The Creative Nomad

Shopping With The Locals

2009-08-12T22:05:00.004+08:00

“Welcome to one of Thailand’s greatest floating markets, Damneon Saduak! Ladies and gentlemen, we are now in the heart of the floating market and if you follow me, we will go purchase our tickets.”

Located in the province of Ratchaburi, approximately 110 kilometers away from the bustling city of Bangkok, Damneon Saduak hails as one of Thailand’s most famous floating markets. From authentic Thai cuisine, to handicrafts and souvenirs, Damneon Saduak is a one stop shopping paradise for tourists alike. While haggling with shop keepers is accepted here, international visitors can expect a major inflation on goods that would normally cost half the price elsewhere.

I’ve braced the morning to get here with a bunch of strangers I’ve barely just gotten to know. We purchase our tickets and then together we head down the steps towards a bustling pier. Drivers’ boats careen together amidst the frantic Thursday morning energy; overweight tourists struggle to disembark from their tiny wooden boats; the melodic sounds of Thai float through the air; and together we wait to set sail into a culture that is uniquely Thai.

”Rose apple? Hello? Best in Thailand!” A tiny Thai woman floats by us with a bag of fruit resting on her shoulders. Her skin is worn and saggy and she looks as though she’s been sailing along these murky waters since its early beginnings.

No one pays attention to her.

“Hello, hat?” An old woman with a teetering tower of sun hats says as she makes her way along the pier.

The young Asian couple in the group continues taking pictures. The pregnant couple from Malaysia has yet to put down their video camera, the family of five has already started eating, and the six culturally dysfunctional girls from down under are too busy chipping away at their nail polish and popping bubble gum.

“Hello?” Our tour guide motions us towards the two boats she’s secured. Our drivers are two tiny Thai women and I find myself wondering where in the world they will muster up the man power to navigate these waters with so many heavy set western tourists aboard.

“Okay, six and six,” says our guide as she splits us down the middle with her hand.

A must see for any tourist, the market canals were built in 1866, by order of the Thai King for ease of communication with the province. However, the actual market didn’t start operating until 1967, and up until today this floating market continues to attract visitors from all over the world.

“Make sure you sit in the middle,” our guide says to me. “It balances out the weight.”

I comply and move towards the middle of our tiny paddle boat.

The mother from the party of five turns around and smiles at me.

Without any formal warning, our guide disappears and leaves us the in hands of our driver. We slowly inch our way out into the mess of boats, and I turn back to watch our tour guide with the group of six, now extremely giggly aussie girls, making their way down the pier towards an empty boat.

It is of little to no surprise why Thailand is known as the “Venice of the East.” With rivers and canals running throughout the capital city of Bangkok and beyond, Thailand’s intricate waterway systems once served as an important part of everyday Thai life. However, in today’s technological age of subway systems and sky trains, life along the rivers and canals are disappearing in Bangkok, but in smaller cities and country towns like Ratchuberri, the waterway systems are still widely used. Needless to say, that a trip the floating market in Dameon Saduk is a must for any first time visitor to Thailand as it showcases authentic Thai culture at its best.

We nick other boats that’re slowly cruising through the market at a snail like pace.

“Watch your fingers!” screeches an old woman with a thick British accent her boat cruises alongside dock store fronts.

Leathery faced Thai women float by with breakfast: blows of noodle soup and fragrant smelling jasmine rice.

Our driver navigates our paddle boat along the inner market canals, shop keepers grab the outer edge of our boat and try to convince us we need tacky, overpriced goods such as ukuleles with the words Bangkok painted along their necks.

“How much is this?” asks the camera crazy man in front of me. His partner whispers something in his ear and then he points to an embroidered leather sling bag.

“Genuine, is the best leather in Thailand sir, I promise I no lie to you.” She runs her hand down the front of the bag and shows us her stained orange teeth as she smiles.” For you, okay, nine hundred baht!” She smiles and shows him her calculator.

He shakes his head no and says nothing. We paddle on.

“Hello, sir?” The shop keeper stands up and leans out over the murky water. “You no want? I give you better price!” Our driver starts to paddle harder, faster and deeper.

It’s all slightly overwhelming, stacks upon stacks of goods, fruit and souvenirs bombards our every view as we slowly sail through each isle of the market. The family in my boat rounds out the morning with another bowl of noodles and more video clips are produced while the endless clicking of cameras continues around me. I sit back and enjoy the ride, totally immersed in one of South East Asia’s most colorful cultures.

As we veer up towards the dock, a shrill obnoxious voice echoes out into the open.

“Get out, yeah that’s right, our turn now!” boasts an overly excited tourists standing on the dock.

“Mmhmm,” she says as I stand up and climb back ashore. I dust myself off, and make my way along the docks searching for the scent that’s been haunting my senses since I arrived: chili, lime and lemongrass.

The market vibrates with frantic energy as I take my last bite of breakfast. I clear my plate, wipe myself up and head towards the bathroom. A powerful stench, comparable to that of a leaky sewage tank, floats through the air as I toss my garbage into the bin and walk inside.

Soggy toilet paper and a river of toilet water trickle down the edge of a toilet as overly pampered tourists scrub their hands, all the while commenting over such squalor conditions.

“Disgusting!”

“Sick!”

I make my way around the mess as toilet water splashes up and into my sandals.

“Shut up, shut up!”

Oh no! I shudder at the sound of their voices as I undo my pants and do my business. I roll my eyes, as if to say not now, flush the toilet and open the door.

One of the girls from this morning makes eye contact with me as I come out of the stall.

“Hey.” I walk over to the sink to wash my hands.

“Oh, yeah hey!” She unravels her t-shirt from her fingers.

“Did you have fun?” I ask before I prepare to leave.

“Yeah, up until now. This place is a mess. Uuuh!” She raises her shoulders to her ears and then crosses her arms across her chest. Nervously she starts to pick away at her finger nail. “You?”

“Oh yeah!”

She chews on her gum, scratches her head and looks me over with concern.

“Okay, well see ya back on the bus.”

Her gum cracks a few times as she rocks back and forth on her feet waiting for the next available cubicle.

As I make my way back towards the bus I’m reminded of the clichéd saying every traveler should keep in mind when they set foot upon foreign territory,

“When In Rome!”

The Little Island I called home

2009-07-27T21:50:00.011+08:00

It has been a while since my last post, allow me to bring you up to speed! Yes, you all know I've been away teaching my little heart out, but I'm back and I'm ready for something new, however I have no idea what that something is right now!
My last week in Taipei was amazing. I spent it in the city that'd been so good to me this past year. I threw a party for my class and I have to say it was quite sad to part with the: WOODPECKERS. I watched them grow so much, as I have to say it was quite rewarding to listen to kid's, who's English wasn't the greatest, talk my ear off day in and day out! The Woodpeckers taught me so much this year, going to work every day and seeing them really brought an added spark to my time amidst the little island I called home.

I hope if anything I inspired my class to be great people. Everyday I tried hard to to tell them how awesome they are and how awesome I know they will be. It is amazing to me working with little kids, you see things in them that you never thought you could, and for each and everyone of my students I saw amazing things!
I also had to say goodbye to some really awesome people, working and socializing with them really made my time in Taiwan awesome. Teacher Ana, Teacher Jessica, Teacher Clare and Teacher Vicky. For some of us we did however manage to enjoy our last few hours together at school with a late night dinner and some games with our class.

One person imparticular I owe a lot of thanks to is Tina. WOW, without her I couldn't have done a lot of things. She was so helpful, from helping me to find an apartment to being a good friend!

Anyway it feels good to be back home. In my time away I learned a lot as I not only traveled through Taiwan, but through Thailand by myself during Chinese New Year, I also flew to Cairo for a break to visit family and friends, and I really matured as I took care of the responsibilities I had to take care of, and all the while I managed to have fun!

