-h/IMG_2831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_l-cXEXQEtdemREOeOT9F6e2mLVZleH5VoaZMQ2e-SawGCi6yK0nmd0nEaf4mNi_7FS8qKHQ7-ZtK1Asyw5YEkXMoVthGZ45JvcOtEPPaMofh8QRx1-IX9UAzh5lyVeD2-G9aZ_U-qUc/s640/IMG_2831.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-3904101459270878552009-11-07T14:12:00.000+00:002009-11-07T14:12:50.762+00:00My birthday party in Lhasa, TibetOctober 9th, Roof of the world, Lhasa, Tibet<br />
Thanks so much to all my group and my Tibetan friends for giving me such a great day! <br />
Here's some photos:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3SyQuwEjKahiZScUOIwsfk7kpil3X8C_9G6BrgUboVBP0kBMWRad1ohv7pv8eYtGjonpQ_Jo3Dcg8-XOuCV0dZA_oWME-xx8jVZqpAgEZoBkQ0pYWea2aIbcMiqtmoSX6cRPMELu7iY/s1600-h/IMG_2786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3SyQuwEjKahiZScUOIwsfk7kpil3X8C_9G6BrgUboVBP0kBMWRad1ohv7pv8eYtGjonpQ_Jo3Dcg8-XOuCV0dZA_oWME-xx8jVZqpAgEZoBkQ0pYWea2aIbcMiqtmoSX6cRPMELu7iY/s400/IMG_2786.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My Tibetan dress (no apron cause i'm not married - boooo!)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3MKqE-J3OyrsYTL2PV3VJpbXvS_W0Ba9KoLIlqOn0sUiaSn5qk4hdO-qRH6iS2TbWe72MLL9oW3FKaeni_QB2Fd1iTOGJ3YFZ4arB1_T5cDaRmUCtR0icrvBOt5ipOgU5cJVFh0Ji7E/s1600-h/IMG_2807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3MKqE-J3OyrsYTL2PV3VJpbXvS_W0Ba9KoLIlqOn0sUiaSn5qk4hdO-qRH6iS2TbWe72MLL9oW3FKaeni_QB2Fd1iTOGJ3YFZ4arB1_T5cDaRmUCtR0icrvBOt5ipOgU5cJVFh0Ji7E/s320/IMG_2807.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My cake box!! Nong Nong!!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATr9vi36C0SiWv2UlVBkTPcS83Is6BoERyBZ2M_M9PgxoLRAwqONgkP8u-V16_XWwqyBqUJMir-2laDEkg7CYC4PRM8QUNzwI1oQRIQOMN0RFm3T74TzhXimN7GylpBc8vj-KgUZYp_4/s1600-h/P1020502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiATr9vi36C0SiWv2UlVBkTPcS83Is6BoERyBZ2M_M9PgxoLRAwqONgkP8u-V16_XWwqyBqUJMir-2laDEkg7CYC4PRM8QUNzwI1oQRIQOMN0RFm3T74TzhXimN7GylpBc8vj-KgUZYp_4/s320/P1020502.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Look at my amazing cake! Holy shit! Yes!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKeYkgDWAPRGWGh0kHc3TiAZW1GQBw-w-6zDH6wT72Wp6Yu1_mIz_fL2-x9DeeEdRHhphyh3IBsKDtoI2gIGcLiVLdCASFIFZdhsMV3Piht2qEQNNPzLQqvZKzXvNknC6gtsZGahbdzM/s1600-h/P1020501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKeYkgDWAPRGWGh0kHc3TiAZW1GQBw-w-6zDH6wT72Wp6Yu1_mIz_fL2-x9DeeEdRHhphyh3IBsKDtoI2gIGcLiVLdCASFIFZdhsMV3Piht2qEQNNPzLQqvZKzXvNknC6gtsZGahbdzM/s320/P1020501.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And i got a crown!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhloKyId4VpHhCqTVsMKQQ5u-aMwaYLM6Nh-EzWk-G4_S4ivCZLUNOjnwijeLjhdSPWuCwh5_YYBpuv3_xH5z_mvFQgVjZQpP5xo1dzglBYnds58DeeE25TJe1EOSOJaHS2TgAKaQ8dcz4/s1600-h/P1020499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhloKyId4VpHhCqTVsMKQQ5u-aMwaYLM6Nh-EzWk-G4_S4ivCZLUNOjnwijeLjhdSPWuCwh5_YYBpuv3_xH5z_mvFQgVjZQpP5xo1dzglBYnds58DeeE25TJe1EOSOJaHS2TgAKaQ8dcz4/s320/P1020499.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And i got a singing flower candle!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And i got to eat it!!!! (not all to myself of course...)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My birthday outside the Potala... still wearing the crown, full of cake and at the top of the world!!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thank you so much David and Mountain Kingdoms, all the Tibetan contingent (no names!), Tessa, Toni, Jayne, Peter, Jill, Ruth, Flea, Rob, Graham, Helene and David<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">p.s. yes you can still get very excited about birthday cake at 29 years old!<br />
</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-9720710000053750812009-11-07T13:32:00.000+00:002009-11-07T13:32:22.910+00:00Afternoon Jokhang. (my birthday part 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxYsozyNXGRA5FIW0yoe3ae-zUHMqUCAdZXnIFOmNniFjyiBgJIoZ1g0b25lI0-NpIh_yMlhE97dfPlXkMeKKZd2q1TjFb1pgT-Zv1OCBuMtNI9AdNS88tjfV9u8f4Z0nJYPUHLkm1nEs/s1600-h/IMG_2781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxYsozyNXGRA5FIW0yoe3ae-zUHMqUCAdZXnIFOmNniFjyiBgJIoZ1g0b25lI0-NpIh_yMlhE97dfPlXkMeKKZd2q1TjFb1pgT-Zv1OCBuMtNI9AdNS88tjfV9u8f4Z0nJYPUHLkm1nEs/s400/IMG_2781.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div>I had been told that the Jokhang was and still is the beating heart of Tibet. <br />
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</div>Pilgrims prostrate themselves in front of its squat square exterieur, Tibetans continuously do laps of the temple as a "kora" in a clockwise direction.<br />
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</div>During its history its seen many Dalai Lamas, witnessed many festivals with butter sculptures and thousands of monks and pilgrims, and i'm sure as it does today seen many market stalls - But then unlike now it wasn't situated on a big tiled Chinese square. Complete with 60th anniversary celebratory flowers and 4 units of soldiers. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0b_-7KAZIClYbjHQxdiEjuJVsiRk_5o4gcyIXg7C_ARHzsQQY3GwspJ2xPAeFA1czMu8YU8tpBSagCN0CCMMbKNAlcTRMQZ3g1wreZza8ByPbxb5AKDsosJ0VtyRJJ8YZZGXqUCWutC8/s1600-h/L1110660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0b_-7KAZIClYbjHQxdiEjuJVsiRk_5o4gcyIXg7C_ARHzsQQY3GwspJ2xPAeFA1czMu8YU8tpBSagCN0CCMMbKNAlcTRMQZ3g1wreZza8ByPbxb5AKDsosJ0VtyRJJ8YZZGXqUCWutC8/s320/L1110660.jpg" /></a>I first visited the Jokhang the night before. It was colder than i expected, and the square was lit by really orange street lamps, and populated by so many soldiers it was almost a scary experience. Its a shame the "heart" of Tibetans religious passion has to be so heavily armed. Apparently many Chinese walk in an anti-clockwise direction round the Jokhang to show irreverance, or just because they dont care. (I saw this many times) Apparently there are so many guards because there have been incidents where Kampas have attacked Chinese for their anti-clockwise behaviour. I would say the whole of Tibet seems heavily populated by armed guards, and the concentration of them seems directly related to how important the place is to the Tibetans.<br />
