Tag: Non Fiction

A lonely tree on the foreshore

With a little time to spare before dropping the grandchildren off to a lunch party, we went for a drive along the coast south of Brisbane and ended up in a suburb called Raby Bay.

The foreshore park was quite large, but there was very little vegetation, except for this tree which stood out against the blue of the sea, and the blue of the sky.

Needless to say, it is one of the more expensive suburbs of Brisbane, and relatively new since it used to be mangrove swamp about 30 or 40 years ago.

Now it had a lot of very modern, and very e pensive houses and seaside apartments, especially those with parking spaces for their boats. I guess that’s better than having to store or moor it at the marina.

Except if the boat is this large:

Searching for locations: Driving in ice and snow, Canada

This morning started with a visit to the car rental place in Vancouver.  It reinforced the notion that you can be given the address and still not find the place.  It happened in Washington where it was hiding in the back of the main railway station, and it happened again in Vancouver when it was hidden inside a hotel.

We simply walked straight past it.  Pity there wasn’t a sign to let people know.

However…

We went in expecting a Grand Jeep Cherokee and walked out with a Ford Flex, suitable for three people and four large suitcases.  It actually seats 7, but forget the baggage, you’d be lucky to get two large suitcases in that configuration.

It is more than adequate for our requirements.

Things to note, it was delivered with just over a quarter of a tank of gas, and it had only done about 11,000 km, so it’s relatively new.  It’s reasonably spacious, and when the extra seats are folded down, there is plenty of baggage space.

So far, so good.

We finally leave the hotel at about half-past ten, and it is raining.  It is a simple task to get on Highway 1, the TransCanada Highway, initially, and then onto Highway 5, the Coquihalla Highway for the trip to Kamloops.

It rains all the way to the top of the mountain, progress hampered from time to time by water sprays from both vehicles and trucks.  The rain is relentless.  At the top of the mountain, the rain turns into snow and the road surface to slush.  It’s 0 degrees, but being the afternoon, I was not expecting it to turn to ice very quickly.

On the other side of the mountain, closer to Kamloops, there was sleet, then rain, then nothing, the last 100kms or so, in reasonably dry conditions.

Outside Kamloops, and in the town itself, there was evidence of snow recently cleared, and slushy roads.  Cars in various places were covered in snow, indicating the most recent falls had been the night before.

We’re staying at the Park Hotel, a heritage building, apparently built in the later 1920s.  In the style of the time, it is a little like a rabbit warren with passages turning off in a number of directions, and showing it is spread across a number of different buildings.

It has the original Otis elevator that can take a maximum of four passengers, and a sign on the wall that says “no horseplay inside the elevator” which is a rather interesting expression that only someone of my vintage would understand.  And, for those without a sense of humor, you definitely couldn’t fit a horse in it to play with.

The thing is, how do you find a balance between keeping the old world charm with modern-day expectations.  You can’t.  Some hotels try valiantly to get that balance.  Here, it is simply old world charm, which I guess we should be grateful for because sooner rather than later it’s going to disappear forever.

In my writer’s mind, given the importance of the railways, this was probably a thriving place for travelers, and once upon a time, there were a lot more hotels like this one.

In a word: Idle

It can relate to an object such as an engine in a car when sitting at traffic lights. Then the engine is not in gear or under any load, therefore it is idle.

That he is idle might mean he is currently not working or refuses to work. Then it could be said he is bone idle which is to say he is any or all of lazy, or shiftless, even indolent

It could refer to the time when nothing is happening.

It could also refer to money in accounts not earning any interest

How many of us indulge in idle chatter, which is meaningless?

And how many of us have made an idle threat, especially to a child who refuses to go to bed, or sleep.

 

This is not to be confused with idol

An idol is generally thought of as a representation of a god, one used as an object of worship.

An idol can also be a person who is greatly admired, like a celebrity or superstar or a hero.

It could also be a figment of the imagination.

 

Then there is idyll which could be an extremely happy place, or a picturesque period or situation, one that is unsustainable

It could also be a short verse about rustic life.

In a word: Prior

Of course, prior means gone before, as in past history, or perhaps only a few moments ago; it happened prior to my arrival on the scene.

But it can also mean, quite confusingly, to something in the future, when trying to get out of a meeting by saying I’ve got a prior appointment.

If you are an aficionado of American police dramas then you will be well acquainted with the prior, meaning a previous criminal conviction.

 

And for something quite different, a prior is a priest of sorts, who to me were named as such in the middle ages.  A prior is below an Abbot and is head of a house of friars.  By the way, the most notable friar I know is Friar Tuck

A prior could also be a magistrate in the medieval republic of Florence.

 

It is not to be doubly confused with Pryer or Prier

Someone who pries into another’s business, the most notable prier, the woman across the road from Samantha, in Bewitched.

