Travels with Denise

What Kills Us This Week! Getting the Hate-On!

2012-02-11T23:38:00.000-08:00

Hong Kong is in a strange place at the moment. AGAIN. And this time it's all the fault of Dolce and Gabbana.

What's happening is that we and Mainland China are currently at odds and it's gone beyond random fistfights in trains and on the street and has turned into a slanging match in the media, with them calling us "Dogs" and us calling them "Locusts".

"Locusts" for a reason!

This is what the typical

Mainland China's Golden Week looks like

for us in HK.

I don't intend to join the Hot-Heads in this Mass Hate-On although I am willingly taking my part in conversations about how we can always tell who the Mainlanders are. For years, I've been watching Mainlanders get off the bus at Wan Chai, and they're always so different-looking that I've long been studying them to work out HOW they manage to look so exactly like Mainlanders. And they truly do, always, and have decided that the difference is that Hong Kongers always appear sleek and chic - even the sad old ladies going through the rubbish bins for recyclables - while visitors from China appear not to understand the shape and proportions of clothing PLUS they wear haircuts that don't suit 'em PLUS ALWAYS the wrong shoes.

But the nastier conversations I'm keeping away from. Yes, they do pick their noses. Yes, they do slag great globs of phlegm onto the streets. Yes, they do encourage their kiddies to pee and poo on the floor no matter where they are, even on our sublime MTR and the shiny marble floors of our beloved shopping malls. Yes, they do never pooper-scoop after their children. Yes, they do deliberately bump into Gweilos ("foreign devils") in the streets although that's more because they love the way WE always apologise even when it's obviously their fault rather than to hurt us or see us thrown back. Yes, they do throw food-wrappers over their shoulders with absolute indifference to what or who is around them. Yes, we do have to wade through knee-deep garbage when the Golden Week is over.

And yes, they do pour over the border every Golden Week in their millions, like locusts, Hermes suitcases packed full of yuan to buy us out of our stocks of Christian Louboutin, Vacheron Contantin, Prada, Stuart Weitzman and Patek Philippe.

We know all this and were happy enough just to spit out our worse expletive "Mainlander!' whenever these "cultural misunderstandings" occurred in our vicinity until Dolce and Gabbana made all this trouble for us.

But how is this the fault of Dolce and Gabbana you ask? Well, what happened is that they set up a flagship store over in TST to take advantage of this Mainland spending power and then inexplicably announced that any Mainlander was welcome to photograph their store while Hong Kongers were forbidden. But why? To curry favour? To announce their allegiance? Whatever it was, it's just bizarre!!

Naturally, HK "got on the fiesty" and poured out in vast numbers to take photographs of the store ... but bunches of Mainlanders started attacking them for it. Like, seriously, gangs of them would beat up Hong Kongers who were taking snaps of the D&G building.

Is there any word for "somewhere way beyond bizarre"?

And then this appalling piece of Chinese media began doing the rounds. I wonder if I can find it:

It comes with a sort-of translation, but is just so unbelievably awful you do have to watch. It's a seven minute rant by some Beijing Professor - that could only have been aired with the approval of CCP - that is frighteningly and dangerously stupid, and the upshot of it, to me, seems like he's saying "Of course we're allowed to poo and pee in your MTR, and it's only because HK is a pack of British DOGS that you think you have the right to object!"

Even Beijing's lapdog - "Chip" - is so shocked for once he's sided with Hong Kong.

And if that isn't strange enough, this rant was followed up with gangs of Mainlanders attacking Hong Kongers any place and every place and it just got so stupid and nasty that one of the Universities tried to discover why it was happening so ran a survey ... and got the exact same results as the Legco survey run in 2003 and published back then in ALL the newspapers: that Hong Kongers love being Chinese, love China's longstanding civilisation, love China's beautiful material culture, love the exquisite workmanship of Chinese products, love the physical landscape of Mainland China ... but hate the Chinese Government and detest the peeing, pooing, picking Mainland visitors forever pouring into our fair city.

But then the Dean leaked these results to the media and things got even nastier and thus he had to resign in shame. I don't mind in the least that he's gone because I think this is the same Dean who ordered the police beatings of the "V for Vendetta" protestors - protesting the official visit of "a Beijing Nasty" - but I do have to ask why he should be sacked for telling people exactly the same things they were told back in 2003.

