Notes of an Immigrant

Christmas

2008-12-27T21:57:00.002Z

Credit crunch, lack in daylights and Christmas... What a combination of happines(!)
From now on no more involvement in Christmast presents, definitely takes some of the pressure of me.

Bush and the shoes

2008-12-16T21:02:00.003Z

Has everybody seen that video? I wish the shoes that thrown by the Iraqi journalist hit Bush in the head. He deserves more than that.

Then what a cheek that Bush says, "this is what happens in free societies, he wants to draw attention on himself". And looking in the eye to the other journalists in the room saying "I see you are apologetic about it and this doesn't represent Iraqi people". Such an insult to the other journalists in the room. If I was one of them, I would walk out to protest him and ask after the journalist that thrown his shoes at Bush. I am sure he is being tortured. Then perharps this is what happens in "free societies" that Bush describes and brings for you.

As if he has got the right to occupy Iraq, he says that that very Iraqi journalist doesn't represent the Iraqi people. I don't know what to comment on this moronic sentence.

He and the soldiers who are in Iraq will never ever question themselwes for what they are doing there at first place. How natural it seems to them to be in another country that doesn't belong to them despite to native people's wish against them.

Here is the link of the video if you haven't seen it yet:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/7782422.stm

Sinking in the system and Google EULA

2008-11-27T12:20:00.005Z

Technology suppose to help our life to be easier and happier. This is what I am expecting anyway. But, the stress level and frustration that it causes, more than the relaxation and happiness that it produceses.

Buying a new computer with an updated software doesn't mean that you will get a better and faster quality for your needs. You have to suffer first for the completion of the shocking price that you paid allready.

After setting up everything like completing a complicated puzzle, you expect things go smoothly. No. First, the modem you had already, doesn't work with the new computer. You have to buy a new one and wait until it's been delivered which can take weeks. Then it arrives, you get the internet connection but, now this "google EULA" window appears on full screen and you can't get rid it off. It says, "you can't connect to the internet" but, actually you are already connected, that EULA window doesn't allow you to see the web pages and stands in front of you like a curtain.

You move it onto this side and that side by dragging from the corner of it to be able to read what it says on the web page. You search on the Google, for "Google EULA" to find out what it is and why you can't get rid it off. And you find out that there are lots of people out there suffering like you do. The way of their comments on the subject makes you realise that you are not alone by wanting to smash the computer into bits and run into a jungle screaming and naked or shoot the helpless online technicians whom you are hoping to get some answers of.

While going through this frustration, you want to get some work done, because, that computer is there for that reason at first place. Finding out the almost brand new, fully working printer of yours doesn't work with the new computer, because "that software doesn't support this software." You have to buy a new printer now. Why the one step older version of the same software supported the printer before and how come the new one doesn't have that ability? Finance Wars! And we poors are the innocent victims of the cross fire.

Then you keep hearing this nonsenses everywhere: "Why we modern society consume unnecessarily and produce s... lots of waste every year?" That's why. System pushes people to buy more, eat more, consume thoughtlessly as far as their money can effort. It's not their concern if you are becoming a mutated fat creature or your house (or the general environment) is full of industrial junk. Buy more, buy more... We will make it easy for you and create the reasons to wipe off the quilt for doing it.

Banks, direct debits, energy suppliers, India based BT, automatic answer machines that direct you to this option or that option and get you lost at the end without getting a solution to your problem... They all are another sources of frustrations that make you consider of becoming an excentric hippy who lives in a caravan in the middle of nowhere.

I know, I am not alone.

PS: I hate confused.com for the reason of it's existence; taking advantage of people who have been reduced to brainless idiots and lab mice by the "competitive" system.

Evaluation and Reflections of the Creative Writing Course

2008-08-14T18:05:00.001+01:00

During the course, I realised again that I am not good at writing poems, I have never been, anyway. And trying to do it in a second language, just results in a disaster. But it is good to be able to analyse the poems or to see them from different angles. This course gave me a little bit taste of it which I found challenging and enjoyable.

