She Served me Up a Dose of Giardia

But she meant well. It was a roast meat meal cooked on a spit which, when it took its full course disabled me in a hotel in Bangladesh two weeks later. Her two small boys hung around in the back of the stall. No one else had come near her stall all day and she was desperate. A Russian Jew, she had emigrated to Israel, ironically to avoid the racism of her home town. Jews were not welcome. Follow the white rabbit»

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A Malayan Emergency

We were set a task of writing a short story romance (2000 words) which included reference to a black and white photograph. I started with a photo I had found in a second hand store in Vietnam, but always thought the face gazing out of it looked Malay. I picked it up off my desk when I got back from Writers Group and the short story fell out of it. For better or worse. Here it is… Follow the white rabbit»

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Kea

Another amateur photographer friend took this brilliant shot in NZ. It is the mountain parrot, best known for plucking the radio aerial off your car, ripping open your pack to get into your cereal and fruit and otherwise being a likable rogue. For the most part. Farmers take a different view when they select lamb or mutton off the menu. He is known as a Kea. Great shot Peter. (Photo: Peter)

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Face Painting at the Church Fete…

…and then there is this.

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Ladybird or Ladybug?

Seems that everyone around me is turning into a photographer with outstanding skills. This from one of my work colleagues. Ladybug if you are in North America. But did you know there are more than 5000 species of these things? No, nor did I. All you want to know about these Lady Cows (apparently so called by some) at Wikipedia of course.(Photo:Jade)

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Palintology

When I was in DC last month, or was it the month before? (time slips away) we were all being distracted by a bleeding Wall St, falling dollars and the presidential race - and in particular DC was distracted by the Alaskan phenomenon. At the time no one seemed to quite know what to make of her but this clever cartoonist of the Washington Post caught the feeling nicely - along with a terrific pun/play on words to boot. Made me laugh out loud, which does not usually happen when I am reading the newspaper.

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The Bible As A Travel Guide

Eric at Travel Blogs has come up with another innovative way to explore the way we all travel - in reality or in our minds. He asked us to connect up the books and other media that had inspired travel. You can read these, including a slightly unusual source of inspiration for the Pickled Eel here. A related photo here from Mt Nebo looking across the Jordan towards Jericho.

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JD Anniversay Shoot

In speaking of the laconic I was reminded that in September we celebrated the anniversary memorial shoot in honour of departed friend Jonathan. There was none of the smoke and thunder of the previous year but the sputter of BB pellets that fell out of the end of the BB gun in the side show alley at the State Fair of Texas. By the time you realise you aim by pointing the stream of pellets at the target, as if it were a stream of water from a hose nozzle, the pellets expire and “the man” has your money. Jonathan would have come back to make a point of shooting that star out. But the real point is always to walk away before you can’t leave. Either way JD would have enjoyed the challenge and the whole mad atmosphere!

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Loconic Soldiering

It is a point of (perverse?) pride that our soldiering tradition is marked by extreme laconic perspectives, attitudes and general disposition. Where that disposition irritated British officers the pleasure is refined. But Australian volunteer soldiers are not the owners of the laconic voice - I suspect that volunteer soldiers down through the ages have owned the same voice. It was certainly evident in the 20th Maine and I made Private Keegan an honorary Australian when I read (see below) the following exchange. Follow the white rabbit»

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Storm Flowers

The Jacaranda flower rains, especially in the rain. After a couple of weeks in the sun and gently falling in a slow shower in their own slow time the flowers get to a point where rain brings them down more easily. Or so it seems. I fancy they are our storm flowers, arriving at the time our warm and humid weather hits, Sydney days at this time of the year starting out clear, humid and warm and often ending in  a rumbling and crackling storm. Or with the southerly buster which drops the temperature ten degrees in a heartbeat. Our first settlers welcomed the “buster” but I would prefer the warmth to roll on. Fortunately these colours hang around for a few weeks, making even the humdrum drive to work a real pleasure - the Australian suburban bush is leaking rivers of this purple right now.

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The Hot Spot

Early hours of the morning. My online Scrabble opponent has retreated. The novel is being tweaked. The silver music of Miles Davis supported by the driving blues of  John Lee Hooker has me begging for more. Thanks Clyde for swearing on a stack of Bibles that this was the best sound track of any movie. Damn shooting straight it is. (Some Texas talk there). Can’t go past “Bank Robbery” or “End Credits”. Someone needs to make music like this again. Or I need to get out some more.

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India is not…

…a country of poverty and perverse Victorian customs lost in time and place. It is not Mother Teresa or slums, cholera or cyclones, terrorists or dodgy airlines. It is first and foremost a country of the senses. India is felt on the skin, tasted in all the mouth, heard through every pore, and smelt even when sleeping. It is spices and aromas and sensuous fabrics. If you are the remotest bit tactile India is seductive. Follow the white rabbit»

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