tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51031633521885789272024-03-04T22:54:48.705-08:00Vacuuming On HolidayBerniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-80211456454047206912017-08-18T07:04:00.002-07:002017-09-20T05:45:19.967-07:00How I found gratitude on my ownLooking through my old photos to find the herring I wrote about in my last post, brought a lot of memories to the surface. Every picture triggered a story I wanted to share with you. Remembering the fun times I had was enough, but sometimes these stories had a point to make too.<br />
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This simple photo of a coffee was one of these.<br />
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The morning after the first time I got high, I went to a cafe near Amsterdam Centraal. I had made the classic rookie mistake of taking too much at the start and ending up super stoned, but in my defence, I waited nearly 2 hrs after eating my space cake with zero effect. They recommend waiting 30 minutes, so you can't question my patience.<br />
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My high was as fun as I'd hoped it would be, at least what I remember of it, but I was alone, and I'll admit, felt a bit like a loser for it... Thankfully being stoned makes that easier to deal with.<br />
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The night before, wandering Haarlemmerstraat, trying to work up the nerve to go into a coffeeshop and buy a brownie, was the first time that I really felt like I was missing out on some unique experiences by travelling solo. Sure, I'd wanted company before then - by that time I'd been abroad a little over a month - and I missed the friends and family I'd left behind, but I really relished the challenge of backpacking alone too. No compromises, no quarrels, total freedom.<br />
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What also comes with that is no assistance or support. There's no one to brainstorm ideas of what to do next, or to sound off feelings about where you want to go and how. There's no corroboration or collaboration to validate that the choices made are the right ones. I find it so much easier to be calm when I'm with calm people, because I reflect their mood, and in turn they absorb my zen. Without that, I internalise, mull, and stew over the smallest details, which leads to anxiety and indecision. I can freeze on the spot in the middle of a crowded street, not sure whether to turn left or right, and terrified about the consequences of either, completely aware that the decision I have to make is not at all as apocalyptic as it feels.<br />
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When I'm by myself, there's no shared laughter when things get a bit ridiculous. And I realised, as I entered a dim smokey coffeeshop on my own and pointed at a herbal cupcake for one, that I really wanted a friend or two at that very moment, to giggle about how silly the whole situation was. (My journal later reads in shaky handwriting, "There are actual Jamaicans in here!")<br />
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Still, there's something to be said for letting the situation dictate the proceedings. Just as you cannot walk through an ocean, the environment does have a fair bit of control over the journey you take. When push comes to shove, you just have to work with what you've got. Go build a boat. Go enjoy the water and swim. What you shouldn't do is stand on the beach and get frustrated. There's no doubt some things are more fun to do with company, but if you simply don't have something you want, instead of moping about it, or willing it to appear by constantly wanting it more, it's far better (and in the long run, actually easier) to accept things for what they are, pick yourself up, and keep plodding on.<br />
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I have since surprised myself by learning that I can be extremely easygoing on the road. (I still make plans, and I'm slightly more neurotic about those plans when I'm by myself than when I'm with friends, but I also like to follow my nose and not have to consult anyone about making sudden detours.) I have also proven myself that I can make friends out of strangers - not just random people to share space with and help me disappear into crowds, but really good friends; souls who I probably wouldn't have met if I hadn't dared to venture outside without a social condom to protect me.<br />
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So that's the "never say no" and "live life to the max" and "go single girl solo travel power" part of this post. But I've kind of always been into that. What is it about getting away that has such a hold on me? And when am I going to get to the point of that coffee photo?<br />
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Mostly, I think what I always savour by travelling alone is the mental relief that physical distance and solitude gives me from the pressure of expectations I feel when I'm home. Doesn't really matter how much of that stress is real, imagined or projected, because I suffer it all in the same way. And until I learn to let go and find space from it internally and figuratively, finding literal space helps a great deal. I have a slight hang up about whether this is a cowardly form of escape... But deep down, I firmly and truly believe it is a healthy thing to do - to separate, detox from distractions and routines, refocus, and pay attention to the immediate surrounds and the present moment.<br />
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Going to that cafe the morning after the night before, took some time. I'm slow first thing, especially when I have to make choices and plans by myself. I was further hampered by what was either a pot hangover, extreme sleep deprivation, or both. But I finally made it out to that cafe, which I remember searching for specifically, for reasons I can't recall; perhaps good reviews on TripAdvisor. Cosmic irony stepped in to ensure that the cafe was severely understaffed, so on top of all of my own self-imposed delays, I waited a really long time for my coffee.<br />
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What struck me was that I really wasn't fussed by the wait. I empathised with the barista who apologised to me for the inconvenience while she rushed about like a headless chicken - I noticed this because normally I'd only be thinking about myself, and feeling critical and judgmental.<br />
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Not that morning. Instead I sat quietly at the scrubbed wooden table, my journal untouched, and stared mesmerised at the warm amber hue of the sunlight as it slanted across the tabletop, like transparent gold. It occurred to me how beautiful mid-morning sunshine is, and how I never noticed it before the way I seemed to be noticing it now.<br />
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I briefly wondered if I was still high, because I was really transfixed by that sight. Then I realised it didn't matter. I felt really happy. I'd had an amazing night, one of those first-in-a-lifetime type of experiences. I hadn't waited for anyone to give me permission to do it, or to babysit me through it. It was a night I would always remember - me, the straight laced, straight A's, rule follower, spacing out in the lobby of a Dutch youth hostel. Then, because of how light and liberated and joyous I felt, I would always remember that following morning too.<br />
