What the hell is up with Spain? Light bulls' horns on fire and enjoy watching them run around going nuts? To honor some "Saint"?
Well, one bull has done his level best to even up the score:
A flaming-horned bull trampled and fatally gored a man early Saturday during a festival in eastern Spain, an official said.
Large balls of flaming wax are traditionally affixed to the beasts' heads before they are let loose to rampage through squares and narrow streets in such festivals.
the bull charged the man, gored him and then stamped on his head, causing him "irreversible injuries."
Many towns in east and northeastern Spain celebrate feasts with "toros embolados," or "flaming bulls," which feature the animals racing around and shaking their heads as a reaction to flames or fireworks attached to or close to their horns. At these regional festivals, flaming-horned bulls are taunted and teased by rowdy crowds in bullrings, town squares or down streets.
C'mon bulls, you got a lot of work left to do!
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query shaking their heads. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query shaking their heads. Sort by date Show all posts
Monday, January 23, 2012
Thursday, May 07, 2009
A Report from the field: Africa
Because I know lots of students and ex-students, I get reports from the field from non-profit folks. These kids go over their wanting to change the world, and end up just shaking their heads and thinking, "WTF?" This, I thought, was a pretty good one. It does put my own very minor irritations in perspective. (Note: It was typed on a blackberry, in Africa, by someone with bad stomach flu, so just think how YOU would do on spelling and punctuation)
i am having a really frustrating morning so i thought i should sit down, write a bit, and try to regroup. never ever again will i complain about waiting in lines at home. at the bank, at the post office, anywhere.
i just spent over 3 hours at the bank. and i think im a pretty patient person but this just tested my limits to the max. i concurrently fought back tears and the urge to scream.
i came in from [CITY] specifically to get my may living allowance out of the bank. it doesnt help that today is sweltering, probably 105 degrees and humid and i am super dehydrated, thanks to a lovely GI issue i've been fighting for a couple days.
even on good days, i have to psych myself up for the bank. i wish you could see this hell hole. people dont know how to form lines so its just a big mass of people pushing and shoving. its awful. and hot and sweaty and very inefficient. you push your bank book at the teller and then they look at it, look at you and hand you a small metal circle with a number on it. after about 40 minutes (usually) your number will flash up above the paying tellers desk. oh, but the numbers dont go in order. like 3 will flash followed by 356 followed by 74. and they often have mismatched bankbooks with numbers so you have to check that you are getting your bank book and the actual amount you requested back. Its lots of fun (insert major major rolling of eyes here)
anyhow, usually [organization] is pretty incompetent and while they tell us our living allowance is deposited on the 25th of the previous month (ie my may money should have been in april 25) it never is there on time so i usually give them until about the 2nd or 3rd til i go to the bank. seeing as today is the 6th i figured it HAD to be there by now.
i woke up early, headed to the bank. and guess what, no money! i walked out and called [organization]. conveniently our accountant is out of the office today so i was given another number to try. that number was out of service. so i called my program director. he was clueless but eventually had someone call me back. who told me the transfer number and what not, so i headed back to the bank to try and explain all this in [obscure language].
so a 20 minute walk back to the bank. stand in mass of people again. explain situation. and the bank lady tells me, well, the phone line was busy so they actually never checked with the addis bank branch to see if my money was transferred or not. she said i should come back tomrow. i explained that wasnt going to work. i live 30 minutes away and i have like 50 [small monetary units] to my name right now. i said 'cant we try and call them again'. so she asked if she could use my cell phone.
this is annoying and i thought for a moment before giving it to her (phone miuntes are one of the most expensive things i buy here). but finally i decided i just wanted to be done with this so yes, we could use my phone instead of the banks phone. to which she replied that she was busy and why doesnt she give me the number and i can call the bank on behalf of her (the transfer teller). so i did that but obviously dont speak enough [obscure language] so when the main branch finally picked up i had to run and hand the phone to the teller lady.
long story short, [organization] transferred my money to the wrong bank. i have an account at the smaller branch but they sent it to the main branch in [large city] so its going to take another couple days to sort this out and in the meantime im eating ramen for every meal.
and it only took 3 hours to figure this out. which was cool. especially when i was fighting to hold in explosive diarrhea the whole time.
ha. oh man. i know in retrospect this will be a funny story to tell and im sorry i know this was annoying to have to read through but i really neeeded to vent. this is THE most horribly run organization i have ever seen. both [organization] and the banking system. i know america is in an ecomomic crisis and whatnot, but its still america and organzed, so appreciate that.
i am having a really frustrating morning so i thought i should sit down, write a bit, and try to regroup. never ever again will i complain about waiting in lines at home. at the bank, at the post office, anywhere.
i just spent over 3 hours at the bank. and i think im a pretty patient person but this just tested my limits to the max. i concurrently fought back tears and the urge to scream.
i came in from [CITY] specifically to get my may living allowance out of the bank. it doesnt help that today is sweltering, probably 105 degrees and humid and i am super dehydrated, thanks to a lovely GI issue i've been fighting for a couple days.
