Karavansara

East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai


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A way to keep the brain going: learning a foreign language (or five!)

The subject of languages came up in the comments section of my last post, when Floodmouse asked about my fluency in both English and Italian.
And I thought that for a blog that has the Silk Road as one of its themes, together with exotic adventure and history, then languages should be an interesting and pertinent topic. And languages have always been an interest of mine – and I learned a few, and I might have some dubious wisdom to share.

3592844F00000578-0-image-m-32_1466643151552And talking of dubious wisdom…
I can’t remember in which of the Flashman novels1, Flash Harry gives some good-natured suggestion to young men abroad in need of learning the local lingo in a haste.
Flashman’s suggestion boils down to shacking up with a local prostitute for the time needed, and do some conversation between… ehm, sessions.

 

Now I never tried that one, but I do have a few languages in my CV, and I am absolutely certain that knowing a different language (or three) is an essential life skill.
It helps us communicate with others, of course, and it provides us with the opportunity of seeing the world through other people’s eyes – by reading their books and newspapers, by listening to their songs and their radio news, by talking to them.
Practicing a foreign language is also an excellent method to keep the dust off our brain.
And it can be quite fun, if done with the proper attitude.
And indeed, the web provides a lot of opportunities for learning another language, and practicing it. Because practice is the important thing. Continue reading


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The World Poetry & Forests Day

Today is both the World Poetry Day and The World Forest Day, so it looks like the right time for doing something featuring both verses and forests.

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But I’m not so hot on poetry – a few contemporaries, some classic Japanese and Chinese poems, and then of course Poe, John Donne and that other chap, that Shakespeare.
But I found something that in my opinion fits this blog, and my current mood, and is from a great great writer that is not so popular anymore, alas: George Meredith, who gave us The Shaving of Shagpat and, of course, Diana of the Crossways.

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He was also a poet, and wrote this, which is called Forest History.
Enjoy, and happy Poetry & Forest day. Continue reading


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The Queen of the Desert

lady hester stanhope 3It’s impossible for me not to find some warmth for lady Hester Stanhope.
I was asked a few days back why I never wrote a post about her and basically, it’s because when I heard of her for the first time, she fell outside of my two main time-frames of interest – the Elizabethan era and the Victorian.
But frankly, who cares?

Tall, spirited, not beautiful, Hester Stanhope was the daughter of an eccentric inventor – the sort of guy that forces his daughter to raise turkeys because “it would improve her virtue” – who disowned her when she tried to take the defenses of her half-brother.
She was described by Lord Byron as “that dangerous thing, a female wit”.
You see where this is leading, right?
You see why I like her, too.

She took the Grand Tour in 1802 – she was 26. Women did not usually go on the Grand Tour at the time.
She went through unrequested love, family tragedy, loss and poverty.
he left England in 1810, on the suggestion of her doctor – getting away would do her good.
It did. Continue reading


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Forgotten explorer: Giacomo Bove

Paolo Conte, a jazzman from the hills of Astigianistan and therefore a neighbor of mine, in a way, wrote a song about the lure of the sea on the staid Piedmontese farmers that live in these lands. A sea that speaks of distant places that are at the same time scary and exciting. It’s called Genova per noi, and it’s not the subject of this post.
The subject of this post is a typical example of the lure of the sea on the Piedmontese peasantry in years past and, maybe, also today.

Fact is, you see, I’ve got a job, part-time and occasional: I write articles about little-known Piedmontese historical characters. Unsung heroes, adventurers, artists and explorers, people that contradicted with their example the cliché that wants the Piedmontese to be cheerless, stubborn peasants too busy working on their land to lift their gaze and watch the stars.
Here’s the story of one of my first subjects… Continue reading


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Queen of the screwballs

carole953-789x1024To some is Garbo, to some is Dietrich.
For me, when it comes to classic Hollywood beauties, the epitome of 1930s cinema, it is Carole Lombard.
What I think really got me, about Lombard, was her laughter, her being notoriously a prankster. I love funny women (because I love intelligent women, and humor is a sign of intelligence).
Anyway, I’m sure I’ve already bored you to death in the past about Lombard, but this week is special in a sad way – on the 16th it will be the 75th anniversary of the tragic air crash just east of Las Vegas that in 1942 killed 22, including Carole Lombard and her mother.
There’s some stuff coming up – a blogathon, a few posts, but while I am at it, I thought I’d do a photo gallery.
She was, after all, stunningly beautiful. Continue reading


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The Emperor of Dreams

Poet, author and artist Clark Ashton Smith was born on the 13th of January 1893, in a place called Long Valley Caldera, California.
An appreciated poet with a strong surreal and arabesque vein, he started writing and publishing weird fiction on H.P. Lovecraft’s suggestion, because he wasn’t making a living as a poet. His fiction is generally much more colorfuil and a lot sexier than HPL’s, and his macabre stories often feature a wry sense of humor.

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You can find a good selection of CAS’ works in a site devoted to the author, The Eldritch Dark. Continue reading