Why did we name the planets after mythological gods?
I did a little digging and found that the Romans named the five closest planets to the sun after their most important gods, this one, named after the god of the sea, which to the Romans was Poseidon, but in translation, Neptune, and matbe because it was ‘blue’.
Of course, we all know about King Neptune.
We also know about Poseidon, which was the fictional ship that got hit by a tidal wave, and was turned into a blockbuster movie.
But in terms of science fiction, which is not what I write, but I seem to spend a lot of time watching, it strikes me that seeing the moon, we could assume that the moon could be a stopping off point on a trip to the pouter planets.
I’m always surprised at the ingenuity of ‘Sci Fi’ writers in how they can turn what is scientifically impossible to live on but not necessarily impossible to get there (after a long sleep), into a place where we can destroy with equal rapaciousness as our own planet.
If I was going to write something, perhaps it would be about turning the planet into a holiday resort, staffed by robots…
Uh oh, that’s reminiscent of another ‘Sci Fi’ series. I’ll let you guess what it is.
We come from Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, and moved to Queensland about 32 years ago, leaving behind a large chuck of our family. For a while it was a good excuse for them to come up and stay in sunny Queenland, and others, we would make two or three trips back to Melbourne every year.
And, being AFL football fans of the club Hawthorn, those visits were more likely to be during winter, co-inciding with games our team were playing in.
Then, after about 20 years, when the whole city seemed to have changed, and not necessarily for the better, we started rediscovering places we used to go to as children, for the purpose of showing them to our grandchildren.
This is one of those occasions, written after a visit before COVID stopped tourism and interstate travel dead in its tracks.
…
These donuts are whole with jam injected into them and are delicious. You cannot stop at one, which is why you get five.
There are like the donuts I used to get from the Dandenong market when I was a child. Back then, nearly 60 years ago, I used to go every Tuesday to get fruit and vegetables, and sometimes clothes, because there were other stalls selling useful household items.
Back then we used to get donuts, and for a long time, I had never managed to get back when the market was open to relive those childhood memories.
This trip we do.
The Dandenong Market had changed considerably since the last time I remember it. The building where my eldest son used to play basketball has been turned over to meat, fish, and food stalls.
It has spread to be about ten times the size it used to be, making it seem like a difficult task to find the donut van, but we entered by the right entrance and there it was.
And the donuts?
They were exactly as I remembered.
While we’re in the area we also make a trip to the Springvale market. When I lived in Victoria there was no such market, this had only been around since the immigrant Vietnamese have made their home in Springvale, and in places, it reminds you of similar markets in Singapore, Hong Kong, or China.
It was a fascinating half-hour of wandering around almost feeling like you are somewhere in South East Asia.
With markets like these who would really need a supermarket? And a bonus? The street food.
West Lake is a freshwater lake in Hangzhou, China. It is divided into five sections by three causeways. There are numerous temples, pagodas, gardens, and artificial islands within the lake.
Measuring 3.2 kilometers (2 miles) in length, 2.8 kilometers (1.7 miles) in width, and 2.3 meters (7.5 feet) in average depth, the lake spreads itself in an area totaling 6.5 square kilometers (2.5 square miles).
The earliest recorded name for West Lake was the “Wu Forest River”, but over time it changed to two distinct names. One is “Qiantang Lake”, due to the fact that Hangzhou was called “Qiantang” in ancient times. The other, “West Lake”, due to the lake being west of the city
It’s about to get busy, with a number of activities planned, and the warmth of the day is starting to make an impact.
The tour starts in the car park about a kilometer away, but the moment we left the car park we were getting a taste of the park walking along a tree-lined avenue.
When we cross the road, once again dicing with death with the silent assassins on motor scooters.
We are in the park proper, and it is magnificent, with flowers, mostly at the start hydrangeas and then any number of other trees and shrubs, some carved into other flower shapes like a lotus.
Then there was the lake and the backdrop of bridges and walkways.
And if you can tune out the background white noise the place would be great for serenity and relaxation.
That, in fact, was how the boat ride panned out, about half an hour or more gliding across the lake in an almost silent boat, by an open window, with the air and the majestic scenery.
No, not that boat, which would be great to have lunch on while cruising, but the boat below:
Not quite in the same class, but all the same, very easy to tune out and soak it in.
