FLOWERS, FILM AND FOOD PHILOSOPHY

When it rains it pours around here, and I'm mirroring that weather pattern with my blogging. None for two weeks and then three in one day! Pace yourself if you like, I must write when my brain's working that way.

I linked to my friend Zeynep's blog before when she posted about our first political movie night. This time, it's because she's bothered to take pictures of Cardiff flowers this week. See them here:
http://butterfly-x.blogspot.com
Also, if you go down a post or two, there are pictures of our class celebrating our regeneration presentations. There's a shot of me with my new Northern Irish friend. He's a riot and he's off to Zanzibar working on some education project with his NGO this week. I'm hoping I'll someday get to work with him on something in Belize, another of their focus areas.

Even further down in her blog, Zeynep talks about our film night when we watched The Interpreter. (Yes, it was a drama, not particularly educational film night, but we were in the end of a hard semester and wanted some entertainment.) I happen to disagree about the performances of Sean Penn and Nicole Kidman, but wanted to mention that Zeynep made us a turkish dinner of "ripped stomach" and shepard's salad. I hadn't eaten beef in years, except for a taste here and there, having lost the taste for it after mostly going over to white meat (with a bacon exception) for so long. But when she pulled out the minced beef (hamburger meat to us Americans), I decided to just shut my mouth and eat it. "ripped stomach" is basically stuffed eggplant with yogurt sauce and I might just have to make it for you some time. It was truly amazing food.

Note about food:
I've never been too dogmatic about my eating habits, and mostly stay with birds and fish because I prefer them, but having reminded myself recently of the amount of land resources, water and energy that goes into most meat production compared to grain and vegetable based diets, I have a renewed commitment to eating in ways that are sustainable for the environment. What this boils down to is that I think I am now a "conscientious carnivore." I eat meat, but not frequently, and when I do, I buy locally raised, organically fed, free range animals whenever possible. And I try to buy fish that is certified from sustainable fisheries. Yep, it is more expensive, but I figure I make up for that by eating it so much less frequently. A pot of lentils, some veggie burritos and a stir fry and I've earned a plump juicy roast chicken from that cool guy at the farmer's market who talks so fast I can't understand him. Jason is cooking one now. Also Welsh lamb is a local specialty, generally sustainably farmed and good for the local rural economy, so it's practically my duty to eat some now and then. Mmmm. I bet welsh lamb would be good in ripped stomach. If you come visit me I'll give it a shot!

Oh yeah, Endgame

Forgot to tell you about our trip to see Endgame. It was as bleak and depressing as can be expected from a Beckett play. And, generally, I loved it. Peter Dinklage was a bit stilted in his delivery, which was terribly disappointing, but not enough to kill the overall vibe. The old crank, Hamm, was horrible and hateful but somehow sympathetic, telling stories to convince himself of the good he's done in his clearly nearly over life. He keeps his ancient parents in garbage cans and the actor playing Nell, his mum, was charming and elegant and wistful. Then she dies. The world is ending (has ended?) and we are all pathetic. Good stuff.

One suggestion: Never eat lunch at the Barbican Theatre cafe. It was unpleasant and not cheap and made Jason very sick the next day. But ethiopian dinner up near King's Cross was delicious.

So. Very. Tired.

I'm exhausted. All this week. Possibly anxiety induced. We have been keeping regular sleeping and waking hours for weeks and it has worked beautifully for accomplishing an impressive amount of reading and research and maintaining an even keel on emotions and moods and even making my headaches and health more manageable.

But as soon as I had deadlines, I couldn't sleep and also had to get up earlier due to some last-minute crammed in make-up lectures and pre-presentation rehearsal sessions, etc. So, this past week: tired and headachy and generally angsty. I brought it on myself in a way, by having coffee in the evening on Tuesday. But who knew it would keep me up til three and have days-long ripple effects? Well, any reasonable person, you might say. But that's not me.

