I'm going to London

Bloody red tape chopped up all over the floor. Biggest pile I'd ever seen.

Its official! My visa arrived late last week and I paid for my plane tickets the next day. I am heading out next Tuesday via a quick visit through Taipei. I'll be in London by the last week of February - and for the foreseeable next little while. A year or two - ish. Who knows.

I was in Ragland yesterday with Mel, just chilling by the beach off Cliff Street, eating fish'n chips under a pohutukawa tree after a morning of kayaking, swimming and some fruitful cockle hunting. My legs were sun burnt and there were salt crystal patterns encircling my arms. Thinking to myself - London in three weeks - woolly hat, warm ale, cozy tube carriages and snowflakes on my imaginary mustache. Lovely. if not some what warped.

Why?

Because I've been meaning to do it for ten years and its becoming the longest procrastination in my life. Because I have gypsy blood and I am hyperactive. Because its some what closer to Paris and Berlin and Amsterdam and all those other places that I'd rather live in but can't practically do so just yet. I'll be able to go to Iceland, and Egypt and the Ukraine for weekends. Even New York. Because I can see Emma and Wendy and everyone else I adore whenever I fancy. Because I'll be able to go to the Tate all the time. I'll be able to go to Camden all the time. and Soho. And musicals. Second hand book shops, odd little alley ways, big parks and old buildings. Opportunities with NGOs big and small, a more credible CV, boutique libraries, lots and lots of lectures and protests and clubs and life drawing lessons. Because I'll meet so many diverse, interesting, colourful people that will give me ideas and show me things I'd never otherwise think of. Because I'd like to brood up another funny accent. Because I can be the It Girl. Because I can be anonymous. Because I can go to speed dating, and parties... big parties, little parties, crashed parties, ginormous parties, micro parties, anti-party parties, imaginary parties, work parties, tea parties, birthday parties, dinner parties, parties on the tube, parties for two, parties on rooftops, parties in basements, and waking up to more murky sunday afternoons. (Next to Jude Law). And especially when I can get beroccas there. Because I didn't use up all the credit in the Oyster Card I bought there last time. And I owe the guy at the Turkish shop 50 pence. Because having a big hole in the pocket is fun, reckless, exciting, and always bring random situations at hand. and I love random situations. Because I love change, new things, new places, exciting unknown things. Because I want to be lost and I want to be found.

And because I can so I will.

Meanwhile...

The FB is covered in toner

I am enduring some unwinnable battles at the office during my last week at work.

myanmar

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IN MYANMAR???
WHY HASN'T ANY OF THE NEWS I WAS WATCHING IN CHINA MENTIONED THIS?

Back In The Game

I'm back in my old family plot in Taipei - what a breath of fresh air. Order, manners, political fucking freedom - and my blog. Looks like everything's well so I'll be back updating this full time now. See yez soon!!

Another Night On The Tracks

So here I am. Feeling quite emotional and uneasy, sitting at what one may call an extremely filthy spot on a carpet next to the gang way of a night train from Beijing to Shenyang, directly underneath the ash tray next to a squat toilet both of which shared by about another 50 Chinese passengers in the dim sleeping carriage that I could see directly in front of me. Having seen about 500 people sitting/sleeping/squatting outside the train station on the chipped and filth stained cobble stone earlier this evening, this is nothing really.

Templeton and I are drinking beer here. I hope this is not offensive to the locals. I need it to numb this anxious feeling inside me and to chill me out a bit so I can sleep. We chew on the dried cuttlefish we bought at a supermarket near Beijing train station, and have a packet of air-tight-sealed dog meat tucked away in the cabin. The train guard walks over to us, perhaps a little concerned, about to say something. maybe like, go to bed and don't throw the butt on the carpet, but he wasn't quite sure how or what, so he shakes his head and walks away.

I am slightly overwhelmed about being in China. More so than anywhere else I've been to so far. Its stressful. I am all of the following: a Taiwanese person with a political indifference visiting the suspicious and often feared China for the first time; an ethnic Chinese grownup overseas coming to a so called homeland of a heritage and tradition that is so mystical, rich in history, often fantasised about but yet so dismissive of those that have given up on the Chinese way of life; Western raised person basically in completely culture shock; an ethnic Chinese person dating an equally culturally shocked Australian and finding a place somewhere between reinterpreting various situations to him and then the same thing back to the curious Chinese people watching and judging us intensively.

