Featured photo

Dawn at our place. GH took the photo, obviously. At this time of day either I'm already off to work, not home yet or sound asleep...

PS: The dinner mentioned on the previous post was here

12th Anniversary

Yup. GH and I have been stuck with one another for twelve years today!
And trust me: it is not easy. Putting up with me for all this time?
Presents will be swapped, a special dinner will take place on a special place and some more celebrations will occur... nobody is invited of course, today is just for the two of us!

Third Strike

Yet again GAP contracts slave work. After the cases in 2004 and 2006, another factory is found using slave children to make GAP products, this time in India.
Again GAP denies any knowledge and discards any responsibility, claiming they simply won’t market the products made by the said factory.
Not enough I’d say. Maybe that would do the first time it happened, but if this kind of situation happens systematically with the same company something smells fishy.
Well, if instead of a big corporation we were talking about a two bit criminal in California he’d be in for life… well, maybe neither US nor international laws would have a way to force GAP out of business, maybe there is no third strike law to prevent companies from using slave work.

But buyers can surely force GAP out of business and with that show all other companies that the world has had enough of slavery.

So if you’re reading this please let all your friends know what is going on and start boycotting all GAP products.

Relativity?

GH's finding on an alleged "gourmet store" in Lisbon: pop tarts!
Ok, I do admit we sometimes shop there for some specific items...

Featured photo

Inside Santa Clara's Convent, in Funchal. On the beautiful Madeira Island.

Check out where it is

Not really making up for the lack of posts

Try and listen to this:

Dazkarieh

Making do

with what I have around here.

Holiday rant

6 minutes

That was the exact time elapsed from the moment I left the building for my holidays to the moment I got the first call from the lab.
Two more hours went by 'til I got the second call.
Rats!
I'm stuck here, too broke to travel abroad, with my cell phone on because my family must be able to reach me. Problem being everybody will be able to call me.
Money doesn't bring happiness, but it sure helps when you want to have fun and travel!
Of course I shouldn't be complaining. Yes, I do know plenty of people have it worst than we do.
Well, we'll make do whit what we have for now.
Sorry for the bad mood. A couple of days at the beach and it will surely improve.

Despair

Last May a desperate mother of a disabled girl drove her car off a cliff killing herself and her 25 year old daughter.

The despair of having to take care of her child eventually overwhelmed her.

After 25 five years of devotion to someone she knew could never have hope for a better future, that mother decided to put an end to both her child’s suffering and her own.

This week another desperate mother killed a son and tried to commit suicide too although she survived. A six years old epileptic boy died after his mother’s boyfriend dumped her.

Reading the news about it, especially the comments from the neighbors who say the little boy was a lovely kid, most people claim for the murderous mother’s head.

Me? Not sure.

I really don’t know.

I can’t even start to imagine how desperate a mother must be to kill her own progeny, so how can I tell if another mother is faking such despair?

Summertime salads

2 tbsp chives
1 tbsp mapple syrup or honey
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp fresh ground pepper
1/2 cup plain yogurt
2 tbsp olive oil
1 oz cider vinegar
1 tbsp ground garlic
1 tbsp mustard

Or at least it seems to me these are more or less the right amounts... I never actually measure stuff for a salad dressing. Mix it well and chill it before serving.
Give it a try and tell me about it.

Old fashioned thermal container

The cork oak (Quercus suber), native to southern Europe and most common tree found in Alentejo (the southern part of Portugal just north of the Algarve), is used since ancient times not only to produce corks for the local wine but to create several other objects.
This is a "tarro", it is basically a traditional food recipient that would allow taking hot food to workers in the cereal fields.
The craftsmanship is extremely simple: cut a section of the tree trunk, hollow it from the wood except in the bottom and voilá thermal insulation used even before the Romans invaded the Peninsula some say.

Featured photo

Évora's Roman Temple. Or a detail of it, to be accurate.

Évora's Bones Chapel

A few pics of the Bones Chapel. One of Évora's ex libris.
Click on the picture to see details and to locate the place on a map.
Évora is one of UNESCO's World Heritage sites in Portugal.


And no, I do not get any kind of grant from the tourist board for trying to lure you all into visiting our country...

