In Wonderland

Languid

2011-02-20T19:48:00.007+11:00

The languor of Youth - how unique and quintessential it is! How quickly, how irrevocably, lost! The zest, the generous affections, the illusions, the despair, all the traditional attributes of Youth - all save this - come and go with us through life. These things are a part of life itself; but languor - the relaxation of yet unwearied sinews, the mind sequestered and self-regarding - that belongs to Youth alone and dies with it.

- Brideshead Revisted, Evelyn Waugh.

Quilting Forever, Housework Whenever!

2010-07-17T14:36:00.003+10:00

My conjugal quilt is complete! Made from pieces of fabric lovingly donated by friends before my wedding, the quilt is symbolic of everything I love about my friends, colourful, creative and best washed in warm soapy water! When I look at my quilt, I feel very loved.

Vive la Food!

2010-07-17T10:15:00.007+10:00

Recent travels to Europe have confirmed food as one of my staple passions. There really is no better place than to immerse oneself in the love of all things food than France. A place where a discussion about mushrooms can dominate dinner conversation and where a simple tomato salad can send one into rapture. So much about the French and their attitude to food reminded me of the Japanese. The simple aesthetics of humbly prepared food, the dedication to continuing a tradition of quality and the practice of mindfulness when engaged in the 'art' of eating.

Bon appetite!

2009-09-01T11:42:00.000+10:00

I recently saw the movie Julie and Julia. Apart from the awesome talent of Meryl Streep I was instantly drawn to the film and its simple message of love cooking, love husband, love life! I recently spent some time off work convalescing from some not so major surgery and was able to reconnect with the joyfulness and creativity of cooking. Not the kind of cooking where it's 8pm on a Tuesday night and you've been at work for too many high powered hours. But the kind of cooking where there is time to savour all the colour, smells and sounds involved in making a meal. Some favourites; frying fennel seeds in hot oil and watching them bump into each other like little dodgem cars. Stewing rhubarb with the addition of a cinnamon stick and cardamon pods until it turns into pink fragrant goop. Chopping bunches of mint, parsley and coriander and waiting for their powerful aroma to fill the kitchen. Domestic bliss indeed!

Friend or Foe?

2009-01-14T16:58:00.003+11:00

Guest list dramas. Every one who has been involved in planning a wedding has them. The hardest bit, they all say. I suspect that it is at this point that some people throw up their hands and decide to elope. I am wondering whether a redefining of the 'friend' criteria may help matters a little. Instead of considering each person in light of how long I've know them for or how good a friend they have been in tough times, how about;

Can they improvise a dance piece to George Michael?
Have they ever sailed a catamaran?
Do they like anchovies?
Do they own an item of clothing made from terry toweling?
Which member of parliament would they most likely take to bed?

I may just include these questions on the wedding invites and see what responses come back before I finalise my guest list....

2000 and mine

2008-12-31T12:35:00.002+11:00

Some resolutions for the new year...

More road trips
More cupcakes
More idle
More sneaky kisses
More costume parties
More nuptials
More crafternoons
More mysore
More bollywood
More impromptu dancing
More box sets
More sand

Can't wait!!

Monsoon wedding

2008-11-21T15:28:00.004+11:00

Ever since I returned from my tour of weddings in India, I have been meaning to watch this gorgeous movie again. Now that my own monsoon wedding is only a matter of months away I figured it was about time to swot up. Having now acquired myself a family of Indian in-laws the movie resonated strongly with me and I was in complete rapture for the entire two hours. All the family's dreams realised in the marriage of their eldest child, the disappointment in the creative younger son and the constant desire to impress the community brought a knowing smile to my face. The simple romance between the wedding planner and the character of 'Alice' felt like another wink to me. All the various dramas unfolding in the plot were a reminder to me that weddings equate with families and where there are families there is always a complex web of emotions, regardless of whether those families are Aussies, Hindus, Sikhs or Muslims. The colour and the dancing inspired excitement about my own pending nuptials and maybe, just maybe it is time for me to throw away the apprehension and embrace my own Monsoon Wedding....

So he's popped the question....

