Tag: Non Fiction

In a word: Holiday

Some call time off from work whether it is for a day, a few days, and couple of weeks, or maybe longer, a holiday.

Or leave, leave of absence, annual leave, or long service leave.

Others may call it vacation.

It depends on what part of the world you live in.

But the end result is the same, you do not go to work, so you stay home and do all those things that have mounted up, you drive up, and for some reason it is always up, to the cabin, for a little hunting shooting a fishing, or you get on a planr or a ship and try to get as far away from home and work as possible.

That’s called going overseas. It seems if there is an ocean between w there you go and where you live, no one will be able to disturb you.

Sorry, I bet you didn’t leave that mobile phone or iPad home did you?

But, of course there are a few other obscure references to the word holiday.

For instance,

It can be a day set aside to commemorate an event or a person, a day when you are not expected to work, e.g. Memorial Day, Christmas Day, Good Friday. In Britain they used to be called Bank Holidays.

It can be a specified period that you may be excused from completing a task, or doing something such as getting a one year tax exemption, which maifh also be called a one year tax holiday.

Yes, now that is an obscure reference, particularly when no tax department would ever grant anyone an exemption of any sort.

We all change over time

The other day when visiting a friend I was asked if I would like some camomile tea. I said it was something I had tried once and didn’t like, which prompted the comment ‘you don’t seem to like very much’.

It was not a comment made in malice, we have known each other a long time, but I didn’t realize it until then that our individual tastes had changed over time, more particularly in my case.

I used to drink tea with milk and three, sometimes more, sugars once, drink the archetypal Australian beer like Fosters Lager and Carlton Draught, but in recent years found I could no longer drink it and had switched to European beers such as Peroni or Heineken.

It got me thinking about how our likes and dislikes change over time, sometimes through a bad experience (as is the case with a type of alcohol – mine is tequila), sometimes for other reasons, like for dietary or health reasons (one is having diabetes).

My steak preference has changed from medium to medium-rare to rare, I no longer have tea with milk and sugar, and drastically cut down on chocolate.

Another phenomenon I have noticed particularly in my and my wife’s case is how our tastes have changed together, so I’m assuming that is from familiarity.

In the case of friends, you do not necessarily see them all that often, so it would be possible for them to change and you do not know about it, and no doubt eventually prompt a comment.

There is also the case of external influences on each of us that bring changes, such as those who have children and those who do not, those who travel to particular places and those who travel to different places, even having a different job can affect our lives.

This is why, over time, our friends come and go, going off in different directions for one or many reasons.

I guess that’s why the saying ‘change is not always for the better’ came into being, but, there again, for some the exact opposite might be true.

In a word: Under

Under by itself is a rather boring word, you know, under the moon, under the sea, under the influence, which is not hard to be if you’ve been hypnotised or after a few drinks.

Under is anything beneath something else.

But lts add it to some other words like,

Under rated, which means it is better that what others give it credit.

Under wear, what you would wear underneath your clothes.

Under study, the person who takes over a lead role when the lead is incapacitated. And how many understudys are guilty of harming the lead, in order to get a big break?

And not get away with it?

Under stood, an agreement that might or might not be in writing that something will happen, that is, it is understood that I will be the next president.

Or not. Who on earth would really want to be president of anything.

So in the spirit of trying to cionfuse everyone all of the time, I have a conundrum in thr form of a question, whar is the difference between under and underneath.

To me there is none, you can be under the sea or underneath the sea, or under the table or underneath the table, but then there’s another, you can be under the influence but not underneath the influence, though technically you could, if you wanted to used confusing English.

And, just to add to the confusion further, I can say that the submarine sailed under the sea, underneath the sea, but, in actual fact, it doesnt.

What is under the sea is the sand, or sea bed, and a submarine does not plow its way through the sand, does it.

What we really should be saying is that a submarine moves through water.

Just saying…

Another day and, yes, another sad flight.

For those who believe that airlines can actually take off on time, we have a departure time 4:25, and boarding time, 3:40

Yep, and pigs really do fly. Not

We are still on the ground at 4:25, and the excuse is the late inbound flight but that’s as tired as I feel about airlines who just cannot give their customers the truth.

There is more likely a plethora of problems with this aircraft, and there isn’t enough duck tape to fix them.

I chose Qantas because of their safety record, but first impressions of the Airbus A330-200 is that it was the last plane built by the Wright Brothers.

Yes, it is that old.

The screens in the seatbacks are 5 x 5 inches in size and activated by a hand unit I haven’t seen since the early eighties.

And that unbelievable statistic is compounded by the fact mine is broken and it takes an engineer a few minutes to realize that it needs duck tape to temporarily fix it.

The truth of the matter is that this relic of the past should be at the Qantas museum in outback Queensland, than flying passengers.

I thought Qantas had a youngish fleet, but apparently not. It seems the lack of pilots on Boeing types has forced them to drag these Airbus relics out of mothballs.

I guess it’s our turn to roll the dice.

