Learn Putonghua/Mandarin for Free

Keith has decided I should use my blogging time more productively and so has put me on a program that builds up my Chinese vocab. (See entry below) There'll be a new word up there daily if you'd like to do it along with me. There are also other languages available if you'd like to try one of those instead.

Chinese - Word of the Day 4

Hermes Birkin Bags, HK

The Formidable and Frankly Frightening Miss Miller, while in HK, wished to purchase a new handbag and decided it would be orange leather and hoped it would be a Hermes Birkin.

Thus, being a dutiful and docile imperial subject - she used to be my boss - I went on a quest to find her such a prize and scored BIGTIME, discovering the most gorgeous Birkin bag imaginable in orange ostrich-skin that made even me drool and on which they promised a huge discount. But stupidly, I didn't ask exactly what that meant in terms of the price.

Then, feeling very pleased with myself, I took The FAFFM.M. shopping and showed her the bag and she was thrilled with it and as drooly as I was ... and then she asked for the discounted price.

HK$250,000!!!! Of course, they'd kindly taken it down from HK$500,000!

FAFFM.M. instantly went all social-conscience (like, exactly how many plumpynuts would that buy all those starving African kiddies), was furious and almost threw the bag away from her then stalked out without saying another word. And now she no longer trusts me as her personal shopper.

Nonetheless and in consequence we are now going tomorrow to visit Mong Kok for a spot of serious ... well, can't say! It's illegal.

Waking the Dead

Totally loving the book I'm reading at the moment, and can't recommend it highly enough.

Ian Wilson's "Past Lives"

It's on my absolutely all-time favourite subject; DNA testing skeletons from the past, which to me is the most fascinating thing ever, but here they also look for descendants, which is beyond-my-wildest-dreams fascinating.

But mostly it's about rebuilding the facial features on ancient skulls and comparing their faces with those self-same descendants ... and gosh, you can really see the connection. Like, there's a chapter on The Chedder Man. Remember him? That news story from several years ago? How they found this 10,000 skeleton in Chedder Caves and wanted to know if he had descendants and so were testing locals? And how the teacher who brought the kids along to be DNA-tested turned out to be a direct descendant? Remember that story?

Anyway, in one of the case-studies in this book, they reconstruct the face of Chedder Man and they compare it with the face of Adrian Taggart - that teacher - and lo and behold, it's practically the same person ... although, naturally, Mr Taggart doesn't have that massive abscess on his forehead that killed Chedder Man.

It's astonishingly comforting to me to know that an ancestor 10,000 years ago still looks like a member of your own immediate family. I love all that stuff. And I really like that little bits of faces of, like, 16th cousins resemble your own or a family members'. And I love stuff like meeting someone from, say, Wexford in Ireland, and saying "Hey, you look like my sister!" or someone with the same surname as in our family and "Wow, you have my mum's eyes!" or, say, that portrait of the explorer Johan Burkhart ...

 ... who discovered Petra - my paternal grandmother was a Burkhart - and being totally amazed because, from the nose up, "That's my dad!".

Or meeting that guy in Outback Australia, Mr Benjamen, and recognising him immediately as someone I'd seen before in Banuve Village in Sigatoka, in Fiji, and telling him so, which he totally denied - "No, I'm definitely Aboriginal! Never been near Fiji!" - but which, turns out, made him stop and think - "How come I don't know what Aboriginal Tribe I'm from?" which sent him spiraling down into depression and an enormous identity crisis that lead to a seven year search for His Roots which passed through the discovery that "I'm a Kanaka!" (descendant of the Sugar Slaves - South Sea Islanders kidnapped and brought to North Queensland to work in the sugar fields) and ended up, after a very exhaustive search, in Fiji, where, within a day and after asking only two questions of locals - "What is my clan name?" and "Where is our land?" - took him straight to ... dah, dah ... Banuve Village on the banks of the Sigatoka River!

Fascinating, huh! It would have been well over a century since some ancestral Banuve Villager was kidnapped by Blackbirders, but nonetheless Mr B. was still identical in looks to a family member descended from someone NOT kidnapped as a Sugar Slave ...

