How Accurate Is History?

When we started making a list of things we wanted to do on our London holiday, we put down 'Museums'. As I dug deeper into the details of the itinerary, I realized that there were scores of those in London city alone. We picked out half a dozen, assuming we could cover those off in a couple of days, three at most. Little did we realize that we'd need a couple of days per museum if we had to do them any justice. Anyway, we ended up doing about 4 museums in all and with a lot left to see, in as many days. We also drove a couple of hours out of London each day, for 3 days, covering places of importance in history. In addition, I spent a couple of days listening to stories of the past at the Tower of London, Windsor Castle, St. Paul's Cathedral, etc. England has so much history and many stories to tell.

The place is abundant in prehistoric monuments, the history ranging from royalty, gory battles to the mysteries of the stones of the Neolithic ancestors. The mummies preserved at the British Museum and the other art and artifacts of times gone by are fascinating, as you listen to the stories that go with each. I couldn't help but wonder how much of that was accurate. No doubt most of us believe, without question, that it is all true for we know not any better. It is like believing that the earth goes around the sun and moon around the earth, without actually seeing it for ourselves. Sure, there are some that have 'proven' it but I haven't and I believe it anyway. With conviction too. 

So, why do I wonder about history? It's because I live in a world of social networking, where something like Facebook is full of "facts" that are highly fabricated. The explanations recorded against these historical monuments or artifacts are assumptions or derivation based on something noted somewhere or probable cause of the current state of the artifact. Imagine if 500 years from now someone where to write history based on things they find from today's world. Would you be able to write an accurate account of my life based on the information on my Facebook account? Would you be able to judge me accurately based on my online friends? Are my friends on Facebook or Twitter or LinkedIn really my friends? How do you separate the acquaintances from the real friends? Surely not based on the frequency of contact we make online?

In fact, today's life has so much to do with appearances that if you raided my house and tried to write a description of my personality or lifestyle based on the items you find, you would struggle. You would be confused by the range of articles I own and hoard. There's the real me, there is a version of me that lasted for 10 days, there's the me I thought I was (based on something I thought I appreciated), there's the me I hope to be and so on. If you look in my bathroom shelf, you'll find products that will keep my hair in nice round curls and you'll find products that will straighten my hair and keep them that way for longer. So, do I like curly hair or straight? Which do I use more of? Truth is, some of those products have been sitting on the counter for over a year and one of these days I will trash them because I have forgotten what made me buy them. The truth is, I neither have the patience nor the time to make any effort towards my hair other than washing it once every couple of days. Yet, I own a shelf full of hair styling products.

Despite the cynicism, I do find myself thinking that there is a fair bit of truth in what historians claim. How they arrive at it, I do not have the knowledge of but I feel certain that they have their means to make accurate conjectures. They must see things and interpret signs that are not obvious to the normal eye. Like Sherlock Holmes, who can conclude that a man with minute strands of animal hair on the knees of his otherwise immaculate trousers has a dog (maybe he can name the pedigree too), left home in a disturbed state of mind (and not just in a hurry) and intends to engage Holmes in a story made of lies. He is accurate in his deductions and his trained eyes see things in a perspective some of us can only wish to have. In a way, I suppose historians are like detectives with a natural sense for understanding the way things could have been, by merely observing a dusty old object and trailing it's life cycle, based on the marks on it's body. 

What do historians have, to rely on, if they were to write about today in the future? Will they be able to successfully separate the real from the unreal? Will it be too hard or more interesting to work through the overload of information and make out fact from fiction? I used to go on holidays with a 36-photo reel of Kodak film and the studio would print me the 'best' of the lot. I was limited by the number of photos I could take, so I would be careful about recording what struck me as most important. Last I counted, I had over 3000 pictures from my London holiday. There is everything from the coloured skies to green plants, different angles of the mountains, cows and dozens of facial expressions my toddler makes everyday. Trying to produce a photo album for memories is a mountainous task for me. I don't envy the job of historians of the future. 

  

Maybe the scientists of the future will make devices to automatically cut through the hoard of data. Computers with AI that can choose what is required and trash what isn't, through elaborate data mining algorithms. Or better still, merge hundreds of similar pictures to create one clear view of reality. For all the insights science and history can provide us with, no one knows what the future holds for us. Who can predict what the possibilities are? 

Chapter 8: Prepare for Arrival

I thought it looked like she was drawing, earlier. I was not sure, peripheral vision and all that. I can see more clearly now and I see a few block diagrams on the page she is currently writing on. With that, I will settle for studying not creative writing.

A funny thing occurred to me just now. The way I am taking pictures on my mobile every now and then, making notes on a sheet of paper, it might appear as if I am doing a recce of the place. I could be up to something illegal, marking out my route, for a later date when I will need to execute my plan. Luckily for me, I am on an aeroplane, flying miles above the earth. In the air, taking pictures and making notes are allowed. Any idea that I may be charting out the route by doing that is too far-fetched to be realistic. There is not much sense I can make, of the route, with the moving clouds and a beautiful sunset, can I?

I have hit the end of this page and I still have to conclude my writing. I am not done yet. What am I going to do? I really should stop writing and pick up the book I have brought with me, to read. It is called A Walk To Remember, by Nicholas Sparks. I have never read anything by this author before but the book has good reviews at the back. It promises to touch my heart too. 

Let me dig in my handbag and see if I have any scraps of paper I can use, to finish off my ramble-on-paper. 

I've found an email that I had printed off earlier in the day. It is the list of things a girlfriend has asked me to do, while I am in Melbourne. This will have to do.

The clouds outside are all grey now, and below us. The horizon is orange, yellow and a shade of blue or green. There are patches of the dark sky blue colour I saw earlier. 

I am on a ship, cruising along the waters, looking out the window of my cabin on the top floor.

I cannot seem to come up with an appropriate ending. Actually, I need to pee. I have been holding myself for a while now. As I said earlier, I could not find the toilets at the airport, then I could not go because the plane was stationery and then the chick came in and started writing right away and then I waited for her to take a break, which she did not... and there is all that coke I have been drinking. That reminds me. My teachers insisted that I should not use too many 'AND's in a single sentence. They said that made the sentence too long and the reader could lose track of all the things that happened from start to end. My sentences tended to be long, even back then, joined by a whole lot of 'AND's. I may have kicked the habit but it crept in there for a little second, didn't it?

Anyway, I had better go soon. They will turn on the seatbelt signs any minute now and then I will have to wait till we land. I don't know that I can hold for that much longer. There will be a queue of people to get out and sometimes people can be so slow. No. I have to go now. 

My hands are hurting like hell. It is not just my fingers any more. My arms and elbows are hurting too. It has been really long since I last wrote. I have been writing for at least 2 hours. 

Okay. I have just been to the toilet and back. The girl, Elle, is quite pleasant. She was nice about having to get up to let me get out. She had her book, sheets, ipod and a few other things on her lap but she did not seem to mind. Her voice sounds very cheerful. She said something to me when I mumbled an apology about making her get up. She also has common sense. She did not buckle up or pull the tray down till I returned. I think I really like this girl. 

The trip to the toilet was an episode, on its own. A woman entered the loo, just before I reached it. She did not come out for a really long time. I was standing at the front of the plane, where every single person on the plane could possibly see me. After a couple of minutes, I started feeling self-conscious. I could not go back, so I just hid behind the metal wall that separates that part of the plane from the rest of the passenger area. The elderly couple in the front seat could still see me. I saw them looking at me once. Our eyes met and we both did not know whether to smile or not. We settled with a half-smile. That made me even more uncomfortable. 

