Katherine and the Nitniluk Chalets

Okay. So I’ve been busy working through all the facets of self publishing and have neglected my blog. I promise I will finish it and get back on track again in the New year. At least I now have a cover for the next book, but now comes the formatting etc. I guess I was spoilt with my first two publishers doing all that for me, but at least I will know all of the process involved when talking to my memoir writing class next year. We break up for the Christmas holidays on Wednesday 4th December 2019. But for now it’s back to the Darwin blog

Top of my ‘to do’ list was a boat trip to see Katherine Gorge.

When we were last here in 1975 we couldn’t afford to go on this tour. This year, Paul had booked us into the Nitniluck Chalets, The name is indigenous . Nit (the sound cicader’s make) niluck (country) means cicader country in the local language. This time, instead of camping we were in a stand alone chalet with two bedrooms and a large living space with all mod cons. Even a full sized refrigerator. Paul and Marian had their own chalet so we could spread out to our heart’s content. Alan was soon ‘testing the bed’ and gave it a big thumbs up.

The next morning I walked over to the swimming pool while Alan had his shower. In a chair in the open camp kitchen I waited for for the pool to open at 8:am It was so peaceful listening to the birds and watching Rosellas squawk and flit amongst the gum trees. I’m amazed at how different they are in colouring to those at home. Familiar Plovers stately patrolled the grass and tiny birds searched for a breakfast of bugs and worms. Overall was the distinctive call of a black crow. The breeze made the trees, and our washing, dance. The pool didn’t open at the prescribed 8am (the chalet owners obviously hadn’t made the transference from the wet season to the dry season) so I’ll walk back to our chalet in warm tropical sunshine enjoying every moment, especially after a cold Melbourne winter.

  

Over a cup of coffee out on the chalet deck we began reminiscing about our trip in 1975. How different this trip is compared to then when there was no air-conditioning and certainly not in our truck, no mobile phones, little money, a fridge that didn’t cope with the heat and bush camps most nights. But I fondly remember two small boys, cooking over open fires, being warm, stars that beamed rather than twinkled in a huge open sky, of being able to see for miles.

Tues 23/4/2019. We finally make it to the Katheryn Gorge Cruise. Paul wheeled Alan down the long ramp and onto the first boat. We look up at high red cliffs on either side of the first gorge. There are thirteen individual gorges, all connected during the rain fed wet season and separated in the dry, but only two are ever open for public viewing. Today’s trip comprises of those two gorges with a walk from our boat to another in the second gorge. Alan and I decided to wait in the shade for our group to arrive back from their second gorge tour. Our leaders had put chairs under a strategically placed shelter on the natural rock landing . Iced water is nearby in case we get thirsty. It is easy to dehydrate here. We found it such a delight to quietly sit listening to the water and feeling the cool breeze fan our faces.

I saw steps up to my right and decided to have a look. They led to rock paintings on an overhang, drawn many years ago by indigenous people while they waited on this Arnhem Land Plateau  for the wet season to end. Hidden for many years it is just now being set out as a place to visit. I hurry back to tell Alan all about it when we see a line of people heading back to the landing and our barge appearing.

 

Katherine Gorge was named by Scotsman John MacDow Stuart in 1862 after the daughter (Katherine) of his Adelaide sponsor, James chambers. 

Paul had to push Alan’s wheelchair back up the slope and two people offered to help. It is amazing how many kind people offered while we were away. I love it when Paul calls the small tent- like cabins with wire netting for back packing tours ‘Budgie cages’.

 

We relax in our luxurious surroundings. It is so peaceful here but we still need Paul and Marian’s anti mozzie wipes, jell and coils when we sit outside. Washing dries so quickly. I washed out a blouse in the morning, hung it on a hanger and wore it that afternoon. Alan is happy and well as this trip is a great pace for him,

Tomorrow we go to Mataranka and I can’t wait to see what it is like now.

Yellow Waters in Kakadu

I haven’t kept up with this blog. I know, I know. The reasons for writing it are numerous and varied. I know them all, but I have been procrastinating. Putting off writing and delaying with all the excuses under the sun. But…I’m back. This will be the perfect record of a perfect trip…and will get me writing again

The surrounding country of Kakadu (20,000 square kilometers) belongs to indigenous people.

If you respect country, it will look after you

We are the visitors.

