Yesterday I walked into a hairdresser's. It's brand spanking new and is full of natural sunlight and has lots of oversized mirrors. As I gazed into the mirror an overweight older chick stared back. This certainly does not happen at home.
At my apartment the mirrors allow me to see myself as my "best" self. They make me look slimmer than I actually am. I have pulled Luis into the bathroom on serveral occasions and asked him to "look into the mirror, then look at me". I then asked him if I looked thinner in the mirror. As a survivor of "does my bum look fat in this", he won't be drawn in to another similar situation but it's a fact - I look cute at home.
In Feb, 2007 a prominent British retailer was accused of using that tactic as a marketing strategy. The Telegraph article lays it all out for you here. There was a complaint that the mirrors were tilted or angled to make the customers look slimmer.
Well, on my list of things to do in 2009 as my number one priority I intend to get rid of an extra ten pounds that I have been carrying around with me for some time now. Then every mirror will be like my mirrors at home.
Mirror, mirror on the wall whose the fairest of them all? Why me, of course (hahahahaha)
New beginnings - ya just gotta love them and we are afforded the opportunity to start afresh every January. New Year's is a time where we focus on being our "best" selves and this year is no different.
I guess this is the time and place to talk about New Year's Resolutions. . .
I'll make it short and sweet - more play, less carbs.
Here in Portugal one option for a worker is "freelance".
A "freelancer" (doctor, architect, writer, translator - you get the idea) provides a service and receives payment after submitting a "green receipt" to the client. The green receipt serves as an official document and is proof of payment.
After earning somewhere in the neighborhood of €12,000 per annum this system becomes more complicated. The client must pay a tax (20%) to the freelancer. The freelancer then passes these funds along to the state quarterly.
It's not like a pay raise or any kind of benefit. What it boils down to is just one more thing to do as the freelancer is required to file a form online and submit the funds. (You might remember my bitch, I mean post, last year as a result of NOT filing IVA at a time when I had no income . . .)
This whole IVA system was once again in the news. Seems that you are now obliged to file an end of the year form that nobody knows about. Evidently this law has been in place for a couple of years now and the fines for the 200,000 people who have not complied with this piece of legislation (because they didn't even KNOW about it - duh!!) have been cancelled (isn't that generous).
I was once-again reminded that ignorance of the law is never an excuse for non-compliance but this seems a little ridiculous to me. I think that most people would file all the governmental forms they need to IF they are AWARE of them.
Since these forms are all filed electronically and the govt has our email addresses - wouldn't it be in their best interest to send out an email explaining what needs to be done? Or could they maybe (and forgive me if I'm wrong but I'm just thinkin' out loud here) create a pop-up when the freelancer logs into the system to pay their quarterly fees? How about a video? a mass-marketing email? a podcast? a cartoon? a PhotoStory? an e-newsletter? an e-card?
Anyway enough of my bitching about that because I have just cancelled my status as a "freelancer" and have a book of green reciepts if anybody needs one. . .
Halloween has always been my favorite holiday (even though it's not technically a day-off kinda holiday). Dressing up and collecting goodies appeals to the kid in all of us. Imagine - costumed you shout "trick or treat" on someone's porch and you are immediately given candy. (Can life get any better than that?)
There were "good" Halloweens and "bad" Halloweens. I remember a really old couple on my street who gave out taffy apples (that they made in their kitchen). This was the ultimate and we often walked out their back door only to run around to the front of the house and get in line again hoping that we weren't memorable enough to be noticed. I remember another Halloween where a neighbor of mine dressed up as a bride. Her gown was beautiful and was handmade by her older brother who was attending art school (don't ask!). She was reduced to tears when during the evening the hem of her dress ripped. Not even a pilow case full of candy could consol her.
My most memorable Halloween was the year I turned 7. My older brother who was 8 (my only brother at the time) had gone out early (as usual) and came home with a bag full of candy. My aunt arrived with my cousin who was 9. The three of us set out on our own. This was quite something as it was the first time we went trick or treating unescorted and we ventured further than we should have.
Somehow after the time changes in late October evening not only comes earlier but seems DARKER as well. The three of us were not too far from home as we were near school which we walked to every day but we had walked beyond the school. It was way dark and although it couldn't have been more than 7:15 or so most of the porch lights were off and we found ourselves alone.
We started to walk back when out of the blue (or should I say black) older boys (who couldn't have been more than 12 or 13) appeared and grabbed my brother's bag of candy. We were stunned. We didn't know what to do. They towered over us. We were no match for them and we all knew it. Then one of the older boys grabbed my bag and we began a tug of war. He pulled one way and I pulled the other. Then I let out a wail that would wake the dead. The boys took off and we hurried home, my brother crying all the way.
It still makes me wonder whatever possessed these tweens to take advantage of three little kids and ruin their fun but that's another post.
The moral of this story is that when someone is trying to take what's rightfully yours - hold onto your bag/idea/valuables/scruples and SCREAM (at the top of your lungs) and then watch the culprits scatter into the night. . .
I was recently reminded of a boy I knew the summer of 1967.
There was a big world out there but we weren't a part of it. As dysfunctional as our lives were back then we still had 10pm curfews during the week so you couldn't get up to much. Marty was one year older than I was and in my brother's class. He wasn't my "boyfriend" although I liked him a lot and wanted him to be (hahaha). No it wasn't like that, we just kinda hung out together the way kids do. We smoked cigarettes and laughed a lot and we played cards under the streetlight across from the swimming pool on hot, summer nights.
We played all kinds of traditional card games including rummy and poker that summer. I don't remember exactly what prompted this but one night Marty asked me if I knew how to play a particular game. I said that I didn't so Marty set out to explain the rules to me.
I was winning at this new card game and Marty seemed surprised. He added rules (that he said he had forgotten to mention) as we went along that were always in his favor. It didn't take an Einstein to realize that Marty was making this game up as we went along. AND he didn't like losing. I never let on and to be honest I really didn't mind because I liked him a lot and liked the time that we spent together.
But as I look around the world today, I have the feeling that the powers that be are pullin' a Marty. It seems as if a lot of people are making up the rules as they go along. And every time you start to win at their game, they change the rules again. . .
Well, there it is. I've said it, "I'm in love again (and it's not even spring!)"
My first love was Cary Grant, then when I was a little older I fell in love with Paul Newman and my last big love was Warren Beatty. Yes, I took an occasional fancy to others over the years. Burt Reynolds, Tom Sellick, and John Lennon were each on my list at one time or another, and while I was smitten, they were merely crushes - (hahahaha).
Well I thought all that was well behind me and whammo Cupid's arrow strikes again. This time the object of my "intellectual" desire is Alan Shore. Yes, Alan Shore from Boston Legal. No, not James Spader who by the way is a great actor and is doing a fab job making this character come to life. But not James Spader. I'm in love with the with fictional character of Alan Shore.
