I dreamed of Africa

Today I took 400 people to Africa with me. 400 IT geeks, chanting "AMAZULU" when they spotted the shy adaptive leopard, the unpredictable buffalo, the awesome elephant, the raw energy of a pride of lions in full hunt, the unmistaken power of 2 tonnes of rhino.

It was something else....a little footprint of the magic of Africa, deep into the heart of my new home, my beloved Australia. Its weird that some people cant share a love for two countries...I feel all the richer for having them both...like children...or parents...in my heart.
Even though the rangers were brilliant, and the music and photography conspired to evoke the familiarity of the sounds and sights that I lived with for 38 years, a virtual safari is...well....virtual! Like an e-mail love affair! So, as I make my way to bed tonight, I am left with a hunger...a hunger that has not been sated...a hunger that is more closely connected with memory than any of our other senses....a hunger for the smell of the African bush.

To think, one can buy a fully-fenced game farm with river frontage, thatched home etc in a nature reserve for the price of a studio apartment sans views in an ordinary Sydney suburb! Check this out!

Barbieland: Where virgins fear to tread...

 
When I walked through these doors, it was love at first sight. (God knows how I will ever part from it- I am ruined for life!) Outdoors is where it all happens...breathtaking views all the way to Santiago, the sapphire sea and seductive Southern sun...but if you are planning on doing the al fresco dining thingie here, you could cook yourself medium-rare by 10am if you don't invest in shade - shade that won't fly to Uluru in the first seabreeze!

This weekend's glorious weather provided the perfect incentive to get Balmoral Castle summer ready....yes, I know its still 3-4 months away, but why was "Carpe Diem" invented if not to give obsessive-compulsives a behavioural excuse? Besides, its 30 June tax year-end sales everywhere and bbqs, patio furniture, gazebos and brollies are not exactly walking out the door in mid-winter...so for the bargain-lover, what better time to play "flash the cash" (or AMEX in this case seeing I fly Cub1 home on Frequent Flyer points!)

At the insistance of Mr M, the inner-urban one-person-household design consultant and handyman friend, I commenced bbq shopping about a month ago, but seeing the only barbecueing he does is at The Oaks, we didnt really have any criteria for assessing these mysterious steel boxes ranging in price from $89 to $8900!!!

Years of eavesdropping on blokey conversations at braais in Africa (where real men cook with real fire) and poofter gas barbecues Downunder("toss another shrimp on the barbie luv") have taught me that this was dangerous territory second only to car talk, as an expression of penis-envy.

Seeing I have no need to compete on size or staying power, this BBQ virgin was ill-equipped to tell the difference between Jumbuk (Aussie name for a sheep)and Beafeater (sounds like Mardi Gras!), Webber and Grillmaster (BDSM?), and a zillion other specimens.

How thick is thick enough? Regular SS or marine? Powder-coated or vitreous enamel? Solid cast-iron -cured or raw? Standard fit-out or custom-sized? Hooded or without? Side-burners or rotational effects? Displayed or hidden energy source? And then I haven't even started on the toys and accessories!

My head was spinning. How to avoid having my innocence abused and my terrace deflowered by some imposter sleazebag rust-trap with iron screws, no driptray for overflow and handpumped manual ignition?

But, as in dating and love, one gets nowhere by playing wallflower, you have to dance with the lot to find your feet and meet a prince! So, with some trepidation and armed with a bit of internet facts, I set out to comb the Northern Beaches "strip" of outdoor, leisure and BBQ stores.

After two days, I reckon I had it sussed. Could tell the difference between marketing hype and "designer" features vs the fundamental stuff. Instant battery-operated fuel ignition and a smooth vitreous enamel coating would satisfy my needs best. (can't stand cleaning all that black muck - but convenience comes at a significant price premium!) I locked in my vote on a last-in-stock, marked-down, middle-of-the range Canadian called Grillmaster, from Bunnings.

Only one wee concern...the new object of my desire's wrapper had been tampered with, though the salesman assured me repeatedly "No worries luv-he's all intact"! The optimist, impatient to get to play with her new toy, chose risk over delayed satisfaction.

