Showing posts with label fairytale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fairytale. Show all posts

December 22, 2014

An old fairy tale in a modern jacket

Dear Bloggers,

During the my wanderings through my funny mind.
I wanted to put an old fairy tale into a modern form. 
Everyone knows the sad story of the girl with the matches. 
As a young bloke this story made me cry and I realized that not everyone is 
that lucky in this life, some have to live under harsh conditions
This is my version of it. I wish everyone a warm and loving Christmas time.


It was a frigid cold night outside on the streets of downtown Groningen City, the coldest night of the year in fact. It was Christmas Eve and all along the littered and paved road were buildings with warm glows coming from the windows of the apartment buildings. Everyone was happily celebrating the Christmas spirit with glasses of brandy or a beer and a typical Christmas movie on their televisions. The snow fell down fast and thick, blanketing the sidewalks in a soft but chill powder. The snow ploughs would have quite a job clearing all the walkways and roads in the morning.


A public service bus emblazoned with Groningens famous grey and red dotted pattern managed to find a vacant spot along the side of the busy street and parallel parked, coming to a stop. The back passenger door opened and a man in a dark trench coat and dark hat shoved a young girl onto the unploughed sidewalk. The bloke threw a box at her, revealing quite a large stock of packaged cigarettes. “Now, I don’t wanna see you back on my doorstep until every last pack of smokes has been sold, you got that kid?” the owner of the hat yelled harshly. The girl sighed and shivered as the wind tore through her thin jacket and ragged jeans.


“Yeah, alright! I’ll sell ‘em!” she snapped back, thoroughly irritated with her big brother doing this to her again. He had sent her out in the frigid cold every night this week to sell those disgusting cigarettes his buddies smuggled in from other countries. She had gotten quite ill from her late-night job and even now, her eyes were streaming and her nose was dripping terribly. Her lungs felt about three sizes too small for her body and every now and then, she would be plagued with a wracking cough that left her gasping for air.


Of course, her brother would not take her to the hospital. He didn’t want to waste his precious money that she earned for him on something as trivial and unimportant as medical care. The bus slowly took off again and got out of sight again, leaving the sick young girl of about twelve years by herself on the streets of Groningen City.


She wore no gloves and her sneakers had holes in them that allowed the snow to soak through and freeze her toes. Her jacket was too ragged and thin to wear in March, let alone late December. Pulling the thin fabric tighter around her scarf-less neck, she put her head down and trudged her way through the bitter cold snow, being jostled back and forth by busy Groningers who were in too much of a hurry to notice her.


Finding a rather busy intersection, with bustling traffic all around her, the girl decided to advertise the cigarettes there. Placing the box in front of her on the ground and pulling out a brightly coloured, freshly wrapped package, she cleared her aching throat and shouted out. “Get your cigarettes here! Fresh, smooth cigarettes with a new mint flavour! Only three fifty a pack! A great low price!” she yelled out, displaying the carton as high up as she could to grab people’s attention. A few passing folks bought a package or two, but most just turned their heads and kept walking without a word. She had only sold four packages of cigarettes and needed to sell the entire box full before returning to her brother.


A bout of severe coughing caught the young girl by surprise. Doubled over, she hacked and spluttered until she thought she may vomit right there on the pavement. Luckily, the feeling passed although she was left gasping for breath, hands on her knees at the intersection. Of course, the bustling Groningers walking past paid no attention to her. The suffering of a little girl was no concern of theirs.

Wiping her runny eyes that were now mixed with hot, salty tears, the girl shook her head to shake the snow out of her hair. “Forget this! This is dumb!” she muttered to herself angrily, giving the box of cigarettes a good kick, leaving a sizable dent in the soggy cardboard. Picking up the box and continuing to walk down the street, she had to bite her lip to stop from crying out in pain. She was so cold she couldn’t feel her toes or her fingers and she was aching all over from the beating her brother had given her the day before for coming home with no profit.


“Psst! Hey, kid! You got some smokes there?” the voice of a homeless man wafted out from an alley. The young girl was not afraid of street people. Most of them were usually kind enough to spare an encouraging word or a few extra scraps of food when she made her rounds. She nodded and stepped forward. “Yeah, but I can’t give ‘em to you for free or else my brother will beat me,” she told him apologetically. The homeless man waved a hand as if to brush off her words.

“Ah, that’s okay kid. I got some matches though. Care to trade a pack of smokes for some matches?” he asked, pulling out a small handful. The girl was about to apologize once more and say that her brother would hit her for trading any of the cigarettes when a thought struck her. The matches would provide some kind of warmth for her numb fingers. Unable to resist, the girl eagerly nodded and traded the homeless man for the matches. “Thanks, kid. You’re alright,” the man complimented her, walking away with his new treasure.