I mostly enjoyed the descriptive writings, the character building exercises and the dialog exercises during the lessons. Despite to my lacking in the English Grammar and the vocabulary, I think I can manage writing in these styles better than writing a poem. So, for this reason, I choosed to write my mini essay in Descriptive Writing.

Before I started to writing about it, I had to re-think of my first experience of this ‘Passage’. I thought of it again, as if I have seen it in a film. While I was describing the people or the views about this ‘Passage’, I thought of making a film of it and imagined using a camera that focusing into mess on the ground or to the medow. Using this technic allowed me to think of the details carefully, even encouraged to add some exaggeration. This technic is good for improvement of the imagination and definitely works.

I like observing people around me and the environment that I am in and this is something helps me with my writing. I also used the advantage of coming from a different culture. Being an outsider gives me the opportunity of looking at things from a different point of view.

Since I am involved in this course, I became a lot more careful observer. I focus on details by using the technics that we exercised on during the lessons, like creating a character or creating a story about the objects and the people. I can see that a further study in this subject would help a lot to improve my writing skills.

People who interested in generally life and in other people’s observations, would enjoy to read this article. I always enjoy reading this kind of articles and I just wanted to try to write one. I wanted to reflect the feeling of a rural historic town by describing the old part of it to the reader. But, there is another face of the town that is an unavoidable reality. I didn’t want to get into the reasons and the details of the social division; firstly, this is not a report about the social conditions in the town, secondly, because of the limited length of the essay. It should be a light reading, perharps at some point, helping to arise some questions in readers mind… Saying that, I tried not to be didactic which sometimes I can’t completely avoid.

The Passage Way

2008-08-14T17:52:00.004+01:00

Since I moved to this town, I always wanted to have a good walk about it to get the familiarity of the names of the streets. But, I have never done it, apart from the old part of the town. I usually went down to the river when I needed a walk and fresh air.

Because of it is an old market town, there are lots of narrow streets and passages in it. I have been to the most of them and really liked the feeling of the past times in their cool and moist air. They take you to surprising places like an old derelict girl’s school or to another snake-like narrow streets or maybe to a hidden garden.

There is another narrow passage in the town which I haven’t been to for a long time. Because, it never occured to me as an interesting street. Even it is an uninviting, narrow but straight and dark street with the high brick walls on the both sides. Not an old interesting one, a new and boring looking one. A busy road runs between this narrow passage and my house. Whenever I am around my house, I see people coming out of this passage or dissappearing into it. The people who coming out of it or disappearing into it, fill me with the feeling of insecurity sometimes:

Here, there is that young boy with an aggressive look, badly shaved head, smoking heavily and looking at me with a pair of bloodshot eyes, disappearing into that passage with a multiple cans of Carlsberg box under his arm; or that ‘Nasty Twins’ who I see them in the town’s supermarket during their shoplifting ‘action’. At the age of nine or ten, straw blonde, skinny and in track suits with that angry look on their face, here they are... Coming out of the ‘passage’ and the moment I see them is the moment they spit onto the pavement with a habit of a young tough man.

And what about that lady who goes everywhere on her mobility aid in the town and smokes all the time. Her scooter is like a little locomotive, leaving a cloud of smoke behind it. I see her often in the supermarket again buying fags, scratch cards and a few cans of beers. As if just had an electric shock, her hair is always frizzy, her skin is dark with the affect of so many years of smoking, a mushroomlike nose that indication of the regular consume of alcohol... I can’t stop thinking that this lady is totally fine to walk on her feet but again, I have never seen her out of her mobility aid.

One day, I saw that middle aged, gossip queens sisters coming out of the ‘passage’... The sisters that used to come to the cafe where I used to work, to collect and spread the gossips of the town as a main purpose of their life.

‘The Passage people’ seemed like strange creatures that only come to the town for their shopping and then quickly go back into the passage again. I neither saw them in the town’s trendy cafes nor in the book shops and restaurants. As if they have been banned to go to places like these...

After seeing gossip queens sisters coming out of the passage, I started thinking about to have a walk into it. Obviously, more then the passage itself, the people aroused my curiosity. Althought it didn’t give me the encouragement to go into it, I found myself wondering about the other side of the passage.