After 5 long minutes, or more (it definitely felt more), my mind started filling with questions. "Did she die in there?" I thought to myself, willing her to come out. What if she had fainted in the toilet? How long should I wait before I raised an alarm? Do any one of the crew members know there is someone in there?

I heard a little girl's voice from inside the loo. Phew! She had a child with her. It made sense that she was taking her time, if she had a child in there. I had not noticed the child when she entered the loo but then, I was behind her on the narrow corridor between the seats. Another few minutes passed by and I began to wonder if she killed the child. Is that why she had taken the kid into the toilet? I could not hear any sounds inside and there were no signs of anyone getting out of the toilet. I nearly looked down to see if there was blood, flowing out from underneath the door. I kicked myself. I watch too many cop shows! Between the desperate need to pee and the various CSI shows I have been watching lately, my mind had lost the capacity to think straight. 

I turned to look at the things around me. There was not much. A little fridge, trash, something behind the curtains and the exit doors on either side of the plane. I peered to read the signs and markings on the doors. There were quite a few symbols marked on each door, indicating the mechanism to release the doors, in the event of an emergency. Mostly, I could not make out much other than turning a lever here and pushing a panel there. I was concentrating so hard I had the urge to try it out, to see if it worked. 

A fleeting thought passed my mind that moment, "What if I opened one of these doors and let a blast of air in, for a brief second?"

As soon as I thought that, I turned back to the toilet door. I really had to pee. I was going crazy here. What was I thinking? I would kill hundreds of people right there, as the aircraft veered out of control and crashed, thanks to one little whim of mine to open an emergency door while we were hundreds of kilometres up in the air. Bizarre things come to mind when the mind is unable to function properly, due to the strong need to expel bodily fluids. That is my defence. Thanks to all those episodes of Air Crash Investigations, at least I know what would happen. That means, I do not have the urge to actually open the door to find out. Hurray!

Does it seem like I watch too much television? 

To cut a long story short, the woman and her child came out of the bathroom, before I did anything that would everyone on the plane. I rushed in and locked myself inside. When the deed was done and I stepped out, someone was waiting at the door. The embarrassment never ends! Why did someone have to be waiting outside? Did I take a long time too?

I am back at my seat now. Elle is back to her writing. I should have been reading but I had to tell the story that I just finished, so here I am, scribbling away some more. I might as well fill up the remaining half of this page before I wind up. 

Elle just spoke to me! She is asking me if I want the lights turned on. I smiled and said no. She said it was nice to see someone other than her writing by hand, she does not see that often. We both agreed that handwriting was a great thing. I really like her. 

That short conversation answers a few questions. She has noticed that I am writing. She did not ask what I was writing about. Either she does not care or she has peeked at my sheets while I was away. No, that can't be. I am sure she is just being polite. It is not as if I asked her what she was writing, even though the question has been eating away at me since I first noticed her writing. 

While I was getting out of the seat, I saw the title of the book she has been referring to. It says something about Melbourne Design and has pictures of what could be the Melbourne CBD. I can't say whether she is from Melbourne or Brisbane or even from other part of the world. She does not have much luggage but I have learned that people check in their bags even on short trips. Maybe her trip is not short. I'll never know.

It is plain grey outside, like a road underneath us. The horizon is orange and gold. I am on a big truck, cruising along the road. Maybe it is a Volvo bus, cool and smooth.

The captain has just asked the cabin crew to "prepare for arrival". I can feel the aircraft lower altitude. My heart is racing. Did I mention how much I love take-off and landing? I am definitely going to stop writing now. I have reached the end of the paper, my arms are hurting, I need to put the tray back on and the flight has nearly ended. All good reasons to stop. 

It has been lovely to write. I enjoyed my flight, thank you very much.

Chapter 7: Sunset and Sunrise

I am going to start writing in small print now. This is the last sheet of paper I've got. I have some more in my suitcase in the overhead compartment but I don't think I will bother with that. It would break my monotony and Elle's writing too. I've already lost a few precious moments pondering over it. Writing in small print has reminded me of the time my friends and I decided to do that for fun, in college. One of our professors used to dictate endless pages of notes in his excruciatingly boring class. We came up with unique ways of amusing ourselves, one of which was to write in really small print and see who would use the least number of pages. Some students even wrote on the margins of the page. Our argument that we were trying to save paper did not quite save us from the professor's wrath, when he got wind of our secret game!

I am trying to slow down but my fingers are trapped in a rhythm. It is going to be hard reading small print that I write at this speed. The words in my head are still flying past, so that is not helping either. Now, I'm going back and forth trying to pick up words that I missed. This is not looking good.

The pilot has just announced that we are "440 miles, that is 750 kilometres, north of Melbourne, coming up over the west of New South Wales". He is saying that we are ahead of schedule by 20 minutes and will arrive in Melbourne at 10 past nine by the local clock. He is now reminding us that we need to move our watches forward by an hour. I would love to pull out my mobile and do that now but I think that might be frowned upon. I don't think I'll change the time on my iPad. It doesn't matter.

The sun is shining bright outside. It is strange to look out and see the sun shining so bright at half past 8 in the night. Even if there is daylight till late in summers, I doubt that the sun is this bright at this hour. The time on clocks and watches is redundant up here in space, isn't it? 

The clouds are a beautiful combination of white, light and dark grey, with shades of pink and orange in the mix. The horizon is layers of blue, green, yellow and orange, just like the pictures in our Physics text books when we learnt about refraction. I should stop writing and take a few pictures of this. Yeah, I do that a lot. The pictures I take on my mobile during flights look alright on the mobile but they never look the same when I put them on the computer. I hate it when that happens but it hasn't stopped me from taking pictures on the mobile anyway. "I can edit them on Picasa", I say to myself each time. It has not happened once.

I'm still dogged by the curiosity as to what Elle's thinking about what I am doing. Surely, it is not usual for the person next to you to be scribing non-stop on a flight? She has switched on her ipod and is listening to music quite loudly. I can hear the beats, even though I can't make out the songs. Oh, she has the flight manual on her lap. I didn't see her pick it up. It must have been when I was admiring the clouds outside. That reminds me. I haven't read the flight safety manual on this flight myself. I must do it as soon as I can. I can't do it right now because if she has picked up the manual in the last few minutes, it will look creepy that I do the same. She will suspect that I am watching her, if she already hasn't.

Hopefully Murphy and his law won't come into play in the next few minutes. The one flight on which I forgot to read the manual (because I was busy writing, may I clarify?), is the one where I hadn't flown in a long time and couldn't remember what to do. What are the odds of that happening? I have spooked myself out now, I had better read the manual. It doesn't matter if she thinks I'm copying her. It is a question of my life. If the plane decides to take a nosedive and I die on this plane, they might find my notes and know what Elle is doing. They will know my last few words but I doubt that I want anyone to read this. Even if I die.

There, I've done it. Relief, at last. Knowing Murphy, he will stay away today. I have no problems with that whatsoever. As far as I am concerned, I can brace myself and do a couple of life-saving manoeuvres if push comes to shove. 

Outside, the sun is setting. On the right side of my view, the sky and clouds are a shade of pinkish grey. Up  ahead, it is a bright yellow shine of the sun, not quite ready to set yet. In some part of the world, people must be beginning to wake up to that light. On my left, it is a dull and depressing grey. The sun has set and night has crept upon the cities there. Come to think of it, I am sitting at the right window seat, which means that I am heading towards that darkness. Of course! It will be night time when we land in Melbourne. It makes perfect sense. Did I just see the sunset and sunrise at the same time? Wow!!

