Linked to Travel Words here.
I know the Life in Colour Pink has long since gone but I came across this photograph of an enchanting little girl who was taking part in the children’s parade in the Trinidad Festival a few ears ago when I was there. I can’t resist adding her to Life in Colour or should it be Perfect in Pink?
And then I found some more pinks so here goes:
I’d like to set the scene as Maria in Sound of Music suggests “Let’s start at the very beginning” but maybe it’s better if I tell you first that this is Hachikō, the most famous dog in Japan, and that people come from all over Japan to visit his statue in central Tokyo. We tourists also come, led by guide books and the moving story of the faithful dog who waited at the train station for his owner to return from work, every day for nearly a decade.
Hachikō was a golden brown Akita born in November 1923 in Japan’s Akita prefecture: a year later, still a puppy, he was acquired by Hidesaburō Ueno, a professor who taught at Tokyo Imperial University and lived in the Shibuya neighbourhood of the city.
The pair formed a close bond and their life became one of routine. In the morning Professor Ueno would walk to the Shibuya Station, Hachikō trotting alongside, and take the train to work. After finishing the day’s classes, he would return by train arriving at the station at 3 p.m. on the dot: there Hachikō would be waiting for him.
This continued until May 1925 when the Professor died suddenly at work, having suffered a brain haemorrhage while teaching.
Hachikō, who had come to meet his master as usual on that day, was left waiting at the station. Day after day for nigh on ten years the dog returned to the spot where he had always waited for his owner, patient and loyal despite not being welcomed by the station employees.
The loyal dog, one of only 30 purebred Akitas on record at the time, never gave up hope and although reportedly given away after his master’s death, he regularly ran off to Shibuya Station at 3 p.m. hoping to meet the Professor. Days turned into weeks, then months, then years, and still Hachikō returned to the station each day to wait.
At first, the station workers were not all that friendly to Hachikō, but his fidelity won them over and they began to bring treats for him and sometimes sat beside him to keep him company. Soon, the lone dog and his story began to draw the attention of other commuters. His presence had a great impact on the local community of Shibuya and he became something of an icon.
It is thanks to one of Professor Ueno’s former students, Hirokichi Saito, who also happened to be an expert on the Akita breed, that we know much of this story, because when he got wind of the tale he took the train to Shibuya to see for himself. When he arrived and saw Hachikō there, as usual, he followed him from the station to the home of Ueno’s former gardener, Kuzaburo Kobayashi. There, Kobayashi filled him in on the story of Hachikō’s life.
The student wrote articles about the situation at the Shibuya station one of which was published in the national daily Asahi Shimbun in 1932. The tale spread throughout Japan bringing nationwide fame to Hachikō and people then began to arrive from all over Japan to visit the dog who had become something of a good-luck charm. Many travelled great distances just to sit with him.
For the next nine years and nine months, Hachikō came to the station every day at 3.00 pm on the dot. He was found dead in the street in March 1935, the cause of death (not discovered until 2011) later found to be a cancer. His death made national headlines and after cremation, his ashes were placed next to Professor Ueno’s grave in Aoyama Cemetery in Tokyo. His fur, however, was preserved, stuffed and mounted and is now housed in the National Museum of Nature and Science in Tokyo.
The original bronze statue of Hachikō was raised from donations and erected in the exact spot where he had waited for his master for so many years but after World War ll erupted the statue was melted down for ammunitions. In 1948 however, the current statue was erected in Shibuya Station.
There is a similar statue, erected in 2004, in Odate, Hachikō’s original hometown, where it stands in front of the Akita Dog Museum.
On the 80th anniversary of Hachikō’s death, in 2015, the University of Tokyo unveiled yet another brass statue of the dog.
It took just two children in Cuba to take me back to a childhood I’d forgotten. So many years ago, when I was younger than these children. I was probably about 4 years old and trying to master the art of spinning a top, something which most people will never even have heard of. In the days when one’s birthday and Christmas were the only times when presents appeared, the spinning-top cost about a penny I suppose, the stick could be anything from a twig to a cane with a piece of thin string wrapped around it. But oh, what joy when the top – which you’d decorated with coloured chalks – spun out and around and around.
Cuba was even poorer than it is now when I visited it last, the blockade was in operation, no paint was allowed into the country as it was all owned by DuPont whose estates the Cuban government had nationalised, and for the children, spinning tops were the most fun to be had. They did however, have an good, free educational system, unlike the rest of the Caribbean.
Maybe I should add “in hope” to the title, as my screen is not showing me what I normally see when I log on to WP. It’s an all-white interface but I’ll continue just for a sentence or two and I will know when I hit publish if it’s working or not.
I made the changeover from one computer to the other with just a little difficulty – like transferring my Sonos system, which I prefer to operate from my desktop as my mobile phone is invariably in another room when I need it. Plus not all of my music made the transfer successfully. The music did but the titles didn’t and it took me some time to fix it.
