I arrived in Miyama in the dead of winter and under the cover of darkness. As I entered my accommodation for the night, a 160-year-old thatched-roof house, I was struck by its warm appearance. The natural tones of the wooden fixtures and earthen floor were soothing, and I was immediately drawn to the rectangular hearth at the heart of the house where a cast iron pot was being heated over fiery embers.

It was not until the next morning, though, that I got my first glimpse of the house’s impressive roof, the very reason I had chosen to stay here. As I walked out of the front door, craning my neck, a steep, triangular carpet of brown-grey thatch with patches of moss on it filled my vision. The roof was so large that it seemed to gobble up the rest of the building, and I was grateful for the rare opportunity of sleeping in a structure seldom found in the Japanese countryside these days.

For at least five millennia, Japanese communities have constructed roofs from grass, reeds or straw. However, only a few clusters of this architectural style remain. Some are rural dwellings, while others are places of worship. Thatching, in fact, is closely related to Japan’s Shinto religion, with the imperial family at its head.

“When the emperor accedes to the throne, a thatched building is created specially for this occasion,” explained Haruo Nishio, one of Japan’s last remaining thatchers, and the owner of the house where I’d stayed the previous night.

Nishio recounted that the sound kaya, which means “thatch” in Japanese, forms part of the name of a god, the mythological father of Japan’s first emperor, who was born in an unfinished hut made from thatched cormorant feathers.

To Nishio, thatching is more than just a profession; it is a ritualistic practice connecting him to Japan’s roots. In the mid-1990s, aged 23, Nishio moved from Kyoto to the rural Miyama region, a 50km drive into the mountains north of the city, to become a thatcher at a time when this craft was nearing extinction. He bought the Honkan, which is registered as a Tangible Cultural Property in Japan, and lived there with his family for seven years.

“Thatched roofs ... create a space of nothingness, including invisible energies,” Nishio recalled. “Perhaps this isn't a house, but a place of worship, and it was built out of gratitude for God, Buddha and our ancestors.”

The Nishio family eventually moved out and opened the doors to their former home, and several other renovated houses in Miyama, to overnight visitors. Their business aims “to welcome visitors to experience our hometown's wonderful lifestyle”, as Nishio explained.

The night I spent in the Honkan didn't connect me to a higher being, at least not that I’m aware of. But as I looked up at the thatched roof, stepped onto the raised wooden floor with the hearth at its centre, and noticed the absence of fences around the house — which, Nishio explained, represents the “open-mindedness” of the people who built the majestic dwelling — the thatcher’s vision of a sanctuary, rather than a house, resonated with me.

Fittingly, Miyama means “beautiful mountain” in Japanese. This 340-sq-km densely forested, mountainous expanse is dotted with 57 villages that 3,400 people call home. For most of their histories, these settlements remained cut off from the rest of the country, with the once-arduous journey to Kyoto transformed by modern roads just 60 years ago. Therefore, the most elderly of Miyama’s residents grew up living exclusively off the land, and they, together with their descendants, have kept rural traditions alive.

Wedded to a culture of self-sufficiency, many continue to rely on agriculture and forestry, and live in wooden houses with thatched roofs shaped in the “hip-and-gable” style. Typically, in Miyama, the roof’s ridge is adorned with a tree trunk intersected by X-shaped ornaments whose number once signalled a family’s social standing. The roofs are preserved by a community of thatchers, masters of this 5,000-year-old craft.

Aoshima, Japan’s ‘Cat Island’

Once a thriving fishing village in southwest Japan, Aoshima is now home to only six humans but hundreds of cats, earning it the moniker of “Cat Island.” A ferry from Ozu, Japan, will take you to Aoshima Island in less than 20 minutes. The sparsely populated island has become a booming tourist attraction, but there are no stores or restaurants here. What Aoshima does have are cats — lots and lots of cats. The cats outnumber the human population on this so-called cat island nearly 36 to one. “I seldom carried tourists before,” ferry captain Nobuyuki Ninomiya remarked. “Now I carry tourists every week, even though the only thing we have to offer is cats.”

The cats are used to humans and therefore are considered semi-feral. They will happily play with visitors and there is even a designated feeding area near the community center. But how did this remote island become overrun with felines in the first place? Believe it or not, Aoshima isn’t unique; in fact, Japan has a total of 10 other islands filled with felines. Fishermen originally brought strays over to these islands in order to lower rodent populations and with no known predators, the cats have reproduced unhindered. Of course, locals also tend to overfeed the cats, especially the islands’ elderly population, which tends to do so in an attempt to develop companionship with the creatures. Honestly, no cat lover can blame them for that.

Japan is also not the only place where cat islands abound. Until recently, the United States had at least 18 cat islands and Australia at one time had 15. Then again, Japan does regard cats a little differently. It’s worth noting that the same paper that reported the amount of cat islands for the U. S. and Australia was also concerned with eradicating the cat populations on those islands. For some, culling the cat populations on Aoshima might seem like a good idea because, as it turns out, large groups of cats can create a stressful environment. Researchers studying Aoshima have learned that cats arrange themselves in hierarchies, where males compete for territory and their female mates compete for food. With so much competition, cat researchers argue that living conditions on this so-called haven are anything but heavenly.

However, others insist that life on the island is a virtual picnic. “It’s a cat paradise here,” said Kazuyuki Ono. “They love nothing more than to just lie about in the street sunning themselves all day.” The only snag is that when winter comes and tourism slows down, the cats become more desperate for food. “In spring and summer, tourists bring food to feed the cats but when it gets cold, the sea is rough and nobody comes. Sometimes boats can’t cross in the rough seas,” Ono added. This happened in 2016, but luckily, a plea for food resulted in a plethora of donations.