Obstacle 1 came in the parking lot- he simply wouldn't fit! We tried everything-the reclining front seat position, the boot, the bonnet and even topless. Finally, left with only one option, we did the strip. Piece by piece, I loaded him up, lithe limbs slung around the seats, torso in the boot and a fuel cannister prodding me through my seat and leaving me in fear that it may blow me to the moon in case of sudden impact!

Back at the Castle, Obstacle 2 meant carrying the Canadian up 62 steps in 7 trips, and laying him out on the lounge floor for mounting. I was so excited. Sms'ed all my friends to share this milestone and had several offers of help, but this pleasure was going to be all mine...another giant step for womankind and another DIY project mastered!

After all the retail courtship and decision-anguish, a glass of wine and the sensual sounds of Spanish guitar was needed to set the mood. It started promisingly with legs lining up perfectly, the male and female nuts & bolts finding one another and screwing tightly, the base clicking in effortlessly. This was too good to be true. Indeed!

Obstacle 3 surfaces. The optimist should have yielded to that little voice about the unsealed box- Part SP 26a & b which connects torso to pelvis, was nowhere to be found. Back 62 steps to the car, nope! Not one for giving up at the first hurdle, I persevered in the belief that the missing bit would miraculously appear once I had the upper body in shape.

But, alas, it was not meant to be. The Grillmaster was paralyzed from the waist down AND missing the knobs that ignite the fuel. He was not going deliver the fantasy of sizzling sausages and roasted rump that I was salivating for! So around midnight, the Canadian came to a pitiful end and spent the freezing night locked in the boot of my car. The fine-print on the Bunnings slip showed that I could vent my frustrations at 8am Sunday morning!

"And what was the problem Madam?" asked the rather dashing Outdoor and Leisure Manager.

Erectile dysfunction!

"We can't have that, Madam, at Bunnings we make a special effort to look after our lady customers. Could I interest you in another model Madam?"

"Only if it comes fully erected and delivered!"

Of course Madam. As a country-boy with long experience in these matters, I recommend you go with what most Aussie blokes pick: The Jumbuk (should have guessed!)And, seeing that you had to endure all these disappointments, I'll erect it, deliver it and help you to commission it on Tuesday night!"

Now, short of instant gratification, what more could a girl ask for? A bigger and better instrument for the same price with guaranteed results vs a DIY job -its a no-brainer!

And seeing he is already making the delivery, he's chucking my shade solution onto the ute along with that Jolly Jumbuk!

Watch this space for more adventures in Barbie-land! But to avoid your own pain in future...research here before you buy!

a river runs through it

The slow passage of time
grinds the rocks in my life
to powdery sand
and my river finds its path
to where it needs to go
slowly
in spite of my resistance

Love is the Killer App

love. The one thing all humans need...and the thing that eludes most.

Found out yesterday that two tennis buddies had split up over the long weekend...after two years of seemingly sensational synergy.

They're a great match (sorry, not trying to play on tennis metaphors here!), they laugh together, socialise well, communicate well, etc. I thought they both had enough emotional awareness and maturity from their respective marriage break-ups some 4 years ago to handle anything! Survived the blending of his 3 boys with her 2 girls, dodged moody and greedy ex partners and difficult divorce settlements on both sides, juggled 8 grand-parents, excelled in dual professions and certainly enjoyed a healthy physical and tactile relationship after years in the desert! (Familiar pattern for many people I suspect!)

These two people love one another deeply...it is evident to all of us who have watched them come together and fall in love. And, from experience too!, we also know that they're not going to find anyone "more fun" or "less complex" or sexier or "more together" out there. At their age, 47 and 46, there are few that aren't greying or balding or getting a bit flabbier or a bit "creased", and neither is there anyone undamaged or baggage-free from what has gone before...its often the path people have walked that make them more interesting in my view.