I took a break from reading blogs and from blogging as I was doing this, as I decided I was spending far too much time online while books piled up on my desk and on the floor and my favourite hobby of reading was somehow being side-lined. Now that bookshops are again open, I can only see the problem increasing as I have a long list of books to check out and buy that I will really need more time for reading.
If this mini-blog works though, I will be back tomorrow, hopefully with a more sensible use of my online time – especially now that I can go out to lunch again!
Hope you’ll all enjoy the fact that lockdown has eased a lot for us, at least here in the UK. Foreign travel may still be a no-no for most of us but there is a glimmer of light at the end of that tunnel.
Well, I finally bit the bullet and bought the new computer (HP All-in-one 27″ dazzler) which, of course, had to have Win 10 and the new MS 365 so I have two new systems to get used to. The computer itself is great and I’m spending hours in the day just looking at my photographs which show up so well – even the bad ones – on this great screen. I bought it direct from HP which turned out to be the cheapest in the end as they gave me a good discount.
I haven’t read or commented on any of the people whose blogs I follow as I just haven’t had the time nor have I posted anything,. It is taking so much longer to transfer everything over than I thought it would, plus there are the everyday problems that life throws at one to contend with as well. This is sort of a round-robin apology to those whose posts I read and comment on but I will be back soon.
At least I hope so, as I haven’t managed to get WP up on the new computer. I can’t log-in because it won’t recognise my email address – which has been the same now for about 8 years – and without access to my blog I can’t do anything. I have put a query on the site but as it isn’t coming from my own blog site I don’t know how long it will take them to sort out the problem. I know it’s probably my fault – most things like this are – but I find that coping with the new machine, the new systems and having to work with the two computer screens on the desk is not helping. I could do a blog on this old computer which is still working but I have to get the other one up and running so feel I must concentrate on that.
I’ll be back.
Linked to Just One person from around the World at Cady Luck Leedy
I was reminded of this man and his 100-year-old leather glove-making shop when I read a recent post of Cady’s so I dug out my photographs and scanned them in. I have no dates on them, no details, but I know it was a long time ago. I still have the gloves I bought from him and I remember the shop so well because it was a very extravagant purchase: they are in very unserviceable colours but I’m a glove nut and just had to have them.
I can’t remember the address but I could take you there if we were in Madrid. There are a few famous glove shops in this area but this one was just a few steps away from the Puerta del Sol and the 4th generation member of the family who attended to me, told me that it moved to its current location in the early 20th century from its first location in the famous Plaza itself
See that shocking pink pair on the top shelf, and the blue ones on the right? Well, I bought those two pairs, plus a burnt orange pair and a navy and white pair – my entire spending money gone in one purchase! The orange, pink and blue gloves are still wrapped in tissue paper, still pristine, as they are not the sort of gloves you wear very often but the navy and white ones have seen a lot of service since that spend-up day in Madrid.
Why I bought them I’ll never know. I think it was just the excitement of seeing so much beautiful leather worked into gloves and, as I said, I love gloves – even if I never get to wear them. They are a bit like books to me, to have and to hold is reward enough. And can you imagine the smell of soft leather in that shop? It probably softened my brain a bit!
My burnt-orange gloves are in the middle of the bottom shelf and they fit like a dream. Soft, pliable, luxurious leather lined with silk. I like buying gloves in Spain because they stock small sizes and as I take a size 6 I find it nearly impossible to buy them in the UK.
This shop, where time seems to have stood still, retains the mirrors, the counter, the old cash register and the sewing machine – everything is the same as it was in the mid-20th century. Above all, the attention to detail, the understanding of the customer’s needs and the very personal service is what makes this place special.
When this Covid thing is over and I can return to Madrid, I will seek out this shop again and get full particulars, then come back and insert the details in this Post.
Swinburne is not one of the poets one hears much quoted today but in his time he was a force to be reckoned with as he upset the status quo being both a rebel and a radical.
Linked to Just One person from around the World at Cady Luck Leedy
We were spending a few days at the Floatel near Hellfire Pass on the River Kwai in Thailand, a peaceful sojourn in a place that was once hell for POWs of the Imperial Japanese Army during WWll. The Floatel was in a Mons village and we arrived there after a drive of about an hour from Kanchanaburi then another hour’s ride in a fast-moving longboat.
Our stay was memorable for many things, the novelty of our accommodation on a boat that swayed throughout the night as water buffaloes and elephants swam past, the noise from the monkeys in the trees around and the cold-water shower that came from a tank perched precariously on a wooden structure in our ‘bathroom’ – a curtained off partition in the bedroom where the outlet for the water was through the floorboards into the river.
