For the first time ever all the English newspapers shut down for CNY long weekend, which means I've been hanging out until they started up again today so I could tell you what happened with the Wong Tai Sin Fortune Stick this year.
The past two years this ceremony has been very fraught, political and anger-inducing, but I've already told you about those.
This year however we got Number 29: "It is hard to tell gods from demons but heaven and earth will eventually know." Odd, huh? Everyone is saying it has something to do with the election of our new chief executive later this year, and, naturally since this is HK, everyone's been debating which candidate is the god and which is the demon.
It's a hard one to call because one of the candidates is Henry Tang, who is kinda "the devil we know", around forever but who we love to hate, mainly because ... well, he was on Talkback radio several years ago, chatting with a caller and said "So what do you do with your spare millions?" and when the fellow said he was a working man with no spare millions, Henry replied, in total shock, like it simply wasn't possible "What? Not even one or two?" ... which gives you some idea of why we all think he's too stupidly rich to be a good leader.
However, the other candidate we don't know and could well be "the new leader from the north" promised last year when the Chinese Communist Party hi-jacked the Wong Tai Sin ceremony, and, truly, no one wants that.
"Hard to tell gods from demons"? Hey, has this year's stick nailed it or wot!
And what happened at the ceremony this year? Well, the good news is that a bona fide Hong Konger chose the stick; Lau, an old man who made the pick back in 2004. It's odd, yes, considering that Beijing has twice now hi-jacked the ceremony, the first time, in 2010, when a Mainland CCP cadre stepping in front of the Chosen-to-choose, pulling out a stick and reading "HK will obey Beijing" then immediately put the stick back so no one could check. Naturally, HK was very angry and remained as feisty as ever. Then last year, 2011, a fellow chosen by Beijing chose the stick but did everything by the book so it seemed to be kosher, although the prediction read "You will have a new leader from the North." which didn't happen either, but which made everyone very cross, so I guess this year Beijing decided not risk the important place the ceremony holds in our collective psyche and thus left us alone.
Or did they? There's a certain frisson running through that self-same collective psyche wondering if Lau has been got to or not. And everyone is definitely saying in tones of greatest scorn "Who is this Lau fellow anyway?" Go figure!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Any Old Glasses?
The Redoubtable Walkers are just back from Luang Prabang where they had a wonderful time, despite their van being hit by a truck on a narrow mountain road, PLUS they discovered the body of a young Italian man who'd disappeared a week earlier while swimming in a river. (They reported it to authorities, then watched the local fishermen go out in a flotilla of boats to retrieve the body and, in a very touching and beautiful ceremony, reverently ferry him back to shore.) (Someone needs to put the family of this young Italian tourist in touch with the Walkers so they can hear all about it. I'm sure it would bring much comfort to them.)
All very sad and dramatic, yes, however, that's not what I wanted to tell you. It's this: the old eye doctor actually broke down in tears.
Yes, the elderly optomologist wept.
What happened was that when we were in Luang Prabang several years ago, we heard about an old retired optometrist working among the poor in Laos, treating eye problems gratis. Then, back in HK, I was just about to throw out all my old glasses when I recalled this fellow, and since Lois and Paul were about to leave for a holiday in Luang Prabang, I gave all my unwanted glasses to Lois to pass on to our friend Ruth to pass on to this doctor.
Lois did so and said Ruth was grateful that someone cared about what this eye doctor was doing, and said she'd definitely see he got them.
But then I found another half dozen old pairs (gosh, I can really shop, can't I!) so - since getting donations to Laos is always so fraught - put them aside waiting for someone else to visit LP so they could be delivered personally, and when I heard that the Walkers were about to depart for those shores, I gave her the glasses and told her about the elderly optometrist, and The Redoubtable Mrs Walker, so much more efficient than I am, passed on word among her friends and gathered many many more pairs to drop off to Ruth.
And that's what happened, and that's when Ruth told her that when she delivered my previous donation of old eye glasses (thank you Lois) the doctor actually broke down and wept in sheer gratitude.
So that's how badly this lovely now-retired optomologist needs glasses. Like how much he desperately, desperately needs them. It's because the poor of Laos have NO access to getting anything even vaguely optometrologial and the elderly among the Mhong hill tribes really do need them, and it was breaking his heart that there was really nothing much he could do to help.
So, as Ruth also told Mrs Walker, what happened to my old glasses was that the eye doctor went to the nearest poor village, drew pictures on the hands of everyone who needed a pair, and got them to try on each pair in turn and the any person who, at a distance of one foot away from their eyes, could identify what he'd drawn got to keep that pair.
And my collection of unwanted glasses hardly went any distance at all.
So please keep that in mind if you too are about to toss out your unwanted glasses. There is an old eye doctor in Luang Prabang who can be reached through Ruth who desperately needs them. However, since donations aren't generally delivered to the right people in Laos (a shamelessly "the buck stops here" kind of place.), take advantage of anyone you know who is going to LP so they can be personally delivered and that way we can know for sure that he's getting them.
All very sad and dramatic, yes, however, that's not what I wanted to tell you. It's this: the old eye doctor actually broke down in tears.
Yes, the elderly optomologist wept.
What happened was that when we were in Luang Prabang several years ago, we heard about an old retired optometrist working among the poor in Laos, treating eye problems gratis. Then, back in HK, I was just about to throw out all my old glasses when I recalled this fellow, and since Lois and Paul were about to leave for a holiday in Luang Prabang, I gave all my unwanted glasses to Lois to pass on to our friend Ruth to pass on to this doctor.
Lois did so and said Ruth was grateful that someone cared about what this eye doctor was doing, and said she'd definitely see he got them.
But then I found another half dozen old pairs (gosh, I can really shop, can't I!) so - since getting donations to Laos is always so fraught - put them aside waiting for someone else to visit LP so they could be delivered personally, and when I heard that the Walkers were about to depart for those shores, I gave her the glasses and told her about the elderly optometrist, and The Redoubtable Mrs Walker, so much more efficient than I am, passed on word among her friends and gathered many many more pairs to drop off to Ruth.
And that's what happened, and that's when Ruth told her that when she delivered my previous donation of old eye glasses (thank you Lois) the doctor actually broke down and wept in sheer gratitude.
So that's how badly this lovely now-retired optomologist needs glasses. Like how much he desperately, desperately needs them. It's because the poor of Laos have NO access to getting anything even vaguely optometrologial and the elderly among the Mhong hill tribes really do need them, and it was breaking his heart that there was really nothing much he could do to help.
So, as Ruth also told Mrs Walker, what happened to my old glasses was that the eye doctor went to the nearest poor village, drew pictures on the hands of everyone who needed a pair, and got them to try on each pair in turn and the any person who, at a distance of one foot away from their eyes, could identify what he'd drawn got to keep that pair.