At this point, I'm one presentation and an environmental law problem question (about pollution control laws and nuisance claims) into my coursework. This week, I'm to give a presentation on social partnership (wage and tax agreements) between unions, business, and government in Ireland during the "Celtic Tiger" economic boom of the 1990s through to the current situation. Interesting to research, but not groundbreaking. Since the presentation was originally scheduled for last Wednesday and I didn't get the memo that it had been moved, I'm pretty well prepared for it and took the opportunity to review my project with my professor, who didn't toss me out on my ear for being a loser, so it'll probably go okay.

This week, no official deadlines, but some self-created ones designed to smooth the way for next week, when I have two due, and the week after, when there are three. Then some studying for an environmental law exam and I'm home free.

Then it's on to the dissertation, which I'm excited about and terrified of. It's due by September 15th and is my sole academic responsibility over the summer. Yikes. I've meant to tell you all about it, and just haven't mustered the energy. I promise to do so soon, so check back.

Today, Jason and I went to the Farmer's Market and walked home the long way, through the park. It really is beautiful here right now. So many trees in bloom and several varieties of delicate sage green fuzzy leaved trees, alongside occasional alarmingly colorful arrangements of tulips and something highly sneeze-inducing. We didn't have the camera, so I can't show it to you. Sorry. Maybe I'll take some shots of the lilac and three tulips and hundreds of humongous dandelions in our back garden soon instead.

Judging from the hullaballoo outside our window each morning, I'd say there are some baby birds around. The cat wanders through and the birds spend half an hour shrieking and bobbing around to distract him. Must have babies around somewhere. I can't remember the specifics, but it calls to mind some vague memory of a cartoon character (maybe a bird?) who kind of runs back and forth frantically and wide-eyed, making a panicked racket about every little thing. Any guesses as to what my half-baked memory is trying to recall?

Sorry for the randomness, just wanted to put up some kind of update.

HIGHBROW STUDY BREAK

I'd love to write and fill y'all in on the thrills and chills of Corey Jo's visit, and the two days later short jaunt back to London to have dinner with Sara and Peter (who just got back from an incredible honeymoon in the Far East and India), but I'm afraid these past two weeks and the next few are that time when I have assignments due two per week and am finalizing my dissertation plans. That means I'm plumb tuckered (as my elementary school friend Sherry used to say, much to my mom's amusement). More accurately, it means that I feel like I shouldn't take the time out of all my reading and writing and thinking hard to update everyone. But it makes me sad, because I want to tell stories and show pictures and get comments.

Alas, I really can't spend the time on blogging. Maybe I'll try to give quick tidbits here and there in the next week or two.

For now, the news is that the train company has been having a super-duper sale this month and tickets to London are CHEAP! So, in addition to bargain trips with Corey and again to see Sara and Peter, we're going back tomorrow, for the afternoon/evening. Why are we doing that when I have 6 essays and two presentations to do? Well, because Peter Dinklage (of The Station Agent fame) is a wonderful actor and Samuel Beckett is one of my favorite playwrights and Endgame is playing in London for the Beckett Centenary Festival. (The same production was in Dublin, but we missed that run, and we would have had to fly to get there anyway, or spend like 2 days on trains and ferries.)

Endgame!! with Peter Dinklage!! Yep. It's gonna be great. Sorry you can't be there, Internet.

Then we're gonna have cheap Ethiopian food and ride the train home again.

Tell me Beckett doesn't have the best creases of any man, ever.

JUST BECAUSE THE SKY TURNED FROM GRAY INTO BLUE



Remember from art history or cultural history or something or other way back when, when they taught you about memento mori? My memory is that they are basically still life paintings with lots of death imagery and symbols of death built in, meant to remind you of your mortality.

Well, this is my memento viva--reminder of life--for this fine Good Friday. Hot cross buns from the alley bakery, flowers stolen over back garden walls on my way home and a couple of mementos from recent visits with beloved friends.