For those of you who don't know Alan Shore is a character on Boston Legal one of those lawyer shows so popular in the States. His character is a wealthy, eccentric widower in his mid 40's. He is also a womanizer. Blah, blah, blah . . .
The most important qualities of Alan Shore are that he is: intelligent, well-educated, informed, articulate, passionate, and honorable. And more importantly, he isn't afraid to say what he thinks. (Listen to him speak here). He takes on the tough issues - he asks everyone to be accountable and to hold our leaders accountable. He talks about what it really means to be "American".
Yes, I'm in love again. The thing that bothers me about all this is that Alan Shore is NOT a real person but a fictionalized character. That for one to find an honorable man we must look to fantasy.
It bothers me that we live in a "me" society in which we shove and snatch what we want much like the pre-schooler who grabs a toy from another child - only now the stakes are higher.
It bothers me that the people who started this current economic crisis are the sames ones who will be given the funds to correct it.
It bothers me that the fox is guarding the henhouse.
It bothers me that it's not our business or political leaders who are trying to make the world a better place and that people like me who are looking for a better day for humanity are resigned to flights of imagination with characters like Alan Shore for 1 hour per week less adverts . . .
On a sunny September morning 20 years ago I received a telephone call asking me to come immediately to the hospital.
I was staying with my friend Sandy who lived a "walk across the park" from the hospital so I was able to shower, dress and get to the hospital in no time at all. It's times like this that you want to linger to avoid the inevitable . . . You know the feeling. It's like when you were a kid and you wanted the walk to school to last a decade because you hadn't done your homework.
But you hurry because the call was from one of the nurses at the hospital and without being told you know. You know that the end is near - and you rush to be with your loved one - one last time . . .
You are greeted by hosptial employees with downcast eyes who usher you into the ICU and there you are permitted to stay until all hope has faded and your life has changed yet again.
It was 20 years ago that my mother died on a sunny September morning; 20 years ago that September took on a whole new meaning for me.
Way back when in the late 50's folks crowded round the television for a night of family entertainment. Mom and Dad usually got first choice of the offerings from the 2 or 3 channels then available.
Art Linkletter had a program called "House Party" and for the last few minutes of each show he had 4 or 5 children on and he engaged in informal/impromptu conversation with these youngsters. (Yes, we are referring to a time when kids were still called youngsters.) He would ask questions and the children would answer honestly and naturally - and it was usually humorous (to a bunch of grown-ups). As the program closed everyone was smiling and grinning from ear to ear Art said, "Kids say the darndest things!"
Fast forward 50 years and yes, kids still do say the darndest things.
Just the other day when I was, once again, trying to explain to a group of high-school kids why they had to pay attention during school hours one of them said, "But, Miss, we are Indigo kids."
Well, I had never even heard of the term so onto Google we went. Our keyword was "Indigo Kids" and lo and behold there it was - about 413,000 entries. Wow! Imagine that! Where the hell have I been?
I began my research into this term that I never heard of before. According to Wikipedia, "Indigo children refers to a New Age belief that some children, especially those born after the late 1970s, represent a higher state of human evolution." Higher state of human evolution???!!! - impressed I read on to learn more about this exciting phenomenon.
USA Today did an article in May, 2005 which stated, "James Twyman is convinced that there's a new generation of special children among us who are psychically sensitive and spiritually evolved." I couldn't believe what I was reading . . . Could this be exactly what the world/Earth needs? Will these kids save us all from impending doom and environmental destruction?
It seems that these Indigo kids are "special". They are purported to be non-conformists who are strong-willed and independent thinkers and don't comply with authority figures. I was assured by the teens in question that this was, indeed, a great quality in a kid.
When I mentioned that the literature says Indigo Children are also intellectually creative and self-starters (which means that they actually do their homework AND hand it in on time) and are supposed to be empathetic and sympathetic to the needs of others and that I didn't see those qualities being displayed in the least, they just shrugged and insisted that they were special (one step away from stamping their feet and flying into a temper tantrum - hahahaha).
Well, that set me straight. There I was thinking that these kids were just a bunch of spoiled, smart-@ssed, rich kids who did whatever they pleased! Go figure!
It's definitely true; kids say the darndest things!
A problem arose in my school at the end of last term when I had a group of Year 7's and a group of Year 8's that did outstanding work. The Year 7's (basically 11 year olds) learned to use Microsoft 2007 and my Year 8's (12 year olds) were introduced to PhotoStory 3 and had amazing results. The curriculum was written by me, checked by the MYP Co-ordinator and approved by the Head of the Technology Department who also happens to be the principal.
These kids did great work and had fantastic results. A problem arose when I gave them all 7's (the highest grade) - which they all deserved. This was met with a lot of resistance by the Dept Head/Principal and, although not directely asked to do so I am smart enough to know that I was expected to change the grades and I did so (unhappily/begrudgingly).
I was informed that all kids can't be 7's and if they are then there is something wrong. And I quote,
"They cannot all be achieving level 7 by the end of the course. If they are, it suggests that the demands of the course are not significant enough."
I don't get it - I'm teaching Word 2007 and PhotoStory 3 not Brain Surgery 101 to middle-school aged children. What I saw in those 2 classes was a bunch of little kids following directions, working hard, and having a bit of fun. Sounds like a winning combo to me. In my book, that in and of itself is deserving of a 7.
Somebody has a lot to learn, and I'm not exactly sure who that is . . .
International schools staff through "job fairs" held (primarily) in February. A colleague of mine (who I like VERY much) was planning on attending the Job Fair this past weekend. She is looking for a new experience and has been on the international circuit for some time now. I must say that I have been surprised by all the tension at the school and naively thought that it would be a more nurturing environment. I mentioned that another school might provide a healthier setting but she filled me in. . .
She said (and I'm paraphrasing here) that in a school we are ALL leaders. We are ALL educated people. We are ALL capable so there is a lot of strife going on because we can ALL do it (whatever "it" is). In order to have a pleasant work situation, there should be 1 leader and lots of followers.
After all this time, I finally figured out what the problem is: I'm a Type B personality in a Type A work environment. Yep, that's it - case closed.
It's great that the IB school in which I work heralds values that I also cherish.
According to the IBO
"The aim of all IB programmes is to develop internationally minded people who, recognizing their common humanity and shared guardianship of the planet, help to create a better and more peaceful world. IB learners strive to be: Inquirers, Knowledgable, Thinkers, Communicators, Principled, Open-Minded, Caring, Risk Takers, Balanced, and Reflective."
These are characteristics that I wholly believe in (they sound a little 60's don't they - Like Hey Man)and try to uphold. They have a ring of gentleness about them. Makes you think that if everyone embraced these ideals that the world would, indeed, be a better place. These principles give us hope.
