The Creative Nomad

Back at it!

2011-07-17T21:00:00.003+08:00

The life of a writer can be complicated.

This thought rings through my head just about everyday. I have a wild imagination that is capable of engaging each and every one of my senses. I can see it, I can taste it, I can smell it, I am there. My only problem? Most of the time my wild fantasies occur from inside four walls in-front of a glaring computer screen in an office that's overflowing with deadlines.

As a dreamer who dresses up every morning to spend 9 hours of her day working for somebody else, I sometimes wonder how exactly did I get to Singapore and how will this episode help fashion me into the writer I know I can be. Honestly, there are days when I feel frustrated simply because every-time that thought rings through my head, I DON'T have an answer.

It seems like yesterday I was dealing with fire breathing Taiwanese teachers or searching for a new job amidst the smog ridden city of Jakarta. And yet here I am, where I've always dreamed I'd be, Singapore.

I have to say, I feel very lucky to be working and living on this tiny island that is LITERALLY vibrating with life. An amazing city full of vibrancy, Singapore is such a fine example of creativity with everything from the arts to the theatre, I would have to say that inspiration is bursting at the seams here. My only problem is that I was struggling to find it.

I've lived here now for 4 months and yesterday was my birthday and with birthdays comes a lot of reflecting. My mom actually said something interesting that got me thinking. She said, 'What is your ultimate goal?' I honestly had to stop and think about that for a moment, What do I want? Where do I see myself? It took me a while about that because with this job, I am most definatley working outside of my normal box.

Since I have been in Singapore I have been so wrapped up in work. I let it stress me out, exhaust me, frustrate me and make me moody. While I have always knew that, when I finally found an answer to my mom's question, that fact was magnified to a tee!

Work has been bleeding through my pores. And like a parasite that has been consuming me, I've been really letting it define who I am. I think that is why this last while I have been feeling lost and like I have been missing something, I've let something replace my own love, my own passion, my love of vocabulary and grammar, I was hurting!

So, here I am. The second day of my 27th year is coming to a close and I feel like a new person. I can't quite explain it but I think it has to do with the fact that I am choosing. Choosing to feel good, choosing to do what I've missed and what I love, writing.

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!

The Top Ten Reasons I LOVE Australian Winters

2007-07-17T21:22:00.000+08:00

#10 You can wear sandals if you really want to and not look like a fool

#9 Continental cup of soup is usually on sale at the grocery store

#8 Blue skies

#7 Sunshine

#6 School Holidays

#5 Evening cups of tea

#4 Going to Starbucks for a coffee just because it's to cold in my house

#3 Buying warm baked goods after work as an excuse to stay warm

#2 No gray skies

#1 NO SNOW AND ICE....Except of course if you take a trip down to Mt Buller in the south. BRRRRRRR!

Australia: The beautiful

2007-07-14T09:22:00.000+08:00

I'm back! What a trip! We crossed three states, our car broke down once, we ate (a lot), we staid in a beautiful back packers resort in Apollo Bay, met people from all over, got yelled at by some lady in YHA because we turned our lights on, but through it all I came home with a greater appreciation for Brisbane and the beautiful sunshine state that is Queensland.

Our first stop on the trip was the Blue Mountains. I think the whole time we were there, I was in a state of shock, I could not believe this was Australia. If someone had dropped me off in the middle of no where up there and said guess where you are, I would have said hands down, Canada.

We staid there for a night, and then ventured down to Sydney, stopping a long the way to visit the Hunter Valley winery, the magnificent three sisters and a few glorious lookouts. I highly recommend anyone coming to Australia consider taking a road trip, not only do you get to see a lot more but, I guarantee you'll step away from your trip with deeper sense of appreciation for the country.

I have to say, I really enjoyed Sydney. For me, it was everything I'd imagined a big city to be like: tons of people, massive traffic jams, a Starbucks on every corner. Sydney was big, loud and full of life. I loved every second of my time there however, I will admit by the time I left THE BIG APPLE of down under, I realized one, the winter weather there was a lot colder than I had anticipated and two, I am so not a big city girl!

We managed to take in the major tourist attractions when we were there, from the harbour bridge to the opera house. You know, seeing these two major iconic land marks of Australia was the pinnacle of my 'Australian dream.' I had always wanted to go to Sydney for as long as I can remember, and standing out front of these two places was quite astounding and very emotional. Standing there and gazing out unto the the great harbour, I guess you can really say I truly realized how lucky I am.

The 29Th of June we left Sydney at about 2am and headed to Melbourne. I think in total the car ride was about 8hrs, but don't quote me on that one! It was nice, we passed the time with music, snacks and chit chat, had breakfast at McDonald's and even stopped outside of Canberra to take our picture on a massive submarine.

Before actually entering Melbourne we went up to Mount Buller. HOLY CRAP was it cold! There was even snow. I knew we were going there, but to be honest I did not expect THAT MUCH snow! It was beautiful don't get me wrong, but I think with the wind factored in, well all I can really say is BRRR. I think the funniest part about going up to Mt Buller was that I went up in a jean jacket, a pair of boots and a scarf. Yes, I know, a jean jacket what in the heck was I thinking! My friend here from the USA told me before I left, make sure you have a warm coat, I thought how cold can it really get? Wow was I wrong. My friends from Malaysia and Singapore who went a long with me were WAY more prepared then me!

By the time we'd finished playing in the snow, we were ready to hit the road to Melbourne. I'll never forget the drive into the city. The night city scape was so beautiful, I felt like I was in the movies. Anyway, that night we checked into Urban Central and crashed for the night, it truly is an understatement to say we were tired, we were WHACKED!

Off to explore!

2007-06-26T17:16:00.000+08:00

Hi Everyone.

Just thought I would check in before I leave. I was invited by a good friend Leng to check out Sydney and Melbourne. I am pretty excited, we are leaving tonight.

What an opportunity eh? I will be gone for about 10 days. No work, no school. I have to say, when Leng invited me I was really glad I jumped at the chance, especially since I am here in Australia.

Other then that all is well. It is FREEZING and has been raining non stop since last night. LOL I feel like I am in Seattle! But hey it is good, Brisbane needs the rain. They have been having a serious drought!

Okay I am signing off for the month of June. Do take care everyone and I will be sure to post a lot of pics and a lot of stories when I come home!

Love to all.

Love,
Jacks

PS THIS IS PROVES HOW BIG OF AN AMAZING RACE NERD I AM. CHECK THIS OUT. MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE TEAM!

View Oswald & Danny on innertube now

Chapter One

2007-06-22T10:58:00.001+08:00

Hello Everyone!

Well, I was just sitting here, Friday afternoon June 22nd, and thought hey, I will post my chapter. I handed it in on Monday, and I have to say I was happy with the end result. You never know this could be hitting a book store some day! I would like it to, I had a lot of fun writing it and have even given some thought to chapter two!!!!!!

Bollywood Nights
Jacqui Menard

Aunt Jack’s sitting next to me. We’re sharing his IPOD, and he’s got Gwen Stefani’s latest album on loop while he braids my hair. Mom’s behind us doing energy work on Uncle Reggie. She’s got a white crystal resting on his third eye, and she’s liberally applying globs of tea tree oil cream on his pudgy face; he broke out in a bad case of hives shortly after take off. Dads sitting to my right with Grandma, she’s chewing on the complementary barf bag and talking into the remote control, and he’s laughing out loud as he watches the latest in-flight installment of Everybody Loves Raymond…loser. Kurt’s alone at the back of the plane; he’s playing with his tongue ring and flipping through his back issues of Modern Goth. I glance back every now and then and can’t help but to laugh as the flight attendants quiver each time they try to serve him.

I look past Aunt Jack and stare longingly out the window. We’ve just blasted through a bundle of peach colored clouds and now the sky looks like it’s on fire.

“Ladies and gentleman, we will be serving dinner shortly. This evening’s menu consists of chicken tika or aloo paneer with-”

Right about now I’d sell my right leg for one last chance at a Big Mac: heavy mayo, extra pickles, no onions and a side of curly fries.

Aunt Jack ties up my braid, I thank him, and he pinches my cheeks before he pulls out his novel, the one with the blond haired hunk of muscle on the cover. He giggles like a school girl, while I close my eyes and take out my ear piece just as Gwen breaks out into the chorus line of Wind it up for like the millionth time.

I hate my life … I hate the fact that my fate awaits me in a land of sacred cows and elephant headed men...but most of all I hate my family. The only difference now is I get to do it in a new country on the other side of the world far, far away from home.

*
Friday September 3rd

I’ve decided I’m running away. I’m going to fulfill my sixteen year old dream and become a Hollywood actress. Yeah, so I might have to wait tables and work as a janitor at some seedy strip joint to make ends meet, but I’m gonna make it, I’m gonna make it big I-

“Kali,” my mother knocks on my door as she opens it, pokes her head in and totally interrupts my plans for a new life. “Hurry up or you’ll miss daddy’s speech. We’re in the back yard, chop, chop,” she winks at me and then leaves.

“ARGH,” I pick up my diary and chuck it against the door. I fall back in the chair and watch as my Justin Timberlake poster falls to the floor and lands softly on my Hello Kitty welcome mat.

I get up, leave my room, slam my bedroom door and run downstairs into the kitchen, only to find Grandma hunched over in her wheel chair. There’s a mess of mashed peas caked on her face and her false teeth lay on the floor. I pick them up, wipe her clean, and wonder why she’s alone, and then she wakes.

“No…no I wanted extra cheese you IDIOT.”

“Grandma, you’re alright,” I rub her wrinkled hand. She smiles, picks up her empty bowl, puts it on her head, and then hunches over into a sound sleep.

“Meh!” I walk over to the screen door. “Man…mom and dad are so gay, I don’t even want to be here,” I whisper to myself as I rip open the door and step outside onto the back porch.

