HATE it??
yes I have school again. my 8 weeks of peace and freedom- die ruhe vor dem sturm- is over.
and great 8 weeks or so they were. full of peace------ and joy------and happyness-----and doing nothing...well, er, my definition of nothing. and now im slightly pampered and dont want the stress nor the workload. not to mention my excitement of seeing all my favourite teachers and people again. (pragathi, you know whom i mean...)
why? could just go on in my beloved hospital, where i have spent the past 2 weeks, zipping in and out of operations, asking holes into doctors stomaches and poking holes into litte grannies who cannot defend themselves or hide in time.
i must admit im rather cynical about the upcoming year. i dont see a lot of bright specks in it, unless I have mr garvey for my HL bio that is. but it already starts with the class trip. it starts on my bfs birthday (bad sign), and to salzburg and the chiemsee. in comparison to earier fieldtrips thats about as unspectacular as a pea in a vergetabe soup. then mrs martin being the ib coordinator is also somewhat a surprize, but when coming to think of it, she does have enough experience with ib i think. i dunno ill see in acouple of weeks if shes any good (she is as a music teacher dont get me wrong). at least the scheckschrauben mr. b and mr. w are off for good.
and abt the rest, well the worst are gone, admin wise and the best are gone too, student and staff wise. im in a class of 17, with phillippa not being in it *grrrrrrr* but for that a couple of other girls...im not too optimistic but hey its not like i have a choice. and in any case ill be in shanghai or somewhere like that with my best friend in a couple of years time anyways. that, and medecine uni is always something to look foreward to.
Wednesday, 27 August 2008
Thursday, 14 August 2008
siebenbürgen
ill never get this post done even thouh i have wanted to write it that past week. thus il start and add as i go along. sorry about the bad qualty of writing, but i jsut want to get it down...im doindg anotehr internship in myospital as im going along by the way, which explains the tiredness and lack of time.
siebenbürgen-the name sais it seven castles- sieben Burgen. they mean the cities, honigberg, kronstadt hermannstadt birthelm, schäßburg, bistritz, and another town i cannot remember, named after the churches with four towers attached to them a symbol of self government.
its an old settlement. the fist people came in 1200, by the wish of the hungarian king. but many, especially in other ares-burzenland, banat etc came later.
f you see a romanian map. youll be surprized as you wont see any town i have wrtten above. but those are only the german names .they also have romanian ones, and someties hungarian. because the area was a true mix of cultures, religions and minorities. but it worked.
a picture of the town i stayed in first- mediasch. my mum visited upper school here, very close to the church (Kirchenburg). the schools used to be owned by the churches. and believe it or nto, religion played a major role, even hough my granparents and parents arent that religious.
i attended church on sunday though. it was so different, though the same branch. the pastor sung most of what he said. monotone usually, with raising or lowering the pitch at the end of a phrase. i found it very beautful to listen to. and less boring. the dress was also different. rather medieval, with silver stripy things along the chest. i cant describe it really, you have to have a picture. the songs were also all different, i didnt recognise one of them, and not becuase i almost never go to church here. they smply were different, and usually harder to sing (for a church song which never is hard to sing). i also paritcipated in the abendmahl, which i am allowed to do, having had my konfirmation. it was, as always, this papery read representing stuff, but real wine. after you got the bread you went arond the altar to receive the wine. very strange to me. but it has more of a ceremony to it as it is done in germny. i think here the church wants to adapt to modern times. instead its making me fall asleep. id be much more of a church fan (doesnt mean im mre religious) if i were to be able to attend church in siebenbürgen.
we had cremesch, something my granny is the ultimatie expert in baking, as well as eclairs and savarine, a romanian speciality- also sweet and calorie loaded, in the bakery my mum used to run to as a kid after school had ended, as a treat of survival.
