Birdwater

Move fast and break things

2011-07-30T18:24:00.003+08:00

My brief was to join a focus group which would research social media to decide whether it would be practicable to use it within my workplace, a State government department. There started my particular interest in social media. I was already hooked on Facebook, had a profile on Twitter (as myself, as President of Society of Editors (WA), and as the self-titled Communications Manager of my husband’s small business, The Water’s Edge) and I had a profile on LinkedIn, and this blog, Birdwater. I was immersed in the media without really knowing why, how it could benefit me, or if so desired, it could bring in revenue. My work brief elevated my research to a higher level and my research took me to many different sites, online marketers and social media consultants, and an array of personal opinions, and self-taught experts. If these people were so-called experts in a media that had feasibly only been around for the last five years, why couldn’t I learn it and become one too?

What is the attraction to social media in all its forms? Who are these people blogging, posting, commenting, IMing, SMSing and publishing their thoughts, aspirations, admirations, hopes and dreams? Who says they have the right, or are qualified, or are good enough? Surely they should be monitored, edited, censored, rewritten, selected, and rejected like the rest of us? What nerve, hide, confidence they have; all the better to criticize with.

It is within this arena that I pose a few questions:

• What is meant by participatory media?
• How does the concept of participatory media affect working within a public sphere?
• What is authorship in a world of ‘prosumers’?

Introduction

By using Mark Zuckerberg’s quote as the title, I’m certainly not holding him up as a guru to be worshipped in this space. I’m merely noting that trends, ideas, and technological platforms change almost daily in the so-called blogosphere and it is a constant task keeping up with new the information, blogs, websites, and applications that are available.

• What is meant by participatory media?

Over the last few years with the advent of Internet and the emerging global digital culture, and more recently the adoption of Web 2.0, the online platform has developed into what some call a ‘participatory media culture’ including the professional sectors of journalism, advertising, marketing, communications, and public relations. What this means is that professional amateurs (pro-ams) have been able to interact online with existing content creators. This first happened by posting comments, interacting with online forums or wikis, then by blogging in their own name or acting as a guest blogger, and more recently by actively publishing on participatory or news aggregation websites or blogs. The blog (web log) started off generally as a one-to-many platform but increasingly acts as a many-to-many gateway with contributors who co-create.

Dan Gillmor (2002) in his own weblog eJournal said: ‘In the 10 years since its mass adoption, the Web has quickly become a reflection of our elaborate social networks. It has evolved into a powerful medium for communication and collaboration, as evidenced by the hypertext links of more than 10 billion documents authored by millions of people and organizations around the world.’

Bowman and Willis (2003) say, ‘It is the greatest publishing system ever known, and it keeps growing. In May 2003, there were at least 40.4 million Web sites with thousands being added, moved or removed every day. It’s a phenomenally extraordinary achievement, which has emerged without central planning and with¬out government regulation, censor or sanction — an emergent, bottom-up process (p 15). They add that ‘estimates of the number of active weblogs vary widely from 500,000 to as high as 1 million. According to the Pew Internet & American Life Project, more than 8 million U.S. Internet users (7 percent) have created a weblog and 90 mil¬lion (84 percent) have participated in online groups’ (p 17).

More recently, Wikipedia states that as of 16 February 2011, there were over 156 million public blogs in existence, growing in number each day.

While reporting, whether it be reporting news, celebrity gossip and events, or posting one’s own ideas and opinions, was once determined as upstream or downstream communication (effectively the wise all-knowing media company would provide the information), it has developed into a two-way symmetrical ‘citizen journalism’. Bowman and Willis (2003, p 9) describe citizen or ‘participatory journalism’ as:

The act of a citizen, or group of citizens, playing an active role in the process of collecting, reporting, analyzing and disseminating news and information. The intent of this participation is to provide independent, reliable, accurate, wide-ranging and relevant information that a democracy requires.

In his 2002 book The Deviant’s Advantage, Wacker identifies what he calls ‘abolition of context’. He says this comes about with rapid change in technology and the effect it has on society. Once change inexorably occurs at the rate it is now happening, it is difficult for organizations and the society at large to find reference points that were once easy to identify. This is all too reminiscent for us with the advent of Web 2.0 and the interactivity of consumer and producer. No familiar reference points such as age, location, cultural background can be established which make this online world a global community. Blogs ‘allow their users to hide those social markers, such as age, gender, and ethnic origins, which often inhibit subordinated social groups from participating in public debate’ (Lister 2011). It’s open slather online, albeit with guidelines.

In 2002, Wacker believed, ‘Context is the framework, the structure, the collective common understanding that allows us to live our lives and run our businesses. Take it away and it’s all but impossible to know what’s the right or wrong ac¬tion to take.’ The nascent Internet and online world has developed since then, and there is arguably a new common understanding being developed for society to act in new contexts.

Examples

An example of a participatory news site is . The slogan for the site is ‘crowd powered media’ and ‘the news is now public’. This is taken from the site’s ‘About’ page:

NowPublic is a multimedia online news magazine where you can make, break, shape, and share international news as it happens. NowPublic offers its 5 million monthly readers a unique hybrid of content, context and conversation. Articles on the trending issues of the day are written and assembled by contributors who provide relevant background, photos, videos and Tweets needed to understand and join the digital dialogue. NowPublic’s reporters file stories from 6,000 cities in 160 countries - eyewitness accounts, expertise, and facts with the scope needed to make sense of them.

At first investigation, it might be supposed that the citizen journalist is a tyro writer, randomly posting with little thought to ramifications or online protocols (and no doubt some of these do exist in cyberspace). However, the top sites that celebrate aggregation of content from their audience have strict guidelines for writers. Some of the writers are journalists testing their expertise in different areas. Others are true interested citizens, well informed in their communities. NowPublic has strict rules on defining news, posting a story, best practices, house style, and understanding keywords and trends. Joe or Jane Bloggs would find this daunting. What it does provide is an open media that encourages co-creation and collaboration. This could be called a convergence culture that ‘serves both as a mechanism to increase revenue and further the agenda of industry, while at the same time enabling people – in terms of their identities as producers and consumers, professionals as well as amateurs – to enact some kind of agency regarding the omnipresent messages and commodities of this industry’ (Deuze 2007, p 247).

News aggregation site approaches participatory journalism in a slightly different way by providing links to other blogs and stories by many writers. In this way, the site acts as a referral to approved writers, bloggers and sites which follow their protocols and publish appropriate stories.

Creative writing sites have used the participatory model for some time with sites such as and . These sites allow audience members to offer the next plotline in a story or provide a different ending. Most of these types of sites require the writer to register and write their first post. If that is deemed appropriate, they are accepted into the stable of writers (generally for no fee which is also a bonus for the organization; the writer gets recognition).

• How does the concept of participatory media affect working within a public sphere?

Singer (1998) announced the end of the journalist as ‘gatekeeper’ while Bruns (2005) described the journalist as being now more of a ‘gatewatcher’. Deuze (2007) saw that the ‘one-dimensional view of media power has changed, as the agricultural metaphor of production and consumption is increasingly becoming an untenable assumption’ (p 258). The concept of the media as being all powerful has forever changed. Even more in a society where monopoly of the media is de rigueur, powerful individuals can no longer wield that power; it is empowerment for the consumer. The public sphere debate has shifted with individuals now able to build power bases, recognition, influence and followers by representing the ‘small perspective’; those perspectives that the conglomerates had no time or budget to indulge in. ‘The public sphere is already “infected” with group interests… In a “globalised” world the media has largely taken the place of the old public sphere meeting places where citizens would gather to hear information, debate ideas or courses of action, or voice their dissent’ (Study Guide, p 29). The public sphere’s ‘infection’ with the interests of the group offers up differing perspectives and provides a multi-layered online discourse that is shaking the majors of media in their boots. Society is trending back to the soapbox, the public meeting places where every little person could have a say. The soapbox is now online.

The participatory contexts available online include discussion groups, forums, message boards, mailing lists, chat rooms, instant messaging, news groups, blogs, Facebook profiles and pages, videoblogs, podcasts, and wikis. Within these larger frameworks sit concepts such as ranking, polls, quizzes, mini forums, posting to blogs, comments and RSS feeds which all provide an avenue for distributed discussion allowing the creator to be publisher, commentator, moderator, writer and documentarian. This ‘publish then filter’ concept (rather than the traditional ‘filter then publish’ paradigm) has an immediacy and intimacy which whether synchronous or asynchronous is a very powerful tool for the participatory audience. The best sites have a mediated public and have four unique properties (adapted from Boyd 2007, p 2):

• Persistence. What you say sticks around.
• Searchability. Today's teens can be found in their hangouts with the flick of a few keystrokes.
• Replicability. Digital bits are copyable.
• Invisible audiences.

• What is authorship in a world of ‘prosumers’?

In 1980, Alvin Toffler, in his book The Third Wave, coined the term ‘prosumer’ meaning the merging of the roles of producer and consumer. He first discussed the concept in his 1970 book, Future Shock. At the time, he was referring to the mass customization of products, and for businesses to get any continuing profit, consumers would have to become part of the design process because of changing needs. This 40-year-old concept is appropriate to the merging of boundaries between reader/writer, creator/consumer, blogger/audience, journalist/reader and any other dichotomies of relationship on the Internet.

Deuze (2005) says, ‘If the process of telling stories, making meaning and sharing mediated experiences becomes more participatory and collaborative … it becomes crucial to understand the roles of the producer and the consumer as (to some extent) interchangeable and (at the very least) interdependent.’ Nearly seven years on, I think it is unrealistic to try to understand these ever-changing roles in a ‘liquid media’. In a past media environment, understanding may have been crucial. Today, it is the participating that is crucial, the guidelines and protocols which must be followed, and the content created. The journalist, business owner, or media mogul has now become a ‘forum leader, or a mediator rather than simply a teach¬er or lecturer. The audience becomes not con¬sumers, but “pro-sumers”, a hybrid of consumer and producer’ (Bowman and Willis 2003, p 14).

