Bonfire Night - It's a British Thing

Today is Bonfire Night. Well, it is in Britain at least. It's a cultural event that is laden with nostalgia for me. Neither my brother nor I live in Britain anymore, so this is an annual event that we generally miss out on. But the memories are fond.

At this time of year as kids in Britain we would wrap up in woollen scarves, hats and gloves and stand excitedly in the dark waiting for the lighting of the bonfire; for the moment when the flames would spring in to life and the wood would start to crackle, for the moment that we could feel the heat on our cold, red cheeks. The guy perched at the top of the fire would eventually fall and burn, the effort of making the figure disappearing literally in a puff of smoke. The crowd would cheer.

Once the bonfire was in full flame, we would turn our excitement to the fireworks which would be next on the evening's agenda. In the meantime we kept ourselves warm by filling our tummies with soup, a jacket potato or a hot dog or hamburger. To finish it off there would be a toffee apple or Bonfire toffee.

Then the firework display would start and the crowd would "ooh" and "aahhhh" in unison as Catherine Wheels spun, spider fireworks trailed their orange legs across the dark, starry sky and Roman Candles sent shooting stars heaven bound. We would wave our sparklers around, writing our names in light. The bangs, whistles, screeches and crackles echoed across each other as the firework show came to its finale.

Bonfire night every 5th November sticks with me, the date holding a feast of childhood memories for me, like a box of treasures I can open every year on this day.Since I moved to the Netherlands in 2000 participating in Bonfire night has become harder and I have only been in the UK to celebrate 5th November twice since 2000. As my children grow up this is a track record I aim to change so that they can learn and take part in a little piece of British history and culture.

For Bonfire night really is an important,  traditional English thing. Some people back home have asked over the years "Don't they celebrate bonfire night in Holland then?" No they don't. Of course they don't - the Dutch, in general, have never heard of this 5 November malarkey. After all, Guy Fawkes made no attempt to blow up the Dutch parliament, he set his sights only on the British government. It means nothing outside of Britain.

He in fact had a cunning plan to get rid of the protestant monarch of the time by blowing up Parliament and King James I with it in 1605. The aim was to replace the head of state with a catholic one. Luckily for King James I the gunpowder plot was discovered (the anti-terrorist unit being on full alert back then too by all accounts) and the plotters were arrested and swiftly executed. End of Guy Fawkes and his friends.

On 5th November 1605, the first 'thanksgiving' was celebrated and marked with the ringing of church bells and the lighting of bonfires. Hence, why the British, over 400 years later, still light bonfires on 5th November and put an effigy (the guy, named after Guy Fawkes) on top of the fire. We do it because the fireworks represent the foiled gunpowder plot - that, and it's really pretty, and a good excuse to stand about outside in November and complain about the British weather.

This year however, we plan to rekindle a little of this British family tradition but this time here in the Netherlands at the British Society's Bonfire Night event in Amsterdam. It'll be an exciting first Bonfire night for my three sons, and I can stand outside in November and complain about the Dutch weather. All in all, a little piece of cultural Britain in the heart of the Netherlands.

NoGuPoMo: Being A Bilingual Parent by Dad's The Way I Like It

I am delighted to be able to share a father's story here about raising a bilingual child in Wales. I'm delighted for two reasons: firstly it's nice to get a father's perspective and secondly my grandmother is Welsh, as is my father. I have lots of family living in Wales who speak Welsh so this is a particularly interesting post on a personal level too. Growing up my Dad used to try and add a few Welsh words to our vocabulary, always telling us to shut the door in Welsh (cau'r drws) and getting us to count to three (un, dou, tri,) which sounded like 'in the tree' to us......

And so with no further ado it's over to Jonathan of Dad's the way I like it.

Welsh School Text Book
Photo Credit: C Hargraves

"Learning any language can involve a fun journey and a few challenges along the way. With learning Welsh, minor milestones that stick out in my mind include things like the first time I left a voicemail message in Welsh, being brave enough to select ‘Cymraeg’ (Welsh) as the language to use on ATM machine and running a Welsh language football podcast for about a year.

