tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15823139710611273442024-02-21T05:56:33.260-08:00JBgirl with a green suitcaseUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-52674203057274724802016-05-24T00:40:00.000-07:002016-05-24T00:49:48.524-07:00Northern Italy from Milano to sunny Venezia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We left Lake Maggiore this morning and headed for Trentino via the towns of Salo (lunch stop: spaghetti vongole) and Limone (afternoon stop: nocciolo e fragola gelati) on the picturesque Lake Garda. It was a beautiful drive through hills, vineyards and lakeside towns before we settled at Trentino higher in the hills close to the Austrian Border. Here is a town of about 160,000 inhabitants and the highest standard of living in all Italy.<br />
Trentino looks like a typical Italian town - a beautiful medieval Old City with cathedral (Duomo) and a castle once inhabited by cardinals, nobles and popes. See me dutifully posing in front of it above. The shops, restaurants and businesses within the Old City are all chic, and high mountain peaks surround it all. Some of the restaurants offer pork knuckle and beer, which suggests the influence of other cultures and customs, but I opted for a very light, early dinner of parma ham and melon for a change because I am tired of eating. It was a refreshingly light and simple repast.<br />
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So, as our holiday starts to draw to a close, I am very grateful that we holidayed with Zenga and Michael because they added so much to our enjoyment. The boys were always there, and yet I think we all felt we had plenty of 'space'. We never disagreed or argued - those boys are incredibly chilled, but I think Steve and I were too. The secret, though, is that we tend to agree and want to do the same things. Steve and Zenga love eating and drinking, and everyone lets me be when I need "time out". Zenga is great at taking photographs, Steve is good at sourcing good eateries and wine, and Michael and I are always confused and don't know where we are. The holiday has been an orgy of Grand Bouffes, plenty of laughs, and many, many beautiful sights. We are continually delighted and grateful to have had a truly memorable respite from our everyday lives (which aren't too shabby either, I confess). Above a photograph of Zenga in Verona where he was able to see an exhibition of his Diva inspiration, Maria Callas. The weather was torrential, but the following days in Venice, fortunately, were brilliant blue. A great end to a wonderful month abroad!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-6033263112079924072016-05-17T07:34:00.001-07:002016-05-24T01:03:00.880-07:00LAKE MAGGIORE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today was possibly the best day of the entire Italian holiday. If the Lake District of Italy is good enough for Princess Caroline of Monaco and George Clooney, unsurprisingly it's good enough for me. We are even staying in the same hotel that Princess Caroline stayed at recently when visiting her younger son's in-laws. They are the noble Borromeo family whose ancestors go back to medieval times when the Borromeos were related to not one but four popes and one of the Borromeo family was a very powerful Archbishop of Milan. In recent times a young Borromea heiress caught the eye of Pierre Casiraghi, Princess Caroline's youngest, and a match was made in noble heaven, gilt with pearls and rubies.<br />
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This morning, our boat launch picked up our group after breakfast on the hotel terrace overlooking beautiful Lake Maggiore, the second biggest and deepest of the pre-Alpine lakes, and gently carried us over sparkling sun-dappled water to visit the three islands once owned by the Borromeo family. Today the Borromeos still own two of the islands, but have donated each of the houses on the isles to Italy as museums... while the third island was sold in its entirety.<br />
We visited first Isola Madre ( the Mother's Isle) and were overwhelmed by the exquisite Italianate beauty of the house and gardens... until we visited the jewel of the three islands formerly owned by the Borromeo family, Isola Bella (see below).<br />
You approach the island by boat and the outline of the homestead is awe-inspiring with a theatrical garden centrepiece dominating the approach with its sculptures, fountains and manicured gardens. Inside the rooms are exquisite: dusty pink walls, blue-veined marble, frescoes, giant tapestries, sculptures, balconies overlooking vistas of blue and gardens fragrant with a world of flowers. It took my breath away... and now my words. I cannot describe perfection, and this was it.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-32707008101145942832016-05-15T09:27:00.000-07:002016-05-15T22:41:34.633-07:00INTERMEZZO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This post is a bit of a catch-up as days have gone by in a blur and it's impossible to remember it all, we do so much! The photo is taken in Pisa showing the baptistry and part of Pisa's Duomo. Duomo is Italian for 'cathedral' and that means there's an archbishop in charge. So, after leaving Rome we spent our first day in Umbria and slept at Hotel Fortuna in Perugia. Day two and day three of our Back Roads tour was in Tuscany with two nights at our glamorous villa about 80 minutes' drive from Siena. I had a bad cold so I was a bit under par, but I still managed to thoroughly enjoy our cooking class where we learned to make focaccia bread and pasta. It's much easier than I thought!!! I spent one entire afternoon and evening in bed, and that did the trick, because I never looked back after that. I shopped like a madwoman in Florence and did nothing cultural (sorry folks, I've seen the David, the Uffizi Palace, etc. on previous visits) so this time I sipped espressos on rooftop balconies, people watched and drank in all the fashion.<br />
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After Florence, we went to Lucca and stayed at a wonderful hotel for two nights in the old city with frescoes all over our walls and ceilings. Steve and I had the Camellia room, and it was lovely to 'hang' there in between visits to Pisa and a Puccini concert in a local church. After that, we went to a degustation dinner at a local haunt, all paired with organic Italian wines, and another night of carousing elapsed. I woke the next morning, surprisingly bouncy, and thoroughly enjoyed our day at Monterosso, Cinqueterre, before heading northwest to the Italian Riviera.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-7235423153463829352016-05-15T08:34:00.001-07:002016-05-24T00:42:36.411-07:00ITALIAN RIVIERA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG92EU4umeVsBHdkX1rrctLgpwqaKW8brBL8uE5O4Nk7K6clA_4HgZNSR0Wkqt2dYmvOqu4SNUBKB3MgXA5c7jg5XSHUDW5sM5VEZvaY9N-ELtzFgVCW_WLpVySAkPygXBioM9h72TWE4/s1600/DSCN1238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG92EU4umeVsBHdkX1rrctLgpwqaKW8brBL8uE5O4Nk7K6clA_4HgZNSR0Wkqt2dYmvOqu4SNUBKB3MgXA5c7jg5XSHUDW5sM5VEZvaY9N-ELtzFgVCW_WLpVySAkPygXBioM9h72TWE4/s320/DSCN1238.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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We are now in Sestri Levante at Grande Hotel dei Castelli on the hills overlooking Fairytale Bay and Bay of Silence on the Italian Riviera, and this is the view from our breakfast terrace. And this is our breakfast!<br />
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I had their <i>millefeuille</i> confection at dinner the evening before (one of the best I have tasted, and I know my <i>millefeuilles</i>), but resisted another for breakfast while Steve did not, and others shared one between them. I had forgotten that this Back Roads Tour is called an 'Indulgent' experience and they're not kidding. No wonder I am giving the Wine Bank visit at dusk today a miss - more wine and nibbles, and then MORE dinner????? Yikes!!!! Michael and I are struggling a little with all this indulgence, while Zenga and Steve are lapping it all up... typically with extra virgin olive oil.<br />
So today we farewelled the Mediterranean coast and headed northwards into the Piedmont region. We had such spectacular weather today that we could see the Alps clearly, and all its peaks!<br />
En route to Trente (also called Trentino) we stopped for mid-morning espresso in Millessimmo where there was an antiques car convention and we saw one of three remaining fortress bridges from medieval times (12th century) before driving to Barolo for lunch (panini and caramelised hazelnuts for dessert), then visiting a truffle farm where we met Lucca and his pooch, Willy, and went hunting for black and white truffles. Willy and his truffle-tuned snout found five examples of this gastronomic gold in the spectacular vineyard hills and secluded convents where we went hiking as a group. At the conclusion, naturally, we partook of truffles, cheeses, bread and wine. Like I said before, haven't been hungry.... since about 20 minutes ago! I'm sorry I haven't got pictures here of Lucca and Willy, but I forgot my camera on the coach in all my excitement...<br />
We are now staying overnight at Pollenzo, a UNESCO heritage town of 850 inhabitants, and the hotel feels like a convent. It's part of the Gastronomic University, the first of its kind in the world, and the centre of the global SLOW FOOD movement. We get to sleep in a little tomorrow as we depart only at 9.45am. We are all so excited, as this can be a marathon of packing, unpacking, showering, eating, and seeing and doing... so a little time up our sleeves is welcome. That said, I think we are spending the next two days in Lake Maggiore where I suspect we will be able to chill a bit, as we did for two days in our Tuscan villa.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-42783551939042858132016-05-10T08:43:00.003-07:002016-05-10T08:50:49.889-07:00ROMA, UMBRIA,TUSCANY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After departing our Hotel Neptune (above) in Dubrovnik, we are now in the heart of Italy having traversed three of the four papal states. Specifically, we are an hour away from Siena after lunching there today. I have become obsessed with food. Last night we went to a restaurant in Perugia that no tourist would ever find and ate with the locals - risotto for primi, veal artichoke for second piatti, and custard and chocolate for dessert. Fantastico! Today all I could think of was more pasta, and gelato, and when we arrived in Siena all I cared about was lunch. I ordered a papardelle porcini washed down with chianti classico, accompanied by bread and olive oil, insalata miste (the tomatoes, people!) and then a cup of gelato with four different flavours - hazelnut, pistachio, vanilla and strawberry. Heaven on a stick! <br />
