From time to (very seldom) time, I get a comment here on my little piece of cyberspace. Below is one I thought I should comment on.
M to the I to the K to the E said...
Dear Mostly, I am concerned that you think that the bogans aren't just part of Australian Culture. They are truely an international creature that resides everywhere. Usually on the outskirts of town in sub standard accomodation. (Not if your a cashed up bogan like a brikkie's labourer). In the U.S its White trash, in the U.K they're geezers. In Ireland they call them knackers. If fact, I think that every nation has a below middle class strata that the middle class enjoy giving out on. So your amazement just illustrates that you need to widen your horizon outside Kilsyth. Excuse the anal and slanderous rhetoric but arent these blogs all about pissing people off?
Mostly Unscripted says:
Ah yes, nothing gets the blood pumping and the mind racing like a good healthy discussion on the common bogan (Naturalis Bogani). The reason for this is our deep seated fear that when you strip away our layers of urban sophistication there's a guy with a mullet and a flanny shirt shivering in the corner. Like it or not, bogan-ness (or Trailer Trashism, Geezerness etc) is in our Australian blood, like Eucalyptus oil, Vegemite, VB and a tolerance for Kylie Minogue music. We may move from the outer eastern suburbs to a townhouse in Richmond or buy copies of Ulysses and Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time to arrange artfully on our bookshelves, but underneath we're really just wanting to watch Kenny and The Castle and read Andrew Bolt columns (OK so maybe no-one wants to go that far). So M to the I...etc, my advice to you is to embrace the inner bogan, let it balance your sophistication, like yin and yang, or Dad and Dave. Remember it's like Mabo, it's the vibe of the thing. As for pissing people off, well I prefer to think that my blog is about communicating, entertaining and providing an empty slate which I can taint with my ramblings. Pissing people off is simply an added bonus.
As for me, well Miss K and I will soon be off on a little Easter Vacation, heading to Dubrovnik, Cinque Terra and later to Egypt. Of course we will be doing our utmost to be respectful travellers, not overbearing tourists. No doubt there will be tales arising from this trip, some of which may even be interesting.
Keep the comments coming.
J
Wednesday 28 March 2007
Tuesday 20 March 2007
Looza's and the idiot box
Globalisation. Everywhere you go you hear about it, pundits praise its ideals while protesters smash things in a frenzy at the very thought of it. It truly is a contentious issue. But what does it all mean? What is globalisation and what will it mean for you and me?
To answer that I must give you a little background. When I first arrived here in Belgium the apartment was equipped with some version of cable TV. Not bad. I could get CNN, BBC, MTV and and variety of other channels to keep me entertained whilst Miss K was busy with important assignments in the evenings. I would sit there and let my mind wander as I watched, whether it was news and current affairs or seeing Xzibit pimp someones ride.
One day however this was all cruelly snatched away from me, leaving me with just two Belgian channels that I can see clearly plus one that I cant. This is where I discovered the meaning of globalisation. It means that wherever you go in the world, not only are you assured McDonald's, but also versions of your least favourite reality programs. Of course I am talking about Idol, Big Brother and even, coming soon, a version of Survivor. No doubt Millionaire is coming too.
Of course everyone complains about these programs, and no one will admit to watching them, yet here they are, popping up all over the world like infected sores. Agent Smith got it wrong in the Matrix, human beings aren't a disease on this planet, reality TV shows are.
Of course there are still some English programs, usually movies, and they are on after big brother every weeknight. Oh good, I hear you say. Well...sometimes. You see the TV networks seem to have got a deal similar to one you might get from your cable provider. You take the good with the bad. So for every movie from column A, usually Hollywood "blockbusters" like Rush Hour, Legally Blond and Charlies Angels, you have to take some from column B, where Steven Segal movies reside and then some from column C. Column C is where you get movies where the headline star is someone like Treat Williams or Rick Schroeder. Column C is where you find movies by Alan Smithee.
There are also the odd TV shows in English that we get, including Boston Legal, Ripley's Believe it or Not and, ahem, McLeod's Daughters. I guess there is no way they can do a Belgian version of that show. Strewth, what a flamin' shocker!