Paul picked us up from the Crocodile Hotel at 5.15 am to take us to the Yellow Waters. I am not at my best at that hour of the morning, but I felt excited about the experience ahead and everyone else in our party felt the same. Just the thought of meandering along in our open boat watching the moon fade and sunlight slowly gild the water was enough to keep me going.

We have had glorious sunny days but cyclone Trevor caused the rain to bucket down over Kakadu during the wet season and the usual gangplank for the Yellow Waters trip is underwater. To our delight our flat bottomed barge of a boat is now leaving early from Home billabong  upstream and will snake through a narrow water way to the yellow waters. We will drift past where we would usually board our boat and then continue on to explore this amazing place.

 

I am entranced, in heaven, as we set off and glide along. The moon is low in the sky. We share the experience with other passengers but even the children are quiet as we explore this remarkable place.  That morning we observed so much variety. We experienced unusual birds, crocodiles and wetlands with floating buffalo grass and lily pad fields.

 

This body of water begins at Jim Jim falls. Yellow Waters got the name from the yellow Melaleuca trees.  (/ˌmɛləˈljuːkə/) is a genus of nearly 300 species of plants in the myrtle family, Myrtaceae, commonly known as paperbarks or honey-myrtles.Here, they stain these waters yellow. (I used to make bark paintings from the many and varied colours of the paperbark. Most are yellow but if I found a red bark it was highly prized and I always remembered that tree and would constantly return.) If you are born or die indigenous you are wrapped in paperbark and belong to country. It is a very spiritual tree. We travel through the Melaluca swamp, listen for whistling kites and look for white bellied sea eagles.

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There is a request not to lean out of the boat to take a picture as crocodiles can launch at least half of their body weight out of the water and may grab a hand…or more. in spite of constant warnings we travel through yellow billabong into the South Alligator River.

Kakadu is owned by the traditional owners but it administered and protected by the Federal government and protected under Parks and Wildlife Australia as a national park. The indigenous people see Kakadu as a supermarket and a clothing shop.  Dilly bags (a carry bag) are made from the pandanas palm which came from south east Asia 500 years ago.

Paul wheeled Alan up the ramp to an eggs, bacon, sausage and mushroom breakfast. Later, Paul went to the Bowali Visitors Centre (named after Bowali Creek) and asked for all wheelchair friendly sites.

My next blog will cover Litchfield Park, Kathryn Gorge and Mataranka

Darwin: Jabiru and Kakadu

Before we left for the Crocodile Hotel at Jabiru Paul took us to Cousins Lookout and Waterhole. It was not what I was expecting. Lookouts for me meant going to the top of a hill (one tree lookout and tower in the Dandenong ranges comes to mind) and seeing vistas of rolling wooded hills and deep valleys. This lookout was a grassy slope overlooking a billabong.

Cousins Lookout was marked ‘closed’ on the roadworks board at the main turnoff but when we reached the actual road there was nothing to be seen.  We decided to take a chance. I’m so glad we did.

       

In the early morning light wallabies were everywhere.  I kept seeing large termite mounds and just had to take a picture. They reminded me of when we first saw them in 1973. They had not changed and were familiar to us.

      

We had a resident geko lizard on our ceiling at Mary River Retreat. At night he actively chased bugs and sometimes he came half way down our walls. We loved watching him. I was reminded of the gekos in Malaya. There we always said,  for the first year we sit and watch them. The second year they watch us and the third year we are up there with them. To Alan the ceiling of the unit reminded him of our truck canopy all those years ago.

 

We arrived back to our unit only to find a family consisting of grandma, grandpa, mum and dad, and four boys had arrived for the Easter holiday. Mum was not happy. she said loudly that the grandparent’s unit was better. “You must have paid more,” was her comment. “Ours smells and has lino on the floor. I’m going to see if I can change.” The children were all scrapping and yelling to go into the pool to escape Mum’s mood and to get away from the heat.

I put on my headphones (a hospital gift from Marian) to drown out the noise and wrote with my apple pencil in my ipad (a gift from Paul last birthday). Fabulous. I could scrawl away in my ipad and not hear a thing. Tomorrow is Good Friday. Tent pegs are hammering, voices calling, the golf buggy hurtles by filled with an adult driving and laughing children and the water spray is tut, tut, tutting. They are happy campers preparing for the Easter holiday but the peace without the headphones has gone. Tomorrow we are happy to move on to Kakadu.