The little sojourn I took to read the manual has dulled my excitement to write. My fingers are hurting more than I am happy about. These must be signs. I had better stop writing once I reach the end of this sheet. I will.

Chapter 6: A Short Detour

I forgot to mention that I brought the food tray down, to use as a table, to write. This was one of those thoughts that slipped past me, as new came tumbling through. It has revisited me now and I can write about it. I am a little worried that while I do that, there will be more ideas that will disappear before I can catch them. I am going to have to let them pass. What I do not know won't hurt me. Right? 

I had the book on my lap and my sheets on the book. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her pull down the food tray from the seat in front of her and use that as a table. I kicked myself gently for not thinking of that earlier. Heck, I have too many things going on in my head to come up with ideas of my own. Anyway, I could not pull the tray down right then, lest she find out that I have been watching her. To save my pride, I forced myself to keep writing on my lap. 

I can not take it any longer. Down comes my tray. Wow. This is comfortable! Except, I should have taken out another fresh sheet of paper from my bag before I did this. I am pretty sure that I would have thought of using the tray as a table and getting all my sheets in order, if I was not so busy multi-tasking. I am observing her, trying to find out more about her, writing about her, looking out the window and watching the scenery change, writing about that, trying to ignore the pain developing in my fingers and moving up to my elbows. Being a writer is not easy, no matter what you are writing. Enough with fighting with myself. Moving on. 

I am thinking the words aloud in my mind and that is slowing me down too. I tried writing faster once or twice but my fingers fly about, making marks on paper which I am quite confident I will not be able to read later. I need to write legibly or this whole exercise will have been in vain. The nagging thought in my head is whether she has noticed that I am writing and whether she is on to the fact that she is the protagonist in this hour of my life. She probably has noticed and surely has no idea about her involvement. Imagine if I had one of my clumsy moments and one of my sheets landed in her lap! She would casually glance at what I am writing and, if I am unlucky enough, make out a sentence or two that I have written about her. That would be embarrassing and hilarious? I feel like laughing out aloud but I can't. 

Gosh, it is amazing how different it is to write than to type. The handwriting, the speed, the fingers hurting because I grip too hard, the pencil lead running out, etc. Not to mention, no smiley faces!

It is still blazing hot outside. It will be 9:30PM when I arrive in Melbourne. They are an hour ahead of Brisbane. The T20 match will be over. I wonder if we won this one at least. I am almost loathe to check. I know I will. I can't resist. I am not expecting us to win this one, given the way we have been playing recently but it will be welcome. Like an oasis in a desert. 

What is with all the desert references today? 

I may not have written in a while but I find that I remember most of the rules my teachers taught me in school. This is a pleasant surprise. The tab before a new para, the double arrowhead for 2 words inserts, that my teachers discouraged in essays but said I could use in casual letters to my friends. I took advantage of that alright. Letters I wrote to my friends, during school holidays, would be filled with arrows and asterisks. Every inch of the "inland letter" would be crammed. I had eventually moved on to writing in paper and stuffing them into envelopes, so I had more space for my news. The inland letters were reserved for short code messages. I always have so much to say. My thoughts would fly quickly, old ones pushing the new ones out of my mind and I had to write fast enough to be able to catch them all as they made their way past the window of my mind's eye. That is exactly the same thing happening to me now!

I keep forgetting that I am writing with a pencil and I can erase. Another of my habits my teachers absolutely hated and I could not stop myself from doing, was 'scratching and rewriting'. I am doing that now, even though I could just as easily erase and write over. I do not think I am going to bother much with that, anyway. It is easier to scratch and move on, at this speed. I am not being marked for this essay. It does not matter whether I score out words or I overwrite them.

Chapter 5: Fast and Furious

The scenery outside has changed now. The floaty, wonderland look has disappeared. I don't see any clouds around me any more. Oh, there they are! We have flown way above the clouds now. Down below me, the clouds form a desert-like appearance. It looks like an expanse of white sand with bluish-grey (or greyish blue) shadows of the little dunes everywhere. It is picturesque in a way that only deserts can be. The sky is a clear blue. It is a dark shade of blue. It looks hot. It is the sun that I can see from the periphery of my window and the flash of blinding white in the horizon that must be giving it that appearance. The air around me looks pretty hot too. The kind of air that one might find in the desert. Is it really hot out there? Isn't it supposed to be cooler as we go higher? I am a little confused by all the science and literature mixing in my head now.

I have always thought sky blue was a pastel colour. I am not sure why I thought that. I guess I just liked that colour better than the other shades when I looked up in the sky. As a kid, I used to want a dress of the pale blue shade of the sky, with white lace. I don't think I ever got one because I wanted the perfect shade or not at all. Even I was never sure what the perfect shade was. I was a strange kid alright. I even used to create my own words and attach meanings to them. I have always visualized words in pictures and colours. Sky blue was a pastel blue with pale edges. It almost sounds like Autism, doesn't it? I am not smart enough, so that can be ruled out.

Ellie, beside me, is scribbling away non-stop. It might appear that I am just looking out the window and thinking strange things but that is not true. I am writing real fast too. I am trying hard to keep up with the speed of my thoughts. She looks as if she has an epic novel in her head and wants to pen it down before she forgets something. I can see her referring to her big book every now and then. If I had not seen earlier that it was a book on Architecture, I would swear that it is a dictionary or a map. She is not quite reading long before she gets back to her writing. A quick peek and she is back to her script. The way she is making those elaborate notes, I am leaning towards project work. She is clearly not writing off the big book. Her body language is screaming to me that the words are dropping off her head on to paper. 

With one seat between us, there is not much I can see. I am looking at her through my peripheral vision, too, as I write. That is not helping either. It is the only way I can do this, though. If I stopped to turn and look, I would not only draw her attention but my thoughts would run away before I can put them down. It is hard enough catching up with the writing as I think. It would be near impossible to think, then form the sentences again on to paper. I already feel as if I am missing a few sentences here and there. 

I wonder if she has noticed that I am writing too. If she has, does she have similar questions running through her head as I do? She seems to be concentrating on her work but girls have a way of noticing things, without letting on. I am fairly confident that she is aware that I am writing. It is not clear to me how aware she is. Has she realized that I only started writing a little after she started? Probably not. She might just brush it off as me settling in, before I started to write. Not everyone walks in with a paper and pen in hand and gets down to scribing as soon as their bum hits the seat. Let me see. She knows that I am writing. She does not know that I am writing because of her. She surely does not realize that I am writing about her. 

Now, that would be funny. Imagine if she found that out. She might want to rip my sheets. If she is sufficiently freaked out, she might make some noise and get one of the crew to throw me out. Out of the seat, I mean, not the plane. That would be ridiculous! They would not kill someone for writing that the girl sitting next to me is writing about something. She does not seem to care anyway. I have nothing to worry about, for the moment at least. This is just me playing out weird scenes in my head. I don't think I have anything to worry about at all.

The air-hostesses are wheeling the food and drinks trolley down the aisle now. I used to travel in flights where they serve that stuff for free but, with the cheap flights these days, I have to buy food. Sometimes I do but today I am determined not to. I have eaten at the airport and I have a bottle of Coke Zero with me. 

"Mmmm, the coffee smells great!" 

I had better take a sip of my coke and get some caffeine into my body. The ladies are just one seat away from me now. I'm beginning to feel a little bit of stress. I have not decided whether I will polite refuse to buy anything or ignore them and pretend to be concentrating on my work. I am not good at acting and I really cannot ignore people. What am I going to do?

"No, thank you", I smiled at her. Not much thinking involved there. I did what I would do, inevitably. 