So we're reduced to watching reality TV, which does include a Belgian version of Thank God You're Here called Godjidank. Whilst this is good for the Australian company, the Melbourne company, that devised it but hardly any good for me. It's all in Flemish. Big Brother, with the sound down, looks just like Big Brother. No doubt if I could understand what they were saying it would be the same inane drivel that the people in English speaking versions come up with. Idol is interesting in the fact that at least the songs are generally in English. Yes Mariah Carey, Celine Dion and Michael Jackson songs are tortured the world over. At least there is some fun to be had in assigning the judges personalities and then trying to guess what they are saying. The one female judge is obviously Marcia, she starts all her sentences with 'you go girlfriend'. There is a definite Dicko look alike but he doesn't seem to be as harsh as Dicko is. Not sure about Mark Holden, and that's just a general observation. I'm really not sure about that guy. Of course with the judges speaking Flemish, I can understand what they are saying about as well as I can understand Mark Holden so that is no great problem.
Of course many of our 'favourite' reality shows came from this region of the world, particularly Holland, which gave us Big Brother. One thing I also think we have to 'thank' them for is the up late game shows, which are on constantly here, and not just late. There are two channels I can get and at certain times of the day, obviously during the low times, the same game show is on both channels. This is the future of TV, they've done away with scripts and plots and characters, now they are going to do away with ideas and any kind of necessary thought. As long as the bucks roll in.
Anyway, enough of TV. What else is interesting in Belgium, there must be something more than TV? Of course there is. One of the most fun games to play when experiencing another culture is the 'look at the weird names they have for things' game. Everyone does it, even with other English speaking cultures. Some English guys I met got a kick out of the fact I said I was wearing a shirt and pants. 'Pants' are underwear, I should have said 'trousers'. Well excuse me! Anyway, this game is not as good in a country like Belgium where everyone speaks English and they know what sounds 'weird'. Not like some countries, Japan for instance where you can get chocolate filled wafer tubes called 'Colon' or a chocolate bar called 'Asse'. No such rookie mistakes here. But there is one product I have come across, a drink called 'Looza'. This stands out for obvious reasons and I have spent the better part of the last couple of days thinking up advertising scenarios for this brand should it ever come to Australia. I think I'm ready with a couple of pitches.
1. A lonely guy sits in the corner of a busy nightclub. Across the dance floor he spies a lonely girl, sitting in another corner. They look at each other, exchanging shy smiles. Slowly he raises his thumb and forefinger to his head in the shape of an L. The girl's eyes light up, she nods and returns his greeting. They get up and head for the bar, as they do a voice over comes up; 'When all else fails, go for a Looza.'
2. Voice Over: 'You can get it alphabetising your X-men comics, you can get it playing on line Dungeons and Dragons, you can even get it colour co-ordinating your sock drawer. A hard earned thirst needs a specific drink, and the drink for you is Looza'
3. And finally. An average Aussie boofhead stands in line at the bar, running over his drink order in his head. As he steps up to face the waitress he takes one look at her chest and says the immortal words. 'Five Loozas thanks.' The tag line comes up, 'we're just saying what you're all thinking.'
So those are my campaigns for Looza. It's sure to be a hit, I've no doubt. And in case you were wondering, that's life in Belgium. Oh sure there's some buildings and museums and a thousand years of history, stuff like that, but I feel I've covered the important parts. Besides with all this typing, I've worked up a thirst.
As a matter of fact, I've got it now.
To answer that I must give you a little background. When I first arrived here in Belgium the apartment was equipped with some version of cable TV. Not bad. I could get CNN, BBC, MTV and and variety of other channels to keep me entertained whilst Miss K was busy with important assignments in the evenings. I would sit there and let my mind wander as I watched, whether it was news and current affairs or seeing Xzibit pimp someones ride.
One day however this was all cruelly snatched away from me, leaving me with just two Belgian channels that I can see clearly plus one that I cant. This is where I discovered the meaning of globalisation. It means that wherever you go in the world, not only are you assured McDonald's, but also versions of your least favourite reality programs. Of course I am talking about Idol, Big Brother and even, coming soon, a version of Survivor. No doubt Millionaire is coming too.
Of course everyone complains about these programs, and no one will admit to watching them, yet here they are, popping up all over the world like infected sores. Agent Smith got it wrong in the Matrix, human beings aren't a disease on this planet, reality TV shows are.