...too tired to be continued
siebenbürgen-the name sais it seven castles- sieben Burgen. they mean the cities, honigberg, kronstadt hermannstadt birthelm, schäßburg, bistritz, and another town i cannot remember, named after the churches with four towers attached to them a symbol of self government.
its an old settlement. the fist people came in 1200, by the wish of the hungarian king. but many, especially in other ares-burzenland, banat etc came later.
f you see a romanian map. youll be surprized as you wont see any town i have wrtten above. but those are only the german names .they also have romanian ones, and someties hungarian. because the area was a true mix of cultures, religions and minorities. but it worked.
a picture of the town i stayed in first- mediasch. my mum visited upper school here, very close to the church (Kirchenburg). the schools used to be owned by the churches. and believe it or nto, religion played a major role, even hough my granparents and parents arent that religious.
i attended church on sunday though. it was so different, though the same branch. the pastor sung most of what he said. monotone usually, with raising or lowering the pitch at the end of a phrase. i found it very beautful to listen to. and less boring. the dress was also different. rather medieval, with silver stripy things along the chest. i cant describe it really, you have to have a picture. the songs were also all different, i didnt recognise one of them, and not becuase i almost never go to church here. they smply were different, and usually harder to sing (for a church song which never is hard to sing). i also paritcipated in the abendmahl, which i am allowed to do, having had my konfirmation. it was, as always, this papery read representing stuff, but real wine. after you got the bread you went arond the altar to receive the wine. very strange to me. but it has more of a ceremony to it as it is done in germny. i think here the church wants to adapt to modern times. instead its making me fall asleep. id be much more of a church fan (doesnt mean im mre religious) if i were to be able to attend church in siebenbürgen.
we had cremesch, something my granny is the ultimatie expert in baking, as well as eclairs and savarine, a romanian speciality- also sweet and calorie loaded, in the bakery my mum used to run to as a kid after school had ended, as a treat of survival.
...too tired to be continued
A mix-up of languages;
Yet again, I was sitting in English class wondering how to pass my time, when I though it would be a good idea to refresh my German. This poem is no linguistic masterpiece and the grammar is appalling, but bear with me.
dear prags, I am compelled to do a tad of correction even though i think what you wrote puts it rather nicely :) i hope you dont mind. -julia
Sie sagt, und sie spricht,
Interresiert das, gar nicht.
Schade, denkt meine Freundin,
Wann kommt sie, und wohin?
Jeder Donnerstag und Samstag,
Sie kommt aber mag es nicht,
Der Junge, der erste, weint,
Es regnet aber der Sonne scheint (nicht).
Alle sind in einer Traumwelt,
Spielen, Fernsehen oder im Campingzelt.
Aber wenn es nach draußen geht,
Alle denken, Scheiße, das ist mein ‚fate’…
dear prags, I am compelled to do a tad of correction even though i think what you wrote puts it rather nicely :) i hope you dont mind. -julia
Sie sagt, und sie spricht,
Interresiert das, gar nicht.
Schade, denkt meine Freundin,
Wann kommt sie, und wohin?
Jeder Donnerstag und Samstag,
Sie kommt aber mag es nicht,
Der Junge, der erste, weint,
Es regnet aber der Sonne scheint (nicht).
Alle sind in einer Traumwelt,
Spielen, Fernsehen oder im Campingzelt.
Aber wenn es nach draußen geht,
Alle denken, Scheiße, das ist mein ‚fate’…
Sunday, 10 August 2008
a rendez-vous between mr. buda and mrs. pest
the walls of the second largest church in hungary showed off with marble, green, red, white, another shade of green, not to forget the countless altars and domes, intricately ornated with gold. a beautiful large church. i have a thing for large churches, even though im not really considering myself as religious. i adore the peace, the largeness and richness that characterises places of worship-it must mean the world for people to build such structures.
i looked around my eyes bulging, as they probably are supposed to be.my parents were far off discussing some historical nitnat with a friend of my dads wo coincidentally is a tour guide. i felt guilty of committing innumeral crimes or at least small cheekynesses daring to touch the stone pillars and walls, trying to feel the lush colour on the polished surface.
suddenly i hear a sound. church music, baroque? early baroque, almot medieval but not so coarse, in four part harmony, a capella.
i snigger inside. surely some loudspeaker to create a "nice" atmosphere for the tourists, and i ignore it. it grows louder and louder, rises and falls in innumerable harmonies of perfect fifths. im irritated. no loudspeaker can do something like that. and i beginn to let my eyes wander, along with my feet, over frescos, more gold, benches, the front. no choir is practicing. loudspeakers? i look again. no loudsspeakers. people, tourists! spread across the church around the benches (which you cant go to), and singing. im amazed, and happy. happy that hungarians havent sunken into the pit of cheap touristy things which spoil more than they help, and happy somebody wold simply go in the church and sing. and sing amazingly well at that.
