Dreaming of Guilin

Pick a place within your current country of residence to go for a fantasy (or perhaps a real) holiday. Why do you want to go there? What will the trip entail?

Fantasy Holidays are so important. They are as important as the lost hours spent organising how you will divide a million dollar lottery win. I know to the dollar where my millions would be spent. Ah so satisfying and I am so impressed my generosity too!

We have been in lock down this weekend (long weekend here for Buddha's Birthday) with a sick toddler. Over the weekend, as I held him down for the doctor to give him an injection, I promised him a new fire engine. In between screams he asked for a green one. Not so easy! Scott had the more fun task of finding the fire engine (which he did not include colour specificity in his search). Scott came back with a red fire engine and a little toy car for himself! mmmmm A Porsche Cayenne Turbo complete with over-sized Winnebago and little people dressed in polo shirts relaxing on sunbeds! Gone is the humble matchbox in China!

I might add the lady included in the glam caravan party has pert boobs and a glass of wine! Oh I spent my childhood hiding from barbie only to have her track me down as an adult in a miniature Porsche Cayenne, whilst drinking chardonnay urghhh...

So I let Scott have his fantasy holiday, and gleefully watched as Hugo regularly crashed the yuppie campers to put out the fire from their BBQ.

To task: The setting of THE PAINTED VEIL was a part of China that haunted me. It was filmed in Guilin in the Guangxi region very close to here. It is a city built around twin rivers and a lake system. Crustal movements 200 million years ago thrust karst (limestone sites) formations high into the air which have eroded to become the awe inspiring shapes they are today. There is a popular Chinese proverb that goes 'Guilin's scenery is best among all under heaven." My mum described it as the Bellingen of China - that sold me.

My fantasy holiday is travelling along the Li River on its crystal clear water meandering through the rock shafts on a bamboo raft. I travel through the fog in the lamplight of the raft. It is dead quiet. The bamboo ticks. Amazingly there are no mozzies in my fantasy holiday.

I wonder if I should include being married to Edward Norton as part of my fantasy holiday even if he did succumb to cholera. Mmm its tempting, but I look across at my boys, Scott is teaching Hugo how to reverse a caravan between the BBQ and the umbrella. I guess I am no Naomi Watts, but please someone tell me if I start wearing tight polo's over plastic perky boobs whilst sipping my wine!

A break from study at long last...

My life is spectacularly dull at the moment. My standard routine has become 5.45am alarm, gym (stationary bike whilst reviewing study notes), work, study, bed, 5.45am alarm etc etc. I have one more essay, one more weekend of lectures and one final exam left of this year's naturopathy course. Every spare minute of my life is now planned in an attempt to make it to the final hurdle. The light at the end of the tunnel has been the hypothetical weekend trip we might take to the Cotswolds in June. Thank heavens for this blog. Giving myself an hour away from the biomedicine notes tonight I have now planned and part booked the trip. Hypothetical has become reality. Hallelujah!

On the last weekend of June we are now visiting, according to the website, the quintessential English Cotswold region, (apparently) the country's largest officially designated area of outstanding natural beauty. I'd love to know who has the job of designating such things.

I haven't quite got the accommodation sorted yet but am thinking this is where the fantasy holiday component might kick in. I can't quite get past the 17th century manor with individually decorated rooms (including four poster bed) situated in the heart of the Cotswolds region. My ultimate holiday would be to remain in that bed for the entire weekend but in reality I know what will happen. Given my travelling partners are Tim and our two adventure freak friends Dave and Anna, I will be up at stupid o'clock for a spot of english breaky before hiking through picture postcard, lush rolling hills for the day.

Thankfully the fantasy holiday idea makes a comeback at the end of the day - the region is famous for its gourmet, locally sourced, home made food. And since I will have hiked all day I can eat as much as I want!

Bay of Fires

It will come as no surprise that, bless their untarnished little souls, my fantasy holiday does not involve my children. And some time in the near future I could probably swing a weekend away with the help of some doting aunties. But there’s a catch – I’m hopeless. I know I wouldn’t really enjoy even a short break away from them because I’d just worry. Even though they’d be fine, even though they’d be lovingly cared for, I wouldn’t be able to relax. And that’s no holiday.

So my fantasy holiday is going to need the addition of a bit of time travel, back to the time before my kids were born. Don’t judge me. I love those little creatures and have never really wished they weren’t around. But if we’re going to have a fantasy holiday, let’s go the whole hog and make sure my headspace can match my physical surrounds, and that means it has to take place pre-children.