But what happened to all the human residents of Aoshima? Aoshima Island was once a prosperous fishing village; home to 900 people in the mid-1940s. Today, only a handful of elderly residents who didn’t relocate after World War II remain. In fact, as of 2019, only six full-time residents were recorded.

A photographer known as Fubirai has spent several years documenting the island’s cats on his blog. In 2012, the photos went viral, which led to a small tourism boom. But other than that, unfortunately, Aoshima is not exactly a bustling hub for tourism. There are no hotels, restaurants, shops, or even a vending machine. So, if you’re planning a visit to Aoshima, bring all your own supplies and take all your garbage home with you. Be respectful of the elderly residents and kind to the felines who call Japan's cat island home.

New Year, My Favorite Holiday: a New View

The cliché question of “What’s your favorite holiday” has always thrown me for a loop. Sure there is Valentine’s Day or Christmas, but when I tell people New Year’s Day they are a little confused, let me explain. There is something special about the new year, there is a sense of rebirth, of restart, it’s a good feeling. And behind this there are hope and optimism.

Now mind you, I have never really been a big fan of staying up till midnight, I try to be a very scheduled person. I used to work at a coffee shop for years! I would always have to be at work New Year Day morning, 4 a.m. to be exact, and that was always a little rough on the system. I have fond memories of people who were still awake from the previous day. However, behind all those tired sleepy faces was a glimmer of hope and happiness.

I have always been a fan of being the first one awake when camping in the woods, or even staying in a cabin, the coffee is hot, the mornings are crisp and the world for a few moments is silent. You might hear the telltale signs of wildlife skittering around in the morning! This to me is New Year’s morning, New Year is the grander scale of the daily morning wake up with coffee, there is something special about waking up and it being a whole new year... even more so when a decade has passed!

People are making resolutions to better themselves, they are making hopeful promises to others (when they should be making them for themselves) and while we all know that the majority of resolutions falter but the idea is there for a fleeting moment. That sheer optimism, the excitement of the challenge, of the possibility of lifestyle change is there. That’s what I love. The passion for change is there but as humans we unfortunately revert back to our old routines, we are after all, creatures of habit. That’s the human part of us all!

Hope and optimism are driving factors for many things. I’m not sure if it’s a personality trait thing but I can’t help but have undying optimism for everything in life... even things that are utter nonsense! The last few years have been wonky personally but I never let it get me down, yes, there were tears and shame and frustration but when I let all that overcome me I always came out knowing there was light at the end. There was never a moment in which I felt like I’d never rise above. That’s hope.

That is what New Year’s Day reminds me of. We plan to make changes when everyone else does, we plan to be better alongside everyone else. Maybe it is easier, but maybe you aren’t one of those people who want to go with the grain, you truly can only commit to it when you are ready... you are in charge here. Life should never be a competition with other humans, you can only make the changes when you are ready.

So take this new year, exhale 2022 and take a deep breath into 2023. Enjoy the peace the day will bring, the optimism that will be prevalent for about the next month.

Whatever New Year means to you, I hope it is full of happiness! Remember the optimism doesn’t have to fade as the month progresses... it’s always there, laying dormant until you need that pick me up. Cheers!

Allergic to Cats?

Cat allergy can be very heartbreaking to a cat lover. Sneezing, tearing eyes, runny nose, sinus headache, skin rash, and other symptoms can be mild and annoying or severe and life threatening. In reality, if the symptoms are very severe and the cause is tested and found to be cats, finding the cat a new home might turn out to be the only solution. However, if the symptoms are moderate or mild, there is hope! There are methods to at least minimize the discomforts of allergies and live with a cat.

Symptoms may be at their worst when grooming the cat, cleaning the litterbox, vacuuming or dusting. They may also be apparent on awakening in the morning if you cat sleeps with you. These symptoms may occur with any allergy, however, so it is highly recommended that testing be done to determine the cause of the allergy and whether the allergen causing the problem is indeed the cat. It may not be the cat at all, but the litter you are using, dust particles cling to the cat.

If you are using a specific brand of litter for your cat, try switching brands and washing the cat with a shampoo you KNOW you aren’t allergic to. Many people are allergic to the different kinds of perfumes and deodorizers some brands of litter and shampoo.

Unfortunately, some doctors assume an allergy is a cat allergy if their patient has a cat and has allergic dermatitis or conjunctivitis or asthma. However, this is not always the case and only allergy tests can tell for sure.

Allergies are caused by allergens. The most likely allergen found in cats is in the sebum and is a protein called Fel d 1. Sebum comes from the cat’s sebaceous glands. These are found under the skin and are primarily located around the base of the tail. It is believed that these aid in keeping proper skin and coat condition.

This sebum dries and flakes into tiny particles that are similar in size to that of aerosol droplets. Because these particles are so small they can adhere to pretty much anything including, carpet, furniture, walls and clothes. They can easily be moved from one location to the next and are often found in all environments including schools, doctor’s offices and homes that don’t have cats. Fel d 1 can remain in the environment for months and even years after the cat is removed.

There is no scientific data at all to support the concept that one breed is less allergic than another. Researchers studying ways to reduce cat allergenicity found some cats consistently shed lower levels of allergen. Unfortunately, there’s no practical way to identify these “hypoallergenic” cats in advance. But an even more important allergy predictor is hormones. It turns out male cats shed substantially greater amounts of allergen than females. The reason why people can acquire a new pet and not experience any of these symptoms until much later is due to the time required to produce these antibodies. It can take anywhere from three weeks to three years.