I moved to Wales in 2007 and live in an area where the majority of the locals speak Welsh as their first language. I’ve learnt the language thanks to Welsh for Adults courses available at the university where I work and regularly use Welsh in my working life. However, it felt like I was starting off on a new journey once we decided to raise our son bilingually. Indeed, it has been an exciting journey for both myself and my wife that has brought with it some exciting challenges and opportunities.

When reading about bilingualism before our son’s birth, I was struck by the number of different ways in which children can be brought up bilingually and the different dynamics this can involve. Colin Baker’s book A Parent’s and Teacher’s Guide to Bilingualism was a real eye-opener and full of useful tips for a range of situations.

As I am from Scotland and my wife is from England, our decision to bring up our son in Welsh wasn’t motivated by a desire to pass on a culture and a language that had been a part of our own upbringing. What we wanted was for Welsh and English to be part of his upbringing so as he could be fluent in both the native languages of Wales and become aware of the importance of both within Welsh culture. As Welsh is the first language of the majority of people in our village and the local area, it seemed the logical thing to do.

For me, becoming a bilingual parent has helped to enrich my Welsh vocabulary with words and expressions that I hadn’t ever learnt in classes. Some friends kindly gave us a book entitled Magu’r Babi: Speaking Welsh with Children that features entire sections on topics such as ‘Codi gwynt’ (bring up wind), ‘Taflu i fyny’ (throwing up) and ‘Cosi traed’ (tickling feet). Thankfully we haven’t had to use phrases from the second of those three categories too frequently so far!

Bringing up our son in Welsh as well as English has also meant that both my wife and I have been trying to learn some Welsh nursery rhymes. There are some that we have come across that are basically just Welsh versions of popular English nursery rhymes such as ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ and ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes’.

In some ways, I feel that singing Welsh versions of nursery rhymes that exist in English is almost cheating so I’m keen to learn some Welsh nursery rhymes that don’t seem to have English equivalents  such as ‘Dau gi bach’ (Two Small Dogs). I’ve already purchased two CDs of nursery rhymes in Welsh that I have been listening to in the car on the way to work. With it being quite at the moment and having to roll the windows down, I think I could easily end up embarrassing myself if I start singing along too loudly!

My wife has got a bit of  a head start on me with the nursery rhymes as she’s been going along to a ‘Cymraeg o’r Crud‘ (Welsh from the Cradle) course that is aimed at people who speak little Welsh themselves but want to be able to use it with their baby. It seems like fun too as the classes often involve arts and crafts as well.

These classes and indeed becoming a mum, have been a real spur for my wife to learn more Welsh. As

Welsh School Book
Photo Credit: C Hargraves

she hasn’t got to know as many Welsh speakers through work, she hasn’t had the same source of motivation as I’ve had. From the day of my staff induction at Bangor University, I learnt about the status and importance of the Welsh language and started learning Welsh within a matter of weeks.

For me, learning Welsh has provided all sorts of opportunities that I would have not had access to had I not decided to learn the language. For example, I have become interested in the local music scene and been able to follow a Welsh language drama series called Rownd a Rownd that is filmed in a village where I lived for three years. Almost two years ago, I also made an appearance on Welsh language television channel S4C in a comedy sketch show where I had to speak French to a plastic pigeon.

I hope that my son and indeed my wife will discover all sorts of fun and exciting opportunities through learning Welsh just as I have. In a few weeks time, we will all be going to the Eisteddfod Genedlaethol (a week long annual Welsh speaking cultural festival). To mark the occasion, I’ll be doing a bilingual (Welsh and English) blog post about this and my initial experiences of speaking Welsh to our son."

This post is republished with kind permission from Dad's the way I like it. You can connect with Dad's the way I like it on his Facebook page or on Google+.

My 365 Grateful Project #8 to #14

You can read why I started this project in the first 365 Grateful Project post . Here's the next instalment from the last week - all the little things each day I had gratitude for.

I don't have a photo for grateful moment #13. In fact, the only moment I was grateful that day was when it was over….. not a great day but if anything it makes me more grateful for the days that follow that are better!

An Expat Book Review: Harvesting Stones by Paula Lucas

 

I have just finished reading the expat memoir 'Harvesting Stones' written by Paula Lucas. It's an autobiographical expat tale like no other I have read. 