But notwithstanding that, these two people have strong chemistry...And thats the hardest thing to find. If the chemistry happens, you can work on the emotional compatibility stuff even though it can be slow-going, but it CAN grow, whereas sexual chemistry is an on-off switch in my belief!

I felt a bit the same after watching "The Break-Up"-which admittedly is about a younger and much more immature couple-but you have the same sense of frustration at their inability to put ego aside and work things out. Why is it so damn hard to say sorry, I screwed up? Sorry, I was too pushy, Sorry, I was insensitive? Is it harder to do this than to live with regrets for the next five years, perhaps forever? I think not.

Of course I don't really know the full story- who ever will...its their personal lives. I just hope if they struggle with ego and misunderstanding, that they will have the sense to get help. It can be so simple, and alleviate so much hurt and pain. The ability to forgive comes from the ability to know and understand. The ability to heal comes from telling where it hurts and why.

I am no shrink, but having lost someone and something special myself, I cant bear to see them throw it away. No-one is perfect, and because of that, we have all been given the capacity to choose, to learn, to forgive, to be patient, to understand, to communicate, to love.

24/7 Parenthood

With the exception of two hours between 2-4 pm today, I spent every waking hour this weekend with an 8 year old. An 8-year old whom I love, and who is great company. But an 8-year old nonetheless.

Did I mention that I had a date on Friday evening with the New Zeelundha but got dropped by the babysitter at last minute, so the 8 year tagged along for some fine waterside dining at one of Sydney's finest? (his idea...but it was either that, or cancel, or take-out pizza at Balmoral Castle!)

I really enjoyed watching a movie with her yesterday (although The Break-Up is probably cultivating premature relationship cynicism!) window-shopping and coffee-crawling among quaint arty shops in Surrey Hills, and she undoubtedly has an eye for design (and expensive taste!), though she drew a line on working through the entire Sydney biennale with me.

And this morning, we ran in the Mini-Mosman charity marathon before I worked at the hot dogs booth at her school fair while she blew a small fortune on rides and face painting and the chocolate wheel.

The point I am making is that I dont think I am a bad mother. But God, I need a bit of space - so badly!

Epicurean epiphanies

Dear Bloggie...I was preparing some guidelines today for the launch of our first corporate blog (yes, another innovation led by moi!)then..an OH-OH moment: I am NOT practising the REGULAR updates I am preaching! Lol...seeing this is a personal blog and not a professional one, I guess...so what? If anything, it proves that I have a REAL life that's full and rich in experiences and the occasional insights!

Talking of busy lives, the long weekend had even me throwing in the towel! Cold and damp after a week of pouring rain and splashing about with work, kids,interviews (been headhunted for a big job..watch this space and fingers crossed please!) trains, planes and automobiles , I cancelled a date to the opening of the Sydney Film Festival and a cocktail party involving Jennifer Arniston (Cub2 was devastated that I could say NAH!), opened a bottle of red, slow-roasted some lamb shanks for the three of us and just watched movies on the telly (the latter being the TRULY abnormal behaviour for me but the kids loved it so much!)

Now...to most people this may not sound like a big deal. But for me it was. Because life, and doing things, is my drug. Packing every moment full of experiences and hating just sitting around aimlessly. Yet, what's the point if you don't have time to savour them? And therein the aha-moment!

As the weekend unfolded, I ended up musing late on Saturday night with a friend on the art of reflection...and he hinted that perhaps I kept myself perennially busy to avoid reflection. Well, truth is I do it to STOP the reflection!I think its quite pointless to dwell too much in the past, and being a bit of a thinker, I can at times live in my head and go around and around in circles and beat myself up for all the mistakes I have made! But that does not change a single thing, so instead, I busy myself with ambitious projects, wild escapades, exotic travel and extreme adventures!

Avoidance behaviour? Pro-activity? Whatever! I have to stop piling the plate so high and savour and taste every morsel that's on my tongue RIGHT NOW!...let in linger, roll it around, explore its tastes, textures, subtleties and smells.