Elle is not buying anything either. She has a bottle of water she has been sipping from. Apparently, she has better dietary habits than I. I bet she did not buy chicken from Red Rooster at the airport either. 

All this movement inside the plane has increased the contents flying through my head. I am writing furiously now. My fingers are beginning to feel the pressure. More and more sentences are flying past, that I can't seem to pick up. It does not appear to be affecting my narrative, so I will let it be. There is no sense in going back to collect those thoughts now. I need fresh paper, quick. There it is!

Chapter 4: Alice In Wonderland

We are flying above the clouds now. Actually, we are flying through the clouds. It is a sort of white all around and a little grey. Every now and then we pass through the clouds. It gets misty and whitish. Of course, we do not feel a thing because we are in a plane but each time we pass through a cloud, I mentally prepare myself to feel cold and wet. My imagination must be working overtime. In reality, I might as well be in a car, driving through mist. It does not feel any different from that. There are no speed-bumps in the sky, if that counts for anything. If there were air pockets, or whatever it is they call those things that rock the plane, they would have made up for the bumps on the road. 

Sometimes it looks as if we will fall off the end of the road - cloud, in this case - if we kept going. Yes, it feels like we are riding on the cloud. I can see clouds splayed below me. We are most likely just flying in air but all of this is getting a bit hard to comprehend. I wonder how fantasy writers write their books. It must suck quite a bit out of them, imaging things and creating scenes in their mind that people must also relate to, even though they do not exist. I can now see why some of the stuff is written so close to reality. It is extremely difficult to completely move away from reality and create something that the readers can relate to. We understand Quidditch because it sounds like cricket and has similar rules. Imagine if Rowling had made up something totally random. Say, she called it Bingaloo and made up new rules to go. Even if the readers did understand it, it might be a little hard to retain as they cut through the book. I feel quite drained myself, when I finish a fantasy novel. Writing it cannot be easy.

I took off on my own train of thoughts there, didn't I? A picture of me sitting inside a train, in a fast moving car, just passed through my head. 

The end that I am worried about falling off of, is quite far. Well, there is no such end really, but it does look like all these clouds end somewhere out there and we will run out of ground to drive on. I can see gaping holes among the clouds now. There are quite a few on my right. Since I do not feel any bumps, I am assuming that there are no potholes where we are driving. The potholes (shall I call them cloudholes?) are quite fascinating themselves. We just passed by one of them quite closely. It looks like there are curtains on both sides of us. I am reminded of Hover Car Racer. Matthew Reilly describes it so well. I am going to steal his imagination here and say, where he had brown and grey hard rocks on either side of the path, we have fluffy white and grey clouds. Our plane is zooming past them, just like his cars. They were racing. We are not.

I might as well be in one of the adventures of The Journey To The Centre Of The Earth series. Yeah, it sure feels like it. It is like the real earth but with a touch of unreality. Does that make sense? I cannot think of a better way to describe it. It is exhilarating! I would do nothing else at this moment than be flying in the sky, in an airbus, experiencing the magic of floating through the clouds!

It is kind of funny but I have flown from the same airport at least 3 times, in the past, but I have never managed to find the toilets. It happened again today and I was forced to wait till I got on the flight. I still have not been, mind you. I saw this girl, Elle, writing and got bitten by the bug myself. The fact that she is on the aisle seat, writing so intently, has further deterred me from going. I have to excuse myself, break her line of thoughts and interrupt her. It just does not feel worthwhile. I would rather let her write. I need to go but I am going to wait for her to take a break from writing, before I do. Either that or I am desperate enough that I cannot not be bothered to be nice. I hope it does not come to the latter, though, because if I made a dash for it and found myself having to wait in line at the bathroom, I will just about burst.

She is writing non-stop. I wonder what it is about. I wonder if she has noticed that I am writing too. Does she think it is a coincidence or does she realize that I am copying her? I wonder if I will ever find answers to these questions. It would be funny if I nudged her and asked her. What would be funnier is if I told her that I was copying what she was writing, or if I actually did that. I don't think that is possible, from this distance. The thought tickles me, though.

Chapter 2: Happy Kittens

Once I got off the bus and entered the airport, I headed to the screen which announced flight times and status. I scanned the display for my flight, without really knowing my flight number. I assumed I would be able to figure it out from the airlines and the destination. I was forced to pull out my ticket and get the number, when I could not see my flight on the list. That was a little silly because I should have been able to find out with the logo of the airlines and destination, if only I had been patient enough to wait for all the pages to flash by on the screen. I could not find my flight anyway.

I was not really sure that my cheap, no-frills, flight would fly out of the same airport terminals as the rest. Some cities seem to have a terminal for these carriers, a little distance away from where the 'regular' flights fly. So, I went off to check at the information centre, where a cheerful young woman pointed me to the check-in counters. I was going to tell her that I did not really want to go to the check-in counter but a little voice in my head stopped me. I trawled in the direction she had pointed. On the way, I stopped at the display screen again and this time, found my flight. How funny is that! It was at that point it hit me that I did need to go to the check-in counter, after all. There had been no web check-in for this flight.

I stood in line and got my boarding pass fairly quickly. The girl behind the counter was one happy chick. She had "seen Daniel" that morning, which had made her day, as I heard her say to her friend in the adjacent counter. I have not the faintest clue who Daniel is but obviously he was a guy both girls were drooling over. Good for them. A happy check-in girl makes a happy customer. I got a lovely window seat out front. I could not have asked for a better one myself.

Once the check-in process was complete, the familiarity of the airport started clicking into place, in my head. Most importantly, I remembered that there were more coffee and food shops after the security checks than there were outside. I finished my pre-flight activities first and arrived at the lounge. That was easy enough. Soon, I was standing in the queue at Red Rooster for my chicken and chips, both of which were not too great. I called up a friend I was going to catch up with, during the weekend, and when that was done, settled down to play a game of Monopoly on my iPad. It was going to be at least an hour's wait, if the flight would not be delayed.

Thanks to the people around me and my iPad, I had no trouble killing time at all. The wait was absolutely delightful. That is a good start to a trip, I should say. It made me rethink my decision never to fly out of that airport again. It was definitely worth saving the $30 and the time was well-spent.

I could not finish my game before they called us to board the flight. I hit the PAUSE button on it and moved to line up for boarding. As I stood there, tucking my iPad into my backpack, it dawned on me that I now had 2 mobile devices to turn off now.

"Technology!", I spat and turned both my iPad and mobile phone off, before I chucked both in the bags.

The friend of the happy kitten, from the check-in counter, was at the door, scanning our boarding passes. I should have realized it before but I did not until I saw the girl there - the same staff did both the tasks - handing out the passes and scanning them in later. Well, that  explained why the airlines insisted on closing the check-in counters 45 minutes before boarding time. It was the most obvious thing and yet I missed it.

"Hmm... I need to be more alert!", I thought to myself.

At my turn, the girl, reading out the name of every passenger as she scanned their tickets, said to me, "Thank you, Miss Villager!"

I have known people to mis-pronounce my name and surname before. It happens so often that I expect it now. Yet, she managed to have me in splits. How could she possibly read "villager" out of that? As they say, it takes all kinds to make the world!

Wander & Wonder

What do you like to do when you are in a new place? Are you there as a traveller or a tourist? A tourist is there for pleasure and just that. The experience is what life has inevitably thrown at the tourist. A traveller, on the other hand, is there first for the experience - the reason for arrival may be any, even not self-induced. A tourist fits into the realm of a definition of a traveller but not the other way round.