To help me understand more about our destination I searched for information about Kakadu on the internet. This is what I discovered.

The name Kakadu may come from the mispronunciation of Gaagudju, which is the name of an Aboriginal language spoken in the northern part of the park. This name may derive from the Indonesian word kakatuwah, (via Dutch kaketoe and German Kakadu) subsequently Anglicised as “cockatoo”.

Kakadu National Park is a protected area in the Northern Territory of Australia, 171 km southeast of Darwin. The park is located within the Alligator Rivers Region of the Northern Territory. It covers an area of 19,804 kms (7,646 sq mi), extending nearly 200 kilometres from north to south and over 100 kilometres from east to west. It is the size of Slovenia, about one-third the size of Tasmania, and nearly half the size of Switzerland. The Ranger Uranium Mine, one of the most productive uranium mines in the world, is surrounded by the park.

The Aboriginal traditional owners of the park are descendants of various clan groups from the Kakadu area and have longstanding affiliations with this country. Their lifestyle has changed in recent years, but their traditional customs and beliefs remain very important. About 500 Aboriginal people live in the park, many of them are traditional owners. All of Kakadu is jointly managed by Aboriginal traditional owners and the Director of National Parks with assistance from Parks Australia, a division of Australian Government’s Department of the Environment and Energy. Park Management is directed by the Kakadu Board of Management.

Our accommodation at The Crocodile Hotel was superb. Our unit was large, comfortable and right beside their swimming pool. The dining room was close by. We had several meals at the hotel restaurant. On the first occasion I had barramundi fish and it was superb, as were all our meals. The lovely young waitress was a new French backpacker who had just arrived and was learning the language and the craft. Our room was just behind the head of the crocodile hotel in the picture below. You can just see the shade sail over the swimming pool. In the heat it was lovely to go for a swim in cool water before showering and heading off for dinner.

Kakadu is indigenous owned and we were very aware of and respectful of their culture. Paul and Marian took us to view the rock paintings at Ubirr, a group of rock outcrops in the northeast of the park, on the edge of the Nadab floodplain. There are several large rock overhangs that would have provided excellent shelter to Aboriginal people over thousands of years. Ubirr’s proximity to the East Alligator River and Nadab floodplains means that food would have been abundant and this is reflected in much of the rock art there. Animals depicted in the main gallery include barramundi, catfish, mullet, goanna, snake-necked turtle, pig-nosed turtle, rock-haunting ringtail possum and wallaby,

   

Paul pushed Alan in his wheelchair in 35 Celsius heat and made sure Alan looked at as many paintings as possible. Paul also ensured Alan saw a remarkable variety and concentration of wildlife by stopping at every bird-hide and shelter along the way. He was so professional in the way he unfolded the wheelchair from the back of the four wheel drive car and had it ready for Alan to use.

Burrunguy, formally called Nourlangie Rock, is located in an outlying formation of the Arnhem Land Escarpment. There are a number of shelters in amongst this large outcrop linked by paths and stairways. The shelters contain several impressive paintings that deal with creation ancestors. Some of the stories connected to these artworks are known only to certain Aboriginal people and remain secret. Anbangbang Billabong lies in the shadow of Nourlangie Rock and is inhabited by a wide range of wildlife which would have sustained traditional Aboriginal people well. We had many picnic lunches and loved the peace of this place. I took many photos of information to read at my leisure.

 

From the Jabiru airport we took a kakadu Air one hour scenic flight. I wanted to get an idea of the size and shape of the land and you can only do that from a small plane or helicopter.

 

The vast expanse of Kakadu lay spread out before us.  I saw the flood plains below and the high escarpment rising out of the mist. It would have provided shelter for centuries from violent storms, flood plains and billabongs during the wet season. I imagined aboriginal people sheltered by rock cliffs towering above. Imagined them waiting patiently for the monsoon to pass and the dry season to begin. They would huddle around fires, gossiping, story telling and adding to the art work. An abundance of wildlife kept them healthy and alert. The commentary through the headphones was informative and fascinating. There was so much to learn and to see and I was spell bound by the sheer size of the area.