 

In a word: Anonymous

Which is how I feel sometimes.

It can be a paradox in that an ordinary man may strive to be recognised, that is, to rise above his inherent anonymity simply because he feels he has something more to offer mankind than just making up the numbers.

But sadly, that desire will often be met with staunch resistance, not because there’s an active campaign against him, it’s just the way of the world.

The fact is, most of us will always be anonymous to the rest of the world, but in being so in that respect it’s that anonymity we can live with.  However, it’s far more significant if we become anonymous to those around us.  And, sadly, it can happen.

It’s when we take someone for granted.

At the other end of the scale, there is the celebrity, who has finally found fame, discovers that fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.  You find that meteoric rise from obscurity an adrenaline rush, and you’re no longer anonymous.

But all that changes when you are constantly bailed up in the street by well-meaning but annoying fans when you are being chased by the paparazzi and magazine reporters who thrive not on the fact that you are famous but watching and waiting for you to stumble.

Some often forget that there’s always a camera on them, or there’s a reporter lurking in the shadows, looking for the next scoop, capturing that awkward inexplicable moment when the celebrity is seen with someone who’s not their spouse, or worse, if it could be that, they get drunk and make a fool of themselves.

Do I really want to lose that anonymity that I have?

Not really.  It seems to me like it might be the lesser of two evils.

Just a state of mind

I can’t say I’m not somewhat fascinated by the conflagration that’s going on around me.

Perhaps that’s because I’m one of the older and more vulnerable of the population. They say older is wiser, but I’m not so sure anymore. Being old, and with an underlying medical condition means you are more susceptible to getting any sort of bug and have a higher percentage of dying from it.

I try not to think about it.

And Chester, my cat, had recently also been getting nervous, being 18 cat years (over a hundred human years) and susceptible too, so he hears.

Perhaps I shouldn’t keep watching the live, continuous updates on the COVID 19 crisis. Well, perhaps it’s more than a crisis, but somehow pandemic doesn’t quite fit the horrendous nature of it.

And that’s something else I’ve noticed.

People seem to be laughing it off as a hoax, or a flu strain, or something that might just go away all by itself. 760,000 infections later, I think President Trump got that slightly wrong, but don’t tell him because he never said that, even if he did, and you have concrete evidence, and then he’ll still deny he said it.

But, as you can see, Chester and I have found a new way to lighten our day, we watch what we call The Trump Show.

It’s two hours, sometimes, of, well, I’m not quite sure what it is, but it doesn’t reassure me one bit.

Good thing, then, I live in another country, one where the people are, by and large, doing as the government health officials ask us to do, and we are seeing results.

And our leaders, Local, State and Federal don’t refer to us losing our rights and privileges as residents in a democracy, they ask us to stay home and stay safe, and above all, look after our elderly and vulnerable people.

It’s a repeated and sustained message universally given to us by everyone. We don’t even have partisan politics. The opposition whinge, but basically agree with everything the government is trying to do.

I’m not sure anywhere else other than New Zealand have that luxury.

So, here I am, happily writing, the same as I’ve been doing for the last five years.

Basically, nothing has changed. I go to the supermarket and get groceries, I go to the doctor, I go to the pharmacy, I get to see my grandchildren, and every now and then have dinner with my children, but one family at a time. It will no doubt be some time before we can all sit down together, but I don’t mind. All of them together is hard work.

What I do miss is the travel.

And, sadly, I don’t think any of us will be doing any travelling, especially overseas, for a long time. Good thing then we had travelled extensively and afar during the previous ten years. We were only saying a few weeks ago, it was time to see our own country.

Maybe that will happen sooner rather than later.

But I’m not sure if Chester is all that happy about us being here more than usual. I suspect our 2, 3, and 4 weeks away suited him, having the run of the house, able to climb up on the seats and furniture, and whatever else cats do when you’re not looking.

I hear more of his grumpy tones, and he’s a bit more feisty than usual.

Maybe I shouldn’t have threatened to get a dog.

Anyway, our curve has flattened, whatever that means, and things are looking good. Nobody wants to take anything for granted so we’re going to stick it out for another few weeks, and then, maybe we can start moving about more.  Of course, down south everything is going to hell, so it might mean we have to shut the door on everyone and everything in order to keep the invisible bug out.

Hopefully, everyone will get back to work, but I suspect our world will never be quite the same. Some industries will shutter the doors permanently, particularly airlines, and others will spring up, like out manufacturing which we long ago sold out the foreign entities. Wasn’t that a huge mistake?

Children doing schoolwork at home. That would be unheard of in days before the internet.  They’re back as school, but over here, we believe that they can get the virus and transmit it, so if any one child does, the school’s doors will be closing.

Unlike other countries, we value our older teachers and families with grandparents.