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I have thrown all caution to the wind and barely glance at the cathedrals and sightseeing highlights, instead preferring to drink in the vineyard scenery as we tour in our beautiful Mercedes bus, so new you can still smell the leather! The four of us are getting on exceedingly well - you'd have to be crazy to be churlish in these conditions - and our 12 other fellow voyagers on Back Roads are easy on the nerves. Of course, the Italian guide, Augustino, is charm personified, jolly, good fun, and married to an Aussie so he knows we like "yummy" places! Buon appetito, everyone, think of me having MORE fresh pasta tonight under the stars! Below a photograph of the view from our villa suite...<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-16033918731038308222016-05-07T10:24:00.001-07:002016-05-08T07:26:44.572-07:00A GOLDEN DAY IN CROATIA<br />
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Once upon a time it was the Cote d'Azur. In 2016, it's Dubrovnik. If you are Europe-based and sun-hungry, I would book and visit for five days immediately, tourist trap though this place be. But for Australians, who are not short of beaches and sunshine, two days is enough. Thankfully we had a great hotel with 180 degree views of the Adriatic as far as the eye could see, and a seaside spot for lounge lizards (with margaritas and pina coladas on tap) that provided the ideal location to do nothing but relax. Aaaaaaah! The old city is breathtaking, but packed with people from all over the world; aside from a leisurely stroll around this world heritage site, I would recommend the cable car ride to the top of the citadel's mountain. Two thousand metres above sea level you can see the beautiful natural scenery on the OTHER side of the shore-hugging metropolis, and enjoy another perspective of a breathtaking coastline and a glamorous holiday lifestyle that includes sailing to other islands, kayaking, quad biking, and more. Tomorrow: back to Rome and the next leg of this European idyll.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-22817190797950119272016-05-06T08:39:00.001-07:002016-05-11T05:10:02.293-07:00HELLO DUBROVNIK<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Very happily for us the weather improved as we hit the Dalmatian coast and sailed over two consecutive days into the harbours of two Croatian islands, Hvar and Korcula. On Hvar we went for a walk through the hinterland and had lunch at a local farmer's hamlet high up in the hills overlooking the surrounding bays, the fragrant bouquet of olive tree blossoms wafting through the air as we sipped a Croatian white. Verdict: excellent. At Korcula, we abandoned our guides and walked and laughed with our fellow passengers, tired of the endless history lessons and church visits. That evening we had the final Classic concert and it was beautiful - from Ravel's Bolero to Russian jazz to Debussy's Claire de Lune, each piece exquisitely interpreted by a United Nations of celebrated pianists. After the 90 minutes, the hairs on my arms were standing on end and I felt completely alive. Bravo! Bellissimo! Encore!<br />
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The holiday has not been without its glitches - I mislaid my passport at a critical moment and gave everyone, including myself, heart palpitations for a ghastly half hour until le passport was recovered somewhere not entirely expected. (I am very forgetful, it worries me). We've had two horrible days of drizzly grey, but the forecast is definitely on the up, and now I am holed up in probably the worst room in a dazzling four-star hotel. No sea view, and no chance of one, as the hotel is full.<br />
I am glad however that the hotel is away from the old city which is far too busy - tourists swarm everywhere, and it's not even high summer yet.<br />
Enough chatter for now. I am going for a cocktail. The challenge on this holiday is to restrain one's eating and drinking and so far, I have surprised myself, managing to eat only two meals a day and foregoing wine at meals for the majority of time in favour of occasional cocktails.<br />
Alas, even on holiday, one does need to keep a beady eye on data usage, waistline, laundry... and, of course, passports!<br />
Until ze next time, I send you love, mi amigos, and home remains firmly in my thoughts.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-83630886169144560842016-05-03T05:37:00.004-07:002016-05-06T09:02:39.638-07:00THE BALKAN STATES<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<b style="letter-spacing: 0px;">THREE DAYS LATER in Montenegro:</b></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It is already hard to commit to this blog because we have limited Internet on the boat (expensive) and we always seem to be busy. Today I have cancelled all excursions and am holing up in my cabin after a brief walk around the UNESCO heritage town of Kotor in Montenegro. The old town is 12 to 14th century and lovely, the entire port town surrounded by mountains with the clearest water traversing down the mountain to the sea below, transparent and indigo blue. The view from my cabin is straight up the mountain... from here I see the old fort town and the protective walls built on a steep incline all the way to the top. The weather is cool (around 19 deg C, I would guess) and it suits me because I heat up swiftly.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> So, after a stunning day in Amalfi, we moved on to the Aeolian islands and visited Lipari, the largest of seven volcanic islands, in grey, dismal weather which prevented us from seeing clearly the other six islands of the Aeolian archipelago as they were pointed out to us.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The following day we docked at the port of Otranto in Apulia, and drove 50 minutes to Lecce, “the Florence of the South” in a pouring downpour that made the guide give up and leave us to our own devices. Lecce does deserve its epithet because the entire old town is 16th century Baroque (King Charles V of Spain) built in beautiful honey coloured sandstone. This sandstone is exported all over the world, along with olive oil extracted from the 60 million olive trees that dot the landscape of the “heel” of Italy. Apulia is not far from Calabria, but I am not sure in which direction, with Sicily to the south and the Balkan countries across the ocean to the east.</span></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;">For the last three nights, for an hour before dinner, we have attended piano recitals organised by the French equivalent of ABC Classic radio. The first night was Chopin, the second Argentinian tangos, last night exceptional virtuosity displayed by a Russian master, 44-year-old Nikolai Lugansky, who is currently at the top of his game. His skill was head-spinning. I have never heard the piano played like that, nor heard such sounds emerge from ye humble piano. All quite interesting, but I know what I like and so far I have enjoyed Chopin’s nocturnes, and the moving, melodious music of Schubert (two of his Impromptu pieces, I believe) while the rest has not been especially restful to listen to. Today, as I miss lunch in deference to the non-stop eating, I will visit the gym, finish my John Grisham best-seller, and forget about antiquities and classical music. I confess, dear friends, that I am nothing less than a plebeian 21st century gal!</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-33154058197011576822016-05-01T08:18:00.002-07:002016-05-06T09:02:51.765-07:00AMALFI COAST<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Saturday 30 April, off the coast of Italy:</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I’m in the gym, listening to Aretha Franklin singing “Say a Little Prayer” and I’m on an exercise bicycle, only about 5 more minutes to go, and I have one of those moments.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">It’s like an orgasm. Exquisite, releasing, and all-too-brief. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The subtle high of exercise endorphins is being released, energy flows through me even as I sweat profusely, and the view before me, through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the gym, is 180 degrees spectacular.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Bonjour, Isle of Capri.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The sky is a soft blue, the sea a darker blue, and the horizon is peaceful, with limestone cliffs and a picturesque port town of 20,000 inhabitants, swelling to 300,000, I’m told, in the ‘high’ season.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I am happy to view it from the balcony of my gorgeous room, or on the decks with my new friends, Jonathan and Julian (brothers, from the UK).</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I hope to include a photograph or two with this blog, but I don’t wish to get bogged down with IT on my European holiday, especially as I wind down after 30 minutes in le petit gym. 10 kilometres of bicycling, and 175 calories used. That takes account of roughly half my breakfast, ha ha.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">In about an hour we disembark off the Amalfi Coast and head for Positano before a recital this evening of Chopin works.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 0px;">Life, my friends, could be worse…</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-33459387589386631672016-04-28T23:21:00.001-07:002016-05-06T09:00:33.617-07:00EARLY DAYS IN ROMA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Conversazione a vacazione:<br />
Zenga: Are you guys hungry?<br />
Michael: I haven't been hungry since 1987.<br />
JB: I haven't been hungry since 2.30pm.<br />
Michael and JB chortle merrily, delighted by their wit.<br />
Zenga: What should we do next? Walk some more? Shop? Or back to the hotel for a siesta?<br />
Chorus: Hotel!<br />
... And so it goes. My friends, not a single one of my brain cells has fired since I landed, but my tastebuds, I realise, have been flat-lining for a long while. Now, here in Roma, they are dancing the fandango, twirling, cavorting, gavotting and frolicking with great abandon. How does spaghetti vongole taste so good? Or a pizza con mozzarella, proscuitto e pomadore? Pescatore? Insalata verde? The simplest things taste sublime....<br />
Colosseum, Pantheon, St. Peter's. St Paul's. Marcus Agrippa, Emperor Augustus. Mussolini. Michelangelo. Verdi. The antiquities and stories go by in a blur. The last time I visited Rome I was electrified, shrieking with delight at this original, exciting city. This time I am calmer, content. After all, I am here with three of my favourite people. There is nothing better than being surrounded by beauty, imbibing it through each of your senses, and not having to say terribly much, nor feel compelled to make decisions. Each of your group know you inside out. It is so terribly relaxing. And if you get lost, who cares?<br />
Weatherwise, we have been lucky... the temperature is around 19 degrees C with occasional drizzles which is perfect for lots of walking, and neither too hot or too cold, provided you have layers and a soft, snuggly scarf.<br />
Last night, instead of dining, we visited a nearby church for a recital of romantic arias by soprano and two tenors accompanied by four violins and the piano. Rossetti, Puccini, Verdi, Donazetti, we were regaled with well-known arias and let the beautiful sounds fill the church to its high vaulted roof. When in Rome... do as the Romans do, and the church, despite the school night, was comfortably full, gracious couples and even families with children there for a glass of friscati and 90 minutes of recital. Bliss.<br />