The last real holiday I had was my honeymoon. By ‘real’, I mean an all-expenses-paid, someone else doing the cooking and cleaning type break. It was a resort holiday in an exotic locale, five-star accommodation, cocktails by the pool at 11am, three-hour spa treatments – that sort of thing. I could have that sort of holiday again any time, and hopefully will.

I could also happily enjoy a week’s driving/eating holiday, somewhere like the Hunter Valley, Margaret River or the Barossa. Just me and Ange in the Tucson with a bunch of road songs on the iPod, staying in well-appointed guesthouses, taking in the scenery, visiting wineries and great cafes by day, eating in beautiful regional restaurants every night.

But the trip I keep coming back to is one that’s been on my ‘list’ for years, an extravagance in terms of dollars so I’ve never really considered it too seriously when I occasionally see an ad or read an article about it. I just think, “One day.” It’s the Bay of Fires walk in Tasmania – four days of coastal trekking, staying in a beautiful lodge at night, a bit of luxury in the uninhabited wilderness. I can just imagine how fresh and crisp the air is, how beautiful the landscape. How good a glass of wine will taste at the end of a day’s walking. Falling into bed exhausted but satisfied. Sleeping like a baby.

My walking partner would be my husband – he needs a holiday as much as I do. And given how squishy and crowded our life and home has become in recent years, it’d be great to spend some time together with all that space around us.

What say you, garbageman? Fancy some time travel?

Task #10 - Holiday

Pick a place within your current country of residence to go for a fantasy (or perhaps a real) holiday. Why do you want to go there? What will the trip entail?

Beginners Haiku

Wednesday
Waiting in the rain
She opens her umbrella
I wish I had one

Thursday
A sweet kiss goodnight
a little magic moment
Are there any more please?

Friday
Steaming underground
Tube clanks towards Waterloo
Blank faces blank eyes

Saturday
Newspapers in bed
Afternoon indulgence
News, Art, Sport, Travel

Sunday
Dinner with two friends
A rolling glass of French wine
Future pacts agreed

Monday
Meetings 8 to 6
Decisions, delegating
Need fresh air, less work

Tuesday
Olympic mascots
An evening launch, story told
Positive response

melting moments

Greer introduced me to Haiku years ago, when we were sharing a shabby, happy flat in Elizabeth Bay. My favourite Haiku poem has stayed with me for all those years, although as I recall it, it doesn't fit the traditional syllabic structure. Perhaps its the more contemporary freeform version;

Now you decided

That you don't want my love

What am I to do with it

Here goes my Haiku week:

Wednesday

Oh you damn bull frogs

That keep me awake at night

Is that really your name

Thursday

Late night TV news

Presenter preserved by makeup

The stories are grim

Friday

This plump glass of wine

Is so red it's almost black

Now so are my lips

Saturday

Gentle waves lap

Hot sand sautes its bodies

Brown man in a thong

Sunday

Microwave popcorn

A modern phenomena

Oh damn that first one

Monday

Little visiting cat

Chasing the summer moths

Get off my flyscreen

Tuesday

The ferry pulls in

We wait for the bump and squeeze

Where tyres come to die

Five, Seven, Five

Wednesday

Afternoon play date

Sharing, giggling, then the scream

Toddler tug-of-war

Thursday

Precious baby girl

In the dead of night lets out

A huge, man-size fart

Friday

Questions come thick and fast

Toppling over each other

To leave her mouth

Saturday

Steam rises, I sink

In water so hot it hurts

Bless the bubble bath

Sunday

Rain spits so gently

Nobody runs for cover

Sunday sunshower

Monday

Eyes closed, nonchalant

She purses her lips and sucks

Tiny cheeks pumping

Tuesday

Leaves by the zillion

Plastered to the deck outside

By persistent rain

Task #9 - Haiku week

Every day for a week, write a haiku that describes your day or a moment in it. Post every day or all seven at the end of the week.

O, Jerusalem!

For someone who used to work in a fruit and vegetable business, there are an awful lot of vegies I’ve never tried before, and even more I’ve never cooked. And I’m not just talking about the exotic ones from the local Vietnamese grocer. Kale, celeriac, choko, yam, kohlrabi (thanks, Amanda) – I ought to be ashamed! It’s like the bloody chocolate ice-cream all over again - sticking with what I know and unwilling to experiment.

I greet the Jerusalem artichokes with cynicism. They look like a cross between ginger and a potato. I’m not exactly filled with optimism about their flavour.

