ABOUT HUNTING

Sunday afternoon, blazing sunshine, we are walking through the forest on one of those GR hiking food paths, crisscrossing France from east to west and from north to south. We are not alone in this oak forest. A guy all clad in dark green but with a shining red cap stops us: "be careful", he tells us, "pay attention! This is hunting period and they are shooting with real bullets".

I loath hunters, I dislike them, I hate them. But hypocritically I keep those sentiments to myself.

I only say, politely as hell: "well, as far as I know, it's up to the hunters to be careful. We are just walking on this hiking path". Let's not forget my golden sens of humour and I add to make him smile: "I hope all your shortsighted colleagues are wearing specs and have a look before shooting".

He does not smile, he just stares at me as we walk on.

Being a hunter these days means, you are killing for pleasure and in total safety for yourself. Hunting is a kind of sport, it seems.

Hunting season. You get up in the morning, too early for telly. So what to do? Let's do some killing, great fun, no danger involved. The boars, the rabbits, the stags, the pigeons are not armed.

Imagine all those little and big animals outfitted with rifles, even little submachine guns. I bet all those hardy sportsmen would prefer to stay at home or gather around the billiard table, boozing in safety.

Or what about sending all those game killers to places where shooting is important if our hunter wants to stay alive? I imagine a hunter asking for a hunting permit "You want to hunt?"
"No problem", he is being told, "in order to get this permit you must engage for one year in active warfare. For the moment, this means you would be on service in Iraq or Afghanistan".

I imagine our happy weekend killers would think twice before going for places were hunting means always being hunted, too.

That's my dream.

MOUSE IN THE HOUSE

We have two cats living with us in the house. There is Mitsi the female stalker hunter and big heavyweight Katzi. Is he hunting, too? I am not sure about that. During daytime, when he is not sleeping, he follows my wife and gives her those tragic looks of total love.

Mice are aplenty here. Must be. They are basic fare for barn-owls, called white lady in French, for the buzzards, other owls of all kind and naturally for the dozens of village cats that are generally kept but not fed by the local farmers.

If God has created mice he must have done so just to supply food to scores of other more fortunate animals. Thanks therefore for not having been created on that precise part of the food chain. Thank you.

Well, that's not the subject but it might be useful to give it some thought.

So, with our two predators over here, mice don't have a chance. Nearly every morning I find some dead and/or mutilated corpses on the premises.

Unfortunately, the situation changes when it rains at night. Cats don't like water . Without being sure, I think rain does not keep them from hunting but they prefer to have dinner in dry places, meaning here in this house. And as everybody knows, cats like to play, fooling around with the dinner prior to eating it.

Next morning of a rainy day, I find Katzi and Mitsi sitting in front of a bookshelf or another piece of furniture. Miaw, miaow miaow or mie, mie, mie, meaning mousy has escaped from the playground and is now in hiding.

At this precise moment, my wife swings into action. She is a great hunter, too. Mousy has no chance. As a indoor hunter, she does not carry a gun but but a dish towel plus sometimes a coat hanger or a broom stick. Boum, the towel zeros in on the little beast and some seconds later it is wrapped in and carried out of the house. Second chance for the mouse to go on living a mousy life. Or get caught again by our two home predators.

Katzi and Mitsi are mere onlookers at that stage. For them, towel hunting is far too fast. The mouse is already back to nature for a considerable time and our cats are still prowling in front of the book shelf looking for the vanished mouse.

As to me, I am just onlooker. Like any male lion (I am born in August) I don't hunt but get a share of the food.

Heating the house

We had a rotten summer over here in Cantal, a splendid September/October and now, instead of going through a peaceful automn, nature kickstarted winter time.

Low peaks were -9°C and my wife clamours for winter tyres on her car (Its my job to fix them). Global warming is bypassing us and has been replaced by something I would call global chaos weather.

The entire house is heated by wood, the electric wall heaters are only for emergency use or in the bathroom, in the morning.

The main idea of this text is to pay homage to the kind of heating generated by oak logs. The place is warm but it is NOT the warmth you get from a central heating system.

This warmth is like a winter kiss, gentle and firm. Wood heat radiates right through you and those everchanging flames behind the glass wall makes you feel splendid. In fact, the feeling is difficult to explain, like colour to a blind.

Here is a photo of our insert and I hope everybody appreciates those drying babushkas on top. They are the cherry on the cake.

Late in the evening, I let the fire die out. In order to achieve this I shift all the burning stuff in the middle and that gives rise to a kind of small size fireworks.

I am so glad we have this instead of the central heating system I knew all my life in Berlin, Brussels and Paris.

ON STRIKE

The first strikes happened in Europe - as far as I know - around 1850 and the main reason was the same as the one that occurred in ancient Egypt, more than 3000 years ago "we are hungry".

