Extra terrestrial, communication

Wavelength, harmonics

Wavelength harmonics.

Light-speed fish

20181213_155008 (Light-speed fish)

As you approach the speed of light, things change.

A Ginga and, fizzy

Ginga and fizzy.jpgA new (and admittedly sweet) discovery was Watson’s Ginger beer. I’d found it at the local Aeon supermarket. The Ginger beer was no Bundaberg beer, but still tasted of Ginger. Perhaps formulated to Asian tastes? Not as syrupy, but still tasting of Ginger. Ice cold it makes a nice change from the normal fizzy drinks around. And unique, since it was the only Ginger beer available.

On a cultural side note. The term Ginga is the less than complimentary name for someone endowed with a Ginger genetic disposition. (Red hair and freckles). It’s caused by a recessive gene that equals to about 1-2% of the population.

Felt the urge for cheese, got matchsticks instead

Cheese sticks.jpgSticks the snacks were indeed, however, even though they had their share of enzyme modified cheese (emc). Though, I think they lacked a bit of  ‘X’ factor. The sticks in question were about an inch long, and as wide as a matchstick. Actually, only a bit more taste than a matchstick. Meh. Boring, insipid in taste and forgettable. Maybe my experience had been spoilt by my taste of Cheetos. Other cheese snacks of note are Rashuns, Cheese balls and Burger rings. All of which keep dairy companies in the money all over the world since there is a constant need for emc.

*Despite it’s rather scientific name, it’s what the food industry does to enhance the cheese flavour. The enzymes are added after the milk is reduced to curds. Though the name of the enzyme in question is an industry secret, the types of enyzmes used can act on proteins, fats (lipids) and peptides (sub-units of proteins).


Pianos, now cheese and bacon flavoured


Cited in an earlier blog post, the packaging has changed but, the flavour certainly has not. Cheesy with a hint of savoury saltiness which becomes more and more apparent as you munch on downwards through the bag. Bought at a local supermarket in New Zealand, for me they’re just a reminder of my youth. That and scoffing everything that’s bad for your teeth, stomach and possibly everything else carcinogenic that scientists have discovered. There surely must be some very fat, over fed lab rats and mice out there. Death from an overdose of Bluebird’s Rashuns? Only if a huge box of it falls on your head. Think of it like a piano falling on your head only that it tastes like cheese and bacon.

Edit: it was in fact burger rings and not Rashuns that were cited in an earlier post.

Adventures in CI, atomic fission was the key

Think of the above as a S<>S interaction, with the neutrons, the TL

I had just finished my 4th grade classes, and I tried out my new interaction patterns on the class.

These were essentially changing a weakly dialogic class to something that was more student to student. Drawing on my knowledge of chemistry, I played the role of catalyst. Initiating the reaction but remained unchanged by it throughout. The task in this case was simply asking and answering a question, this going down the line of desks to the end. I had initially envisaged mad scientist style, one row of students asking the target language (how’s the weather?) with the row behind them giving them an open answer (It’s sunny) but it was hijacked by my KET, she made it by column, not row. It still worked either way. Not a bad start, but the experimentation continues. The students in pairs again, ask about the target language, as seen in the short film seen in class. Again, I initiated it, but had no part in the saying of the target language, all the input was from the video.

What was the yield? Most of the students spoke, a few did not. Those that didn’t felt it too embarrassing, but obviously their affective filter. Clearly something is needed to penetrate their ‘lead sheilding’. But the net effect was it was initiated by me, but the speaking was done on the whole, by the students. An experiment in sound if you will.

Forget Fukashima, just take your brollie

It rained, so I zipped on the hood to my newly acquired Columbia jacket. Just enough to keep the rain off, but according to the Korean news websites it was rain tainted with fallout from Fukashima. It’s the sort of thing that makes me roll my eyes and wish for more yellow dust, which is supposed to be prevalent at the moment too. At least the rain keeps the dust down, as for the radiation, it’s at very low levels. The current dosage quoted is 0.3mSV. I know for a fact that the amounts that can kill you are in the 10 to 100SV range.

You gotta laugh at some of the information films put out back then.  One thing that sprung to mind when I watched it was radiation is quite easily attenuated. Double the distance, and you quarter the amount of energy. It’s not how much, but how long.

Welsh rarebit, smoking

The cloud was just frustrating, and I eventually gave up. Viewed on the ‘big screen’, I realised that the cloud added some atmosphere to the whole composition. In the naïve expectation that if I came out later, the clouds would have receded and the moon would still be the same colour. However, I did turn out some nice full moon shots.

Recipe for Welsh rarebit.

Kim-chi, too much of a good thing

Kim-chi is Koreas’ signature dish. No meal is complete without it.

If you remove the spice component of the dish then you get something closely resembling saurkraut. Both of which are ferrmented products, caused by lactic acid bacteria.

It’s actually the time of year that Kim-chi is made, by the mothers and daughters throughout Korea. More about making Kim-chi and the surrounding culture can be found here.

It all sort of ties in well with the market place days that occur in country towns. Here, people come out and try to hawk off the goods they have. You could get everything from out-of-style clothing to food that is literally grown by the stall owner. Yes, very homely.

I used to eat a lot of kim-chi. Too much makes me itch, makes me break out in hives and generally makes me feel unconfortable. Much too much gives me the shits. No wonder. It’s the body’s way of rejecting something that it doesn’t like.