“And so gives us our first book, The joys of the Karma Sutra,” says my dad as he slowly revolves around a heap of tie dyed wrinkly hippies with a massive picture book perched above his head.

Suddenly, I feel lightheaded as my eyes make contact with the appalling cover between his hairy hands. Bits of peanut butter and jelly from lunch slither up my esophagus, for never in my wildest dreams would I’ve imagined my dad’s prune like figure capable of wrapping itself around my mom’s flabby waist line and saggy boobs.

My vision goes blurry, I feel dizzy, I can’t see my feet, and I try to re-claim my composure. “What the HELL,” I yell before I trip over my own two feet, hurdle face first over the railing and land with a splash into our lotus pond.
***

My eye lids feel heavy, I can feel a goose egg throbbing on the top of my head and my hair is crusted over with vomit.

“Kali…Kali,” Aunt Jack whispers as he strokes my hand and runs his fingers through my tangled mane. I cough. Aunt Jack cups his hand over his mouth before he yells, “Jesus Christ… I think she’s waking up.”

Through the slits in my eyes I see a stampede of hippies coming straight for me, and I wish I would’ve somehow slipped into a coma.

“Let me at her,” orders Uncle Reggie as he bursts through the crowd with a giant purple crystal.

“What the-” I sit up on the sofa. “I’m fine,” I say, totally embarrassed that I let him come anywhere near me with that thing.

“Kali,” begins my dad as he lifts his sarong, kneels alongside me and lovingly takes my hand in his. “You…you’ve been in an accident. Kali, how many fingers do you see?” He slides his index finger back and forth in between my eyes.

“Dad,” I shout as I slap his hand away from me.

“Honey,” he hollers to the kitchen. “It’s serious…get the herbs.”

“You guys… I am fine, perfectly fine,” I get up to readjust my robe.

“Could’ve fooled me,” hisses Kurt as he runs past the lounge in a black cape.

“Dill hole,” I pick up a pillow and chuck it at him.

“Kali…Kurt,” scolds dad.

“Bill,” hollers mom from the kitchen. “Bill, did you see the-” I can hear cupboard doors slamming. “Never mind,” mom suddenly rounds the doorway and enters the lounge.

“Here Kali, drink this,” she offers me a cup of bubbling black crap in my favorite Rainbow Bright cup.

“Mom, seriously I’m fine, like, just lay off you guys,” I turn around and race upstairs before anyone can respond. Suddenly, I can hear the chorus line to Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Break Away’ start on loop in my head. I tare open my bedroom door, dive bomb onto my bed, stare up at the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling and realize, “Wow, I truly made an ass of myself tonight.”

***

I open my eyes because I stink. I roll over disgusted, stretch, and let out a long sigh as I look around my room.

I look down at my bright pink carpeted floor and pick up my latest issue of Teen People. I roll onto my back, smile wide and realize Justin Timberlake’s on the cover and the headline reads:

“Sexy Timberlake demands that he and Diaz see other people.”

Oh Justin! I close my eyes and hold the cover tightly against my chest. I imagine Justin throwing stones at my window in the dead of night. He’s come to take me away to his mansion in the Hollywood Hills. I get out of bed, open my window, and the cool night wind carries the smell of Justin’s Tommy cologne up into my room. Justin smiles when we sees me, I blow him a kiss and he offers me up a rose.

“Kali.” I’m suddenly being jolted from side to side. I open one eye at a time, disappointed to see mom hovering over me. “Honey…honey I’m sorry,” she sits on the side of my bed. “You’re right; you need your space. Look, you can’t stay up here all day. Common downstairs, daddy cooked soy cakes and there’s a fluffy stack waiting for you in the oven. And why not shower?” She pinches her nose, ruffles my hair and skips out of my room like a fricken overgrown Pollyanna.

***

Kurt flashes me some wacko witch craft sign from across the table, pulls a mini voodoo doll out of his pocket and stabs it in the head with a massive pin.

I shoot him the finger and try not to laugh before he gets up and disappears like Count Dracula out the back door.

“Kali,” mom snaps before she answers the phone.

I mock her as she turns her back to me.

“Hello? You’re kidding? Right, well what was it? We can work on it, look we’re willing to go the distance for this Frank. Yes, well I understand. Okay, right, thank you.” her face turns downward as she slowly hangs up the phone and my dad comes in the kitchen.

“Carol, I can’t seem to find-”dad stops short when he sees mom’s expressionless face before he silently embraces her.

Wow, something was up, mom hadn’t been this upset since Ravi Shankar canceled his American comeback tour.

“Carol, were did you put my hot pants?” says Uncle Reggie as he comes into the kitchen followed by Aunt Jack and Grandma.

Mom breaks free from dad, storms past them and leaves the kitchen in a fit of tears as dad races after her.

“What, is it too much?” Uncle Reggie asks as he spins around in front of me in a pink paper boy hat and a rhinestone studded bolero jacket.

I shrug my shoulders; Aunt Jack slaps him and I look over at Grandma in her wheel chair. She smiles, I smile back and then her narcolepsy kicks in and she hunches over and falls asleep.

***

The stewardess taps me on the shoulder to inform me they’ve just run out of chicken tika. I slowly open my eyes, look around heart broken, sigh and let her know I’m not hungry; she smiles and continues her journey up the row.

I recline my seat back, grab my diary, open it and notice the goodbye letter from Brenda.

Hey Bitch!

LOL!!! OMG, I am like so totally kidding. Bummer you couldn’t make try outs. Man you like totally would have made it too! OMG! You’re like so cool, hey don’t sweat it, you never know they may have a spirit squad in India. LOL, like imagine that, cheering for a football team in a sari! LOL that is too much! Anyway, keep in touch you’re like so funny and such a good friend. Hey do you have friendster? Add me alright!

Cheers,
Brenda

PrincessBrenda_54@hotmail.com

PS. Take it easy on those chapattis!

Damn you mom and dad, my one chance at popularity and you’ve ruined it. RUINED IT. Fed up, I shake my fists in the air as a swollen Uncle Reggie walks past. He shoots me a dirty look, I stick my tongue out at him and then I fall back into my seat, totally frustrated. I close my eyes and can’t help but think back to the night that changed my life forever. I wonder…was there anything I could have said…or anything I could have done?

***

“Mom,” I say as I reach across the table to grab the carrot juice. “Um, like are you all right? Thanksgiving isn’t for like… another two months.”

“JESUS,” yells Kurt. He drops his tofurkey drumstick and spits out a chewed up mess on his plate.

An uncomfortable aura of silence encompasses the family before mom interrupts,

“Well,” she looks over at dad and grabs some part of his anatomy from underneath the table. Dad jumps, smiles and then he leans into my mom and kisses her.

I look away totally disgusted.

“Daddy and I have some good news,” she puts down her fork and wipes the corners of her mouth on her Give Peace a Chance apron.

“Well, what is it?” says Uncle Reggie before he gags on a piece of uncooked tofu.

“Frank, our publisher, called this afternoon and well our book deal has been put on the back burner,” she sighs. “Daddy and I were talking about Guru Raj in… and well…” she starts giggling uncontrollably. “Oh Bill, I can’t, you tell em!”

“Were moving to India,” says dad as he quickly swallows his food and smiles.

“AAAAH,” screams Grandma as she wakes up confused.

Aunt Jack quickly comforts her by giving her a spoonful of unrecognizable puréed food.

“Isn’t this a little too un…rash?” he slaps Grandma on the back and she burps like a truck driver.

“India?” I begin to hyperventilate. “But, how…when?” I gulp back my carrot juice in an attempt to stay calm.

“Well honey,” says mom as she grabs my hand. “We’re thinking… the first of next month.”

“First of next? Wha-? But cheerleading tryouts are next month; Brenda Spencer said I have a good chance of making the cut. You so don’t understand what this is going to do to my social life. And on top of that, where are we going to live?” I speak so quickly my tongue hurts.

“In Raj’s ashram. Daddy and I were there is 68 and-”

“An ashram?” I interrupt. “Sounds good …NOT! And tell me mom, do they get America’s Next Top Model and the O.C. at this ashram?” I stab my food with my fork.

Mom and dad look at me speechless as Kurt gets up from the table.

“I detest you BOTH,” he says as he reaches into his pocket to reveal his homemade Buffy the Vampire Slayer stake. He stabs the stake in the air and runs out of the room.

Mom lets out an uncomfortable laugh while dad nervously gnaws away on another piece of tofu.

I drop my fork and pray. I pray that some how Justin’s gonna save me, break down our front door, sweep me off my feet and then we’ll drive off into the sunset while his latest hit single, My Love, blasts loudly from his Pimp my Ride style speakers in his black Cadillac Escalade.

***

I’m interrupted by an in flight announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen we will be landing shortly. Please be sure to have your tray tables stowed and your seats in up right position.”

Aunt Jack wakes with a fright and rips off his night mask. We put up our seats. He repacks his purse and I look around the plane nervously. Suddenly the walls feel as though they’re closing in. I glance over at dad, he shoots me the thumbs up and his face looks extra long, his features extra wide and extra hairy. My stomach begins talking and I suddenly wish I could take back the two Snickers bars, pack of Twinkies, and bag of Doritos I’d been secretly eating in the bathroom the whole flight over. A river of sweat runs down my face. I’m hot, no wait I’m cold, no wait I’m hot again. Okay, now my stomach is totally screaming at me. The plane slowly descends. I look at Aunt Jack, grip the arm rests and feel as though I’m gonna loose it.

“Kal…you okay? Here,” he rummages through his purse and pulls out a warm tuna fish sandwich. “Eat this,” he waves it under my nose; I push it away, lunge forward and start groaning.

“Oh my God,” he cries. We thud down onto the tarmac. My mom undoes her safety belt, leans over my seat and begins rubbing my back.

“Do you want me to sing Moon Shadow? she says. “That always helped when you were little? Hey I know, pass wind honey just take a deep breath and-”

“Mom,” I say as I rock back and forth.