The story begins slowly, almost too slowly, on a farm in California with the rather uneventful childhood days of Paula. The relationship between her parents is functional, and Lucas' upbringing is Catholic and rather dull. With every page that I turned the tale snowballed into an even bigger, more unreal story. Only it is far from unreal - it is an honest, brutal account of real life events. And that is why as each chapter progressed my sense of urgency to reach the end of the book grew, I wanted out of the nightmare that Paula Lucas was living. I couldn't sleep another night without reaching an ending, that whilst not exactly happy, was at least an exit. 

Paula met a man, like so many of us have, and the relationship went from wining and dining to living together, from San Francisco to a life in the Middle East. There were signs early on that Ty (not his real name) was somewhat of a social chameleon, that he was hellbent on moulding Paula into his vision of a wife. I found myself willing her to get out whilst she could, say no to his plans for the future. I screamed in my head at her. But Paula got caught in the spiral of their relationship, like a whirlpool that whisked her helplessly deeper and deeper into a bottomless hell. They married and after their first child was born, Paula began to see the true beast unleashed upon her. 

As the years went by, and with two more sons to protect, Paula went through a living nightmare. She was physically and mentally abused. She was locked in her house, locked out of her house, her children punished for hugging her, she was beaten, financially paralysed. Her three children were physically, sexually and mentally abused. Her life was threatened on more than one occasion, once in a car accident and another time with a knife whilst her son was forced to look on. 

He told her, "I will hunt you down and slaughter you like animals no matter where you are in the world."

Her American passport, as well as those of her sons, were hidden by Ty. The American Embassy could not issue new ones without the consent of both parents. Her husband's family turned a blind eye. Nobody could or would help. She was trapped, convinced the only way out was in a body bag.

It took a superhuman burst of courage and determination to get out. And a thief in Germany. Paula got her three boys to the United States, but the battle didn't stop there. Thousands of dollars of legal fees later, after numerous court hearings and evaluations, restraining orders, a temporary life on the move and in shelters Paula and her boys finally started afresh. She was lucky to have the help, love and support of good family and friends. Not all victims of domestic violence are as lucky as Paula (and yes I know how ironic that sounds) so Lucas made a covenant with God that if she should escape the hell that was her life in the Middle East with her tyrant husband she would help other Americans overseas in a similar situation. 

And that is exactly what this remarkable woman did. Whilst living in a women's shelter, she founded the Americans Overseas Domestic Violence Crisis Center (AODVC). Last year she set up the Sexual Assault Support & Help For Americans Abroad Program (SASHAA). She wrote this book, put her own story out there, to highlight a little known or cared about issue. And this is not an issue that is constrained to the Middle East, American women in Europe can also find themselves trapped, in the impossible situation of needing permission from a child's abusive father to take them back to the safety of the United States.

I have gasped, held my breath and shed tears whilst reading this book. It is harrowing. I can only imagine the daily terror that Lucas went endured to keep herself and her three sons alive. This book is a chilling account of life as the victim of an abuser. It is a tale of extreme bravery, courage and the love of a mother for her innocent children. It is written in a wonderful style that makes it very readable but this book is by no means an easy read. It is a memoir that will continue haunting, long after the last page is turned. 

You can learn more about Paula Lucas and her memoir on her Facebook Page and website. Furthermore you can read the first chapter here.

NoGuPoMo

Photo Credit: Thiago Mendes

I, on a whim, decided to sign up for NaNoWriMo. That's National Novel Writing Month. That means during this month I will be furiously writing and typing 50,000 words that will eventually turn into the book I have planned to write for a long time. This is turn means I will be a virtual hermit in November and will not be writing any blog posts. Nor sleeping.

However, do not fear. Some wonderful bloggers have stepped into the void to contribute great blog posts on a range of topics from bilingual children in Wales to the stresses of expat life. It's going to be good - I'm calling this series NoGuPoMo. That's November Guest Post Month. And it features amazing bloggers that I have had the good fortune to meet along my expat blogging journey: Dad's the way I like it, Your Expat Child, The European Mama and Mama Mzungu. 

