Pirouette

I’m dreaming about being a lighthouse keeper. All that solitude, blustery weather and solitude. A rocky outcrop somewhere remote with the birds for company and a small vegetable patch. A place like that needs warm clothes - scarves and beanies and bulky aran jumpers. Think of the knitting I could do! Yes, I’d be bored in a flash, all that rain and wind would quickly become tiresome, I’d miss my people, I’d probably go a bit batty. But all that solitude…

Or maybe I could be a ballerina. I’m not a small person and some would say I lack elegance, daintiness, a certain refined quality. But I imagine having all of that – the precision in my movement, the gracefulness, the sheer strength and stamina and muscle control. Like a Tour de France cyclist or a marathon runner, the thought of having that power of body and mind is appealing. Not very realistic, but appealing nonetheless.

Lastly, something I’ve often imagined is to own a café/yarn shop. Knitting and cups of tea and home-baked goodness. Am I obsessed with knitting at the moment? Perhaps. I notice a shop called A Coffee and a Yarn has opened up recently in Newtown. Something like that, the walls lined with beautiful yarn, a big table for people to sit and knit and chat and drink warm beverages. I’d be obligated to knit then – for business reasons. Hmm…

(Small note: After last week's blog, hallelujah, I took myself (and the babies) to see a movie. Stand by, I could be a ballerina by next week...)

Watch out Kylie!

This week’s task has brought home how different dreams can be in our 30s compared to our 20s. A few years earlier, ok maybe more than a few, my dream job would have been as artistic director of a theatre. Think Cate Blanchette for Sydney Theatre Company or Kevin Spacey for The Old Vic in London. I’d have the ability to choose scripts, shows and people that would turn an average theatre company into a great one. In my 20s my dream jobs were always about being in positions that were influential, filling roles that allowed me to travel, to work in the industry I loved and to be part of a success story. If I had to choose another two fantasy jobs to make up the trifecta during that time it would be as a travel presenter or a singer – in my mind I’d be Kylie Minogue- a performer and a business woman. You did say that talent, or lack of, was not an obstacle!

Oh how things change. In my 30s my fantasy jobs number 1 and 2 is to be a mum. I’d like to park ambition, the corporate wardrobe and the politics to one side replacing it with mothers group, reading bed-time stories and changing nappies. Given that this is a fantasy job however I would also like to add in that whilst I get my wish of starting a family I also get to go on one overseas trip a year, continue to eat at beautiful restaurants, run my own business and see as much theatre as possible. Something about either reaching for the stars of biting off more than I can chew. Fantasy job number 3 in my 30s stays the same as it was during my 20s- being able to command a stage like Kylie Minogue or Madonna will always stay with me no matter how old I get!

Task #16 - Vocation

List three fantasy jobs, if time, money, age, family commitments, qualifications, skills and talent were no obstacle. Why do these vocations appeal to you so much?

The movies

I am missing the cinema. No film in particular, though I've a list a mile long I'd like to see right now. Just the act of grabbing my bag and a jumper, heading up to Norton Street or King Street, buying my ticket, browsing in the bookshop while I wait for the film to start, then grabbing a soy latte or a choc top on my way in. The dark of the cinema, the noise of the speakers, the muffled conversation of the other patrons. The ads, even the ads. Then the film.

I like to see movies with other people, but I LOVE to see them on my own. I love to kick off my shoes and smoosh down in my chair, knees up against the chair in front. Ideally there is no-one sitting anywhere near me, though I've cohabited closely in the past for a blockbuster on opening week.

Movies were a weekly, sometimes twice-a-week thing for me pre-kids. After Lola was born, I took her with me to the Babes in Arms sessions. She saw a lot of good films before she could crawl. As she got older, I'd occasionally dash out alone for a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon session while she slept. But now that I'm the food source for two newbies, that has all ground to a halt. And I find myself pining for that one thing, an evening every couple of weeks for the ritual of bookshop, coffee, cinema and solitude. Just when the babes were getting a bit more predictable and I thought I could launch into it, sleep issues have gotten in the way. Me, or in the very least my boobs, need to be at home most evenings, for most of the evening, for the time being.