The plane taxis towards the gate. I begin breathing deeply, before I unexpectedly let one rip. I spring up and my face flushes the color of a beet root. I re-adjust myself on the seat only to realize my favorite track pants now feel warm and gushy.

“Are…are you ok?” Aunt Jack grabs my hand. I open my eyes one at a time and notice my mom and dad praying over me.

“Yes, yes I’m fine.” Oh my God. I hope no one heard, or can smell me. I wanna die. Yes die, right here in seat 38H on Air India flight 87 non stop service to Bangalore. I stare down at my feet, wishing that my seat would somehow suck me into a black hole and launch me back to America so I can change my pants and shower.

The flight attendant approaches with a cup of ginger ale and orders my parents to please sit down.

I thank her, chug the cup, wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and she cringes as she leaves. “Oh God,” I think to myself as I stare out the window in an attempt not to make direct eye contact with anyone.

“Christ, what’s that smell?” Aunt Jack laughs as he slaps my thigh and unzips his purse. “Smells like your Uncle Reggie got loose in the kitchen,” he laughs so hard he starts to cry.

“Bitch,” says Uncle Reggie as he throws his travel pillow up over the seat.

I smirk, as he wipes his tears.

“Oh dear,” he says as he reaches into his purse, pulls out a tube of lip gloss and a compact.

My cheeks feel like they’re about to explode as the seat belt sign turns off and everyone stands up. Oh shit! I look over at dad and force a smile. He’s wafting the air towards his curled up nose, a look of disgust washes over him. He notices me looking at him and says,

“Aah, there’s my girl.” He reaches into his fanny pack, pulls out a diamond shaped bindi dot, leans across the isle and adheres it to my forehead. “Welcome to India.”

Semester One.....DONE!

2007-06-18T18:38:00.000+08:00

I can't believe it! I have ONE MORE semester left. Not two one! It is weird. I finished today, handed in my assignment, and I felt good, but deep down inside I felt a little sad. Like, 'aaw, this is the last semester one of my uni life...... in AUSTRALIA!'

When I try to comprehend the things I have done these 3 years, I really can't there are really no words. These three years away, on my own, have really taught me how to be responsible in all areas of my life.

Anyway, so that is that. Now I sit back, relax and enjoy the break.

Hey will post some of my latest writings later!

CYA!

I'VE GOT A HEATER!

2007-06-12T18:08:00.000+08:00

You know, as the days go by here, I am really seeing the Law of Attraction at work in my life. It really is blowing my mind!

Sunday, I went to work and my GOD it was freezing! I thought, 'aaah if only I had a heater!' Then low and behold, the lovely Wrafters said I use theirs! YEA! I am nice and toasty now!

Another instance where the Law of Attraction blew my mind was again going to work, I thought, 'aaah it would be so nice if someone would pop by and pick me up.' Anyway, here I am walking down the street and, 'beep, beep,' Mat's mom pulls up and offers me a ride.

Just examples of these little instances, are showing me that I can create my life on purpose, and everything happens because of me. WOW THAT IS SO COOL!

Movies, Movies and More Movies!

2007-06-12T18:02:00.000+08:00

I am sitting here, waiting for my rice to finish, I've got Paul Simon going, reminds me of my older sister for some reason :), it's cold, my room is toasty, I don't have much to do now that I am on mid semester break, but hey I am SO not complaining!

Yes, as some of you may know I am done semester one. It feels really good. For some reason or another I feel more like an adult, I don't know why! ;)maybe it is cause it my last yr? Anyway, since the big break, I've just been relaxing........with movies! What a perfect time to catch up on flicks. From Bollywood to Hollywood, I've seen quite a few. Some were cheesy, some were tear jearkers, and some were just plain funny.

Below you will find my top two rated flicks for the month of June.

1. SALAM NAMASTE: Hehe, not sure if i spelled that right but anyway. This is a Bollywood flick. Lots of song and dance, and the lead guy....aaah he was pretty hot. HEHE. I give this movie: three out of five roses.

2. HOLLYWOOD ENDING: I liked what I saw of this. It's a Woody Allen flick with plenty of one liners to keep you laughing. However, I feel asleep after the first 30 minutes, but am willing to give it another chance. I give it two point five out of five roses.

Anyway, lol I've got a few more laying around the place I will be watching soon! ;)

Posting another creation!

2007-06-10T11:09:00.000+08:00

Hello Everyone!

Just thought I would pop in to say hi! I hope you are all going well on this lovely month of June! Anyway, this semester is nearly done! SO FAST. And with that, I thought I would post one of my latest!

ENJOY!

Amidst the Land of Billions

By Jacqui Menard

I ventured down a bend I’d never been before. The air around me grew thick with the smell of rotting garbage and urine. Through the endless circles of shops in Connaught Place I realized I was lost. There were no more tourists and pushy shop vendors, children selling trinkets, or auto drivers out to make a quick buck. With my stomach in knots, I frantically walked along the uneven sidewalk searching for some signs of life. I tried convincing myself I knew where I was going, but amidst this desolate roadway, I longed for my sister. My heart began to race, and my breathing grew heavy as I picked up my pace and followed the sounds of congested traffic and obnoxious car horns. Past raggedy street dogs and white boarded up buildings, I turned my pace into a slow jog, rounded another corner and stopped short only to gasp. Sprawled out on a mat and covered with a grey woolen blanket lay a man that looked like death. His arms and legs: nothing but skin and bones, his hair: a faint tuft of black, his eyes: sunken and lifeless. It was in that moment I felt as though I truly got to know India. I tried not to stare as I continued on my way, but took one last look over my shoulder and wondered if he was actually breathing.

As the plane touches down, I begin to feel nervous. My sister and I were never really close. She moved to India to work in education, and I journeyed to Malaysia to live with my parents after high school. Taxiing towards New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi airport it hit me, I was about to spend three months of summer with the one sibling I felt I never really knew, and the only thing separating us now were the official procedures of international travel.

I leave the plane, head to pick up my luggage and feel like I’m drowning in a sea of ethnicity as I anxiously approach the carousel. Suddenly, Sikhs wrapped up in the most brilliant colored turbans, grubby looking Western backpackers and Chinese business men in suits all close in around me. People are every where by the time our luggage journeys up the belt; I fight my way through the crowd with my trolley, curse the madness and wait.

My bag’s one of the last ones up, I lug it from the belt and walk through the exit doors. I do a quick scan of faces and not to far up a head in the distance I see her, my older sister Jen, a visiting citizen of India. I maneuver through the masses of people and depart through the rope barricades that separate us. Jen waits at the end in her Indian style blouse, while her friends stand along side her. I fall into her arms and we hug one another so tight I could’ve sworn we’d each broken something. She introduces her friends to me as Adytita and Manavi, and together we leave the airport and walk out into the darkness on that sweltering New Delhi night in July.

The following morning I’m introduced to Dhaneshwar, or as my sister playfully refers to him as, Denny.

‘Wooow,’ he looks me up and down. ‘Jacqui didi very...long,’ he exclaims as he demonstrates the length of my five foot eleven inch frame.

We all laugh, he hands us each a bowl of freshly cut fruits, picks up two cups of chai tea and leads us out into the lounge. He sets down our glasses, motions us to eat and then leaves. I watch as he goes and feel guilty that he isn’t joining us for breakfast.

Coming from North America, it was a big culture shock for me to watch a stranger prepare our morning meal, and for Jen, it was initially uncomfortable as well. However, after a few days with ‘Denny,’ she quickly realized what a ‘treat’ it was to have him. Jen found that the more time she spent with Dhaneshwar, the more this likeable Nepalese native was becoming more of a friend then her servant.

I make small talk with Jen over breakfast about the year that was. She tells me stories about what it was like those first few days in New Delhi; immersed in a new culture, scared and all alone.

I listen intently, finish my fruits and think it couldn’t have been that bad.

A herd of cows wonder past my sister’s place, I watch them and wonder where there going as the rays of the afternoon sun beat down on us. Jen’s been patiently bargaining with an auto rickshaw driver while I hide from the sun. Finally, after a mini lecture on honesty, she agrees to his price.

‘This is the best price madams,’ he says as he wobbles his head.

Jen and I squeeze in. The driver revs his little engine, a puff of black exhaust trails behind us, and we peel off around the corner and out into mayhem.

My heart jumps into my throat, the wind coats my hair with a film of dust, and I grip down on my seat.

We dodge boney looking dogs, woman balancing baskets on their heads, cows who stand fearlessly along inner city roundabouts and school kids who cleverly avoid on coming traffic as though they’re trapped inside the game Frogger.

We stop at a red light, only to find ourselves lost inside a school of cars, diesel buses and trucks, autos and motorbikes.

A little boy in tattered clothes darts across the road and approaches us,

‘One chapatti madam please?’

The light turns, our driver propels us forward, Jen smiles at ‘everyday India,’ and I feel as though I should’ve gotten out and bought him a warm meal, which at the minimum would’ve cost me under seven US dollars.

Finally, we reach Connaught Place alive. I smooth out my hair and Jen pays our driver. He burns rubber around the corner, while we fight the crowds and head towards the travel agency to pay for our train tickets to Mumbai.

We’re excited. Jen needs to be there to talk to local high school students, but we’ll also be touring around, visiting iconic places such as Gateway to India and Fashion Street. But amidst our itinerary of history and culture, I can’t help but to wonder if we’ll experience the glitz of Bollywood, rub shoulders with the rich, or break out in song and dance numbers at the most inappropriate of times.

The Rajdhani Express approaches the station seventeen hours later after leaving New Delhi. We stare out our window and watch as the local Mumbai train sets out on its morning commute. Sitting in the comfort of our carriage, I feel as though we’ve suddenly exploded onto the pages of National Geographic as we watch people swell out the sides of the train, or hang along its roof top as it lunges full speed ahead until it finally disappears into a blanket of smog.