Of course there are still some English programs, usually movies, and they are on after big brother every weeknight. Oh good, I hear you say. Well...sometimes. You see the TV networks seem to have got a deal similar to one you might get from your cable provider. You take the good with the bad. So for every movie from column A, usually Hollywood "blockbusters" like Rush Hour, Legally Blond and Charlies Angels, you have to take some from column B, where Steven Segal movies reside and then some from column C. Column C is where you get movies where the headline star is someone like Treat Williams or Rick Schroeder. Column C is where you find movies by Alan Smithee.
There are also the odd TV shows in English that we get, including Boston Legal, Ripley's Believe it or Not and, ahem, McLeod's Daughters. I guess there is no way they can do a Belgian version of that show. Strewth, what a flamin' shocker!
So we're reduced to watching reality TV, which does include a Belgian version of Thank God You're Here called Godjidank. Whilst this is good for the Australian company, the Melbourne company, that devised it but hardly any good for me. It's all in Flemish. Big Brother, with the sound down, looks just like Big Brother. No doubt if I could understand what they were saying it would be the same inane drivel that the people in English speaking versions come up with. Idol is interesting in the fact that at least the songs are generally in English. Yes Mariah Carey, Celine Dion and Michael Jackson songs are tortured the world over. At least there is some fun to be had in assigning the judges personalities and then trying to guess what they are saying. The one female judge is obviously Marcia, she starts all her sentences with 'you go girlfriend'. There is a definite Dicko look alike but he doesn't seem to be as harsh as Dicko is. Not sure about Mark Holden, and that's just a general observation. I'm really not sure about that guy. Of course with the judges speaking Flemish, I can understand what they are saying about as well as I can understand Mark Holden so that is no great problem.
Of course many of our 'favourite' reality shows came from this region of the world, particularly Holland, which gave us Big Brother. One thing I also think we have to 'thank' them for is the up late game shows, which are on constantly here, and not just late. There are two channels I can get and at certain times of the day, obviously during the low times, the same game show is on both channels. This is the future of TV, they've done away with scripts and plots and characters, now they are going to do away with ideas and any kind of necessary thought. As long as the bucks roll in.
Anyway, enough of TV. What else is interesting in Belgium, there must be something more than TV? Of course there is. One of the most fun games to play when experiencing another culture is the 'look at the weird names they have for things' game. Everyone does it, even with other English speaking cultures. Some English guys I met got a kick out of the fact I said I was wearing a shirt and pants. 'Pants' are underwear, I should have said 'trousers'. Well excuse me! Anyway, this game is not as good in a country like Belgium where everyone speaks English and they know what sounds 'weird'. Not like some countries, Japan for instance where you can get chocolate filled wafer tubes called 'Colon' or a chocolate bar called 'Asse'. No such rookie mistakes here. But there is one product I have come across, a drink called 'Looza'. This stands out for obvious reasons and I have spent the better part of the last couple of days thinking up advertising scenarios for this brand should it ever come to Australia. I think I'm ready with a couple of pitches.
1. A lonely guy sits in the corner of a busy nightclub. Across the dance floor he spies a lonely girl, sitting in another corner. They look at each other, exchanging shy smiles. Slowly he raises his thumb and forefinger to his head in the shape of an L. The girl's eyes light up, she nods and returns his greeting. They get up and head for the bar, as they do a voice over comes up; 'When all else fails, go for a Looza.'
2. Voice Over: 'You can get it alphabetising your X-men comics, you can get it playing on line Dungeons and Dragons, you can even get it colour co-ordinating your sock drawer. A hard earned thirst needs a specific drink, and the drink for you is Looza'
3. And finally. An average Aussie boofhead stands in line at the bar, running over his drink order in his head. As he steps up to face the waitress he takes one look at her chest and says the immortal words. 'Five Loozas thanks.' The tag line comes up, 'we're just saying what you're all thinking.'
So those are my campaigns for Looza. It's sure to be a hit, I've no doubt. And in case you were wondering, that's life in Belgium. Oh sure there's some buildings and museums and a thousand years of history, stuff like that, but I feel I've covered the important parts. Besides with all this typing, I've worked up a thirst.
As a matter of fact, I've got it now.