I think I might take a trip to the local video shop this weekend. I can at least make a start on that list of films I want to see, even if it's in my lounge room.

Weekends on the Peninsula

I miss the ability to get into my car and drive, to be within 40 minutes of fresh ocean air and more importantly my family and a good home cooked meal. My sister and I would often descend on mum's place on a Friday night for champagne, shopping at the local markets and the antique centre followed by a massive cook-a-thon on Sunday. Mum would make us choose what we'd like for dinner - 3 course meal - and then the three of us would cook it together making an absolute mess of the kitchen in the process. I have noticed that I've been compensating lately in my own kitchen by getting Tim involved in cooking a new dish on Sunday nights in our tiny London apartment. He's on crutches at the moment so has no where to run too plus he's not quite aware of the gap he's filling my being my sous chef on the other side of the kitchen bench.

I also miss big sprawling houses with back yards for bbq's, having friends over and entertaining in general. Everyone lives in shoe boxes in inner city London but we've all managed to fill the void by doing as the locals do - taking over the local parks. This weekend we dragged the big weber across the road and commendeared a quarter of the park somewhere between the girls in their bikinis on a not quite hot enough day and the locals with their small pampered dog club.

Australians are used to being outdoors and enjoying large open spaces - it exists in London - you just need to know where to look and then make sure to invite the surrogate family of friends along as soon as the sun shows itself for an afternoon. Unfortunately though the car will still need to stay at home!

the answer my friend is...

What are you missing right now? List two or three things that are hard to come by in your new location/lifestyle. How do you compensate?

Great cafes!

Hong Kong has plenty of lovely cafes but they seem to do bars and dining better. I can confidently say, Australia has the BEST cafes. Great food, fresh produce, innovative and competitive in style and flair but one thing reigns supreme - Coffee. I love Australian coffee. I cant lie, I have had great espresso in Europe, but I LOVE the humble flat white. Simple, strong and delicious. As I write this, I think I would pay a hundred bucks for a great cuppa at this moment. Smooth, silky, with a little swirly pattern with a the line through it.

All the good conversations with great friends shared over fabulous cafes in Sydney. Ah Victoria St, or Single Origin in Surry Hills, Bondi Organic, The Bourke St Bakery.......each one of my favourite coffee destinations is usually shared with a great mate. Perhaps my longing is a synonymous blend of laughter and caffeine.

I am not going to talk about coffee here.

The second this I long for is an ocean breeze - salty, gusty and clean. There is nothing like breathing in that air. If it could be bottled. Winter or summer an ocean breeze is the remedy for most ills in life (except if you are stranded on an island). If I close my eyes for a moment I can feel the crisp gusts blowing my hair into an afro and then I can taste the first sip of that flat white.

mmmmmm homesick now!

Task #15 - Missing

What are you missing right now? List two or three things that are hard to come by in your new location/lifestyle. How do you compensate?

A Land of Plenty

The biggest cultural shift for me so far, has been the extensive use of helpers in families with children. It is very common practice in all Asian expat communities, and for the most part, the women employed in these roles are nearly always Filipino's.

When I moved to Hong Kong I was full of strong notions of independence and disdain for this practice, I might add this was somewhat self righteous of me and revealed a very naive understanding of life outside Australia. There were lifestyle changes I didn't really understand, like how it felt to be at home when the working parent is quite often away for all daylight hours and I also didn't know what life was like without the generous support of family close by.

And my views were very much formed by life in Australia, as a wealthy, sophisticated nation, with high levels of workplace regulation, the strictest of immigration policy and a land of plenty. I had no idea of the real level of poverty which exists within our closest neighbours.