even on good days, i have to psych myself up for the bank. i wish you could see this hell hole. people dont know how to form lines so its just a big mass of people pushing and shoving. its awful. and hot and sweaty and very inefficient. you push your bank book at the teller and then they look at it, look at you and hand you a small metal circle with a number on it. after about 40 minutes (usually) your number will flash up above the paying tellers desk. oh, but the numbers dont go in order. like 3 will flash followed by 356 followed by 74. and they often have mismatched bankbooks with numbers so you have to check that you are getting your bank book and the actual amount you requested back. Its lots of fun (insert major major rolling of eyes here)
anyhow, usually [organization] is pretty incompetent and while they tell us our living allowance is deposited on the 25th of the previous month (ie my may money should have been in april 25) it never is there on time so i usually give them until about the 2nd or 3rd til i go to the bank. seeing as today is the 6th i figured it HAD to be there by now.
i woke up early, headed to the bank. and guess what, no money! i walked out and called [organization]. conveniently our accountant is out of the office today so i was given another number to try. that number was out of service. so i called my program director. he was clueless but eventually had someone call me back. who told me the transfer number and what not, so i headed back to the bank to try and explain all this in [obscure language].
so a 20 minute walk back to the bank. stand in mass of people again. explain situation. and the bank lady tells me, well, the phone line was busy so they actually never checked with the addis bank branch to see if my money was transferred or not. she said i should come back tomrow. i explained that wasnt going to work. i live 30 minutes away and i have like 50 [small monetary units] to my name right now. i said 'cant we try and call them again'. so she asked if she could use my cell phone.
this is annoying and i thought for a moment before giving it to her (phone miuntes are one of the most expensive things i buy here). but finally i decided i just wanted to be done with this so yes, we could use my phone instead of the banks phone. to which she replied that she was busy and why doesnt she give me the number and i can call the bank on behalf of her (the transfer teller). so i did that but obviously dont speak enough [obscure language] so when the main branch finally picked up i had to run and hand the phone to the teller lady.
long story short, [organization] transferred my money to the wrong bank. i have an account at the smaller branch but they sent it to the main branch in [large city] so its going to take another couple days to sort this out and in the meantime im eating ramen for every meal.
and it only took 3 hours to figure this out. which was cool. especially when i was fighting to hold in explosive diarrhea the whole time.
ha. oh man. i know in retrospect this will be a funny story to tell and im sorry i know this was annoying to have to read through but i really neeeded to vent. this is THE most horribly run organization i have ever seen. both [organization] and the banking system. i know america is in an ecomomic crisis and whatnot, but its still america and organzed, so appreciate that.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Overheard at the Harris-Teeter
I am the cook in the Munger house (my wife bakes, sometimes fiercely, but draws the line at producing normal foodstuffs. When asked why, she says, "I went to law school, AND got married. If you do those two things, you should NEVER have to cook.")
One of the big meals I cook is the Italian Catholic traditional (sort of, it's a Rhode Island/Philadelphia ItaloAmerican custom) "7 Fishes" dishes meal for Xmas eve. That's one of the fun things about being Catholic, you get to go through chains of reasoning like this:
1. The Xmas eve vigil requires no meat, but fish is fine.
2. In America, we can celebrate by having a "7 fishes" tradition (I've seen 12, also) of 7 "meatless" dishes. Light things like lobster with butter and shrimp scampi.
3. But, one also gets together for big extended family meals. So you need something that finnicky kids will eat. So you make meatballs, which contain both beef and pork.
4. But, it would be rude NOT to eat those wonderful meatballs, because the cook went to that trouble. So you have one or two, in ADDITION to the 7 dishes of fishes.
5. Then, even after the kids are big, and will eat fish just fine, you still make meatballs, because it is a tradition.
In other words, tradition grows to encompass the exact opposite* of the supposed tradition, without contradiction.
Anyway, in order to get all the stuff I need for two days of cooking, I got up at 7:30 am, got ready, had a cuppa, and then was at the Harris-Teeter grocery by 8:30.
And the freakin' parkin' lot was FULL, already. I had never seen this before, so I have to report it, like an anthropologist might.
1. The store was roughly gender balanced, an equal number of men and women. But nearly all of the shoppers (and the store was nearly full!) were female. Large, small, old, young; hunting and gathering like they have been since...well, since there was a since. And these women had LOADED their carts.
2. Nearly all the workers were men. And there three or four men in EVERY AISLE, trying desperately to stock things. AND THEY WERE LOSING GROUND! Women were taking vegetables, of all kinds, directly off the big trolleys that they bring produce in on from the trucks. Women were pushing the trollyes out of the way, and in some cases literally elbowing the stock-men out of the way.
3. I heard one woman ask why there were no green beans. Stock guy said more were coming, but it was hard because everyone wanted them for green bean casserole. She stared at him, and said: "You are out of it because everyone wants it? I thought you made money selling food." I could have kissed her; a rational person. Wouldn't have minded, actually, since she was also quite fit and attractive. The point is that she is absolutely right. They can't be out of something they KNOW people want a lot of, since the answer is "Stock more." An unexpected run on rutabegas, sure, that could happen. But how can you be out of green beans when you know why people want them at this time of year?