On our way down to Mumbai we were really excited, we’d never traveled by train in India and we both new this was going to be an adventure. However, after a weekend of sightseeing and shopping we were both ‘trained out,’ reluctant to endure the long journey home.

Jen and I walk down the isle to find our seats. Seventeen more hours cooped up, another yellow dhal and chapatti dinner, a tin squatter toilet that proved difficult to aim, and we’re more then happy to return to our comforts in New Delhi

Shortly upon returning, Jen’s good friend, a former Miss India competitor, calls her up; she’s come to Delhi to visit her boyfriend and they want to get together with us. We agree to meet them at Mocha, one of India’s hippest café chains. We talk gossip, fashion and she tells us what it’s like trying to break out into Bollywood as a premature celebrity. I’m excited that even though I didn’t rub shoulders with the rich in Mumbai; I’m sitting here conversing with an up and coming star. I finish my cappuccino, put down my cup and wonder if now would be the best time to express myself through some cheesy song and dance number.

Sitting on my bean bag chair in Mocha while watching locals smoke sheesha pipes, I’d listen to Jen’s tales of survival. Like the one where she tried figuring out a mishap in her electricity bill with employees who spoke little if any English. I smile, for never would I’ve imagined my sister a grown up, surviving in the land of billions, on a sub continent far, far away from home.

We’ve been invited to a friend’s wedding in Kashmir. Our last month together in India and we’re sitting on the floor of a tent watching the bride get serenaded by aunties and sisters who paint up her arms and down her fingers with henna.

On that cool Kashmiri night in August, I couldn’t help but feel for the young woman whose destiny awaited her with a man she barely knew. I look over at Jen and feel sad. Sad for the bride and sad that in a week’s time she’d be forced to leave me behind, due to a ticketing problem on my part, while she heads back to Canada on business.

After two full days of eating, living with a traditional Kashmiri family and waking up to the beauty of the Himalayas and its back to Delhi.

For any traveler in Delhi, it’s clear to see that it’s a tough city. You’ve gotta be strong and clear when moving about, or you run the risk of getting ‘ripped off’ and ruining an adventure of a life time.

The whole flight back down to Delhi, I’m anxious. What will do by myself for two weeks? How will I survive? I’ve never lived by alone and I’ve got no real friends in this city, except of course for Denny.

I’ve been alone for a week and I’m lost, there’s not a soul in sight. It stinks and I’m hot. I just past a man on a mat, he looked like bones, I wondered if he was dead. Finally, there’s a row of shops up ahead and they’re spilling over with tourists. I run, hail an auto, hop in and don’t care what price I have to pay to get home. I think back to the lone man on the sidewalk, he’s someone’s brother, son and friend. We stop in front of my sister’s place, I pay the driver, climb the staircase, open her door and realize how blessed I truly am.

Jen returns the following week and I’d never thought I’d be so happy to see her. Concerned that I’d spent the last two weeks locked up in her apartment, she’s relieved to hear my successful ‘survival’ report from Denny.

I manage to get a flight out that September. Denny loads my bags into the car and I thank him with a hug. His eyes well up, I get in, wave from the back window and then we disappear into the darkness.

We’re dropped off outside the airport, it’s noisy and chaotic. I grab my bags and Jen helps me carry them onto the sidewalk. We take one last look at each other then hug. Our eyes over flow with tears and we shout, ‘I love you.’ She wishes me a safe flight, sends me on my way and then disappears into the crowd of people around her.

I walk through security and head towards check in. I reluctantly hand over my ticket only to realize how much I’m going to miss this mysterious country. For amidst the land of billions, I learned the true meaning of gratitude. Gratitude for all that I have, and for the people in my life that I once took for granted.

The race hits KL

2007-05-31T22:26:00.000+08:00

I am a dork, I love the show Amazing Race. It is the highlight of my Thursday evenings. Tonight the show was even more special for me, they were in Malaysia! Even though I am not Malaysian, but have been living there for a while with my folks, I felt so excited to see pictures and shots from that part of the world. By the time I turned off my tv, I had a mad craving for Laksa from 486 and to wash it down, an ice cold can of one hundred plus. Gotta Love It! ;)

Week 12 Going on Week 13!

2007-05-25T21:44:00.000+08:00

Hello Everyone,

I hope you all had a great week. I was just working on a piece of writing, feeling very creative these days, and I thought I would get in a few words on Blogger before I close the day with another book I have to read for class. Phew, it's almost done.

This book is actually good. It's called, 'The Plot Against America' by Philip Roth. To be honest, I found it to be very dry at first, but the more I get into it, the more the plot twists and turns and becomes engaging. I highly recommend it if you're looking for a good read.

Anyway, week 12 of school came to a close today. You know, I have to say, as much as I'm happy to have a break, it is almost 'bitter sweet' that the semester is finishing. Just cause this is my last year! :( Nah it's all good. I am looking forward to it. Australia has been REALLY good to me and the more my time passes her this year, I find the more I cherish it!

Time to Share!

2007-05-21T21:23:00.000+08:00

Hello All!

I was just working on some school assignments and I thought I would take the time to upload my re-vamped novel. It is getting critiqued in class tomorrow night, so I thought I would make the best of it by posting it online. To anyone out there who wants to critique it, please feel free. The more comments the better. Enjoy!Please me forewarned this is still very much a draft!

Bollywood Nights
By Jacqui Menard

Chapter one

October 1st. 2007

Aunt Jacks sitting next to me. We’re sharing his IPOD and he’s got Gwen Stefani’s latest album on loop. He’s braiding my hair, while I write. Moms behind us doing energy work on Uncle Reggie, she’s got a white crystal resting on his third eye and she’s liberally applying globs of tea tree oil cream all over his pudgy face; he broke out in a bad case of hives not to long after take off. Dads sitting to my right with Grandma, she’s chewing on the complementary barf bag and talking into the remote control and he’s laughing out loud as he watches the latest in-flight installment of Everybody Loves Raymond…looser. Kurt’s all alone at the back of the plane. He’s playing with his tongue ring and flipping through his back issues of Modern Goth. I glance back every now and then and can’t help but to laugh as the flight attendants toss bags of peanuts at him from across the isle...

I put down my pen and stare out the window.

‘Ladies and gentleman, we will be serving dinner shortly. This evening’s menu consists of chicken tika or aloo paneer with-’

Right about now I’d sell my right leg for one last chance at a Big Mac. Heavy mayo, extra pickles, no onions and a side of curly fries.

Aunt Jack ties up my braid, I thank him and he pinches my cheeks. He pulls out his novel, the one with the blond haired hunk of muscle on the cover; he’s been reading it for months. He giggles like a school girl while I close my eyes and take out my ear piece just as Gwen breaks out into the chorus line of Wind it up for like the millionth time.

I hate my life … I hate the fact that my destiny awaits me in a land of sacred cows and elephant headed men...but most of all I hate my family. The only difference now is I get to do it in a new country on the other side of the world far, far away from home.

***

September 19th, 2007

I’ve decided I’m running away. I’m going to fulfill my sixteen year old dream and become a Hollywood actress. Yeah so I might have to wait tables and work as a janitor at some seedy strip join to make ends meet, but I’m gonna make it, I’m gonna make it big I-

‘Kali,’ my mother knocks on my door as she opens it, pokes her head in and totally interrupts my blue prints for a new life. ‘Hurry up or you’ll miss daddy’s speech. Chop, chop, were starting.’ she winks at me and then leaves.

‘Argh!’ I pick up my diary and chuck it against the door. I fall back in my chair and watch as my Justin Timberlake poster falls to the floor and lands softly on my Hello Kitty welcome matt.

***
I can hear my dad’s awful rendition of John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ coming to a close. I put on my slippers and bathrobe and leave my room. ‘You just go down stairs, tell mom and dad you think you’ve been hexed and it’s all Kurt’s fault,’ I say to myself as I cackle loudly only to realize I’ve woken Grandma.

“No…no I wanted extra cheese you IDIOT.”

I tiptoe past her bedroom, close the door and softly make my way down our winding stair case.

Through the lounge and into the bathroom, I stop momentarily to tease my hair, splash water on my face and smear Kurt’s black eye liner under my eyes.

I leave the bathroom, float softly along the ceramic tiles in the kitchen and prepare to throw myself past the screen door and onto the porch. From here I’ll make the dramatic claim,

‘I am the angel of death.’

My trembling hands latch tightly to the door handle; I quickly jar it to the right just in time for me to hear my father say,

‘And so gives us our first book, ‘The joys of the Karma Sutra,’ he smiles wide as he slowly revolves around my parent’s hippy friends with a massive picture book perched above his head.

Suddenly, I feel light headed as my eyes make contact with the appalling cover latched between his hairy hands. Bits of peanut butter and jelly from lunch propel up into my esophagus, for never in my wildest dreams would I’ve imagined my dad’s prune like figure capable of wrapping itself around my mom’s flabby waist line and saggy boobs.

My vision goes blurry, I feel dizzy, I can’t see my feet and I try to re-claim my composure. ‘What the HELL,’ I yell before I trip over my feet, hurdle face first over the railing and into our lotus pond.

***
My eye lids feel heavy, I can feel a goose egg throbbing on the top of my head and my hair is crusted over with vomit.

‘Kali…Kali,’ my Aunt Jack whispers softly as he strokes my hand and runs his gnarly fingers through my tangled mane. I cough. Aunt Jack cups his hand over his mouth and yells, ‘Jesus Christ… I think she’s waking up!’

Through the slits in my eyes I can see a stampede of hippies coming straight for me and I wish I would’ve somehow slipped into a comma.

‘Let me at her!’ orders Uncle Reggie as he bursts through the crowd with a giant purple crystal.

‘What the-’I sit up on the sofa. ‘I’m fine,’ I say totally embarrassed that I let him come anywhere near me with that thing.