Having heard one too many times about quiet holidays and stinky crowds, I was quite surprised to meet a vacationer who loved to see cities - the bigger the better. It cleared a mental block, the myth that everyone on holiday is running from city life. He insisted that cities did not necessarily mean crowds. He visited places during the off-season, thereby avoiding the swarm. 

As I trawl through scores of travelogues, I notice the subtle differences in preferences. From a broad view of classifying travellers as tourists and travellers, then further as those who like to do touristy things or not or a bit of both, now I find that the list can be endless. The choices available to a traveller are far too many and permutations of those selections belie any earlier belief that one travelogue can cater to all. 

Why did you make the trip? How did you make the trip? What kind of places do you like to stay at? What do you like to see and do? Who do you like to go with? Do you like it planned or spur-of-the-moment? Long or short duration? How do you like to commute once there? How do you plan your budget? 

Give it a shot, try answering those questions. You will realize that for each question you answered, there are a subset of questions that follow. As those are answered, there are further subsets. You tick off multiple answers, for the sake of flexibility, and find yourself presented with a subset for the areas shaded with multiple colours (picture Venn Diagrams). What's more? That was not even the exhaustive list of questions, merely the ones off the top of my head.

As this realization struck, another questions jumped out at me. How do travel-writers write those guides that get so popular, without being too generic? Turns out that rule #1 of travel writing is finding different angles. Apparently, you should be able to find atleast 20 that are unique and worthy. Then you pick your best few angles and write a few pieces. Some sell, some don't. And you thought travel writing was easy? All you had to do was vomit your trip details on a page and clap the dust off your palms? There is an eye-opener.

All this is just what I have gleamed in 10 months and 4 countries of travelling. A little voice in my head says to me that there will be a lot more clearing mental blocks and sponging off dark spots before I am able to absorb enough to give some back. Disheartening but challenging. As the Aussies say, I will "see how I go".

24 Hours in KL

With the advent of Facebook, the line between the real and virtual world appears to be thinning real fast. Some complain about how fake it can get, with people lying about their statuses & locations, not to mention their details. Cut to the real world. Does every person you speak to tell you the truth? You get the point. With experience we learn to differentiate between the truth and the lies. Or maybe we don't but we probably don't care. Atleast FB allows us to make choices on what 'friends' we want to listen to. 

I've friends who have visited Kuala Lampur, I've seen pictures that they have posted on their FB pages and somehow I believed that KL was a tourist destination worth a visit. When I booked my flights to India a few months ago, I was flying via KL and saw it as my chance to take a peek. It surprised but didn't worry me that none of my friends I was talking to, in the real world (for argument sake we'll call it the real word and FB world), had been to KL or ever wanted to. I was flying there anyway, so I would check it out.

A fellow-worker who had made a trip to India along the same route as mine gave me tips on what I need to know. It made my life a hell of a lot easier once I got there, I must admit. What seemed like a long while after I landed, I finally arrived at my hotel. It thrilled me to no end to see that KL had a nightlife. At 9PM, I walked around the city. The teeming streets, the numerous pubs and the KLCC shopping centre that was open till late tickled my senses. Where I come from, everybody shuts shop at 5PM. 

The Petronas Twin Towers that the Malaysians tout as their tourist hotspot looked fabulous with the night-lights. I was raring to check it out in the morning. If you are big on malls, you will love the Suria KLCC mall. I am not. It was okay. What struck me most while I was at the mall was how the elevator worked. It took forever for the lift to come down 4 floors. Yet, people would rather wait than take the stairs. I was to find out, by and by, that it is the way the Malaysians function. Everything takes it's time. A lot of. People fritter away time like they have lots of it.

Don't let the picture of the Twin Towers fool you. While it makes a magical picture from the outside, it really is a couple of office buildings. People work there. It was built by the Petronas oil company and has become an iconic sight due to it's unique construction. The public can go to the balconies connecting the two buildings on the 42nd and 86th floors, for a price. The price is not so high in terms of the cost of the ticket but it is in terms of time. If you must visit, you probably could try their online ticketing system. Since KL is a city without much of a view, I found the effort fruitless. You might try their KL Tower instead, for it's cheaper.

You will see signs everywhere asking you to keep an eye on your things, so it is easy to believe that thievery is common there. I escaped that but found the Malaysians mostly hospitable instead (not counting the vagabonds on some streets). Their language sounds rather rough for someone who understands not a word and doesn't sound easy to pick up. It might have been a good idea to have learnt a few words beforehand, I figured. I took a chance with their local cuisine at my hotel and found it delicious. If you shack up at the Concorde, try their House Noodles with prawns.

My short stopover didn't allow for much other than that part of the city but I did read about the Cultural hub in KL which might have been good for someone who loves to experience different cultures. All said and done, I must admit that KL is not a tourist spot. It might be enjoyable for a short stay, though. They seem to have an  nightlife that you must try, a fair bit of culture and some other attractions that could keep you occupied in your daily life (viz Petrosains Science Centre, Batu Caves, etc). As for me, I will catch up on the rich culture if work took me there but otherwise, Malaysia has been crossed off my list and marked as done. 

I wish I'd seen this before I took off: http://www.travelintelligence.com/travel-writing/24-hours-kuala-lumpur

A Day Trip to Bribie Island

How has the new year been so far? Well, it has been all of 3 days and nothing has considerably changed from last year. Unless you count the fact that I haven't worked at all this year and yet expect to get paid for these days.

That's just me being cheeky there. Ignore me and read on. 

The day trip I spoke of in my last post turned out well. The weatherman said there was possible rain on New Year Day and definite rain on Sunday and Monday. As normal, (s)he was lying. It rained on Saturday. Non-stop. Drizzled, increased, stopped, poured, showered and did all of that in various permutations. May I also mention that the following couple of days have been bright and sunny with no sign of showers?

Praying that the rain will not deter my companions from going ahead with the trip, I set about getting ready for the day. I think it almost did in one of them but for my insistence and her baby's excitement at going to a beach. What we would do in the rain, at a beach, we were not sure. We decided to go because the plans were in place. 

As I announced later that day, someone up there really loves me. Or maybe the li'l one. Whatever! It was a couple of hours worth of train and bus journey before we arrived at Bribie. It could have been later but, as I said, someone up there loves me. We hopped off the train and standing right there, ready to leave as soon as we hopped on, was the bus to Bribie. We got off the bus near Woorim Beach and voila, no more rain! A quick scan of the what and where of our surroundings, Kid and I changed and took off towards the water. 

The long stretch of white sand felt great under our feet. The first splash in the brown waters of the Moreton Bay assured us there was no need to acclimatize. Perfect water temperature for a play. There were too many sea-weeds closer to the beach but we wanted to play with the waves further down anyway. It must be all the summer rain, we gauged. The clouds hid the sun but restrained from dampening our beach-day out.

Splash splosh splash. Click click click click. Shower. Change. Time for the bus. Rain. Whooosh.

It poured heartily while we ordered our lunch and spent 2 hours enjoying a yummy margherita pizza from Dominos, a delicious order of pancakes with maple syrup, cream and ice-cream and some crummy French Toast. While someone up there loved me and the kid, it was not the case with the kid's mum. 

She asks a boy on the beach if he would take a picture of us and he goes, "Ummmm... ah... No". 

She orders pizza at Dominoes and we all wait outside for them to call us when it's ready. 5 minutes later, another crowd goes in, orders and leaves with their order. Another 5 minutes and the same repeats. We peep in, the girls are chatting on phone, hugging each other and having a merry time, showing no signs of getting our order ready. Ten minutes later, mum and kid go in & are back in seconds, with the pizza. The order has been ready for a while, we waited for the girls to call us while they waited for us to go in. Duh! Hot pizza, anyone?