... oh, and the most amazing thing is that, when he finally got to Fiji, people kept waving to him like they knew him, and when he went up to one of the wavers - the one who was the spitting image of his uncle - and asked him who everyone thought he was, he was told a name and "He's the Legal Advocate down at the Courthouse!" and just GUESS what Mr B. did for a living? Yup, he was the Legal Advocate for Aboriginals going through the courts in the Outback! Like he said when he was telling me this story "It's like that film "Sliding Doors" only not quite."

And when I asked him "Will you return to live in Fiji?", he said "My family will have to decide what they want to do, but for me there's hardly any point. I'm already there!"

And he also said the moment he was given his clan name (actually it was his "matagali name", the name of his extended family) his deep depression instantly lifted ... and, immediately after the overwhelming feeling of relief, he felt a strong urge to eat Kentucky Fried Chicken. Go figure!

Oooh, yes, and three other things about Mr B.!

1) His handwriting looked absolutely Pacific Islander - as did his son James' who I used to teach - and they always have very distinctive handwriting, which I had no idea could be genetic.

2) Mr B. and James were both rugby players and rugby crazy (James now plays for the Queensland Broncos). And, what do you know, Naronga, the province where Banuave Village is located, is where all Fiji's best and most rugby-crazy players always come from.

3) Mr B. always spoke in very well balanced albeit paradoxical sentences which is Fijian-to-the-Max. Like, when I told him he should have just skipped the 7 year search and gone straight to Banuve Village to check it out, he replied "Denise, you are right but you are also wrong!" which is the most Fijian-esque phrase imaginable because they are true masters of the complex double-think! Who'd have guessed that was genetic as well.

And, you know, thinking about it, that whole incident is so very strange and synchronous, it seems like it smacks of Hand of God! Like, how could something so trivial as taking a wrong turn in a jungle end up being so desperately, desperately important a decade later in the life of someone else. Like, if we hadn't accidentally driven on the wrong road, and ended up on a village green instead of a surf beach, we wouldn't have had that man come out of his bure to scold us - "Would you mind backing out instead of turning your car around. We are playing rugby on that field tomorrow and we don't want your wheels messing it up." - and then I wouldn't have recognised Mr Benjamen as the spitting image of "Scolding Man", and he would still be thinking of himself as "Australian Aboriginal"! Hand of God! Yes?

But anyway, great book! Do read it!

The Townsville Soccer Finals, NQ

After much arm twisting, a certain member of The Townsville Saints Soccer Team has persuaded me to pass on the exciting news that they won the NQ Schoolgirl's Soccer Finals.

The Saints with their trophy.

The winning players.

But that certain bullying team-member won't be so happy at me saying they most certainly didn't deserve their 2-1 win. The other team, The Rebels, were amazing to watch, with kicking-skills, and head-butting skills and ball-handling-skills to burn. They were superior players in every way, and the only reason for The Saints win was ...

Vanessa, the Goalie.

(With her Outstanding Player

of the Match Certificate.)

Vanessa single-handedly won the game for The Saints by stopping an outstanding 15 "definite goals". You should have seen her in action! Boy, is she good!

So that's the secret of winning Soccer Finals: forget training, forget developing skills, just get yourself an outstanding Goalie and don't worry about a thing.

It was a fun night too, but so freezing. North Queensland is supposed to be Tropical, dammit!

Vicky rugs up!

And as for the arm-twisting, bullying Saints team-member ... here she is!

No Names!
You know who you are!

OK, here's one where you actually look excited! And nice!

Another not for Rayna!

I've got the nicest present from The Redoubtable Mrs Walker picked up in Canada on her latest spectacular jaunt.

Oooh, Rayna, you'll be so jealous. Margaret certainly is.

Dah dah!

Fake Tattoos

And just look what's inside! Yup, our very own ...

Fridas!

No, wait! These are MY Frida's. You've only got this one!

Your Frida!

Exciting, huh! Frida Tattoos! Naturally I'm never going to use them. These are too, too precious.

Oh, and The Redoubtable One says Canada is spectacular, particularly the Western States to the Rockies.

Cardwell, North Queensland

The Australian Army out on jungle training stop off for a latte.