P.S. Hot cross buns are a Good Friday tradition here in my temporary homeland. Interesting history, as have many things, I suppose. Unclear what is historical and what legendary, but here goes: Originally a pagan pastry, meant to symbolize four moon phases, the Church coopted them into its religious tradition when converting the good people over to their way of thinking. I also read that Elizabeth I tried to outlaw them [why?!?] but gave in and let people eat them, but only on Easter and some other special occasions. Whatever. I don't pretend to understand the number of strange little historical tidbits I'm picking up.

FINALLY HERE



Corey Jo is arriving tonight! I'm so excited I can barely stand it. She claims she's happy to hang out and drink whisky and do lots of nothing, but I also hope we can come up with something cool to show her. We're in Cardiff through Wednesday, then a couple of days in London. We'll probably go look at a castle or two, or visit Tintern Abbey or Bath. But yeah, I don't really care what we do, I'm just so glad to see her.

I just hope it's not an April Fool's Joke.

FILM SOCIETY PUBLICITY

We finally had a full-on well-attended film night. I won't describe it because my friend Zeynep made a mini-slide show about it on her blog. You can see it here:

http://butterfly-x.blogspot.com/2006/03/political-movie-society-presents.html

She's also got pictures of Cardiff and things there, so take a look around. Some of it's in Turkish.

We owe Mr. Dietz a debt of gratitude for reminding me about Battle of Algiers.

IN A BIG CATHEDRAL BY THE SEA

Five years ago today, we decided to be together.
One year ago today, we got married. We met a handful of friends at the Panama Hotel (a cafe, not a hotel) in Seattle, where Some Guy Named Paul asked us the important questions and signed a document. He was wearing, among other things, an i-shuffle with a Mr. Yuck sticker on it. We drank tea, signed our names, and it was done. Too quick for the taste of some of our guests, I think. I had warned them all ahead of time there'd be nothing to see. But they came anyway, and brought flowers, and I'm so happy they did.

Then we hopped in the back of John Galt's ambulance and got whisked off to the Six Arms for some drinks. I think he took the long way to give us some time alone in the back. He even piped in some music for us. Then when we walked into the pub, all the strangers clapped for us. I guess because the ambulance lights had been flashing and so everyone was watching us climb out, flowers and all. Our favorite couch in the corner was empty, so we had ourselves a cozy little party.

We said it didn't mean anything more than we already had. We said we didn't want anything to change in our relationship. We said we weren't going to make a big deal of it. All these things were true. But we did get a little giddy. And we did go out and get rings the next day, after wandering happily around the Asian Art Museum and enjoying the sunny spring morning in the park.

P.S. Goofy drawn-in glasses to protect the identity of the Mysterious Jason. All photos taken by our friend Sonya Walker.

THE BACK FORTY IN MY MIND

In the backyard of my dreams, this is who greets me. She's very friendly and chews happily and gives me milk to make cheese. She also likes to be petted and follows me around like a puppy. She is named Fawn Eyes, after the pet cow on the farm I worked on when I was 13. The backyard has a big garden full of vegetables, and orchard with apples and pears, and also this field:

This is the entrance into my imaginary backyard. We only open the huge part for big carts and horses, or for giants.

You can come visit if you want.

p.s. the prototype for my backyard is Cowbridge, in case you are a stickler for details and accuracy.

THE BACK FORTY

Spring has finally sort of started, and boy o boy is life better in Cardiff when it's sunny and warm. I know the cold rain and snow isn't over, but the last couple of days have been beautiful. The garden's doing fine, daffodils are just about ready to bloom, and the birds are singing their little hearts out. They kind of sang all winter, really, but it's nicer when they do it now. That picture above is the cold frame set-up J. made for me, and it's growing rocket and lettuce all winter, along with the struggling little spinach bits that the slugs have been kind enough to leave. I put in some new spinach and lettuce last week, too. I've wanted to put in some peas behind the boxes, but then the daffodils and other bulbs came up and surprised me in exactly the spot I was going to put them, so I haven't. I guess it won't hurt to put them in together--presumably the flowers will be dying off by the time the peas are big enough to get in the way.