She orders French toast while I go for pancakes. We finish the pizza. A massive serving of pancake arrives. We've finished the pancakes, the coffee, a conversation and just missed our bus, so we have to wait an hr. We tease her that they must have forgotten her order. She goes in to check. Sure enough they have! What were the chances of that? When it finally comes, it is a tiny serving, all of 2 slices of bread with a smear of omellette. 

She walks to the bus driver on our way back to confirm that we are on the right bus. The driver snaps at her, "Didn't you see the board before you got in?"

Back to our day trip. Rest assured that her day being snappy did not meddle with the spirits for any of us, her included. From then on, throughout the journey, it rained like the rain Gods were having a gala to bring in the New Year. Stepped off the train at my station and walked into the damp air but no rain. 

As a kid, I used to believe that if I did something on the first day of the year, the rest of the year would follow suit. If that is true, this year is going to be fantastic! So far, the trend seems to be in order. A day trip on the first Saturday of the year. The next two Saturdays have been booked for day events too. All of them involve taking the same train and then another means of transport from the station. Interesting.

When Dreams Come Alive

As a strong advocate of dreaming, whether one hopes to realize the dream or not, I have had a number of dreams over the years. In time, the list grows longer. Sometimes they get archived in the head until they are recalled by a trigger of some sort. Sometimes, they drop off the edge, never to be realized or remembered. Then there are those dreams that are fresh and oozing with hope. Not to forget the ones that are on the list and go crash boom with fireworks as one sparks them off, bringing happiness at having come true.

On my first day in Sydney last weekend, I picked up a map at the concierge of my hotel and made a random sketch of my day, while I had coffee and banana toast with butter. The plan was to walk through Hyde Park, The Domain and The Royal Botanical Gardens, soaking in the sights and sounds of the roads that ran alongside them, at the same time experiencing the bountiful freshness nature accorded me. It worked to perfection, as I saw lush green around me, dancing fountains, sculptures, old and new buildings juxtaposed in a contest of grandeur. Interspersed with these visuals were the occasional road crossing, bridges, traffic signals and, of course, the traffic itself in terms of people and vehicles. A good blend of quiet and noise. In other words, beautiful and lively. 

The Royal Botanical Garden is a splendid park, with plenty to see. The variety of birds, flowers, trees and life in so many forms bewildered me. The cacophony of scores of flying foxes, the other quiet varieties of birds looking for a feed, majestic trees, endless carpets of grass and the assortment of local flora I had never known about left me marvelling. After having spent a fair amount of time in the garden, I kept moving forward to see where it would lead me. I arrived at what looked like a castle in fairy tales. Like a 5-year old, I wondered what princess lived in there. Suddenly, I heard music flowing from the side of the castle. I walked towards it, to find a man in suit, playing for his lady in white. It truly looked like a scene from an old movie. I was almost disappointed to know that it was The Government House. I believe I could have gone inside but I was not sure and it did not hold my interest for I had another place to be, very soon.

I walked along the sea-side, to find out where it would end. Imagine my astonishment when I stumbled upon a structure I had only until then dreamed about! It was one of my dreams that had long been archived and migrated to the recesses of my dreamland. I used to watch it on TV and wonder if I could ever visit the place. Even when I made my weekend plans for Sydney, I had not comprehended the awe that this structure would inspire in me. Nothing had prepared me for the heart-stopping reaction that comes when one's long-forgotten, unexpectedly realized dreams come true! I nearly took a step back at the jolt I got from stumbling upon this structure. I stood there, the sea on my right, the lovely garden on my left staring at this magnificent structure that lay ahead of me. I walked slowly towards it, afraid the bubble would burst, if I rushed towards it. Just before I arrived at the stairs that led up to the building, I chanced upon a pontoon to my right. A wooden bridge, gently swaying to the breeze, that led straight into the sea. 

I needed a moment to gather myself. What better than walking towards the enormous body of water, with it's amiable waves and soothing sound? At the edge of the pontoon I stood, taking pleasure in the cradling of the floating bridge. I took a picture of myself, with one of Australia's icons in the background, before finally arriving at it's base. I ascended the stairs, excited with each step. I walked all around it. The sea goes around The Opera House in a semi-circle, disappearing into infinity. 

On the opposite side to where I started off, I saw The Harbour Bridge. That was my final destination for the day. I was going to be climbing the bridge shortly. In a short while, the awe of stumbling upon the mighty Opera House was subsiding. I had my fill. I made my way towards the next of Australia's greatest icon. To see what the beautiful world around me looked like at 134metres above the Sydney Harbour. 

The Bridge Climb itself is another experience to write home about. Standing on the top of The Harbour Bridge, with a 360 view of Sydney - The Opera House and beaches on one side, The Harbour below, Blue Mountains on the other and the vast Sky above that changed colours rapidly as dusk set in. It was magical! Much more beautiful than any dream might have been. It was like seeking a bar of chocolate and finding a chocolate-laden 7-course meal that is sinfully delightful!

Queensland's Wildlife

I've realised that it is not so much the driving in India that is the problem but the drivers. After a 30-minute near nauseous bus drive to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary today, we finally arrived. Indian driver. Sad.

Expensive as the entry was, one can easily spend a good half day with the animals. Our first encounter was with this little advertised pony.

Then we met Mr. Little Kangaroo. The fella was grazing all by himself and did not move when I went up to him. Excited, I asked my husband to quickly take a picture. If he had, there would have been me standing and traces of a kangaroo pentaloping. We walked around the lake with numerous ducks and a couple of raptors, before moving on to watch a show of the birds of prey.

We met Milo, the barn owl, Schnapps, the barking owl, Omega, the wedge tailed eagle, Illuka the white-bellied sea eagle and Zephyr, the brahminy kite. Such grace. Such agility. What charisma!

Kelly with Illuka

Our next show was the sheep one. It was my first time watching the sheep-dogs (Border Collies and Kelpies) get the mob in order and drive them into the yard and then the shearing area. The shearing itself was another experience. It was a little painful watching the poor animal going under the knife and hurt a little each time he protested. However, when Daniel was done shearing, he flung the rug of fleece on the counter and it was impossible not to admire his handiwork!

Once the shows were over, we moved on to meet the famous Aussie buggers.

Hungry Emu

Sleeping Koala, how cuddly

Kangaroo poses, "Will you leave me alone, now?"

The rest of the guys are all in cages, like any other zoo I've seen but all different animals. From platypus to monitors, dingoes, crocs, snakes to beautiful, coloured parrots, larakeets, turkeys and flying foxes hanging upside down, there is such a lot to watch. A big part of my 'new culture' learning experience.

Now, if only I could convince my husband to go to the Ekka with me tomorrow, it would be one hell of a farm life experience.

Gold Coast @ $30

My meticulous calculation had ended in at least a couple of hundred dollars for the trip. The actuals were $30. Yes, that's right. Talk about savings!

Of course, we decided not to do the Theme Parks this time. Then the husband had a brainwave (uh-oh). We took the gorgeous beast sitting in our garage for a second outing. The "poor man's Harley Davidson", as the owner calls it, licked the roads of Surfers' Paradise. Quite an adventure it was, riding the cruiser at 100 to 110kph, on the highway. As cruisers are not quite built for that speed or such a journey, the beast protested by gently swaying occasionally but was generous enough not to cause more fuss than that. No doubt, it was the husband's uncanny 'auto skills' at display. Even when the wind threatened to blow my helmet away and had me clutching at it with one hand, he drove single-mindedly like there was nothing bothering him.  