What things can help treat or minimize symptoms in daily life? Have someone else vacuum the house. Also it may be helpful to have a vacuum with a special filter and by using bags that are extra thick and designed for those that suffer from allergies. Since 1/3 of our life is spent sleeping, keeping the cat out of the bedroom can help excessive exposure. An air filtration system will reduce the amount of allergen recirculated. Treat your other allergies. Few individuals are allergic only to cats. By controlling your allergies to pollens, molds and house dust, their tolerance for cats may improve significantly.

Ilya Ilyich Mechnikov

Ilya Ilyich Mechnikov (May 16, 1845, Russian Empire – July 16, 1916, Paris) was a Russian microbiologist best remembered for his pioneering research into the immune system. Mechnikov received the Nobel Prize in Medicine in 1908, for his work on phagocytosis.

Mechnikov was born in a village near Kharkov. He had a passion for natural history. When Charles Darwin’s book “The Origin of Species” was published, he was eager to believe the theory of evolution.

He went to Kharkov University to study natural sciences, completing his four-year degree in just two years. He then went to Germany to study marine fauna on the small North Sea island of Heligoland and then at the University of Giessen, University of Göttingen and then at Munich Academy. In 1867, he returned to the Russian Empire to the appointment of docent at the new University of Odessa, followed by an appointment at the University of St. Petersburg. In 1870, he returned to Odessa to take up the appointment of Titular Professor of Zoology and Comparative Anatomy.

Mechnikov became interested in the study of microbes, and especially the immune system. In 1882, he resigned his position at Odessa University and set up a private laboratory at Messina to study comparative embryology, where he discovered phagocytosis after experimenting on the larvae of starfish. His theories were radical: certain white blood cells could engulf and destroy harmful bodies such as bacteria. The ‘sophisticated’ microbe hunters in the West — Pasteur, Behring, etc. — scorned the Russian and his humble theory.

Mechnikov returned to Odessa as director of an institute set up to carry out Louis Pasteur’s vaccine against rabies, but due to some difficulties left in 1888 and went to Paris to seek Pasteur’s advice. Pasteur gave him an appointment at the Pasteur Institute, where he remained for the rest of his life.

Later vindicated, Mechnikov’s work on phagocytes won him the Nobel Prize in 1908. He worked with Émile Roux on an ointment that would prevent people from contracting syphilis, an STD.

Mechnikov also developed a theory that aging is caused by toxic bacteria in the gut and that lactic acid could prolong life. Based on his theory, he drank sour milk every day. He died in 1916 at 71 years of age (well above the average life expectancy at the time), after writing three books: “Immunity in Infectious Diseases”, “The Nature of Man”, and “The Prolongation of Life: Optimistic Studies”.

It was the last of these works, along with Mechnikov’s studies into the potential life-lengthening properties of lactic acid bacteria (LAB) that inspired Japanese scientist Minoru Shirota to begin investigating the causal relationship between bacteria and good intestinal health. Convinced that a healthy balance of intestinal bacteria held the key to man’s general well- being, Shirota dedicated his life and work to isolating a strain of LAB which would pass into the intestines, positively contributing to the balance of gut flora. In 1935, he succeeded in cultivating a unique bacterium, sufficiently robust to bypass the acidic environment of the stomach and enter the intestines directly. He placed this pioneering strain into a fermented milk drink in order to make its benefits accessible to all — this drink remains available worldwide today (in a recipe almost unchanged from Shirota’s original formula) as the Yakult drink.

Nine-Year-Old Girl Discovers 15-Million-Year-Old Shark Tooth

On Christmas morning 2022, nine-year-old Molly Sampson got the presents she had asked for: special tools for shark tooth hunting. That same day, the young aspiring paleontologist found a 5-inch-long megalodon shark tooth in the waters of the Chesapeake Bay. “I went closer, and in my head, I was like, ‘Oh, my, that is the biggest tooth I’ve ever seen!'” Molly exclaimed in an interview. “I reached in and grabbed it, and dad said I was shrieking.”

According to the Washington Post, hunting fossils is one of the Sampson family’s favorite activities. After Molly and her older sister Natalie had received their archeological tools for Christmas, their father, Bruce, took them to the Chesapeake Bay near the Calvert Cliffs to look for shark teeth.

Molly announced that she was “looking for a Meg,” and then waded fearlessly into the water despite the rather cool 10-degree weather. Before long, that’s exactly what Molly found — a megalodon tooth. The tooth of a prehistoric shark is much larger and much rarer than any of the shark teeth in her father’s collection. “She told me she was wading in knee deep water when she saw it and dove in to get it,” Molly’s mother Alicia shared. “She has always wanted to find a ‘Meg’, but for whatever reason, her wish came true exactly on Christmas morning.”

The Sampson family took Molly’s find to the Calvert Marine Museum in Solomons, Maryland. The staff there knew the family well, as they’ve shared other fossil finds with the museum before. But the shark tooth that Molly had found, according to the curator of paleontology Stephen Godfrey, was a “once-in-a-lifetime kind of find.”

“It’s a spectacular specimen,” Godfrey said. “It’s one of the larger ones that’s probably ever been found here.” Godfrey determined that Molly’s megalodon tooth was approximately 15 million years old, and probably sat in the upper jaw of a megalodon that was between 45 and 50 feet long. The megalodon would have used its impressive teeth to hunt prey like whales and dolphins. “It basically evolved those kinds of teeth so that it could cut out pieces, just like great white sharks do,” Godfrey explained. He added: “They sort of chomp the carcass of their prey.” Godfrey explained that megalodon teeth are found on a “fairly regular basis” near the Calvert Cliffs though rarely as large as the megalodon tooth that Molly Sampson found. “People should not get the impression that teeth like this one are common along Calvert Cliffs,” he told the journalists. “And [Molly] didn’t have to dig into the cliffs to find the tooth, it was out in the water.”