Taking the man’s place in the dark alley, the girl struck one of the matches against the rough brick of the building beside her. Thankfully, the match wasn’t wet and a small fire glowed brightly in front of her eyes. Looking up, the young girl witnessed the most amazing sight. Before her lay her old living room from when her mother had been alive, decorated lavishly for the holidays. A gleaming pine tree covered in twinkling lights and tinsel shone magnificently and presents were laid underneath, covered in festive wrapping paper as a roaring fire spread its warmth throughout the room. As the girl reached out to touch her surroundings, the flame of the match flickered and died out; leaving her once again in one of Groningen City’s many dark and frighteningly cold alleys.


With a cry of fear she desperately struck another match. This time, she was in her old dining room, also decorated for Christmas and the table groaning under the weight of all the delicious food upon it. Roasted turkey with cranberry sauce and gravy, mashed potatoes, wine and eggnog all freshly made by her mother. The scent made the girl’s mouth water, but again the vision did not last and with the death of the match’s flame, came reality once more.

Just one more… the girl thought to herself hopefully, again striking a third match. Rather than seeing visions of her old home with food and decorations made by her deceased mother, she saw her mother before her. She was alive and well, looking healthy and jubilant. She smiled warmly at her daughter, holding her arms out to embrace her. Sobbing with joy, the girl frantically lit the rest of the matches she had, not wanting the image of her mother to fade away like the others had. “Mom! Mom, take me with you! Don’t leave me again, mom!” she wept.


“Come. I’m taking you with me, where you will never be sad or cold or hungry again. We will be together forever,” her mother’s sweet, gentle voice called out calmly to her. Smiling through her tears, the girl ran into her mother’s arms and they were floating higher and higher. As they ascended, the young girl could feel all her sadness, loneliness, hunger, and cold fade away, leaving her in a state of bliss as she embraced her mother. She would never feel these things again.

The morning rush hour traffic on the first day after Christmas was brought to a standstill as police tape surrounded a snowy alley. A female officer leaned over the body of a little girl, surrounded by lit matches and a box of cigarettes nearby. She cleared her throat and spoke into the walkie-talkie attached to her breast pocket. “We seem to have a Jane Doe here, approximately ten to thirteen years old; seems like she froze to death last night. We’ll have her at the coroner’s by midday. Over,” she told another officer. The officer sighed and shook her head. “Poor kid. Probably she was just trying to keep herself warm.”


Light a candle in these dark days for those who are no longer with us,
but somewhere up there waiting for us. And when our time has come 
to exchange the earthly to the afterlife. 
Whatever you believe and no matter who you are. 
Just remember Love conquers all. 

The Old Sailor,

January 29, 2010

French for beginners

Dear Bloggers,



Today is one of these days that you think "I wish it was summertime again". Outside the rain is drizzling down mixed with snow. A nasty combination of cold and wet is forcing me to stay indoors. It makes me dream away about better days that the sun was out, and it makes me realize that it is the perfect time to make plans for the coming holidays.


As an old sailor I have travelled the world and I saw many beautiful places on my journey's. I have a lot of ideas of where to go and also where not to go. My memories are flashing back to a few years ago. I was in a not to good position financially and we had a hard time to survive. A good friend of mine Erik suggested to visit his farmhouse in France.


I answered that it was a nice idea and tried to crawl back with the fact that my French was not to good. No problem he said, the younger generation will speak some English. I expressed the idea to my wife and after a discussion about the costs she agreed with me and we should not turn down this offer. We saved some money for fuel and started on this new challenge, in the early morning we drove off to “la douce France”. When we prepaired ourself for the trip my not very detailed map could not find the village of Reithouse.(pronounce as Rétouzje) I picked up the phone and called Erik to give me some more detailed directions and now the adventure could begin. A GPS system was still extremely expensive at least it was for us. As soon as we had crossed the borders of Belgium and Luxembourg and ended up on the highway in France.


We drove Southbound and past the cities of Metz, Nancy and Dijon from this point we had to follow the signs towards Lons le Saunier. Especially the last part we were stunned by the picturesk scenes where we drove through. The beautiful mountain scenery of the French Jura is impressive, and this is where Reithouse is situated. My wife and I had something were have we seen this before? Just a couple of kilomtres later we realized that the tour the France is passing through this area. I must admit that the picturesk scenes are live even better. When we arrived in Reithouse the sun had hidden itself behind the mountains and it was getting dark and we were all pretty tired of the long journey.


We entered the house and fired up the stove in the kitchen, the nice smell of burning wood was filling the room. We shoved the kids into bed and sat down at the kitchen table. In a few minutes it was nice and warm, it was time to enjoy the holiday and I opened a bottle of wine. Now it was time to relax. Eventhough it is very quiet in the small village of Reithouse our kids got up at six o'clock in the morning, I stumbled to the kitchen to make some tea and coffee.