Taipei

2008-12-15T19:18:00.002+08:00

Well, it has been a while my fellow readers, and for that I apologise dearly. I thank you so much for your continued support despite the fact that I am away teaching on a very busy schedule!

All is well here in good old Taipei, it is cold, I'm cold and most of the kids in my class are down and out with a cold! I am really coming to the conclusion that with the onset of this Taiwanese winter, I don't like the cold at all! That is why I am hoping to take a holiday somewhere warm during my next vacation period.

School is good. I won't lie being a teacher is tough work. One thing I've come to realize over these four months is that teaching really tests my patients on all levels, especially in preschool. But none the less I really love my kids and despite the runny noses, dirty hands and weird eating habits they really make my day and I am so glad I'm such an important part of their life right now.

Other then that all is well. Christmas is coming up and again, like most years, it's just starting to feel like another day. However, it is so nice to share this holiday with the little ones. Today we decorated Christmas ornaments which will will tape onto a paper tree. HOW CUTE! Also I am in the midst of teaching them the song, "Frosty The Snowman." It sounds like a verbal mess, but rest assured come Christmas we will be sounding like angles!

The Highs and Lows of Teaching

2008-10-20T21:30:00.002+08:00

So here I am in Taipei, another city in Asia that surprisingly doesn’t sleep, loves to eat and gets really hot when the sun is out! Minus the air pollution and the non stop rain, I love it here. It is hard to believe that this is my two month mark and this is the first blog I have posted, sorry Leng! 

What can I say; being a teacher is most definitely one of the toughest jobs ever! I had this idea that this year long gig was going to be the easiest, breeze of a job ever, WOW I was wrong! Now my faithful readers please do not get me wrong, this job is such a blessing and I wouldn’t change a thing, but there is so much I need to learn and I am not afraid to admit that.

My day to day routine here is pretty standard. I work with my little kiddies at preschool from 9-4 everyday, except Wednesdays and Fridays when they are taking Chinese, and during that time I am up stairs teaching HA7-8, a class full of ten year olds who sometimes think they are a lot older than they really are. If you were to ask me which age group I like better, let’s just say it shifts from day to day!

Right now in preschool I am in the midst of introducing them to Halloween. Today I busted out with some Halloween rhymes and a naughty version of TRICK OR TREAT.

TRICK OR TREAT?
SMELL MY FEET
GIVE ME SOMETHING GOOD TO EAT
IF YOU DON’T, I DON’T CARE
I’LL PULL DOWN YOUR UNDERWEAR!

Needless to say that one got a huge kick out of my little ones as they thought it was one of the funniest things they’d ever heard in their life!

Now my HA7-8 class, let’s just say they are a bunch of crazy little kids. Things had been going really good with them up until Friday when a game of board race seemed to create a room full of sore losers. Let’s just say Teacher Jacqui really had to lay down the law, and not a lot of kids liked that! Long story short I felt frustrated. Especially with a few kids who always seem get under my skin. In my opinion I felt the class was trying to test me and to see how far they could take things.

Well my dear readers I will sign off here! With love from Taipei, I promise to always keep you posted from now on!!!!

Tales of Asia Takes On My Story!

2008-07-24T15:06:00.002+08:00

Hi Everyone!

I hope this post finds you all well and happy! I thought I would give you all a little update with regards to how things are going. They're GREAT! I just got this article published online last week via the wonderful website: TalesofAsia.com. Enjoy, any comments or anything I am all ears! Until we meet again, ciao for now!

http://talesofasia.com/rs-213-Westeast.html

Bali, the Beautiful!

2008-07-15T09:32:00.008+08:00

Hello Dear Readers!

Another wonderful trip has come and gone. My time in Bali was well spent. Shopping, warm weather, the Pacific Ocean, great food and great friends. I highly advise anyone interested in visiting this little island paradise to go. Not only is it everything and so much more, but the people and the atmosphere are just unbelievable. We were there for a 4 night 5 day visit, and were lucky enough to see most of the island. We even had the chance to go on an hour and a half hike through the jungle, mind you there were foot paths and no man eating tigers. HA! Luckily for us, we met up with a Balinese priest who brought us to a temple behind the main Mother Temple in Bali, which is a main tourist attraction and not a lot of tourists even have the chance to go there. Once there he blessed us in a sacred ceremony and we left feeling alive, blessed and totally rejuvenated. Anyway, here are the pictures from my latest trip. From Kuta to ancient temples and volcanoes, we saw it all, did it all, saw it all and left with a deeper appreciation for the island, its people and the country of Indonesia.

(The Temple Priest)

(On Route to Temple)

(A Cultural Dance)

I Love KL!

2008-07-12T21:09:00.001+08:00

Where West Meets East
By: Jacqui Menard

Charred naked chickens and crispy red ducks dangle carelessly from amidst butcher shop windows. Locals pile out of McDonalds, Starbucks and Nando’s chicken. Business men suck back noodles outside dingy looking hawker stalls, school children weave in and out of crowds with their afternoon cakes, and half dressed westerners barrel their way through crowds of pedestrians with their latest edition of the Lonely Planet, while the call to prayer blasts throughout the city.

“Apple? Durian?”

A fruit vendor holds a green spiky fruit out in front of me. He smiles wide and beckons me over to his stall.

“Yes, DVD? Hello?”

Tent after tent, table after table, the latest cinema releases, or limited edition apparel from some of Europe’s most respected designers’ bombards Petaling Street, Kuala Lumpur’s most infamous hot spot for boot legged goods and pirated products.

“Best price madam, I give you only best price… sixty five.” A purse vendor sporting a Jon Bon Jovi hair cut, tight jeans and leather cowboy boots says to me the minute he sees me make eye contact with one of his products. “Only the best quality madam.” He picks up his lighter and waves a flame over top of the bag. I shake my head no and make a quick getaway back out into the crowd of people who’ve flooded out onto the street.

“Madam, madam…madam please!”

Malaysia’s lively capital city of Kuala Lumpur, or KL as it’s more commonly referred to, is always beaming with life. Located in the heart of South East Asia, KL is full of ethnic diversity, and is home to more then 1.3 million residents all ranging from various Asian backgrounds. In a city full of culture, Kuala Lumpur serves as the perfect starting point for any first time visitor to Malaysia, for it showcases some of the countries finest national treasures and diverse cultural attractions amidst a clean and comfortable modern city landscape.

The smell of diesel fumes and outdoor cooking engulfs me. The city’s bumper to bumper with traffic and it’s only eleven am. People have overflowed from shop lots, markets, temples, restaurants, hotels, schools and bus stops.

The cross walk sign begins its countdown. Pedestrians scramble across the street. Motor bikes carelessly disregard the red light. Unsuspecting locals and tourists latch on to one another, make a mad dash for the safety island in the middle of the intersection, the light turns green and than exhaust fumes explode through the air. Dismayed, I find myself still standing amidst the safety of the congested city sidewalk, intrigued and baffled by such organized chaos that truly is, KL.

“Taxi?”

A red and yellow taxi pulls up alongside me. Its windows are plastered over with stickers that say, ‘Visit Malaysia 2007’ while the countries national flag lies proudly displayed in the upper right hand corner of the driver’s windshield.

“Yes, hello taxi?”

The driver cleans his teeth with his tongue, spits out the window and beckons me inside his car.

“Petronas Towers?” I yell above the automotive roar.

“No problem.”

I open the door and climb aboard his air conditioned Hindu like temple on wheels. It smells of exotic spices, curry and fragrant jasmine flowers. The almighty Shiva overlooks our journey from amidst his golden dashboard shrine, while Ganesha, the elephant headed God and renowned remover of obstacles, sways back and forth from below the driver’s rear view mirror. He switches on his meter, puts on his traffic signal and we slowly inch our way out into the growing sea of traffic.