Anyway, that's how things stand at the moment. We're resenting being called Dogs and they're angry we called them Locusts ... and it's certainly not over by a long shot with many many more volleys of nastiness still to come.

However it's all so strange that it can only seem like a Beijing Beat-Up however to what end? This is probably just me being paranoid but I'm feeling most uncomfortable mainly because there's the awkward timing issue involved:

As you probably know, Our Very Own Donald's term in office is over so our Punti 900 are shortly to vote for the new Hong Kong Head Honcho. It isn't much competition since we've only got 1) Henry "I'm too stupidly rich for my own good" Tang and 2) The Other Guy who we actually know nothing about because he refuses to debate or make statements or discuss policies, although I have heard rumours that he's Beijing's man ... and now Beijing has come out and ordered the Punti to vote for Henry ... but they're making us so angry with their "dang-their-hides fighting-words" that I can't help think that it's to make us so riled that we refuse Beijing's choice and vote for The Other Guy who is really Beijing Man, which is what Beijing is really after.

That it really is all a very clever double-bluff that we really should be seeing through ... unless it's a double-double bluff and we're meant to see it so we ...

AAAHHHHHHH!!!! That Wong Tai Sin fortune stick really nailed it this year, didn't it: #29: that it will be hard for Hong Kong to tell angels from demons this year. However, if we can just work out what the rest of that prophecy means - "Heaven and Earth will know the difference." - maybe ... just maybe ...

Oh Lordy, who really knows!

Thus despite HK showing its best "feisty", that can be my only choice for this week:

THREATDOWN

Getting the Hate-On and not knowing why!

"Messiah" and Me.

2012-02-06T22:38:00.000-08:00

I am entirely astonished. In fact, I couldn't be more astonished. You remember this song?:

I have just found out what this song is about and, sincerely, I cannot be more flabbergast.

I'm currently reading Malcolm McLaren's biography, The Wicked Ways of Malcolm McLaren. It's all very interesting, all that "Rock n Roll Swindle" stuff, and I'm enjoying it immensely ... but ...

... I have to tell you about something in there that's entirely too strange for words. It came in the chapter about the aftermath of the Sex Pistols, when everything had collapsed around him and Malcolm was broke, depressed, condemned by all-and-sundry, reputation shot to pieces, unemployable in the music industry and hiding out in Paris where, practically on the bread-line, he found a job working as an archivist in a music library.

And here's the bit that entirely astonished me. He says that in those archives he found a record put out by a "leprosy hospital" in Fiji in the 50s - lepers performing the oratorio from Handel's "Messiah" - and laughed uproariously thinking it was so bizarre it would be a complete hoot listening to it.

But the moment he heard the voices and the total beauty of the singing, he was transported. He says that never before in his life had he ever heard music of such entire perfection, with such depths of emotion that it dragged you into the lowest and highest parts of yourself and quickly had you blubbering like a baby, entirely and simultaneously both inside and outside yourself in some new and magic unknown place ... and thus he spun off into rather foolish and unworldly thoughts of dichotomies of "savagery vs civilisation" and decided that it should be the way forward for all music ... so went off and wrote a song about it, which he then gave to a young band he put together called "Adam and the Ants" ... and the song he gave them was indeed the song "Ant Music" above.

However, apart from reducing something so profound into something else entirely - although I do think Ant Music is a great song, it's just not nearly great enough - Malcolm was wrong on so many levels. Firstly, it wasn't a record put out by "lepers in Fiji". Since no other hospital in Fiji ever put out an album, Malcolm McLaren could only have been talking about the record dad put out in 1954: "Tamavua Hospital Choir sings Handel's "Messiah". Secondly, it wasn't "lepers" singing, it was the hospital's nursing staff. And, thirdly, it wasn't even a leprosy hospital: Tamavua Hospital was all about the Tuberculosis Epidemic then sweeping through the Pacific.

And how dad came to put out this record was because he thought the world needed to hear his choir.

It started in 1953 with a concert put on for the patients at the hospital to celebrate Easter, when his nursing staff put together a version of "He Shall Purify" ...

(A version that doesn't come even close to the beauty of dad's hospital's choir, but that's because no version does)

... that, when performed, it's shocking and unexpected beauty had every single person in the hospital blubbering away, weeping silent tears of wonder.