Since living in HK I have met and chatted to many helpers, and my view of the situation is a little more rounded. These women are truly inspiring. They send all of their income home and quite often sustain 5 or 6 people in the Philippines with their wages. They are putting their kids through tertiary education and doing their best to lift their children's life from working to middle class. I have heard it said these women are the backbone of the Filipino economy. I don't know enough about economics to verify that as a truth, but watching these women work with the integrity and heart that they do, I would believe it.

I met Nicole this week, she wouldn't have a cuppa with me, but I am hoping she will soon. She has 3 children at home; 12years, 10 years and 7. They are cared for by her mother and husband. I spoke to her of how hard that must be to be away from them. Momentarily I saw the pain in her eyes, but she confirmed she must be here and work for them, everything she does is for them.

This kind of sacrifice is foreign to me. The ultimate sacrifice in my opinion, for a parent to leave their children in order to give them a better life. My admiration for this strength in parenting is complete. I wonder if I could do the same.

With Gillard's proposition to East Timor this week about them hosting a regional detention centre for Australia, Jose Ramos Horta's words have remained with me.

The people of East Timor are sympathetic to those fleeing political violence.

There is so much more to learn about Asia if we are to truly consider ourselves part of it. For the moment I remain inspired by what I have witnessed this week.

Task #14 - Cuppa

Have a cup of tea with someone you find interesting. Ask them about how they have ended up in the city and why they stay.

Dress-ups

My baby girl turns three on Saturday. Three years ago I was 42 weeks pregnant and up a ladder cleaning the bathroom ceiling. After the acupuncture, pavement pounding, telephone book squatting, visualisations, spicy Pakistani curry and marital 'exercise', I believe it was the cleaning of the ceiling that finally brought on labour.

But I digress...

This week's task neatly coincided with my plans to furnish the three-year-old with the makings of her own dress-up box, so I took a trip to Vinnies. Is that vintage? Probably not really. Second-hand, yes. Faded and worn, mostly. I knew a lot of people growing up who were excellent op-shoppers. I tried to be for a while. I'd scan the racks, buy a pair of baggy men's suit pants or a quirky jacket, but they never wore well on me. I couldn't really pull it off. The best purchase was from a huge second-hand clothing shop in Berlin where I picked up a pair of dark orange corduroys, a much-needed addition to my very tired backpacker's wardrobe, and paid for them by their weight. I owned those cords, and wore them a lot, for years.

Anyway, back to Vinnies in Dulwich Hill, where most of my fellow shoppers were actually shopping for their clothes and household items, rather than on the lookout for that lucky find. It was a bit depressing. And it wasn't even that cheap! But on Saturday morning, my little girl who has recently discovered the fun of rummaging through her drawers to try on clothes then parading the outfits in front of me, will have her very own dress-up box with a couple of hats and handbags, some princess dresses, a pair of cowboy dungarees and at least one fake fur stole. Let the make-believe begin.

Fake Vintage

I love this town; it's quirky, unique and international. But Hong Kong does not do vintage, it does not like to do second hand in any form. Here things should be NEW. It forms the foundations of society, this is China - things are replaceable, disposable, cheap and ready to be consumed. If you want retro it can be manufactured for you in an instant. As good as new......as good as old!

So a search for vintage included a chain of vintage 'style' clothes or a shop in central owned by a Macao casino heiress selling off her already worn but current season designer catwalk fashion. If any reader has found King street here in SARS please correct me. But my journey to vintage 'style' clothing shop reflected the cities second hand sentiment. A city where shopping ceases at 11pm every night...the vintage 'style' clothing joint was closed.

And just to prove everything else was open....

So in the spirit of the city, I embraced the ironic notions of retro and purchased a pair of wedges straight from The Loveboat. Or lets say inspired by Loveboat re-runs. They are finished with navy terry towelling lining. Now I LOVE a bit of terry towelling and am of the school that there should be more of it - MUCH more. So whilst wearing these beauties I will imagine sipping cinzano laced with glazed cherries, I turn my mary-kay face carefully as to not upset my blow wave all the while watching tanned men in euro trunks diving off platforms into a blue pool.