Portuguese delicacy

Delicious I tell you!
Although when you have foreign guests this can turn into something of a cultural clash... most people who have never had a snails snack seem to be grossed out by the idea of eating a snail.
But the choice of snacks available in most places is bountiful enough to please almost all tastes.

Lifetime experiences II

This weekend I've redeemed a voucher GH had given me as a present on our last anniversary.
See that little plane like thingy on the photo?
That's a glider and yours truly was on it!
She offered me a sail flight!

I'd flown on several planes and helicopters before, I'd done sky diving, but I always wanted to try a sail flight and never got to do it.
An experienced pilot got us up, made several acrobatic maneuvers (never thought I would ever do two loopings in a row without an engine, that thing really was amazing) and even let me fly the glider for a while.

Featured photo

This one was taken in Aveiro, a city sometimes called the Portuguese Venice.
Although at the time of this visit there was a book fair in town plus several other cultural events I must confess the reason for our visit was mostly gastronomical... you see there are this traditional sweets made of egg yolk and sugar that we just love and whenever we drive nearby we simply have to make a little detour.

Locate this picture on the map

Lifetime experiences

GH's birthday present was really a present for the two of us.
We went swimming with dolphins.
For those who think it is bad luck to give or receive birthday presents before the actual b-day... oh well, guess superstition doesn't bother us and with our schedules and lack of free time we just had to make do with whatever chance we had.

PS: Today is the second anniversary of this blog. With the change of address I almost forgot it!

Where it all started

This is the castle of Guimarães. Traditionally the place where Portugal was born. The statue depicts Dom Afonso Henriques, or Afonso I of Portugal, son of Henry of Burgundy Count of Portugal. In 1120, eight years after his father's death he rebelled against his own mother and the king of Castile (tradition has it he beat up his mother and had her put in chains) and proclaimed the independence of Portugal.Of course the king of Castile didn't quite like the idea, war broke out. Things were hard, battles were won, others lost but finally in 1143 in the city of Zamora, Spain, a peace treaty was signed and Portugal was officially recognized as an independent kingdom.
Some say it is no wonder most of us have a bit of a bad temper, a nation that started with a son beating his own mom.

Locate these pictures on the map

A town full of temples

This is where the wedding was, it's Basilica do Sameiro, one of many churches you can find in and around Braga.









We stayed in a hotel near yet another sanctuary Bom Jesus do Monte.











Find out where this photos were taken

Tired, very tired actually...

An American friend arrived Saturday morning, we picked her up at Lisbon airport, raced to Braga (city in the northernmost area of Portugal) to attend the wedding of a friend of ours, made a slalom through several places in Portugal on Sunday as we headed back home and finally, today, we headed south to the Algarve (southernmost part of Portugal) so I could give GH her birthday present (given in advance...her b-day is only on the 15th).
And we drove back home again...
Too tired to make a decent post, but not tired enough not to share with you the laugh I had at our American friend's lipstick (click on the pic to enlarge it).

A little garden by the sea

That's what our people call this plot of land that is our country: um pequeno jardim à beira mar plantado.
A peaceful little place, where people are mostly gentle.
It seems we are the ninth most peaceful country in the world...

(if you want check how peaceful your country is)


This would sound a lot better if it weren't for the fact that violent crime is rising here too. If it weren't for the fact that although I'm not that old I still remember when people felt a lot safer than they do today.
Still this is a rather nice place to live in.
True we don't have color coded alerts to tell people how scared they must feel, but then again people usually don't feel frightened around these parts.

The feeling however gets a lot worst when I stop looking at my own belly button and start looking around, looking at the war thorned countries, at the countries where law and order are but a dream, where the only law is the word of those who hold the guns.

And even in countries that may seem mostly peaceful from the table, when I think of Ghana ranking 40th, my mind wonders to the slave children there...
Call me naïve if you want to, but I really believe it would be possible to build a better world where this ranking would make no sense, where all people could feel safe and where all children could play and go to school.

How's that for non-pollutant?

A former Formula 1 engineer, Guy Négre, has signed a deal with an Indian company (Tatra Motors) to produce an air-driven vehicle.
This car works on compressed air, thus having zero emissions.

A completely non-pollutant vehicle.