</div>As time goes on unfortunately my trip becomes more like a memory and less like real life. <br />
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So to return to the Jokhang the afternoon of my birthday, the sky still blue as forever i went with the other tourists inside the Jokhang. There are less pilgrims and prostrations during the day time than there is in the evening or the morning, as i guess people are at work. There were once again many Chinese parties of tourists. When you step inside you realise its like a courtyard within a courtyard. And a lot of it is being worked on. Or demolished and rebuilt.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The inner room is square with giant paintings on the walls and different buddhas housed in each room around the periphery. In one of the rooms is the statue that the Chinese Princess brought from China with her - this is particularly popular with the Chinese tourists. <br />
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</div>In the outer courtyard the pickaxes are weilded on the roof of the building being altered. And on the rest of roof you get the most fantastic view.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTdySce0wrDkyTzCNSNo15pbdW1CA9gqzFmm5vKjd8OdDluqNt6uj8Jrvzokoj2A-_2Gg8WpuBOzCPc3TCKwKGR-2p1BUOcPSipmyztknoqmH8XMzjSz7cgxmdD46SVfaXpq_y1R09Pc/s1600-h/IMG_2736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTdySce0wrDkyTzCNSNo15pbdW1CA9gqzFmm5vKjd8OdDluqNt6uj8Jrvzokoj2A-_2Gg8WpuBOzCPc3TCKwKGR-2p1BUOcPSipmyztknoqmH8XMzjSz7cgxmdD46SVfaXpq_y1R09Pc/s320/IMG_2736.JPG" /></a>I can imagine that the Jokhang was once teeming with monks. I dont know the exact numbers but at the Jokhang that afternoon there were only a handful of monks. One of them was very friendly in front of the big statue of Buddha and Padhmasambava in the inner temple. He was very smiley, but the atmosphere quickly changed as this young (maybe 20?) Chinese guy stood right next to him and listened and questioned everything he said to me. It was unreal how aggressive this guys whole stance was. I only wanted to ask the monk about Buddhism, i was well aware i shouldn't ask anything provocative, especially not with a guy like that listening in. I felt very sorry for the monks in the Jokhang, not only are they not allowed to wear normal robes anymore, and no only have their numbers dwindled from the thousands to under a hundred, but they are caged and spied on - its horrendous really. On my way out of the temple there was a door ajar on the right hand side and i peered in, and it was full of led lights and buttons and cctv equipment. Like a big panel you see in James Bond movies to trigger a nuclear explosion. Stuck in the Jokhang temple to spy on people. Charming.<br />
</div>I'm trying not to be hard on the Chinese and i understand the situation is so fraught and difficult. And i know its not all Chinese, i've said all that in my previous blogs, but it all comes across very much as if the temples and traditions of the Tibetans are only tolerated a) for tourism and b) to aid oppression <br />
Anyway, back to my day!<br />
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The views from the roof of the Jokhang are really spectacular, and its where i saw the few monks that still inhabit the temple. They even posed for some photos with Chinese tourists.<br />
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</div>The Jokhang is surrounded by market stalls and shops, and i was determined to get my sister a birthday present whilst in Lhasa. <br />
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</div>"Lookey lookey" the ladies call out as you walk past. I dislike being the tourist in the market, and such an obvious target, but with Tess it was quite a lot of fun, and i soon saw myself parting with money for a load of bracelets for my friends and just as i was heading back to the hotel, a spent all the rest of my Yen on a necklace for my sister. I still have no idea if i got a good deal, but i had a lot of fun bargaining for it, and my sister likes it - here's the lady i bought it off - i met her whole family in the process!<br />
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I went into some of the shops surrounding the Jokhang thinking i would get my sister something there, but as you walk further into the shop, you see that they are clearly Chinese establishments and so i walked out. Again, and again.<br />
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So, Potala, Norbulingka, Jokhang and shopping on my birthday and next i had a "suprise" to get ready for in my traditional Tibetan costume.Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-2419924589701408482009-11-06T22:32:00.000+00:002009-11-06T22:32:09.776+00:00Vice Heavy Metal Roadshow part 1I'm only in this vbs.tv documentary ain't i!!<br />
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Thanks Iano! xTalita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-87004019760177082362009-10-27T15:48:00.000+00:002009-10-27T15:48:43.270+00:00Turning 29 at the top of the world (my birthday in Tibet part 1)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mYz1TjKk8H-stgg3N_6HbAl3yl97hWE9izkwrKahKJRoHxArIHUKcU9-862smkyIIx3GGiBtanaWDlfd3aj-rDtIKI3Vld4LAr86lKlj3EkBFxfQsG7jwUhCzGAlT6doa4AdaOV2S7I/s1600-h/IMG_2583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mYz1TjKk8H-stgg3N_6HbAl3yl97hWE9izkwrKahKJRoHxArIHUKcU9-862smkyIIx3GGiBtanaWDlfd3aj-rDtIKI3Vld4LAr86lKlj3EkBFxfQsG7jwUhCzGAlT6doa4AdaOV2S7I/s320/IMG_2583.JPG" vr="true" /></a><br />
</div>Turning 29 at the top of the world.<br />
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It’s a once in a lifetime chance – to go into your 30th year in one of the highest cities in the world – Lhasa, Tibet.<br />
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I’ve been meaning to write about it for a while, since its 2 weeks since I’ve been back now. But writing about it means that I have to accept it’s all over, and I don’t want to! I’m in denial!<br />
