relationDips: Vietnam part 2

My experience of Vietnamese people, both in Australia and in Vietnam, is that they are extraordinarily hospitable. As it is across Asia, it's all about the food. There's always a fine selection of food when you sit to eat at someone's home. Pho (beef noodle soup) may be a quintessential Vietnamese food, but we only had it outside of the home, in any number of ubiquitous little restaurants. Home meals, family meals, comprise a table full of plates and bowls filled with salads, meats, sauces and noodles. 

It's wonderful to look at, and participate in, such a amazing spread, even if many of the food items are unidentifiable, and some even unpleasant looking. Exotic? Nailed it.

One night, at the home of my father-in-law, I had another one of these great meals, and finished it well satisfied. I was relaxing with a cigarette after dinner when I was summoned next door to my new uncle's home...for dinner. I groaned a little inwardly.

I joined my father and law and uncle, and a hard rock loving friend of my uncle's whom I had met earlier that day. I joined them on the floor where another no less impressive array of food lay awaiting our enjoyment. Also, on this "table" was a large bottle of home made whiskey which was mounted on a little stand so as to make pouring easy.

And so began more culinary exploration, interspersed with drinking whiskey from small glasses ( a little larger than a shot glass). Before we drank we toasted, each time. Evidently if you take a sip, you must invite everyone else to drink with you. When we had finished eating, and of course I only picked at the food because I was not hungry at all, I stood to go outside for a smoke. My father in law insisted I stay, and so we smoked together on the floor of my uncle's living room, then stubbed out our butts in the food scraps.

Following the meal, we began to watch music videos and the aformentioned hard rock loving friend of my uncle and I worked our way through a fine collection of hair metal bands, mostly Bon Jovi. There was, quite naturally, singing and air guitars. Communication was very limited due to the language barrier, but we connected.


I don't drink whiskey. I never smoke inside. I prefer to sit at a table to eat, and I only ever have dinner once a night. Nevertheless, I had a really great time. When in Rome...right?

What is the appeal of this kind of activity? I think it's about building relationships. My wife was somewhat disproving of my involvement, but that was mainly due to the cigarettes. I was with her father and some other men in a family home. It was safe place, and I guess we were bonding. I wondered about the things we do to fit in, to gain acceptance, to not cause offence to others, to simply satisfy curiousity.

I've had some unsafe experiences in my life when my motives for involvement were far less pure than on this occasion, where my desire was simply to bond with the man whose daughter is now my wife. I've rarely encountered a better example of the intrinsic connection between food and relationships.

Busyness

I think I've only done one Facebook status update in the past two days. Mind you, it was a good one. If you missed it, I said that English was a female language because is was complicated and full of tricks. It became an internet sensation with one irate responder questioning the political correctness of such a statement.

Speaking of political correctness, I have one more essay to write to finish my last subject for Masters. The subject is cultural perspectives, and surprise, surprise the major essay (2500 words) is on Indigenous Education. Indigenous education is no longer merely concerned with employing more culturally appropriate and pedagogically efficient teaching methods, but also with educating white Australians about Aboriginal culture.

I don't have a problem with this except that, as with many essays required of university students, so much has already been written on the issue, what new information can I contribute? What original insights and fresh perspectives can I provide? Zero. What I am doing is essentially regurgitating and/or reassembling information. It isn't a very interesting or creative task but it's due midnight tomorrow which may as well be midnight today because tomorrow is NRL Grand Final day.

I'd better get on with the essay. Any thoughts on the regurgitation and/or reassembly of information?

R is for Rugby League

R is for Rugby League

“‘Are you !@#$%^&  kidding me? Come on!’

Wittaya was on his feet gesticulating wildly at the television. The object of his wrath was the referee who had just awarded a try to the Bulldogs over their arch rivals the Melbourne Storm. Although Wittaya was a Sydney boy, Melbourne represented how he felt about his place in the world. They were a team which had dominated the game for over a decade. A team which all other teams aspired to emulate. A team of outsiders representing a state which was so passionately in love with Australian Rules Football that they had little affection left for a team full of New Zealand and Queensland imports. The Melbourne Storm were hated because they were so good. It was jealousy. Plain and simple, and exactly the same puerile emotion felt by his enemies towards him: a young, ambitious senator on the rise through the ranks.

‘What is the point of having a video referee if they are not going to use it? That looked dodgy at normal speed and the ref was not in a good position to see it properly. What do you reckon, Kelly?‘”  from chapter 9, Ashmore Grief

This is a bit of stretch in terms of being connected to my novel, Ashmore Grief, which is my theme for the A-Z Blogging Challenge, and it’s a repost from last year’s challenge but rugby league is such a great game, I just wanted to share this again.

Last night I went to a rugby league match. Those of you unfamiliar with this fast and brutal sport should think in terms of American Football without all the padding and helmets, less players and few breaks in play. Rugby league is 80 minutes of skillful gladiatorial combat. So here I am in a hotel room, the morning after the game, in Canberra which is not only our national capital but is also celebrating its 100^th birthday. As part of the celebrations, it hosted last night’s match at Canberra Stadium. Just over 25, 000 people, of which I was one, watched the first rugby league test match between Australia and New Zealand to be played in Canberra. It was an historic night. It was also an historic night for two of my guests. My niece and nephew are visiting from Thailand, and I felt obliged to share this wonderful facet of Australian culture with them. They were exposed to some of what is good and bad about living in Australia.