We are pushing back 1 hour and 8 minutes late. 15 minutes later we take off.

It’s rather unsettling but otherwise normal takeoff, so it’s now going to be interesting how much time we can make up. The flight time as originally quoted by the Captain was 3 hours and 39 minutes.

About an hour into the flight the Captain is obviously either trying hard to make up time or more to the point find a level where the headwinds are not as severe, because for the last ten minutes the engines have been given a real work out.

Usually in flight at this time is quiet, but at the moment we can hardly hear ourselves think. Memo to self must get noise-canceling headphones.

In between all the flight level changes, it’s time for dinner service, or more to the point what’s left service.

There is a choice of three items, beef, pork slop with rice, or chicken, a large cold lump of aforementioned meat with salad, very little salad.

The key choice here is the beef in gravy but by the time the trolley reaches row 50 the beef is all gone.

Surprise, surprise.

Ok, so most of the plane agreed with me on what was the best meal, and the 70 odd passengers down the back of the plane are deprived of a first choice and forced basically to eat leftovers.

I get the pork to prove a point, and it is every bit the garbage I expected and definitely not fit for human consumption.

God help the person who created that ‘dish’ but if it was the winning dish on a Masterchef episode, then I guess we got what we deserved.

Another memo to self, remind me to bring my dog next time. It seems Qantas is able to cater to animals better than they can humans.

Having expressed my opinion, I am reminded that to others the pork and rice dish might have been very good and that I should temper my remarks with the proviso the comments are my own opinion and do not represent that of others who may have enjoyed it.

And after dinner, it didn’t matter if we made up time or not. Leaving late, missing the preferred meal, and enduring no onboard entertainment, no, the engineer decided it needed more than duct tape to fix it, there was nothing left short of crashing that make this flight more enjoyable.

On a scale of one to ten, this was a minus six.

That rather odd world of customer complaints

I was going to write more about the waiting game, where it is the peak hour for shoppers and there’s only two cash registers open, or the bank tellers at lunchtime …

On and on. Nothing will change except for some of us, an increase in grey hair.

Time to move on, and get off my soapbox.

Perhaps we could delve into the online world of customer complaints.

It’s an interesting place, when I want to buy something, or see something that is too good to be true, I hit the computer, dial-up google, and go into investigative mode.

But, here’s the thing,

The only people who go online, by and large, are there to complain. Yes, there are a few positives, like five out of five stars, then the numbers show up for four stars, three stars, etc.

You get the impression that the owner of the product or service had written several 5-star good reports to counterbalance the negativity, which sometimes all belabor the same point.

For a long time when I saw the bad reports and very few good reports I thought the product was no good, but recently, when talking to someone whose product was for sale, and had a few bad reviews, they said if a customer is satisfied, why did they need to file a report. People had expressed their good opinion but had not added a review.

That might well be the case.

As an example, I looked at several river cruises in Europe and their operators. I then went online to check the customer ratings, because these river cruises are very expensive, so you need to know you’re getting value for money.

Nearly all of the reviews were bad and lacked any credible numbers. Those that were on the site were critical of the food the hygiene of the staff, the inability to get more than 1 ‘free’ drink with lunch or dinner, and substitute boats that were terrible.

Food and wine were the heart of this cruise, as well as cabin comfort, and the last thing you need is to be sick for the duration of the cruise.

I have to say I’m put off.

Perhaps I might revise my policy of looking for information on the internet. If the bad customer feedback continues we may never go anywhere ever again

Going to church

This is my least favored option for spending a Sunday morning, but having married a catholic and agreeing to adopt Catholicism, it’s one of those things that has to be done on rare occasions, usually a child’s milestone.

Yes, we went through our children’s moments like baptism, first communion, and confirmation, or these days in a somewhat different order. Then it came to the turn of our grandchildren and today the last child is making her first communion, and there will end our involvement till the last rites.

Hopefully.

Church to me doesn’t hold any real significance. It doesn’t mean that I would debunk the idea of religion and I firmly believe that if anyone believes in God, then that’s their right.

And it seems there are a lot of believers. I’m sitting in the church now and it is packed. It might be that it’s a captive audience given that it’s the first communion for grade three students and others. but given the enthusiasm of the children involved, I’d say the church was about to get over a hundred new followers.

Of course, a lot depends on the enthusiasm and devoutness of the parents who may wish to spend their Sundays in a different manner, but I suspect there are many here who will continue their devoutness in some form or other.

As for me, sadly, I will continue to use the only day of the week it’s possible to sleep in.

The Shanghai Magnetic train

This is the first highlight of the day, but it takes an hour and ten minutes to get to the station.

Good thing then the trains leave every fifteen minutes.

Also, in a practical sense, the train is also used to take people to and from the Pudong International airport.

We have to wait a few minutes for the incoming train, and everyone is lined up like excited schoolchildren. We’ve been told the best side to sit is the non-passing side which we do.

Also, it is possible to see from one end of the train to the other as there are no doors dividing the carriages.

