Steve Jobs was an absolute visionary…

A determined man who found himself in the right place and the right time to revolutionize the way modern society interacts with technology. He was not alone – but we placed him high atop a mountain of smart people who knew things we did not and who could advance technology faster than we could adapt and understand it. An industry grew up with him and around him – and we embraced his vision. He will alway be remembered as a leader and as a visionary.

Today a world mourns his passing.

But can we also consider that with this tribute comes an inherent assumption that these advances are good. That we seem to have latched onto technology as if it were inherently necessary for our survival. Can we consider for a moment the generations of people that flourished before us, in a world before Steve Jobs, that excelled at art and business without the aid of macs,  iphones, ipads or ipods. Can we say that today our world is in a better place after Steve Jobs than before? These are hard things to know…

Perhaps these words put too much pressure on one man’s achievements, put too much emphasis on the advancements that he and others have made. Perhaps these words expect too much from one man. I don’t know … but I wonder if, perhaps at times, we put too much importance and too much wealth in a business that simply makes technology more accessible, more approachable, more fun or more affordable.

And as I write these words on my MacBook Pro I think (as I often do) how fragile we are … how vulnerable we are and how simple (at times) we can be. And it’s at these times that I want to know what can truly make us better …

Rest in peace, Mr. Jobs.

histórico ~ history

esquerda (left) is ~t~ in portugal | direita (right) is ~d~ in vancouver

.tNb

misty lines 2 by Penfold on Flickr

08:00 ~ I scramble for necessities and we head to the local health clinic armed with two bananas, a Portuguese-English dictionary and as many identity papers as we can find.

010:00 ~ After discovering that the closest emergency clinic in Lousã no longer provides emergency services (não emergência is such a crap phrase to see), we have navigated our way through a hidden number-taking system and have convinced someone to see us as soon as possible. We leave, now armed with a magic blue envelope marked urgênçia and tensely drive the 40km towards Hospitais da Universidade de Coimbra.

11:00 ~ We are surrounded by emergency room sights, smells and sounds, the same that are found in any hospital I’ve ever spent time in. The colours are the same, the furniture equally as uncomfortable and the lights just as unreassuring. The looks on people’s faces, mostly worry, fatigue and resignation, look familiar, just the sound of the names being called out to the room are different. We have made it past the battle-axe front-line receptionist and sit patiently, Penfold having joined those hooked up to the preferred welcome cocktail, a saline drip.

13:00 ~ We have met with a graceful, young doctor who has taken the time and made the effort to fully understand Penfold’s condition: a prolongued case of caxumba (mumps), now feared to be meningitis. The language is proving to be no barrier for Penfold but I find the difficulties in understanding and communication to be frustrating. Tests and more tests are ordered.

15:00 ~ We wait.

16:00 ~ We are escorted up to another wing and make a valuable discovery, the location of our only source of sustenance, the vending machines. I mentally stock up on the inevitable selection of mystery meats wrapped in pastry while Penfold gets scanned and probed.

17:00 ~ We wait.

18:00 ~ We wait.

19:00 ~ And we wait.

19:30 ~ This is Spinal Tap.

Penfold mentally prepares himself behind the curtain for the horrors ahead while I pace and take in the surroundings of this new room. Hospital beds everywhere, mostly filled with 100-year-old men and women at various stages of agony. A hive of activity in the centre of the room where an incredibly lively team of doctors and nurses huddle, laugh, strategize and process paperwork. It’s difficult to ignore these new sounds and I now feel soothed by the inability to understand very little. I suddenly have three more grey hairs.

21:00 ~ We find the most comfortable positions we can and we wait. We make up stories about the scenes in front of us, we ration our selection of vending machine gold, and we wait for test results.

23:00 ~ We wait some more.

24:00 ~ We wait, finding increasingly creative ways to get comfortable.

01:00 ~ The doctor who signs the release form is the same elegant, now visibly tired, doctor we met 13 hours ago. We all smile, shake hands, pay our €42 bill and go home. That’s nearly enough to buy lunch in Vancouver (without dessert).

The Portuguese system may not be the most efficient and it’s become increasingly impossible to ignore the effects of the Eurozone crisis here. Even tougher times are ahead and I worry for the people who will bear the brunt of these austerity measures. And yet, there is no disputing the dedication and kindness that we experienced last night. The Portuguese health care system is flawed and in desperate need of improvement, but there is absolutely no lack of humanity or willingness in the people who give life to the system.

Thank you, Portugal.

Just enter the code OUTONO2011 at checkout

Everything in my store is 15% off this week including custom order hand knits for adults, for toddlers, for home and for baby. Just enter the code OUTONO2011 at checkout.

