New Zealand Cooking!

Posting this for Robert despite him now being up in China, where my blog is banned as a "dingbat" - a destabilising influence on the state - tee hee!

Yesterday, here in Wan Chai we went along to the shop that sells cookbooks almost exclusively and came across this one:

And inside?

 

Yup, there's New Zealand haut cuisine for you:  TOAST!!!

Bledisloe Cup, HK, 2010.

What you missed out on, during my absence, was the Bledisloe Cup, which was held in Hong Kong this year:

 See it there?  The Bledisloe Cup?

The All Blacks verses the Wallabies.

 The National Anthems at the opening!

 

The Australian, HK and New Zealand flags

flying over HK.

Although I must say, raised in the 

British Colonial Service

as I was, I was shocked to see

all three flags flying at the same level.

I always believed the host flag

should be an inch higher.

We went and was great fun, although I have to say it was most odd being at HK Stadium, the site of the annual HK7s, without all the fancy dress and party atmosphere.

 Although some folks tried!

Canadian Jason and his lovely wife Fortuna came along because they wanted to see rugby played as a full game, so they had something to compare the slick and fast 7s with.  You may recall these two and how they formerly refused to watch rugby ... until someone gave them tickets to the HK7s and, since tickets to that amazing weekend are like hen's teeth, they thought it churlish to waste them and thus they went and both fell in love with the game!  

Resistance is useless!

This game, Fortuna fell in love with the New Zealand haka ...

... and asked me to send her youtube links so she could see it done again.  She was also asking about other Pacific war chants. Her own people - Borneo headhunter types - have war chants that they're simply allowing to fade into the ether of lost history and this was an eye-opener to her and she was blown away. She loves that we in the Pacific still keep them alive and do them before sporting events like rugby games.  And so, being enormously silly, these are what I sent her:



And Fiji's answer to the challenge:



You love?

Also here's something else I really loved.  NOT! Because I hadn't had lunch and was starving and there was just so much junk food being sold in the stadium, I found a place that had more healthy options and, shouting over the enormous screaming crush of people - SURPRISE! - ordered their Singapore spring rolls and when I fought my way back to my seat and opened the cup (I did wonder why it was in a cup!) ...

Spring WATER! 

But does it come from Singapore?

... and because I really couldn't face that crush again, I just laughed! ... and then went to Nathan's afterwards for those spring rolls!

But back to the game! It was the most nail-biting and fraught thing imaginable, neck and neck the whole way, with New Zealand keeping only slightly ahead.  But then came this incredible finish, where Australia kept the ball in play after the final siren and then got a try which made it a tie, and then, in the most impossible shot ever. converted the try to win, dammit!

 Win to Australia!

Anyway, because New Zealand won ten games overall and Australia only won this one, the All Blacks won the Bledisloe Cup ... so I was really most astonished to see them do The Walk of Shame off the field.

I mean, how can you possibly do The Walk of Shame when you're carrying this enormous cup ...

... but the Kiwis managed it!

Taller than the Sky!

This Chinese clip on youtube has blown me away.  It's astonishing and astounding and amazing and leaves me speechless and awestruck and lots of other of those types of adjectives:



You?

So, What Happened?

Finally got hold of German Michael, who went into my blog only to find it's all returned to normal and so I felt very stupid indeed!  Whatever was done to it - and it appeared to involve a collection of archived posts containing a number of my criticisms of China - appears to now be over ... although if this post too vanishes into the ether, we'll know it isn't.

Immediate password changes are, according to Michael, always the first response to these sorts of situations, so I'll know what to do next time.

Testing! Testing!

Haven't yet seen Michael and so I'm just in here testing just in case it was a glitch common to all blogs ... but no, I still cannot get in to edit.  Now, let's see if I can post without the recent hassle of "vanishing into the ether."

So, let's also see if I can embed, which I also couldn't do yesterday.  So let's find something good!  Ah, Canadian comedian Russell Peters talking about HK:



So, let's see if this post stays or goes!

Here goes!

This is very, very odd!

My blog has been hi-jacked.  Have no idea what's going on! Old posts are appearing and I can't get in to delete because I'm locked out.

One for German Michael, I suspect!

And until I've done this, and he's done his magic ... I'm staying out of here.

Wan Chai Markets

How cool is this?  Our local market in Wan Chai has just been voted "Best Street Market in Hong Kong".

Wan Chai Market from Johnston Road.

And wasn't it lovely of the Filipino maids to get out of the way of the photo, which was taken from the tram last night.

I shop here all the time and can honestly tell you it is well-worthy of this honour.  The fruit, vegetables and meat are all very fresh and, yes, it's very cheap. And so is everything else. Along the two crossroads and the two lanes that comprise this market are the widest range of goods for sale so you can buy most everything you need there for a fraction of what you pay elsewhere.
And the traders always remember you and call you "my friend", even the ones who have no other English, so you end up feeling like part of an enormous family.  And early on Sunday mornings, the very old men with the amazing goods come to work off the 'more usually closed' stalls. It's worth dropping by to check it out because these sweethearts aren't interested in making money. They are just there to chat, meet with old friends and maybe off-load some of their remaining collection of hand-woven silks or no-longer-made seriously fabulous "Old School Chinese" printed fabrics, or old Chinese vases, porcelain, jewelry, statues of Mao, or even toys and tat you haven't seen since you yourself were a child.

The bargains!  The aching nostalgia!  Always a winning combo!

(Hey, did you know there's a hip young couple who have started sourcing all these "old school Chinese trade good" and are selling them as collectibles? You can find them on FeelHappyHK.com)

And around these markets are the barrows, which, as I've already told you, are Hong Kong's answer to The Welfare State.  Because there's no such thing as the dole or government handouts - they're too busy spending our taxes on Feng Shui experts and dining with developers - anyone broke and broken who goes to one of the local charities for help is given a bale of sell-ables and a barrow to sell them from and thus you can buy the latest of everything for practically NOTHING!

These barrows are frequently the best shopping EVER, so I simply cannot bring myself to pass any without looking!  And such incredible bargains I've got over the years!  Yes, my Christmas shopping list has frequently been filled by a wander through those barrows ... although please never tell folks I share Christmas presents with ... with the added pleasure of knowing I'm helping out someone in genuine need.

Another winning combo!

And it was here in these markets I had my infamous incident that's got a great many laughs over the years.  What happened was that I got the most beautiful crocheted top at one of the stalls - so cheap but so chic, and handmade by the old lady who owned the stall.  I wore it on holiday in Australia and constantly random strangers stopped me to say "That's the most beautiful top I've ever seen.  Where did you get it?"  

But, later on, back in Hong Kong, I put it through the wash - inside a pillowcase which itself was inside one of those laundry bags and on the 'delicates' cycle - but nonetheless ... dah dah dah dah ... that's supposed to be the theme music from "Jaws" ... it unraveled.

TRAGIC!  Anyway, it was so beautiful I couldn't bring myself to throw it out so took it back down to the lady who made it to ask for her help ...

... AND THAT'S WHEN THE SCREAMING STARTED!!!