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I wanted to write about my two friends Brain and Mike first too, because both of those tragedies came before this, and my birthday, despite the occupation, and the tragic history of Tibetans and despite the death of my friends, my birthday was a one off, the day was perfect. And I think you can only appreciate its perfection when you know what had gone before and how sad id felt.<br />
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I’d already realised that being sad and wearing a frown didn’t help anyone, least of which the Tibetans. “Gross national happiness begins with a smile” they say in Bhutan, and it’s a great attitude. And how can you not smile when you wake up 29, the sky is that deep blue you’ve seen in fairytale photos of Tibet dotted with a few graphic art clouds that only illustrate how high up you are and how big the sky is, and how underneath that panorama the Potala palace with the morning sun shining on it majestically, is still and will always be the dream and the symbol of Tibet and the hopes for what was and still could be. And today, my birthday was my lucky day, the day I got to visit the Potala, home of the Dalai Lamas, built by King Songsten Gampo, finished 12 years after he died in secret, holder and keeper of so many secrets, great library (although most of the writings now destroyed), great place of learning and great home. Just great. <br />
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But not just the Potala, today I would also go to the Norbulingka and the Jokhang. The Norbulingka I’d always been fascinated with as it was the Dalai Lama’s summer palace and from reading the biography of the Dalai Lama (14th) I knew how much HH loved the place, and I’d read about its beauty in the Summer when the Dalai Lama and all the officials and government would change their address from the Potala to the Norbulingka. I wanted to see if his Koi Carp are still in their pond or whether they’d been eaten!! Then I would get to go to the Jokhang. The most important temple in Tibet. Where the Dalai Lama became the Dalai Lama.<br />
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So you can imagine, I was very excited. I’d come to terms with the difficulties in Tibet, and the contradictions, and the necessity to just continue with life – well as much as you can come to terms with it in a few days, and I knew that I was now going to experience the Potala, which as the national symbol of Tibet, was also the place of most propaganda and mystery, and changes in the actual time line & history! <br />
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In order to get into the Potala, as with any of the temples in Tibet you need a permit. Nowadays the Potala has more restrictions, which left me waking up the morning of my birthday from a nightmare about rushing round a dark temple, missing all the things that had the potential to move me, and change my life and being pushed out the door without having seen the most important parts!<br />
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As I lay in bed in my Tibetan hotel (run by Tibetans) early that morning, I knew how totally lucky and jammy I was, it was still dark outside, and I opened my birthday card from my Mum and Dad, and I felt very grateful to them for enabling me to get to Lhasa on my birthday as I had hoped and planned for such a long time. What? You don’t honestly think that I could afford to do this trip as Earache’s press manager without help from my Mum and Dad do you? Pah!<br />
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I’d gone with my Tibetan friend to the dress shop near the hotel the night before when we arrived in Lhasa, and bought my traditional Tibetan outfit (but without the apron – they’re only for MARRIED women! Pah!) I had planned to wear my new Tibetan gear out that night on my birthday, as I had a feeling there was something planned and I think it’s really cool to wear that country’s national dress when you’re there. Its not the same as wearing a band t-shirt of the band you’ve gone to see at one of their shows, and hang the embarrassment factor a lot of people in Tibet (Tibetans) still wear traditional dress, and I hope that its taken as a compliment that I would want to aswell.<br />
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I didn’t want to wear my new silk outfit round the Potala though, as I knew that there would be a lot of stairs and probably quite a bit of dust.<br />
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</div>We got to the Potala, and there were already a lot of Tibetans doing a Kora (circumambulation) round the Potala. These days getting inside the Potala is restricted access, as I mentioned already, but this is also applicable to Tibetans, maybe even moreso from what I understand. Although there were more Chinese tourists visiting the Potala than anyone else, with loud Chinese guides (probably explaining a Chinese version of history) there were one or two Tibetan families I saw going round too. You get stopped at the entrance by a Chinese lady sitting at a fold up table who looks thoroughly bored. She checked our passports, our visa, and our permit to visit the Potala. Then we were ushered through a room with cabinets containing confiscated liquids in all forms, and even an oxygen tank through a brightly lit room with an x-ray machine that x-rayed our bags. Then we went through the outside garden, which has a few buildings that used to be part of the administrative heart of the Tibetan government and affords a magnificent view of the Potala. The gardens were in bloom, the sky was blue, and Potala hunkered like a huge white stone giant in front of us. It was pretty exciting. It’s difficult for Tibetan guides I should think. Not only to be heard over the shrill Chinese tour guides, but also to not lose hope when visiting such important historic landmarks that are getting a very different take on history from an invading (sorry, liberating!) nation’s guides. I felt awe and reverence at the majesty and the weight of history going up the stairs of the Potala. I don’t know if every group there felt the same. But maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe its enough that there are people from China real, taking an interest. Who knows? <br />