Last week I brought in some lettuce to make room for the others to get full-sized, and I found the world's tiniest snail. I tried to take a picture of it, but you can't see it in the photo, it's so small. But I will tell you, it's tee-tiny antennae were about the cutest thing you've ever seen. I brought it in to show to Jason, but it wouldn't put its head out again. Actually, it didn't ever. Nor did it ever move. Then I dropped it and, obviously, it was way too little to find. So, oops, I guess. Not that I wouldn't have killed it in a beer trap as soon as it was old enough, but I was sad to have taken it's life at such a tender age.

Oh yeah, and for those sick souls among you who asked to see special Welsh slugs drinking themselves to death in my clever traps, here you go:

Hello, world. So nice to see you again.

Today I made an apple crisp and put cardamom instead of cinnamon because the words looked similar to me and I failed to notice that cardamom is not cinnamon-colored at all. I added some cinnamon and decided to give it a try anyway. It was surprisingly good—even after I went and fell asleep and left the crisp in the oven for nearly an hour and a half. We added some water and put it back in the oven to reconstitute itself. This is an example of how useless I am after four days of intense headache.

I’ve had a migraine since Friday morning. A bad one. That’s four days. My skin’s all splotchy and red and dry. I haven’t been able to stay hydrated no matter how much water I drink. And sleeping, which is the only thing that sounds good to me, is difficult. Four days out of an intensive grad school schedule is bad news, but reading, writing or even constructive thinking has been out of the question. I’ve cooked some, because it gets my blood flowing a little to move around and because it doesn’t involve reading or complex thinking. And while chopping and organizing and cooking things, I’m somewhat distracted from the pain.

The worst thing is I know it’s my own fault. Yep, I brought it all on myself. I ate cake without reading the ingredients list. I knew better. I’ve known I’m allergic to corn and all its products for a couple of years now, and it’s taken that long to learn all of the places that corn can lurk. I read somewhere that of an average 10,000 items in a supermarket, 2,500 of them have corn in some form. And I believe it. Once you know all its names, its shocking how many things you can’t eat. Dextrose, maltodextrin, sorbital, corn syrup, modified starch … And in Britain, it goes by different names: maize starch, glucose syrup … And even worse, more and more corn products are being developed every day and more and more food companies are switching to these ingredients, which are often cheaper sources of such things as citric acid, alcohol for vanilla extraction, anti-caking agents for salt, powdered sugar, spices …


Now, luckily, I’m not as allergic as some—I don’t have anaphylactic reactions, and I haven’t noticed a reaction to many things that others are unable to tolerate. And I’m not also allergic to wheat or dairy or something. But even just the corn is pretty extreme. For instance, last summer, I was on two daily medications (unrelated to corn allergies). I let one of the prescriptions run out and just didn’t bother to take it for about a month. When I got it refilled, I started feeling not so hot and by the end of the first week I had a horrible headache. When I tried to figure out the trigger (I can often tell when a headache is corn-based) I suddenly had the idea to look at my medicine labels—sure enough, they were made up of the drugs in a corn starch base! So I switched to new brands with different bases (though these bases are of things that can be derived from corn, they aren’t always, and I had no choice but to try them. They seemed better). Another example of the sensitivity is that I seemed to get all tired and cranky and headachy when I ate orange cheese. Hm. That’s weird. I looked at ingredients and the only thing the orange foods had in common was annatto, a plant-based coloring. It kept happening, so I assumed I had a separate allergy to annatto and stopped eating orange foods. Then once I looked at a package of organic mac-n-cheese and there it was: annatto (annatto, corn starch). Aargh. So, bottom line, yes, I’m sure beyond a doubt that it’s corn.

