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Windsbird: Footprints around the world

Hong Kong edition

Bethany Beyond Jordan

View of the promised land seen from Mt. Nebo

We had to drive up and down a small mountain to get to Bethany-Beyond-Jordan from Mt. Nebo. It was all desert, without much to see but rocks, sand, and more rocks. I never knew barren land could be so beautiful, and the experience was made much more surreal when the taxi driver played PSY’s Gangnam style from his MP3 Player. What a strange juxtaposition.

We got to the Bethany-Beyond-Jordan, only to find it closed 7 minutes ago.  Apparently you would have to take a shuttle bus for 10 minutes from the ticket office, and need a guide accompanying you in the site. Unfortunately all the drivers have now gone home – the ticket officer tells me.

The taxi driver steps in and has a slightly heated conversation with the ticket officer in Arabic. The only words I can understand is ‘Korea! Korea!’. I guess he’s telling him that I’m all the way from Korea. I actually live in the UK but keep my mouth shut.

Finally the ticket officer gives in and makes a phone call to make a special arrangement with the security soldiers to let our taxi into the site (security is tight near the Bethany Beyond Jordan because it is right next to the border with Israel), and a tall man comes with us to show me around the site.  I smile and thank him for his time, but he just walks past me without making any eye contact. At  that time I thought he was angry at me for the trouble I caused, but now I think he was being a little shy.

I was expecting the site to be a small shrine near the River Jordan, taking about 10 minutes to have a look. It turns it is quite a trek, following a little foot path amidst dried up trees and grass. The guide doesn’t speak much English so our conversations were made up of short simple words. ‘Church, Catholic’. He points to one church. ‘Church, Orthodox’. He points to another church.

The site has a number of significant places such as Tell Elias (where Elijah is said to have ascended to heaven) and a hermit cave, but they all seem to be closed and I couldn’t ask him to take me to those places, as I was feeling already too bad for taking up his time.  The actual baptism site is also made up of several ruins, and my Lonely Planet book wasn’t very clear which ruin was which. It was slightly disappointing that I only get a brief glimpse of the place that holds such a personal significance, but at the same time I was grateful that I got to have a look at the site at all.

The guide teaches me a few Arabic words, and that’s what we keep on saying throughout our 45 minute walk around the site.

‘Yallah (Come)’. ‘Tamam! (Good!)’. ‘Shukran (Thank you)’.

After the tour, we get into our taxi to come back to where the information centre is. The taxi guide gets out the car with a brief goodbye, without even hinting for a tip. I hurriedly follow after him and shake his hand with a very sincere ‘Shukran’.

DAY 2: Thursday, 19 Sept 2013

Conversations in Madaba: “If I was much younger, I do you”

Today’s plan was rather an ambitious one, covering Madaba, Mt. Nebo and Bethany-Beyond-Jordan, all of which an hour’s distance away from each other. The public transport only operates between Amman and Madaba, so I was expecting to spend a hefty amount of my budget on taxis.

The first stop was Madaba, famous for it’s Byzantine mosaics. It felt a bit too small to be called a city, but still had the energy and vibrancy that I much preferred than the hectic Amman. The town of Madaba was once a Moabite border city, mentioned in the Bible in Numbers 21:30 and Joshua 13:9. It also has the largest Christian community in Jordan, and I could see many women walking on the streets without wearing a headscarf.

I decided to follow the walking tour of the town suggested in my Lonely Planet travel book which should last about  3 hours, which would give me plenty of time to visit other biblical sites near Madaba.

 

After making a brief stop to watch a sand bottle being made, I started walking along what is known as the Tourist Street, filled with souvenir shops for tourists. Every single shop I pass by, the shop keepers tried to lure me into their shops, all of which I politely refused and walked on…until I reached a spacious shop called ‘Peace’ which seemed to deal with more high-end products. A man came out and greeted me with a big friendly smile, and to my surprise, a couple of young men nearby greeted me in Korean! He invited me for Bedouin tea and I could not refuse it.

His name was Menwer, and he used to work at the airport in catering. The shop he was working now was owned by his nephew.

It must have been a low-season for Madaba at this time of the year, as there were hardly any tourists in the town, which meant I could ask him as many questions about Jordan as I liked without having to worry about me disrupting his business.

Menwer at the 'Peace' shop

Conversing with someone from different culture and language can be an amusing experience, with interesting metaphors and unusual figures of speech.

“Are you married?”, he asks me.

“No.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Oh! Why not marry?? If I was much, much younger, I do you!”

 

I ask him around what age Jordanian girls get married, and he answers that it’s around 20 to 23.

“It seems so young!” I say.

“Women are like apples. When they are young, when ripe, they are nice and delicious. When the time goes, not so good. You have to have them when they are good”, and he makes a ‘yuck’ face.