Naturally I turn to Stephanie for some thoughts. She tells me something I already know – they’re not artichokes and have nothing to do with Jerusalem. They are, in fact, a relative of the sunflower. I decide to make Stephanie’s Jerusalem artichoke soup. First I have to peel and cut the tubers. It’s like trying to peel a potato with a dozen huge pimples on it and each one takes forever. Then I have to throw the cut pieces into some lemony water so they don’t go brown. Luckily the soup is an easy job – sautéing onion, garlic and the artichokes in loads of butter, then adding stock and simmering until tender. I blend the whole lot up, pass it through a sieve, and then serve it up with a drizzle of cream and a sprinkling of nutmeg.

It looks dull, tastes odd and I’m still lacking enthusiasm. But when I sit down to a small bowl of it a bit later, it starts to grow on me. And grow and grow. It’s yummy. Delicious, in fact. The texture of the soup is silky and smooth. The flavour is hard to describe - a bit nutty, a bit luxurious, like something with more ingredients in it that was much harder to make. Not a bad effort, all in all.

The lament of the Mustard Greens

On a scale of 1 to 10 I would give myself an 8 in terms of bravery for trying unknown fruits and vegetables. I like them. Scott, on the other hand, is easily scared by an unknown fruit or vegetable, so I decided to let his reactions guide my choice for this week’s task.

Kylie Kwong’s Simple Chinese Cooking is my favourite cookbook at the moment. And Kylie’s pages are a great place to start, especially when I have one of the greatest selections of unknown fruit and veges at my fingertips.

Flipping through the pages I could not go past Stir-fried Cucumber, Black Cloud Ear Fungus and Chilli. The name seems to suggest so much more..Ear Fungus !!! And then throw in black and you have something that could be on a straight-to-video sci-fi. Trying to avoid a reference to cotton buds here!

Scott’s reaction to this suggestion was exactly as I’d hoped - pure horror!

Ok time to boast, my Chinese Vegetable selection at the supermarket spans a 15-metre display! The other side of the aisle is a cascade of tropical fruits from all over Asia. To say the least, it is impressive!

Alas, no fresh Black Cloud Ear Fungus. Why oh why I ask the poor supermarket employee, its Cantonese, Kylie is Cantonese, we are in Hong Kong. The lady made me write it down and she came back with a team of people. After a long long animated discussion in Cantonese the spokesperson announced …. ‘no special fungus ma’am’.

Back to the drawing board – too exotic Kylie!

Take 2

Mustard Greens!

And YUM! Think of the crunch of celery with the panache of Gai Lan. Stir-fried in peanut and sesame oil with lashings of garlic – it was delicious. I was most impressed with this new vegetable. While I reminisce, I lament for the future mustard greens, a daggy looking vegetable with a terribly unimaginative name that bears no resemblance to the taste. It is a vegetable with unleashed potential yet such a harsh exterior. I have decided that Mustard Greens are the Russell Crowe of vegetables!

To Kohlrabi with love

Life in London has taken a turn for the worse this week - I've been sick for 5 days now with an evil version of tonsillitis. I can't say I've witnessed any great sign of improvement despite the cache of drugs I now have or the brief trip to one of London's busiest hospitals only to be handed a free asprin (inspiring stuff). I've been pondering whether penicillin could be considered a unique or strange vegetable that could be transformed into a gourmet delight once mixed with a few fresh herbs and spices and I've also been pondering whether I should just skip the blog for this week but then I remembered something about 'turning up at the page' - a little Artist Way reference which can be translated as 'get your sorry backside out of bed!'

I'm under strict instructions not to leave the house (boyfriend rules - non negotiable it seems) and so I have made the heroic step of at least moving to the living room to sit by the window and watch the grey clouds settle. I love this blog. Once again it has delivered me a little slice of sanity. I started by looking up one of my new favourite websites; BBC recipes, searched by vegetable recipes and one of the first ones to appear was 'smothered leeks and kohlrabi' with a photo of that vegetable - apparently a kohlrabi - that I have dismissed at farmers markets before, primarily because I had no idea what it was.

I am not alone. I googled Kohlrabi and apparently its become a bit of a regular in people's home delivered vegetable boxes so the web is filled with questions and cries for help from people trying to first of all decipher what this unattractive thing is and secondly what to do with it. My favourite find was a post by a Guardian reader, Sean Ingle, who I have to quote;

After all, you rarely find kohlrabi in British supermarkets. Or restaurants. Or cookery books. It's big in Germany, apparently, but then so is David Hasselhoff.