It was peaceful, amazingly quiet, on a summery day
A pagoda in the hazy distance, an island we were about to circumnavigate.
Of all the legends, the most touching one is the love story between Bai Suzhen and Xu Xi’an. Bai Suzhen was a white snake spirit and Xu Xi’an was a mortal man.
They fell in love when they first met on a boat on the West Lake, and got married very soon after.
However, the evil monk Fa Hai attempted to separate the couple by imprisoning Xu Xi’an. Bai Suzhen fought against Fa Hai and tried her best to rescue her husband, but she failed and was imprisoned under the Leifeng Pagoda by the lake.
Years later the couple was rescued by Xiao Qing, the sister of Baisuzhen, and from then on, Bai Suzhen and Xu Xi’an lived together happily.
The retelling of the story varied between tour guides, and on the cruise boat, we had two. Our guide kept to the legend, the other tour guide had a different ending.
Suffice to say it had relevance to the two pagodas on the far side of the lake.
There was a cafe or restaurant on the island, but that was not our lunch destination.
Nor were the buildings further along from where we disembarked.
All in all the whole cruise took about 45 minutes and was an interesting break from the hectic nature of the tour.
Oh yes, and the boat captain had postcards for sale. We didn’t buy any.
Lunch
At the disembarkation point there was a mall that sold souvenirs and had a few ‘fast food’ shops, and a KFC, not exactly what we came to China for, but it seemed like the only place in town a food cautious Australian could eat at.
And when tried to get in the door, that’s where at least 3 busloads were, if they were not in the local Starbucks. Apparently, these were the places of first choice wherever we went.
The chicken supply by the time we got to the head of the line amounted to pieces at 22.5 RMB a piece and nuggets. Everything else had run out, and for me, there were only 5 pieces left. Good thing there were chips.
And Starbucks with coffee and cheesecake.
At least the setting for what could have been a picnic lunch was idyllic.
But not one where the plane crashes, though the figurative kinds of disasters always seem to feature, aeroplanes, airports, and passengers.
Certainly, every time I go near an aeroplane there’s a plethora of detail available for the next plot-line, or even a short story. I just have to remember that being put down the back of the plane is not an insult, but the airline considering my survival if we crash!
It seems almost inevitable when travelling anywhere on a plane that something can and will go wrong. Not necessarily with the plane, but that happens too, but rarely, if ever, have I been on an overseas flight that has not left or arrived late for any one of a multitude of reasons.
The last was just one in a long line of many…
It is not always a problem with the aircraft that causes delays. Whilst often it is a case of technical difficulties, but this time it wasn’t.
We are missing a passenger.
Yep, on a plane that carries 301 passengers, we were missing the one. And because they have not made the boarding cutoff, their baggage has to be offloaded. Since there are 300 plus other bags to sort through, it will take time.
Scheduled departure time 8:45, an announcement about the offloading was at 8:35, it’s now 8:50. Ok, now we’re closing the front door. Let’s see what happens now.
8:52, the captain says we’re sorted, but…
Oh, the dreaded we’ve missed our slot and now have wait for the next. Last time that happened, in France, we waited an hour. In New York, Newark actually we just pulled over to the side of the taxi area and switched off the engines.
This is Brisbane, not so large an airport so it may not be a long wait.
9:01, we’re pushing back. Finally a slot.
But…
There are five other planes in front of us, so it’s all adding up to a delayed arrival. 9:15 and still taxiing.
9:30, 45 minutes late we finally take off. Let’s see how this affects our arrival time. The flight time is advised to be 2 hours and 25 minutes. This means if the flying time is correct, we should be landing in Auckland at 13:55 pm, local time. New Zealand is, by the way, two hours ahead of Brisbane.
11:45, (or 13:45 local time) we commence our descent. Landed at 14:10 local time.
It could have been worse.
What am I saying, we have now to negotiate immigration and then find our baggage?
We all have our favourite places, ours is a coffee franchise called Zaraffas. It has a giraffe as its logo, and an African motif to remind us of something, perhaps that they make good coffee, or the coffee comes from Africa.