As witness to this online platform of change with its plurality of authorship, mediated but unfiltered writing, and dismembering of the power base that once was a media monopoly, I wonder if Roland Barthes may have been a visionary when he wrote in 1967, ‘We know that in order to restore writing to its future, we must reverse the myth: the birth of the reader must be ransomed by the death of the Author’ (Barthes 1986, p 55).

Santana - She's there, a song on the wind

2011-03-14T14:02:00.002+08:00

The boys mind the bags

While lesbians and straight girls dance

Kiss your boyfriends and keep the women happy

Minor melody warped in dominance

Two black singers under pressure

You’re too young to sit still, he says

Two guitars but he doesn’t sing, chewing

Mrs Santana on the drums with the Afro

Fingers like noodles on guitar

She’s open mouthed, sticks a whirr

Hair jumps to the roll of the drum

Smooth and soft, now claps encourage

Unrelenting sticks on canvas

Hard and knocking

Hair out of fashion

Rhythm a style of its own

Skinny with diamontes, belted

And gone.

‘Witness the getting together

When things are at their worst

The best happens

Cast off your skin of religion

Be a family

Since Woodstock we are one

Heal our fears with love, twisted simplicity

And choose between love, or fear, or fire’.

Guitar’s extension of pleasure

Stroke it, slide and stroke

The garden of destiny

Light and love

And sunshine so long.

Winding down

2010-12-06T18:33:00.001+08:00

As we approach the end of our calendar year, the mood brightens, and I don’t know about you, but my work winds down. I don’t have to get people on planes, or build their swimming pools in time for Christmas, or work long hours so others can enjoy dinners and happy hours and cocktail parties. Even if we are still busy at work getting things done before that magical date, holiday fever grips us even if we’re not going on holiday. Personally I avoid school holidays when I can travel within dates that do not overcapitalise my brain and my budget. The popular times, like most things in demand, have the highest price tag; when resources are readily available, they are always at a lower price. A buyer’s market, they call it.

So how do we make something precious if it is always available, something like editing? It is not a finite resource; it’s not nickel or gold or diamonds. But of course, time is precious and not always available. Our time is valuable so it’s important to put a price on a service that justifies our talents, expertise and experience. It’s human nature to value more highly items with a higher price tag than those supposedly ‘cheap’ items. Don’t give in and lower your standards and your prices, just to get the job or you will always be settling for less. Above all else, value yourself, your achievements and your talents. If you don’t, no one else will.

For more about quoting, check out ‘Understanding quotes and rates’ on our website at http://editorswa.com/?page_id=82.

2010-08-17T10:56:00.020+08:00

Tell me about Bali...

Lots of people ask me about where to go and what to do in Bali. So here's my fact sheet on some of the things I love about the place. I recommend you get the current Lonely Planet guide too. Dollar amounts are US dollars as it's easier to divide 10,000 Rp by 10 to get US$1!

Taxis around South Bali
We always use Nyoman Murka to drive us around (Mob 081 2397 7369, office 0361 771 661, 773030). We pay him about 30,000 Rp per hour. He will take you anywhere for the whole day and wait so you can keep your parcels in the car while you go somewhere else. He is very honest and nice. If you need to get a taxi randomly sometime, always get the metered taxis and pay what’s on the meter (the Bluebird taxis are best). If you get the other taxis which are mostly big four-wheel drives, you will have to negotiate every time which can be a pain. If you have Nyoman for the whole day, it is customary to give him about 20,000 for his lunch on top of the cost of the driving.

Try to avoid transport from about 3-5 pm ish in the afternoons as the traffic jams are horrific!

Money
Best honest money changer in Bali is at the Bintang Supermarket in Seminyak. But there are ATMs everywhere. Some only dispense 50 Rp notes so check as you will need to get too many – 100 Rp notes are best to get from the ATM. Any Circle K has one. There are high bank fees for withdrawals so it is good to withdraw quite a lot and just keep the cash in your deposit box in the villa. You need to have a good amount of small bills on hand as a lot of the taxis pretend they don’t have change so you have to pay more than you expected.

Bargaining
You probably know about this but here are some pointers anyway. Look at bargaining as a game that is entertaining and keep your sense of humour. It can get a bit frustrating after a while, so try to keep your cool! There are some shops which just say they are fixed price so you have to get an idea where it is appropriate to bargain. Mostly prices are negotiable. A lot of shops take only cash so be prepared; the ones that take Visa are much more expensive and are often fixed price shops. The markets and shops along the road all bargain.

Get the seller to give you their price first. Generally offer one-third to half the asking price. So if the seller asks for 60,000, offer 30,000 and work towards a mutually acceptable amount. If they won’t come down to the amount you want, just walk away. Often they will come back with a yes or a better offer. Once you have agreed on the amount, you are committed to the purchase and you must buy the goods.

Phones
You can get a cheap mobile phone for about $40-50. Then you can just use phone cards. You can get them for 100,000 ($10) which lasts about a week depending on how much you use it, of course. It is essential to have a phone so that you can call your driver and get him to pick you up when you are out and about. Just go into a local shop with the phone sign out the front (Telkomsel or Wartel). The shopkeeper will set it all up for you and show you how to use it. You might have to go into Denpasar to get a cheap phone. There is a big electronics store in Denpasar about four levels high (Rimo) where you can buy anything electronic including phones and computers. Your driver will know where it is.

Internet
There are loads of very cheap Internet cafes everywhere and free wifi is available at most restaurants if you are having a coffee/snack. Most hotels also have wifi but they will charge you for it so it’s best to go to an Internet café or other restaurant. The service can be slow so stay patient.

Tipping
It’s quite nice to tip when you have received good service. About 20-30,000 (US$2-3) is sufficient.

Shopping
Kuta is the place for cheap shopping.
Discovery Shopping Mall – a huge mall
Matahari – good place for cheap stuff of all kinds – near Kuta Square. There are two but don’t go to the one that isn’t at Kuta Square
Bali Galleria – ok but a bit expensive

Seminyak - great shopping but more expensive designer type stuff

Restaurants, drinking, food and nightlife
Sunset cocktails
Food is always reasonable but when you add anything alcoholic (other than beer), it gets much more expensive. Arak is the local wine which can be OK. Any other wine is imported and very expensive. Cocktails range from 40,000 up to100,000 in some places – average is about 45,000 ($4.50). Some hotels and bars have two-for one-cocktails (Mandira in Legian is nice for sunset cocktails). You should get to a place for sunset cocktails around 5-5.30pm to see the sun go down. Other good places are Pantai (on Double Six in Seminyak). Upstairs overlooking the beach is great and watching the crowd’s activities. Gado Gado on the beach in Seminyak, Ku De Ta but the drinks are phenomenally expensive so you’d only have one! But good to do once. Or just walk in, have a look and walk out again!

Seminyak
Self-catering
Bali Deli for gourmet (not very cheap) but delicious delicacies and everything you could want (think Herdsman market). Has a great bookshop next door called Periplus
Bintang Supermarket – good prices
Gorgeous and delicious food but a little more expensive than usual
La Lucciola – on the beach, great for breakfast overlooking the ocean ($8-14)
The Living Room – a favourite, beautiful, romantic, old world feel (think Somerset Maugham), as if you are in someone’s dining room ($8-15)
Ku De Ta – very trendy, hip and sophisticated right on the beach ($14-22)
Hu’u – beautifully romantic, outdoor, trendy ($5-10)
Sarong – a new Indian one I haven’t tried yet – expensive
Blossom – expensive
Kafe Warisan - expensive

Gado Gado – on the beach ($8-14)
Waroeng Bonita – Balinese food, on Friday nights they have a drag show – you have to book, starts at 9 pm
Zappaz – great atmosphere, you can eat here, drink here or watch the very good band, friendly local place – highly recommend a visit! Owned by a Brit named Norman.

Cheap but good
Sate Bali
Trattoria – Italian, great food and cheap (entrée, bread, pasta and glass of wine for about $8)
Ultimo

Coffee shops
Lazumba – great coffee (apparently), open air Italian feel
Corner Store – healthy, good vibe

Nightlife for young people
DeJaVu
Double Six Club
Zappaz (for older people) has music and food – great atmosphere

Kuta
Poppies Restaurant – oldest in Bali – in Poppies lane – there are two, both are good.
Kori Restaurant and Bar – lovely setting, great food – in Poppies lane
Balcony – on a balcony above the hubbub below

Nightlife for young people (loud head-banging music and rave dancing)
Apache Reggae Bar
Bounty – DJs music and lively fun
Paddy’s
Sky Garden lounge (more for young men – girls dancing on the bar)
Hard Rock Cafe

Just walk down the main street of Kuta – there are loads and along Kuta Beach

Canggu
Hotel Tugu, beautiful setting with a gallery, just have coffee and have a look. Very expensive for dinner
Echo Beach – Beach House on the beach

Activities/tours
Waterbom park – Kuta – for frolicking in a pool
Hard Rock Café Kuta swimming pool – fabulous for a few hours. Either try to sneak in and not pay (but be prepared to say you didn’t know and pay up) or pay 100,000 Rp and you get a towel and key to the locker where you can store your stuff. Great pool, sandy beach in the pool, cabanas – right on Kuta Beach
Jimbaran Bay – restaurants on the beach for seafood – quite nice watching the sunset but pretty expensive ($20-30) – a must do though probably just once. The restaurant you choose can organise a car to come and get you and bring you back included with the restaurant meal. You have to book. Don’t do it if it’s raining or cloudy
Uluwatu temple – monkey temple on a cliff over the ocean – spectacular view, beware of monkeys

Ubud
You should go to Ubud for a few days. See the Kecak dance – traditional Balinese dance – quite interesting once.
Visit the Monkey Forest – I don’t find it so interesting but others do just for the monkeys. Be careful you don’t get too close as they steal things! Just walking up and down Monkey Forest Road is interesting.
Museum of Fine Arts is interesting for art as Ubud is known mainly for its artists and artwork. There are loads of art galleries and museums. I visited this one and it was excellent.
Go to the Blanco Renaissance Museum – Antonio Blanco was an artist and his former palatial home is now the gallery – very interesting
Komaneka art gallery is nice too
Visit the Ubud market at the top of Monkey Forest Rd, great ambience and the fruit/vegetable market is interesting
For a massage, I went to the Nur Salon which was good and pretty cheap but there are loads of good ones
Loads of walking tracks around Ubud
You could do a Balinese cooking course at Casa Luna
Stay at Pertiwi Resort in Monkey Forest Rd which is quite reasonable and nice, or Adi Cottages is very cheap and OK with a pool.