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</div>Anyway, you may already know, there are quite a lot of steps up to the Potala. Its not wheel chair friendly, its not hobble bad leg friendly. But at the same time, it’s not so bad. I didn’t really find it much of a problem. It is quite high up though so you get out of breath quicker than you think you should. And after 3 big flights of stairs the little concrete bench is welcome before hopping up the rest. By the little concrete bench these is a tree, all through the tree is lumps of cotton strewn amongst the branches. I had a feeling what I thought these might be, and I was correct – prayer flags have been disallowed in the Potala now, and these funny clumps of cotton were/are the Tibetan people’s way round that new rule. So we carry on up the steps. <br />
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There are only about 20 rooms open to tourists of the Potala out of its 500 or so. No one seems to know what’s in the other 480 rooms. No one knows how much of the treasure and the library still exists. Even the monks and Dalai Lamas didn’t frequent all the rooms under Tibetan rule, so one can only hope that some of the original rooms and contents survive in the rest of the palace. After all the Potala was “saved” from destruction by a Chinese premier named Zhou Enlai who supposedly deployed his own troops to protect it.<br />
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Our papers are checked again, and we go up more stairs into the courtyard below the Dalai Lama’s quarters (the rooms that are painted yellow on the outside of the Potala)<br />
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The timer starts from when we enter the Dalai Lama’s quarters from the top of the wooden stairs. <br />
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</div>We get 1 hour and 1 hour only to do the 20 rooms. If we do the tour in more than one hour the company our guide works for will lose their ability to take a group to the Potala the next time. They’ll have their permit revoked. The race is on. I don’t like this pressure. There are people in my tour group who are slow, there are people in my tour group that don’t listen when we have things explained, and ask to have it all explained again. There are people in my tour group who go totally off subject and ask about things that aren’t relevant. None of this would normally bother me, but we are about to enter the Potala palace. <br />
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</div>A place I have waited to see for a very long time. (I’m sure they’ve wanted to visit for a long time too) but we are on a fucking time limit! Man, I don’t want to get stressed out here – but here’s 20 rooms or so full of the treasures of Tibetan history and culture, where HHDL himself lived as a child, where he received state visitors, where he walked, prayed and pondered what to do about the advancing Chinese, where he stood on the roof with his telescope and watched his people go about their business in Lhasa around the Jokhang and in the market square – we’re about to enter the Potala palace – one of the most amazing places on earth, and we have a TIME LIMIT!!! Ughhhh!!! I tried not to worry, but as we hurried through rooms, and missed explanations I did think about my nightmare in the early hours of that morning and it wasn’t far off. But at least I was in the Potala. I saw the Dalai Lama’s apartments. I’d heard that the Chinese were keen to have them on display to show how bourgeois he was as if this would impact the Tibetan people’s opinion of him. I did see a lot of the Chinese groups stop specifically at his radio (also in the Norbulingka) and make a big thing of it. Really when you’d visited a lot of temples already the grandness of the apartments didn’t seem all that much. They look very much like the inside of a temple. Golden coloured statues, Red, blue, green, yellow. Tara, Manjushri, Avaloketishvara, Amitayus, Medicine Buddha etc. Thangkas and a little single bed. <br />
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I was worried. Worried about the time we had, worried about what I could and couldn’t ask our guide, desperate to see it all, but worried I wasn’t taking enough of it in. The signs explaining what was in each room invariably had an explanation which referred to a certain Chinese emperor or Dynasty, especially if there was anything that was linked to the Chinese princess that once wed a Tibetan king (more relevant at the Jokhang later that day, but nevertheless an event that holds a lot of interest for modern Chinese audiences and tour guides)<br />
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Up and down we went through little rooms belonging to different Dalai Lamas, seeing their Stupas and tombs, their favourite rooms, their gifts from foreign rulers. Waiting for others from our group to catch up, wanting to cram as much info in as I possibly could. Getting mixed up with Chinese groups, looking intently at statues as if I could somehow burn their appearance into my mind if I looked that much harder. It didn’t really work. I can’t remember everything I saw already, and its only 2 weeks ago. We were through the apartments of the Dalai Lamas within 58mins and I felt very frustrated that we didn’t have longer. It really was quite a lot like my nightmare! But it wasn’t gonna bother me on my birthday, especially when I was well aware of how lucky I was to be there at all. Not only is it still relatively difficult to get into Tibet, but there are thousands upon thousands of Tibetans in exile who would have probably given their right arm to have an hour in the Potala, and its their birth right pretty much to be there – but instead I was! And frustrated about the one hour I did get! I bought a book from the Potala about the Potala, written by the Chinese. Partly because I wanted the propaganda. I bought a book of postcards because photos were of course prohibited, and I thought they might help me remember the wonders I’d seen.<br />
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I wandered down the steps, now off the clock, down to our little bus waiting for us. On the way I passed by some tablets with Tibetan carved into them laid out on the grass. They’d been smashed during the “cultural revolution” and now were propped up because they’d been preserved.<br />
