Muggles!

I emitted a very excited squeak (in a public place with a crowd) when I saw the 4th entry listed below in my KTdict Chinese-English iPhone dictionary.


我是麻瓜。
Or is it 我是一个麻瓜。?

I'm trying to say "I am a muggle."

I'd like to be able to say: I am a muggle, but I'd rather be a wizard.

Unfortunately, my Chinese is far too elementary.

Now I want to get a copy of Harry Potter in Chinese. (Or maybe I shouldn't. I bought a copy Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone in Spanish in high school when I was attempting to learn Spanish in my sorry excuse for a language class. I don't think I ever made it past the first few pages.)

Ooh! Maybe I'll just use my "studying Chinese" time to look up Harry Potter words. Like, how would you say pensieve? Or boggart? Or Snape? Or Blast-ended skrewt?!

And what about hobbit? Legolas? Bombadil? Fool of a Took!? Figwit?! (Though considering Figwit is a product of fangirl frenzy and not an actual written character, I doubt there's an official Chinese rendition of his name.)

What about Middle Earth?

I vote 中国.

That is, Middle Kingdom/Country.

That is, the official name of China.

Look! I'm thinking of going to Middle Kingdom/Earth this year!

Last year, I went to Middle Earth under the guise of New Zealand (hehe).

I sense a trend here.

I've been geeked. Travel geeked.

Now how do you say "Fern, get your travel-geeked butt back to work." in Chinese?

A Wild Sheep Chase, Chapter 35 ¾

Part Two of a peek into the mind of my high school self, this round via an English assignment in my sophomore year. (Part one here.) We were to write an additional chapter for a book. I chose A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami.

Now, I fully admit to being slightly kooky. I also fully admit to being a sponge. I easily absorb people's styles and writing styles. The latter absorption becomes problematic after reading authors like Faulker because my sentences grow from lengthy to unending. However, when reading a slightly kooky book like A Wild Sheep Chase--a book which I highly recommend--the absorption tendency can lead to some, well, interesting, results...

A Wild Sheep Chase

by Haruki Murakami

Translated from Japanese by Alfred Birnbaum

Chapter 35 ¾

—¶ð

Pliers That Jabber and Rap

The glaring sun seemed to have a way of hooking weights surreptitiously onto my eyelids. I looked out over the pasture through diminishing slits and it wasn’t long before my head drooped over with its heavy load.

I dreamed about the dairy cow again. Except this time, it had an uncanny resemblance to the Sheep Man. The cow still wanted pliers in exchange for the old electric fan so I ransacked the Rat’s house looking for those evasive pliers. Dust flew in little clouds around me like those hastily drawn in a comic strip. Then one of the dust clouds pulled together with a loud sucking *thwooop* and materialized into the Sheep Man. He was staggering around in circles like a drunkard because of the weight of a gigantic pair of red furry pliers. The pliers had a star on what would be its back, if pliers had backs. I started to wrestle with the Sheep Man for the pliers when a sudden spurt of efficient raps on the door made me start and loose my grip.

I opened my eyes and squinted violently at the sunbeam that fell across the door. The raps became more insistent. How is it that the manner in which one knocks on a door sounds exactly like the manner of their voices? There were deep booming door knocks that shook the foundations of the earth. Those went with the deep booming voices that blew you off your feet and onto the floor with an ungainly crash. Then there are voices and door knocks like this present jabbering rap that eats its way into every fiber of your being, annoying and aggravating every cell until the one responsible for the rapping is pacified.

A Short Little Tale Regarding the Importance of Mushrooms

A peek into the mind of my high school self (November 2003!) via a short story I wrote for English in my junior year. Unfortunately, the external harddrive on which all my pre-college work resided went and died on me, so this is one of the few digital bits that remain. Thanks to... get this... a floppy disc! It had two whole word documents on it, the second of which is titled, A Wild Sheep Chase, Chapter 35 ¾.

So why post this? For one, I like traipsing into the mind of past selves. For two, it reflects my high school concerns quite well. And, for three, threads of those high school concerns have wound their way into the present. Things evolve as time progresses, but do they really change?

Note: My high school self had a thing for mushrooms. It showed up in my nickname, in a series I did for art, and of course, this story... So, without further ado...

A Short Little Tale Regarding the Importance of Mushrooms

In a world entirely unrelated to our own, the pursuit of life is not happiness, but mushrooms. Now before you start to think of little people zooming around and snatching more mushrooms to add to the already large piles in their arms, understand this – these mushrooms are not ones you eat. It has never even so much as crossed the minds of the inhabitants of the world that mushrooms are items to be ingested. Mushrooms grow, most certainly, but not in the way you might imagine…

California = G.I. Joe, or, On Learning Chinese

There are definite advantages to learning Chinese in an English setting.