One day, I decided to cross the passage and see what was there at the end of it. On a nice sunny day, I walked out of my house and crossed the road. At the entrance of the passage I stood and looked ahead. It was a narrow street with high brick walls on both side that even two persons wouldn’t walk pass eachother without the one giving away.. This first view gave me a little bit discouragement. It didn’t look safe either. As well as unsafe, it looked claustrophobic too. What if I met that aggressive boy with the badly shaved head, in the middle of it. What if he says something to me. If I scream in danger, could anybody hear me? With these questions in my mind, I stood there for a while. At some point my curiosity beat my ‘fears’, I pulled myself together and walked in.

After nearly ten meters walk, I came accros two railgates on the high walls that opened to a backyard of a firm. A private land that divided by this narrow access. I carried on walking and praying for not to meet anybody while I was there. I also had to watch out where I was stepping on because of the dog mess on the ground. Not just the dog mess, there also were empty cigarette packages, a babies pink dummy, used tissues, empty beer cans, sweet wrappings, fried potatoes, cooked pastas and empty take away boxes. The surface of the high brick walls were in contrast with the mess on the ground: Surprisingly empty and clean, no graffiti at all. Was it because of the passage users not interested in wasting their time to do some fancy writings onto the walls? Was it because of they were illiterate? Or was it because of the cameras on the high brick walls. I don’t know the answer. But, I know, there wasn’t any cameras on the walls.

Walking carefully and browsing around took a couple of minutes, then I carried on walking. After another a couple of minutes walk, here there was some plants on the sides of the passage, ahead of me, which made me think that it might be the end of it. But, no... Just the high brick walls disappeared and wooden fences on one side and a low stone wall on the other side took a place, instead. Leaving the brick walls behind and meeting to this open view was a relief.

Wooden fences were protecting an overgrown medow which looked so nice. I have to confess, I am not very keen on obsessively tidied gardens. I mean, perfectly mowed lawns, carefully leveled hedges, weed free flower beds... I don’t like treating a poppy or a daisy as a weed. So, this medow which seemed to have also also kind of wild flowers in was a very nice surprise for me. I stood next to the fences and cheerfully looked over it. With the warmth of the sun, there I felt some nice smell of the wild flowers arising from the medow and arriving to my nose in waves... I felt it. It was almost touchable... I watched the bees and a few butterflies flying around happly and completing the view. It was relaxing, especially after that claustrophobic part of the passage.

Opposite to the medow was a cemetery behind the low stone walls. It was a cemetery with mixture of old and new headstones in. Part of the cemetery with the new head stones in has been looked after well. Grass between the stones was mowed and fresh flowers were put on to the graves... There was an empty part of the cemetery with no headstones on yet, gave me a chilling feeling. It was expecting to be filled... In Some way, it was almost inviting...

After a few minutes of dark thoughts, I re-directed my eyes to the old part of the cemetery. Grass was longer in this part. Some head stones were either broken or lost their glamour by the errosion of the time. It seemed that, these graves had no living connections left behind to look after them anymore. This part of the cemetery looked sad, comparing to the lively and well maintained new part of it.

Studying the cemetery wasn’t something I was expecting in this nice sunny day. So, I carried on walking. After a minute of walk, here there were the houses with the small gardens at the front of them. They were all in same style. Later, I found out that these houses were old council estates that have been sold to the residents during the Thatcher era. Busy roads were running between them. Then, I recognised the road where my driving instructer used to take me to practice ‘reversing round corners’ during my driving lessons. It was only ten minutes away from my house, and at the time it always felt as if I was miles away from home.

I didn’t want walk further anymore... On the way back home by the ‘passage’ again, I stopped where the meadow is to let an old chap pass who was having difficulty to walk despite his walking stick. I turned my back to the cemetery and looked at the meadow while taking a deep breath to catch that smell of wild flowers again... Instead, I inhaled the smoke of the chap’s cigarette.

By the time I arrived home, I re-called one of the old school lessons about a current of warm water that flows in the ocean. This ‘Passage’ was the passage between wealthy side and the poor side of the town. It didn’t let them mix, it emphasised the separation.

Note: This is my mini essay which I had to write at the end of my introduction to creative writing course.

Back to...

