Friday 6 December 2013

A phrasal verb : to face up

THE MAN IN THE ARENA

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. 


 Excerpt from the speech "Citizenship In  A Republic"
                                          delivered at the Sorbonne, in Paris, France on 23 April, 1910 


Theodor Roosevelt

     Remember these clever words next Tuesday, when we'll be facing up the CAE exam 

alucina, vecina

El ex presidente e histórico líder contra el régimen del...


"Alucina, vecina"
     Sorry. I'm conscious that our blogs must be in English. Anyway, I couldn't find an English expression to express my surprise . This morning , when I listened to the news in the radio I  was taken by surprise. Needless to say that Nelson Mandela was very old and he was also ill, but ...Did Emilio know that he was just on the point of dying? What is more, I wonder if Emilio is in the power of knowing what is going to happen. Don't dare to refute my thesis! Yesterday we had a very interesting debate about races and racism, we were talking about its causes and possible solutions. We finished our lesson a bit later than usual, JUST WHEN NELSON MANDELA PASSED AWAY!  This morning, when I heard that he died at 8:40...I thought "Alucina, vecina".
     I know that we are very busy but I would like you to think on the comment of somebody about this singular man: "The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fears"

Monday 2 December 2013

THE HARVESTMAN
DADDY-LONGLEGS

Brown Harvestman, photo by Michael Suttkus

     In many backyards the most conspicuous "spider" isn't a spider at all. This is the Daddy-longlegs, also known as the Harvestman. They are called Harvestmen because they are more visible in autumn, at harvest time! They are arachnids of the order Opiliones, this means that they are related to spiders, but they are neither spiders nor poisonous.
     Gordon Ramel, an associate Professor of English at Huai'an Normal University (China), has written...

The harvestman is not a spider,
       she has no poison glands inside her.
    No fangs, no web, no spinnerets.
   She's sweet and gentle as it gets.
     Unless you're dead, or awful small
 she cannot hurt you much at all.
 So love her if you chance to see
 her in the foorest's wild beauty;
    although her legs are thin and long
      she' still a part of Life's great song  

Thursday 21 November 2013



POSITIVE -THINKING

" Get going. Move forward. Aim high. Plan a takeoff. Don't just sit on the runway and hope someone will come along and push the airplane. It simply won't happen. Change your attitude and gain some altitude. Believe me, you'll love it up here".
  Donald Trump.

Friday 15 November 2013

     James Mercer Langston Hughes (February 1, 1902 - May 22, 1967) was an American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, translator and columnist. He was one of the earliest innovators of the, then, new literary art form called Jazz Poetry. Hughes is best known as a leader of the Harlem Renaissance. He famously wrote about the period when  "the negro was in vogue" , which was  later paraphrased as "when Harlem was in vogue".

     When I watched Robert Kennedy's speech and saw how much he wished a reconciliation between the races and how he appealed to blacks in such a difficult moment of American history, I immediately thought about this black American poet. This is one of his poems and I'd like you to read it. In my opinion it is so pure and simple that manages to express beautifully how intolerance can hurt honest human beings...

I, TOO

I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When the company comes.
But, I laugh.
An'eat well.
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll sit at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me:
"Eat in the kitchen"
Then,
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed.

I, too, am America.

Wednesday 6 November 2013

The wedding

     OVERTURE

     The Wedding March by Mendelsohn was filling the air in the cathedral, spiraling among the old wooden pews and suggesting a colour tide of headdresses and hats which moved in excitement in view of the impressive image of the bride. She advanced slowly, taking the arm of her proud best man. In the meanwhile, an impatient, broad shouldered groom was waiting for her, inexplicably with his back turned. The bride's dress long train was trailing along the aisle old marble tiles.
     It was a high society wedding day. The aristocratic father was going along the central nave leading her daughter to the high altar. The altar piece was extremely beautiful, profusely decorated by ornate detail. Suspended from the dome, several pouncing angels complemented a magnificent baroque sorrow Christ who presided the holly place.
     Suddenly, the groom turned over, smiling at his fiancée in ecstasy. Then, my head became a closed, hermetic auditorium where the only prevailing sound was the echo of the Mendelsohn's Wedding March. My brain hurt, my soul broke, my heart ripped in a total confusion, a puffy cloud of meaningless questions, a huge maze of mysteries.
     About to collapse, I clutched my mother's hand. Stunned, she could not understand that incongrous situation. My nostrils were filled with the sickly-sweet scent of white lilies and incense. I started to whisper..."That can't be!" "That's impossible!".
     The priest was preaching on the Proverbs 31:10 " A wife of noble character, who can find? She is worth far more than rubies", he said. A lady in front of me was wearing a pair of valuable red rubies earrings. "Proverbs 31:10, Proverbs 31:10", I whispered untiringly.
     My mother was perceiving my trembling but could not understand what was happening.

