The History News Network, a history blog that I follow from time to time, has an interesting post on the new legislation passed in Florida state on teaching "objective" history.
Says one part of the bill:
“American history shall be viewed as factual, not constructed, shall be viewed as knowable, teachable, and testable, and shall be defined as the creation of a new nation based largely on the universal principles stated in the Declaration of Independence.”
Actually, this passage seems to be over-quoted in the blogosphere, so at the risk of sounding trite, its oversweepingness and grandiosity got me thinking.
What does the bill mean by this, precisely?
I mean, for starters, aren't all histories "constructed"? And don't most high school history textbooks purport to teach "factual" history? Moreover, just because something is "factual" doesn't mean it isn't constructed. Are they suggesting that a history that doesn't teach the things they outline in the bill--the Revolutionary War, Civil War, etc. is "constructed", whereas a history that covers these topics is not? I'm not sure why it's necessary to point these things out in a bill. Does this mean that history taught in other states and previously in Florida is not viewed as "factual"?
It's as if by calling history "knowable", "teachable", and giving it a definition, the legislation is saying that history is definable and definitive, and in this particular case, touting one interpretation of American history as the authoritative version. Do the people who drafted this bill know anything about history? Or more importantly, about teaching it and about historiography? Are these same people who evidently know little about history the ones who get to determine which version of history is the "factual" one?
I am not saying that the Declaration of Independence, Civil War, etc. shouldn't be taught. Of course they should, as should the other topics this bill highlights--the holocaust, the plight of African Americans, contribution of women, and contribution of Hispanics. However, this bill already is a "constructed" history. Whoever wrote the bill chose to construct a history that doesn't necessarily include Native Americans, for example. I am not downplaying the importance of the topics the bill says should be covered. But what of the Vietnam War, the Palestinian-Israel conflict? In my recollection of k-12 history education, I remember it as being mostly dull, repetitive, inaccurate, monolithic and totally useless in the context of being an informed citizen in the world. From third grade till twelfth grade, 4-5 of those years were spent learning about the Revolutionary War and colonial history. (Yet, despite the repetition, I'm chagrined to say that I barely remember the details of American History. ) 2 weeks total (of those ten years) was spent on the Vietnam War.
And forget about different and alternative narratives of history. I had to wait till college/adulthood to discover those.
I should actually carefully peruse the full text of this legislation (some day when I'm not prepping for a trip with our choir or memorizing music, etc.), before interpreting/judging it, but this is just a stupid bill.
28 June 2006
The meaning of "I have to go"
To my landlord and other people who have a penchant for maundering on and on on the phone. . .
If I say to you, "I have to go", please let me go. Please don't talk my ear off for another fifteen minutes. My attention span is about 5 minutes unless you are really scintillating. (Note: most of my friends are scintillating, but most landlords are not. ) If I am changing subjects and sounding restless and prompting you to make your point quicker, that probably means my attention span is shot. You really don't have to repeat the same phrase and rework it four times. Once is enough, really. Twice is annoying, but FOUR times? This is why a conversation that ought to take 5 minutes ends up taking 19 minutes and 22 seconds.
This is why I never bother answering my phone anymore. B/c people from this area can't comprehend the phrase, "I have to go".
There are 4 different types of "I have to go".
The first is more like a 10-minute warning (because I learned the hard way that after I say "I have to go", I typically get talked at for 10 more minutes. ) The tone of my voice is restless, but at this point, probably not annoyed-sounding. But really, I do want/need to go. So this is not a time to start asking me how my job is going. Take it as a warning bell to wrap up your yakking.
Then there is the non-commital "I should probably get going". That means, "I've been on the phone long enough, but it's not absolutely necessary that I get off." I might say this as I'm making one "last" point or something so as to indicate to the listener, that yes, there will be an end to this point soon. Or I might say this if I feel like I've talked someone else's ear off.
The third type is a more urgent "I have to go". At this point, I'm starting to get antsy and am really not paying much attention to what you are saying, but I'm staying on to be polite. I think my voice might sound agitated, but still somewhat under control. At this point, you should really let me go in under 2 minutes. Ideally in under 1 minute. Besides, if I'm not really listening to what you are saying, then you're kindof wasting your breath anyway.
The last type is the type where I sound audibly annoyed/agitated/miffed, etc., and the one where I'm so annoyed that I couldn't cut you off earlier that I might throw the phone across the room in frustration after I get off with you, or if I could get away w/ slamming the phone, this is probably what I'd do at this point. Either that or gripe about it on a blog such as this. You really don't want to hear this "I have to go", or if you do, you really want to let me get off the phone or let me go within ten seconds. This "I have to go" usually happens if I have a certain expectation that discussing x,y,z should take s amount of time, but instead, the conversation ends up taking 5s, and the amount of talking I'm doing is about .25s.
I can talk people's ear off. So if I'm not talking much, and all I'm saying is u-huh, or "ok, so--" (to prompt you to get to your point, or "right right" or "got it got it got it", that's probably a sign that your conversation is taking longer than I'd like.
So when I say "I have to go", for heaven's sake, let me go.
If I say to you, "I have to go", please let me go. Please don't talk my ear off for another fifteen minutes. My attention span is about 5 minutes unless you are really scintillating. (Note: most of my friends are scintillating, but most landlords are not. ) If I am changing subjects and sounding restless and prompting you to make your point quicker, that probably means my attention span is shot. You really don't have to repeat the same phrase and rework it four times. Once is enough, really. Twice is annoying, but FOUR times? This is why a conversation that ought to take 5 minutes ends up taking 19 minutes and 22 seconds.
This is why I never bother answering my phone anymore. B/c people from this area can't comprehend the phrase, "I have to go".
There are 4 different types of "I have to go".
The first is more like a 10-minute warning (because I learned the hard way that after I say "I have to go", I typically get talked at for 10 more minutes. ) The tone of my voice is restless, but at this point, probably not annoyed-sounding. But really, I do want/need to go. So this is not a time to start asking me how my job is going. Take it as a warning bell to wrap up your yakking.
Then there is the non-commital "I should probably get going". That means, "I've been on the phone long enough, but it's not absolutely necessary that I get off." I might say this as I'm making one "last" point or something so as to indicate to the listener, that yes, there will be an end to this point soon. Or I might say this if I feel like I've talked someone else's ear off.
The third type is a more urgent "I have to go". At this point, I'm starting to get antsy and am really not paying much attention to what you are saying, but I'm staying on to be polite. I think my voice might sound agitated, but still somewhat under control. At this point, you should really let me go in under 2 minutes. Ideally in under 1 minute. Besides, if I'm not really listening to what you are saying, then you're kindof wasting your breath anyway.
The last type is the type where I sound audibly annoyed/agitated/miffed, etc., and the one where I'm so annoyed that I couldn't cut you off earlier that I might throw the phone across the room in frustration after I get off with you, or if I could get away w/ slamming the phone, this is probably what I'd do at this point. Either that or gripe about it on a blog such as this. You really don't want to hear this "I have to go", or if you do, you really want to let me get off the phone or let me go within ten seconds. This "I have to go" usually happens if I have a certain expectation that discussing x,y,z should take s amount of time, but instead, the conversation ends up taking 5s, and the amount of talking I'm doing is about .25s.