And my collection of unwanted glasses hardly went any distance at all.
So please keep that in mind if you too are about to toss out your unwanted glasses. There is an old eye doctor in Luang Prabang who can be reached through Ruth who desperately needs them. However, since donations aren't generally delivered to the right people in Laos (a shamelessly "the buck stops here" kind of place.), take advantage of anyone you know who is going to LP so they can be personally delivered and that way we can know for sure that he's getting them.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
What Kills Us This Week!
You may have noticed that I'm not doing my "What HK is in a panic about this week" post anymore, but it's not because HK has stopped the constant Chicken-Little-ing, it's just that I've got so used to it, I'm now barely noticing anymore.
However, I just have to tell you that this week EVERYONE booked on sea cruises is cancelling thanks to the Costa Concordia accident. It's not often that HK cares about anything that happens in the rest of the world, but this has caught their attention and everyone's using it as an excuse to Go Chicken-Little bigtime.
And since this is HK, everyone's looking for omens predicting this would happen and already stuff is making the rounds. Like this youtube clip:
You'll notice that the champagne bottle doesn't break despite several attempts, and HK is talking about how it's a dark omen that Costa Concordia was doomed to go under taking lots of passengers with it ...
... so don't you think that this should mean that rather than everyone cancelling their sea cruises they should be checking what happened to the champagne bottle at the launch of the ship that they're taking their cruise on.
However, I just have to tell you that this week EVERYONE booked on sea cruises is cancelling thanks to the Costa Concordia accident. It's not often that HK cares about anything that happens in the rest of the world, but this has caught their attention and everyone's using it as an excuse to Go Chicken-Little bigtime.
And since this is HK, everyone's looking for omens predicting this would happen and already stuff is making the rounds. Like this youtube clip:
You'll notice that the champagne bottle doesn't break despite several attempts, and HK is talking about how it's a dark omen that Costa Concordia was doomed to go under taking lots of passengers with it ...
... so don't you think that this should mean that rather than everyone cancelling their sea cruises they should be checking what happened to the champagne bottle at the launch of the ship that they're taking their cruise on.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Word to China.
This is un-sodding-believable.
In China Daily, the Chinese Communist Party propaganda newspaper in English, there was a story about the locals in a province of China refusing to let the Communist Party take down a Chinese stelae commemorating the Englishman who found a negotiable passage down a dangerous provincial river thus opening up the area to trade and making everyone rich. Seems this Englishman was a hero in the area and therefore they weren't going to allow the Communist Party to carry out their current historical rewriting agenda - wherein no one else foreign ever did anything to help China - on their turf.
Kudos Provincial Chinese!
It's a great story but not the one that I find so un-sodding-believable. It's this one:
The reporter who wrote this article said he came across another amazing story about an Englishwoman, Gladys Alyward, who worked in this area:
Seems this reporter fellow discovered that there was an English parlourmaid who so wanted to be a missionary she saved up all her wages for a decade and ended up in this self-same provincial area of China, and who ended up saving several hundred children from the invading Japanese army.
And the reporter says "This story is such a good one, it deserves to be made into a film."
Seriously?
OK, I know China was behind the Iron Curtain for many decades, but don't they have fact-checkers up there?
A little hint to that certain Beijing journalist: IT'S ALREADY BEEN MADE. IT WAS A SMASH HIT. OSCARS WERE WON.
It's called "The Inn of the Sixth Happiness" and it's just gorgeous.
PLUS the entire film is now up in youtube so there's no excuse for Chinese not to know about it.
So please, Beijing fact-checkers, please take it onboard so you don't let any reporter say anything so silly again.
Oh, and aren't you waiting with bated breath for the opening of the film "Flowers of War."?
In China Daily, the Chinese Communist Party propaganda newspaper in English, there was a story about the locals in a province of China refusing to let the Communist Party take down a Chinese stelae commemorating the Englishman who found a negotiable passage down a dangerous provincial river thus opening up the area to trade and making everyone rich. Seems this Englishman was a hero in the area and therefore they weren't going to allow the Communist Party to carry out their current historical rewriting agenda - wherein no one else foreign ever did anything to help China - on their turf.
Kudos Provincial Chinese!
It's a great story but not the one that I find so un-sodding-believable. It's this one:
The reporter who wrote this article said he came across another amazing story about an Englishwoman, Gladys Alyward, who worked in this area:
Seems this reporter fellow discovered that there was an English parlourmaid who so wanted to be a missionary she saved up all her wages for a decade and ended up in this self-same provincial area of China, and who ended up saving several hundred children from the invading Japanese army.
And the reporter says "This story is such a good one, it deserves to be made into a film."
Seriously?
OK, I know China was behind the Iron Curtain for many decades, but don't they have fact-checkers up there?
A little hint to that certain Beijing journalist: IT'S ALREADY BEEN MADE. IT WAS A SMASH HIT. OSCARS WERE WON.
It's called "The Inn of the Sixth Happiness" and it's just gorgeous.
PLUS the entire film is now up in youtube so there's no excuse for Chinese not to know about it.
So please, Beijing fact-checkers, please take it onboard so you don't let any reporter say anything so silly again.
Oh, and aren't you waiting with bated breath for the opening of the film "Flowers of War."?
Friday, January 13, 2012
Sigatoka Valley.
In the last post I showed you a photo of the Sigatoka Valley in Central Viti Levu in Fiji which brought back such crazy happy memories, I really have to share them with you:
I'd never been there before so it was indeed a great adventure, and I can now tell you that Sigatoka Valley is very lush, scenic and very beautiful but it's also primitive, poor and primal too, as it's almost entirely without infrastructure and most of the roads are hardly more than goat tracks, but I quickly developed the greatest respect for Bobby and his truck.
Man, that old man and that old truck could take some punishment and I quickly began to suspect there was a new and powerful engine beneath that battered old bonnet. And Bobby was laugh-out-loud funny with the most hilarious running commentary, and it was specially hilarious how, when driving through mountains and streams and ravines and other unpromising bits of landscape, passing through poor villages and past lonely hamlets, Fijians would constantly shout out in Fijian "You can't go down that road. There's been a landslide." or "You can't cross that stream. The water is too high." Bobby would look at me and laugh uproariously and say "Lucky I'm Indian and don't know what they're saying."
And then he'd go ahead and do it and we'd plunge deep into heart-in-mouth time.
Yes, Bobby and his truck could do anything and everything and we had the most spectacular and hair-raising moments with Jane shouting "If you get me dead, Denise, I'll kill you." and the rest of us hanging on for dear life, seeing no possible way we'd survive. In fact, Jane got a lot of it on film and whenever she's shown it to people, they all say "No. It's not possible. There's no way you survived that." but yes we did.
Oh, that Bobby! He was the most wonderful, wonderful old man and I'm so happy I met him!