But as I sit and ponder (oh yes, that's what a Type B does - takes a moment to sit and ponder), might I also suggest that these characteristics could be considered Type B Characteristics. - Ok, then why in the hell are we rushing around all day at the school? I started the day with an 8am meeting (first class begins at 8:30) and my lunch hour was cut short because I was on duty at lunchtime. Evening are taken up with lesson planning and searching the web for cool IT things that can edutain the kids. And everyone at the school (including the children) are equally as rushed! Can you imagine - kids taking lunchtime meetings?????!!!!!
I must confess that I took a little detour while online today (another typical Type B behavior) and I came across a short quiz that could help you come to grips with who you are (hahahahaha). Type A behaviour is characterized by an intense drive "to achieve goals and an eagerness to compete." Type B behaviour is generally characterized as the absence of Type A behaviour. And of course there is a whole scale with these two personality types as polar opposites.
The results of my quiz:
Results of Your Type A Personality Test Personality Type
Your score = 38
What does your score mean?
You seem to be in the middle between the Type A and Type B personality. In this case, the middle ground is good. Your attitude to life is more of the "smell the roses" kind and you know how and when to relax. Nonetheless, you realize that picking up a challenge and competing a little bit for your place in the sun can add some spice to your life. The equilibrium is important, so don't let your hostile, aggressive, and competitive alter ego take over too often. Generally, you are easy to be around, and people tend to feel relaxed and comfortable in your presence. Yours is a very healthy attitude towards life.
Gotta say that I felt quite relieved after reading the results . . . Type B isn't so bad after all!
Another new year, another revolution. . . sorry I mean resolution.
You've heard about it and no doubt read about it in magazines, but is it real or just another urban myth? Well, I'm going to take the time this year to explore the possibility and I will let you know what happens.
Along with all the good things that happened this year, there were a few unexpected "side effects" that I hope won't need a doctor to help correct (hahahaha). Never having been an "all or nothin" kind of gal I find it very interesting/disconcerting that my life is so unbalanced at the moment.
I'm hopeful that in 2008 I will find some proportion in my life and a happy medium between work and play. . .
Wishing YOU a year abundant with joy, good health, happiness, and love.
All I want for Christmas is a new attitude. The one I currently have is in need of replacement. I've had it now for more than a decade and it has slowly worn out. I am now in the position that I am constantly irritated with the incompetence that I see everywhere and find it ever so hard to conceal my discontent. . .
What is Second Life (SL)? Well according to Wikipedia (yes, I think Wikipedia is a good thing and don't just dismiss it because the content isn't controlled - but that's another posting) SL is an internet based virtual world developed by Linden Research, Inc A downloadable client program called the Second Life Viewer enables its users, called "Residents", to interact with each other through motional avatars, providing an advanced level of a social network service combined with general aspects of a metaverse. Residents can explore, meet other Residents, socialize, participate in individual and group activities, create and trade items (virtual property) and services from one another.
In addition, many well-know universities and businesses now have spaces in this virtual world and hold classes and business meetings. They even have a currency - Linden dollars.
It makes me wonder . . . Are the participants lying on the sofa, still in their pj's, filling their faces full of pop-tarts while participating in these meetings? I wonder what their avatars look like - are they even humanoid? Even more puzzling, are they clothed?
I'm not sure I understand (yet) this whole concept. Is SL something I have to do or something I want to do? If I leave for work at 7:45 and arrive home around 6pm - do I then head for SL or is it something to do after dinner and the dishes are done? Do I meet my friends there instead of getting together for coffee face-to-face? How will I recognize my friends anyway? Is the whole point of this to create another you? Or is the whole point of it to create who you wish you were?
I'm looking for answers. But gotta say that after the month that I've had - doing everything wrong and getting everyone pissed at me - I wish I had a Second Life to escape to . . .
I have so much going on at the moment I can't think. That's not entirely a bad thing but it's exhausting. Some of the irons in the fire include a new job, deadlines for grades, Tuesday is Activity Day at school (you don't even want to know . . .), Thanksgiving, online committments and a move next weekend. It's a lot to juggle - almost too much to juggle.
Along with the move comes organizing, packing, cleaning (the old place and the new place) and painting. You can't forget the painting. The color is the first thing that you notice when you enter a room. Nothing can give a room a lift as easily and cheaply as a coat of paint. It's been my experience that if you don't paint BEFORE you move into the new place - well, it just doesn't get done.
So that's just where I'm at - the pre-move painting stage. Except that I'm working full time and the ceiling was painted an interesting shade of raspberry (very Sistine Chapel) and it took one coat of primer and 3 coats of ceiling white to bring the ceiling back into this millenium (hahaha). But it's still not perfect (if you stand in a certain spot in the room and the sun is in a certain position you can still see some cloudiness - another 2 coats and it would be perfect!!!).
The room is starting to really take shape though. The ceiling is finished, the crown molding is just about finished, the walls have had the customary 1 coat of primer and 2 coats of paint and I'm now painting the built-ins (bookcases).
I've convinced myself that I'm saving a ton of money by painting the room myself - and in all fairness (to myself), I am. But I hope I am able to live long enough to enjoy the room - 'cause it will be a miracle if I make it through the week (LOL).
Although to my knowledge there has been no change to the space time continuum, this past school week seemed longer than most and I was exhausted as I started my drive home. I vary my route and usually take a more scenic one on the way home and Friday was no different. I was more than halfway home and on a one way street when I spotted trouble ahead. I was at a crossroads and paused briefly to make an assessment. Should I go straight ahead (my usual route) and risk a traffic jam or turn right and take a small detour? There was a thirty-something in the car behind me who blasted her horn and with lots of hand motions let me know that I was wasting her precious time. I started to get pissed but instead decided to move my car a little and let her pass me if she chose. (That's when the 'Universe' stepped in to avenge me - lol.) Annoyed, she sped by me smack into the middle of a complete mess: gridlock. You know the kind where once you are stuck in it there's no gettin' out 'till whatever caused it in the first place gets taken care of. She was locked in on a one-way street that would eventually turn onto another one-way street. I turned right and was home in less than 5 minutes;-)
Seems to me that that's what's wrong with some people - they just don't have the big picture!
We said goodbye to the area south of the river and moved into this apartment mid-July, 2006 (and we will be moving out at the end of October). It's a cute little 2-bedroom, 2-bath with a great layout in a fabulous location here along the line of Cascais. We are a 9-minute walk from the train station and a 15-minute walk from the beach:-). In our complex there is a small garden and at the far side of this green space is a tiny mall (called a commercial center here in Portugal) which houses all the services you would need: supermarket, dry cleaner, photocopy shop, newspaper stand, - well you get the picture). Yes, this is a great little apartment.
There are 10 apartments in our building. And while there is no social scene (remember Melrose Place?), all of the inhabitants smile and say hello. One of the people living on the 4th floor is a distant relative of Luis - isn't it indeed a small world? The other apartment on the 4th floor belongs to the son of the older couple living on the ground floor. The lady living below us is elderly and has needed live-in assistance since we have moved in. She laments no longer being able to leave the apartment and the refers to the plants she keeps in the common hallway as her garden. She's very dear. There's a young couple with grade school children as well. Our building is quiet, but bustling with life behind each door.