But my memory of that time is of one person – the greatest football supporter I’ve ever met. It was January 24th, 1999, and Khun Lek, the waiter (who did all meals plus the bar), had to leave early that night because his team, Liverpool FC, was playing Manchester United FC. But this wasn’t just popping home to his house in the village. He was going to walk over two mountains to another valley, a lone walk that would take him approximately 5 hours with only the moon to light his way – and a head torch to help him catch some frogs as he walked! There was a satellite in the valley to which he was heading that was capable of receiving the programme and fans would gather there from miles around. After the game he would walk 5 hours back over the mountains to work
This was when I fully realised what football meant to the fans beyond Europe. The memory came back to me this week as UK fans protested against the hijacking of the game by the current owners of the top teams who are trying to cash in on this international support. These international fans, who don’t even speak the language of their favourite teams, be they Chelsea, Real Madrid, Juventas or Benfica, will do anything to watch a game: they have their favourite teams, they know each player and what position they play in, they know the managers, the coaches and the names of the stadia. (I gained Brownie points because I was able to add something to Khun Lek’s knowledge. I knew what The Kop stood for and the story fascinated him).
When he appeared, ready for his marathon walk, he was a sight to behold. It is cold on the mountains at night so over his clothes he wore a duvet and on his head he had a tightly bound scarf. Strapped around his forehead he had a torch to help guide his way but also, he told me, to catch some of the mountain frogs which were a delicacy in that part of the world. Underneath a striped tee shirt he wore his Liverpool strip and his Liverpool FC hat was in his backpack along with other paraphernalia for the game.
One meets many memorable characters on holiday but I can honestly say that Khun Lek was one of the most memorable – a happy, happy man and Liverpool’s No. 1 Fan – he told me so himself. And what was his hope for the future? To one day stand on The Kop and cheer his team. If I could grant his wish I would.
Photos above are of the Floatel and surroundings, a baby elephant foraging for food behind the kitchens, the accommodation, the bar, the local schoolroom (one room), a place for hanging out, and Mari and Thai friend Suchada at breakfast.
Unable to post at the moment because my computer keeps on crashing and giving me the Big Blue so it’s Write a Cheque Time again as I look around. I’ve been lucky (so I’ve been told) as this one has lasted nine years but I’m loathe to let it go. I have an iPad but I don’t like working on it, especially the fact that they ask you to sign in every time you log off for a minute or two. Also, I can’t make the print large enough to work on comfortably and as I have bad macular degeneration I really need my desktop.
I’m a bit shocked at how the prices have gone up. My current model has almost doubled in price, one now has to pay for Microsoft, which normally came bundled with the computer and All-in-Ones (which I want) no longer come with a CD/DVD slot on the aside – another extra.
I only have the dominant computer superstore in my area (good at selling, bad at giving unbiased advice) as all our small shops have been swallowed up but I want to buy from someone else, or even direct from the makers, but it is proving impossible to compare models as each store seems to have a different number for the models. Deliberate? To confuse the buye? Yes, I think so. In the same price range and same model and make, one offers 1TB (brilliant for photo storage) while another offers 512 MB and one has the new all-singing, all dancing NA instead of SSD – quicker it is said and “if you’re going to buy a new computer make sure it has NA” – according to a recent computer magazine article).
If anyone in the UK has any advice, I’m listening, but meantime, if I’m not around for a while, you know the reason.
Mari
Last Thursday I watched The Third Man, possibly for the 4th time, the film that in 1999 was voted by the British Film Institute to be the film of the century: I have no argument with that decision. This British film noir starring Orson Welles, Joseph Cotton, Alida Valli and Trevor Howard has attained cult classic status in many countries, with its hypnotic theme tune played on the zither by Anton Karas, its atmospheric photography and its gritty screenplay.
Directed by Carol Reed from a Graham Greene script, the real star of this 1949 film is post-war Vienna. Kim Philby, the UK’s most famous espionage agent who worked for the Russians along with Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean, had been resident in Vienna in the early thirties and it was this that gave Graham Greene the idea for the screenplay – or so it is said. Greene’s Vienna reveals the murky post-war underbelly of the city, the squalor and black-marketeering and the ambiguities of living in that world – the world of Harry Lime played by Orson Welles in the film.
It portrays a burnt out Vienna in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, a city divided into four zones governed by Britain, France, Russia and the USA, a city that created a world of criminals and black marketeers.
I found this other Vienna in a little museum hidden down a residential side-street in the Margareten neighbourhood – The Third Man Museum. The sole focus of this private exhibition which exists without sponsors and without subsidies is Carol Reed’s now-legendary film and Vienna’s pre and post-war history. It is the perfect antidote to the sugariness of Vienna’s palaces and pastries.