Anyway, it took us hours but eventually we arrived in Tonga, a little village perched on the side of a mountain, where we were completely denied access to the cave. Yup, no one cared that we'd nearly died at least a dozen times trying to reach them, and that the teenage girls had been sent on a mission by their big boss, they would NOT let us go into or even see the cave.
It was because we were all girls and no girls were ever allowed. And when our teenage girls pointed out that it was odd that they let esoteric German brides in there, we were told that only the chief could give special dispensation and he wasn't around so it wasn't going to happen.
But I'm a wily soul and when I spotted a couple of teenage boys I recalled the whole Secret Teenage Boy Business Kim had talked about, and so took the pair of them aside and showed them my picture and asked if there was a rock in that cave. Yes, they told me, there was: a giant rock. And did it have carvings on it? No it didn't. It was a huge round uncarved white rock that shone like the moon and sparkled like it was full of diamonds, which sounded to me like it had to have been mica or one of those types of rocks.
Odd, huh! I have no idea what it means to esoteric Germans but it certainly wasn't the Viking stelae I was after.
So that's when I realised the truth of the matter. It wasn't about finding my stelae at all. The entire venture was a scam and there I was, the big sucker paying for Sigatoka Tourist Information Centre to find out why so many strange Germans were choosing to marry in a cave in Tonga, but it was all so cheerful and good-natured, I was fine with that.
After that, I could only wave around my diagram and ask after other petroglyphs and ... well, Fiji is Fiji and it's very common for people to make up stories as a way of saying "Sod off and become someone's else's problem." so, directed by the chiefless Tonga-villagers (who strangely look more Tongan than Fijian, I should tell you, which is a definite ancient mystery requiring investigation.) and by the Fijians at every other village we arrived at, we drove for hours on goat tracks around the Valley, being jolted till our teeth rattled, risking everything and hanging on for dear life with our hearts in our mouths at dangerous moment after dangerous moment, being sent around in ever increasing circles, waving around my diagram and looking for rocks we all knew no one was really going to let us see, and by late afternoon even our bubbly teenagers had lost their sparkle, and when a bunch of villagers at our latest destination suggested we hire their horses to take us deeper into the jungled mountains, (Jane for all for it, btw. How's that for shocking?) I was finally "Bobby, can you take us home now?" because the bulldog in me was ready to roll over, whimper a lot and go to sleep. After foaming at the mouth and savaging everyone, that is.
So that's the upshot of my attempt to find out if Vikings ever made it to Sigatoka Valley. I really don't know, but I doubt it. Although I can say with 99.9% certainty that Gavin Menzies is simply full of **it and that the Chinese definitely never ever did.
And just to wind up this story, much later on, when I showed the photograph of the Viking stelae to Ela Koroi - since she traveled for years the entire length and breadth of Sigatoka Valley when she was with the Fiji Red Cross - she said "I know that rock. It isn't it Sigatoka Valley at all. That's the one on an island in the Yasawa Group. It's not ancient at all. It was a joke by some silly boys back just after WWI." so I guess that puts the whole thing to bed very nicely, doesn't it.
What a silly billy that Gavin Menzies is, isn't he!
But he doesn't come close to being as silly as I am.
Site of this very silly adventure!
What happened was that back in early 2004 I was reading Gavin Menzies "1421" and getting angrier and angrier about his truly stupid evidence for China and Zheng He discovering the whole world back in the 15th century.
And one of the stupidest pieces of evidence was his claim that a stelae existed in Sigatoka Valley on the banks of Sigatoka River in Fiji that was written in a mysteriously different version of Chinese calligraphy, which in the photo looked to me more like Viking runes that read, in the midst of a lot of gibberish, something very like "Ice Journey Centre" and since there's that 1000 year old Viking DNA turning up in coastal areas of Papua New Guinea it gave me pause for thought and made me curious if maybe these same possible-PNG-visiting Vikings had ever also made it to Fiji.
I already knew ancient petroglyphs were scattered all over the Sigatoka Valley because I'd once seen historian Kim Gravell's photos of them - all enormous rocks carved with circles within circles - and wondered back then what they meant, eventually reaching the conclusion that they were used in a particularly smutty pseudo-sacred game played by teenage boys, and that's even before Kim told me they were used in ancient times as the centerpieces of various Secret Teenage Boy Ceremonies.
But the thought of possible carved Viking runes being among these scatterings of giant rocks really blew me away and it was something I simply HAD to find out for myself.
I already knew ancient petroglyphs were scattered all over the Sigatoka Valley because I'd once seen historian Kim Gravell's photos of them - all enormous rocks carved with circles within circles - and wondered back then what they meant, eventually reaching the conclusion that they were used in a particularly smutty pseudo-sacred game played by teenage boys, and that's even before Kim told me they were used in ancient times as the centerpieces of various Secret Teenage Boy Ceremonies.
But the thought of possible carved Viking runes being among these scatterings of giant rocks really blew me away and it was something I simply HAD to find out for myself.
Yes, I know I'm not very bright but no one can ever accuse me of not being tenacious, so I was determined this was a mystery I was going to solve, and when I get my teeth in this way nothing will stop this bulldog. When I remember that is!
So there I was in Nadi in Fiji in July 2004 for Molly's wedding, and early one morning was chatting with Joyce and Baby Jane about what we should do that day, when Jane started to reminisce about the amazing currie-roti they used to serve in the little cafes on the main street of the little coastal town of Sigatoka and that's when the word "Sigatoka" triggered my memory and I recalled my mission so was immediately saying "Let's go find out NOW!"
Thus, hustled along by me, Baby Jane, Joyce and I immediately drove to Sigatoka where, even before we chose a cafe, (they're all good, btw) we dropped by the Sigatoka Tourist Information Centre so I could ask what they knew about a particular petroglyph in Sigatoka Valley, but since I didn't have my book with me I had to draw a diagram from my exceptionally shonky memory.
It just happened that it was an odd accident of timing because, unknown to me, it had very recently become a fashion among esoteric-type Germans to get married in a cave in a place called Tonga deep in the heart of Sigatoka Valley and the Sigatoka Tourist Information Centre was curious about why it was so and my questions ... well, let's just say it triggered rather a bustle and things instantly got rather strange, but I didn't then know any of this, so when they said they didn't actually know but they'd find out and get back to me as soon as possible, I stupidly told them our plans for the next hour.
Well, Fiji is Fiji so what happened next was hardly a surprise: There we were, Baby Jane, Joyce and me, in some random little cafe on the main drag of Sigatoka town, eating a lot of exceptionally good currie-roti, when the two bubbly teenage Fijian girls we'd seen earlier at the Tourist Information Centre burst in, very excited, saying that they'd located my stelae and that Bobby was going to drive us all to Tonga immediately and that it would only cost me F$80.