You can imagine my surprise when on a Sunday evening a few weeks ago an ambulance took away one of my neighbors. From my window I couldn't see what what happening below very well as it was dark. But I could see that a woman was being taken to the hospital. My first thought was that something had happened to the woman in the apartment directly below me.
A couple of days later I found out that it wasn't the frail lady on the 1st floor, but a woman about my own age on the ground floor. This particular woman (whose name I don't even know) was the heart of the building. She had a French Bulldog named Pierre (who is so ugly that he is cute!) that she walked several times a day. She was the person in the building that always had just the right answer and was always there when you needed her. For example, Luís and I were trying to refill the windshield wiper fluid and couldn't tell which receptacle was which and she happened by and set us straight. Just like that! How did she know that?
Her death has hit me like a ton of bricks. No hospital stay, no lingering illness, no big fuss - a call for the ambulance on a quiet evening early in September and it was all over in a matter of minutes.
Goodbye. You will be missed more than you know, and by people that you didn't really know you touched.
In early July, 2007 I received a registered letter from the Portuguese Finance Department saying that I hadn't yet paid a fine that they so graciously gave me for not filing a quarterly report that I didn't know that I had to file because I had no income so thought that it would be ridiculous to file and it turned out that it wasn't! This situation was taken care of in February of this year when I reluctantly paid a fine of over €100 . It was a draining day with lots of driving involved and the stress of communicating with the dim-witted in two separate finance offices on opposites sides of the Tejo River, but life goes on (oh bla di bla da).
After receiving the July notification I, once again, trooped back to the finance department armed with paid documents and with my personal translator :-) in tow. I was in a b*tchy mood from the get-go because I anticipated the blank looks and shrugs and the "passing-the-buck - it wasn't my fault" round about that I would get at the finance office - AND in true form, they didn't disappoint.
After showing all the paper work, lots of consults among the workers, they finally agreed that I had, indeed, paid the fine previously and were surprised (more like appalled) that I had an attitude because, of course, they were not responsible for any error as it was the other finance office that I had visited that day in February. They assured me of their efficiency and said they would rectify the situation.
Well, this past week, I received yet another registered letter saying that I still haven't paid my fine. . .
Miau Miau sits around the apartment all day staring out of the window and watching the world below. It's hard being forced to be an indoor cat after having lived a Jack Kerouac lifestyle. I found Miau Miau (pronounced Meow Meow) about 6 years ago - or should I say she found me. I left a ground floor window cracked just enough to stick the dryer vent out and she was clever enough to use that opportunity to get her foot in the door (so to speak). She began spending the night indoors and helped herself to Scarlette's (the stray we found at the beach) leftovers. She was too thin for words and I thought that since she was already living with us that we would buy her a collar and make it official.
A lot has happened in the last year - including my quitting my job, Scarlette getting hit by a car (she's now buried beneath a rose bush), and a move. And so it goes with life - it's always something.
I was passing a pet store a few weeks ago and on impulse went in to browse. It seems that this shop offers a kind of "humane society-type" service. They will accept unwanted kittens and showcase them. The kittens are given away "free" to a good home. I had been considering getting Miau Miau a kitten - thought a little female kitty might perk her up a bit so when I noticed that they had a variety of little ones to choose from, I took a look.
To make a very long story short I ended up taking home a free kitten that day. I was assured that the kitten was a female (which we promply named Princess) and was in good health. It didn't take long to figure out that Princess should have been named Prince and 100 Euros later we found out that the cat was suffering from ear mites, worms, a fungus infection, and was in need of his first shots.
And so, this is the story of how it was that little Mac came to be a part of our family. It's always something . . .
I must confess, I'm a closet foodie. I love everything about food - I like eating out and trying new restaurants; I like talking about food; I like shopping in farmer's markets; I like watching cooking shows; I like cookbooks; I seek out food blogs and frequent them; I sometimes even buy a magazine because I want to read the recipes (knowing full well that I'm never going to try them); and I would love to travel to France or Italy to attend a cooking class (a perfect vacation!). It's unfortunate that I'm not a good cook (LOL). Don't get me wrong if you come to my house for dinner you won't be served McDonald's as I have a few recipes that I've mastered over the years (because I like to invite people over) but I am aware of my limitations.
Last night I traveled south to Setúbal and had a fab dinner in a cute little restaurante called "Champanheria" (the Champagne Shop - loosely translated). It was such a good experience that I just had to share . . . The owner is a very warm Brazilian woman who makes everyone feel welcome. The Champanheria markets itself as a "Restaurante/Tapas Bar" - but it's tapas with a twist.
Tapas (which are basically starters) is typically Spanish. When in Spain I love to frequent the tapas bars and gorge myself. It's so much fun and you don't have to speak Spanish to order - most of the items are on view at the bar so you can just point and eat! (What a relief!) Evidently each bar has its own speciality but you see a lot of smoked ham and cheese plates, olives, boccadillo (little open-faced sandwiches), and calamari.
The cook at the Champanheria has re-invented tapas and taken it to the next level. The restaurant serves an array of interesting and appealing appetizers. It offers some old favourites (like warm camembert with blackberries - yum) and interesting new combinations (baked apple stuffed with a special Portuguese sausage, alheira, garnished with a reduction of balsamic vinegar - to die for!) artistically presented. Just when you've finished one starter another one arrives - like culinary magic. We didn't "order" the starters individually - they just "showed up", each tastier and more original than the other. They did wonderful things with oysters, foie gras, and salmon. Then there were these amazing little nests topped with melted cheese and honey... The nests were crunchy threads made from potatoes. (Potatoes? - How did they manage that? It's beyond me!) All this was complimented by their signature drink - champagne sangria.
If the saying "you are what you eat" is true, then I'm interesting, magic, original - not bad, not bad at all. Thanks Champanheria!
For a pleasantly different kind of Portuguese dining experience - check out: Chamnpanheria, Av. Luisa Todi, 414, Setúbal.
Ralph Lauren and El Corte Inglés - Laughing all the way to the bank . . .
Never one to lose an opportunity to shop, I used my trip to Lisbon today to renew my passport (another post altogether) as a segue to spend 5 hours in a department store. After all even old chicks need to look cute! My excuse (right, like I need an excuse to shop. For me shopping is on the same level as tennis or scuba diving. Yes, I see shopping as a sport! And like all sports - one needs to practice, practice, practice! You don't want to lose your edge - lol) is that I need to do some back to school shopping and the sales are on so it's worthwhile to take advantage of them. How thrifty of me.
