Sydney - conned!

Today was a true summer's day in Sydney and my guard was down. It sounded idyllic, a quiet coffee with bro before catching a bus to beautiful Paddington to have lunch with friends at a nice pub-restaurant, the London Inn. Then to finish the day, a movie at my favourite cinema at circular quay, and later a RV with H. at City Extra.

Sydney is so seductive on days like these. Thirty degrees or thereabouts, not too humid, and a holiday atmosphere with the Sydney Festival in full swing. Tourists everywhere, and I suppose I was one of them. Alighting from my bus at Taylor Square, I quickly transferred to another to drop me at Glenmore Road, en route to Patsy's.

 Glenmore Road is a lovely winding tree-lined street, threading through the exquisite streets of this expensive inner suburb. I remember a French School in the vicinity from my last visit and drop by to get a comparison of their fees for the coming year. More than twice I am going to charge I notice, so I take a brochure to confirm  my bargain offer for this coming year in Wellington.

As I turn away I am approached ever so gently by a youngish man in shorts, carrying a bag and also two small plastic bags of choc-chip cookies. He tell me his Mum made them and told him to get out and sell them to make some money. They look quite nice and I believe him somehow, as he looks a bit sad, but as I only have a fifty dollar note I fear there is a problem. But no, he looks into his sack and pulls out a bag of two-dollar coins,  and also some five dollar notes. Feeling generous, I offer to take two bags for five dollars. He quickly counts out twenty dollars in notes then it seems like twenty five dollars in coins. I pocket the bickies thinking I can offer them after lunch to my friends. But I have a slight feeling that my fifty is now more than somewhat reduced.  Later at the pub when paying for my lovely quinoa salad, I count out what I thought was forty-five dollars and now see it is only thirty-five. How this innocent transaction resulted in the the sleuthing of ten bucks I still can't fathom, but put it down to Sydney in season...this is perhaps significantly why I  am not living here. Sophisticated Sydney is each to own own, and forget how you get it. Lesson for the day, be happy I am only here for a few days to avoid similar occurrences happening to a newly naive Kiwi.

But onto the nice part, the lunch with P and her friends C and E, who have just written an E-book on saving the environment from the point of view of a Samoyed dog called Lahni. It was quite an effort, and illustrated also by E with digital paintings. It's on sale on the net at 'LahnisMission', for fifteen dollars. I will look in to it on my return when I feel richer! LoL!

Having a coffee outside the Dendy Cinema at the quay.

Malabar - summer

Well this is my first time I have to catch up with my blog...the ECK seminar finished with a lovely ice cream with Murali on the bay beach cafe an I managed to avoid all goodbyes which I am never good at. A couple of buses later and I was in Malabar at brother's large and somewhat lonely house by the ocean. He is still living in the loss of his wife from cancer three years ago. How long this will last I don't know. But it is his life to lead.

A lovely afternoon with food friend PK at his new home in Redfern, and I was able to see his new tenants to be, a young Syrian student who is ideal, coupled with a young couple of private school-girl uni students  who would provide a good balance. PK has finally made the break to live in Sydney and it is his beloved home town, so he is nervously happy. He invited me to dinner and we ate Pad Thai at one of the several local restaurants which gave me memories of the Wellington cafe scene. Redfern is certainly the new Paddington in Sydney, close to the CBD, trendy, with now very expensive real estate. Clover Moore, Sydney's fame Lord Mayor,  who happens to be an ex-date of mine from Uni days, has facilitated the inner city  progress by choosing to live in this once Aboriginal reputed Redfern a few decades ago.

PK is a lesson in bravery, where in his middle years, he is relocating his home to very expensive Sydney where, although an intensely private person, he now has to have three tenants to afford the home he desires. However I assure him, he will succeed, and prosper, because of his bravery. He who doesn't dare, won't win.

Back to Malabar, where my brother, who doesn't dare, has prepared a nice meal which I don't partake of, but all is OK. We have learned over the years to accept our differences and not intrude in each other's lives. Families do not need to continue intimacies when their chosen lives diverge so much that they cease to have common aims. A good reason for me to stay in the Shaky Isles, lol.

After a few phone calls I now have arranged a full few days to satisfy all my friends, and myself, before I return on Thursday. Today is lunch with old friend Patsy, and her friends who are Trustedhousesitters, so I will be able to get some advice there. After lunch I plan the essential movie at Opera Dendy on Circular Quay, Nicole Kidman's latest movie, The Railwayman, which has had good reviews, and then there is the big unknown, a scheduled meeting with the Personals reply I received just before leaving NZ. This person, H, has written several emails and is shaping up with some interest to be an encounter of the third kind. I'll keep you posted.