Smoking and Children: The Dutch Attitude (Part II)

Photo Credit: Mi Sio

Over a year ago I wrote a post on this blog about the Dutch attitude to smoking around children and my personal experience with parents smoking on the school playground whilst waiting to pick their children up.

In fact, things were so bad that the school pupils were being used to pick up the cigarette butts -which I found appalling. (I'm keeping my language tame here when I say that). Whilst many parents were complaining about the example this gave the children, the school refused to take any hard line saying the school playground was public so they couldn't ban it. Instead of asking parents politely not to smoke in the interests of our children's health and set an appropriate example, the school added a note to the school newsletter to say that the children had cleaned the playground of cigarette butts and could parents please keep it tidy and not drop any more......flabbergastingly unbelievable.

Well, I have good news. We changed schools. Not because of this, although this kind of school policy certainly didn't help to make us feel any more comfortable with our original school choice. The new school has taken a stance on parents smoking on the school playground. The school acknowledges that it is a public area so it cannot ban smoking outright but states in the school rules that smoking on the playground is a nuisance for other parents and children alike. The director has asked that if parents have to smoke that they do it right away from the school playground.

Now, that wasn't so painful was it? And the best bit? Parents actually listen. In my first month in the new school I have not seen one parent smoking on the school playground. Thank goodness common sense prevails at some schools.

However, I still notice a lot of smoking around me at places like zoos and amusement parks and am always amazed at just how oblivious many are that they are smoking over prams and pushchairs and blowing smoke in children's faces or worse still holding their cigarette in their hands at just the right height to be dangerously close to a child's face.

Legoland Windsor - raising the bar
with their smoking policy
Photo: (c) A van Mulligen

There is an example however, that Dutch attractions geared at children should be looking at -  Legoland in Windsor, England has taken a stand and has banned smoking everywhere in the park aside from a designated smoking area which makes for a very pleasant change indeed. This is their smoking policy:

Smoking Policy

LEGOLAND Windsor wishes to be at the forefront of reducing smoking in public places due to the fact we are designed for families with young children. There is one designated smoking area in the park near to Fire Academy. This is the only area where smoking is allowed in the park.

Smoking is not allowed in any other outdoor space, queue-line, restaurant, shop or attraction and cigarettes are not sold on site. You will be asked to put out your cigarettes by our staff members.

The policy above also applies to electronic cigarettes.

Since my post last year smoking has once again been on the Dutch political agenda with a small majority voting in February 2013 for a total ban on tobacco in cafes and bars. Which some of you may remember they already did in 2008. However, the law was then reversed for small cafes without staff members by the high courts. And now the law is being put back into force for all cafes and bars, regardless of size or staffing. For what it is worth of course, as according to the Ministry of Health the smoking ban is currently largely ignored by around 40% of establishments.

On 1 January 2014 the age limit to buy cigarettes in the Netherlands rises from 16 to 18.

So there are positive steps to try and reduce smoking, however it does remain prevalent.

The Dutch attitude to smoking is a strange and complicated thing indeed. But I am relieved to see that in my own little corner of the world there is the recognition that smoking and children don't mix.

Is smoking around children tolerated in your part of the world? Have you seen changes in the attitude to smoking in the last year?

My 365 Grateful Project #4 to #7

#5 Whilst I don't have a photo to share of my grateful moment for Wednesday this week, the moment is a memorable one. We went to the Circus Theatre in Schevenigen to see the Bob the Builder show and I was lost in the moment watching my two year old dance and clap with complete abandonment to the theme tune of Bob. Oh, for the days of carefree boogying whenever the mood takes.

We had another family photo session with Vinita Salomé. this week - and the session was so much fun! I already banked some special moments from the morning with her - it was a great opportunity to stop everything and cherish what a beautiful little family I have. Gratitude at it's most obvious.

My eldest son made up a game for him and his brother to play using Duplo, dice and two counters. It was spontaneous, self-driven and extremely imaginative and creative. Long may it continue!