And "No" you didn't miss anything. I don't have any children, but since I will be gainfully employed this coming school year as an information technology teacher at an international school near Lisbon (hooray) I thought it would be fitting to pick up a few things for myself. :-)
While browsing in the Polo department of El Corte Inglés (a Spanish department store of very good quality located in Lisbon) I began to feel befooled. Some of the prices - even on sale - were so expensive that you would need a second job (or a second life - hahaha) to afford them. I can't decide who the bandit is - Ralph Lauren or El Corte Inglés - but we are being robbed. The normal ladies' polo shirt is 115 Euros. Consider the fact that the Euro is UP against the dollar (€1.3659 to $1). Don't bother taking your socks off I'll help you with the calculation (lol). That means that the €115 classic-fit polo shirt is equal to $157.00. I went to the official Ralph Lauren website to do a little comparison shopping and found the same classic-fit polo available in the US for $75.00. Yikes! That's about a kazillion percent profit. At any rate it's way expensive for a little shirt to run to the mall in on the weekends.
I recognize that the main goal of a business to make a profit (otherwise Ralph would be making all these polos and giving them away as gifts - very benevolent but unlikely). And I realize that when you buy a Ralph Lauren product (clothing, fragrance, housewares) that you are really buying a lifestyle (and that don't come cheap!!!). I also understand that there are duties and excise taxes on imported items and that one will pay more for American products here in Europe (although I really don't know why because these products are NOT "Made in the USA" but elsewhere - including China, Mexico and Thailand) but I think that Ralph and El Corte Inglés can now be included on the same list as the sheriff of Nottingham, Sir Francis Drake, Louis XVI and other various bucaneers, profiteers and theives. . .
Remember the post I made where I whined that I had to pay a fine of more than €100 that I felt was unjust? Well, stay tuned for Part 2. Today I received notification that the fine now totals 148€70 (and counting). I have a receipt that I paid it but I guess that doesn't matter. I will now have to go back to the finance office and talk to one of the bufoons who didn't mark my account paid in the first place. . .
Buddha said, "What you have become is the result of what you have thought."
What goes around comes around. What the Buddha was talking about 2600 years ago has once again turned into a subject matter under scrutiny at cocktail parties. The Law of Attraction is the new age hot topic being bandied about under the title of "The Secret". Books are on the market and a movie is on the big screen.
According to Oprah's website, "The Secret is defined as the Law of Attraction, which states that like attracts like. The concept says that the energy you put into the world—both good and bad—is exactly what comes back to you. This means you create the circumstances of your life with the choices you make every day."
Sounds somewhat reasonable but let's look at the science of it all. According to Wikipedia, proponents of the modern Law of Attraction assert that it has roots in Quantum Physics; (but it's very sketchy how). They also maintain that thoughts have an energy that attracts like energy. Critics say it's just a lot of hooey with no basis in science.
I'm skeptical of any quick-fix solutions and have no patience with psycho-babel. The thing I'm wonderin' about is how much of the buffoonery that plays out in our day to day existence actually is created by us. I think I've hit on the "real" secret.
You see the thing is that while we spend a big chunk of the day (emotionally) balancing the good with the bad, the happy with the sad, and the pleasure with the pain, should we also be turning on a filter to tune out/turn down some of the external craziness that seeps into our lives like pervading dampness that slowly permeates our existence and chills us to the very bone? I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? The more craziness we allow into our lives, the more there will be. It won't just disappear on its own. We've got to take action.
The only way to rid our lives of the toxins (people/jobs/behaviors/carbohydrates-lol) is to eliminate them from our reality. Think about it. Some of us waste a lot of time trying to fix people/jobs/behaviors! We try to help! We try to understand! We offer support!
For instance, if you have a job and the people at your workplace are dysfunctional as all get out and don't have high standards, don't try to fit in. Don't try to help them. Don't try to understand them. Don't offer support. Don't give them more than 1 opportunity to do the right thing. Don't try to change them. Don't give them your time and energy because they don't want to be changed and you run the risk of them latching on to you like leaches and sucking the life out of you slowly. Drop by drop. You can try to assist them all you want, but you ain't gonna get no where 'cause these folks don't want to change! They are fine with being sneaky, sleeze-balls.
Remember, there's a delete button on your computer so you can get rid of all the garbage that is clogging up your memory and slowing down your connection. You have a "delete" button in your life too.
Life is a balancing act. Like tightrope walkers, we spend the greater part of our lives trying to get it right. Finding the right proportion between working and playing, laughing and crying, hoping and praying. Profit and loss are on our minds a lot too. When we are young we flit away way too much money (cute outfits are very hard to resist). Then we reach an age where retirement is just around the corner (or nearly so) and the rush is on to build some kind of a last minute nest-egg.
We try to keep the scales from tipping (literally), searching for the perfect ratio of exercise to carbs (the chocolate cake is winning in my case). As students of the universe, we strive to be both caring and empathetic. We attempt to ease the distress of others. We try to offer optimism and gladness. When these attitudes are characterized as "weakness" by some, we fight back.
Just when we think we have it all figured out, life changes again.
We need to remember that each of us is teetering on the high-wire. Every day is another balancing act and we're a banana peel away from disaster. . .
I have some files (primarily music files) that are definitely in my computer because I can access them via Windows Media Player but I can't SEE them. What I mean to say is that I wanted to copy a music file from my computer to a PhotoStory I was making a few months ago. I know the music file is in the computer because when I open Windows Media Player I can play the song - it is listed in my library. However, I recall seeing a file entitled "My Music" in the past and I can no longer access this folder. I have spent literally hours looking for this folder to no avail.
But wait, the mystery continues. Last week I was working on a website that I was creating for a friend. I know the web file is in my computer because I can access it when I open the Microsoft Front Page program that created the file BUT I cannot SEE the file otherwise. All of these missing files are on my C drive, yet when I search my C drive they are not listed.
Gotta say that I can function well in a world that I don't "understand". I don't need to know how a combustion engine works to drive a car. I don't need to know how a microwave oven works to make popcorn (in about 3 minutes ;-). I don't need to know how the www operates to send an email. I don't need to know how to speak Portuguese to live in Portugal (LOL). BUT this is driving me bonkers.
Where will it stop? I spend a lot of time sitting in front of my computer screen with my cat and my keyboard on my lap. Is it only a matter of time until we also get sucked into the black hole?
In the meantime if anyone in cyberspace has seen my files (or knows where they might be), could they please send them back to me. . .
According to Wikipedia, "Slam poetry is performance poetry, a form of spoken word performed at a competitive poetry event, called a "slam", at which poets perform their own poems (or, in rare cases, those of others) that are "judged" on a numeric scale by randomly picked members of the audience." (For more info on slam poetry and slam poets click here.)
Slam poetry encompasses a very broad range of voices, styles, cultural traditions and approaches to writing and performance.
Taylor Mali is a slam poet. For more information about this former teacher check out his website: http://www.taylormali.com
Taylor Mali tells it like it is! He makes a difference! What about you?
