Musings, mutterings and bright lights

  Along the Gringo Trail. A retrospective on South America Due to a family wedding in May, and the arrival of my daughter and partner from Berlin my blogging has stalled somewhat and I was a bit lost for what to write next. The volcanic eruptions in Guatemala this week reminded me of the time I spent in that wonderful country on 2 trips there in 1980, when heading south and then back north many months later. For the first time in my life I climbed an “extinct” volcano and for a while wondered if it was the same volcano wreaking death and destruction. The tragic TV footage made much look all too familiar and set me off on this blog of South America and my travels there.  Living the life of an expatriate was at the forefront of my mind in my late 20s and early 30s. My first foray abroad, other than my regimented year in Vietnam as a soldier, came in my second year after graduating and not long after The Dismissal of the Whitlam government on Remembrance Day in November 1975, an event

Brazil: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly In 1980, with my Spanish at an advanced level, my backpack and travel checks procured, along with my essential guidebook, I was ready to depart on my next big adventure, south of the border.  I must have been serious as I'd quit my day job which included teaching ESL adults, migrants, and refugees. Here I come South America and the Gringo Trail, I thought, here I come Vito in Brazil,  and Brazil's many wonders, good, bad, and ugly. My long flight has a short stopover in Hawaii before it landed in L.A. Then it was an overland trip through Central America, and then another flight from Panama to Ecuador. Every country had its good, bad, and ugly. There was color with fine food, music, and many friendly people, especially in Nicaragua which had recently overthrown a despotic dictator, Somoza in July 1979.   There were heavily armed soldiers, curfews, and an intimidating military presence on many street corners.  In Mexico, I was tear-gassed:

Dante and Chaucer I grew up in a bil ingual household in Perth speaking both Aussie English and a Sicilian dialect, although radio programs playing in the background were in mainstream or "proper" Italian. Even friends and neighbours spoke "proper " Italian.  But that's Italy for you: regional dialects against a national backdrop of the language of Dante Aligheri in classrooms and the media. In England substitute Dante for Chaucer. Is it also a generational thing? Or is it like Austrian German v that spoken in Berlin and Bremen? Or French in Paris v Montreal. Most amusing are the anglo words in popular use in Italian communities: carro or buso. Australian comedian Joe Avati sees the funny side of Italo-Australians language and life. See video at end of this blog. Joe Avati on Youtube A visit to Italy in 2012 to cousins reflected this dichotomy. Visiting family in Perth today is very much the same. Many Sicilian words are closer to Spanish which I can also speak