And it was all in Cantonese!

One of the loveliest features of living in Hong Kong is that language is seldom a barrier.  People begin talking to one another in their own language and, because Chinese have this big thing about always saving face, anyone passing who speaks both languages races up to rescue folk from the embarrassment of incomprehension by translating.  It happens all the time and is like a miracle.

But anyway, this time there's this Cantonese Crocheter screaming at me in Cantonese and bi-lingual passers-by are racing up to help out as usual, but the moment they hear what she's saying they go "Uh-oh!" and race away again, or "I'm staying out of this one!" and vanishing fast.  However, what was particularly odd was, on this occasion, I didn't need a translator because I knew every word she screamed at me. 

"You idiot!  You fool! You put my masterpiece through the wash, didn't you!!  How could you be such a fool! Do you know long it took me to make this? This took me weeks to make!  How could you do this to me?  Are you some sort of cretin?"

And I stood there taking it because, yes, I deserved it!

But eventually she calmed down and said - and I understood her perfectly - "Hand it to me!" and, grumbling nonstop about my abject stupidity, took out her crochet hook and repaired it the best she could.  And she didn't want a cent for it.  "Just you take care of my masterpiece properly this time." and "No more washing machines.  You do it by hand!"  and, yes, I understood every word and, yes, I obey!

So that's the spirit of Wan Chai street market.  Lovely place.  So, yes, I endorse this latest honour. It really IS the best street market in Hong Kong.

And since our government wants to do away with street markets in the future, thinking it gives HK a scruffy, tatty, cheap look, and thus will no longer issue any new licences, please please please support this Tangible Cultural Asset by shopping at these markets - any of these markets - any chance you get.

What Kills Us This Week!

Did an entire post about how HK this week is heinous-cranky about our tax money being spent on Feng Shui experts ... but when I pressed 'publish' it vanished into the ether.

You may recall how this happened in Bangkok on our last holiday, when three days worth of posts suddenly evaporated.  Back then I blamed sleazy Bangkok cybercafes and mean-spirited computer-nerd types hi-jacking my computer for their own nefarious purposes ... but this time I haven't used cybercafes in ages.  Since Bangkok in fact.

Told Keith and he said "Oooh, Beijing is out to get you." and when I froze he started to laugh at me ... but it's as good an explanation as any other.

Don't care to write everything again about Hong Kong's latest meltdown, so I'll post instead for this week's ...

THREATDOWN

Beijing's Dingbat Censorship!

Yeah, you GO, Liu Xiaobo!

Well, Do I Dare!

The Magnificent Margaret, award winning author, big-time smarty-pants and dear sweet soul, has been asked to produce an anthology of poetry for high school kiddies ... and since she's looking for "the great and the edgy" I think I should rudely suggest she include some of mine.  Tee hee!

She will undoubtedly say "Don't be silly!"  but I will still offer.  And if you want to read my poetry and think high school kiddies everywhere should be exposed to the greater and edgier contents of my mind - I was going to say "soul" but I think any poet who talks about their soul should be taken out and shot - maybe you should tell her how much you love my work. 

And if you don't know my work, here's one of my sonnets as a sample:

MY SONG OF SOCIAL JUSTICE
by Denise Murphy c 2004

Equality et al does have its place,
The Rights of Man, oh, and of woman too
Undoubtedly humankind's great saving grace
To believe in this and with grateful due

For equality in all things is our right
To live by our choices, written in to law
To pursue our happiness, our great delight,
Unruled by tyrants, talons, boots and claw.

To express our thoughts, our dreams and our love,
To speak, to write, to think, all untravailed
Untrammeled by strictures, dictates from above
And all less than this suitably reviled.

But my greater love, yeah, I must confess
Is to own a bunch of slaves to clean my mess.

"The Gods Must Be Crazy"

Paul wants to know the story about how Fiji was responsible for turning "The Gods Must Be Crazy" into a world-wide smash hit.  This is how it happened ... although the real credit must go to Keith as he was the person who actually made the connection.

Many decades ago, back when we were humble university students in Brisbane, Australia - was it 1982 or 83? 0r 84? - Keith and I went home to Fiji for Christmas.  Had the usual great time but this holiday everyone - like seriously EVERYONE - kept trying to drag us off to see "this amazing and gorgeous film".  It was all "I've seen it 14 times and need an excuse to see it again."  and "I've seen it 28 times already and really want to share it with someone who hasn't seen it before."

Seeing films while on holiday I've always thought of as a waste of time, but when EVERYONE is on your case it becomes an irresistible force and thus we finally surrendered.

So that was our introduction to "The Gods Must Be Crazy" and because everyone talked about it and made jokes based on it we practically knew the entire story before we finally made it to the cinema. But nevertheless, yes, we too fell in love. 

Why was a Botwana film showing in Fiji? It's not at all a surprise. Back then, Fiji had no TV so we had cinemas by the dozen, all over the islands, and because only the big franchised cinemas could afford to show blockbusters, these little cinemas had to find interesting non-mainstream features (and so people in the film industry are perpetually shocked at the range and scope of the films I know) but this little film from Africa no one had ever heard of, turned out to be their most successful venture EVER.

Yes, Fiji was the first country outside Africa to buy the screening rights to "The Gods Must Be Crazy", and it began small in a single cinema, but word-of-mouth meant it was only weeks before bidding went crazy and within a few months just about every cinema was showing it in high rotation and playing it to packed houses.  And this had been happening for nearly a year before our holiday.

Back in Brisbane, we were then living close to a lovely little art cinema called "Crystal" and, over the two years we lived in Windsor, and because it was usually only Keith and me alone in the cinema watching films like "Eraserhead" and "Jubilee", we became good friends with the two elderly guys who ran the place.

So, about two months after we returned from our Fiji holiday, as we were leaving "Women in Love", they stopped us to give us the horrible news:  "We can no longer afford to run this place. We're practically bankrupt and have to close down." and "We want to go out with a bang.", "We need to finish with one big success!" and "Knowing how much you two love films, do you know of any truly amazing films no one has ever heard of that we can buy cheaply?"

I was stumped.  Keith, however, was instantly "The Gods Must Be Crazy".  The guys hadn't heard of it but immediately wanted to know more.  Me? I wasn't going for it.  "Yes, Fiji loves that film but that's just because Fiji is seriously BENT and has the weirdest sense of humour!" I kept saying, but the men overrode me in that way men usually do!

Thankfully!

It was about two days later when they rang us.  "If we buy the International Screening and Marketing Rights to this film for three years, will you come to opening night and bring friends?"

Not remotely a problem!

Soft opening was Wednesday night a fortnight later and it was only Keith and me and our six friends in the cinema.  Knowing our elderly friends had blown their entire life-savings, as well as begged, borrowed and mortgaged to the hilt, on the venture and were facing down a grim old age if it didn't work out, our hearts too were in our mouths because we knew everything was riding on Andrew and co. loving it.