Restaurants in Ubud
You must have lunch at Indus restaurant - owned by Janet de Neefe, an Australian woman and her Balinese husband (they also own Casa Luna). Great food and not bad prices. Other restaurants that are good are Casa Luna, Café Lotus, Ary’s Warung, Lamak, Coffee & Silver, Tutmak Café, Dragonfly, Bumbu Bali, Café des Artistes. There are loads.
Go to Jazz Café for dinner and jazz if you stay for a few days.
There is a bird park which is supposed to be quite good.
There are silver shops and wood carving places that drivers will want to take you to. Most are just for tourists and can be quite expensive but you do know that the silver is good with good craftsmanship. You can get these at the market but probably not as good quality.
Bali Safari and Marine Park near Gianyar is very good value. Costs about US$25-30 to get in but you can spend the whole day there. You drive in a van that takes you up close and personal with loads of African and Indian animals in relatively authentic settings.

Driver recommendation for Ubud (I haven’t used him but he was recommended by someone else)
His name in Nyoman Suastika. We spent a whole day with him, and he went way beyond what a driver normally does. He acted as a tour guide everywhere we went, walked through with us, explained all the history and culture, etc. He speaks excellent English, and has a deep knowledge of the history and the sites in the area. If you're looking to really learn about the culture, he's your man.
Nyoman Suastika
mobile: 081 338 701962
email: nyomansuastika@yahoo.com

Lombok – I haven’t been there but I’m told it’s really worth a visit for a few days.

Gili Islands – these are very cute islands – very unspoilt, beautiful crystal clear warm water and nice beaches, should stay for a few days. Another fact sheet coming on that soon!

Nusa Lembongan – the boat drops you on the beach and you either walk or hire a guy with a motorbike to take you around. No cars. Go to Mushroom Bay and Dream Beach. Or you can go on a cruise from Benoa that will give you a day trip of snorkelling island tours and a buffet lunch. Would be better to stay on this island for a couple of days, it has a nice vibe. Stay at Nusa Lembongan Bungalows, Bungalow number 7 or Oka Bungalow Number 7 – all are cheap and good with nice restaurants. Get one with a pool. Gorgeous views. Have dinner at Nusa Lembongan Resort – gorgeous but not cheap! Run by an Australian man.

Further afield
Candidasa – good to stay for a couple of days. Hotel Ida was quite nice.
Amed – very quiet little village, lots of good snorkelling. Try Café Amed and stay for a couple of days. Lots of cute places to stay.
Lovina – right in the north, black sand beach
Singaraja – the ancient capital city
Munduk – right in the centre where the mountains are, lots of beautiful walking tours through jungle, old Dutch feel about it. Stay a couple of days and soak up the vibe. Lots of nice places to stay. I stayed at Meme Surung which was great – nice view over the valley
Medewi – famous for surfing beaches mainly

Spas/massages
Seminyak
Bodyworks – about 140,000 Rp for one hour (~$16)
Chill – starting 80,000 Rp ($9)
Cool – starting 90,000 Rp ($10)
Suku
Jari Menari (expensive but very good – US$30 for an hour)

Nusa Dua
My home, Tanjung Benoa

Laundry
I would advise against getting your laundry done at the hotel. If you ask your driver to take you to a ‘local’ laundry, you can get your washing done for about $1 instead of $20 and it is still a very good service. There are loads around Seminyak – one is in Jalan Oberoi.

Health
Take lots of DEET-based mosquito repellent and wear it everyday both during the day and at night. The non-scented, non-slippery one is best.
Take a medical kit containing some basic items. There are many chemists in and around Seminyak but it’s best to stock what you can. If you need it, there is a doctor in the main street of Seminyak – Jalan Oberoi.

Alcohol
Buy your limit of spirits at the airport in Perth before you go. Spirits and wine are very expensive; the Bintang beer is nice and very cheap.

What to take
Shorts/cargo pants with pockets
Light dresses
Sleeveless tops
Comfortable but rugged/sturdy walking shoes with open toes (for coolness) that you don’t care if they get wet etc
Sunglasses/hat/sunscreen
Bathers/sarongs
Daypack for walking around during the day
Extra bag for carrying extra stuff home
Lots of mosquito repellent
Wet ones (for wiping face during the day)

What NOT to take
Jeans
Too much stuff
Heavy hot clothes
Heavy long pants
Towel

Enjoy!

2010-07-30T18:40:00.011+08:00

Travel tips - Italy

I thought I'd share a few tips from our recent (May 2010) trip to Italy.

General

If you're just going to Italy, don't get a Eurail pass

If you have a Eurail pass, make sure you get it stamped at the train station, and dated the date you are leaving, before you get on the train (the inspector will nab you 80 euros if you haven't filled it in). If you can prebook your dates online, that will save you 100 euro for a travel agent to do it

Have espresso standing at the bar - 1 euro compared to 4+ euros sitting at a table

At 6-8 pm, most restaurants have a happy hour when you can order a drink and you get tapas and nibblies included - good value for 8 euros

Venice

Ghost tour of Venice is good - get to see some out of the way places you can go back to

Visit the Ghetto area and the synagogues

Murano glass factory is a waste of time unless you view it as a museum (but you can see everything they do in the shops anyway)

Get a gondola ride at 12 noon when everyone else is at lunch

Don't miss St Mark's Basilica even if the queue is long

Go to Lido beach

Get water taxis

Pisa

Don't miss the Pisa cathedral (inside)

Florence

Don't miss the statue of David in his gallery (not the one in the piazza)

Lots of Chinese ripoff handbags/jackets - look for doublestitching. Generally not at the markets unless you don't mind the lesser quality

Don't buy from the West Indian street vendors - you get the same stuff cheaper at the market stalls

Go to mass at Il Duomo

Rome

Book a Sistine Chapel tour in Rome - you get to see the brilliant museum next door with an art expert's commentary on the beautiful ceiling

If you want to see the Pope, go to St Peter's on a Wednesday morning

If you want to see inside St Peter's, don't go on a Wednesday morning, go another day and be prepared to wait a long time

Do a night tour on vespas

Go to Trevi fountain at night

Do the open top bus tour around the city

Don't buy paintings in Piazza Navona (they are just painted over photographs) but if you like them, that's ok!

Go to the Borghese gardens - it's a whole day, and ride on the cyclo thing - prebook if you want to see the Borghese gallery - always booked out

Coliseum - there's a new museum inside which is ok. A guide is very useful for 10 euros (you usually then don't have to wait in the queue as the guides get preferential treatment - a huge bonus!)

Sorrento

Little bus tour up the hill is quite fun (didn't go on the train but that's probably ok too)

Caruso's for dinner is really nice (expensive but good)

Try lemoncello

Capri

If you go to Capri, don't get the tour from the guy on the wharf. It's easy enough to get the public bus and you have more time to do what you want

Do go to the Alex Munthe museum at the top of Anacapri - buy his book

Walk around the back of the island to the cliffs

See the blue grotto

Take the funicular railway (you have to if you're at the top of the hill anyway)

Don't try to get money from a bank on Capri - never work

Stay overnight if you have time

Pompeii

Organise a tour for this as it is very expensive if you get someone to show you around at the gate. You can do it yourself with an audio headset too which is probably alright. Trouble is if you have a guide, they can only show you a tiny bit. You need at least two or three days to really see this

Amalfi Coast

We just did a bus tour around the coast but I think I'd stay a few days in Positano/Revello to get the best from it. Lovely little towns to while away a few hours in

Buy some porcelain pots in Revello (just behind the church) - the biggest selection ever and not bad prices

2010-07-30T18:12:00.003+08:00

Reading singlehanded

Even if Spring is only two weeks away, I still think of August as the dead of winter, hibernation time, time to contemplate, meditate and cogitate. The death of the fiscal year is a time when we are forced to look back on what we’ve done with our year, how much money we made, but particularly how much we spent (and what we can grab back from the government which so cruelly takes it from us). I’ve spent a bit of money on books this year, I’ll admit. However, I’ve also spent a very little money on other books, ie eBooks. I’ve cautiously paddled into the shallow end by getting books I can read on Kindle for iPhone (one of the books was The Sun Also Rises, which I found sexist, racist, kind of outdated – but very well written! Anyway, that’s another story…apologies to fans of Hemingway). It’s so easy. I can read in bed, it’s not heavy like a book and you only need one hand with an energetic thumb. It’s always with me (or I should say they are always with me – I can get about 28,000 free ones). If I have a few minutes to spare waiting for a friend or a meeting (but not at traffic lights), I can click in and read a few pages. Entertainment and knowledge is always at hand. This is strangely comforting. I like the fact that I can take 28,000 books away with me on holiday. I probably won’t even finish one, but it’s pleasing to know they are there, in the background, supporting me.

The Australian Society of Authors is currently working on the complexities of contracts for authors to include provision for eBooks. The ramifications also spread to editors whose work will only increase due to the dismissal of a large chunk of the production process, and the continuance of rigid content standards by respectable publishers. eBooks are our friends. Embrace them, give them a try. You just might like them!

2010-04-07T09:35:00.025+08:00

Cleaning out the files

It’s the last day of the Easter weekend and I still haven’t got to the overflowing paper on my desk – you know, that space where everything gets put until we can think of a better place for it. So now is the time. As I’m going through the paperwork that defines my life, ideas erupt. There’s that article I want to write on Lombok from our last holiday (so keep that Lombok Guide I picked up in the Beach House restaurant in Gili Trawangan), the last edition of ASA journal’s great article on writing book reviews (I might write a book review on Parrot and Olivier in America) (NB must update my Goodreads entry), the Walkley magazine (keep - need to know what’s happening in the journalism world), don’t chuck out that Bali villa brochure (always looking for new places to stay), there’s my date schedule for this semester’s writing unit, my notes on branding my image from that seminar I went to last week (NB update my website with profile ideas), writing courses brochure (those writing courses I might consider doing… again), look into that cupcake stand and flowers and bomboniere (8 May is fast approaching), those clippings on Italy I need for the trip (NB think about new perspectives for travel articles), the contact list for that editing job I need to start, and don’t throw out the travel and review sections of the West and the Weekend Australian I haven’t read yet.