2008-08-07T23:59:00.005+01:00

It was a long silence. Not really a silence, just a silence on the blog. Life carried on with it's usual flow. Usual things like work, my brother's visit, then my visit to my family and friends in my original country, coming back here, working and...

And, going back to the studying. Yes, that is the best thing that I have done in so many years. I applied for a place at a university and now, I have got it. I am going to be a student again. This is something that I kept having dreams about since I left the university in my original country. Some mornings I got up with a feeling of sadness because of these dreams. Anyway, this is end of these dreams. I can't wait to start it.

Thanks to the course leader who gave me a good guidance during my application to the course, I have been attending to a short summer course during the July. It was called 'Introduction to Creative Writing'.

It was a really short and enjoyable course that when I felt I was just getting into it, it finished. But, hopefully the tutor will run another creative writing course during the term time which I am planning to attend as well as my main study.

Here is a writing exercise on next post that we have done during the creative writing course...

Approaching a City

2008-08-07T23:24:00.004+01:00

Artist: Edward Hopper
Painting: Approaching a city, 1946

Description of the picture:
The painting contains a detailed view of an outskirt of the city from a railway. In the middle of the picture, there is a white wall which cuts through the composition then bends to the left. Behind from this white wall, there are some blocks of buildings arising. Apart from yellowish concrete blocks, particularly one narrow and tall building is eyecatching first for it’s colour which is reddish orange, secondly for it’s style and windows in detailed painting. Some curtins are half open, some othe curtins are closed on the windows. And then a grey and shorter stone building next to it with two chimneys on the dark tiled roof.

At the front of the painting, which is also front of the white wall there are railways with it’s brown-reddish colour of slipers, these railways give a deepening feeling to the picture. Railway lines comes from the bending end of the wall and wide opens at the front of the painting. There is also a dark shady object on the railways at the bending end of the wall which looks like a boat, but I can’t quite work it out that what it is. (Note: It is the tunnel on the railway of course, but I was looking at the picture so closely that couldn't work out the tunnel and just saw it as a shade. How silly...)

My feelings and the reaction to the picture:
I don’t like the first feeling of it. Not having a painting of any living creature in this picture, makes me feel that it is a painting of a deserted city after a dangerous disease spread amongs the human or a chemical bomb attack happened days ago.

If I was painting it, I would add some weeds growing by the side of the railway, a few people on the top of the grey buildings looking at the view, graffitis on the wall, a few birds in the distant sky and maybe a street dog or a rat that crossing the railway... So, it can be a little bit lively and warm view than it is on the painting. In this picture, the only thing I liked is orange-reddish building. It has got a character on the windowsills and on the where roof joins to the tof of the building. I also like the short grey stone building that reminds me of stone countryside houses in where I live at the moment. So, the familiarity is something that makes me like or dislike a picture.

I would quite like living in the reddish-orange building if it was in somewhere else, not next to a railway and a cold looking grey building blocks which might be offices to the high fliers.

How do you like your tea?

2008-06-04T23:44:00.005+01:00

The cafe, where I work is very busy this time of the year. And most of the time, all staff work in a hurry and have no time to have a chat with customers. And when it's nearly end of the day, the tiredness shows it's ugly face and this is the time when we start to get grumpy. Every single last minute customer seems an insult from then on. This is an unavoidable nature of the catering business I guess.

But, sometimes, an unexpected conversation would make your day and brightens up your face. One of them happened to me today. A female customer asked for a pot of tea just before our closing time; not for an ordinary tea though, she asked for Darjeling Tea. I myself also a very keen Darjeling Tea drinker. So, with a slight smile, I prepared her tea and offered some milk to go with it. She rejected my offer of milk in a very proud of way and said 'I like it black'. After that, I felt that I had to say something and started to explain how I understand her particular choice of tea and not having milk with it. Then she smiled and said:
-Darjeling is the champagne of the teas.
This sentence gave me a broad smile.

I liked her enthusiasm. I liked her description of the Darjeling tea and I agree with her.