Problem is, it’s been going downhill. It’s happened before, and I suspect it’s all in the name of making more money, and not being interested in the customer’s desire for a good cup of coffee.
It started out as being the best compared to a lot of other places, like Coffee Club, like Starbucks, and others. I never liked Starbucks, and my hate affair began in New York, and spread back home. Their coffee is far to weak for a double shot. Perhaps only in China does Starbucks shine, or the fact it was the only coffee franchise we could believe was safe.
But, back to Zaraffas, recently the coffee has been getting weaker, which for a double shot, is odd. You might put it down to the fact staff turnover was high, and some were still learning to be baristas, but then, the people we used to rely on made the coffee, and it was still weak.
A double shot went to a triple shot. Slight improvement, but it gradually got worse. There’s only two excuses, they changed coffee beans to a cheaper brand, or they’re not putting as much coffee in the strainer. That, I learned, when looking up the making of coffee, can be critical. It needs to be tamped down tightly to get a good brew.
So, we went elsewhere, a place called Merlo. It’s cheaper, but the results are completely different. A double shot is a true double shot, it tastes better, much better. Different beans.
There’s another place just around the corner, that had organic coffee. More expensive, but you can really taste the difference.
I’m sad, but we don’t go to our usual place unless it’s on the way home. Life’s too short to be compromising, especially where coffee is concerned.
And, just as a matter of interest, while in New York for a week, I went to the same coffee shop every morning, and never got the same cup of coffee for each of the days. A double shot, latte with two sugars had so many different connotations, by the third day, it became a game, until I realised they didn’t make coffee the same as we have in Australia. There they just push a button.
Perhaps that’s part of the coffee drinkers adventure there, you never know what you’re going to get. In the end, I settled for the brewed coffee and vanilla milk in the hotel’s breakfast bar.
Let’s forget about the what and the who and the when for the moment, and figure out the location.
After all, we couldn’t make a movie unless we have somewhere to shoot it. Those places are called locations, and before a film begins someone has to go out and find locations.
Sometimes it’s easy, because you know where the story is based.
New York, London, Singapore, Moscow.
It’s more likely it will be somewhere you’ve been, or where you live.
I live in Brisbane, in Australia. Not a lot of people overseas know of it. Oddly enough before I moved here over 30 years ago, it was just a name on a map.
But the point is, now that I’m here I could write a story based in Brisbane. Or as easily, in Melbourne, where I also used to live.
Or I could select a place I’ve travelled to, perhaps not once, but a few times, and each time taking photographs and notes about that place, thinking one day I could used it as a location.
I have, and I do. It’s one of the reasons why I like to travel. I’m always on the lookout for someplace new.
Several of my books are based in New York, several in London, and various parts of the story find the characters in places like Paris, Rome, Florence, Tuscany, Hong Kong, Singapore, and Moscow.
Then, sometimes when my knowledge is lacking in some of the finer points of the city, Google maps, and Google itself are there to fill in the gaps. I have virtually driven down streets in London, especially near Kew Gardens and in Knightsbridge, checking locations.
Suffice to say, I know some parts of London like the back of my hand, and recently, before COVID, visited and did a spot check just to be sure.
With COVID 19 causing havoc with travel plans, virtual travel is all I can do at present.
Then there’s building, like houses, apartments, any sort of building which may require some knowledge.
I guess what I’m saying is that there’s more to locations than just saying something is there, it had to fit the area. Yes, the story is a work of fiction, but sometimes it’s better to have an idea of what’s there, or readers will be disappointed.
Especially if they live in that city, town, village, house or tent.
I actually use the real estate advertisements in a city of town where I want to have a house, because it gives you a map, exterior views, how to get there, and best of all what it looks like inside.
Still can’t afford that $12,000,000 apartment in New York, but the views, there were to die for.
But I, as always, digress…
Now it’s starting to sound like a lot of hard work.
It is.
Even if you go down the ‘pantser’ road, there’s still lot of research to be done.
Not much of a revelation when it’s winter, but why is it when you have to go somewhere in a hurry, the universe knows, and tries to throw everything at you so you don’t get there on time?
I like to be punctual.
I’m one of those people who leave home to get to the airport hours before I have to because I know, from past experience, that if you leave at the time where you’d make it with an hour to spare, you would get stuck in the mother of all traffic jams.