But they didn't.  No one laughed, not even once. And I kept hearing mutterings of "What is this shit?" followed by a grim and restless silence.  (Yes, Andrew honey!  That was indeed your reaction! You can't deny it now!) As we were leaving afterwards, our grim-faced and entirely unamused friends augured so badly I could hardly look at our heartbroken elderly pair.  "We'll bring other people tomorrow." we whispered to them in passing, gaze averted.

Went out for drinks.  A glass of wine later, I said to the others "Wasn't he so gorgeous, that Xu?  And he was playing a character called Xi; how hilarious is that?"  "Yeah, I have to admit that was funny!" said Andrew.

Second glass of wine.  "Oh, that bit with the rock and the gate.  I've never enjoyed over-the-top, on-the-nose slapstick, but that was amazing comic timing!"  said Andrew.  "And what about that bit with the truck in the water." said Paul.  "Oh, lordy!  Yes! The Anti-Christ!"

And that's when the laughter began.

Thursday night, we returned with another six friends from another part of our lives, hoping they'd not be such hard work ... and walked with them into the cinema to see Andrew sitting there with his mum.  "Realised I needed to see it again. And I thought mum would love it." he said.

And then Paul came in with his mum and dad, and then there was Debbie arriving with her parents, then Nancy with a new boyfriend, and so it went on.  Yes, they ALL came back because they realised they needed to see it a second time to overcome the alienation they initially felt because of the strangeness ... remember, this was Brisbane in the early 80s ... and it was a very special occasion wherein a night out turns into a party.  And because it was a second viewing for our friends, they knew when to laugh and that got the others going.

 "We'll bring more tomorrow" we told our old friends as we left and we all crossed our fingers at each other.

Friday night, we brought another six friends from a different part of our lives only to find the cinema was almost full. And what was especially surprising was we hardly knew a soul.  YES!!!

This time it was thumbs up to our old friends as we were leaving.

Saturday night, as we drove into town, there was a line outside Crystal of people waiting to get in and we knew our work was done!

It was shortly after that we moved away from Brisbane and didn't give it another thought until we saw on the news that Crystal had been showing "The Gods Must Be Crazy" to packed houses for an entire year and were throwing a huge birthday party with a giant cake in the shape of a coke bottle. And they interviewed our old friends who said the Cineplexes were offering millions to buy the rights off them, but they weren't going to do it for another year: that, for the following year, they were only leasing the screening rights to small independent art cinemas like themselves. And after that year was over, the Cineplexes could come back and do any deal they wanted.

And the rest, as they say, is history!

 


So, Paul, that's the story of how once again Fiji led the way, just as it always seems to do.  

Ronnie Moipolai

 You guys seen this?



Incredible, huh!

And I've just found this one of Ronnie playing in the usual style with her band Jippie!



This rocks my world.  Botswana - home of The Number One Ladies Detective Agency - is certainly putting itself on my radar.  Must start thinking of a trip there.

Random Photo

Am off to see if I can indeed find a random photo- usual rules of eyes shut - on Keith's new program:

Error: please try again.

Error: please try again.

There was a time, not very long ago, when life was very simple!  And then along came Keith!!!

Error: please try again.

Error: please try again.

Error: please try again.

Error: please try again.


He must die!  Keith must die!  

OK, now I've taken several dozen deep breaths I will now try one more time.

Server rejected!


Error: please try again!

Error: please try again.

Error: please try again.

Seems I can only insert previously posted photographs.  And why I got three of them I'll never understand.  And why I got these particular three is completely unfathomable.


Oooh, wait!  Maybe this is a random photomancy-style omen from the universe telling me ...  that ... that ... the little girl who is a light in the forest ... will meet up with the V for Vendetta Boys!  Mmmm, don't like having them in there!


Stay away from any boys you meet, little one, because they are nasty vengeful types!


Guess it's better than KEITH MUST DIE!!!

Black Rose. "Voices of Nature."

My lovely hubby Keith has totally redeemed himself by finding, in a music store in Hong Kong, a CD of Fiji's very own Black Rose; their 2000 breakthrough album called "Voices of Nature" ... and so is now forgiven for messing up my 28,000 photographs by reorganising them and putting them in totally different folders which don't make much sense to me.

I appreciate how much effort he's put into it, I really do, but honestly, I find his thinking unfathomable.  Always have! Like, there was this one time when a producer rang me for an emergency couriering of one of my old film scripts. That was at 10 in the morning ... and at 2am, after I'd spend the entire day and nearly all night turning the house upside down looking for it, and after I had become so desperate and stupid I actually found myself looking for it inside an old soap dish ... he comes out and says, very sleepily, "Oh, that script!  I filed it in the filing cabinet under E in a folder called 'Ethnography'".

See what I mean?  Yes, I knew the late Professor Elizabeth Perkin's once did a seminar on this particular script because it had an aboriginal character and she wanted to talk about "writing about different races" and - boast, boast, boast - wanted to use me as an example of how it should be done ... but, still, it made more sense for me to look for it in an old soap dish than it did to look for it in a folder called "Ethnography".

But I have "Voices of Nature" playing as I write and can feel nothing but good will for the entire world.  Man, those guys have a good ear and really know how to throw interesting licks into the mix. Masters of the Unexpected!  And they get it so right, I'm awestruck by them.



What do you think?

Back when we lived in Townsville, in Australia, and Keith had his award-winning radio show, he used to play a lot of Black Rose ... until Baby Jane stole the CD because she fell in love with them, but which was really mean of her because ... well, I'm sure Black Rose would prefer their music to be in the hands of someone who gave it radio air-play internationally.

And now Keith has found the album again, and here in Hong Kong too, which is particularly amazing.

And so, with Black Rose playing loud and feeling nothing but good will for all mankind - including Keith - I will now dare to dive into Aperture and try to fathom how my photographs are now organised.

"Eat, Pray, Self-Indulge!"

Went to see "Eat, Pray, Love" yesterday and something very odd happened.  About 15 minutes into the film, people started walking out, and after it was over and the lights came back on, I noticed that every person still in the cinema was a Gweilo; a foreign devil!

Yup, when the film started, the audience was mainly Chinese but not a single one of them lasted the entire length.

German Michael and I discussed it last night and decided that Chinese are societal-based folk who see no point in thinking of themselves as separate from their various roles in life and thus can't get their heads around the concept of "finding yourself".  They KNOW who they are, thank you very much!

And what was in there for them to learn? Italy taught the Julia Roberts' character Liz to enjoy food but Chinese already enjoy food.  India taught her to go beyond the material world and discover the power of prayer but Chinese still have a vast interior spiritual life and so never lost their belief in the power of prayer.  Bali taught her how to stop being such a control freak and to let go of trying to control the balance of life which is something Chinese do need to learn but none of them got that far into the film.

So Julia Roberts journey of self-discovery through Italy, India and Indonesia (Is it a co-incidence that they all start with "I, I, I"? ) just seemed stupid and self-indulgent to them.  That's our guess anyway!