Today we leave our gracious, elegant Hotel Quirinale for our luxury cruiser and I will be sorry to leave this gorgeous suite with its brilliant chandelier and high, high ceilings. We enjoyed our G&Ts at the end of the day, a duo of palely handsome Italians crooners singing Ed Sheeran.<br />
Alas, I must sign off: Steve can view CNN for only so long. The news focused today on Trump's foreign policy - an oxymoron, I suggest - so for now, dear friends, arrivederci.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-58666822644481953182016-04-17T01:24:00.002-07:002016-04-25T17:48:24.247-07:00ROAD TO ROME, APRIL 2016 <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a jaded woman in possession of good fortune must be in want of a vacation abroad."</div>
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The photograph that accompanies this first epistle of my Italy 2016 blog is of my view today as I pack my suitcase to the refrains of Duffy singing "Stepping Stone". It is a melodious, cheerful song, in harmony with the autumnal sunshine pouring into the chambers of our near-empty apartment after several days of 'curing' following a buff and polish.<br />
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Of one thing I am sure: that when our 26-day foray to Italy is over, I will be longing once more to gaze my eyes upon this view. Because however jaded one is - and believe me, I am '100% proof' jaded - there is still nothing better than home sweet Lincoln Crescent. I know how fortunate I am, but my word, how to retain one's sense of good humour without the occasional get-away-from-it-all?<br />
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I am tired of watching my words, my bank accounts, my data usage, my weight, my back. I am weary of being nanny to my pooch. I am tired of searching for my spectacles because I find it difficult to locate anything without them on my face. I am sick of commuting by train to Olympic Park, Pandora app notwithstanding. Even another episode of my drip-feed drug, <em>Justified,</em> cannot sustain me in good temper for long.<br />
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No, it's time for me to visit not-so-foreign climes and escape the hot air circulating about impending elections, local and international - <em>frankly my dear, I so don't give a damn</em> - and drink in different views, both visual, intellectual and esoteric.<br />
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I will try to keep tabs on everything that we experience, but as the point of the exercise is TO LET GO, don't hold your breath. Rather, book YOUR next holiday - and start looking forward.<br />
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For me, the anticipation of Italy 2016 has been life-affirming and now my only remaining angst is that the holiday will not live up to expectations. We will see! For now, adieu dear friends as I wing my way in train of <em>la dolce vita.... </em><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-72728465754044016572013-09-16T19:02:00.003-07:002013-09-17T21:21:53.763-07:00Hawai'i, a.k.a. the Big Island<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yEGPa_NYah8UlB57SaPV0645nckAMFb6xvC-5WV8-2nMKf2p9gz_kXypC_a4g6In9s2ZNt5gxBuljqEa8pBF6Q7383NOUDIIJQkum_QRpErYvafQc2CYK2Kbrv4-a2qIpulwy-6CW6g/s1600/JB+Manau+Lani+beach+walk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6yEGPa_NYah8UlB57SaPV0645nckAMFb6xvC-5WV8-2nMKf2p9gz_kXypC_a4g6In9s2ZNt5gxBuljqEa8pBF6Q7383NOUDIIJQkum_QRpErYvafQc2CYK2Kbrv4-a2qIpulwy-6CW6g/s400/JB+Manau+Lani+beach+walk.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early sunset at Mauna Lani resort, Big Island Hawai'i</td></tr>
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<span style="color: white;"><b style="background-color: orange;">Okay, so I was a bit over-the-top in my critiq</b><b style="background-color: orange;">ue </b></span><span style="background-color: orange;"><span style="color: white;">of Kaua'i -</span></span> my travelling companions violently disagreeing with my negative take on the isle, btw - but now, in any case, I'm too knackered to carp.<br />
And, honestly, who would want to? Big Island is so eco, so green, so organic and cool... I love it and wish we could stay longer.<br />
Am dead-beat this evening, however, because we've been going for over a week now and apart from a two-day 'break in' period, it's been go, go, go, as we traverse each island and hike to waterfalls, helicopter over volcanoes, hike some more, cycle here, zipline there, and then see some more. By six pm, I'm parched for a cocktail after hours in the heat rehydrating with my ever-present bottle of H<span style="font-size: xx-small;">2</span>0.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The waterfalls at Big Island's Tropical Botanical Gardens</td></tr>
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So, we've been on Big Island for three days and this is the youngest of the eight Hawaii'an islands - 'young' in that it is only 500,000 years old and still, as a result of its great youth, has active volcanoes. We helicoptered over smouldering lava today ... needless to say, home properties in the area are going for a song!!! The last time a volcano erupted here was in 2007, then 2011... so we're talking "active" alright, and you wouldn't want to get in the way of a volcano in a huff.<br />
Population here is around 150,000, compared to Kaua'i's 59,000, and Oahu's 1.2 million (with 800,000 of these living in Honolulu). We've been hearing a lot about King Kamehameha (sounds like Big Daddy Ha Ha), an especially aggressive seafarer who subjugated all the Hawaiian islands under his rule.<br />
One of his descendants was responsible for his men spearing Captain Cook to death in 1779... a fact I did not know, having never learned Australian history. Fascinating to think that all Cook's travels blew up in the bay about 10 kilometres north from where our glossy Mauna Lani resort nestles...<br />
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Highlight of this island sojourn was a visit to an ocean cliff tropical botanical garden that had me, the world's worst photographer, snapping at every beautiful bloom in sight. I want to edit all the floral shots to a gentle piano sonata, if there is such a thing, and let it all wash over me again...<br />
Next stop: Oprah's favourite island, Maui, which is more hip and trendy. Definitely something in Hawai'i to suit all tastes!!!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglscjHUPgiVDMSw27Cyg1oC1PX5Ft4Lwq4-faeV83YuAmCTAYvuVAh2KL3zmq4P0czsux9I1pAcEolct6e29t5onDTumdvINiSNafQh5tblV7ZByTJSk8DtYrC3CpI2JN6bItuO-eUu1s/s1600/sunset+mauna+lani.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglscjHUPgiVDMSw27Cyg1oC1PX5Ft4Lwq4-faeV83YuAmCTAYvuVAh2KL3zmq4P0czsux9I1pAcEolct6e29t5onDTumdvINiSNafQh5tblV7ZByTJSk8DtYrC3CpI2JN6bItuO-eUu1s/s400/sunset+mauna+lani.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sunset at Mauna Lani resort en route to beachside dinner</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-75821803069182640752013-09-13T18:41:00.003-07:002013-09-13T18:51:30.126-07:00Kaua'i, the Garden State of Hawaii....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: orange;"><b>I had a moment yesterday before we left Kaua'i when I felt a visceral disgu</b>st for <b>the Yanks' paucity of culture. </b></span>As I sat there, my middle-aged waitress dishing up platitudes in lumpy thighs and styleless black shorts, and I gazed at a menu bereft of tantalising-sounding dishes, I wanted to levitate immediately from our shore-lined restaurant/bar and find myself, once again, somewhere with discernment and taste.</blockquote>
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<i><span style="color: white;">What have the Americans given us in the past 100 years, really? A thirst for armament? The Tea Party? Drone strikes? McDonalds? Hugh Hefner? The Kardashians????</span></i></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtuq3ukkfd8OcJwSj7394-3RXajn3vhLjeoZMzARdTjABrHFjQYzgEqX0G_e6x71SO_XG9dgnRY3kCLFAttJjF6qXqxoTARDjKsyO1Se-DvEos9eh0ow3-9HOW2FV5hLt9pbFTFKRZfc/s1600/kaua%2527i+waimea+canyon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtuq3ukkfd8OcJwSj7394-3RXajn3vhLjeoZMzARdTjABrHFjQYzgEqX0G_e6x71SO_XG9dgnRY3kCLFAttJjF6qXqxoTARDjKsyO1Se-DvEos9eh0ow3-9HOW2FV5hLt9pbFTFKRZfc/s320/kaua%2527i+waimea+canyon.JPG" width="320" /></a> You're getting my drift by now, I'm sure. On the second island of Hawaii we visited - Kaua'i, 'the Garden State' - we struggled to find anywhere decent to "hang". We hadn't booked into a ritzy resort this time; instead we booked into a B&B tastefully "decorated" a la Elvis in his <i>Blue Hawaii </i>period. Oh my lordy, I have taken an iMovie of our suite - such decor you have never seen!?! You needed sunglasses simply to feel reposed. But ... we did choose it - the best of a bad bunch - and that's probably because Kaua'i is Hawaii's version of Nimbin. <br />
This northernmost island of Hawaii has a population of around 58,000 and most of these citizens look feral. Sorry folks, but I am gonna 'call a spade a spade' here. Individually, each also seems parched for conversation because anyone with whom you cross paths talks and talks and talks... until you run away.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many exquisite views from the top of Waimea Canyon</td></tr>
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Luckily for the four of us, we are of completely like minds, so we reassure one another that we are not going loopy, and that a less-than-salubrious moment is excellent to 'compare and contrast' the Hawaii island experience.<br />
Yes, we got to see the Waimea Canyon - 'the Grand Canyon of the Southern Hemisphere' - and we did that by helicopter as well - but for the rest of it, you could honestly give it a miss.<br />
Aloha Kaua'i, we won't be visiting your shores again any time soon. And, oh yes, a toast of sparkling champagne to my travellin' compatriots who kept us laughing and chugging along nevertheless!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-25193028049196058062013-09-09T19:57:00.000-07:002013-09-09T23:53:44.404-07:00Turtle Bay, Oahu<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawaii is the land of long white surf</td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: orange;">Aloha on day 3 of our holiday... or is it day 4?</span></b> The days are already blurring into one another as all we seem to do is eat, sleep, drink, lie by the pool, swim in the sea, and relax. I play bridge tournaments online as I soak up the warm 28 deg C sunshine, but all the Mai Tais (is that how you spell them? I only spill 'em) I'm imbibing don't help my bridge score at all!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our resort at Turtle Bay, Oahu<br />
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We drove straight from Honolulu airport to Waimea Bay on Oahu's North Shore which is famous for its surfing beaches; and, sure enough, as I sit tapping here I can see a handful of determined surfers trying to ride a becalmed sea silvery with sunlight after a light shower.<br />