2008-07-12T15:26:00.003+10:00

After years of being pressured by his parents we are now finally, officially engaged. The inevitability of it all did nothing to take away from the romance and it was nice to be reminding of the bliss usually associated with being in love. The scary side is that now that we are engaged, there is nothing standing between me and the mayhem of wedding planning. Some major points of contention have already emerged and a 'death match' of sorts has been threatened to settle the score. Some of the disagreement stems from the cross cultural factors but I must be careful not to use it as the scapegoat. I am slightly peeved that the need for tandoori chicken will dictate to some degree where I get married, but I guess there are worse things.

A perfect Saturday morning

2008-03-01T14:33:00.005+11:00

The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky. The air is crisp and the chill in the air tells me autumn is here. Hot air balloons glide over me on my bike, the cold morning air on my cheeks makes sure I'm awake. My day starts with a wink and a smile from my favourite hot health practitioner*. I'm told I have healthy tissue: 'like a child'. Must remember to tell my yoga teacher. Off again on my bike. Flowers and pastries- I'm a modern hunter gatherer. I congratulate myself on my life. So happy to be alive and experience days like these.

*everyone should have one!

Ode to Melbourne

2008-02-16T18:34:00.003+11:00

Today marks three years since I moved to Melbourne. A period of courting took place in the first year- the city wooing me with it's endless offerings to explore and savour. Autumn and Spring, somewhat of an urban myth in Brisbane, introduced themselves to me for the first time and I took great pleasure in experiencing the sights, smells and sounds they had to offer. With neither a bicycle nor a car my main mode of transport were my own two feet and they took me through Melbourne's much adored laneways and corridors and traveled with me through the suburban streets discovering a style of architecture so very different to that up north.

Three years on and it is well and truly domestic bliss. There have been some tense times- the winter chill and inept public transport have at times tested the relationship but these can be no match for true love. I can truly say that Melbourne and I are rock solid and I doubt there will be any other place in this world that I will feel such at home.

Scrabulous!

2008-01-19T13:10:00.000+11:00

....or maybe not. I still won in the end!

On the path

2008-01-13T17:24:00.000+11:00

Year after year my resolutions feature one constant vow- 'To have a daily yoga practice'
Each year I inch closer to my goal but it is always a matter of two steps forward, three steps back. Last week I attended a class for the first time in over two months and the days following where blighted by cripplingly sore hamstrings and complaining triceps. With the aim of consistency in mind, I have joined WoYoPracMo
I'm a couple of weeks late with my signing on for some collective inspiration but I figure that if I am going to be practising daily all year, what difference does two weeks make...right?
Wish me well and Namaste!

2007 Retrospective

2007-12-30T15:45:00.000+11:00

I love end of year retrospectives- who made the biggest fool of themself (10 points to Tony Abott), who emerged as a new star, who don't we want to see any more of in '08 (Tony Abott again!!). Here are a few of my favourites for 2007.

Favourite movies- Into the Wild, Fobidden Lies, A Mighty Heart
Favourite books- The Corrections (Johnathon Frazen) Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman (Haruki Murakami), In My Skin (Kate Holden)
Favourite music- Coldcut, Trentemoller, Madeleine Peyroux
Favourite holiday destination- Udaipur, India; Byron Bay, Australia
Favourite event- Ruddslide!

Here's to an even bigger year in 08!

Amalgamated sadness rapture

2007-12-30T12:34:00.001+11:00

With the arrival of Facebook I must admit that my blog has taken a bit of a back seat but with the end of the year arriving I thought it a good time to make amends...
Some days prior to Christmas I read this piece from Michael Leunig. I was sitting in a surburban
shopping mall at the time, with Christmas specials being bellowed out over a cackling PA system, but the beauty of Leunig's words almost moved me to tears.