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I almost couldn't believe it. Look at where I was! I was in the Netherlands! A whole world away from home where I'd been sheltered for 20 years. All the doomsday warnings I've been given about being a female backpacking around Europe alone were proven to be wrong, because I was totally, utterly, blissfully okay. I had coffee (eventually), sunshine, and myself. And it hit me - that's all I needed. Suddenly the many years of exams and grades and good behaviour I'd spent so much time and energy stressing about seemed not only pointless and petty, but stupid and wasteful. Where had I been all this time? Had I even been living all these years?<br />
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My time was running out in Amsterdam, and this was the point when I usually began to make lists of things to see and do, and weigh up the things I could tick off against the things I would miss, followed by estimations of how great my traveller's remorse might be. Exhausting, right? That's just how my brain operates. But instead of running through all the sights and activities offered by that great city in my mind, my thoughts wandered back home, to Sydney and university and jobs and family and so on, and what I would do with myself when my holiday was over. The thought of it made me feel queasy, and distracted. Suddenly, I really couldn't be arsed worrying. It wasn't relevant to what I was doing right then and there. I deserved my break. I would worry about my career in the all-too-near future. The present moment had no room for worry. Neither my family nor my college education had a place in that cafe with me. To continue the metaphor: I was not going to force myself to walk through the ocean to reach an impossible horizon. I wanted no boat. I wanted to swim in the water and feel the waves against my skin and soak my hair and laugh, just floating and bobbing about, and enjoying the sea.<br />
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It occurred to me that this was gratitude. I was, for the first time ever, 100% genuinely grateful: for all I had, for all I was, for all I'd done, for all I'd been given and was a part of. I was grateful for the waitress for running around to give me coffee. I was grateful for the sun for shining when it could have rained. I was grateful for my holiday for giving me time to linger over that morning. I was grateful for the edibles I'd had the night before which brought me to a state of heavenly relaxation. I was grateful for myself for being there, and having this beautiful moment all to myself. I didn't know gratitude was something you could discover, but there I was, discovering it - and according to recent blogs and articles espousing the latest mental health crazes, gratitude is "so in" right now. However I was a few years ahead of the fad, and I'm proud of it.<br />
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Gratitude is no joke, people. It is the real deal and if you discover it, I hope you experience the same joy and cathartic calm I did. If you haven't yet, be patient and it will come. For me, all it took was a cup of coffee, and a bit of sunshine.<br />
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Have a great weekend everyone. I'm thinking of you and wishing you peace. Love Bernie x<br />
<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-62891285120399128032017-07-19T01:46:00.001-07:002017-07-19T08:26:52.819-07:00Travel by foodThe popularity of food-related travel media - and vice versa, travel-related food media - is huge. I feel like it's really boomed in recent decades, far beyond the traditional settings of the home and the restaurant where food was once singularly based.<br />
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And how could it not? Food is so deeply and intricately tied into our culture, our history, and our identities. Once you start looking into different cuisines, you cannot avoid the influence of place and time and people. You know that old saying, you can escape on a great adventure with a good book? I would say the same with food.<br />
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Food celebrities like Anthony Bourdain, Rick Stein, and Luke Nguyen (I think he's slightly less renowned on the global scales but still very famous and one of my personal favourites), have made it trendy and edgy by travelling to exotic places and eating local fare on the streets side-by-side with the people that cooked it. Nowadays you can visit entire museums or join city tours that have only food as its main feature. But at its core, I feel that food at its most authentic and revealing when it is humble and homey.<br />
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To reference yet another favourite food celebrity of mine, Nigella Lawson, <b>through food you can travel without ever leaving your doorstep.</b> Even in your own kitchen you can evoke flavours and aromas that are interwoven with strong memories and even stronger emotions. To drop another quote, this time from the beautiful film, <i>The 100 Foot Journey</i>, <a href="https://youtu.be/pNwDPA1Rlc8" target="_blank">"Food is memories"</a>.<br />
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I have definitely had many of these evocative moments - when the smell of something delicious bubbling away in a pot makes my head dance with images from my childhood; or the sight of a familiar packet label in an international deli makes my heart leap with a long forgotten but suddenly recalled holiday experience.<br />
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These moments have always struck me as really profound, but also really joyful. I think this is common. However I suspect it is especially acute in people like me who are super greedy hedonistic obsessed foodies (a majority of my friends may raise their hands now!)<br />
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I'd like to share more of these moments, starting with one I had recently.<br />
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I had an IKEA day with my sister and brother-in-law last weekend. It was more of a research & recon trip, so we made very few actual purchases, but walked out with plenty of snacks from the shop.<br />
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I was excited enough already with my 500g bag of Daim toffee chocolates. It was without fail my favourite candy while I was in Europe, and always very strongly reminiscent of my Belgian friends because they were the ones who introduced me to it in my first week there. I spent a lot of time lounging on their couch helping myself to handfuls of Daim's off their coffee table! Once I started I couldn't stop. They are addictive!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtp_TcYAnzNAjtHgo7poGsO1p4SPZpP19rftUv9YFXCoJxRzoZdSkRgmJMxNOkJG-_d86fj-EjymY_HCmszEgVk0T65GzBD0QgRgyEbdKZKwrtvmDYppekXTFJLlFgUVU_HziGVOM0_TlK/s1600/jar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtp_TcYAnzNAjtHgo7poGsO1p4SPZpP19rftUv9YFXCoJxRzoZdSkRgmJMxNOkJG-_d86fj-EjymY_HCmszEgVk0T65GzBD0QgRgyEbdKZKwrtvmDYppekXTFJLlFgUVU_HziGVOM0_TlK/s320/jar.jpg" width="256" /></a>We also got a couple of jars of marinated herring from the IKEA shop. My brother-in-law laughed because he would never be caught dead eating something like herring, and he thought I was a real weirdo! As an adventurous eater, fish is hardly the oddest thing I've ever tasted. My sister chose it specifically to remind me of my time in Amsterdam, which I thought was a really sweet gesture.<br />
