Friday, October 31, 2014

Dear NSA



Dear NSA…

I read in The Guardian, that the FBI wants more hacking and surveillance powers through "an apparently backdoor route. 

This would be be an amendment to Rule 41 for the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure, concerning warrants for remote access to electronic data. Did you have anything to do with this? That means the FBI can hack into any computer anytime anywhere, although a judge does need to issue a warrant. Before it was specific when and where.


This is not just anti-terrorist but for any reason.

Now I know crime needs to be fought but doesn’t that just mean less civil protections for innocent people?

What point to be safe from crime if an innocent person isn't safe from the government.

We will be on the road again.

Should I hold up my iPad to the train window so you can enjoy the scenery?

Love
DL

 

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Being an expat or even a traveller

My title of this blog is expat writer but really I'm a repat having taken Swiss nationality.

I write a series of mysteries about a Third Culture Kid. www.donnalanenelson.com and consider myself a Third Culture Adult or Third Culture Kid, the more often used term is someone who combines the cultures they have lived in but never being totally apart of any including the culture they came from.

Having lived in four countries over my lifetime I know adjustments can be difficult. I found this interesting article http://www.internationalman.com on how to make it easier.

Some of the things that he says applies equally to


by Jeff Thomas | October 27, 2014
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Until recently, those moving from one country to another were generally moving from a Second or Third World country to a First World country, often for the purpose of economic opportunity. Not surprising, then, that these people seemed eager to do whatever was necessary to fit in, in their new home.

What is often overlooked in this situation is that the very qualities that such people demonstrated as new residents were often national traits in their home countries. That is, they were not merely trying to adapt; they were demonstrating traits that were the norm in their home countries.

However, we are living in a time when the roles are beginning to reverse. A growing number of people are now fleeing the shores of First World countries to move to what have traditionally been regarded as the Second and Third Worlds.

The difficulty that arises in this change is that the customary behaviour of First Worlders is often out-of-keeping with those in their newly adopted homes.

This is not to say that all First Worlders are always seen as arrogant boors when they are abroad, but enough of them are that, in many countries, locals are cautious of new residents from First World countries. Cautious enough that, in order to be accepted, it might be advisable for those considering expatriation to consider how others may see them.

In actual fact, whilst caution exists abroad, it can be an opportunity for the expatriate, for the traits that are most valued in such countries are fairly consistent. And should a new resident show a genuine desire to display such traits, he might find that locals are pleasantly surprised and will, in fact, be especially welcoming.

In addition, the task is not a difficult one. The primary traits that apply are few, and whilst they may possibly require a conscious effort, they often represent the difference between acceptance and a lack of acceptance.

In order of their importance, they are:
1. Humility
Most people in Second and Third World countries are not as aggressive in manner as those from First World countries. Whilst a go-getter attitude is generally seen as an asset in the First World, it is often looked upon as arrogance in other parts of the world. The same approach that will assure that you will get a quick sandwich-to-go in a New York deli will be likely to engender disdain in Chiang Mai, Thailand, or Quito, Ecuador.

For many people who expatriate, dropping the “can-do” attitude is actually a relief. Those who are by nature low-key, considerate people will find it easiest to adapt. Those who are more demonstrative by nature may find it more difficult. Either way, the effort will engender rewards.

Kindness, a close relative of humility, goes just as far. Genuine consideration of others greatly increases chances of acceptance.

2. A Desire to Absorb the Culture
Brits who go on holiday to Majorca are famous for trying the local beer and saying, “It’s not proper beer—it’s rubbish.” This does not endear them to the locals. Similarly, Americans who examine a menu in a Caribbean restaurant and say, “Conch? Turtle? Do you people actually eat this stuff?” are similarly unlikely to gain favour.

It’s easy enough to find something on the menu that’s more familiar. If you’re not especially adventurous in your diet, there’s always something that you can order and later praise as having been to your liking.

Other cultural differences are the same. Consider being less demonstrative about those items that aren’t to your liking, whilst praising those that are.

3. An Effort to Speak the Language
This item requires the greatest effort, as it may require a re-education. However, even if the country you expatriate to is not English-speaking and you know absolutely nothing of the local language, if you’re seen to be trying your best to be learning words and phrases in the local language, the effort will be noticed.

Locals may still find it frustrating to communicate with you, but they’ll appreciate that you’re trying.

The result will be greater acceptance. More doors will open for you; fewer will close.