Aside from my loveboat fantasy, these wedges are as vintage as yesterdays vegetarian noodles were vegetarian (the inclusion of roast chicken and pork sausage was stretching the commonly held definition). In a last ditch effort I have photographed them in possibly the only remaining vintage item in Hong Kong - a red taxi!

My first good chat with a local..

There is a little shop that opened in our street about 6 months ago that keeps catching me eye. I keep meaning to go in there but fail each time because I’m either embarrassed by the cumbersome and bright orange Sainsbury bags in hand or I’m meant to be somewhere else in a hurry. The shop has little hand strung Tibetan style flags out the front and its window is filled with quirky vintage style dresses, buttons and badges, even handmade cards. It’s a treat just to look at.

Finishing work early yesterday gave me a carefree hour to finally step beyond the pretty window into the shop and its vintage inspired clothes and accessories made by local designers. On this occasion, despite admiring everything, I left empty handed but opted to make up for this by grabbing some dinner treats from the café a few doors down - and this is where my day became so much more interesting. I had my first good chat with a local in my new neighbourhood - the woman who runs the clothes shop I’d just been to! Turns out the shop used to be a chemist run by her father and then after that rented out to the local antiques buyer and seller before finally coming back to her to try her hand at. My new found local is also a yoga teacher – unfortunately not in London Bridge – however she did remind me that there is a new place that has opened up just down the road that I should try. As I was handed my fresh pastries and made my way back down the street towards home I was left with only one disappointment – not having the courage to ask her name and introduce myself. Next time, there’s always next time.

Task #13- Vintage Shoppe

Visit a vintage shop or any quirky shop that has caught your eye recently. Try something different on. Does it suit you?

Hoot!

"What is it?" said the husband. "It's an owl," I replied. "Can't you tell?"

"No," he said. "I love you, but no."

I have very vague memories of learning macrame at school as a small child, and being really into it. I remember twisted strands that formed pot holders. There were beads and coarse twine. I don't recall it being overly difficult, at least not as fiddly as it was when I threw myself into it again this week with my 'Woman's Day Complete Book of Handicrafts' (1973) to guide me. After practising the basic knots, I decided to launch myself into a real project - an owl. I found the pattern online and began...well enough.

I tied the strands onto a dowel and taped it to a work surface (the back of a cardboard coffee tray!)

The first alternating square knots were a breeze. More detail was added. A couple of beady eyes, some half hitches, more alternating square knots and some square knot sinnets.

Needless to say, this little number took most of the afternoon. There's meant to be more to it - another dowel for the owl's perch, and more bloody alternating square knots for the tail. But I was done... I'm quite into 'crafting' at the moment. I knit whenever I get a chance, have great plans for getting back into sewing and really look forward to teaching myself some new things, crochet and embroidery amongst them. I rather fancied I'd really enjoy this macrame thing, but no. It was fiddly and fussy and a bit boring. But there's the lure of a few garments in the Woman's Day craft book...

This elegant necklace, for instance...

Or this glamorous golden shawl...

Or perhaps this jaunty little number for the Christmas party season...

The Hand Thong

Patience is one virtue I don't have. Even as an ambitious 8 year old I knew macrame was beyond me. I gave the old Knitting Nancy a fairly pathetic whirl, and tossed it aside quickly for full two hour renditions of Joseph and his technicolour dreamcoat in front of the mirror with a hairbrush. Even so I was determined to give this one a bash. Several trips to baron craft shops left me floundering without tools - I had a good go at the basic knots on kids how-to websites. I think Hugo's understanding of macrame is that it is a matted knot to be launched across the room.

I descended into my 8 year old feelings of failure, only this time Joseph and mirror dancing would not save me. Just as it didn't when I failed my year 8 sloppy joe assignment.

Woe.