I enjoyed the book.  I really did.  There was stuff in there that, to be honest, validated a lot of what I believe about how life should be lived - to enjoy stillness, to quieten your mind, to enjoy the moment, to notice the small things, to be open to your own journey and everyone else's as well etc, etc, etc - and it's always nice thinking "Oooh, I'm already there. I already know this stuff. I am just SO evolved!" especially when it's more usually seen as "being hard-wired for stupidity and triviality!"

As for the film?  Julia Roberts is starting to look so much like Sarah Jessica Parker I kept waiting for Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte to turn up and thought it would have been such a better film if they had.  Is it just me, or is this film less of a deep spiritual journey into the soul and more like the latest "Sex and the City" without the laughs and fabulous clothes?  Mind you, the film did have it's very own Samantha and Charlotte but by other names.

Oh, and when I was telling Michael about it, he called up the official trailer on his latest hi-tech gadget but shut it down after about 20 seconds.  "I'd have walked out too." he said. "It seems like such self-indulgent American piece of crap, I can't even bear to finish this trailer."

Let's see if you can make it to the end:




However, if I could choose what I found sublime in this film - a reason why you should drop everything and get into that cinema -  it would have been the interiors and gardens in Bali.  Oh man, those colours! The total gorgeousness! The way they did everything so beautifully.  I kept thinking "I wish those actors would get out of the way so I can really see everything properly."  I intend to buy this film just so I can freeze frame and study ... and there's not many films you can say that about.

The Aperture Adventure!

Yucky hubby appears to have lost 27,000 photographs.  And I appear to have lost the link for putting any photos into this blog.

However, I'm a daring soul so stick with me as I wander into this wilderness to hunt down a random photo, selected with my eyes shut:

First attempt: error, please try again.

Second attempt: error, please try again.

Third attempt:

Yayyy! OK, to post a photo is now nine steps instead of three.  Honestly, husbands! I'd shoot him only police wouldn't believe that I'M the victim here!

What that photo is about, I have no idea.  It's obviously taken from our window here in Wan Chai, and it's obviously some sort of rally or protest march. And since I'd never find that photo again, nor even where it came from, we're obviously never going to know.

Let me see if I can do this entire complicated process again:

Ah, that's the pro-Beijing rally from ... mmm, three years ago?  I recall being very impressed with the way the umbrellas looked so good together and with how the front page of SCMP the next day had a similar photo of those umbrellas, taken from directly overhead, where the colours were so exactly right it was knuckle-biting.

However isn't it interesting that two different photos, both chosen entirely at random, with eyes shut, should be on the same theme and have such very similar framing. Different photo quality though!  Wonder which camera I took each with?

However, all weirdness aside, there you go.  I can now, once again, put photos into this blog.   In fact, why don't I try once more because, as a teacher, I know how important it is to consolidate learning:

OK, that is now officially WEIRD.  Another random shot turns out to be from yet another rally.  This one was the protest march after Donald Tsang, our Head Honcho, made that unfortunate remark "No one in Hong Kong cares about what happened in Tienanmen Square in 1989." and tens of thousands of Hong Kongers took to the streets to stand up and be counted saying that wasn't so.  And, yes, this time I was with them and not just hanging out our window.

Hey, do you recall that song written and posted on youtube immediately after Our Donald made that remark?  I wonder if it's still in there:



YES!!!  Gosh, we were all so angry, weren't we!

However, this Aperture Adventure is now over for today.  I now know I can, once again, post photos, so let's ignore just how very strange this wandering in the wilderness with eyes shut turned out to be and go off to see "Eat Pray Love".


Later:  As it turns out, the Aperture Adventure wasn't weird at all.  The thousand photos I found were ALL of the various rallys and protest marches I've witnessed here in HK over the past eight years.  Hubby kindly organised them for me without telling me - kill, kill, kill! - and so I've got the other 27,000 photos elsewhere ... thus, no matter what random photo I chose yesterday, it would have been a protest march.

How simple things are once they're explained!  Mind you, they're much more fun when you DON'T have the explanation!

What Kills Us This Week!

Bahahahahahaha!  Snigger! Snigger! Snigger!  Gawpahaw!  Hahahahahahaha!

OK, I'm done now.

Of course, and naturally, since my blog is blocked in China, I can talk about it with impunity, I'm in stitches over The Chinese Communist Party's reaction to dissident Liu Xiaobo ("a traitor for a thousand years") winning the Nobel Peace Prize.

Isn't Beijing in a big fat snit over it. Hahahahahahaha! And did you hear there was an angry phone call from the Chinese Communist Party to the Nobel Peace Prize committee telling them that this was  "a debasement of their honour"?  Love?

Of course, there was an immediate Mainland media blackout on the news but that was immediately subverted by twitter with thousands of folks sending out word, which promptly went viral meaning everyone knew within hours.  Hahahahahahaha!

And what's now happening at grassroots is that Chinese are saying they are proud of this award but also ashamed that they did not support Liu Xiaobo and his cause more.  And also, more and more, folks are saying things like how they find it ironic that China has had "such a tremendous economic development, yet people can still be sent to prison for 11 years on groundless charges." and "this award encourages other intellectuals to live up to their public responsibility by generating more constructive new thinking".

As you know, even if it's just because we've mentioned it in here before,  11 years is the length of the "screw you!!" sentence in China, usually given on whimsical and ironic grounds because "11 years" in Chinese sounds very like "screw you!!!"  ...

... and the former Tienanmen Square Democracy Movement dissident Liu Xiabobo was given 11 years because the rest of the world tried to stop his trial over his creation of Charter 08, a very mild request to the Communist Party for reform, and thus China wanted to tell the rest of the world "Screw you!  This is none of your business.  Stay out of our affairs!"


And now this!  All I can say is that this award was NOT an abasement of the prize; it was, in fact, the very NATURE of this prize, and so kudos to the Nobel Prize committee for such a wonderful and inspirational choice.

However, what's happening in HK at the moment is very interesting and very telling too.  At a party here to celebrate this award, someone opened a bottle of champagne which splashed on a policeman (and why the police were hanging around this party is also very strange and telling) who promptly arrested her for assault.  Naturally, HK is now is an enormous snit over it and everyone is now saying that it shows how the HK police have increasingly become stooges for the Chinese Communist Party and how, since we still have NOMINALLY the British system of separation of powers and, as such, an independent police force, whatever happens with this upcoming trial will be a test of just how sneaky and corrupted HK is becoming.

Of course, we all know that the Communist Party has already removed the independent judges from our "independent judiciary" and replaced them with their own stooges, so it will be most telling what happens now.

Can't wait for the next development.

However, if I were choosing what has HK most enraged at the moment, it would have to be Manila's  Benigno "Dickhead" Aquino's decision to forgive all the high-ups - all wealthy friends - who screwed up so badly, resulting in the deaths of eight HK tourists, deciding instead that he would only punish folks lower down the chain.

THREATDOWN

Manila showing us a glimpse 

of what HK will become 

if it doesn't keep its current 

'separation of powers'!

CORRUPT!!!

Fiji Day Celebrations!

Everyone from all around the world is talking about how they celebrated Fiji's birthday yesterday with lovos, music and dancing. We here in Hong Kong, however, did nothing; just raised a glass to our beloved nation and wished it happiness for a thousand years, plus.