I'm quite fond of kohlrabi's unusual appearance - how could anyone not have a soft spot for a vegetable that looks like something an eccentric scientist would send to Mars? Most foodies, however, seem to think it should stay there. The reaction of Nigel Slater is typical. "Having tried out a number of ideas for this sputnik-shaped root, I have concluded that I really don't ever want to see one again," he wrote last year. "Perhaps the fact that slugs and bugs avoid it like the plague (which is why it turns up with grim regularity in many organic boxes) should give a clue as to why most people give it the cold shoulder."

This vegetable seems to be so controversial that I now see it as a personal challenge to cook it so that it feels a little more love from the world. This then led me to the on-line supermarket shopping websites to see whether I could order it (and the rest of the week's supplies) from my lounge room. Turns out the big supermarkets don't love Kohlrabis either however what I did discover is just how much stuff I could buy from the on-line supermarket - sofas, electrical appliances, storage solutions - a very wide selection for a girl who has just moved into her boyfriends bachelor pad and is already eyeing off a few decor changes. I may be housebound but that doesn't mean I can't carry out a little retail therapy :) Kohlrabi may have to wait just a little longer for some love.

Task #8 - Vegetable

Try a vegetable you have never eaten before. Either cook it up in a recipe you find or have it on the run somewhere. Has this vegie scared you in the past?

Chasing a white rabbit

Over the past 2 months I have been a diligent tourist in Hong Kong, I have seen the Peak and Stanley several times, the star ferry, Lamma island, Peng Chau, Mui Wo, Central to Happy valley on ting tings, Victoria Park, Aberdeen Harbour on a Junk, Nan Lian gardens, the Botanical Gardens, Bird/fish and flower markets and Ikea more than 3 times. In fact when you have weeks stretched before you with little more grounding you than a mobile phone, you are a tourist each time you step out the front door.

So I knew I had to push this task to a new level. A needed to morph into a new type of tourist - And it scared me to my bones. Yep, I decided to face my great fear of the utterly commercial and visit ……Disneyland.

Well not entirely true – I went to the gates! And then on to find the Alice in Wonderland hedge maze in front of the resort – it’s free! I am still that type of tourist.

So Hugo and I jumped on the Mickey Mouse train at Sunny Bay station (I am not kidding) and hurtled through time. In fact I felt like I stepped into that Chevy Chase movie….you know the one, grandma on the roof of the station wagon.

There it was, theme songs blaring down the avenue, Jiminy Cricket recycle bins, Donald duck bronze statues, goofy etc etc….I did find Peter, my favourite childhood anarchist. Meanwhile Hugo drifted along in amazement, only to be cruelly steered in the opposite direction to the gates of fun and onto the resort in search of his mum’s obsession with a hedge maze.

But it was worth it. Chasing a 2 year old through a hedge maze is hilarious. Hugo is a maze cheat – quickly slipping through rabbit holes. Comparatively I moved through it with the grace of a water buffalo. I was less of Alice and more Bridget Jones. But it was the best game of hide and seek ever.

Walking back to the Mickey Mouse train (I am telling the whole truth) I resisted photographing the western family’s adorned in the ears and matching Disney family tee shirts.

Looking at this memorabilia a part of me felt sentimental. But nothing can provoke that childish ecstasy than chasing a white rabbit through the maze.

I wondered that perhaps Disney is timeless for some people. The Little Mermaid music swirled around me as we left the gates A whole new world…… this song now belongs to my dear friend Erin, she regularly performs it after a few wines, with a little less emphasis on the nymph and more on the nympho. And my conclusion, Erin is right, no Disney wannabe will ever steal her thunder.

This place is for a different tourist, not me. I will take the free maze and Erin’s pub mermaid any day!

Sydney Walking Tour (A Pictorial Journey)

We began at the Art Gallery of NSW,

where I miraculously got a park right out the front!

The gates of the Royal Botanic Gardens - too many steps so...

Much better.

Babes enjoying the sights - Gardens in the background.

Our first glimpse of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge.

Homesick, girls?

Circular Quay with ferries and MCA in the background.

After a big hike up Phillip Street, Bridge Street and Macquarie Street, the State Library, where we had a quick soy latte in the cafe.

Then the tourists lay out a rug on the grass in the Domain

to enjoy the sunshine!

London Bridge is falling down, falling down....