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So off to the Norbulingka – The Summer Palace<br />
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I was as excited about the Norbulingka as the Potala. Because I know how much the current Dalai Lama loved it from books, and I think it’s almost as important as the Potala. It was the place where the Dalai Lama’s projection room was housed, and it was, and to my surprise still is, the place that houses the Tibetan Opera each year. I’ve already mentioned what a lovely day it was, and this was all the more enjoyable in the gardens of the Norbulingka. The first part of the Norbulingka we visited was the 8th Dalai Lama’s palace. You walked through the gardens to big doors with big knockers<br />
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and then you enter a little peaceful place that seems a world away from the dark corners of the Potala. There was a lovely White Tara Thangka, and the whole place had been painted by a renowned Tibetan artist that I can’t find the name of ANYWHERE! My postcard book of photos of course doesn’t mention him, and the lonely planet doesn’t know.<br />
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We then went to visit the 14th Dalai Lama’s palace. I’d stared at photos of this part of the Norbulingka for a long time before visiting, and it didn’t disappoint. <br />
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You enter into a large hallway, which now has a giftshop on the right hand side, and then you go up some wooden stairs into a reception room at the top, that has the most wonderful painting on the wall of Tibetan history in 301 scenes. From the monkeys and first field that I’d seen a few days before at Tsedang to the 14th Dalai Lama. This painting was also by this great Tibetan artist - unfortunately there are no photos or books of this painting, although it would make a great children’s book, I’m not sure it’s a version of history that would sell very well to the Chinese. <br />
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I got to see HHDL’s other little single bed, and another radio that again the Chinese tour guides were very interesting (I won’t mention the ooos and aaaahs when they got to the gramophone! – which was a present from Nehru I believe) and the route that you walk through the palace also took you through HHDL’s throne room. And when I say throne room, I mean the royal throne …. And bath, and sink. All of which had money on them as offerings. I know my Mum would approve of this as one does like to wish people to be productive in that department… right Mum? <br />
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There is a wonderful ‘assembly hall’ with paintings on the walls with faces of 14th Dalai Lamas government that look like cartoons, I wish there was postcards of them too – and its so strange seeing the paintings, and knowing the history, and also knowing that this place – the New Summer Palace at the Norbulinkga was where the Dalai Lama escaped from disguised as a soldier when he left Tibet 50 years ago this year.<br />
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The Tibetan Opera still continues outside in the gardens of the Norbulinkga each year. They still perform towards the New Summer Palace as if the Dalai Lama was still there. But it now seems to be sponsored by Budweiser.<br />
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I was keen to see if HHDL’s Koi Carp were still in the pond, and I’m glad to report there are many many koi carp in the pond. I took photos as proof.<br />
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So far so good, a rushed Potala, and a peaceful Norbulinkga, both before lunch – not a bad start to a 29th birthday in Tibet!<br />
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</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-19620542158110549732009-10-26T23:26:00.000+00:002009-10-26T23:26:23.192+00:00Mike Alexander websiteMike Alexander memorial website:<br />
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<a href="http://www.mikealexander.co.uk/">http://www.mikealexander.co.uk/</a>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-2818959564102200672009-10-26T23:12:00.000+00:002009-10-26T23:12:29.491+00:00Mike Alexander R.I.P.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://18.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kr3vbrigCi1qzcx1po1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://18.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kr3vbrigCi1qzcx1po1_500.jpg" vr="true" width="384" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mike Alexander R.I.P.<br />
</div>I’d got an email from Lucy saying Evile were leaving the Amon Amarth tour whilst I was in the hotel in Kathmandu, Nepal. I thought to myself “Shit what bad luck have the guys got into now? I hope Ol’s been eating right and not breaking his jaw, I hope they’ve managed to get the ferry, I hope none of them have got ill” I was frustrated, thinking about Ol’s bad feeling about the tour before they started thinking “Come on guys whatever it is you’ve got to stick it out” So I wrote back to Lucy from Kathmandu saying “Tell me what’s going on”<br />
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I didn’t get a reply until I reached Tibet and my Blackberry started working. The first thing I read upon arrival. Mike’s dead.<br />
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Evile didn’t want to tell me, they didn’t want to spoil my holiday, but they were worried I would see it on Facebook and not hear it from them.<br />
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I’d just landed in a really surreal place and I was getting really surreal news.<br />
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I still don’t think it’s sunk in for me. I still don’t know what to write. <br />