You have to remember that these singers were the front-line workers in a dreadful epidemic. Tuberculosis only came to the Pacific during WWII so no Islanders had any immunity to the bacilli and thus, by 1950, it was spreading a juggernaut of death throughout Oceania and it got so bad that Pacific governments were finally realising something had to be done, and as a top priority too.

And thus Tamavua Hospital ...

As it is today, looking very sad indeed.

(Formerly a WWII field hospital built

by the NZ Army but commandeered

by the American Army during The Pacific War

and renamed The American Base Hospital)

... was brought on line to deal with it, but with terrible results because ALL the staff who came to work there only lived for six weeks at the most, but it kept being fully staffed so we really do have to say that the Tamavua Hospital staff in the early 50s were probably the bravest and most heroic folk who ever lived and that's something that needs to be acknowledged and rewarded rather than - as it is now - simply forgotten.

However, those deaths are the reason my mother came into this story. She was in Fiji on holiday on the first leg of her long-dreamed-for trip around the world when entirely by chance she heard on the radio about the deaths of all the nurses at Tamavua Hospital and thought "I can fix that!" and so, compelled by a force she didn't quite understand, she applied for the job as Head Nurse, got it, and, thanks to BCG vaccines, cropping nurses' hair, thorough hot-water-scrubbing of every inch of the hospital, and putting every single object out into the sun, within three months she had cut her nurses' death rates to exactly ZERO and they kept that way in all the years to come.

So, since they were now finally retaining staff, that's when the Fiji government decided that they could take it up a notch and bring someone who "knew how to be a right bastard" in to head it. Yup, they'd realised that the fight to get on top of the epidemic wasn't working because everyone who'd tried to tackle it was too compliant and NICE so what they needed most was "an arrogant bastard" to spearhead it, and so, since my dad was probably the most world-class arrogant bastard they'd ever came across, he was brought out to Fiji from Belfast to be the general in this war.

So with everything in place and mum scrubbing and cropping heads and dad being an arrogant bastard, without fear or favour, willing to stomp anyone and everyone into the ground to get his own way, finally there was the smallest glimmer of a chance the Pacific could bring this horror to its knees ...

... which brings us back to the Easter concert where, amidst this terrible epidemic and surrounded by daily death and horror, the nurses sang "He Shall Purify." with such beauty that captured something so profound listeners were quickly blubbering like babies ... and the head of Fiji's British Colonial Service - Vascass? - heard about it and rang dad to say "You need them to do the entire oratorio." and thus came about the first ever concert at the Suva Town Hall of "Tamavua Hospital Choir sings Handel's "Messiah"."

It was a HUGE success and I think that where Malcolm McLaren got it most wrong is that the dichotomy this choir captured wasn't "savagery vs civilisation" but rather it was "life vs death." - trying to drag life out of a situation where everything around you is death, death, death - and also "hope vs despair" - the belief that maybe finally, finally, finally you can beat death ... and since it is THIS that Handel's "Messiah" is ultimately about and because most choirs the world over have never been in the front-line daily dealing with death and hoping to finally conquer it, is the reason that they don't ever get it right.

And they don't you know. Truly, Handel's oratorio has the potential for sending you soaring into some very special place beyond time and space, but most usually - let's finally admit this - it doesn't and if you'd ever heard dad's choir do it, you'd know for sure that other choirs simply don't cut it.

And it's because they got it so right that dad thought the world should hear it - "Messiah" done the way it should be done - so he got in a recording company to record it, for the princely sum of 30 pounds, and thus released the record ... into a resounding void. Guess the world thought "lepers singing Messiah" was too funny to be taken seriously and so no one was particularly interested, although, over the next 30 years the hospital got exactly 17 shillings in royalties, so I guess there were a few folk out there who knew music well enough to appreciate the sheer magic of this version.

But the concert became, by popular demand, an annual event and I first heard it when I was two years old and NEVER, even to this day, have I known anything so entirely beautiful. I can still remember sitting there, that first time, transfixed by the voices and swooped up to some place so angelic I was frozen in my seat until the Alleluia Chorus brought the whole thing to a head and I started to tremble. And that's exactly what happened to me every year after. Yup, every other concert we went to as young children - even those at Covent Garden in London - it was always about the delicious nougat mum would buy us to keep us quiet, but for this concert we sat there, completely still until the trembling started, hardly able to breathe and nougat entirely forgotten.