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Hawaii has natural beauty galore - a breathtaking coastline with volcanic mountains as backdrop - and a surprising lack of commercial overtone. At least, so far. Everything is laid-back. The place is a little stuck in a decade of yesteryear and everyone speaks in a sing-song voice, but who's complaining? Not me! As long as you order one meal for two, because the portions are off-puttingly enormous, there is not a thing these gentle folk won't do to make your holiday a stress-free, restful one.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A surf shanty in the historic town on Oahu's north shore</td></tr>
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I was pretty tense and uptight by the time we boarded the plane for Hawaii, God only knows why, but I think it might have something to do with my ongoing "to do" lists. I arrived here determined to make an iMovie about Hawaii and I've already given up on that idea because...oh hell... it's too much like hard work. See? Hawaii is working on me already...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barack in his Hawaii childhood days</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimming in Waimea Valley waterfall pool</td></tr>
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All I can say is, no wonder Barack Obama always looks as loose as a goose. If you grew up here, you'd have Rastafarian fluid flowing in your bones, dat's for sure. Tomorrow we fly to rustic Kaua'i for three days ... the names of places here are impossible to pronounce or remember, by the way - # holiday dementia - and so far the only local word I've learned is "mahalo" which means 'thank you'. The four of us decided to give the Pacific Cultural Centre a miss and so far have summoned the energy to go strolling in one of the most beautiful botanical gardens we have ever set eyes on. It was an easy one-hour round trip rewarded with a swim in a waterfall pool... if one felt so inclined. Aaaaaah, I feel relaxed... hope you're chillaxing too!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-18147917354024138312013-09-04T13:56:00.002-07:002013-09-04T13:58:21.573-07:00Hawaii, September 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Aloha gentle readers, </b><br />
I will be honest and say I know pretty little about Hawaii apart from the very interesting history of Molokai, one of its islands, to which persons suffering leprosy were once sent. Molokai is today one of Hawaii's many tourist attractions and Hawaii boasts plenty. However, it is most famous for its fabulous weather, beautiful beaches, volcanoes, marine life and laid-back lifestyle. Sounds like Australia to me! We will see... here are some photographs I grabbed off the Internet, but soon hopefully I will be posting more of my own. I plan to master iMovie on my MacAir. Let's pray I am not being overly ambitious; it wouldn't be the first time (wink wink)!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-72255992364287569942011-05-05T01:21:00.000-07:002011-05-05T17:45:42.347-07:00Swimming in Crocodile Creek<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuJcoVXjNdSqfLHC8Mh7nFUpGnQqV9o3VBSrb_LLGp7H0X-vKVGm3eET2yOgrJjjcsFbaElHJN1lmg7JCH__Nb4e-0uE_Zm7jCILLr8H2mLO2qvttPjjHCFK_ktPAuJHRct7tFtNkNNQ/s1600/crocodile+creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="133" width="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuJcoVXjNdSqfLHC8Mh7nFUpGnQqV9o3VBSrb_LLGp7H0X-vKVGm3eET2yOgrJjjcsFbaElHJN1lmg7JCH__Nb4e-0uE_Zm7jCILLr8H2mLO2qvttPjjHCFK_ktPAuJHRct7tFtNkNNQ/s320/crocodile+creek.jpg" /></a></div>Our penultimate day on MV Orion ended with a breathtaking swim in crocodile territory, and we survived. Don't be impressed, we were swimming in a fresh water pool inaccessible by crocodile... and what a relief to throw off our clothes in the 27 deg C heat and splash around like excited kids. I headed straight for the small waterfall crashing over bulging rocks and let the water pour down all over me. Wonderful to finally dunk under the water and be immersed in some of that aquatic terrain after days of Zodiac jaunts, but no swimming. The Kimberleys' biggest drawback is its oldest and wiliest inhabitant...yep, the croc of course.<br />
Apart from a gorgeous afternoon in the water under a benevolent and shining sun, there was the added sensory delight of a saxophonist to make us bluesy, and the aqua bar, complete with salty margaritas. This may be pioneer country, but rest assured, we are not slumming it...<br />
On another note, I loved our Expedition Leader's one-hour talk in the morning on the theme 'Why Australia does not have Monkeys'. Rivetting stuff which taught me a lot, and made we wish for more of such erudite and entertaining lecturers in my life. I feel I understand a bit better about how the world works, and have discovered a new scientist, Wallace, to rival Charles Darwin. It's too long to explain here, but suffice to say, I was enthralled and a teeny bit wiser for the talk!<br />
Another highlight of the Orion tour was the cabaret review held the penultimate night, starring the Orion crew, playing flute, guitar, macarena and dancing, even stripping! Hilarious, touching, talented, magical...it was lovely to see "ordinary" folk transformed into performers with panache.<br />
Must sign off, the holiday ends and Qantas calls. Adios for now, au revoir le Top End!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-14972080227674826482011-05-03T02:51:00.000-07:002011-05-03T03:03:07.195-07:00Rugged, ancient and subtleIt’s our 9th day on MV Orion, and only my third post. In a lazy way we sailors have been too busy to bother with the outside world. While we’ve been at sea this past week there’s been a historic Royal Wedding and the routing of the ultimate bogeyman, Osama Bin Laden, but none of us have sighted a newspaper in days, nor switched on a television screen. Today we made a foray into Talbot Bay where natural beauty beckoned in all her glory.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fInb2mrXcrmiXrRdB64VA6WOxdoMwu3Qs4T1d7XKSVMs8zymUoc6xJuVS33oqI3LMneD1fSIFNxNHU4lcyarTT5KvOOECzpSBrLOSTeV19gub_qmJgtvwjrVQf_tg4C58YJjz7WuwUM/s1600/Horizontal-Waterfalls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="228" width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_fInb2mrXcrmiXrRdB64VA6WOxdoMwu3Qs4T1d7XKSVMs8zymUoc6xJuVS33oqI3LMneD1fSIFNxNHU4lcyarTT5KvOOECzpSBrLOSTeV19gub_qmJgtvwjrVQf_tg4C58YJjz7WuwUM/s320/Horizontal-Waterfalls.jpg" /></a></div>I felt poetic and longed for a well-thumbed copy of bush verses – “I love a sunburnt country” and musings of similar ilk. Who wouldn’t feel moved by the vistas and landscapes we saw on our outing today? Undulating ochre and black outcrops in aspics of aquamarine, sapphire and algae-green; soft, long grass bowing in the mildest of breezes; scribbles of cloud wafting across an intense blue sky.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ohIB2vbaetSj2sZjmX8goL6KUXr3ZVp7IIF3dS06Xn5nEvMTModG54N6OOMeFkNDiCI81UhwqKnqTu6cZbgoV2FKh5UuZ5GnytNg9a2cP4jPA6whWJ_9Flix7x6S5UzBpggsV1PE97k/s1600/MITCHELL+FALLS.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="274" width="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ohIB2vbaetSj2sZjmX8goL6KUXr3ZVp7IIF3dS06Xn5nEvMTModG54N6OOMeFkNDiCI81UhwqKnqTu6cZbgoV2FKh5UuZ5GnytNg9a2cP4jPA6whWJ_9Flix7x6S5UzBpggsV1PE97k/s320/MITCHELL+FALLS.bmp" /></a></div>The weather has been idyllic: warm but not oppressively hot. Cut the Zodiac motor and sit still for a while as you listen to the occasional trill of a kingfisher piercing the silence and you begin to feel the heat beat down. Then we move again and nature’s air conditioning recommences, lulling one into another reverie. Comrades click wildly at the slightest sighting of an osprey, sea snake, wallaby or termite hill. Me? I’m a child of Africa. The “wildlife” here is far, far too subtle and sparse for me. I prefer to simply drink in the vast, impressive vistas. I will not be here again; nor will I see something so rugged and ancient again anytime soon.<br />
And so much water everywhere, yet not a puddle to swim in. If there’s one constant yearning, it’s to swim in the luscious lagoons that lap temptingly around every corner. But it’s not too be: every now and then, a harmless looking “stick” turns out, on closer inspection, to be a croc, floating serenely for a moment on the water’s surface, its pale green eyes staring at us curiously as a film flicks backwards and forwards across its hooded orbs like a camera’s shutter. <br />
We watch as it propels itself backwards and dips languidly below the water’s surface, reappearing moments later with its corrugated jaw pointed skyward and yawning open as it gulps down its gullet whatever is caught there for dinner.<br />
Aboriginals and crocodiles: these are the hardy survivors of thousands and thousands and thousands of years. The Kimberleys is their terrain and us? We are merely trespassers.<br />
<a name='more'></a>One of the highlights of our “Dreaming” holiday-on-water was a helicopter ride from the mouth of the Hunter River to the Mitchell Falls. There is nothing more awesome than seeing rugged, natural landscape from the air, but a helicopter makes it especially accessible. With no doors or windows on our five-man bug in the sky – imagine, if you can, the awe with which natives must have viewed such a flying machine for the first time– we floated above the granite and sandstone rooftops and noted the slow-burning fires through the grassy brush of the plains. Then we reached the falls themselves, bursting over a wide two-tiered ledge into a frothing, white pool below. Splendid! <br />
Our helicopter lands on the enormous, wide rocks at the top of the falls and we scramble across the rocky terrain to find the best vantage point to photograph the cascading water. Then, our appetite for visual recording sated, we strip off and plunge, at last, into the cool pools eddying between the rocks at the top of the plateau. Twenty minutes of sheer bliss ensue as we immerse ourselves in the cool, clear water, and paddle around, lapping up the sun, sky and endless horizon like darting, silvery fish.<br />
The previous day we visited Jar Island and a cave of “Bradman” art which apparently pre-dates Aboriginal settlement. The figures are Modigliani thin with tasselled headdresses and feathery finery, and were possibly created by the Macassan people who travelled down from Java. What kind of people were these? How did they live? And where did they hail from? We can only imagine...<br />
Yesterday, by contrast, we hiked up another hill (my recently operated knee behaving extremely well) to another cave where etchings of men, spirits, fish, dugongs and crocodiles glowed in ochre-pink as if they had been sketched yesterday. Nearby carbon dating suggests, in fact, that these paintings by the local Wandjina clan date back about 8,000 years. <br />
I love one of the theories about ancient art postulated on this trip: namely, that artistic endeavour flourishes only in good times, not in bad. When people have plenty of food, and don’t have to hunt, they have time to scribble and scratch on the walls of rocky caves in order to tell their stories. But when water levels drop off and food is scarce, people struggle to survive and artistic representations decline. <br />