INTERMEZZO

     Two weeks before, at the end of April, I had been talking to my fiancé. Overwhelmed by our future wedding, I felt anxious about my wedding dress.
" At the beginning of May there will be a fabulous fairytale wedding in the cathedral. Why don't you go and inspire yourself on her gown? As there will be thousands of guests nobody will notice that you are not one of them", suggested my future husband.

FINALE

     Pachebel's Canon in D had been the melody chosen to accompany the couple after the ceremony. Slowly, they were covering, arm in arm, the distance that separated them from the way out. No sooner had the groom stepped close to me, than I took off one of my stiletto heel shoes and struck him wildly on the head.
     Inert, he still had time to glance at me, startled by my mad gaze, and while his empty look vanished, he collapsed in a heap.

Tuesday 5 November 2013

More about travellers and tourists

     "El Faro" is a weekly newspaper that now just exists as a digital publication. However, for many years was a reference for people who lived in Motril and its district. Its first edition was in 1929 and most of the news was based on local happenings, being the social events the most popular at the time. 
     Weddings, obituaries, engagements and light pieces of information were the favourite among the citizens who, on the other hand, couldn't expect much more due to the inflexible censure. Just a few of them had access to the "global" world that we currently know. Thus, a trip was quite an affair that this newspaper
exploited to entertain its readers (needless to say that most of them were subscribed to it).
    After the Spanish Civil War, everybody was trying to come back to a standard life. "El Faro" also managed to find happy news. A young lady, from a worthy family, went to Madrid to visit the capital city and also to increase her cultural background. A whole article was devoted to explain the trip:

    " The charming lady X, elder daughter of the family X ,is travelling to the capital city of our country, we hope she will have a nice stay,etc...",

     When she came back, everybody was interested in knowing about her stay. Somebody asked her,"And the Escorial?" and she said reluctanctly..." Well, an Escorial as every other Escorial".

        

Thursday 31 October 2013

la foto.PNGla foto.PNGla foto.PNG

     I have been missed for some days. My flat mates have been around looking for me and  I have finally returned home. The thing is that I have now a lot of unsettled work...C1 is so demanding! Anyway, as you can see from the picture I'm devoted to be up to day. To start with I would like you to read this beautiful poem on Leisure, it wasn't me...it was someone else...William Henry Davies (1871-1940)

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to satand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And whatch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Beautiful, isn't it? And there is also a song that I would like to share with you. I love not only the music, which is very pretty, but also the lyrics.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lG3nXyI41M

Thursday 24 October 2013

I'm so embarrassed!

awful mistake with my "enigma"

     I suppose that those of yoy who DO have a mathematical mind have already noticed that my way of setting out the problem was wrong ( needless to say that I haven't got a mathematical mind). I'm very sorry. Let's begin again: The pen cost 1,00 E more than the paper and the total amount was 1,10 €. How much did the pen cost?

Wednesday 23 October 2013

An exercise of narrative

     It was a hot,dull August afternoon. There was absolute silence and only the insistent chirping of cicadas broke the stillness. The sun was burning thoroughly the few leaves that had managed to survive the scorching summer heat.
     Some bright, buzzing dragonflies were flattering over the pond when Lucy arrived. On hot days she liked to go into the wood and sit in the sahde of the lime tree by the cool water.
     That day she stumbled on the grass and started to untie her shoes. Although she was absorved in her thoughts, she noticed that somebody was peeping at her. Then, she stood quickly to have a look around when, suddenly, two goggly eyes rose above the water in the pond. A husky voice croaked at her...

- You come to my pond every afternoon but I have never been to your house. It is not fair.

     Lucy rubbed her eyes in surprise. She thought that she was dreaming, yet a plump, viscose frog was still there, croaking and goggling at her...

- Let's go home, dear. I don't know the way but I'll be pleased to follow you.

     When she heard those words she started to run off to her house. The frog jumped out of the pond and hopped behind her.

- Wait for me! I can't run as fast as you!.

     Lucy knew the events of the day would change her life for ever.

   

Have you got a mathematical mind?

     Are you good at maths? I've got a question that at first sight is very easy. However, I'm not quite sure of the right answer and I'd like that somebody with mathematical abilities helped me to find the solution.
     Last week I needed a pen and a piece of paper. I went to the stationner's and asked for them. The total price amounted to 1.10 €. Now, my question is: if the sheet cost 0.10 €, how much more did the pen cost than the piece of paper?