There will, of course be those who offer an immediate knee-jerk rejection of all of the above. In response to #1, Humility, I once received the comment, “I’m not going to suck up to anyone. I was in Uruguay for two years. I opened a business and spent money in the country. They should have rolled out the red carpet for me.”

He was bitter that his investment had gone to waste; he had left after two years, as he could never seem to melt the icicles on Uruguayans. Had he simply left his vanity and pride at the border, he might have benefitted from the natural generosity and kindness of the Uruguayan people. He failed to understand that simple consideration and “sucking up” are poles apart.

Regarding #2, A Desire to Absorb the Culture, I was once advised by a British expat, “I’m not eating crap food to please anyone.” In fact, he didn’t need to. He was not overly fond of the fatty meat cuts he found in Argentina, but rather than being overly critical, he could have easily said, “I’m not much of a red meat eater. I’ll have some pasta and a glass of Tannat. Eating in Argentina always means wonderful wine.”

Regarding #3, An Effort to Speak the Language, I have an associate who is not especially talented in linguistics. He was advised by a countryman, “If you’re in South America, as soon as they speak, just say, ’No Spanish.’ Then they have to use English to talk to you.” Which they will do. Unfortunately, the message to the locals is, “I don’t care if I am a guest in your country; you have to adapt to suit me, not the other way around.” Whilst most locals will do just that, a much better relationship could be forged by simply learning to say, “Lo siento, mi español no es muy bueno. ¿Habla inglés?” (I’m sorry, my Spanish is not very good. Do you speak English?)

The use of simple courtesy creates an entirely different relationship, whether it be with a waiter in a restaurant, a government official, or anyone else.

We have the Internet. We can look up whatever useful phrases we need to use to demonstrate the fact that we understand we’re guests and that we wish to be considerate.

All the above is, or should be, basic common sense. However, for all of us, ingrained ideas about “the way things should be” at times get in the way of our acceptance and, therefore, our progress in other jurisdictions.

There’s a great benefit in being a guest in another country, as the government tends to treat us better than it treats its own citizens. However, in our day-to-day affairs, it behooves us to remember that we’re guests. We need not kowtow, nor suppress our beliefs and opinions; we need only to treat our hosts with the same courtesy with which they treat us.

The world is your oyster, and there are very attractive jurisdictions that are cause for optimism. That’s what International Man is all about—making the most of your personal freedom and financial opportunity around the world. Our Going Global publication is a great place to start.

Surprise drink

We were trying to use up the food in the chalet including cranberry juice.



J had the brilliant idea of serve it hot. I wanted to add cinnamon.


I don't know who decided to add the honey.

It doesn't matter it was so good that it will become a favourite cold-weather-late-at-night-sip-by-the-fireplace-and-watch DVDS drink.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Done and back to

The manuscript for Murder in Schwyz is ready to send to my editor Nov. 1 as promised. 

I just need to tweak the synopsis (I've already described writing a synopsis as more painful than going to my gynie and having the dentist fill a cavity without Novocaine at the same time.)

This book is set in Einsiedeln, Schwyz, Switzerland with its beautiful abbey, although most of the action takes place in and around a cookie factory almost across from the abbey.


 The funeral for the victim is inside the abbey.



Between the travel the last two months and trying to get out newsletters,  for www.cunewswire.com, getting my mother's cookbook onto a blog, I haven't been able to get back to Murder in Edinburgh. I've about 17,000 words which I had to put aside, despite ideas running through my head but today, today, today I was able to bring it up on screen.

When I've left something that long, I need to reread before continuing. And I am now on chapter 4.



Having been to this wonderful city many times, I really don't have to go back for research BUT if Rick and I could find a housesit there, another trip perhaps in the spring would be wonderful. Spring in Edinburgh may be a loose term. I don't care. I still love it.

Like all my novels there will be many drafts and rewrites, but I can't tweak and rewrite until I get the first draft down. Maybe that's not totally true, because I do rewrite the previous day's work before I start on the new.

But I'm back doing original work again.

YES!!!!!!

You know what is weird?

Finding copies of my books for sale on ebay.

Prices are from $4.50 to $47 more than the original price.

Life is fascinating isn't it AS IS THE INTERNET?



Maisie Tucker/Edith Hall

I bet I am one of the few people on this planet that remembers Maisie Tucker and Edith Hall.