Jim Jim falls were fascinating from the plane and we were given every opportunity to see them. I’d noticed on one of our car trips that the road to them was still closed. We decided not to try to get through this time. However  viewing them from the air was amazing.

     

How generous of the indigenous people, now that they own most of Kakadu to welcome all people to their country. However, certain areas are closed to everyone, indigenous people included, because that area is the resting place of the Rainbow Serpent and she must not be disturbed.

 

Darwin: the Mary River Region

The Mary River region is Jawoyn land and I want to know more about the indigenous culture, but first we settled in to the Mary River Wilderness Retreat.

I was delighted to find that we had our own unit with shared pool (a necessity in this hot climate). The water of the pool was not heated and was gloriously cool. I couldn’t wait to don my bathers and swim under the shade of tall palms. So refreshing. Even Alan had a dip in the pool. We had sunshine everyday with azure blue skies. Amazing for the end of the wet season. Our time in the Top End was on the cusp of the wet and dry seasons when trips and accommodation were beginning to reopen for the dry season ahead.

On the way to Mary River we called in to Howard Springs. 

   

We hardly recognised it after so many years and Paul wheeled Alan everywhere so he could participate in the beauty and history of this place.  Fish were bountiful and the large lizards were amazing to see. We even saw the original spring bubbling out of rocks. 

We also called in to Fogg dam. Alan remembered walking over the dam wall in 1973 and seeing crocodiles. This amazing place also triggered many memories for me. We laughed at how it was believed at that time that rice would be a lucrative crop to grow at Fogg Dam.  Acres were planted until the Magpie geese discovered it was a free banquet and stripped the plants bare.

 

We also viewed wildlife at the Wetland complex and spotted crocodiles in the water’s edge at the South Alligator River. I shuddered when I thought about how little crocodiles figured into our plans so long ago. I now realize how lucky we were to return with two healthy boys able to grow into the caring men they are today.  After my swim we settled in to our unit at the Wilderness Retreat. The next day we went on the experience of a life time:

A Wildlands Wetlands Safari in an air boat over the corroboree billabong.

  

Josh took the four of us on the first trip for the season and was amazing. He revealed to us the indigenous culture of that part of the world. Josh showed us the differences between the native water-lilies and the ancient introduced Asian water-lilies. He demonstrated how the stalks were like celery and the large leaves with their hairy surfaces could be used as water containers or even hats. Alan had to try one and said it was much cooler and protected his head from the sun.

   

I was amazed that something so decorative could have so many indigenous uses. We had to wear headphones to block out the noise of the air bus engines.

       

When josh opened up the motor and whipped over the water-lilies it was a thrill of a lifetime. How reassuring that an air-boat doesn’t do any environmental damage. This made our trip all the more fun.

Josh’s commentary was superb as he pointed out Jabiru birds,  and crocodiles that made the billabong home. I loved learning about the birds, animals and indigenous culture associated with this magical Top End of Australia.

 

Jumping crocodiles trips are constantly advertised. We even saw an advertisement of a boxing crocodile. I did not want to see crocodiles jumping out of the water to grab a chicken. I wanted to see them lazily powering along with only their eyes and spine visible in the water. This environmentally friendly air boat trip was amazing.

We went back to the Wilderness Retreat ready for a swim and to relax in our unit. Later, we sat outside protected by Paul and Marian’s mosquito coils and wipes and listened to cockatoos roosting for the night.

The next day Paul took us around in the hired golf cart. We had a plan in place that if anyone got sick we could easily fly home. However we happily headed off to out accommodation in the Crocodile Hotel at Jabiru/Kakadu

 

 

45 years later

Forty-five years. Turn around three times and those years have gone in the blink of an eye. 

Yet so much has changed. We have changed from the wide eyed uninformed thirty year old Melbournians with two young boys optimistically starting out on what we called The Trip of a Lifetime. Now, our over fifties son and wife are taking two mouldy oldies (by that I mean late seventies and early eighties) back to revisit Darwin. What will have changed? How will life have changed, apart from the wheelchair and extra luggage?

In 1973 we traveled in an old F100 truck with a pick up camper in the tray from Melbourne, via Ayers Rock, to Katherine and Darwin and back. It was the year before Cyclone Tracy wrecked havoc on the top end. However, we saw the devastation on the television and were aghast at the destruction of lives and property. Victorians were not aware of the impact WWII had on Darwin and we knew nothing about the indigenous population. We were amazed to discover so many different tribes, each with their own language and culture who didn’t understand English speaking Southerners from Victoria.