Jane and Joyce were outraged but, well, this is me, so I'm instantly excited too and "Let's do it." so I hurried out to meet Bobby.
Bobby was an elderly Indian man with a small old truck and an air of natural and joyous naughtiness, so, with Jane and Joyce calling the entire venture ridiculous and a waste of time and money, and despite knowing full well - because he told me - that Bobby would have done the trip for as little as F$8.00 (he joyfully told me he was deliberately cheating me only because he had 16 grand-kids and needed to pay their school fees) I was happy to play stupid rich tourist/sucker and pay the whole amount and that's when all five of us hopped into the truck and took off into ... an entirely new world.
Thus, hustled along by me, Baby Jane, Joyce and I immediately drove to Sigatoka where, even before we chose a cafe, (they're all good, btw) we dropped by the Sigatoka Tourist Information Centre so I could ask what they knew about a particular petroglyph in Sigatoka Valley, but since I didn't have my book with me I had to draw a diagram from my exceptionally shonky memory.
It just happened that it was an odd accident of timing because, unknown to me, it had very recently become a fashion among esoteric-type Germans to get married in a cave in a place called Tonga deep in the heart of Sigatoka Valley and the Sigatoka Tourist Information Centre was curious about why it was so and my questions ... well, let's just say it triggered rather a bustle and things instantly got rather strange, but I didn't then know any of this, so when they said they didn't actually know but they'd find out and get back to me as soon as possible, I stupidly told them our plans for the next hour.
Well, Fiji is Fiji so what happened next was hardly a surprise: There we were, Baby Jane, Joyce and me, in some random little cafe on the main drag of Sigatoka town, eating a lot of exceptionally good currie-roti, when the two bubbly teenage Fijian girls we'd seen earlier at the Tourist Information Centre burst in, very excited, saying that they'd located my stelae and that Bobby was going to drive us all to Tonga immediately and that it would only cost me F$80.
Jane and Joyce were outraged but, well, this is me, so I'm instantly excited too and "Let's do it." so I hurried out to meet Bobby.
Bobby was an elderly Indian man with a small old truck and an air of natural and joyous naughtiness, so, with Jane and Joyce calling the entire venture ridiculous and a waste of time and money, and despite knowing full well - because he told me - that Bobby would have done the trip for as little as F$8.00 (he joyfully told me he was deliberately cheating me only because he had 16 grand-kids and needed to pay their school fees) I was happy to play stupid rich tourist/sucker and pay the whole amount and that's when all five of us hopped into the truck and took off into ... an entirely new world.
Yup, the teenage girls piled in too. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Baby Jane asked them. "Our boss told us to find out something." they replied happily.
I'd never been there before so it was indeed a great adventure, and I can now tell you that Sigatoka Valley is very lush, scenic and very beautiful but it's also primitive, poor and primal too, as it's almost entirely without infrastructure and most of the roads are hardly more than goat tracks, but I quickly developed the greatest respect for Bobby and his truck.
See that river? We crossed it in Bobby's truck.
Robert's photo.
Man, that old man and that old truck could take some punishment and I quickly began to suspect there was a new and powerful engine beneath that battered old bonnet. And Bobby was laugh-out-loud funny with the most hilarious running commentary, and it was specially hilarious how, when driving through mountains and streams and ravines and other unpromising bits of landscape, passing through poor villages and past lonely hamlets, Fijians would constantly shout out in Fijian "You can't go down that road. There's been a landslide." or "You can't cross that stream. The water is too high." Bobby would look at me and laugh uproariously and say "Lucky I'm Indian and don't know what they're saying."
And then he'd go ahead and do it and we'd plunge deep into heart-in-mouth time.
Yes, Bobby and his truck could do anything and everything and we had the most spectacular and hair-raising moments with Jane shouting "If you get me dead, Denise, I'll kill you." and the rest of us hanging on for dear life, seeing no possible way we'd survive. In fact, Jane got a lot of it on film and whenever she's shown it to people, they all say "No. It's not possible. There's no way you survived that." but yes we did.
Oh, that Bobby! He was the most wonderful, wonderful old man and I'm so happy I met him!
Anyway, it took us hours but eventually we arrived in Tonga, a little village perched on the side of a mountain, where we were completely denied access to the cave. Yup, no one cared that we'd nearly died at least a dozen times trying to reach them, and that the teenage girls had been sent on a mission by their big boss, they would NOT let us go into or even see the cave.
It was because we were all girls and no girls were ever allowed. And when our teenage girls pointed out that it was odd that they let esoteric German brides in there, we were told that only the chief could give special dispensation and he wasn't around so it wasn't going to happen.
But I'm a wily soul and when I spotted a couple of teenage boys I recalled the whole Secret Teenage Boy Business Kim had talked about, and so took the pair of them aside and showed them my picture and asked if there was a rock in that cave. Yes, they told me, there was: a giant rock. And did it have carvings on it? No it didn't. It was a huge round uncarved white rock that shone like the moon and sparkled like it was full of diamonds, which sounded to me like it had to have been mica or one of those types of rocks.
Odd, huh! I have no idea what it means to esoteric Germans but it certainly wasn't the Viking stelae I was after.
So that's when I realised the truth of the matter. It wasn't about finding my stelae at all. The entire venture was a scam and there I was, the big sucker paying for Sigatoka Tourist Information Centre to find out why so many strange Germans were choosing to marry in a cave in Tonga, but it was all so cheerful and good-natured, I was fine with that.
After that, I could only wave around my diagram and ask after other petroglyphs and ... well, Fiji is Fiji and it's very common for people to make up stories as a way of saying "Sod off and become someone's else's problem." so, directed by the chiefless Tonga-villagers (who strangely look more Tongan than Fijian, I should tell you, which is a definite ancient mystery requiring investigation.) and by the Fijians at every other village we arrived at, we drove for hours on goat tracks around the Valley, being jolted till our teeth rattled, risking everything and hanging on for dear life with our hearts in our mouths at dangerous moment after dangerous moment, being sent around in ever increasing circles, waving around my diagram and looking for rocks we all knew no one was really going to let us see, and by late afternoon even our bubbly teenagers had lost their sparkle, and when a bunch of villagers at our latest destination suggested we hire their horses to take us deeper into the jungled mountains, (Jane for all for it, btw. How's that for shocking?) I was finally "Bobby, can you take us home now?" because the bulldog in me was ready to roll over, whimper a lot and go to sleep. After foaming at the mouth and savaging everyone, that is.
So that's the upshot of my attempt to find out if Vikings ever made it to Sigatoka Valley. I really don't know, but I doubt it. Although I can say with 99.9% certainty that Gavin Menzies is simply full of **it and that the Chinese definitely never ever did.