For now, Molly plans to keep the megalodon tooth among the others in her collection. Though she’s found multiple shark teeth before, the newest one dwarfs all the others. And despite its rarity, Molly has no plans to sell the tooth. “I am sure she will always keep it with her — to her, this tooth is priceless!” Alicia Sampson said. Indeed, the greatest prize for the Sampson family seems to be how Molly’s story has inspired other young aspiring paleontologists. Molly hopes that it will show others “how fun it is to explore.” “It’s kind of cool that she was motivating other kids to get outside and explore,” her mother added.

Parrots Trained to Make Video Calls with Their Feathered Friends Are Less Lonely, Study Finds

Countless people around the world love making video calls — dialing up a loved one, seeing their face, and hearing their news. According to a new study from Northeastern University, in collaboration with researchers from MIT and the University of Glasgow, parrots like making video calls too. “There are 20 million parrots living in people’s homes in the USA, and we wanted to explore whether those birds might benefit from video calling too,” Ilyena Hirskyj-Douglas, a researcher at the University of Glasgow and the study’s co-author, explained to The Guardian. “If we gave them the opportunity to call other parrots, would they choose to do so, and would the experience benefit the parrots and their caregivers?”

The answer is a resounding yes.

As The New York Times reports, 18 parrots (and their owners) were enrolled in the study. They were trained to request a video call by ringing a bell, after which their owner would offer them the choice of which parrot to call from a screen. Before long, the parrots started to clamor for more screen time. During the 147 calls, which resulted in more than 1,000 hours of recorded footage, the parrots would sing together, learn new skills from each other, and even attempt to groom each other through the screen.

“We had birds who would sleep next to each other,” Hirskyj-Douglas told The New York Times. “Sometimes they would leave the video call real quickly to go get something to show the other bird.” In one case, two sickly and elderly macaws grew especially close. Despite having never spent time with others of their species, they quickly bonded. Northeastern Global News reports that they danced and sang happily when they saw one another. And if one bird moved out of the frame, the other would call: “Hi! Come here! Hello!”

“It really speaks to how cognitively complex these birds are and how much ability they have to express themselves,” Hirskyj-Douglas said. “It was really beautiful, those two birds.” Not only did many of the birds develop favorite friends and pick up skills like flying and foraging for snacks, but they also seemed to be much happier. The New York Times reports that the study’s avian participants appeared calmer and more confident. Some owners felt like their birds had transformed.

That said, the study’s authors don’t suggest grabbing the nearest laptop and setting up calls between your parrot and others. The humans in their study were experienced bird owners who introduced the technology slowly, and the parrots were particular about who they chose to communicate with. Unsupervised interactions, Northeastern Global News notes, could lead to the parrots feeling fear, which could, in turn, lead to a bird shattering a laptop screen.

Nevertheless, the study does underline the importance of social connection for birds. Parrots are highly intelligent and sociable creatures who live in flocks in the wild. But they often lack this sense of community as pets. “Over 20 million parrots are kept as pets in the US, often lacking appropriate stimuli to meet their high social, cognitive, and emotional needs,” the study’s authors noted. Birds seemed to make friends through the video calls, and some caregivers felt like the social connection improved their birds’ moods.

The Guardian reports that distressed birds suffering from isolation and boredom can develop psychological problems. They might pace, pluck their feathers, or rock back and forth. And the video calls clearly showed that birds can benefit from social interaction (even when it’s virtual). “Now we know that if given access to it, they would use it,” Hirskyj-Douglas remarked to The New York Times. “And they use it in very individual and very beautiful ways.”

Indeed, the study seems to have forged long-term friendships between some of its participants. At least two birds who learned to video call, a Goffin’s cockatoo named Ellie and an African grey named Cookie, have continued to stay in touch. “It’s been over a year,” the researchers said, “and they still talk.”

Hydra: the Greek Island That Banned Wheels

On my final morning in Hydra, I woke up early and ambled down to the waterside to watch the weekly deliveries. Docked at the stone harbour walls was a barge that brings over islanders’ orders from the mainland. Patiently queuing to board the boat were several donkeys. Groups of three or four would climb aboard then return a few minutes later bearing household items, packages and even bags of cement in woven baskets strapped to their backs. The donkey drivers — all moustachioed island men — quickly led their charges away up alleys leading off the port and out of sight.

Hydra's archaic reliance on donkeys for transport stems from a 1950s presidential decree that is intended to preserve the Greek island’s architecture and character. It includes a rule that wheeled vehicles — cars, motorbikes and even bicycles — cannot be used there. Since the town is built on steep, amphitheatre-like hills rising from its horseshoe-shaped harbour, donkeys are the only form of transport that can climb the steep steps and narrow alleyways up to many residents’ homes.

Municipalities around the world are currently looking at ways to reduce reliance on private cars, or even ban them from certain parts of a city altogether. Indeed, the London borough I live in has recently introduced a “low traffic neighbourhood,” a scheme that uses number-plate recognition cameras to restrict through-traffic so only residents can drive there. So, towards the end of an island-hopping holiday through the Greek islands, I was intrigued to see what a place that had never permitted cars was like.

On first impressions, car-free island life felt idyllic. In towns on other Greek islands, I’d found myself regularly pressed up against walls on pavement-less roads to let mopeds buzz by. In Hydra, by contrast, I could wander around at my own pace, gawping at pink bougainvillea cascading down whitewashed walls, citrus and pomegranate trees in gardens, and pretty squares framed by red pantile-roofed buildings.