As individuals we, and the Top End have changed. Before every large event in Melbourne is a recognition of indigenous people and a Welcome to country ceremony. We have said Sorry for past transgressions and indigenous people now vote and are counted in the census. Kakadu has been returned to it’s indigenous owners and tourism is tolerated in certain sections of Kakadu . The Crocodile Hotel at Jabiru is indigenous owned.

Forty-five years later we traveled in style, staying first at the Palm City Resort. It was hot, over 30 Celsius hot, and I loved our villa and personal spa hidden amongst tropical vegetation.

 

Relaxing with a glass of champagne I wondered about this new city, seen so briefly. It appeared lush, tropical, multinational and laid back. Darwin city reminded me of a teenager. I felt it was still growing up and finding its way. It seemed to me to be like the Gold Coast used to be before the high rise buildings came to town. Darwin, to me was like a large country town, accepting diversity and welcoming.

Next week: what the Hop on Hop off bus reveals. 

Asylum Seekers and Refugees Recipe Book

Asylum seekers and refugees have a wealth of culture and many recipes to share.

They also need all the help they can get and many ethical people are finding ways and means to promote their cause. Ilura Press have published Every Bite Takes You Home and Lisa Hill’s wordpress post at ANZlitlovers is a review of the book Breaking the Boundaries, Australian activists tell their stories,

Edited by Yvonne Allen and Joy Noble the book, Lisa’s blog, and Every Bite Takes You Home are an interesting exploration of the refugee crisis and all cast a positive light on the asylum seekers/refugees debate.

Last  Wednesday I went with Mairi Neil to the Kathleen Syme Library in Carlton, Victoria, Australia to help Ilura Press celebrate their publication of their fabulous story/recipe book. I was delighted to see that all profits go directly to assist asylum seekers and refugees via the organisations, Stand Up, ONDRU, and Foundation House .

Every Bite Takes You Home invites us to share in the journeys of sixteen remarkable asylum seekers who have found a home in Australia. Each person’s unique story, blended with the memories of their favourite recipes and traditions, reminds us that food can unite us all, generating acceptance and understanding across diverse cultures and societies.

David Manne – Executive Director RILC said, “These are intimate accounts of remarkable resilience, courage, and survival—giving a powerful voice to those who have so often been rendered voiceless in our community.”
Sabina Hofman and Christopher Lappis of Ilura Press are the most ethical people I have ever known. What an amazing experience it was to have them publish my novel, Pickle to Pie. They produced a high quality book I was proud to hold in my hand. They have carried on their tradition of quality and attention to detail in Every Bite Takes You Home . Any home owner would be proud to have it grace their coffee table. 

The authors of this beautiful book are Gaye Weeden & Hayley Smorgon with photography by Peter Tarasiuk & Mark Roper

“All the elements combine: the stories, the portraits, the photos of food, the recipes, the layout and design, to produce a book of heart and soul.”
Arnold Zable – Author; President of International PEN Melbourne.

 

All author and publisher profit from the sales of the book will be donated to STAND UP, ONDRU, and FOUNDATION HOUSE to directly assist asylum seekers and refugees.

 

After tasting some of the recipes last Wednesday I can’t wait to try some on my family. Australia has gained so much from the influx of people from different countries and the result has been the inclusion into our menus of many culinary delights from many nations, ie  Italian, Greek, Egyptian, Asian to name a few. In my youth it was meat and three vegetables at most meals and spaghetti came in a tin. Now fresh pasta, ravioli, rissotto and spaghetti bolognaise, along with many exotic Asian dishes are regular favorites at the family dinner table.    Let’s celebrate our Australian cultural diversity and welcome asylum seekers and refugees with open arms.

PURCHASE A$62 (HARDCOVER)

The Trip of a Lifetime

We have just returned from the trip of a lifetime in the USA. Our son, Paul  and daughter-in-law, Marian arranged everything. All we had to do was front up and enjoy the experiences laid out before us…Driving from Yellowstone National Park, via the Grand Tetons snow capped mountains to the elk antler arches in the town of Jackson, followed by Lake Tahoe and Yosemite all the way down to Santa Monica Pier.