People buying everything online rather than going to a storefront. Also not widely accepted until now, and I think everyone is going to take advantage of the convenience.  Stores ar reopening, but the problem is people are not exercising the social distancing, so that might stop, especially in nightclubs, pubs and restaurants.

Greed, sadly, trumps common sense, and although the owners say they’re trying, really they’re not.  And it is annoying that money is more important than lives.  I guess that’s the sort of world it took a pandemic to discover.

People will be looking at movies at home, on very large tv screens and sound systems that will rival theatres; construction companies say that new houses are being built with media rooms these days.  I won’t be going to a theatre any time soon now that they think the virus is airborne.  Hell, with the sneezing and coughing droplets of the disease up to 3 or 4 meters what were they thinking saying it isn’t airborne?

And everyone will be a lot more careful about personal hygiene and more aware of their surrounds and the people in that sphere. After all, there is currently no cure for this bug, and it has the propensity to spread while no one knows their contagious – and it will kill anyone.

And something else that not many people are saying out loud, is that you don’t fully recover from it, even though you think you have. You will become susceptible to flu, and pneumonia later on, and without a doubt, this bug could mutate into something even nastier even if we do find a vaccine.  The vaccine is not going to save us.  It’ll just help the mutation process like flu strains and other bugs that are now resistant to our best anti-biotics.

I don’t really believe in conspiracy theories, but something I do take away from this; I hope it wasn’t deliberately made for a purpose, possibly to kill the elderly and the sick (and those who didn’t know they were sick) much like the Nazis did in a more crude fashion, and they do say history repeats itself.

It seems to be a weapon, people are saying we are waging a war, and thus it highlights the fact it doesn’t matter how many nuclear weapons you have, how many soldiers, tanks, battlecruisers, guns or anything else military, they are useless against this. All that money wasted in the ideal of protecting ourselves, and a sneaky virus comes in the back door and kills just as many invisibly. And without a cure…

Think about it. Who has the most to gain by creating a worldwide catastrophe?

And who will magically become the saviour?

Questions are going to be asked, governments are going to have to completely rethink their plans of fitting into the global economy at the expense of their own industries, and people will have to rethink how they live their lives, and whether they can sleep at night feeling safe.

I have one vote.

That vote will be going to the candidates who put their people first and self-interest last. That way I know I’ll be able to sleep at night.

 

Searching for locations: Florence, Italy

Apologies now if I have misspelled any street, piazza or any other names.

The first time we arrived in Florence was by train, from Innsbruck in Austria.  We had been booked into the Hotel Brunelleschi, based on the fact it was built over part of a 12th-century monastery, it was conveniently located, and was a luxury hotel.

We took a taxi, not knowing how far it was, and found it tucked away in a street, via Sant’elisabetta, not far from Florence’s cathedral, the Duomo.  The taxi barely fitted through the streets.  First impressions, it was old, second impression, the room we were given was amazing, with a view over the main street, and wafting up from a food shop below, the aroma of newly baked waffles.  We had to have one.

Words cannot describe how amazing it was to wake up that first morning and look out at the bright sunshine and blue sky.  We were in for a hot day, but that wasn’t going to deter the tourist in us.  Of course, after we had a great breakfast.  I particularly liked the crispy bacon.

The first place on the list to visit was the Piazza del Duomo, where the cathedral is located, and the Porta del Paradiso.  We went into the church, and also did a side trip down into the crypt.  We did not climb to the top of Brunelleschi’s cupola.  We tried the pizza, and hearing that the gelato was very expensive in the main part of the city, ventured further afield and found a gelato vendor that was inexpensive.  As the day was very hot it was a welcome relief.

The Ponte Vecchio, the bridge that crosses the Arno.  We walked to the bridge, taking in the views up and down the river before crossing to the other side, then back towards the Piazza Santa Croce.  On our most recent visit there was a football competition, Calcio Fiorentino, in progress that had taken over the whole Piazza, and during the day there was a parade where all the teams and others dressed in the historic clothing dating back to the 15th century.

The Galleria dell’Accademia was also high on the list of places to visit, and we left the hotel early as we had heard the queues are long to get in.  They were right.  We were at the end of a very, very long queue stretching back to Via delgi Alfani.  We were in the queue for about an hour and a half and it didn’t seem to move very quickly.

Then some people passing by said that we could go to the Museo Di San Marco, and purchase tickets to enter the gallery at a particular time.  We had also read or heard something similar, and, taking a risk we left the queue and went in search.  We found it at the Piazza San Marco, purchased tickets for 13:30 and had time to have lunch before turning up at the entrance for our timeslot, and sure enough, with others who had also purchased tickets, we went in.

Just out of curiosity I went back to the queue to see when the people in front of us were, and they still had an hour before gaining admission.

We saw everything that was recommended, including the famous statue of David, though I had a lot of trouble taking a photo when people kept walking in front.