Or is it? Its air tank must be filled with an air compressor, either the in-built electric compressor or an industrial compressor.
So although the car by itself is environmentally friendly, charging it means you'll have to use electricity.
Now, you can have a windmill generating the electricity, or a solar panel, that way you won't be using fossil fuels to generate the electricity for the compressor, but then you'll have to spend energy to build the windmill or the photovoltaic cells...
Don't get me wrong, I DO think this car is great and I do think we must try and find environmentally friendly solutions. But the main issue remains in electricity. Most of the processes in our so called civilized world require energy, at some point or another. Nuclear power is dangerous and generates pollution. Fossil fuels aren't going to last forever and you all heard about the problems associated with them.
As for all the other sources of energy... they are not efficient enough to satisfy our needs for energy.
Without wanting to seem pessimistic, but assuming it will take a long time to solve our energy problems, maybe we all should really focus on the other side of the equation and instead try to reduce our need for energy. Walk instead of driving, use public transportation, turn off the lights when you don't need them, unplug all the useless electrical gizmos around the house. Electrical can opener? What for?
Off course this idea can also mean don't spend so much time on the internet, turn off the computer...

In the meanwhile, a big HURRAY!!! for Guy Négre for is contribution!

Featured photo

This is Hundertwasserhaus, you can read more about this building here.

Find where this place is

Book suggestion

Most people nowadays talk about global warming.
Some people follow the eco-leaders, assuming all the arguments of the environmental gurus are right.
Some others simply deny the theories of the environmental groups.
How
many people actually try and understand what is at stake? How many
people do actually know what the real issues are, what the real
knowledge about our situation is?

Well, this book can give a real down to Earth easy to understand explanation on what we know about global warming.

However you should also read this other book, although fictional it has sound
scientific basis, well documented, and points out several important
issues about activism without adequate knowledge of the issues
defended...

Delusions of grandeur

Our glorious government has been telling us all that cutting down on public expenses is absolutely necessary.
To cut on said expenses hospitals, schools, maternities and other public services have been closed throughout the country.
Yesterday however we’ve learned through the media (Portuguese only, sorry) that the city of Al-Khader, in Palestine, has a new football stadium (soccer for you American folks), FIFA approved, seating 6000 people, offered by the Portuguese Government.
A gift in the value of over 2 million dollars.
Although poor we are however a very generous people.
You would expect that such an action from a government would cause a revolution, you would probably expect riots… Well… No.
As I said we’re generous.
So as soon as the news was heard the Portuguese people supported it in the form of an e-mail that spread around. This e-mail suggests we should even make a few more offerings, namely a gym for Afghanistan, an Olympic Stadium to Somalia and all our politicians to the crocodiles of the Nile!
I’m am not a rich guy. At the present I’m actually short of cash. But one thing is for sure, I would gladly chip in for the last item. My only doubt is: wouldn’t those poor crocs be poisoned were they to eat such crap food as our politicians?

40 abs a day keep the belly away

After slacking our exercise for some time (we haven't been using our gym lately), GH decided to start a minimal routine of 40 abs a day.
Today I decided to join her.
Only to realize I'm way out of shape.
Gone are the days of 50 abs and three times over the tartan before a rugby practice... it seems age and beer are starting to take their toll.
Just hope tomorrow the 40 abs will feel less of a pain.
But nothing like this feeling to make a firm resolution: at least two hours of gym per week from now on. Plus the 40 abs a day of course, if she can stand so can I!

My panoramio

From now on my new pics shall be posted both in the blog and here, so you guys can know where the places are. Who knows, maybe you decide to visit those places yourselves, heh?

Gearing up for Summer

We got ourselves a new bike rack that can be mounted in either of our cars (here it is in GH's).
Fast enough to mount and dismount unlike the old one, that could only be fitted in my car and took a long time to assemble.
This will mean more bike rides this Summer, and farther away from home.
It will probably mean less blogging time too, but then again it may mean more photos of nice places.
This will be a budget season, so instead of traveling to some place nice but far away we will stay home (not too bad when you live close to the beach) and make do with our surroundings.

Things people say

“When an espresso cools down the coffee’s concentration increases”
by an alleged chemist just about to finish her PhD!