To give myself some credit here, my navigator skills were put to test when we forgot to pick up the directions I'd meticulously observed on google maps and written down on a piece of paper. I did well, I must say, we never got lost. Once we arrived, it was the herculean task of finding parking. Not a single bike in sight. Where do we park? We decided that a car park was as good as any. Not too sure of that, we cruised about until we reached what looked like a residential area, with parking allowed on both sides. Free parking, woohoo! 

The beach was one of the best I have seen. White sheets of sand, cool against our feet and a cool breeze all the while. The sun was out, just enough for light but not too hot. It was the first time I've been at the beach in a not sunny weather. It is nice. The water was beautiful. The white waves looked picturesque against the two shades of green and a shade of dark blue of the water. I've never seen a single beach with water of different colours before. The natural shades were simply fantastic. 

After a quick lunch of beef steak sandwich, fish & chips, we walked around the Centro mall. It was interesting in a funny way. The husband almost got caught by a group of girls in blue cheerleading dress with pom-poms participating in some sort of a competition that required him to buy something at the condom store in the mall. This, just as we nearly crossed the road to avoid the group in red & black, then continued on, not finding them around. Little did we know that group was on to the next phase of their 'treasure hunt' and the pom-pom girls were hunting their prey.

After over half an hour of trying to master the art of shooting a boomerang and have it fly back to us, we packed up. The best we could do was make it fly with a swoosh and turn around a wee bit. The fun was in watching the sea-gulls swoop down each time the boomerang fell to the ground, and flying away just as quickly as we approached. Pretty birds!! Reminded me of one of my favourite books. 

Soon, dark clouds formed in the sky and we decided to get home before the storm got us. We never found out if the stormed came crashing down in Gold Coast because all we felt was a light drizzle as we circled a bit, looking for an exit to the highway. Once we found it, it was another adventure at 100kph, flying down the Pacific Motorway. This time, the bike shook less, in spite of the strong wind because I had shifted my seating position and let the husband get better control of the beast. My bums never stopped talking long after I got home. I think they hate me now. 

To celebrate taking a day trip at less than 1/4th of the estimated price, the husband and I decided to treat ourselves to a movie. Suffice to say we spent more on those 2.5hrs of 'Inception' than we did on our little beach outing. We deserved it, that is our excuse. 

Mo-bike To Mt Coot-Tha

It was one of those hectic days. It is amazing how much paperwork is there to get done, especially around the end of the financial year. I decided that I deserved a nice long ride in the cold wind and we took the mo-bike out for a spin. Gorgeous beast, that one, I must admit. 

For the first time in my life, I wore a closed helmet. And did not choke. Or suffocate. Or panic. Not even when little specks kept hitting my eye every time I opened the vizer or when my helmet kept running into my husband's during conversations. It was too good a ride to notice little peeves, I suppose.

If I thought riding on the road was awesome (everywhere I go, I am by the side of the river, how beautiful is that), the ride up Mt Coot-tha was fabulous. Winded roads, wind in the trees, traffic-free and boy, what a view!! The city-lights looked stunning as we rode all the way to the top. 

The view from the top itself was more beautiful than anything I have seen at night. Brisbane is largely flat, with it's share of hilly suburbs and when standing on the top of Mt Coot-tha at night, with a 180 degree view, it looked like a large crown studded with gem-stones. The coloured lights towards the city added to the glamour. It was freezing and I had not the foresight to wear warm enough clothes. Yet I stood there mesmerized until I could feel my fingers no more. 

As we walked back to the bike, we walked past a little store that said something to the effect of 'It is warm inside, get out of that cold and get in here'. How cute is that, for an advertisement? I had never noticed until I saw those scores and scores of clocks, magnets and other souvenirs that Australia was actually shaped like a boomerang! Is that what the deal with boomerangs is, I wonder! Maybe it's a coincidence... the boomerang had to come from the Aboriginals' basket, hadn't it? 

Of course, I didn't buy anything, I'm no tourist no more (psst: the husband wouldn't let me). We headed back and the ride seemed much shorter. No less fun, though. Cold weather is beautiful when you are cruising on a bike on quiet streets. I can never get enough of marvelling at the weather. I wonder if I'll say the same when I am in Melbourne. 

Beginner's luck?

I join the organization and within a week, they take me to an Indian restaurant. For someone missing Indian food and wondering if there are any authentic restaurants around, the Punjabi Palace is fantastic. When it's free, nothing like it. Some NZ wine to go with it... white wine... and there begins my affair with wine in Australia. Now I know what people mean when they say wine is 'cheap' in Australia. The beer's fine too, I guess, but I'm not qualified to comment on the quality of alcohol so I won't. I mean... I think the beer's fine, the husband is not happy. In a colleague's words, "Australian beer is barely fit to wash my hands with". Ouch!

Now, the boat cruise. The awesome Kookaburra River Queen. Bloody hell, could I ask for a better team building event? The entire team, all-inclusive, a-ha! So looking forward to it. So is everyone. 

As things fall into place one by one, everything just works itself out. Even before I realize it, I'm planning travels I've been looking forward to, for ages. I'm even enjoying cooking like never before, not to mention the weather. I can't say it often enough, the weather is simply superb! No wonder everyone mentioned the weather when they first heard where I was going. 

What was that Coelho said about the universe conspiring to make things happen?

"When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream"

Half A Day At South Bank

After 3 weeks of saying I would do it, I finally made it to South Bank yesterday. (Dean, are you listening?). We walked to QPAC and were about to head towards the man-made beach and the markets, when the husband pointed to me a building with a large butterfly on it. The Insectarium level of the Queensland Museum at South Bank. Off we went to check it out.

The Mutt, thanks to wikipedia

We started off on level 2, for that's where we were, with the usual museum-ish stuff like old coins, museum store, a large skeleton of the Muttaburrasaurus Langdoni. The name of this dinosaur comes from the place where it was first found 'Muttaburra' and the man who first found the partial skeleton Doug Langdon. I looked and it and though, "Boy, is it huge", for when I stood  near it, I barely reached up to his belly. Girl behind me is arguing with her boyfriend, "I don't think this is real, it can't be this small". Small? Alright, time to move on.

We walked further down into the world of absolutely beautiful, natural colours and combinations like we had never seen before! The Insectarium with the butterfly, moth and beetle collections of the Butterfly Man of Kuranda, Fredrick Parkhurst Dodd (popularly known as F P Dodd) and his son Alan P Dodd. The exhibition displays 28 beautifully arranged showcases of butterflies, moths and beetles, collection over a period of time from 1917 through to the 1960s. The butterflies are mounted with such perfection and in such a lovely arrangement that one must marvel not only at the patience with which Dodd and his children collected the species but the creativity and patience involved in preparing the showcases. It is no wonder that banker Dodd quit to focus fully on his love for these collections. Until I saw this exhibition (which, I later found out, was a temporary one and not always on display... lucky me), I had never known butterflies existed in so many varieties and most definitely not moths!! Moths in my head, until yesterday, conjured pictures of ugly brown butterfly-like insects. Not any more. The beetles! Jewels. That's what they looked like. There is even an exhibit with 4 beetles in a case, labelled after each of the musicians. 

One of the cases of the beetle collection, courtesy the museum's website

Then, there was the miscellaneous collection of items ranging from fire engines from various decades, bikinis, ceramics, air-planes and just about anything the Queenslanders feel proud of. Another floor up, an amazing number of animals, birds and sea creatures. I never even knew there were so many kinds of those. In Queensland alone? No joking! Then, the exhibits of artefacts created/used by the aboriginals. 