Sounds like a plausible theory to me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-69764695567517464582011-04-30T18:02:00.000-07:002011-05-03T03:08:12.126-07:00Nirvana at last<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Eup-F6Daj422y80kKhD0gyTiV7OorpVcDpdtFtPTymBzHcWUHMiO6u4aJPmWzdfZ1xUzI6-Kg0mxUabzkLrtCFlPRgbVNsmGYxARlfz3YRuWuze_XyfM8Llqrw-3hS6qBdQnlT51oLY/s1600/DAVID+GULPILIL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="272" width="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Eup-F6Daj422y80kKhD0gyTiV7OorpVcDpdtFtPTymBzHcWUHMiO6u4aJPmWzdfZ1xUzI6-Kg0mxUabzkLrtCFlPRgbVNsmGYxARlfz3YRuWuze_XyfM8Llqrw-3hS6qBdQnlT51oLY/s320/DAVID+GULPILIL.jpg" /></a></div>What a difference 24 hours make. After my torturous flight by light plane over the Bungle Bungles (the beehive range only discovered in the mid 1980s, I later discovered), I retreated to my stateroom in shock and didn’t reappear till the next day. While Steve disappeared on a day-long adventure, I pottered around in the morning until our Zodiac departed after lunch for a three-hour cruise down the King George River.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMP0DBkEK0Uur5F1u2nW95Ua-m7TBswGjVQSIi4gpUyLY3S9a-GKXf0vPSEmUnmv2FaUTd_68_JqPkzGCplCAZwkBJ7RaAiPucQGvR74GXB8dx1kiIz1pCd-fMkO0RLpH5dNeQomu5fI8/s1600/True+North+King+George+Falls+resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="214" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMP0DBkEK0Uur5F1u2nW95Ua-m7TBswGjVQSIi4gpUyLY3S9a-GKXf0vPSEmUnmv2FaUTd_68_JqPkzGCplCAZwkBJ7RaAiPucQGvR74GXB8dx1kiIz1pCd-fMkO0RLpH5dNeQomu5fI8/s320/True+North+King+George+Falls+resized.jpg" /></a></div>The water and sky were brilliant blue, the warm 28 deg C sunshine offset by a refreshing breeze as we chugged mellifluously along the river, surrounded on all sides by cliffs of rugged pink sandstone sculpted by the elements over thousands of years. As cameras clicked and guides pointed out nests high on the cliff face of sea eagles and ospreys, I fell into a trancelike reverie. <br />
Back in the Big Smoke I had become oppressed by a sense of Groundhog Day. For weeks I had dreamed of communing with nature, and suddenly, at last, here it was... the moment I had imagined, and I gave myself to it completely.<br />
As our Zodiac riffed along the sparkling water and fellow travellers oohed and aahed and chuckled among themselves, I was blissfully happy to be right here, in the Top End, far, far, far away from anything that was more of the same. <br />
The King George River is pretty damn remote, and requires effort to reach, and it’s unlikely that the average traveller will visit twice. And here I was, gliding through a dream-like terrain of water, cliffs and sky, with each of my senses responding with subtle, trembling pleasure. <br />
The afternoon sun began to sink as we approached the King George Falls, pounding furiously after a very rainy season. We teased our Zodiacs as close to the spray as we could get. Rainwater cascaded over the cliff face on either side of a rocky outcrop, and we bobbed in the foam whipped up by the sheer weight of the torrent. It was exhilarating to witness Mother Nature unburden herself in such lush, spectacular style.<br />
After some playfulness at the waterfall, we turned back to motor relaxedly through our corridor of sandstone turning soft pink and grey in a sunset sky. I thought it couldn’t get better than this, but it did. We turned a corner and ...<br />
<a name='more'></a>... I kid you not, there was the MV Orion’s Maitre D, Roger, and his 2IC, Michael, waiting on a ledge at the bottom of the cliff face, with bottles of champagne poised for all passing Zodiac passengers. A toast to the King George River and its magnificent falls! <br />
It’s silly, I know, to talk about champagne in the middle of such awe-inspiring beauty, but it was an unexpected gesture of bonhomie that struck the right note at the right time. It felt right to pay tribute to the grandiose beauty we were experiencing with a flute of bubbly. (And, truth be told, it also pretty much summed up the Orion experience which is all about seeing beautiful and remote places while maintaining a level of comfort that borders on the luxurious). Long live luxury cruising, I say!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-60491382742279582292011-04-28T21:49:00.000-07:002011-04-28T21:59:37.503-07:00DAZED AND CONFUSED IN THE TOP ENDIt’s the first time I’ve posted because I’ve been unwell most of the time up until now, and had absolutely no appetite for anything except sleep and escape. Talking to people has been like hiking up a steep and hilly mountain. And the din of cocktails for the Captain’s welcome aboard? Not fun.<br />
Yesterday was hilarious though. I woke and felt human, even felt up to making small talk with relative strangers. Then I climbed aboard a small aeroplane at around noon, seven of us in all and the pilot, and I was seated at the very front, accepting this privilege with some foreboding. Sure enough, 10 minutes into the flight, sweating like a piglet in the midday sun, the cabin rocking wildly, I regurgitated the entire contents of my stomach into a handy sick bag, and for the remainder of the very long two hours and 20 minutes, closed my eyes, and prayed for touchdown to come as swiftly as possible. <br />
Lake Argyle, resplendently full after a generous Wet Season, shimmered below me, but I barely noticed, and as for the corrugated grid of the Bungle Bungles, I saw them briefly from the corner of my eye, thought “Hmmm, remarkable” and closed my eyes again. Yes, I admit, the sprawling and dramatic beauty of the Kimberleys have been somewhat wasted on me thus far.<br />
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And honestly, I could not care less. Everyone must extract from their time on earth what makes them happy, and I am coming to terms with the fact that the external world holds less attraction for me than the more interior-focused world of stillness and contemplation. Fortunately, here on the Orion, there is the opportunity to embrace stillness... provided you can escape the politeness of people who feel obligated to chat to someone who has purposefully chosen to be solitary. (My husband, meanwhile, has given up on me, and booked himself for all sorts of hikes and adventures). I can be found masticating slowly through the most simple of schedules... breakfast on deck admiring the shimmering blue of the horizon; briefly hearing the stories of fellow travellers who exude their own kind of sweetness; then a brief session in the gym cycling; then some Sudoku in the lounge; a movie, a book or a nap; and later in the day, after a dip in the pool and a light lunch, an excursion.<br />
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Today we’re off in the Zodiac to visit King George Falls, methinks. I’m looking forward to something leisurely, and benign, with no possibility of further heaving. Let’s pray. <br />
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Yesterday, after my draining flight over the Top End by ‘plane, I retired to my stateroom in shock and did not reappear until this morning. Resting in my resplendent and very comfy bed, I suddenly felt the urge to see the film Australia, prompted no doubt by the many references to it during our bus trip to the bustling town of Kunnunarra from our dockside stop at Wyndham Station.<br />
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I hadn’t heard good things about the film, and after finally viewing it for myself, I understand why. I found it a harmless and relaxing way to spend two and a half hours, but I have to say I found it rather silly. It’s a fairytale of epic proportions with caricatures, not characters, and all of it not merely unconvincing, but also failing miserably to trigger any frisson of feeling. Sad, really, because it was a good idea... I think. Baz needs merely to regroup, and I am sure he will entertain us with panache again.<br />
<br />
I also saw the film The Fighter during some quiet time in my cabin, and found that absorbing and inspiring. Who would have thought? Christian Bale deserved his Oscar; he played a crack addict to perfection (not that I am intimate with many crackheads, but still...)<br />
<br />
Since flying to Darwin, I’ve seen more films than I’ve seen in weeks in Sydney, probably because I am seeking escape from people, or the heat. After sightseeing in Darwin on the weekend Steve and I went to see the Justin Bieber film, Never Say Never, and we found it a fascinating study of the whirlwind evolution of fame, circa 2011. Thank you, YouTube, thank you Twitter!<br />
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I love to bemoan the inanity of Twitter and Facebook, but I now accept that I am simply out of step with the Zeitgeist. What do you do, I wonder, when you are not running with the masses? Give up, give in, join up, or just ... walk the road less travelled?<br />
<br />
Ah, there, I’ve found it. An allusion to M Scott Peck’s life-changing book makes a fitting close to my first post. Me? I’m not looking for shortcuts to any particular destination and I’m in no big rush to reach anywhere. I’m just bumbling along the path in front of me, and surrendering to the journey. Until the next post, folks, adios!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-68013684149380843162011-04-20T23:38:00.000-07:002011-04-21T00:21:17.121-07:00Dreaming of a Kimberleys getawayRutherford D Rodgers, whoever he is, once said, "We're drowning in information and starving for knowledge". Well, that's how I feel. Running on empty, and not feeling overly confident about anything. In desperate need of R&R. So... luckily, not much longer to go. We depart three days from now for Darwin and from there will immerse ourselves in the rare beauty of northwest Australia, which is not exactly your overrun tourist destination. Thank heavens not! There, for the following 10 days, I plan to replenish my soul, and find some sense of serenity and calm once more...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpz2ODdlV3v0sfLfMNVTZ507Qbn2tjgmIBdUlx5fxJ0Vb6ixS12SegUPK6dZgKskNWTKdUkNJEb2AdM1v-KHD21lG-WBEz4S3TfJS3J6P2iOP0pGBAf74EET9su-4d9QGEbssY2ZyhcY/s1600/broome.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588622396690493074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvpz2ODdlV3v0sfLfMNVTZ507Qbn2tjgmIBdUlx5fxJ0Vb6ixS12SegUPK6dZgKskNWTKdUkNJEb2AdM1v-KHD21lG-WBEz4S3TfJS3J6P2iOP0pGBAf74EET9su-4d9QGEbssY2ZyhcY/s320/broome.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 300px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjv1T6-LCB6fflGHByxMc9vuAGYt_1lVlGhcNbMUyDfFn52GguN_rQf7UwE33UExO5ZjbnyXY2y2ZeIGsslk7LBGa3HzpYfQqu2_gC9L75-lK4yslcM2kVQiFgcMCehKiRnBi5hEsvmgk/s1600/kimberley+1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588622518374216914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjv1T6-LCB6fflGHByxMc9vuAGYt_1lVlGhcNbMUyDfFn52GguN_rQf7UwE33UExO5ZjbnyXY2y2ZeIGsslk7LBGa3HzpYfQqu2_gC9L75-lK4yslcM2kVQiFgcMCehKiRnBi5hEsvmgk/s320/kimberley+1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 209px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 300px;" /></a> All aboard the Orion II for a 10-day cruise to the Kimberleys. While the boat is all about luxury, the holiday is essentially about immersing oneself in Nature and lapping up life in a unique, remote location. Am yearning for our 'time out' and loving the build-up to this ultimate getaway!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-72033943414583984432010-06-25T04:23:00.001-07:002011-04-21T00:07:41.728-07:00FAREWELL TO CHINA, LAST POST HONKERS<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBglLfZMHezMUTWgzI8bRKXohQyX86oiG4we9UmtdNGeGvIqntkYF6Cg0M9yyhqLXT1IrGfeKhmcKutAoSx9zJJlp4oG8GRx9IaH6emNqMCY9LlGYBPx1ZT6sMpM47mMOcqx7-9WOyIpQ/s1600/CUPCO-1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597920505584888898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBglLfZMHezMUTWgzI8bRKXohQyX86oiG4we9UmtdNGeGvIqntkYF6Cg0M9yyhqLXT1IrGfeKhmcKutAoSx9zJJlp4oG8GRx9IaH6emNqMCY9LlGYBPx1ZT6sMpM47mMOcqx7-9WOyIpQ/s320/CUPCO-1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 168px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a>Hong Kong isn't quite China, but I couldn't resist touching down on the former British outpost en route to Sydney to visit my niece, Hayley, and her beau, Jay, both whom are doing the obligatory stint for a multinational bank in the former British colony as part of their climb up the career ladder. As expected, Honkers was not as exotically 'foreign' as the China mainland, but it was exciting and vibrant nonetheless. Here follows retrospectively a smorgasbord of experiences, climaxing with our last night together when we decided on five-star dining at a recommended eatery, Hutong. What a disappointing, disastrous idea that proved to be! <br />