   

 

 

 

 

 

We experienced the fun of a Los Angeles baseball game, whale watching, and kayaking.

   

Walked in Yellowstone National Park  and marveled at geysers, fumaroles, hot springs & mud pools.

    

Observed baby bears, bison, wolves, otters &  elk.

     

 

We lived life to the full with snatches of these experiences captured in photos or scrawled into an exercise book always in my back pack.

 

 

Sometimes we need to leave our computers, blogs and everyday routine behind and live in the moment. And that’s my excuse for being absent from my blog. However, with help from Paul and Marian, via my ipad and emails I was still able to remain connected to others. Now I’m home I’ve had time to think  about why it meant so much to me,

It helped me to remain connected to friends and to my writing community.

Every writer at some stage needs inspiration, enlightenment and to feel connected to others writers. Now I’m back home, when I feel down in the dumps about my writing, burnt out and depleted, or my manuscript has been rejected yet again I always turn to my wordpress writing family for inspiration. It never fails.

To read the blogs of others revealing how they have struggled makes me feel I am not alone. Their solutions to their writing problems give me a good shake and sits me back in front of the computer again. If they can do it, I can. They inspire me. By the time I leave the computer I’m back in the saddle again. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Reinvigorated, I tap away and before long have at least two pages. Crisis over.

Recently I had such a glitch and decided to make a list of some of the things I have enjoyed reading.

Up the Creek with a Pen by Mairi Neil

ANZlitlovers Litblog by Lisa Hill

Planning to the ‘Nth’ by Coral Waight

All posts at Charles French Words Reading and Writing by frenchc55

Also
Why read other authors?
You know your a writer when…
Finding time to write
Why we write
What an editor will do to your manuscript
What to consider before giving your manuscript to an editor

And so many quotes from people living now and long gone. Quotes that inspire, persuade, demand and state the obvious.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the wordpress community, especially the bloggers I like and follow. You all help maintain and sustain the urge to write. Your thoughts, dreams and struggles can often motivate me to even post a comment.

Friends, Springtime and the Bellarine Peninsula

Bollards, sparkling water, bobbing boats and happy children at Geelong, on the Bellarine Peninsula.

  

I loved the quirky bollards lining the Western Beach shoreline and noticed all the  joggers, dog lovers and  mums with young children smiled as they passed each one. So did I.

  

The aim of this trip from the Mornington Peninsula, around Port Phillip Bay to the city off Geelong was to visit an old friend. Janet and I have known each other for over fifty years.

Life’s more fun when you share it with friends 

The last time I saw Janet was in her home in the Australian outback town of Coober Pedy.

Then the talk focused on underground dugouts, opal and heat. She now lives on her own close to Melbourne but on the opposite side of Port Phillip Bay. It has been years since we saw each other, mainly because the road distance around the bay from Carrum on the Mornington Peninsula, through heavy traffic over the Westgate Bridge to Geelong on the Bellarine Peninsula on the other side. It makes any sane driver think twice before attempting the journey.

Janet does not drive far these days so I managed to catch up with her in her home in Geelong. This time the talk was about art and craft, making greeting cards and stringing together light reflecting mobiles. She sells the beautifully handcrafted cards where ever she can. They are absolutely gorgeous. I particularly like the cards with pink, blue and yellow daisies and the ones with chips of Coober Pedy opal. Opal comes in so many colours and Janet knows where to by the opal chips in bulk. They add just the right splash of colour.

                 

One day I hope to be able to attend one of her card making classes.

                        

On arrival I was greeted at the door by two little dogs, Tiny And Joel. Janet appeared and it was if the years between had never existed. We were once again seventeen years old and doing our apprenticeship together. Memories flooded our talk. We laughed about being so young and so impressionable. Our fondest memory was when we went to the Tivoli Theatre in Melbourne and were unexpectedly seated in one of the exclusive ‘boxes’ that jutted out from the side wall inside the theater. Our joy was complete when Tommy Steele looked up and saw us excitedly grinning and madly applauding in our box seat. We felt he sang The Little White Bull just to us.

Having eye contact with a celebrity was a memory that has lasted a lifetime. He never knew what an impact he had on two impressionable teenagers and it has given me empathy over the years for all the young girls who scream when a celebrity/rock star appears. I know how they feel.