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</div>Mike was a very private person. I only found out that he had a daughter about 6 months ago. I’d been drinking with him enough, I’d laughed with him enough, but his private life was his private life, and in some ways Mike was the quiet one in Evile. Until you went out on the piss with him. Or until you had one of those natural moments of hilarity with Mike where his easy going sense of humour caught the room. <br />
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Mike was a giggler. He didn’t have a big booming laugh, he giggled. Please note this example when we were in the woods doing the Evile photoshoot for Infected Nations. I’d told the boys this story about Mad Bess. (Just like my guide leader had told me the story about Mad Bess when I was a girl guide) and whilst we were waiting to take photos (it was fucking pissing it down) we did this YouTube clip. Mike’s trying to hold himself together and not dissolve into laughter. I’m trying to hold it together and not dissolve in to laughter from looking at Mike (although you can still hear me giggle behind the camera)<br />
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Mike wasn’t the guy I would contact to get press done with Evile; he certainly wasn’t the guy who would respond to emails quickest if ever. He never had a facebook; he didn’t really like his mobile phone. He always wore headphones. He wasn’t really one to take the lead or to be confrontational. He was a King Diamond virgin until Louise and I initiated him to the King in the car from Bloodstock to a Supermarket one hungry morning at the festival. Louise and I tortured him without mercy by singing Madonna classics at him all the way home from Bloodstock. But he actually didn’t seem to mind, said it reminded him of his sisters. He was the guy everyone wanted to hang out with especially when press were in town, he was the guy everyone wanted to be around because he was so easy going. It was never any fuss or stress with him. Everything was done with no bother; anything you did for him was always received so gratefully and humbly. He was never one of those guys to be disappointed with a rider at a show, he was always grateful there was anything at all. He was never the one to be in bed early, he was the one who used to like to party, in his own understated hilarious way.<br />
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I feel bad I didn’t get to know him better, to make the most of his fun loving, no hassle personality. I always loved the way his eyes lit up mischievously when he would witness something cheeky. Those eyes gave away so much. <br />
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He was the first Evile member to dress up in stupid masks with me at Bloodstock. He danced Reggae with me outside some market stall. He was a really good guy. He was a really solid guy.<br />
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All that without even mentioning what a talented bass player he was. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I can’t imagine how hard it is for his brothers in Evile. Ben, I know you’ll make it through this ok, Ol you’re so brave, and Matt I’m glad you’ve all got each other. I know you’ll be back on stage soon enough, as I’m sure Mike would never have wanted you to stop, and I know that nothing and no one will be able to replace him, as he was so special, but I also know that everything Mike gave to the band will carry on with you, and his sound will carry on when you play the tracks he wrote with you and when you get on stage and see the fans that were fans of him too, and love you all still. The support Evile have from fans has always been huge because they are such genuine nice guys. Thankful and grateful and sweet, and enjoying every minute of their career with the band. And you guys will enjoy it again, even though Mike will be no longer with you physically, you know he’ll be there every time you play in your heads and hearts and in the minds and hearts of the fans too.<br />
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I’m writing this on the train, and we’re just going through Market Harborough near where Evile recorded the album Infected Nations. Near where this video happened where Mike pops through looking cheeky. <br />
Near where he tasted a chilli in the Indian restaurant by the recording studio (on the Evile DVD) <br />
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Something about him was so magic, he had a self-awareness and comic timing in everything, whilst still in many ways being the “quiet one”. I hope that his work lives on in his music and his kids. Having met Tom at the weekend, I know his sense of humour lives on, and I see with Tom and Matt both that his love of metal will continue. My heart goes out to his family, to his Mum and Hayley and his Lumpy Georgie, I hope you can take solace in how much he was loved all over the world and that his memory will live on in his music and with his fans.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It’s still so hard to believe no one will hear his giggle ever again.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlziaQ6GTgIoe7WBliPEUrzxPsC73OcVGqQr0t2y8hw7y0wnlGVTYUprAdWxF5seu-LMrqXqtMFalmPlnl_3sbcs2LTUAqmR12aX1t5U9NiFP8FYNrDtjjor1oCP6z3kgK3CBbOJybRn4/s1600-h/IMG_0780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlziaQ6GTgIoe7WBliPEUrzxPsC73OcVGqQr0t2y8hw7y0wnlGVTYUprAdWxF5seu-LMrqXqtMFalmPlnl_3sbcs2LTUAqmR12aX1t5U9NiFP8FYNrDtjjor1oCP6z3kgK3CBbOJybRn4/s400/IMG_0780.JPG" vr="true" /></a><br />