"Christmas approaches and an unforseen sadness quite suddenly appears. How beautiful and astonishing it is. There you are, standing alone in the kitchen, paused between on ordinary thing and the next, when all at once this strange feeling enters the body like wine, gently flooding our veins with a mysterious sweet mixture of grief and yearning.
And there, intoxicated for a moment, we are able to stand clear of the world and stare like children into the life that was ours, the life that has slipped away so sadly and joyfully, beyond memory and into the blackness of space without us having understood very much of it at all. I hereby name this sweet, pre-Christmas melancholy 'amalgamated sadness rapture', suspecting it is distilled from the dim memory of all of life's losses and all the deepest, dearest needs that were denied to us and others or never met or never known. 'Beautiful but nevermore' is the sense of it.
Yet in no way is it depressing, this elusive melancholy, particularly when held and savoured - for then it is recognised as the healing miracle of acceptance. Fortunate indeed are those who ever find even the briefest glimpses into this rare and gentle epiphany, and if I could wish all the world something for Christmas, I would certainly wish it some amalgamated sadness rapture - otherwise known as peace."

Alice and her shoes

2007-08-21T20:23:00.000+10:00

Me and my shoes have made it international! At a dinner party a few weekend's ago I met a Japanese girl called Ai. She was much impressed with my choice of footwear (as was everyone. And so they should be....!) and asked if she could snap my heels.
Turns out Ai is the author of a much read blog called 'Sydney Style'. It's written in Japanese but you can still have a look at www.cafeblo.com/sydney_style/
It's a good test for my failing language ability but I was able to pick up the paragraph devoted to me and my shoes! Maybe this could be the start of something...

Alice goes postal...

2007-08-07T18:36:00.000+10:00

If there was one thing I could change about winter in Melbourne it wouldn't be the cold. No, it would be the wind. Give me the grey over gale forced any day!! It has been windy for days on end now. The part of the city where I work is particularly notorious for streets turned wind tunnels. I really feel like I could be pushed to the brink of sanity!!

The wind seems to stir up all sorts of emotions and memories not usually at the forefront of my mind. Recollections of opportunities missed, grievances still born, the sting of insults past..... 'If only that job interview had materialised into the job of my dreams, would I still be fighting this battle to remain vertical as I cross the road?' Such are the irrational thoughts that are stirred to the surface with the wind. Missing the green light at an intersection is enough to send me into a tantrum as I battle to keep my handbag from being taken in the breeze and assaulting my neighbouring pedestrian. Maybe my new short 'do' is to blame for my heightened irritation. Unable to fasten my hair safely to my head, I have long given up the battle to keep my locks disciplined. My hair swirls upwards along with the litter, umbrellas and dignity.

Fingers crossed that the days ahead bring calmer weather.

Crafternoon Delights

2007-07-16T21:51:00.001+10:00

With the motto 'World Domination Through Craft' my friends and I have started a monthly crafternoon tradition. For those of you unfamiliar with the term 'crafternoon' it merely involves the meeting of like minded craft lovers for the admirable past time of creating art out of fabric, buttons, felt and all things fun! All done in the afternoon of course with the aid of a good cuppa and a healthy dose of sugared treats....Place your orders now!

Your Time Starts Now

2007-06-15T21:55:00.000+10:00

The transition from "I travel therefore I am" blog to "I live in Melbourne, therefore I am" blog has been a difficult one. Various ideas for my next post flit into my head; from musings on my infatuations with the seasonal change from Autumn to Winter, to discussing my recent conversion from vegetarian to L-plate carnivore. My biggest problem with the concept of blogging has been the somewhat self indulgent nature of it all. How could anything in my life be that riveting that others would want to read about it? Travels to India and Bollywood dance lessons are one thing but leaves turning from yellow to red and recipes for dhal are another. I have decided that the best way to counter this state of paralysis was to embrace the self indulgence nature of blogs and run with it.

One of my favourite parts of any newspaper/magazine is the bit where a celebrity/public figure is asked ten or so generic questions about themselves so that the reader might have some insight into the 'real person' lurking within. I have always wanted to be in such a position where someone would have the slightest bit of interest in what my answers to these questions would be. But given that my chosen field does not involve any sort of public notoriety I decided that I would just have to take it upon myself to publish my own answers. Questions kindly provided by the Age Good Weekend Magazine; Your Time Starts Now!