I can talk people's ear off. So if I'm not talking much, and all I'm saying is u-huh, or "ok, so--" (to prompt you to get to your point, or "right right" or "got it got it got it", that's probably a sign that your conversation is taking longer than I'd like.
So when I say "I have to go", for heaven's sake, let me go.
How media can affect Whole Foods shopping bag design
I don't know if any of you (hmm. I say "you" as if I am imagining some sort of audience. . ..) have been following Michael Pollan's online food blog on the NYT. His most recent (as of this writing) posting is a rebuttal letter he wrote to Whole Foods in response to a long letter the CEO of Whole Foods wrote to address some of the things that Michal Pollan wrote in his book, The Omnivore's Dilemma.
Read both (and now there appears to be another rebuttal letter from Whole Foods in response to Michael Pollan's rebuttal. Wow. I am lagging behind.), since I couldn't possibly do justice to the various threads by simply summarizing their arguments, but one of the main things both letters address is the idea of "local" food. I haven't read Pollan's book yet, but the first letter from Whole Foods basically goes on about how the company is indeed doing what it can to support local producers, etc.
Pollan's rebuttal letter challenges Whole Foods' claim that 45 percent of its products are "local". He raises the interesting question of whether Whole Foods counts the 3 big-corporation organic companies that are included in this 45 percent count. I still need to read Whole Foods' rebuttal letter #2, which seems to address Pollan's questions.
I went to Whole Foods today after work to pick up some stuff. I usually ask for a plastic bag, but today I was in a paper bag mood. I immediately noticed their new bag design: there is a picture of a ear of corn, with the text "LOCALLY GROWN" sort of diagonally written across the front. Then on the sides of the bag, there is a list of "a few of our local growers". On the back of this bag (well, as much as these sorts of bags have an actual "front" and "back"), there is a blurb about "Our regional growers" bringing us the freshest seasonal produce, etc. etc.
I can't help but wonder if this bag design was inspired by the recent exchange that has been transpiring between Michael Pollan and Whole Foods about the notion of "locally grown". I feel like I've only seen this design debut fairly recently.
Read both (and now there appears to be another rebuttal letter from Whole Foods in response to Michael Pollan's rebuttal. Wow. I am lagging behind.), since I couldn't possibly do justice to the various threads by simply summarizing their arguments, but one of the main things both letters address is the idea of "local" food. I haven't read Pollan's book yet, but the first letter from Whole Foods basically goes on about how the company is indeed doing what it can to support local producers, etc.
Pollan's rebuttal letter challenges Whole Foods' claim that 45 percent of its products are "local". He raises the interesting question of whether Whole Foods counts the 3 big-corporation organic companies that are included in this 45 percent count. I still need to read Whole Foods' rebuttal letter #2, which seems to address Pollan's questions.
I went to Whole Foods today after work to pick up some stuff. I usually ask for a plastic bag, but today I was in a paper bag mood. I immediately noticed their new bag design: there is a picture of a ear of corn, with the text "LOCALLY GROWN" sort of diagonally written across the front. Then on the sides of the bag, there is a list of "a few of our local growers". On the back of this bag (well, as much as these sorts of bags have an actual "front" and "back"), there is a blurb about "Our regional growers" bringing us the freshest seasonal produce, etc. etc.
I can't help but wonder if this bag design was inspired by the recent exchange that has been transpiring between Michael Pollan and Whole Foods about the notion of "locally grown". I feel like I've only seen this design debut fairly recently.
25 June 2006
Sales can bring out the stupidity in me
I am declaring a moratorium on clothes shopping. Last week I spent all week eating. This week, I feel like I spent all week shopping.
I'm not actually much of a frequent shopper (I'm a frequent browser, but a less frequent buyer), but I needed some stuff for work, travel, and running, and this was the week that everyone from Macy's to REI seemed to be having a sale, so I kept going and spending.
In fact, I bought a skirt that I can't imagine ever wearing. On the surface, it seemed like a perfect buy. It looked really cute, it was on sale for like $25, down from $140, and they had my size. However, there were several problems with the skirt. First, due to size inflation, it was way too big. Second, this skirt had pleats all along the front, and I don't do pleats. One or two, I can tolerate, but gosh, all across the front? That's so 1982. Or at least, that was the last time I wore such a skirt. Third, it was a dry-clean only skirt, and unless it is a very versatile clothing item, (which this wasn't) I don't do "dry clean only" apparel. Fourth, I wasn't crazy about the color: this skirt had pale pinks and pale greens. I'm not necessarily excluding pinks and greens from my wardrobe, but these shades of pink and green, I don't typically do. Last and least (since this was the most remediable of problems), since I don't typically do these colors, I suspected I didn't own a single thing that would match this skirt.
But for $25, one can be duped into a false sense of flexibility.
The back didn't have pleats, and actually, if the skirt was like that all around (pleatless), that would solve problem 1 (b/c it would look less silly as a low-rise skirt. Can skirts be "low rise" like pants?), 2, and 3 (the pleats would make it impossible to hand-wash, b/c I also don't do the ironing thing, but w/o pleats, it can easily be hand-washed and line dried).
So I bought the skirt, because it was only $25, and if the front looked like the back, then a,b, and c (see previous paragraph for values of a, b, and c).
Last week, I kept the skirt out to see if I would be inspired to wear it to work, but no such inspiration came.
I wasn't sure what I was thinking when I thought "well, if the front of the skirt were like the back. . ." The very same thought transpired when I tried on my skirt again at home a few times. But how does this help me? It's kind of like saying, "well, if I had a million dollars. . ." Well, yes, but I don't, and the skirt isn't. Except that I never base my decisions on a hypothetical million dollars. So why did I buy a skirt based on this kind of ridiculous logic?
I blame it on the $25, and the display mannequin who made the ridiculously pleated skirt look so cute and fashionable. When I wore the skirt, I looked nothing like the mannequin. See what happens when stores use mannequins that are size zero amazon women? We start flattering ourselves and buying unflattering things we normally wouldn't think of buying, b/c we think we will look like the mannequins. This seems like a perfectly complain-worthy point, except that I think that is the whole point of having unrealistic-sized mannequins. Where are the mannequins with love handles? Where are the mannequins that are 5'4''?
Well, that was just the start of my shopping rampage. I also ended up getting a few more items over the weekend. I went to Union Square yesterday, then to REI today. But after spending more $ on things I would actually wear, I decided that even though $25 is a steal deal for a skirt that was originally $140, it's still a wasted $28 (by the time you add tax), if I won't ever wear it.
It's funny that it sometimes takes spending an extra $200 to arrive at this seemingly common-sensical thought--or in other words, I need to spend $200 to not spend $25 stupidly.
I concluded my weekend shopping spree by returning this skirt.
I'm not actually much of a frequent shopper (I'm a frequent browser, but a less frequent buyer), but I needed some stuff for work, travel, and running, and this was the week that everyone from Macy's to REI seemed to be having a sale, so I kept going and spending.