Despite the presidential decree, visitors to the island may occasionally see a handful of vehicles, including a town rubbish truck. And while forbidden for adults, bicycles are allowed for children up to the age of 12 — but they can only be ridden in the winter months and not during the tourist-heavy summer.

It was also remarkably quiet; none of the screeching brakes or roaring engines typical of towns and cities elsewhere. Occasionally I heard a donkey honking or church bells clattering, but otherwise silence reigned.

The town also felt very human in scale. Walking up the maze of narrow streets and alleys to get a view over the harbour, I frequently saw groups of friends and neighbours greeting one another, chatting and gossiping in the middle of the road. One evening, a group of kids ran past my table as I drank a beer by the port, bashing each other with balloons, their parents with no anxiety about traffic. Even the countless stray cats, a familiar feature of Greek islands, seemed unusually relaxed — often sprawling out lazily in the middle of thoroughfares.

The fact there are no cars is, in many ways, a big driver of the island’s economy. Hydra is only about 90 minutes by boat from the busy metropolitan sprawl of Athens, yet it feels a world away. Tourists come precisely because it’s so peaceful. Hydra is also much wealthier than other islands in the Saronic archipelago to which it belongs. This is, at least in part, driven by the fact that outsiders like how quiet it is.

Earlier on in my visit to Hydra, I’d headed west out of the town along the cobblestone “road” that hugs the coast. It eventually fizzled out into a quiet track, where the incense of pine lingered in the air and the only sound was the pleasant buzz of cicadas and the swish of the sea. With no cars in sight and little sign of development, it was like stepping back into another time, with nothing but my feet to transport me.

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The Last Fisherman of Monaco

It’s often just past midnight when Eric Rinaldi unties the mooring lines and carefully manoeuvres his fishing boat Diego out of Monaco’s harbour, Port Hercules. Contemplating the hours of inky darkness in front of him, he’ll steer past rows of superyachts as he heads out into the open sea, their polished hulls and elaborate designs a stark contrast to the simple practicality of his fibreglass workboat.

Onboard Diego — named for his young son — Rinaldi’s biggest luxury is an old Nespresso machine, one of the few comforts among the jumble of nets, hooks, bright orange buoys and other tools of his trade.

Today, it’s a profession at risk of disappearing completely; around these parts, Rinaldi is known as “the last fisherman of Monaco”.

It was Rinaldi’s great-grandfather, Adolphe, who first fished these waters around 1900. After him came Ange, Rinaldi’s grandfather. Generation three, Andre — or Dédé, as he was known around the port — followed. And for Rinaldi, there was little question where his future lay.

“As a baby, he was already thinking about fishing, almost before he could even talk,” Rinaldi’s mother, Jacqueline, told me. Around the age of five, as soon as he could swim, Rinaldi began to fish with a rod on the docks with Dédé keeping a watchful eye on his son from his boat. By the start of his mid-teens, he was alternating between a week at school and a week spent fishing with his father, biding his time before he could officially quit school and join his father to fish full-time at the age of 16.

Dédé, who passed away a decade ago, taught his son not only practical fishing skills, but also how to read the Mediterranean Sea, a body of water where conditions can change in as little as half an hour. He also remained loyal to the traditional pointu, never fishing on a modern-style fishing vessel. The biggest pointu he fished on was 14 m long. Rinaldi transitioned to a modern-style fibreglass vessel when he purchased Dédé after his father's death just over a decade ago. He took ownership of Diego, a slightly larger fishing boat, less than two years ago.

Today, with his uncle Charles to assist him, Rinaldi ventures up to four hours off the coast of Monaco in search of bigger fish such as tuna and swordfish. Closer to shore, when the water warms up in spring and summer, he nets smaller species such as red mullet, sea bream and scorpion fish. He can spend up to 24 hours at sea, preferring to only sleep on his return. It’s known for him to come back empty-handed. “Ten fish keeps me going,” he said. Earlier this year, he had a record haul, including a tuna weighing 180 kg, quickly snapped up by a chef at one of Monaco’s upscale restaurants.

His catch is sold or served fresh alongside other fish at Pêcherie U Luvassu (the Monégasque name for Mediterranean seabass), the fishmonger behind his berth that he co-owns. Local restaurants, as well as residents, are clients — “even the chefs from the superyachts,” Rinaldi said. The site has evolved with the arrival of local restaurateur Sami Ben Slama as his business partner in 2020. Now, the smartly dressed waterfront tables are a place to linger for a suited lunch crowd. But it’s the success of the restaurant that allows Rinaldi to continue his profession — and his passion — Ben Slama told me.

It’s still too early to know if Rinaldi is truly the last fisherman of Monaco. His son Diego is just 12 and Rinaldi said he is too young to have decided on his future path. Whatever that may be, however, he is sure there will always be a place for a fisherman in Monaco. And if my son doesn’t want to follow me and there’s some other young person who wants to, then why not help them?

The Hague, where I live, boasts an impressive 11 kilometers of stunning coastline adorned with rolling dunes and sandy beaches. During the summer, it’s a common sight to witness locals enjoying the sun, wandering through nature, or biking along the scenic paths. The many benches available along the coast often serve as perfect spots for these individuals to take a break, whether they are reading, chatting with friends, or embracing the art of “niksen.”

“Niksen” is a beautiful Dutch term that encapsulates the wellness trend of “doing nothing.” Gaining notoriety starting in 2019, it became a popular means to handle stress and recuperate from burnout. With many individuals expressing feelings of exhaustion and depression due to excessive work, the concept provided a refreshing alternative. As a linguist, I found it particularly fascinating that a single, succinct word could convey the entire essence of doing nothing.