Lost in communication

2008-05-25T23:54:00.004+01:00

How to communicate with an immigrant who comes from a developing country? Mostly, the attitude towards these people is belittling and assumed that they are behind western civilization. Sure, this attitude itself is very likely to be considered as ignorance. If you are interested in a better understanding of a person who is from a different culture, here are some tips.I might add more later, but this is all what I can suggest for now:

1. When you talk to a foreigner who doesn’t speak fluent English; don’t shout, keep your voice at a normal conversational level. Remember, she/he is not deaf, just can’t speak good English.

2. When you talk to an adult foreigner who doesn’t speak fluent English or speaks in a limited vocabulary and therefore may sound childish; don’t think that he/she has got a child’s brain too. Remember, that person has already gained a life experience in a different country and now is challenging him / herself by living in another country and learning a second or third language.

3.When a foreigner speaks with a limited vocabulary in English, don’t say he/she is cute. That’s really annoying and actually that person probably wants to be taken seriously like everybody else.

(I know, people say it as a complement but when it’s used as a way of describing my level of English, it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. However, it depends on who says it:))

4.If a foreigner apoligises for their lack of English and mis-pronounciation, don’t say that ‘his/her English is better than your Spanish / French / Greek etc. (wherever the foreigner comes from)-’. That’s really insulting and usually dissuades the person from being friendly.

(Again, another supposed complement. But look at this way, you are comparing my level of English to your level of my native language, which you can’t even speak a word of . Am I being unfair? I just look at it from a different angle or is it me who should look at it from a different angle?)

5.When you meet a foreigner, don’t panic. Don’t worry that she/he may not understand you or you may not understand her/him. Just act normal, this way you both will understand each other better.

6.When you meet a foreigner, don’t assume that he/she is ignorant. It’s the opposite, they have already experienced lots of things, and now are finding out about your culture also! Keep your mind open, you will learn some interesting things from him/her as well as that person learns from you.

7.When you employ a foreigner, don’t treat her/him differently than the native British employees. Even though they may generally keep quiet, they will see what is going on. As a result the person is likely to build up negative feelings that will demotivate them in their post.And so, as a result, it is very likely that you will lose a hardworking employee and possibly be challenged in court due to breach of equal opportunity laws. Plus, it really hurts.

8.If a foreigner doesn’t use the words ‘thank you’ or ‘please’ as much as you use, it doesn’t mean he/she is being rude. Remember, he/she comes from a different culture and lacks the expertise in English Language and not judgement of good manners. This is how they can communicate until realising and applying the English manner to their life. It is exactly the same when you are abroad, word for word translation of English manners sometimes doesn’t make any sense in another language.

9.If you want immigrants to adapt to your culture, don’t treat them as cheap and easy workers. Show interest in understanding them and their needs and create opportunities for them. Especially in cultural and financial needs. Remember, you harvest what you sow.

'What are you doing here?'

2008-05-24T01:47:00.005+01:00

That's the question which makes me feel uncomfortable lately. People who traveled to my original country and had a nice holiday, come back and ask me this question:
-Your country is so beautiful, your people are so friendly. What are you doing here?

Well... I know, it is a kind of compliment, a good comment about the place where I come from. But, when you hear it as often as I hear, you think 'God, why I have to answer this question several times?'.

Why people don't realise that holidays are different then the normal daily routine. You feel more optimistic, more adventurist and open minded when you are on holiday. You are in a mood that you can accept anything different with a positive attitude. When you enjoy your holiday in a country, it doesn't mean that native people in that country live like that 365 days a year.

I like living here. Because, it's always green and rainy. I love the rain and going for a walk in the countryside when it rains. I had enough dry and boiling hot summers in my life that an ever green, rainy and misty country is a nice change. To an addition to that, I also like changes in my life; I like adventure, I like to getting know the different cultures. I wish I had a long enough life (or money or a suitable job) that I could travel around the world and experience all the differences.

Anyway, I just wanted to underline some points that, some people like having changes in their lifes instead of spending all of it in a village or in a country. I am one of them and I am sure it doesn't mean I don't like my country.

My Book Club

2008-05-20T00:06:00.002+01:00

It is one of the a few good things that happened to me in England so far, being a member of the local book club. But hey, this is not an ordinary one. Full of wise, understanding, caring and witty women with a good sense of humor. They are not just a book club members, they also are good friends. I think, this is what makes it special.