And just to wind up this story, much later on, when I showed the photograph of the Viking stelae to Ela Koroi - since she traveled for years the entire length and breadth of Sigatoka Valley when she was with the Fiji Red Cross - she said "I know that rock. It isn't it Sigatoka Valley at all. That's the one on an island in the Yasawa Group. It's not ancient at all. It was a joke by some silly boys back just after WWI." so I guess that puts the whole thing to bed very nicely, doesn't it.
What a silly billy that Gavin Menzies is, isn't he!
But he doesn't come close to being as silly as I am.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Fiji Kids Learning For Life.
Old friend Julie H. is the last person on earth I'd have expected to do this - and I suspect her battle with cancer a few years back may have more to do with it than any of us realise - but in 2010 she started a charity to break the poverty cycle in the Sigatoka Valley ...
Sigatoka Valley,
a very scenic part of the world,
but exceptionally poor.
... by putting"the poorest of the poor" in her area of Fiji through school.
Julie with three of her kiddies.
Look at how joyous they are.
It's called Fiji Kids Learning for Life and it's a registered charity in Fiji:
Some of Julie's kids
at home.
Water supply at a home.
... with sponsors from all around the world who are willing to take on all their educational expenses until they finish their education, which is hopefully university because that's the idea behind this.
Julie with two of her sponsors,
Mick and Jim from Cairns.
And if you knew Julie you'd realise how unlikely and how funny this is. I've known her my whole life and a more "Ewwww, dirt!" girl (I mean that in a nice way, Julie.) would be hard to imagine, yet here she is willingly getting down and dirty to help the poor.
And I've been through Sigatoka Valley myself so I know this is no easy journey for anyone to take.
Kudos Julie. "Brava. Brava." coupled with loud insane clapping!
And here she is in action among the poor.
As much of a bossy boots as she ever was,
but now using her powers for good instead
of just looking good.
So that's her motivation behind her charity, which has been running now for three years and is just getting bigger and bigger.
Like, here's her first selection back in 2010 ...
... who all are now doing exceptionally well at school, as you can see here:
A brighter, happier bunch
you couldn't ask for.
Then, in 2011, another 40 were added to the list:
The 2011 Chosen 40
at a Meet the Sponsors Day.
Volunteer Clair with Loata.
(Mmm, why do I suspect I know Loata's
sponsors?)
(Mmm, why do I suspect I know Loata's
sponsors?)
... but this year, oh gosh, she had 60 more turn up and under the worst possible circumstances too:
Story in Fiji Times.
Luckily she had lots of Fiji folks giving her a helping hand plus a lot flying in from around the world who'd volunteered to help and sponsor ...
Some of her volunteers.
... who, as we should also point out, also braved those floods to be there on the day ...
Volunteer Sandra from UK.
... to take down details and in a couple of cases to make choices to immediately commit:
Volunteer Alison and Seinemere.
And here are a few of her 2012 Chosen:
However, while checking out the home circumstances, she discovered another four kids who needed support so badly she immediately took them on, which entirely drained the charity's bank account ... but then she came across Pravindesh, so clever and in such dire circumstances, she couldn't leave him out, but without any money left she desperately needs immediate support to get him on the program.
Anyone?
And she's increasingly aware of how much more work needs to be done, and how many more kids need to be helped, so she's planning a big push for 2013 with the intention of getting more and more publicity for the program which means, hopefully, more and more sponsors coming on board.
So if you'd like to help Julie out, here's a link to her WEBSITE. http://fijikids.org/
Julie, in red, explaining the program to teachers.
Doesn't she look amazingly good.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
How is it we don't know?
Do you recall a decade ago when we were all being encouraged to hate Afghanistan? But then, what happened to me was I read that Afghanistan was the rose-growing capital of the world and it shook me to my core and I kept thinking "Why don't we all know that? Why isn't anyone telling us this?"
Well, that's how I felt again when I discovered, in Dubai, how engaging and charming all the Emratis I met were.
Truly, it felt like being back in Fiji with all the instant friendships and with everyone immediately on page with you without need of explanation. I grew up with that and always thought it was normal until I went out into the world and met Outsiders who have barriers and self/other divisions and don't know the right way to behave and treat others ... which is something we all in Fiji do exceptionally well.
Look, how it goes is that in Fiji you just meet someone and it's like you've known them for years and instantly you're engaged in a friendship that feels like it's at least three years in, and even those folks who are in your life for only ten minutes feel like they're an integral part of your current adventure.
And that's exactly what Emratis feel like, which is odd because I long ago worked out that Fijians are so astute and wise about people because they read people's mana, which cuts them straight to the chase because they immediately know who you are and what you're up to, and so have the option of immediately joining in, completely up to speed, and deeply meshed in with you, and since they all like people so much, that's indeed what they usually do. And I have to say that's exactly what makes Fiji so much fun to be in and hugely fun to grow up in.
But if mana-reading is how Fijians do it, I have no explanation for how Emratis do it, but I can tell you it felt just the same. Odd, yes?
And when I made this observation to Dubai-residing Fijians (there are heaps of us in UAE), they all said they'd noticed it as well but added "No, the REAL Fijians of the Arab world are the Omanis because they engage like Fijians do and also, like Fijians, they are outrageously funny."
And I had to agree because the Omanis we met had us in stitches, they were so naturally hilarious.
Like this wonderful Omani boy who showed the kids how they make those sand-bottles:
Sincerely, it was one of the very best conversations I've had in years and I wished we could talk so much longer, in fact for many years to come.
And later I was so sorry I didn't ask about the way Cool Young Dudes in Dubai tie their head-dresses because they do it differently to the other Emratis and it's amazingly chic and makes them look downright sexy, and that was something I'd have loved to know.
But I have to ask: how is it that we don't already know this? How is it we don't know that Emratis are enormously engaging and likeable, while Omanis take it even further coupling engaging personalities with the best sense of humour and the best comic timing ... short of Fiji that is ... so please pass this on because it's the sort of thing everyone everywhere should know.
Can't say that about Saudis however. Gosh, the ones I met were GRIM!
Well, that's how I felt again when I discovered, in Dubai, how engaging and charming all the Emratis I met were.
Truly, it felt like being back in Fiji with all the instant friendships and with everyone immediately on page with you without need of explanation. I grew up with that and always thought it was normal until I went out into the world and met Outsiders who have barriers and self/other divisions and don't know the right way to behave and treat others ... which is something we all in Fiji do exceptionally well.
Look, how it goes is that in Fiji you just meet someone and it's like you've known them for years and instantly you're engaged in a friendship that feels like it's at least three years in, and even those folks who are in your life for only ten minutes feel like they're an integral part of your current adventure.
And that's exactly what Emratis feel like, which is odd because I long ago worked out that Fijians are so astute and wise about people because they read people's mana, which cuts them straight to the chase because they immediately know who you are and what you're up to, and so have the option of immediately joining in, completely up to speed, and deeply meshed in with you, and since they all like people so much, that's indeed what they usually do. And I have to say that's exactly what makes Fiji so much fun to be in and hugely fun to grow up in.