Sure, you won't get the pressure of full immersion, but for getting the basics, I do like starting in a less intense environment.

When catering to an English speaking crowd, the professor can pull examples from familiar territory to help you learn the four Chinese tones. So instead of having to remember how the tones sound from scratch, you can repeat this:

John, are you coming?
Wellll... yes!

John = tone one. __
ming = tone two. /
Well... = tone three. \/
yes! = tone four. \

Or, break out the music staff:

First tone: at the top. Second tone: start two notches down, move your voice upward. Third tone: start three notches down, move down one then raise up three. Fourth tone: start at the top, drop down four. Neutral tone: short, sweet and light at the top.

Out of everything we've learned so far, I'm mainly butchering the 'r' sound. The prof tells us it sounds like the s in television. I think it sounds more like a "zheh" oh "zhuh" with a marshmallow in your mouth.

In addition to the professor's helpful language tie-ins, you can also use other people's butcheration of the tone to help you remember words.

California in Chinese is Jiā zhōu (using 1's to indicate tone 1) and is written as follows:

(courtesy of http://chineseculture.about.com/)

Jiā is the sound that approximates the Ca syllable. Actually, the li, for, ni, and a syllables have sound twins too which brings the entire name to this monster: 加利福尼亞, or Jiā lì fú ní yà. Thank goodness it shortens to Jiā zhōu (the latter meaning state or province).

Even in its shortened form, I had trouble remembering that California = Jiā zhōu.

That is, until I sat next to a guy in class who thoroughly butchers the sounds and tones of Chinese.

When saying Jiā zhōu, he sounds entirely like a southerner saying G.I. Joe.

Try it out! Jiā zhōu. G.I. Joe.
But run the G.I. into a single syllable... G.I. Joe. Jiā zhōu.

So, thank you butcherer of tones. Because of you, I shall always remember that California = G.I. Joe.

Whatever works to learn the language, right?

Never Say Never

I am a packrat.

It takes years before I can bear to start getting rid of old school notes and assignments. Even then, it's more of a tame weeding than a complete purge.

Last year, after graduation and moving back to San Diego, I sat on my floor organizing the dead tree evidence of my Westmont academic life.

I came across my papers for Mechanics: my very last (and most painful) physics class covering Statics and Dynamics.

With a flourish, I threw the entire lot into the recycling bin.

"I'm NEVER going to need THAT again!" I crowed with delight.

Never say never.

Because I'm about to walk into the first class session of Dynamics at SDSU.

It's an entire semester full of all the material from the second half of Westmont's Mechanics class.

i.e. The hardest parts of the class.
i.e. The part that builds on the hard first section of the Westmont class for which I have no useful memories NOR any useful notes from which to jog my memory.

I threw those notes away because for all the uncertainty of my future, it was obvious to me that I would never set foot in mechanics related class again.

You think you know where life is going to take you?

Think again.

Greetings from Wally!

Merry Christmas
from Wally the extendable moose!



He brings me joy. He's also my substitute sister(s) for the day. Yay Wally!

The Perils of Geeking Out

Today's neglected todos go a little something like this:

1. Research China language studies. [top]
2. Resume Round Two. [top]
3. Send transcription resume. [top]
   
4. Water plants. [high]
5. Illustration job read up. [high]
6. Call ISIC, get refund. [medium]
   
7. Cover letter, Round One. [medium]
8. Illustration job sketches. [medium]
9. Jobs and the Joker blog. [low]
   
10. A conglomeration of other items. [low]

Several todos happily went home with check marks to validate their worth.

The rest were witnesses to the hijacking of their creator's attention by her itch to tweak and bend new technology to her will.

The culprit?

Take the scissors to the head...

"Staring at a computer screen can be hazardous to your hair. I did it all day, got really antsy, then decided to give myself a haircut. This might end very very badly. On the bright side, I can always resort to a buzz if this becomes a failure of epic proportions."

--The Facebook Status Update

Excuses excuses.

On Fern and Scott

On choosing a hostel
Fern: Not a Magic bus hostel! Book exchange!
Scott: Free soup! Free cake!

On shops that get us excited
Fern: Bookshops! Art stores!
Scott: Honey shop! Ice cream! BAKERY!

On what to do in Nelson
Fern: World of WearableArt museum!
Scott: Beer tasting! 

On hikes
Fern: Cool tree! I want a picture of it!
Scott: Cool tree! I want to climb it!

On what to do in Wanaka
Fern: Write, read, sit… coffee shop!
Scott: Climb Mt. Roy on steep 5 hr hike!