Right now, here in France, all the public transport has come to a standstill, trains, subways, buses.

The reason for this is quite clear: these transport people have a special pension scheme. They retire at 50 or 55 and get a pension equivalent to 100 percent of their last salary. The money for this comes from taxes meaning from all those other working people who retire at 60/65 and get 50 to 70 percent of their last salary.

During the electoral campaign, The newly elected French president promised to end this situation and now he is trying to implement this. Thus the strike.

In Germany we have a strike of the train conductors, freight trains and passenger trains. Those conductors created first a trade union for themselves and now ask for a 30 percent rise of salary. The German Railway refused, thus the strike.

Has this anything to do with "we are hungry"? I don't think so. This is pure blackmail carried out by a group of people who happen to own something like a "joker".

On the French and the German telly, I see the faces of these trade union bosses. I see glee and triumph there, kind of "fuck you, we shall overcome". "We'll get you, shell out the money or kick the bucket."

That is what I see on their faces. If the country comes to its knees, they don't care. They want the money and pronto, a soft life for their members, featherbedding paid by others who work harder and longer.

ON HYPOCRISY

This goes on for months and months. Nearly every day we are being told by our faithful media how big efforts are being deployed to prevent the Mullah regime in Iran to develop the Atom Bomb. This big mushroom explosive that could terminate human species.

The Americans talk to the British who talk to the Chinese who consult the Russians who speak to the French and they are all of the same opinion: the Iranians should not be allowed to develop the Atom Bomb. No Sir. Far too dangerous, they could use it. Or better, it is even sure they would use the Atom Bomb. Because those Iranians they are not such good and honorable people as we are, they are not feeling so responsible as we do!

It's such a pleasure to hear from all these responsible nations and people how hard they are working to prevent humanity to destroy itself via the Iranians.

However, all these months I am waiting to hear from one of those humanitarians this: in order to give an example, we are destroying our own Atom Bombs stockpiled at home.

LONG LIFE - BE AN OPTIMIST

Some days ago I saw an article at Frieda's blog INSPIRE, MOVE & TOUCH that made me think ever since. She mentioned a book "Health at 100" where it is said that people with positive outlook live longer than negative oriented.

Reading this the normal question is to which category I belong. According to my wife I am p. but as to me and myself, I feel I am both, it just depends on the situation and what is going on.

Being negative means you think no good comes out of this or that. Next, it gives you the impression to understand fully what is going on without dreaming about a happy fairy tale ending.

Here is a poem from Bertold Brecht that illustrates the idea (my translation - I do hope it still has some meaning)

I have to admit: I don't have any hope.
The blind talk about a way out.
I see.

When all errors have been used up
The last companion sitting in front of you
Is nothingness.

That's not black, it's bleak and in fact he made it only till 58. So be warned.

A positive attitude towards life could certainly be illustrated by the famous words said by Martin Luther nearly 500 years ago:

Who loves not woman, wine and song,
Remains a fool his whole life long.

This guy loved life, don't you think? Here is another one from Martin Luther (the one who lived 500 years ago, not the one who was killed in the sixties):

If I would know doomsday coming tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today.

Last not least, let me tell a little joke. A patient came to his doctor and said:

"Doctor, I wish to live till 100 and in perfect health". And the doctor : "well, do you smoke?"
"No "
"Do you drink?"
"No"
"Women"
"No"
"Well", said the doctor, "you might live that long but just tell me WHY"

Monarchical republics

In school we were told that in a kingdom you have king (sometimes a queen) who gets the job by birth and in a republic the president and/or the prime minister is chosen by the voters.

At those happy times nothing was ever said about those strange hybrids we can see nowadays, in many countries.

First, you have the species called "President for life". You get the top job and you keep it. Sure, there are elections, but................... A good example is Egypt.

Second, like in a good old kingdom the little one succeeds papa. As far as I know, there are two countries Syria in the Middle East and North Korea, just above South Korea.

Those two, however, play in different leagues. When papa died in Syria, the son was an eye doctor in London and I imagine it was not that easy to adopt. But he made it and it appears he has learned his trade and is doing quite well. In North Korea the succession to the "throne" was further hampered by the fact that the country is a communist one . Till now, the commies always killed their last king - when they could get him - or sent him and his family into exile.
Thus I think North Korea merits amply our admiration, they established the first communist monarchy.

Once you have a royal family in a country you get the aristocracy into the bargain. Or the other way round. The nobles choose the king among them. But there is a big republic - the United States of America - where the top jobs seem to be family business. In this country the family president is not called George I and George II but modestly - it's a republic - N° 41 and N° 43.
And in this family pool is another fish swimming who might be one day.......... For the moment, he is just governing a subtropical southern state of the Union.