And since this was Fiji the inevitable happened and all other Fijian choirs started saying "We can do it as well as they can." so every year there was an annual "Handel's Messiah" concert where dad was always a judge, and we always went to them as well and, yes, there were many choirs who could do the oratorio as well as dad's choir, but to me Tamavua Hospital Choir always had that hidden extra: perhaps a deeper and more profound understanding of what Handel was saying with his music.

You know, it's only now, as an adult, I realise we were spoiled rotten as children having access to the best possible version of this oratorio. And what is particularly funny is that I always thought it was the music itself, but then, back at university in Brisbane in the 80s, during my punk phase, I read there going to be an Easter performance of "Messiah" at the Queensland University auditorium and I dragged a lot of my punk friends along promising them "the best experience you'll ever have in your life." ... and sat there shocked and embarrassed by the empty, meaningless, seemingly endless crap I was having to endure; "the big nothing threatening me." as McLaren wrote in that song above.

I thought it was me. I thought I'd got it wrong. But then, during intermission, surrounded by all the Brisbane glitterati fluttering their fingers and talking about how sublime it was, a booming voice cut through the crowd; a man I didn't know saying "It's unfortunate but I can't appreciate this. I once heard a Fijian choir perform "Messiah" and ever since then when I listen to anyone else do it, all I can hear is how empty it is."

Oh yeah, way to go, strange man! That's exactly what I feel too. And now that I know it's still out there, I do wish the world would re-release dad's record so everyone else on earth can have the chance to hear "Messiah" the way it should be done, outstandingly beautiful and holding such truth and wonder, capable of transfixing even total tossers like Malcolm McLaren.

But it should also be re-released in memory of that terrible, terrible time where, in the midst of that rolling juggernaut of death, so many courageous and beautiful souls put themselves on the front-line to overcome it, and then sang songs so richly imbued with everything they'd gone through. Alleluia!

Beware the Breath of the Dragon.

2012-01-25T01:45:00.000-08:00

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!

Any Old Glasses?

2012-01-23T21:21:00.000-08:00

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.

Is a trip to Zhuhai in order?

2012-01-20T20:51:00.000-08:00

Mmmm, Zhuhai? Who knew?

After dissing this little SEZ city so badly, saying there is nothing to do and absolutely nothing happens there, now it turns out it has a Furniture District, a little township full of carpenters and craftsmen who make up your furniture designs for you.

Sounds much like Dafen, a little township in Shenzhen full of artists who paint pictures for you and sculptors who make statues for you, a place I love so much I've blogged on it many many times.

Or the leathergoods district up in Guangzhou full of folks who make handbags and shoes. Or the guitar-making district - also in Guangzhou - that Keith is crazy about.

Isn't China simply amazing the way it has all these astonishing resources all over the place?

Now I REALLY want to get back to Zhuhai to check this furniture district out. I have wanted an opium bed my whole life, and I hear they have ever so many different styles of them there.

I haven't told you, have I, about the opium bed I found in Wan Li district in Guangzhou, on the day Halley took me around to farewell her old neighbourhood that was on the verge of being torn down to make way for development? Well, what happened was we were wandering around the back streets when we met an old man Halley once knew, who told her he was selling his opium bed for 200 yuan (A$30.00) and did her rich 'foreign devil' friend want to buy it? I was immediately "Oh yeah! This foreign devil wants very much." so he took us inside and showed it to us and it was the very best I'd ever seen, only I didn't know how to get it back to Hong Kong so I reluctantly had to let the opportunity pass. But ...

... when I was back in HK and told Keith, he was furious with me and said "Why didn't you just offer him HK$500.00 to be paid on delivery?" and I kicked myself because with Halley alongside as translator it would have been the work of minutes to organise the entire thing. Plus Halley knew him so he wouldn't have cheated me. What a true idiot I am!

Anyway, despite a bargain like that probably not coming my way again, seems I can finally get myself my very own opium bed. What a pity my China Visa has lapsed or I'd go on Monday.

What Kills Us This Week!

2012-01-18T21:27:00.000-08:00

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:

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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.

Word to China.