Known to many as the world’s tallest twin towers, the Petronas towers of Kuala Lumpur over look the city at a staggering 452m (1483feet), an architectural masterpiece to say the least. The towers were built in the mid 90’s by architect Caesar Pelli and they serve as a symbol of Malaysia’s national pride. Located along the city’s major junction of Jalan Ampang and Jalan P. Ramlee, KL’s Petronas Towers not only house state of the art offices, a symphonic concert hall and a modern city art gallery, but next door there’s SURIA KLCC, a high class shopping haven that caters to every shopper’s needs and wants.

We’re engulfed in a sea of diesel and city smog. The sun beats down through my window shade in the back seat at an almost unbearable temperature. Static ridden messages scrape through the taxi’s PA system, and the radio fades in and out of comprehension, while the taxi’s air con struggles to emit the faintest breeze of cool air.

As we slowly approach the towers, I look out to my left. Guardian’s of KL and keepers of the country, the towers seem to radiate an aura of power and prestige, they sparkle like two oversized industrial colored crystals and I find I can barely contain my excitement by the time we pull up out front.

“Yes, hello.” We come to an abrupt halt out front. My driver points down to the meter that’s flashing 10 Ringit, local Malaysian currency.

Infatuation and awe consumes me as I take a few moments, straining and struggling to take in all 88 floors of this mega structure.

Constructed and designed with reinforced concrete, steel and glass facades, the creativity behind this architectural masterpiece was primarily inspired by reoccurring designs and motifs as personified in Islamic art, a true reflection of Malaysia’s national religion.

“Madam?” The driver taps on the meter and looks up at me from his mirror.

“So sorry.” I hand him a fist full of crumpled bills, open my door and tell him to keep the change.

A well presented security guard helps me out of the taxi.

“Welcome madam.”

I smile, take a few moments to relish in my celebrity like treatment and head towards the door.

“Good afternoon.” Another security guard holds open the door to SURIA KLCC, my getaway from the scorching afternoon heat, a true shopping paradise complete with food courts and endless floors of shopping.

“Thank you.” I step inside. Far from any dingy shopping mall or outside open aired market, the intricate interior of SURIA KLCC astonishes me. No form of piracy here, pesky shop vendors, weird market delicacies or cut throat bargaining tourists. Classy looking shoppers dressed in this season’s latest fashions and doused in expensive bottles of designer fragrances own the place. I look down at my sweaty appearance, worn out flip flops, faded jean skirt and wrinkled t-shirt, and I suddenly can’t help but to feel underdressed.

SURIA KLCC offers KL shoppers and tourists alike a diverse shopping experience. From major fashion retailers to state of the art dining and entertainment, SURRIA KLCC is the perfect getaway from the outside rush of KL and is guaranteed not to disappoint.

“Hello, welcome.” The employees at British India greet me with warm smiles as I walk through the door.

Headless mannequins sit erect on top of a table top dressed in fine linens and brightly colored cottons, while gem stone encrusted necklaces glisten beneath the florescent lights hanging over top of the cash register.

“Okay, that’s an even 1500 Ringit.” A young employee folds up a long sleeved white blouse and kaki colored pants for a smug looking westerner who’s decided to sport a pair of oversized DIOR glasses indoors.

My eyes go wide as I walk by them. I gravitate towards a rack full of Indian styled blouses. I pick up a bright yellow one, walk towards the mirror, hold it up against my chest and pretend I’m worth it, 250 Ringit that is. I smile at myself in the mirror.

“Can I get you a size?” A male employee walks towards me.

I smile at him, put down the blouse and make a quick getaway for the door, “Not today thanks.”

I squeeze my way through the busy food arena. The place is full of people. Office workers winding down after a rough day, wide eyed tourists with plates full of local food and hormonal crazed school children just hanging out at the mall, another Friday night.

I carry my food to the table, my stomach growls and my mouth salivates like a starving street dog. I put down my shopping bags set down my tray, sit down, take off my shoes and vigorously rub the souls of my feet. The clean presentation of hawker food, combined with the cool and inviting environment of a shopping mall makes it that much more inviting. I pile a heaping helping of rice onto my spoon, mysterious flavors and unique spices, unbeknownst to my taste buds, explode in my mouth and dance up my nose as I make a mad dash for one of the many commonalities this country shares with my own, an ice cold glass of Coke.

Kuala Lumpur proves why the world is so small. In a city that seems to never sleep, there’s absolutely nothing you can’t get here. From the hottest in store fashions, to the latest cinema releases, this city not only showcases some of Malaysia’s most prized national treasures, but it’s nothing short of a cultural mosaic spanning from west to east. The perfect base for any visitor wanting to scale the vast wonders of Malaysia has to offer, the diversity in KL promises not to disappoint.

Go Nomad Takes On The Floating Villages

2008-06-10T12:44:00.002+08:00

It's always exciting to see my own word's printed outside of school, a blog or just on my own computer.

Go Nomad, a travel website which aims to inspire and help people plan their trips abroad, has taken on one of my latest articles and I feel quite proud! :)

I am really excited because even though this was a free assignment, it really is nothing short of another feather in my cap!

http://www.gonomad.com/reflections/0806/cambodia-floating-villages.html

Back From Where It All Began!

2008-06-08T11:33:00.006+08:00

Egypt, to me is by far one of the most mysterious, most fascinating places on the planet!!! Even though this was a my second trip to the country, this time around I could not help but to feel that much more mystified and that much more in awe of the living history that was all around me!

The trip, as you could have probably guessed was awesome! We left on the 13th of May and came home on the 26th. 2 solid weeks of travel and fun, from buses to planes, laughter and tears..... we did it all and man oh man we saw it all!

We started off in Upper Egypt where we toured some sites such as Abu Simble, Luxor, the Valley of the Kings, Habu and Edfu. Eventually we ended our journey back in Cario where we were quite exhausted.......but in a good way!

Since I am just getting back into the writing groove, I didn't do much writing besides my journal, I thought I would post some pics until I finish some of the articles I started since I arrived home.

ENJOY!

ABU SIMBLE

FUN TIMES CRUISING DOWN THE NILE

.....stay tuned for more adventures!

6 Days and Counting: Egypt The Land of Pharaohs

2008-05-06T17:53:00.003+08:00

I have this vision of myself. 2003, October a hot Egyptian morning. I'm standing on the Giza Plateau in front of some of the worlds most magnificent structures ever built, it's our last day in Egypt and I feel this inner sadness, I don't want to go home.

Never in my WILDEST dreams would I imagine visiting one of the most sought after seven wonders of the world twice in a life time. Never in my WILDEST dreams would I imagine sailing down the Nile, watching the sun set and thinking 'I wonder if I'll ever make it back here again?'

Well, here I go again. Egypt, the beginning of creation and the land of the Pharaohs. I am really excited for the trip, we leave in six days, this Monday May 13Th, and even though I have been there before I don't know what to expect this time around. All I do know is this, Egypt is such a vast and mysterious country, to think you could explore the beauty of the land during one trip, I will tell you this, 'You're fooling yourself!'

When You Least Expect it!

2008-04-04T20:32:00.002+08:00

Wow, it has been a while since my last post, so I thought it was time to bring my readership up to speed!

Things have been great. It is hard to believe this time last year I was in school and now this Sunday my family and I are headed to my graduation in KL!

Since I've finished uni, I have been studying to get my TEFL certificate, which is great, it enables me to teach English all over the world! I am really excited!

Oh wow, this is so amazing. The other day I left my msn on and came to find a message from a friend in Brisbane. This is to funny, she was writing to say she liked my latest article in the Universe magazine. I thought what? I did not even submit anything just because I thought I could not contribute because I was no longer a uni student. Anyway, I went to the student guild website, downloaded the mag and there was one of my articles. I felt so touched! Even though they didn't ask to use it, I thought wow! Turns out the editor used a piece of mine I submitted last semester! Anyway, here it is I thought I would share it with you all!

http://www.guildonline.net/contentdoc/21/Universe08_issue1PART1.pdf

*It is under the life section*

Rest In Peace Jimbo.