I wonder, if it gets more dilute again if you nuke it for a few minutes…

Weight problems

One of the technicians at our lab has a weight problem.
Actually several of them do, but this one in particular is a severe case: she destroyed an average of 6 chairs per year in the last few years.
Some weeks ago she got a drastic gastric band.
As soon as she got back to work she wanted to celebrate with her colleagues so she brought plenty of cakes... oh, and when the day was over she finished up the leftovers so she wouldn't take any home.
Today someone asked her if the gastric band was having any effect.
Her answer: "I'm not quite sure, the doctor told me not to weigh myself in order to avoid stress, but most of my clothes don't fit me anymore, I had to buy larger ones".
The next question was obvious: "Larger?!"
The next answer: "Yes, my stomach gets full really quickly now and if I follow the prescribed diet I'm always hungry, so now I'm eating mostly sugary stuff, maybe that is why I'm getting a little larger, but soon I'll be thinner, you'll see!".

Yeah, right!

Poked with a stick

Well, not really... but an e-mail from Kris made me feel I had neglected this here blog thingy for too long.
Things are going rather smoothly, although we've both been busy and we're broke.
No, relax, this is not one of those "send us your money" posts.
In fact even being broke is something relative, nothing to worry about.
During this absence a few e-mails from some of you had already made me feel like resuming my posts, but being tired from work gave that ranting mood that would probably mean ranting posts, so I kept in "pause mode".
I'll still be unable to read as many posts as I used to, but at least I'll try and start posting again.

PS: BTW it was about time to change the featured photo too, so here goes.
As some of you will probably assume I'm coming back from the dead, I leave you with a detail of a sarcophagus from the Imperial Crypt in Vienna. GH had to attend a conference there and I went along just for fun.

It’s that time of the year again

Starting to prepare my income tax declaration.
Most if not all of you go through the same every year, right?
Well, let us take a look at how the thing goes, shall we?
Every month 36% of my income is retained as down payment for income tax, retirement fund (although the best predictions show there will be no retirement fund by the time I get to retire, for the state will be broke way before that), and social security (although we’re loosing most of our social security privileges).
Of course that still leaves me with some 64% of my hard earned money.
Or does it? Health services and products have 5% VAT. Unprocessed basic food 12% VAT. Pretty much everything else has a 21% VAT. Add to that extra taxes on fuel, vehicles, housing (home owners must pay municipal taxes), sanitation and a few other things: it all sums up to about 25% more of my income being handed over to the state in indirect taxes.
Luckily I get to keep 39% of the fruit of my labour, heh?
No wait… some of my expenses are mandatory, like car insurance. These expenses build up to almost 3% of my income.
I’m not quite sure, but I recon this should be pretty much the same feeling as when a streetwalker hands the money over to her pimp protector!

As seen on TV

During the last couple of weeks Portuguese TVs have been capitalizing on a child custody case.
As portrayed by the media the story goes:
A Portuguese guy had an affair with a Brazilian immigrant and from that liaison a little girl was born. The biological father asked for a paternity test and in spite of the positive result didn’t care about the little girl for five years now.
The mother gave the little girl for a nice couple to adopt, although the adoption legal process was still not over (allegedly, Portuguese courts have been delaying the process for more than for years).
A couple of months ago the biological father filed a custody process and the court ordered the child to be given to her biological father.
The adoptive parents refused to yield the child, the adoptive mother disappeared with the girl and the adoptive father got arrested for kidnapping, as a result of going against the court order.
As they became aware of this case thousands of people felt outraged and thus filed a habeas corpus petition to get the adoptive father released. This habeas corpus is historical: the first one in our country signed by about 10000 petitioners.
People who want the little girl to stay with her adoptive family and who claim that giving custody to her biological father will cause her a huge trauma.
Pretty simple and straight forward although sad a story, wouldn’t you say?
That good for nothing biological father never gave a dam about the girl and now files a suit just to try and get some money in a settlement (main theory among the common citizen).

As always there are two sides to this story…
Some journalists didn’t buy the tale and went digging for proof. Our courts may be slow at times, but one thing you must credit them with: all records are kept.
Those journalists found out that as soon as the DNA results were known the father filed a custody suit, that means almost five years ago instead of a couple of months ago.
It took the court two and a half years to grant custody to the biological father, nevertheless the adoptive family refused to return the baby and moved. During the last few years the biological father has made every effort to track that family and get his daughter, however only once did he manage to find them and the adoptive family refused to let go of the girl and moved again.