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But I had no idea just <i>how much</i> I would enjoy the experience of eating herring again, with herbs and seasonings so redolent of a faraway place where I haven't stepped foot in years. I was bouncing on my tip-toes as I speedily prepared myself a plate with the herring centre stage.<br />
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In the crisp of winter my family tends to crave hot noodle soups and chunky stews. This is <i>so not</i> the kind of meal we're used to eating for dinner... toasted rye bread slathered with salted butter, generous portions of the herring, and a few raw and cold pickled sides and sauces.<br />
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Nevertheless, I'm pretty sure I nearly had an orgasm sliding those soft tender slippery herring fillets out of the jar.<br />
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It took me right back to Amsterdam, standing by the canals, spearing those small pale morsels one by one and letting them melt in my mouth; enjoying their subtle aftertaste briefly, before spiking it with a crunchy sharp sour onion or pickle.<br />
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I believe the mark of a truly enveloping dining experience is when you don't feel the need to do something else distracting while you're eating: talk to someone, watch tv, read a book, enjoy the view. Don't get me wrong, these are all fun things I love to do while eating, and sometimes they are exactly what makes it divine, like when I'm absorbed in great conversation with friends around the dinner table, or admiring a gorgeous sunset with wine or hot chocolate. What I'm talking about is those moments when I have lost sense of everything but the food right in front of me, and the taste and texture of every single bite - that's when I'm really connected with it in a way that is more than merely a meal. I'm not being hippie or new age at all; you know, we've all had those moments where could do nothing more but close our eyes, sigh, and chew - because it was <i>that good</i>.<br />
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And this herring was <i>so good.</i> It wasn't as melt-in-the-mouth as the raw herring I had in Amsterdam, because it was marinated and therefore would have cured and cooked to a firmer bite over time. Still, I couldn't help but go straight to my computer afterwards to search for the photos I took 4 years ago, to help me relive the food, and the happiness it brought.<br />
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It took me all night to find this snapshot but it was so worth it, for the feeling of instant travel it gave me. It's like culinary apparition!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A much younger me, and totally shameless tourist, so keen for that herring I asked the stall holder to take my picture with it!</td></tr>
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Food is easily my favourite topic ever, and I would love to hear all your fond travel-related food stories and memories! Please comment below 😊 Happy eating!<br />
<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-12661194571028217062017-07-18T02:09:00.002-07:002017-07-24T06:40:53.160-07:00Don't waitI think often about how this blog never turned into what I hoped it would be... i.e. an evocative, photo-laden, detailed, running chronicle of my travels in real-time as I backpacked solo across two continents.<br />
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But that doesn't mean I still can't share some stories from my travels. Yes, it all happened a long time ago, but I honestly think about travelling every day I'm home, so it is as fresh and precious to me now as it was then. For some reason, I keep these thoughts to myself, as if it isn't relevant to my life now. Totally wrong of course! Let me explain.<br />
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I follow a group on facebook called <i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/girlsLOVEtravel/" target="_blank">Girls Love Travel</a></i>. The title of the group is pretty self-explanatory. Some of the posts and comments are really insightful, and even enlightening. The community perks me up when I'm feeling low - and I feel low often, what with my bleak 9-5 working routine of going to and from the office in the chilly winter darkness.<br />
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One GLT-er (as we call ourselves) recently shared a story about her father who is quite ill, and asked the group for advice on how she can take him on one final trip overseas to fulfill a long-term dream, while still being mindful of his health. Her love, thoughtfulness, generosity and compassion for her dad, who was an avid traveller in his younger days, and now as an older man is basically confined to a motorised chair, really touched me. While many people would host a lavish dinner or buy a fancy gift to show affection, she chooses to give him a memorable experience, perhaps one that will end up being his final hurrah in a lifetime of memorable experiences.<br />
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It was inspiring in a way, but mostly just jerked me back into perspective, and was very validating. Why? <b>Because while I long to travel every day, I also doubt myself every day. </b>I constantly wonder if it would have been better for my future if I didn't spend most of 2014 & 2015 overseas, but instead spent it sitting at a desk chair as I do now, making $$$ and padding out my CV.<br />
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Nevertheless, I do not regret it. Not one bit. And stories like that GLT girl's story really give me confidence that I made the best choice for myself at the time, and that I have to trust that the results of it will carry through forever. Because some day I may not be able to do it again - and if I had waited, I may not have ever been able to do it at all!<br />
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It may not have been the right decision for everyone, but it was the right decision for me. And the benefits are subtle, which is why I question my actions all the time, but they are there nonetheless, and I will learn to see the value of it as I grow. Like I did when I read that one simple warm heartfelt facebook story.<br />
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So while this blog is never going to detail my travels back then as they happened, I can still recount, retell, and relive, with the added serenity of retrospect. And I think it will serve as a reminder, not only to myself, but to all of you, that <b>what you get in a day's travel, you keep for a lifetime - and beyond! </b>When we tell our stories to our friends and our kids and our grandkids, we inspire them to be curious and exploratory and adventurous and proactive, which is a great gift.<br />