2008-03-09T18:49:00.004+08:00

To Jimbo, the most persistent animal I've ever met.

I love animals. Cats, dogs, I love them all. At home in Malacca we have two cats and we recently got a new dog.

Since I've been home though, we've had a visitor. His name you ask? Jimbo, Jimbo the street cat: a beautiful little guy, black, gray and white. He loved coming to our house. Our dog Lucky hated him, our cat Pumpkin was in love with him and our other cat Motley, well he couldn't be bothered.

Jimbo liked to come in the house. Frolic with Pumpkin, sleep on our chair and climb out the window when he saw us coming near. Jimbo thought he was our cat, he waited for food, stared us down as we ate and waited outside for us each night we came home.

The dog chased him, we sprayed him with water bottles, shooed him out the door and yet through it all the little tyke never gave up.

Maybe he's meant to be ours? The question was posed more then once. After a month in the yard we decided, it's time to adopt Jimbo, the newest member of our family.

That all changed one sad night when we came home to find the little guy curled up on a chair in our hallway. He was bone thin, really hot, and for the first time in our relationship he actually let us touch him. Mom picked him up, he tried to meow...nothing. I got him some food, he snuffed it off, curled back in a ball and went to asleep.

The next day we got the guy into a cage to take him to the vet, he was stiff and felt like death. We got in the car, panic washed over him, we drove to the vet and surrendered him over, each one of us hoping for the best.

That night when we all went home we felt really guilty. This pitiful little creature, crawled into our house time after time forgiving us for spraying him with water and scaring him back into the yard.

A couple of days after we took him in, Mr. Jimbo died. What a cat, filled with unconditional love for the family who eventually grew to understand him.

AAW, LOVE U JIMBO!

Thirty Minutes?

2008-03-01T17:31:00.003+08:00

Harold waved goodbye to his daughter Jane and her two sons Eric and Daniel. The house was quiet. He was alone. For the first time in his adult life he was alone. He looked down at the breakfast Jane had prepared for him, wondered if she’d used the grease from the bacon to fry his eggs and felt sad because Jane had forgotten to cut the crust off of his toast.

He sat down on the porch swing and drifted back and forth. He wondered if his guests liked the deli platter his brother Frank had brought, if the service for Zelda was up to par and if Jane had remembered to put an extra roll of toilet paper in the guest bathroom. He lifted a spoonful of eggs into his mouth and spit them back onto the spoon. They were cold and mushy. He took a sip of coffee, shooed the fly from his platter of bacon, and watched as his cat Mittens emerged from the rose bushes with another dead mouse.

He couldn't’t eat. He picked up his tray, opened the door, left his meal on the kitchen counter and disappeared up stairs.

Harold stood in the middle of their bedroom with a blue and white stripped beach towel wrapped around his waist. He looked in the mirror, ran his fingers through his wet hair and sucked in his gut. This wasn’t the body of a thirty year old, he thought.Harold exhaled deeply, fell to his knees and started to sob into his hands.

Zelda’s coco clock struck twelve by the time he’d walked into the kitchen. He sat down at the table, opened up the news paper, and noticed there was a sale on fabric softener at the Grab ‘n Go.

Harold got up, walked over to the counter by the stove, grabbed his pack of cigarettes out from behind the cookie jar on the counter, pulled out a stick and lit up. She hated him smoking in the house.

“Stinks up the drapes.” She used to say.

Harold leaned up against the kitchen counter, looked at the portrait of himself Eric had drew tacked up on the fridge and took one long, deep puff. He exhaled, leaned over the sink, stubbed out his cigarette and walked over to the fridge. He opened up the door, pulled out the left over deli platter and a bottle of beer. He shoved a piece of ham into his mouth, walked back to the table and sat down. Mittens jumped up on the counter next to him and began eating the left over eggs and bacon on his breakfast plate. Harold sat down at the table, wrapped a piece of Havarti cheese into a slice of salami and cracked open his beer. The beer fizzed over and splattered across the front page of his morning news paper.

“SHIT.”

Mitten knocked his breakfast plate to the floor as she jumped off the counter. It shattered to bits and Harold jumped. He pushed back his chair to clean up the mess, and then, the door bell rang.

He kicked the cat, who was drinking from her water bowl, on his way down the stairs and opened up the door.

A young boy with a face full of zits stood before him with a bouquet of pink and purple Gerber daises.

“Aah,” He looked down at the card on the bouquet. “Ms….Mr. Jenkins?” He looked up at Harold with tiny squinted eyes.

“She’s dead.” Harold looked back at him.

“Ohh.” The boy pushed the flowers towards Harold and ran back across the lawn. He jumped into his white van that idled loudly in the driveway, rolled down the window and said, “I’m sorry dude.” He reversed his van back out onto the road and took off.

Harold watched as the boy disappeared out of sight. He quietly turned around, closed the big wooden door and read the card that was attached to the bouquet.

Zelda, it was so great to see you again.
With Love,
Georgie xo

Harold stood still, scratched his bald head and wondered, ‘Just who the hell was Georgie?’

Mittens appeared from the kitchen; stood on the landing, looked at Harold and meowed loudly.

Georgie? Georgie? Thought Harold. His mind ran. It ran hard and fast. To family reunions, old friends, next door neighbors, colleagues, cousins and old boyfriends. It ran so fast and so hard he felt as though it was about to explode. He imagined his brains popping out of his head, bits splattering across the wall while a storm cloud of pink matter rained down on the cat.

Harold scratched his head one last time, and let out a deep sigh of frustration. He took one last look at the flowers and then launched them against the wall at the top of the stairs. Glass exploded in every direction, and Mittens ran down the stairs and into the living room. Harold fell to his knees, buried his face into his hands and sobbed again. This time it was louder, louder than this morning and even louder than the time he found Zelda sitting in her rocking chair with a cup of tea in front of Regis and Kelly....dead.

The birds were chirping loudly outside, kids were laughing and the Harold awoke to the smell of his next door neighbor’s barbeque. He opened his eyes, his room was still dark and the alarm clock next to his bed flashed three thirty. Harold looked up at the ceiling and followed the path of an ant that crawled along the perimeter of the light fixture. The phone rang downstairs. Harold pulled the blankets up over his head and squeezed his eye lids together real tight.

Finally he sat up, and threw back his blankets the minute he heard the beep to the answering machine. He slipped his feet into his slippers, strained to hear the voice on the other end of the line, walked out of his room and into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

He passed Mittens on his way out. She was batting around another dead mouse. Harold walked past them, noticed the mouse had no tail and felt like he wanted to cry again.
Harold left the bathroom door open, lifted the toilet seat and relieved himself. He closed his eyes and imagined himself kissing Zelda, only he didn’t look like himself. He was a far more handsomer, brawnier, blond hair blue eyed, hunk of-. He stopped. Opened up his eyes and threw himself back into his pants. He flushed the toilet, ran his hands under the tap and left the bathroom.

Back in the hall, he noticed Mittens was gone and there was a trail of blood that streaked down the stairs. Harold made a mental note to clean that up after breakfast. He stepped over top of the mess on his way down the stairs and jumped over top of the flowers and glass that still laid broken and smashed on the landing.

Harold went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of coffee out from the pantry. He took the old coffee filter out of the machine, christened it with two heaping tea spoons of French Roast and turned on the pot before he hit the button on the answering machine.

“Hi Dad, it’s me Janie. Yeah, ah Robert and I were talking, we would really like for you to come and stay the next while. I mean the boys will love it. Give us a call eh? Love you.”

Harold looked out onto the patio and suddenly remembered he hadn’t watered Zelda’s sunflower seed she’d planted before she died. He remembered laughing at her when she told him she was going to make it grow up to the roof.