I interpret niksen as “doing nothing without any intention” — in contrast to activities like scrolling through social media or meditative practices. Where mindfulness encourages us to be present in the moment, niksen focuses on creating space for our minds to wander freely. As we gradually emerge from the pandemic’s shadow, it’s essential to rethink our approach to work and how we choose to spend our time.

The importance of this reevaluation is underscored by the complexity of our lives and careers today. We increasingly find ourselves tethered to computers, with constant demands to be the best versions of ourselves, influenced by workplace expectations, parental pressures, and the omnipresent standards of social media. The pressure to perform can be overwhelming.

However, stress is not inherently detrimental, as noted by Leiden University psychology professor Bernet Elzinga. “Momentary stress, where you are highly focused, isn’t necessarily harmful. The issue arises when stress spirals out of control,” she explained. Enter niksen as a potential solution. “By engaging in nothingness, you connect with your default mode network, the part of your brain responsible for mind-wandering and self-reflection,” Elzinga further elaborated.

Interestingly, niksen may also enhance our productivity. Short breaks allow our brains to rest and recharge, resulting in better focus and sustained attention upon returning to tasks. This likely contributes to the Dutch reputation for efficiency, despite their relatively shorter work hours.

Moreover, the Dutch are celebrated for their creativity. Renowned artists, such as Rembrandt, and innovative engineering, like the ingenious flood defenses including vast dams and floating houses, showcase the nation’s resourceful spirit.

Locals frequently engage in active pursuits like cycling or hiking, creating ideal opportunities for mental clarity. When the sun graces the days, the Dutch flock to cafés and terraces, even during wintertime, making these spots perfect for indulging in niksen.

Nevertheless, Elzinga suggests that engaging in physical activities while surrounded by nature might be even more beneficial for alleviating daily burdens. Fortuitously, in the Netherlands, there's a wonderful way to intertwine niksen, nature, and movement seamlessly.

While the country may not be famed for extensive natural landscapes, the Dutch cherish the small natural havens available. Numerous dune regions contribute to an expansive network of hiking and cycling paths woven throughout the country. Even within bustling cities like Rotterdam, The Hague, or Amsterdam, one is never far from scenic trails.

In collaboration with the Dutch Railway, Wandelnet — an organization dedicated to developing and maintaining hiking routes — has introduced NS Wandelingen, a series of hiking paths easily accessible via train or public transportation. These routes vary in length from 7 to 22 kilometers, perfect for a day of exploration. With benches positioned along the trails, taking a niksen pause is entirely feasible. In a world filled with challenges, prioritizing stress relief is more critical than ever.

High School vs College Life: Fun Must-Know Differences

There are some very big differences between high school and college life. Both are fun in their own ways and both have unique experiences to offer you. But there is no denying that there are some fun and important differences between the two in terms of social life, academics, and sports. Finally, one of the biggest differences is how much more you are in control of everything. We’ll go over all of these differences here, and get you the lowdown on high school vs college life.

1. Grades and Graduation

It is your sole responsibility to ensure that you are getting the grades you want. There will be no one to remind you of deadlines, or to push you harder. If you want a bit of a push, try to join a study group in your major or classes but ultimately, it’s still your choice whether to succeed or not in college. Graduating on time is also under your control. You need to make sure that you are both taking and passing the classes you need to graduate from your program on time.

2. Self-discipline

One of the most fun but also scariest differences in high school vs college life is that you are in the driver’s seat. You are in complete control of your time, your schedule, and your study habits. This can be a fun change because you are finally free to study and organize your day in a way that is best and most productive for you. On the flip side, this can backfire if you don’t organize your time well, or don’t implement enough self-discipline. In high school, your family members, teachers, and coaches had much more say in your schedule. Now you are on your own and need to learn how to manage your time. Create a weekly calendar for yourself with due dates and events, and make sure to review and update the calendar often.

3. Student-Teacher Relationship

At very large universities, you will no longer be able to see your teacher as your friend, or someone who knows you personally. In high school, you see your teachers in small groups every day, and for years throughout the school grounds. A personal relationship usually develops. That is not often the case in college — but use this to your advantage! The fact that not everyone has a personal relationship with professors makes it that much more unique and beneficial to you if you do. Get to know your professors from the start, and what research they are doing or what projects they have been a part of and see if you can get involved somehow. Never too early to start networking!

4. Lifestyle and responsibilities

If you chose to move away from home to study at the university, chances are you will be living on campus or renting an apartment together with other students. This is a great opportunity to learn to live with others, make the best friends of your life, and have an amazing support system. If you didn’t choose your roommates or housemates (or even if you did), keep an open mind and establish rules in the beginning. Also, remember that you are now an adult living on your own. That means increased independence and increased risks. It’s up to you to make responsible choices not just about your studies, but also your budget, personal schedule, diet, and ways of spending free time.

5. Social Life

In college, you will gain so many new friends — from your new living or studying spaces, from classes, extracurricular activities, and part-time work. This leads to a much richer social life than the one you may have had during high school. Your social calendar will be much more varied as well. With new things added such as club meetings, new volunteer opportunities, study groups and Greek or dorm events if you choose to live on campus.

The Youngest Person to Travel Every Country

On May 31, 2019, a 21-year-old American woman named Lexie Alford stepped foot in North Korea, becoming — as she claims — the youngest person to travel to every country on Earth. In doing so, she’s attempting to break the Guinness World Record held by James Asquith, who won the title in 2013 at the age of 24, and join the historic ranks of other travellers like Cassie De Pecol, who broke the Guinness World Record for being the fastest woman to visit every country. Alford is in the process of having nearly 10,000 pieces of evidence verified by Guinness.