On walk in the dark to find glow worms
Fern: This is creepy. I want light.
Scott: It'd be awesome if we ran into a velicoraptor right now.

On Lake Wanaka
Fern: Mmm, look at that COLOR! *mental freakout* It's so BLUE!
Scott: Nessie, ooh, no, orca whale man, rising from the depths to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting township! Bwahahahaaa

On the big dinosaur slide in the park
Fern: Wheee!
Scott: Slide!

And we take turns sliding down, giddy with glee

Things that bring me joy!

• Bunny butts (that is, the flash of their white tails as they hop around)
• A patch of blue sky and the sudden emergence of sunlight after constant clouds and rain
• Seeing Ferns in company names and logos everywhere in NZ
• Meaningful connections with strangers no matter how brief
• Separating from the Magic Bus by means of a different hostel or taking the Intercity bus instead
• Sheepies and lamblets!
• Gorgeous landscapes stretching out below you in the light of a sunset
• Light!
  
• Unexpectedly finding a lovely handmade blank journal in an artist's co-op shop when the previous journal is down to its last page.
• Eavesdropping. Hehe.
• Baaing at sheep, barking at dogs, quacking at ducks, clucking at chickens, mooing at cows
• Quirky hostels like the Funky Green Voyager (Rotorua), The Green Monkey (Nelson), and Wanaka Bakpaka (Wanaka)
• Fish and chips ice cream. That is, chocolate fish and chocolate chips
• Reverting to childhood joys by giddily running up the dinosaur's tail and sliding gleefully down its neck.
• Little kids with Kiwi accents
  
• A resurgence of energy and creativity after much needed downtime and solitude

Fern Speak.

In other words, what a few packed days and poor-sleep nights produce. This is a sampling of what I said over the course of our lunch stop:


So today I'm more...
Words failing oh wait
Yeah, that is- I'm done.

Well, I think it's just
Or maybe- ngaaaaagh!!

I'm done.

I've been recently being-
*giggle!*
It's just not working.


May Scott be blessed by a babel fish to stick in his ear to translate Fern Speak for him.

Tutu, two-two, 22!

It is officially my birthday. Based on time-span, that is. Based on date, however, yesterday was my birthday. I spent most of it on a bus between Opononi and Auckland.

But at one stop, I got to laugh at hungry cows!

The gal in the picture is from Germany but is nannying in Auckland. We met her and her friend last week on the bus out of Auckland. They stayed in Paihia while we traveled on to Opononi. Reunited on the bus back to Auckland, they surprised me by remembering my birthday and singing to me in the morning! They couldn't remember my name, but hey, I'm far more impressed with them remembering my birthday.

Back in Auckland at night, I said the line that will go down as one of the most ridiculous things I've ever said to Scott:

"Thanks for my bastard!"

Yes, Scott gave me a bastard for my birthday.

That is, a Bastard Burger from BurgerFuel in downtown Auckland. A deeelicious Bastard Burger stuffed with 1/3 Pound ground beef, melted cheddar, beetroot, mango, avocado, bacon, salad, relish, and aioli.

The burger is even more massive than the picture shows... I'd already eaten 1/4 of it before caving into my tourist-taking-pictures-of-everything desires.

I feel odd saying I'm 22. Still young--very young--but somehow more dignified-sounding than 21, if any age in the 20s can be considered dignified!

Oh, what the hey am I talking about. I'm still young and undignified. Heehee!

On clouds and bladders, Round Two

(Round one from a year ago: On clouds and bladders)

I had no say in the matter this time.

Qantas only allows you to state whether you prefer clouds or bladders. (That is, window or aisle for those who just visited confusion.)

I'm all about the clouds. Ahem, I prefer clouds. Er, window. But, it was bladder that was assigned.

A disappointment at first, to be sure, especially when the gal who scored clouds promptly chose sleep in lieu of sprawling LA lights.

But as the flight progressed, the bladder did protest once... twice... thrice... But only mildly before the aisle seat proved it's worth and prevented mild protests from growing into full-scale rebellions.

I'm beginning to grow fond of this bladder seat. But to willingly choose bladder over clouds?

It feels like the day I started pairing my socks rather than wearing them gloriously mismatched. It feels like the day I stopped using goofy voicemail messages.

Oh wait, my name is currently recorded as "Fern, like a plant."

Fine. It feels like the gradual decrease in the goofiness of my voicemail messages.

In other words, a slow loss of a playful, impractical spirit. In other words, growing up.

That's depressing.

Where's Peter Pan when you need him? He doesn't have to choose between clouds and bladders. He can fly!