There is no reason to remember either of these eccentric women.

I was reminded of both of them last month as we drove through Reading, the town where I grew up.

Maisie Tucker

Maisie lived next door, although we each had enough land that her falling-down house through the pines. We weren't mean kids who would ring the bell and then run from the witch, but we did think about it.

Today the house has been totally renovated and is quite beautiful. The once weed-filled land is well landscaped.

I'm sure the owners of the house have no idea that Maisie every lived there and what she was alike.

Edith Hall

Edith was my grandmother's friend from childhood, a wealthy spinster. She owned a two-family house on High Street. My parents, when they were first married, and my husband and myself, when we were newlyweds, rented the place as our first home.

Even in the 60s the stove went back to the 30s or even earlier. It was a slightly less ornate version of the one in this photo.
As a child Edith taught me how to make paper flowers and other crafts. I didn't like going to her flat because it smelled and she was what would be determined today as a hoarder so even walking to the table where she'd set out all that we would need for the lesson in military order.

It was even worse when Rick 1 and I lived there. We used her telephone if and when we could find it.
Edith often thought someone had broken in and stolen things, although she considered us protection against those persecuting her.

My grandmother said she was wealthy, but each Christmas she would send used Christmas cards to her friends, with the name of the previous sender crossed out.

When we could stand it no longer we gave up our low $80 rent to find another place to live.

There is no trace of either woman on the internet yet they both lived to be as old as I am now or older.

As a writer, I can't help but be curious what made these women what they were. If they had lived in a later period would they have been different?

By writing this blog, now there are more people on the planet, who will have heard of them.







Tuesday, October 28, 2014

The common cold

My mother use to caution me not to be common. Common was when I chewed gum in public, when I didn't fold my legs at the ankles, and other archaic social rules. Common to my grandmother was going out without a proper hat.

Now I have the common cold.

I'm doing all the common cold things: sniffling, sneezing, coughing.

I might not mind being common and chew gum in public, but this common cold is just plain annoying.


So I am trying the baking soda method, licking ginger, going back to contact.

Excuse me while I go sneeze, cough and snuffle commonly.


showers vs. baths

Roman bath houses were not just to get clean, they were meet-and-greet establishments. There is a Roman bath museum in Caerleon, Wales, for anyone in that neighbourhood. In Andorra there is a replica of a Roman bath which was luxurious when I was there in the summer. I didn't think of it as a place to get clean.

In medieval days the Parisians went to bath houses.

Often they were co-ed. Bathers might be served food, drink and sometimes offered employee body parts. Water might be changed regularly be it a day, week, month.

I know that poor families might have a tub brought out into the kitchen and once a week would heat water and all members of the family would take turns bathing in the same water. Yuck.



There is the rumour that the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water" goes back to the concept that when a large family bathed in the same water that the baby, usually the last one might be missed when the tub was emptied because the water was so murky.


When I was little my mother gave my brother (seven years younger) a bath in the same tub. That is until he deliberately peed in it. I was out of there fast. we did have an old-fashioned claw foot tub which was later replaced by a more modern one, but still no shower.

Once I left home I didn't take a bath for years--make that decades. I did shower regularly.

Then I decided that I would try a relaxing bath with bubbles, candles and Enya playing


It was relaxing -- until -- I thought all my filth was going into the water...crotch juice, anything I might have missed even if I carefully wiped orifices that produce unpleasing masses of digested food I might have missed a few cells never mind the sloughed off skin.

I didn't get out of the bath quite as fast as when my brother peed in the water partially because of the candles. Even wet, I didn't want to get singed.

Straight into the shower.

Now any devil's advocate may point out the truth about water treatment plants and what was in the water prior to it arriving in our pipes and onto my body through the shower nozzle.

And I do go into lakes and the sea which certainly aren't clean...but then I come home and shower.

And listening to music and reading in a shower is at best difficult if not impossible.

Consistency?  

Pas moi.



Monday, October 27, 2014

Hans Erni


I wasn't warned when J. dropped me off at the rather traditional-looking, old church. She said she'd wait for me.

Only when I was inside did I realise that the stained glass windows were nothing like the traditional ones. The inside of the church was modern.



The windows were done by Swiss Artist Hans Erni at the age of 105. Now there's a goal to reach...still be creative into one's second century.

Back in the car, she admitted she didn't tell me what visual delight awaited me. I'm glad she didn't. It would be like reading a mystery and knowing who did it and how the murderer would be caught.