But Keith did remind me of a very funny day which must have been 21 years ago.

We had just moved to Townsville, in North Queensland, and, early evening, were sitting on the veranda of our newly purchased house, when guitars started up about five doors down from us, and the street started to fill up with cars.  It was a big, big party so, quickly, those cars started parking around our house and that's when I noticed the people who were getting out of them.

Everyone looked like someone I thought I knew but, just as I was about to call out, on each occasion on second glance I realised it wasn't who I thought it was.  But then it happened over and over again.  Very odd.

Anyway, the party went on late into the night and it seemed like a lot of fun ... and it wasn't until the next day I noticed the date:  11th October!

That's when it all made sense.  Five doors down from us, there'd been a Fiji Day party and that's why everyone looked ALMOST familiar.  Anyway, to check it out, I took the dog for a walk - dogs are useful that way - past the house, and there, in the garden, were the remains of a lovo ... so I walked up to the house and knocked on the door.

Clara Bennet from Sigatoka.  And wasn't she cross she hadn't known I was there. "You should have just dropped by. You should have come." she kept saying.

I hadn't known that Townsville had a large Fijian population, but after that I did, and, from then on, there was never a Fiji Day celebration that we didn't attend.  Mmmmm, lovo!  Always wonderful food and, yes, fabulous music too.

Mmmm! What a pity HK doesn't have a similiar Fiji Community and yesterday, our 40th birthday, had to go by without our usual wonderful mouth-wateringly yummy party and that makes me sad.

Jaunting in Antarctica!

Friend Paul jaunted off to Antarctica for his 40 birthday simply because traveling in Antarctica was something he'd vowed to do before he was 40.  We caught up with him and heard all the stories and here they are, posted here for Kelly since she wants to do this journey too, although too late for her 40th birthday:

* Lateral icebergs are the bluest blue you can imagine and 

look so sublime against the grey sky. You can scoop up the 

little ones, which are thousands of years old, shine like 

enormous diamonds and are covered in etched linear marks that 

look exactly like an ancient written script. And if you drop 

one into your scotch, it makes the scotch taste wonderful, like 

nothing else on earth.
 

* In summer, the temperature hovers around 0 degrees, but the 

wind is brutal and cuts through you like a knife. However, 

when the sun's out and if you get away from the wind it is 

really quite pleasant.
 

* There are only five types of penguins in the Antarctic. The 

rest are smarter and live in warmer climes, not even coming 

down to breed. There are only four types of seals. Neither 

seals nor penguins have any fear of humans and you can 

approach and touch anything without fear; except for one type 

of seal which you should sensibly fear, particularly if you are a 

child. These are the big predator ones whose name I've forgotten 

which kill and eat other animals. Everything else eats krill.
 

* Whales treat a zodiac dinghy like a fellow whale and press up 

against it affectionately but they flap their fins warningly 

if you approach in a metal dinghy.

* You have to bring a swimming costume because, like Captain 

Cook said, you can swim in the water above the underwater 

volcanoes. However if you accidentally swim out of the hot 

spots into the regular antarctic water, it is a total shock to 

the system and really hurts. However once you've done it once 

and managed to struggle back into warm water, you feel like 

doing it again and again and after you've done it about four 

or five times you feel totally and wonderfully stoned, the 

sensation lasting for hours afterwards.
 

* On the volcanic islands, you can scoop a big hole in the 

black sand which immediately fills with icy sea water and 

within ten minutes the water in your improvised pool is 

steaming. You can then strip down to your undies and sit in 

the water. It feels bizarre to have a boiling hot body and a 

freezing cold head and after a while you again feel deeply 

and happily stoned.
 

* Chilean corn has individual pieces the size of a grown 

man's thumb. Six bits, a potato and a little dried meat 

makes a meal. One stalk can feed five people for four meals. 

Needless to say, this type of corn has become a stable of 

travelling through the Antarctic. Luckily, it is also delicious.
 

* An huge proportion of people you meet travelling in the 

Antarctic Circle are recovering alcoholics and drug addicts. 

There is probably a valid psychological reason for this, but, 

still ... isn't it odd!
 

* The very best way to end a vacation in Antarctica is to 

immediately fly to Peru and climb the mountain up to Machu 

Picchu. You then spend the late afternoon climbing to the top 

of "the female mountain" next door, pitch a tent and spend the 

night.  Dawn, when the sun rises, you feel completely and 

totally validated and like you can accomplish anything and 

deal with anything life will ever throw at you again.
 

Needless to say, although I totally respect Paul for taking 

this journey, I will NOT EVER be doing it ... although I quite 

like the idea of swimming in the Antarctic Sea. Mmmmmmm???? 

Mmmmmmm? OK! For my 60th birthday, this is a journey I will 

take ... although I'll definitely skip the walk up to Machu 

Picchu. Apparently you can also take a train. THAT I will do! 

Anyone want to join me?

How Deep Is My Love! Michelle Rounds!

Old friend, Michelle Rounds, the most incredible jazz singer, now working out of Egypt and acing it bigtime, has a song she sings for Fiji.  Since we're doing a Fiji-theme at the moment, because it's Fiji's 40th birthday, let's listen to "How Deep Is My Love" by Felix Chaundhary:



Isn't she gorgeous!

And don't you just LOVE funky-boy from 1.26 to 1.32?  And that's Loloma Beach, our beach, there at the end.  And Beqa in the background.  Isa, how much do I love Fiji!

Happy Birthday Fiji!

 Happy 40th Birthday, My Beautiful Homeland, Fiji!
























 Of course, yes, we all know that Fiji actually rose out of the sea 80,000 years ago and that the Fijians arrived there some time between 4000 and 5000 years ago - although they say the Leka people - the mythical midget psychopaths with the orange eyes and filed teeth who haven't been seen in a thousand years - except for when they tried to tear out Sir Frank Packer's throat back in the 1920s - hey, Fijians warned him to not look for gold on their land - were already living there when they turned up, as were those people near Nadi who still have a village where they speak an entirely different language.

So, yes, we know Fiji isn't really 40, except for the fact that our old king Cakobau gave Fiji to Queen Victoria to protect it from the Americans who wanted it so they could plant cotton, and had already begun the slaughter of entire villages to clear the land, back in 1874, but it was given back by Queen Elizabeth in 1970 ... and it's been OURS ever since.

Of course, let's always acknowledge we aren't perfect ...



... but we're getting there.

Fiji Day!

Happy Fiji Day everyone.

And I can't think of a better way to celebrate our beautiful country Fiji than referring to the story I told this time last year.

Let me find it for you:  Happy Birthday Fiji. 

And let's aim for a spot of trouble-making here.  Everyone is talking about how America infected Guatemalan folk with syphilis and then tested drugs on them.  Well, why not also kick up a fuss about how America tested birth control pills on Puerto Ricans so to work out the effective dose that didn't kill with blood clots.  Of course, it did mean that lots of folk in the test died of blood clots ... so when the trouble started the drug company gathered up all the remaining packets of pills and sent them to Fiji, where you could buy them across the make-up counter at MH's for 10 cents a packet.