But if mana-reading is how Fijians do it, I have no explanation for how Emratis do it, but I can tell you it felt just the same. Odd, yes?
And when I made this observation to Dubai-residing Fijians (there are heaps of us in UAE), they all said they'd noticed it as well but added "No, the REAL Fijians of the Arab world are the Omanis because they engage like Fijians do and also, like Fijians, they are outrageously funny."
And I had to agree because the Omanis we met had us in stitches, they were so naturally hilarious.
Like this wonderful Omani boy who showed the kids how they make those sand-bottles:
A really, really hilarious young fellow.
And there were the fall-down-laughing young Omanis at The Walk who showed us how Emratis tied their head-dresses:
Actually that's a hilarious story: What happened was we were at the Beach with the kids ...
Marina Beach.
... and since it wasn't planned, they had no hats (Not me. I always have a hat.) so Little Brother grabbed Arabic cloths out of the car (Little Brother always has some to hand because they're so useful) so they could don them as improvised head scarves to ward off the sun.
Little Brother, who does not wish to
be named in my blog, in his version
of Arab head-dress.
Anyway, after nightfall, when we finally dragged the kids away from the beach and were wandering through The Walk ...
Dubai's only pedestrian walk
known as, naturally, The Walk.
... these genuinely lovely Omani fellows began chatting with us about how our scarves were tied all wrong and thus we dived immediately into a really hilarious conversation about how different Arab nations tie their head-dresses differently and the charming Omanis began to demonstrate the Emrati-style on Keith:
Keith, aka Captain Haddock.
And when I pointed out the resemblance,
the Omanis found it hilarious.
Sincerely, it was one of the very best conversations I've had in years and I wished we could talk so much longer, in fact for many years to come.
The funniest of them all.
Didn't get his name
but I'd still call him "friend".
And later I was so sorry I didn't ask about the way Cool Young Dudes in Dubai tie their head-dresses because they do it differently to the other Emratis and it's amazingly chic and makes them look downright sexy, and that was something I'd have loved to know.
But I have to ask: how is it that we don't already know this? How is it we don't know that Emratis are enormously engaging and likeable, while Omanis take it even further coupling engaging personalities with the best sense of humour and the best comic timing ... short of Fiji that is ... so please pass this on because it's the sort of thing everyone everywhere should know.
Can't say that about Saudis however. Gosh, the ones I met were GRIM!
Arguing with Bernd. Dubai Again.
Dubai is actually rather special. Lately, ever since that little girl asked me "Why has the whole world become evil at the same time?" and I was lost for an answer, I've been thinking about it a lot, only to end up rather dispirited about the seeming loss of goodness, social justice, honour, decency, chivalry, honesty, caring, doing right, and those sorts of things ...
... but in Dubai I discovered that the whole shebang has simply packed up and moved to United Arab Emirates. Yes, everything that is good in the human spirit has left us in the West and moved off into this happy little corner of the Islamic World.
At least that's what I said to Bernd yesterday but was argued down in a most convincing manner.
See, my point is that when oil was discovered in the mid 60s in this little horn in north Africa ...
... rather than rubbing his hands with glee and looking up catalogs to decide what to buy himself, Sheik Khalifa decided this sudden good fortune should benefit ALL his people, so all the seven Sheiks of seven states on the Arabian Sea - Abu Zaby, 'Ajman, Al Fujayrah, Ash Shariqah, Dubayy, Umm al Qaywayn and Ra's al Khaymah (had to look that up) - merged to form the United Arab Emirates (UAE), with the aim of spreading the wealth and creating a little paradise on earth.
Yes, that's what they set out to do in the 70s and from what I saw in Dubai they've done it: the seven sheiks from the seven states have indeed created an earthly Paradise in their little part of the world.
At least that's the case I was arguing with Bernd.
Because from all appearances they have indeed done it. Within three generations, thanks to this Commonwealth of Oil-Producers, no one is poor or sick or wanting anything because Emratis now live the most beautiful and elegant lives, with all their needs catered for, all with their own villas, and with access to the most extraordinary education, health, sporting and recreational facilities, and with the most exquisite infrastructure. Thus, we all have to give enormous and heartfelt kudos to these enlightened and visionary Sheiks for doing so much that is right and good and decent, honourable and honest.
At least, that was my side of this argument.
But before I tell you Bernd's side of the argument, let me show you a small example of mine:
At the museum, they have examples of how the Emratis lived B.O. (before oil) ...
... and here's just a few shots of how they live today:
And it isn't just in the cities they live like this. You'll be out in the desert driving through miles of this ...
... and around all the old oases, you encounter these:
So, thanks to these enlightened and visionary Sheiks, education is given priority and there is nothing that kiddies could want for, with the best teachers brought in from all around the world and fabulous libraries and resources-to-die-for. It was definitely my idea of bliss and I could soooo teach there.
(But just let me aside a boast here: Little Brother's kids were duxes at their little resource-poor school in Fiji - Fiji being a third world nation with barely any educational resources at all - and they are STILL duxes of their school in Dubai. Yup, they didn't miss a beat with their Fiji schooling despite our relative and comparative poverty. Go figure!)
The idea of education in UAE is that everyone Emrati becomes what they want to become, and are expected to pursue their dreams/bliss until the age of 45 when they are given the option of retiring while keeping their full final salary for the rest of their days. Not bad for a people who were once nations of pearl divers and camel traders.
Mind you, it hasn't entirely worked out for the best because young Emratis - although remarkably charming and engaging - are a little spoilt with an undeniably over-developed sense of entitlement, and these days are given to collecting cars and motorbikes ...
... participating in and following violent sport, and have invented a new game of Highway Surfing where gangs of teenagers travel at speed down the highway in their Hummers with one or more of their number trying to stand on the roof. And yes, a great number get killed. And yes, I know it's in nature of teenagers to indulge in risky behaviour, but most teenagers don't have access to so many expensive toys to be used in these stupid and dangerous games.
However, they're not all like that. I was pleased at the proficiency young Emratis showed in a whole range of activities, like this lot taking turns at ice-dancing at the skating rink:
And also, in addition to having the most beautiful roads, they are into civic horticulture and until you reach the desert, all the highways are lined with ...
... MARIGOLDS! Yup, miles and miles of marigolds. I think they'd have to count as the ugliest of all flowers but it seems they need less water and they kill the nematodes. I don't actually know what nematodes are but they sound awful.