"Imagine a school with children that can read or write, but with teachers who cannot, and you have a metaphor of the Information Age in which we live." Peter Cochrane
Whatever happened to "polite" conversation. You remember that, don't you? It happened in the long ago and the far away. For those of you too young to recall, I can assure you it's not just another urban myth, there was a time when people were actually interested in the lives of others.
In times gone by when taking a promenade on a Sunday afternoon, gentlemen would tip their hats at passing acquaintances. The ladies would nod or wave. Although this may seem a bit too Victorian, until very recently peopledid seem more interested in others.
If, for social motives, you met with others for an occasion (cocktails, lunch, dinner, etc.), one did, indeed, indulge in the art of CONVERSATION. Others were actually happy to see you and they asked you about what was going on in your life. People exchanged information and actually took turns talking. They acknowledged what was being said and responded to it. The participants gave "equal" time to the topics discussed for fear of seeming too egocentric.
Fast forward to the the ME Era. The "let's get together" so I can tell you all about ME society. The "I'm so cool or clever or interesting" generation that I don't really give a damn about what's going on in your dismal existence but I'll grace your world with my superior experiences and offer you a reason to live. The "I don't have to follow any social courtesies" club because what I have to say is far more interesting (to ME) than anythingyou have to say.
I call it the "Age of the Monologue." Suddenly, everyone has the oratory aspirations of Fidel Castro (lol). People no longer desire to communicate with others of their species for social or educational purposes - they now require an audience.
Gone are the days when folks sat around shootin' the bull. Many in the ME Era believe that they have been blessed with the gift of gab and that each time they speak the masses are spellbound. They spend so much time pacifying every id impulse that they don't even feign interest in the rest of us. They are too self-absorbed to realize that there are still some people on Planet Earth (hello??!!) that are mindful of making others uncomfortable so don't call these bores on their quest to sate their own demand for attention.
So the next time you are thinking of "holding court" remember that there is a tool (and open source at that) in the Age of the Monologue that accommodates circumstances such as these - it is called "You Tube." You can upload your soliloquy for all of cyberspace to tune into, while I can gently, politely turn you off.
Near the end of last term (Term 2) one of the little boys kicked one of the little girls and made her cry. Not fake crocodile tears that kids can turn on and off at will, but the big teardrops that stream down the face of the recently kicked (literally or metaphorically speaking). I sent him, accompanied by the classroom assistant, directly to the Principal's office (do not pass go, do not collect $100). We have to draw the line somewhere! Before leaving the room he began to justify his behavior but I wasn't having any of it. There's absolutely NO kicking allowed. I don't know what the principal did or didn't say to the little boy (who, by the way, I really like). I didn't ask and I don't really care. The principal brought the boy back to class, the boy made his apologies (reluctantly) and life goes on.
Term 3 - bigger kid, bigger problems (14 years old - bigger but not the biggest, yet). This term I've been contracted (by the parents) to help a kid with behavioral problems. Without getting into a lot of particulars just suffice to say that this boy shows the telltale signs of the overly indulged. His behavior is infantile. He doesn't show the minimum courtesy that even a very young child would. Words like please, thank you, and excuse me aren't in his vocabulary. BUT in art class today (1st thing this morning I might add) while sitting at a table of 2 other female classmates (also around 14) and myself he DID blurt out an interjection that was inappropriate and disrespectful.
Before everyone that knows me starts calling me a hypocrite because I can come out with a string of 4-letter words that would put dock-workers to shame, let me speak my peace.
I don't have a problem with the vernacular, I DO however have a problem with the inappropriateness of it all. There's just some stuff that you don't say in front of your teacher, your friend's parents, your grandmother, your boss, the Queen or some old chick your parents hired to help you pass the year. You can THINK whatever you want. There isn't a "thought" police force (if you don't count the Catholic Church hahaha) and you can sit in a meeting and think that the others in the room are a bunch of fools, morons, idiots and d**k-heads. But you keep it to yourself.
So this morning we had a double period of art (yes, you didn't miss anything. I accompany this teen to each of his classes and try to help him stay on task. I might add that I'm losing the battle. LOL) and my ward used a word that was totally inappropriate. I brought this to his attention - reamed him out about it was more like it. Told him that I didn't appreciate it and that he could say whatever he wanted when he was with his buds but not at a table with two 14 year old girls and me. He apologized. About 20 minutes later he used it again. This time I got highly pissed and told him that I was going to call his mother and tell her. (Actually I tried getting in touch with her 3 times today and there was no answer - so tomorrow is D day). Sidebar: Although my Portuguese is weak, I can call you a dirty so-and-so in Portuguese ;-).
The deal here is that there are roughly 6 BILLION people all trying to make it through the day every day. In order for all of us to live together on this planet, we each have to make some concessions to accommodate the others. That means smiling sometimes when we would rather not. That means saying "yes" sometimes when we want to say "no". That means sometimes being diplomatic when we really want to do it (whatever "it" is) our way. That means sometimes zigging when you really want to zag. That means not giving in to every id impulse and sometimes going along to get along.
Like I said, we have to draw the line somewhere. If we didn't, we would be kicking and getting kicked all day long.
While I'm a long time defender of the concept of freedom of speech (Hell no, we won't go!), I've been trying (for the last couple of weeks) to get my head 'round the idea of shock jocks.
(A shock jock is a slang term used to describe a type of radio broadcaster (sometimes a disk jockey) who attracts attention using humor that a significant portion of the listening audience may find offensive. The term is usually used pejoratively to describe evocative or irreverent broadcasters whose manners and on-air behavior is offensive to the listener.)
Although radio hosts like Howard Stern and Don Imus have been around a long time - to tell the truth, I just don't get it.
Don Imus was fired a couple a weeks ago from his controversial syndicated show. I saw part of a 60 minutes interview with Don Imus and I still don't get it. I don't understand why he has (or I stand corrected - HAD) a radio show and built a career thinking that he was smarter than the rest of us and that he was the privileged one who could put each of us in our place and tell us how it really is. He has prospered for many years amid allegations of racism, misogyny, homophobia and anti-semitism. Click here to read some of his inappropriate comments. Yeah, I just don't get it . . .
BUT what I really don't get is: *the professionals who put Imus in a position to parade his brand of hate disguised as humor, *the cruel lot who tune into this sh*t on a daily basis and find hate amusing, *the advertisers, politicians, and others who jumped on the Don Imus hate bandwagon as a means of self promotion or an easy way to make a buck. And even more baffling is that portion of the audience that maintain that they don't even like these types of programs but listen anyway. What the hell kind of sense does that make?
My first instinct is always to examine myself and think that there is something lacking in me. Maybe I've been in Europe too long, maybe I'm just not cool enough or smart enough to understand pop culture, maybe I've lost my sense of humor.
On second thought, I don't think it's me at all. I think it's him and I hope you just don't get it either . . .
I just received the news (via the internet) that Kurt Vonnegut has died. It's a sad day indeed.