This second version of the story is pretty much the same as the one in the only official version issued by the court that ordered the adoptive father’s arrest.
Manipulated by the media, public opinion still stands on the side of the adoptive family.

So, how does the media come out of it all? TVs distorted reality and manipulated gullible viewers. At the same time a handful of magazine reporters dug out the truth and made it public.

Regardless of everything else, the little girl now looks at the adoptive parents as her real family… whatever the legal outcome of this mess, who can rightfully say what is best for the girl? The adoptive parents show no respect for the law, but they seem to love the little girl and do in fact have a better economical situation to raise the infant.
The biological father and his wife have another kid, sixteen years old boy, and although strangers to the little girl seem to be good parents.

Back in the day…

...when I was still wearing long hair I wrote this one.

“Why won’t you cut your hair?” I’ve lost count how many times I’ve heard this question. At first I used to answer it was because I didn’t feel like doing so, and I swear it was true! But not anymore. I mean it is no longer true, although I keep giving the same reply. I Want to see where does this, this thing of people questioning why don’t I cut my hair, where does it end. It started by being amusing, then it started driving me mad and now… now I’m thinking on writing a book about it.
It all started with my parents. They thought it was weird and passed a comment on the issue with a friend of theirs who is a psychologist. “That may be serious. If he’s growing his hair there might be a problem he can’t cope with , because he doesn’t really admit there is a problem. He then grows his hair , the way his sub conscience uses to cry for help, to get other people’s attention. Take him to a psychologist.”
They did, but to another one, to check if both diagnosis matched. Tough luck, the psychologist who analysed me was one of those Freudian guys who believe all problems arise before the age of ten. “Oedipus Complex. Grows his hair to look like his mama. Youngsters sometimes tend to try and become similar to the object of their love".
For the love of the Man who died at the cross. My mama even wears short hair.
Yet it didn’t stop here, when the time came for the psychiatrist he diagnosed me “ a serious case of schizophrenia”. As soon as he uttered his diagnose the good doctor calmed my parents, “if he doesn’t become violent we may not need to commit him”.
Obviously, with so many different opinions of cult persons, learned on the subject and with “Holder of Fundamental Truths” diplomas hanging on the wall, the subject reached the streets. Neighbourhood talking started.
The gay poet who lives on the seventh floor said it was the women inside of me blossoming.
The guy from the barber shop was way less poetical “he’s cheap, that’s the truth, if all followed his example I’d starve”.
Even the priest, imagine. Came to me after mass and told me he understood what was wrong with me, he was used to watching all those movies on TV with gangs of long haired junkies. He advised me to watch solely the church channel and obviously to cut my hair.
At some point during the two hours of that holly man’s sermon this story stopped being funny. Maybe because I’ve had had enough, maybe because this temper of mine so many people have told me about, I answered him back.
It was even a very calm retort. I told him Christ used to have long hair too. The priest, in a sudden and unexpected rage, threw me out of church calling me heretic, evil, sacrilegious and among plenty of other things communist.
What the hell! Communist. I’m not, I know I’m not and I have proof.
The weirdest thing though, the president of the local assembly, who happens to be a communist, told me if he were in the government he’d pass a law against guys with long hair.
Decided to forget all about it I spent a full month without hearing the neighbourhood talk.
As you can easily guess, I’ve been away for a month. Come back in the middle of the night. This morning, at the dairy shop, Mrs Ernestina came to me and said “Don’t mind me asking. I don’t even like to be nosy. Have you come back home? Your dad threw you out, didn’t he? Where have you been?”
Remember my temper? “Oh Mrs. Ernestina, since last month I’ve living nearby, your husband’s mistress has rented me a room, the same room your son used to rent before going to jail”. She didn’t like my answer.
Everyday, as far as I can recall, I have my breakfast at that dairy, latte, toast and the early morning gossip overheard.
I then remembered her soon, a short little mulato with long Rastafarian-like hair.
Never got to know why was he arrested. Hope it wasn’t something about his hair…

(click here to read the original Portuguese version) .