Before I embark on this weeks task I need to share a significant achievement – I baked a cake. A very good cake. Its been so long since I’ve flexed some domestic muscle that I’d forgotten how satisfying it is to watch your own handy-work rise in the oven and to smell your very own home baked goodies fill every room in the apartment. Anyway I digress – onto this week’s task that reminded me just how fortunate I am to be living in this little slice of the world. With the afternoon sun still out at 8pm people are crowded outside bars, spilling onto the streets showing no signs of packing up whilst the weather is so good. I set off on an hour walk from Tower Bridge to the Millenium Bridge and back again. Within half an hour I’ve meandered through Borough Markets onto the Thames path, past Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre and onto the Tate Gallery. As we get to the Millenium Bridge that crosses the Thames from the Tate to St Paul’s Cathedral the sun has turned the city a vibrant shade or orange and our new camera gets a work out. Its moments like this that I wonder how on earth I got to be so lucky living here, looking down a river filled with icons that I’ve read about in nursery rhymes, stories and history classes over the years. To be physically standing amongst them all is very cool. Even cooler is that by the time we get back to the pad in London Bridge the cake is ready to eat.

PS. Aims for the record – I checked out whether there were any actual apartments on Tower Bridge – none that I could see ☺

Task #7 - Bloody tourists!

Do your local tourist walk past some of the city monuments. This should be a good one to bring to life the different settings we're all living in at the moment.

Autumn

I don’t mind a bit of autumn. It seems to arrive just in time, its clear blue days free of the sweaty humidity of summer, and the ceremonial changing of the clocks to signal the coming of winter. It’s still nice enough to enjoy a picnic in the park, yet cool enough to warrant a good bit of casseroling and a warm blankie over the knees come evening time.

I get a bit sentimental this time of year. I grew up in Orange, where autumn hits full force, trees flaring all reds and purples and yellows on every street corner. Cook Park, with its masses of deciduous trees, is like something out of an autumn how-to guide. That’s all before the leaves fall, clogging the streets and nudie-ing up the trees for winter. Just outside Orange is Campbell’s Corner, a picture-perfect bend of country road where the trees know how to put on a show for a few weeks each year. When I think of autumn, I think of Campbell’s Corner.

So I’m surprised to discover after all these years as a Sydneysider that it doesn’t really happen here. Sure, days get shorter and cooler, but never cool enough to cause the famous fiery leaves. They just die and fall off. So the best I could do this late April day was to find a park with a good serve of fallen leaves – ‘cause we all know the other great thing about autumn is to run through a park kicking the leaves up in the air or to dive headlong into a pile of just-raked leaves.

Alas, my investigation of the parks in Marrickville only really turned up a smattering of fallen leaves. I was forced to save my leaf diving for another day. I did, however, find myself skewering some dry leaves on a twig to make an umbrella for the fairies like my 8-year-old self often did. The leaves were a bit damp from the morning dew and lacked that satisfying crunch, but you get the picture.

I’ve got a deciduous tree in my backyard. I’m not sure what it is, but every winter the small leaves yellow and fall, signalling the change of season perfectly. It’s rivalled only by the flip of the coin, springtime, when the bare branches bud and bloom with new greenery. I can’t remember if my mum preferred the crazy colours of autumn or the blossoming beauty of spring – each was met with vocal oohs and ahhs, enough to make my cynical teenage eyes roll. All these years on, I can see what she was so excited about.

Moisture Inversion

Ok the season is technically Spring! And I will be honest this task, has left me wrestling with some unfair comparisons on my new home.

I miss my air! My beautiful Australian air, my sky, my colour. If it is true that your native landscape is burned into your psyche, then the wide Australian sky is tattooed into me. I cant forget it, ever. So spring here is not filled with the same promise of a salty summer.

I know I am being unfair - Hong Kong is a city that opens its arms wide to the west, it's welcoming, friendly, its fun and I am content in calling it my new home. I feel happy here and I know I will be. But Spring is different and it will take me more than a few months to stop

converting everything around me.

Spring here seems to be a cloud...low, dense and mighty. The temperature ranges from chilly to steamy in an instant and things click for the sound of growing foliage (and don't get me started on the sandflies!). My Dad described this picture above, as a moisture inversion, and apparently much of China is like this.

But for the festivities we haven't let the cloud dampen our spirits. Scott, Hugo and I purchased some celebratory Spring bikes from the Mui Wo Friendly Bike Shop and for the last two weekends we have taken them on old steel diesel ferry's to explore neighboring islands. These little ferries have jumped straight out of the Thomas the Tank Engine series, only they feel far less sea worthy than anything from the Island of Sodor. And Hong Kong would struggle to find a Fat Controller, as dumplings don't have the same effect as donuts!