I wasn't introduced to Kurt Vonnegut until the early 90's (I know - where in the hell had I been? Maybe shopping.) but became a true convert. I'm not a "believer" (religion/ufo's/altruism) and neither was he. It was his humanism that appealed to me most. I've read many of his novels - and loved most of them. He was extremely clever and wrote with an interesting blend of dry wit (always appreciated), dark humor (often appreciated), sarcasm (appreciated only when not directed at me :-), and social conscience.
His list of novels include: Player Piano (1951) (good year for novels and babies!), The Sirens of Titan (1959), Mother Night (1961), Cat's Cradle (1963), God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater (1965), Slaughterhouse-Five (1969), Happy Birthday, Wanda June (1971), Breakfast of Champions (1973), Slapstick (1976), Jailbird (1979), Deadeye Dick (1982), Galapagos (1985). Bluebeard (1987), Hocus Pocus (1990), Timequake (1997).
Some quotes attributed to Vonnegut may (or may not??) keep you amused:
*Being a Humanist means trying to behave decently without expectation of rewards or punishment after you are dead.
*I was a victim of a series of accidents, as are we all.
*Mere opinions, in fact, were as likely to govern people's actions as hard evidence, and were subject to sudden reversals as hard evidence could never be.
*Busy, busy, busy, is what we Bokononists whisper whenever we think of how complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.
*"No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat's cradle is nothing but a bunch of X's between somebody's hands, and little kids look and look and look at all those X's..." "And?" "No damn cat, and no damn cradle."
If I had been lucky enough to have met Kurt Vonnegut my question to him would have been this: How did you manage to make it to/through adulthood with your imagination intact? It seems to me that the adult/corporate world does not much appreciate creativity or imagination (or appreciates it only to a small, manageable degree) and I am fascinated by those who are not only able to hold onto those ideals which are so lauded in childhood but to actually eek out a living using them. (We seem to become world weary so early and give up on thinking for ourselves.)
Buy some candles on your commute home from work tonight as
One of the nice things offered through the American Embassy/American Consulate here in Portugal is free tax assistance. Don't get me wrong, the American Embassy doesn't help you fill out your tax return but they provide space to a volunteer group that does just that. I try to take advantage of this as often as I can (work permitting).
Above is a photo of the American Embassy in Lisbon (which I obtained from the embassy's website). As you can see the complex, which houses the embassy and the consulate, sits majestically atop a small hill with beautiful gardens framing it. Washed with sunlight, it seems stately yet approachable.
Nothing could be further from the truth. As one approaches the embassy (located very near the zoo) he/she notices the armed guards immediately. The two guards dressed in black with automatic weapons slung across their chests can't be missed. It's all a little alarming - I'm just coming to have my taxes done for Christ's sake. It's impossible to enter the Embassy gate with a car (or tank for that matter) as barriers have been constructed behind the strong gates (to avoid car bombs???). There is another guard who asks your business and looks at your passport before ushering you into a small room. Once inside the "reception" room an attendant looks through your belongings (contents of bags/purses/pockets). Your things (including your coat) are put into trays and (like at the airport) are placed onto a conveyor belt which carries the items to be x-rayed. Once this is accomplished, the individual who is trying to gain access to the embassy/consulate passes through a metal detector. One is then given instructions to take the stairs and enter the first door on the left. While I was permitted to take most of my things with me (purse/mobiles phones (turned off)/contents of my purse) - they kept my tube of lipstick. (Go figure!)
The doors in the building are glass - but solid. They were built to last (I wonder to myself if they are bulletproof?). Another guard greets you as you enter the main room of the consulate services. He opens the door for you and asks you what your business is. I told him I was there to have my taxes done and he showed me where I could sit. This was a big room with 5 or 6 long rows of identical blue chairs. Although there were scads of empty seats, I sat where I was told to. The main room seemed to be where most of the people with consulate business were being served. There was a small room off to one side where you could renew your passport. I'm not really sure what kind of business was being conducted while I was there. I do know that although we are in the capital city and everyone is always rushing about in Lisbon, that noone (except me of course) seemed to be in a hurry. There was a "counter" where clerks (?) attended to the needs of people. A wall of glass above the "counter" separates the clerk from the person he/she is attending. There are 4 counters - each equipped with a wall phone (not even cordless) to communicate with your clerk. (Just like we see on TV when one of the Sopranos is in jail.) Looking through the room where the clerks are enclosed by glass, you can see bars on the outside windows.
Sunlight floods the room and allows the plants to flourish. As I admired the skylight, I noticed louvers. But they looked like more than normal slats. They appeared extremely thick and I decided they were designed to protect the skylight from attack (terrorists/aliens/angry taxpayers?) rather than shade the room in summer. Another thing that dawned on me was that like in church, people spoke in hushed tones. There was no laughing in this building. All business was conducted quickly and solemnly. Although everyone I encountered (guards, etc) was polite and helpful - I couldn't wait to get out of there!
The world's a dangerous place (thanks to the bad guys - who, by the way, are indistinguishable from the good guys- so maybe I should just say "all guys" lol :-) and I understand that we need to be careful and take precautions, blah, blah, blah. But what the hell kind of world have we created that you must be scrutinized by men in black carrying guns to get a little tax help?
I was only teaching Year 4 for 1 term - less than 3 full months, but I have stories to last a lifetime.
March 19 here in Portugal is Father's Day. It falls on whatever day of the week it falls on and is celebrated as such. This year it was a Monday. Since I was the Year 4 teacher it was my responsibility to have some craft ready for the kids to do to celebrate their fathers. We made awards to offer fathers, so we were on track.
After school I was doing I don't remember what and one of the girls was sitting coloring and she began a conversation with me. "Will you see your daddy Mrs. Dietrich?" (These kids are so young that they still refer to their parents as their mummies and daddies.) "No, Carrie," I replied. "You see my father isn't living any more. He died a number of years ago." There was a pause while she processed the information. "Well, you still have your mummy." "Will you see her tonight?" Carrie inquired. Now there was a pause on my part. "Well, Carrie," I haltingly began. "You see, my mother also died." I felt bad that I had to break this news to a little girl who hasn't yet experienced any losses of such a magnitude. But she continued, "You have children, don't you Mrs. Dietrich?" I was starting to get a little uncomfortable with giving her all this bad news. "No, Carrie I don't." "But I have a husband, and I have lots of friends here." I felt like I needed to quickly offer some of the good things going on in my personal life. I NOW had her complete attention (unlike when I was teaching the difference between an adjective and an adverb). She looked up from her coloring and got up and walked over to me and gave me a hug and said, "Mrs. Dietrich, don't worry - you have us. We'll be your kids. We love you."
I'm lucky, I've got a million stories like this one.