‘Kali,’ begins my father as he lifts his sarong, kneels alongside me and lovingly takes my hand in his. ‘You…you’ve been in an accident. Kali how many fingers do you see?’ he repeats slowly as he slides his index finger back and forth in between my eyes.

‘Dad!’ I shout as I slap his hand away from me.

‘Honey,’ hollers my dad to the kitchen. ‘It’s serious…get the herbs.’

‘You guys… I am fine, perfectly fine,’ I yell as I get up to readjust myself in my robe.

‘Could’ve fooled me,” My brother hisses as he runs past the lounge in a black cape.

“Dill hole,” I yell as I pick up a pillow and chuck it at him.

‘Kali…Kurt,” My father scolds.

‘Bill,’ hollers my mom from the kitchen. ‘Bill, did you see the-’ I can hear cupboard doors slamming. ‘Never Mind,’ my mom suddenly rounds the doorway and enters the lounge.

‘Here Kali drink this,’ she offers me a cup of bubbling black crap in my favorite Rainbow Bright cup.

‘Mom, seriously I’m fine! Like, just lay off you guys!’ I turn around and race upstairs before anyone can respond. I begin to hear the chorus line to Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Break Away’ start on loop in my mind. I tear open my bedroom door, dive bomb onto my bed, stare up at the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling and realize,

‘Wow I truly made an ass of myself tonight.’

TO BE CONTINUED!

My poor blog!

2007-05-19T21:04:00.000+08:00

How I have neglected thee!

Things seemed to have gotten pretty busy around my neck of the woods these days,so I thought I would take some time before I hit the hay to bring this blog up to par.

I was just working on my novel. Oh man, i re-vamped her. I took in a lot of critiques my class mates gave me but, i guess now my biggest concern is that I did not tare it to shreds. I just posted it online. Will find out on Tuesday when they re-crit it.......phew the life of a writer.

Hey I am working on this article I am writing about me and my sister Jen. I think it is turning out great. I just posted the draft for that too. These two assignments right now I am finding I need to distance myself from them before I hand in my final.

Let me see....hmmm! I worked today which was great. Mat and I watched the Simpson's like usual. I don't normally work weekends but something came up with an ACIM day at the relaxation center, I am excited about going. Yeah it is half a day thing. Good chance to meet new people. I find this year out of my three years here I am really stepping out of my box big time.

Speaking of that, Mon was my first tai chi class which was great. Wow, I found my exercise pathway. Man, I had done it all gyms, running you name it. I guess in my case, exercising is a way of stress relief not to loose weight. Even though I was probably the youngest in the class, I loved it!

Phew that is it for now. I should hit the hay. Have a big day tomorrow! Take care and will post more of my writings soon!

My Tarot Card

2007-05-04T20:23:00.000+08:00

This is pretty cool!

My friend Leng sent me this tonight via msn. I took the test and you know it is freaky, everything the results say I could really relate back to me!

COOOOOL! :)

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Lazy Saturdays!

2007-04-28T12:58:00.000+08:00

You know I am really enjoying this semester! However, everyday I itch to get out there and see more of this beautiful country! Hey in not to many more weeks it will be the end of the semester. WHAT AN OPPORTUNITY!

Right now I should be working on my digital story which is due this Friday but I thought I would digress with my blog!

Anyway, things are great. Believe it or not I have been here 2 months already! It is weird I feel like I have been here for ever but at the same time it feels as though i just got here!

School is going good, work too! Yesterday I went to work for an hr because the family went to a footy match. I was cool with it. On my way back home I decided I would call my old housemate who I have not seen in a long time. We ended up going down to south bank for a bubble tea and then went to see Mr. Bean's Holiday! AAAH! It felt soooooo good to laugh! I would have to say as corny as this sounds that movie is probably on the top of my fav movies list of this yr!

Anyway, I should go. Have not had lunch and it is 3 pm! MAMA MIA!

LOL CATCH YA LATER!

My Novel

2007-04-23T18:56:00.000+08:00

Hello EVERYONE!

Just digressing from other work I should be doing! Hehe! Anway, I took this class this semester called The Novel. I have to say it is turning out to be one of my favourites. In it we are to write a 2000-3000 chapter of a book. Anyway, I decided to write something in the teenage genre. It is a comedy and so far I have gotten good feedback from my class mates. Here is a sneak peak of part of the chapter! Any pointers etc I am all ears! Enjoy!!!!!!!! Mind you this is still very rough and in the drafting stage! Anyway any crits I am sooooo open!

Bollywood Nights
CHAPTER ONE

The smell of the frankincense from my mom’s incense burner on her dashboard is giving me a headache and her Cat Stevens ‘Greatest Hits’ CD makes me want to vomit.

I look over at her bobble headed Buddha, which sits peacefully next to her ascended Jesus and rotating Ganesha statue. I glare at my mom as she flicks aside a strand of her long golden locks and smiles her Jonie Mitchell smile back at me.

‘Come on…no one saw! Look, we got the full moon gathering tonight. Aunt Jane, Uncle Karl and Sky will be there! She says enthusiastically as she leans across the seat and grabs a fistful of my thigh.

I squirm away like a feral cat. ‘Mom you’re delirious! They saw you grope me… and they ALL heard you call me moon beam! Like, do you realize what you picking me up from school has done? Not only was I talking with Brenda Spencer, like the coolest girl in school, but you totally embarrassed me! Craig O’Brien thought you were some loony crazed pedophile… Argh!’ I stare at my mom from over top of my sun glasses in hopes that she’ll somehow burst into flames. She smiles back at me and turns up the radio.

Just as Cat Stevens finished belting out ‘Moon Shadow,’ my mom veers her candy apple red bug into our drive way just in time for me to sink down even further into the seat.

‘What the hell?’ I whisper under my breath the moment I make eye contact with my topless father who’s plucking away at the strings of an Indian sitar on our front porch.

‘Oh God! ’ I slam the car door and pound up the walk.

‘Be nice!’ snaps my mom as she grabs her multi colored crocheted purse and follows after me.

‘Sounding good baby!’ says my mom as she wiggles her hips past our herb garden and begins snapping her fingers wildly about her head.

‘MOTHER!’ I bolt up the steps, throw my bag against the screen door and duck for cover behind our brown lounge chairs.

‘Oh Kali cool it!’ She says as she as she parks herself onto the arm rest of the swing and begins twirling my dad’s grotesquely long chest hair between her mood ring infested fingers.

‘What?’ Says my dad as I get up, stare at them disgusted and then tare open the screen door.

‘No Jack, I said rhinestones on a bolero jacket not studs… RHINESTONES!’ stammers my Uncle Reggie as he balances the cordless phone on his neck, waves at me and whispers, ‘Your Aunt Jack’s such a bitch!’

I roll my eyes and he shuffles past in his pink fuzzy slippers.

I drop my book bag by the stairs; take a deep breath and then swing around the corner into the kitchen. Immediately, I head for the freezer where I remember I’d hid a Butter finger chocolate bar that I had stole out of my Aunt Jack’s purse earlier that morning.

‘Kali, go tell Uncle Reggie Grandma messed herself again,’ my deeply depressed older brother Kurt says as he pushes his chair away from my Grandma in disgust. ‘And, she keeps meowing like a cat, and she won’t eat her pureed, he waves the bowl underneath his nose, peas!’

‘Kurt, I begin as I stick my head inside the freezer to move a box of dehydrated sea-weed, fuck off!’ I pull out my head, slam the door and smile as my trembling hands clutch tightly to my sweet reward.

My brother looks at me from beneath his white and black face paint and without any emotion says, ‘Well, for that remark you’ve just earned yourself a place in my voodoo doll collection!’ He stares at me from beneath his saggy eye lids, there’s a moment of awkward silence between us and then he pushes back his chair and runs upstairs.

‘Meeeooow!’ shouts Grandma Wellington. I lean against the fridge and look over at her only to realize she’s conversing with her spoon. I walk over to the table and plop down by her wheel char.

‘I hate my life,’ I say out loud as my Grandma taps me on the shoulder sputters out airplane noises and I swerve just in time for me to notice her concoction of mashed up peas coming straight for me.

.............stay tuned for more!!!!!!!

Faith The Wonder Dog!

2007-04-20T17:46:00.000+08:00

I saw this dog on Oprah during my week break off of school. I'd been meaning to post something about her for a while, her name is Faith and she's disabled.

Never in my life had I seen such a beautiful animal. This dog was full of life, vim and vigour. She truly touched my heart.

Faith was born without her two front legs. Veterinarians said that it would be best if she were put down and laid to rest because pressure on her chest would effect her heart. Her owners would not hear of it and came up with a plan...to have Faith walk on the two legs God had given her.

So hear I am watching Oprah and to be honest felt quite skeptical that such a dog could achieve such a feat but she did.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched Faith hop along side her owner. I sat there and thought,

'What an inspiration!'

Now whenever I have moments and feel as though I can't cope, I turn to my desktop and look at the picture of Faith I downloaded and feel inspired!

Easter Monday?

2007-04-09T18:02:00.000+08:00

I had quite an interesting day today, it was good don't get me wrong, it was just I felt as though I began it to the theme song from the TWIGHLIGHT ZONE! HA!

This morning I woke up without any recolllection that there was such thing as EASTER MONDAY! Hehe! I woke up thinking it was just an ordinary day but soon came to the conclusion after my oatmeal breakfest that,

'Yes it was another public holiday and yes I had absolutely no agenda for the day!'

I was happy about that, yet at the same time I wasn't. This is because this weekend I did a whole lot of nothingwhich felt good however, I knew if I staid in today it would not do me well! So I told myself,

'Today is the day I step outside and make contact with some sort of human life!'

I ended up meeting some friends in the city for coffee. Today I labelled us the Coffee Club because when were down and out and need something to do we meet up at our fav joint, 'Starbucks' in Queen street mall.