I scream at him jokingly and we both laugh, and do a high five.

 

Spending time with Menwer set me back against my schedule, so I hurried through my walking tour. All key sites were very small and not very time consuming, but I got lost a few times with my pretty much non-existent navigating skills.

There were many taxis on the main street of Madaba but I decided to go back to Menwer to arrange a taxi for me. I felt I could get a more trustworthy taxi fare if it was through him.  Next stop, Mt. Nebo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘The Crazy Girl’

IMG_1598The hostel I book is located on the first floor of a building, and as I reach the staircase a man out of nowhere appears and helps me up with the luggage. As he walks behind me, I keep glancing back, paranoid that he may run off with my bag – unbeknown to me that he would later become one of those people that I find the hardest to say goodbye to in Jordan.

My dorm has three beds and everything in it has a yellow tinge to it. The window is facing another hotel just about 6 meters opposite from my hostel, and a few men are sitting on the balcony looking into our room.

I’m glad to find another Asian girl in the dorm – a Chinese girl with a boyish haircut. I spend the whole evening with her and am slightly taken back by her VERY carefree attitude. When a few men try to talk to us on the high street, she gives them her middle finger. With a shop assistant she finds cute, she flirts with him outrageously and insists on seeing her outside his work hours, despite him saying no to it rather firmly. In the hotel lounge she sits with her feet up on the sofa and legs wide open. When a female staff whispers to her that it maybe better to sit in another position, she just doesn’t get why she should. Back in our dorm, she roams around our room just in a T-shirt and her knickers. It’s all fine between us girls, but the problem is, the window is still wide open and the men on the balcony are still looking in – with a lot more intensity, naturally.

‘Perhaps she isn’t so informed of the Muslim culture here’, I think to myself. Her eccentricity has earned her a nickname of ‘The Crazy Girl’ among the people at the hostel, and I continued to meet other travellers who had stories to tell of this girl in other parts of Jordan.

DAY 1: Wednesday, 18 Sept 2013

Amman

Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/104035608@N03/

First day in Amman

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After landing at the Queen Alia International Airport in Jordan I take a bus towards downtown Amman.  I had to wait for about 40 minutes for it to take off, but the bus fare only costs 3.250 JD whereas a taxi costs about 20 JD.

I get off at 7th circle as advised by the information desk at the airport, but it turns out to be an incorrect advice as I end up taking a taxi into downtown anyway.

The roads here are absolutely hectic. There are no lanes and cars honk all the time, not as a sign of aggressiveness but simply to let others know of their presence to minimise any crashes or accidents.

The young taxi driver and I chat easily during our 30 minute drive, but when I hand him 10 JD note at arrival, he claims he does not have any change on him and insist I just give him 10 JD. I find it hard to believe that he doesn’t have any change on him, and I remind him that we agreed on 7 JD. I handed him a 5 JD note and all the coins I have in my purse which comes up to the total of 6.750 JD, but he is still pissed off at me.  I don’t like how his smiles quickly turn sour at the mere 750 fils.

My hotel is just a few meters across the street from where I got off the taxi, but it takes ages for me to cross. I’m too scared of the unruly traffic and they don’t show any sign of stopping just for me. The trick is slowly start crossing anyway, and then the drivers will stop, but this is something I learn a few days later.

I’m annoyed, tired, and feel intimidated by all the stares from locals.  Perhaps choosing to travel in such an unfamiliar country by myself wasn’t such a good idea. I start to dread 11 more days to come.

 

DAY 1: Wednesday, 18 Sept 2013

Amman

What to do with 12 days

I get 4 days of annual leave at work. And I have to take it at the same time as my boss. It’s the downside of working in journalism in a foreign bureau.

But this year, I managed to extend it to 12 days and I was determined to make the most of it. I was getting so tired of all my goals for the year 2013 being utterly unfulfilled and a distraction wouldn’t hurt.

I sat on the edge of my bed one night and flicked through ‘1000 Ultimate Experiences’ published by Lonely planet, which lists top sites around the world into different categories. ‘Ultimate City Breaks’, ‘Best Places to Experience Music’, ‘Ultimate Sailing Trips’.. I  arrive on the chapter ‘Most Surreal Landscapes’ and google flight prices for each destinations to see which is the cheapest. Jordan it is. Wadi Rum, here I come.

 

 

 

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival: A Romance Review

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As we, the audience, enter the small room set with tiers of elevated rows of chairs, we walk into the scene of maidservants in 1600s Korea, busy preparing for the wedding of their beloved mistress and her mother dressing her.