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Seriousness aside: I will also admit that I am a terrible perfectionist. When I was on the road, I never made the time to throw out a word or two, slap on a pic or few. That's ok, I was busy living!<br />
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Now I am back, I still feel like I need so much time to sort through old journal entries and photos and blah blah, and then plan and design each post. <i>And it does</i>. But if I just tone down the inner critic, it really doesn't take long to click "Publish". Honestly every time I flick back through my old pictures, I get such a rush of memory and emotion and sensation, that I think this is a really rewarding, satisfying process I've been denying myself for too long out of laziness.<br />
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<b>So don't wait.</b> Don't wait to travel if you want to and you have the means to right now. Don't wait to do <i>anything</i>, actually, if you want to and you can. Even if that's just sharing some lovely stories on the internet.<br />
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Here's my photo of the mesmerising ocean of temples in Bagan, Myanmar. I wanted to stand here forever, just gazing peacefully and in wonder at that vast expanse of green, sprinkled with dabs of ancient brick-hued history.<br />
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I was in Myanmar for a month over July-August 2015, exactly 2 years ago now. It has been the most challenging and also one of the most intimate experiences of my travels abroad so far. My confidence behind the camera skyrocketed in this mystic country and it helped me dig a bit deeper into every encounter I had. You can see some of it on my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/beeblele" target="_blank">instagram</a>.<br />
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Not only that, I made wonderful connections, and even collected a motley crew of adopted international "family" members that I journeyed with for a few weeks. Now that we are worlds apart again, I should probably let them know that I still think about them, and how much they mean to me, and how much our travels together changed me.<br />
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<b><u>What would you do right now if you decided not to wait for it?</u></b> Would love to get your comments below!<br />
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Have a great night folks!<br />
<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-85730045464127326722017-07-13T05:50:00.002-07:002017-07-18T02:15:54.875-07:00Loaded congee comfortJust a short random post from me today. Today is my birthday - and I've been off work sick with a cold! Congested runny nose, mild fever, sore throat, occasional cough and dizziness. Not too bad all things considered. Hoping to nurse it before it really gets worse.<br />
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How better to nurse it than with delicious comfort food?! And my ultimate comfort food for when I'm unwell is congee, or rice porridge/rice soup. You can find versions of it all over Asia. When I was suffering from travellers' belly in Thailand (the worst thing for a foodie!), all I could eat was congee from a street stand not far from Khao San Road, served with your choice of protein, but in my case, with just a sprinkling of spring onion, a tablespoon of fish sauce, and some ginger. I was really lucky to find it, especially in such a popular crowded location, because it's considered very humble domestic fare and most tourist eateries will focus on more exciting dishes.<br />
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In Vietnam it's called cháo. It can be made with anything really - softly poached chicken is popular. My mum likes to make it with minced pork and finely diced vegetables. I prefer it plain, cooked with a bit of white onion, then topped with any condiment and addition I'm in the mood for, but almost always mixed with at least some soy sauce, pepper, and a few drops of sesame oil.<br />
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I went all out with my toppings this morning, and ended up with a super tasty luxe porridge - some tender salty and peppery beef mince to offset the bland rice soup, crispy fried shallots and garlic chips, slices of crunchy chinese fried breadsticks or doughnuts (called dầu cháo quẩy in Vietnamese), and a swirl of sriracha chili sauce. Hiding in the centre of my bowl was a soft-cooked egg, waiting patiently for me to dig my way to it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDufEdc82VvOYK8IbZrCkDoBvkrRN6-0Zwl7JKl_tIGj19ASi7z66DOhpVOb_knDxKppZ5W4dy-NAYJbSSvM2VK7KDS7IWhgX1g0LHphSgQGQQdcce7B0KeP_k0YCE30Ww9hcR4ZPLAuaM/s1600/loaded+chao.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDufEdc82VvOYK8IbZrCkDoBvkrRN6-0Zwl7JKl_tIGj19ASi7z66DOhpVOb_knDxKppZ5W4dy-NAYJbSSvM2VK7KDS7IWhgX1g0LHphSgQGQQdcce7B0KeP_k0YCE30Ww9hcR4ZPLAuaM/s640/loaded+chao.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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It really is just the perfect food for when you're under the weather! It requires minimal chewing, it's hearty, it's easy on the stomach, it's filling, it's hot, it's soft, it's wholesome, it's very simple to cook, and quick to eat. <br />
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You can make it as thick or thin as you like, but there's plenty of water in it to hydrate a sick person, and it's so versatile you can make it as savoury or as neutral-flavoured as you need.<br />
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I just love cháo! It has saved me on so many occasions. It's a meal that always reminds me of my childhood; of days of being fussed over by my mum when I was too ill to go to school, and given a bowl of this delicious comfort food before being sent to bed for a nap.<br />
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What food do you like to eat when you are sick? Would love to get your comments in the box below. 😃 😊Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-25827969570267413312017-07-08T05:23:00.000-07:002017-07-19T02:12:44.762-07:00Butcher? Baker? Nope - candle maker!I should be into more arts and crafts since I'm such a homebody. Truth is, most hobbies I pick up never take off. Lack of discipline. But who cares, the short time that I do spend on them gives me happiness and that's what matters.<br />
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So with that said, I can now expose myself to lots of teasing and laughter because I actually made candles.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs-DAYYXiSVRO2iCL3yqxGO136LMh_vd0QQpQnJRTh0iF3nNG6u7CrmPCtUJLbyXJvbEYvGHJ4ka4-QV2KRmW_G6k03vvIqHy86ZXrF4rGrKwi1f8pbz2FLWLHNm8VPZAqRVsiEjnM-SH/s1600/candle04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="1600" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqs-DAYYXiSVRO2iCL3yqxGO136LMh_vd0QQpQnJRTh0iF3nNG6u7CrmPCtUJLbyXJvbEYvGHJ4ka4-QV2KRmW_G6k03vvIqHy86ZXrF4rGrKwi1f8pbz2FLWLHNm8VPZAqRVsiEjnM-SH/s640/candle04.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beginner's basic candle-making kit. Most of the items I already had!</td></tr>