2012-01-15T21:54:00.000-08:00

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."?

Sigatoka Valley.

2012-01-13T00:16:00.000-08:00

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

Fiji Kids Learning For Life.

2012-01-12T20:23:00.000-08:00

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:

And the idea is to hook up clever kids in dire circumstances ...

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.

The children are chosen by teachers in the eight school districts of Sigatoka on the basis of need and potential, and Julie works very hard to ensure support is given to the right kiddies and to this end trudges across mountains and through jungles to check out the living circumstances of those who are suggested.

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.

Although I suspect it's winning her war with cancer that has given her this new outlook on life, but when I asked her what was behind it she said "I just reached saturation point seeing all these rich tourists stomping around Sigatoka in among such poor locals and decided 'enough is enough' and someone had to do something about changing it, and that someone had to be myself because no one else would."

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?)

... 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.

How is it we don't know?

2012-01-11T00:39:00.000-08:00

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:

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.

2012-01-11T00:26:00.000-08:00

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) ...

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.

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 ...

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.

The Llama Strikes Again!

2012-01-09T20:42:00.000-08:00

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:

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!

The Dubai Fountain.

2012-01-08T21:00:00.000-08:00

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 ...

The boardwalk outside Dubai Mall.
Keith's shot.

Juliet's shot!

... next to a pretty little bay ...

The Bay! NOT!
Keith's shot.

Juliet'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.

A Quick Guide to Dubai.

2012-01-04T21:39:00.000-08:00

I like Dubai, I really really do. But I think I wouldn't be saying that if we didn't take a wrong turn at the floating bridge over Dubai Creek and end up in Deira.

If we hadn't seen Deira, I'd be now telling you that Dubai looks exactly like Guangzhou only with clear blue skies and no one growing mango trees on their roof. But since we did go to Deira, I can now tell you that only one side of Dubai Creek looks like Guangzhou only with clear blue ... etc etc, while the other side of Dubai Creek - Deira - looks exactly like Luke Skywalker's home planet of Tartooine.

The Guangzhou comparison is very apt, btw, since both cities have endless miles of amazing 8 and 10 lane roads, while all the buildings in both are a strange mix those weird but not entirely unattractive Chinese mash-ups of every architectural style known to mankind, built in various shades of pink and yellow granite ...

This not uncharming building

looks exactly like it's from

the Bribery District

of Guangzhou.

But this one is in Dubai.

And this one too!

... with lots of those soul-less mirrored buildings thrown into for good measure. Let me show you what I mean:

OK, this is just a taste. I'll post in a lot more photos of the Dubai skyline as I find them.

And don't you just love that they're having so much fun with their architecture. I mean, yeah, Guangzhou is having the same sort of fun with their architectural experimentation, but Dubai is definitely acing by coming up with a lot of unique buildings.

A taste?

Well, they're doing a lot of these buildings which bend and twist:

One of Dubai's wonderful

"twisty" buildings.

And the very famous ...

Burj El Arab?

... which I believe Tom Cruise climbs in the latest "Mission Impossible".

And who can ever forget the mighty and magnificent ...

Burj Khalifa

... the tallest building in the world. And I believe Tom Cruise does something with this one too:

(I will be posting a great many architectural shots, but you'll have to wait until they're processed.)

However, since we did take that wrong turn across the floating bridge over Dubai Creek I can also tell you that Dubai has an entirely different side to it - a place called Deira - where they left Old Dubai intact and simply restored, renovated and rebuilt in their original Arabic style, and it looks almost exactly like, well, a different sort of space-age city, this one being Tartooine. Let me show you:

How vile is this! It's not letting me download any more photos. I'll have to try again tomorrow. Abject apologies, and do come back because ... well, I intend to end this by showing you my absolutely favourite part of Dubai.

OK, here's one for Lady R.

2012-01-02T22:55:00.000-08:00

Back in HK after a fabulous holiday away ... but, dear Lady R. let me show you a few photos and let you guess where we were:

OK, one more to make it easier:

Did you get it?

And, yes, I'll be blogging more on this country after I've processed all our photos so, since we took thousands, give me a few days.

Dubai, here we come!

2011-12-18T19:53:00.000-08:00

Off to Dubai for Christmas, so won't be around until next year unless I discover an internet cafe while I'm there, in which case you'll be hearing all about it.