</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-21046717801063214442009-10-26T21:50:00.000+00:002009-10-26T21:50:37.392+00:00Uncle Brain R.I.P.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Brian Redman R.I.P.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I can’t pretend that Uncle Brain and I hung out all the time cause we actually only met the one time. I can’t believe that! Looking back, I would have thought that we’d hung out a whole bunch. But the truth of it is, that we only hung out face to face that first night I met 3 inches of Blood in London. But we got on pretty fucking well. I adopted him as a big brother soon after, but then later christened him Uncle as everyone needs an Uncle that behaves badly. I had 2 – Uncle Bob Slayer and Uncle Brain. We kept in touch with emails, I called him now and again, he helped me with my love life, I stayed in touch when he left 3 inches of Blood, as he was and is one of my favourite members that band has had. No offense to the others but Brain was the man. We had a mutual love of Pinky and the Brain. I was Pinky, he was Brain. We had a Pinky and the Brain referencing friendship. We had a talking shit friendship. We had a talking Black metal friendship. I tried to get to visit him in Tacoma, but I didn’t have the time or the money in the end last year. He was gonna come to London in January. When we discovered facebook we had a “poke” ing friendship. When we discovered we both had Blackberry messenger we had a “BBM” ing friendship. I spoke to him on BBM when I was in Delhi a few hours before he died. He sent me this photo:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9s8ehwBRlYaklOwNMe0stG_bFFf8djj6y8Z0E1NGhmjB5CdjWlpToxsx5ds3u9cTnm4ZyXfsFgp-fzv-jtVOXB7u9_VDLnOKMO8zG_CwTpxpxzFK1DyuhkJ4h_WeQxHh6G3I0P1YQX18/s1600-h/unclebrain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9s8ehwBRlYaklOwNMe0stG_bFFf8djj6y8Z0E1NGhmjB5CdjWlpToxsx5ds3u9cTnm4ZyXfsFgp-fzv-jtVOXB7u9_VDLnOKMO8zG_CwTpxpxzFK1DyuhkJ4h_WeQxHh6G3I0P1YQX18/s320/unclebrain.jpg" vr="true" /></a><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">He told me “I want to molest China”<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As I was on my way to Tibet.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">That was the last I heard from him.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Uncle Brain was a guest on my radio show. I wanted to phone him every week. Sometimes I couldn’t get hold of him cause he was sleeping. Sometimes he picked up and was fuckin funny. 2 weeks before he died from a moped accident he was on my show talking about bike accidents. My friend Lucy had been hit by a car whilst on her bike in Camden. She was shaken up but reasonably unhurt. I dedicated my radio show to her as she’s one of my best friends and we played various accident related tracks. I phoned Uncle Brain; he picked up and was on the show about half an hour discussing accidents and telling stories. He told me a story about how a car went into him once when he was drunk cycling home. He got real mad and got up off the floor ready to fight the guy behind the wheel who’d knocked him off the bike, only to find out that the car was parked and there was no one behind the wheel – it had been stationary the whole time. Doh!<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7hvLTG6DWyDtfGb1xAo9Q_XGu6Slm52WtIqGdNeQqCIuD3XIASdZD4lkPkkmY9mDksVSvmJl-LIo1_qzS_yGBnVED-wN9rs_UHBgQwkkYvbk7NMzOGB9UzK8pu8NGOr_vDiJxbu3zsY/s1600-h/P1010111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL7hvLTG6DWyDtfGb1xAo9Q_XGu6Slm52WtIqGdNeQqCIuD3XIASdZD4lkPkkmY9mDksVSvmJl-LIo1_qzS_yGBnVED-wN9rs_UHBgQwkkYvbk7NMzOGB9UzK8pu8NGOr_vDiJxbu3zsY/s320/P1010111.JPG" vr="true" /></a>Uncle Brain was a party animal. But I only got to party with him once. What a fucking loser I am I should have made the journey out to see him. It’s the nature of friends in this business, sometimes you meet people who you get on with so well, you know you’ll be friends for life, and just hope your paths cross again soon. Well, life was a shorter time than I expected. And our paths didn’t cross again as soon as I hoped they would. I know that all the people who got to spend more time with him, and Dana who I know loved him to bits must miss him a whole bunch because I miss him and I only hung out with him that one time face to face. I hope you all can treasure the memories and times you’ve had with him – all I have is a photo of his smelly feet and Pinky and Brain cartoons.<br />
</div>What a fucking awesome guy. I’m so sad you’re not around to make the world more rock n roll. <br />
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<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iJPFSNu_QNs&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iJPFSNu_QNs&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-5915152666152845882009-10-21T11:14:00.000+01:002009-10-21T11:14:22.960+01:00Arriving in LhasaLhasa.<br />
The forbidden city. The capital of Tibet. The home of the Dalai Lamas. The Potala palace. The Jokhang. The Norbulinka. <br />
I ride on the bus towards the Forbidden city listening to Kansas and the big chinese billboards pass by the divine Tibetan landscape. Its very strange. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We get stopped by the police 3 or 4 times on our way to the big smoke. They check our passports, they check our visa, they check out our driver and guide.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWpBLJN-zvPvWqJy3RmREKxr7CU3pgp8GKPnsvuFS9vRRZr3I-5GdG9wSSLVqB-ofBvb5hMbpFi2BpB_ayS-Juc781sQrdx5Fxsg-X4UWlg15pJK8yZXzenZP2zWTD2zo9eH1ThHmCws/s1600-h/IMG_2551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWpBLJN-zvPvWqJy3RmREKxr7CU3pgp8GKPnsvuFS9vRRZr3I-5GdG9wSSLVqB-ofBvb5hMbpFi2BpB_ayS-Juc781sQrdx5Fxsg-X4UWlg15pJK8yZXzenZP2zWTD2zo9eH1ThHmCws/s320/IMG_2551.JPG" vr="true" /></a>We drive along round the mountains, by the lake and it looks so magic.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs79nqrVguU7R9smt3Xtcs8LRn6p2KkYZKPifI7FdeKfv-LwgUoXrRQrzqXy3sG4Y6x9lBgNOd3Eu98tYhNr_jqxShubGFLRA-QJ1R7DbwwTGffeYlYZThbuuJ8JeHqkh_uALtYWEhRMY/s1600-h/IMG_2554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs79nqrVguU7R9smt3Xtcs8LRn6p2KkYZKPifI7FdeKfv-LwgUoXrRQrzqXy3sG4Y6x9lBgNOd3Eu98tYhNr_jqxShubGFLRA-QJ1R7DbwwTGffeYlYZThbuuJ8JeHqkh_uALtYWEhRMY/s320/IMG_2554.JPG" vr="true" /></a>On the sides of the mountains and hills are ladders painted in white, wishing people long life. There are paintings of buddha on the sides of the mountains and hills too. But no political graffiti.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpNiu63GORzml-Lt-IwUArCi1E0p8r0cUcfNEWZGcz2YsiBKdF24UEdo3SUwXw26Hs7Ajk84aQEnIXhGMrn62zrPYSh-XeYmrpjsmEY58zQ9Gm9nIDvGCD-3P53UqmmiSyL4ebsq2iz8/s1600-h/IMG_2553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpNiu63GORzml-Lt-IwUArCi1E0p8r0cUcfNEWZGcz2YsiBKdF24UEdo3SUwXw26Hs7Ajk84aQEnIXhGMrn62zrPYSh-XeYmrpjsmEY58zQ9Gm9nIDvGCD-3P53UqmmiSyL4ebsq2iz8/s320/IMG_2553.JPG" vr="true" /></a>After passing the last 'traditional' Tibetan house and going through the new tunnel through the mountain we get into Lhasa.