the choir is a mixture of types. young old, some people my age, some my mums, soprano to deep bass. the harmony is perfect not one peron a tad off. the dynamics well rounded and clearly polished. I stand at the back and listen, and listen and listen.
the sun dazzells me as i walk out. it is afternoon, i have learned that the people were a church choir on tour, touring where i was heading, siebenbürgen. they tried ot the acoustics to see what they were like. well, they were pretty amazing. out of the one day of budapest, this was the most memorable experience. its a beautiful city, very "viennese" in architectural style, with beautiful buildings, weird road ways and a great free concert.
i looked around my eyes bulging, as they probably are supposed to be.my parents were far off discussing some historical nitnat with a friend of my dads wo coincidentally is a tour guide. i felt guilty of committing innumeral crimes or at least small cheekynesses daring to touch the stone pillars and walls, trying to feel the lush colour on the polished surface.
suddenly i hear a sound. church music, baroque? early baroque, almot medieval but not so coarse, in four part harmony, a capella.
i snigger inside. surely some loudspeaker to create a "nice" atmosphere for the tourists, and i ignore it. it grows louder and louder, rises and falls in innumerable harmonies of perfect fifths. im irritated. no loudspeaker can do something like that. and i beginn to let my eyes wander, along with my feet, over frescos, more gold, benches, the front. no choir is practicing. loudspeakers? i look again. no loudsspeakers. people, tourists! spread across the church around the benches (which you cant go to), and singing. im amazed, and happy. happy that hungarians havent sunken into the pit of cheap touristy things which spoil more than they help, and happy somebody wold simply go in the church and sing. and sing amazingly well at that.
the choir is a mixture of types. young old, some people my age, some my mums, soprano to deep bass. the harmony is perfect not one peron a tad off. the dynamics well rounded and clearly polished. I stand at the back and listen, and listen and listen.
the sun dazzells me as i walk out. it is afternoon, i have learned that the people were a church choir on tour, touring where i was heading, siebenbürgen. they tried ot the acoustics to see what they were like. well, they were pretty amazing. out of the one day of budapest, this was the most memorable experience. its a beautiful city, very "viennese" in architectural style, with beautiful buildings, weird road ways and a great free concert.
Friday, 1 August 2008
Degree Dilemmas
The day came and went when I had to choose the subjects I would be studying, the subject choice that would largely influence my future career. In India competition has risen faster than the rising sea levels. In a land of billion people, not everybody gets what they deserve. For this reason, I have been swamped with a library of text books that I am supposed to read, understand and finally put into some use – the use being getting good grades, getting into a good college and then getting a good job (and needlessly saying this, getting a good salary). This seems to be the order of the day. Almost everybody in my section, which is the Electronics section (Subjects: English, 2nd language, Physics, Chemistry, Maths and Electronics), wants to be an engineer of some sort or the other.
Gone are the carefree days, when one dreamed of becoming a pilot, astronaut, singer, cricketer or being less fanciful, a teacher. There are only handfuls in this land that pursue what they want to do the most – most of them end up having tragic stories in the end. The rest, like it or not, are forced to dwell in the misery of a wrong career choice. Well, joining the club of the potential professionals, I have decided to do engineering. One, because I don’t want to do medicine – 10 years of study asks too much persistence of me and don’t want to stand on my parents’ feet so long. Second, I am dead determined to chase my journalism dream. After 4 or 6 years (even if I want to do a post-graduate degree or an MBA course) in college, I can still take the mighty ‘risk’ of studying journalism.
It’s simply amazing how the top brains in the country are mostly in engineering. The lack of proper doctors and people in other service sectors is being reflected blatantly in our lifestyles. Recently, an infant declared stillborn by the nurses, defeated death and kicked back to life 7 hours later. Apparently, if the nurses had tried to revive the baby soon after birth, it would have been fine, instead of lying in the ICU and battling for its life. But like a sticky mush-mush of Bollywood masala, it gasped to life a while before the funeral. It’s a shame that students are forced to opt out of medicine for reasons of low salaries, insecure jobs and long working hours. In Stuttgart, my doctor worked at the most from 9 in the morning to half past five in the evening, with shorter days on Saturday and holiday on Sunday. Here doctors slog so hard, that invariably they need treatment themselves. It’s 24x7 work. No wonder, so few want to get muddled up in the world of white coats and stethoscopes.