Although Scott assures me it is almost impossible to sink these steel ships, I think the jagged little rocks that poke out of the harbour, might give it a fair go though.

On our journey we dart alongside the dragon boats. They are all out practicing for the carnival in June. So far the islands towns we have explored are Peng Chau and Mui Wo. They are wonderful, rusty little towns full of spirit and life. They are full of locals - it feels like more of a home than Discovery Bay. There are broken chairs that line the beach. Nights here are warm, I can imagine the seaside parties.

So the locals tell me Spring is wonderful, its a time to get out and enjoy Hong Kong before the humidity sets in. It's like the cloud is the Grand Dame of this gateway to the Orient. There is much to this town, I see glimpses. I know it will take many Springs before I see the whole picture.

A weekend with Jane Austen

I have just spent the most amazing weekend in Bath for my birthday festival. Tim spoilt me silly and I lived the spring weekend as well, if not better, than one of its more famous residents; Jane Austen. Spring in the English countryside is intoxicating and you cant help but be touched by the country gardens which are filled with bright yellow daffodils, blue bells, red tulips and lavender and more (its just that they're the only flowers I know by name). We stayed in a true English country manor with views of the sweeping plains below (I'm trying unsuccessfully to channel Jane Austen in my writing here...), we ate expensive sandwiches and drank lemonade on the lawns in the afternoon sun and then later changed into our evening attire for champagne and fine food.

In between all of this gaiety Tim and I managed to squeeze in some shopping (new summer shoes purchased), drink some Costa coffee and on two nights in a row, get very, very drunk. Jane Austen would not have been pleased.

We got back to London yesterday afternoon and in an attempt to keep the weekend alive for just a little longer we spent a spring afternoon eating Tapas followed by a stroll along the Thames as the sun went down.

All in all a beautiful, lovey-dovey spring weekend! The only downside.....the birthday festival is over for another year.

Task #6 - Seasons

What season is it in your city? Go somewhere local that best evokes this time of year. Celebrate the season in your own way and collect some natural and photographic souvenirs.

To Do List

The hot topics this week? Rudd’s health reform, planes unable to fly to London, and those pesky asylum seekers invading our shores (again!). How do I know this? The six o’clock TV news. For all the newspapers that pile up on my kitchen table every week, very few do I even flick through, let alone actually read – especially these days. I’ve long thought myself a conscientious news consumer but it’s a delusion. I don’t even read the front page anymore. And even the online paper only grabs my attention if the headline lures me – just the way the editors manipulate it! I’ve become a typical supplement reader, going straight for the glossy magazine inside the paper, the easy read. So while I’ve often fancied myself spending long, languid weekends reading the Saturday Sydney Morning Herald cover to cover, it just doesn’t happen.

However, I can usually manage the Spectrum and the Good Weekend. I glance through the former, picking and choosing morsels depending on time constraints. And I’ve been known to make the Good Weekend last an entire week. This week I approached both like a high-achieving fifth-grader with a book report due. It seems Sydneysiders are too up themselves to be on time for anything. A movie entitled Hot Tub Time Machine isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds – 3.5 stars. Another movie is out about the love affair between Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky. Might have to see that one. Luke Nguyen’s noodle bar at Star City Casino is a dud. And both Lionel Shriver and Yann Martel have new books out to follow the runaway successes of We Need To Talk About Kevin and Life of Pi. Jodi Picoult is on the top of the bestseller list (again!). And there’s a whole lot of really great theatre on in Sydney at the moment that I’m not going to get to see.

I wish I had more time for newspapers and all the things they inspire me to read and see and participate in. I’ll add it to my list of things to do - study German, take tap-dancing classes, learn to play the cello, read the paper every day.

A lot of hot air

What a great week to do this task. The UK is a country engulfed by a sky full of volcanic ash and is very much an island stranded from the Continent. The tube announcers are kept busier than normal. Aside from the usual 'mind the gap', 'stand clear from the doors' and 'please do not leave papers on the escalators' they are having to alert passengers to the alarming fact that there are currently no flights out of the UK until further notice. We're stuck here until that pesty cloud generated from the Iceland volcano decides to shift out of the flight path. Add this to an election campaign in full swing with Brown competing against Cameron with Clegg somewhere in the middle and the newspapers are bursting with black and white ink and suddenly very, very thick. The good news from all of this is that although the election campaign may have failed to make a dent, the volcanic ash cloud has suceeded......Katie Price has finally been bumped from the front page providing us all with a few days respite.