On Socks

I'm sitting in LAX, waiting for my flight to Auckland, and all I can think about is a pair of socks. A pair of fluffy, warm socks.

Flights can be chilly. And since my feet have mimicked my personality in liking freedom and wiggle room, I kindly outfitted them with a pair of flip flops. A nice pair of cool, breezy flip flops.

And now my toes are chilly and have nowhere to hide.

I feel a bit like Arthur Dent without a towel. Samwise Gamgee without his rope. Maybe we'll visit Lothlorien (whose river scenes were filmed in Fernside, New Zealand) and Galadriel will give me a pair of socks. Magic elven socks!

Come to think of it, I don't even have real rope or a real towel. My towel is a tiny speck of quick dry REI goodness. Not a fluffy wrap yourself like a burrito towel. My rope- well, I have a twisted clothesline, sewing thread and floss.

And my socks? Stuck with my speck of a towel and rope excuses in my check-in luggage.

Oh, how I miss thee fluffy warm socks! How it won't be the same when we are reunited 13 whole hours from now! For I will have closed toed shoes then and your warming properties will no longer be needed. In fact, my feet will scorn you for the extra layer of confinement you will then provide.

But for now, and for the next thirteen hours, I and my feet will miss you.

On Clouds and Bladders

27Aug--LAX--Minneapolis/St. Paul--12:10p--5:46p--42F
27Aug--Minneapolis/St. Paul--Amsterdam--7:35p--10:55a--33A
28Aug--Amsterdam--Rome (Fiumicino)--1:40p--3:55p--21F

I specifically picked window seats on each of my flights. Just my luck, the window of seat 42F is dirty and slightly maimed. I guess seatguru.com doesn't cater to stare-out-the-window-and-don't-care-about-leg-room-(yay shorties!) people. So I'm left, camera in hand, craning my neck backwards to make use of the very clean and clear window behind me.

I like windows.

And clouds...

Whipped cream, cotton balls, melded dippin' dots, towers, an occasional teddy bear or crocodile… you get the idea. And when the light shines in such a way to make the clouds bright white with a golden glow on the edges, I could easily be convinced that angelic type beings live up here.

One of my favorite moments (I'm enjoying the moments, Mooder!) is when it's blindingly bright and sunny and a thick layer of clouds stretches endlessly underneath us... no breaks or holes to hint at the existence of the real world below.

Then, descent.

I wonder if these clouds will be nice to us and let us pass through without stomach dropping turbulence?

I personify everything.

We break through the bottom of the cloud layer to find that the world still exists below. The contrast is startling-- this world is darker with an entirely different quality of light, filtered through the thick layer of clouds. Less pure but more interesting perhaps?

Then.

Oh dear.

My bladder doth protest.

And there's an hour left. And standing (erm, well, sitting) between me and the restroom are two people, both absorbed in their own worlds either napping or reading, with half-filled cups and wrappers sitting mockingly on their open trays.

I hate disturbing people unless absolutely necessary. I declare this not 100% necessary. Hear that bladder? NOT 100% necessary!! An hour to go... my bladder can handle this...

Except for the extra delay in landing due to turbulence.

Stupid clouds. How quickly they turn from imagination sparkers to bladder killers.

Then the endless taxiing.

Then the sitting--far from the gate--because another plane is now sitting at our gate. Freaking window seat! Once a portal to another world, now a portal to the emergency room because of bladder, erm, burstage.

Then at the gate... waiting for all the people in the 41 rows in front of me to get a move on. Yeah, I picked seat 42F because, you guessed it, I wanted a window seat.

Beauty out the window or practicality in an aisle seat for my ridiculously tiny bladder?

The answer came toward the end of the 8 hour flight that brought me over the Atlantic to Amsterdam. Out the window lay my first view of European soil (since 2003, that is) laid out in the form of the coast of the Netherlands. The clouds are above, the waves are crashing below...

The view is gorgeous.

The window seats were worth it.

And my bladder can totally deal with it.

On felcearto

Fern is in Italy so it's only fitting that the title of this blog should be fern lim(b) in Italian. And fittingly, arto (limb) looks surprisingly like the English word art, which is, of course, what Felce (Fern) is here in Italy for. Clear as mud?

I make no promises to the frequency of updates or consistency of style on this blog nor do I make any promises regarding the interesting-ness or informative-ness of it. It's just another record of my semester abroad… except that it can be accessed by anyone. Ah, how creepy thou art, oh internet!

Currently in: Cortona.
Have been in: Rome, Viterbo, Florence
Will be in: Who knows? I'm open to suggestions…

The internet here is spotty. Like a dalmation. Hence the post to come on clouds and bladders whose events actually occurred a week and a half ago.

Blame the dalmation.