The shortage of teachers is another worrying thing. India has a current shortage of about less than a million teachers. With a literacy rate looming below 70%, teachers are becoming the need of the hour. An experienced schoolteacher in the best school probably gets as much salary as a starter software engineer. Teachers carry on their shoulders the vital responsibility of education the next generation of the country’s people, but it is a pity how little importance it is given.
Well, there we go. That’s life. Incidentally, more engineers pass out of India’s engineering colleges, than Germany’s entire workforce. The choice has been done, sealed, packed, slapped into a plastic lunch box and sold. So much for having the right of choice…
pragathi
Gone are the carefree days, when one dreamed of becoming a pilot, astronaut, singer, cricketer or being less fanciful, a teacher. There are only handfuls in this land that pursue what they want to do the most – most of them end up having tragic stories in the end. The rest, like it or not, are forced to dwell in the misery of a wrong career choice. Well, joining the club of the potential professionals, I have decided to do engineering. One, because I don’t want to do medicine – 10 years of study asks too much persistence of me and don’t want to stand on my parents’ feet so long. Second, I am dead determined to chase my journalism dream. After 4 or 6 years (even if I want to do a post-graduate degree or an MBA course) in college, I can still take the mighty ‘risk’ of studying journalism.
It’s simply amazing how the top brains in the country are mostly in engineering. The lack of proper doctors and people in other service sectors is being reflected blatantly in our lifestyles. Recently, an infant declared stillborn by the nurses, defeated death and kicked back to life 7 hours later. Apparently, if the nurses had tried to revive the baby soon after birth, it would have been fine, instead of lying in the ICU and battling for its life. But like a sticky mush-mush of Bollywood masala, it gasped to life a while before the funeral. It’s a shame that students are forced to opt out of medicine for reasons of low salaries, insecure jobs and long working hours. In Stuttgart, my doctor worked at the most from 9 in the morning to half past five in the evening, with shorter days on Saturday and holiday on Sunday. Here doctors slog so hard, that invariably they need treatment themselves. It’s 24x7 work. No wonder, so few want to get muddled up in the world of white coats and stethoscopes.
The shortage of teachers is another worrying thing. India has a current shortage of about less than a million teachers. With a literacy rate looming below 70%, teachers are becoming the need of the hour. An experienced schoolteacher in the best school probably gets as much salary as a starter software engineer. Teachers carry on their shoulders the vital responsibility of education the next generation of the country’s people, but it is a pity how little importance it is given.
Well, there we go. That’s life. Incidentally, more engineers pass out of India’s engineering colleges, than Germany’s entire workforce. The choice has been done, sealed, packed, slapped into a plastic lunch box and sold. So much for having the right of choice…
pragathi
The Idiot Box?
I come back home at 8:00 from my coaching classes, hoping fervently that the TV will be free for me as I gobble up the delicious dinner that my Granny has made for me. Well, the TV is free and I rejoice; but only for a second. Soon, I am to discover that what you find on the idiot box is a few soap operas where people seem to fall in love, marry and divorce several times in their lifetime (just like Hollywood couples), a comatose patient who was out of the soap for two years has just woken up to discover himself old, his children married and his wife snuggling up another man or a house full of conspiring saas-bahus (mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws).
Next you see King Khan of Bollywood, Shah Rukh Khan, testing a few dim-witted contestants whether they can answer 5th standard questions while he advertises his films by dancing to their songs on the quiz floor quite ridiculously with the participant.
Playing with the remote control a little more, you might witness a handful of well-dressed young talents trying to be the most popular and The BEST on the Indian version of American idol or the several other similar kinds of talent search shows. Actually some of them aren’t even fit for bathroom singing.
Before long, you hear the news of a blast or a stock-market crash being aired on every other channel (Seriously, I fail to understand why you need three dozen news channels, when half a dozen can do the same job). The only thing watchable seems to be the sports channels, but even they don’t entertain as much when you have limited time and watch only 20 minutes of a 90 minute football match, that too in the slot when nobody even gets the ball near the goal posts.
What you end up seeing very so often is undressed actresses enticing you from foam-filled bathtubs promoting the latest of the fragrant soaps or the latest shampoo that will make your hair ‘sleek and shine’. So with a flick of the remote, I switch off the TV and wonder, what’s next?
pragathi
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