We sat and chatted for two hours which was nice and then left to walk around the city. Ah, it was bustling! A lot better then Good Friday when I took a jaunt down Adelaide street only to realize the city was like a ghost town.

Anyway, I came home at about five, did some school work and just finished up my dinner. Pasta with spinach sauce. A delicacy I picked up from Wool Worth's supermarket on Saturday.

Hehe, so that was my day in a nut shell. Or should I say egg shell being that it was Easter! ;) That was corny!

Article for My Class!

2007-04-05T18:54:00.000+08:00

Hello to All!

I have been working on this article for a while for my Life Writing Class. It is still in drafting stages! Let me know what you think! I just posted the draft online for the class, but any feedback I can get before the actual due date IS GREAT! COOL ENJOY! I hope you all are well!

A Bucket of Crickets
By Jacqui Menard

Deep fried Skuon spiders were not on the entrée menu that afternoon; our group had the luxury of crickets. I reached in, took a deep breath and pulled out the biggest one I could find. I popped him in my mouth, crunched down on his thorax and felt his super fine hairs tickle at my throat. I swallowed, cleaned my teeth with my tongue and thought,

‘I just ate a cricket?’

Cambodia’s food culture is very colorful. From exotic combinations of mint and lemon grass, to fish sauce and sticky rice, there are no boundaries to the culinary delights this thriving South- East Asian country has to offer.

***
At first glance it didn’t look like this was going to be any ordinary dining experience. Bamboo mats took the place of tables and chairs, people lounged around in hammocks and employees chopped vegetables on the floor while street cats meandered around dishes and between customers.

I entered the restaurant that was propped up on stilts, took off my shoes and sat along side my friends on the floor. My stomach churned in anticipation as I was welcomed to a giant bowl of bright yellow durian. I dove in and felt the flesh of the durian slide between my fingers, embed itself under my nails and make its way into my mouth. It was creamy, sweet, milky and pungent. My taste buds were in frenzy and my sense of smell was all confused as I pulled the massive brown pit from my mouth, studied it and wondered how something that smells like garbage and gasoline could taste so good.

Known to many as ‘the king of fruits,’ the durian is most notable for its distinctive spiky shell, bright yellow flesh and unique aroma. In Cambodia, these fruits grow in abundance in the Memot and Kampot regions and are considered some of the world’s finest.

The gas bubbles from my stomach crept up my esophagus and expelled the most putrid smelling durian burps from my mouth. I wafted the stench before me and moved away disgusted…just in time for the delivery of our main course.

***
Food in Siem Reap is relatively cheap and costs only a few US dollars. Cambodian’s revolve their meals around two main staples: rice and fish. Often these dishes are accompanied by stewed meats, soups and fresh local vegetables.

We began our lunch with a watery soup. It consisted of slightly gritty green vegetables, garlic and chilies. Our tour guide Lilly, ladled out our bowls of soup and waited patiently for our verdict. We smiled as we slurped back the stringy veggies, gave her the thumbs up and commented on the explosion of spices that were dancing frantically about on our tongues.

I gulped down the last bit of my soup, wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and put down my bowl. I was hot. Beads of sweat poured down my forehead and pooled themselves in the nape of my neck. I sucked in air and fanned myself frantically in an attempt to make peace with the sweltering sun and the extremely hot chilies.

‘Drink?’ asked Lilly.

I nodded; she got up and began to take orders from the rest of our group. I watched as she left our circle, found an employee and orders were exchanged under the sweet melody of the Khmer language. The employee nodded in compliance, walked over to a massive bin by our group and began to count out twenty two coconuts. Intrigued by her every move, I watched as she picked up a machete and began to viscously hack away at the hard green skin that encompassed our drinks.

The woman tearing open the coconuts handed me the first one. I smiled and thanked her as two massive plates of steaming meat were brought out. The smell of the meat was enticing. Its aroma permeated garlic; it looked tough and crispy and was dripping in hot oil.

To start, I was offered a plate of rice. In Cambodia, about seventy percent of the countries land is cultivated for rice growing. However, the rice in Cambodia is unlike any other South- East Asian country. It’s partially cooked and has a somewhat crunchy bite to it.

I reached across our mat and took hold of the first plate I could find. It was a mixture of meats, some I could recognize and others I couldn’t. After serious debating, I decided on a piece of charred black fish, an oily leg of chicken and a skewer of brown meat.

At this particular restaurant we were given no cutlery and as the saying goes,

‘When in Rome!’

I lifted the plate to my chin, molded a clump of rice into a ball with my fingers and shoved it into my mouth. I chewed my food slowly and could not help but to notice that our group was being watched. Customers spied on us with smiles on their faces. I smiled back, swallowed and picked up my skewer of mystery meat. It was different; it looked tasty and quite dry.

‘What is this?’ I asked perplexed.

‘Frog,’ laughed my good friend before she proceeded with stories about my childhood hero Kermit the Frog.

The food culture in Cambodia is without a doubt quite unique. This is because a lot of its culinary influences can be traced back to monumental events in the countries history. Colonized by the French in the 1860’s, frog legs, fine breads and roasted turtle still manage to find their way onto menus today. Other culinary influences extend from China as well as Cambodia’s long outstanding relationship with its southern most neighbor, Vietnam. Today, national delicacies such as spiders, crickets, wasps and beetles continue to also make appearances on dinner plate’s nation wide. These grubs have transformed themselves from insects locals ate to survive during the reign of the Khmer Rouge, to a fried snack that for me proved not only savory and tasty, but also quite memorable.

Target Publication

For this article I have decided that my target publication is going to be a magazine called Asian Paradises. The magazine is considered to be one of the most up to date travel magazines when it comes to touring Asia. Articles often feature destinations such as Malaysia, Bali, Singapore and more recently unknown destinations such as Brunei and Cambodia. I feel my article will fit the context of this magazine because it provides valuable information regarding the food culture in Cambodia. Moreover, since Cambodia has been taken on as a new destination, I feel that such an article would benefit the overall magazine.

http://www.isubscribe.com.au/title_info.cfm?prodID=11402

Check out my Guestbook!

2007-04-02T20:25:00.001+08:00

Oh Canada.

2007-03-29T20:15:00.000+08:00

Tonight I was sitting at home, in my humble little room, watching the swimming championships in Melbourne. Now normally I am not one for sports, but for some reason I just felt like watching.

I happened to turn it on mid way through the men's 200 m medal ceremony, and I was glad I did.

I notice the odd time since I have been away from my birth place in Canada, I take where I come from for granted, I don't always realize how lovely my own country is.

But for one reason or another tonight when I watched the medal ceremony and discovered the gold was being awarded to a Canadian, I felt very proud as I watched them raise the flag and sing the anthem.

Tonight as I sat in my computer chair I was reminded of the beauty that is Canada! LOL but at the same time I thought OMG i am sitting here in Australia watching Canada get awarded...how cooooooool! Aaah I'm a nut! :)

Never Open Your Windows on A Breezy Day!

2007-03-26T15:54:00.000+08:00

LOL! I crack myself up sometimes, so much I thought I would blog about it! THANK YOU BLOGGER!

Today was fabulously fantastic! Hehe, I woke up, did my routine and bummed around until about 2. I thought I would go to school for a change in scenery before class! Anyway, I went to my lecture and enjoyed it. But near the end I had these grand visions of as to what my night was going to look like! Restaurant style pasta sauce on a thick bed of noodles, Oreo cookies and the latest Desperate House Wives episode. Anyway, I came home and I was smiling! The birds were chirping, the breeze was going and I felt CREATIVELY inspired. I get in, open my windows and proclaim inside my mind, 'THANK YOU GOD FOR MY OWN SPACE!'

Next plain of action, make a cup of tea but before that head to the loo. I dash out of my room in my pink and gold Havianas to use the share toilet and low and behold, my door slams shut!ARGH! Now you have to understand I rent from an agency so getting the key isn't as easy as it seems. Anyway, THANK GOD my housemates, which of whom i NEVER see, were home. The guy in number 6, can't think of his name, even tried shimming up a pipe to climb into the kitchen! LOL. It didn't work! So then I borrowed 50 cents from my share mate to call the agency, the telephone ate my cash! LOL and then I borrowed 50 cents from strangers, it ate that too! :) So i walked home and thought GOD I NEED A MIRACLE or else I am sleeping in the laundry! But I must say throughout this all I laughed. Unlike last year I know I would have gotten bent out of shape! Anyway I get in, and THANK GOD Shannon my share mate in number one had a phone. I called again and just as I called, my landlord pulled in. The lights of heaven shone down on me and I heard, "HALLELUJAH!"

He let me in, commented on the incense smell and said I will tell you tomorrow how much you owe me. Hehe, you gotta do what you gotta do! But now I feel a tad embarrassed to leave my room again! Well the moral of the story is, "DON'T OPEN YOUR WINDOWS ON A BREEZY DAY!'

I Love Sundays!

2007-03-25T10:35:00.000+08:00

I love Sundays! I love Sundays because they are days for me to relax and unwind. This morning was great! I woke up early, did my meditation and stretches and then worked a bit on school work. I felt overwhelmed with gratitude and my heart felt wide open, because it REALLY hit me this morning that I am in a different place and I‘ve really come to make it my own. Moreover I can really see how my change in living situations has impacted my outlook on life in a positive and by far much more healthy way.

I am doing great these days and yesterday marked my one month journey back to Brisbane. I have to say, I am really proud of myself. Proud in the sense that I have been determined to make this year the best and as a result, have really changed my attitude in a lot of ways since the year began here. Mind you I went through a period where I felt home sick, but that did not last long. I found that since I bought and put into practise the teachings of ACIM and The Secret, now when I walk the busy streets of Brisbane I smile more because I’m enjoying the little things I once took for granted. Like the exotic flowers, the laughing kookaburra birds, the magnificent city sky line, or just simply the beauty of the Australian culture and it's people.