And there’s still the bougainvillea that’s been attacking the postman for the last week, plus the ever present danger of shorting the electrical cable. There’s a job for today. Or I could just continue reading about creating characters in Children’s Literature, or update my website, or write up my notes for my next story, or … enjoy a day off with fresh air and family...

2010-04-07T09:22:00.005+08:00

Where there’s writing, there’s editing…

I didn’t get to nearly as many sessions at the Perth Writers’ Festival as I’d wanted. There was so much to experience; it’s overwhelming trying to get to everything. And what talent we have! Pulitzer Prize-winning writers and intellectuals to children’s and youth writers, and contemporary Indigenous chick-lit; it was a smorgasbord of ideas from young, old, new, established and emerging writers in the region. At 23, Jack Heath has just published his sixth book, is an award-winning writer, is Young Australian of the Year, and has his own Wikipedia entry; Dr Anita Heiss has just published her chick-lit novel Manhattan Dreaming and is about to release Paris Dreaming, both of which involved research in New York and Paris. She’s also huge fun! Society of Editors (WA) members Amanda Curtin and Georgia Richter chaired sessions and contributed their own publishing experience.

Three writers who write about travel in various ways are so much more than travel writers. William Dalrymple, Nicolas Rothwell and Stephen Scourfield discussed their disparate perspectives on India, the north of Western Australia and beyond. William is loud and confident, Nicolas a sensitive intellectual, and Stephen a keen
observer of human interaction with the land. Our perspectives and interactions with the landscape were a major theme throughout the festival. Mark Tredinnick and Barry Lopez are two of the world’s most prominent award-winning nature writers. Their inspiring philosophical words dealt with identity, the physical landscape and the human culture that are intricately balanced. I couldn’t begin to summarise their ideas here. Tom Keneally, Irvine Welsh, Hugh Mackay, Sara Foster, Anita Heiss, Alex Miller, Monty Don, Don Watson, Morris Gleitzman, AC Grayling – an array of writers covering every genre. I wish I’d seen more.

Some of the sessions are podcasts on the 720 ABC website so download them to your favourite media and have a listen. Rest assured, with the abundance of writing in this country there will never be a shortage of work for editors.

2009-10-28T14:07:00.004+08:00

Merging borders

The 4th IPEd National Editors Conference has come and gone. Seven of us represented Western Australia at a forum that brings editors together both nationally and internationally every two years. Not only were the sessions informative and interesting, it was very motivating talking to a range of editors in different publishing arenas across Australia. In an age of electronic communication, face-to-face interaction remains key. It’s always refreshing to hear the human voice after working in the world of emails, blogs or just plain editing every day.

Some of the most motivating speakers for me were at the plenary sessions. Natasha Stott-Despoja, former Senator of the Australian Democrats, now visiting research fellow in politics at the University of Adelaide, gave an inspiring talk not only by presenting with confidence, humour and humility but because she researched what our lives as editors are about. She drilled into what it means to be an editor, from the micro level of correcting spelling and grammar, to the macro view of how to promote ourselves in a community that so badly needs our skills (she also liked our sensible shoes!).

Julian Burnside AO, QC, human rights lawyer, recently honoured with the title ‘National living treasure’, brilliantly illustrated the growing acceptance of euphemism in politics, the military, government and everyday language – something he calls ‘doublespeak’. This acceptance masks at best, a blissful ignorance or at worst, a manipulative dissembling of events hidden behind ‘collateral damage’, the soft words covering harsh facts.

Check out more on this here:
http://www.abc.net.au/rn/talks/perspective/stories/s1315347.htm

2009-05-13T15:47:00.007+08:00

On blogging

Going back to study is always a pleasure for me and I like to think of myself as a lifelong learner. Early university days were not only about study. Socialising and interacting with
fellow students was equally, if not more, important than the course we were undertaking (in fact I often forgot about attending lectures altogether!). University days were a while ago now and my needs and habits have changed. Working full time makes the hours outside work especially precious. Hence, I have chosen to study completely online with fellow students located all around Australia. Some may believe this is isolating but I find posting into cyberspace liberating. I love the online environment and find the ease of logging on whenever I’m available, extremely satisfying. My current unit, ‘Interactive writing’, is forcing me to look over the coalface of technology, specifically in relation to writing for the web, and present online content in an interesting dynamic format. The enormous growth of the Internet has given writers (and editors) additional opportunities never thought possible only a few years ago.

I'm still learning about blogs and trying to understand how they differ from websites. The following websites provide information on this topic:

http://www.backbonemedia.com/blogsurvey/23-difference-between-blog-and-website.htm

http://appraisalnewsonline.typepad.com/appraisal_news_for_real_e/2006/09/what_is_the_dif.html
http://seo2.0.onreact.com/the-most-importantdifference-between-websites-and-blogs

While there is a place for both websites and blogs, the lines of definition are blurred. Though opinions differ, most agree websites are the more static and require more technical knowledge in uploading content. Blogs are, in effect, online diaries or journals with content that is more current, available to more users and hence, more interactive. They offer a way of keeping in touch with your clients or contacts and getting to know them more intimately. A blog provides the opportunity to post articles of varying topics and interest.

Here are some examples:
http://jilltxt.net/ [recommended good blog]

http://grammar.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?zi=1/XJ&sdn=grammar&cdn=education&tm=3&f=00&su=p897.4.336.ip_&tt=3&bt=0&bts=0&zu=http3A//www.editdesk.blogspot.com/ [for copy editors]

http://www.evidenceanecdotal.blogspot.com/ [literary blog]

http://www.dgmyers.blogspot.com/ [discussion of reading]

http://www.nytimesbooks.blogspot.com/ [design of book covers]

Wherever there is writing, there is also editing and it is important for editors to develop skills in
this constantly developing online universe.

2009-02-13T16:38:00.006+09:00

Funny Games - a critical analysis using the structuralist approach to narrative

‘Funny Games’ is the 2008 American remake of the Austrian version of the film produced in 1997; both were directed by German–born Michael Haneke. The American version is a shot-for-shot remake of the Austrian film; its sameness insisted upon by Haneke for an American audience, the film he said they ‘needed to see’. The film has variously been categorized as horror and psychological thriller.

There are many ways to analyse this film; the formalist approach with its distinction between plot and story (in this case, it is plot driven rather than character driven), the classical narrative approach which ensures the spectator control (or a belief of it), a psychoanalytic approach with the powerful ‘looked at’ woman who has to be dealt with, and the post-structural approach by using deconstruction, symbology and ‘points of crisis’ to understand the story. These are superficial descriptions. Parts of all of these approaches could have been used to analyse this film. However, I’ve decided to use a structuralist approach as I believe the film can be analysed more effectively and in more detail using theories within this approach. It fits the structuralist approach as it works on many different levels and is really a comment on Western culture and society, an aspect encapsulated by Barthes’ concepts.

The structuralist approach
There are several structural approaches to the analysis of film. ‘Structuralism attempts to interrogate the laws that govern narrative structure. It regards texts as organized systems of signs'. ‘”Structuralism” can be viewed as an extension of “formalism” in that both “structuralism” and “formalism” devoted their attention to matters of literary form (i.e. structure) rather than social or historical content; and that both bodies of thought were intended to put the study of literature on a scientific, objective basis’ (from http://www.iep.utm.edu/1/literary.htm).

Fiske (p 130) said that ‘character acts primarily as a function of the plot; only then is it given individualizing characteristics as an ideological hook for the audience. Even then these individualizing characteristics are best understood not in their uniqueness but in terms of the overall structure of social values that are embodied in the structure of characters (hero + heroine + villain + villainess)’. So in Funny Games, the characters do not represent themselves per se, but are representations of structured social values that provide the message of the story within our own knowledge of the world. The characters can be viewed as icons; Ann as mother/protector, George as power lost, the white-gloved men as an illogical manipulative political system or an uncontrollable virus.

I will analyse Funny Games using mainly the theories of the early structuralists, Propp and Barthes, with a few additional comments about Levi-Strauss and Fiske. The film does manage to follow the structures prescribed but in no way is it predictable in theme or discourse. It does not completely map to any one theorist’s views.

Synopsis
A well-heeled couple, their son and dog head off on holiday to their house by a lake. They are soon visited by two very polite white-gloved young men who, for no apparent reason, proceed to torture them physically and psychologically. The father is incapacitated early on, the child murdered and the wife, after attempting an escape, is brought back to the house to watch her husband murdered by the ‘game-players’. The young men bet the family that they will be dead by 9 am. They kidnap the wife, sail out on the yacht into the middle of the lake, and push her overboard by 9 am. The film ends with the white-gloved men moving on to another home on the lake to inflict the same crimes on another unsuspecting family.

Propp’s theory
Propp, an early structuralist, analysed text through structure. Propp’s analysis of the structure of 100 folk tales suggested that one single structure can represent a whole series for story in popular narrative (with his 32 narrative morpheme functions and eight character roles in seven spheres of action). Even though his research was done in 1928, many contemporary stories fit into this structure.

Not all of these functions are necessary to identify the story, and several characters can play different character roles or merge into one. I have attempted to map Propp’s structure against Funny Games (structure copied from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Propp): Preparation, complication, transference, struggle, return, recognition.

Characters
Propp concluded there were eight character roles placed into seven spheres of action:
The villain — struggles against the hero – The white-gloved men
The donor — prepares the hero or gives the hero some magical object – The dead neighbours (through the rifle to Georgie)
The (magical) helper — helps the hero in the quest – The rifle
The princess and her father — gives the task to the hero, identifies the false hero, marries the hero, often sought for during the narrative – Ann
The dispatcher — character who makes the lack known and sends the hero off –George, the husband
The hero or victim/seeker hero — reacts to the donor, weds the princess – Ann or her son, Georgie
False hero/anti-hero/usurper — takes credit for the hero’s actions or tries to marry the princess.