I've been neglecting this blog lately, I know, but I've been writing a novel which I hoped to have off to the publishers before the start of 2012 which I now realise won't happen. It's a shame, but what can you do. I'll do it at the start of next year, fingers crossed.

So if you don't hear from me in the near future, I wish you all A Very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year, and here's a little something to make you smile:

Happy Hearts Love Sharks!

2011-12-16T20:50:00.000-08:00

In his attempt to save the oceans, Jason - a former dive instructor and current patents lawyer - has set up his competition wherein any Hong Kong couple getting married who refuse to serve sharkfin soup at their wedding banquet are entered into a draw for a trip to Fiji to dive with sharks.

If you know anyone about to be married in Hong Kong, perhaps you can send them to the website:

http://happyheartslovesharks.org/hk/prizes/grand-diamond-prize/

Good one, Jason.

Oh, and Jason organises an annual "Clean Up the Beaches" campaign with the Canadian Embassy if anyone is also interested in ecology and doing something hands-on. It really is a lovely day out, by the way, and you may just get a junk trip by way of gratitude.

Wasabi Chocolate

2011-12-16T04:53:00.000-08:00

The Mighty Marg and I were wandering around the gardens at Chi Lin Nunnery in Diamond Hill today when we saw a sign for home-made chocolates and decided to check it out. Can you believe it? She was selling wasabi chocolate! Marg thought it was too weird for words however I decided that she needed to expand her comfort zone and so, when she wasn't looking, I bought her a couple.

It was really just a joke but the lady proudly packed them so beautifully for us ...

... and the presentation was just so lovely I felt mean for treating her product so lightly, so I bullied Mighty Marg into eating one ... and only two bites and she's desperately reaching for the tissues.

However, being a right clever smarty pants, she managed to find the exact right drink to take away the wasabi-bite:

So now you have a new fact for your foodie arsenal: Cedraia is the perfect drink to accompany Wasabi Chocolate.

And then she challenged me to eat the other, and though I'd like to say I refused, I didn't. I'm willing to expand my comfort zone, and can tell you that wasabi chocolate has a vicious bite ... but five minutes later you feel like more.

So Mighty Marg, also with an entirely new comfort zone, went back and bought more ... but as a gift for Judy, although I'm not sure if this counts as a pass-it-forward joke or if she genuinely wanted to share an entirely new taste sensation, or if it was just that she really liked the little red box they came in.

The Emperors' Old Clothes

2011-12-16T04:35:00.000-08:00

The Mighty Marg is currently in town, so today we set out to visit the Exhibition of the Last Emperor's Clothes. The posters for this Exhibition are everywhere but are all in Chinese so I found out where they were supposed to be ... Pu Yi Plaza ... but we spent the entire afternoon wandering around the more obscure parts of New Territories looking for it, without any joy. No one had even heard of Pu Yi Plaza, let alone the Exhibition, and let alone the Last Emperor.

However we decided there's something very right and fitting about NOT being able to see the Emperor's Clothes.

People were lovely anyway and lots of folks tried to help us but English is rare in NT so we ended up being directed to this Exhibition instead ...

... and since it was on the Sacred Caves up there in Dahtong in the northernmost reaches of Mainland China, and since I'm crazy about sacred caves, we didn't mind at all.

Btw, did you know that these sacred images aren't anything like the ones in Pak Ou, in Laos, where the sacred objects are carved in the limestone. That's what I thought I was going to see when we eventually get there, however in Dahtong Caves the statues are made out of clay and plaster and look like this:

74,000 of these up there in Dahtong, can you imagine? These caves are in a really obscure part of China and in an industrial, coal-mining part of the Mainland too, singularly unpretty apparently, and there's nothing else to do there, but no one I know who has visited has ever complained.

Maybe the Mighty Marg and I can visit sometime in the near future, which she wants to mainly because, I suspect, Madam Chang was little more than a child when she mapped those caves and Marg loves to discover new heroines for her Wall of Feminist Heroes.

And since you probably don't want to, like us, spend an entire afternoon wandering footsore and weary looking for THIS Exhibition, it's in the very easy locate-able spot of Chi Lin Nunnery in Diamond Hill ...

An arial photo of Chi Lin Nunnery.

... in the wonderful little museum in the gardens ...