Sydney 7 and 8 Jan.  Picasso, amazing, vibrant.  Bought Uke book for Sulawesi trek – daydreams, raindrops, and kings.  Friends, coffee, food.  Walking.  Aboriginal festival – black jazz.  Billabong puppets.

Journeys with the minstrels

It's hard to believe how long it is since I've blogged.  Much has happened, Christmas with family and friends, more settling into the new house, bush walks, a cycle trip in SA, and more.  There are photos and stories and I will try to write about them when I can.

I have been on a journey these last few weeks though.  One that needs to be written down, so that its not forgotten.  It started with a night out with my father to see Andreas Scholl, the counter tenor.  Before the show started I was talking with Dad about how much he likes music.  He said that there'd been a piano in his home as a child in Scotland, and that he had been going to have lessons, but the depression made that difficult.  Then he said that a famous Scottish fiddler (Scott Skinner) had written a tune called 'The left handed fiddle player' for his great uncle George Taylor, who also played the fiddle.  As a leftie who has grown up among a world of rights, my response was instinctive - you mean you had a left handed relative in the family and you never told me???

Musically I have been playing around with the ukelele, working my way through a finger picking book that wanders through hawaiian folk tunes and classics such as Dona Nobis Pacem.  A quick google turned up this:  http://www.thesession.org/tunes/display/4661.  (written for my great great uncle I might add!)  So I worked it out on the ukelele and began practising it to try to get it smooth and fast.  I continue to work on this.  It might take a while.

Then a friend asked if I wanted to go and see Tony McManus at the local folk club.  We have seen him before, a couple of times, at the National Folk Festival.  I have one of his albums that I have listened too many times, beautiful Scottish folk tunes played on the guitar.  It was a fabulous concert and lovely to hear the deeply resonant sounds of the guitar.  There were pipe tunes played with beautiful skipping melodies against a droning back sound.  Tony mentioned Scott Skinner and played one of his tunes, and I beamed with pride, wanting to stop him and tell him about my great great uncle.  I came away with another CD, and particular enthusiasm to play my guitar (which is probably vintage by now since I bought it when I was 19).  After so much ukelele playing I discovered the guitar was huge, and had a lot of notes on the fret board, but it has stayed out since that concert and I found some folk tunes on a handout from the folk festival that I am trying to work out and practice.

The act before Tony played a classic Scottish tune, covered by many a folk band - Caledonia by Dougie MacLean.  I remembered that I had been wanting to buy one of Dougie's CDs for quite some time.  So I got onto the web, (after looking up Tony's site) and bought two albums, downloaded them, and started listening.  The first few times I couldn't stop myself from crying everytime I heard the tunes. Caledonia is a song about homesickness for Scotland which somehow makes me feel for the country I lived in for two years when I was ' just a wee bairn' as they say - before and when I started school.  There is also a fabulous song about learning to use a scythe on the farm (you've got to hold it right its not something you can learn in a day) which turns out to also be a tune about learning to play the fiddle or the guitar, or the ukelele.  And did I say Tony McManus was left handed (as noted when he signed my CD) but plays his guitar right handed. Like me! I wonder about Dougie?

I have bought more song books, and stands for my two precious instruments, and have set myself to do some long term practice.  These journey's with the minstrels have put some roads in front of me, and I'm eager to walk my way down them.

And then in Bali it was about the people

So then in early Oct I went on a long planned, week long trip to Ubud in Bali.  Some friends had been there for the better part of a year, volunteering in an organisation dedicated to preserving traditional textile crafts across the eastern Indonesian islands.   I was to be their 26th guest, and their last.  As well, I had put my name down as a volunteer at the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival .  I was looking forward to returning to Indonesia having spent a month cycling on the island of Sulawesi in early 2009.  And I wasn't disappointed.

Soon after arriving I discovered I had been invited to a royal wedding - by virtue of the fact I was staying at a hotel owned by the royal family.  I invited my friends to join me, and had a lovely day and night.  There was Balinese dancing and gamelan playing and wayang kulit.  The palace, a collage of outdoor rooms and balconies, was decorated with fruit and flowers, and garudas and statues and offerings.  The prince had Australia in his face, having spent much of his childhood in Sydney with his family.  His new wife was an actress from Jakarta who had converted from Islam to Hindu the day before the wedding.  There were lots of family and friends and staff and others from the community present, and it was a great privilege to be introduced to Bali in that way.

The year of the lotus continued

After spring arrived, and as I continued to unpack boxes and slowly settle into the new home, my year of the lotus continued.

In late September I volunteered at a Japanese candle festival.  There were a number of us trying to combat the wind in the late afternoon to light a sea of candles.  It was frustrating and not very sucessful.  Then as dusk arrived the wind dropped, and the candles were lit easily.  And the plastic cups filled with tea light candles became a magical river of light.  Families gathered around the candles and gazed in, relaxed.  It was a lovely evening.