If it wasn't for the never ending lumping sound of the train tracks I would probably hear them snore and yawn. But one thing I could hear is the sound of a large bloke at the sink drawing phlegm loudly out of his throat. In our cabin four slightly plump middle aged men wearing nothing but boxers are asleep like quadruplet babies in cots. Train journeys are those fascinating things that always reveal a little more of my world to myself and never stops to surprise me, both along the way and when I get there. I hope they welcome this little girl to China. I'm not here to raise hell, but nevertheless I know its gonna be a good ride.

A bleak cornfield on the way to Shenyang

Mind The Gap

I thought by this time of my trip I'd be able to sit back and relax for a bit and reflect on the comings and goings in my head for the last four months... ask myself questions and present some viable answers to my tumbling mind.

But I am in London and it doesn't give me a chance to stop. I gasp for breath but I inhale a bit more intrigue. No illuminations in the vast horizon.

Crossing another continent and this time tomorrow I'll be another half way around the world. I'm not thinking about it, I'm just travelling too fast. All I can do is mind the gap.

19 July 2007

oh shit... only two beroccas left...

Shaken Not Stirred: We survived an armed hold up

Yes you read that headline right. Braedon and I was in the local supermarket earlier this evening about 8.15pm getting breakfast supplies when a guy in black balaclava (like, what else would you wear when you go rob a supermarket) with a revolver came in through the door and demanded cash (well, we assumed so, it was in Slovene but it sounded pretty aggressive). We were already at the check out and we just crouched down on the floor while the gun man ran to the back of the shop into the office (can't see whats going on by that stage) continuing to threaten the staff. He kinda took a while so Braedon and I had a brief discussion and took the opportunity to exit the supermarket via the front door. (you should have see how stylish that was). Not sure whether by this stage the gun man had left the shop or not but no one outside knew it was happening so they were still walking in. We told them not to but I think the language barrier was difficult but I am pretty sure he would have left through the back door by then.

I was incredibly surprised by how calm the staff and most of the customers were (one of them didn't even crouch down, she stood at the checkout folding her arms impatiently and rolled her eyes...), maybe it happens quite a lot here? As we took off down the street the police was just arriving. Given how calm the locals were we kinda laughed it off and went to the Lent (river) festival to calm our nerves and walked around the river, and forty minutes later on our way back to the hostel the police cars are still outside, so it must mean they are taking it quite seriously.

Yes so that was a bit of drama and I must admit it was very scary but surreal experience, because it literally is like how it is in the movies but when you are actually there basically completely unprepared and sprung upon its just so bizzare. And I am very glad to be alive and completely unscathed. Its a bit of a shame though cos our athelete now has no breakfast and those nectarines I was gonna get looked totally nice.

Rained Out On The Way To Slovenia

yes you are right, this station officer is wielding a hammer

to indicate to the driver that it is safe to proceed.

Apart from the rain which has followed me everywhere in the last month, the journey to Slovenia from Austria was fraught with other dangers. I was accidently locked in the compound of my hostel and spent an embarrassing few minutes sitting on the wall and screaming for help, meanwhile waking up some grumpy neighbours. And just before the station I was caught J walking by two cops (you think that only happens in Auckland three weeks before the APEC meeting). Now the only Austrian Cop I like is Inspector Rex.

I must admit that I am suffering from a bit of a mid-trip-crisis. Basically I am starting to panic about the fact that my backpacking trip is half over and the reality of having to resettle into routine and work and life decisions by the end of the year is dawning on me. I am absolutely loving the freedom and spontaneity and the great variety of people I am meeting on the trip. The adrenoline rush and the speed and the recklessness of hooning around Europe is just this one huge head rush I am not ready to calm down from. I am kinda using the trip as a procrastinator before I need to decide on where to take my life and career to next. While I have learnt a lot and grown immensely in the last two and a half months, I still feel that there's more fun to be had and more stones to be turned. But I guess the maturity that I have gained in recent months keeps telling me that I can't stop time from ticking and I know that by the end of this trip, whether or not I am ready to stop or not, those answers will come to me much more easily than I ever anticipated.

Skimbleshank`The Railway Cat > The Night Train Anthem

On my seemingly endless railway journey around Europe I have made it a ritual to break into song upon embarking on night trains to the pleasant beat of Andrew Lloyd Webber and TS Elliot´s Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat , and most suitably this time, cos we are heading towards the most northern part of the northern hemisphere i´ve ever gone to - DENMARK!! Join me ladies and gentleman ---

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat, the Cat of the Railway Train

There's a whisper down the line at eleven thirty-nine

When the Night Mail's ready to depart

Saying, "Skimble, where is Skimble?Has he gone to hunt the thimble?