In fact, I bought a skirt that I can't imagine ever wearing. On the surface, it seemed like a perfect buy. It looked really cute, it was on sale for like $25, down from $140, and they had my size. However, there were several problems with the skirt. First, due to size inflation, it was way too big. Second, this skirt had pleats all along the front, and I don't do pleats. One or two, I can tolerate, but gosh, all across the front? That's so 1982. Or at least, that was the last time I wore such a skirt. Third, it was a dry-clean only skirt, and unless it is a very versatile clothing item, (which this wasn't) I don't do "dry clean only" apparel. Fourth, I wasn't crazy about the color: this skirt had pale pinks and pale greens. I'm not necessarily excluding pinks and greens from my wardrobe, but these shades of pink and green, I don't typically do. Last and least (since this was the most remediable of problems), since I don't typically do these colors, I suspected I didn't own a single thing that would match this skirt.
But for $25, one can be duped into a false sense of flexibility.
The back didn't have pleats, and actually, if the skirt was like that all around (pleatless), that would solve problem 1 (b/c it would look less silly as a low-rise skirt. Can skirts be "low rise" like pants?), 2, and 3 (the pleats would make it impossible to hand-wash, b/c I also don't do the ironing thing, but w/o pleats, it can easily be hand-washed and line dried).
So I bought the skirt, because it was only $25, and if the front looked like the back, then a,b, and c (see previous paragraph for values of a, b, and c).
Last week, I kept the skirt out to see if I would be inspired to wear it to work, but no such inspiration came.
I wasn't sure what I was thinking when I thought "well, if the front of the skirt were like the back. . ." The very same thought transpired when I tried on my skirt again at home a few times. But how does this help me? It's kind of like saying, "well, if I had a million dollars. . ." Well, yes, but I don't, and the skirt isn't. Except that I never base my decisions on a hypothetical million dollars. So why did I buy a skirt based on this kind of ridiculous logic?
I blame it on the $25, and the display mannequin who made the ridiculously pleated skirt look so cute and fashionable. When I wore the skirt, I looked nothing like the mannequin. See what happens when stores use mannequins that are size zero amazon women? We start flattering ourselves and buying unflattering things we normally wouldn't think of buying, b/c we think we will look like the mannequins. This seems like a perfectly complain-worthy point, except that I think that is the whole point of having unrealistic-sized mannequins. Where are the mannequins with love handles? Where are the mannequins that are 5'4''?
Well, that was just the start of my shopping rampage. I also ended up getting a few more items over the weekend. I went to Union Square yesterday, then to REI today. But after spending more $ on things I would actually wear, I decided that even though $25 is a steal deal for a skirt that was originally $140, it's still a wasted $28 (by the time you add tax), if I won't ever wear it.
It's funny that it sometimes takes spending an extra $200 to arrive at this seemingly common-sensical thought--or in other words, I need to spend $200 to not spend $25 stupidly.
I concluded my weekend shopping spree by returning this skirt.
A rebuttal to my pink lady theory
Sometimes I wonder if people actually read these things, but evidently they do.
So earlier, I posted about my speculations on what kind of apple Eve ate. I said Pink Lady, hands down.
So earlier, I posted about my speculations on what kind of apple Eve ate. I said Pink Lady, hands down.
Gerswin, whose real name is Gershwin, except that he cannot spell, so now he is Gerswin. . . actually, in real life, he's neither of these identities, but on the pretense of being quasi-anonymous, my real-life people get pseudo-monikers, but I digress--anyway, so Gerswin, a lapsed trumpetist who won't tell me which non-quotidian-sounding composer dude whose name begins with an R wrote the double trumpet concerto in E-minor that I like and thus want to get a recording of, wrote back this interesting rebuttal:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Knowing your penchant for detail, I was astounded to learn that you would
believe Eve's Apple to be a pink lady. Although I quite agree with you on the
quality of the apple, I think we had this discussion before, I would believe someone
as pedantic as you would have done your research. To help you out, I
have provided a cut from a website:
Pink Lady--
Yet another import from the land "down under" this variety was
originally named Cripp's Pink. Developed and bred by the agriculture
department of Western Australia in 1973, Pink Lady apples are a cross
between Golden Delicious and Lady Williams. Introduced to the United
States by way of New Zealand in the late eighties, the fruit is medium
in size and conical in shape, with a distinctive pink blush over a
yellow background. The fine-grained flesh of this apple is crisp and
crunchy and, because it does not brown easily after being cut, Pink
Lady is a desirable addition to fresh vegetable and fruit salads. When
eaten out-of-hand, the first bite tastes pleasantly tart and is
followed by a delicious sweetness. Pink Lady ripens in September and
can be found in most markets right through late spring months.
http://www.appleorchardtours.com/fruit.htm
You realize that by identifying Eve's apple as being a pink lady, you
throw off the whole evolution/creation debate by adjusting Genesis to
somewhere around the mid 60's, assuming of course that Adam and Eve
had the opportunity to hang around a bit before being banished from
Eden. Not to mention to what you do to throw off the values on carbon
dating. :-)
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Interesting. He has a valid point. I'm not going to go into my religious beliefs, but if this is the same god person who created the universe and managed to populate the earth with humans all in 6 days, and somehow his 6 days corresponds to the human timeline of several billion years, isn't it perfectly plausible that this same god can have a post-1960s-dated pink lady apple tree in the garden of Eden? I mean, we're not talking about a normal passage of time here. . ..
22 June 2006
Confession and Continuation of Rant about Zeros. . .
I went to the shopping center yesterday and have a grave confession to make. I parked my Camry in a parking spot clearly marked "SMALL CAR". Horrible, aren't I? Actually, if it weren't for the fact that it aggravates the heck out of me when SUVs do this, I wouldn't feel so guilty about doing this.
Also, I once wrote an essay for one of my classes (half in jest, but half serious, actually) about why Americans can't do math-- and one of the reasons I gave was that large Hummers park in spaces marked "compact". (I mean if a 50-year old adult can't get the spatial perception thing, we expect 9-year olds to figure out proportions? ) By parking in this space, I feel like I'm contributing to math illiteracy.
Granted, my car is hardly a Hummer or the 5 mongo SUVs that were parked next to my car in spaces marked "SMALL CAR", but I still felt a twinge of guilt as I pulled into the parking space clearly marked "SMALL CAR". However, the reason I chose to park here, in spite of my guilt is perfectly logical: my sense of resignation exceeded my sense of guilt--so much so that I only hesitated for about 10 seconds contemplating my hypocrisy, before I thought out loud, "well, if these 6 mongo SUVs and Hummer, and this ginormous truck is considered a small car, then for sure my Camry is a midget." In economics jargon, my marginal resignation exceeded my marginal guilt. However, if my marginal guilt had exceeded my marginal resignation, I wouldn't have parked in the small car space.
If a Hummer qualifies as a compact car, then the next time I rent a compact car, can I request a Volvo station wagon as a compact car? I surely don't want to drive a Hummer, but surely a Volvo is a compact far more legitimately than a Hummer is, no?
How come the rental car companies never confuse "compact" in this way?
Can you possibly guess what size they had? 00! That's double-zero, which is even smaller than a size 0, if one can fathom that.