After our visit we decided to skip the long journey home and pay to drive the car onto the ferry that sails from Queenscliff, past the Port Phillip Bay heads over to Sorrento on the Mornington Peninsula. It was well worth the money. While on the ferry it seemed too good an opportunity to miss to call in to see a good friend living at Blairgowrie.

               

Carol-Anne Croker is amazing. She has supported me all through my PhD while doing a PhD herself. You couldn’t wish for a better friend. When we arrived thinking we were staying for a quick cup of coffee, much to our surprise, Louis began cooking fresh mussels and prawns. My husband was delighted and felt like royalty to be treated to such a seafood feast. Many hours, and a glass of wine later (drats that we had to drive) we continued on our way home.

Let’s kick off our shoes and dance around our handbags – sing at the top of our lungs – badly…Make the time to catch up, drink wine, eat cheese and chocolate in ridiculous amounts and enjoy each other’s belly laughter until our cheeks hurt and our sides are splitting…No matter how old we are or what challenges come our way.

 

Barb Biggs: The Accidental Renovator. A review

A Paris Story

How do you accidentally buy a Paris apartment?

This is a smart, snazzy, witty story set in the romantic city of Paris. As I expected, I am really enjoying reading Barbara Biggs’ latest book The Accidental Renovator. It is a sassy, ironic, exuberant book that holds your interest from start to finish. Smart, funny and written about the real world in a way that will make you sit up and take notice.

Barbara Biggs is also author of In Moral Danger, The Road Home and Chat Room. At 14 Barbara’s grandmother sold her to a pedophile; at 16 she was in a psyche hospital; at 18 she was a prostitute in Japan; at 19 she escaped Cambodia weeks before it fell to the Khmer Rouge; at 21 she caused national headlines and received death threats; at 30 she became a journalist. By 40 Barbara was a property millionaire. Just imagine her life in the years following. So how did Aussie Barb end up writing about renovating an apartment in Paris?

Incorrigible romantic, writer and renovator Barbara Biggs thought she knew about sex and real estate. Then she went to Paris. The self-described ‘foot-in-mouth Aussie chick’ can’t help ‘just looking’ at apartments for sale. Big mistake. She speaks little French, knows no one in Paris and has never thought of living there. But when the agent assures her the owner will insist on the asking price, she makes a low offer ‘just for fun’. It is accepted—and her life goes haywire. Biggs smuggles in a handsome Australian builder to renovate the apartment.
But he doesn’t speak French, doesn’t have any tools, and when the budding romance goes sour he vanishes and Barbara’s dream renovation becomes a nightmare. Undeterred, she joins the Lazy Pigs Millionaires’ Club and is soon lunching in grand chateaux, partying until dawn and learning about continental men in the nicest possible way. Then she writes about it.

Imagine my surprise on reading the fist page of The Accidental Renovator to see, ‘I’d come to visit my French friend Lucy in Nancy, a university town three hours east of Paris.’ I was immediately back in Novel Writing Class, along with Barb and Lucy Mushita in the Professional Writing and Editing Course at Holmesglen TAFE. At that time Barb  was busy writing  In Moral Danger. Later, Lucy published her novel Chinongwa and I launched Pickle to Pie.

Biggs’ first book was a 2003 autobiography about her life up to the age of 22. The book tells of her sexual abuse from the age of 14 by a well-known criminal barrister. It explains the damaging after effects following her abuse, including time spent in a psychiatric hospital, escaping Cambodia weeks before it fell to the Khmer Rouge and being a prostitute in Japan. It also describes how she attempted suicide four times, received death threats and caused national headlines – all before the age of 22.

         

The Accidental Renovator shows how far Barb has come, not only in her life but as a writer. Both Lucy and I wish Barb good health, joy and every success.

Testing Boundaries in Thailand

The adventures of two Australian families and two grandmas holidaying together in Koh Samui and Phuket.

A writer thrives on new experiences but when facing new challenges and venturing into unknown territory you rely on your instincts, or as I call it, gut feeling. This trip from Melbourne to join my son and his Queensland family in Thailand feels right. I hug my seventy-six year old husband goodbye knowing that the constant 38C heat of a Thailand summer would be too much for him. Son, Paul, drives me to Tullamarine and ensures that my newly validated visa card, ipad and iphone  work, I have Thai Baht in my pocket and my 7ks of carry on luggage is the correct weight. He works out a back up plan in case anything goes wrong on the 24hour trip ahead entailing 2 flights, two hour bus and ferry trip to the Thai island of Koh Samui.