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Not to <i>make </i>candles. It happened because I was trying to reduce waste, which is why I'll share this with the Australian <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/WarOnWasteAU/" target="_blank">War on Waste</a> facebook group and hopefully get some cool feedback!<br />
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Basically, I light a lot of tealight candles. A lot. Sometimes as many as 10 a day, scattered throughout the house in carefully and strategically selected corners. I'm often stressed, and the ambience of the warm softly flickering light is very soothing. Nothing more cosy and comforting than winding down after sunset, surrounded by a gentle amber glow. Search <a href="https://www.google.com.au/search?q=hygge&rlz=1C1CHWL_enAU671AU671&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwia04ynuffUAhVQPrwKHTYiAiEQ_AUICygC&biw=1366&bih=648" target="_blank">hygge</a> and you'll see what I mean. The fragrance is also very nice to get rid of lingering cooking smells after dinner.<br />
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It does tend to make the house look a bit like a cathedral, but it works! I think it's mostly the ritual that does the de-stressing. I had a friend over recently, and while I was busy in the kitchen, I asked him to find all the candles around the house and light them. He set off on his very slow treasure hunt with a stove lighter brandished like a magic wand. When he came back and we finally switched off most of the electric lights, he had a big smile on his face and looked so relaxed. Win!<br />
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When a candle burns down to its base, almost always there is wax left behind in the bottom of the jar or container. Not a big deal most of the time, but when you light as many as I do, it adds up to a lot of wax. I started to feel guilty about throwing it away into the rubbish bin. What could I do instead?<br />
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So I thought it would be pretty simple to collect the wax, melt it down, and pour it back into the container. And what do you know, it is!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHKFS3kr-95Yzvd9YK3fLmYMAYK2DdByCrZR9vlnKMKoc0W85-mzMMT_aYPyuWM1zl6sBrFNE2VxRZurRtXr1CEbcEQ7nS-nIIKmzX8VyY10rNp-5C72rPfl4mKK9kMJcFqKdiwAt-4yQ/s1600/candle01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNHKFS3kr-95Yzvd9YK3fLmYMAYK2DdByCrZR9vlnKMKoc0W85-mzMMT_aYPyuWM1zl6sBrFNE2VxRZurRtXr1CEbcEQ7nS-nIIKmzX8VyY10rNp-5C72rPfl4mKK9kMJcFqKdiwAt-4yQ/s640/candle01.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made these 5 candles by collecting, melting and repouring the residual wax from lots of little tealight candles.</td></tr>
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It took me, hm, say a couple of months?, to collect enough wax to make the five candles in the photo above. Not bad! Imagine if all that wax went into the trash?! (I had already started lighting the first candle by the time I took this photo which is why it's so low.)<br />
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Besides not wasting wax, I also didn't want to waste the glass jars some candles come in. After researching reuse options, I didn't feel comfortable repurposing them to hold food. Nor do I have much of a need for multiple 100-200ml sized jars around the house (even though they would be great for organising small items like stationery or craft materials or toiletries). So by remelting and pouring the old wax, I feel good about not constantly buying and disposing of perfectly serviceable glass jars! They can also be used even more simply as tealight holders!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_WUbOyn1mpYQX7Z9xmQlTbUmkLwLYiNgy8Jq9Bgn3hvhtiDeW0HRpuPsHaU73d39XPDulBnEIiqYraql__Mqel9qhN6nz5aFmYoL_5ivb3atnILDCwTTUCNS5Qel7xBc2K5iu3qt36Jr/s1600/candle03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_WUbOyn1mpYQX7Z9xmQlTbUmkLwLYiNgy8Jq9Bgn3hvhtiDeW0HRpuPsHaU73d39XPDulBnEIiqYraql__Mqel9qhN6nz5aFmYoL_5ivb3atnILDCwTTUCNS5Qel7xBc2K5iu3qt36Jr/s400/candle03.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I bought these candles from a shop and wanted to make use of the glass jars afterwards instead of throwing them away. I've repurposed one glass jar as a brand new candle (wick still untrimmed). The second one is a handy tealight candle holder!</td></tr>
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I won't explain how to make candles because there are a lot of videos and how-to's online that will teach you far better than I can. I had a pretty good idea already of what the basic process would be. Then I watched <a href="https://youtu.be/KokQAucoRp8" target="_blank">This Video</a> and it told me everything I needed to know for the kind of candle I wanted to make. Like most things, once you start researching, you can tunnel deep down into a giant mountain of detail about all the various factors that can change the end result - but really, candle making is easy. You just need the right materials.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW6rWJzjWvAJDkBhHTWaif5Fqf-Sda3OAIue5maNDHvSJziczhPrUe5gLgqzoe9rBqMSaBSGc70TTWZotsC2qC17IZF_f07mQ4nIoItl6km9n7BPUt2pKo44JKczqnlZgPlSEzBDryBsE/s1600/candle07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxW6rWJzjWvAJDkBhHTWaif5Fqf-Sda3OAIue5maNDHvSJziczhPrUe5gLgqzoe9rBqMSaBSGc70TTWZotsC2qC17IZF_f07mQ4nIoItl6km9n7BPUt2pKo44JKczqnlZgPlSEzBDryBsE/s400/candle07.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wick tabs and a wick coil I purchased online.</td></tr>
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I bought wicks and wick tabs online from <a href="https://www.candlemaking.com.au/" target="_blank">All Australian Candle Making</a>. Didn't know what I was buying and there were a lot of measurements and specifications that meant nothing to me, so I just guesstimated.<br />
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If I can eventually come up with a way to make these things myself, I will not need to buy them in future. For now, it's easiest just to source these supplies directly.<br />
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Can't tell you how excited I was to give this candle pouring bizzo a try! That's fine, laugh it up, I'm not embarrassed (not much). I'm pretty happy with the result if I do say so myself!<br />
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Couple of things to note:</h3>
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<i>1. The larger the wick, the larger the flame.</i></h4>
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Makes logical sense, right? The wicks I bought are 39 ply (total gibberish, who knows what language that is? I just followed the guide on the online store). Because they burn bigger and more steadily, I find my handmade candles burn not only all the way to the edges, but they also burn right down to the base with almost zero wax leftover.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnK87YCPggojGK_90iuRaWZfG6peJSa3ZvHHVCi2oyid4GSnXcpub8A4m5oiSBR33FHFFdQ89l03RplH5wzEu-JwftmxjdrAmE9jaX7xhrajIlbfJymvftHWb-xjTptspwRdX7KtGtmuyj/s1600/candles1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnK87YCPggojGK_90iuRaWZfG6peJSa3ZvHHVCi2oyid4GSnXcpub8A4m5oiSBR33FHFFdQ89l03RplH5wzEu-JwftmxjdrAmE9jaX7xhrajIlbfJymvftHWb-xjTptspwRdX7KtGtmuyj/s320/candles1.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was stunned at how big and high that flame burned! Notice all the wax has melted to the edges of the jar, meaning none is wasted, and the candle burns evenly.</td></tr>