Which brings me to one of my favourite subjects: Epicuros and his musings on The Art of Happiness. I dont know whether its the glorious pink sunsets from my kitchen window or the full moon dancing on the bay across my balcony, or reclaiming 40 minutes a day because I am not sitting in traffic jams, but I have time again for simple pleasures: cooking, friendships and conversation.

Simple is the operative word. So often, Epicurean philosophy is misused in the context of gluttony, excess and elaborate feasts. It is everything but.

I pondered this very thing yesterday morning as I accidentally stumbled into a shop where many millions of dollars trade hands in the pursuit of culinary perfection.

It looked like the tables at my garage sale when I moved house after 18 years of rampant consumerism. Special gadgets and tools, exotic cake tins, Arzberg china, Madeira linen and crisp Damask, Italian clay pots and German cookware, Waterford Crystal and Swiss knives...the United Nations of Quality was represented row upon row, shelves from floor to ceiling.

My hand reached towards an unusual vase, but it stopped mid-air. Later it reached for a pepper mill with lights and bells and dancing Zulu warriors (just kidding!)...and stopped again...because flashing in my mind's eye were those garage sale tables when I moved...groaning under "must have" things used maybe five times in 18 years (some not even once!)...and in the end, it has zero value or even negative value if you have to pay someone to remove it to the garbage tip!

I had an epiphany in that shop. I realised that our propensity to consume STUFF must be directly related to the amount of personal space at our disposal. We could limit our impact on the planet by limiting the footprint of our dwellings and making everyone carry everything up at least three flights of stairs!

It sure has curbed my consumption pattern, yet my life is more interesting for it. My barebones dollhouse kitchen has turned out more gourmet feasts in 6 weeks than the previous 6 years, with no compromise to quality nor diversity! For me, the challenge to create something magnificent with bare necessities is true mastery and art...and therein lies the thrill! The thrill comes from the size and complexity of the challenge conquered.

Forgive me if I shoot across to Sunday night's rugby game to reinforce this point. As usual, we caught the Special Events bus to and from the game...but on the way home, in spite of a great night out and 39-3 victory for the Wallabies, there was no sense of cheer on that bus, no animated chatter, no drama, unlike this morning after the Socceroos victory over Japan...So, my insight of the day is that:

Conquest and victory in sport, as in cooking, and anything else i can think of including love, is only sweet if gained as a result of dogged determination and a struggle to conquer big and real challenges.

I hope Cub1 reads this blog and remembers that for the challenges she faces in conquering her new environment! (Ooops, violated guideline 2: BLOG is too long!)

Conspiracy or serendipity?

Well...not that I am an analytical type, but...why does that funny pointy ball keep popping through my posts? I can't work it out...for a football agnostic and intellectual junkie like me, perhaps ze Gods have gone crazy?

It all started when I met a rugby-mad dad and his two Young Wallabies. I went from oblivion to several test matches, to being nagged by my cubbettes to buy them a rugby ball, rugby jerseys, scarfs and beanies and even shipped a boxing Wallaby to England for Springbok cousin, dressed up as Lion!

It didnt help that cubs and I ended up sharing a table with ex Wallaby Captain of World Cup fame at Tres Sopranos- our local pizza joint, a few weeks ago...and now Cub 1 at very expensive ladies school is drawing up a petition to get touch rugby allowed and mum has to line up rugby super stars to coach les girls!

Having recently met ex team doctor of the All Blacks, and a good mate of Francois Pienaar, another doctor and Captain of World Cup fame ( albeit the horny kind....no, the Springboks dummy! don't always think naughty things!), I must confess I'd be much happier if the girls pursued a gentle sport like tennis!

But then again...I can see how 320 girls living under one roof in almost boot camp conditions in sub-zero temperatures could benefit from releasing a few pent-up hormones by chasing a pointy ball! It sure beats bitchiness!

Well, looks like my rugby education is set to continue and cubs think I'm supermum for getting us all invited to the Wallabies/England game on Sunday night. Only problem is: What to do with the bloody New Seeluhndar? (Perhaps I'll reciprocate with the ballet - hope he doesn't break into the Haka Haka when the curtain rises!)