This afternoon I am off to work. I love what I do for a part time job it is one of the most rewarding jobs I have ever undertaken. To be honest, I don't even think of it as work. For those of you who don't know, I take care of a young boy. I was trained in massage and due to a physical disability he has, I go over there four times a week help him with his school work and give him a massage. WHAT A LIFE! It is good for me because it brings me back to the moment and reminds me not to take life so seriously!

Other then that I have been working on my novel for school called, 'Bollywood Nights.' My intention is for it to be a fun, quirky type novel, almost like a chick flick, for young adults. Stay tuned for previews I will be posting in an attempt to get feedback from you all!

Okay this is Jacks signing off! Have a wonderful week a head and if I don't talk to you all just know that I miss and love you all very much! xoxoxo

The Majesty of Hampi

2007-03-19T19:42:00.000+08:00

The other night I was sitting at home drinking tea and I had a CREATIVE SPUR. I immediatley ran to the computer, opened word and this poped out! Let me know what you think! Feel free to have a comment. I am thinking of using this for an assingment I have to do!

The afternoon sun made the river sparkle. I’d never seen anything like it before. We entered this abandoned kingdom speechless, but we left with stories for our loved ones that would prove to do no justice to the magic of this forbidden city.

It was hot and dry, my mouth was parched and sweat trickled down my lime green Punjabi suit as I followed our group through the village and down to the waters edge. Yes, I’d been here before, but unlike previous trips, this trip was turning out to be one of the most unique experiences of my life.

An old woman in a tattered blue sari, balancing a basket full of exotic spices made eye contact with me as she maneuvered past and I made my way down the concrete steps to the shoreline of massiverock boulders that beckoned me below.

My heart skipped a beat and my mind became an abode of eternal peace as I squatted over top a group of little children who mocked my western ways from the murky river waters below.

The air was crisp, the air was clean, I took a deep breath and I felt it’s every move. It crawled along my fair skin, ran down my back and caressed my travel warn face. It was in then I felt as though everything grew still and the land went quiet. And in that moment I felt as though it was Hampi’s way of saying, ‘Welcome home.’

Back In Brisbane!

2007-03-11T14:42:00.000+08:00

Yesterday marked me being back in Brisbane two weeks. Wow, I can't help but to say that it is weird. I can't belive how fast time is going!

When I left Malaysia I felt sad deep inside my heart. I was saying goodbye to friends and family, and I was saying good bye to a three month journey that tought me so much and gave me a new mindset. I didn't cry but my heart felt heavy for I knew when I went back, I would be stretched, moulded and chiseled. I knew this year would be unlike any other and I knew I would be emerging from my 2007 acadmeic year an even more empowered person than i came into being.

I kissed my parents and we both said good bye in strength. I told myself that morning that I was going to leave on a positive note, not only a great way to start my final year at QUT, but a great way for me to know that I am so going to be okay.

My mom gave me the thumbs up as my brother and I pulled out of the driveway in his BMW while my dad blew an endless shower of kisses. I cought each and every one of them all and I stored them in the pocket of my heart as we veered around the corner and I waved one last time out the back window.

The Bustiling City of Manila

2007-02-18T14:47:00.000+08:00

When we finally pulled into Manila from Clarksfield Air force base in the Philippines, I remember thinking to myself,
"Wow this city is so Americanized."
Of Course as in every urban city world wide, it was easy to spot a McDonald's or Starbucks on every street corner, but what shocked me the most was that I saw outlets and fast food chains from the west that I had not seen in years!

"Where is the uniqueness that is the Philippines?" I asked myself as our car became logged into a massive traffic jam that would have put LA's bumper to bumper freeways to shame.
As we slowly inched our way through the congestion of vehicles, I quietly observed this bombing metropolis from the solitude of our blue Ford 4 by 4. as the sweet melody of America ironically hoovered in the background. I watched as Jeepnees over took four door sedans while pedestrians ran full speed a head downing a Big Mac or a bubbling cup of brew.
We were on a tight schedule that day. We had a gala we had promised to be at, and unfortunately we were a little behind schedule. Our driver Rico was on auto pilot that afternoon as he weaved us inside and out of the traffic congestion that blocked our every way. We took side streets and main roads, back ways and alley ways and in the mean time I was able to witness two sides to this amazing city, the poor and the rich.

It was a shock to me, one minute we were whizzing past the Hilton and the next minute we were cruising past barefooted street children in tattered clothes, while their mothers chased after them with a big steaming bowl of authentic Filipino noodles.

This stark difference is what makes Manila so diverse. Even though it may have adopted the 'American Way,' which to many may seem high class and desirable, the diversity between the rich and the poor is what makes it truly unique and a great place to visit for beneath the Americanization lies a culture that continues to live on.

Dena and Jacqui hit the Nadi Reader!

2007-01-31T18:09:00.000+08:00

I've never been to a medium, psychic, reader or clairvoyant. Have I ever wanted to go? Yeah for sure, but I have never really been moved the way I was this past Monday when my mom, me and my aunt Dena were sitting in one of Kuala Lumpur's most bustling Starbucks having a chit chat.

My mom had been to readers before but from what I have heard, nothing compared to her experiences with Indian Nadi readers. She was fortunate enough to experience a reader in Bangalore and New Delhi.

Nadi readers come from India. These readers have been trained to read ancient leaves that contain every bit of detail of an individuals life. From love to money, the present and the past it is all there!

After hearing about my mom's experiences my Aunt Dena and I were more then willing to go. A friend of ours in KL, got in touch with us that particular nigh,t and said he had just finished with his reading with a reader who was visiting from Chennai and boy was it profound.

That was it, Aunt Dena and I had heard enough and we decided it was time to experience the awe of a Nadi reader for ourselves. We told our friend we were interested, he called the place and like that we were booked to see the Nadi reader on Thursday Feb 1.

The morning we left I could not help but to feel a sense of excitement. I felt giddy, it was almost as though I knew in my heart something positive would come about as a result of this reading.

When we arrived in KL we were greeted at Mega Mall by our two friends Peter and Jin. Peter had already had his reading, and Jin was scheduled for the following week, so it was just Dena and I who were rearing and ready to go!

The closer we got to the Nadi reader's place, the more nervous I began to feel. That afternoon mom looked over at me and Dena in the car and said,

" You excited?"

I shook my head as no words could truly clarify how I was feeling. Aunt Dena on the other hand said she felt normal.

When we walked into the temple, we were greeted by an elderly man who asked us to sit down. We introduced ourselves, made some chit chat and then he asked us for the finger print on our left hand. Aunt Dena went first, she was calm, cool and collected. Me on the other hand, I was shaking like a leaf!

I swear I could hear every swoop of the minute hand as we waited to hear what was to happen next. We gabbed for a bit, but I wasn't truly interested, I was to excited to meet the man who would tell me more about my life.

"July 16th, 1984?"

My heart skipped a beat as I thought,

"That's me!"

I arose from my chair, and so did my mom, and we followed the man into a tiny back room.

"My name is Kumar," he said in a thick Indian accent. "This is how it will all works, I will go through this bundle of leaves and ask you a series of questions, please respond with a simple yes or no."

I shook my head to nervous to respond and watched as Kumar sat down and began. He spoke Tamil as he shuffled through the aged looking leaves. About a dozen or so leaves into the pile I began to feel a wave of disappointment that my leaf may not be there until suddenly he told me about my father, my step father, my mom and my sisters. I was blown away and settled in to hear the rest of my mystical future that was recorded on a simple cassette tape.

In total my reading was an hour. At the end I was given the tape, and the assured blessings that I would be prayed for in India by some people who would be praying to Lord Ganesha. It meant a lot to me.

Unfortunately for my Aunt Dena her leaf was not there. She said she was a little disappointed but all a long she had the feeling.

We left KL that night in silence all in utter amazement that fragments of my life story were written on leaves that came from India!

Back from India!

2007-01-28T18:28:00.000+08:00

What can I say I love India! I've just returned from Puttiparthi, a tiny village on the outskirts of Bangalore, with a group of 23 wonderful people. I tell you no words can truly express how I felt this trip. Yes, I've been many times before, but I tell you there was something different about this adventure. We were in Puttiparthi to see Sai Baba for about a week, and the other three days we went to Hampi toured the ancient sights, and did some pretty awesome meditations.

Both journeies were equally enjoyable. I must say though, I was a little dissapointed at first because I went to Puttiparthi knowing Sai Baba would be gone for ten days. We were lucky though, we came on the 16th and he left of the 19th. I was glad we got to experience 3 days of darshan with him, for after that he went to Chenni for a world peace day. He was there to lead pujas, I saw his trip as ten days of anchoring the light on the planet. I was so glad in the end that he went because I am truly seeing that the world needs it. It was funny though when he went so did the whole of Puttiparthi ! So for us it was nice, and it was like a really big lesson in not being attached to human form.

We were in Hampi for three solid days. Wow, things have surely changed there. I had been before and it was generally very free and easy going. But this time we were prohibited with regards to our mediations in temples. There is a lot of religous restrictions because of a past incident that cause an uproar. The blessing in the end was that through the power of love and acceptance, not only did our group turn many heads, but we managed to melt someones heart, a guard, who was so full of fear in the beginning. Long story short on our last day he was so impressed with us that he came to the ancient temple we had been working in the morning before dressed in white...he wanted to join in! It was so sweet, when we did not show up he tracked us down by the lake and came over to bid us farewell.

All in all it was a GREAT trip. Really no words can describe how I felt. It was different, I did not feel the urge to shop, buy or compulsively do things, I TRULY felt I was there for a higher purpose. And now that I am home I can saftley say I feel a lot stronger, taller and more assured in my purpose in life.

Holy Man!

2007-01-13T00:09:00.000+08:00

Hey!

I had to do this story for a short story class i took last semester. I was inspired to create it after a trip to India. I thought i would post it for fun! Any feedback please let me know!