Travelling to each one of the world’s 196 sovereign nations is an achievement that Alford has been working on since she was a child — though she didn’t know it at the time. Alford grew up in a family that owns a travel agency in California. “Travel has been a part of my life since before I can remember,” says Alford. “My parents would take me out of school and place me on independent study for weeks and months at a time every year.” While she was growing up, her family travelled everywhere from the floating villages of Cambodia to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, from Ushuaia at the tip of Argentina to the Great Pyramids of Giza in Egypt. “My parents placed a lot of importance on exposing me to every way of life around the world and that had a very profound impact on the person I am today,” she says. “I’ve always had a curiosity about other people’s ways of life and how they find happiness.”

Alford originally wasn't trying to break a record; she was just an intrepid traveller. “Honestly, in the beginning, I simply wanted to push the limits of what I thought I could do with my life and see as much of the world as possible in the process,” she explains. “It wasn't until things started getting really challenging that I realized I was inspiring people around me, especially young women. Feeling that support meant that I couldn't give up when things got tough. I was determined to show everyone that the world isn't as scary as the media portrays it to be and that there’s kindness everywhere.”

In 2016, Alford got serious and started working on her mission to travel to every single one of the world’s 196 sovereign nations. What sparked the idea? When she turned 18, Alford realized that she had travelled to 72 countries. “The very first time I thought about breaking the world record was in October 2016 in my home, California,” recalls Alford. “I graduated from high school two years early and had gotten an associate’s degree from a local college. I was ready to start my gap year when I dropped the idea of going back to school and began to pursue the record full-time.” Alford says that her travels are self-funded: “I always knew I wanted to take time off to travel so I've been working every job I could find and saving since I was 12 years old.

”Alford says the highlight of her travels was going to unexpected — and often dangerous — countries. “The countries that have such a bad reputation that people don’t dare to go are the places that spark my curiosity,” she says. “I experienced so much more kindness and natural beauty in places like Pakistan and Venezuela than I ever found in typical tourist destinations. Going somewhere with no expectations and being absolutely blown away by what you find there has been the most fulfilling part of this project.”

She struggled the most in West and Central Africa, due to tricky visas, little infrastructure for tourism, language barriers and the high cost of travelling safely. “There aren’t many flights, hotels or English-speaking guides so the operators have the market completely cornered,” she explains. “They can pretty much set any outrageous price they want because there aren’t many other options (besides maybe grueling and potentially dangerous bus rides). Travelling in this area of the world thickened my skin more than anything in my life ever has.”

Longyearbyen: the Northernmost City in the World

Have you ever wondered what the ‘most northern’ city in the world is? Well, here’s your answer! Longyearbyen, the administrative centre of Svalbard, is a tiny Norwegian metropolis with 2,400 residents from almost 53 different countries. The small Arctic town is inhabited by nature enthusiasts who live in close unity under tough climatic conditions with the High Arctic wilderness right on their doorstep. Longyearbyen is the gateway to the nature-based experiences and the starting point for most adventures in Svalbard. This Arctic wilderness starts virtually in the town centre and never ends!

Maybe it seems a bit over the top to call our little town a metropolis. However, with its vitality, international vibe and warm people in wonderful surroundings, that’s exactly how we perceive it. Longyearbyen’s central location in a geopolitically interesting Arctic also contributes to it being perceived as larger than it actually is. Furthermore, the range of services on offer to residents and guests is surprisingly extensive with a wide range of shops, restaurants and bars, along with varied cultural offerings. In Longyearbyen, the North Pole is right around the corner from the pub. Perhaps some find it strange that a settlement so incredibly far north has its own brewery, chocolaterie and greenhouse that supplies us with fresh herbs and vegetables, but that’s just the way it is!

Although the tiny metropolis may appear a bit “harsh” with a rough industrial exterior, Longyearbyen is renowned for its hospitality and high level of comfort. Most people enjoy themselves in Longyearbyen and quickly feel they belong here. Many are bitten by the “Arctic bug” and refuse to move southwards. “I only planned to be here for one year, but I’ve been here for many years now,” is a comment you hear virtually every day. Nevertheless, Longyearbyen is a place people come to work and not somewhere they can spend their entire lives. The average time people live in Svalbard is seven years, according to “Statistics Norway”.

The residents of Longyearbyen feel that we live completely normal everyday lives. However, those looking from the outside often perceive our everyday life as somewhat extraordinary. The polar bears are never far away, so it’s a necessity to carry weapons when we venture outside the settlement. The climate is harsh and unpredictable. Some people find the contrasts and changes between light and dark challenging, while others think it’s wonderful.

There are several fun facts about Longyearbyen that may seem strange to visitors. To name just a few: for example, there are separate “roads” in the town centre for snowmobiles. The streets in Longyearbyen have numbers instead of names. We only have one grocery store. We are used to living next door to reindeer, and seeing whales swimming in the fjord from our lounge window is not an uncommon occurrence. We still take off our shoes when we enter hotels and restaurants, a tradition that has arisen from the problem with coal dust in the old days. All the mining infrastructure is protected and remains as surreal monuments in and around the settlement. Finally, Longyearbyen has a university centre with 300 students, all of whom must learn to use firearms... remember the bears, right?

We gladly have a drink with our colleagues outside after work while wearing mittens. During the winter darkness, we need to wear a headlamp on our way to work, and it’s common to see the Northern Lights dancing in the sky when we head outside to meet a friend for lunch. In the summertime, you often go out with the Midnight Sun shining brightly on your face. Longyearbyen is home to around 1,000 eager polar dogs who will gladly take you out into the wilderness, while the toughest residents are members of the local snowmobile club, “Sons of Svalbard”. One thing we really enjoy is packing our snowmobile sleds after work on Fridays and setting off on weekend trips in the Arctic wilderness with our family or friends.