“Hi Zelda, it’s me Georgie. Yeah, wow, hey look so happy we got to hook up. I mean time went so fast. Look, I’d really like to do it again and maybe this time you can bring Harold. Hey, I’m in town this weekend, give me a call, I’d really like to pop by.”

Harold’s eyes widened. What kind of a sick affair is this? Bringing your husband along on some smutty date just so you can watch him squirm while you passionately French kiss one another over a plate of spaghetti Bolognese and a glass of red wine! Harold spins around, stomps across the kitchen, grabs the answering machine and rips it out of the wall. He leans up against the door to the refrigerator, takes a deep breath, punches the wall and then the phone rings.

He takes a deep breath, kisses his fist and picks up the cordless.

“Yes.”

There’s a few moments of awkward silence.

“Dad? Dad, is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” Harold sighs, walks over to the sink and runs his fist underneath cold water. He pulls a dirty coffee cup out of the sink, slams it down onto the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Okay, well you know- Eric, Eric get off of there. Sorry Dad, you know Rob and I were thinking why don’t you stay here for a wh-”

“Jane, I’m fine. I told you that when you and the kids left yesterday.” Harold takes three sugars cubes out of the sugar bowl from above the stove and drops them in his cup.

Jane sighs. “Yeah, I know that Dad but, just....come on, just for the weekend, I mean the kids would love it.”

Harold walks back towards the table and sits down. He leans back in his seat , closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

“Okay.” He takes a sip of coffee. “If it will put your mind at ease, I’ll stay.”

“Aaw, Dad I promise you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“Yes Dear, I’m sure I will.” Harold looks down at the floor. “Well, soup’s on better go and eat.” He notices Zelda’s tea cozy, the one in the shape of an elephant, on the counter next to the stove, and finds himself finally admitting how ugly the knitted piece of crap actually is.

“Okay Dad, I better go get the boys ready for soccer. Will call ya when I’m on my way?”

“Sure.”

“Bye Dad.”

“Bye dear.” Harold slams down the phone, grabs a piece of mail from the stack he’d been collecting, rips up his overdue hydro bill and yells, “FUCK.”

Harold falls back into his seat, buries his head in his hands, and for the first time in his life begins to feel disgusted with the thought of Zelda, the woman he’d given his heart and soul to, the woman he’d given up thirty nine years of his life to be with.

As Harold was packing his bags, he found himself wondering why he’d gotten married in the first place. Zelda was the only woman he’d ever been with, his high school sweetie, the mother of his children and one of his best friends; in fact, she was one of his only friends. Harold stopped what he was doing and looked up at studio photograph hanging over his bed of him and Zelda on their thirty fifth wedding anniversary. He glared at it, grabbed a stick of deodorant from his toiletry bag and chucked it at her face, it missed, hit the table lamp and Harold felt sick.
He walked over to his closet, pulled out a pair of pants, three pairs of socks, khaki shorts, a blue t-shirt, and the running shoes with the holes in them, she hated those. Harold walked back to his bed, threw in his belongings and stomped back over to the closet to look for his swimmers.

They weren’t where they normally were. Maybe she gave them to Georgie. Yeah, Georgie. Suddenly Harold couldn't’t get the image of the two of them frolicking hand in hand down some white sandy beach. Zelda in her navy blue one piece, the one she wore that summer when they made love all afternoon, and Georgie in some scandalous blue number.

“ARGH.” Harold ripped Zelda’s part of the closet apart. He tore her Sunday best off of their hangers, threw her high heels out the window, dumped her jewelry box all over the floor, chucked her hand bags into his room and then, he stopped. Harold stopped dead in his tracks and out of the corner of his eye noticed a letter addressed to Georgie sitting at his feet.

Harold took a deep breath, bent down and picked it up.

Dearest Georgie.
I am so happy we finally had the chance to meet.
Georgie, I hope you understand why I did what I did. Giving you away thirty years ago, was the hardest thing I ever had to do.. Harold and I, we were young, stupid, we weren’t ready to take care of a baby...

Harold’s eyes bulged. He held the letter closer.

What did we know about caring for a baby at sixteen? Anyway, I’m glad I did what I did. That was surely a rough patch in my relationship with your father, oh I mean Harold. I am happy to announce we are still together, and very much in love. Would you believe it too, you have a sister Georgie, and...you’re and uncle! Oh Georgie, I would love you to come meet the family. I hope you know this is a new beginning Georgie, and I’m looking forward to starting over with you by my side.
Harold dropped the letter, took a few steps backwards and then sat down on the floor.
“I’ve...I’ve got a son.”

Harold looked over at the mess he’d made of Zelda’s things. He picked up her peach and purple dress, the one with the polka dots and fine lines, and held it against his face…suddenly he missed her again. He could still smell her perfume, he could still feel her. He held it closer, kissed it and thought, if only I had known.

The phone rang. Harold got up and walked down stairs with the dress wrapped around his neck. He picked it up.
“Hello?” He cleared his throat, Mittens jumped up on the counter and rubbed up against him.

“Dad- Danny, quit it, no, give it back to your brother.”

Harold could hear his two grandsons bickering in the background and he suddenly wished he’d said no to a weekend with his daughter and her family.

“Sorry. Dad, we’re running late, there’s a traffic jam on I96, can you pop something in the microwave for dinner?”

“Yeah, I’ll put in a frozen dinner.”
“Okay great, well can you spare say, thirty minutes?”

“Take your time dear.”

“Bye Dad- Danny, what did i say?”

“Bye Dear.” Harold put down the phone, picked up Mittens and put her on the floor.
The door bell rang. Harold took Zelda’s dress off of his neck and walked down stairs to answer it. He opened the door and standing before him was a well dressed man with slightly graying hair, blue eyes, tweed jacket and a bouquet of pink and purple Gerber daises.
“Harold?”

Harold bit down on his lip, he felt like he was going to cry again. He pulled the man into his arms and hugged him tight.
“Son?”

“Yeah, I’m Georgie.” Georgie hugged him tight and no one said anything for a few moments.

Georgie pulled himself away, gave Harold the flowers and said.

“So,” he sucked back a few tear and handed him the flowers. “Zelda, Zelda told me a lot about me? You’re a wonderful man Harold.” He dabbed under his eyes.

Harold’s eyes swelled over with tears. He grabbed his son around his shoulders pulled him inside and said, “Hey, can you spare, say, thirty minutes?”

The Joys of Living in a Share House

2008-02-09T15:28:00.003+08:00

The kitchen’s ceramic tiles were sticky, caked with grit and oil from past students. The door to my kitchen cupboard hung on for dear life by a single rusted hinge. No one ever changed the garbage and it always over flowed, a festering playground of rubbish for mice, insects and God knows what other kind of vermin. No one ever wiped up their crumbs, swept the floor, or cleaned out the microwave. On a good day it smelled like fresh fruit, fried rice or some exotic curry. But on a bad day, the smells ranged from curdled milk, to mysterious fridge leftovers.

I’d always dreamed about the day I could move out: live on my own, set my own rules, clean my room when I wanted to, eat what ever the hell I wanted, and sleep in late without waking up to the responsibility of Saturday morning chores. The only difference between that dream and reality was I never realized how challenging it would be initially be.

When you’re a student on a tight budget: surviving from day to day, coping with your studies and trying to make it in the ‘real world,’ your accommodation options are well, limited. Unless you’re the son or daughter of some wealthy upper-class business tycoon, you might as well rule out buying your own private flat facing the Brisbane River, or living on the top floor of some high rise city apartment building, your next option: a share house.

Now living in a share house isn’t always good mates, good food, and good times. It’s more along the lines of: noise, two minute noodles for lunch and dinner, cold showers and backed up toilets.

