The dread of giving presentations

I'm doing a presentation on blogging in English language teaching tomorrow morning.

The last time I did a presentation on anything was back in high school when I shared my long-forgotten passion for the German art scene of the 1920s in a History of Art class. Seems so long ago.

An important note for the Saturday morning crowd (who will be inspecting Saunterer's as a case in point): please answer the poll question found at the bottom of the right sidebar with brutal honesty. No sugar coatin'. And if the poll doesn't work (there were some problems earlier today), please post a brief comment. Thanks!

P.S. This brings back memory: Otto Dix, Meine Eltern. Just look at those hands...

Saluton!

As if I didn't have too much on my plate already, I took up learning Esperanto. By learning I mean doing online exercises powered by Lernu!, the leading free Esperanto website. That and downloading mp3 audios for the listen-and-repeat tasks.

It's weird and it definitely sounds funny, but it doesn't strike me as easy as people generally assume. Which is why I'm wondering why would anyone put so much time and effort into learning an artificial language, when there are easy to learn natural languages like Spanish, with far more speakers than Esperanto? Not to mention cultural background, literature etc.

I guess it's about the idea of having one common language for all of humanity, not any one national language with its baggage and issues of cultural imperialism, but a politically, nationally and culturally neutral one that everyone could claim as their own, simply on account of being able to learn its vocabulary and syntax. No strings attached.

But Esperanto, too, has its share of ideological baggage. Most of its vocabulary is taken from Romance and Germanic languages, which makes it easily understandable, but also very eurocentric. Also, it seems to be prospering in countries like China and Iran, where it's used for ideological and propaganda purposes. There are also various Esperanto offshoots, new artificial languages relentlessly competing with each other in an atmosphere that can be described as sectarian.

As far as I'm concerned, it's all part of the fun, language itself and all the bickering about it. And if the worst thing that could happen to me is meeting a Chinese communist Esperanto enthusiast, I think I'll survive.

Mother Teresa's 18.250 dark nights of the soul

A new book of Mother Teresa's letters continues to cause a stir in the world of religion. It has now come to light that the saintly woman spent most of her life doubting the very existence of God.

It seems that this piece of information won't have much influence on the ongoing process of her canonization, although she is not likely to be officially made a saint as soon as it was initially thought. The Vatican commission in charge is apparently having trouble finding any solid evidence for a miracle that happened through her intercession, one among a number of requirements.

She is by no means the only Catholic saint (or saint-to-be) famous for her doubt and struggle with faith. Among more popular ones is a medieval mystic St John of the Cross. Some already make comparisons between Mother Teresa's collection of letters and St John's "Dark Night of the Soul."

Seems like a timely piece of work for this day and age.

More on this: an editorial from Mennonite Weekly Review and an excellent On Point (NPR) podcast.

Quarterly Book Reviews #5

Temperature in Belgrade has suddenly dropped almost twenty degrees. I didn't expect to be wearing my winter woolies at the beginning of September, but autumn being my favourite season, I'm hardly complaining. The unexpected change in weather also came as a signal for me to sit down and make the seasonal inventory of the books I read during summer.
FICTION
The Royal Physician's Visit by Per Olov Enquist

Struggle for absolute power and economic reforms in the twilight of feudalism, intertwined with Pietism, revolutionary French rationalism and the constant wrestling between self-restraint and unfettered sexuality, all on the court of the mad King Christian VII of Denmark.

Not having any knowledge of Swedish, apart from a personal appreciation for that great Swedish word smörgåsbord, I read Enquist in Tiina Nunnally's excellent English translation.

Great novel, a real page turner.


RELIGION/HISTORY
Portrait in Grey: A Short History of the Quakers by John Punshon

There is only a handful of books I've had the desire or patience to read more than once. This is one of them.

It is my favourite of all the Quaker histories I've read so far, primarily due to the author's ability to provide insight into complex historical processes and ideological influences that shaped the Society of Friends, from its wild 17th century beginnings to what it is today (i.e. the exact opposite of wild) - all that in a very clear and concise way.