The first Wednesday in every month was a Perfectly Awful Day — a day to be awaited with dread, endured with courage and forgotten with haste. Every floor must be spotless, every chair dustless, and every bed without a wrinkle. Ninety-seven squirming little orphans must be scrubbed and combed and buttoned into freshly starched ginghams; and all ninety-seven reminded of their manners, and told to say, 'Yes, sir,' 'No, sir,' whenever a Trustee spoke.

It was a distressing time; and poor Jerusha Abbott, being the oldest orphan, had to bear the brunt of it. But this particular first Wednesday, like its predecessors, finally dragged itself to a close. Jerusha escaped from the pantry where she had been making sandwiches for the asylum's guests, and turned upstairs to accomplish her regular work. Her special care was room F, where eleven little tots, from four to seven, occupied eleven little cots set in a row. Jerusha assembled her charges, straightened their rumpled frocks, wiped their noses, and started them in an orderly and willing line towards the dining-room to engage themselves for a blessed half hour with bread and milk and prune pudding.

Then she dropped down on the window seat and leaned throbbing temples against the cool glass. She had been on her feet since five that morning, doing everybody's bidding, scolded and hurried by a nervous matron. Mrs. Lippett, behind the scenes, did not always maintain that calm and pompous dignity with which she faced an audience of Trustees and lady visitors. Jerusha gazed out across a broad stretch of frozen lawn, beyond the tall iron paling that marked the confines of the asylum, down undulating ridges sprinkled with country estates, to the spires of the village rising from the midst of bare trees.

The day was ended — quite successfully, so far as she knew. The Trustees and the visiting committee had made their rounds, and read their reports, and drunk their tea, and now were hurrying home to their own cheerful firesides, to forget their bothersome little charges for another month. Jerusha leaned forward watching with curiosity — and a touch of wistfulness — the stream of carriages and automobiles that rolled out of the asylum gates. In imagination she followed first one equipage, then another, to the big houses dotted along the hillside. She pictured herself in a fur coat and a velvet hat trimmed with feathers leaning back in the seat and nonchalantly murmuring 'Home' to the driver. But on the door-sill of her home the picture grew blurred.

Jerusha had an imagination — an imagination, Mrs. Lippett told her, that would get her into trouble if she didn't take care — but keen as it was, it could not carry her beyond the front porch of the houses she would enter.

Poor, eager, adventurous little Jerusha, in all her seventeen years, had never stepped inside an ordinary house; she could not picture the daily routine of those other human beings who carried on their lives undiscommoded by orphans.

Je-ru-sha Ab-bott, you are wanted in the office, And I think you'd better hurry up!

Tommy Dillon, who had joined the choir, came singing up the stairs and down the corridor, his chant growing louder as he approached room F. Jerusha wrenched herself from the window and refaced the troubles of life.

'Who wants me?' she cut into Tommy's chant with a note of sharp anxiety.

Mrs. Lippett in the office, And I think she's mad. Ah-a-men!*

A few years ago on a family trip to Europe, we had the chance to spend an afternoon in Geneva, Switzerland, and despite limited time, we hoped to see as many of the city’s iconic sights as possible. Alas, our timing was off : the European headquarters of the United Nations, the Palais des Nations did not accept visitors over the lunch hour (right when we showed up at the gates), and more surprisingly, the famous Jet d’Eau (“water-jet”), a fountain rising 140 meters from Lake Geneva, was closed for repairs. All was not lost, however, as we consoled ourselves with wine, chocolates, and souvenir shopping.

In 2003, two years after our visit to Geneva, the hours of operation for the Jet d’Eau were expanded, and it is now possible to see it in action all year long. This daily consistency calls to mind the Jet d’Eau’s nonmechanical predecessor, the geyser, which similarly releases water and steam at regular intervals. However, while the Jet d’Eau is the result of human ingenuity, geysers are the product of extremely rare circumstances, and once damaged, cannot be repaired so easily.

Although, like most people, I had heard of geysers before, it was not until I looked more closely at their workings that I realized how unique they are among geological formations. For a geyser to become active and stable, four conditions must be met. The first thing required is a geothermal heat source, most often provided by underground volcanic activity. Second, there must be a reservoir of water available. Third, a geyser requires a certain kind of rock, which when exposed to water, can develop the pressure- and water-tight seal that is necessary for the proper functioning of a geyser. The fourth requirement is a constriction in the geyser formation near the surface, which allows pressure to build up below it until the geyser erupts. The life cycle of a geyser begins when water seeps into the ground from the surface (because of rain) or from underground reservoirs, eventually sinking deep enough to reach a layer of hot rock. This water is slowly heated and gathers at the bottom of the geyser channel, while colder water enters the channel from above, and sits on top of the warmer water. The pressure of the cold water prevents the warm water from boiling, although it continues to become super-heated. When the pressure becomes too great, the hot water turns to steam and pushes the colder water out of the channel. This reduces the pressure further, producing even more steam. This whole cycle can take 500 years, which means the water rushing from a geyser today may have fallen as rain during the 16th century.

One of the most famous geysers in the world is Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Park, which gets its name from its consistent schedule; it erupts on average every 91 minutes. Every geyser has its own schedule, based on its unique conditions. Even slight changes to the water supply or the rock formation can adversely affect the fragile balance of a geyser. Some are caused by natural processes, such as volcanic activity, but increasingly, geysers are threatened by human interference.

Of course, geysers can become dormant for many reasons, and their fragility is part of their rarity; it takes a lot to create a geyser, and just as much to keep it going. They are truly scientific marvels, and worthy of being protected as much as possible, not only for their entertainment value, but for what they tell us about long-term geological processes.