And water too isn't really a problem. Lindy asked how Emratis managed to live in such luxury while in the desert, so I looked it up for her and discovered there are vast underground reserves of artesian water they pump up in 56 wells (they've recently added in another 19) and they have recently started desalination at a building locals call The Submarine:
Lindy, who is always eco-minded and planet-friendly, was a little outraged when I passed this information on and went on for a while about how artesian water is even rarer than oil and that they shouldn't be living this way because when it's gone there isn't any more, and since she's always so well-equipped with facts I couldn't find the energy to argue, mainly because I knew she was right.
So this is what I was arguing with Bernd; that Dubai is an amazing place where they're doing everything right and decent, and with honour and honesty, for the greatest benefit for all, but Bernd, who was there for a while several years ago, simply said "Crap!"
"How is it crap? Thanks to seven enlightened and visionary sheiks, UAE is getting it sooo right they are turning their world into a paradise, so you can't call it crap." I said.
"They import workers from Pakistan and the Philippines, house them like animals, pay them hardly anything at all, and treat them with the most enormous contempt and scorn."
I couldn't argue with that because I'd seen many examples for myself, examples so sad I'd asked those sorts of questions myself. However I could argue "But the Sheiks have no remit to serve other nations. They only have a remit to serve their own people."
"Muslims have a remit to charity so they shouldn't be treating foreign workers as badly as they do."
And since I couldn't argue with that one either, I had to turn mean. "When did you Germans become so passionate about social justice? Isn't it only a few decades since you were all Nazis?" (Sorry, Bernd! It was a joke!)
But that was my parting shot because, to be honest, I'd lost the energy and will to argue.
However with only a nod towards Bernd's argument, I have to say that we all have to praise those wonderful seven sheiks for all they've done for their people and for creating what indeed looks like Paradise on Earth ... and it's just a shame about that evil snake up there hiding in that tree.
... but in Dubai I discovered that the whole shebang has simply packed up and moved to United Arab Emirates. Yes, everything that is good in the human spirit has left us in the West and moved off into this happy little corner of the Islamic World.
At least that's what I said to Bernd yesterday but was argued down in a most convincing manner.
See, my point is that when oil was discovered in the mid 60s in this little horn in north Africa ...
... rather than rubbing his hands with glee and looking up catalogs to decide what to buy himself, Sheik Khalifa decided this sudden good fortune should benefit ALL his people, so all the seven Sheiks of seven states on the Arabian Sea - Abu Zaby, 'Ajman, Al Fujayrah, Ash Shariqah, Dubayy, Umm al Qaywayn and Ra's al Khaymah (had to look that up) - merged to form the United Arab Emirates (UAE), with the aim of spreading the wealth and creating a little paradise on earth.
Yes, that's what they set out to do in the 70s and from what I saw in Dubai they've done it: the seven sheiks from the seven states have indeed created an earthly Paradise in their little part of the world.
At least that's the case I was arguing with Bernd.
Because from all appearances they have indeed done it. Within three generations, thanks to this Commonwealth of Oil-Producers, no one is poor or sick or wanting anything because Emratis now live the most beautiful and elegant lives, with all their needs catered for, all with their own villas, and with access to the most extraordinary education, health, sporting and recreational facilities, and with the most exquisite infrastructure. Thus, we all have to give enormous and heartfelt kudos to these enlightened and visionary Sheiks for doing so much that is right and good and decent, honourable and honest.
At least, that was my side of this argument.
But before I tell you Bernd's side of the argument, let me show you a small example of mine:
At the museum, they have examples of how the Emratis lived B.O. (before oil) ...
Keith took these.
Love the last shot.
... and here's just a few shots of how they live today:
Keith took these ones too.
In fact, he took all these in this post
because I think he's lost mine. AGAIN.
And it isn't just in the cities they live like this. You'll be out in the desert driving through miles of this ...
... and around all the old oases, you encounter these:
OK, you'll have to double-click to enlarge that,
so you can see the luxury villas.
We were astonished and kept saying "These are villages." and making jokes about how these villas were the local bures (Fijian for hut), and naming these tiny oases towns after the various Fijian villages around Suva, our capital.
And we were also astonished at the quality of resources at the local schools. I mean these are for the kids to work on in Shop Class:
Could only find two shots of these planes
and helicopters they have for the
kids to work on, but, trust me,
they have a range.
(But just let me aside a boast here: Little Brother's kids were duxes at their little resource-poor school in Fiji - Fiji being a third world nation with barely any educational resources at all - and they are STILL duxes of their school in Dubai. Yup, they didn't miss a beat with their Fiji schooling despite our relative and comparative poverty. Go figure!)
The idea of education in UAE is that everyone Emrati becomes what they want to become, and are expected to pursue their dreams/bliss until the age of 45 when they are given the option of retiring while keeping their full final salary for the rest of their days. Not bad for a people who were once nations of pearl divers and camel traders.
Mind you, it hasn't entirely worked out for the best because young Emratis - although remarkably charming and engaging - are a little spoilt with an undeniably over-developed sense of entitlement, and these days are given to collecting cars and motorbikes ...
Someone rather clever managed
to fit an engine into a Christmas tree bauble.
A different red car.
And here it isn't enough
to have a Lambroghini,
you have to have
the LATEST Lamborghini.
... participating in and following violent sport, and have invented a new game of Highway Surfing where gangs of teenagers travel at speed down the highway in their Hummers with one or more of their number trying to stand on the roof. And yes, a great number get killed. And yes, I know it's in nature of teenagers to indulge in risky behaviour, but most teenagers don't have access to so many expensive toys to be used in these stupid and dangerous games.
However, they're not all like that. I was pleased at the proficiency young Emratis showed in a whole range of activities, like this lot taking turns at ice-dancing at the skating rink:
I think Keith may have filmed them,
but I'm not looking for that.
And just for a laugh, let me show you a shot of how a lot of them dress to skate:
You don't expect Arabs in robes
to be on ice-skates,
but that's how a lot of them do it.
And also, in addition to having the most beautiful roads, they are into civic horticulture and until you reach the desert, all the highways are lined with ...
... MARIGOLDS! Yup, miles and miles of marigolds. I think they'd have to count as the ugliest of all flowers but it seems they need less water and they kill the nematodes. I don't actually know what nematodes are but they sound awful.
And water too isn't really a problem. Lindy asked how Emratis managed to live in such luxury while in the desert, so I looked it up for her and discovered there are vast underground reserves of artesian water they pump up in 56 wells (they've recently added in another 19) and they have recently started desalination at a building locals call The Submarine:
Dubai's new desalination plant.
Lindy, who is always eco-minded and planet-friendly, was a little outraged when I passed this information on and went on for a while about how artesian water is even rarer than oil and that they shouldn't be living this way because when it's gone there isn't any more, and since she's always so well-equipped with facts I couldn't find the energy to argue, mainly because I knew she was right.
So this is what I was arguing with Bernd; that Dubai is an amazing place where they're doing everything right and decent, and with honour and honesty, for the greatest benefit for all, but Bernd, who was there for a while several years ago, simply said "Crap!"