A taxi hailed in the suburbs

Friday lunchtime.  Dropped my car home as the windscreen was being replaced - due to a chip and a crack from a few days before.  Wandered down to the bus stop, hoping a bus would come by.  Waited five or ten minutes and then began to get a bit anxious about getting back to work as I didn't want to take too long a lunch break.

As I walked up the street to try another bus stop, I saw a taxi and signalled to the driver.  He waivered for a minute, then stopped for me, and said 'I'm going to Woden, you can come if you are going to Woden'.  My reply - ''that's great, that's where I'm going'.

The driver explained that he had just been to the mosque - it being a  Friday. He was wearing his clothes for prayer, and was meeting his wife in Woden to change and to start his shift.  He said, I find, when I pray that god puts thing in your way.   I was pleased to get back to work in good time.

The arrival of the spring goddess

Today the sun shone as I rode around our lake, dodging people and dogs and strollers and pedal bikes.  People were out in their numbers.  Spring is not far away.

And so I emerge from my hybernation from this blog.  A lot has happened.

Soon after I last blogged I bid for and bought a house.  Then followed some early packing, so that the painters could get into the old house, and a week away to let them do their thing.  The painters were followed in by gardeners, carpet layers, and decorators.

In late June my old house went on the market and soon after was sold.  Across those weeks more packing, and in early July a truck to move me to the new house.  Sales on the old and new went through.  A new mortgage was established.

And here I am now, reasonably settled into the new house (and loving its location), but still slowly unpacking the secondary layer of boxes.  For quite a while I was able to find most of what I needed but I have begun to reach the 'where ares my screwdrivers?  my grandfather's fish photos?  my blue socks?' phase.

I haven't moved for more than 15 years and have little call to travel across town as one of the reasons I moved was to be closer to work.  I did go back last week to visit my doctor though - because it is nearly impossible here in Canberra to get in as a new patient in any other doctors surgery.  It was a little weird, both as a reminder that I have in fact moved (this isn't just a short stay away from home) and that I don't really miss the old place.

I am still learning about the new place though, and the new suburb.  Today, after a slow start and a bike ride, I unpacked the final boxes in the kitchen, and repacked a few boxes to take to the opp shop.  Then I found the sunny spot in the garden, made myself a cup of tea, and read a few pages of my book.  I am glad I made the move.

And to continue the Asian theme that steeps unpredictably through this blog, soon after I put the deposit down on the house in early May, I went on a short holiday to Hong Kong.  We packed a lot into four days, including bike riding in the New Territories, the festival of Tin Hau (Goddess of the Sea),

a day trip to Macau,

a Tears for Fears concert, a little shopping, and a ride on a junk.

This is one of my favourite photos - the main hall in a walled village - with photos ancestors and revered elders, and additional decoration for the festival of the Sea Goddess.

Space and rhythm

I am on holidays.  Three weeks, and several adventures planned, with enough space left for the unplanned too.

This break started with a weekend trip to Wollongong (to see son), then a day and night in Sydney (for a Taiko drumming workshop).

The drumming was great fun.  In two hours we learned the basis of a rhythm that is played continuously at Japanese festivals over several hours, sometimes days.  Arms are held straight, sometimes high above the head before beating into the drum.  Very theatrical.  Once the rhythm starts its important to keep the space between your arms and your body, which is helped by the way you stand.  Always the need for space to support form.

After two days back in Canberra, I headed off again - this time to country Victoria for a five day cycling trip.  There were over fourty people from Canberra there, it being organised through the local cycling club. We stayed in country pubs, and had lovely breakfasts and dinners thrown in.  Overall we did about 270km from Myrtleford to Bright and back, to Beechworth (up a steep hill), then on to Rutherglen for two nights.  The only rain was on our rest day in Rutherglen, when we cycled short distances between wineries, after a ride across the river (and the border) for morning tea in Corowa, NSW.

On the way back I stopped in at Albury and had lunch with my son's grandmother and aunt.  To celebrate the grandmother's 80th birthday I had bought a bonsai plant.  While on the ride I had left in the care of the very kind staff at the Myrtleford visitors centre.

It was a lovely adventure buying the bonsai.  I found a guy who sells them in my suburb, and visited his nursery.  He showed me the big plants ($6000 or more) and they were beautiful.  With the deciduous trees losing their leaves, and pomegranates bearing bright but miniature fruit - it was a delightful place.  And luckily there was a nice cyprus for sale at a very reasonable price.

I was reminded of the bonsai garden when we arrived in Bright, which is on the road to the Victorian ski fields, and which had just celebrated its Autumn festival - the main feature being the beautiful trees turning to shades of red and gold and silver, with their leaves floating onto the ground below them.

The people on the ride were lovely, some friends I know quite well, and others who quickly became new friends.  And on the last day of the ride, after we had all showered and changed out of our cycling gear, a rainbow appeared in the sky.