Barthes’ theory
Barthes uses myth to ‘naturalise concepts in the interests of the bourgeoisie (myth works to preserve the status quo)’. So-called ‘myths’ in story, Barthes says, are presented as stereotypes, and, like stereotypes, myths are often based on preconceived ideas and thoughts developed over time. Unlike Levi-Strauss who based his theories on culture as a homogeneous concept and ignored the difference between cultures and classes, Barthes based his theories on the role of myth in industrialized capitalist societies with his theory of story based on class conflict rather than homogeneity.

In this way, Barthes provides an appropriate avenue for analyzing Funny Games. It is a comment on class; the struggle between classes and the assumptions we, as the viewer, make about class constructs. At the beginning of the film, the viewer sees an upper crust, wealthy family on their way to their holiday. At this point, we are not aware where precisely they are going but the strong signifieds are the Landcruiser (or similar brand of four-wheel drive) towing the yacht. Music plays an interesting part in the diegesis of the story. This diegetic element introduces the couple, the parents of a child, as having intellectual pursuits. Most families would play ‘I Spy’ on a road trip rather than ‘Guess the classical composer and if that’s too easy, guess the composition?’ This immediately sets the class of the family. The trappings of wealth increase when they drive past stately homes with long driveways and grand gates, the inhabitants of one they obviously know. It soon becomes obvious that they are visiting their holiday home in ‘the Hamptons’ by a large lake. Suddenly the credits appear with the words ‘FUNNY GAMES’ in upper case red accompanied by discordant heavy metal music (‘Bonehead’ by Naked City), in total opposition to the introductory chords of Mozart indicating that all will not be well in this world.

Barthes defines a set of five narrative codes that denote meaning and intextuality of all narratives. I’ll attempt to analyse Funny Games using Barthes’ five narrative codes.

Symbolic code (voice of the symbol) – This code forms sets of antitheses against an organized cultural code or what Barthes calls binary oppositions. These oppositions are good versus evil, hero versus villain, male versus female, upper class (wealthy/established) versus lower class (poor/unestablished), innocence versus experience (or learner versus teacher), older person versus younger person (generations), family versus single male, passive versus active, controlled versus controller, thinking versus ‘object of look’, powerless versus powerful, imprisoned versus free (physically and emotionally), mind versus body, community versus isolation. These also work on the deep structural level cited by Fiske (p 132). The French structural anthropologist, Levi-Strauss, said that ‘myth is an anxiety-reducing mechanism that deals with unresolvable contradictions in a culture and provides imaginative ways of living with them’. Barthes’ binary oppositions have synergies with Levi-Strauss’s idea that myth consists of oppositions.

Connotative or semic code (voice of the person): This is the construction of character by semes, thoughts and traits. Ann appears to be the hero in the film. At the start she becomes aware much more quickly than her husband that things are going awry. As her husband is incapacitated, she becomes the able-bodied hero who can leave the prison to get help. Interestingly, it is Ann who has the aspects of herself slowly taken away: her dog is killed, she is stripped (metaphorically and physically made vulnerable), she plays their game, her husband is killed, until it is her physical self that is finally extinguished. This represents the slow psychological torture inflicted on communities who remain oblvious to the signs of degradation around them until it is too late. Signifiers that help to develop her role as protector are her floral dress (representing purity, womanliness, motherliness, propriety), she is in the kitchen organizing the dinner, directing movements when they reach the house. She is the capable mother and wife, protector of the family. The husband on the other hand, is incapacitated early in the story. The use of the phallic golf club (also a connotation of wealth) disabling his leg shows his castration at the hands of manipulative, powerful, illogical higher forces that cannot be stopped. His incapacitation enables her, the female, to enter her continuous yet pointless struggle against these same forces. The fact that George strikes the first blow (even though the spectator knows that this has had no bearing on the continuing trajectory of the white-gloved men), gives the perpetrators an unjustified reason for their attack, and makes George the scapegoat for their actions.

Cultural or referential code (voice of science or knowledge): This is the narrative of the cultural meanings outside the text/film that the viewer uses to interpret story. The perfect nuclear family is depicted as smiling, playing intellectually highbrow games (guessing the name of the classical composer and the composition on the way in the car). The trappings of wealth and power are illustrated with the four-wheel drive, the yacht, the house in the Hamptons (or similar), no need of a landline as this beautiful home is just a holiday house by the lake. The family is presented as having it all pitted against the two young men who for no reason, resent this establishment, and are intent on destroying the equilibrium of the wealthy. Peter and Paul inhabit a world of irreverence; it is a world of cartoon violence that they are playing out realistically. They constantly refer to each other and Tom and Jerry, Beavis and Butthead and use gaming techniques in the violent acting out of their aggression. This points to the assumption that Peter and Paul are products of a society that allows its children no discipline; they have no ability or desire to recognize fantasy from reality.

Proairetic code (voice of empirics): This is the meaning of any action in relation to our experience of similar actions in other narratives. Any actions started must be completed and as a whole, constitute the plot events of the narrative. When the film begins, everything is perfect, setting the scene for things to go horribly wrong. The action differs from most films in that the perpetrators are dressed in white (for good and pure), and are so polite to be almost obsequious until their true motives are known. The major action signifier is that in most narratives, the suspense is brought about by the hope (and most often correct knowledge) that the hero will escape and the villains will be overcome (the viewer is continually tricked into believing that good will prevail, for example the planting of the knife in the yacht which eventually leads to nihilistic failure). In this film, every hope is dashed insidiously until the final push of Ann overboard, when the spectator realizes that all is hopeless; violence has won.

Hermeneutic code (voice of truth): This is the pattern of narrative, how the story unfolds and the code of enigmas or puzzles. The linear plot line follows the canonic format: equilibrium, disequilibrium, renewed equilibrium (in a manner of speaking) but does not provide an ‘overall trajectory of enigma resolution’. There is equilibrium at the start with the family happily on their way to their perfect holiday hideaway. They are the picture of the perfect nuclear family above everyday concerns in most other people’s reach. Very soon disequilibrium is achieved and continues throughout most of the film. After the husband and son are killed, there is still hope for Ann. When she is finally pushed overboard, the spectator knows that the forces of evil have won and are in power. Even still, in some sick way, we as viewers are drawn into the psychotic journey of the two young men. A kind of equilibrium is again achieved at the end of the film when Peter makes his way to the next neighbour’s house to start the violent process all over again. We, the spectator and equally the bourgeoisie that both Barthes and Haneke criticize, are implicit in their violence, albeit against our will. After all, we were just following Haneke’s orders.

Marx’s view of the bourgeoisie concluded with agreement that this Barthesian myth narrative confirms particular ideologies, and that by constant use it enables these ideas to be made natural, and seem the correct order of things. The bourgeoisie have privilege and power over others most often seen as negative; the term has come to be used pejoratively. ‘Barthes believes…all myth is bourgeois, that is, it always promotes the interests of the dominant classes by making the meanings that serve these interests appear natural and universal’ (Fiske, p 134). In Funny Games, then, is the spectator required to question this privilege and power (somehow equally embodied by the white-gloved men as by the family) so that we believe that in this society, the perpetrators are from the same class as the victims? Might we think that this violent society, however polite and insidious, overtakes and humiliates its own society by some quirk of fate, like National Socialists in the Austria of the director’s parents? Haneke, as director, is criticising the oblivious, unaware bourgeoisie for their insistence on ignoring the world around them, e.g. the acquiescence to Hitler in the 1930s, the plight of the Bosnians in the 1990s, even perhaps the world’s blindness to the carnage in Rwanda. Basically the message is Haneke has shocked us; we are the bourgeoisie he is trying to awaken out of our blissful ignorance and smugness. The violence is without reason or malice; it is merely a tool to shock.

The film works on simple and complex levels and within many structures only one of which I have discussed here. And while Peter purports to speak the truth many times in the film (‘Truth is…), Michael Haneke has the final word:

‘There is never just one truth; there is only personal truth.’ (from http://en.widipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Haneke)

********************
REFERENCES

‘Funny Games’: Last Laughs, by Kurt Loder, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://www.mtv.com/movies/news/articles/1583404/story.jhtml>.
Fiske, J 1987, ‘Narrative’, in Television culture, Methuen, London, pp. 128-148.
Funny Games (2008 film), viewed 15 October 2008, <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Funny_Games_%282008_film%29>.
Michael Haneke, viewed 15 October 2008.
Roland Barthes and the coding of discourse, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://courses.nus.edu.sg/course/elljwp/5codes.htm>.
S/Z, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S/Z>.
Senses of cinema, Funny Games by Chris Justice, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/cteq/05/34/funny_games.html>.
The Internet Encyclopaedia of Philosophy, Literary Theory, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://www.iep.utm.edu/l/literary.htm>.

2008-01-01T13:58:00.003+09:00

Travels to the desert

Having travelled the world rather than my own backyard, I thought it was time I visited the North of Australia (Western Australia and the Northern Territory) after hearing the stories and seeing the images not seen anywhere else in the world. Green, tepid waters invite the unwary traveller to a number of ways to die - sharks, crocodiles, fast-flowing tides and a myriad of other organisms waiting for a meal.

Kakadu National Park is a long day trip from Darwin. Several days are needed here to do it justice. Yellow River is home to numerous crocodiles and thousands of species of birds. Lichfield Park has incomparable waterfalls and freshwater streams, all home to friendly freshies, the crocs that don't eat humans - often. Katherine Gorge exhibits rugged cliff faces of yellow sandstone and rock art high in the cliffs.

An hour's flight to Darwin is the quick way to get to Kununurra. The township doesn't have much going for it - a Coles, a few restaurants and a pub. It's miles and hours out of the town where the jewels of the desert lie. Lake Argyle is a huge inland sea holding drinkable freshwater three times the size of Sydney Harbour. The Ord River is a picturesque view of the microcosm of organisms found in the area living in a majestic habitat. An expanse of ancient land covered in yellow dust and sandstone 350 million years old greeted me from the doorless cabin of the helicopter flying over the Bungle Bungles (an Aboriginal word meaning sandstone). A tentative hand held the camera close and I didn't even look when I snapped. Not too much can go wrong with a photo of such extraordinarily rugged beauty.