Thursday 15 March 2007
Sugary Donuts and Cheesy Royals
One of the great things about living in a European city is that other European cities, as well as countries, are so close. In the time it would normally take to drive to say, Horsham, you can be in another country like Holland, Germany or Luxembourg. With that in mind, Miss K and I jumped on a train last weekend and headed out for Luxembourg city, which is not like Horsham one little bit.
So, a bit of history: If you're after a bit of a medieval experience that goes beyond Kryal Castle then you could do worse than Luxembourg, which began life as a castle on top of an escarpment overlooking a long valley. Over the years the castle became one of the biggest and most forbidding in Europe, before being comprehensively conquered and made even bigger. The town now spreads out into the valley and surrounding area but there is still quite a bit of the castle remaining. A lot of the original walls loom impressively above the floor of the valley. No doubt if I had've been an invader to the old town of Luxembourg, I would have taken one look at those walls and said, 'Well that's that then, let's go and invade Provence, before the English start buying all the property and building holiday villas.' These days the only invaders to Luxembourg, or L'bourg as the locals call it (possibly) are tourists and Miss K and I were no exception.
Luxembourg's one hostel was full of students and backpackers enjoying the simple comforts of an eight bed dorm, likewise many of L'bourg's many hotels were crowded with Germans looking for cheap booze and cigarettes, of which Luxembourg is renowned. Fortunately we managed to score a deal at the Novotel, which for the uninitiated is a large hotel chain that caters to business folk who have a meal allowance and are just in town to move some units, make some deals and press the flesh. We decided to wander through town and take in the sights on our way to the hotel. 'It can't be more than a kilometre,' I said optimistically. Of course not only could it be further, but inevitably it was. Our 'stroll' started out OK, we got a bit lost and Miss K needed to make a base camp for a while so she could stop for rations of goods from a bakery. Eventually we reached a stage where we did only have about a kilometre to go, which happened to be through a park. Sounds nice, sounds simple, sounds, in fact, like a walk in the park. Unfortunately it was more of a trudge up a steep dirt track from the bottom of the valley to the top, where the Novotel was cunningly hidden away in the business district with barely a sign to reveal its presence. Needless to say when we arrived there we were beyond disheveled, we were beyond being any kind of sheveled. They treated us with disdain, looking at my small day pack and Miss K's trolley case which had just survived some serious 4X4 action. We were backpackers on the cheap rate. To make matters worse we had to pass through a bunch of business folk who were milling in the foyer on a break from their conference on better ways to sell two and a half inch hose bits. We looked on with envious eyes as they snacked on plates brimming with cakes and donuts and other sugary things. Especially Miss K who was getting to the stage where she was ready to bite someones head off, if only to satisfy her hunger. Thankfully the gods of travel were smiling at us because after showering and appropriating all the toiletries we struck out for the city renewed. In the foyer an employee was straightening up the afternoon tea. Cakes and donuts were still in much abundance and the nice man noticed our plight, offering us a pick from the leftovers. So it was we made our way into the streets of Luxembourg with a spring in our step from handfuls of calorie laden delights we dubbed 'Foyer Donuts'.
Our remaining time in L'bourg was spent exploring the city, which is really quite spectacular. We explored the rambling foundations of the castle which extended deep into the earth and wandered for kilometres through the city and the valley below, enjoying the sunshine, the amazing architecture and landscapes. Of course we did the typical tourist thing and bought postcards which were of various city-scapes and sights. Probably my favourites though were the postcards featuring various members of the Royal family in differing states of repose and dress. Here they are in the park in white sweaters and casual pants, there they are in suits and dresses and now yet again in full military regalia. Apparently they love their royal family in L'bourg, but I'm not sure how influential they are in relation to the rest of the world. I mean have any of the young sons been on Australian Princess? Until that day comes I'll reserve judgement.
That's it for now. I'll leave you with a common expression from Luxembourg.
'Sorry, I speak only French.'
So, a bit of history: If you're after a bit of a medieval experience that goes beyond Kryal Castle then you could do worse than Luxembourg, which began life as a castle on top of an escarpment overlooking a long valley. Over the years the castle became one of the biggest and most forbidding in Europe, before being comprehensively conquered and made even bigger. The town now spreads out into the valley and surrounding area but there is still quite a bit of the castle remaining. A lot of the original walls loom impressively above the floor of the valley. No doubt if I had've been an invader to the old town of Luxembourg, I would have taken one look at those walls and said, 'Well that's that then, let's go and invade Provence, before the English start buying all the property and building holiday villas.' These days the only invaders to Luxembourg, or L'bourg as the locals call it (possibly) are tourists and Miss K and I were no exception.