My brother's prized back verandah..

Feeling Sydneyfied at Malabar Beach.

Taken from the Opera House in late afternoon sun with many people enjoying the holiday season

Sydney Opera for the people...

The movie I saw, The Railwayman, a rather gut-wrenching true story of two survivors of the infamous Burma railway, left me with the need to get out in the most beautiful of setting suns over Sydney Harbour Bridge and its twin icon, Sydney Opera House. 

Hundreds are out celebrating to the theme of the famous Aussie barbecue, with live outdoor music and obviously lots to drink. Indeed, life is sweet on Sydney Harbour on a summer afternoon.

Setting sun behind city...

Manly Ferry gracing the waves...

I decided to arrive on time, tried my mobile no coverage, again. Vodaphone really sucks here with little reception and I suppose had I been patient and waited for my optus simcard it would have been OK.

Mais c'est la vie! It's now after eight and no sign of arrival, lucky I have no expectations...lol!

Waiting at the City Xtra, but not for too long.

Saturday's talks

What can I say? Eckankar seminars are something which you need to experience, you can't translate  the effect of them into the written word. However I'll try to remember some salient points, mainly coming from some inspirational speakers and some extremely talented young people who will no doubt be making their effect on the wider world in the years to come. I am humble at their feet, and below are mine, a bit tired like me before bed.

Day two at the seminar was the first full day which began with a well attended HU song at eight am.

I decided to register as a volunteer host for the afternoon program, something which I always enjoy doing. Am still catching up with old friends, and witnessing the growth of their children, both physically, and spiritually. The ECK youth continues to astound me, I don't know why, as ECK is the path of miracles, and the youth who were born into ECK families are certainly starting with an advantage, which is reflected in their advanced insights into their lives.

The American guest speakers continue to impress with their speaking skills, but more with what they have to relate. As film producers they have a bunch of interesting stories, having worked with US Presidents and the like. They tell the story of how they met and got together, one an ECKist and one not, but who soon became one on meeting Sri Harold, the Living ECK Master. They had the audience in stitches and really are a perfect comic duo. Supremely articulate, their charmed lives represent all that one could dream of in a perfect world, and they have lots more to do. The wife,  who has just written her first book called Inner Guidance, which strangely (not) sold out on the first day, is a born risk taker, and her life tells the story of how she was directed, and protected, in some very hairy escapades. She is also blonde and looks like Doris Day! It was quite a day and I will try to take notes tomorrow to refresh my memory of some of the more memorable moments. 

At the dinner break before the evening session, on M's suggestion we repaired to an excellent local Thai restaurant, this time on the beach strip, and we chose a perfect table with views of the bay. The food was great and the restaurant soon filled with Seminar attendees searching for the same good food. With some more time to spare, a stroll along the promenade, peppered with veiled Muslim women and their   families, was an interesting and pleasant postscript to dinner. We sat on the grassy verge and gazed at the blue haze and passing pedestrians enjoying what we are enjoying, a beautiful balmy summer evening on Brighton Beach. 

It is a very Middle Eastern experience, ironically on the shores of Botany Bay where La Perouse landed and where many early Aborigines were massacred. Strange is the history of the place, now a Muslim stronghold, with an enormous new Mosque being built right next to the Novotel where the Seminar is being held. The future if the area is curiously assured.

Day one

Just completed the first day of the Seminar seeing many old friends and having some great reunions. It certainly makes me aware how important these annual trips are, as the friendships, although at a distance, are real and easily renewed.

The major speaker from South Carolina was in fine form as I have heard her speak before, but today her stories were diverting and her delivery impeccable, promising more to come in the next two days. Her story in Minnesota of entering a wolves lair and being attacked by one of the wolves who had sensed her deer-antler buttons on her jacket, was as amusing as it was informative. A. is certainly a feisty lady. However the laurels of the day's speakers went assuredly to a Melbourne friend, also A, who related the last thirty years of his interesting life, most of it in the US, where he had contracted HIV thirty years ago and lived to tell the tale, albeit in a spiritual context. His life in San Francisco in the late seventies and early eighties had coincided with the outbreak of the AIDS epidemic and he became an active worker with his dying friends. He was also a good friend of the openly gay and subsequently murdered Senator Harvey Milk so his activities were also in the political arena. Meeting with the famed 'On Death and Dying' author Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave him more insight into the dying process and a keener desire to discover more about his spirituality. 