4. I heard one other great conversation, between two stock men, 20 feet apart. They were both probably 25. A sloshing sea of women was surging around these guys, pulling cans off the shelves and checking lists.
Guy 1: "I knew she was going to torture me for that."
Guy 2: "Did she?"
Guy 1: "Oh, you know it. First she says I have to leave, then she says, 'Oh, you really hurt me, you broke my heart. I have to think.' So, I had to listen to like two hours of this crap. Women are just nuts."
5. There was a guy doing an imitation (intentional, I think) of Patton, right behind the swinging doors where they were bringing in stock from the trucks. The guy (who I couldn't see, but could hear clearly when the doors swung open for a trolley, and could still hear a little when the doors were closed) was saying:
"Gentleman, today is war. And you are losing. They are driving you back, and you bunch of candy-asses are just taking it. Get out there! Get out there, and get that stock up, you bunch of maggots! You are the lamest excuses for stockers I have ever seen! You make me SICK!"
I think he was kidding, because all of the stockers coming out were openly laughing, and shaking their heads. But the war metaphor was a good one, although some of those women shoppers were more like pirates. They would waylay a trolley and plunder it before the stocker even knew he had been boarded.
Merry Christmas, and happy cooking!
*this word was left out of original post.
One of the big meals I cook is the Italian Catholic traditional (sort of, it's a Rhode Island/Philadelphia ItaloAmerican custom) "7 Fishes" dishes meal for Xmas eve. That's one of the fun things about being Catholic, you get to go through chains of reasoning like this:
1. The Xmas eve vigil requires no meat, but fish is fine.
2. In America, we can celebrate by having a "7 fishes" tradition (I've seen 12, also) of 7 "meatless" dishes. Light things like lobster with butter and shrimp scampi.
3. But, one also gets together for big extended family meals. So you need something that finnicky kids will eat. So you make meatballs, which contain both beef and pork.
4. But, it would be rude NOT to eat those wonderful meatballs, because the cook went to that trouble. So you have one or two, in ADDITION to the 7 dishes of fishes.
5. Then, even after the kids are big, and will eat fish just fine, you still make meatballs, because it is a tradition.
In other words, tradition grows to encompass the exact opposite* of the supposed tradition, without contradiction.
Anyway, in order to get all the stuff I need for two days of cooking, I got up at 7:30 am, got ready, had a cuppa, and then was at the Harris-Teeter grocery by 8:30.
And the freakin' parkin' lot was FULL, already. I had never seen this before, so I have to report it, like an anthropologist might.
1. The store was roughly gender balanced, an equal number of men and women. But nearly all of the shoppers (and the store was nearly full!) were female. Large, small, old, young; hunting and gathering like they have been since...well, since there was a since. And these women had LOADED their carts.
2. Nearly all the workers were men. And there three or four men in EVERY AISLE, trying desperately to stock things. AND THEY WERE LOSING GROUND! Women were taking vegetables, of all kinds, directly off the big trolleys that they bring produce in on from the trucks. Women were pushing the trollyes out of the way, and in some cases literally elbowing the stock-men out of the way.
3. I heard one woman ask why there were no green beans. Stock guy said more were coming, but it was hard because everyone wanted them for green bean casserole. She stared at him, and said: "You are out of it because everyone wants it? I thought you made money selling food." I could have kissed her; a rational person. Wouldn't have minded, actually, since she was also quite fit and attractive. The point is that she is absolutely right. They can't be out of something they KNOW people want a lot of, since the answer is "Stock more." An unexpected run on rutabegas, sure, that could happen. But how can you be out of green beans when you know why people want them at this time of year?
4. I heard one other great conversation, between two stock men, 20 feet apart. They were both probably 25. A sloshing sea of women was surging around these guys, pulling cans off the shelves and checking lists.
Guy 1: "I knew she was going to torture me for that."
Guy 2: "Did she?"
Guy 1: "Oh, you know it. First she says I have to leave, then she says, 'Oh, you really hurt me, you broke my heart. I have to think.' So, I had to listen to like two hours of this crap. Women are just nuts."
5. There was a guy doing an imitation (intentional, I think) of Patton, right behind the swinging doors where they were bringing in stock from the trucks. The guy (who I couldn't see, but could hear clearly when the doors swung open for a trolley, and could still hear a little when the doors were closed) was saying:
"Gentleman, today is war. And you are losing. They are driving you back, and you bunch of candy-asses are just taking it. Get out there! Get out there, and get that stock up, you bunch of maggots! You are the lamest excuses for stockers I have ever seen! You make me SICK!"
I think he was kidding, because all of the stockers coming out were openly laughing, and shaking their heads. But the war metaphor was a good one, although some of those women shoppers were more like pirates. They would waylay a trolley and plunder it before the stocker even knew he had been boarded.
Merry Christmas, and happy cooking!
*this word was left out of original post.
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