Broome is a hot town paddling the mostly unswimmable teasing green waters of Cable Beach. Our caravanserai of tourists on camels passed the nude beach and a veritable car park of 4WDs enjoying the sunset. The Horizontal Waterfalls gave us a spectacular seaplane ride to a million- dollar houseboat on Lake Talbot. The 20-year-old jet boat driver hurtled us through the adjoining cliffs which causes the world-famous white water rapids. We finished off the day with some fishing, and a lunch of Barramundi atop the houseboat with the red cliffs of the Kimberley behind us.

First grade love

2007-09-10T18:49:00.002+08:00

His name was Michael. Nothing unusual about that. He wore a grey shirt and shorts, and brown sandals. In winter, he varied his wardrobe by adding grey jumper and pants, and exchanged sandals for white socks and black shoes. His hair was short, perhaps too short, and his skin glowed white beneath the grey of his uniform. He was just like any other kid. The only difference was that he was a boy.

There were three in our class. Three in a class of thirty. Three boys and twenty-seven over-confident, brash, strong, tough little girls who were growing up in a woman's world, dominated by brash, strong female teachers. Female teachers who, in the cold winter months, would keep their rheumatoid hands warm by smacking supple young calves.

I was running late that first important morning when seating arrangements could make or break a future reputation. But my luck wasn't running that day. All the blocks of six chairs were eagerly grabbed by babyhood girlfriends clutching each others' hands in first morning frenzy. They would no sooner give up their new place in class than dress their Barbie doll in leather.

As I bumbled my way through the door to my education, I looked across the room and managed to fix my attention on one spare seat in the classroom. The spare seat is, of course, never next to the funniest, most intelligent member of the class. My chair, as it had to be, was located directly in front of the teacher, in a group of four opposite Neville and Tony. What great sorrow and shame followed with the realisation that I had to spend the whole coming year sitting at 'the boys' table'. To be always known as 'the one at the boys' table' was a stigma that took years to overcome. The only redeeming feature of this sorry awakening was the fact that I was also going to sit next to Michael for the coming year.

It was only when I sat close to him that I noticed his eyes. They were warm, brown puddles of mellow subtlety that seeped through my consciousness in an insidious wave of the unreal. And he was only six years old! From that moment, I was his. We would generously tick each others' work, drink cold, wet milk together at recess, deeply gouge crevasses in the dry ground for the barriers of our game 'Countries', and slide the soft, fresh steel of the monkey bars. But most important of all, he asked me to his birthday party.

I tried to block out the fact that everyone else in the class was asked too, and preferred to see myself as his special choice. I was the last to leave. It was our most special moment. We shared the last chocolate sundae in the darkness of his mother's verandah. Our hands met on the tip of the straw as we both held the plastic cylinder that would reveal to us the moist and nutty richness that lay below. Finally, the glass receptacle felt cold and our eyes were dazzled by the headlights of my mother's car coming to collect her daughter.

The next few days would bring a change to Michael. Just a little louder in class, just a little less attentive, just a little more gregarious with the rest. Milk-sharing days were over, replaced with the lonely sup of slightly warm, white liquid on the green steps near the hall.

It was time to say goodbye. When Michael approached me at the end, his hand grasped the hat elastic around my neck, and pulled.

He let go, and so did I.

Published in 'Single Life', November 1991.

Travel article: Hawaiian Shangri La

2007-06-06T21:53:00.002+08:00

Few locals knew who owned the house with the pillars high on Diamond Head. Facing an intolerant Pacific, a giant limestone barricade protected the home’s foundations from the constant waves, and its owner from unwelcome intruders. A reclusive tobacco heiress with an eternal love of Hawaii, Doris Duke began construction of her winter retreat on five acres of prime Honolulu real estate in 1935. It took three years to build at a cost of $1.4 million, a phenomenal sum at the time.

Travelling developed Doris’ passion for ancient Islamic art from the 13th century. Over the next 50 years, she commissioned art for her living gallery and imported Indian marble with carvings modelled on her beloved Taj Mahal to create her own marble bathroom.

The bus pulled up outside a modest, windowless façade with two stone camels guarding an ancient wooden door. Blank white walls on either side belied what lay inside; a world of hand-picked treasures from floor to ceiling, around a magical central courtyard. To enhance unparalleled views of the Pacific Ocean at her fingertips, Doris installed electronic glass walls, which would lower and rise at the push of a button, a highly innovative solution to keeping her eight dogs inside.

On her death in 1993, Doris Duke bequeathed her Shangri La to the Art Gallery of Hawaii with instructions to create the Doris Duke Foundation for Islamic Art. Her home is now open to the public and is living monument to her relentless pursuit of priceless art.

For more information, see http://www.shangrilahawaii.org/

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower

Travel article: Kuala Lumpur - A city in transition

2007-06-04T14:00:00.002+08:00

The first thing that hits the weary journeywoman escaping the Asian Manhattan of Hong Kong is that KL* doesn’t appear to be finished. Has there been an air strike that has demolished those burgeoning constructions for transportation in a once-booming economy? Or has the Indian subcontinent decided to use Petaling Jaya for its latest nuclear testing site? The newspapers carry no slogans of destruction or headlines of comet collision. The new arrival must assume that the tiger has gone into hibernation and left its lair to the metal grip of once-active giraffe machines which have stopped work until further notice.

(*KL is the affectionate abbreviation of this beautiful Moorish city of Kuala Lumpur. The journey from HK to KL via Sing on MH made arriving in PJ for some DFS very exciting indeed. The LRT and KTM also made it possible to do more DFS at M&S and BB Plaza for very little RM.)

One of the first joys is KL traffic. Thousands of Protons line the highways in a determined effort to arrive at myriad destinations - none of which is ever reached. Where do Protons go to die? They never leave the road. It can take several lifetimes of map reading and sign following before you ever get home. In the meantime, divorce is inevitable. 'Your Motoring Friend' attempts to delay divorce but in reality, it is the street directory from hell. I’m unkind. It’s very colourful and contains some lovely maps but it bears little resemblance to what’s on the ground. Supposedly published once a year, it refuses to bear a date. But, 'the maps contained in this directory are available in digital format'. A laptop must be a helpful and valuable addition to a stressful day in the car dodging traffic, balancing 'Your Motoring Friend' and computer on lap while changing CDs and answering the hand phone. A serious disclaimer announces 'No person should rely upon this directory for the purposes of finding their way around KL'. Not quite, but almost. I know. I had a close shave with divorce.

Everyone in KL has a car. To drive or not to drive - there is no question. Not to have a car is very damaging to the status indeed. And status, as we all know, needs to be constantly maintained and updated. The sort of car one drives is of the utmost importance. High on the list are imported cars. Way down the list are homemade cars. Due to the abundance of Protons, these little gems are not to be truly desired. The fact that they are reliable, quite attractive, cheap and easy to park are advantages spurned by the genuine vehicular connoisseur. No, the car of choice is a tank. These are not easy to acquire so the next best thing is a Pajero - the biggest, broadest, heaviest and highest in the east. These bullies outrun and outsize everything else on the road. Families of six on a Suzuki Moped swerve to the side in obeisance; broom sellers on bicycles stop in amazement; and Proton drivers think they’ve just passed a large mirror and drive in accordance, bombastically blasting everything in their path.

Driving in KL takes patience, dexterity, manoeuvrability, concentration, quick wittedness and preferably a drivers’ licence. Licences are available from the Department of Drivers’ Licences for Non-Drivers. While you’re there, you can also purchase a Doctorate in the Post-Mandrial Analysis of South American Indians or a Bachelor of Arts.

On the way to the hotel, we pass squalid, broken-down huts along a gutted road. The children can scarcely be seen against the dim, dark backdrop of huts with no light or water. Outside in the street, a tiny child carries a huge, red container of water for the household in need, struggling under the weight of its fluid bulk. The afternoon storm that arrives on schedule every day at 4 pm washes away the dirt from the doorways and floods the small huts that are not raised from the ground. Water is everywhere but not where it is needed. How can a country be suffering from a water shortage when the heavens open up every day at 4 pm?

A huge poster appears and announces 'KL’s first beach resort in the city'. The hotel is the size of a small city. The building is a palace of marble, with gilded columns, sky-high ceilings and murals that could cover a decent stretch of the Great Wall of China. The African theme is an obvious choice for the middle of tropical Asia. Great African elephants guard the entrance while a herd of antelope is attacked and eaten by marauding lions in a sculpture that would not look out of place in Caligula’s drawing room. I wander to the side windows to catch a glimpse of the pool area. What was once a sheer, excavated tin mine now houses the eighth wonder of the world - a man-made beach upon which washes man-made waves. How chic! Over a huge expanse of water, a mechanical wave maker is in action enabling John the surf master, fresh from Australia, to make a modest living out of surfing lessons on a cement shore. Manly Beach is long forgotten when there is a choice of wave sizes, water slide, surfing lessons, boating, floating and any number of water frolicking activities.

Having settled comfortably in the hotel, it is time to investigate the many activities available in this fine city. A means of transport is necessary to penetrate pusat bandaraya. This means city centre and I later come to realise that every town and village in Malaysia has one. It’s a bit like Laluan Sahala. Streets named Laluan Sahala are everywhere which seems a little confusing until I discover it means 'one-way street'. The monorail is obviously still under construction, and there are cobwebs on the bus stop seats so I opt for the closest taxi. How kind of these taxis who wait just to ferry me to my destination of choice. The first taxi ushers me past once he discovers my destination. He mumbles something to the second taxi driver who then spits out '15'. Talking to other people about taxi fares and distances covered, I have assessed that this is rip-off territory and barter furiously in the vain hope of getting into town for an honest price. 'Ah madam must pay 12. No fare on way back.' We agree on twelve and I enter the twilight zone of inner city driving.