Monday 21 October 2013

travellers vs tourists

     Better late than never

     I didn't have really an opinion about the difference between a traveller and a tourist. To be sincere I just hadn't thought about the difference as a controversial subject. However, I must admit that the difference is significant.
     Most of bloggers' opinions express a recurring idea: it is a question of personal attitude to travelling. The way I see it, despite the fact that both of them are etaking a break from the routine of normal life, their  way to fulfill their hopes are very different. Although I had the assorted bloggers's opinions, I have taken the trouble to ask around to know what my familiy and friends thought. After such a serious opinion poll, here you are the results:
- The tourist is looking for leisure whereas the traveller wants to learn, he wants to adquire knowledge.
- The tourist takes paret of the consumer society.
- The difference lies in their personal attitude.
- The traveller is involved in his trip. He is hard at work.
- Travellers hve existed for centuries, tourist are more recent.
-Time is very important: for a tourist it is predetermined. A traveller moves as much as he wants. His only limit is money.
- A traveller rarely establishes his itinerary.
- A traveller never stays behind his camera. He enjoys his stay.
- A tourist needs an interpreter when he goes abroad. A traveller tries to speak t least a few words of the local languagea few words



Monday 7 October 2013

A trip to Greece: "Without the past the pursued future has no meaning."









     It was 1993. Although at the time we had a one-year-old girl and-to crown it all- I was five months pregnant, a couple of closed friends suggested going to Greece and we took the plunge. I don't regret having made the trip.
     Perhaps one of my first memories of Greece is the propylaeum. Don't be alarmed! A propylaeum is the structure forming the entrance of a sacred place; in this case it was the great entrance hall of the Athenian Acropolis (437 B.C). Mnesicles, the architect, is said to have built it to hide the steep slope of the approach way ( and I strongly believe it).
     There is a sheer ramp between two flights of ancient marble steps which have been worn away with the passing of centuries. To be honest, there is also a sort of tiny lift for the disabled. The thing is that I was just pregnant, so I chose the steps and my feet kept slithering on the wonderful ancient marble. At last, I waddled up the stairs to spot the magnificent view of The Parthenon. I couldn't believe it! I burst out crying in the face of that splendid building.



      This was simply an anecdote. The truth is that Greece  is an incredibly fantastic country. Besides its history and its ruins, it is full of breathtaking sceneries: beautiful islands, volcanic sandy beaches, exquisite churches, an absolutely charming Mediterranean architecture, fabulous sunsets...

      How about listening to a marvellous Sirtaky? Enjoy the images. A picture is worth a thousand words.                                   


www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXR-quLd8C0


Wednesday 25 September 2013

A humble approaching to Picasso's mastery

                                                    
  The Life (1903) Pablo Ruiz Picasso
The Cleveland Museum of Art (Ohio)


     I can’t help being overawed by Picasso’s enigmatic way of depicting human feelings. This painting belongs to his Blue Period, and it is considered to be the central work of it.
     The scene takes part in a painter’s studio. There, a naked young couple is confronting a woman who is rocking an asleep child in her arms. The three figures have got bare feet, which is very characteristic of the artist’s paintings.
     In the background there are two canvases leaning against the wall. They both cover the central part of the scene, between the couple and the mother. One of them evokes the sadness of loneliness; the other, on top of it, shows the comfort of human warmth.

     The central figures, in The Greco style, are a shade of blue. The bareness of the place, the sketches in the bluish background, the timeless atmosphere…all of them are features of a painting which is taking a breath to consider feelings attached to vital process: love, motherhood, eroticism, suffering, reality and romanticism.

Saturday 21 September 2013

Who am I?

     My name is Sara, and I'm an European cat. It doesn't only mean that I was born in Europe, which happens to be true anyway. The fact of the matter is that I'm an ordinary cat. I wish I had been a Persian one or... Why not? A Siamese. Unfortunately, I'm black and white, like millions of cats in the world. I'm a female, and I've got a strong personality, which makes me special.
     I live in a flat downtown. There is a couple living with me. He's a  doctor and a she's a translator, what a mess! Actually, I can't complain as they treat me well.
     I was adopted by a little girl, Elena, who has grown into a teenager. She has just left home to go to University. Her elder sister, Mar, also cleared off and went to University two years ago. The thing is that one of my earliest memories is the wise prediction of their mother: " One day you will go away and the cat will be for me!" . 
     Sincerely, I think that my most special personality feature is my high capacity of reflexion. I have been lying down on my she-flatmate's desk for years. While she is working at the computer I have no alternative but to think about everything. As a result, I have become a pretty thoughtful cat. I have decided to make a blog for many reasons.
     To start with, my "catty" world is quite reduced and I have a lot of free time. Secondly, I want people to know that I'm not this sort of posh cat like "Hello Kitty" or "Garfield". I am far more serious. Finally, I consider myself the cat that everybody should know. I am very observant, I prefer listening to talking.