My earliest memory is... peering through the window of the maternity ward of Nambour Hospital with my grandma, trying to get a glimpse of my new baby sister.
I wish I'd never worn..I fuchsia pink tight mini dress to Sizzler on my tenth birthday.
I wish I hadn't...studied so hard at university. If only someone had told me that uni life was to be enjoyed not endured!!
At home I make....magic, with my lounge room dance moves. (have to be seen to be believed!)
I'm very bad at...being patient and staying up late.
When I was a child I wanted to...be a ballerina, a writer and a barrister (in that order).
It's not fashionable but I love....staying home on a Friday night every now and then.
The books that changed my life are....(I changed this to films) L' Appartement, American Beauty, Baraka
If only I could...have known my mother as an adult
My last meal would be...a chocolate dessert platter
Friends say I am...always dressed in pink
What I don't find amusing is...(self proclaimed) current affairs programs and religious fundamentalists
I am always being asked...When are you getting married?
If I wasn't me I'd like to be...Julian Burnside with the looks of Natalie Portman
I often wonder...what should I do next?

Leaving India

2007-03-02T21:18:00.000+11:00

Mixed feelings leaving India. I think this somewhat infuriating country has grown on me. I no longer wince when the auto-rickshaw we're travelling on swerves in front of a bus spewing out diesel fumes. I even push my way through crowds and get told off for jumping a queue.

The one thing that has affected me more than anything has been the everyday contradictions this country poses. A chauffeur driven Lexus glides past a woman loading bricks onto her head at a construction site. Her baby playing in the dirt at her feet. Armed guards man the gate of the house of 'someone important' whilst children play amongst piles of rancid rubbish next to the pigs.

The excesses of the wedding palaces seemed shameful to me. The mountains of food grotesque in the waste produced. Transient workers play drums and dance for guests hopeful that some of the wealth flows their way.

In the cities and towns, rickshaw owners sleep under tattered blankets next to their ride and livelihood, as mangy dogs bed down beside them for the night's rest. Meanwhile cashed up teenagers crowd into shopping malls to experience what the economy boom has to offer them. So many Indias....

Holy Holi

2007-03-02T20:25:00.000+11:00

"If there's a time you can safely get away with Eve/Adam teasing and chhed-chhad it's Holi. But just because you have the licence doesn't mean you have to be lewd. Woo you darling in style that naughty, not lecherous."
Just some words of wisdom for an English language newspaper in Delhi in the days approaching the annual festival of Holi. That one time of year where sexually repressed Indians get to don white clothing only to be covered in coloured powders and water pelted at them by passers by. I'm told that many a Bollywood film features a 'Holi scene'- the lead actress appropriately drenched in water and clothes clinging to her body. Just add some raunchy Bollywood dance moves and you have the answer to how Indian filmmakers get around tight censorship.
Also thrown into the mix on Holi is bhanng, known to us Westerners as hash. An ingredient added to drinks and food for the festivities. Another extract from the Delhi newspaper....
"It is Holi. You are drowsy. She is wet. And you have the licence to get away with naughty things. Can there be a better time to indulge in some PDA? And if too many eyebrows frowning, blame it on the bhanng!"
Can you believe we missed this festival by ONE day?!?!?

The most beautiful place on Earth

2007-02-27T21:08:00.000+11:00

According to me, is Udaipur. Breathtakingly beautiful, Udaipur was so tranquil we almost felt like we had left India and found ourselves in another land. After a couple of weeks of enjoying the generosity of others, Aman and I decided to splurge and treat ourselves to a bit of luxury in the place they call 'the Venice of the East'.
The jewel of Udaipur is the superlative inducing Lake Palace. Even James Bond thought it worthy of a visit in the movie 'Octopussy'. The only way into the Lake Palace is with a dinner reservation and despite the 3000 rupee price tag every moment was worth it.

The pink princess in the pink city

2007-02-25T20:50:00.000+11:00

Our arrival in Rajasthan marked a new phase in our journey. I felt like we could have been in a completely different country. As the vegetation changed there was a distinct sensation that we had entered the desert. I began to spot women adorned in colours so bright they were fluorescent. Even those women toiling in the fields were draped in iridescent yellows and pinks. Our vehicle sped past carts pulled by camels nonchalantly running along the side of the road. And as we neared Jaipur, elephants, with their trunks decorated with coloured chalk, became part of the passing scenery.