We must find him or the train can't start"

All the guards and all the porters

And the station master's daughters

Would be searching high and low

Saying "Skimble where is Skimble for unless he's very nimble

Then the night mail just can't go."

At eleven forty-two with the signal overdue

And the passengers all frantic to a man

That's when I would appear and I'd saunter to the rear

I'd been busy in the luggage van!

Then he gave one flash of his glass-green eyes

And the signal went "All Clear!"

They'd be off at last to the northern part of the Northern Hemisphere!

Skimbleshanks the Railway CatThe Cat of the Railway Train

You might say that by and large it was me who was in charge

Of the Sleeping Car Express

From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards

I would supervise them all more or less

Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces

Of the travellers in the first and the third

He established control by a regular patrol

And he'd know at once if anything occurred

He would watch you without winking and he saw what you were thinking

And it's certain that he didn't approve

Of hilarity and riot so that folk were very quiet

When Skimble was about and on the move

You could play no pranks with Skimbleshanks!

He's a cat that couldn't be ignored

So nothing went wrong on the Northern Mail

When Skimbleshanks was aboard

It was very pleasant when they'd found their little den

With their name written up on the door

And the berth was very neat with a newly folded sheet

And not a speck of dust upon the floor

There was every sort of light

You could make it dark or bright

And a button you could turn to make a breeze

And a funny little basin you're supposed to wash your face in

And a crank to shut the window should you sneeze

Then the guard looked in politely and would ask you very brightly,

"Do you like your morning tea weak or strong?"

But I was just behind him and was ready to remind him

For Skimble won't let anything go wrong

When they crept into their cosy berth and pulled up the counterpane

They all could reflect that it was very nice

o know that they wouldn't be bothered by mice

They can leave all that to the Railway Cat

In the watches of the night I was always fresh and bright

Every now and then I'd have a cup of tea

With perhaps a drop of scotch while I was keeping on the watch

Only stopping here and there to catch a flea

They were fast asleep at Crewe and so they never knew

That I was walking up and down the station

They were sleeping all the while I was busy at Carlisle

Where I met the station master with elation

They might see me at Dumfries if I summoned the police

If there was anything they ought to know about

When they got to Gallowgate there they did not have to wait

For Skimbleshanks would help them to get out!

nd he gives a wave of his long brown tail

Which says "I'll see you again!

You'll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail

The Cat of the Railway Train!"

Guess Where I Am?

Woooosh - at Sydney International Airport again. It feels just like the local mall now, I know every corner, every toilet, every e-portal.

Still cutting it fine in Baroness fashion I am completely wasted from 3 nights of not sleeping, taking cold tablets
, drinking rest of the cellar and god knows what else.

The bus was also late in fine Greyhound fashion, but here I am, 10 mins from boarding call. BONZAI!!

I do also have my real trim fur coat (Vintage sale) and my bright red kimono birkies, and that funny vietnam hat. Style does compromise comfort!!

I do wonder when I will be posting from here again - it might not be for a long time...

Love to you Australia!

Koala Republic

Seems like I'm always at Sydney bloody airport. Feels like I know this place back to front cos I've spent too much time here - its just like the local mall. But worse. Nervous people, metal detectors, coaarrfee, duty free, and smell of burnt meat from Mackers.

Today ALL the service ppl at Mackers are teenage muslim girls in full on black burkas, v interesting. Given that most of what they sell at this time of day is bacon mcmuffin. as long as you don't eat it i suppose its ok. Else where in the food hall I see a Thai family woolfing down some krispy kremes, caucacians slurping wonton soup and pacific islanders picking on sushi. I love it! Yesterday I was pumped full of vegemite on toast, wedges with sour cream, tequilla shots and home made pizza. That should set me up for a while eh.

Koala Republic is a brand of aussie merchandice, from tinned macadamias (at $15 a pop for a coke size tin), camel jerkeys, mini bag of tim-tam & vegemite care package, black liquorice (tho as a kiwi i know that its from Levin), and toxic looking sugar coated fruit rolls. They hike the price up and target tourists cos they are tourists. Next to the Koala Republic shelf a row of stuffed toy kangaroos and wombats sits there adoringly. Made in China. Which the Chinese tourists will buy back to China.

They say as they jet off: "Bye for now, Koala Replublic".