Then a moment of inspiration. I might not be a macrame master but I could manage a bit of finger knitting back in the day. Yahoo, hold on cowgirl. I finger knitted my way into the night, until I came up with this exclusive yet functional design, I have labeled it ....the hand thong. Feelings of year 8 sewing failure cast aside, I marched proudly onto Zara in the hope they will take it on as part of their winter collection.

Task #12 - Out-of-Date Crafts

Remember macramé in primary school? Revisit those crafty days with some rope and beads and try to create something spectacular.

(I know these are busy times, ladies - you have until Sunday 20th June!)

Success!

It's late by a couple of weeks but I finally played a board game. Ange and I sat down to an intense game of rude word Scrabble. It was great idea in theory, but in practice there aren't enough 'F', 'U', 'C' and 'K' tiles to really make it work. We stretched the definition of 'rude', used as many vague euphemisms as we could get away with and struggled through the last of the tiles, yawning past our bedtime. Result: I won, thanks to a few triple word score lucky breaks.

Croupier

Since you guys have stolen my proposed titles of 'failed miserably' and 'Cheat', I have pursued the task with the added guilt of missing the deadline. Here is my week with this seemingly SIMPLE task.

THURSDAY

Babe, I have to play a game for the blog this week, fancy a game of scrabble

I will be asleep in five minutes

FRIDAY

Monopoly???

It's Friday night babe

SUNDAY

So how about that game of scrabble?

Work tomorrow babe

MONDAY

Scott we HAVE to play a board game

Can't you play that one by yourself ......patience!

TUESDAY

Hugo you ready to learn a new game

No I don't

Here is a pictorial record of how Hugo's first board game went. I especially purchased a Thomas the Tank Engine game of pairs. He began by using a piece of bluetack on the card he had to remember! The game was completed in record time!

(note bluetak)

GAME OVER!

Failed miserably!

Its 10.17pm on Tuesday night – I have less than 2 hours to complete this week’s task. Over the last week I have continued to bore myself stupid with study of the body’s systems – everything from understanding the ugliness that is the penis to the beauty that comes with the 6 senses. I have hand written study notes then retyped them, I’ve drawn fancy looking pictures and impressive flow charts in hope that something might stick in my head for the exam. Around this mountain of boredom I have moved house and completed a round trip of IKEA. I have transformed the bachelor pad into a very happy home that I LOVE and spent a weekend lunching with gorgeous friends. I am telling you all of this for one reason – I have failed miserably at completing one simple task and need to seek some forgiveness for letting the team down. The board game still sits in the shop waiting for me and at 10.25pm it will be waiting in the shop for another night yet. Will as I might, I cannot come up with even a simple pack of cards in the new and improved happy home. I say goodnight to you with a promise to do better next week and with a photo of the last time I played a good game in fine company…..it was known as the backgammon tour of Eastern Europe – too many backgammon contests to remember played in pubs, alongside rivers and in the midst of a very funky music scene.

Cheat!

I'm moving house tomorrow. I'm surrounded by mess and crap and chaos. Alas, the board games, all three of them (Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit and a chessboard), and a couple of jigsaws, all went into a box marked 'board games' weeks ago. That box is at the bottom of this pile of boxes:

So I'm not playing a board game this week. It's a bit like the cocktail 'cake' post of another Tale of Three-er - I'm cheating. I'm sure you understand.

In the spirit of it all, though, I did have a few games on Lexulous.com last night. That's online Scrabble. I heard Richard Glover describe it on his radio show recently as "the heroin of online gaming." It's true - I used to be addicted, back when it was Scrabulous.com. A member of my household may or may not play quite keenly at times. He claims that he controls it, it doesn't control him. I'm saying nothing.

It's a pretty poor effort, I know. I promise, when I'm in the new place and everything is unpacked, the bloke and I will sit down to a good old-fashioned game of real Scrabble. But in the meantime, I've got to fly - this computer is about to get packed into one of those boxes.