No, seriously! Check it out! Double click on the picture. They've all stopped off, while on jungle training, in Cardwell, to have a latte. I feel it's a little crass to point out that, um, as a general rule, jungles don't have lattes!

Don't you love it!

Innisfail, North Queensland

Have you ever noticed that people who get a pet peacock, never ever get a second one?

Pet Peacock!

Very pretty, yes indeed, and they look fabulous wandering over your lawn ... but the screeching is something else again ...

... but nothing on earth can beat the sheer awfulness of that screeching at dawn. And every dawn too. Every single dawn. And that screech really grates on your nerves, fingers-down-blackboard style.

So, tell everyone you know who wants a pet peacock ... DON'T!!! You have been warned!

Not for Rayna!

Rayna said that under no circumstances was her image allowed on my blog. However, she didn't say I couldn't show you this photo of her Elvira Room.

Now, if you look closely at the Elvira wall, you'll notice that ... one of these Elvira's is not like the other ones.

Do I have to spell it out!

For Margaret!

Margaret, this is the Vali Meyers photograph we were talking about. What do you think?

Astroboy for Rick W.

Rick, knowing how much you love Astroboy, how'd you feel about getting this one?

???

A Dragon For Talei?

Talei, since you're interested in dragons, I thought you'd like to see this strange skull unearthed in the Outback.

????

What Kills Us This Week!

Now I'm back in HK, I get to do this again. It's fun, isn't it!

And this week ... well, we all know what it is! The Milk Scandal of course!

It's horrible and horrendous and I can't believe that anyone would be so corrupt as to do something like this. Mind you, let's ignore the fact the Nestles did it in Africa back in the 70s because they're an American company, and America doesn't have evil companies! HA!!!

I think this is the last straw for a lot of people. China really does need to get its act together, doesn't it! I don't know! A rewiring of their moral code or something. And I guess the same can be said for US! What a bunch of nasty, greedy, piggish fat cats! Last week, someone said to me "How did the whole world become so corrupt, greedy, venal and evil at the same time?" I really didn't know what to reply. But I do think it points to an entire rewiring of the global moral code.

And, well, I realised what a truly bourgeois git I am when I went to the supermarket yesterday and couldn't find my favourite brand of yoghurt so I asked and it turns out that ... well, it was one of the tainted products and I thought "This can't possibly involve ME as well. This is something that's happening in China. Abstract. Remote. Way over there." but no, no such luck. So, yes, my health-giving daily tub of yoghurt has been full of melamine.

Guess I'll have to get myself checked out for kidney stones like everyone else!

But at least I buy my milk from Trappist monks and I can't see THEM doing anything like that!

CAUGHT!!! N.Q.

My garden in Townsville has always had possums. They live in the trees near the veranda and we got to know them well: Ol' Blind Mama, New Mama, Baby Possum and New Baby Possum.

Baby Possum in his rightful place,
in a tree eating seeds.

However, although we wished them no harm, they had their place and we had ours and, back then, the line was never crossed, so couldn't understand why, these days, the veranda was inundated with them.

Crawling over furniture.

Taunting my beloved rottweillers!
That's where they are these days. In those urns, sure,
but still on the veranda
they loved so much.

Completely fearless!

Everyone said they didn't understand it and surmised it was because I didn't have my two rottweillers, their sworn enemies, anymore.

However, I thought it had to be something more than that, and sure enough ...

The culprit, caught in the act!

... yup, I witnessed this very scene through the window!

And you know who it was, don't you!

Baby Jane with cherry in hand
looking rightfully guilty!

It all makes sense now. You are well and truly caught you know! So DON'T!!! Just DON'T!

Richmond Rocks, NQ. For Michael.

Michael, remember how, several month back, we were talking about the strange and inexplicable things to be found scattered throughout Australia? And how I started telling you about one of the things I find the strangest? Remember? Richmond Rocks? But then David thought I was talking about diodes ...

A very bad photo of a diode.
If it were a better one,
you'd notice that inside is
hollow with a rim of crystals.

... aka Thundereggs ... and so we veered sideways and talked about those instead, despite them not being nearly as totally and bizarrely mind-boggling as Richmond Rocks.