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<h4>
<i>2. The larger the wick and the flame, the more soot that is produced.</i></h4>
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You know those really big beautiful scented candles you can buy from home design shops and department stores? In the past I thought it was harmless to light them while sleeping because they burn so much more slowly than the small candles. But I would always wake up with soot in my nostrils and my throat, and probably in my lungs too. It's even worse when you burn candles with wood wicks - they make a beautiful campfire sputtering spitting sound, but so much soot! My handmade candles give me the same soot problem even though they're small. It must be the wick size. So please ventilate! Health and safety first.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJux8bYPTef7TV6B0pKl1esXd9L_hcqNBatndNExzCVuAxps7aKOKJuO-h2botaR4NyYFoW1qEMls06n8RP8oKu7LvO_Ae3wAH03UB_4p79WbLbgXc4GfxhHKbXjw9-dTbg9HWrVcROiS/s1600/candle06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1486" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJux8bYPTef7TV6B0pKl1esXd9L_hcqNBatndNExzCVuAxps7aKOKJuO-h2botaR4NyYFoW1qEMls06n8RP8oKu7LvO_Ae3wAH03UB_4p79WbLbgXc4GfxhHKbXjw9-dTbg9HWrVcROiS/s320/candle06.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big candle v small candle? Similar large wick size = similar sootiness.</td></tr>
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<h4>
<i>3. Remelted wax is impure.</i></h4>
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This is because the wax picks up soot and charcoal from the flame while it's lit, and also dust from the air when it's still liquid and cooling down. Once it's resolidified, the colour and translucency has probably changed too. So has the texture. If you're like me, and you don't plan anything but simply mix all the residual wax from several different tealight candles of different scents and brands, guaranteed you'll end up with a weird hybrid secondary wax of uncertain hue and fragrance. I don't care about that, but you might.<br />
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I also noticed that after I poured the wax and watched it solidify, the surface of the candle was not flat but slightly sunken in the middle where it met the wick. Could be for a couple of reasons: perhaps the altered chemistry of the wax had changed its structure? Or perhaps I'm supposed to gently tap the candle as it cools so the wax settles? (The lady in the instructional video advised exactly the opposite, but I'm not using new soy wax like she does.)<br />
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This isn't a problem for me, because I'm not selling my candles so aesthetics is not an issue. However I do find they burn very fast. Is that because the original candle wax was designed to burn quickly as a tealight candle? Or does remelting wax always change its chemistry so that it evaporates faster? Or does it have nothing to do with the wax composition at all but the fact that I'm using larger wicks? I'm not sure.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUfpLss0BkpqlNSt4YGnVo9PJCkNyzpENsf-Q6wmqoXtwq97HU7ZvIRZP7jInPixL_ijXnpI610z62vFg5OMZeErpO5Dx_9A6nRz1TZCN9wPFXFwcNcNi8uUm0RQ11pHzG2czh7Nmalq4/s1600/candle10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1258" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUfpLss0BkpqlNSt4YGnVo9PJCkNyzpENsf-Q6wmqoXtwq97HU7ZvIRZP7jInPixL_ijXnpI610z62vFg5OMZeErpO5Dx_9A6nRz1TZCN9wPFXFwcNcNi8uUm0RQ11pHzG2czh7Nmalq4/s320/candle10.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slight depression in the candle wax after repouring.</td></tr>
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The biggest challenge for me so far is actually finding a good pouring jug for the liquid wax! I've been to 3 different charity shops and can't find any secondhand cookware! I'm using an old milk pot at the moment. Unfortunately it's as terrible for pouring wax as it was for pouring milk. Look at that pathetically shallow little spout. Look at it! Ugh. It always dribbles without fail. Lay down newspaper first before you pour!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCmy7NIbGnkxu-hSNT7_jlMFwOdNjUo_cNeMty9XN2ZsBBM1BuNlNy3Ff4G3QrBSW_CaqeEdKbdbgGzxyYuNv5A6qO7gI1p-ezvsftY19rceLjBqh6Duc1olIxOrjrQLNxdDktokoo0Cv/s1600/candle09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCmy7NIbGnkxu-hSNT7_jlMFwOdNjUo_cNeMty9XN2ZsBBM1BuNlNy3Ff4G3QrBSW_CaqeEdKbdbgGzxyYuNv5A6qO7gI1p-ezvsftY19rceLjBqh6Duc1olIxOrjrQLNxdDktokoo0Cv/s320/candle09.jpg" width="234" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht15ehPbDbjnR3bkPtGd7MjCA81-tN2ol7QHPVNXvKvIfD2YSuqawbgkm5KvuZ4CzLNwfAFJPp7XZ26-zLtyM-ntpMEp9mIDn5s21_kvlflOUyuCC6BMUsjWA1JP6UfoKoR6cupKukDk7c/s1600/candle08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1105" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht15ehPbDbjnR3bkPtGd7MjCA81-tN2ol7QHPVNXvKvIfD2YSuqawbgkm5KvuZ4CzLNwfAFJPp7XZ26-zLtyM-ntpMEp9mIDn5s21_kvlflOUyuCC6BMUsjWA1JP6UfoKoR6cupKukDk7c/s320/candle08.jpg" width="221" /></a><br />
<br />
I may end up buying a cheap barista's jug at Kmart. Thankfully since I'm only making one or two candles at a time, I don't need a high volume jug.<br />
<br />
One thing I haven't solved yet is how to avoid throwing away the depleted wick tabs - I don't think I can prevent wasting those. I also considered reusing those tiny little aluminium containers from the tealight candles too, but eventually decided against it because it doesn't seem safe.<br />
<br />
To be honest, I'm not even sure how many times I can safely reuse the glass jars! <a href="https://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com.au/2017/07/so-i-make-candles-now.html#comment-form" target="_blank">If you have an answer to this I'd love to hear it!</a> In the meantime, I'll just have to be careful and watch that the glass does not crack over time with repeated heating.<br />
<br />
I'm considering buying wax chips online and making candles from scratch. I do still love tealight candles, but I could at least reduce how many I purchase by making more of my own candles. The upside is that some of my own candles would be made with clean wax instead of secondary wax. This would allow me to handmake some candles as gifts! Pretty cool.<br />
<br />
However, it's one thing to buy a couple of inexpensive craft accessories, but to actually buy wax? Is that taking the grandma geek chic just a step too far? <a href="https://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com.au/2017/07/so-i-make-candles-now.html#comment-form" target="_blank">I'll let you decide</a> 😏<br />
<br />
So there you have it, my first time making candles! What do you think? If you have any questions, feel free to ask!<br />
<br />