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7s_MuABRp9YhOYXQYJnugC2jRRfNB1wXUTjd_rlh9g5ByDxImiP2HoemmLDz2UkwFuTkvlVR69-r6PzSowxk3DYEcf3b2LLg1pISSRrM4uaMtNv9JvEVNW5_NqyO9YWXvccKd0i5vl0/s1600-h/IMG_2557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7s_MuABRp9YhOYXQYJnugC2jRRfNB1wXUTjd_rlh9g5ByDxImiP2HoemmLDz2UkwFuTkvlVR69-r6PzSowxk3DYEcf3b2LLg1pISSRrM4uaMtNv9JvEVNW5_NqyO9YWXvccKd0i5vl0/s320/IMG_2557.JPG" vr="true" /></a>There are 60th anniversary decorations everywhere celebrating the 'liberation' of Tibet in 1949.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8Iz2syDW58V5UgjCk5lrGlkq3FksFS06Z8bqCAFHhXp_n8EU-mCZJgDZG7hIIf6fVKywYiGykMpKcm9fgT-GVEADugfFWpwlstgKTudOMiE3qY8ub2xZyGZoVBWCo-wU5iZE4hFw-B4/s1600-h/IMG_2558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8Iz2syDW58V5UgjCk5lrGlkq3FksFS06Z8bqCAFHhXp_n8EU-mCZJgDZG7hIIf6fVKywYiGykMpKcm9fgT-GVEADugfFWpwlstgKTudOMiE3qY8ub2xZyGZoVBWCo-wU5iZE4hFw-B4/s320/IMG_2558.JPG" vr="true" /></a><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">There are shopping malls and stalls and people and wide roads and steak houses and alot of armed guards. Platoons of them patrol the streets. But people just get on with their business.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeED-k0Pg9Ru1lcIMmA5Dxcpr8CREZik0LXvjuRlsR5-PwJdBxlgYnQn8WXjtNvVEElwZAqcJMCUYZggXjkN2cE_eQT79nfNwLjE9YXW9HM2nKCR4kEb8MBlpwJkMR6053RwA1MOPWYYc/s1600-h/IMG_2556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeED-k0Pg9Ru1lcIMmA5Dxcpr8CREZik0LXvjuRlsR5-PwJdBxlgYnQn8WXjtNvVEElwZAqcJMCUYZggXjkN2cE_eQT79nfNwLjE9YXW9HM2nKCR4kEb8MBlpwJkMR6053RwA1MOPWYYc/s320/IMG_2556.JPG" vr="true" /></a> Dirty old prayer flags hang from the bridge going across into town. I know that putting prayer flags up in a lot of Lhasa is now forbidden. The once Forbidden city is now open to tourists, but closed to prayer flags.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Irrespective of the gulf between what Lhasa was and what it is now, i was very upbeat, think of all the travellers that went before me, all the amazing events that took place in this great city, the sadness, the happiness, the culture that lived untouched for so long.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">And then you get treated to something that i'll never forget. My first view of the Potala palace. I didn't take a photo right at that moment cause i was too busy enjoying it. It is truley magnificent. Totally majestic sitting high up and looking down on all the crap that's happened. It's totally awesome. And the next day i was gonna turn 29 and go and visit it.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Here's a photo from the top of our hotel the next morning, so you get the picture.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuh8NagIBcDPNXSkyGTK9v0ThCONNYE2Dn4T9sxlhmyicxtSg9dZE6XmRfUS9jdV-eK5BR9Ftblxv6K3WKEt0L2skyr6JYCC1PERWfhtETMi4h9UJ7cauL8cJbFAW4DA81uDzqc5pOFY/s1600-h/IMG_2568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibuh8NagIBcDPNXSkyGTK9v0ThCONNYE2Dn4T9sxlhmyicxtSg9dZE6XmRfUS9jdV-eK5BR9Ftblxv6K3WKEt0L2skyr6JYCC1PERWfhtETMi4h9UJ7cauL8cJbFAW4DA81uDzqc5pOFY/s640/IMG_2568.JPG" vr="true" /></a><br />
</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-767390746113275082.post-17420203080156052822009-10-19T15:58:00.001+01:002009-10-19T16:06:00.525+01:00Samye on the way<span style="color: purple;">So i'm catching up with blogs and trying to remember every little thing that happened whilst i was on my trip.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNR8JY2rSPqwGhsJ2w6a35OLrta1pAseMTr8dxRwEKMhyphenhyphenAQ0XOn8tKaWBukT3ChZAOAO5QxS6X-oyjDUDJfzznomT948CoTsdz70bywU-cHfkPEX7NqSjnjccP1Q6pnGgU9HhpnyGLpFE/s1600-h/IMG_2502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: purple;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNR8JY2rSPqwGhsJ2w6a35OLrta1pAseMTr8dxRwEKMhyphenhyphenAQ0XOn8tKaWBukT3ChZAOAO5QxS6X-oyjDUDJfzznomT948CoTsdz70bywU-cHfkPEX7NqSjnjccP1Q6pnGgU9HhpnyGLpFE/s400/IMG_2502.JPG" vr="true" /></span></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyUiPSg_sRNh6Vonr_CtytUFgaXlAnxPQ3p8iYlo0-qZRpYHuime0kLQs-vdvMdpPgeluCgFUVZQEceTZ0aQBFg16ObrwFTGi5u6mFNbmUxeZ0vFXftNA9GH6ZMbrfLhXokTVQ2D5fA4/s1600/L1110397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: purple;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyUiPSg_sRNh6Vonr_CtytUFgaXlAnxPQ3p8iYlo0-qZRpYHuime0kLQs-vdvMdpPgeluCgFUVZQEceTZ0aQBFg16ObrwFTGi5u6mFNbmUxeZ0vFXftNA9GH6ZMbrfLhXokTVQ2D5fA4/s400/L1110397.jpg" vr="true" /></span></a><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyUiPSg_sRNh6Vonr_CtytUFgaXlAnxPQ3p8iYlo0-qZRpYHuime0kLQs-vdvMdpPgeluCgFUVZQEceTZ0aQBFg16ObrwFTGi5u6mFNbmUxeZ0vFXftNA9GH6ZMbrfLhXokTVQ2D5fA4/s1600-h/L1110397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><span style="color: purple;">I blogged about Samye already from Tibet whilst i was in the bus on the way to Lhasa. Taking the tiller of that little boat across the lake/river to Samye that day was one highlights of my time in Tibet up until that point. And Samye was such an interesting monastery, especially as a lot of it was original build, and in light of my 2 friends passing away its meant to be where souls go to rest before they get reincarnated. Not that i believe in that, but it was nice to think about, and i spun a lot of prayer wheels in the hopes my friends were somewhere near.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PR_n4HdK4sZ6QBHD4Fi5FzT-3VVNR0ClYRggGhGarWdXN_LVR0cwwd0aCrtzaNKtyTb-IBNFAVn9HzSLVaPXOlGQj2V6LBtP83Mda4cZHHmrktyLkPQwjTjB_9ZZhta-XCQwBRHKMDM/s1600-h/IMG_2506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: purple;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PR_n4HdK4sZ6QBHD4Fi5FzT-3VVNR0ClYRggGhGarWdXN_LVR0cwwd0aCrtzaNKtyTb-IBNFAVn9HzSLVaPXOlGQj2V6LBtP83Mda4cZHHmrktyLkPQwjTjB_9ZZhta-XCQwBRHKMDM/s320/IMG_2506.JPG" vr="true" /></span></a><br />
</div>Talita Twoshoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16051438830667292527noreply@blogger.com0