Eventually in 1984 he came across the teachings of ECKANKAR and embraced them fully, never looking back. He also spoke without notes, as did the major speaker, and it showed how important is the manner of presentation to engage the audience, a skill which they both had in spades. He received a large and very warm ovation from an appreciative audience who had been invited to share some intimate moments,  and who doubtless emerged wiser from the talk. A's attitude had been similar to mine and in no way did he allow any negativity to impede his progress, neither physical nor spiritual. After all, every experience, however physical it may be, has a spiritual element, and when it involves a life-changing event there are important lessons to be learned. 

On speaking with room-mate Murali later, I was alerted to an interesting incident which happened to me this morning, on mistaking a couple of my pills and not looking for the significance in this quite strange and unusual oversight. There are reasons for all things however trivial they may seem at the time, and this is now something I will pursue next week when I go to Gosford to catch up with my previous doctor, who hopefully will be available for a talk. After all she is also a Kiwi who was not initially keen that I move to her forsaken islands and who will no doubt be interested in an update about me, and her native country.

Life has its funny twists and turns, and I am interested to see the outcome next week, it may be just what I am looking for to start my new year, on a new regime. We'll see. Now for a good night's sleep and more talks tomorrow.

The Seminar

Well the weekend seminar begins wonderfully with benign mild Sydney weather of twenty four degrees celsius - perfect. The Air New Zealand flight was also perfect with excellent staff attention and the three hour flight disappearing into the clouds as we sped into Sydney. The Kiwi element was certainly present as they have incorporated the Lord of the Rings into their MO, with the safety procedures all filmed with Hobbits playing the roles of the passengers securing their belts and even Peter Jackson playing himself in a role. It was funny and diverting and made you enjoy the safety procedure for the first time in history. Such is the Kiwi humour! Also two honorary staff members, young boys of eight or nine, were given fitted Air NZ staff jackets and given the role of distributing complimentary lollies to all the passengers, again a nice Kiwi touch.

We arrived fresh at five p.m. and I immediately went to the Optus counter to buy a prepaid Sim for the local calls, but no luck, I was told my phone would not work. Hey what's new? On my way out I decided to to try the Vodaphone company with whom I am in NZ, and they sold me a card, assuring me it is good, but it hasn't worked either. So message is, forget the technology, just enjoy the present.

A quick and efficient bus service with one change gets me to Brighton Le Sands by six o'clock for all of two dollars fifty. A quick check-in and the charming lady insists I accept a complimentary upgrade to the Bay-view Suite with gorgeous views over  Botany Bay. Yes please, I say and retire to luxury and a warm  shower.  An hour later I descend to catch up with various friends who have also arrived the night before and we decide to have a nice meal on the 'strip', Bay Road, which has a multitude of cafes of all ethnicities. We choose Vietnamese, and I sit with good friend M, who took over from me in Tassie when I left five months ago. We catch up with all the news and I feel at one with the universe. Lots of hugs and smiles and a pretty little girl called Lily sits next to me wearing the sparkliest of pink sandals, so I take a photo and she is delighted.

Casual return to the Novotel to have an early night,  but too excited and can't sleep, so turn on one of the two huge TV screens offered, after all it is a Suite! The programs are all awful and I realise I am missing nothing in Sydney. Sleep finally beckons and I have a dream-filled night and wake up to a quiet buzz from the phone, 'Mr.Murali has arrived from Singapore, can he come up?'

My good friend Murali soon appears at the door, a big smile and a bit sleep-deprived, having flown all night from Singapore. We chat for a while but I soon put him to bed for a two hour kip as today our Seminar starts today at eleven o'clock. An auspicious beginning to what I am sure will be a great experience.

The luxury queen size bed for me...

Smiling, but tired, Murali arrives...

View from the balcony... 

...to the pool below

Looking towards Mascot Airport on the other side.

Aussie trip

I am at Wellington airport and it is like the apocalypse has happened with no survivors. Reason, I am two hours early, and there are very few international flights from here. Ooh well, sit and drink coffee and prepare for six hectic days in Sin City, or that's what it used to be called when I lived there, many years ago. I wonder if the moniker still fits? Think it does funnily, but perhaps no longer for a near seventy year old LoL!

This is the new international departure lounge at Wellington. At least it is truly an international lounge, which dear old capital Hobart had problems giving up on. However Australia is the only destination it seems, as all other flights go out of Auckland which is a much grander airport. Of course it makes for super simple departures which I will remember next time, and as it is only twelve noon now in Sydney, I can permit myself an airport espresso.

