North Korea’s leader Kim Jong Il died last Saturday, but we only learned it today via the state news agency. Kim Jong Il was the son of Kim Il sung, appointed by Stalin as the leader of North Korea in 1948. So as the son of the country’s founder, Kim Jong-il was much more than just a national figurehead. State propaganda elevated him to a demi-god, credited with superhuman powers of wisdom, leadership and military prowess. Which is why he has been such a fascinating figure for the West, making him the object of endless parodies and jokes. Like someone said on Twitter this morning, “Kim Jong-il will be remembered for his strong performance in Team America, platform shoes, and kidnapping chefs and film stars”

Let’s not forget, though, that he was also a great teacher of journalists and the source of an amusing Tumblr or a fantastic dance music video (remember: Ain’t no party like a Pyongyang party, ’cause a Pyongyang party is ABSOLUTELY MANDATORY).

Now everyone’s talking about his younger son, Kim Jong-un, taking over. So obviously a Tumblr about him has already been created as well.

Este artículo que me he encontrado casualmente en Facebook es de hace más de un año, pero resulta ahora más vigente que nunca, y también mucho más doloroso. Leyendo esto se me hace un nudo en la garganta, porque sé que como la fuga no cese España se va a la mierda. Y no nos engañeamos, ¿qué razones les quedan a los jóvenes más listos y preparados para no marcharse? Bien pocas…

No llevan maletas de cartón, pero componen un nuevo éxodo [...] que dispersa a nuestros jóvenes por toda Europa y gran parte del mundo, que nos priva de su saber, de su aportación y de su compañía. Pero, aparentemente nadie se escandaliza por esta fuga de cerebros, lenta pero inexorable, que nos privará de muchos de nuestros mejores talentos. Nadie protesta por esta nueva oleada de exiliados que son una acusación silenciosa del fracaso y de engaño. Se van en silencio por el túnel de embarque en el que les alcanzará la melancolía por la pérdida temprana de su tierra.

No son, como dicen, una generación perdida para ellos mismos. No son los socorridos ni-nis que sirven para culpar a la juventud de su falta de empleo. Son una generación perdida para nuestro país y para nuestro futuro. Un tremendo error que pagaremos muy caro en forma de atraso, de empobrecimiento intelectual y técnico. Aunque todavía no lo sepamos.

For those interested in South African politics, Constitutionally Speaking is one of my favorite blogs. One of his latest entries about how white South Africans can make sense of the horrible things their parents did and/or supported. The whole thing is a must-read, but here’s a food-for-though excerpt:

Most of us Afrikaners (and many white English speakers too) live in a moral wasteland: most feel that we must either deny the past and our complicity in it (or at the very least re-write that past to erase our complicity in it), or we must acknowledge the full horror of that past, which seems to mean that we would lose our very humanity, our ability to be human beings with an inherent human dignity with moral agency and the right to express our views on present day injustices in our country.

I would have to agree with Tante Marie in this epic video on how to prepare a Thanksgiving turkey:

Just put the fucking turkey in the oven. Don’t worry about it. Turkey never really tastes good.

Indeed, it never does. Also, it never does any good, as shown by this list compiling what pardoned turkeys are doing now. Basically, turkeys always turn bad when left to their own devices:

Gobbler

Pardoned by George H. W. Bush, 1989. Currently serving a life sentence in Leavenworth Penitentiary. Gobbler was convicted of two counts of second degree murder, both committed during a botched robbery in 1992.

One of the little things that took me the longest to get used to when I first came to the US, and definitely a main chapter in the ‘cultural differences’ book, is greetings. And particularly hugs. In Spain you greet strangers simply by waving, and in a formal environment by shacking hands. Friends and aquaintances give a kiss on each cheek, which is something that can freak Americans out. What freaks me out, though, is all the hugging happening in the US. I find all that body contact extremely uncomfortable (especially when it’s hot), and I even though I’m now used to it I still try to avoid it whenever possible. Probably more than one person thinks I’m rude or distant, but I can’t bring myself to constantly hug people who are not my lovers.

That’s why I found this article in the Wall Street Journal so funny, as it shows how awkward greetings can be for people of different cultural backgrounds. They even included a visual guide on how to greet people in the workplace, which they called ‘Contact Sheet’. I just think it could all be simplified by simply saying: if you don’t know the person, greet them without physical contact (with a movement of the head and a smile) or with a simple handshake.

[via @AnnaSFO]

This week The Economist has an article about what they call “one of the world’s biggest social trends”: the rise of international marriages — that is, involving couples of different nationalities.

A hundred years ago, such alliances were confined to the elite of the elite. [...]