Like I said back then, I don't know what Richmond Rocks actually are - if they are an odd sort of diode or not - but I doubt anyone does. They are very rare so I doubt they've yet been studied by anyone. However, I do know that they don't have crystals inside. What is inside - the odd times that people do break them open - is a little iron-esque ball which, if sawn in half, sometimes contains fossils of fish, but most often contains nothing at all. Iron. Iron. Iron. All the way through.

Since I promised to get photos next time I was in the Richmond Region of NQ and because I kinda was, here are a few ...

A cannonball-shaped Richmond Rock

A broken cannonball
Note the lack of crystal rim

OK, now you've seen them you're undoubtedly thinking "They aren't strange at all!" but trust me, they are. First off, they're only found in the Richmond Region of the desert Outback of North Queensland and are actually miniatures of the beyond-mind-boggling giant rocks found further out in the Queensland Outback at the place called Devils Marbles. Those ones are like TOO MUCH! My mind can't even get around these miniature ones, so I can't even begin to comprehend something like the Devils Marbles ... so let's ignore the giant ones and just talk about these littlies instead.

These ones only mysteriously appear after it rains, which it does only about once every 18 years, and they always come in one of four shapes - cannonballs, eggs, flagstones and hamburgers - but, whatever the shape, they all share the same characteristics, and it is those characteristics that make them so mind-boggling and, well, have you forever questioning the whole idea of what constitutes BEING ALIVE.

Living rocks? WHY do I think so? Well, for many reasons. One of them is this:

An almost completely self-healed cannonball
Several more months and it'd be completely reformed.

Honest! If they break and you leave the iron-esque ball inside, the rock reforms around it and eventually completely restores itself. They don't even have a scar.

Also, if you accidently use a flagstone-shaped Richmond Rock in a cement path, it'll shake itself loose. They don't like being hemmed in.

Baby, don't fence me in!

And then there's the odd, odd, odd fact that they reproduce. Yup! They have babies. What happens is that these rocks suddenly produce a blister which grows and grows until it's identical to the parent rock, and then it breaks off and becomes its own individual rock.

Although I couldn't find a rock that was actually having a baby, I did find one that had just broken away from "mummy". AND that break-off wound will eventually heal over!

Have I blown you totally away yet? Yes? Anyway, when I've gone through my photos again I'll see if there are any more shots of Richmond Rocks that will blow you away even further. No promises, however!

The True Story about the Chairs! North Queensland

About these chairs. There are many stories going around about who actually owns them ...

The four chairs in dispute.

... but I'm here to tell you the true story of the matter.

See, many years ago, Martin was hunting for a new sofa and enlisted my help. Naturally, being Martin, he wanted to go to all the trendiest and most expensive outlets, however, because I'm rightly convinced that sofas from the 50s and 60s are far superior to any made today - vastly better built and with nicer shapes - I believe that in order to get value for your sofa dollar, the first place you look is in second-hand and junk shops, where you can select a beautifully and strongly made one with a nice shape and then get it reupholstered in a fabric of your choice. Martin totally disagreed but I over-rode him and so he was reluctant and downright sneery when I dragged him around various NQ junk shops to look.

And then, in one of these dusty old shops, we saw four of the above chairs - A$80.00 for the set - and I fell in love with them. He thought they were hideous and said so in many different ways but I wouldn't leave without them ... only I didn't have $80-00 on me so I borrowed it from him.

AND THAT'S WHEN I BOUGHT THEM. ME!!! I BOUGHT THEM AND THUS THEY ARE RIGHTFULLY MINE!!!

But then, because he didn't have any furniture in his new flat and I have too much, I said he could borrow them until he didn't need them anymore.

But he hated them so much, he gave them to a mutual friend who wanted to do up her place in a 60s theme and asked her to hold on to them for me. That's ME, right! Hold on to them for ME!!! (OK, OK, I know I hadn't yet returned him the $80.00 but he only had to ask!)

But then the BIG THING happened: Vogue Magazine did a feature article on Australia's most famous designer of the 2oth century, Oz's answer to Eames and Phillip Starke ... Grant Featherstone ... and guess what picture appeared on the cover of the issue?