But enough about driving. Let’s get to the real treat of KL - shopping. In a city that hangs out signs saying 'Buy one mattress, get a bed for 1 RM', the shopping has got to be good. And it doesn’t disappoint. There’s everything from the cheapest copy watch to top of the range designer ball gowns in sequins and pearls. There are whole shopping malls (and plenty of them) selling all variations on a theme. The shops are arranged for the ease of the shopper. All dress shops for women are on one level, clothes shops for men on another; all the fridge magnet shops are together; the hair clip and ribbon shops; all the kedais selling CDs, shoes, joss sticks, VCDs, and videos follow in a neat sequence. They’re all there together like stonemasons, coffin makers and grave stone merchants used to be in ancient Europe (and still in Hong Kong). The convenience is exhausting. Each shop belts out the strains of a different tune to entice its buyers. The only possible response, however, is to exit as quickly as possible.

Having seen enough merchandise for one day, I head for Bangsar where I know I can sit in an open-air coffee shop, sup from a choice of 15 different varieties of coffee and watch the passing parade of KL sophisticates. I am easily ensconced in an establishment and indulge myself as the afternoon drifts slowly past - as do Porsches, Ferraris, and myriad other luxury cars I cannot name. For me, the sole purpose of a car is to get to a destination as quickly and safely as possible. Colour, type, style, cost, trendiness, and gutsiness are all irrelevant. Not so for the drivers of every type of luxury car in Bangsar. These drivers are, without exception, very young males and females who obviously haven’t felt the brunt of a water shortage or an economic downturn.

And neither they should. The KL of tomorrow will be ready for the youth of today. By then, the monorail will be built, the roads and bridges constructed and the network links in place. Until then, the rest of us will continue to shop and sup and drive and look forward to a prosperous KL.

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower (written 1998)

Travel article: In the footsteps of Hillary

2007-06-04T13:58:00.002+08:00

Mystery, adventure, sunset on snow-capped mountains – isn’t it everything you dream of in a holiday? Throw in some physical exertion, lots of deep breathing, views of yaks’ rears, plus the most spectacular and inspiring scenery in the world and you’re on the trek to Everest in Nepal – the top of the world.

The summer monsoon happens from May to September and with it lots of rain and leeches. Consequently, it’s best to go in peak season from October to May. Once you’ve made your way to Kathmandu (1220 m), board the Cessna flight to Lukla (2800 m) where the trek begins. You will enjoy the 45-minute flight over remote villages nestling in valleys under the shadows of huge mountainous guardians, while sucking on a boiled lolly provided by the Nepalese stewardess. Nepali pilots will fly you into the dangerously short airstrip tightly surrounded by huge mountains. But don’t feel embarrassed that you’re terrified because so are the locals!

Here begins your 28-day trek to an altitude of 5640 m. But is it really the beginning? As any dedicated trekker knows, there have been months spent in preparation for your expedition. A list of your needs might include sleeping bag, gortex jacket, good boots, day pack, kitbag, thermal sleeping mat, down jacket and booties, numerous scarves and socks, thermal undies plus your personal gear. Most of the major companies will supply you with the big items at a good saving. But you really should buy your own trekking boots. There’s an art to this and once the pair is decided upon, it’s important to test them out before you leave the shop. As you’ll be doing lots of downhill walking, the ankles must be well supported, and toes must not touch the end of your boot when walking on a decline. It's easy to test. Just walk down a ramp and see if your toes are comfortable. Having bought the boots, you can now have some fun wearing them in. That’s easy because you’ve got to begin your training at least three months ahead of your trek anyway.

The Everest Base Camp trek is called a Grade 4 Adventure and described in the brochures as ‘some stages taking up to ten hours walking a day but within the capabilities of most people…be ready to get very fit before departure’. A good way to begin is to walk or jog three times a week. Walking upstairs gets you used to uphill climbing, and adding a few kilos of weight into a backpack will make you work a bit harder. Wherever you are, you’ll be able to find some structure with enough steps to keep you going.

Back at Lukla and armed with iodine solution (to avoid poisoning), daypack and hat, it’s time to meet the crew with whom you will spend the next 28 days.

Everest (or Chomolungma as it is locally known) is situated in Sagarmatha National Park, north-east of Kathmandu on the Khumbu glacier. The park covers an area of 1243 square km and as well as Everest (at 8850 m), holds the giant peaks of Lhotse and Nuptse. Three thousand local Sherpa people originating from Tibet, live a life here based on the Buddhist ethos.

The vegetation will change dramatically over the nearly 350 km that you will walk. From Lukla to the park, pine and hemlock forest turns into fir and birch, and splashes of spring pink rhododendrons flourish along the track. As you move higher, scrub and alpine plants eventually succumb to bare rock, snow and magnificent ice formations on the glacial walk to Everest.

The first major settlement is Namche Bazaar. It’s a day’s walk from the overnight stop just outside Lukla, and it is one of the most challenging walks on the trek. The cliff faces are steep and the tracks narrow. When faced with yaks carrying 80 kg loads and travelling at great downhill speeds, it’s a good idea to get out of their way and cling rigidly to the inside of the hill.

At the top of one of these hills to Namche Bazaar is your first view of Everest. It’s a time to catch your breath out of necessity as well as awe, when this timeless and majestic beauty beckons. You are getting closer but it seems always to remain out of reach. Sup of coke and chocolate at the aptly named Everest View Teahouse, and watch tiny Nepalese boys quickly pass with their huge burdens of building materials attached by thick leather straps around their foreheads.

The evenings are spent languidly after a local meal in the mess tent, playing cards or chess, or chatting to the other members of the trek. Nights are early, as are mornings, and it’s from an altitude of between 3660 m and 4270 m that you might start feeling drowsy and slow (if you’re normally slow, you can happily blame the altitude!). The walking pace is as fast as the slowest person, which allays altitude problems. Soon, you are seeing the country that enthralled Edmund Hillary (just as it did son Peter early in 1990), and reminders of his presence occur along the well-worn track.

If it’s more of a climb that you’re interested in, you certainly have the opportunity. You can climb Island Peak at 6240 m. Described as a trekking peak, it can also be hazardous in icy conditions, so you should have rope handling and abseiling experience.

The walk across the glacier provides some breathtaking sights that somehow seem to have remained untouched. At Gorekshep, you can climb Kala Pattar at 5640 m. Even if you don’t go all the way up, you can get a special ‘close-up’ view of Everest. Bathed in the warm glow of the dying sun, Everest stands framed by snow covered siblings, just waiting to be conquered.

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower

Travel article: Eternal Benares

2007-06-04T13:57:00.003+08:00

Stranded in a dark, unknown street in the middle of Varanasi at three in the morning could be a daunting prospect for some. We were eleven hours later after a hot and dusty bus ride from the border, and wanted only to settle in a cool place for the night. Out of this Indian night came our saviour in the form of Moona, proprietor of the Blue Star Hotel. Yes, he would provide us with the best hotel at the cheapest price, tours around the city, friends in high places, cruise of the Ganges at dawn, and a cup of tea on arrival. Most welcome of all was the fact that he took away our need to think.

Moona became our guide and like it or not we were guided. True to his word at 4 am (thankfully the following day) we were afforded the sights of the awakening Ganges. As he trundled along on his pushbike, we followed on our rickshaw behind. His billowing and multi-coloured headdress put our Western hues to shame.

Through the narrow, cobbled streets we weaved, witnessing the morning ablutions of a thousand hardworn mothers and children always surrounded by the faithful battle-hungry pet. Down at the water, Mother Ganga was waiting.

It was still dark and quiet as the boatman herded us into the boat which floated on the cleansing ripple of the holy river. At the gathering dawn, an orange luminance silhouetted ancient fishing vessels against the growing sun in a tranquil beauty, and the people started coming.

Within a few minutes a quiet, motionless river was transformed into a meeting point for market sellers, religious worshippers, and bathers partaking of the delights of the waters. The modest bathers revelled side-by-side occupying the entire length of the river’s edge.

A more sinister chance of seeing decomposing, half-burnt bodies floating face upwards near the funeral pyre was dispelled by the laughing faces of the children swimming near our boat. The dawn spectacle was over only for us, and as we approached the shore, Moona’s teeth bid us a white and shiny greeting.

He was the perfect host. He showed us the bustling streets of an ancient Benares as well as the modern warehouse of his cousin, the silk merchant, where we bought reams of silks and scarves as well as posing for the obligatory photograph. A new rickshaw was hired and again Moona cycled off, scarf in the wind telling us only that we were heading for the map.

Mahatma Gandhi commissioned a beautiful relief map of India sculpted in marble. It shows the magnificence of the Himalayas to the North in contrast to the low-lying plains of the South. Housed in a hall, the map is huge and occupies one entire room in the building. From below, it is possible to view the lie of the land and see the panoramic skyline that is the Himalayas.

Moona decided his time as our guide had come to an end. We thought perhaps he had to spend more time at the hotel, or that there were more helpless tourists needing his assistance. But slowly we realised that we had not offered him a large enough tip for his services.

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower

Travel article: Cayambe calling

2007-06-04T13:51:00.002+08:00

'There’s an active volcano near Quito, you know,' my travel agent informed me when I was booking my ticket. There were warnings of political unrest, poverty inspired crime and a dislike for gringos. Outpourings of ash from the volcano resulted in the closure of Quito airport a week before my departure. But there were plenty of gasmasks available. And I’d brought my own champagne.

Ecuador is a small South American country half the size of France and home to 12 million people. Colombia lies to the north, Peru to the south and east, and the Pacific Ocean crashes on its west coast. The magnificent Andes extend from north to south, and a large part of the country is uninhabited tropical jungle.

Created in an Incan setting in 1495, Hacienda Guachala is the oldest farm in Ecuador. It lies precisely on the Equator at 2,800 metres above sea level in the gorgeous Cayambe Valley just 110 km north of Quito. Guachala covers 20 hectares of undulating land from where you can clearly view Volcano Cayambe – at 5790 metres this is the highest point on the earth through which the Equator directly passes. This was to be my home with American friends for the next week – a new year’s eve party!

The hacienda is sprawling, ancient and rustic and at US$25 per night – a bargain. The restaurant, rooms, church and stables surround the inner courtyard of cobbled stones. To the back of the restaurant is the swimming pool housed in a greenhouse decorated with pink and orange bougainvillea. Partnering this humid area is a central room with logfire and bar in which the owner Diego Bonifaz recounts tales of the history of his family and the long life of the hacienda.