The free bus, which was to take us to the ground from where we parked our car and had an awesome Italian meal, was late. When we got to the ground, there was a massive queue of ticket holders like us, who were being slowly corralled through just four ticket gates. The teams came on to the field while we were outside. The national anthems were sung, the haka performed and the game commenced all before we made it in. We were then directed by stadium staff to the wrong end of the ground, and by the time we walked to the other end, found our seats, ejected the people who were sitting in our seats and finally sat to watch the game, twenty minutes had elapsed. It was very cold but we cheered with vigour as our boys finished strongly in what had been a tight contest. With a victory under our belts we left the ground in high spirits, and went to join the crowd of people waiting for buses. It was long wait. I thought my niece and nephew, unaccustomed to cold weather, might die from exposure. The crowd jeered the stadium staff as they apologized for the lack of buses as we stood and made the best of our plight.

Last night was one of those nights which will be talked about for as long as we live. A great victory by a great team with great support from patient and generally good humoured fans. I love my footy. What sports are you crazy about? What lengths have you gone to see a match?

Photo sources

zimbio.com

smh.com.au

Halloween Horror

Halloween has its origins in the ancient Celtic festival known as Samhain. The festival is a celebration of the end of the harvest season in Gaelic culture. The Gaels believed that on October 31, the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead overlapped, and the deceased would come back to life and wreak havoc by causing sickness or destroying crops. Masks and costumes were worn in an attempt to mimic the evil spirits or appease them. Trick or treating resembles the late medieval practice of 'souling' where poor people would go door to door on Hallowmas (November 1) receiving food in return for prayers for the dead on All Souls Day (November 2).

Early migrants from Europe carried the Halloween festival to America where it was elevated to a whole new ball park, made into an art form and a massive money spinner. The celebration of the macabre, the dark side of life or death, even for skeptics, is big business now. And it's great fun too. It is one of the great American holidays and is an entrenched part of American culture. Every television show that has ever been made has featured a Halloween special. From The Simpsons to Supernatural, the ghosts and ghouls, the jack o lantern, costume wearing, and trick or treating are woven into the fabric of the modern pysche. And let's not forget the multitude of slasher and horror movies which have been inspired by Halloween, including the classic series of films which featured the deranged Jason violently murdering people on October 31.

Naturally, Australians who slavishly follow United States pop culture trends, have embraced Halloween. Why, I do not know. I know why businesses push it. They see dollar signs. Halloween has been added to the crowd of marketing gimmicks, like Valentine's Day which is another crock. Here's a day to do this, and to do this, you need to buy this and that. Hand over your money. Hand over your brain. Let's follow the corpulent zombies, dance with the witches and join with the damned as hell breaks loose over our land. Happy Halloween! Bah Humbug!

Cultural Snobbery

There is something I don't understand, something that troubles, even annoys me. Why is it that people have to condemn as worthless the things they don't like. By all means, voice your opinion, and justify your view with criticism by why write it off altogether especially when you know full well that somebody else actually likes it.What am I on about? Read on.

I'm reading a book called "A World Without Heroes" written by George Roche. It's a book of philosophy, if you like that sort of thing, from a Christian point of view. I happen to agree with the author's world view for the most part until he comes up with stuff like this;

Talking about modern music, "...the jungle throb and infected themes of rock (music)..." So we know he doesn't like rock music and then this, "The simplest, most accurate statement of our arts is that we no longer have any. Virtually all of our best theatrical repertoire, our art, our music, our ballet, our architecture, our sculpture, our literature, is a century old and often far older...we make no art. We make daubs and junk and boxy buildings and screeches." I don't have time or space to quote more extensively, but how about this to finish, "the ghastly sounds which bombard us in this music starved age."

Let's focus on music. Many people think that the only good music is the music they like. A radio announcer I regularly listen to, always talks about how they don't make music like they used to in the 1960s and 70s. Nobody writes great songs anymore apparently. Some people enjoy listening to opera which is often sung in a foreign language and then bag heavy metal music because they say you can't understand what they are singing about. Other people criticize heavy metal because they say its monotonous but they get off on dance music. Can you tell I'm a heavy metal fan?

Bruce Dickinson is lead singer of the hugely successful heavy metal band, Iron Maiden. Bruce has arguably one of the finest voices in his genre. A classically trained opera singer who according to some cultural snobs probably crossed over to the dark side when he joined Iron Maiden. Some of the world's finest musicians, singers and songwriters have entertained us through heavy metal music.

Anyway, this was not intended to be a defense of heavy metal.

The high culture/low culture divide is an artificial distinction. Why should ballet be considered high culture and breakdancing low. Why should classical music be above rock music? Why should so called literary writing be deemed superior to so called pulp fiction? I do not accept Roche's assertion that good art, in all its forms is no longer being produced. That modern art, music and literature is rubbish. The question of what makes good art, is and always has been entirely subjective, and its not determined by popularity contests either.

Only God knows how much time we have left but I reckon Metallica's song Enter Sandman is a classic and perhaps in the future it will be recognized more widely as such. On par with Beethoven's 5th.

I guess the point of this rambling, disorganized babble is that I believe you don't have to like something to recognize that it is good, (in other words that someone else likes it.)

What is the best music genre?
	Pop
	Country
	Classical
	Rock
	hip hop/R & B
	Opera
	Heavy Metal
	None of the above. It's a matter of opnion.
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