Luxembourg's one hostel was full of students and backpackers enjoying the simple comforts of an eight bed dorm, likewise many of L'bourg's many hotels were crowded with Germans looking for cheap booze and cigarettes, of which Luxembourg is renowned. Fortunately we managed to score a deal at the Novotel, which for the uninitiated is a large hotel chain that caters to business folk who have a meal allowance and are just in town to move some units, make some deals and press the flesh. We decided to wander through town and take in the sights on our way to the hotel. 'It can't be more than a kilometre,' I said optimistically. Of course not only could it be further, but inevitably it was. Our 'stroll' started out OK, we got a bit lost and Miss K needed to make a base camp for a while so she could stop for rations of goods from a bakery. Eventually we reached a stage where we did only have about a kilometre to go, which happened to be through a park. Sounds nice, sounds simple, sounds, in fact, like a walk in the park. Unfortunately it was more of a trudge up a steep dirt track from the bottom of the valley to the top, where the Novotel was cunningly hidden away in the business district with barely a sign to reveal its presence. Needless to say when we arrived there we were beyond disheveled, we were beyond being any kind of sheveled. They treated us with disdain, looking at my small day pack and Miss K's trolley case which had just survived some serious 4X4 action. We were backpackers on the cheap rate. To make matters worse we had to pass through a bunch of business folk who were milling in the foyer on a break from their conference on better ways to sell two and a half inch hose bits. We looked on with envious eyes as they snacked on plates brimming with cakes and donuts and other sugary things. Especially Miss K who was getting to the stage where she was ready to bite someones head off, if only to satisfy her hunger. Thankfully the gods of travel were smiling at us because after showering and appropriating all the toiletries we struck out for the city renewed. In the foyer an employee was straightening up the afternoon tea. Cakes and donuts were still in much abundance and the nice man noticed our plight, offering us a pick from the leftovers. So it was we made our way into the streets of Luxembourg with a spring in our step from handfuls of calorie laden delights we dubbed 'Foyer Donuts'.
Our remaining time in L'bourg was spent exploring the city, which is really quite spectacular. We explored the rambling foundations of the castle which extended deep into the earth and wandered for kilometres through the city and the valley below, enjoying the sunshine, the amazing architecture and landscapes. Of course we did the typical tourist thing and bought postcards which were of various city-scapes and sights. Probably my favourites though were the postcards featuring various members of the Royal family in differing states of repose and dress. Here they are in the park in white sweaters and casual pants, there they are in suits and dresses and now yet again in full military regalia. Apparently they love their royal family in L'bourg, but I'm not sure how influential they are in relation to the rest of the world. I mean have any of the young sons been on Australian Princess? Until that day comes I'll reserve judgement.
That's it for now. I'll leave you with a common expression from Luxembourg.
'Sorry, I speak only French.'
Tuesday 6 March 2007
A real wiseguy
Art imitates life which imitates art and so on. That's the idea anyway. In old European cities like Leuven there is plenty of art around, whether from actual "I don't know art but I know what I like" art, to a more broad definition of art, including architecture.
Now there's plenty of Architecture here and Sunday afternoons are the times to find the square full of tourists snapping pictures of the ornate and historic town hall and Gothic church. There is definitely a style in Dutch and Flemish architecture and Leuven is a Livin' example.
Recently I also discovered a statue near the town square. It's not overly historic but it's meaningful and some might say even artistic. This statue is officially titled Fons Sapientiae(Fountain of Knowledge) but is apparently known locally as Fonske. Fonske is not a particularly historical fellow, he was a gift to the town from the university, but he is much a part of the town as bellowing in the streets at two in the morning and running people down on your bicycle. It's safe to say that there are those who think that Fonske has some aesthetic, even artistic merit. As for me, I just cant help but think he looks like a certain comic book superhero. Here's what I mean:
Now there's plenty of Architecture here and Sunday afternoons are the times to find the square full of tourists snapping pictures of the ornate and historic town hall and Gothic church. There is definitely a style in Dutch and Flemish architecture and Leuven is a Livin' example.