There are several other cases wherein America has dumped drugs in Fiji to be sold off cheaply or given away free immediately before a ban comes into effect, but I won't tell you about those.

And I won't tell you either that there appears to be one of these incidents happening at the moment that has currently got me all up-in-arms.

However, I will say this:  America, Fiji is far too special for you to be doing this to us ... so please go away!

Defeating Forni. The Bridie Episode!

I was midway through telling you the story, wasn't I, about how we scotched the schemes of our nasty Icelandic rental agent, Forni-Kate, with a series of tearfully-received miracles that got us out of her life FOREVER, kinda!

This is the next part of that saga:  The Bridie's House Episode.

Bridie was from Sri Lanka and worked at the university with Keith. She was the sweetest, most kind-hearted, decent and honourable lady ... but had recently become The Evil Villain in an on-going saga being played out on national television by one of those "Sixty Minutes" style current affairs shows.

We're talking about Brisbane, Australia, in the early 80s, when there was nothing like wearing a sari to turn you into an easily accepted EVIL VILLAIN by the public, and almost nightly her "crimes" were tearfully recounted to the national audience by "the good guys" and so she was currently trapped in a nightmare, being recognised everywhere she went, suffering untold abuse by random strangers, and her lovely saris were being spat on by all and sundry.  Horrible situation and horribly unfair too.

Her only crime, apart from being a sari-wearing Indian, was to lease her rental property to prison parolees who didn't take care of her house and knew how to manipulate the media when she tried to evict them.  But evict them she eventually did, and that was that!  The house was, she said, so badly damaged she was having it demolished, but, for the six weeks before that happened, this house was ours, rent-free, for the asking.

As recounted in the previous episode, we were desperate for somewhere to live, thus Keith was thrilled by the kindness of her offer ... although his elation somewhat evaporated after she took him to see the house.

It was bad.  Like, seriously bad.  As tearfully-received miracles go, this was one of the less fortunate ones.  The grass was waist-high, everything was dirty, moldy and vermin-ridden and, before departing, these "good guys" had dragged all the furniture, fixtures and everything else into the middle of each room and set it alight.  However, none of the fires had taken and so all the walls were blackened by smoke but the house itself remained ultimately undamaged.

Seems like Bridie too had a good angel.

However, bad as it was, we were in no position to complain so Keith grabbed the college's serious cleaning equipment and returned to high-pressure-hose and scrub down the walls of one bedroom and the enclosed veranda, then rang our kindly removalist to drop by with our belongings. 

In retrospect, stacking our furniture and boxes on that veranda was a mistake because it meant, when we ultimately moved into our next house, we took a lot of parolee vermin with us ... but that's another story, although one so uninteresting - we had the pest controllers take care of it - I won't relate it.

Keith picked me up after work that night and warned me not to expect much but ... well, I actually liked the house.  It was a century-old wooden miner's cottage built right next to a beautiful park; a lovely-looking house in a lovely setting. 

As for the rest?

We had water but no electricity and our only furniture was a mattress on the floor of the single clean bedroom and, yes, cockroaches and rats ran over us at night. "I can't live like this."  I told Keith.

And, can you believe it of me? - Me, the world's most unskilled housewife? - I took to that entire house with scrubbing brushes and brooms, mouse-traps and bug spray.  I knew the house was about to be torn down but I didn't care.  For the six weeks it was ours, like some sort of mad woman, I scrubbed and cleaned and scythed down that grass and removed ingrained dirt and mould and fire damage and binned the burned ...

... I won't yet tell you the punch-line and instead will tell you of my good fortune.

Those parolee fellows belongings that weren't burned?  In the living room, under the top layer of charred and blackened who-knows-what, I first found seriously good quality stereo equipment.  I took it apart and discovered that a wire had separated from some other doodad so I stuck the wire back into where it looked like it should go.  Since we had no electricity I couldn't test it, but nonetheless, I took it to the second-hand dealer a block up the hill and he tested it and there was no problem whatsoever ... and he gave me A$500. for it!  SCORE!!!

After that, I was inspired and went through the only-top-layer burned heaps with gusto and found such amazing stuff.  Those parolees knew how to shop - or steal, although I've never thought of that before this! - but didn't, however, know how to take care of stuff, and so, with just minor manipulation and a quick fix, I had daily trips to that second-hand dealer and made such a killing. 

Oh, and they never bothered to wash anything either and simply threw everything dirty out the kitchen window, so when we scythed back the lawn, we found rice cookers and electric frying pans and high quality pots and pans ... which were scrubbed clean before making their way up the hill and into my bank account.

But in those mounds I also found a tragedy: letters from little sister to big-brother-in-jail.  What a beautiful child that was!  She was about five when she wrote her first letter and twenty five when she wrote her last, and in there was an entire life laid out before me, and I simply wept and wept.  For the first seven years it was all school and sport and friends and kittens and puppies ... but then she turned 12 and the tenor changed and you could see her slipping into bad company, sex, drugs, petty crimes, all alluded to although not exactly stated.  At 14, she had her first child, a son she named after big-brother, and by 15 she was working as a prostitute ... and then there were references to her brother's prison escape and I could understand why!  I too wanted to save her.  But seems he was caught and blah, blah, blah ... and over the next ten years you saw this exquisite child turn into a right piece of slime.

And now those letters, obviously treasured for so long, were consigned to the fire along with everything else in the lives of these parolee fellows, but I was so moved I kept those letters for years, thinking they'd make a great book just as they were, but somewhere along the way they got lost.  Sad, really! They were a real treasure.

It took five weeks of seriously hard but bank-account-enriching work before the house became properly liveable, and then Keith went through the entire place, inside and out, with the high pressure hose and suddenly it looked like what I always saw it as - a lovely-looking house in a lovely setting - and when ... now for the punch line ... Bridie saw it she too wept and wept ... and she cancelled the demolition and, for the first time seeing the potential, decided to renovate it instead.

We dropped by to see the house about ten years back, on one of our infrequent jaunts to Brisbane, and can tell you that Bridie did indeed renovate the house ... and did a truly lousy job of it!  Instead of celebrating what the house was, she brick veneered it and ... if ever there was a house in need of a good burning down, it's this one!

Any prison parolees out there looking for accommodation?

Need News!

Just heard there's been a landslide at Suva Cemetery Extension in Fiji, and this directly involves US.  Desperately hunting for details.  Can anyone tell me more?

Jacinta's Burning!

Yesterday I posted a snippet about firemen watching a horse-race while the fire raged on unattended ... and said it was such an "Only in Hong Kong" thing, but then I remembered it wasn't.


Many years ago, when I lived in Australia, Old Kevin across the road did much the same thing.

It was about two on a sleepy and humid Sunday afternoon and I was on the veranda at our place in Townsville, in North Queensland, trying to catch a breeze, when I heard a very strange "pop" coming from across the road.  It was followed by a "pop! pop! pop! pop! pop!" like a series of small explosions.  It was a sound I'd never heard before so I went to look.