I'm trying to wrap my brain around their logic (Yes, I've been doing a lot of brain-wrapping lately. . ..) of why 00<0.
Well, ok, technically, zero is zero is zero, so regardless of whether you have one of them or a googol of them, it is the same quantity.
Fine. I'm a flexible person. I can suspend my mathematical scruples for a while to try to comprehend this. Let's suspend this perfectly logical arithmetic notion that 0=00=0000000000000000 and treat zero like a number that has a value--a 1 or 3, for example. But even then, 1<11<111 and 3<33<333.
But the Banana Republic sizing folks are saying the converse. Wait wait. I think I got it. They are saying that a 00 is "more zero" than a regular zero. More quintessentially zero than zero, if you will. But then this brings us back to 1 and 11. Based on their logic, I'm confused as to whether 11 should be smaller or larger than a 1.
If Banana Republic keeps inflating their sizes, at some point, they will have to come up with an even smaller size than a 00. Will they just keep tacking on more zeroes, or will they start having negative sizes?
Also, I once wrote an essay for one of my classes (half in jest, but half serious, actually) about why Americans can't do math-- and one of the reasons I gave was that large Hummers park in spaces marked "compact". (I mean if a 50-year old adult can't get the spatial perception thing, we expect 9-year olds to figure out proportions? ) By parking in this space, I feel like I'm contributing to math illiteracy.
Granted, my car is hardly a Hummer or the 5 mongo SUVs that were parked next to my car in spaces marked "SMALL CAR", but I still felt a twinge of guilt as I pulled into the parking space clearly marked "SMALL CAR". However, the reason I chose to park here, in spite of my guilt is perfectly logical: my sense of resignation exceeded my sense of guilt--so much so that I only hesitated for about 10 seconds contemplating my hypocrisy, before I thought out loud, "well, if these 6 mongo SUVs and Hummer, and this ginormous truck is considered a small car, then for sure my Camry is a midget." In economics jargon, my marginal resignation exceeded my marginal guilt. However, if my marginal guilt had exceeded my marginal resignation, I wouldn't have parked in the small car space.
If a Hummer qualifies as a compact car, then the next time I rent a compact car, can I request a Volvo station wagon as a compact car? I surely don't want to drive a Hummer, but surely a Volvo is a compact far more legitimately than a Hummer is, no?
How come the rental car companies never confuse "compact" in this way?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In an earlier post, I questioned the sizing practices of Banana Republic, because they claimed that zero was a legitimate size. I went into Banana Republic to look for basic t-shirts (hey, they might not have the size thing down quite right, but I still like their clothes. . .), and as I was rifling through the sale racks, guess what I saw? Something more egregious than a size 0.
Can you possibly guess what size they had? 00! That's double-zero, which is even smaller than a size 0, if one can fathom that.
I'm trying to wrap my brain around their logic (Yes, I've been doing a lot of brain-wrapping lately. . ..) of why 00<0.
Well, ok, technically, zero is zero is zero, so regardless of whether you have one of them or a googol of them, it is the same quantity.
Fine. I'm a flexible person. I can suspend my mathematical scruples for a while to try to comprehend this. Let's suspend this perfectly logical arithmetic notion that 0=00=0000000000000000 and treat zero like a number that has a value--a 1 or 3, for example. But even then, 1<11<111 and 3<33<333.
But the Banana Republic sizing folks are saying the converse. Wait wait. I think I got it. They are saying that a 00 is "more zero" than a regular zero. More quintessentially zero than zero, if you will. But then this brings us back to 1 and 11. Based on their logic, I'm confused as to whether 11 should be smaller or larger than a 1.
If Banana Republic keeps inflating their sizes, at some point, they will have to come up with an even smaller size than a 00. Will they just keep tacking on more zeroes, or will they start having negative sizes?
20 June 2006
Telling time in Hungarian
I got up earlyish this morning and decided to study Hungarian in lieu of going running. So I take out my Teach Yourself Hungarian book and flip through. This book is not structured in a way that is terribly useful to me, so I end up skipping around.
For example, in one of the earliest lessons, you learn, "You speak Hungarian very well."
Now tell me.
I can barely count in Hungarian. I still haven't done my full lesson on ordering food (I know how to ask if a table is open, and say, "I'm very hungry" or "I'm a little hungry", but that is about all), and I'm just today going over dates/times. In what situation would I possibly need to know how to say or comprehend this phrase?
Well, ok, I can think of two scenarios. 1. I speak this phrase to someone--for ex, I compliment someone on their Hungarian speaking abilities. Who? A native speaker? Would someone whose vocabulary is 30 words ever praise a native speaker for their ability to speak their native tongue? Besides, I don't understand enough Hungarian to know if someone speaks Hungarian well. So that's out.
2. I need to understand this phrase, b/c someone is saying this to me. As of this writing, I know maybe a dozen phrases, so I don't think I need to worry about that.
So this begs the question, why do they put "you speak Hungarian well" so early into the book?
Why can't they put something more practical like location and time vocab words?
As I was saying, I was flipping through the book to look for time/date words--days of the week, months, today, tomorrow, yesterday, and time. The first few items were easy enough (to copy and comprehend, but not necessarily to learn). Then I got to time.
5:15 is "a quarter to six"
and 5:45 is "3/4 to six"
For example, in one of the earliest lessons, you learn, "You speak Hungarian very well."
Now tell me.
I can barely count in Hungarian. I still haven't done my full lesson on ordering food (I know how to ask if a table is open, and say, "I'm very hungry" or "I'm a little hungry", but that is about all), and I'm just today going over dates/times. In what situation would I possibly need to know how to say or comprehend this phrase?
Well, ok, I can think of two scenarios. 1. I speak this phrase to someone--for ex, I compliment someone on their Hungarian speaking abilities. Who? A native speaker? Would someone whose vocabulary is 30 words ever praise a native speaker for their ability to speak their native tongue? Besides, I don't understand enough Hungarian to know if someone speaks Hungarian well. So that's out.
2. I need to understand this phrase, b/c someone is saying this to me. As of this writing, I know maybe a dozen phrases, so I don't think I need to worry about that.
So this begs the question, why do they put "you speak Hungarian well" so early into the book?
Why can't they put something more practical like location and time vocab words?
As I was saying, I was flipping through the book to look for time/date words--days of the week, months, today, tomorrow, yesterday, and time. The first few items were easy enough (to copy and comprehend, but not necessarily to learn). Then I got to time.
5:15 is "a quarter to six"
and 5:45 is "3/4 to six"
shenme? (That's not Hungarian, btw.)
I decided that I needed to quit my lesson at this point and revisit it during lunch. So I went into work.
6 hours later, the logic part made more sense--you just envision a pie and 5:15 is 5 and 1/4; 5:45 is 5 3/4. So it's like saying 3/4 on the way to 6 o'clock, except that mathematically, that's not exactly correct. "3/4 to 6 o'clock" is really 4:30 (I think), so I'm having a minor hangup here, but if I can overcome that, this logic roughly makes sense.
In fact, they write their time 1/2 6 van (5:30) and 3/4 8 van (7:45).
However, it's one thing to passively understand the logic; it's another thing to attempt to apply this to come up with an actual time. For example, it is 11:22. How would one say that?