As the bride-to-be picks up a fairytale book to read to her illiterate maids as they get on with their sewing, we also get sucked into this delightful art of storytelling using Korean traditional music, percussion and shadows on the wall. The love story of the book and the personal history of each women in the room are interwoven delicately and seamlessly, and the brilliance of the cast switching from one character to the next is a joy to watch.

Apart from having to move your eyes constantly from the subtitle on the left wall to the stage area in order to understand the narrative, it is a beautiful piece of theatre that I would gladly watch over and over again.

The Edinburgh Festival Fringe: Airnadette Review

airnadetteAll I have been told about the show by the press officer is that it is a mime – naturally, I was expecting actors in black costume doing….er… mime.

It is actually a compact version of a jukebox musical, with performers lip synching to snippets from well known films and pop songs the entire show. The result is a  slapstick comedy with a very loose plot of no significance.

Right from the beginning I was struggling to see the appeal of the show, with six all-equally-annoying characters with their stupid, brash not-that-funny jokes. Just as you start to enjoy the song they are singing, they will switch to another. Or play series of quotes from different films so fast that all I am thinking is ‘huh??’

It may work well as a clever skit, but a whole hour of this have been a pure torture.

Perkin Warbeck, the Imposter: was he or wasn’t he?

Perkin_WarbeckIn 1491, a man from Tournai working for a Breton merchant arrives in Cork, Ireland. He has previously served as a servant in a number of households and he barely speaks any English.

Over the next six years, he is publicly recognised as one of the lost Princes in the Tower, Richard of Shrewsbury by many of the European rulers, including the aunt of the lost Princes, Margret of York. He attempts to invade England three times claiming himself to be the rightful heir to the throne, and is finally executed under the order of the King Henry VII.

The true identity of Perkin Warbeck still remains a mystery and his story can be found in abundance in many websites and blog posts. Rather than reciting his biography once again here, I would like to explore the people and the sketchy evidences surrounding this fascinating character.

The Confession of Perkin Warbeck

Let us start from the confession Warbeck made when he was held captive by Henry VII. In this version of the story, he is born to a poor man in Flanders called Jehan de Werbecque and his wife Katherine de Faro.  After being employed as  a boy servant in various places, he eventually ends up with a Breton merchant, Pregent Meno, with whom he travels to Ireland in 1485. Upon seeing this young boy dressed in silk, the people of Ireland believed him to be either Edward, the son of George Duke of Clarence, or the bastard son of Richard III. Warbeck had denied being either of the two but eventually agreed to accept ‘the honour as a member of the Royal House of York’.

The full authenticity of this story is very much doubted, as this confession was procured after interrogation and there is a possibility of Warbeck lying in order to cover his tracks and thus escape a death penalty. Henry’s own historians certainly did not believe this story, nor the historians that followed them several centuries afterwards.

It is incredibly difficult to research the Warbecque family, as the Tournai archives were destroyed by a bombing in a war. However, the names of his father and other relations mentioned in the confession have been found in the municipal records of Tournai, and the official description of them is in line with Warbeck’s statements.

Margaret of York

Being the sister of the previous King, Edward IV, she was the main supporter of the Yorkist exiles and an enemy of Henry VII. It is reported that it was her who brought Perkin Warbeck to her palace and instructed him in the ways of the Yorkist court, effectively grooming him to be the Prince Richard.  She described to him the features and peculiarities of his supposed father, Edward IV and his mother, Elizabeth Woodville; and informed him of the circumstances relating to the family history. Warbeck was then dispatched to Portugal under the care of Lady Brampton, awaiting for the right time for his presentation to the English people.

Her role in the rise of Warbeck has been tremendously significant, and perhaps it was due to her influence that he could be welcomed by various other monarchs such as King Maximilian.

Ireland

If Margaret of York, also known as the Duchess of Burgundy, did prepare Warbeck to be the imposter, it then raises a speculation that perhaps his appearance in Ireland was strategic. Even under the reign of Henry VII, Ireland continued to be a stronghold for York, and the place already had a history of backing another imposter, Lambert Simnel, who claimed to be the Earl of Warwick, the son of George the Duke of Clarence.  Many of them were ready to jump at a chance to advance the Yorkist cause and Warbeck provided just that.

This would also explain some of the questions raised from the story Warbeck provided King Henry VII. For example, the Patent Roll entries of Cork records that Meno traded in raw fleeces, not silk. In fact there were no silk markets in Ireland at all! So why was Warbeck in silk? If he could not speak English when he arrived in Cork, how did they communicate their insistence in Warbeck being one of the claimants to the throne?

King of France, Charles

There is a record of a Yorkist refugee, John Taylor, being in charge of a small fleet on the dockside in Cork. it was paid for by the King of France (who was one of the European rulers who supported the claim of Warbeck) and was equipped  with a suit of precious white armour, awaiting for the arrival of a Yorkist prince. This suggests that the King of France already knew about the arrival of Warbeck and the claim he brought with.