Yup, this very chair!

And there it was in big letters, the name Grant Featherstone alongside the chair, and it was all on the cover too so you didn't even have to buy the magazine to see it ... you just had to drop by a newsagents or supermarket and voila! "Hey, that's the chair!"

And inside, the article even said this very chair was a great Oz icon and gave it a huge rave ... and quoted the formidable price you'd have to pay to buy one today ... and that's when the stories started to change and EVERYONE involved took a bow and claimed they'd immediately recognised it as a Grant Featherstone original and congratulated themselves on how they'd snapped it up themselves for a song!

But NO! The truth of the matter is that no one recognised them as anything and I just liked the shape of them ... and since I've still got too much furniture I'm fine with them staying right where they are provided it's recognised that THEY ARE ACTUALLY MINE!!!

Scrawn, North Queensland

This is Scrawn. He's the most intelligent cockatoo on the planet. Nastiest too. And he's a superb mimic. Picks up on everything and repeats it with utmost clarity.

And so, the morning I left, I snuck out when no one was around and taught him The Beijing Hoick! That's where you noisily and disgustingly clear your throat and repugnantly spit out huge globs of phlem. Hideous sound.

That's me! Little Miss Sunshine. Just spreading the love!

The Worst T-shirt in the World #5

OK, Collette, here's the latest in our competition to find the worst T-shirt in the world. But I must confess I actually bought this one, and here in HK as well, in a very trendy shop too.

Double click to read the message.
And please note the sequins
on the zebra's arse.

Guess everyone is jumping on the "shockingly stupid T-shirt" bandwagon.

I'm Back

Finally, after two virtually blog-free months in North Queensland, I'm back in Hong Kong.

Had the best holiday and I'd like to thank everyone who made it so wonderful for making it so wonderful. You know who you are!

But, despite being back in HK, if you're now expecting me to immediately recount my holiday and get back to regular blogging, sorry, no can do. The Frankly Formidable Miss Miller is back in town for yet another foray up into China, and, although she refuses to let me come with her - the cow! - (she said I was NOT to insult her in my blog EVER unless I could outrun her but she's not as young as she used to be so I believe I can indeed get away from her!) - she wants me available the whole time she's in HK for jaunts and trips and long coffee drinking sessions discussing all that is big and meaningful in our lives! And she'll be here for a fortnight.

The Frankly Frightening and Formidable Miss Miller also says she hates my blog because whenever she asks me a question about my life I invariably reply "It's on my blog! You can read about it there!" which apparently, as she says, drives her mad. Mmmm, I can live with that!!!

And yesterday's jaunt was around the Escalators. We had a lot of fun looking at art and GOD and all those sorts of things ... which I really should tell you about ... only not now because I'm downloading my holiday snaps and deciding what I should tell you about from among them.

The Totem Pole

This totem pole is called "Daniel".

Daniel, the totem pole.

And the reason for the name is that I couldn't figure out what expression to paint on the face ...

... and then I saw this photo:

Daniel

And if you look at the totem pole carefully you'll see that it's got the most gorgeous vivid blue eyes ... just like Daniel himself!

Indulging Talei

Talei is making much of the weird ectoplasm-y shapes on the photograph I took the other day from the path down to the road. Let me see if I can find it again:

Ectoplasm?!

But do please also note

my gorgeous lilac trim

that goes so perfectly

with the sienna.

She says that photos taken on this path are often ectoplasm-y and that there's a reason for it:

According to the neighbourhood, there is an anxious ghost who travels up and down this path. See, the people who lived here before the previous owners had a mentally handicapped child who one day went missing so the mum went searching for him. She walked down this path to the road where she was hit and killed by a speeding car. Several of the neighbours say they've seen her ghost since and that it appears she doesn't know she's dead and is still seaching for the boy ... who was safe and sound all the time and is still perfectly OK today only the family sold the place because they couldn't bear to stay here anymore ... except for the mum who seems can't leave the place.

If Ghost Whisperer has taught me anything, it's that if we ever see her we should tell her "You are dead. Your son is fine. Go towards the light."