This time round I was at a friend’s birthday party and after a couple of glasses of wine, I made the very very stupid decision to have a tiny piece of cake without being able to read the ingredients list. I knew better. So why did I do it? I don’t think it’s just the wine to be blamed for my lack of good judgment here. I think it’s this:

Sometimes, I just get sick of the whole thing. Tired of reading labels and not being able to snack at public events. Tired of trying to pick and choose what I can eat without having to either offend or explain to the host. I don’t want to be the person who always talks about her food issues, especially given that it’s so weird that many have a hard time believing I’m not imagining it. Sometimes, it just seems easier to take the risk and eat something. Of course that’s crazy. Cause then I get three or four days of horrendous headaches and tears and stretching and hot/cold showers and drinking gallons of water and tea to try and clear my system and not being able to take pain killers because they are all (and I do mean all) based either obviously in corn starch or in a range of bases that may be derived from corn but aren’t always.

Here in the UK, I’ve had to switch my prescriptions and just cut one out altogether because there was no corn-free version. My migraine medication (which rarely works for very long, if at all) is now in the squirt-up-my-nose form. And while the outside box of my birth control pills says the inactive ingredients are other than corn, I just realized that the insert list says maize starch. Which means I’m taking a tiny pill of poison every day, just so I have a nice baseline of irritation in my system at all times. I’m furious, but I’ve done my research and there are no other options. I’m on the pill partly because it controls hormone headaches, so I could quit and trade off one kind of headache for another. But even then I’d also have to find a new contraceptive method and none are really appealing to me. So, a tiny bit of poison every day until I get home to the States. (yes, I will talk to my doctor and look for other options, but some that would work in the US I know are not available here and others involve risks I’d rather not take.)

On the other hand, I feel better now and I have renewed faith that it will always stop hurting eventually and that I can get through it without resorting to stabbing myself in the head with a steel rod, which sometimes sounds like the best plan. If I can get a good night’s sleep tonight, all should be well by morning.

SMALL THINGS

In Cowbridge

COW + BRIDGE

This past week was "Reading Week" here at CU, which means that lots of the UK students go home for the week and get their laundry done and eat some homemade food. It also means that I (who have greedily been home cooking my own food all along and doing laundry in the comfort of my kitchen) have been reading and reading and reading, and then worrying that I'm not reading enough, and then trying to shape the crammed reading ideas into some thoughts about what an essay might look like, and then reading some more. Read, worry, repeat, as much as my poor brain can handle. But I did require some break time. So my dear Jason, who had been scouting ahead of time, took me to Cowbridge for a day hike through the hills and dales and farm country.

The sun was out, the air was fresh and all in all it was a great day for a mind clearing walk. Seven and a half miles of pastures and villages and seriously old churches, along with some smelly sileage, a couple of rabbit corpses, and a closed pub with a toilet you can't use. We saw kids who hide behind a stone well and jump out to make faces at passing cars, and a woodland teeming with paint-ball dudes who J. says had terrible battle skills. We saw elegant, languorous windmills, which are a "blight on the landscape" if you ask the locals, and lots of huge electrical towers and wires, which are apparently invisible to those same British countryside lovers.

It was a great afternoon, begun with a visit to the farmers' market for some farmhouse cheese and a loaf of bread with rye stalks that looked like hay embedded in the bottom of it, and ended at a pub with some fish and chips and mushy peas for me, and some delicious salmon and pesto on rocket for J.

P.S. Mushy peas are not as bad as you'd think--and peas were my hated vegetable as a kid!

Happy Dewi Sant Day!

Today is St. David's Day! You're supposed to wear a daffodil or a leek on your lapel and go to parades in your Welsh National Costume, which looks like this:



I skipped the parade because I had an appointment at a community garden in relation to a coursework project. Also, I wore this instead of Welsh costume:



I made it myself. The hat, that is. It's dang cold here lately and I'm sick of being without a warm hat just because I'm too stubborn to buy one when I'm perfectly capable of making one. So I made it. In one night. Last night, while watching McLibel. Because watching McLibel is kind of homework for my Agri-food class.

And just in time, too. This morning we woke to a snow-covered back garden, then the sun came, then it sleeted for a while, then sun, then a blizzard, then sun, then freezing cold and light snow. It's like this all the time here. And I thought Seattle weather was changeable.