I have to confess my regular read these days is the free Metro paper picked up from the entry to the tube station on the way to work each day. I am completely up to speed with what Kate Moss is wearing, who Pixie Geldoff is dating, where Prince Harry chose to drink last Friday and whether Jude Law and Sienna Miller are on or off again. I try to balance this poor excuse for a newspaper out with a quick on-line scan of a serious paper; The Times. Unfortunately trying to be a grown up serious newspaper reader has failed once again when my eye was drawn to the cartoon in The Times which captured the headlines perfectly this week.

Good newsweek!

The truth be told, I am a pretty crap newspaper reader. I never sit still long enough. I fantasize about Saturday mornings stretching out the Sydney Morning Herald on a harvest table with a bowl of market tomatoes near by for decoration, a slither of morning sun, a flat white and croissants. I am Elle Macphearson slim in this fantasy, I might add.

So on our Singapore stopover I picked up a copy of Newsweek, a quality publication with International stories. I was drawn to the headline, Hear them Roar - Female Dissidents are rewriting the rules in countries where they can’t even show their faces.

The premise of the piece is how women in post conflict areas and developing nations are influencing public policy and the economy. And how the rise of dissidents reflects a larger trend towards political participation.

The story was one of the most positive pieces of news I have come across in a long time. Things I didn’t know…..

Rising education levels for girls have led to more economic power.

And most interestingly, the majority of new earned income over the next 10 years will come from women. Female economic empowerment is seen, as the most cost effective was to develop peaceful, prosperous and stable societies.

Rwanda, post conflict, has 56.3% of parliamentarians that are women.

Russia, 73% of businesses have a woman in senior management.

Macedonia has 30% women M.P’s, they have formed a political club which works across party lines.

But the most thought provoking content in the article is how women in places like Iran, where female education levels rapidly are rising but dissent in public spaces is outlawed, are using the Internet and social networking sites to unite safely. Whilst bloggers and activists are still regularly exiled, the voice of dissent is moving faster.

I have never considered for a moment life without free speech - That a simple blog could have you fleeing for your life.

So as a result of this story, I am considering my privileged life as an Australian woman. With access to education and services, where I can live and raise a family safely, where I have the license to fantasize about Saturday mornings free from washing………..I am considering if I could ever be as brave as those fighting from the inside for everything I was given as a birthright.

Task #5 - Newspaper

5. What newspaper are you reading and what's the hot topic this week?

An ancient Egyptian afternoon

There are two galleries that I either walk or cycle past each day that I've always wanted to pop into. The first is a small sculpture gallery tucked away in the Limehouse Basin in East London and the second is the London Fashion and Textile Museum on Bermondsey Street near London Bridge. Both were closed today. Not a great start to a blog entry that is already late however thankfully I live in a city that is overflowing with culture and so didn't have to look far to find an alternative. In fact I decided that if I had to find an alternative I may as well tackle the big one, the one that I've been putting off for 2 years, the one that everyone who lives in or visits London says you have to go to, the one that the Lonely Planet lists as number 2 in its highlights - the British Museum.

Firstly let me say that you could spend a good 5 days in this museum and still need more time. Set in one of the most beautiful buildings in London the British Museum is filled with so much 'stuff' to look at, to read, to touch, to experience and to learn about. Its a sensory overload that is worth every minute you can spare.
My favourite exhibit was on the Egyptian mummies. The ancient Egyptians believed that death was not the end of human existence but a necessary transition to a new state of being. All the egyptian funerary preparations including mummification, construction of tombs and provision of offerings were directed to enable the dead person an ideal state of immortality dwelling in the realm of the gods. (text care of British Museum). The appeal for me is in the ancient Egyptians recognition of both a physical and spiritual body and the emphasis they placed on the power and magic found in the natural world. The tombs themselves are beautiful and compelling works of art that offer a celebration of the life had and the life ahead.

All in all a very, very good London day. I'll leave you with my new favourite quote which I found in the last ancient Egyptian exhibition room;

Follow your heart while you're alive.
Put perfume on your head,
Clothe yourself with fine linen.....
Make holiday and don't tire of it!
(Harpists song c. 1400BC)

c o l o u r s

Technically my gallery should be in Oz, because I have snuck home for a few days over Easter to see the fam. Knowing it would be a busy few days, I completed this weeks task when we were jammed in the sardine tin serviced apartment in Soho (HK).