Warbeck does mention the “French King” a few times on his scaffold, but not in a specific way that would incriminate him.

Sir Edward Brampton

This Portuguese adventurer and an old Yorkist servant provides us with another version of Warbeck’s arrival in Ireland. According to him, Warbeck had spent several years learning the organ in Tournai. Eventually he had run away to Brampton’s wife’s household and eventually served under a knight for four years in Portugal (Warbeck stated that he was in Portugal for a year in his confession).  Then he took a ship to Ireland and dressed himself in the silk robes that he had worn at the court of Portugal. At this princely sight, people in Ireland immediately began to follow him.

Brampton’s account is very similar to the confession of Warbeck in a sense that there are no intermediaries promoting Warbeck’s pretence for political reasons, but Warbeck was acting on his own account.  We should note, however, that Sir Brampton was a famous boaster and his stories may include some exaggeration or fictional additives.

Henry VII & Elizabeth of York

Elizabeth of York was not permitted to have any contact with Perkin – I find this very strange as being the very sister of Prince Richard, she would have been the perfect person to validate or invalidate Warbeck’s claim. Was Henry VII trying to supress the true identity of Perkin in order to preserve his own crown?

If this was the case, then why did he pardon Warbeck’s life when he was first captured?

The general consensus is that Perkin Warbeck was an imposter afterall, rather than being the actual Duke of York. However, these various accounts and snippets of evidences shed an interesting light to the confession of Warbeck.  A prince he may not have been, but with him lay a powerful sponsorship which Henry VII was keen to conceal.

Further reading:

Following publications are available for further studies on Perkin Warbeck:

Richard of England by Diana Kleyn

Perkin: A Story of Deception by Jonathan Cape

Uncertain Past of Perkin Warbeck’ on Historynet.com (http://www.historynet.com/uncertain-past-of-perkin-warbeck-march-93-british-heritage-feature.htm)

Mary Shelly, the author of Frankenstein, has also written about Perbeck: ‘The Fortunes of Perkin warbeck’. 

Channel 4 has broadcasted a drama depicting an interrogation of Warbeck: ‘The Princes in the Tower’ http://www.channel4.com/programmes/princes-in-the-tower/4od)

Vermeer and Music: The Art of Love and Leisure Exhibition Review

971878_10151807454747442_784324501_nAt  the Sainsbury Wing of the National Gallery is my most anticipated exhibition of the year: “Vermeer and Music: The Art of Love and Leisure”.

Based mostly on artworks in its own collection, we are given a glimpse into the 17th century Dutch paintings and the association tied to the period’s popular theme, music.  Alongside it are displayed musical instruments and songbooks of the time, such as harpsichord and violin, as if they have popped out of the paintings themselves.

Room One, ‘Music as Attribute and Allegory’ is mostly of still lifes where music stands as a symbol for transience of life. It also indicates an intellectual status of the sitter of the portrait, someone of a good taste and education.

In Room Two,  ‘Musical Companies and Festive Gatherings’, we see how music was an integral part of Dutch society, with everyone participating in making music in their everyday lives. Music is what brings harmony.

As beautifully captured by Jan Steen’s “A Young Woman Playing a Harpsichord to a Young Man”, Room Three, ‘Intimate Duet’ is all about subtle sensuality music brought and the relationship between characters behind the ‘innocent’ playing of the instruments.

The highlight is, of course, is the final room ‘Vermeer and Solo Musicians’.  It is a little disheartening that there are only five paintings of Johannes Vermeer out of 35 artworks in the exhibition, but nonetheless, having ‘The Guitar Player’, ‘A Young Woman standing at a Virginal’,  and ‘A Young Woman Seated at a Virginal’ displayed on the same wall is just simply paralysingly beautiful.

‘The Guitar Player’ is the most captivating of all – the sense of tranquillity is highlighted by the empty wall on left side of the sitter which takes up almost half of the entire canvas, as if to intensify the sound of the chord which has been just strung on the guitar.

The exhibition ends with a closer look at Vermeer’s techniques, delving into his brush strokes, use of colours and paint thickness. You can also see magnified photographs of fingerprints found in some of his paintings.

Live music is played by the members of the Academy of Ancient Music at  dedicated times, which is a treat to have at the background while looking,  but perhaps not worth queuing for 20 minutes for a seated performance.

Overall, it is a pleasant exhibition that includes artworks by Jan Steen, Peiter de Hooch and Gerardter Broch. Having to pay £7 to see what is mostly already part of the National Gallery’s collection felt like a bit of a rip off, but the five breathtaking paintings by Johannes Vermeer made me content enough.

 

The exhibition runs until 8 September 2013.

 

 

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