"How is it crap? Thanks to seven enlightened and visionary sheiks, UAE is getting it sooo right they are turning their world into a paradise, so you can't call it crap." I said.
"They import workers from Pakistan and the Philippines, house them like animals, pay them hardly anything at all, and treat them with the most enormous contempt and scorn."
I couldn't argue with that because I'd seen many examples for myself, examples so sad I'd asked those sorts of questions myself. However I could argue "But the Sheiks have no remit to serve other nations. They only have a remit to serve their own people."
"Muslims have a remit to charity so they shouldn't be treating foreign workers as badly as they do."
And since I couldn't argue with that one either, I had to turn mean. "When did you Germans become so passionate about social justice? Isn't it only a few decades since you were all Nazis?" (Sorry, Bernd! It was a joke!)
But that was my parting shot because, to be honest, I'd lost the energy and will to argue.
However with only a nod towards Bernd's argument, I have to say that we all have to praise those wonderful seven sheiks for all they've done for their people and for creating what indeed looks like Paradise on Earth ... and it's just a shame about that evil snake up there hiding in that tree.
Monday, January 9, 2012
The Llama Strikes Again!
I've told you about The Llama before, even showing you a photo she took by turning her camera onto herself in the bathroom at a casting session after she was asked for image. Yeah, it was one of her earliest ever casting sessions, before she knew you were meant to bring headshots to these things:
But if you're not up to speed with this, my baby sister Jane's friend Abi's eldest daughter, Lili Latham, is the wayyy talented songwriter/singer who is known to family as Llama and who was picked up to, from memory, to play an elf in Lord of the Rings or something along those lines. And she's in three episodes of "Legend of the Seeker" and there is something else on the horizon that is still hush-hush so let's just say "Thank you Mr Jackson." and let it go for now.
Anyway, she's started making little videos for youtube, showcasing her original songs, which you should really check out sometime.
In the meantime, check out this one. Llama singing at PukaPuka Shire Hall, in her little NZ town, on talent night. It breaks my heart that such a talented singer has folks talking all through what is such a world-class performance. And don't you just adore her steampunk outfit.
Something very special here, yes? Enough to make you long for a daughter of your own? And do look for her original songs on youtube. You can link from that one above into her others.
GO, LLAMA!
Most folks pay a LOT of money
to get shots this good!
Oh to be 17 again.
But if you're not up to speed with this, my baby sister Jane's friend Abi's eldest daughter, Lili Latham, is the wayyy talented songwriter/singer who is known to family as Llama and who was picked up to, from memory, to play an elf in Lord of the Rings or something along those lines. And she's in three episodes of "Legend of the Seeker" and there is something else on the horizon that is still hush-hush so let's just say "Thank you Mr Jackson." and let it go for now.
Anyway, she's started making little videos for youtube, showcasing her original songs, which you should really check out sometime.
In the meantime, check out this one. Llama singing at PukaPuka Shire Hall, in her little NZ town, on talent night. It breaks my heart that such a talented singer has folks talking all through what is such a world-class performance. And don't you just adore her steampunk outfit.
Something very special here, yes? Enough to make you long for a daughter of your own? And do look for her original songs on youtube. You can link from that one above into her others.
GO, LLAMA!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
The Dubai Fountain.
Before we left, everyone who has ever been to Dubai was saying "You MUST see Dubai's fountain. You simply MUST." so there we were, wandering along the pedestrian boardwalk beside Dubai Mall ...
... next to a pretty little bay ...
... looking everywhere for the sodding thing.
Couldn't find it anywhere so eventually we asked someone, and to our abject humiliation, turns out that the little bay WAS the Dubai Fountain.
It seemed far too large to be a fountain so didn't make sense until the music started and that's when we discovered precisely why the Fountain is such a legend:
We watched The Whitney, the one shown above, and it was indeed so beautiful it holds you breathless and when it explodes (shown at approx. 3.03) it's so exactly right it actually makes you cry:
And when it was over, we went to Starbucks on the boardwalk and had a cuppa and watched the next two shows - the exquisite Arabic one everyone raves about and a Chinese-esque one - and, despite not being able to see the whole thing properly, it was just pleasant and really very special.
However, you can't see just how great it was in our photos. You may recall how much fun I made of Keith when he tried to take night photos in Bangkok, and how I actually preferred the awful wrong shots to the relatively good ones he took after he figured it out ... well, turns out that he'd forgotten everything he learned about his camera in Thailand, and it was back to truly bad photos which I actually LOVE:
But the upshot of this wonderful experience is that we will now add our voices to the chorus of "You MUST see Dubai's fountain. You simply MUST."
P.S. Our friend Juliet was in Dubai at the same time we were and I see that her photos - taken with her i-phone - are actually better than Keith's taken with his Nikon, so let's include hers as well so you get a better sense of this lovely place.
The boardwalk outside Dubai Mall.
Keith's shot.
Keith's shot.
Juliet's shot!
... next to a pretty little bay ...
The Bay! NOT!
Keith's shot.
Juliet's shot.
Keith's shot.
... looking everywhere for the sodding thing.
Couldn't find it anywhere so eventually we asked someone, and to our abject humiliation, turns out that the little bay WAS the Dubai Fountain.
Keith's shot!
In the background,
that's the souk we didn't,
despite the best of intentions,
make it to.
It seemed far too large to be a fountain so didn't make sense until the music started and that's when we discovered precisely why the Fountain is such a legend:
We watched The Whitney, the one shown above, and it was indeed so beautiful it holds you breathless and when it explodes (shown at approx. 3.03) it's so exactly right it actually makes you cry:
Keith finally gets the right setting
on his camera.
Juliet's shot!
And when it was over, we went to Starbucks on the boardwalk and had a cuppa and watched the next two shows - the exquisite Arabic one everyone raves about and a Chinese-esque one - and, despite not being able to see the whole thing properly, it was just pleasant and really very special.
However, you can't see just how great it was in our photos. You may recall how much fun I made of Keith when he tried to take night photos in Bangkok, and how I actually preferred the awful wrong shots to the relatively good ones he took after he figured it out ... well, turns out that he'd forgotten everything he learned about his camera in Thailand, and it was back to truly bad photos which I actually LOVE:
Us in front of Burj Khalifa.
Me, as Keith sees me.
And how wonderful is this one of the fountain with the row of Arabic head-dresses at the bottom:
Keith's best shot!
Juliet's best shot.
But the upshot of this wonderful experience is that we will now add our voices to the chorus of "You MUST see Dubai's fountain. You simply MUST."
P.S. Our friend Juliet was in Dubai at the same time we were and I see that her photos - taken with her i-phone - are actually better than Keith's taken with his Nikon, so let's include hers as well so you get a better sense of this lovely place.
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