Across the road, soft white smoke was billowing from Jacinta's bedroom window!  "Ring the fire brigade." I yelled to Keith. "Jacinta's house is on fire."

I noticed her car wasn't there, so decided maybe I should be a good neighbour and train a hose into her second floor bedroom window on the off-chance that would help.  I mean, if it were the other way around, I hope she'd do the same for me.

So there I am, across the road, trying to douse the unseen flame with her garden hose, but it had really lousy water pressure that wouldn't make a decent arc to reach through the window so I climbed the wall to throw the hose into the house ... but slipped and hit the ground below ... just as BANG!!!  Massive, massive explosion.  The windows blew out and there was this wall of flame and black smoke ... whoosh! ... right past where my face would have been if I hadn't fallen.

Thank you, good angels!

No way that house could be saved!  The fire brigade hadn't yet arrived and the flames were so fierce and the heat so ferocious I retreated over the fence to Old Kevin's next door, and am standing there, still holding Jacinta's hose, feeling exceptionally useless as Jacinta's beautifully restored old house raged and burned. I couldn't do anything to help ... until I noticed, underneath the house, in the breezeway, a shelf lined with the most beautiful white orchids and also the sweetest sets of lace-and-silk underwear on the washing line, so I made it my mission to save those for her.  I mean, losing your orchids and prettiest undies!  That would be the last straw, yes?

And, as it turned out, it wasn't such a stupid decision because, as I hosed, the floorboards above burned through and globs of viscous plastic - turned out it was her beanbag - started dripping through the hole onto the bags of fertiliser right next to the orchids and underwear.

I have no idea how to make a bomb, but vaguely knew it was something to do with plastic and fertiliser and this stack consisted of about twenty large bags which surely would have made a massive bomb, if that's indeed how you make a bomb, so I kept the hose trained on those instead, just in case.

But then the flames began leaping across and caught Old Kevin's roof and that began burning too.  It was difficult doing both Kevin's roof AND the bomb, especially with a hose with such lousy water pressure, so I started getting very cross.  Like, where was the fire brigade?  Where was Old Kevin? Why was I doing this alone?

Kevin's front door was open, so I left my bomb and stormed inside.  He was in his kitchen listening to the horse-racing.  "Kevin!" I said.

"Shhhhh!" Kevin said crossly, leaning in closer to the radio.

And, can you believe it, I shhhh-ed!  It was about five seconds later I realised I had priority so said softly "Kevin, your house is on fire!"

"Shhhhh! Give me a minute!"  said Kevin.

But then the slow dawning realisation on his face ... and the horse-race was forgotten and he's racing outside to check.

Old Kevin's hose had decent water pressure so we put out his fire pronto, and then he too agreed that, although he didn't know how to make a bomb either, but knew too it had something to do with fertiliser, that it had priority so he handed me his hose and I finally got to douse properly ... while he slunk off to listen to the next horse-race.

And where was the fire brigade in all this?  Trapped down the road!  Turned out, the explosion attracted every goon and thug from every street for miles around and the roads were packed with cars parked all willy-nilly with hideous oafs sitting atop roofs and bonnets, drinking Four-ex, yahooing and watching the show!  Unbelievable!

And when the fire brigade did eventually arrive, after squads of police got these dicks to move their cars so it could get through, long after the house was well gone, I finally put down my hose and left ... and these awful people sitting on their cars kept stopping me with cheerful shouts of "Hey, heard three kids were burned to death?  Is that true?",  "Heard five kids were burned to death?"  "Heard that five kids and two dogs were burned to death?"  I was too cross to answer.

And then, right outside our front gate, a gaggle of ghastly kids I'd never seen before, definitely not from the neighbourhood, were telling the cops "They burned the house down themselves.  We saw them do it!"  and that's when I exploded in rage and gave them a mouthful of vicious abuse.

Jacinta didn't arrive home till just before sunset.  Apparently the police tracked her down at the local shopping center and told her the news.  Poor honey!  The most sensitive soul, and a very talented musician and composer, she couldn't handle it and collapsed.  The police kindly rang her parents down south to fly up to come get her, but she'd obviously decided she was stronger than she thought and so wanted to see. Our lovely neighbours, Ling Ling and Daniel were with her, and I saw her slowly get out of their car. But then she saw her orchids and undies unharmed and that was the last straw and she collapsed again!  Didn't I feel mean.

But I did notice, later that night, Ling Ling and Daniel returned to collect the orchids and undies, about the only things apart from the fertiliser that survived the blaze. Jacinta decided she did want to keep them so I guess I wasn't totally Evil Incarnate.

There was a final lick to this story.  A few days later, Old Kevin came to get me - as the first person on scene - to talk to the fire investigation team.  And what a horrid bunch of dicks they were!  I should have been impressed with them, all these big and chunky men in great uniforms, all with these harsh rasping voices and all speaking in gruff whispers. Smoke inhalation, was my guess, but whenever I suggested it to someone, I'd always get "Yeah, smoke inhalation from all the cigarettes they smoke waiting for fires."

But I regret to say, my initial admiration quickly evaporated and I ended up thinking they were all unbelievably stupid dicks!  Guess the police believed the kids' story and these fellows were investigating only to prove it was indeed the case; Jacinta burned down her own house.

I tried to tell them about the pops, and about the soft billowing white smoke coming through her bedroom window, and how she wasn't home when it happened, but one rasped at me "You know her, don't you!" and that was it!  Nothing I said had any weight or worth and they simply glared at me, minds closed, whenever I tried to protest their findings. And when I mentioned my own theory and told them that Jacinta had bought some of the century-old ceiling fans left over from Singapore's Raffles Hotel recent refurbishment and had just had them installed, I got loud derisive snorting and lots of rasping "There's no such thing as an electrical fire.  That's a myth."

Dicks, right?  I mean, we've all seen electrical fires, right?  I know I have.  Yet here are these guys who supposedly know fires, saying they don't exist!

And it just got worse and worse from there.  It was arson, they had no doubt about it, and the source of the fire was the stack of fertiliser bags.  Clearly, they said, Jacinta had set alight that red plastic you could see atop these bags and that small fire was what burned the house down.  I tried to set them right but ... I knew her and was obviously just colluding and protecting her, and I could see them wondering if maybe I too was in on it!

Dicks!!

So, that's the story of the afternoon Jacinta's house burned down while Old Kevin listened to the horse-racing and so, no, it's not an "Only In Hong Kong" thing at all.  I take it back.

Snippet from 2005

Busy day today, so I'll just pull a snippet from an old letter:

And to wind up, I'll just tell you a little typical-HK Gem 

that occurred last night.  Coming home from dinner we passed 

XXX (edit that one out) outlet of HK Jockey Club (HK's version of 

TAB). Big drama. Fire alarms ringing, smoke coming out of 

the building, fire truck, firemen ...

... and there, just inside the front door are about 100 

punters all huddled in a bunch watching the horserace on TV. 

Sure, they're evacuating the building but not until the race 

is over. 

