If you think Sulawesi looks crazy on the map, just wait until you see it for real. The massive island’s multilimbed coastline is drawn with sandy beaches, fringing coral reefs and a mind-boggling variety of fish. Meanwhile, the interior is shaded by impenetrable mountains and jungles thick with wildlife such as the rare nocturnal tarsiers and flamboyantly colourful maleo birds. Cultures have been able to independently evolve here, cut off from the rest of the world by the dramatic topography. Meet the Tana Toraja with their elaborate funeral ceremonies in which buffaloes are sacrificed and
(palm wine) flows freely; nearby in Mamasa life revolves around the Christian church, and in the far north the Minahasans offer you spicy dishes of everything from stewed forest rat to grilled fish; the coastal regions are mainly inhabited by the Bugis, Indonesia’s most famous seafarers.
The concept of insight’ is one that is widely used in psychoanalysis, in the systems of psychotherapy derived from it, and in dynamic psychiatry in general. The term is often quoted as if its meaning is readily apparent, but close study soon reveals that it is anything but clear. As Zilboorg (1952) has put it, ‘Among the unclarities which are of utmost clinical importance and which cause utmost confusion is the term insight. It came from nowhere, so to speak. No one knows who employed it first, and in what sense.’ And Poland (1988) remarks, Insight… has never found a comfortable place in analytic conceptualizations’. This view echoes that of Barnett (1978), who complains that ‘our concepts of insight have become so diffuse and expanded, that a sense of futility and frustration often attends our attempts to encompass all into the design of effective insight therapies’.
There appears to be a complex relationship between the psychoanalytic and psychiatric meanings of the term. In psychiatry, ‘insight’ was introduced to indicate the patient’s ‘knowledge that the symptoms of his illness are abnormalities or morbid phenomena’ (Hinsie & Campbell, 1970). This is the sense in which the term has been used in psychiatry since the early years of this century, and remains in use with this particular meaning. Jung, speaking of psychotic patients who have severe intellectual and emotional impairment, remarks that they can have ‘signs of more or less extensive insight into the illness’ (1907). Following Kraepelin (1906), Bleuler (1911), and Jaspers (1913), the ‘absence of insight’ is principally associated with psychotic mental states. However, although the word ‘insight’ has been extended from psychiatry to psychoanalysis, the specific psychiatric meaning has been lost in this extension. It is worth noting that the early use of the term in psychoanalysis was not a specialized technical one. It does not appear in the index of the Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Freud, although it is used in a non-technical sense at various points in the text. It would seem that a relatively colloquial word in both German [Einsicht] and English was elevated, at some point in the history of psychoanalysis, to the status of a technical concept. The Oxford English Dictionary points out that the ‘original notion appears to have been “internal sight”, i.e. with the eyes of the mind or understanding’. Among the definitions given are: ‘internal sight; mental vision or perception; discernment, the fact of penetrating with the eyes of the understanding, into the inner character or nature of things; a glimpse or view beneath the surface/ The present, more or less colloquial, usage seems to have been affected by the psychoanalytical technical concept, so that its meaning at times corresponds to that which the Oxford English Dictionary describes as obsolete, i.e. ‘understanding, intelligence, wisdom’.
Baptiste had not seen the last of Mission San Luis Rey.
General Kearny was mistaken when he believed he was being sent ahead to California to assume command of a defeated enemy.
The Mexicans still held everything between San Diego and Santa
Barbara, and his men would have to fight every inch of the way.
The Mormon Battalion was sent back to the deserted mission with orders to clean it up, garrison it as a military post and hold it against the enemy if need be. In July, 1847, when U.S. forces finally took
California, the mission was made headquarters of the Indian subagency for the southern military district, with Baptiste’s friend Captain Hunter in charge. The battalion’s commanders also recognized
Baptiste’s ability to be more than a guide. On November 24, acting military governor Richard B. Mason sent Colonel J. D. Stevenson, commander of the district, a blank appointment for “alcalde,” or justice of the peace, of the sub-agency, leaving a blank to be filled in with Baptiste’s name or any other name. Baptiste got the job, most likely on the recommendation of Hunter.1
A distributed system is one in which the failure of a
computer you didnt even know existed can render your own computer
one of the cornerstone technologies in
what is called Web 2.0. The distinction between Web 2.0 and Web 1.0 is pretty clear when you look at the
interaction between the application and the user. Web 1.0 applications were
pretty simple. You had some really basic building blocks: links and forms.
You clicked on links and you filled in forms. By either clicking the link or
clicking the Submit button, you sent a bunch of inputs to the application
and it returned a response. Web 2.0 applications are more interactive, and
you dont see the whole screen change because you click a button. Instead,
they can make small requests autonomously and asynchronously to the server
and then update part of a page without refreshing the whole thing. The
reasonsthat it needs data and can request it without your clicking
Awash in earthen hues and whitewashed villages, bathed in glorious sun, sounds of the flamenco, and imagery so exotic it borders on seductive, Andalucia is a world of adventures all its own. It is the birthplace of the bullfight, the guitar, flamenco music, and countless other fascinations lost in time. There is no right or wrong place or time to begin and end a trip here; choices for both the adventurous and the culturally curious are limitless. Ancient Arab influences pervade this landscape, from the magnificent Alhambra to the orange groves of La Mezquita, from the region's storied past to its bustling present - where grinning Moroccans stand in storefronts anxious to ply their wares as sleek Spanish businessmen walk past, where sun-seekers the world over crowd its beaches and thrill-seekers scour its challenging highs and lows.
Andalucia is a land of extremes, with Spain's driest areas of Almeria in the east and its rainiest, the Sierra de Grazalema, in the southwest. Five hundred miles of coastlines span Andalucia, of which roughly three-quarters are sandy beaches. These range from the less-touristed and less-developed Costa de la Luz along the Atlantic in the western realm, to the cheery resorts of the Costa del Sol, Costa de Almeria, and Costa Tropical to the east. The fertile valley of the Rio Guadalquivir separates Andalucia's two mountain ranges, the Sierra Moreno across the northern border, and the Cordillera Betica (with mainland Spain's highest peak, the Mulhacn in the Sierra Nevada) running southwest to east. The region is made up of the provinces of Cdiz, Crdoba, Jan, Huelva, Almeria, Mlaga, Granada and Sevilla; together they comprise 60% of all the country's environmentally protected lands.