I knew from the subject line

"News about Janette"

The email was from my friend Barbara.

Janette was a neighbour and if she stood 4 foot 11, it would be a miracle. Born in Italy, she married a Frenchman and during WWII and after worked in Haute Couture in Paris. She and her late husband retired to Argelès a few years back.

Janette walked all over town and was always dressed immaculately and stylishly. Her white hair shone.

She would sit with the other women and chat and she was always a joy to talk to. Sometimes she'd talk about Paris, sometimes her grandchildren.

She encouraged my French.

If there was a street dance or festival, she was always there.

During the marchés on Saturdays and Wednesdays she would shop for the best veggies.

Once when I walked by the cemetery, she was just coming out after putting flowers on her husband's grave. "Let me buy you a beer," she said.

We went to La Noisette, but when it was time to pay, she realised she didn't have enough money.

"I'll just pop around to the ATM machine," she said and was gone and back before I could reach for my own wallett.

Her 100th birthday was three years ago. She still lived at home then. Her son-in-law took care of her along with his ailing wife, Janette's daughter. Or maybe she took care of them all.

Six months ago she retired to a nursing home.

She held a big party, said she was tired afterwards, went to bed and didn't wake up - -  a good death for a good lady.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Brisolée, a Valais folk feast


For a few weeks in the fall, brisolée is a folk feast in the Valais. Here Honey Bunny, Herr Hare, C-Bear and Y-Bear (hidden behind a glass) wait to see what it is all about at the Café Centrale.

I thought I'd missed it this year, but when we at the chalet, we discovered that the café across the street is still serving. YES!


.


Honey Bunny asks what is in the glass. We tell her it the first pressing of the grapes before it becomes wine.


Herr Hare looks at the good bread that is brought to the table. There are nuts inside.

 The most important part is the roasted chestnuts. Other ingredients can be varied but not the chestnuts.


C-bear looks at the three different locally-made cheeses. In this brisolée there was only one kind of meat, but sometimes there are several types of local, dried meat.


Dessert is apple tart and local grapes. C-Bear has to keep her baby from diving in.

Like many folk feasts, the history is based on poverty when people ate what they had available.

Dear NSA again

I know I haven't written for a while, but you can see through my webcam and from my social media sites and emails that I've been in the mountains.

However, I had a dream about your power. Well not just your power, but also about the increasing police brutality in the States.

In the dream Rick and I were walking along a construction site...a road construction site. We had to cross a narrow a wooden bridge.

I'd been trying to explain to him about some blue dishes.

A policewoman came up and stomped me hard on the foot.

We said nothing because she frightened us.

I limped away onto a normal city street complaining.

Rick warned me to be careful what I said because the (meaning you) were listening everywhere.

The next day when Julia was reading the paper I saw this in the upper right hand corner.


Donna-Lane NELSON née BOUDREAU, fine CHF9 for badmouthing the police.

I woke before I could pay it. 



Saturday, October 25, 2014

Nincompoopy movies

J and I like nincompoopy movies.

I also love the word nincompoop which Merriam Webster defines as a stupid or foolish person.

They list as synonyms;
"berk [British], booby, charlie (also charley) [British], cuckoo, ding-a-ling, dingbat, ding-dong, dipstick, doofus [slang], featherhead, git [British], goose, half-wit, jackass, lunatic, mooncalf, fool, ninny, ninnyhammer, nit [chiefly British], nitwit, nut, nutcase, simp, simpleton, turkey, yo-yo"
But we like to use it to describe silly, light-hearted things...such as feel-good chick flicks.

As part of our Mountain Escapade we brought DVDs. We finished Season 8 of How I Met Your Mother last night. Tonight we watched Failure to Launch.

FtL is a nincompoppy movie. And at the end of a perfect day, we didn't need serious or socially redeeming. It was enough to laugh and say ahhh when everything ended happily as we knew it would before we even took the DVD out of the box.

With all the serious stuff we read, see, deal with those ahhh moments are precious. Every giggle is valuable. I don't want a world without some nincompoopy things in it.

 

New friends


Honey Bunny and Herr Hare were thrilled to be invited to the chalet in les Marecottes. They are with their new friends C. Bear and Y bear. Here they check out the flowers and the house across the street.

A little before they were ohing and ahing over the village.

They were welcomed by a local resident, Sam Squirrel. 