A good couple of hours later, our grumbling stomachs forced us to leave the museum and we left, having covered just level 2 and one of two wings on level 3. There is still levels 1, half of 3 and 4 to cover. Another day. Looking forward to it. 

We walked past QPAC, the Wheel and arrived at the weekend Lifestyle Market of South Bank. The walk-way is pleasant, made especially to protect us from the summer sun, it appears. Called The Arbour, it's touted as one of the attractions of South Bank. The streets were lined with stores, restaurants and fancy places - again, to visit another day. Today, we walked on the side with the food-court, watched the ibises by the flowing water. As we arrived at the man-made beach (Yes Dean, you're right, it is a joke), we hit a crowd of people waiting for a street-performer to being his show. 

The Arbour, courtesy the South Bank website

Steve from Adelaide, was one heck of a street-performer. Have not seen others, so I cannot tell whether his performance was out of the world but it was definitely engaging. He was a great speaker, simply fantastic at getting himself a reasonable sized crowd and making everyone laugh. We went there for a peek and ended up staying till the end. For once, my husband did not want to leave (his usual refrain at such events is, "I'm bored, let's get out of here"). He juggled 3 fire torches, then 4 and finally 5. My favourite was when he balanced on top of a tall ladder, without support, juggled a fire torch, a large knife and an apple, as he took bites out of the apple and talked to the crowd encouraging them to cheer. As if his cheeky comments and sarcastic sense of humour was not enough, he met his match in a little 6 yr old Tess who almost stole his show. "Shut up, it's my show", he said. 

Five dollars poorer after the show, we took a peek at the "man-made beach", and shot off to The Crepe Cafe for some beer and snacks. A beef & mushroom crepe and tomato-mushroom omelette later, we walked back home along the river. The lights reminded us of Clarke Quay in Singapore, only we liked this better. It was 11 degrees and awesome for a walk. Back to Queen Street Mall, the familiar crowd, past the painter beginning to set up his show, down the usual stores unusually open late on weekends, a pit stop at a couple of troopers... we arrived at home. A book, sandwich and cop show later, blissful sleep.

What's on for tomorrow?

Welcome To Sunny Brisbane

After holidaying in Singapore for 4 days, it was time to head to the new place I was going to call home. Having been through the 'new country experience', this should have been easy. 

Plus, I was being pampered. I arrive at the airport to a warm hug & a cup of coffee, a friend I hadn't seen in ages, a bag of grocery, a sleep-in at a friend's place till I could check-in, maps and directions, not to forget dollars for my expenses from another dear friend. What more could I ask for? The weather in Brisbane is simply superb. Of course, the clean place and traffic don't surprise me anymore. Mmm, I could get used to this!

Been to the Queen Street Mall a few times now. Liked it each time. Free-for-all salsa/meringue/cha cha, German sausage, awesome awesome.

A fantastic drive in a convertible with friends, checking out furniture, watching the river, it just keeps getting better! I'm even enjoying cooking. It's different, using an electric stove with hot-plates, different kind of ingredients and oh boy, it took me all evening to cook rice & cabbage curry with scrambled eggs but hell, it felt good. 

Except that I miss driving in Bangalore, the familiarity at times, homesickness hasn't quite set in yet. I can't wait to move into a rental and start furnishing it! Starting work tomorrow and looking forward to it. More new experiences, new people, exploring the city...

PS. This was written a day before I started work, only posted now but I'm leaving it unchanged. Been at work 2 days now and by God, my favourite part of the entire Brisbane experience (ok, second favourite, cos my favourite's the riverside)

Singapore Diaries - 2

When I arrived in Singapore, I was confident that I'd get used to the place quite easily. It came as a surprise to me that I was a bit taken aback when I walked into a  new world of different looking people, speaking in a different accent (some of which I struggled to understand) and an entirely different lifestyle. 

It took me a bit to absorb all the strange things around me but once that was settled, I simply loved the place. Out of the few things that struck me about Singapore, what I loved best was that the place seemed to have been planned to work with maximum efficiency. I almost felt a funny tingle that I did not really have to plan & organize things as much as I normally do. Mmm.

The swipe in/swipe out at MRT stations and buses a fantastic idea. Carry one card that works for all. No worrying about ticket costs or carrying change. It reminds you when you need to reload. There are maps everywhere, routes & stations tracked in MRTs... not hard for a newbie to get around the place without help. The once that we asked at an enquiry counter how to get to the zoo/bird park, he handed us a slip with perfect directions. While the automated system worked well, it also meant that you never had to speak with anyone. In a way, the inconspicuous-ness was nice but at times, the human touch is missing. 

The city seems to have more females than males. No surprise then that there were shops for women's clothes & accessories everywhere! Scores of them. If you are a shopaholic, you would go crazy here. It's amazing! It was summer when I was there, so everyone wore shorts (I guess I didn't get to see the office crowd, considering I spent most mornings indoors). Having always wanted to do that, I bought a couple of pairs of shorts myself and wore it on my last day at Singapore. Funny how all the women in the city wore trousers on that fateful day! I hardly saw anyone in shorts, so much so that I wondered if I were wearing shorts on a day that did not allow it! That we went to Orchard Street and window-shopped where all the designer and elite crowd roamed, while I was walking about in $10 shorts. Beep beep.

Traffic in Singapore is nothing like in India. The lane discipline is noteworthy, of course, but what really took the cake was cars stopping for pedestrians. Everytime we had to cross a road at a point where there was no signal for pedestrians, we would stop to let a car pass and the car would stop to let us pass. I found myself looking for a red signal each time that happened. Cars park atleast 2 feet away, irrespective of whether they are behind another car or they stop for pedestrians. 

The tourist attractions were nice, no doubt. Some were fabulous but some of it seemed over-hyped. 

The visit to the zoo was good. So many animals I'd never seen before. Just make sure you ignore that niggly feeling of anguish at watching the animals cooped up in enclosures. We gave the Jurong Bird Park and the Night Safari a miss for lack of time. No regrets about the latter but the JBP might have been interesting, I'm sure. 

Sentosa Island was nice but definitely over-hyped. We found it a slightly different version of Innovative Multiplex. Better? Well, it is just a question of personal preference, I suppose. The adventure sports don't quite give you the 'adrenalin rush' they promise, I've seen better in India. I did enjoy the luge and skyride, though. Different. The views from top were brilliant, I am a sucker for those. So we did the Merlion but gave the Sky Tiger & Cable Car a miss (a view is a view, eh?). There is quite a bit to walk about and see, we seemed to have picked a fairly good course, for the wait at the Megazip didn't hit our schedule, took us to the beach instead and at such a perfect time. What better than sunset at the beach after a tiring day? The Underwater world has some of the most amazing water-life I have ever seen before. Much smaller than I anticipated and the squishy feeling about 'animals in enclosures' reared it's head again but ignore that and it's lovely.

Singapore is a shopping paradise, true to their claims. We were there during the month of The Great Singapore Sale and the place is nothing short of Heaven for a shoppaholic! Among others, Mustafa Centre seemed to give some of the best prices and boy, is it huge! 

Clarke Quay was beautiful. Amazing number of restaurants and awesome food. We spent quite a bit of time walking around. Seems like a good place to watch people, run if you want to. Oh yeah, now here they had some amazing 'adrenalin rush' games out here. Reverse Bungy - I don't know if I could do it but I think I'd to give it a shot if I get there again. 

There is so much else I haven't seen, I'm sure I would love to go back to Singapore. Not so much for the touristy things but to experience the everyday life and people. Maybe with my parents next time? I'm sure dad will be fascinated and mum would be excited. One place ticked off, now to the next.