Silent Sunday

How To Piss off the Dutch*

Sinterklaas: the children's December celebration is
under fire in the Netherlands

The best way to rile a Dutch person is to ask them why they need two Santa Clauses and suggest they scrap one, namely the white bearded one with those very questionable black helpers who arrives in the country on a boat from Spain in November. And to be honest I can understand why they are pretty pissed off at the moment.

My disbelief at what is currently hitting the news does not stem from the fact that there is once again a huge debate about Zwarte Piet, racism and slavery. The issue has been on the table for many years, there is open discussion in Dutch society about Zwarte Piet and questions have been raised many times over about whether the appearance should be altered, including from prominent Dutch figures. Traditions, in general, move with the times, things change and Zwarte Piet, I'm sure, will continue to change too.

What actually riles me about the discussion this year is that it is spearheaded by someone who seems to have very little understanding of the Dutch and what the celebration of Sinterklaas is about.  What riles me is the clumsy manner that a nation is told that their tradition is inferior to the Coca-Cola Santa that dominates the Christmas festivities of other countries, and that they should scrap their celebration on the 5th December. Verene Shepherd (UN representative) asked why the Netherlands needs two Santa Clauses. This is what pisses me off. Such a comment can only be made by somebody who is completely ignorant to the Dutch tradition of Sinterklaas, somebody who has not yet done their homework.

"Shepherd calls on prime Minister Mark Rutte to put an end to Sinterklaas. The prime minister has the power to influence the group that maintains this habit. If the Dutch government recognizes the Sinterklaas tradition is outdated, they should instruct the groups organizing it, to stop, according to Shepherd. And what is wrong with  one Sinterklaas? Why does The Netherlands have two?  Shepherd wondered in the program, referring to Santa Claus." - NL Times

The reality is that the Netherlands does not have two Santa Clauses. It has one Sinterklaas. I am yet to meet a Dutch family that has Santa Claus or Father Christmas visit them on the 25 December. Any Santa Claus figure that makes an appearance at Christmas time is purely commercial and is in no way a Dutch tradition. The Santa Claus that countries such as Britain and America know and love is known as the Coca-Cola Santa here. 

If the Dutch weren't already pissed off about being accused of being racist, the suggestion that they should stick with the Coca-Cola Santa Claus and do away with their own tradition certainly did the trick. Nothing like attacking a folk to get them heading to a Facebook page to express themselves at a rate of 100 likes per second….

*The title of this blog post is stolen from inspired by The Head of the Heard's post How to Piss off a Brazilian.

Old McDonald Had a Dutch Farm

'Knor' or 'oink'?

And on that farm he had a pig. Depending on whether that farm is nestling in the Netherlands or in England the pig says knor or oink.

A Dutch cow, standing in a lush green field in the Netherlands does not moo; it goes boe, (pronounced boo). An English sheep would have little problem understanding a Dutch tourist sheep, they seem to speak the same language and will happily baa together.

The same cannot be said of chickens. Tok says the Dutch chicken, which I think may draw a blank look from her English counterpart. Cats and dogs seem to transcend the language barrier but whilst a neighing English horse may seem more than a little negative to a Dutch horse, he may in turn believe he is the butt of a joke as the Dutch horse retorts with hihi.

'Waaaaa' is as scary as a Dutch lion gets

A Dutch speaking mouse pieps (pronounce as peep) and an English mouse squeaks. A mighty lion roars in English, and says waa in Dutch. Yes, it is difficult to imagine a scary Dutch lion.

If you are rudely awoken by a kukelekuu then your sleep has been interuppted by a Dutch cockerel. An English one will announce it is time to wake up with a cockle doodle doo.

The busy bee on the lavender in your Dutch garden will zoem, but will happily buzz his way around an English garden.

Language is certainly a funny thing and I for one am not certain how to explain to my sons why an animal living in the Netherlands makes a different noise to one he would meet in England. So far, they have not asked, accepting it is what it is. But if they do I will be directing them to their father who can explain why the Dutch animals make such strange noises..... after all a pig clearly does not knor. A pig quite obviously oinks....... even a Dutch one. Right?

What noises do animals make in your second language? Are the sounds wildly different than in your mother tongue?

This post has been adapted from a post originally published on A Letter from the Netherlands.