Later they will get a chance to go on a hike.


Sushi Haiku




*Mikado--dog's name
Mikado-a restaurant
Love eating sushi



*I love sushi, no matter that it has the same name as my late Japanese chin.

The escadpade continues...yum...


J's and my fourth adventure/escapade continues. We drove down the mountain to Martigny and decided to treat ourselves to La Chasse, a much better choice than the cafeteria at Migros. We had two kinds of meat from the hunt cooked in a bullion at the table than dipped into four different sauces: garlic, mustard, tartar and a type of thousand islands. Peaches with cranberries were served too.




The entree was mushrooms in pastry. We decided it would be tacky to lick the plate.


We liked the combination of tile and wood on the restaurant floor. 

Thoroughly stuffed it was onto the Renoir exhibition. I love being able to pop in and spend about a half hour surrounded by beauty.



An interview



The Guardian published an interview with Anne Rice. 

Although I’ve had nine books published, www.donnlanenelson.com, my sales figures are way below hers. Still, I am pretending I’m the interviewee. After all writers, are suppose to have imagination...

D-L Nelson

Born in Massachusetts Nelson, 72, writes the Third Culture Kid Mystery series, with her heroine multi-lingual Annie Young, stumbling and solving murders in places like Paris, Geneva, etc.

When were you happiest?
I’ve been happy most of my life after 30. However, right now I’ve reached a new level of happy that I didn’t think possible.

What is your greatest fear?
Losing my mind and body functions

What is your earliest memory?
My fourth birthday party which I shared with Bunky Bronk who lived across the street. He was one year younger and we were dressed in yellow brother and sister outfits.

Which living person do you most admire, and why?

I can’t think of one since Eleanor Roosevelt and my grandmother are dead. I admire people who are honest and think of others no matter what their situation in life.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Lack of concentration. I get distracted too easily.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Cruelty.

Property aside, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought?
A 34-pound sheep wool lined leather coat against the cold New England winter.

What is your most treasured possession?
A tapestry my daughter made for me.

What is your screensaver?
A rotating collection of my own photos. They are a constant reminder of happy moments and I know there are more to come.

If you could bring something extinct back to life, what would you choose?
The duckbill platypus. 

What do you most dislike about your appearance?
My weight.

Who would play you in the film of your life?
Susan Sarandon. She had the hair for it and the same politics.

What is your most unappealing habit?
Not being available as I should be.

What is your favourite smell?
The smell of cold, crisp winter air in a pine forest.

What is your favourite word?
I’d say albeit as a family joke, but peckish is the real one.

Which book changed your life?
Grapes of Wrath It was the first time I realized all the hidden meanings a writer could get into a novel.

What did you want to be when you were growing up?
I wanted to be a writer from the time I was four. My grandmother read to me all the time and I thought it was great to be able to make up stories. I toyed with other careers such as nursing, but I don’t have the stomach for it. As an adult I thought being an anthropologist would be fascinating, but then again writers observe peoples’ habits, too.

What is top of your bucket list?
I’ve done almost everything I want to, I just want to do more of the same.

To whom would you most like to say sorry, and why?
I am lucky that when my father died, there was nothing left unsaid. That I couldn’t find a resolution with my mother was a resolution in itself, but I’d like to be able to talk to her now. Maybe she has mellowed. I know I have.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
My husband. It took us a long time to get together.

What was the best kiss of your life?
There isn’t a single best. I am glad you didn't ask about the worse.

What has been your biggest disappointment?
Spending too much time in the corporate world, but it gave me the income I needed to raise my child and live comfortably. I suppose having to write around working hours made me make the time count.

If you could go back in time, where would you go?
I’d like to pop into different centuries, sort of a If it is Tuesday, it must be Belgium type of time travel. Of course with time travel, I don’t want to be a slave or hungry.

How do you relax?
Read or walk.

What is the closest you’ve come to death?
When I was pregnant with my daughter and became dehydrated from the flu. My cancer doesn't count because it was caught early on thanks to the great Swiss medical system.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Professionally, my novels. Personally, my daughter.

Where would you most like to be right now?
I’m greedy. I’d like to be here in the Alps about to visit a Renoir exhibition and maybe walk in the woods later in the day, with my husband in Argelès (although he's in Texas at the moment) and having a cup of tea with my daughter in Boston.

I am lucky that I have so much good in my life with people, places and activities that each day flows with joy.