Victorian vista – benvenuto!

Posted on May 25, 2015 by Kym Hamer

When last I posted, I was sitting at Heathrow Airport waiting for my flight to visit Seattle-A in – yes you guessed it – Seattle. A couple of busy weeks have elapsed since my return and I have finally sorted the photos and stories enough to warrant a ‘what I did’ post. Suffice to say that in ten days we did many things – weekend excursions, a girls night out, hanging out with the little dudes and considerably more ice cream consumption than I am used to (just as well I got a swim in!)

We also took a trip up to Canada to celebrate a certain person’s significant birthday last month so on a very rainy Tuesday morning (the only rain of my 10 day trip), we boarded the clipper and cruised north to the harbour city of Victoria.

We had decided to add a trip out to The Butchart Gardens to our clipper and hotel package and before we knew it, we were through immigration and on the bus for the 45 minute drive out to Saanich. Seattle-A was quite excited…

Jennie Butchart created her first project, the Sunken Garden, in the exhausted limestone quarry on the family’s property during the early 1900s. Between 1906 and 1929 she then went on to cultivate the Japanese Garden by the sea, the Italian Garden on the old tennis court and the Rose Garden. Today, the Gardens remain a family enterprise and are visited by more than 1 million people each year – with over 22 hectares of public gardens (on a 54 hectare property), I suspect there is probably plenty to keep them busy.

And so we spent a good couple of hours breathing in the fresh clean air and gaping at the extraordinary beauty that greeted us around every corner.

An advertised feature of the gardens are the tulips. They were absolutely everywhere and in every conceivable size and colour – this display was right at the beginning as we walked in.

We headed for the Sunken Garden first…I had a little chuckle to myself at the irony of going up to reach them.

The Sunken Garden was spectacular and the going up was definitely worth this view of it. Following the gently curving paths brought us face to face with all sorts of permutations of colourful foilage, fragrant blooms and calm stretches of water.

This was such a pretty display and having never seen these red and white striped flowers before, I had to a) take a photo and b) include them in this post. I do not know what they are…do your worst people.

Even though I had seen these before, they were just so pretty I had to take this photo. (I have also forgotten what these are called…green thumb I am not.)

We thought that these were roses but the curly petals lent a more unorthodox prettiness.

Daffodils are my favourite flower and while their bright yellow sunshine-iness is a big part of their usual appeal for me, I was struck by the simple delicacy of these pure white ones.

This water feature was at the far end of the Sunken Garden and quite spectacular. In posting this photo on Facebook to ~~announce~~ brag about my travelling exploits, I received four different replies in quick succession from people who had been ‘here’ before (obviously a more famous ‘gardens’ than I had given them credit for). One of these was from Dad who posted the ‘same’ photo taken when visiting a few years ago.

Leaving the Sunken Garden, we headed up to the concert lawn…

Here’s Seattle-A demonstrating that inside every grown woman, there remains a little girl wanting a pony…

More tulips…especially for Lil Chicky.

This one is to prove that I was there too: the totem pole shows Eagle with Salmon, Orca, Bear with Salmon…and moi.

We were struck by how much these looked like Australian paperbarks. They are not Australian paperbarks – we asked – but for the life of me, I cannot remember what they were. Yet another horticultural #fail.

We were keen to see these Himalayan blue poppies as they only flower for about 6 weeks each year (and we had missed the ‘rose’ season…more on that next). There was a whoop of discovery upon finding a smattering of these bright blue blossoms.

This is the archway through the rose-less Rose Garden. Timing is everything – if you like roses.

Next it was down into the Japanese Garden…

There was some strange flora in this garden. This one was definitely one of the weirdest flowers I’ve ever seen (and which still remains a mystery)…

…and clearly there’s nothing like keeping oneself busy with a spot of ~~topiary~~, ~~tree-shapery~~, pruning. Because 54 hectares is not enough…

Of the many amazing photos I managed to take, I think this one is my favourite – it looks so beautiful that it seems not real (but it definitely was!)

We came upon this in a back corner of the garden. I know. This looks like nothing special but if you look through this little window of nature…

…you’ll see the cove beyond it that backs onto the Butchart property.

We wandered out of this oriental lushness towards the main buildings again to be greeted by another expanse of tulips…

…and a raft of sunset-coloured roses.

Walking through the gap in the hedge, we found ourselves in the Italian Garden, the most formal and the smallest of the gardens we’d seen.

At this stage we’d been meandering in the fresh air for a couple of hours so we were delighted to be met with an opportunity for refreshment…

Benvenuto indeed! The Maple Walnut Gelato was delicious.

And with that, it was time to return to the bus for the ~~snooze~~ ride back to Victoria and to our hotel where the view from our balcony turned out to be this…

And as we relaxed on the balcony at the end of our first day ‘abroad’, we sighed contentedly and wondered at the hardships we had been forced to face together…and planned 24 hours of foodie forays to keep us entertained for the remainder of our visit.

More(ish – see what I did there?) on this soon…but if you are venturing out BC way, make a note-to-self – The Butchart Gardens is a ‘must-see’.

The equality emporium

Posted on May 1, 2015 by Kym Hamer

I am typing this from the BA Lounge at Heathrow Airport, waiting for the flight that will take me across the pond to Seattle-A and her boys for a glorious 10 days of ‘hanging out’.

As with all airport journeys I leave plenty of time to allow for a) North Circular and Heathrow spur traffic b) a less than fast Fast Track and c) breakfast and a spotty reading of the Financial Times. Today there was no traffic and Fast Track lived up to its name so I have plenty of time to dash off a little post.

This one is inspired by something I saw on Springwise.com yesterday and got me thinking about that equal pay question. You see this was about a pop-up shop called 76<100 where you ‘pay what you’re paid’. So if you’re a woman and you buy something in this Pittsburgh emporium, you pay only 76% of the price because that’s the gender pay gap in Pittsburgh. (Springwise reports that the plan is to expand this concept to New Orleans next where the store will be called 66<100 – you do the maths. You can find out more at http://www.lessthan100.org.)

I’m reading all sorts of things in the media about women ‘issues’ – after all the suffragettes won the right to vote here in the UK a century ago and the general theme of all of these rallying cries is that we have not come so very far. The use of the word feminist is emerging in common parlance again after years of being tarred as the ‘other F-word’ and an election would not be an election in the UK without most of the parties bandying ‘women issues’ about as part of their appeal to the swinging voter (anyone see Labour’s pink campaign bus – I mean REALLY?)

For the most part it just sounds like noise to me and while I accept that there is still a gap to bridge, I just think that there are so many of these bridges to build and for so many of us. The problems of women’s representation on Boards and equal pay – while I do acknowledge their importance – pale when I think about the things I read, that I have never been exposed to – rape, ostracision, FGM, beatings and other torments seem a much greater problem to fix. And not just for women but for all groups who are at the ‘skinny end’ in the balance of society’s power.

And then last night I read the latest post from fellow blogging friend, Travelling Penn (travellingpenn@wordpress.com). We worked together a long time ago – she has since retrained as a communicator for World Vision and travels to far-flung places to support aid efforts for the world’s poorest and most powerless. She has been posting on Facebook recently about the power of global aid efforts to help those affected by the earthquake in Nepal. Anyway, in her post she shared some numbers – 60 million people facing an humanitarian crisis, 36 million of those children.

It puts the notion of equality into a different light doesn’t it?

It is an overwhelming set of numbers and my friend writes about remembering the face of each child she has helped to avoid despairing as she tots up the columns. And I thought to myself, whatever the crisis of equality – whether it’s gender, sexuality, poverty, race, religion…the list goes on – the difference we make is really person by person and moment by moment.

So when next I am admonished to ‘step up’ and ‘lean In’, I will do just that. Because while I’m just one person, so are all of the people I come into contact with each day. And with a little extra from all the ones, I have to believe that it is possible to make a difference.

Mumbai Moments…

Posted on September 14, 2014 by Kym Hamer

Back at the start of 2012, I read a book called Shantaram. Written by Gregory David Roberts, it is a narrative based on Roberts’ experiences in the Bombay underworld. It is a wonderful read, my first taste of India and according to the Indian friends I know, an accurate depiction of Bombay.

This week I got to see it for myself.

Lucky enough to travel to India for work, I spent an overnight in Delhi – not enough time to see anything unfortunately – before heading south for two days in Mumbai (aka Bombay) and after a day at our factory and offices, it was time to experience a little local colour with beer and vittels at Cafe Mondegar.

Cafe Mondegar is located on Colaba Causeway, (officially known as Shahid Baghat Singh Road), a land link between Colaba and Old Woman’s Island in the south of Mumbai and a buzzing commercial street filled with bars, restaurants, cafes and throngs of people. Cafe Mondegar, or Mondy’s to the locals, is a hub for both local and expatriate socialising with tables and chairs packed closely together and a menu catering for adventurers seeking local flavours as well as travellers pining for a little taste of home, wherever that may be.

The main cafe wall is covered with a cartoon mural painted by famed Indian illustrator Mario Miranda which depicts the hustle and bustle of life in Mumbai – these caricatures can also be spotted on the plates supplied for your meal as well as the salt and pepper shakers on each table and a range of items for sale like t-shirts and mugs.

I was told that Mondy’s represented just the tip of the culinary iceberg but was an excellent place to start so left the ordering up to my colleagues with the only stipulation being I wanted to eat local food. In my experience, eating food in its place of origin always tastes better and I was not disappointed. Each dish was delicious and washed down with a range of ice-cold beers. With the vintage jukebox busting out some excellent 80s and early 90s tunes, Mondy’s got a big Thum(b)s Up from me.

Thums Up, India’s favourite cola

The following day it was time for some retail visits, seeing the types of products available and how they are sold – quite different from the superstores and chains of the more developed markets that I am used to. What it meant was that, albeit from the back seat of our Tata car, I got to see Mumbai.

Our first stop typified Mumbai for me, a curious mix of new affluence and poverty side by side.

Taken at Phoenix Market City, Kurla, Mumbai

Our second stop saw us back in the Colaba region. The streets off the main roads were quieter and lined with colonial architecture, a hangover from the area’s occupation by British forces in the 1700s.

Famous residents include Sir Ratan Tata, the Emeritus Chairman of Indian multinational conglomerate Tata Sons, the holding company for Tata Group (ownership of Jaguar and Tetley Tea among its many interests).

Speaking of Tata, we did visit one of their Star Bazaar stores in Andheri…

…where we managed to buy a Magnum (ice-cream) – quite new and extremely expensive in India according to my colleague – and eat it watching one of Mumbai’s many entrepreneurs…

Mumbai money: She’s selling Tupperware from her car boot.

And then it was time to head back to the hotel so we hit the road…

So that was the end of my first visit to India and more particularly, Mumbai. Where 20 million people exist side by side in states of extreme wealth right through to abject poverty and where entrepreneurialism thrives as every man, woman and child finds ways to make ends meet. Its crowded streets are overwhelming, decimated at this time of year as the monsoon season wrings out its final downpours and filled with the strangely happy beep beep of car horns as the traffic pushes and snarls and untangles itself again.

The atmosphere is one of tolerance – how could such diametric opposites co-exist without it – and a mixture of acceptance and hope, an acceptance of one’s destiny yet a belief that one’s actions in life will generate ‘good’ karma. And I found myself unexpectedly moved by this metropolitan melting pot, its busy, bustling hopefuls and its fusion of many opposites.

Gregory Roberts writes this in Shantaram:

“Fate gives all of us three teachers, three friends, three enemies, and three great loves in our lives. But these twelve are always disguised, and we can never know which one is which until we’ve loved them, left them, or fought them.”

I wonder what Mumbai will turn out to be.

A Day At The Fair…

Posted on September 6, 2014 by Kym Hamer

This time last week I was arriving at Heathrow Airport after a 9 day soujourn with Seattle-A and all of her boys.

You see, I’d managed to tack a few flights onto the end of a work trip so after about 7 hours flying (and a rather tight connection dash through Houston Airport en-route) I arrived at Seattle-Tacoma Airport on a warm evening in August to be hailed by a fond Coo-ee! and Seattle-A hug at the luggage belt.

It’d been about 6 months since my last visit so there was loads for us to catch up on over a burrito and a gin and tonic on the way home. There are so many changes happening in both of our lives – she as a second-nation expat and mother of twin boys and me as somewhat of a jetsetter in my new (since last October) job – but the feeling of picking up where we left off last time remained.

It was an unexpectedly busy first few days as a) Grandma-C was enjoying the last few days of her very own Seattle sojourn and b) I was invited to accompany Team-M on a long weekend in Walla Walla in Washington’s wine region under the auspices of celebrating a friend’s 40th birthday. Hmmm more travelling…but made palatable by wine and friends at the end of it.

Returning from our weekend away, I was left with a few days to hang out at Chez-M, plenty of opportunity for a cuddle top-up with my favourite little dudes and to soak up some Seattle-A time to sustain me until my next visit.

On my penultimate day, this included a trip to the Evergreen State Fair.

There was some discussion between Seattle-A and I beforehand as to what format this would take compared with our Aussie experiences – pavilions, rides, shows or lots of livestock to stand around and ‘admire’ outside. As it turned out, it was a bit of everything plus some fair ‘fare’ so here’s a quick scoot around the fairground for your armchair touring pleasure.

There was not one but two ferris wheels…

…and there were rides and games and plenty of vittels…

…although the Snohomish Pie Company (above bottom right) sold only sweet pies much to our disappointment. This turned into an important cultural lesson as the locals in our group laughed at our ‘uniquely Australian’ expectation of a savoury Snohomish slice.

We soon got our own back.

Seattle-A and I were rather curious about this apparently Australian delicacy, a large onion peeled, flowered and floured before being deep-fried. Upon interrogating the purveyor of said goods, we learnt that there was no Down Under connection at all. Nor did we find out who ‘Aussie’ was.

After a quick reconnaissance we were soon tucking in to some local vittels of our own…

The top right photo shows bacon on a stick. Yes that’s right – bacon – on a stick.

Those enormous deep fried things bottom right are onions rings (as distinct from the onion burst discovered earlier).

To the left is my lunch: a bottle of root beer (seriously I could not get enough of this stuff – anyone who can tell me where I can buy this in the UK will earn my eternal gratitude) and an all-American Russian piroshky. The lady was making these by hand when I approached the van so it was a salmon and cream cheese one for me and a meatier version for Seattle-A – delicious!

Soon it was time for a little more wandering and while we were searching for the petting zoo (the main agenda for our visit), our little group was waylaid, this time by ice-cream. Seattle-A was delighted with her Chocolate-Almond choice and was looking forward to devouring the whole lot…

…but the little dudes, particularly R, had other ideas.

And I can’t say I blame them – the couple of bites I had were divine!

More meandering followed with the little dudes practicing their new-found walking skills…

…and before long we found ourselves near our destination, these wooden creatures greeting us as we approached the location of said petting zoo.

With bears in the Chez-M area – neighbours report ursine visitors ransacking garbage bins under cover of darkness – we thought the ones below would look great scattered through the trees surrounding Chez-M but were unsure as to whether they would attract, repel or even ‘upset’ the real thing.

Speaking of locals, we were also treated to a display of indigenous colour and rhythm here so the little ‘uns in our party did a bit of tribal foot-stamping to the beat of a native drum.

Finally, we made it to the zoo.

Hooray I hear you say.

O (left) was not entirely sure of the competition for Mum’s attention…

….but R (right) was fascinated by these real-life creatures previously only seen in picture books.

So that was our big day at the fair. A hot, blue-sky day filled with new experiences for the young…

…and the young at heart.

And so the following day I packed my Day at the Fair alongside my new stash of Seattle memories in my suitcase, said some emotional good-byes and flew home.

But I’m already thinking about the next trip.

You see Seattle-A turns 40 next year…and you know how I love a birthday!

Ode to Ghent

Posted on August 16, 2014 by Kym Hamer

After a birthday of fun

On August day one,

On August day two

A wedding was done

Amid friends old and new

And we boogied on down.

After a big night of play

To blow cobwebs away

It seemed just the thing

To arrange for a day

Of touristic sightsee-ing

In a neighbouring town.

So to Ghent (or to Gent)

On the Sunday we went

By train and by tram

To the place we were meant

To meet a man with a plan

And a boat to cruise ’round.

Despite threat of a shower

We cruised for an hour

Umbrellas at ready

Past turret and tower

Our camera clicks steady.

Not a drop did fall down.

Next up was a talk

And historical walk

Through old cobbled streets.

At architecture we gawked

And ate local treats:

Jenever and waffles warmed brown.

Apple jenever – delicious

We enjoyed the Ghent view

For an hour or two

Then sought a beer

– a good local brew

To wish all good cheer

(no sorrows to drown).

A wide selection of local beverages

So we followed our nose,

Down cobblestone roads

Til we came to a square

Where a man with a pose

Said ‘beer over there!’

With an authoritative frown.

Statue of Jacob van Artevelde in Vridagsmarket (Friday Market)

So thirst quenched we went

To a rib joint in Ghent

Before travelling back,

An afternoon well-spent.

And as the sky to turned to black

We were hotel-bound.

Ghent train station

Glorious ceiling inside the station entrance

So that was my ode

To Ghent, the abode

of Wiggins, Van Eyck

and an altarpiece of note.

And it does seem to me

There’s much more to like

The next time around!

Midsummer Magic…

Posted on June 21, 2014 by Kym Hamer

Today the Summer Solstice occurs and we in the Northern hemisphere will get our longest day of the year courtesy of the sun reaching its northernmost point in the sky. Stonehenge was awash with 37,000 worshippers at sunrise this morning and all manner of celebrations will take place throughout the world.

Today also marks Midsummer in Sweden, a festival as important to the Swedes as Christmas is to me and mine. It’s a time of family and food, dancing and drinking and the Swedish contingent at work are pretty much out of contact during this holiday period.

Which brings me to a little Midsummer moment of my own, this week’s visit to Skanor med Falsterbo.

It’s actually my fourth visit to this lovely little part of Sweden. Our European division holds its mid-year sales meeting here, a nod to a time when the company (or part of it anyway) was Swedish and management would leave the conference to travel to their respective holiday homes in the area for Midsummer. In any case, it’s not your run-of-the-mill conference choice – and that’s a good thing.

Skanor med (with) Falsterbo are twin medieval towns situated 28-30kms south of Malmo on the Falsterbo peninsula. It’s a quiet place with a population of less than 7,000 and the area is filled with quaint, wonderfully kept houses and surrounded by pristine beaches and glorious stretches of sea and sky. This year we were blessed with warm mid-20s temperatures and I found a little time to take a stroll to the beach and to soak up a bit of Midsummer magic…

Like a row of quirky sentinels, tiny beach huts line the foreshore.

Unfortunately the magic of Midsummer was not quite enough to keep Australia from departing the FIFA World Cup…in spite of this, last week still found this little Aussie more than happy with her lot.

Welcoming The World…

Posted on May 26, 2014 by Kym Hamer

In my last post, I took you on an armchair tour around my pre-work weekend in Rio de Janeiro, where I climbed mountains, strolled along the beach, ambled around the lagoon and sauntered through markets and gardens. And I must say that throughout the trip, I kept thinking to myself ‘I am in Rio. Who gets to live this kind of ridiculous (in a good way) and surreal life?’ Apparently that would be me.

Standing on Arpoador with Ipanema beach stretching away behind me.

But for all its easy amiability, there’s another side to Rio: More than a million of the city’s poor live in favelas, or shanty towns. Over 900 favelas perch on the hills around Rio, hundreds of delapidated shacks clustered amongst the green slopes rising from alongside Rio’s most affluent communities.

This is a view of Copacabana from the Arpoador Fort – you can see the favela lights stretching up into the hills to the left of the lamp post.

There has been significant investment to improve conditions and reduce violence and general crime since 1994 and I am told this continues in earnest as next month’s FIFA World Cup and more particularly, the 2016 Olympic Games will focus the world’s eye on the city. A police presence has been installed in a number of favelas and construction projects like the cable car system for the Complexo do Alemeao are being designed to facilitate workers’ ability to earn a living. The cable car has also made the favela itself something of a tourist attraction (although reports of occasional outbreaks of violence and drug trafficking was enough to deter me).

The favelas have attracted many artists. The towns themselves are well known for their brightly painted shacks and are popular subjects for local painters with dozens of colourful canvasses on display in local markets.

One of a myriad of favela art collections on sale at the Feira de Artes de Ipanema

While I didn’t visit any favelas, they were easy enough to see, one of the largest climbing the hills behind Ipanema and Copacabana whilst the Complexo do Alemao and its cable car were clearly visible from the main road leading from Barra de Tijuca to the airport. I found myself bemused by this glamorous portrayal of Rio’s slums and I wondered how many tourists pay eagerly for their ‘authentic’ souvenir, oblivious to the abject poverty and danger that these people live with every day. I felt like the proceeds should somehow go towards further improving conditions in these communities.

In any case, most of the colleagues I spoke to would never dream of venturing into one of these areas yet were complimentary of programmes to improve conditions and safety. What was also interesting was their surprise at my catching a local bus service from Cosmo Velho (near the station whose train takes you up to Christ the Redeemer) back down to Ipanema on Saturday afternoon – surprised that I actually worked out how to manage this and pleased that I felt safe enough to do it.

That’s the thing – I felt safe. Shoulder to shoulder with locals, the bus whizzed through suburb after suburb and I felt like I saw more of the ‘real’ Rio in that 40 minute trip. And despite the lack of English speaking amongst local storekeepers and waiters, everyone was friendly and willing to help – so with the aid of a very limited ‘Lonely Planet’ vocabulary and some pretty impressive (if I do say so myself) charades, I managed to feed, water and generally navigate myself around this great city…

…walking along Ipanema Beach, I watched the cariocas (residents of Rio) play, at one with the sand and the sea…

Top left is Praia de Diabo (Devil’s Beach); the rest were taken on Ipanema Beach

…admiring the easy yet watchful opportunism of the local traders, whether on the beach, in the market or simply capitalising on a captive audience…

Clockwise from top left: opportunistic selling on the ride up Corcovado to Christ the Redeemer; bikinis for sale on Ipanema beach; one of the most popular drinks in Rio is coconut juice; a bit of carnival spirit at the Hippie Fair; local art on display; sarongs for sale.

…and ambling along tree-lined streets with their colourful apartment blocks, wondering who might live there.

Top row; Ipanema
Bottom row L to R: Leblon, Ipanema, Laranjeiras

Rio is a city tucked cosily around its mountainous surrounds and retains the easy intimacy of a cluster of villages rather than the hustle and bustle of a metropolis of more than 6 million people. It is surrounded by extraordinary natural beauty and spectacular scenery and the natives – or cariocas – are outdoorsy, easy-going and hugely welcoming. You might argue that I’ve only scratched the surface but I think the world will enjoy its first Olympic soujourn in South America.

Let’s hope that Rio will be able to put its best foot forward.

Memories of Nanjing

Posted on April 27, 2014 by Kym Hamer

Memories are funny things aren’t they?

We gather so many millions and millions of them throughout our lives and somehow they all get stored away in our mind’s filing cabinet. Some things we want to remember – a couple of mine include standing awestruck in the empty chamber in one of Giza’s great pyramids or for something more mundane, just remembering the name of the person I met half an hour ago. Others we’d rather forget. Most retreat and end up buried beneath the constant and never-ending deluge of our life. Yet sometimes, like yesterday, they pop up when least expected.

Blogger (and published author) extraordinaire Linda Janssen writes Adventures in Expatland and I was over there yesterday checking out the latest piece in her Expats A to Z series, C is for Committed. The post was pretty much what I’ve come to expect from Linda’s writing: thoughtful, insightful and generous. But what I didn’t expect was the evocation of a memory so powerful, it took me right back to a summer’s evening in a Nanjing street almost nine years ago.

I had been in my own version of expatland for about 18 months. It had been a hard induction – initial expectations of money, home and job had fallen well short and my family and friends watched from afar – concerned, helpless and confused – as I struggled with both the practical and emotional minefield of building a new life. And whilst I knew deep down that here was where I was meant to be, there was another little voice in my head whispering, ‘What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? You had a good life, it would be easier/far more sensible to give up and go back to Australia.’

At this point in time, I’d found myself in a job that promised so much and fairly quickly became a huge disappointment but I did get a couple of amazing opportunities to travel in the ten months I was there and one of these trips was to Asia.

I’d spent a week with our local rep visiting suppliers in Taiwan, China and Hong Kong. We’d managed a casual evening in Macau, another more digestively challenging evening as guests of a supplier in Shanghai, had visited villages and great cities and had been flown and driven around for six days. On the final day, we crossed the Yangtze River for our final supplier meeting and then spent the afternoon heading towards Nanjing in order to get on our respective flights home the following morning.

With the pressure of the week finally over, my colleague suggested a stroll through the city and a ‘local’ dinner so fortified by a drink at the hotel bar we set off. Nanjing was full of colour and life and my local took great care of me, showing me the sights and encouraging me to share several local dishes at a tightly packed restaurant filled with the curious clacketty-clack of Chinese chatter.

As we wandered back towards the hotel, I felt a whole world away from my troubles back in the UK.

We passed a few art and craft stalls and finally stopped where a small crowd had gathered. Drawing closer, I could see a young woman surrounded by rolls of bamboo parchment, an array of small ink pots before her: she was finger-painting these extraordinary Chinese scrolls and selling them for about £10. I stood and watched her for a while, fascinated by her complete immersion in her task, wanting to imprint the moment of simplicity, purity and happy endeavour firmly in my mind.

Eventually, I asked for one to be painted for me and as I looked on, a delicate picture of ebony branches with tiny bright red flowers came to life beneath her deft fingers. It was beautiful and I was so delighted at the prospect of taking this little piece of Nanjing home with me. But even more poignant was her explanation as she presented me with my finished scroll – the tree she had chosen to paint for me was one that slept and struggled through the cold dark months of winter and then would blossom in a vivid testament to its commitment to both survive and thrive in spite of the elements.

It hung on my wall in my tiny Kingston flat for six years before getting irreparably damaged during my move to Finchley. But Linda’s post yesterday brought it back to me, as vivid and delicate as the night it was created. And when I shared this story in response to her post, she asked me to share it with you.

I’ve built a life I absolutely love here in London and it feels like the seed that was planted ten years ago has finally blossomed. But I will never forget that moment in the dim light of a Nanjing street when, in fractured English, I was inspired by the recognition and acknowledgement of all my heart was feeling by a complete stranger.

On the shore

Posted on April 1, 2014 by Kym Hamer

This month’s Calendar Challenge inspiration comes from waiting around for hours for something to happen – also known as fishing.

I went fishing once. I caught a small reef shark off Mission Beach in Queensland (Australia) when I was in my teens and having shrieked with fear and promptly dropped the fishing rod for someone else to deal with, I decided that perhaps the whole waiting patiently deal was not at all worth it.

I played golf once too. Surrounded by advice at the first tee, I wiggled and kept my eye on the ball and swung the club as instructed. And I smacked that little white ball right down the middle of the fairway to achieve a birdie (that’s one less than par for the uninitiated). Nothing to this I thought as I collected my ball from the hole. And things went downhill from there, with both my beginner’s luck and my patience running out by holes two and five respectively.

Apparently patience is a virtue and good things happen to those who wait.

I tried to apply these guiding principles to skiing in my mid-twenties. I’d been when I was twelve and after three days of valiant effort graduated to the next class, promptly hurt my ankle and spent quite some time sitting in the snow waiting for help and then sitting around the chalet waiting for everyone else to come back. I was twenty-five before the opportunity arose again (how’s that for patience!) and this time it only took an hour before it was ski-do to the rescue again.

So I’ve decided that there are times when it’s infinitely preferable to be the idiot standing on the shore.

Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates – March 2014

Amsterdam, The Netherlands – October 2013

Cottage Lake, Washington USA – June 2013

Paris, France – May 2013

Frankston, Australia – January 2013

Langkawi, Malaysia – December 2012

And let me tell you, waiting on the shore is absolutely fine with me.

Calendar Challenge 2014 – Back Catalogue

Keep calm and carry on

Sour grapes

Water water everywhere

Bean Reminiscing…

Posted on March 29, 2014 by Kym Hamer

I was travelling to Pilsen with a colleague this week and having only met before very briefly, we took the opportunity to chat en route…in the taxi, on the Heathrow Express, in the airport lounge. You get the picture…lots of finding ways to make the time go faster while getting to where we had to be.

Anyway, we were chatting about my living in the UK and the invariable questions came up: Why did you leave? Will you go back? and What do you miss most? Nothing unusual.

But this time the last question really made me think. What do I miss most?

It goes without saying family, family, family. And usually at this time of year, I would have answered something about really feeling the lack of sunshine and daylight hours during London’s winter months. But we’ve had a mild winter which in the last few weeks, has merged into a lovely Spring – beautiful blue skies, double digit (celsius) high temperatures and patches of colour everywhere as London’s parks, gardens and suburban streets are transformed by a riot of daffodils, crocuses and cherry blossoms.

And I’ve just come back from my Vitamin-D top up in Abu Dhabi so I’m missing the sunshine much less than usual.

So the question gave me pause. What do I really miss?

And then I thought back to my last trip Down Under and I knew…the coffee. Great, great coffee. Creamy lattes, foaming cappuccinos and pungent espressos with velvet-y golden crema.

I have not enjoyed coffee anywhere nearly as much as I have in Melbourne. Not even in Italy, the self-proclaimed mecca of coffee.

And it would seem that the voters on website booking.com agree, with 301 of them nominating Melbourne as having the best coffee in the world (followed by Vienna – 187 and Rome – 116).

It’s not the first time I’ve waxed lyrical about coffee here at Gidday from the UK and I have found a treasured favourite or two serving sensational shots here in London but there’s no hunting for these rare gems in Melbourne – great coffee is everywhere.

So I’ll be booking myself a Christmas Down Under this year to get me a fix!

Oh and Sydney? Sydney got 20 votes in the survey. Not that I’m competitive or anything.

Gidday from the UK

Thoughts on life from an Aussie sheila in the UK

Category Archives: A Traveller’s Life