As I get better at doing this incredibly nerdy thing, I'll post again with new tips and tricks I learn. If you want to give this a go yourself, I encourage you to try! But final safety note - boiling hot liquid wax is both messy and dangerous! So please be careful, and keep clear from kids!<br />
<br />
Happy weekend!<br />
<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-50523215059780760132017-06-28T06:59:00.002-07:002017-07-08T05:43:06.704-07:00Here's how I like to cook - and why you should cook this way tooLiving alone has taught me how little one person needs to eat - not just to survive, but to be truly gustatorily happy. Even when I buy only one piece of each vegetable in a standard grocery shop, there's always soft wilted vegetables left in my fridge at the end of the week; once when I pre-cooked 3 simple meals on a Sunday, there was still heaps left over nearly two weeks later, which luckily were spared because I reserved some for the freezer.<br />
<br />
The desire to save both money and food waste has really taught me how to use a combination of scraps, pantry staples, and the right mix of tasty condiments and spices to make the sparest of fresh produce last one or even two decent cook-ups. You don't need fancy ingredients to create a deliciously satisfying but simple meal.<br />
<br />
Allow me to convince you!<br />
<br />
My sister was about to leave on a one month holiday so I rescued a tub of ricotta from her. I <i>love </i>ricotta. I don't know if this is just weird or if it's actually normal somewhere in the world, but one thing I love to do is mix plain ricotta with a couple of teaspoons of hot chocolate powder (and if I have it, some grated or finely chopped dark chocolate.) It makes for a strangely indulgent dessert, because the ricotta is already rich and sweet. The cheese flavour isn't strong. It's like a textured form of mascarpone to me. It ends up tasting like a healthy chocolate mousse! And it takes maybe 2 seconds to put together, if that.<br />
<br />
Something else I like to do is mix natural greek yoghurt (full fat, not light) with a bit of ground cinnamon, nutmeg, honey, and - get this - turmeric powder. Trust me, it's nice! Put a dollop on a thick slice of your favourite toasted bread and it's an <i>amazing</i> breakfast. I don't eat many curries so I welcome any way I can sneak some turmeric into my diet, especially as a sweet treat.<br />
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Anyway, back on track.<br />
<br />
So I let my eyes wander the inside of my fridge, with the tub of very promising and tempting ricotta in one hand for inspiration, and here's what I ended up pulling together.<br />
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<b>Creamy capsicum and ricotta pasta</b><br />
<br />
I put finely chopped garlic and thinly sliced white onion in a pan, with butter and a bit of olive oil and a fat pinch of salt. I didn't fry it, but let it melt and sweat slowly until it was soft and sweet.<br />
<br />
I sliced red and yellow capsicums (aka paprikas/bell peppers), a bit thinner and longer than usual, so it almost mimicked the shape of the onion strands, and threw them into the pan. Popped on the lid and let them sweat slowly too while I got the pasta on - a mix of angel hair and spaghettini. (I'm not a purist about my pasta choices, I just go with whatever feels right.) Every now and then I shook the pan vigorously so the condensation on the inside of the lid re-hydrated the vegetables underneath, because I wanted them to tenderise before they scorched.<br />
<br />
When the pasta was about halfway done, I threw in a - perhaps eclectic - flurry of spices and dried herbs to the pan: black pepper (lots, I love it), marjoram, oregano, thyme, and some all-spice. (If I'd had it, I probably would have added some lemon zest too.) Tossed it all up and the aroma was immediately madly delicious. I turned up the heat slightly so the capsicums started to get a yummy caramelised browned smokey taste, and the liquid in the pan began turning gooey and concentrated.<br />
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Into a separate bowl, I cracked an egg, spooned a large dollop (maybe two) of the ricotta, some grated parmesan, and another pinch of pepper. Whisked that up very well with a fork, and got it ready.<br />
<br />
When the pasta was done, I turned off the heat under the pan of vegetables, and added the pasta to it. I never bother to drain my pasta in a colander. I just use tongs or the pasta ladle, whatever that hooky thing is called, and pick up the pasta and add it straight to the sauce. That usually saves me the trouble of adding the pasta water, because there's already enough still clinging to the pasta, plus it's faster and leaves me less to wash up later. But in this case, I wanted more body, so I poured a couple of extra sploshes of the starchy pasta water to the pan for lubrication and emulsification. Then I quickly stirred in the egg and ricotta mixture until everything was creamy and combined. At this point I began to bounce on my tiptoes in the middle of the kitchen because it smelled and looked so delicious and I couldn't wait to eat it.<br />
<br />
In a bowl, in my mouth. It was <i>good</i>. If I do say so myself.<br />
<br />
But my point is, the only things I really needed for this impromptu recipe was a capsicum and a couple of tablespoons of ricotta - everything else was a handful of standard items most people always have on hand, like dried pasta, eggs, alliums, cheese, butter, herbs and spices.<br />
<br />
If you know what you like to eat and what flavours you enjoy, and you don't worry too much about the mechanics of how to put a basic dish together, you can easily cook a proper, homemade, fulfilling dinner for yourself without too much cost or shopping time.<br />
<br />
Here's another quick example I'm pretty proud of. (Maybe I shouldn't be.)<br />
<br />
<b>Vamped-up crab and tuna pasta salad</b><br />
<br />
My mum is an amazing cook, with the skills and experience to feed an entire family on a budget, and I love her meals to bits. She can blow anyone under the table with her Vietnamese dishes, no questions asked. But I'm sorry to say, she doesn't always get western food right. Usually I don't mind her adding a bit of soy sauce to her bolognaise or adding shrimp to her pork or oversteaming the broccoli. Her culinary habits arise from vast expertise in a cuisine where they not only make sense but are absolutely critical to the final result.<br />
<br />
Tonight she made a very straightforward pasta salad. Penne, chopped up crab sticks, canned tuna, and some mayonnaise. It was fine. Perfect for a work lunch. But I wanted a bit more excitement from it, especially if it was going to be the one thing I had to look forward to in the middle of my work day!<br />
<br />
I scrabbled together an armful of jars and items from the fridge, and briskly got to work with a chopping board, knife, and spoon.<br />
<br />
So in a bowl: finely chopped spring onion, as much lemon juice as I could squeeze from a tired half-fruit I recovered that had been cryo-meditating for a few days, a teaspoon of dijon mustard, and half a teaspoon of salt (more than usual but you'll see why in a minute.)<br />
<br />