I Was Getting Ready to Be a Threat

It's been quite a week. The night after crying into dishwater, still with a nasty cold, I also got a nasty headache of the possibly days-long and nights-up-in-tears-of-pain-and-frustration variety just before going to bed. Which is never good, but was particularly bad as i was to get my grades back on three essays from last semester the next day, and also had a long-awaited meeting to discuss my disseration ideas with that glorious professor who was on sabbatical last semester. So I was a little tense when I went to bed (quite likely the cause of the headache in the first place).

And I dreamed. Oh boy, did I ever dream. About getting my grades back and having them be bad. Only the essays were not the ones I actually wrote--about Regional Innovation, the World Bank and Sustainable Development--oh no. In the dream, I had written a freakin' brilliant paper about German artist Joseph Beuys and his work as a statement on food scarcity and deprivation and emergency measures required to address them.

ASIDE: (i.e. not in the dream, but a word of explanation) Joseph Beuys has long been one of my favorite artists, and I'm kicking myself that I didn't bring the book I have about his work and his theories with me to Wales (he was also a sort of activist for human power over the future and our world, though i must admit it's been years and I don't really remember what he said. I do seem to remember he was strange and cool) Anyway, the story/myth about Beuys goes like this: He was shot down over Crimea in WWII and was freezing, but was rescued by a tribe of Tartars who coated him in fat and wrapped him in felt and nursed him back to health. True or not, no one really knows. But anyway, much of his work is sculpture and installation incorporating fat and felt and ideas of rescue and warmth. I've always liked the images, but had never seen his sculpture or installations in person. A couple of weeks ago, in the week I had between last semester's exams and the start of this semester's classes, J and I took the Megabus to London for a few days of museum-hopping. All of it was incredible, but my favorite thing was the Tate Modern. I hadn't researched what they had in their collection so I was ecstatic to turn a corner and see this Beuys installation:



It's not the best photo in the world, but it's the most evocative I could find on the net. (In my dream and my memory, it's in color and you see the side of the van and the sleds out behind to the distance, but it's always photographed this way instead.) It's called "The Pack" and it is just 24 sleds spilling out behind an old VW bus, each sled has a survival kit of a roll of felt (for warmth and protection), a lump of animal fat (for energy and sustenance) and a torch (for navigation and orientation). Beuys is quoted on the Tate website as saying of the work: ‘This is an emergency object: an invasion by the pack. In a state of emergency the Volkswagen bus is of limited usefulness, and more direct and primitive means must be taken to ensure survival.’

So that's the basis of my dream, and the paper in it. Even when I woke up, I thought it quite a good idea for a paper. But alas, in the dream, I went to school and got my marks back and had been given a horrible grade. I was very upset, but quiet until I overheard two other students talking to professors about their similarly bad marks on papers incorporating art and/or literature into a social science essay. Well, then I was livid and I stood up and gave a rousing speech about how this school failed to realize the importance of art as a lense through which to view social and environmental concerns, and how these papers represented some of the most creative work being done in the department. It was exhilarating.

And then I woke up. And my head was throbbing. And I had to really go and get my marked essays and meet with Professor Perfect. I'm afraid I can't tell you my marks, because I promised myself that, good or bad, I wouldn't tell the whole Internet. This was a measure to avoid feeling like shame or pride were making my decision for me. I will say that I was greatly relieved and headache-free by the end of the day. Also, and unrelated to grades, when I read my papers after not looking at them for a month, I was shocked to see that the language and tone were so professional-sounding and organized. I think there's hope for me yet.

And my meeting with Professor Perfect? Well, after our chat, he asked if he could be my dissertation supervisor. Which was exactly what I had hoped for in preparing my notecards to talk to him. And I didn't even have to ask. So he's declared that he'll work that out with my Course Director if at all possible. But it shouldn't be a problem.

This semester is sooooo much better than last. I can't even begin to tell you.