Jaipur is known as the pink city. There wasn't as much pink around as I'd been hoping for but it wasn't the same let down I'd experienced as a child when I discovered that Rainbow Beach did not in fact have green or indigo coloured sands....

Anyway, I did experience life as a princess in Jaipur. Staying with some friends of the Aman's family in their home gave me an insight into how the 'other half' in India live. The house, palatial by Australian standards, surrounded by gardens, lawns and was serviced by an army of servants and guarded by two dogs. The most overwhelming thing again has been the complete contrasts. My head constantly spins with the extremes. The sights of the splendour of the palaces contrasted against the image of a small girl begging for food at an intersection whilst nursing her naked and dirty baby sister.

Delhi- the Old and the New

2007-02-23T20:00:00.000+11:00

Another day in Delhi and again a day of contrasts. Walking through the chaos of Chandi Chowk market, the tranquil lawns of the Red Fort, back into the manic Delhi traffic and then shopping in a posh suburb where jewellery shops are guarded by armed men. Filthy street kids flog copies of the Da Vinci Code at traffic intersections whilst we spend 1300 rupees (AU$60) on cocktails at happy hour at a bar playing the latest MTV offerings. It's only 6:30 and the music is blaring and there are people on the dance floor. Not even 7pm and the place is heaving. Perhaps it has something to do with the girls needing to be home in time so that their reputations remain intact?? I walk out and have to remind myself that I'm in India.

Wedding fatigue

2007-02-16T19:31:00.000+11:00

Day two of the three day wedding and the novelty of Indian weddings is starting to wear off. Chaos cannot describe the scene at the family home. Indian time still dictates everything. I just do as I'm told...
Weary from the night before- the biggest party took place at the groom's house the night before the wedding. And we still have to be ready for festivities to start the next day at 7am!!
Wilder than any dance party I've attended and with fewer drunks I'm starting to think that all it takes to get Indian people onto a dance floor is a bhangra beat. And haven't we heard a few of those. Over and over.....and over!
My Bollywood dance lesson is coming in handy although I've been learning some dance moves from an 8 year old who could show Britney Spears a thing or two. Scary..

Battle of the sexes

2007-02-15T20:38:00.000+11:00

Not so much a battle as an understood divide between the sexes. The segregation of the sexes is quite tangible in India. On one occasion a group of us girls were standing in the outdoor patio area of the home just chatting amongst ourselves. I observed a group of men standing out in the dark of the courtyard but didn't think much more of it. I was a little taken aback however when someone came in from the house and told us ladies that we should move inside as the men would want to start drinking in the area where we were standing and were too shy to come in whilst we were standing there!!

I have really appreciated the communal feeling that exists amongst the women but it is strange to experience the difference in expectations. Having to sneak drinks behind closed doors because 'women don't drink' was not something I was terribly comfortable with! Men on the other hand are given free reign to do what they please and the sight of men gathering in groups around a table stacked with empty whisky bottles was not an uncommon sight. The Punjabis in particular have quite a reputation for drinking to the extent that a particular song's lyrics went something like- 'This is Punjab. Have a drink. This is Punjab....' You get the drift....

The Golden Haven

2007-02-10T19:51:00.000+11:00

Like the fading henna tattoo on my hand, the memories of clean and sterile Singapore are quickly fading. Amritsar is DIRTY! It's only saving grace is the Golden Temple- spiritual home for the Sikh religion and the only reason anyone would call Amritsar 'The Holy City'.

A group of us decided to visit the temple at night and witness the ceremony that accompanies the closing of the Holy Book. The Golden Temple is an island of serenity from the craziness that awaits on the streets outside. It's not just the sight of the temple rising up from the water that is so majestic, it is also the magical sound of the prayers that carry across the water that immediately bring peace to the visitor.

After the prayers are said and the book is closed for the night it is carried out and a swarm of men chase after the book jostling for their turn at helping to carry the vessel in which it is placed. The fever in their actions is humbling and all I can do is shuffle along with the women and hope that Aman doesn't get trampled.

The passion for religion is something I am not accustomed to and the devotion held by those at the Golden Temple touches and quiets me. Such is its power.

