Swimming wild in Britain

One of the best articles I've ever seen in the Guardian.  Extraordinary writers describe their love of swimming in wild locations.

A sample (from Rachel Edwards):

I love our river. It is ours not because we live on it (we don’t), or because we covet ownership of a beauty spot, but because this water flows through our family life. Our stretch of river lies between London and Oxford; it is technically the Thames and not quite the Isis; it is a gentle roar, a rushing calm, a city-country icon that feels deeply personal.

 When I first moved to our south Oxfordshire hamlet, 16 years ago, the river’s appeal was clear: every yard of it is picture perfect. Cross the weir, past the mill house and over the lock, past the weeping willow. Walk on with fields to your right and the river to your left, fringed by greenery that is mature yet exuberant (like many of the locals) and tiny beaches where anglers sit, nodding away the dogs who come sniffing at their bait.

I go in the water whenever the mood takes me: I have dunked myself to chill out a fraught afternoon and to commune with the dawn. I have been in with boat-weary friends, my husband, and – ill-advised, of course – alone (usually an angler is within shouting distance). To have a regular routine would kill the magic for me. The impulse, like the water, must be wild and free. When I do go in, it is always in summer – I marvel at those with hardy, moon-white bodies who smear themselves in goose fat and launch into wintry seas. I will never be one of their number. Even in a heatwave I mince in, arms bent and aloft, waiting for the cold water to stun my broiling core. Waist depth is optimum; I feel freed but embraced; I think about dipping my head under for a while. No earrings, no watch, offline. I’m ready.

I emerge each time alive but more so, skin teased and tingling, braids dripping, my mind washed of dark clutter; I am, if not quite reborn, then absolved by unseen river gods for as long as the water drips down my calves. Our river restores, rewarding even the most timid dip with cool inspiration. And so, in I go.

What I thought everybody knew -- Man has baby

Today on CBC Radio's comedy show "The Debaters" was in Calgary, and much of the debate was on the desirability of building a new arena.  Big issue in that city.

One question thrown out to one of the debaters was to finish a famous quote by Montreal mayor Jean
Drapeau in his promotion of the 1972 Olympics:

"The Olympics can no more lose money than a man can have a baby."

Of course the Montreal Olympics lost millions.  And just about everyone quoted Drapeau if they had any motivation to oppose a sports boondogle.

I was surprised, then, that the Calgary crowd didn't react at all.

Of course, these were Albertans being indifferent to Quebec; and I think the Debaters appeals to a younger crowd; and by no means do I count as young.

But it is another lesson in the dangers of assuming you know that "everybody" knows what you know, even recent historical events.

Somewhere there's a village/where things turned out OK

Think of all the exotic religious beliefs you have read about.  Is it fair to say that most of them are held by people who live in exotic climes, have exotic names, speak exotic languages, perhaps even wear exotic clothes? 

But one day you have your nose rubbed in the fact  that your ordinary neighbors might be as exotic as anybody else.  Or maybe you yourself!

Above, exhibit A for a Canadian example.

I am one of those Canadians -- and there are plenty -- who is not particularly attached to hockey.  But I know enough to realize how much seriousness there is behind the humorous facade.

It's everywhere

Jousting: April 25, 2010 in Hermitage Flat, Lithgow, NSW, Australia.


Thanks to Matt Spong, Rod Walker (riding) and Sean Garrison.

Another good idea from Japan: Yukigassen

From the Weather Network:

When Canadians think about the ultimate winter sport, games like hockey come to mind. But in Japan, some people think of an organized snowball fight.

This is not your typical backyard snowball face-off. The snowballs aren't just perfect. There are 540 of them. They were made in a machine and are each 6.5 to 7 cm large.

It's part of a game called Yukigassen, which is Japanese for “snow battle.” The first tournament in North America was held in Saskatoon on Friday and Saturday.

Ready for battle

How is it played? Two teams of seven players compete. Each team has a flag, and half of the snowballs, to be used over three periods. There are two ways to win. Either eliminate all members of the opposing team by hitting them with snowballs and getting them “out” or capture the other team's flag.

Football fans of London

I know people who will enjoy this map of London showing what districts support which teams.  Click on the map for a better view, and comment away!

What I'd rather be doing...from the Big Picture

More here.

A Torontonian explains why he is supporting Cote d'Ivoire in the World Cup

"My ex-girlfriend lived there for a few months."

Neither Canada nor Trinidad (his personal heritage choice) is in it, you see.

Thanks to CBC Radio news for that one..

A fascinating article on the current bullfighting controversy in Spain

In the Guardian.

Driftglass on Mark McGwire's steroid use

The blogger Driftglass is capable of drawing amazing, well-written insights out of any aspect of American life. Here he is on Mark McGwire's admission that he was using steroids when he racked up his amazing home run records (in Major League Baseball, for those who don't know). The emphasis is mine:

Baseball is a business in which thousands of people have tens of billions of dollars at stake.

It provides a service which is entirely voluntary -- no one is forced to attend a game, watch one on teevee, listen on the radio, or read about on dead trees -- and yet, as we saw with the case of Tiger Woods, the revenues generated by this utterly unnecessary activity keep hundreds of media companies and secondary businesses solvent.

These businesses dance always on the edge of disaster -- trafficking in fickle, wispy products like yearning and nostalgia, with a public that could so very easily wake up one day and find the whole ritual too ridiculous and ridiculously expensive to play along anymore.

Like every other bubble of the last 30 years, the Home Run Bubble was a perverse outcome created by incentive structures which rewarded bad behavior, punished ethical behavior and placed a premium on secrecy and protecting corrupt institutions.

It is a lesson that we are obviously incapable of learning.

File this one under "bubbles as a general historical phenomenon."

More Buzkashi for the New Year

The Big Picture provides us with this great pic of the classic Afghan game, here being played near Kabul on December 9, 2009. Think William Marshal's 12th century melee tournaments.

Re-creation and the Olympic torch -- from The Big Picture

Top: Priestesses at Olympia light the torch.
Then: Vikings keep it burning at L'Anse aux Meadows.

Too cool.

More here. Or click on the pics.

A Big Picture of the Tour de France

... and there are more, maybe even better...

Ba' -- a wonderful account in the Washington Post

Although you can't trust a word it says about politics or international affairs, the Washington Post still occasionally has wonderful feature articles.

Sometime back near the beginning of this blog, I ran a post on the traditional Orkney game of ba' (which might go back to the Middle Ages) and at that time I read much of what was available on the Web. This article by Eli Saslow is far better than any of that earlier material, and is accompanied by a fabulous photo feature.

One question -- is Orkney so quiet in the fall and winter because so many Orcadians are in the south of Spain? Just asking.