Join our Film "Society"

Here's the film list we've started. It's a mish-mash of fictionalized history, full-on fictional drama and documentary and is in no particular order. Feel free to comment or suggest additions. Disclaimer: I'm making no claims about the accuracy of my descriptions. Do not depend on them for your undergraduate film history exam or to make you sound smart at parties.

POLITICAL FILM LIST

Land and Freedom – Spanish Civil War
Reds - Bolshevik Revolution period
All the President's Men - US Watergate scandal
Ride with the Devil - US Civil War
The Constant Gardener - Kenya and pharmaceutical industry testing
Cry Freedom - About death of activist Steve Biko in S. Africa in 1977 and journalist Donald Woods
Trials of Henry Kissinger - documentary –charges against Henry Kissinger as a war criminal - allegations documented in Hitchens' book of the same title - based on his role in countries such as Cambodia, Chile, and Indonesia. Kissinger's story raises profound questions about American foreign policy and highlights a new era of human rights. Increasing evidence about one man's role in a long history of human rights abuses leads to a critical examination of American diplomacy through the lens of international standards of justice.
Matewan - US Miners unionizing in West Virginia in 1920’s
Fog of War - cool documentary Robert S. McNamara talks about Vietnam and his time as U.S. Secretary of Defense (McNamara was later head of World Bank 1980-1991)
Control Room - about invasion of Iraq
The Killing Fields - about Cambodia
Swimming to Cambodia - Spalding Gray's one man show about Killing Fields
The Quiet American - About early stages of Vietnam
Cradle Will Rock - about American federal theatre project, only time in US history such a thing existed - attacked by anti-communist Dyes Committee
In the Name of the Father - about the Irish Republican Army and the Guilford Four
Some Mother's Son - events leading up to and surrounding hunger strike where Bobby Sands, Sinn Fein activist, died. He was elected to be Northern Ireland's representative in Parliament while he was in jail.
The Interpreter – UN interpreter overhears information about plot to assassinate African head of state
The Mission – Jesuit missionaries in S. America and their falling out with Spanish colonial business interests. Jesuits were ordered to shut down missions because their plantations were becoming financially competitive with local businesses
Ararat – about Armenian genocide in Turkey, 1915-1918
Four Days in September – Marxists in Brazil kidnapped the US Ambassador and held him hostage and made demands of Brazilian gov’t.
Danton –post French Revolution (1793)
Das Boot – claustrophobic life on a WWII German submarine
Before the Rain – drama set in Balkans highlighting ethnic and cultural tensions between Muslims and Christians in the area
The Year of Living Dangerously – set in Indonesia, political drama during 1965 revolution
The Year of the Gun – about Red Brigades in Italy
Downfall – about Hitler’s last days in a bunker
City of God – drama based on true events –gang wars in Rio de Janeiro in late 1970’s and 80’s – beautifully made
Death and the Maiden – about disappearances in South America, adapted from a play, non-specific country
On the Waterfront – (marlon Brando) about gangster crime in labor unions (said to be Director Elia Kazan’s justification for snitching in McCarthy communism hearings)
Manchurian Candidate (1962 version) – drama about brainwashing and radical conspiracy theories set against the backdrop of Joseph McCarthy’s rise to power in the US
The Atomic Café – documentary using footage from US gov’t propaganda films about the atomic bomb and the effects of radiation – looks at American attitudes from the 1960’s
The Guns of August – documentary about WWI, lots of footage
Machuca – two boys observe a political coup in Chile
Battle of Algiers - commissioned by Algerian government - shows both sides of Algerian/French conflict - must see
The Revolution will Not be Televised - About brief coup against Chavez in Venezuela

Thanks, Belatedly

So, I had written this post in November and then left it in draft form because I wanted to scan in Susannah's paintings, which I have since done and posted. I just realized it was still sitting here and y'all deserve the thanks, so I'm posting it now.