Holy Man
By: Jacqui Menard

Ryan

Ryan threw her tie dyed sari over her shoulder, tied a white shawl around her head and ran towards the ashram.

“Sister, be kind,” a beggar with mangled legs on a crutch called out.

“Aaah, I miss my damn guitar and I could really go for a fucking cigarette,” she thought as she maneuvered her way around him out into the morning rush.

“Chai madam, morning time very cold, try?” smiled a toothless lady in a woolen toque.

“Common, one cup no problem,” she said.

Dodging cow pies, mangy dogs’ and garbage hungry donkeys’, Ryan entered the gates tired and out of breath.

“Madam hurry, you’re late,” a pudgy official said waving her through to the woman’s side.
Annoyed, Ryan made her way towards the crowd of Indian clad westerners who were passing security on the way into the mandir.

Sasha
Sasha’s room reeked of weed and exotic spices. She was staying in a four person room at the Shanti Guesthouse. Arriving yesterday, she could not help but to feel a sense of relief when she saw common showers, a western toilet and an array of food. She wasn’t too sure if she could withstand another day of not bathing, peeing into a shaky toilet bowl, yellow dhal on whole wheat roti, or the smell of body odor and garlic wafting through the air.
She arrived into Mysore on the Rajasthan Express forty eight hours after leaving Delhi. Getting off, she hailed a taxi to Hampi and checked into her room. The journey proved quite interesting, she survived but she doubted she would do it again. She was groped by her taxi driver, fondled by train passengers, stolen from while she slept and walked out onto the train station platform barefooted and exhausted because someone had stolen her running shoes.

Nate
Nate was an expatriate who had been sent to India for a year. He hated the country, he thought it stunk, it was filthy and the culture was barbaric. Since he arrived he had suffered two bouts of food poisoning, had his passport, camera and wallet stolen on the Taj Express, he was attacked by a pack of monkeys at a market in Bombay and his companies flat was broken into when he went to Kashmir. To Nate this was hell on earth, but if that’s what it took to be a foreign correspondent then he was willing to rough it out.
For his latest project, he was being sent to Hampi to do a feature on Guru Naghyda; a mysterious man who claims he can heal the sick and raise the dead simply through the human touch. To Nate, that was a bunch of crap. An atheist and totally against all things God, he was less then thrilled when his boss told him he would be there for one month.
Packing his bags for another trip, Nate ordered his servants Daneshwar and Sita to carry his belongings downstairs.

“Sita, Denny, come here,” he said as his anxiously tried to zip his expanding suit cases closed.

“Yes sir,” said Daneshwar as he frantically rushed around the corner into his room.

“Den, take these down stairs, my cab will be here any minute,” Nate said as he looked down at his watch. “And where is Sita? Aaah Jesus Christ …do you two have any idea how behind I am right now? Take these down stairs and do not drop them, you understand?”

Daneshwar nodded as he began rolling the cases out into the hallway. Outside he met Sita was coming in with Nate’s laundry. Annoyed and frustrated, Daneshwar scolded her in Hindi demanding help the rest of the way.

***

Ryan
Ryan finished the last bit of her latest song on the back of an incense box she had found in her room. Hungry, she sat up from her desk, butted out her cigarette and left for breakfast. Outside, the sun was hot and it beat down hard. Fanning herself with her make shift paper fan, she began humming the chorus line to her new tune as she rummaged through her bag for her water. Cooling herself with a swig from her Evian, she began walking towards the ‘Mango Tree’ to eat. Along the way, she could not help but to smile as she watched barefooted children run along
side cows while their mothers followed behind them with baskets on there heads and babies on their hips.

Sasha
Sasha was the only one in the restaurant; she took in the view from her table on the rocks as she waited for her meal. It was a magnificent morning and the sun had just spread its rays across the landscape. Fascinated, she watched as locals bathed amidst murky lake waters and women clad in rainbow saris squatted along the rocks beating the life out of their clothes.
“Okay madam,” said the bobble headed waiter bending down to serve her.
“Thank you,” said Sasha as she grabbed the tray smiling.
Pulling the spoon from the napkin, she began mashing the clumps of oats together in her bowl, before she was interrupted by an oddly familiar female voice.
“Wow, honey that is a gorgeous shawl, where did you get that?”
“Oh thank you,” said Sasha as she looked up from her bowl. “What a sec,” she said dropping her spoon. “I know you, your Ryan Adams; I have all of your records. You’re amazing. What are you doing in India?”

“Well,” said Ryan lifting her sari to sit. “I guess you can say I am trying to remember my spirit.”
Smiling, the two carried on over breakfast. Ryan told Sasha about her experiments with heroin, her run ins with the law and her less then perfect relationships with men. Sasha related her life story too. She told Ryan she
came to India in search of meaning and purpose. She said she felt like she had lost after her husband walked out on her and she turned to Johnny Walker and cheap scotch for answers.

Nate

“Okay Nate, you’re on in five” Pete the camera man said as he gave the count down.
“How can, one man raise the dead and heal the sick just by the mere human touch? No body knows, not even science can explain such happenings. People from all over the world people flock to Guru Naghyda’s ashram in Karnataka state, whether it’s to get a healing or just to catch a glimpse of this holy man often seen waving from his silver Jaguar SLX series,” said Nate as he leaned up against his companies car.
“And...cut,” said Pete as he lifted his hand in the air. “Great job Nate.”

“Christ Pete, I don’t know if I can take it much longer,” he said looking around. “This place is freaking me out and the people here…aaah let’s just hurry up and get the last few shots.”
“Yeah, sure thing man,” said Pete as he put down the camera and fumbled in his bag. “Okay, Nate now we…”he said as he looked up shocked to notice Nate was gone.

Ryan, Sasha and Nate
Ryan and Sasha were nearly inside the ashram when they heard a whimpering from the alley behind the fruit stall.
“Hel…p,” cried the voice as they approached nearer.
Confused the two looked at one another and walked towards the sound. It took every ounce of effort for them not too look disgusted as they discovered a man on top of a garbage heap with twisted limbs and a bashed up face. Clearly in pain, he lifted his arms and let out an agonizing groan that echoed out into the village.

The patients’ line at the ashram was long and twisted. The stranger leaned lifeless against Ryan and Sasha moaning in pain.

“Hello, madam,” an official said tapping Ryan on the shoulder. “Very bad, come with me,” she said presenting
them with a wheel chair. “Naghyda will work his magic,” she said motioning her hands together, smiling big she winked as if expecting a hefty donation.

Nate was semi conscious; he was not too sure where he was. He was lying on a table as peculiar music floated around him.
“Don’t worry doll, your in good hands,” said a strange bald Caucasian lady.
Nate didn’t like this. Where am I? And was that Ryan Adams? He thought as he looked around and saw another Caucasian lady praying over him.
“Okay, Swami is here hun, Swami is here,” said the lady as she stepped aside.
Groggy, Nate tried to open his swollen eyes wide as a pasty white man with dreadlocks approached him.
Eerie chanting began to fill the air as Nate looked out from his table onto a crowd of millions. Italians, Greeks, North Americans, Chinese, people from all over held up their hands in the direction of Nate.

“Now we hold our brother in the light and say sickness be gone,” said the Guru as he paced up and down the stage.
Turning from the crowd he leaned over Nate and in a thick unrecognizable accent whispered,
“Okay bud, just play along, everything is going to be okay,” he said rubbing Nate down with a pasty brown concoction a female official handed him.
Winking, the Guru stood up and lifted both hands in the air out of Nate’s sight he faced the crowd. They roared with delight and awe as he slowly strolled up and down the stage grinning wide.
Scared, all Nate could do was laugh and cry uncontrollably as he looked out unto the ‘phenomenon’ unfolding before him.

The Floating Villages of Siem Reap Cambodia

2007-01-11T19:13:00.000+08:00

I jump on board. The wood creaks beneath the soles of my sandals and the boat rocks back and forth to the beat of the waves. The captain extends out to me, while his meager crew of two scurries to undo the brown fraying ropes that are keeping us ashore. I grab hold of his hard calloused hand, duck underneath the rotting ceiling and step inside.

The seats of the boat are covered in vivid fabrics of blues, greens, pinks and yellows; some are intricately designed with exotic patterns, while others are solid, bright and vivid in colour. Everyone in my group is seated, as I make my way past them towards the empty row of seats at the back of the boat. I sit down and smile at the children who are lined along the shore watching us intently. They wave at me, I wave back and splash cloudy green water at them, they look at one another, hide their faces and laugh.

The captain’s bare feet putter past me as he runs through pools of water along the deck and towards the back of the boat. He takes his place, adjusts his stained white baseball cap, and hovers over top the steering wheel before he slowly makes us move. The motor sputters out grayish water, as he maneuvers our boat out into the open air. My legs begin to bounce and my seat starts to vibrate as we make our way past the shore line and set sail for the floating villages of Siem Reap.

Our boat lunges forward and we pick up speed. I stare off into the distance, transfixed by the hard working locals who live on these foreign waters. They look happy and content I notice, as I try my best to peer inside their floating houses that sit securely above the water. Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by a crew member in pale blue jeans walking along the outskirts of the boat holding steadily to the rickety ceiling.

An unsuspecting wave creeps up along side us and showers me with murky water. I wipe the droplets from my brow on the back of my hand and smile widely as a young boy on a make shift bamboo boat floats by. He’s all alone and I wonder how long it took him to paddle so far out. His long brown oar extends far beyond his head as he waves at me shouting happily as we speed by.

I watch as tourists in passing boats congregate together; huddling over top of their guide books, pointing off into the far off distance or shielding their eyes from the last bit of sunlight that’s beating in down on them. I gulp back a mouthful of fresh sea air, hold back strands of hair that are flying widely across my face, and melt into the moment. I feel like I have entered onto to pages of National Geographic and I don’t want it to end.