And the moment it stops raining, to indulge Talei, I'm going down that path taking photographs and I'll post any interesting ecoplasm-y ones up here. In fact, I'll even post non-ectoplasm-y ones here too because those also say something about ... oooh, gosh knows!

36 Hours Later:

It hasn't stopped raining once but when there was a lull just now I walked the length of the path taking photographs. Haven't looked at them yet so let's see what I've got:

THE BOTTOM GARDEN

Nope, no ectoplasm.

GUEST HOUSE

No, no ectoplasm here either,

but damn that's a pretty colour scheme.

THE PATH

Mist, yes. Ectoplasm, no!

THE ROAD

Where it happened!

Mmm, no ectoplasm here either.

So, on this particular day there were no photographs taken of ectoplasm. This naturally does not mean there is no ghost, but just that today she wasn't there.

But I will tell you what I noticed they do have down that path:

Bandicoots!

Bandicoot burrows!

White tail native rats!

See how one has chewed

through this coconut!

Damn but those

are strong teeth!

Before and After

Baby Jane says ... mmm, this is starting to seem repetitive so let's start again...

B.J. wants her friends to see what she's done with the pool house so here's the evidence of her extreme industriousness and cleverness:

POOLHOUSE : BEFORE

POOLHOUSE: AFTER

Astonishing, huh!

Baby Jane's Photo

Baby Jane wants everyone to see a photo she took yesterday she's particularly proud of.

This is the sugar mill down the road taken from beside her washing line. However, she says she objects to anyone imagining, because of that filthy smoke, her world is brutally industrial. She says everything else is rainforest and lush and green and very, very pretty.

And simply because I'm annoyingly competitive, here's one I took of the same subject.

Sayonara Lovely Ladies!

To Chieko and Miho,

charming ladies

Thank you so much for your wonderful contribution to making this whole project so much fun. Apart from being wonderful and gorgeous people, you are just the greatest house-painters I've ever known; so dainty and neat and thorough and wonderful, and, mostly, you're amazing the way you never get dirty ... except, you know, when you paint ceilings and I doubt it's possible for anyone ever to stay clean under those circumstances.

So, domo arigato and sayonara, and excuse my butchering of the Japanese language. Have fun on the rest of your journey and stay safe too. Our best wishes go with you.

Oh, and drop by this blog now and again in the future since I'll be writing about you again in the future when I'm back in HK and have more time to really write properly about all this. And do make sure we keep in touch. I enjoyed the time I spent with you both very much indeed.

TA DAH!!!

OK, so it isn't as yummy as I'd hoped, but I actually think it's as good as I can make it. Only the colour for the roof left to go:

Mmmm, just realised now the photo has uploaded that you can't really see it here, but, dear Rayna, you can get some idea. Tomorrow I'll take a closeup of the designs around the door so you can get a better idea of what I've done about incorporating the colours you suggested.

And here's a look at the side of the house. Kept it all really simple, but the lilac-y-purple I came up with to go with that very difficult sienna is so exactly right I've named it "Talei Lilac". I doubt I can ever duplicate it. Seven mixes to come up with something that I thought worked and then two others to perfect it. Felt mighty chuffed with myself when I got up the next morning and saw it from the window.

Talei's just pointed out
that something weird
has happened in this photograph.
Can you see it on the side there?
Strange!

Finally, here's the back of the house:

Jane wants me to repaint that door turquoise as well and she wants identical designs to what I've done on the front. Don't mind at all since I'll just duplicate it and so there won't be any more of those desperate days of angst-ridden, self-doubting, furious fiddling around trying to get it right.

Also, if you're thinking this whole back looks unfinished, you're right. Around the back here, there's going to be a terrace with a fire pit at the end - Jane and I just adore fire pits ever since we traveled up the coast of Queensland together back in 2000 and several of the places we stayed at had them - but those are the next projects and several weeks away too so I won't be having any input. Sad really, since I think she should make it much, much longer than she intends.

So, what do you think. Oh, and we finally decided that it's a GUESTHOUSE! Ella was calling it "The Party Pad", Talei was calling it "The Teen Den", I was calling it "The Writer's Retreat", Jane was calling it "The Artist's Retreat" and everyone else was still calling it "The Pool House"!