Party on the border

2007-02-09T19:21:00.000+11:00

At the Atari border between India and Pakistan a bizarre ritual takes place everyday when the border between the two rival countries is closed. Complete with pumping dance tracks to muster a sufficient level of patriotism amongst the crowd before the ceremonies begin. One man was insatiable. His need for the beat spurred on by what seemed to only be his love for his country. We all felt like directing this clearly repressed man to the nearest nightclub. But then again...this is India.
Once things got underway there was fierce marching from both sides of the gates cheered on by the crowds in the grandstands. The gate is flung open and the soldiers violently shake hands before the flags on each side are lowered in perfect unison lest one side's flag dip lower than the other's at any one time.
The novelty of the whole affair was extremely puzzling given that these two countries are not the friendliest of neighbours but it seemed to give the punters all a good day out.

The shock factor

2007-02-08T19:19:00.000+11:00

I wasn't quite sure how I would be affected by India. I've been to some poor countries before, Vietnam, China....India is different though. Amritsar is so dirty. The trees and plans are covered in dirt and dust and litter lines the streets. On a drive to another town the scenery doesn't change much. Houses made of plastic sheeting and children playing in the same rubbish heaps the men urinate in. I keep thinking to myself - how can the beautiful world of bejewelled saris exist alongside a place where children on the side of a muddy road inspect rubbish looking for food, their faces covered in dirt?!?

We visit some friends of the family living in an opulent house in an enclave of mansions. As we return to the car a group of lepers approach us pointing to their sores and asking for money. My reaction wasn't as strong as I thought it might, or should have been. I feel like I have already become desensitised to the poverty because there is just so much around. Inside the car is a comfortable clean bubble from which I do not want to leave.....

First Impressions

2007-02-07T19:41:00.000+11:00

The flight from Singapore to Amritsar was an excellent introduction to how things were going to be... Turbans mushrooming above the seats backs and elderly and illiterate village folk being escorted to their seats by ever-patient Sing pore Airlines staff. Proof that 'Indian time' follows Indians wherever they are on the planet- the flight was 45 minutes late because a group of rowdy Punjabis refused to take their allocated seats. Instead they spent the rest of the flight getting intoxicated on whisky. I should've paid more attention to this behaviour.....

Day one in Amritsar: the induction into 'Indian time' continues- we don't leave the house until 1pm. Shopping is on everyone's agenda and saris at the top of the list. Sari upon sari is presented to us and tossed aside at the slightest hit of dissatisfaction. An army of men are employed just to fold the reject saris. After an hour of marvelling at all the beautiful saris I amuse myself by photographing the mountains of discarded saris.

Knees up Mother Brown....

2007-01-31T22:07:00.000+11:00

It all started harmlessly enough.
A free Bollywood dance lesson in the park before crashing onto the Indian wedding scene in a few days time. But then champagne was added and moves like 'opening the newspaper' and 'the victory gallop' didn't seem so easy after all. The instructor had a beautiful way of describing the moves such as 'now imagine you've washed your hands but there's not towel and you need to flick the water away' (see above). Or, 'put your arms out to the side and imagine there's an insect on your hip that you want to shoo off'. And the 'roll up a wet towel and try and flick someone with it'. Or did I just make that one up......
With only 3 days to go until Round One of the wedding madness begins, the true test will be whether I can remember how to do 'the wheelbarrow' when I hit the dance floor.

Wedding Sari Showdown

2007-01-07T12:46:00.000+11:00

What better way to start a blog than with a wedding? Two weddings in fact. In India. My first trip to the subcontinent and I've already scored two wedding invites. Lucky I have access to my Indian mother-in-law's wardrobe with at least 50 saris in it! My only stipulation was that there had to be liberal amounts of pink. After parading around in a selection of gorgeous saris I settled on the one in the picture, plus another. I'm sure the whole time my long-suffering mother-in-law (to be- I should add) was imagining me in a red wedding sari instead!!

Wardrobe aside, there is still much to do before we depart. I am yet to even get my visa which is rather ironic given where I work!!

Back in the homeland my partner informs me that all stops have been pulled out in preparation for the arrival of the wedding party and the overseas guests. I am imagining a scene from the movie "Monsoon Wedding" with a flurry of repairs and redecorating underway before the big day.