And - get this! - the firemen are standing there, firehoses 

in-hand but not turned on, watching with them. 

Doesn't this say everything about HK! Don't you just LOVE it!

"Let It Be"

There's more to yesterday's post than I knew at the time; indeed, as I've now discovered, there was a Sinister Angle!

It wasn't just my photos. Keith, without telling me, had downloaded - it's there for free - the entire full length of The Beatles documentary  "Let It Be", and that's what was taking up so many gigabytes and that's why he knew he could fix my problem pronto.  Downloaded onto a dvd, and suddenly my computer is working again.

Anyway, we watched it last night and I have to tell you it isn't what we took it for all those years ago.  Back then, we all saw it as The Beatles disintegrating before our eyes, and everyone still says this like it's a fact.  Not so.  If there's any film in need of a critical reassessment, it's this one.

What you now see, rewatching it after all these years, is the story of talent, genius and totally cool dudes having fun at work. And that sheer unadulterated talent!  Did you know they are all able to play each other's instruments? And play them amazingly well too.  And they're forever leaping across to take up another instrument without even missing a beat. 

But most of all, "Let It Be" is the story of a friendship.  You can see it very clearly. These are guys who knew each other in childhood, who went to high school together, who became a band of brothers very early in life.  And also very clear is Hamburg; that year of "hard days nights" playing 17 hour gigs, 7 days a week, so far away from home.

It's that legacy that is so apparent in this film and what makes it so awesome to watch. These guys are so in tune that the instant someone starts something, the others all pick up on it and run with it.  It's just extraordinary, that synergy; four guys working in such close harmony with each other, they practically are a single unit.

I posted previously about "Sympathy for the Devil", the documentary about The Rolling Stones turning a lightweight kinda ditzy song into something dark, sinister, powerful and wonderful.  "Let It Be" - which could very well be The Beatles answer to that Stones documentary - is how The Beatles go through the same process.  However, whereas The Rolling Stones creative process is all sorta heavy, portentous, pretentious and loud, with lots of drifting in and out of famous musicians and lots of in fighting and trial and error, in "Let It Be" The Beatles creative process seems all so light and sweet and joyous, and so childlike and laughter-filled that it shouldn't be as powerful as it is.

But it is.  Even, dare I say it, you can see how it goes beyond simple creativity and into some sort of magical realm.

Like, there's this bit where Ringo is playing the group his new song "Octopus's Garden" and they all look bored because it isn't good, and then George, of all people, goes over to the piano and says "Why don't you do it like this?" and gives it back to him only with these odd downward chords, and Ringo does it like that and suddenly it's magical, and the laughter restarts and everyone picks up their instruments and runs with it.

And I'll tell you something else about George that I did not know, but which I noticed for the first time in this film ... you know during that roof concert when the police turn up and Paul sees them and looks stricken ... look at that part again and you can see George go over to his amp and turn it up and then he starts them off on another song. Yes, hard to believe but he's actually the leader here. Oooh, who knew that George was SUCH a rebel. I even now think that "Let It Be" shows us that there's a NEW GEORGE coming into play but which we never got to see develop fully because the band disintergrated.

And I'm now finally willing to concede that, yes, it was Yoko Ono.  Before I was always going "No, that's wrong.  The Beatles broke up because Paul was trying to take it over and John's ego couldn't allow it.  Yoko just got the blame."  But no more.

Yes, it was Yoko. She's in there throughout the doco, looming in and out of the shadows.  Keith kept going "Ooooh, look! It's the girl from "The Grudge" and I'm going "No. No. It's that Lady McBeth character in "Throne of Blood" when she's about to stab that spider."  In that Band of Brothers, she's like this ... this ... this sinister spider sitting next to John, completely without expression, moving whenever he moves, trying to act like they're two-people-in-one not realising that John is already inextricably morphed into his Gang of Four and she has no place in there among them.  Really, she comes across as so heavy, portentous, pretentious and loud-in-that-hostile-silence, she's like she was more suited to be a Stones wife.

And there's something in there that I'd never realised before.  You know Paul's song ... 



... "Get Back" is actually about Yoko Ono.  Yes, it's all disguised, but you can see Paul's antipathy for Yoko's sinister presence growing stronger and stronger and you can actually trace how it comes together in this song.

So what do I think of "Let It Be" after not seeing it for 30 years? Truly fabulous! And since I read someplace that this documentary is currently tied up in all sorts of legal proceedings and can't be shown anymore - which could be the reason someone very kindly has put it into cyberspace as a "help yourself" - and which I can't see been allowed to happen for long - I strongly suggest you get in there fast, locate it and download yourself a copy PRONTO.

The Chinese National Day Weekend Incident!

Well, Thursday evening, I'm editing my latest crop of photos when suddenly and without warning i-photo goes belly-up.  Immediately I'm dialing out with a "Help me, German Michael!" SOS call, when Keith began being all proprietorial and territorial and that's when I discover that computer problems are, for men, much like asking for directions.  It would appear it's an affront to one man to ask another man for assistance, even when that other man is, like German Michael, a bona fide computer genius. 

It's the old hunter-gatherer thing, yes?  Men simply won't ask for help, and certainly not admit they're struggling and/or lost, or that something is beyond their scope, because it means they're magically somehow less-of-a-man.  "Lovely challenge." says Keith.

Well, i-photo claims to be able to store 250,000 photos but, as it turns out, according to Keith, after many hours researching, that these sorts of problems usually begin at 10% of that amount ... and I have ... wait for it ... 28,000 photos.  And this is ME we're talking about!  Me?  The lady who always refused to take photos for so many decades because they stopped you really SEEING and "if it ain't in your head, it ain't really yours!"

Thus Keith decides the problem is with i-photo so races across the road to the big famous Wan Chai computer centre to buy another program, "Aperture" which all the magazines claim is vastly better, apparently.  He loads it onto my computer, crosses over all the photos from i-photo and ... CRASH!!!  Black screen!  Spinning wheel of death!

To cut a long story short, "Aperture" had stored three copies of each photo so I now have 104,000 photos which has, apparently, eaten up all my gigabytes and there's not enough space left to run the computer.

Keith is determined he'll fix this without help and so has been at it day and night for three entire days.

So there goes our long weekend!  Couldn't get away!  Couldn't get to any of the Chinese National Day Celebrations!  Couldn't even get out to jostle with the mega-millions down at the Harbour to see the fireworks. 

Anyway, I have no idea what he's been doing but he appears to have done something right because he's got the computer up and running again, and I'm back down to only 28,000 photographs ... although all the editing done in i-photo has come off and thus I've now got 28,000 raw photos and not even a smidgen of desire to go through and do it all again.

No idea, either, if I'm still able to retrieve photos to post in this blog ... so let's try a random photo thingy and see if I can:

No, it seems I can't.  All I can access previously posted blog photos like this one Richard took of what happens when you take a photo while spinning your camera on a bungy cord!

Great photo, yes, but not one you'd want to post very often.

Oh, well, at least my computer is up and running again.  Small mercies!  Wasted holiday, yes, but still, small mercies!!