It is now five months that I have resided in this amazing antipodean country, separated from the rest of the world, and Australia, by wild ocean currents and vicious gale force winds, both of which I have  experienced living in its vibrant capital, Wellington. The orderly nature of the Kiwi is manifested here in this newly designed somewhat futuristic lounge, where the vast majority of people are Kiwis, which you can tell from their demeanour. No brash Australian exterior, or self effacing 'I'm not here' of the Taswegian, but a sort of complacency, but hard-won, of a people used to conquering adversity, but not revelling in its conquest. A nation of trampers, a self-sufficient race which must have invented the back-pack, a hybrid race but proud to be New Zealanders, as against the Aussies in particular, who are their favourite nemesis. Not that I have experienced anything more than good hearted anti-Aussie banter, as nearly all Kiwis can count some of their family in Australia. Take for example the present Oz Prime Minister Tony Abbott, who long ago proudly married a beautiful, if somewhat traditional, Kiwi beauty. 

There is indeed a Kiwi look, not an inbred look, but certainly one that comes from a Scottish heritage, now blended with the Maori islander caste, in many cases. The proud Maori race is in stark contrast to the subjugated Australian Aborigine, who is still struggling for recognition in his own land. Although the Maori did lose a lot of land in the land wars, they proudly kept their culture and traditions which are evident in every part of the these ever-shaky isles.

And it is exactly this, I believe, which sets apart the Kiwi so much from his Aussie counterpart, the fact that this extremely youthful country is founded on a fault-line, as much, if not more, threatened  as San Francisco, whose inhabitants seem to live blissfully ignorant of the fact that their own city went down in disastrous circumstances less than a hundred years ago. Here, earthquakes are a constant threat, and loom in the recent memory of most inhabitants, especially those in the South Island who lost their houses and livelihood, and some their lives, in the terrible earthquake of 2010. It will be a long time before the once-beautiful Christchurch resumes its full capacity as New Zealand's number three city.

Sitting beside me is an example of what I am describing...a young Kiwi couple, obviously some Scottish heritage, or perhaps blended with Scandinavian, both studiously ready for their Aussie adventure, she reading her book honestly borrowed from the city library, and he diligently studying the latest software on his mini laptop computer while unselfconsciously sporting a patriotic Kiwi footy vest. They have next to them the ubiquitous bottle of spring water, bought unfortunately, like most, from the supermarket. He has a backpack, she, just a bag, both in extremely sensible shoes and ready for the awful onslaught that Sydney has to offer the naive Kiwi. 

For they are exactly that, even more naive than we Aussies, and I say this from broad experience. It is one of the reasons that New Zealanders have endeared themselves to me, with their simplicity, their honesty, their goodwill and amazing courage and adventure. Just look at Sir Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy - three immense films which could never have been made anywhere but New Zealand, by an intrepid director who could only have been born and nurtured with the Kiwi sense of 'you can do it, but do it well, my boy'. The result is a burgeoning film industry, the envy of the world, with skilled workers who work for a pittance in comparison with the rest of the movie-making world. There are three more 'Avatar' movies to be made here in the near future. It is indeed a nation which punches far above its weight in many fields, and always with great laconic humour and no expectation of great recognition. Not that it hasn't been discovered by many an American or Pom who can't wait to get their hands on this still verdant paradise, in Middle Earth, at the extreme southern end of the world.

I still have a lot to learn while in residence here, and this is going to be one hell of a year!

The haven of Te Papa in Wellington

Today I needed a small haven from the continuous cold and wet weather. How I am finally looking forward to Sydney's steamy heat for a week. But I know I'll be glad to be back. If ever I need reassurance all I need to do is to visit this wonderful Museum and look at the art, the people, and feel the Maori presence. Really magnificent.

Home tonight with the DVD of Brokeback Mountain, a favourite  of many people and certainly one of mine. All alone in our tiny TV room, the entertainment centre of the house I jokingly call it, I watched a banned love affair unravel into a terrible tragic ending. It was an interesting postscript to my camping trip to Vinegar Hill, but with an incredible gap between the disparate sensibilities and final results.

I wonder if I'll ever return to the Hill under different circumstances...who knows?

Experience Te Papa

David Lange's historic Labour victory in 1984

The salon in an Edwardian Kiwi home

Some weird fashions in the WOW Collection

More fashion....

A piece of art in metal and beads

Outside a door at Te Papa