Recently I also discovered a statue near the town square. It's not overly historic but it's meaningful and some might say even artistic. This statue is officially titled Fons Sapientiae(Fountain of Knowledge) but is apparently known locally as Fonske. Fonske is not a particularly historical fellow, he was a gift to the town from the university, but he is much a part of the town as bellowing in the streets at two in the morning and running people down on your bicycle. It's safe to say that there are those who think that Fonske has some aesthetic, even artistic merit. As for me, I just cant help but think he looks like a certain comic book superhero. Here's what I mean:
Too Much Coffee Man, caffeine fuelled Superhero.
Fonske, AKA Too Much Wisdom Man, Statue.
A strange coincidence or something more sinister? OK so it's just a strange coincidence, but I guess in reality, when it comes to being a University student, when it comes time for exams a head full of coffee is the next best thing to a head full of wisdom. Then again I could be wrong, maybe this whole thing is just a monument to my stupidity.
So that's it for now, with apologies to Shannon Wheeler, creator of Too Much Coffee Man. Check out the web site for a fun read. See www.tmcm.com
Later.
Saturday 3 March 2007
It's a trundle out there.
Well, it's Friday here and classes at the Uni are finishing up for the week. In Leuven, that means one thing; a non-stop procession of students pulling trolley cases along the cobblestones outside the apartment. Many of the students in Leuven are from other parts of Belgium and considering the whole country is the size of a postage stamp, they load up the case with dirty clothes, trundle off to the bus stop or train station and head home for a weekend of wurst, waffles and washing.
For this reason, Thursday night is the big night here in Leuven for night life. Head out for dinner at eight, off to a nightclub at ten and stagger home at three and fall into bed. On Friday they wake refreshed in time to catch an afternoon train to their village seven kilometres away where Mum waits with the Omo and a cup of cocoa. It's good to see that students are the same the world over.
Miss K and I actually experienced the nightlife last night, heading out to dinner with her classmates who are a nice bunch. It's always a humbling experience as a native English speaker when the Belgians are switching fluently between English, Flemish and French without a moment's hesitation. I have a sneaking suspicion that these are not the only languages they know either. I wouldn't be surprised if they could converse with Vikings in ancient Norse. I have a theory that this is why Australians like to teach Europeans Aussie slang. Sure they can speak 57 languages, but do they know how to order a Coldie, chuck a snag on the barbie or tell their friends they're as dry as a dead dingo's donger. It's even funnier for us because no-one in Australia actually uses these phrases. Not so smart now are you?
Anyway, Miss K and I will also be getting on to the train tomorrow and heading into the city of Brussels for a bit of sight seeing and cultural experiences. Miss K is hoping to check out an arts festival, I am going to see if I can find Jean Claude Van Damme, the 'Muscles from Brussels', so I can teach him to say 'You havin a go at me mate?'
Laters.
For this reason, Thursday night is the big night here in Leuven for night life. Head out for dinner at eight, off to a nightclub at ten and stagger home at three and fall into bed. On Friday they wake refreshed in time to catch an afternoon train to their village seven kilometres away where Mum waits with the Omo and a cup of cocoa. It's good to see that students are the same the world over.
Miss K and I actually experienced the nightlife last night, heading out to dinner with her classmates who are a nice bunch. It's always a humbling experience as a native English speaker when the Belgians are switching fluently between English, Flemish and French without a moment's hesitation. I have a sneaking suspicion that these are not the only languages they know either. I wouldn't be surprised if they could converse with Vikings in ancient Norse. I have a theory that this is why Australians like to teach Europeans Aussie slang. Sure they can speak 57 languages, but do they know how to order a Coldie, chuck a snag on the barbie or tell their friends they're as dry as a dead dingo's donger. It's even funnier for us because no-one in Australia actually uses these phrases. Not so smart now are you?
Anyway, Miss K and I will also be getting on to the train tomorrow and heading into the city of Brussels for a bit of sight seeing and cultural experiences. Miss K is hoping to check out an arts festival, I am going to see if I can find Jean Claude Van Damme, the 'Muscles from Brussels', so I can teach him to say 'You havin a go at me mate?'
Laters.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)