Hugo's day naps are slipping. He refuses to snooze in a quiet, dark, comfy, bedroom. We have negotiated with a pram cat nap. Anyone will tell you the first rule of parenting is never to negotiate with a toddler. My son is already a mogul at two. So, knowing I am breaking all the rules, we set out along the wild and decadent Hollywood Rd in Central Hong Kong. Not only is it the longest stretch without steps, it is a winding, chaotic, tiny street that is home to antique shops, bars and boutique galleries. The Maclaren stroller surges on bravely to claim its tiny patch of pavement. Hugo shuts his eyes, happily coaxed into sleep by the palette of city chaos being played out in front of him. I like to think that is the reason he falls asleep and not the possibility that it is the lack of oxygen at street level here.

My 39 minutes of gallery loitering begins. And how I LOVE what Hong Kong serves up. Bold, bright, fun works that blend culture and modernity concisely. But what grabbed me from the outset is the saturation of female portraits. Dynamic glimpses into the lives of mothers, wives, girls, baby girls, female soldiers and so much more. This is a street view pic of one of the PINK BABY series.

But this photo of a young indigenous girl with a tiny baby strapped to her back, managed to stop me in the street every time.

I know I was supposed to focus on one gallery but there seemed to be an undeniable theme among the galleries on this street. I had to mention it.

Hooray Hong Kong, may I salute your artistic celebration of sisterhood, provided for my task this week.

On that note I might add that in between the galleries on this street the antique shops and souvenir shops seem to balance the gender pendulum with two prominent historic male symbols - stately stone Buddha's and plastic Mao souvenir plates.

However, I did find one male portrait, but he seemed to be missing something.........

ceramics, jewellery and spew

I’m out the door and I’m alone. I’m showered and dressed. I am wearing lipstick. My handbag contains not a single nappy. It’s early afternoon and what a rare treat to find myself in a small gallery, one that I’ve driven past a zillion times and always thought I should visit.

Woodpapersilk sits near a busy intersection on an ugly road in Petersham. From the car, I’ve only ever been able to make out a large painting hanging in the window above a ‘50s Parker-style couch. The painting changes regularly and I often find myself gazing at it as I wait for the lights on Crystal Street to change. I’ve never really known what was inside. Today I venture in for the first time, feeling ambitious and grown-up and a little bit like someone (or two or three) is missing.

It’s my kind of gallery, filled with beautiful ceramics and silver jewellery. On the wall are large-scale canvas paintings of flowers, one a magnolia, another a pair of poppies, their colours muted against a dark background. Against another wall I flick through unframed etchings and lino prints, imagining this one above the piano at home, another in the hallway. The prices are far from steep and I’m tempted – it must be the dizzying freedom I’m feeling in this brief respite from nappies and breastfeeding.

But what tips it over for me are the textiles – felted brooches, silk scarves, hand-knitted arm warmers and a pair of felted bowls that look like oversized gumnuts or something you’d find on a coral reef. Art galleries are usually a little lofty for me, displaying things to aspire to but remain apart from. But this place makes me want to race home and get out the knitting needles and fabrics and start making stuff.

My gaze falls on a collection of ceramic beakers. I pick one up – it feels heavy in my hand. I imagine how much better a cup of tea will taste in it. There are different designs and it’s hard to settle on one, so I choose two – one for me and one for Aimee, who had a birthday recently. I’ll let her make the decision.

I wander back to the car with my little brown bag, stopping for a takeaway latte in a nearby café. I’m feeling great, on top of things, a bit bulletproof. In the car I glance down and notice for the first time the baby vomit on my black shirt. It’s been there the whole time.

And it's straight back down to earth.

Bangkok lychee heaven

A very late entry from me this week however I have an excuse- I've been on holidays traveling through south-east Asia including a stop off in Hong Kong to see Aimee and Hugo in their new abode.

The last few days of the trip were spent in Bangkok with the lovely Sam and Jules. Bangkok is a city that never sleeps which is very handy when cocktails cost less that 5 pounds. On our last night, my beautiful new friend Jules introduced me to the lychee martini from one of the highest vantage points in her home city. The bar Vertigo sits on the 61st floor of the Banyan Tree hotel in Bangkok and provides intoxicating views. With no oven in sight to complete the baking task this week I decided that a little creative license could be taken by changing the word 'bake' to 'make' (domestic goddess routine clearly not going well). Jules provided the recipe; vodka, lychee liqueur and lychees. A very simple little cocktail that provided the perfect end to a perfect holiday.

Task #4 - Gallery

Go to a small gallery that has caught your eye in the past, perhaps one you have always driven or walked past. Why has it caught your eye? What are the similarities you might share with the curator in style and feel?