It's good that I stumbled on it because I'm in a miserable mood with a sore throat and cough that won't go away and I cried while washing dishes tonight because I so wanted to be back in Seattle. I couldn't really explain why, except that life as I know it seems irreversibly changed now and after this whole year of school and focus I'll come back to Seattle and try to get a serious career-type job. As I sobbed to Joshua with my hands hovering in the dishwater "I won't be able to just sit around watching That 70's Show and going to my part-time job without a future and not really worrying about things." Now, most of you know that my life was never really all about my (meaningful) part-time job and watching (excellent) sitcoms--I've always had too much going on and taken it all very seriously. But today somehow grad school and jobs and such just all seemed too important and burdensome and I needed a break. So I had some lemon curd on toast and felt somewhat better. And now to get rid of the nasty cold--I'm pretty sure its really all that's wrong with me anyway. So, whatever, here's the Thanksgiving post:

Last week we had over a collection of international people for Thanksgiving dinner. Jason had never or briefly met most of them, but gave a rousing tale of what Thanksgiving means--you can probably imagine. Something about how we celebrate giving the Native Americans smallpox and taking their land, after calling a friendly dinner to butter them up. Something like that. Our guests ate it up. The food and J's Thanksgiving lesson. And the turkey turned out beautifully in spite of the tiny oven with a heating element only at the top and the roasting pan that wouldn't fit and the resulting lopsided rack on the smaller pan. I also made everyone go around the table and say what they were thankful for. They were very willing players. And then we talked about Johnny Cash and White Stripes and listened to June Carter Cash's song about Quentin Tarantino. S. from Portugal brought orange flavored rice pudding for dessert.

Also, I will take this opportunity to thank those of you at home who have sent things to us here in far-off Wales. Ms. Susannah sent a book of watercolors of our wedding-like party at Rainier. They are all so beautiful and I cried with missing you all and thinking how wonderful our friends are. (see these in previous entry--cause I'm all out of order!) She also sent a pair of fantasy books that allowed me to forget facts and figures and sleep peacefully during much of the semester. And a picture of her darling baby boy.

And John Galt sent us a CD of Awesome's Delaware show and F. and G. sent chutney and travel books for Thanksgiving (and many of our books and winter clothing and things before that, with help from Some Guy). Mom and Dad sent a subscription to National Geographic. Amazon sent me some books I ordered. And from others, e-mail and blog comments and general support.

So, thanks to you all. I miss you. (Except Amazon, who's as close as she ever was.)

FOOD PROPAGANDA

Animation to fight the forces of evil:

THE MEATRIX

Extracurricular Education

I was having a conversation at a pub one night with some fellow students and mentioned that J. was writing historical lessons for school kids. While passing along what he'd taught me about the Spanish Civil War, I mentioned the film "Land and Freedom," (which you should all go out right now and rent). Anyway, folks were interested, and C. from Nigeria said he loved political films and so we started talking about them and there are lots of good ones that not everyone had seen. So we're starting a fortnightly political film night at our house! I can't wait. We're starting with Land and Freedom. I will be making fajitas. (Nothing to do with the film, just that I mentioned that local "Mexican" food was not the American "Mexican" food I pined for and that I had learned to make salsa. They promptly committed me to making fajitas at the first film night.)

So far, it's J. and me, O. and P. from London, Z. from Turkey and C. from Nigeria. Should make for some great conversation and perspective comparison.

Jason and I have started a list of good (i.e. not JUST educational) political films. I'm not going to post it here because it's too long, and because my descriptions are probably not totally accurate, but if you'd like to see it, let me know and I'll email it to you once my fellow film society members have added their suggestions. Also, if you have knowledge of amazing films about world politics, let me know and I'll add them if they're not already on it. Maybe I'll figure out what high-tech Internet way to post it here without having it be in my blog text. I'm a little slow about such things.

Happy Birthday, S. Lorelle

Blue Series - Cardiff Walking Photos, at Sonya's request

The streets near Cardiff University. I pass through the neighborhood nearly every day.