<blockquote>FIVE STAR DINING? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING! WHAT A DISAPPOINTMENT 'HUTONG' PROVED TO BE! </blockquote>Our booking was for 8.30pm, so our ferry ride was perfectly timed to catch the nightly laser light show that sweeps the sky at 8pm. Hong Kong sparkles at night like a jewel and it's exciting to feel part of it. Then we glided up the escalator at One Peking Road and soared to the 28th floor where a retro Chinese ambience awaited us - "hutong" in Chinese refers to the old-style neighbourhoods of days gone by - and floor to ceiling windows letting in Honkers' super glamorous skyline beckoned as we were seated with a ringside view. Aaaaah, sit back, relax, feel like a rock star!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGAv0zR9dO22SF6DW-udjbRT2Jijf-qu78CipLyqhS96taIZnKBNSXXMz7y7aUQos2pALS5kdE16SRD3lc9KGFmu0-hP9wr3oCqB2X-QdSRY2Ddr4ymt8F2TJlbcaDQzbO_LPd9biX98/s1600/hk+laser+star+ferry.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486672748577411986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTGAv0zR9dO22SF6DW-udjbRT2Jijf-qu78CipLyqhS96taIZnKBNSXXMz7y7aUQos2pALS5kdE16SRD3lc9KGFmu0-hP9wr3oCqB2X-QdSRY2Ddr4ymt8F2TJlbcaDQzbO_LPd9biX98/s320/hk+laser+star+ferry.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<a name='more'></a>We ordered the Michelin tasting menu of five dishes and relished the first two - delicate tastings of scallops and seafood salad; asparagus dipped in sesame seed (I think); and other titbits. Then, a fish dish that melted in our mouths - we were starting to get excited and settled back into that warm glow of good food and good company. The menu, alas, went downhill after there, with a disappointing sampling of fried pork (!!) with pancakes and sauce; then a pathetic serving of chilli greens; and then, finally, a serve of ginger icecream with apple fritters and a sweet sauce.<br />
Oh please! They had to be kidding - this awful stuff for a small fortune????? Luckily, we were nonplussed and satisfied with the wine (Cloudy Bay Sav Blanc, followed by a fulsome Australian red the name of which I cannot for the life of me remember now). The bill came, I felt completely ripped off, and we promptly jumped in a taxi and hit Lan Kwai Fong, the hot nightspot alley behind the central business district. It was hopping!!! The first round Brazil vs Portuguese World Cup soccer match had the young bankers and wankers glued to the screens again while gorgeous young girls, blonde and black-haired and everything inbetween, strolled the streets in search of a good time.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqknjQijC_z3dqzPVz_p54slSvmeOjAt1Dvmd9wBzzGZoA2bfp7t79wvUyfbUMMCgbeFIWuJwbVNjphJK6c1mNgPEbZk7bXMRrFBc1t0Hci6XslbGvJLKT7sGB-Ff3WnDK2uIQBA1iEU/s1600/handj.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486671606050008978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqknjQijC_z3dqzPVz_p54slSvmeOjAt1Dvmd9wBzzGZoA2bfp7t79wvUyfbUMMCgbeFIWuJwbVNjphJK6c1mNgPEbZk7bXMRrFBc1t0Hci6XslbGvJLKT7sGB-Ff3WnDK2uIQBA1iEU/s320/handj.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 120px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 160px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHScvYd0M8P80ybVvhnd6n15qWEk6JHt6yc_uNyeCyrCpDKNfHZ9aHIzQfYlWiXRhWhPUsgnEYqkQAB-qIjNijFJ2mHFX2ls2R4as2BYKE6Q-b9qYo2KMsrh39qEoFHFeW8XLUWnuTb0/s1600/jbwith+girls+on+lamma.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486679640021181826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHScvYd0M8P80ybVvhnd6n15qWEk6JHt6yc_uNyeCyrCpDKNfHZ9aHIzQfYlWiXRhWhPUsgnEYqkQAB-qIjNijFJ2mHFX2ls2R4as2BYKE6Q-b9qYo2KMsrh39qEoFHFeW8XLUWnuTb0/s320/jbwith+girls+on+lamma.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> Here is a photo of me with some gals on Lamma island, which is a 25-minute ferry ride from the central quay in HK CBD. It's a pleasant trip over, and scenic to behold, as the waters surrounding HK are dotted with islands. Lamma is very laid-back without a skyscraper in sight, whew, and has a reputation for great seafood. I kicked back at a waterfront cafe and decided to get risque: I ordered crab and it arrived in a delicious butter sauce with fresh salad and yummy dressing, and it was a delight. A lot of foreigners live on this accessible-by-boat-only neck of the woods: I even bumped into a couple of Setheffricans and Australians! Who would have thought? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuMxpiZR3GuQa1Y00opYT2a5wFjjfBRgu6temSxsMu0uw6V4aJIX0fonN8CmjU0quvc16pAT_FhbfbjjnOmi0DNvGPU1VdvzzE6O_H7qjOP2-acHqF2yjMcKNhrekR6mRgWAnkLg_sNU/s1600/lamma.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486881220485817554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuMxpiZR3GuQa1Y00opYT2a5wFjjfBRgu6temSxsMu0uw6V4aJIX0fonN8CmjU0quvc16pAT_FhbfbjjnOmi0DNvGPU1VdvzzE6O_H7qjOP2-acHqF2yjMcKNhrekR6mRgWAnkLg_sNU/s320/lamma.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Lamma really couldn't be more different from the hard and fast commercial splendour of the main island, and that's its chief attraction. Pity it doesn't have great beaches, though it does provide the opportunity for leisurely hikes.<br />
And here (below) is one of my photographs of the town of Stanley which is way more attractive than the city of Aberdeen which you reach after hiking from Hong Kong island's peak. Stanley is like the Mosman of Hong Kong Island, while A is just plain commercial in a grotty way, and pretty much devoid of charm. Still, Stanley is not especially exciting, interesting or unexpected, just pretty and relaxing after the madness of HK island. I heard birds chirruping there, and could stroll along the beachside boulevard without hordes surrounding me. And it was a relief! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIdQhr-_vHZk6PgpbiGaUNraVUDpiMVSx-MSxpfhMZkI2SqcUBgjaKLtf4qvvRcCw0BLobGS5-gNRawJnmv0ZxBpJybteZWFxoN_Ss1pe2Y-ZOuH3wla5XKDYTTcS60Wg9_4ijzVHe2o/s1600/stanley1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486678443139904706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIdQhr-_vHZk6PgpbiGaUNraVUDpiMVSx-MSxpfhMZkI2SqcUBgjaKLtf4qvvRcCw0BLobGS5-gNRawJnmv0ZxBpJybteZWFxoN_Ss1pe2Y-ZOuH3wla5XKDYTTcS60Wg9_4ijzVHe2o/s320/stanley1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 103px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 137px;" /></a><br />
Below is Hayley on one of her many HK hikes, this one from the peak of HK island to that infamous town of Aberdeen, best avoided except for a rest before wending one's way homewards once more. Aberdeen not as ghastly as Shenzhen on the mainland, however. This is one of CHina's fastest-growing "Special Economic ZOnes" with a population already of 14 million that has sprung up in the past decade since HK lost its status as a British sovereignty. Once a sleepy fishing village, it is now the second busiest port in China after Shanghai and its main raison d'etre is business which typically doesn't augur well if you're a tourist looking for rustic simplicity or historical charm. Visit Macau instead if you want mainland distraction: at least there's vestiges of the region's Portuguese-ruled history, and a Las Vegas style casino culture that some revellers may enjoy. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseMngK99vqkDkUHigcGmhnjds5oE5AArzC8TrRvQkQhezY1XgloXLkWDzGSpKbpWh9t_CvONQAEzUoax1yrcRrowkwE2xy98lyWDhIc0qwun2-zPgr2hshB4ujyLR_oEEJGpN7RWG16c/s1600/hayley+hike.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486677001423057810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiseMngK99vqkDkUHigcGmhnjds5oE5AArzC8TrRvQkQhezY1XgloXLkWDzGSpKbpWh9t_CvONQAEzUoax1yrcRrowkwE2xy98lyWDhIc0qwun2-zPgr2hshB4ujyLR_oEEJGpN7RWG16c/s320/hayley+hike.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> <br />
<blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-60430790031023816042010-06-24T01:54:00.000-07:002011-04-21T00:08:11.517-07:00THE NATURAL BEAUTY OF HONG KONG ISLAND<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKx1aeHrcrFLASF2tO4WaM5nwx7bmCWeTmTatjaZMdxPEVNGYSNw3wpEA48uYRs51SmYXEmwXS5hQdwLxwyj_ZzCSascZl0xgggUTTFV57xv649vU80ZmfNUsv8SDrD2r3stoToprLmU/s1600/stanley1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486268405217420802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKx1aeHrcrFLASF2tO4WaM5nwx7bmCWeTmTatjaZMdxPEVNGYSNw3wpEA48uYRs51SmYXEmwXS5hQdwLxwyj_ZzCSascZl0xgggUTTFV57xv649vU80ZmfNUsv8SDrD2r3stoToprLmU/s200/stanley1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 103px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 137px;" /></a> Well! Hong Kong is more than a money-making haven for Gordon Gekkos from all over the world. Today I jumped on bus 6X to the seaside suburb of Stanley, and 25 minutes later, after a gorgeous cliffside drive where I looked out on islets of green splattered about in placid, silvery water, I arrived in this beachside mecca. Bondi Beach meets Balmoral! And along the way, Repulse Bay, see the photo here, with its skyscraper hotels, iconic Chinese attractions and sandy beach packed with locals whenever the weather permits... <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtc2ON9d1MO4d4JE_tDz0BsfNCEF9t1tilD-SfsHAtJYrnuCCQZwJMdK0ou-mqqQvSvnbdvr6BZka-YOgig9uHjmvl09zOHSRq8z-0OvMWp6Gn7TX7Jlt2SL5R_0hOeOCfpyJrOhxAzgY/s1600/repulse+bay.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486879587518359362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtc2ON9d1MO4d4JE_tDz0BsfNCEF9t1tilD-SfsHAtJYrnuCCQZwJMdK0ou-mqqQvSvnbdvr6BZka-YOgig9uHjmvl09zOHSRq8z-0OvMWp6Gn7TX7Jlt2SL5R_0hOeOCfpyJrOhxAzgY/s320/repulse+bay.