Getting a job can be hard sometimes. You start out being too young, only to find yourself years later in the situation of being too old. You are under educated so study like crazy to find that you are over educated. You switch continents mid life to find out that your degrees don't easily fit into the new system. Sometimes it seems like no matter what your qualifications are, they aren't enough. There's always someone bigger, better, smarter, prettier, faster, or can spit further! Life experience counts "here", but not "there". I was recently passed over for (yet) another job (geography teacher) because I don't have any GIS (Geographic Information Systems) experience (whatever the hell that is ;-). What's a girl to do?
First off keep pluggin' away at whatever it is you do. Work hard. (Don't get discouraged and give up.) Keep learning. (Find something that you're interested in and learn, learn, learn.) And keep yourself out there - be active and let everyone know that you are searching for opportunities.
The other thing you can do to make yourself feel balanced is to focus on your accomplishments. For every thing you can't do, think of something you CAN do. For instance: I'm not good at Maths, but I am a good student. I'm not a great cook, but I am a great employee. I've never written a novel, but I've read a lot of them. I'm not an artist, but I can build you a website. I don't have a lot of classroom experience but I have lots of experience with educational blogs. I'm not rich but I'm flexible. I can't speak Portuguese, sail, swim, read a map (hence the GIS problem), rebuild a carborator, or play the piano but I can make you laugh, give a presentation, wait my turn, write well enough to teach someone to write, speak up when the situation dictates, and make my way in a foreign land. I can't sing . . .
What's wrong with my life? I don't have time to post, I don't have time to think, I don't have time for anything! Is it just a matter of time management? I don't think so . . .
I recently spent the better part of the day trying desperately to pay a fine which I feel is unjust. I work freelance here in Portugal and must pay VAT (Value Added Tax - Called IVA in Portuguese)quarterly. In the 3rd quarter of 2006, I had no income so I didn't file my quarterly VAT. It seemed reasonable to me. I can NOT find on the Finance site (here in Portugal) WHERE it says that I must file even if I have NO income. When I was enrolled in this system I was not given any kind of a pamphlet explaining the rules for filing.
My complaint is this. I believe that it is fair and just and reasonable to give participants/taxpayers a "list of rules" to follow. If the government tells people what is expected of them and they don't follow the rules, then I agree that a fine is justified. When I mentioned this at the Finance Office, the workers said that the rules WERE written down and brought out a law book of about 800 pages(legal code written in Portuguese). They said that it was MY responsiblity to know the rules and regulations pertaining to the VAT payment and it was not the responsibilty of the state of Portugal to automatically provide me with this information. They said that if I had a question that I could always come into their office and ask.
The fact that I had to pay a fine of more than 100Euros for a tax period when I had no income did not seem unreasonable to them. They shrugged their shoulders. This scenario was further complicated by the fact that their computer system had not been updated and although I had recently filed a late tax form (with 0's because I had no income) they did not want to accept my check to pay the fine which I felt I didn't owe to begin with but what the heck I gotta pay it so I will. They said that I should have brought proof that I had filed late. I reminded them that their system should have been updated and got more shruggs. They said that the burden of proof was mine. I argued that I'm not trying to NOT pay the damn fine but trying TO pay the fine and why the hell would I lie about filing out the tax form if I'm there to pay. More shruggs. I began to feel like I was the only sane person in the room.
When YOU begin to feel like you are the only sane person in the room, take a deep breath, smile, and look for the exit . . .
In addition to our teaching duties at St. Dominic's, teachers are expected to "cover" classes for missing teachers. Last week it was my turn! I covered 1 period for a nursery school teacher who was "out sick". It was a hoot! The children were 3 and 4 years old. Very cute. Wearing miniature Catholic school uniforms. The tables at which they worked and played looked like toys they were so small. There were only 2 native English speaking children so the other teacher (there are 2 classroom teachers in Nursery School - good idea!) was multilingual and could speak Portuguese and Spanish and she could meet any linguistic emergencies that arose. (But, honestly, it was like being in a cage full of guinea pigs - all very cute but darting this way and that. You had to be careful where you stepped because one might be underfoot.) I was sitting next to a tiny Portuguese girl and she was busy cutting bits of paper (with child friendly scissors of course) and she was giving them to me - one by one. You should have seen the expression on her face - she was so focused and proud of the job she was doing. I spoke to her in English but she didn't really understand much. But I understood!!!!!!!! With each bit of paper she gave to me, she was offering me a gift. Her spirit of generosity was amazing. She made my day. She won't remember this moment that we shared, but I will. It's moments (gifts) like this that give hope to mankind. . .
Tomorrow I start my new job. (Hooray!) As a 4th grade teacher (if you can believe that). It's just a temporary position (3 months - the classroom teacher is on sick leave) but it should prove very interesting.
This isn't a "normal" school with a "normal" curriculum. That would be too easy (normal). This is an international school on the outskirts of Lisbon that follows an IB (International Baccalaureate)program. The Primary Years Programme (PYP) fosters a student-centered, inquiry based learning community. The school year consists of 3 terms. During each term the students cover 2 separate "Units of Inquiry". The students don't have "proper" books but are encouraged to explore an array of books (either in the classroom or in the library) on each "unit of inquiry". The teacher functions as a facilitator as students are put in a position to be "responsible" for their own learning.
Although I only begin my post tomorrow, I was invited by the classroom teacher to spend the day with the class before Christmas break (to help prepare the class for upcoming change) and was struck by how respectful and well-behaved these kids are. They are by no means "Stepford" kids but they are respectful of each other and thoughtful. If one of them displays any antisocial behavior (eg, saying something careless), the class comes to a screeching halt. Only after the ill-gotten behavior is brought to the attention of the guilty party and apologies have been given and received does the class continue. It's the most amazing behavior. It's like it should be.
While the kids will be studying "forces and structures" as their unit of inquiry, I shall be experiencing a "Unit of Inquiry" of my own in this new environment.
As you may (or may not) know, we don't have 400 cable channels to entertain us (24/7) here in Lisbon. In addition, we often get American TV programs only after they have gone into reruns. No problem! Long after the first "The Apprentice" shows appeared in the US, they were televised here. It was only by chance that I happened upon one episode - and was instantly hooked. I've never been a fan of Donald Trump (I've had no reason to be) and only noticed that he seems to marry the same woman over and over again (what's that all about?). But I became fascinated with "The Apprentice". I've seen the series (the 1st series - yes, that's right - only the first series has been shown here) at least 4 times and am excited that it will be repeating - once again - beginning sometime in January. Hooray! I've already got the popcorn!
A writer friend of mine recently wrote an article after her husband attended a lecture given by Donald Trump. She sent me a copy of the column and it was full of "Trumpisms". They seem to make sense. They seem reminiscent of all the other things we learned in the schoolyard and left behind. . . I thought that I would include some of them in my blog this year to remind you(amuse you) of what each of us needs to do to be successful in business (in life and on the playground).
Trumpism # 1 - Go with your gut (feelings).
Good advice in all situations. We spend most of our adult life ignoring this basic instinct. But the bottom line is if you think someone is scammin' you, they probably are!
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