FICTION
Due Preparations for the Plague by Janette Turner Hospital

I am not into this sort of books normally, airplanes hijacked, hostages taken, survivors questioning their government's involvement... Anxiety, paranoia and claustrophobia easily transfer from characters to the reader. I couldn't put it down, and when I eventually finished reading it, it was with an uneasy sense of relief.

Very post-9/11.

FICTION
Grasshopper by Barbara Vine

Being a recent convert to Barbara Vine's novels, I'm still quite enthusiastic about her storytelling. Macabre, full of twists and turns, albeit somewhat repetitive, it was just the right combination of anguish, personal tragedy and psychopathy, as any Barbara Vine novel ought to be.

Probably not her best, but still thoroughly enjoyable.

Tides and ebbs

Home at last. Although I have two more weeks of summer break left, everything already seems so over. The rest of it will probably be spent in going through the motions, in anticipation of the new school year.

Croatia was great. The weather was unpredictable as usual, with scorching heat one moment and strong, cold northern wind gushing forth from the high peaks of Mt. Velebit the other. I love it when the clouds begin to gather and suddenly all the tourists quickly evacuate from the beaches, as if a fast-approaching natural disaster is about to wipe out the entire human race. Nothing ever happens, as the blackness normally disperses in about quarter of an hour, by which time people don't bother coming back to the beaches. Lunchtime anyway. There are always a few people left though, sitting happily along the coast, watching the tide rise and the waves grow powered by the wind. I can tell this is not their first visit to the village. We are in the know when it comes to local weather patterns.

My two cousins are right in thinking that nothing ever changes there. The same people sell their produce on the stalls at the minuscule village market, the same woman sells drinks and sandwiches on the beach, the same things happen at the local village feast of St Mary of the Angels in early August. Everything is cyclical there, tides and ebbs, the winds, coming and going of tourists, feasts of saints... Years ago, before the war, there was a large camping area near the beach, with beautiful, tall poplar tress that provided much needed shelter from the sun for the campers, mostly large groups of young Poles and Czechs. Someone cut down all the poplars soon after the war. This year there stood only two tents erected in the area. Numinous spirits of the place have vanished. Changes are unwelcome and disturbing. I do not welcome them.

The last evening in Karin I was feeling rather melancholic, in one of those states of mind when I feel able to converse pretty much only with plants and animals. I went to the small salt water pond opposite our summer house to say goodbye to the crabs, something I've been doing since early childhood. I found the pond full of life, seagulls minding their own business on the left, a lone heron searching for food on the right, and hundreds of crabs running in all directions in the shallow water. One daring little crab crawled toward me, raising its delicate claws as if to greet me. We played a little, exchanged goodbyes and I knew I was ready to pack.

The cat back home didn't seem to recognize me this time. Maybe she is giving me the silent treatment. Or perhaps my cat-sitting cousins who chose to skip Karin this year were too good to her and now I've fallen into disfavour.

Everything seems to come in cycles. Even the tides and ebbs of feline approval.

Back from Montenegro

I got back from Montenegro yesterday, finishing stage 1 of my summer holidays. It was good to be there in great company and with over a week of nothing else to do but swim, sunbathe and enjoy Mediterranean cuisine.

Not everything was great though. It was excruciatingly hot, as in most of the region. I don't think I have ever swum in a sea that warm. Nights were most frustrating, leading up to morning grumpiness and frequent daydreaming about a return to the comforts of my air-conditioned home. Now that I'm back, however, I miss all of it. It's always like that for me.

It was good to see that the cat hasn't forgotten all about me. It was the first time I left the city leaving her without my ever-watchful presence for over a week. She didn't seem to mind, which is great. Now I can get rid of some of the guilt for abandoning her next time I go somewhere.

Which will be in a couple of days, actually. Stage 2 begins this Sunday, when I'm leaving for another two-week journey to Croatia. Life can be really good at times.

End of school year!

I taught my last class this school year on Friday and, as much as I like my job, I am soooo looking forward to waking up on Monday morning, only to realize that I won't have to go to work - not until September!

I've already done some long overdue decluttering in my place over the weekend. I've thrown out piles of old notebooks, lesson plans, newsletters and magazines. Suffice it to say that I'm in a much calmer, although not entirely balanced state of mind right now...