For more information about my custom order hand knits or to choose colours from all my available fibres check out the recently refreshed tangoNovemberbravo.com.

Hurry, sale ends Sunday!

There’s an early hint of fall in the air and the stores are full of temptingly new notebooks and pens.  The grape leaves that frame our balcony are turning red and I’ve started wearing socks again. There’s no denying that the long and lazy days of summer are almost over so I spent our unexpected Internet holiday recreating my favourite taste of autumn.

It seemed like the perfect time to learn the Bravo family tradition of Pflaumenkuchen. Fresh from the oven, it is my plum heaven. Even Papersurfer Jr. likes it.

Pflaumenkuchen

For the Pflaumenkuchen curious:

500 g All-Purpose Flour
100 g Margarine
75 g Sugar
250 ml Milk (keep 3 tablespoons aside until luke warm)
11 g Yeast (1 cube)
1 Egg
1 pinch Salt
1 pinch Cinnamon
2 ½ kg Plums

Pour flour into a bowl and make a small trough in the middle. Crumble the yeast in a cup and mix with 3 tablespoons of lukewarm milk. Once dissolved add 1 pinch of sugar to the yeast and mix well. Pour yeast mixture into flour trough and let rise for 20-30 minutes at 50ºC (in the oven works best).

Meanwhile, wash plums. Cut each plum across in half and remove the pit.

Remove flour from the oven and add sugar, salt cinnamon, margarine and the egg. Gradually add the milk and knead into a smooth dough that can easily be pulled from the sides of the bowl. Let dough rise for another 20-30 minutes in the already warm oven.

Once the dough has risen, roll out onto a greased baking platter and top with plums. Sprinkle liberally with sugar and a dash of cinnamon to taste. Bake at 200ºC for 20-30 minutes or until edges are browned and plums are running with red juice.

Serve with fresh whipped cream (optional).

.tNb

PS: Muito obrigada to Shannon, daisyfae and Lo,TG for their comments on Sugar.

açúcar ~ sugar

esquerda (left) is ~t~ in portugal | direita (right) is ~d~ in vancouver

.tNb

Hand-Knit Custom Orders: For the month of June get 25% off selected colours of the popular Tango Socks (selected colours based on current wool inventory) — perfect for cool evenings!

Watch this space for more updates on the tangoNovemberbravo SUMMER SALE …

.tNb

We now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast.

This is 8000 clicks between 2 chicks.

(Voltaire, 1694 - 1778)

esquerda (left) is ~t~ in portugal | direita (right) is ~d~ in vancouver

.tNb

PS: Muito obrigada to Daddy Papersurfer, Lo,TG, Alice, Elisabete, daisyfae and djbeat for their risky comments on Een Paar Dagen.

een, twee, drie ...

It’s a world where no hat is too goofy or big, where the beach is a place to build sandcastles and jump on trampolines. A place where horses and water buffalo roam, and where the next game of hopscotch is just around the corner.

As I watched my godson and his sister chase each other around a playground among a herd of free-running goats, I realized that the idea of self-responsibility starts early in that world. It’s like the land that Health & Safety forgot. Never mind the tolerance of adult indulgences found in the endless ‘coffee’ shops and Red Light district, it’s a place where nobody is forced to wear a helmet! Bicyclists and people driving motor scooters share a lane and most aren’t protecting their noggins. It’s a place where people, young and old, are still allowed to make choices.

You can see a few more glimpses of Een Paar Dagen in Nederland here.

.tNb

PS: Obrigada to penfold, daisyfae, Daddy Papersurfer, Lo,TG and djbeat for their comments on Watching Through Rose-Tinted Glasses.

It spread through social media like wildfire. As I listened to my good friend relay the story of how he ended up with five stitches in his eye after attempting to stop the looting and vandalism that was taking place just blocks away from his home, I could hear the intensified energy in his voice.

I could feel the madness as I watched the streams of photo and video coverage sent in by thousands of angry and disappointed people.

I could feel the need for accountability, watching with great interest as social media plays its part in news coverage and law enforcement.

from This is My Vancouver by Graham Ballantyne on Flickr

And I can feel the outpouring of positive action as I continue to see photos, blogs and media coverage to remind me how much Vancouverites care about their city.

My rose-tinted glasses may have fallen off when I saw the first images of the riot, but they’re firmly back in place.

I ❤ Vancouver.

.tNb

PS: Obrigada to Lo,TG, daisyfae, Daddy Papersurfer and penfold for their “witty” comments on Quiet.