Gerhard Strassgschwandtner, 51, a ceramic artist and part-time city guide and his translator wife, Karin Hoefler, are responsible for this amazing collection. It is their consuming passion and they have designed the displays of 3000 original exhibits and documents and 420 cover versions of the Harry lime Theme in over fifteen rooms. Being unsubsidised they have to work at other jobs to support their passion so it is only open on Saturdays – and by appointments on other days.
Gerhard began collecting “Third Man” artifacts many years ago when he was trying to understand Vienna’s history. His idea at the beginning was to curate the history of Austria in the 1930s and 1940s, but as The Third Man encapsulates that history, the museum incorporates both Viennese history and the film. The museum is a trove of original film artifacts – from location stills and posters in foreign languages to clips of the stars and flea-market uniforms of Occupation soldiers. Dominating a corner of one room is a still functioning 1936 Ernemann 7b projection which was used when the film was first shown in Vienna and which is now used to play back a short film sequence. It was provided by Karin’s father who worked as a studio sound engineer. A whole wall is taken up with records that Anton Karas made of his moment of musical fame, including the zither with which he improvised the score as he watched the movie on the screen.
There are over 2,000 original film posters, costumes, sheet music, sound and film recordings, autographed photos, zithers, CDs, books, and numerous cover versions of the music, including one from the Beatles. It even has Little Hansel’s cap!
The entrance to the museum is at street level and after you’ve spent time there, you are escorted outside and down the street to another building which houses, among other things, Trevor Howard’s original script and the actual zither on which the haunting theme music was recorded.
But The Third Man Museum is more than a film archive. Fascinating though the exhibits are, the rooms in the basement housing pre and post-war artefacts which are less about the film and more about the period in which it is set, are just as interesting: more so to historians of the period. Here, in these rooms, the murky world of post-war Vienna with its four sectors a barrier to movement and free speech, the black marketeers and the hunger of citizens fearful of the future, are brought to life, setting the film firmly in time and place.
Revealed here are tales of the clerical dictatorship that preceded Hitler and of Vienna’s enthusiasm for Nazism. There are sections covering the early thirties when Austria was ripe for a takeover by Hitler, the days of the 1938 Anschluss and the Nazi annexation of Austria, and the reality of 1.7 million displaced persons in post-war Austria. One set of photographs shows a day in the life of a Vienna street: defended in the morning by Germans, open for shopping in the afternoon, then watching as Russians marched through at dusk.
The post-war is covered extensively by displays marking the occupation by American, British, Russian and French forces. Ration books, newspaper cuttings, photographs, and video recordings of survivors, bring this harsh period to life and as background to The Third Man it is an invaluable historical source.
Not many locals visit this museum: the dark days of the 1930’s are seldom spoken of in today’s Vienna which prefers to think of itself as the city of Strauss and strudl, waltzes and weiner schnitzel. The portrayal of the city in ruins after the war with a population mostly involved in smuggling, black marketeering, or just looking the other way, is not one that the good people of Vienna want to remember.
Gerhard was quoted in an article as saying ““Nobody teaches it in schools. The Americans invented a myth of Austrian innocence. It is not up to me to challenge that fiction. Graham Greene does it all in the film.”
You may not see the Museum listed in local guides: don’t think this is because it is not worth it. It is very much worth a good part of a Saturday spent in Vienna. On an average weekend you can still enjoy high-calorie kaffee und kuchen, spend time in palaces, churches and art galleries and nights at the opera – even take a drive through the Vienna Woods, but don’t miss The Third Man Museum.
It is closed at the moment but will open as soon as Covid subsides and things return to normal. When I visited in 2019 the entrance fee was €8.90 (€2 off with the Vienna Card) and it opened from 2.00-6.00pm on Saturdays (private visits can be arranged with the owner). Watch the website for news of opening. https://www.3mpc.net/
The Third Man Museum, Corner Pressgasse / Muehlgasse, Pressgasse 25, Vienna 1040
Tel: 0043 1568 4872 (Have the address with you. My taxi driver had to telephone for directions).
Precis of the film for anyone who hasn’t seen it.
Briefly, The Third Man is a story about writer Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) who arrives in Allied-occupied Vienna looking for his friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles). Told that Lime has been killed in a car accident he attends his funeral where Major Calloway (Trevor Howard) informs him that Lime is a criminal engaged in the blackmarket sale of essential medicines and currently wanted by the occupying army and the police. Martins refuses to believe this, and is convinced that Lime was murdered, as does Harry’s girlfriend (Alida Valli), a refugee from the Russian sector who is fearful of being returned there. In the most iconic shot of the film he sees Lime’s face illuminated in a car’s headlights and there follows a cat and mouse game played out in the sewers of Vienna when Lime is hunted down by the army and his one-time friend, Holly Martins.
For those few who may not have seen it, the American version had to be altered for USA distribution as the powers-that-be felt they weren’t shown in a very good light!
