A Connection with China

Reading an article today about the swing to the left in China, I was reminded of a conversation enjoyed recently.

Ping and I met at the Philosophies of Travel conference held in Sydney last weekend. We ended up sitting side-by-side at the closing dinner. Ping is ten years older than me - fifty - and grew up during the tail end of the Cultural Revolution. I was fascinated to have the opportunity to spend some hours chatting with a woman who had lived through those times. She told me about being separated from her parents and sent out into the country as a teenager, what it was like growing up in an "intellectual" family, and how when she and her husband left China twenty years ago, they were not allowed to go to the same country; she went to America, and her husband came to Australia, where she was able to join him. Her two children were born and raised in Australia, though one has recently accepted a scholarship to a prestigious American university.

It speaks volumes about our world that two women with such vastly differnt life stories can sit down and share a meal together. We chatted for hours, and she caught the bus back into the CBD with me, a kindness for which I was grateful amidst the rowdiness of a Saturday night.

Two women, two stories; one meal, and one new connection. The world is small, and the world is full of wonders.

In Praise of Mike Carey

You simply have to ADORE a man who can write these sentences:

I had a furry mouth and a hangover that was as much psychological as physical. Or animistic, maybe: a hangover of the spirit. How the hell do you cure that? A hair of the god that bit you?

I'd passed three other cameras on the way up, of course, so he knew damn well it was me, but Nicky likes to remind you that Big Brother is watching. It's not a matter of security - although he takes his security more seriously than Imelda Marcos takes her footwear; it's more the statement of a philosophical position.

Or, some would say, more controversially:

I don't buy the tarot for the same reason that I don't buy religion: the hopes and fears of ordinary people stick up out of the miracles like bones out of a spavined horse.

These quotes are some I picked fairly much at random, flicking through pages from "Vicious Circle", the second book in Carey's series of Felix Castor novels. The genre is urban fantasy - think spooky things (in this case, exorcists, ghosts, demons, succubi and loup-garous - were-beings) roaming more-or-less contemporary urban settings, such as London. Another favourite author of mine in the genre is Patricia Briggs: werewolves, vampires and shape-shifting coyotes running around the Tri-Cities area in the States.

Anyway, Mike Carey: you are the master of grittily realistic and pithily descriptive phrases. I'd take my hat off to you ... hmm: it may be potentially hazardous to perform any cliched act in your vicinity! What would Felix Castor do? Say something smart, and slouch away.

Ah well, I can manage the latter.

Back to Basics

Lately, if I've found myself feeling run down, I've adopted a new "back to basics" strategy.

I make myself a big, rainbow-coloured poster. It has a positive, cheerful heading. (The last one was: "Catie Needs To Feel Better")

Then I set up a nice big table, with a number of day names down the left-hand column and some basic well-being strategies across the top, e.g. "Nutrition", "Hydration", "Sleep".

Instead of ticks or crosses, with their overtones of external validation/judgement, I draw a huge smiley face in each table cell when I've completed that task for the day.

I've found this a surprisingly effective way to pick myself up, noticing positive results within two days. Yes, a simple list may perform the same task - but without the cheerful colour, happiness or flair!

I spy ...

Sitting in my favourite cafe in Kew, and I can see:

• saplings in recycled tin cans - very cool
• sealed jars of "panela" (organic sugar from Colombia) on each table
• not many teenagers - which is unusual - this time of day, during term time, it's swarming
• wooden stools and long benches
• sporadic traffic on Cotham Road, outside
• low hung, large-globe naked light bulbs - again, very cool
• colourful prints on the walls, by www.nootles.com.au ("nursery and kids wall art")

I love this place!

Dislocation

That's it: the "I'm here" fuse in my brain has blown.

I'm experiencing a disconcerting sensation of not having an innate sense of where I am.

This has with me since we went to Sydney last week. I think it's because I only moved from Adelaide to Melbourne six months ago, and then suddenly found myself in another city - um ... that's all sounding a little feeble, isn't it?

But I just don't have a sense of where "here" is. I saw a story on the news about a nearby suburb in Melbourne and it felt a long way away. I keep accidentally saying "when I was in Melbourne on the weekend". Hmm.

I think the best plan is to do lots of running over the next few days - pace out the neighbourhood, step by step, once more; re-lay those mental maps. It's a plan!

Perspective on Sydney

Back home - footsore and happy. Looking forward to living closer to the city so the final leg of the journey home isn't quite so tiring!

The most wonderful thing happened today - something of a second Sydney metanoia moment!

In an earlier post, I mentioned my sense of awe, stepping out of Central Station and seeing the "large stones and large buildings" of downtown Sydney. An awareness of the size of the city lingered the entire visit, enhanced by our ferry ride on the Harbour - reminiscent of vaporetto rides in Venice - and wandering today through The Rocks, appreciating the age of the archaeological digs on display, sensing the frailty of the early settlement, and - again - appreciating the scale of the Bridge as we walked in its shadow.

On our way back to Central Station to catch the train to the airport, we caught part of the "Art And About" exhibition in Hyde Park. Twenty two large-scale photos were slung alongside the pathway. The last image was of huge storm clouds looming Sydney Harbour. The artist had captured their height and depth, dwarfing the bridge, water scape and rendering minuscule those "large buildings" which had so awed me just days beforehand.

I feel so lucky to have seen this picture when I did. It was a timely reminder that nature will always bring human effort down to scale. Sydney's a beautiful, wonderful city - but, Ozymandias-style, this picture has reminded me of the enduring power of systems larger even than ours.

Soaking up Sydney (and avoiding a reciprocal soaking)

The Philosophies of Travel conference is over - what a wonderful and vivid experience it was!

It surprises me that only today I realized the organizers (Alex and Annabel, respectively the kindest and best-dressed people in Sydney) had chosen the plural in the conference title. Of course, this was the clear and obvious choice - as was borne out by the amazing breadth of material covered - but a quirk of perception had hidden it from me.

I'm still reeling after the experience - such a rich diet of ideas over the last three days! - and need some assimilation time, I think, before I can attempt a meaningful summary; although I can certainly say that, as always, the opportunity to engage with active minds and grapple with concepts at the limit of one's experience always leaves me feeling invigorated and fully alive. Hooray!

Today was the second and last of our "holiday" days in Sydney and, having presented my paper, we were able to enjoy it singlemindedly. It's been lots of fun to wander the city, catch a ferry, visit Bondi (and almost literally be blown away by that experience), and re-board the ferry - just in time to avoid Sydney's huge raindrops. Despite the weather, I had a gelato out at South Head, reliving childhood memories (though fearful I'd end up wearing more than consuming it). We'll enjoy some more of the city this evening and visit The Rocks before heading out to the airport tomorrow.

Right now it's time to finish writing postcards (oops), enjoy a few minutes of quiet, and apologise to any Sydney friends or relatives who are reading this and perhaps feeling put out that we haven't caught up. I am sorry! It was a tightly scheduled visit, and with me busy for some days at the conference, it was important to spend time with my neglected husband.

It's been fun. We need to get away more!