Tag Archives: france

The Orgins

I figure since the blog felt dead for 24 hours… I would tell about the circumstances in which this communique of mine was born:

The year was around 2000 and I was busy playing horn for OCG, working on my bachelors, and plotting a move to France for a semester or so. I’d been an internaut since the early nineties, so it only made sense that I have some kind of website that Geocities provided, where I would throw up some photos I scanned in the WPU art department computer lab, and then I’d rant about world news for a few paragraphs. When I did this, I was thinking of myself as a sort-of columnist for my own little newspaper. I tried to write in a very “i know everything” manner, because when it came to world affairs, I probably believed I knew everything.

So I’d update my little website every week or so, and put up a new, what I called, Communiqué for my readership of 5 or so. Many of those original 5 still come here daily! (I do love you for your courage and dedication!)

Eventually this wasn’t good enough. It was just after Sept.11th and I had moved to Lisbon; Chavez was overthrown for 24 hours, Israel was shooting up churches in Bethlehem, and fascist patriotism had taken over the United States. I needed a better outlet for my rants, and I felt like newspapers had too many gatekeepers who wouldn’t accept my work. But I hadn’t heard about blogs, so I kept on writing articles for my site, more and more.

And then I moved to Amsterdam right around this date in 2002, and I discovered blogger, and I purchased bicyclemark.org, because I had often been called that name, and I wanted to express my dedication to people and progress by making it a .org instead of a .com .

The rest is history, especially in 2004 when this thing began to really bloom. And I made tons of fellow blog friends as well as reader friends. Many of them are still going today, like brian, tony, and the wonderful bronwyn. So as my blog birthday approaches, I just wanted to share and remember how and when it all started. Thanks for reading, and you can bet- I’ve only just begun.

No Relief

You might think this is a repeat of my report about the raging fires in Portugal, earlier this month, but it’s not. The situation has actually gotten worse, if that could be possible. Some 400 incidents reported over the weekend, the country is in terrible shape.

For some reason, only now has the country appealed to the European Union under some civil defence clause, that allows them to receive help for combatting the fires that are completely out of control across the nation. Germany is sending helicopters, France is sending water-dropping-planes. Even Spain, who has had some bad fires this summer as well, is sending those famous Canadair firefighting planes.

I found myself fascinated by the pathetic nature of politicians who habitually act as if they know what’s going on in times of crises, as I watched the Prime Minister sit with Portuguese firefighting commanders as they examined maps and talked strategy. As if the man has anything useful to add to the meeting. Its just like when GWBush went down to 9/11 to hang out with firefighters, its not like he had ever fought a fire in his life. Yet that’s part of their job. Career politicians, who go around pretending they know about the environment, world history, science, economics.. you know, all the subjects they probably slept through during their days at university.

Back in 00

The year was 2000, the season was spring, and the journey was from Marseille, France (my place of residence at the time) to Amsterdam, NL to visit the D-Rock. (as he was residing in the dam then) It was pretty luxurious for a student, TGV to Lille, Eurostar to Brussels (stopover to see family), and this same international train to Amsterdam. It was a long and wonderous journey filled with plenty of young, worldy, and often good-looking backpackers to befriend.

I mention this because its been 5 years and I still feel that journey in my bones. Those backpackers are still on the train. Speaking their spanish or italian or australian english. I even noticed an Indonesian family doing some backpacking today. I glance over at them often and when its not too creepy, I offer help in the form of directions. They’re defensive but thankful, of course, as right they should be — lots of psychos with blogs out there.

Its crazy to think of myself now, an amsterdammer of about 3 years, to then – when all I wanted to do was visit my friend for a few days and head back to France. Little did I know. Little do we ever know the odd paths we later take.

Other news: Tim and his Radio Clash are in Spin Magazine. While xtx and her infamous cleavage are having a birthday! Oh and I mustn’t forget another birthday girl — FashionSloerie.

Grass is Greener

At the fishtank today, I sat down to lunch with mrs toronto’s greatest chef in exile. The man himself was doing his thing in the kitchen. He feeds the fish all summer long. But the conversation at lunch today was one that I immediately thought to bring on the communique.

Frisbeee

At one point we were discussing how many Dutch people complain about how everything is “boring” here. Trams run on time, pay checks are decent, things generally work… which apparently gets annoying. You’ll often hear them plotting to move to Spain or Italy, where they believe the laid back pace is the perfect way to life.
On the other hand, I mentioned, many if not most people in Portugal get utterly fed up with buses not showing up on time, crap salaries, and generally how things don’t work. They talk of moving to richer countries, like the UK or France.