'The Hacienda has been in my family since 1892,' Diego, a Stanford University-educated Ecuadorian said. Owners have included Spanish nobles, the famous Borgia family and presidents – one in the Bonifaz family itself. Another former Ecuadorian president, Garcia Moreno, rented the Hacienda in 1868. In 1889, Vicente Tinajero, a moneylender of the time, bought Guachala at an auction and proceeded to hide 50,000 pounds sterling somewhere in the grounds. The treasure has never been found.

The rooms belie 20th century living with no television or telephone to disturb the twilight hours (although television, telephone and email are available in the main sitting area). Traditional Ecuadorian rugs decorate the walls and cover the log wood beds. Bathrooms are comfortable and adjoin twin, double and family suites. Breakfast is a healthy mix of delicious local bread, eggs, bacon and passionfruit with cinnamon juice overlooking the main courtyard.

Our first group outing is to the natural hot springs at Oyacachi – a two-hour drive in a jeep over unsealed roads winding through spectacular mountains. Once in Oyacachi, we walk across a swaying footbridge to find the hot springs – underground pools that spew 35-degree sulphureous and ferruginous volcanic water. After bathing for a couple of hours in the hot mineral waters, we head back to the town. We come across a group of indigenous Indians who are offering a lunch of trout, salad, and coke for $1 and gladly partake.

The ride back in the jeep is cold and bumpy. The mountains rise up all around us. High on hilltops, Indians farm their small plots of land donated by the government. Their colourful voluminous skirts and distinctive hats dot the mountainsides as we hit one pothole after another.

The Hacienda horses are available to ride through the grounds and into the outlying areas. There is prolific evidence of a former owner’s love of Eucalyptus and Agapanthus. Other activities include hiking, mountain climbing, white water rafting and mountain bike riding for the more adventurous. For those interested in culture the pre-Incan ruins and museums are worth a look, or a siesta in a hammock by the pool may be more appealing.

Two other towns near Cayambe are Cotacachi well known for its cheap leather, and Otavalo, a fascinating Indian market town abuzz with locals and tourists looking for colourful craft and jewellery. This outdoor bazaar shows a country teeming with colour, culture, ancient heritage and charm – even with the risks thrown in. By the way, the volcano didn’t erupt and I didn’t need that facemask.

Contact
Hacienda Guachala is in Cayambe, 110 km north of Quito, Ecuador. For details, phone 593-2-363-042, fax 593-2-362-426 or email: guachala@uio.satnet.net

Wonderful rustic ambience and plenty of activities. Very relaxing and security is not an issue.
Although the owner speaks English fluently, the staff don’t. If you speak Spanish, it’s a huge advantage.

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower

Travel article: Calling the winds of Africa

2007-06-04T13:37:00.002+08:00

I think of Africa and I think of huge, open spaces covered in the sparse stubble of a barren land, waiting only for the change in the breeze and the rain. The sunsets are bright orange and red with the dark haunting shapes of the fragile trees silhouetted against the glow.

The slowness and speed of the many species that inhabit this expanse both terrify and amaze me with their gentleness and destruction. Giraffes with their lumbering height can stun with their intelligence, while the zebra rise and flow in a stream of black and white sameness. Wildebeest cover the land in an immense growth of movement; all individuals yet an entity as one. Lionesses caress their young with a delicate and tender devotion, yet fiercely protect them from the numerous marauders of the bush; always ready to pounce, and tear into warm flesh with smooth, white teeth. The stereotypical scene is real, and so are its extremes.

I am staying in the home of a British gentleman who has spent most of his 79 years in the womb of Africa; feasted on her spoils, supped of her juices and employed her people. He once owned and ran a safari company which his son now manages. In his youth, he and his friends were comfortable with their use of weapons to kill anything that moved. The big ‘game’ of lions and rhino were their main targets; killed for fun in limitless numbers.

His home is comfortable and large, and holds a languid charm that pervades his universe. The elderly man, with a family who choose to live in the mother country, employs a house ‘boy’ named Thomas, and a garden ‘boy’ named Miyaai. Both of these local men are 50 years old. Even though Thomas has been with the old man for 13 years, the gentleman doesn’t know that he has a wife and children. Thomas lives in a small cabin at the back of the house. He is loyal and hardworking and although he speaks no English, it takes only a little understanding to read the smile on his sad face.

My two companions and I arrive at the house amidst much excitement. Preparation is underway for the evening meal. All are cooked meals which Thomas prepares with directions in Swahili from the gentleman. Once the table is set, a buzzer is rung to alert Thomas to his duties while my vegetarian friend, in this meat eater’s paradise, states her rapture at the lettuce leaf on her plate. Afternoon tea is always served in the drawing room at four, with fine china, silver service, and serviettes laid delicately upon the serving trolley.

Once we have eaten, an early morning journey to Lake Nakuru is organised for the following day. As we pass through the Kenyan countryside and approach the magnificent Rift Valley, I understand the indescribable charm of Africa. The land beckons with its warmth and expanse, and the people merge into their environment with a silent understanding.

We come to a popular stopping place for photographs overlooking the expanse which is the Rift Valley, and are surrounded by wood statue sellers and the hands that push the sheepskin hats into our faces. We pass Lake Navaisha and on to Nakuru and its National Park. The park is a huge area covering about 80 square kms and contains the beautiful Lake Nakuru with its myriad wildlife.

Along the dirt tracks, the first waterbuck dart through the foliage. Following the track around, we travel over the sun-dried, mud-encrusted earth to Lake Nakuru. In the distance is a long, bright strip of pink shimmering colour on the blue of the water, which is flamingo. We move closer to watch these colourful cormorants. Around the lake are more waterbuck and reedbuck, until we drive onto the road again.

Our gentleman, clad in khaki long shorts, safari jacket with pith helmet and long socks, shouts ‘Twiga’ as a Rothschild giraffe emerges from behind a tree. Graceful impala and aggressive warthog frolic, and families of baboon watch us from the side of the road. ‘Didn’t bring the rifle, girls!’ he chuckles.

The land is green after fresh rains and filled with candelabra cactus, a magnificent structure enveloping the plains. After a picnic lunch, we decide to make our way home. Along the Cape de Cairo road from Nakuru to Nairobi, we see food stalls, baskets and sheepskins being displayed for sale. Young boys hold out rabbits by their ears, in an effort to make us stop and buy the poor wriggling creatures. A human body distorted and twisted, lies on one side of the road surrounded by impersonal viewers after a hit and run accident; nobody seems to care.

We decide to explore Kenya outside the boundaries of the home of our host. Thomas offers a sad goodbye. I imagine his life spent in servitude to a man who has no thought for the feelings, hopes and dreams of his servant. I can see Thomas’s glistening eyes and finally, as we move further along the winding driveway, he disappears. The gentleman has stated that he will accompany us to Nairobi in our attempt to buy train tickets to Mombasa. He is adamant that we travel first class to avoid any contact with the local people.

The railway station at Nairobi is a teeming nucleus of black faces. The mothers and children are especially colourful, and even in this oppressive heat, are adorned with traditional jewellery on top of their many layers of clothing. Some of the men prefer a Western style of dress, but most wear a mixture of several cultures. The masses push in an interminable effort to be noticed, get tickets, meet friends, sell their wares or find their children. Everywhere is a feeling of excitement; everywhere except their faces.

After waiting an hour for a ticket, we come to a compromise with our gentleman, and settle for a second-class journey. The train to Mombasa takes 13 hours so there is plenty of time to enjoy the passing landscape inhabited by railway villages and running children. A long way from our window, the horizon is dotted with lion, giraffe and zebra.

Once in Mombasa, after much discussion with taxi drivers, we encamp at the Cosy Guest House in the main street. The heavy heat of night increases with the onset of dawn and we are told there is no water. The rooms are bare and dirty with no bed covering or fan. But the day brings us the street markets selling our favourite wooden animals, Fort Jesus by the sea, and three-course cordon bleu meals for a few US dollars.

We have heard of an island called Lamu on the north coast of Kenya. Mombasa, in all its dusty, waterless glory, helps us to decide, so at five o’clock the next morning we embark on a day’s bus trip to investigate the coast of East Africa.

Long dusty uncomfortable roads give way to the brown waters of the river crossings by barge. We sit three people on a seat built for two, dust entering every window opening amidst the enervating heat. I pity the Muslim women in their thick, long, black garments and watch bananas swinging from side to side above someone’s head. After the ferry ride to the island, we land at the jetty and are greeted by crowds of hoteliers grasping for the patronage of the famed dollar-laden travellers.

We choose a quaint guesthouse on the track by the sea, and much to our pleasure discover the cool, running waters of its shower. Draped over our beds are the mosquito nets of a bygone age.

An ancient Muslim community inhabits narrow, winding and cobbled streets, fortified by old stone walls. The people happily coexist with donkeys, standing side-by-side in frozen poses on every street. The centre of the town is small but the island stretches with its soft, white beaches nuzzling the deep blue waters of a largely, undiscovered Africa.

On a long walk around the beach, a young Muslim boy named Chui offers his dhow for an afternoon of sailing. We board the ‘Fartahani’ and sail through the mangrove area, home to the black and white eagle. The sail is felled and we rely on Chui to punt to the shore. He explains to us that Manda Island, an hour’s sail from Lamu, once held a 15th century walled Arabic town. The town is now in ruins and surrounded by baobabs. We roam through the ruins and I buy some smooth perfect cowrie shells. The tide will shortly be out so, not wanting to be stranded, we board again. Chui makes his bird like sounds and says he is ‘calling the wind’. Hoping for a large tip from his foreigners, Chui tells us that ‘if you make the cows happy, they give you plenty of milk’. Poor Chui doesn’t realise that these cows don’t have much milk.

Sunrise on Lamu is from our balcony, with the pale sun frosting the surface of the undisturbed sea. But soon a fisherman’s wade causes the ripples to break the surface, and splash against the side of his moored boat. The harsh sun of late morning, green waters of the island coast, noisy gathering markets, animals at home on a wandering land, and people as different, cruel, naïve and brave as their wild neighbours; these are the images of Africa that I will remember.

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower