This Year and Next

It is now 6 full months that I have been here in London. That, and the fact that we are knocking on the door of 2008 has made me tres reflective. A bit of introspection never hurt anyone did it?

For a start, I have made for resolutions for the New Year. Your assistance with a couple of them is being solicited and actively encouraged.

1) I am going to learn to make a fantastic meat and potato pie - never fail crowd pleaser :-)
2) Further to the above, I am going to learn to make a kick-ass lasagna - given that as a child I repeatedly answered "lasagna" when quizzed on my favourite food, it is a little bit strange that I have never made one.

*I INTEND TO TRY A NUMBER OF RECIPES OUT OVER THE COURSE OF THE NEXT FEW MONTHS AND WOULD LIKE YOU TO SHARE YOUR BEST IF YOU HAVE THEM*

3) Learn to enjoy having a bath - many people would know that while I have no aversion to 'bathe-ing' generally, but that I have for some time loathed baths. I have diagnosed this as being directly symptomatic of my inability to relax, and therefore have prescribed for myself a new years resolution to force myself to get over this.

4) Finally and perhaps most importantly - in the new year I am going to stop not doing things, because I don't have anyone to do them with. There is a slightly melancholic tinge to this resolution I suppose, given that my occasional lonerism is due to my ongoing single-ness. However, there are many things that I want to do in this city while I have the fortune of living here, and so damn it, I am going to do them alone-or-no. Theatre, museums, galleries, even holidays - in 2008 I shall unleash my inner pal. :-)

So that's my resolutions. What do you think? I think they are achievable - there is no point making resolutions like 'in 2008 I am going to do the things that I have been resolving to do on December 31 for every year of my life in recent memory'. If ya ain't lost that 5Kg/quit smoking/been on that holiday yet - another new years resolution ain't gonna help.

There are other things I want to achieve in 2008 of course, another notable one being to do some semi-competitive running, given my new found affinity with the treadmill. I also want to travel more within the UK to cities like Bath, Norwich, Torquay, Leeds, Bristol, Manchester, Cardiff, Glasgow and Edinburgh. Realistically I might get to 3 or 4 of them, and I am starting to plan this now. For all it's flaws, this is a beautiful country, and I take great delight in observing the subtle regional differences that even a journey of 5Km can reveal. As someone once said 'there's nowt as queer as folk'. Meeting as many of them as I can, will if nothing else, keep life interesting.

So that's the resolutions. Now for the retrospective.

I think 2007 for me will over time demonstrate itself to be a fairly important year. I flew the coop, slogged my way to admission as a lawyer and moved countries alone. I think that I have also learned in the last year, but really in the last couple, to chill out more and enjoy life as it comes.

I was mildly alarmed when flicking through a book in a bookshop today, to read that Einstein believed that at 25 you have pretty much achieve most of your potential and have set yourself on your life's trajectory (your parabola of success or failure?). A bloody depressing thought don't you think? I am not sure that I agree, but then again, as a 25-and-a-quarter year old, I wouldn't would I?

But I digress.

I have thought quite hard about this, and have listed what I consider to be the highlights and lowlights of the year that was. I will probably re-read this tomorrow and kick myself for missing out some pivotal moment, but if so, I guess it's my prerogative to edit it covertly. So ner.

Highlights of 2007 (in no particular order)

• Discovering Balzac
• Discovering Sufjan Stevens
• Discovering the weird and occasionally unnerving joy of travelling solo
• The Adelaide Weekend
• Living in Norwood with Erina
• Visiting Eastern Europe for the first time
• The Car Man at Sadler's Wells
• My friends
• Living with Frilly!!
  
• The Labor election win in Australia (as sweet as candy!)
  
• Labour Party Conference, meeting fellow politicos and seeing David 'the dish' Miliband speak three times (I'm being slightly tongue in cheek for those of you who care...)
  
• The day in August where I fell in love with London while sitting on the balcony drinking wine and staring dreamy-eyed into the darkening evening sky
  

Lowlights of 2007

• Being homesick
• Having my handbag and camera stolen in Fulham (that was last night by the way)
• The British winter
• Men (though I remain hopeful...)
  
• Being in London for the Aussie Labor victory
• The flagging fortunes of the British Labour Party
• Saying goodbye to Erina's wardrobe of glory
• The times where I haven't been true or honest to myself
• That day in June where I had to say goodbye to all my dearest friends and family in one big fat soul-crushing hit.

Apologies in advance for my self-indulgence here. I do afterall, as a dyed-in-the-wool Virgo, find this kind of list-making quite cathartic.

Without question this next six months will be tough- make or break if you will. They will also be unfailingly interesting, busy, challenging and exciting. Beginning the year with four international trips ought to set the tone.

So for now I shall bid you adieu fair-readers. Please don't forget to give me your recipes if you have good ones. I shall at least succeed in two of my resolutions.

NB - As an addendum to this diatribe of self-indulgence, please be advised that I had a wonderful christmas spanning four equally welcoming homes, with the cherry atop the week being a night out in Blackburn, the neighbouring town to Burnley where I was born. Thankfully I uploaded a few pics to the photostream yesterday prior to having my camera, blackberry and scarf pinched from my handbag (they didn't want the bag, or my lovely new gloves, or my new perfume), so all is not lost. :-(

Mulled Wine

Mulled Wine
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

My toes were very cold at the point this picture was taken. My tummy on the other hand, was not. :-)

Tis The Season

I promised you that I would blog soon, properly. And here I am!

Yesterday. on a trip down to the German Christmas Markets in Kingston, I went into the computer shop and did what I should have done weeks ago. I bit the bullet and bought a new keyboard. Hurrah.

And for your sake, I wish I could say that a lot has happened since I last wrote on here. Alas it has not.

I have been working, sleeping, eating, going to the gym and preparing bit by bit for the next week or so of hysteria. You would think that being here and largely isolated from the majority of people with whom I have spent the last 24 years sharing christmas, my schedule might be devoid of appointments.

On the contrary, each night this week brings dinner with different friends, work functions of various stripes (bearing in mind that I have already had two work christmas 'do's') and then a frantic Friday night of preparation before I begin the pilgrimage in a northerly direction to spend Christmas with a combination of family, family friends, and new pals.

It's all rather busy, and nice. I do miss home though, and am rather homesick at the moment. The weather and short days certainly doesn't help (thank god for all the endorphins that I treat my brain to with my thrice-weekly gym sesh, otherwise I have no doubt I would be utterly depressed!). The upside to this cold christmas however, is the new and heretofore unexperienced christmas treats. For a start, people have real christmas trees. Yeah, like ones that grow in the ground.

But that is merely the beginning my friends. If I had a pound for every time I have drunk mulled wine in December, I might have actually be able to afford the Biba dress that I turned down (with great restraint) at their sample sale on Friday ;-). All the sandwich shops have various incarnations of a 'christmas sandwich' on sale which entail basically a roast dinner slapped between two slices of bread. Mmmmmm.

I went down to Kingston yesterday for the christmas markets, as I mentioned above, and they were cool. Kingston itself wasn't too bad either ( a bit of a shopping mecca....definitely contemplating a visit during the January sales.....). It does feel like christmas, but a different kind of christmas. I shall miss dearly on the 25th though, the annual seafood feast at Uncle Kev's. Moreton Bay Bugs. Crayfish. Prawns. Oysters. (Why does everything relate to food at the moment by the way?)

I shall remember my visit to Kingston forever, if only for the fact that I bought my first hat. I remember when I first arrived in London and was discussing winter with Frilly- who said 'oh yes, and you will need a hat Delly'. 'Pah', I said, 'Not I'. And yesterday I bought a hat. So that shows you who knew better doesn't it. It is cream, and wooly, and makes me look a bit like a baker boy. I tried on some berets but they do not suit my moon-shaped mug.

Today I was lucky enough to be invited to lunch with a friend from Adelaide, and a bunch of other people that I know from home plus new acquaintances. Anyway, snaps for Alice, who stuffed and cooked an entire turkey herself. And to Kate, who made a delightful sticky toffee pudding and apple crumble. And to Cat, for her M&M cookies. I contributed very little, apart from loaned crockery and cutlery, some wine, and of course, the privilege of my wit and company for the afternoon. :-) I learned today, that turkey apparently contains a natural sedative which (unsurprisingly) makes you very sleepy after you have eaten it in large quantities. I have since verified that this is true. Click here.

Perhaps predictably then, we all waddled home far earlier than scheduled. And so it is that I am wrapping some more presents, doing some washing, and planning the week ahead.

Fortunately, work isn't overly busy so i should be able to get out on time most evenings this week. January on the other hand, is looking like it will be an international odyssey of grand proportions. This is utterly exciting, apart from when I remember that I will be working in Eastern Europe in the depths of winter. I need to investigate the potential purchase of fur-lined boots, and some longjohns. Yep, I can hear you swooning.

My boss will be going on maternity leave shortly after I return from Oz (Feb 15-25th!!!) and so before she is banned from flying anywhere, we are squeezing in as much as we possibly can. The plan is about 4 trips in mid-late January, including Moscow, Bucharest, Prague, Warsaw and possibly Budapest. (I can just see those air-miles adding up........hooray!) So the first bit of the year is going to be madness. But very exciting madness.

Righto. You've all probably fallen asleep now and/or aren't even reading this in the first place because you gave up on me ever blogging again. But that's the state of things at this point in time.

I doubt I shall be on here before christmas, and perhaps not even before the new year. S o to entertain you until then I have uploaded some well-overdue pictures, including some of the Flat 93 Sexy Christmas Party which ransacked its way through my house last weekend. :-)

Hohoho. Bah humbug. All the rest. Eat a prawn for me, and think of me over here freezing, with the colour slowly leaching from my skin, but full of mulled wine, minced pies and turkey tiptoeing along the icy pavements whilst trying to keep my eyes open in spite of natural sedatives.

Until 2008. Mwah.

The Weather

It is -1 right now. There was ice on the ground this morning. I almost slipped.

On a brighter note, it is sunny. But because it is sunny, there are no clouds, and it is -1.

Nature works in mysterious cyclical ways.

And in December in London, they are cold ways.

Brrrrrrrrr.

(PS I will post properly soon I promise - my laptop is still lacking a spacebar, and it takes me so long to type and i have no patience, so as soon as i have a minute to go into a computer shop I shall be purchasing a new keyboard.....and there will be a new post from me.)

Ahem

Ahem
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

You little bloody beauty!

Another moment of glory.

Everyone wants their 1.7 seconds of fame.

Mine kicks in here at around 1 minute 16.



Go Ruddy!

I cast my vote yesterday, with a horrific sniffly cold and in about 5 degrees. Gotta love London.

Poles and Cobblestones

I have to say, with some arrogance, that my new job is pretty sweet.

I just spent the weekend in Sofia, Bulgaria -eating, drinking and being merry with colleagues from the old Soviet bloc. Oh yeah. And I was working.

This was basically the deepest I have been into 'new' europe, and lordy lord, I had a good time.

I was helping to coordinate a training weekend of 50 lawyers from across our 7 CEE offices, and lucky for me, inherently bound up in that task was a significant amount of socialising including, unexpectedly, some of the best clubbing I have done in quite sometime!

I have resolved, also unexpectedly, that at the first opportunity I find, I think I am going to try and marry a Pole. I briefly thought that this might be a bad idea as I would end up with some unpronounceable combination of z's y's k's and o's as my surname, but, once I remembered that I don't intend to change my surname I realised that it was a surmountable problem.

By way of explanation, Polish men seem to be a lovely combination of chivalrous, well-groomed , attractive and nicely perfumed. I have always tried never to allow this blog to become a Carrie Bradshaw-esque column (though if I did, I would probably be richer) but given my recent perplexing experiences as a single woman on both sides of the globe, there is something very appealing about Polish sensibility. (As an aside lads, the girls are invariably gorgeous. Something to keep in mind....)

Whilst away, I made several observations that I planned to share on here, not the least of which is that 'boxing boot as fashion statement' is well and truly alive in Bulgaria, however as I have idiotically managed to break the space bar on my computer, typing this is causing fatigue of my usually indefatigable right thumb.

I have posted a couple of pics on the photostream, none of them too remarkable, but they do show the first big snow of the season, which conveniently ruined our group excursion to a world heritage listed monastery, and gave me my first true lip-numbing taste of the central european winter.

And I shall leave you with a final thought - cobblestones + ice + stiletto boots + Adelle = thank god there was a lovely chivalrous Polish man to save her. Hahahahahahaha. Goodnight & goodlucksky.

Elekshuneering

Inevitability

Winter is coming.

I swear that in the 2 weeks that my mother was here, and while my feet were barely touching the ground, the season changed.

As soon as I had time to take a deep breath and open my eyes again, all of a sudden it was darker, cooler, and the psyche of this town shifted, just a little.

Everywhere I walk now, the shadows of fallen oak leaves (probably swept up at 4 am by the street cleaner) stain the roads and the pavements like ghosts. They are quite beautiful, and I must admit, when I first noticed them everywhere as I walked to work, I was delighted. Silly things like this I guess, are what we don’t really have in Australia.

Just like London breathes in, breathes out and relaxes when the sun comes out, the trees seem to wait until the first day of autumn to breathe in and let their leaves fall to the ground with a sigh.

Other signs of the looming winter abound.

I arrived home to my flat a few weeks ago and literally had to de-robe as soon as I walked in the door. The heating for the whole of the block where I live had been switched on and as the boiler is located right underneath the floor of my flat, the pipes were (ironically) piping hot for a solid week, while the managers of the building tried to get the temperature right. The happy bonus of this is that, in winter, the flat will always be warm and this will, apparently, save us quite a bit of coin.

Where previously I could leave work at 6pm and trot along Aldersgate street with the sun sitting high in the sky, I now exit the revolving doors to a rapidly darkening sky. When I go to the gym, I emerge at 7 and it is totally dark. When I first arrived the sun didn’t set until well after 9. This, I find, is a little depressing.

I have noticed certain gastronomical changes in myself of late. Defaulting in my choice of beverage to a cup of tea is one of them. When I get to work, when I get home and when I am going to bed, I lose control of my will as my body, without prompt, goes through the motions of getting out my mug, boiling the kettle and preparing the brew. I only regain control when I am sat holding, two-handed, a steaming mug of English tea. It’s all a bit strange really.

The preference for stodge is also developing. I noticed this initially the other night when I went to a great little pub around the corner called the Bird in Hand, and on a lovely menu of all sorts of tasty treats, I chose sausage and mash. And my word, that cheesy mash and those yummy yummy Baron’s Court Butcher’s bangers, tasted lovely as they descended down through my oesophagus, on the way to their ultimate destination which I imagine (although this is obviously speculation) is either that nice soft bit of my tummy about an inch below my belly button, or (and this is more likely), to my thighs.

But I digress.

One of the definite upside’s of this whole getting colder business, is the clear days. Last weekend I had the fortune of attending a christening in Holmefirth, inYorkshire, and I don’t think we could have had more perfect weather. Although, naturally, 16 degrees is a little cold for my tastes, a clear sky with the odd fluffy cloud, no wind, and the rolling hills of West Yorkshire were, to my mind, absolutely exquisite.

A fellow christening-goer asked me whether we had views like that in Australia, and while I think we certainly do, I answered him by pointing out the things we wouldn’t have – stone walls that look like they were built 400 years ago (although it was probably 500 years ago) and little country cottages with triangular roofs, also made of stone. In Australia we have other things, but there are few I think, who can dispute the beauty of the northern countryside.

Anyway, life is going well here. I start my new job this week, and am very much looking forward to my first work trip the following week, to Bulgaria. I now have a blackberry for work which means you can email me on my work address at any hour of the day or night and I will get it. I can’t quite decide whether that is cool or depressing.

Right, well I have wasted nearly my entire Saturday on the phone and typing this for later upload to the blog (no internet at home right now…. grrrr!) so I am going to stop and get out of the house for a bit. So until next time, ciao.

(Oh yeah, I hear there is an election on. For a laugh go to this page.)

W14

There comes a time in every girl's life where she has to confess that she has been extremely slack, and in turn, apologise profusely...

This is my time.

I haven't blogged very much lately.

But in my own defence, may I just say, that is has been a rather busy period.

To being with, I moved into my new flat on Tuesday. Many of you would have received the email updating my contact details, and the London savvy amongst you will recognise that the title of this post is a reference to my postcode. Ahem.

Anyway, I am sharing with a German girl who is a product designer (this is her website) and a Greek boy who is in finance. Thus far it has been cool. My room is pretty comfortable and I am personalising it bit by bit. It's in West Kensington which sounds a bit posher than it is, but it's great for transport etc etc, and I think I have stumbled on a pretty good deal.

So what are my other excuses?

Well, Mum was here for a fortnight, which consumed my time a fair bit. We had a great time, traipsing up and down the country and across to Belgium for a weekend too. Even though it hadn't been too long since I last saw my folks, having them around certainly reminds you of such things as; how restrained your personality generally is when you aren't with family and close friends and, how nice it is to be able to turn to your mum and say in a whingy, juvenile voice - mu-um i can't iron shirts as well as you can, puh-leeaase will you iron this one for me (complete with ear to ear slightly pleading grin...... and yes, i realise how extraordinarily stupid i have just made myself sound).

Anyway, it was fab having mum around (did I just say fab?!) and I will miss her loads. And all I can say is, thank goodness Dad was in Brussels to condone my beer-drinking despite the protestations of my mother.

Brussels, as an aside, is a very cool city. I can't imagine that you would be able to have an action-packed week there, but for a weekend of Moulles, fine Belgian beer in copious quantities, and restraint-impairing chocolates I can hardly think of anywhere better. I also dined on the best and poshest chip and sausage sandwhich over which I have ever cast my eyes, in a place called Fritte Paradise, or something similar. Fritte as in Pomme Fritte, meaning chip (in french, I think).

Fans of dance music might also be surprised to hear that I heard remarkably cool sounding electro pumping out about the place, everywhere that I seemed to trot. There also appeared to be a number of impromptu outdoor dance events happening on the Saturday night - somewhat random, but tres cool. Mmmmhmm.

What else, what else? Oh yes, Labour conference!

Well what an experience that was. It made me realise how comparatively clueless I am about British politics as compared to the Oz situ. But it is also quite interesting to be told after the fact that you just brushed shoulders with a cabinet minister without realising it.

I scored possibly the best deal possible in terms of a conference - as an international guest (and hilariously, sole rep of the ALP!) I had invites to all the wicked international events as a 'sister-party' member, and rubbed shoulders with the PM on a couple of occasions (well as much as you can when you have his security entourage between you and he) and was also lumped in with all the random foreign dignatories who were invited - i.e. Ambassador's and High Commissioners from here there and everywhere. My Belgian counterparts and I had a good laugh on several occasions as we couldn't believe our luck!

The PM's speech was a highlight, obviously. I didn't think it a flawless performance, but it certainly did many things on many levels, and was an impressive feat of speech writing. The Q & A session for international guests with 4 cabinet ministers present was another highlight. We had the Foreign Secretary, Development Secretary, Home Secretary and the Defence Secretary all together answering whatever was thrown at them. Intriguing and impressive.

People who call the Cabinet here a brat-pack are seriously underestimating the intelligence of these people. I wish the ALP had comparable talent to play with.

I also attended several very interesting fringe events, which are basically seminars put on by NGO's and think tanks debating every topic you could possibly imagine. I am such a nerd, and I have given up denying it, but I particularly enjoyed a debate on whether 'individual aspiration kills communities'. I could write another entire post on that session, but basically, I was interested to see entirely different conclusions drawn to what I was expecting.

But after the speeches were finished and the fringes over each day, the real fun began. Free receptions with plenty of wine on hand, and plateful's of fried finger food to soak it up. Hobnobbing, chinwagging and stumbling ensued each evening, with the inevitable plod home through the rolling curves of the Bournemouth coast to my hotel.

Anyway, conference was a great experience, and I hope to wangle my way in somehow next year. I shall spend some hours sitting at the desk in my new room, tapping my fingers together in a Mr Burns-esque way, plotting my return.

And it is going to take hours of plotting, because I have a new job. Same firm, but a step out of immigration and into a role that is going to entail a fair amount of travel to Eastern Europe, a bit of hobnobbing and chinwagging (hopefully sans cheap wine) and obviously, some legal work too. Very exciting, and starting in 3 weeks.

Finally, and least importantly, as many of you are obviously aware - it was my birthday a while back. I have reached the inglorious milestone of a quarterofacentury. Bleurgh.

So, though this has been a slightly lengthy apology for my lack of output, I hope that it has been worth the wait. Sadly, probably not.

Don't forget the photostream for associated pictures!

Unabashed Gloating

I was on the Eurostar to Brussels when I found out that the Power had lost the GF by an unprecedented margin. And I have to say, it was with outright glee that I read the SMS from Aunty Mel telling me so.

Sucked in Power.

Anyway, I have been pretty slack on here lately, and I apologise to my loyal readers (mainly my grandparents I think).

I am leaving Brussels tonight, bidding my Dad adieu for now, and then Mum is helping me move into my new place tomorrow. She leaves the following day, and so ends a whirlwind trip!

I have lots to write about Labour conference which I went to last week - was wicked. But I cant do it now so until later.

Bye bye!

Beady Eyed Early Morning Hard Core People

Beady Eyed Early Morning Hard Core People
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

Well, up there with the weirdest things I have done in London thus far, this morning I woke up at 4.30 am after two hours sleep, and headed down to notorious antipodean bar the Slug at Fulham to watch the Crows.

So random. Pity about the result. It's very irritating being in close quarters with the supporters of the victor right after you lose, that's for sure!

But even more random was the fact that a) there were about 100 people thereat 5am in a pub NOT serving alcohol to watch the match and b) I bumped into two people I knew! One was a guy I worked at Woolies with back in the day, and the other was my old upstairs neigbour in Norwood. So strange!

I now feel sorta sick as my body is a bit confused about whether it is day or night - I have slept most of the day y'see!

From L-R - Leigh, Me, Neegs, Geoff.

Just saw the Chaser's prank on CNN.

Hahahahahahahahahahaahahahah.

Have been off work sick today, am feeling a little hyperactive. Have spent the entire day internet shopping!

Yawn.

Hellenic Holiday

Somewhat depressing is the fact that I am writing this post, 6 days after getting back to London, but that it feels like I have been back in this tube-strike-ridden city a lot longer. (Yes there is a tube strike - it took me 3 hours to get to work this morning - and yes, I did want to cry when I finally arrived). The fetta has finally left my system. Just.

No matter. Greece, in case you haven't worked it out, was awesome. It is one of those destinations that I had been imagining going to for so long, that when it actually happened, I had to pinch myself to confirm that yes, I was actually there, and yes, it was actually as beautiful as I had imagined, if not more so.

I flew overnight, on a bizarre short-hop which I coped unexpectedly well with, especially given that the crazy Greek air hostesses insisted on gallivanting up and down the fully lit cabin the whole time.

I ferried out to Ios to meet my friend, and found the ferry ride excruciating, as I had barely slept and couldn't get to sleep in the smoke-filled cabin (aaaah Europe - liberation for hamstrung British smokers). But I wasn't disappointed when I arrived. The view from the hostel was divine and in London would be well out of my price range, but not in Ios, ohhhh no.

After a dip in the sparkling jewel-like Mediterranean (beware - it is so salty it makes bleach blonde hair like a haystack) I essentially headed straight for the pool, where I commenced tan-o-rama, drank some beer, fell asleep in the sun. By coincidence Kevin Yost was playing a set there that evening (some of you may know him??) and so as day turned to night, fabulously attractive Europeans of all stripes danced in their bikinis, boardshorts, and if they were Spaniards of the male variety, their alarmingly brief speedo-style jock bathers.

Dinner was a late one, cut prematurely short by my rapid-onset comatoseness, brought on my 2 hours of sleep the previous evening, sun, and beer.

The next day the routine was repeated, without the alcohol as we had to ferry over to Santorini in the afternoon.

A note on Greek ferries - they are often cancelled, and as we discovered, you don't tend to find that out until the last second. Handy. Nonetheless, we got there in the end, only a couple of house later than planned.

The hostel in Santorini was awesome - tucked away right near the main strip - close enough to revel, far enough to be able to sleep afterwards. Santorini is in one word, breathtaking. It is beautiful in that 'yep (long exhale) I'm in the Greek islands' kind of way. Whoever decided to build towns into the side of cliffs before scaffolding was invented was a total madman, but equally, a visionary. The sunset from those cliffs, as those of you have viewed my pics will know, is heart-meltingly beautiful. Pity you can't get a decent glass of wine to drink as the sun goes down.

A note on Greek wine - don't drink it! ;-)

Pottering through the streets of Fira and Oia was a total treat. I tried to get some pics to capture the spirit of the thing, but I failed really. Must be experienced to be understood.

So, I took a few miscellaneous notes (thankfully as I would have forgotten these things).

Caffe Freddo - delicious split-level espresso coffee concoction - drunk cold & sweet. Heaven.

Body consciousness - if only all women had the confidence of European women. Watching them swan about in all their imperfect glory - not only makes you think that they ARE perfect but rubs off on others less confident. Four days surrounded by that even made me forget about my little pot-belly, wobbly upper arms and a bit-too-solid thighs. I've obviously remembered them again now that I am home. But as I am a proud new member of the gym opposite work, wobble no longer shall I.

Angry Greek Men - my tried and tested travel technique is to , when i am unsure or lost, smile sweetly, speak in a slightly higher voice than normal and look as innocent as possible. It doesn't work on Greeks.

A note on Greek male restaurant owners- don't make jokes with them as you sit down to one of their tables. I was forced to gulp down a plateful of marinated calamari feeling like a naughty schoolgirl for trying to apply the above technique, and, god-forbid, attempting a lame joke.

So there you are. You can blame brevity on tube-strike-induced fatigue. Happy to put travel-agents hat on for those of you who want to ask questions, and are contemplating a potential visit.

Mum gets here soon.

I am house-hunting.

Work is weird.

Greece was tops.

Back from Greece

Kevin 07
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

I ran up the hill to the Acropolis today in the little time I had in Athens (which fortunately unlike the rest of mainland Greece is NOT burning) to do my bit for democracy in the birthplace of democracy.

Will try to do a Greek Islands post before long.

Click on this pic to see more newies!

Pigeons

Pigeons
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

From my lunchtime vantage point.

Steps on the Path to Becoming A Farmyard Animal or, London! Just Add Sun!

Something cool happens in London on sunny days.

It is as though people conspiratorially throw a glance of each shoulder, tilt their chin to the sky and with their eyes dazzled by the sunshine, shrug their shoulders in unison and agree to be far less uptight than usual.

Consecutive weekends have brought clear days with temperatures in the mid to high 20's, and like a sheep trotting along behind the herd I have lapped it up, even sinking to depths which I would never have admitted to a few short weeks ago; that is, in a mini-skirt and singlet last Sunday I settled in on a park bench in the gardens up the road and read Harry Potter until my skin changed colour.

Today has been another one of those days- temperature wise I mean. And with Frilly away for the weekend and friends busy doing other things, I decided to have a slightly self-indulgent, almost touristy day out.

And so it was that after a nice sleepy lie-in, I got up and did some washing, swallowed some cheese & vegemite on toast, walked to Earl's Court tube and headed over to the biggest book shop in Europe - Waterstone's at Piccadilly. It is one of those big old book stores where you can sit in a big comfy chair and read for as long as you bloody-well like. And nearly two hours later, I walked out of there, arms-full, purse lighter, with three books and a gift.

A pal had tipped me off that just next door was a place called the Japan Centre which is, I think, a rather unimaginative name for what is in essence, a one-stop purveyor of everything Japanese right in the West End! They have handicrafts, books and all that kind of thing, as well as a ground level restaraunt dishing up what looked like delicious, reasonably-priced Japanese nosh (the place was packed!) and a lower-ground with a fresh sushi stand, as well as such treats as "Pocky". I grabbed a few bits and pieces and a tray of delicious fresh sushi (for a startlingly cheap 3 pounds or so) and plodded down Regent Street, Haymarket and (I think) Pall Mall and ended up in a packed Trafalgar Square to eat my lunch!

I was on a patch of grass out the front of the British Museum, which was a perfect vantage point for the fountain and monument, as well as to watch tour groups of various ethnicities undergo the indignity of having bird seed sprinkled in their hair, having photo's taken in awkward looking poses and with uncertain smiles allowing pigeons to perch all over them.

Hehehehe. Funny. See my photo's on the photostream.

After finishing my lunch, and being unable to find a bloody bin (damned hard to find at the best of times in this city due to I suppose, security-related reasons) I dropped my rubbish in the trolley of one of the maintenance-y looking blokes who hover around the Square, and then walked up St Martin's Lane to Covent Garden for a spot of, ahem, shopping.

My regular readers know doubt saw my sarky little post of a few days ago about my imminent trip to the Cyclades Islands in Greece to meet a friend. And I have to say, all the things that I always thought seemed a little foreign about British holiday culture, that I had picked up here and there from various magazines and television shows, are starting to become crystal clear.

The imperative to purchase new items of clothing, for example, has had my heart pumping as I scour the sale racks for 'that' perfect summer dress that shall see my (I hope) sunned self, tracing a path through the streets of Santorini.

I think this is quite an ingrained English thing, such that, editorial in fashion magazines contains lines like 'this crisp linen mini-dress will take you straight from day to night on your Mediteranean summer holiday'. An astute antipodean reads between such lines and sees the truth: 'Let's face it, British weather is so unpredictable and frequently dismal that you are NEVER going to be able to wear a crisp linen mini-dress anywhere here, except perhaps on one of those three warm days that we are expecting this summer. Conclusion- buy it for your holidays.'

Again, this bleating sheep, this oh-so conformist follower of herds, bought not one but TWO mini-dresses today for her mediterranean holiday, albeit that neither of them are crisp white linen.

But I digress. The difference between previous "garment for holidays' purchasing I have done and this new variation on the theme, is that I am highly unlikely to ever wear either dress in London, and certainly nowhere north of here! My holiday clothes shall sit waiting for holidays!

Aaah such extravagance.

I have realised, in other news, that in an administrative oversight I have forgotten to tell you about the theatre that I have seen here thus far.

My first excursion was to The Old Vic to see a great production of Gaslight a play that I vividly recalled my father in, when I was a lot younger. Tracey and I saw it in the middle of the "great deluge" (also known as the period of summer which included the video that I made of the hail for a previous post) and were upgraded to better seats, far away from the leaky drip-drip of the rain weedling in through the gaps.

Second excursion was organised by Frilly, and was to see a brilliant contemporary ballet production of The Car Man, which was (I am told) loosely based on Bizet's Carman, of which I knew nothing. I was in awe at the ability of the dancers to tell in detail a sordid tale, without ever uttering a word.

With Kim coming to visit me in a couple of weeks, I am planning the next theatre trip and I am currently tossing up between Avenue Q and In Celebration which is a play that Orlando Bloom is currently in..... Anyway, it is almost redundant to point out the abundant choice in entertainment here - musicals, plays, ballets every night of the week. Sigh. Sometimes I think that I could easily become a lady of pure, unadulterated leisure. ;-)

Ok, well that is enough for now. I am having a Saturday night in and am rather excited about it. A book, some stir fry and possibly a Monk (the drink) or two. Until next time, adios.

Sojourn

In three weeks I am going here and here.

Are you jealous, are you? Huh, HUH??!

The Tuesday Funk

Not funk as in funky. Funk as in rut.

This is now the third Tuesday night where I have felt a little bit miserable. The previous two were possibly hangover related from the weekend, but this week my main reason is that I caught up with a friend of my brother's from Adelaide who has been stuggling for 18 months to get back into Australia to see his daughter. And essentially for him, it has been a little bit like pushing the proverbial up a hill.

I am now going to help him get his application sorted and submitted, and fortuitously, having now entered my third week working in the immigration team of a certain law firm, I kinda know a bit about what is wrong with his application as it stands.

Nonetheless, feeling a little (a lot of) empathy for his situ, I was ready to ball my eyes out after seeing him tonight, and I am not even the one who hasn't seen my daughter for 18 whole months.

The Tuesday funk generally ends on a Tuesday, luckily, so tomorrow I will re-read this post and think I sound like a whining loser. But right now, as I enjoy balcony-time and red wine, I thought I would give you a glimpse of my decidedly grey mood. I am sure it makes for thoroughly joyous reading.

Some goodish news brewing, is that after being fairly well mucked around by a particular recruitment agency who dazzled me with the lights of a cool job in Canary Wharf (as previously mentioned in an earlier post), I have tickled and talked my way into an impending short term contract with the afore alluded-to firm which will see me propl'y qualified as a proper solicitor. Lalala. But having yet to see or get a whiff of the contract, I have learned a little lesson about counting chickens etc etc etc.

For those of you who like my soap-box philosopher rants, I have one brewing about my observations of class divisions and money in this lil ol town, but I am musing over it, because my opinions are currently a little ill-formed. I think.

Am reading quite ardently, two books at once. A serious brain-food book on the tube, and Harry Potter at night. It is rather delightful to spend around 90 minutes a day reading. As such, I am becoming quite fond of my daily commute. Althought, I confess, my new habit of reading a book, no matter how packed the tube, has reduced my capacity for observing those around me.

I can however smell them from time to time. Particularly on warm days. Like today. ;-)

BTW - there aren't very many bugs in London. Just something I have noticed.

Cheese

More Cheese
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

I am just posting this picture to make the blog look a little more interesting. (This was at the Borough Market on Saturday).

The post below is what you should be reading.

Solubility

Every day when I walk down the street, catch the tube, watch TV, go to the supermarket, i see loads of things that I would love to write on here - little gems of mini-humour that amuse me no-end. Sadly for all of you, I can never remember them, no matter how much I try and deliberately commit them to memory!

People who have lived in London bear with me, the little insights that I do manage to recall and that I present as my own probably have no whiff of originality for you, and I recognise that they are a bit over-exuberant and self indulgent. But while it's all new I am unapologetic, because my eyes have already started adjusting to the lights of this old town.

I haven't written nearly enough about the tube, and every day I have to stifle laughter for one reason or another when I catch it. The moment I stop being amused by tube body language and my own crazy tube thoughts, I will know that my sense of humour has dissolved and/or I have become the most cynical type of London public transport patron.

It struck me today as I eeked out my path along the District and Circle lines to Barbican station, that every tube ride sees me having numerous conversations in my head. I also tend to imagine what other people are thinking about those around them.

Last Friday night as I caught one of the last tubes back to Earl's Court from Putney, I was alone, observant and a little inebriated having spent the afternoon at the Coat & Badge with some newly arrived pals. There was a bloke of about 26 with a carton of beer in one arm, and a big packet of hot chips under another. He was handing out the beers to whoever would take them, mainly young attractive girls who looked about 17. The dialogue going on in my head at that point was something along the lines of "oh god, please don't roll one of those things at me" given that I was by myself, and probably not particularly able to string a good deflection sentence together.

Ok, so that wasn't one of the most amusing or witty conversations that I have had with myself, but I was tired, full of beer, Pimms (heaven in a jug with cucumber for good measure) tarragon chicken burger, and confused about certain happenings on a certain Putney Bridge.

Today on the way home from work, I moved seats to try and get a bit of space ("Hmmm - a vacant double seat - I can read my copy of London Lite without having to give myself elbow cramps") and at the very next stop a bloke got on and sat right next to me, therefore defeating the point of moving in the first place ("Oh great one Del, draw unnecessary attention to yourself by moving, and then pick the seat where someone sits down straight away.") And then a brief pause..... ("What the hell is that smell? *Subtle sniff* Ok, don't vomit, it's just unwashed clothes, mixed with stale tobacco and alcho-breath. Nothing too offensive.") A casual sideways glance.... "is it a hobo? no it's a man in a suit. *internal grunt & snicker* Oh you fool, you've just inhaled air from his pongy aura".

Even slightly more amusing is the conversation my two selves enjoy when a good-looking man boards the carriage. "Go on give him a wink" says the 5% of me that would ever dream of doing such a thing. "Keep your head down and admire tactfully from afar", says the dominant, sensible, astoundingly Virgo 95%. That fraction always wins. Sigh, if only I were a Gemini.

Now the only reason I can think that I have all these strange little conversations is because of the acute silence on the bloody things. In fact, the only people who speak on the tube are those who speak a language other than English, and (unsurprisingly?) Americans, usually in family groupings. Today when I asked a slightly infirm woman if she would like my seat, she initially looked at me like I had poked her in the rear with a pin, until she realised that I was actually offering to give up my little luxury and stand the rest of the way home rocking on my uncomfortable stiletto heels, for HER BENEFIT.

Anyway, this is just one short instalment in my tube adventures. There will, I can assure you, be more.

BTW those of you who previously read my blog when I was living in Jakarta will know of my penchant for Project Runway, the fashion designer reality show, and I have one eye on it right now as I am typing this. Which is timely, as the commercials have reminded me of something else - the fact that I suppose in an effort to not be London-posh-centric, commercials in and of themselves are oh-so-politically correct in that one will come on with a Welsh voice-over or a Jordy voice over or a Cockney voice over or what I like to call "miscellaneous-northern-sounding-but-not-quite-discernible-accent". I actually don't call it that at all, but you get what I mean.

And in my phrase of the week which I don't know whether makes me laugh or cry, an Irish lady in my current workplace came over to the desk next to mine earlier today and said "This fu**ing thing is about as tidy as a tinker's trolley". I need to practice my poker face, as when she saw my reaction she looked at me and winked. Naturally I was aghast.

Anyway, I am not talking about work this week. I am doing a short stint in a painfully boring role until the other thing is sorted (Government, pah!) and it is killing me. My brain is numb.

My final little self-indulgence for this post is to say a shout-out to the exquisite Ruby-Mae, my new little cousin who could not be cuter if she tried. Don't let her grow up until I come home.

Plethora of Things I've Noticed

Well first thing's first - I am disappointed to report that the post about going to see Angus and Julia Stone was a little eager. I traipsed across town to Hoxton & Shoreditch to a little place called the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen only to be told the damn show was sold out. Fortunately Geoff came with me in the end, so I didn't have to sit there like an idiot, alone. The worst thing was that I reckon we were the only Aussies there, and the door bitches took sadistic delight in denying our entry. Cows.

Anyway I've been noticing silly little things and I want to write them on here now before I stop noticing them and they become normal.

So first thing is - apparently road helmets are not compulsory here. I am not sure why this bothers me, given that I am entirely disinterested in cycling anywhere, ever. However some seldom used neuron in my brain seems to remember a graphic advertising campaign when helmets were made compulsory in Australia. Something to do with a watermelon smashing on a road?? (Have I imagined this?) So basically when I am walking down the street seeing all these un-helmeted cyclists, they transform into a bunch of melon-heads on two-wheelers. Kind of entertaining. I just don't want to see anyone fall off.

Second thing is, unsurprisingly, the ongoing neuroticism about and obsession with, the weather. The entire first week I was here was miserable - punctuated with an absolutely divine weekend last weekend (I got sunburnt a little bit!) and even Monday was pretty good. Now, having grown up in Australia where wide open spaces are not an especial privilege (except if you live in inner-Sydney I guess) I cracked a chuckle on the street (strict no-no anywhere in the world i suppose -makes you look like a bit of a nutter) when I saw people in BIKINIS sunbaking on the Redcliffe Square Gardens just up the road. It is a common lawned area that is locked in the evenings, but when the sun was out, people were lying there catching rays. I found that absolutely bizarre. It seems unnatural (and a little brave) to me to lie scantily clad in a garden that is in full view of surrounding 4 story terrace houses.

But each to their pasty-skinned own i guess!

Some big news here lately has been the recent smoking ban. It is now absolutely illegal in the UK to smoke anywhere that is not completely outdoors. I have seen some amusing debates on the likes of Sky and BBC where they have pulled in a 40 a day smoker, croaking her way through the irritating consequences of the ban on her life, alongside a self-righteous loner who is happy that he will now be able to enjoy is solitary pint in smoke-free solitude. Hurrah. I must confess it was a weird novelty to get home last Saturday in the early-hours and not reek of smoke.

The other weird thing about getting home at 3.30 am, was that the sun was already rising. Now THAT dear friends, is damned hard to get used to. Especially since it is not properly dark until around 10.30pm. My jet lag (which was already fairly annoying) was made even harder to bear by my body's stubborn determination to awaken at 6am regardless of the time I went to bed. The benefits of long days however, are that, given the erratic weather, the longer the day the greater the likelihood of sunshine. (See I am starting to get fixated on the weather already!)

Running around here is not as easy as I would like - although once you get down to the river, the Chelsea Embankment is not a bad run. Unfortunately, I am out of running action for perhaps one more day as I have blisters on my heels, basically because I was stupid enough to wear new shoes when I walked to the shop. They hacked up my heels so fast it was astonishing. And given that I start work soon I don't want to aggravate them further.

Oh yeah, work. So I have a job. 3 month contract through a legal recruiter. Doing some hopefully interesting work with this organisation. ;-)

I am.....

......GOING TO SEE ANGUS AND JULIA STONE TONIGHT IN LONDON (alone probably!)

Yayayayaya.

New pics on the photostream btw.

Three Virgo's Walk Into A Bar.....

.....one says "let's make a list", the second says "well I'm going to have to be the one that writes it", the third says nothing and knows that he could do it far better than the other two. The third also orders some champagne.

I had a lovely dinner Monday night with Frilly and an old colleague of hers. We ate at a little restaurant - Tom's Kitchen - which is I think like a side-project of a famous chef. I'm sorry, I've forgotten his name but I assume it is Tom something...... Anyway, as it turns out - we were all virgos and had a relatively entertaining discussion (among others) about our shared traits. I wasn't attempting a joke with that first paragraph (well I sort of was) - but virgos in my readership will be amused I'm sure.

I ate a delicious grilled tuna nicoise salad, and consumed copious amounts of champagne, and suffered the entire day yesterday because of it. I actually did very little apart from sit transfixed as it HAILED in the middle of summer (as depicted in the video below).

Sunday night I popped over to an old school and uni friend of dad's place - who is now the Minister of State for Climate Change here. I hereby publicly vouch for his cooking - absolutely delicious - Thai Pork Chops and mushrooms. Yummmmmy!

Monday I had an interview with an agency who called me three hours later to offer me work (that didn't pay enough ;-) and then I had another interview that will potentially become work in September, once I have finished the GDLP requirements. So, things are simmering away on that front, happily.

Last night I caught a train with an old family friend, up to Cheshire and am currently writing this from his cottage. I had a lengthy conversation with him on the train about how, even though leaving Australia entails saying goodbye to for example, nice weather, great lifestyle, comparatively cheap cost of living etc - living in the UK brings new treats, such as being able to visit friends in 300 year old cottages. Yes, this house is older than post-settlement Australia.

People who have found me on Facebook (new addiction) will have noticed my current status which is "Adelle is in Cheshire, and coming to terms with the fact that living in the UK means that "weekends in Europe" is actually a phrase that exists." Yes people, I anticipate a short sojourn in Europe in the next four weeks. Honestly, the tickets are so cheap, and now with all the bombing plots etc people are a bit antsy about travelling. Not me!

My final thought for this post is on the terror stuff. I can't help but be rather envious of the way in which the Prime Minister and Home Secretary have chosen their words carefully on the subject - careful not to make statements that have the effect of demonising all Muslims. John Howard is probably champing at the bit for a plot to be foiled in Australia so that he can roll out his nasty, divisive, xenophobic rhetoric and claw his way back up a few points in the polls.

Political nuts might be surprised to hear that the NT Aboriginal Stuff has also made the news here -the mates I saw on Friday night seemed to know a fair bit about it, which was surprising.
Anyhoo, am jumping out of my skin as Kim is arriving here soon, and I get to meet Tilly (her daughter). Will put photo's on ASAP.

English Summer Hail

English Summer Hail from adelvice and Vimeo.

Irony and Fatigue

As I stated in the first post of this particular adventure, I am a devoted fan of discordant juxtapositions. Equally however, I am fascinated by irony.

In that context, you can imagine by current state of mind, given that after having just travelled through a country at war (Sri Lanka) my arrival in London was timed perfectly to coincide to a new wave of apparent terrorism, albeit apparently in an amateurish form .

As I sit now, I am watching Sky News about the Glasgow car attack which happened just a couple of hours ago. Rewinding back to yesterday, I was running a few first-day errands, one of which involved a visit to Piccadilly to pick up my bank card. I naively assumed, seeing a section of the Circus cordoned off, that someone famous was in town or that a movie was being shot. Imagine my surprise then, as I descended underground to jump on the tube back to Earls Court, at seeing a newspaper stand screaming the words "London Nightclub Terror Plot". Serves me right for not watching the morning news.

Anyway, can barely believe it, but not to worry. There's not really a lot to be done.

Meanwhile, London has been a blast thus far. Admittedly, I haven't done much, and my body is stubbornly clinging to abnormally early wake-up times whilst at the same time giving me mid-evening second-winds that keep me awake. So I have a growing sleep deficit, that I am determined to rectify this evening - I was mean to be training it out to Woking to catch up with family friends, but after packing my bag and getting ready to leave, sat down and fell asleep!

Other than that, I can't resist mentioning a weird thing that keeps happening, and I am dead keen to hear if anyone else has had this happen to them in a similar situation. Basically, as I have been walking the streets I keep seeing people and double-taking because they bear striking resemblance to people at home. It has happened about 20 times now and is completely bizarre!

Something else strange that happened today after I went out to find a salon that sold decent shampoo and conditioner (yes, dear friends know I am finnicky about hair products!) was that I popped in to subway to grab myself some lunch and was in the queue behind an Aussie guy who upon hearing my accent turned around and asked me where I was from. Turns out he and his mate were from Adelaide - a pair of Italian guys called "Johnny and Vince" who work in the Europa Cafe down at Glenelg. So I sat down and ate with them, because I suppose, there was no reason not too, and we had a good laugh. The idea of starting an "Adelaide Club" was mooted. Numbers were exchanged. They are heading over to Spain for the running of the bulls, so if they make it back in one piece, I expect we shall meet for beers. Random.

And finally, another, well not ironic, but somewhat fortuitous thing occurred last night. Many of you would have recieved the email with my contact details in the UK which I sent last night. (If not, let me know). Anyway, as I was winding down last night (immediately prior to the arrival of the "second-wind") I got a call from an unidentified male speaking in a relatively thick Sri-Lankan sounding accent. I interrupted to say basically "who the hell is this" - and after a bit of a laugh at the other end of the line, the mystery man revealed himself to be my mate Kara, who I met in Yogya last year. It turned out that he was at his girlfriend's place a mere 100m or so away from where I am staying. So we caught up for a beer (and a Monk - cointrea, soda and lime) at a pub in Chelsea called The Hollywood Arms, and reminisced on old times! Very pleasant!

Anyway, eyes are shutting and I want to get to sleep before bloody second-wind arrives! Although with about 50 channels of news to watch all this stuff unfolding, I'm struggling to drag myself away. The fact that it stays light until about 9.30 doesn't help either - and is probably adding to the confusion of my already befuddled body-clock.

Should have jobs update for you very soon. As I have managed to burn through a couple of hundred quid already ("establishment expenses!") need to hurry up and get one! Can you believe my dry-cleaning bill for my suit, two jackets and a dress was about $70??!!! Aaaargh!

Also, to the alcho's who called me in the middle of the Adelaide night to say hello - you made my day. Hehehehe. Bet your heads are thumping today.

Reading Balzac, Knocking Back...Lion Beer?

Sunset on Beach
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

I wasn't planning on getting to the internet this early today, but a crazy Irish woman showed up at my hotel last night and has been causing trouble this morning - disturbing the serenity for me, the only other guest. All the other SriLankan's are saying she is absolutely nuts, and after a short conversation with her in which she managed to tell about 5 lies, I concur.

Meanwhile, with a belly full of devilled crab last night, I sat taking photo's, reading my Balzac book (am now obsessed with it - it's fantastic) and wrote these things (among others) in my little book of thoughts that I am carrying with me;

What do crabs eat?

How many people die each year at the hands (shells?)of falling coconuts?

Happiness is not a warm gun; happiness is a warm bed, a warm beer (sometimes) a warm belly (a full belly), a warm heart.

"There never was a truer saying than the most beautiful things in the world are a frigate at full sail, a galloping horse and a woman dancing." The character Eugene, "Old Goriot", Balzac.

"To do what you want is freedom, to do what you like is happness" - Anande, Manager, Lucky Dolphin, 23/6/07.

A rupee for your thoughts Madame? A rupee for my thoughts.

Jelly Legs

Well, I knew I couldn't maintain my early pace for long and consequently I now have to catch you up on the last few incredibly relaxing days in one post. Fortunately (for me and my lazy typing fingers) I haven't been doing very much.

To begin with, it is very much low season here in Hikkaduwa. Which is fine in many respects - no drunk backpackers screaming on the beach, cheaper prices and no waiting anywhere. The downside is that the high, rough monsoon seas have taken a big bite out of the beach which is too rough for swimming, I stick out like a sore thumb, and there aren't many people to talk to about the place.

I have been therefore engaged in several activities which are entirely undemanding, being; sleeping, eating, reading, and ayuervedic treatment.

The first two are fairly self-explanatory. Eating here is good and cheap and because I am next to the ocean have scoffed down a variety of seafood. Also tried vegetable rotti today for the first time, which for fans of Indian food, is like a piece of naan bread stuffed with yummy vege filling.

On the reading - I just finished the book club book, "The Year of Living Dangerously" and am now left with a choice between Balzac or Shakespeare, which were the only 2 English language books I could find in a little book stall I came across. Heavy.

As for the Ayurveda - well that came about because I was looking for somewhere to have a massage - and came upon a clinic where there was actually a Doctor of Ayurvedic medicine. I ended up having a consultation, after which he prescribed me a 3 two-hour sessions of various treatments to re balance my chi or something like that (am being a little trite, mainly because I can't remember the name of what it is that needed to be rebalanced....)

So for the last three days I have been variously slapped, chopped, kneaded, rubbed, prodded, beaten with bags of milk soaked rice, given a facial and had my face massaged (definite winner for those of you who have never had that done) bathed in herbal water and given different energy tonics and herbal concoctions to swallow.

The best thing however was definitely the Shirodara which I was a little worried about at first, as it reminded me of Chinese water torture, but after half an hour of oil plopping on my forehead and running through my hair, I was asleep like a baby and very deeply relaxed. I left the clinic yesterday with my oiled hair wrapped in a weird cloth (much to the amusement of the tuk-tuk drivers on the side of the road as I walked back to my cabana) with strict instructions not to wash my hair until evening, and to "very relax" for the rest of the day. I read my book for about an hour and then fell into a total coma for three hours, at which time I could no longer stand the oil in my hair and ended up washing it and going out to find dinner. But I very much recommend Shirodara.

One thing that I haven't mentioned yet is that Hikkaduwa was one of the parts of Sri Lanka quite affected by the Tsunami. It is not as bad as some of the places up north that I saw on my way from Colombo (my driver pointed out one spot where an entire train full of people were wiped out - 1500 people in one 200 metre spot). On the way down here there were lots of signs along the road, indicating where various aid organisations and donations from countries have paid for regeneration. Hikka was nowhere near as bad as those places, but a lot of the people here lost their families and livelihoods.

Last night I chanced upon just about the only other Aussie in town, a guy from Perth, and after the restaurant we were eating in shut at 10, we took two Lion beers with us and sat on the beach, musing over what we would do if the sea started sucking out in anticipation of a killer wave. I am not sure what conclusion we ultimately reached, but I think it was something along the lines of "run into the jungle as fast as you bloody can". I wasn't too keen on the topic of conversation.

Nonetheless, am not worried - Nimal assured me that Tsunami's happen about every 200 years in Sri Lanka just to wipe out some of the excess population; "You see Madam, every few hundred years the earth get too heavy - like when you carry to many coconut in one arm and your arm tired - you dropping no? - tsunami it get rid of extra people so earth not falling out from sky."

Pristine logic no?

Anyway, have reconfirmed my flight for the next leg. (Apparently Sri Lankan Air are notorious for bumping you if you don't) - and now is time to face the next challenge - getting through Immigration in the UK without my British passport. Sigh. No amount of Ayurveda is going to cure my anxiety about that.

I will try and upload some more photo's - video even. Haven't taken many though - as I haven't moved very far out of the same 2Km stretch of road since Saturday.

Ok am going now - an ancient Sri Lankan lady who looks a little bit like she might be involved in the dark arts (i.e. be a witch) just extended her hand through the window, and I was too scared not to give her 50 rupees. I am sure she is perfectly fine and very nice, but there was something worrisome about that hooky little nose.......

A Cheeky Post

View from Lunch
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

Just to make it 4 from 4 days - and to tell you that I have uploaded some pics of the trip so far for your enjoyment.

You know the drill.

Hikkaduwa

Well I can barely believe it, but I have limped my way down the coast to Hikkaduwa and wouldn't you know it, the sea air has breathed some new life into my still-hurting throat.

My hotel, The Lucky Dolphin, is run by a dutch guy and is impeccably clean, very cute, and damn cheap. So ner mum! You CAN a decent room for 20 bucks a night.

I am mainly blogging today for the benefit of Uncle Daz, because he asked before I left to have cricket related tales relayed to him and I can't leave this one out. (As a side point, what is with the recurring cricketing theme of the journey so far?!

Once again the present story involves Nimal, my driver.

As we were leaving the airport and he was sussing me out so as to try and sell me his driving services, he asked where I was from. This has happened a number of times now (usually blokes asking) and when you say "Australia", they ramble off all the cities that have cricket grounds, and when they get to "Adelaide" and I say "yes", the inevitable answer is, "oh, that's a very famous cricket ground, Adelaide Oval" (sounds funnier if you imagine it said with a Sri Lankan accent - like Indian basically).

So Nimal launched into this tirade, "Well your country, you beat my country in world cup. Australian is cricketing King. Sri Lanka, we only come second."

"But that Adam Gilchrist, he is no good man".

To which I responded "Really, why do you think so?".

"Oh you know, he play with the ball in his glove and he wrecking the ball during world cup. He bad man."

Now I knew nothing of these ball tampering allegations whatsoever. So I was a little incredulous, and was sitting there musing over it when Nimal begrudginly said;

"Don't get me wrong, Adam Gilchrist, he is the "Master Blaster", but he no good man, he playing with ball."

Did I hear Nimal correctly? "Excuse me?, I said.

"Oh you know, Gillie is the Master Blaster. He is bloody good player."

I am not sure this comes across as funnily in print as it did in person, but my goodness, I had to bite my fist not to wet myself with laughter.

Its really hilarious, that Cricket is the cultural reference point for me and the bulk of the Sri Lankan populace, given that I generally loathe the Australian team. Nonetheless, it is nice that EVERYONE has heard of Adelaide here, if a little weird.

Meanwhile, all my male friends beware - I have merged you into one man and create a mythical boyfriend of you, just to keep people off my back when they ask if I have one. Don't ask which traits I have taken from which friend.....

Ok, have befriended and Irish lady here in the net cafe and invited myself to join them tonight when they are having drinks. Not going too hard, given my ongoing affliction (bought antibiotics today - that was amusing in itself - an ancient Sri Lankan man insisted on talking to me through a microphone that the whole pharmacy could hear, even when I was standing directly in front of him!) but will be nice to have a beer.

Okey. I believe thats three for three. (In some people's language I believe that is in fact called, a hattrick!)

All I (Don’t) Wanna Hear Is The Message Beep

Leg 2. Started in KL as you know. After a weird night in the airside hotel, checked in this morning (4Kg overweight and thank god they didn’t check my hand luggage!) and boarded my Sri Lankan airlines flight about half an hour after scheduled departure.

Apart from myself there were 3 other non Sri Lankan or Indian women on the flight, and the plane was about 70% men.

I am yet to work out whether it was blatant disregard for the authority of the air hostesses or blatant disregard for their own safety, but it became apparent as the plane flew into land, that very few of the idiots on board the flight with me had actually switched their phones off when they got on the plane, and so I (and my fellow rule-abiding passengers) were struck by a cacophony of message beeps just as we hit turbulence on our way down.

The guy sitting next to me, who I idiotically had pinned as a nice quiet Indian man (especially since he reacted so placidly to my spilling half a cup of disprin on him), turned out to be a dirty rotten mid-flight texter. I couldn’t believe the audacity of the man to sit there sms-ing (Probably along the lines of - ‘Yeah, coming in to land now bro, see you in 20….”) , when my unhappiness at the whole situation was palpable.

After getting caught in the disembarkation stampede, I followed the steps of my Lonely Planet guide to the letter (look for information desk in arrival hall 1 – ask for price of taxi – go to arrival hall 2 - engage taxi driver), only to find myself standing like piffy at the front of the airport with no taxi’s in sight (“Madam, they aren’t allowed in here anymore for security reasons”).

Cue the entry of my new friend Nimal. I couldn’t even haggle him down 50 rupees, but was getting sick of standing there, and so agreed to pay a premium price (don’t ask) to get taken to my hotel. Now Mr Nimal is like Encyclopaedia Sri Lanka and I certainly made sure that I got my money’s worth from him on the way to my hotel. He even stopped to pick me up a sachet or 4 or a herbal remedy that he assures me will assist with my sore throat and bad chest. Meanwhile he was rescheduling my entire trip to Sri Lanka for me – taking me up to the High Country as well as UNESCO sites etc etc etc. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that rain, hail or shine, I just want to be near the ocean, and so I am currently tossing up whether to engage his services tomorrow, pay about $60 to get to Hikkaduwa and risk the hard sell again or to just get a bus and pay about 1/20^th of the price.

Anyway, just had a forgettable meal in an unforgettably dowdy restaurant in my hotel – the only good thing about it was the wonderful views of the port, which is right next to where I am staying. I haven’t seen another Anglo face now since I left the airport, which is not something that I am unused to, but it’s just that when it has happened in the past I spoke the language.

I got a free upgrade to a deluxe room when I checked in (you get what you pay for, this place is OKAAAAY), and the concierge then rang half an hour later to ask if I liked my room and also to inform me that there is a nightclub in the hotel. Quite hilarious, but not for me right now. I am exhausted – my body is 4 hours out of whack – as well as sick still. My glands feel enormous – shudder.

Anyway enough melodramatic talk. Wow 2 days 2 posts. Can she maintain the rage????

Signing off from Lanka.

Do Eastern Europeans Play Cricket?

Friends, you know that I love discordant juxtapositions, and my flight over to KL was no exception. I was stuffed in the back section of the plane with half of eastern Europe butted up against the Saint Peters College cricket team who are off on a 2 week tour of England.

Rewind a moment. As I boarded the plane, a very nice lady pointed out that I might want to dab my tear-stained face with a tissue, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought that it had been very polite of her NOT to point out that I looked like a half-drowned swamp monster. When I took my seat, the man I was sitting next to was a little elderly, and could see that I had been blubbering, and in that reassuring grandfatherly way called me “good girl” every time I said anything, and “luv”, as only Aussies can.

He turned out to be the coach of the Saints cricket team – a man by the name of Neil Danzie, who played cricket for SA for 20 years, and was a state selector for 30 years. He was an absolutely delightful man, salt-of-the-earth, and kept me company throughout the flight (and I taught him how to use the inflight entertainment).

Anyway, cut to random plane full of Europeans. The whole row behind me were Albanians and then to my left and the front were Croatians. Those who saw me off at the airport, may remember the Albanians for such things as – having 2 screaming children (one who threw herself on the floor for a good 10 minutes as I was checking in!) The children did scream for a portion of the flight, however thanks to a good combination of Sudafed, Red Wine and Neil Young on my ipod I managed to ignore them, and ultimately befriended them (they gave me lollies – or “caramelle” in Albanian). They were only little after all – 1 and 2½ . The older one insisted on talking to me in her guttural accent that made absolutely no sense to me of course, but it was endearing. She won me over. I must be getting jelly-hearted in my old age….

Anyway, as I disembarked with Mr Danzie from the plane, the Saints boys all cheered him on (he threw his arm around me for good measure) and the little Albanian girls bid me adieu. I then realized that my bloody bags should have been checked all the way through to Colombo, as I had to do a dodgy at immigration and come all the way back out to the airport hotel having collected my bags (involved an intra-airport train ride and lots of stares – “Why has SHE got her suitcase on this side of immigration!?!”) It was one of those times where speaking a little bit of Indonesian (Malaysian) helped me to a) jump the queue b) get assistance and c) bend the rules. I knew that semester last year wasn’t wasted!!

So yeah, I am actually in KL in one piece, practically catatonic, throat swollen and very sore, in the airport hotel typing this on the delightful 1970’s bedspread, waiting for morning and wishing I had some Aspro Clear.

The first leg is complete.

Ze Adelaide Weekend

Annie, Claude and I
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

The Adelaide weekend is over - and the debaucherous evidence is available on my photostream.

It was also the anniversary of the Yogya quake on Sunday. I was awake at the exact anniversary - approx 5.54 am. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. :-(

A Comment on Simple Pleasures

In the last two days I have had two experiences which have given me cause for great delight.

One - walking down to the pub for Monday night drinks, watching the sun set behind moody clouds and between two buildings while listening to the bells from the Adelaide Town Hall ring for no apparent reason at 6.17pm.

Two - eating a gigantic juicy field tomato this afternoon while perched in front of my computer reading Crikey in lieu of a lunchbreak.

Aaaaah yes, the simple things in life are often the best.

I know, I'm a loser.

Xavier Rudd

This probably breaks a whole bunch of laws, but if you click this link, you can see the 5 minute video of Xavier Rudd that I took at Blues and Roots. It is his song "Let Me Be" in full!

Generational Dilemmas

So I promised a few more words about the Blues and Roots Festival before the week was through. I might not get these published until Monday, but I am writing them on Easter Saturday. Erina and I have been watching/listening to Live 8 all day at the shack, which is an interesting musical backdrop to discuss the importance and power of music as an instrument of change and engagement.

The highlights of last weekend for me were definitely Blue King Brown, and Ben Harper.

Blue King Brown are an excellent new Australian band who play an interesting mix of afro-beat, reggae and “worldy” sounding percussion driven tunes. Their songs are infused with political messages but the irony was not lost on me that I watched them play in the “*well known soft drink* live and local” tent.

That aside, the crowd got right into the “stand up and be counted” messages.

But – I am not sure if the songs are ever construed by the punters as the writers intend them. I wonder if the social commentators of today hit their mark?

Now to Ben Harper, who played one of the most inspiring sets I have ever seen. That guy is a very skilled musician and from my privileged viewing position about 10m from the stage, some of his songs took on a new meaning for me. The beauty of his music is that he writes wonderful songs about love, loss and heartbreak but also makes political statements about war, violence, corruption and so has the capacity to speak to anyone who will listen about whatever is on their mind. His political messages are subtle, but to me are about engaging with a system that won’t always engage with you, about the power that one person has to refuse to accept that the way things are is the way things must be.

As someone caught between two generations of politically apathetic peers*, these are potentially powerful messages.

“I can change the world with my own two hands, with my own, with my own, two hands”. I can engage, I can question, I can leave my mark but “please don’t talk about murder while I’m eatin’.

I worry that the punters, the people most likely to be listening to the messages, hear them not as words of motivation and messages of empowerment, but as excuses to disengage and to detach…. Using them as justifications to absolve themselves of responsibility for decisions made on their behalf by the governments they may have helped to elect, or to dismiss as lost causes the ongoing struggles of people around the world, and of those in their own backyards………..

“Policy and politics, it’s a drag – they put one foot in the grave, and the other on the flag”. And that is a lyric that links back to my previous post about inspiration and the ongoing quandaries of a surface dwelling existence – that lyric, it burns behind my eyeballs in those rare and self-indulgent existential moments …..

So, yeah uh…. Thanks to those people who wrote emails to me about the inspiration blog – even though there is only one comment on there, a few people took the time to tell me their thoughts, which was nice. And Erin your compliment did not go unnoticed (thanks – very kind) although obviously I am obliged to disagree with you. Hahaha.

*AM happy to take debate on this point, but I have decided that at 24 I am neither Gen X nor Gen Y, but a bit of both, Gen X+Y/2. Sound right?

Blues and Roots

Enjoying a Bev and Sing
Originally uploaded by adelvice.

Just got back from Blues and Roots festival in Perth - it was absolutely amazing. Saw (amongst others) Wolfmother, The Waifs, Blue King Brown, Eugene Hideaway Bridges, John Mayer, Gomez, Ben Kweller and the master, Ben Harper. Also discovered a new artist - Piers Faccini - who was Jeff Buckley-esque and had the (slightly hungover) Sunday mid-afternoon crowd absolutely mesmerized.

I should get more thoughts about the festival on here by the end of the week, but in the meantime - here is a pic of Erina and I enjoying a bev and a sing to Xavier Rudd!

The Inspiration Void

Sitting a few nights ago at a work function, which should have been one of the more rewarding things to pad out my working week, I was struck quite suddenly by two thoughts.

Firstly, as the speaker on the podium discussed the importance of professional mentors for young women who are trying to climb the ladder in what still is (sorry but it is) a man's world now decorated with the cacophony of competing interests tugging at the trouser legs of young women, it dawned on me that it is important in your professional life to have someone quite removed from your working situation, to mentor you throughout your career. It is a meritorious idea for a number of reasons. One being because in your workplace you rarely get the kind of g's up and pats on the back that spur you on and give you the confidence to push yourself that bit harder, and secondly, because of the intrinsic value of having the unbiased advice of someone outside the circle, who has your interests at heart, and, no reason to be anything except honest with you.

While I was sitting there contemplating possible mentor candidates for myself, I was thinking that my potential mentor would need to be someone who along with all the other things, was inspiring.

And then it hit me. I have been struck in an inspiration void since I got back from Indonesia last year. That is not to say that I haven't been inspired, but at work, disappointingly, I can't recall the last time that something struck me as exciting, inspiring and visionary.

I love ideas. I love thinking about them, talking about them, debating them. And I rarely have time to do any of those things. Or, when I do, translating that excitement into something tangible that I can put into practice is usually doused by the hum-drum ho-hum of the day to day drudge.

Playing catch-up is not innovative. Absent a big-picture, the piecemeal nibbling at ideas is not visionary.

But alas, that is where I am in my window-less office, working on stuff that is going to make a massive difference to the lives of the constituency it is aimed at, but nonetheless which should have been accomplished years ago, and for which, being associated with claimers of kudos, feels a little dishonest and the diametric opposite of inspiring.

So as I sat there glazed-eyed, listening to debate and discussion about *someone's* vision, I depressed myself almost to the point of having to clutch the table - panicked and white-knuckled. Where does one draw inspiration from such a bleak picture?

I find books and music are often the sources of great exhilaration, but rarely inspiration. You can chuckle behind your hand, spit at my feet, roll your eyes, when I tell you that one of the most inspiring books that I have read, was Paul Keating's biography.

For his multitudinous flaws, and occasional lapses of public front, Keating had and articulated with passion, a clear vision of the type of Australia that he wanted us to embrace. A vision that has in part at least, been recently banned from the dictionary of acceptable federal public service weasel words.

It is a little glum to think that any little flames that everyday things ignite, can be so easily extinguished by the sodden grey rag that is, ahem, reality. Slap, slap goes the rag. What's that you say? I am only allowed to think ahead until the next election? this financial year? until I decide to have children?

Of course, this is not the way I feel about life generally, but it is, I think, the peril of the worker drone. The 60 hour week, paper pusher – the 70 hour week billable unit machine – you name it. Absent leadership and inspiration, too easy it is, to bog on down in the day-to-day and forget or ignore, the ideas that make it worth it.

I am still trying to work out exactly what the point of this post is, apart from pointing out the frustrations of rudderlessness. And the ironic thing is that I have a rudder – one that is going to steer me on out of my office, the state and the country. Deh!

I am concerned that I always come off looking pessimistic, angry and defeatist on this blog when I raise this kind of issue – but you know I’m not. Things just niggle at me until I have to bring them up.

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I am interested to hear what inspires you kids (and no, boozy nights out, fine food and wine, and the football don’t count!)