With the house comes responsibilities, from paying your rent on time, to making sure you’re eating a healthy balanced diet that doesn’t always include dehydrated meals that claim, ‘easy eats, just add hot water.’ When you’re on your own and away from family, you realize you’ve only got yourself to depend on, and that can be exciting or scary depending on which way you look at it.

One of the most disappointing aspects about living in a share house is you really don’t have much of a say of as to who you want to live with. The minute you pick up the phone and answer the ad that reads: “Cheap, affordable and clean student share house,” you automatically forfeit your rights to picking the perfect housemates. So in many ways it’s fair to say that with a share house comes strangers, and with those strangers come personal baggage that can delight you, or push every one of your buttons in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

I moved into my first share house at the start of my degree. It was old, the color scheme was brown, I lived in the garage, and our dining room table stood propped up on folded Coles and Woolies advertisements. There was nothing remotely classy about the house, it was quite dirty, no one every cleaned the place, and if one tried, no one took notice of it anyway. The only time one could expect our place to be picked up was when our landlord would come downstairs on a whim: scrub a few pots and pans, put away the dishes, sweep a pile of crumbs, dirt and hair into the corner, give us the odd wave and then leave without saying a word. Yeah so the place was a dump, but it was cheap and economically charming.

The first day I moved in I was nervous. I’d never lived with strangers before; I was scared and uncertain of as to who would be receiving me on the other side. I pulled up to my new home and met my five housemates who spanned from different corners of the globe. They helped me bring my things to my bedroom, saw to it that I was comfortable and then left me to settle in. I remember sitting on the edge of my bed that afternoon thinking, “Hey, this isn’t going to be that bad after all.”

My first month in the house I found myself soon longing to go home: I missed my bedroom, I missed my mom’s cooking, my dogs, my friends and my family. Every week I’d call home and every week I’d put up a front,

‘Yeah mom, yeah dad, things are peachy keen at the new place.’

Honestly, I didn’t think I could withstand my whole academic career living in a house with strangers who’d helped to unearth every pet peeve of mine. I wanted my parents to come fix everything for me: make my housemate take out the garbage, tell my landlord to fix the shower that had been spurting out ice cold water, make my house mate chew her food with her mouth closed, and to get rid of the mouse that’d been living in my room for the past week.

As the days melted into weeks, and the weeks rolled into months, I soon found that with the pace of my studies, there was little if nothing I could do to change my current circumstances. So with that, I decided to make the best of my situation. After all, these are supposed to be some of the best years of ones young adult life.

I made it a point to get to know my new ‘family’ and in the process discovered things about them I’d probably turned a blind eye to when I first moved in. I realized we shared common goals and interests: we liked the same music, movies, TV shows and celebrities. I found the more I made a point to get to know them, the more I realized what good friends these people were really turning out to be.

My housemates and I put up with our shamble of a home and lived together for two years. Not only did my stay in my first share house force me to find the confidence and strength from within to accept responsibility for my life, but when I finally left in search of something nicer, I not only left with fond memories from the past two years, but I left with some of the best friends I’d ever made and will probably keep for life.

Gong Xi Fa Chai

2008-02-08T14:06:00.000+08:00

The is the one time in the year in which oranges taste the best, the smell of food makes your stomach smile and there are fireworks galore.

Chinese New Year, I love this time of year. People really let loose to celebrate, famalies get togther, stores close for days and the cling, klang, clonging of New Year tunes can be heard for miles.

This New Year sees it as, "The Year of The Rat." Such a year forsees a time of hard work, lots of activity and of couse, renewal. I see such a year as an exciting time. Not because of such revelations, but merely because it's my year! What a time to shine!

The Glory Of Uluru

2008-02-03T10:24:00.000+08:00

(KATA TJUTA)

(SUNRISE)

(ULURU)

It sparkled beneath the sunlight like a bloodstone ruby, Uluru, one of Aboriginal Australia’s most revered and sacred monuments. Amidst its grandeur, I stood in awe of this natural wonder as it towered above the desert sands like a rock solid ice burg that’d been washed ashore millions of years ago.

I waited with my fellow entourage of tourists, sipped champagne and watched as the sun took its final breath. Pink and purple sun rays danced across the surface of the rock, scorched the desert sands and illumined the sky for the final time that day. People gasped in awe, the sun fell out of sight, clouds slowly congregated above and the land went quiet.

Uluru is located southwest of Alice Springs, along with the worn rock peaks of Kata Tjuta, in the World Heritage listed: Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park.

The beginnings of these natural wonders began more than six million years ago. Despite the region’s prehistoric history, modern archeological evidence suggests that the earliest human inhabitants around the area began 10, 000 years ago. To the Angu people, the beginnings of the reigon are much older than that and began with The Dreamtime, or the Dreaming. To the people of the land, this term refers to the “time before time” in which creation really began. According to legend, totemic beings, goannas, serpents and others, were the ones who helped to create the land, while humans existed eternally as a “spirit-child.” For any modern day visitor, it is quite amazing to see first hand evidence of Aboriginal Dreaming immortalized in the caves and crevices that surround Uluru and the area.

We were up before the sun. The sky was dark and the only sounds that could be heard were the nocturnal chirpings and low mumbled growls of nature. Ten of us, each spanning from different corners of the globe, stumbled about in our tents and quickly finished our morning tea, each anxious and excited that we were about to partake in one of the most sought after events in Australia’s red center region, sunrise at Uluru.

Uluru towers above the land at an astounding 348 feet. According to some experts, the size of this gigantic rock is nothing compared to the amount of rock that extends below the desert sands, with some suggesting it reaches down an extra 600 feet. Contrary to such speculation, other researchers presume the rock itself is connected to the Olgas which are on the opposite side of the desert.

An eerie silence enveloped us all. I took the window seat and watched as the morning sky slowly began to swallow the night. A sense of mystery and intrigue enveloped the desert sands as the rhythmic beats from the didgeridoo filled the air of our bus. No one said a word. Our tour guide turned around, did a quick head count, shut the doors and we set off down the road until we disappeared past our camp ground and back out into civilization.

The mysterious cawing of the cockatoo echoed throughout the land. We pulled into the sunset viewing area and our tour guide backed in our bus. I walked slowly down the stairs and out into the cold morning air. The skies above mutated from purple to orange as nothing but the sounds of nature and the low mumbled whispers from tourists could be heard across the red desert sands. My friends and I headed towards the group of people who’re lined along either side of the road, armed with every sized camera imaginable.The sun slowly rises, people stop what they’re doing to enjoy the show, and an almost instinctive spiritual reverence for this monolithic structure is quietly bestowed upon us.

.

Photography Folio: Exploring Femininity

2008-01-29T10:07:00.001+08:00

During my final year at uni, I was able to take an elective that was outside of the writing feild. From business to music the choices were daunting. There was so much I wished to do, so much I wished to try, but nothing attracted my attention more then KVB 104: PHOTO MEDIA.

I would say this unit was one of the most exciting units I've taken to date. Not only were we taught the basics of photography but, we were given the opportunity to experiment with each assignment.

The pieces above are just three of the pieces I submitted for my final folio. Basically there were no restrictions to this one. We could come up with the theme, the subjects and the style of photography we wished to use.

I contemplated a lot on this one. I thought of doing an abstract folio, a pictorialist folio and even a series of still life shots. However, those ideas did not sound that interesting to me. In my mind, I saw a folio that made a statement, a folio that spoke louder than words ever could.

So with that I came up with The Many Faces of Femininity. Basically I wanted to personify an idea of artificial beauty that so many women and young girls have adopted around the world. In the end I had about 22 shots, but these were my top three I will post the others later.

I have to say I really enjoyed working on this series and would consider doing more in the near future!

2007 A Year To Remeber!

2008-01-28T19:55:00.000+08:00

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

As I said goodbye to 2007, I could not help but to think back on how far I've come. Not only did I finally finish my university degree, but I did things and went to places I would never have imagined.