All this can be called happy diversity of human behavior. It enriches us and them.

I should have added a photo, as I do most of the time. Any suggestions what to show??

ON UGLINESS

I should have started this entry by talking about those photos. All show constructions I like very much. The first two are houses for sale at the French Atlantic coast, between Bordeaux and Biarritz. For the other ones, just read the text (that has become a bit too long).

Before coming here in 1998, I lived for 15 years in Neuilly, a suburb of Paris. I suppose that most people would agree with the statement that Paris is a beautiful city. And that's true.

However, if you look closely at that beauty you might realize that what is considered beautiful is at least hundred years old or more.

Have a look at all those constructions realized in the sixties, seventies etc. - in Paris and elsewhere - and you see lots of glass, steel and concrete put together at right angle as cheap as possible. Kind of boxes of different sizes.

Over the years I came to the conclusion that our modern ugliness is materialized by the right angle. Everything and anything looks aggressively square and I have the impression these are the modern barbarians. Lame brain barbarians utterly devoid of creativity and fantasy.

Talking about architecture I think we have at least a big chance. All this square concrete stuff is of very poor quality. Years ago I showed a friend the modern opera house in Paris (Opéra Bastille) about a year after its completion. There was already rust seeping out between the marble plates fixed on the outer wall to hide the concrete.


In 2002 I went to Berlin, my home town, and was shown around there. The infamous Berlin Wall had vanished without any trace and the town was once again the country's capital. So I had a look at the government buildings, situated right at the river Spree. Madre de Dios. Concentrated cheap ugliness everywhere. You look at it and depression crawls up and engulfs you.

One might think that modern buildings and houses must be ugly. But that is not so. Have a look at those two buildings. The first is a newly erected museum in Paris (Musée Quai Branly) and the other one is a building that has been erected with the help of the Austrian painter Hundertwasser (Hundertwasser-Haus in Vienna). And there are some quite good looking big buildings in the so called "third world" countries, like in Dubai or Kuala-Lumpur.

The first photo (the last added) shows a typical house in the Périgord region. In the background you see the quite recent Museum of Prehistory. To me, the latter looks a bit like an air raid bunker, though in sandstone and not in concrete.

FLYING ABOVE THE CASTLE PEYREPERTUSE

Here I am back again from holidays, at the eastern portion of the French Pyrenees, about 50 km from the Mediterranean. We had really awful weather at home, July and August were partly similar to March and October.

No global warming for us, I had the impression to approach the starting blocks of a new ice age.
The only part of France featuring a real summer seemed to be the Mediterranean coast line.

This area is famous for its "castles of vertigo", all in ruins for centuries but still breathtaking. As far as I know there was fierce slaughtering over there during the Albigois crusade. The people there adhered to a Christian sect called Cathars, their aim was to lead a perfect life.

Thus a crusade was organized, the Cathars were killed wholesale and there possessions were the object of a huge real estate transfer. Mission accomplished as someone said these days.

The castle is still there and the cherry on the cake is that right below is a paragliding launching pad. And in the late afternoon, on warm sunny days, you get the phenomenon the locals call "restitution", a kind of valley wind. Warm air from the forest and the fields below is going up the castle slopes and allows for really peaceful flying.

The violent thermals around noon are gone and are being replaced by this restitution. You fly in an air like honey plus the special fragrance of the Mediterranean country side, rosemary, wild thyme, savory, olive trees, occasionally lavender. Splendidly smelly.

This gentle wind carries my along the slopes of the castle and then, hurray, I have made it! I am looking right into it from above. The visitors of Peyrepertuse look at me and I am looking at them. "Comment ça va" I yell joyfully to a group not far away from me and they make a photo.

Splendor of flying nearly like a bird. It could have been invented 2000 years ago, you just need some lightweight cloth. That was always available. But during all that time the inventors came to a dead end by trying to imitate a bird, spreading and moving wings up and down. And for that we just are not strong enough!

The photo shows the Peyrepertuse castle, built around 800 years ago. Nowadays, they start to rebuilt it by using exclusively the technical procedures of the Middle Ages. We will probably all be dead before it is finished.

ABOUT HISTORY

There seems to be a Russian proverb that runs like this:

"Ignore the past and you will loose an eye. Dwell on the past and you will loose both of them".

Well, I like that one. I have been fascinated by history all my life, even as a little boy. In school, we had a history book for each year and I have been reading it all through in the very first months.

Regarding history, there is another proverb I highly appreciate: "The nations and its people who ignore their own history are condemned to repeat it again and again".

As to the present, those gruesome and stupid wars going on in Iraq and Afghanistan might have been avoided by simply looking at precedents, similar cases that happened in the past and its outcome. This has not been done and now we have opened Pandora's box and it will take dozens of years to get it closed again.