The Piazza Della Signoria has a large number of statues, including another of David, the Marzocco, the symbol of Florence, Il Perseo, the fountain of Neptune, Poseidon, Perseus with the head of Medusa, and a hall of statues adjacent to the Palazzo Vecchio.

Florence is old, the roads are cobbled and narrow, and there are many trails one can follow and discover something new at the end of every twist and turn.

I have to go back, other than the fact I need a new wallet and belt made from Italian leather.  My wife loves the purses and handbags, also leather, though the scarves have only recently been added to her list of most wanted items.

But, in reality, I want to simply soak up the atmosphere, relax, eat the pasta and drink the endless supply of Moretti’s.

In a word: Dry

We all know what this means, without moisture, in other words not wet.

It could also mean dull factually, as in reading some non-fiction books, and quite often those prescribed as mandatory reading at school.

You could also have a dry sense of humour, where you have to be on your game to understand, or get, the humour.

It could also describe boredom by saying that it’s like watching paint dry.

For those who like a bit of a tipple, the last place you want to go is a dry bar, where no alcohol is served.

Perhaps this should be mandatory for weddings and funerals, places where feelings often run very high and do not need the stimulus of half a dozen double Scotches.

And speaking of alcohol and cider in particular, you can have it sweet, dry, or draft. Many people prefer dry, sometimes the drier the better, especially wine, and oddly martinis.

Aside from whether they are shaken or stirred.

But the most fascinating version of dry is dry cleaning. Just how can you ‘dry’ clean clothes?

Would that be what they call an oxymoron?

In a word: Bore, or is that boar

I’ve had the ubiquitous pleasure of being called one, and that is, a bore.

Probably because I spend so much time telling people about the joys and woes of being a writer.

You can be a tedious bore, cooking could be a bore, and then you could bore someone to death, and then you will bore the responsibility of, yes, doing just that.

Would it be murder or manslaughter?

But, of course, there are other meanings of the word, such as, on my farm I have a bore.

No, we’re not talking about the farmhand, but where artesian water is brought to the surface, in what would otherwise be very arid land.

Or, could be the size of a drill hole, and in a specific instance the measurement of the circular space that piston goes up and down.  And if you increase the size of the bore, the more powerful the engine.

Or it could refer to the size of a gun barrel, for all of you who are crime fiction writers.

But, let’s not after all of that, confuse it with another interpretation of the word, boar, which is basically a male pig.

It could also just as easily describe certain men.

Then there is another interpretation, boor, which is an extremely rude person, or a peasant, a country bumpkin or a yokel.

I’ve only seen the latter in old American movies.

There is one more, rather obscure interpretation, and that is boer, which is a Dutch South African, who at the turn of the last century found themselves embroiled in a war with the British.

Searching for locations: The canals of Suzhou, China

This morning is a boat ride that will take us along a small portion of the main canal, and we head through a number of back streets, to a landing where there are a number of boats all vying with each other to get us passengers on boats.

But…

These boats don’t have a wharf to tie up to and then put out a stable gangplank.  No.  They just more into a concrete step and you take your life in your hands getting on.  One wrong step and you’re in the canal.  And not a very clean one at that.

That’s if another boat doesn’t come along and bumps you, knocking you off balance.  We managed not to lose anyone in boarding the vessel.

This is where we get on the boat

We go along what appears to be downstream towards another larger canal, past tree-lined streets until the canal narrows and we’re looking at the backs of houses, which look very dilapidated.

And the canals?  Well, it’s not quite like it is in Venice

Though some parts of the canal look better than others

What doesn’t bear thinking about is the electrical wiring which is a nightmarish spider web of cables going off in all directions.  How anyone could troubleshoot problems is beyond me.

We pass under a number of bridges, and then, about 30 minutes after leaving, we reach a larger canal and do a 180-degree turn, and head back to a drop off point the will enable us to walk through a typical everyday Chinese market for food and the other items.

This drop off point is much the same as the starting point, a concrete step which is as hazardous as the first.  At least we don’t have to compete with other boats for the landing spot.

We take a leisurely stroll down a small section of Pingjiang Road with small shops on either side, selling all manner of goods

but my interest is in the food and the prices, which at times seem quite expensive for so-called local people, so maybe because the tourists go down this street every day, the prices have been inflated accordingly.

I find it rather disappointing.

We walk to the bridge, go under to the other side crossing the canal and find the coffee shop which is also the meeting place.

So…

When is a coffee shop not a coffee shop, when it takes an eternity to make a cup of coffee, we waited 25 minutes?

We also ordered beef black pepper rice and it took 20 minutes before it arrived, but it was well worth the wait.  Strands of perfectly cooked beef with onion, carrot, and capsicum, with a very peppery and spicy sauce, with a side of boiled rice.

A pizza was ordered too but it did not arrive at all before we left.