International marriages matter partly because they reflect—and result from—globalisation. As people holiday or study abroad, or migrate to live and work, the visitors meet and marry locals. Their unions are symbols of cultural integration, and battlefields for conflicts over integration. Few things help immigrants come to terms with their new country more than becoming part of a local family. Though the offspring of such unions may struggle with the barriers of prejudice, at their best international marriages reduce intolerance directly themselves, and indirectly through their progeny.

And apparently, in many parts of the world, cross-border nuptials are on the rise. Also amongst my friends.

[via While you were sleeping]

Back in July I wrote a story for The Bold Italic about a new teashop that had just opened in San Francisco named Taste, specializing in Chinese teas served with the traditional Gong Fu method – which literally means, “making tea with efforts.” Since I love tea I enjoyed writing the article a great deal, and also learned a lot about Chinese tea implements and the ritual of preparing it.

Yesterday they organized a special tea tasting/class with The Bold Italic (‘The Art of Tea‘) and I was lucky to be invited to attend. It was supposed to last two hours, but when drinking tea you can’t rush things, so we ended up tasting for over four hours. I was particularly fascinated by the stories about Puerh teas from an anthropologist guy named Brian Kirbis who’s been researching them (and giving lectures about them) for years. I didn’t know much about Puerh teas as I’ve only had them a couple of times and find them to taste like dirt, although they’re typically very expensive. They come in these compressed round bricks that kind of look like cow dung, and they can be aged for years. Thanks to Brian I learned about the economics of Puerh teas in the Yunnan province where they’re from, what makes them so expensive, and also that there’s a raw variety for everyday drinking that I quite enjoyed.

The downside of spending the whole evening drinking tea is that when I got home past 10 I was really feeling the ‘tea buzz’ (apparently there’s even a name for that in Chinese, but I forgot cha zui). So I couldn’t go to bed until past 3am, although I had to get up early, and then felt kind of hungover the next day. As it turns out, you can drink too much tea…

Favorite Tumblr of the day: “Yo, is this racist?“. Which is self described as “Yo, ask me if something is racist and I’ll tell you”. I can think of several people right now who could use a bit of guidance from this site… Here are a couple of examples:

On blackface (for those who still have doubtst):

-Anonymous asked: is there any situation where black face isn’t racist?

-Motherfucker, hell no.

If a tree falls down in the middle of the forest…

-Anonymous asked: If it looks or sounds racist, it’s racist, right? So what if nobody notices it’s racist?

-Yo, don’t worry, even if they didn’t say anything, someone noticed.

Now you know, guys.

Update

After posting this I gave a second look to the photo above, of German artist Boris Hoppek who is the subject of one of the ‘Yo, is this racist?’ entries. And you know what, I’m quite sure that’s a rooftop in Barcelona.

[via @lenazun]

Yo no diría que en el extranjero me he reconciliado con España, ni que le veo (aún) remedio, pero al menos desde el extranjero se ven las cosas desde perspectivas diferentes (y ayuda a disipar cierta amargura). Y, como dice Elvira Lindo, se aprende a ser flexible. Pero no solo con las costumbres ajenas sino con la ideología propia, con los paisanos. En todo caso, leed su columna de ayer:

Si hay un lugar donde me reconcilio con España, ese país con el que siempre anda uno enfurruñándose y haciendo las paces, es en el extranjero. Sí, en ese extranjero al que nuestros padres tenían tanto miedo y en el que nuestros hijos empiezan a moverse como ciudadanos del mundo. Es fuera de España donde una se da cuenta de que aún tenemos remedio, de que a pesar de que las cifras indican que hay un alto porcentaje de paisanos que no han tenido la curiosidad ni de ir a la comunidad autónoma vecina y de que la opinión mayoritaria es que como en España no se vive en ningún sitio, ni se come en ningún sitio, ni se divierte uno en ningún sitio, hay vida allá afuera, y un nutrido batallón de españoles curiosos y preparados andan buscándose el pan en países lejanos y lo hacen con notable-alto. [...] te reconcilian con tu país, porque ejercen cada día algo que a los españoles nos cuesta mucho: la flexibilidad con otras costumbres.

Although I didn’t manage to go to the first Maker Faire Africa in Ghana a couple of years ago, my #1 Fan did and made me jealous blogging about all the cool creative people he met there. Like Nana Kofi Acquah, a really talented photographer whose blog I’ve been following since. Lately I’ve really enjoyed his various series of beach photos, partly because it’s now (finally) cold in San Francisco but also because they remind me of the great beaches I got to enjoy in Côte d’Ivoire. Here are a couple of my favorites, but make sure to check all the others.