5:20 (applying the same logic above) is 1/3 on the way to 6:00. So by the same logic, would one say, haromed (if 4 is negy and 1/4 is negyed, since 3 is harom, I'm wildly guessing that 1/3 is haromed.) hat van?
(That would make Hungarian a very logical language.)
Sajnos, nem tudom.
Or I didn't have the patience to think this through, so that was where I ended my Hungarian lesson.
Perhaps I ought to learn numbers first. . . (Tomorrow. Oh wait. I learned that today--holnap.)
17 June 2006
A non-foodie's past week's gastronomical highlights
Despite my love for good food--both eating it and talking about it--I must not be a real foodie, because if I were actually a foodie, I'd remember to bring a camera to photograph my gastronomical adventures. For example, this past week was full of such opportunities.
Sunday--I went to Project Open Hand's nth (I think n=6) annual Dessert First (note: this is the website for last year's, b/c they don't have this year's up yet. You can get the gist of the event from looking at these pictures from last year.) w/ some friends. This has become a sort of quasi-tradition for me; I think this is the fourth time going with them. (Interestingly enough, I think that every time I have gone to this function with these friends, there is a new addition to their family. Well, the "addition" between the first and second times might be a bit of a stretch, but the first time, I think they were just dating; then they added each other (i.e. got married); then child #1, and this time, child #2. Hmm. Ok, enough of a digression.)
This would've been the perfect bring-your-camera opportunity, but I missed it. Imagine a beautiful array of aesthetically pleasing desserts of all varieties lined up for miles and miles. Ok, maybe not miles, but several hundred square feet worth.
Wednesday--I made ratatouille with basil dumplings. The brilliant hues of the various veggies--red, purple, bright green and bright yellow--serving as a backdrop to the green speckled pale yellow dumplings looked very colorful, and would've made for a good photo, but again, my mind was on other things--like eating this before it got cold.
Thursday--I went to Vung Tau II in Milpitas. Excellent Vietnamese food, and no pho! Not that I have anything against pho (except cilantro, which I detest, despise, abhor, etc. etc.), but it's like Japanese food and sushi. Many people here think Japanese food=sushi, teriyaki, and tempura, b/c that is all they serve at most restaurants around here. So I imagine the same is the case w/ Vietnamese food. We did family-style, which I don't usually get to do w/ Vietnamese food. I got to try more dishes this way. They didn't have banh xeo, but they had other stuff that was very good. Here was another occassion where I would've liked to have taken pictures of some of the stuff we ordered--lotus root salad, shrimp cupcakes, lemongrass shrimp, seabass dish among others--just because it's not your typical bun, pho fare. (Plus it would make for a much more interesting read with photos)
Friday--I had my friend Verdant over. We were supposed to "cook" together, and I had planned a menu of pasta w/ herbs from my garden plus an herb souffle that I had recently cut out, but it was sweltering hot in my apartment, and I was in no mood to increase the temperature of my apartment by another 20 degrees (F). Thus I decided to change the menu to cold sesame noodles, a summer staple. It's sort of Japanese food, but not really. Well ok, they serve it in Japan, but they call it "cold Chinese-style noodles" or 冷やし中華. I'm sure it's a Japanized version of a Chinese dish. There wasn't much to do except boil noodles, and julienne slice some veggies, make a salad, thinly slice cucumbers, so I ended up finish much of this before Verdant came over. The arrays of different colors again called for a photo-op, but again, who thinks, "Oh wait. I just finished cooking. Let me preserve this moment on camera" when one is starving and winding down with a chilled glass of Asti Spumante, not to mention dying from oppressive heat? However, I did get some silly (It's impossible to not be silly when there are only two of us, and we are trying to take a picture of the two of us. Half of the photos were useless and utterly silly-looking.) shots of the two of us.
Sunday--I went to Project Open Hand's nth (I think n=6) annual Dessert First (note: this is the website for last year's, b/c they don't have this year's up yet. You can get the gist of the event from looking at these pictures from last year.) w/ some friends. This has become a sort of quasi-tradition for me; I think this is the fourth time going with them. (Interestingly enough, I think that every time I have gone to this function with these friends, there is a new addition to their family. Well, the "addition" between the first and second times might be a bit of a stretch, but the first time, I think they were just dating; then they added each other (i.e. got married); then child #1, and this time, child #2. Hmm. Ok, enough of a digression.)
This would've been the perfect bring-your-camera opportunity, but I missed it. Imagine a beautiful array of aesthetically pleasing desserts of all varieties lined up for miles and miles. Ok, maybe not miles, but several hundred square feet worth.
Wednesday--I made ratatouille with basil dumplings. The brilliant hues of the various veggies--red, purple, bright green and bright yellow--serving as a backdrop to the green speckled pale yellow dumplings looked very colorful, and would've made for a good photo, but again, my mind was on other things--like eating this before it got cold.
Thursday--I went to Vung Tau II in Milpitas. Excellent Vietnamese food, and no pho! Not that I have anything against pho (except cilantro, which I detest, despise, abhor, etc. etc.), but it's like Japanese food and sushi. Many people here think Japanese food=sushi, teriyaki, and tempura, b/c that is all they serve at most restaurants around here. So I imagine the same is the case w/ Vietnamese food. We did family-style, which I don't usually get to do w/ Vietnamese food. I got to try more dishes this way. They didn't have banh xeo, but they had other stuff that was very good. Here was another occassion where I would've liked to have taken pictures of some of the stuff we ordered--lotus root salad, shrimp cupcakes, lemongrass shrimp, seabass dish among others--just because it's not your typical bun, pho fare. (Plus it would make for a much more interesting read with photos)
Friday--I had my friend Verdant over. We were supposed to "cook" together, and I had planned a menu of pasta w/ herbs from my garden plus an herb souffle that I had recently cut out, but it was sweltering hot in my apartment, and I was in no mood to increase the temperature of my apartment by another 20 degrees (F). Thus I decided to change the menu to cold sesame noodles, a summer staple. It's sort of Japanese food, but not really. Well ok, they serve it in Japan, but they call it "cold Chinese-style noodles" or 冷やし中華. I'm sure it's a Japanized version of a Chinese dish. There wasn't much to do except boil noodles, and julienne slice some veggies, make a salad, thinly slice cucumbers, so I ended up finish much of this before Verdant came over. The arrays of different colors again called for a photo-op, but again, who thinks, "Oh wait. I just finished cooking. Let me preserve this moment on camera" when one is starving and winding down with a chilled glass of Asti Spumante, not to mention dying from oppressive heat? However, I did get some silly (It's impossible to not be silly when there are only two of us, and we are trying to take a picture of the two of us. Half of the photos were useless and utterly silly-looking.) shots of the two of us.
This was actually more eating out than I usually do in a month (or sometimes even two-- including lunch outings which I didn't mention here)!
16 June 2006
Go Running at 5:30 in the Morning
Today, I got up at 5:20 and went running at 5:30. In theory, I got up at 5:20 to "practice" getting up at this time to drive my friend to the airport this weekend at an ungodly hour, but then it occurred to me that duh, that's usually around the time I get up.
