Categories
Personal

Telenovelas

Those of you who know me in real life most likely already know that I spent a couple of years in my early twenties living in Mexico City. When I landed there at the age of 21 the full extent of my Spanish was the few words I’d picked up while watching Sesame Street as a child. So I knew that if I was ever to find myself crawling through a desert while in this huge city, I would be able to tell anyone I met that I wanted “Agua!” but that would be about it.

Almost straight away we (there were six of us) began our intensive Spanish lessons in the Berlitz language school. We attended these classes for four hours every weekday for about six months and I have to say that they were the best language classes I’ve ever had. I remember thinking that if Irish and French were taught using this method in Irish schools (no writing letters to imaginary pen friends and definitely no Peig Sayers!) I might have had a chance of actually learning those languages too.

Well, I say that the Berlitz classes were the best classes ever, in fact there was another method that I employed while living in Mexico that really helped me in getting to grips with Spanish. When we finally bought ourselves a small television after we’d been there almost a year I discovered the Mexican telenovela. I never persuaded any of my American roommates just how brilliant they were nor did they swallow my excuse that I was watching them for educational purposes.

The telenovela is often described as being a Latin-American or Spanish soap opera but really they’re not the same thing. They don’t usually run for more than a year so they’re more like a televised version of the old-fashioned serialised novels that Victorian newspapers used to do. The stories are always the same…beautiful girl from a wealthy family falls for caring, handsome but poor, and therefore unsuitable, cobbler/butcher/firefighter/circus performer or a variation on that theme and the main ingredient is plenty of melodrama…lots of evil step-mothers to slap young feisty heroines across the face. I loved them and would peer through the snowy reception straining to understand what on earth they were talking about. Plus they really did help me learn Spanish as it is spoken by everyday people…even if my vocabulary was a little unusual.

Well, the wonders of YouTube allowed me to have a little stroll down memory lane. So here’s a few of the best that I found and I hope you enjoy them. I mean…how could you not?

This last one is the original Colombian telenovela version of Ugly Betty which was brought to the US by Salma Hayek, obviously another telenovela fan:

Categories
Ireland Photography

Keel-Hauled

Keel

A few more shots from Greystones Harbour.

Reflections

Categories
Ireland Photography

Shipwrecked

Greystones Dinghy

It was a really good weekend for photography. I got out both days and got some shots that I’m really happy with. I’ve been meaning to go to Greystones Harbour for awhile and I made it down there on Saturday evening just as the last of the light was disappearing.

It was bitterly cold and my fingers were so numb I nearly dropped my camera into the water in this old rowing boat but it’s my favourite shot of the afternoon:

Abandoned Ship

I’ll post some more tomorrow.

Categories
Ireland Photography

Madonna Of The Snowglobe

Beloved Bridie

I spent some time taking photographs in Rathdown Cemetary in Greystones yesterday afternoon. What is it about graveyards that is so fascinating? Rathdown is a pretty modern cemetary so no ancient tombstones to be found there but still, I love to read the inscriptions and try and piece together something of the people’s stories.

Sacred Heart

I didn’t stay long. Being a Sunday there were a few people visiting graves and I felt awkward about taking photographs. Even though I was sure to be as inconspicuous as possible (never putting the camera to my eye for instance) and nobody even gave me a second glance, it still felt like I was doing something wrong.

Madonna Of The Globe

When I go, I want to have lots of interesting information on my tombstone (no cremation for me thank you) so that people will stop and read it and, who knows, maybe blog it. Haha…a final post from beyond the grave!

(More HERE)

Categories
Ireland

Crying In Public

Some books really ought to carry a social embarrassment warning. David Copperfield for instance…nobody told me how sad it is…I’m talking about a tear-jerking, ugly-faced crying, true-life movies level of sad. Reading it on the train home yesterday evening I was blubbing into my scarf. I wouldn’t mind but the girl sitting in front of me was reading Should Have Got Off At Sydney Parade which is obviously at the opposite end of the scale: red-faced, wheezing, can’t-catch-my-breath-except-to-snort-like-a-pig funny.

We must have looked a right pair.