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The Citizen, 1994-07-27, Page 5Arthur Black THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, JULY 27,1994. PAGE 5. I could be passing a durian plantation! Right now, even as you’re reading this, David Oren is most likely creeping like a bandit through the Brazilian rain forest He is stalking an extremely elusive mammal called the mapinguari. A mapinguari is not something you'd like to have in your living room when the vicar comes calling. A mapinguari is a very large, rather nasty, furry ground sloth which has never actually been officially recorded as 'present' in modem times. Indeed, most scientists believe the mapinguari became extinct about 9,000 years ago. But Mister Oren, a U.S. biologist who's been living in, and studying, the Amazon basin for the past 18 years, is convinced it's out there, somewhere, munching bn the Brazilian underbrush. He's had dozens of eyewitness reports from natives over the past few years. He's seen with his own eyes large footprints that, he believes, could belong to no other animal. That's why he’s out there, padding through the Mato Grosso of the South American outback. Wearing a gas mask. Yes, a gas mask. That's the other thing that International Scene ? ' By Raymond Canon ' Germany in June June 6, 1994 saw the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the great invasion of France by the allied armies stationed in Britain. A great many political leaders, including our own prime minister, took part in the ceremonies which were held in both Britain and France, and to which the Germans were pointedly not invited. By chance I happened to be in Germany at that time and was, therefore, interested in the reaction of the Germans to all the activities. If the Germans were miffed by the failure of the allied nations to invite them, they certainly did not show it. While there was considerable coverage of the events both in the print media and on television, all that I saw was straightforward reporting. One paper even managed to work in a history lesson on the events leading up to the invasion. At first glance this might seem a bit out of place but it must be remembered that the vast majority of Germans living today were not even bom in 1944 or, if they were, were loo young to remember much. Their attitude to such events can thus be described as indifferent. Those that might have been upset at the lack of an invitation could take some consolation in the fact that the Russians weren’t invited either. If the Germans weren’t paying much attention to proceedings in Britain and France, what were they concerned about? I’m sure some car owners were more than a tad upset by the fact that they arc currently repaying about $1.30 a litre for gasoline. I certainly got a bit annoyed when I discovered that filling the lank of my compact car cost me just over $60. In addition Germany is going through a higher rate of inflation than Canada (but every eyewitness who's spotted a mapinguari never fails to mention - the stench. "People universally report that this animal really stinks" says Oren. "People become intoxicated and spend a day or two lost in the forest after they come in contact with it." Interesting to speculate about how bad the mapinguari must smell. Worse than a skunk? As bad as week-old roadkill? More overpowering than Uncle Leroy's outhouse or the breath of your Grade 10 Geometry teacher? How about: worse than the smell of a durian? The durian is a round green fruit about the size of a watermelon. The fruit is studded with sharp green spikes and can weigh up to 30 pounds. When you break it open it reveals white pod-like sections that have the texture of a very ripe camembert cheese. But when you break it open, chances are you won't notice a thing about the texture. You'll be too busy throwing up. Because the ripe durian smells very much like rotten fish. That's 'he bad news about durians. The good news is: you’ll probably never smell one. They only grow in Malaysia. Smells are funny things. My father sold sheep and calves at the Ontario Public Stockyards. It was a job with odiferous overtones. He died 35 years ago but if I close my eyes I can summon up, just as if he was sitting next to me, the aroma of sweat and hay and cowhide and sheepdung that what country isn’t) and prices are climbing at a time when just about the same percentage of workers are unemployed as in Canada. Many Germans are annoyed at the huge cost of raising the standard of living in the eastern part of the country (the former communist East Germany), a cost that is much higher than that promised by their political leaders. In addition, many Germans are upset at the large number of political refugees from all over who are finding their way to that country. This comes at a time when the large number of Turks, who have been there for some time, are making their presence felt. It may be relatively easy to get into Germany as a political refugee but it is extremely hard for a non-German to gain citizenship regardless of how long he or she has been there. A fair amount of friction has arisen, something that is not helped by the violent acts of right-wing extremists who would like to see all foreigners out of the country. The country's mind was taken off some of the more serious things by the presence of Germany in the World Soccer Champion­ ship. Al least three-quarters of the country consider themselves to be more expert than the German coach and are making their feelings fell. Only a championship will keep these millions of critics happy. This brings me to the next point. I learned while I was there, that the German team chose to do their training, not in the United Slates where the tournament is being held, but in Ontario, in the town of Alliston. The town came in for a considerable amount of attention on German television, as did the exhibition match which the Germans played with the Canadian team. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I have ever seen Canada gel so much publicity on German TV as 1 did this time. I happened to tum it on one day just in time to hear that the first prize on some program was a two-weck trip to Canada; the winner of which was clung to his workclothes. That’s why I smile whenever my city friends recoil in mock horror at the smell of cattle manure. It's perfume to me. I wish I could say the same about pig manure but I can’t. Pigs don't smell the way other farm animals smell. Cattle are... aromatic, horses smell good, sheep smell okay, but pigs stink. Pigs stink in a way that only another pig could forgive. Pigs stink so much they rated a special seminar at an international agricultural conference held in Ames, Iowa recently - a two-day seminar devoted to hog odour. It was enough to take your breath away. One researcher said she had evidence that the smell from hog lots altered the mood of downwind residents. Another scientist suggested that swine odour could be the cause of disorienting blackout spells. Everyone agreed that the smell of swine was one of the largest remaining hurdles between urban and rural folk. I pass a couple of hog farms every day on my way to work. Mostly I don't notice it, but on the occasions when the wind is just wrong and the car window is open, I am reminded once again of what one micro­ biologist described as "that indefatigable engine of pollution - the pig". When that happens, I try to be philosophical about it. I remind myself that after all, I could be assing a durian plantation. delighted to win her prize. That was not all. Another time I happened to hear that a popular music program, Musik.antensta.dl, was broadcasting that week from Toronto. It seems that, with the help of Air Canada and CTV, the whole cast flew over to Toronto along with thousands of followers from Germany, Austria and Switzerland. I was informed that so many came over that they had to have the show three nights running; there were far too many people for just one show. There is an addendum to all this. Two weeks later I saw the same show on Swiss TV along with an additional program explaining how the whole thing was carried out. Mixed in with the show was TV coverage of several parts of Canada. Frankly I was amazed to see our country get so much coverage, and favourable at that, in such a short period of time. Usually Canada is just about totally ignored. Even Prime Minister Chretien got into the act by paying a short state visit to the German Chancellor Helmut Kohl. When I was at the Canadian Embassy in Bonn, just about everybody was running themselves ragged trying to gel ready for the event. This was definitely Canada’s year in Germany. It was, on the other hand, not Germany's year al the World Cup Soccer championship games. Defeated by an unheralded Bulgarian team, the word is that the Germans intend to land in Switzerland and ask for political asylum. I GOT A I BEEF? Write a letter to the editor. The Short of it By Bonnie Gropp A rejuvenating excursion An honest someone once said, "I take my greatest pleasure from watching others work." Now, while the words may not fit me perfectly; rather I consider myself a fairly conscientious worker; I must admit to a certain relaxed attitude about work. That is to say, I do it because it's there and I have to. I sure don't go looking for it. While I know all the old world words of wisdom about idle hands, I would for a time at least like to enjoy some prolonged respite from the toil, trouble and tribulations of the real world. For a year, I think, it would be nice to have the independence to be a 'professional' tourist. I've always done rather well on vacation; my mood improves, I eat less, exercise more and sleep better. And I can't, like some, ever recall being 'ready' to get back to work when my idyll ends. Unfortunately, like other poor schleps, I can’t afford to run away from it all for 12 months, so for now I must settle for 12 days. As you read this I will have begun my summer vacation, which, if it follows as I intend, will be spent in the pursuit of every hedonistic pleasure the law allows. I am going to do my utmost to eliminate the word guilt from my vocabulary, so that I may take full advantage of lime to spend with my family, and also of importance, for myself. There should be nothing significant about this vacation; we are doing the typical summer holiday at the beach; but it is the insignificant habit formed during past sojourns which holds promise for this one as well. For many years our family owned a trailer at the same lakeside resort where we are holidaying this next week. We had a routine that I'm sure we will return to as naturally as robins fly home. Its simplicity shows just how easy I am to please. Not having to go to work, means not having to get up with the birds. That doesn't mean I don't; there is something very special about sitting outside in the quiet with a cup of coffee and listening to those birds; it just means it's nice to have the choice. As at home, there are always a great number of things to try to accomplish while on holiday, but when nothing is a must it seems easier to do. Our day will probably begin with a walk and a visit to some family and friends who live nearby, where we will lose track of lime, before enjoying some sort of sport or diversion. Teams will be divided with great emphasis placed on how not to pick Mom without hurling her feelings. My team will inevitably lose, then we will truck off to the beach to relax in the sun and enjoy the refreshing coolness of the water. After supper and clean-up we will head down for ice cream and a walk on the pier where we can watch the glorious blaze of colour in a Lake Huron sunset. The scenario will vary somewhat over the course of the week; there will be faces coming to visit and adventures for the kids to follow; but 1 will do my damdest to make sure it is consistently relaxing for all of us. No there's nothing very special about my holiday, other than it’s mine. I consider it in a selfish way, as having the sole purpose of rejuvenating me. Some might consider my plans absolutely boring, but my summer vacation has always been one of the least ambitious, most enjoyable weeks of my life.