While I can probably think of better things to do with one's time than go running at 5:30 in the morning, I've managed to do this twice this week, and kindof like it.
First, as some of my friends know, I don't like walking/running on sidewalks. This poses a problem when walking with 2 year olds, because walking on streets exhibits bad model behavior. In fact, it seems to be bad model behavior if I do this near anyone who has kids under 5 or so. But at 5:30, there are hardly any cars or toddlers walking about, so I can run in the middle of the street (or at least in the middle of a lane) w/o worrying about cars or worrying that I will be a bad influence on the 4 year old who is being told by his parents that he must walk on the sidewalk because the street is "dangerous". I saw maybe 2 cars total on my 35 minute run today (and no toddlers).
The sun is just out enough that it isn't scorching hot or too bright, but light out. It is the right brightness and the right temperature.
Maybe it is the rebeliousness aspect of it, or perhaps the novelty of it, but for some reason, I can keep running for longer without stopping or getting tired when I run very early in the morning. I enjoy running in the evening as well, but for example, on a day like today, there is no way I would've gone running in the afternoon. Too hot. But this morning, it was just cool enough that it made my run enjoyable.
I also like that I feel like I've done something "productive" so early in the day.
I can't do this every day, but I think I'm going to try to do it at least a few times a week.
While I can probably think of better things to do with one's time than go running at 5:30 in the morning, I've managed to do this twice this week, and kindof like it.
First, as some of my friends know, I don't like walking/running on sidewalks. This poses a problem when walking with 2 year olds, because walking on streets exhibits bad model behavior. In fact, it seems to be bad model behavior if I do this near anyone who has kids under 5 or so. But at 5:30, there are hardly any cars or toddlers walking about, so I can run in the middle of the street (or at least in the middle of a lane) w/o worrying about cars or worrying that I will be a bad influence on the 4 year old who is being told by his parents that he must walk on the sidewalk because the street is "dangerous". I saw maybe 2 cars total on my 35 minute run today (and no toddlers).
The sun is just out enough that it isn't scorching hot or too bright, but light out. It is the right brightness and the right temperature.
Maybe it is the rebeliousness aspect of it, or perhaps the novelty of it, but for some reason, I can keep running for longer without stopping or getting tired when I run very early in the morning. I enjoy running in the evening as well, but for example, on a day like today, there is no way I would've gone running in the afternoon. Too hot. But this morning, it was just cool enough that it made my run enjoyable.
I also like that I feel like I've done something "productive" so early in the day.
I can't do this every day, but I think I'm going to try to do it at least a few times a week.
15 June 2006
6 Signs of Summer--yay!
1. Fresh pea sighting at the farmer's market
2. I have the energy to go running at 5:40 in the morning
3. It is light enough to go running at 5:40 in the morning
3.5. I have the option to go running at either 5:40 in the morning or 5:40 in the evening
4. The tomatoes available at the farmer's market (only at this one particular stand though. . .) finally taste like tomatoes and not like cardboard.
4.5. I am so inspired by non-cardboard-tasting tomatoes and its many potentials that I plant some of my own tomato plants along with herbs.
4.75. A good five minutes of my day is spent staring at aforementioned tomato plants (just in case the tomato guy lied to you about the 60-day maturation period and there are early bloomers hiding) and fantasizing about all the things one can do with very sweet cherry tomatoes.
5. I have to be more careful about transporting fruit to work, b/c they are more fragile than winter fruits. (peaches and cherries, vs. apples and oranges)
6. I can finish eating at 8:30 and it is still light out!
2. I have the energy to go running at 5:40 in the morning
3. It is light enough to go running at 5:40 in the morning
3.5. I have the option to go running at either 5:40 in the morning or 5:40 in the evening
4. The tomatoes available at the farmer's market (only at this one particular stand though. . .) finally taste like tomatoes and not like cardboard.
4.5. I am so inspired by non-cardboard-tasting tomatoes and its many potentials that I plant some of my own tomato plants along with herbs.
4.75. A good five minutes of my day is spent staring at aforementioned tomato plants (just in case the tomato guy lied to you about the 60-day maturation period and there are early bloomers hiding) and fantasizing about all the things one can do with very sweet cherry tomatoes.
5. I have to be more careful about transporting fruit to work, b/c they are more fragile than winter fruits. (peaches and cherries, vs. apples and oranges)
6. I can finish eating at 8:30 and it is still light out!
10 June 2006
Zero means zero
If I ever apply for a job in the food industry, I am going to list my GPA as a 4.0 on my resume. If they are allowed to round down .5 grams or less of trans fats and claim "zero" transfats, then conversely, I should be able to round up my GPA.
So why is zero no longer zero? When I was growing up, zero meant zero. Nothing. Nada. Rien. However, in this postmodern world of the twenty-first century, zero sometimes isn't zero.
For example, let's take Banana Republic. They have a size 0. How can 0 be a size? I thought zero meant nothing. Granted, a size 0 is so tiny that it is almost nothing, but "almost nothing" is not the same thing as nothing. Am I the only one that has conceptual issues with a size 0?
But my biggest contention with zero abuse is with the food industry and how they label the transfat content of foods. For example, take girl scout cookies. Not to bash something that is for a good cause, but I have been on a vigorous campaign to cut transfats out of my diet, so this means a near obsessive reading of food labels. Several of the girl scout cookies list partially-hydrogenated oils as the second ingredient, and yet, the transfat listing is zero.
This is not possible, since partially hydrogenated oils are transfats. Subsequently, I have seen many foods that list partially hydrogenated oils as an ingredient but also claim that the transfat content is zero.
I was very suspicious of this mathematical anomaly, so looked into it. It turns out that if the transfat content is less than .5 g, they can list it as zero.
Perhaps this is why Americans can't do math--because the food industry is telling us that 0.5=0.
But again, my contention-- "less than 0.5 grams" is not the same as zero, which means nothing. If you multiply nothing by 100, you get nothing. However, if you multipy 0.49999 grams of transfats by 100 servings, that's 49.9 grams of transfats. 49.9999 does not equal 0, so by a simple law of algebra, 0.5 doesn't equal 0.
If a food label says there are zero grams of transfats in my thin mints, to me, that means there are no transfats in my thin mints, whether I eat just one or 100. Given that you have to buy these things by the box, it's a little misleading to label a box of cookies as having "zero transfat", when that applies (and dubiously so) to only one serving, no?
Who lets the food industry get away with this kind of number illiteracy?
So why is zero no longer zero? When I was growing up, zero meant zero. Nothing. Nada. Rien. However, in this postmodern world of the twenty-first century, zero sometimes isn't zero.
For example, let's take Banana Republic. They have a size 0. How can 0 be a size? I thought zero meant nothing. Granted, a size 0 is so tiny that it is almost nothing, but "almost nothing" is not the same thing as nothing. Am I the only one that has conceptual issues with a size 0?
But my biggest contention with zero abuse is with the food industry and how they label the transfat content of foods. For example, take girl scout cookies. Not to bash something that is for a good cause, but I have been on a vigorous campaign to cut transfats out of my diet, so this means a near obsessive reading of food labels. Several of the girl scout cookies list partially-hydrogenated oils as the second ingredient, and yet, the transfat listing is zero.