But…

It seems to be bit old and creaky, making a fair amount of noise as it started cranking up the power, then elevating off the rail, ready to move forward.

Sadly it made as much noise as a normal train, and probably slightly more than the usual bullet train, particularly when it reached the advertised 431 kph.

This didn’t last very long because the 40 or so km trip took about 7 minutes, so by the time it hit 431, it sat there for about a minute before starting to slow down again.

All in all, it was a treat for those fast train enthusiasts to tick off their bucket list, but you wouldn’t go out of your way especially to ride in it unless you wanted a quick trip from Shanghai to the international airport.

Once was enough for me.

It’s time to move onto the Japanese bullet trains.

Searching for locations: Vancouver

It’s always a given that whatever city you stay in unless it’s overnight, you go on a tour and see the sights.

Even when you’re staying a short distance from the city, you make the effort to catch a train or bus, then get on the hop on hop off tour. There’s always one in just about every city you visit.

Vancouver was no exception.

Except…

We arrived in the rain, went to sleep while the rain came down, woke up to the rain, and a heavy dose of jet lag or perhaps it was more that we had spent 24 and a half hours traveling from Brisbane to Vancouver via Shanghai.

But…

We had an excellent view out the window of our room looking towards a shopping mall, and an excellent view of the steadily falling rain. I felt sorry watching the construction workers on the building site that was the main vista we had to look at.

It could have been worse. Endless mountains with snow on them.

What to do? Venture out in the rain and go on the tour, or pop over to the shopping mall and pick up a few boxing day bargains, no, sorry, boxing week bargains.

We have had some interesting experiences going on the hop on hop off tours in open-top busses in winter and rain. And the last time was not a pleasant experience, even though we learned a valuable lesson, not to stand in front of cannons and yell ‘fire’. Apparently, that’s how Admiral Nelson lost his arm.

Again, but…

The shopping mall won.

We’d wait and see if the weather improved. Hang on, isn’t Vancouver near Seattle and doesn’t it rain the 300 days of the year?

Not holding my breath.

I feel sorry for the construction workers again. Still raining, still cold, and still no reason to get out of bed.

Day 2 in Vancouver turned out to be the same as day 1.

Hang on, there’s a development.

We’re on the 16th floor and up at those lofty heights, we can see not only the rain but intermingled with it a few flakes of snow.

Whilst we procrastinate about what were going to do, the snowflakes increase into small flurries.

Yep, we’re off to the mall again and go for a walk in the snow.

On the way back we drop into the Boston Pizza, which has a sports bar and there you can sit, drink, eat, and watch the ice hockey, or whatever sort is going at the time.

Today it’s a junior ice hockey tournament, but Canada was not playing. Just the same, a long cold beer and ice hockey?

I can now cross that off the bucket list.

Day 3, we’re going on a great rail journey, well, we are going to get the train to the city and collect the rental car, on the booking form, supposedly a Jeep Grand Cherokee or similar.

Of course, ‘or similar’ are the words to be feared here because in truth the rental company can throw anything at you, so long as it matches the brief, three people and three large suitcases.

And, you guessed it…

The ‘or similar’ got us a Fort Flex.

Not quite the same in name or prestige.

Oh, well… When in Vancouver!

Going home

Home has a great many different meanings, for me, and, I guess, a great many others.

Over a lifetime we have a lot of different homes, we tend not to stay in one place all our lives.

I know, for me, my first home was in Carrum, when I was very young, and I don’t remember much of it. My second home was Mordialloc, but, again, I don’t remember much of it either.

My next home was Dandenong, in not one house, but two, the first I spent my grade school years, the second, my secondary school years, and in between a short period in a country town called Berrigan.

Then, after getting married, I left that house where my parents continued to live for quite a few years, as we bounced around, from Burnley to North Dandenong, having been drawn back to where I used to live, then back home to my parents for a short period, and North Dandenong again.

It’s curious how we return to certain places to live, rather than consider another suburb say North or West.

Equally curious about how I tend to call going home, when traveling in Australia, not, as you would think, our home in Queensland, but where we used to live in Victoria. I guess that is because it’s my spiritual home.

People often as if we would return to Victoria, and the answer, of course, is no. We might have all our family there, but it is not enough of a pull to return. We are content just to come back once or twice a year.

For us, Melbourne had become too large a city, with all the problems that go with it. Brisbane has and will be for the rest of my lifetime, have much fewer traffic problems and the feel of being less urbanized. One thing I don’t miss about being in Melbourne is the traffic. It is horrendous, any time of the day and night.

But what would be good in Brisbane is the markets like those at Queen Victoria and South Melbourne. We have nothing like it.

And something else, rather more frivolous, Brisbane doesn’t have the same fish and chips, donuts, or spring rolls and dim sims. Every time we come down, those are the first things we get, even if we have to go out of our way.

Since we have arrived in Melbourne, we have done two out of the three. We have 6 more days here to do the third. And managed to visit most of our relatives. The reason we’re down here is the wedding of my wife’s brother’s daughter, and there we will meet the rest.

It’s market day…

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.