I love them, I love being with them. Not just talking about the books we read, talking about anything makes this book club more attractive for me. Being with them is just like a reading a book itself.

Thanks girls for existing and giving me the chance to join you.

A Visa Story

2008-05-18T21:45:00.003+01:00

My brother will be visiting me soon. I am very excited and really looking forward to see him here. His visit will last only 10 days but I arranged a tiny country tour for him. We will go to see the London, York, Edinburgh and a few local museums. Finally a happy end...

Why I said this 'a happy end' thing? Because, his visa application process was rather upseting, in fact annoying. The country I am coming from is not a member of the EU. So, whoever from my family and friends wants to visit me, has to go through this visa application process which is something that puts people off at the beginning. They have to prepare lots of documents that takes ages and costs fortunes before they buy their flight tickets. Plus, they have to speak a very good English to fill the forms that arranged in English by the British Counsulate and also have to prepare all the documents (from the bank, from the employer, from the local authority) in English. In another word, If they can't speak English they have to pay to a translator to fill their forms or I have to do it from here which is very time consuming.

First of all, my logic says that if a consulate registered in a country, they have to have interpreters and translators that translates the paperworks of the applicants of that country's, instead of forcing the people to speak English. It shouldn't be the applicant's responsibility.

Anyway, to avoid all the possible delays and rejections, I had to prepare most of the documents here, including the ones that I had to sent him as a proof of my financial situation to persuade the consulate that he can stay with me and I can efford it. There was questions like 'how much money you will have for your food', 'who will pay your travel expenses' and etc...

My brother and I had to have a lot of long telephone and MSN conversations after the work to fill the visa application form. When we finished it and completed the rest of the documents, he applied. A nervous waiting time took a start.

After a couple of the weeks of the application, while my brother was at work, his boss received a phone call from the British Consulate. They were questining the boss that 'why his employee wants to go to England? How long he was going to stay there? Who he was going to visit?' As if, my brother's boss wasn't his boss but his owner. As if, all the documents I sent from here wasn't existing, as if my brother was a liar...

First of all, any people in a western country (even an unemployee) can buy a ticket and fly to my country (and to the all developing and third world countries) with no trouble. No stressful visa applications and no patronising and belittling phone calls from the consulates.

Secondly, while western countries trying everything to stop these people to come to the their country, they can invade and destroy these people's countries as if it's their backyard.

I am aware of the politics and the state of the world of course. But, it doesn't stop me that I hate injustice and double standard.

That's why I said 'a happy end'. Aren't I right?...

Living Language

2008-05-08T18:56:00.008+01:00

I want to keep a record of the words that I find amuzing. I will try to update it as I hear new ones. Here are some of them:

Chav: Poor people with no taste.
Posh: Rich people with no taste.
Pram face: Teenager mothers.
Muffin top: A fat belly that hangs over the low belly trousers.
Hoodies: Gang of youngsters who wear hoody tops.
Gregg's Dummy: Guess what it is? This one is a really good one. Made me laugh a lot.
Croydon Face Lift:

British Lamb? Or New Zealand Lamb?

2008-05-06T16:04:00.011+01:00

I was shopping in a supermarket the other day, buying lamb liver and asked to the shop assistant to reserve some of the liver for me to buy later. He replied:
-Which country's lamb liver you prefer? New Zealand or British?
Me:
-What is the difference?
Shop assistant:
-Well, New Zealand lamb liver is cheaper.
What do you think my choice was? Of course New Zealand one. If both of them available in front of me and one is cheaper than the other, of course I will go for the cheaper option (Yes, they were both equally similar). If somebody wants me to consider on for some environmental issues and go for the 'local' product, my opinion is, it shouldn't be left to the consumers at first place. It should be worries of government's with the regulation on importing/exporting subject. That's the one thing about this ridiculousness (I guess this word doesn't exist).

Second thing is, how come NZ lamb is cheaper than the British lamb? It's produced in a country that at the other side of the world. What about the cost of the transport, what about the cost of production? And it means that they can make some profits despite to all of these.