This is not possible, since partially hydrogenated oils are transfats. Subsequently, I have seen many foods that list partially hydrogenated oils as an ingredient but also claim that the transfat content is zero.
I was very suspicious of this mathematical anomaly, so looked into it. It turns out that if the transfat content is less than .5 g, they can list it as zero.
Perhaps this is why Americans can't do math--because the food industry is telling us that 0.5=0.
But again, my contention-- "less than 0.5 grams" is not the same as zero, which means nothing. If you multiply nothing by 100, you get nothing. However, if you multipy 0.49999 grams of transfats by 100 servings, that's 49.9 grams of transfats. 49.9999 does not equal 0, so by a simple law of algebra, 0.5 doesn't equal 0.
If a food label says there are zero grams of transfats in my thin mints, to me, that means there are no transfats in my thin mints, whether I eat just one or 100. Given that you have to buy these things by the box, it's a little misleading to label a box of cookies as having "zero transfat", when that applies (and dubiously so) to only one serving, no?
Who lets the food industry get away with this kind of number illiteracy?
03 June 2006
Bad Food Day
Do you ever have one of those bad food days where everything you try to eat/cook somehow ends up not working out? Today was one such day for me. I came home from a street fair craving something healthy and simple to counterbalance the bad stuff we had at the fair.
I made myself a big green salad with glazed walnuts, chopped up mango, cucumber, sunflower seeds, etc. I was so looking forward to this salad, but then after taking a few bites, a big caterpiller peered out from underneath one of the leaves. After debating whether or not this grossed me out enough to toss out a salad I was so badly craving, I decided that it did and ended up throwing out the entire salad. I was fully aware that there are probably worse things to eat than salad that a caterpillar has trampled all over; yet, this did not abate my feeling of being grossed out, even when I pointed out to myself that I had no problems eating this insect-trampled salad before when I was blissfully ignorant of the caterpillar's existence.
Then there is the mac and cheese I tried to make. Ok, not exactly "healthy", but I wanted something easy, and my food supply was quite low. Well, the noodles where almost done when I started "prepping" the sauce. Much to my dismay, when I opened the milk carton, I found the milk--despite being days away from expiry--had curdled and gone bad. Argh. Luckily, I had some plain yogurt, and used that instead, but as you can imagine, it didn't quite come out the way I envisioned.
And thus it was an entire day of bad food mishaps.
I made myself a big green salad with glazed walnuts, chopped up mango, cucumber, sunflower seeds, etc. I was so looking forward to this salad, but then after taking a few bites, a big caterpiller peered out from underneath one of the leaves. After debating whether or not this grossed me out enough to toss out a salad I was so badly craving, I decided that it did and ended up throwing out the entire salad. I was fully aware that there are probably worse things to eat than salad that a caterpillar has trampled all over; yet, this did not abate my feeling of being grossed out, even when I pointed out to myself that I had no problems eating this insect-trampled salad before when I was blissfully ignorant of the caterpillar's existence.
Then there is the mac and cheese I tried to make. Ok, not exactly "healthy", but I wanted something easy, and my food supply was quite low. Well, the noodles where almost done when I started "prepping" the sauce. Much to my dismay, when I opened the milk carton, I found the milk--despite being days away from expiry--had curdled and gone bad. Argh. Luckily, I had some plain yogurt, and used that instead, but as you can imagine, it didn't quite come out the way I envisioned.
And thus it was an entire day of bad food mishaps.
Oops. I forgot to muse about Chinese history. . ..
I got so caught up in extolling the virtues of uttapams at Madras Cafe that I forgot to talk about Chinese history. One of Patita's friends who came w/ us to the cafe is a Chinese gal working for some media company. She mentioned how she often needs to find experts in the field of Chinese studies to get info and quotes.
She made an interesting comment which I have heard before from Japanese people as well, albeit in a different variation. She said that as a Chinese person, she felt funny asking non-Chinese scholars their expert opinion about China, and how odd it was that these non-Chinese people who speak Chinese w/ a "funny accent" should know more about Chinese history than Chinese people.
In the quasi-academic (I am not in academia, but via work and personal connections and interest, I sort of have my foot partially in this realm.) world which I inhabit, this is not so "odd". I am perfectly used to non-Chinese (i.e. caucasian) people knowing more Chinese history or literature than Chinese people, and likewise with Japanese history. In fact, considering that the history field is 90 percent male and 80 percent white (note: I may have these figures reversed, but the point is that an overwhelming majority is white and male) in the U.S., and not all of them studying western history, it means that there are a whole bunch of non-_______(pick any non-caucasian race) studying ________ history for a living, and therefore knows more about _______ history than the ________ people.
I'm not sure why this is so odd. In fact, I find it more odd that people find this odd. I do not mean any disrespect to her, but since I witness this similar why-does-this-foreigner-know-more-about-Japan mentality so often in Japan as well, I found myself immediately on the defensive and mentally rattling off reasons why it's not so odd for non-Chinese people to perhaps know more about Chinese history or even know more Chinese than the Chinese.
There are roughly 1.3 billion Chinese, of which--according to the CIA factbook--79.2 percent are over fifteen. Of this adult population, 90.1 percent are literate. Let's humor the CIA and trust that these stats are accurate. A quick plugging in of numbers in the calculator shows that 223,423,200 Chinese people are not literate. Would a Chinese person find it odd that a caucasian China specialist is likely to read and write Chinese better than 223 million Chinese people? Though it's not nec. the case that literacy and history knowlege are related, it's probably not too farfetched to suggest that many of these people don't have an adequate Chinese history background, either.
Nor is literacy necessarily a proof of history knowledge. Given the control that the communist government wields over the history curriulum--even today, and especially during the Cultural Revolution, I wonder how much information is withheld in history education. In fact, I just recently read an article about this in the Christian Science Monitor. The article talks about a book that challenges the the conventional wisdom of modern China's founding legend. One of the book's arguments is that the famous battle that occurred during the Long March did not actually occur. I'm not a China scholar, so cannot speak to the veracity of these claims (She interviews 40 people who claim that the battle never happened. 40 seems like a very small fraction of 200,000.), but the more interesting but not terribly surprising point I extracted from this article is that the official history that is taught in China has been rewritten and reinterpreted by the government according to their needs. For example, this article states that during the height of the Cultural Revolution, the gang of four rewrote Chinese history as a history of class struggles .
Another example of this is evident in the historiography of the Nanjing Massacre. During the Cultural Revolution, in order to maintain good relations with the Japanese, the government left this out of the history curriculm.
History being used as a political tool is certainly not endemic to China; I'm not trying to suggest that. Instead what I'm trying to suggest is that it is not so "odd" that caucasians who speak Chinese "with a funny accent" might know more Chinese history than the average Chinese person.
She made an interesting comment which I have heard before from Japanese people as well, albeit in a different variation. She said that as a Chinese person, she felt funny asking non-Chinese scholars their expert opinion about China, and how odd it was that these non-Chinese people who speak Chinese w/ a "funny accent" should know more about Chinese history than Chinese people.