I conquered ancient kingdoms, chased kangaroos in Cairns with my friends, snorkeled on the Great Barrier Reef, ate crickets in Cambodia, had a poisonous spider crawl on my face and conquered some of Australia's most wild rapids.

With school finally finished, I must say I am excited for what's to come. Since I have a lot of free time on my hands these days, I have decided that now is the best time to make my dreams come true. While I know things don't happen over night, I know that if I take this journey one day at a time, things surely will happen.

Recently I returned home from a PHENOMENAL trip to Puttiparthy in India. I was there for three weeks basking in the glory of Sai Baba . Later on in the week, I travelled with my mom and some friends to an ancient kingdom in Hampi. Although I have made both trips before on more than one occasion, I found this time around, I was able to really contemplate on my life. During that time I found inspiration in the most unlikely places. From an Italian artist, to my good friends and family, I realized I have a lot of support and people behind me who also believe in what I want to achieve.

So with that, I would like to announce what I'm working on. Firstly there's my novel Bollywood Nights, travel articles and I have decided to work on a series of books for kids called Pumpkin the cat, will explain more later! But in the mean time I am getting Happy Jack up and running, and hope to have samples out by late March early April. Until then, I'm still writing, sending out my articles and experimenting with my new found love of photography.

OH MY POOR BLOG!

2007-11-04T10:10:00.000+08:00

Wow! So sorry, I have not written since AAAAAAH SEPTEMBER! Thanks Leng for reminding me to update!

Anyway, wow what is going on? Well, this year went so fast. I honestly feel like I just said goodbye to my folks and here I am November the 4th, a month away from going back home again!

Aww, this year has been the best, and I can honestly say I am REALLY going to miss Brisbane. But you know, I do feel as though it is not goodbye forever! I have this feeling I will be back!

Anyway, whats going on with me? Well, this Friday I am going to the outback! Woo hoo! I am really excited as this is a part of Australia I have dreamed of seeing for God knows how long. So I will be gone the 9th-16 then it is back to Brisbane, pack up my things and off for another road trip! This time to Cairns! So yeah, what can I say this year has been PHENOMENAL! I can truly say it is going to be hard when I finally have to say goodbye!

Spring has Sprung

2007-09-03T16:34:00.001+08:00

Wow another month has slipped through my fingers, like the sands of time. LOL sorry that was cheesy!

Anyway, Happy September everyone, it has been a while since my last update so before I head home to cook another one of my specialty dinners, I thought I would just say hi.

Things are great here. I must say, this time of year in Brisbane is my favourite. FINALLY after weeks of rain, the sun has come out, the birds are going and it’s not to hot and not to cold, ‘beauteous.’

Uni is going well, this week is week 7 and although I am not feeling very busy some things are due in the next few weeks.

All in all, life is great. I am really cherishing my time here because the way things are going, it’s going to be over before I know it, but with that said, I have to admit I really love Australia and can see myself coming back here in the years to come.

A Wedding In Paradise

2007-08-15T13:28:00.000+08:00

Hi Everyone!

Today is the Ekka Day. It's rainy and a little cool. I've just basically been hanging out, so i thought i would post a story I'd been working on! Not for school or anything, just for fun!

Cool!

Take care.

Cheers,
Jacks

The tent vibrates with laughter and joy as almonds and sweets fly through the air. Local musicians’ tune their instruments, children dance, and the bride gazes far off into the distance. The tent’s overflowing with relatives, generations of family both young and old, coming together for the final farewell of another daughter.

The harmonium player strikes a key on his instrument, and a mysterious sound lingers above the crowd. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the festivities grow bigger and louder as the men leave the tent, people take to their feet, and the women flock towards the young bride.

They encircle her: she outstretches her arms, her gold jewelry jingles, and then they all begin to sing. People watch wide eyed as the bride’s branded with intricate henna designs; marking her pre-determined passage from girl to woman.

***

All of the guide books say Kashmir’s the closest thing to heaven on earth, and from the minute we step into the airport, I find I have a hard time believing that. Men patrol the grounds with machine guns slung across their backs and armor strapped around their waists. My sister and I are two of the only westerners waiting to clear customs, and I suddenly begin to think this whole wedding in Kashmir experience wasn’t such a good after all.

An airport employee escorts us outside, asking us repeatedly where our ride is. We explain our circumstances and assure him our driver is on his way. Outside locals hang over the barricades shouting names of loved ones passing through the doors, while guards run their hands along the exterior of their weapons. I watch them closely; their actions send shivers down my spine.
Slowly, passengers disappear through the gates until we’re the last ones. I look around, my heart jumps into my throat, and just as I’m wondering if now would be a good time to turn around and go home, our driver approaches.

We rush over to the gate; the airport employee looks over our paper work, questions the driver and then the armored guard waves us out into the open with the barrel of his gun.

***

Our driver takes us to our friend Rouf’s village. He receives us in the narrow court yard, excited we’d come all this way to join in the celebrations of his little sister’s wedding. Rouf takes our luggage and we walk towards his house. We leave our shoes at the front door and follow him through a compact lounge room. There’s no TV or DVD player, just a functional radio, a few throw cushions and a massive aerial rug that serves as lazy boy, love seat and recliner.

Rouf leads us up a narrow stair case and into a tiny bedroom. It’s humble: carpeted floors, vibrant throw cushions and two blankets, our sleeping quarters for the week.

Exhausted, we settle in. Rouf leaves us to relax and reminds us that the festivities begin tonight.

***

I can hear the celebrations and see the dancing shadows up ahead in the tent as Rouf leads us through the court yard. Relatives cooking food greet us with gentle smiles; while nephews and nieces follow behind us: tugging at Rouf’s shirt sleeves, pointing, whispering and laughing.

We follow Rouf through the tent flaps and are greeted by a family of strangers happy to see us. I can’t help but to wonder what we look like to them as we follow Rouf through crowd. After all we’re different, westerners from North America, an unseen rarity on Kashmiri soil.

Rouf introduces us to his mother and father. They’re excited, and although they can’t speak English, their actions speak louder then words. They greet us with smiles, embrace us with hugs, and seal our meeting with a kiss on each cheek, as if they’d known us for years.

A woman approaches with a handful of almonds and motions me to open my hands. I split the booty with my sister; we make ourselves comfortable, crack open some nuts and then Rouf takes us to the head of the tent so we can pay our respects to the bride.

She’s gorgeous. The sequins on her green and gold dress twinkle like stars in the night sky. She greets us with a hug, kisses us on each cheek, and then Rouf positions us on either side of her make shift throne so he can take our picture.

***
We relish in the evenings celebrations and customs: traditional Kashmiri song and dance, a blessing for the bride by a boy in a dress, and food of various spices and flavors.

As the evening bleeds into morning, I find I’m struggling to stay awake. I pop in a few more almonds, notice the kids around me have dropped into a sound sleep amidst their mother’s laps, and then it hits me. The guide books were right, this country is heaven on earth, for although I didn’t see it upon arrival, I can see it now: in the faces of the warm hearted people around me.

Everyone has a Story To Tell

2007-08-12T15:56:00.000+08:00

Home Song Stories is a movie that opens the heart and really makes you think. Not only did I think it was a cinematic success, but the overall story line, acting and back story, was quite powerful.

Last night, I attended the Brisbane Film Festival last night with my friends Leng and Tiffany. I went there with no agenda. Didn’t know what the film was about, who the director was, what work he’d done before, I just took Leng’s word and went.

I will admit, I was a little disappointed before hand, because Leng did invite me to go see the New Zealand comedy: Eagle VS Shark, but because of work, I couldn’t make it. Anyway, come the end of Home Song Stories I was really glad I got to watch this one.