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<a name='more'></a>But, back to Stanley which is about five minutes further along the cliffside road. OMG, I could not quite believe it: here I was, hearing birds sing, surrounded by verdant lushness, taking a leisurely stroll along the promenade, unhurried and unperturbed by noise, crowds or hustle. Quel joie, as the Frogs would say. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjWQPlN9nY2_IXwIZVil20UreZ6ffIhCtunAqGE4SIpKOLLFb-0j7E_iyord7rL-L3esqKi-Mrfey77PDnYvz08TRMxqLh4wVJWHly34wskpbiTs15LbCj2CdCBu_g12RsTetjLDk9N4/s1600/stanley2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486268496546986578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjWQPlN9nY2_IXwIZVil20UreZ6ffIhCtunAqGE4SIpKOLLFb-0j7E_iyord7rL-L3esqKi-Mrfey77PDnYvz08TRMxqLh4wVJWHly34wskpbiTs15LbCj2CdCBu_g12RsTetjLDk9N4/s200/stanley2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 98px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 130px;" /></a> Next minute I was accosted by a gang of adorable nine-year-old Chinese children who wanted to interview me about my thoughts on Hong Kong. Well! Did they find the right candidate! We chatted ad nauseum (photos will be downloaded and added here, in due course, soon as I can locate the right gear) and one fat-faced Chinese boy whispered in awe, "You very kind lady." <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpCJI3_aAklVN6-PCPXg2kN_htZUaofOsGsGtRXf_e4Oy4iBpFcRMmyeO_6QeIvsXkTfo7wWhCMbL_DVXi8y78BksL7cvHkh4sob52JNHLa_EDqZOWvv3F8aQhTqBvdbrN4rkRZz6gq8/s1600/jb+interview.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486878782845203634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpCJI3_aAklVN6-PCPXg2kN_htZUaofOsGsGtRXf_e4Oy4iBpFcRMmyeO_6QeIvsXkTfo7wWhCMbL_DVXi8y78BksL7cvHkh4sob52JNHLa_EDqZOWvv3F8aQhTqBvdbrN4rkRZz6gq8/s320/jb+interview.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluSnNAoQbyFJ-y9WFKgNWvr2LaZUpREFNv-8luBlyMeXSecX8MjQI5K19qGWv0lQFAxGZnBbxRhCQ_tIQuZN0cVYbuECoYuMckthHQh6W3R8omuTaARPIm3RVE_aM11yanrLVS6ulnuY/s1600/jb+with+kids+stanley.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486679899125089570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluSnNAoQbyFJ-y9WFKgNWvr2LaZUpREFNv-8luBlyMeXSecX8MjQI5K19qGWv0lQFAxGZnBbxRhCQ_tIQuZN0cVYbuECoYuMckthHQh6W3R8omuTaARPIm3RVE_aM11yanrLVS6ulnuY/s320/jb+with+kids+stanley.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> I could not help but notice how impeccable their spoken AND written English was, and wondered if you would see such consistently impeccable penmanship in a gaggle of nine-year-old Australians. I'm not sure!<br />
I then went trawling through some pretty shops and the local market and was sufficiently relaxed to actually want to buy something, so I am yet another garnet ring richer. Love the jewel memorabilia to remind me of my travels! After a Nasi Goreng lunch, twice the cost of one at Broadway - god, eating Westerner in Hong Kong is expensive - I jumped back on the return bus (airconditioned) and enjoyed the gorgeous views on the easy, quick route home. A couple of 40-storey apartment blocks occasionally block the beautiful views, but overall.... a hint of the "outback" enjoyment that Hong Kong also offers was definitely on view. I live with two 20-something yuppies who thrive on the 'run, beach, hike' lifestyle and they report a never-ending calendar of outdoor delights. Now I'm thirsty for more myself!.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSE9oHFqj6EO6qWT8mc2RTyW1Fk4yRUMAgA8UXrpdxNShfqAnHJ_NBYy48jaq56mWQdhlALGhGlzMGfBrrk5jsNuTvogAQlKJaHWpxNWa-uNrOW7HxLlyv9yJhPPTizVogYfPgLmhgoCM/s1600/stanley3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486268620849916834" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSE9oHFqj6EO6qWT8mc2RTyW1Fk4yRUMAgA8UXrpdxNShfqAnHJ_NBYy48jaq56mWQdhlALGhGlzMGfBrrk5jsNuTvogAQlKJaHWpxNWa-uNrOW7HxLlyv9yJhPPTizVogYfPgLmhgoCM/s200/stanley3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 133px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 133px;" /></a><br />
<br />
One important tip for anyone visiting Honkers is, get yourself an Octopus card. It's a local electronic purchase card that you load up periodically to the tune of 50 or 100 Hong Kong dollars at any 711 convenience store; with it, you can pay for groceries, board any bus, tramway or subway and generally take care of everyday mundanities without finding the right change in your wallet. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBRIIQEBPxOY7MVNyRcu0HWnsgpDG5HEBZ5dUVyz9sLESazyyjgVUVabW0GxpH6Y1qSPNg4U_CARx_Mjo7eW4TmDMfRyDXue_-OH1MulkrOZDJ1IAFEdjnZZTIuZMbBCnsxIn2Nk-DJ4/s1600/stanley4.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486268685748521266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBRIIQEBPxOY7MVNyRcu0HWnsgpDG5HEBZ5dUVyz9sLESazyyjgVUVabW0GxpH6Y1qSPNg4U_CARx_Mjo7eW4TmDMfRyDXue_-OH1MulkrOZDJ1IAFEdjnZZTIuZMbBCnsxIn2Nk-DJ4/s200/stanley4.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 95px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 143px;" /></a><br />
Tomorrow I'm off to another relatively unspoilt part of Hong Kong, all of which makes a delicious contrast to my nights which are spent roaring along with the crowds watching World Cup Soccer matches in the red light district bars, discos and pubs. All the usual entertainment has come to a standstill, huge FIFA screens are everywhere, and the Filipino prostitutes are filing their nails in boredom as all their prospective customers sit with their eyes glued to television screens.<br />
Hong Kong is a wierd city really. It's supposedly Chinese, but apart from people looking Chinese, and talking Chinese, it doesn't feel Chinese at all. Not after visiting mainland China anyway! Hong Kongers are definitely more sophisticated, and more arrogant it seems - perhaps it's because they are citixens of one of the first true 'world cities'. But, can't report further right now - off to see Sex and the City 2 which seems ironically apt, considering that I am living slap-bang in Wan Chai, Honkers' hip and happening red light district.<br />
Until next time...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-75140355950190800892010-06-21T19:57:00.000-07:002011-04-21T00:09:53.876-07:00HELLO HONKERS!<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488811565143074002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-73CkFkkxs7DtuRHqcdEiD8hRt3_BRi55pkDr9Lp4KQ0semIMQuHbP2I8yp1lu_s2vgbBLe2-CEsQTWbgzzncf8Dplva-zs7oq9yC3LKEIbCQb7qGwcnqJN-RFLrVA0UHhIvjr69ie4/s320/jb,+handj.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_KUfZLWK8hosQqsUfTv7kgE1aYTrwS29kEzOAO11tUBU1OLZZuWhGbMuEkWXFLdZeylG0c4vSVXxXhJPxKkSbplRr0iz25-gZj4JkQiwlyXRBNXlxS8QAG03538HsZPdXCnBWGfiUjc/s1600/People_in_hong_kong.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485817172764141090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_KUfZLWK8hosQqsUfTv7kgE1aYTrwS29kEzOAO11tUBU1OLZZuWhGbMuEkWXFLdZeylG0c4vSVXxXhJPxKkSbplRr0iz25-gZj4JkQiwlyXRBNXlxS8QAG03538HsZPdXCnBWGfiUjc/s200/People_in_hong_kong.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a>In hot and steamy Honkers now, in a skyscraper eyrie on the 26th floor overlooking the hip and happening Wanchai neighbour-hood just a nudge away from the CBD and right on the tramline which I'm going to ride shortly, taking with me an umbrella for the sun, a Chinese fan, and a bottle of H2O. Shanghai population 20 million, Beijing population 18 million, Hong Kong a mere seven million. Hurrah!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqe0g8NUXxCYxycjdDKQooMmgeBslETKzzJ7HN7ZWUiBTZq3jnGNykJD1VfHUlWeYT-iOizEcaNjq4Keqf0dyvK-DhycCAnXTaCO8akA0sDfA06YzWyg5ZG5-bqHhLskrn40Zw5oCFwY/s1600/jb+and+hayley.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488811319782392882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqe0g8NUXxCYxycjdDKQooMmgeBslETKzzJ7HN7ZWUiBTZq3jnGNykJD1VfHUlWeYT-iOizEcaNjq4Keqf0dyvK-DhycCAnXTaCO8akA0sDfA06YzWyg5ZG5-bqHhLskrn40Zw5oCFwY/s320/jb+and+hayley.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9Om8BiqWCEU22rf_ig11D5DfCtLCp9tFodu1DASO6DiFZ81PVyWULwUSvgWnL0RKdQxA-y0Y_-AkgSyYRDRWQWLMkqe-FcVyBM9adlMGnZeJhXuCugssjpC5vd9dMxsYg2OiJWyCIpQ/s1600/hk+TRAM+AT+NIGHT.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485472092342193554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9Om8BiqWCEU22rf_ig11D5DfCtLCp9tFodu1DASO6DiFZ81PVyWULwUSvgWnL0RKdQxA-y0Y_-AkgSyYRDRWQWLMkqe-FcVyBM9adlMGnZeJhXuCugssjpC5vd9dMxsYg2OiJWyCIpQ/s200/hk+TRAM+AT+NIGHT.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a> Was lucky to reach HK at all. When I checked in, the check-in attendant pointed out that my ticket was for 20 June, and today was 21 June! Eeek. Luckily for me, I was born in the year of the Chinese Rooster, a sign that signifies great luck, and sure enough, the check-in guy informed me the plane was not full so they'll check me in, no problem. One week earlier, during the Dragon Boat Festival, and I would have been in deep trouble! So, will report back later as I've been in town less than 24 hours; just wanted to apologise for the typos and mistakes in previous blogs. I could not post directly in China as <a href="http://www.blogspot.com/">http://www.blogspot.com/</a> was verboten by the Land of the Yellow Star. Now I am in Billionaire territory, where millionaires and jewel-encrusted limos are a dime a dozen. Ah, the pursuit of the mighty dollar! .... Or should that be the mighty yuan? Only time will tell! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsc95rD_yHuOwcNXySbdZ_Wi1SoXHVqbsKr4AnzyYBCbMHJXvccZECZ0_Ak8-YNe0boKIof8s_LO7X1ZIy8DOem-9FHMdURTgTAtPjyC0fx0WJEfkFqvqBzL5KdiJE8yAEdsZp9A7FUg/s1600/mao+mausoleum.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485450894789060786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsc95rD_yHuOwcNXySbdZ_Wi1SoXHVqbsKr4AnzyYBCbMHJXvccZECZ0_Ak8-YNe0boKIof8s_LO7X1ZIy8DOem-9FHMdURTgTAtPjyC0fx0WJEfkFqvqBzL5KdiJE8yAEdsZp9A7FUg/s200/mao+mausoleum.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 150px;" /></a>I attach here a photo taken for me by one of my many new Chinese friends, at the Mao mausoleum in Beijing on Tiananmen Square. Below you can read about my strolls in the environs of T Square and the Forbidden City. Strange to have two such bedfellows sitting cheek to jowl with one another... one a symbol of the power of the common people, the other a symbol of unrestrained rule by all-powerful dynastic families! How did a famous philosopher describe the rollercoaster of life? "History", he said, "keeps on repeating himself." Hear hear, Voltaire, too true!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nCh6SW6wJqrvuohDslkwjpnNZTQvIUtxb8xbnmrSskdmVPqVV0kjFYM2W3gquEcPVsQ_JiOQJ96iMiJsjlJXEyjLJEi7MmaVB58JtTfLG1ZfOk_YEfmA3EnjKwzhW6HXDbX8yRXj0QY/s1600/245px-Mao_Zedong_portrait.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485814713479781986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nCh6SW6wJqrvuohDslkwjpnNZTQvIUtxb8xbnmrSskdmVPqVV0kjFYM2W3gquEcPVsQ_JiOQJ96iMiJsjlJXEyjLJEi7MmaVB58JtTfLG1ZfOk_YEfmA3EnjKwzhW6HXDbX8yRXj0QY/s200/245px-Mao_Zedong_portrait.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 151px;" /></a><br />
DON'T MENTION THE THREE Ts in CHINA: TIBET, TAIWAN AND TIANANMEN SQUARE.<br />
Before I blog about Hong Kong, let me summarise the good and the bad about this vast Asian superpower<br />