After having some coffee and some crackers, we drove to the town of Orgelet to buy some fresh baked bread and of course croissants at the boulangerie. We also bought some other basic things at the local shops. Back at the house we had a great breakfast. (you should call it a breakslow as we really enjoyed it.) I the entrance hall of the house we found some leaflets about the surroundings and after breakfast we drove to Lac de Vouglans a huge lake with a dam that is providing most of the area with electrical power. We had a late lunch at one of the lovely beaches of this lake and this is only 15 minutes away from the house.

The scenery is overwhelming the mountains are covered with pinetrees and there are some beautiful waterfalls on extreme heights. On the lake you can also do a lot of watersports as they thought about safety they have divided the lake in sections for speedlevels. Far in the afternoon we got back to the house and my wife started preparing our diner. Together with the kids I explored the garden and they started playing with a ball, I layed back in a lawnchair with a book.


Before I realized it I had a conversation with Claude the neighbour that keeps an eye on the house and keeps the garden in shape. This conversation was brilliant as Claude does not speak much English and my French is as poor as his English. We were both surprised how well we understood eachother. We talked about all kinds of things the weather and of course this lovely little village. Eventhough we talked with hands and feet we had a nice chitchat and a good laugh. As one of the other neighbors joined in who did speak English I did get some nice tips about the wine and cheese of the Franche Comté in the area. And who know better than the locals about the area if you have a look on the website you will find also some nice tips.


We have done to many things to mention but we really enjoyed our stay. The house is as picturesk as the surroundings and I felt like living in a fairytalebook. Although our budget was not that big but this was one of the best holidays we had. We will absolutely go again as we only explored half of what we wanted to see. And believe me when I say that it is a small peace of paradise if you live in this stressfull world.


The Old Sailor,

September 5, 2008

The prince on the handsome white horse

This blog was posted in Dutch on 28 april 2008

Dear bloggers,

This story is specially for all the female readers
.
Finally you found him, the prince on the white horse where you have ben dreaming about all your life……………



And than after a month he shows already a few cracks in his image and also the horse is not that good (together you cripple already through life)
So to go short princes and white horses are reasonly unreliabile.
It is a bit the same as a vicious guy and a sportscar.
The worst is what I think is that your dream of the future is soapbubble, and there will be nothing of your dreamt future come true.

I think that the same has overcome my wife, she thought that she had found the prince of her dreams.
Although she did not mis anything and also love she does not have to be short of.
Well her prince was in the good old days more loving and much more spontanius (these are her words)
How could this happen?
In the old days I was not turned down or disappointed
And we did not to take care about anything.
We did not have children and financially we had nothing to complain, furthermore we were in the blooming time of our lives and nearly every day sexual adventures (What is there to wish more for a man.)



And now we have come to the Charles en Diana chapter, there were fairytale stops to excist. It starts to become for me bigger growing dilemma, she says that she still loves me but does not show that at all.
The most used excuses are:
Either the kids are awake, or she complains that she is so tired and wants to go to sleep, but strange enough she watches at least half an hour television.
All my attempts are being turned down.

If I break through the cirkel and it comes to the deed, I am to rough or to much in a rush
I am getting more and more trouble to keep myself in line.
Sometimes i wonder if all women with an own opinion, are so distant to their spouce.
There are actually a lot of women that are not allowed to be contradict against their man, in my eyes this is very old fashioned, but they still excist.

I will never be a Casanova and I do not wish to be one.
But I start to understand more and more these men around me.
I never understood these men that had a girlfriend next to their relationship, or the midlifelosers that found there pleasures outdoors.
It becomes clearer to me, if you are being turned down all the time, you start to look for pleasure somewhere else.
Home is only a statement for the outside world.

I don’t want to hurt anyone or cause suspicion, please don’t get me wrong
But it is one of the reasons why now a days a lot of marriages get stranded after a few years
And in 90% of the cases the man was caught being unfaithfull. (Men are not that handy in hiding these thing and to live with a sectret.)
He is portraited as the bad guy.
Nobody asks for the real reason behind this behavior.
Especially women “get a kick on it” to get these guys fully convicted and put him down to the ground.

But isn’t the mistake at their own gender
It is pretty tricky to stay a prince if they constantly try to upset you.
The white horse has in the meantime been exchanged for a familycar and the money you worked so hard for ended up in a payment for a mortgage.
The fairytale marriage still excists.




The once so handsome prince bacame a kind of Cinderella figure, who has every now and then a pretty hard life as the “two little darfs” are giving him a hard time
And if you are coming home from work the “wicked witch” is sitting on the couch.
I would love to see this changed and make it, to get to the last page of the fairytalesbook.

The story nearly always ends with “and they lived happily ever after.” This I would rather end wit my own words as: “Live life as long it is there, pray for less fights, spend your last money on a drink and fuck if your life is depending on it.”

The Old Sailor,

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