 

When you are a writer your five senses swing into action. You see so many different faces displaying a myriad of emotions. You try to understand if the owner is speaking Indian, German, Russian, Thai, Malayan or a form of broken English. You have weighed your carry-on luggage  a thousand times but still worry that it might be overweight. Excitement is tinged with anxiety and unconsciously you cross your fingers that all will go well. So many untold stories surround you and you want to understand and record them all. Waiting to board the plane to Kuala Lumpur you whip out your writing pad and start a diary. It helps ease the tension building inside you.

 

Sitting under a veranda at the Raja Ferry terminal on Koh Samui intense heat wrapped around me like a hot blanket on a summer’s day. Son Jason arrived in a hired air-conditioned twelve seater bus and took me to meet the rest of the group relaxing by a large swimming pool framed by sweet scented frangipani. At the Koh Sumui beachside Yacht Club I was lovingly welcomed by Jason’s wife, Karen and two grandchildren Tahlia (8) and Caxton (5). Also there were Karen’s brother, Mark, partner, Lou, Tyler (4) and Piper Lily (2). Noela, (Karen’s mother), is the Noni and matriarch of this clan. After dinner we all travelled in the bus to the three story house swap home high on a Koh Samui Hillside.

Fifty years ago I lived for two years in Malacca Malaya but time had dimmed my memory. I had forgotten the intense, draining heat of an Asian summer, smelly drains and piles of decaying rubbish by the side of the road. However, indelibly imprinted on my memory was the friendliness of the people, their sunny smiles and easy going ways. I was delighted they did not seem to have changed.

The house in Koh Samui had a large living area and a huge covered deck that faced the sea. The constant gentle breeze made the heat bearable.

 

I felt comfortable and happy in my bed in the loft, especially when the cute room had an air-conditioner and two fans. They guaranteed a good night’s sleep.

Every day we explored the island. Sight seeing, shopping and lazed on lounges or swam at a peaceful beach. For fun, Jason hired a long-tail boat so we could snorkel over a reef teeming with brightly coloured fish. I was glad I’d made room in my carry-on luggage for my snorkel and mask and wished I had my flippers. There was a strong current that day.

After a week on koh Samui, Mark drove the bus onto the Ferry leaving for Suriat Thani on mainland Thailand. Jason drove from there and decided to take the all day scenic mountain trip down to the bridge that would take us onto the island of Phuket.

The day we travelled was the festival of Songkran (New Year) a public holiday and the biggest water fight of the year.

 

On this day, to wash away any problems of the past year, adults and children drench others and in the process are themselves saturated. children and adults bombard cars and passengers with water guns, dishes of water scooped out of barrels put by the side of the road or spray everything with a constant steady stream from hand held hoses.

Symbolically the heavens opened and rain bucketed down for the entire day.  No one minded being drenched. It was a relief in the intense mid summer heat.

The villa in Phuket was big and spacious with a lovely cool swimming pool. Much to the children’s delight, Mark and Jason hired a motor bike. The children clamoured to be taken for rides and the guys insisted I go for a spin. Wind whistled through my hair as I clung precariously to the driver, narrowly missing tuk tuks and pedestrians.

  

In the bus we visited Surin, Kamala and Kata Noi beaches, Bang Tao, Wat Chalong and rode elephants at Kok Chang. The four young adults had a night in Bang Tao looking for cock fights and pingpong balls while the grandmas happily relaxed by the villa pool.

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One highlight was a mountain top restaurant with amazing views. The two men had a Chang beer while the rest of us enjoyed long, deliciously cold mango drinks or Mai Tai cocktails.

 

It is such a bonus to move away from your comfort zone and do something different: to see how other people live and make do with what they have available. Down from the villa in Phuket a local house turned an unwanted toilet bowl into a pot for their plants

This time away with family and friends allowed me to test my boundaries and I discovered I can do many things I thought impossible. It also gave me the opportunity to be with the family and meet beautiful people in a fascinating country.  Precious memories that will last a lifetime.