I know this to be true. It’s happened more than once to me,
If you’re not in a hurry, you get the best run you’ve ever had. I know that’s true too, because that’s what happens most times.
It’s like when at work you’re in a hurry to get a photocopy. The machine knows if you’re stressed and picks that particular moment to break down. That use to happen to me more times that I’d had hot dinners.
Sorry, I needed to use that expression, which generally means a lot. That photocopy machine, back in the days when they were huge and almost a new fad, my task every Tuesday was to copy a 3 page shipping report, 300 odd times. Not once did I get a clean run, not in the two years it was my job.
But…
Back to the weather.
My day to pick up one of the grandchildren from the railway station. It’s not far from our house, on any other day it would take about ten minutes, but since this is after 3 pm, I have the other school traffic to contend with, the tradies going home, and late afternoon shoppers getting dinner.
It never used to be like that. The road was a single lane that used to be blocked by floods when it rained, there was no shopping centre, and no new estates. In 30 years everything has arrived, the road expanded to two lanes either side, and almost continual traffic jams.
There’s a story there somewhere, but for the moment I have to take on the traffic. Maybe once I get to the station I might have time to consider it.
When you venture out from the city, particularly, this city, you find yourself among the blocks that run to several acres, allotments that are ideal for keeping a horse or two.
Inner suburban living often runs to high rise apartment blocks, with no gardens, except perhaps on the roof.
Outer suburban living runs to individual houses on allotments that are from 600 to 2,000 square meters. We have not yet gone into mass building of duplexes or terrace housing because for the time being, we don’t have the population.
And, this is why you only have to go about 35 kilometres from the centre of the city to be able to buy acreage.
So, we are visiting, and on such a glorious end of winter day, it’s a pleasure to sit on the back verandah, spending some time soaking up the sunshine, breathing the country fresh air, and let the inspiration flow into writing.
It works.
I’ve manage to write another photograph inspired story, number 124, which will be published on my writing blog in the next day or so.
Also being tackled will be the next chapter of PI Walthensen’s second case.
Unfortunately though, the inspirational location didn’t afford me a title for this new case but it will have the opening three words “A Case Of…’
The rest, I’m sure, will come as the story unfolds.
And probably would be, if I was away on holidays in Europe, simply because I’ve always wanted to be in Belgium on a Tuesday just so I could use that line. Not going to happen while COVID 19 is with us.
By the way, that line is out of a movie, but I’m not sure which one. Obviously, it wasn’t that great if I can’t remember it.
But…
Searching for locations for my stories takes a lot of time and effort, using Google Earth and other means like street view. Finding houses, or apartments required a great deal of real estate research, almost to the point of buying a property.
Is there any better way to see the street it’s in, the neighbors, the neighborhood, and inside the house and gardens. Almost as if you lived there, which of course you do in the story.
In reality, I’m in Canada on the trans-Canada highway heading towards Banff, on icy roads in winter. Yes, that’s where we were the year before last in early January, getting a feel for the place, the roads, the weather, the people, and the places.
Cold, yes. Atmospheric, yes, exciting, double yes. Sometimes research is really fun, well, I don’t call it that, otherwise everyone else will think it was not the birthday treat that it was meant to be.
And was.
My wife’s 65th birthday was one she certainly will never forget.
So..,
Writing is proceeding better now that I’ve knuckled down. The Trans-Canada experience has been translated into a story attached to a photo and will be posted soon. It will also become a new episodic story, and will start when the helicopter crash story ends.
The treasure hunt has taken shape, and there’s lots of twists and turns, with people yet to show their true colours. It always seems that way when there’s a fortune at stake. There’s going to be new players, and contingency plans. Evil will be lurking behind and under every rock.
And as for the helicopter crash and its aftermath, this finally has been brought to a conclusion, but not without a bit of heart stopping terror involved.
My other story, in war time Germany and Italy, is humming along, but it is about to hot up in the castle. Our defector is yet to get there, but, by the time he does, our hero is going to have to clean up both the rogue resistance, and treasonous soldiers. Sounds easy, but in reality, it’s going to be a lot tougher.
We shall see.
And the Being Inspired series just got to 123, and 124 is ready to be published.