In the quasi-academic (I am not in academia, but via work and personal connections and interest, I sort of have my foot partially in this realm.) world which I inhabit, this is not so "odd". I am perfectly used to non-Chinese (i.e. caucasian) people knowing more Chinese history or literature than Chinese people, and likewise with Japanese history. In fact, considering that the history field is 90 percent male and 80 percent white (note: I may have these figures reversed, but the point is that an overwhelming majority is white and male) in the U.S., and not all of them studying western history, it means that there are a whole bunch of non-_______(pick any non-caucasian race) studying ________ history for a living, and therefore knows more about _______ history than the ________ people.
I'm not sure why this is so odd. In fact, I find it more odd that people find this odd. I do not mean any disrespect to her, but since I witness this similar why-does-this-foreigner-know-more-about-Japan mentality so often in Japan as well, I found myself immediately on the defensive and mentally rattling off reasons why it's not so odd for non-Chinese people to perhaps know more about Chinese history or even know more Chinese than the Chinese.
There are roughly 1.3 billion Chinese, of which--according to the CIA factbook--79.2 percent are over fifteen. Of this adult population, 90.1 percent are literate. Let's humor the CIA and trust that these stats are accurate. A quick plugging in of numbers in the calculator shows that 223,423,200 Chinese people are not literate. Would a Chinese person find it odd that a caucasian China specialist is likely to read and write Chinese better than 223 million Chinese people? Though it's not nec. the case that literacy and history knowlege are related, it's probably not too farfetched to suggest that many of these people don't have an adequate Chinese history background, either.
Nor is literacy necessarily a proof of history knowledge. Given the control that the communist government wields over the history curriulum--even today, and especially during the Cultural Revolution, I wonder how much information is withheld in history education. In fact, I just recently read an article about this in the Christian Science Monitor. The article talks about a book that challenges the the conventional wisdom of modern China's founding legend. One of the book's arguments is that the famous battle that occurred during the Long March did not actually occur. I'm not a China scholar, so cannot speak to the veracity of these claims (She interviews 40 people who claim that the battle never happened. 40 seems like a very small fraction of 200,000.), but the more interesting but not terribly surprising point I extracted from this article is that the official history that is taught in China has been rewritten and reinterpreted by the government according to their needs. For example, this article states that during the height of the Cultural Revolution, the gang of four rewrote Chinese history as a history of class struggles .
Another example of this is evident in the historiography of the Nanjing Massacre. During the Cultural Revolution, in order to maintain good relations with the Japanese, the government left this out of the history curriculm.
History being used as a political tool is certainly not endemic to China; I'm not trying to suggest that. Instead what I'm trying to suggest is that it is not so "odd" that caucasians who speak Chinese "with a funny accent" might know more Chinese history than the average Chinese person.
02 June 2006
Musings about Indian food and Chinese history
Last weekend, my friend Patita took us to Madras Cafe. I've been there before, and since last time, it has expanded to about double its original size.
I think this place is more known for its dosas, which I had last time I was here. It was quite good, but not in an impressionable out-of-this world sort of way. Then again, much as I like dosas, of the various South Indian offerings, it is not my favorite item. I find them a bit heavy. They leave me full, and yet, not completely satisfied. It's kindof hard to explain. Maybe it is the light wispy mouthfeel. As a snack, it is a perfectly satisfactory choice. However, as a dinner entree, I want something else to go along with the dosa-- curry or something to dip the dosas in.
Ah. I think I hit on the crux of the problem. The dosa is accompanied by various chutneys, "dips" and sambar. But in my case, I almost never use them, b/c they contain my nemisis herb, cilantro, or in the case of sambar (or at least the one that Madras Cafe serves), I need to use it sparingly, b/c it is quite spicy. So I am missing out on this potential variety of textures and leaving my urge to sop up this delicate sponge-like wafer in some sort of dense, chunky matter unassuaged.
My preferred South Indian dish is the uttapam. Whereas the dosa is more like a crepe, the uttapam is more like a pancake. Perhaps an Indian version of banh xeo, which I also like quite a bit. This time, I ordered an onion tomato uttapam. And this time, the food was "impressionably" fantastic. I still used very little of the accompanying dips and sambar, but the uttapam alone left me quite satisfied. It had a very good nutty flavor, and a slightly fermented flavor which reminded me of the Ethiopian injera.
I also sampled the paratha (I think that was what it was-- it was like a roti) and the masala dosa--all of which were very good.
The service was speedy and efficient, the food was wonderful, and the prices were unbelievably reasonable. (In fact, I asked my friend whether I should order a few more things, b/c I couldn't believe that I could get a full meal for under $5. ) I definitely plan to go back for more.
I used to frequent Saravana Bhavan before it moved to its new location. I actually have not made it over there since it moved, but back in the day, it was one of my favorite Indian restaurants. Since it has been ages since I've been there, I can't really do a valid comparison, but I am very curious to compare this restaurant's offerings with that of Madras Cafe's. Sounds like a good impetus for a visit soon.
(Also on my list of places to check out is Vic's Chaat House in Berkeley. My friend calls it "even better than India". )
I think this place is more known for its dosas, which I had last time I was here. It was quite good, but not in an impressionable out-of-this world sort of way. Then again, much as I like dosas, of the various South Indian offerings, it is not my favorite item. I find them a bit heavy. They leave me full, and yet, not completely satisfied. It's kindof hard to explain. Maybe it is the light wispy mouthfeel. As a snack, it is a perfectly satisfactory choice. However, as a dinner entree, I want something else to go along with the dosa-- curry or something to dip the dosas in.
Ah. I think I hit on the crux of the problem. The dosa is accompanied by various chutneys, "dips" and sambar. But in my case, I almost never use them, b/c they contain my nemisis herb, cilantro, or in the case of sambar (or at least the one that Madras Cafe serves), I need to use it sparingly, b/c it is quite spicy. So I am missing out on this potential variety of textures and leaving my urge to sop up this delicate sponge-like wafer in some sort of dense, chunky matter unassuaged.
My preferred South Indian dish is the uttapam. Whereas the dosa is more like a crepe, the uttapam is more like a pancake. Perhaps an Indian version of banh xeo, which I also like quite a bit. This time, I ordered an onion tomato uttapam. And this time, the food was "impressionably" fantastic. I still used very little of the accompanying dips and sambar, but the uttapam alone left me quite satisfied. It had a very good nutty flavor, and a slightly fermented flavor which reminded me of the Ethiopian injera.
I also sampled the paratha (I think that was what it was-- it was like a roti) and the masala dosa--all of which were very good.
The service was speedy and efficient, the food was wonderful, and the prices were unbelievably reasonable. (In fact, I asked my friend whether I should order a few more things, b/c I couldn't believe that I could get a full meal for under $5. ) I definitely plan to go back for more.
I used to frequent Saravana Bhavan before it moved to its new location. I actually have not made it over there since it moved, but back in the day, it was one of my favorite Indian restaurants. Since it has been ages since I've been there, I can't really do a valid comparison, but I am very curious to compare this restaurant's offerings with that of Madras Cafe's. Sounds like a good impetus for a visit soon.
(Also on my list of places to check out is Vic's Chaat House in Berkeley. My friend calls it "even better than India". )
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