The movie centres around a single mother and her two children. Originally from Hong Kong, the trio make their way to Australia, after Rose, a well known night club singer, falls in love with an Australian sailor.

What I found most interesting about this film was the portrayal of characters. Rose, as an Asian mother, was portrayed as quite promiscuous and racy. This character surprised me in many ways because I wasn’t used to seeing an Asian ‘movie mom’ portrayed in such a light.

I really admired the way director, Tony Ayers, shaped her character because it really gave her life. What was also quite interesting with her character was how I did not sympathize with her in any way, until half way through the story when she re-hashes her past. I found this scene to be quite moving, particularly because it happened when she was with her daughter. Actress Joan Chan really brought it home here, and did a great job.

When the film was done, we stayed around for Q and A with Tony Ayers. I have to say I was shocked to find out that the film, which depicted such dysfunction, was actually a true account of his life. I have to say I really commended him for telling his life story in such a way, because the way it was told, I am sure a lot of people could relate to it. Moreover, I thought he did a pulled together a great tribute to his mother and most definitely would have made her proud.

I really could not stop thinking about this film all this night and this morning. It gave me goose bumps, and really made me realize that everyone has a past, and everyone has a story to tell.

Who Knows What the Future Holds?

2007-08-05T15:30:00.000+08:00

Over the holidays, I found I'd given some serious thought to my life as a writer. I asked myself the following questions:

1. Where do I want to go with this?
2. What do I want to come of this?
3. Why am I delaying in sharing my work with the world?

Anyway, all of those thoughts came flooding into my mind. I think it may have to do with the fact that this is my last semester and then after this, I’m gonna be out there in the ‘real world’ as QUT likes to put it.

So I was doing some serious thinking, mulling over past assignments, noting how far I’d come in my trade and thinking about how much more I wish to accomplish.

Well, about the first week of school I was talking with Jess, another Creative Writer friend, and we were both thinking, “What the heck are we waiting for?” We should just be out there getting people to read our stuff.

So with that, I pulled together some of my best work and just sent it off to people. I wasn’t being particularly picky, I didn’t care if they paid or if they didn’t. I just thought do it, share your stuff.

Anyway, I sent the travel piece I posted to a campus magazine called, ‘The Universe.’ Honestly, I just pitched the idea to the guy, didn’t give much thought to him getting back in touch with me.

Well, little to my surprise I got an email from him the next day. He said, ‘Jacqui I love your ideas, send them through and I will have a look.’ Now, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited because I was. So, I spent the weekend editing and revising and on Sunday sent them out. I have to say it was somewhat nerve racking sending a stranger my work.

That week I went back to school. Nothing Monday, nothing Tue, nothing Wed morning and by then I thought, “OMG, I he probably didn’t enjoy my pieces.” Well, that afternoon I’m waiting to go to class and I jump on my email. By inbox is full, and the first email is from the editor from Universe. WOW, the email was so nice! He said he really loved what he read and wants to publish my “Bucket of Crickets” article in the next issue. I was thrilled. It just was like a boost in confidence when it came to my writing. I felt like wow, if a stranger sees potential in me, who knows what the future really holds!

Tastes Like Home

2007-07-29T10:54:00.000+08:00

We’d driven twenty one hours: endured the elements, one another’s company, Mc Donald’s for breakfast lunch and dinner, in preparation for the culinary delights of Melbourne’s China Town. These restaurants turned out to be a reoccurring topic on the way down from Sydney after feasting on junk food, car snacks and gas station goodies.

“Just wait till we get to Melbourne.”

I remember thinking to myself, ‘Malaysians and Singaporeans must have super human taste buds. How good could the food be?’ In my opinion nothing compares to the real thing. I’d had Chinese food back in Brisbane, but I always found it overly influenced by western condiments such as mayo and tomato sauce, nothing close to the real thing.

Maybe the taste of food has to do with where you eat it and the people you share it with. As a Canadian, staying in Malacca Malaysia, I couldn't’t agree more. To me, food always tasted better when it was eaten with family and served hot by a waitress, as opposed to slopping it on a paper plate amidst the busy atmosphere of some shopping mall in the suburbs.

I must admit, if its one thing I miss when I’m at school in Australia it would have to be the food at home: the savory rice, the chilies, the fresh green vegetables and juicy ripe fruits. My pathetic attempts at cooking anything similar often ends in watered down curries, crunchy rice and charred pots and pans.

Melbourne’s China town is full of life, color and food. It spans a few blocks and one can expect tasty meals from mainland China all the way down to South East Asia.

Our first official day, the mission: to find Shark Fin House, a much talked about restaurant in China town. My friend Leng had heard about it from her relatives in Adelaide, apparently they had excellent yum cha. We traversed city blocks, asked strangers, talked to shop keepers who all enthusiastically pointed us in the right direction.

My feet were burning by the time we made it to the front door. It looked quite empty from the outside; I would’ve never guessed this place was a restaurant hot spot in Melbourne.

The inside looked elegant, waiters and waitresses dressed in freshly pressed clothes, and an impressive fish tank alive with exotic seafood to greet customers at the entrance. Leng scans the grounds before she’s approached by a pleasant looking employee. Suddenly, I can’t help but to feel Closter phobic as the front doors fly open, a gust of wind bursts forth, a frenzy of hungry locals and tourists pile in and the lunch rush begins. A Chinese tour guide with bright orange lip stick, a head set and an impressive looking clip board motions her crew forward.

“Leng, I’ll be outside,” I shout as I squeeze through the crowd and am embraced by the cold winter air.

Leng comes out minutes later with a business card in hand, she’s all smiles.

Half of us are leaving Melbourne to go back to Brisbane on Thursday, and Leng feels yum cha at the Shark Fin House would be a good way for us all to get together one last time as a group.

We agree to meet the next morning at eleven.

The restaurant doesn’t look any different the next morning. People cram around tables, waitresses shout orders from across the dining room, silver yum cha trolleys quickly empty, and the staff already look warn and overworked: they’ve been open for less then an hour.

We’re given a centre table, right in the heart of the restaurant. I leave the ordering up to my friends, and pretend I know what they are saying as they converse with the waitresses in Mandarin, each party speaking a mile a minute.

Suddenly, I feel as though I’ve been transported back in time, a guest at a royal banquet. Pork buns, porridge,and prawn dumplings in bamboo baskets quickly fill the table as my eyes grow wide and my stomach growls in delight.

I reach across the table and attack a dumpling with my plastic chop sticks, dunk it in chili sauce and pop it in my mouth. I savor every bite; noting each ingredient I swallow: prawn, rice paper, carrot. I put down my chop sticks, wipe my mouth on my napkin, relish in the fragrance of my cup of tea and think, “Man, this tastes just like home.”

We make small talk, take pictures and just as I think the food frenzy is about to end, expensive items wrapped in banana leaves, or baked in oyster shells take the place of empty dishes. I haven’t eaten this good since I was last in Malaysia. I force myself to try a spoonful of the mystery item wrapped up the in the leaf. It’s some sort of sticky rice, there’s meat in it, it’s chewy and warm, and I like it. I lean back in my chair, and take another sip of tea in hopes that it will dissolve the over flow of food in my gut.

“Egg tart?” Leng presents me with a plate of steaming yellow tarts.

I smile. Should I? Aah what the hell! I grab one, bite into the warm yellow filling and golden crusty base, I’m not going home for another four months.

School!

2007-07-23T18:14:00.000+08:00

Monday Night, just finished work, watching Tv and it hits me, tomorrow my second semester begins, tomorrow marks the last and final semester of my education career.

Am I excited? Well, the best way for me to explain the way I feel is it's I have this bitter sweet feeling. Just because after this, that's it, I'll no longer be a student but a graduate, a 'real' adult.

Anyway, all is well. Besides school, I've been working a lot and just hanging out with friends.

Okay, I'm keeping this short and sweet!

CYA!