LOVE<br />
1. The community activities in the parks in the early morning before the heat kicks in... ribbon sticks, feather soccer, kite flying, flute playing, line dancing, group opera singing.... you name it, it's all happening.<br />
2. The fruit on sticks<br />
3. The subways - pretty full, yep, but work a charm, and there's a total 10 lines in every direction<br />
4. The cleanliness of public streets, parks, subways... gawd, there's a street sweeper on e very corner!<br />
5. The eagerness of Chinese to be helpful (most of the time) to foreigners, despite their complete non-understanding of our tongue. After all, it IS "a completely different linguistic tree" (as our guide, Frank, put it) and they know a helluva lot more phrases than the Europeans who can't even be bothered to learn some basic phrases, like please, thank you, etc.<br />
6. Chinese translations into English, eg. Black is "chill" this month, instead of "black is cool this month". or "the top hat of blue copper" instead of "the crown of bronze artworks" and a gazillion others where words are always in the wrong order. Too cute! What would they do without their Google translator???<br />
7. Foot and body massages. No wonder they can all walk forever and don't suffer rickety knees; they look after their bodies. Gotta love it.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nD3XoOO88xvKL4kbsr2Iv2k9xfUn7p65hv_rDtsx5fsYyy8WYAVcN8-fxAjnWgbB8w1FKYqrHL_3pBdgM93z_fGV7OMccQWs3MFUR_sLo4F-qAgK4lWcE0zpDXWmZ_ECejO5KOfDPBY/s1600/chinese+kids.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485820440163317554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5nD3XoOO88xvKL4kbsr2Iv2k9xfUn7p65hv_rDtsx5fsYyy8WYAVcN8-fxAjnWgbB8w1FKYqrHL_3pBdgM93z_fGV7OMccQWs3MFUR_sLo4F-qAgK4lWcE0zpDXWmZ_ECejO5KOfDPBY/s200/chinese+kids.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 87px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 129px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0AQh_Iyz4C_ePHqNcvUjJ8vPnCIO4ZeSaK_EbU3GjxKGb1eVgJQVGQHVCXLmeJINk_a4NkZz7BKfmxoEjWOL04jdwKSAMOYYtt47LFpuoZVsyyFBz41NqG16YR0tLqL7DwdhYiZcqLEw/s1600/fat+baby.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485820953857990866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0AQh_Iyz4C_ePHqNcvUjJ8vPnCIO4ZeSaK_EbU3GjxKGb1eVgJQVGQHVCXLmeJINk_a4NkZz7BKfmxoEjWOL04jdwKSAMOYYtt47LFpuoZVsyyFBz41NqG16YR0tLqL7DwdhYiZcqLEw/s200/fat+baby.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 101px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 128px;" /></a><br />
8. Chinese babies and children: definitely the CUTEST in the world<br />
9. The romantic storytelling, the fables and mythology<br />
DON'T LOVE<br />
1. The crowds<br />
2. The heat in summer, worse than Sydney.... and cannot speak for the other seasons. (This is June and apparently it gets hotter in July and August. Eeek)<br />
3. The incessant noise, especially loud music on speakerphones<br />
4. The never-ending bargaining<br />
5. The obsession with accumulating wealth<br />
6. The smell of marinated tofu<br />
7. The crouching creeps of the public toilets- eeeeeek.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqw7mN3mqziurBhsa2hyphenhyphenCwcEIzUGc7a3T0tHgBluZUU277PqFc8OyxOZqTs3Z-oFYsUrR5N4AulXt46DDi0XvFfGK8-PZxPhYZ-15SdTPp9lXwkWphAq9yQePKmBH9pGVSPM4t3td79vE/s1600/forbidden-city1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486887711802588002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqw7mN3mqziurBhsa2hyphenhyphenCwcEIzUGc7a3T0tHgBluZUU277PqFc8OyxOZqTs3Z-oFYsUrR5N4AulXt46DDi0XvFfGK8-PZxPhYZ-15SdTPp9lXwkWphAq9yQePKmBH9pGVSPM4t3td79vE/s320/forbidden-city1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
Over and out, the hotel manager wants me out of the office, I suspect he wants to nap. Everyone sleeps everywhere here: on their feet,in the subway, standing up, on the job, on their bikes, under a tree, on their haunches, ANYWHERE.It's been a culture shock, but I have learned so much and I leave with complete admiration for this country and its people.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzu45rS6IDOcLeIaM12wIcmtpSliUJctYWi2BQN65LrQNPY-K6mPgESGMUYyLAb1zm2yLWk8PkNhliaML0aFEh9nC0BiKsjSY4EVcQ0MbZp3B9_E-DevmXimz2ZNGdSsQjxRQBWwaNt60/s1600/JB+great+wall12.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487329399726181714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzu45rS6IDOcLeIaM12wIcmtpSliUJctYWi2BQN65LrQNPY-K6mPgESGMUYyLAb1zm2yLWk8PkNhliaML0aFEh9nC0BiKsjSY4EVcQ0MbZp3B9_E-DevmXimz2ZNGdSsQjxRQBWwaNt60/s320/JB+great+wall12.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 214px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-3327159639253269942010-06-20T03:08:00.000-07:002010-06-22T21:33:35.660-07:00Sunday mornings in Beijing are the best<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YDdBd1jd0RlAyozu-WwLZo1iHY-jmZLk56IRmDNUIKLxajzfHJZTdd4j_taG9YDusk6spB7s40o2_fEOz_R9XDb3IHnBm7c6gwohkqwEnexkoLhpLzheh-TTKiLU5YOXJQkNfAaSGx8/s1600/HK+Chinese+bridge.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YDdBd1jd0RlAyozu-WwLZo1iHY-jmZLk56IRmDNUIKLxajzfHJZTdd4j_taG9YDusk6spB7s40o2_fEOz_R9XDb3IHnBm7c6gwohkqwEnexkoLhpLzheh-TTKiLU5YOXJQkNfAaSGx8/s200/HK+Chinese+bridge.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485449441304310658" /></a><div>Hello again folks, well here I am again after my dummyspit on arrival in Beijing. What a culture shock! I have since acclimatised, calmed down and grown wiser to Chinese ways and as a result, I was able to have a moving and memorable experience in Bei Hai park, just outside the walls of the Forbidden City, this morning.<br />Firstly, I am immensely proud that I was able to negotiate appropriately with a taxi driver when he insisted on going "off the meter" and charging me 10 times the going rate. I made it clear that I knew my RMB from my US dollars, as it were, and promptly set off on foot with only a good sense of direction and a few Chinese phrases to guide me. Amazingly, armed with my umbrella for protection from the sun, a bottle of water, and some Lindt chocolate (Westerner breakfasts in my very Chinese hotel are unpalatable, I'm afraid), I walked to Tiananmen Square, paid tribute to Chairman Mao who is buried there, then strolled around the Forbidden City (not inside, but in and around the environs)and then meandered through various willow-fringed parks.<br />The Forbidden City is surprisingly small in scale, when one considers what I have already seen, and how everything in China is 'macro' rather than 'micro'. I couldn't help but feel desperately sorry for the Last Emperor Pu Yi (refer Bertolucci's masterpiece THE LAST EMPEROR) who was kept prisoner behind these immense wine-red walls from the age of 3 to the age of 24.<br />I can only pray that he was occasionally escorted out to a Summer or Winter Palace so that he could partially escape the rigidity of court life, the acres and acres of stone pavers, and the complete lack of natural scenery!Who said being an Emperor was any fun huh???</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1582313971061127344.post-30114288254198045142010-06-20T03:06:00.001-07:002010-06-21T21:28:46.964-07:00Kites, shuttlecock soccer, ribbon sticks, dancers, flutes and Feng Shui<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGn1Hto-KI06whK9189_xoxYqv8TQUbVd7k7O3OAXm7SB1oy4Trd4YSsuw01Np00wQ3jYfwib-O_5RUqlQvDLt0uh0OBHe3I1ufaG8Z2G15cZ2EQ8ujDySUAXBBxEecdLbf2oeW5cmXKE/s1600/beihai+park+ribbon.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485439351124239042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGn1Hto-KI06whK9189_xoxYqv8TQUbVd7k7O3OAXm7SB1oy4Trd4YSsuw01Np00wQ3jYfwib-O_5RUqlQvDLt0uh0OBHe3I1ufaG8Z2G15cZ2EQ8ujDySUAXBBxEecdLbf2oeW5cmXKE/s320/beihai+park+ribbon.jpg" /></a><div>Upon the advice of locals, I strolled to Bei Hai park behind the Forbidden Palace this sweltering Sunday morning (around 30 deg C at 9am) and the experience lifted my spirits. As I joined the audience surrounding a choir accompanying half a dozen musicians on trumpet and saxophone, I found tears welling in my eyes as locals, old and young, thin and thin, and all as different from one another as Westerners are en masse, I felt this perverse longing to see Centennial Park in Sydney festooned with people like this, with many of them letting it all hang out in one way or another. Plenty of couples come along with their friends, or dance group, switch on their music, and start dancing in pairs for hours under the trees. As usual, I was the only Westerner for miles, and was tapping and clapping along to the point that I was invited to participate. I did, and their dances are relatively easy and straightforward, a kind of gentle rumba meets line dance which I'd be happy to demonstrate in person in due course.<br />Some of the singing sounds like cats screeching, but usually it is melodious and lovely to listen to, especially if it is accompanied by flute or some other zither-type instrument. As for the people's choir singing along to the "chamber orchestra" of trumpets, that was heavenly and so rousing, I felt profoundly moved. I didn't know what they were singing about. It could have been "Comrades, let us take up arms and conquer those stupid Westerners", but it was far more likely, when one considers how romantically inclined the Chinese are, that they were singing about the eternal path to happiness, the divinity of the gods, and all manner of heavenly things.<br />You only have to look at what they call their park pavilions to get a clue: place for cloudless thinking/ the palace of eternal rest/ place of stone and water/ etc etc... Taoism is all about man fusing with nature.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggfHeZUZo3-Is8lmjjafevL5kIRN1z6Leg_A0sdRLyhsiTGRXmYW8gIwLAj6JV3UXAhQzb23vC21LYjo3FE-ksRbONUYABRjevPAoxJxgdm-GsXYhhu3uJI-nM-ASwHECWYuRaU_BxWiE/s1600/beihai2-b.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 253px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggfHeZUZo3-Is8lmjjafevL5kIRN1z6Leg_A0sdRLyhsiTGRXmYW8gIwLAj6JV3UXAhQzb23vC21LYjo3FE-ksRbONUYABRjevPAoxJxgdm-GsXYhhu3uJI-nM-ASwHECWYuRaU_BxWiE/s320/beihai2-b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485440792663326530" /></a><br />It's reflected in the paintings of fishermen, willows, cranes, and contrasts with the idolatry of dragons, phoenixes, lions and giant turtles (who represent longevity).<br />Why anyone in China would want a long life, I'm not entirely clear, because it doesn't strike me as an easy life. But when you are in Bei Hai, one witnesses only the beautiful, lyrical pleasures of these people who are bowed by centuries of brutal history, Mao's "re-education" and since then, the pursuit of the capitalist dollar.<br />Chinese are obsessed with Feng Shui, and this obsession in turn is focused on the accumulation of wealth - it is practically atypical for a Chinese person to not boast a jade "pichu" in their home. The "pichu" is the ninth and youngest son of the dragon and he is a strange creature that resembles a kind of lion/horse. His claim to fame is that he has no "exit hole" (to put it politely) which signifies that any wealth that enters his mouth never leaves, but simply accumulates. Now that, apparently, is good Feng Shui!</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0