If it is possible to produce cheaper farm products and still make profits, what is wrong with the farmers in England or shall I say with the goverment?

Any answer to these questions?..

Stop eating detergent

2008-01-14T18:36:00.000Z

This is an issue that annoyes me constantly since I moved here: Not rinsing your dishes after washing them in a soapy water. I know, some people wipes them after washing (still not enough) but I know that a lot of people out there are not bothering with wiping. They leave plates on the rack to dry with washing liquid on then serve food to their family in them. Imagine the amount of detergent you eat in all of your life! In my theory, that's the one of the reasons of cancer spreading among people rapidly.

Eating out... It's another story. Since I moved here, (as an immigrant doesn't matter what is your qualification in your first country, you have to start from cleaning jobs which I also have done) I work at cafes and restaurants. Witnessing the way of washing up in the kitchens where I used to work was a real shock to me. Washing all the cups and plates in a soupy-soapy dirty water and then wiping them with a smelly tea towells!!! I used to complain to my boss and asked him if we can rinse them after washing. He wasn't bothered of course and I was the one who blamed on as a weird person with the weird requirements.

I can hear (not really), some of you say 'what about the dishwashers'. That's another subject and here is the truht: They are as dangerous as the way you do handwashing if it is not more. Dishwashers (not the domestic ones) don't rinse the plates and cups, just wash everything with a previously used hot enough water that kills organisms. The water that dishwasher uses contains bleach and harsh detergent which stays on the plates and the cups. Worst than that, tea pots and milk jugs always got a little bit bleachy-soapy water left in them because nobody bothers to dry them thinking, water is hot enough and kills the germs. So, in any restaurant (doesn't matter how luxurious it is), when you have your lovely meals, you also have a bit bleach and detergent. If you have a tea, you already have your tea pre-brewed by bleachy water in your teapots waiting for you. Milk jugs... same. Oh, I must mention the food smears that from diswasher happly sticking in your tea pots and jugs too. Bon appetit.

No, I am not paranoid. I just reduced down the amount of eating out and I always rinse my plates after washing them as I have done all of my life. I am suggesting it to you. It is easier than wiping them with smelly tea towels and you don't have to wash teatowels because you won't own them because you won't need them.

Gift Aid

2008-01-13T23:26:00.000Z

Here we are. The Christmas and New Year left behind once more again. Without causing any serious family trouble, not yet... All these craziness of buying presents, worries that if somebody who you bought a present won't like it or the presents you bought are not expensive enough... left behind once more.

I have to confess, I hate it. Simply, I hate the social pressure on me that forces me to buy presents. It's not that I dislike giving, it is the force that doesn't leave me a choice to give presents to who I really like or who really deserves it or the choice of times that I can give presents at. Every Christmas time, I get depressed, because with a little budget (that I earn really hard) I try to keep everybody happy.

Yes, I receive presents in return but who wants that exchanging of presents!!! I prefer to buy whatever I want and whenever I need it. Yes, we do ask eachother for what they want as a gift to avoid the unwanted presents but where is the surprise of receiving and giving gifts if you do that? How mechanical and emotionless is this?

Now, Christmas left behind, with a new year there are birthdays waiting in their places for the right time to attack on us. It means presents, again. Presents for the peoeple that have got everything and whatever you buy won't make them happy. Not just that, what is the point of celebration of ageing anyway and, why people assume that it is something everybody celebrate happly?

I am going to send an e-mail to everybody in the family saying, from now on I don't want birthday and Christmas gifts and I won't be giving to anybody in these expected times. I will do it whenever I want. End of it.

'The Beginning'

2008-01-13T19:33:00.003Z

Beginnings are usually difficult for me. But once I have done it, the rest will be as easy as a pie (I hope).

Who am I ?: An immigrant who lives in the UK for last quite a few years, enough to work out the way of life here and the differences between my original culture and the British Culture. I am going to write my opinions and ask some questions about most of things as I experience. As English is my second language, there will be possibility of some spelling and grammar mistakes in my posts that you blog readers should be aware of. This is one of the reasons for starting this blog actually, to improve my writing in English.

Anyway, as it took a long time to make a decision about to create this blog, here I am, at least.