"Porque é que não cortas o cabelo?" Já perdi a conta ao número de vezes que ouvi esta pergunta. Primeiro respondia que era porque não me apetecia, e juro que era verdade !
Mas agora não. Quero eu dizer que agora já não é verdade, mas continuo a dar a mesma resposta. Quero ver até onde é que isto, esta história de me dizerem porque é que deixo o cabelo crescer, quero ver até onde é que isto vai. Primeiro achei divertido, depois comecei a chatear-me e agora... agora estou a pensar em escrever um livro sobre o assunto.
Tudo começou com os meus pais. Acharam estranho, e comentaram o caso com um amigo, que é psicólogo. "Isso é capaz de ser grave. Se ele está a deixar crescer o cabelo é porque tem algum problema que não consegue resolver, por não admitir que o problema existe. Então deixa o cabelo crescer, que é a forma que o seu subconsciente encontra para pedir ajuda, para chamar a atenção dos outros. Levem-no ao psicólogo."
Levaram, mas a outro, que era para ver se o seu diagnóstico era igual. Azar, o psicólogo que me analisou era um daqueles freudianos que pensam que todos os problemas surgem até aos dez anos. "Complexo de Édipo. Deixa crescer o cabelo para se parecer com a mãe. Por vezes os jovens têm tendência para tentarem tornar-se semelhantes àquilo que amam." Por amor do Homem que morreu lá na cruz. A minha mãezinha até tem cabelos curtos.
Mas não parou por aqui, quando chegou a vez do psiquiatra foi-me diagnosticado "um grave caso de esquizofrenia". Logo de seguida o bom doutor acalmou os meus pais, "se ele não se tornar violento talvez não seja necessário interná-lo".
É claro que com tanta opinião de pessoa culta, versada no assunto e com um diploma de Detentor de Verdades Fundamentais na parede, o assunto chegou às ruas. Começou o falatório na vizinhança.
O poeta gay do sétimo andar disse que era a mulher que trago dentro de mim a florescer.
O tipo que me costumava cortar o cabelo é muito menos poético : "o tipo é forrêta, essa é que é a verdade, se todos lhe seguissem o exemplo matavam-me à fome".
Até o padre, imaginem. Veio ter comigo a seguir à missa e disse-me que compreendia bem o que se passava comigo, ele bem via os filmes que davam na televisão com bandos de drogados de cabelos compridos, aconselhou-me a ver apenas o canal da Igreja e, é claro, a cortar o cabelo. Foi durante as duas horas que demorou o sermão do santo homem que eu deixei de achar piada a esta história. Talvez por estar farto, talvez por causa deste mau feitio que todos me apontam, respondi-lhe.
Respondi-lhe calmamente até. Disse-lhe que Cristo também tinha cabelo comprido. O padre então, numa fúria inesperada, expulsou-me da igreja chamando-me herético, malvado, profanador e, entre muitas outras coisas, comunista.
Que raio! Comunista. Não sou, sei que não sou e tenho provas.
O mais estranho é que o presidente da junta, que por acaso até é comunista, disse-me que se ele estivesse na assembleia, fazia uma lei contra os tipos que andam por aí de cabelo comprido.
Resolvi esquecer o assunto, passei um mês sem ouvir os comentários da vizinhança. Como é fácil de entender, estive um mês fora. Voltei a meio da noite. Hoje de manhã, na leitaria, veio a Dona Ernestina ter comigo e disse: "Não me leve a mal que lhe pergunte. Eu nem gosto de me meter na vida dos outros. Mas você já voltou para casa? Foi o seu pai que o pôs fora por causa do cabelo, não foi? Por onde é que tem andado?".
Lembram-se do meu mau feitio? "Oh Dona Ernestina, desde o mês passado que estou a viver ali no Areeiro, a amante do seu marido arranjou-me um quarto, aquele onde o seu filho dormia antes de ir preso". Não gostou da resposta.
Todos os dias, desde que me lembro, tomo o pequeno-almoço naquela leitaria, um galão, uma torrada e os boatos matinais ouvidos de passagem. Lembrei-me então do filho dela, um mulato baixinho de cabelo comprido, às trancinhas. Nunca cheguei a saber por que é que foi preso. Espero que não tenha sido nada a ver com o cabelo...

94.2.8

Featured Photo

Welcome to the Twilight Zone's new address!
This pic is from our November trip to Cordoba... guess there is no escaping it, it was GH's first time in Andaluzia, I HAD to take her to a flamenco show.