Grass is greener on the other side? I don’t think so… I think some people just don’t appreciate how good they’ve got it while the rest of the world dreams of having such a situation.

Hmm.. no linkage today…. thats rare.

F the Masses

The word on the street in the Netherlands is EU consitution. Maybe where you live you haven’t heard, so I’ll briefly tell you about how France voted 55% against the draft of the European Constitution. ‘Course less then 5% probably read it, but nevermind, civic education isn’t a prerequiset in present-day democracy. I’ll let Madame L tell you more about the French case.

But the buzz here in Amsterdam is: you thought the French were rough, the Dutch are going to spit all over the dam thing. Oh yeah, they’re voting (we?) in a referendum wednesday and the No camp is everywhere and everyone is climbing aboard.

Normally I would have nothing against a well-informed and thought out NO vote to such a proposal. The Dutch, like all of Europe in the past 20 years, have seen their beautiful social system dismantled in the name of liberalization. And to ad insult to injury soon most of them will be employed through temp agencies, much like yours truely – if they have a job at all. But what’s happenning here is not a sudden moment of clarity for the electorate. I’ve listened to the opinions, I’ve tapped into the grapevine; this is mass hysteria. This is an angry citizenry who are unable to properly focus their anger. I mean really, who do you complain to about this global economy? It’s like getting angry at the rain.

Therefore I’m pissed. Seems the majority of the French and Dutch want to just lock the doors and step into a time warp with the year set at 1996 or something. Two of the most openminded cultures in the world, hubs of art and science, are falling into a panic. They say politicians are out of touch with the electorate. That’s an easy one. But I suspect the electorate is out of touch with itself, and reality for that matter.

But beyond any of this, as a Portuguese citizen living and working legally within the EU, I feel like these votes are against me. Against the idea that I should travel and work freely. As if my type of life choices are somehow dangerous to them. I can’t help but feel that they don’t see the Europe that I embody. Not a Europe bent on economic domination. But a Union that understands we have alot in common, and that together aims at achieving a good quality of life, beyond your stupid borders.

When I Was French

Between the now successful move to a new host, busy days at the fishtank complete with overtime (easy thing for the part time king), and the arrival of my love – my powerbook g4, I haven’t been blogging properly. Take one of these and call me in the mornin, I should be telling you. I’ll get to the thank you’s and the Powerbook Porno shots tomorrow, today I wanted to tell you bout how my present and my past are linked.

One of the French fishes at the tank decided for all my hard work and all the bla bla bla I have to endure from international students, I deserved to have dinner cooked for me. And she decided she’d do the cooking, and baking I might add! And so I made the trek to that suburb that -I vow- I will never live in. because it’s just NOT Amsterdam when its that far away, and sat down to a meal full of reminiscing.

This because she’s from Marseille, and I studied just outside that city, in Aix-en-Provence, Southern France. But that was a whole 5 years ago, back when every weekend you’d find BM in a different country and I was heartbroken about some feminina back in Jersey. Aix was a ritzy city with cushy programs for foreigners like myself. School shacked me up with a lovely yet quirky madame, probably because we were both veggies or because I myself am quirky.

But I digress, this is about my meal and the conversations about Marseille. We talked and talked. I still remember the street names and the different neighborhoods, 5 years and I still know what goes on all around the Vieux Port. She spoke of the towns we used to invade for the day; St. Tropez, Cassis, and even the poshy-posh Cannes. Some of my memories of those places have spilled over into each other. St. Paul de Vence tastes alot like Grasse. Antibes smells like St. Tropez. Sloppy memory, making a mess.

She had even cooked a few familiar dishes, a very provincial salad, a gateaux, and that cheesebread that I forget the name of. For shame, I’m forgetting names. But one thing for sure, I’m not forgetting that dark city. The mountains of Couscous, the fleet of ships, the Gateway where France meets the wondrous realms of North Africa and the Middle East. Snobs in Aix used to say “Marseille, ce n’est pas la France.” Ah non? I used to respond, well that not-France city over there, overflowing with culture and history, I absolutely love it!

I also met the Mindcaster today. More proof that if you get along online, you’ll have just as many laughs and things to talk about in real life. More on those great conversations in the next podcast.

Today’s Sounds: If I lean in close, I still cant hear I peep from the New Powerbook

tags:,