I let the onion party with the acid for a bit to mellow out, while I finely chopped and added a few cornichons (mini-gherkins). I love the tang, so I dunno, maybe it was 4 or 5?<br />
<br />
I stirred all that up really well, then added a couple of generous tablespoons of full fat natural greek yoghurt, some black pepper (love it!), and folded everything in until properly combined. I tasted it and added a tiny pinch more of salt, but you may choose not to. I just found that I needed more savouriness with how sweet and creamy the rich yoghurt is, and how sweet I knew the crab would be once added. I also especially needed the sourness for balance, but if you don't like tartness as much as I do, go easy on the lemon juice and pickles. You could use more mayonnaise like my mum did, but I really felt the yoghurt was the right choice for me.<br />
<br />
I combined this enhanced yoghurt dressing with mum's base pasta mix, and when I was done, I found it pretty hard to hold back from eating it all straight away. The future of tomorrow's lunchtime happiness relies on tonight's restraint!<br />
<br />
There you go. Another quick and easy meal that's both cheap and tasty. Almost everything was from the pantry!<br />
<br />
So go my children! Go into the world! Try to make the most of what you already have before you look up elaborate recipes and spend ages in the supermarket piling up expensive ingredients in your shopping cart. It can be so much more liberating, creative, fun and rewarding to cook thrifty and clever.<br />
<br />
And that's my random lesson for today. Happy cooking (eating)!<br />
<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-87723428870831153972015-12-25T09:30:00.002-08:002015-12-26T01:43:55.272-08:00My first time travelling, but not the lastI've been travelling around Southeast Asia for 7 months. Really. 7 months!<br />
<br />
I recently returned home to Australia and am now capable of fully admitting that I failed spectacularly in my goal to update this blog regularly while I was on the road. I am sorry. I have always been sorry about this. Usually my problem is I have too many things to say, and in my painful, circular attempts to gift you the blessing of conciseness and precision, I give up, red-faced and puffing, mashing my face into the keyboard, and ultimately not saying anything at all. But let's face it, I also made a commitment to choose life whenever it was a choice between living and writing about living. So in that, I won.<br />
<br />
Still, I do want to share with you my thoughts, hopes and feelings. All of which have intensified in importance and meaning in my past 7 months away. So thank you for your patience as I try, yet again, to blog.<br />
<br />
Reflecting on this past year, I have to say, I made it! Who knew I'd last this long? From May 17th to Dec 11th, I visited Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines, Myanmar, Thailand, and Vietnam. It's a magnificent Google map waiting to happen.<br />
<br />
Far from sating my travel urge (I am trying to avoid use of the word "wanderlust" here) by living out of a 60L pack for almost a year , I have merely whetted my appetite to see more places, meet more people, and taste more food. And while I still wonder about how and when my completed university degrees and a successful career will collide in a bankable fashion, I worry about it less than I did before I left Sydney with a ticket to Saigon in my hands. Because I can now, completely and wholeheartedly, own the truth that my true interest lies in travel, and that I'd like to make it priority for at least the next 5 years. If a career happens along the way, whoopee. But come on, choices, people! We can't have everything... although we try. So we have to think about what matters to us most, right now.<br />
<br />
(More on this later.)<br />
<br />
For now, after realising I have actually invested over 11 months out of the past 24 in travel, I think it a reasonable outcome that at some point, while adjusting to my return to a developed first-world country, drinking tea made from delicious diarrhea-free tap water, I thought back about the first time I truly "travelled" - because I consider myself a late bloomer to the jet-setting, backpacking life. The answer would seem obvious - it was recent, right?<br />
<br />
In fact, the result was surprising.<br />
<br />
<b>My first travel experience</b><br />
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I remember the first time I travelled outside of my hometown alone, and I mean "travel" in a way that I'd consider more than simply going from A to B. It made an impression.<br />
<br />
I was 19. I'd gotten a summer job with a minerals exploration company. I was very excited because I was one of the earliest in my university cohort to find industry-related work experience. Almost everyone else in the company was an experienced older Caucasian male geologist, with greying hair and thick Australian accents.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN17srUifaJkJd14pWlJb__boqFZXSNOVEU_vsctCsjKrU2lUx59NTGoxZCvRWMOEXpwTIh8J2066eTIpDV-u9e1NjDetju-DJCpeuE5zYEFkTqTIg52AeFAHHv2Aks7wkfmrd3CSOzDqJ/s1600/%2560100_2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN17srUifaJkJd14pWlJb__boqFZXSNOVEU_vsctCsjKrU2lUx59NTGoxZCvRWMOEXpwTIh8J2066eTIpDV-u9e1NjDetju-DJCpeuE5zYEFkTqTIg52AeFAHHv2Aks7wkfmrd3CSOzDqJ/s640/%2560100_2017.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the train window.</td></tr>
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Every weekend for 3 months I left the sleepy outer-city suburbs where I grew up, and took a 4 hour train journey to a place further away from the ocean than I'd ever been before. There I spent my days traipsing about the rugged Aussie countryside in steel-capped boots, digging around in soil and rocks, to the operatic tune of heavy machinery. It was a culture shock for me, and a great learning experience.<br />
<br />
One morning when I woke up early (not by choice, come on, I was 19) and crawled out of my little metal donga to get ready for work, I went outside before I met my workmates and took a moment to take in the pre-dawn.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRo1j7z2LwPmyDaI_ykWop82rl0-0qwIXeap9mZ1NcOLuynsMZTb7xCzIsVkbUHarluu-z6loy1iTd2T9vHQ4iqVEjoOox8n2k6x67MH47IUH1m7YGfQSHjbjHxy5G2wex7nubeRDLjeg/s1600/%2560100_2072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRo1j7z2LwPmyDaI_ykWop82rl0-0qwIXeap9mZ1NcOLuynsMZTb7xCzIsVkbUHarluu-z6loy1iTd2T9vHQ4iqVEjoOox8n2k6x67MH47IUH1m7YGfQSHjbjHxy5G2wex7nubeRDLjeg/s640/%2560100_2072.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our work camp, consisting of nothing more than a few "dongas" or mobile tin buildings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryyIks84TpDZQrS4ILqzwIsaCikNcwFOq8Mah6KVwDY_Q-NMJXd1PS5uK7E_eimhJpTqKuNGG5s4hXHHcw0Tp6LYwfxmSmj5Sw-nlpbYxiYVYgJQEKR7CC_A5IDudqaNaBiOddLm76V6K/s640/%2560100_2069.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="480" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first light of dawn.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ufL1XVpMsC_ZrFlp88Z9vOLQyIFaWOcAe20Kxp_q1ZgWYRuHL4xcJDokjccuv-BmtCHxa10mKp-aAzYSNa_WyYzI3y9Mgqt6srqzB9gesSQg_TLGHvT7vbC850S3eyOypvnarm71Jh27/s1600/100_2076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ufL1XVpMsC_ZrFlp88Z9vOLQyIFaWOcAe20Kxp_q1ZgWYRuHL4xcJDokjccuv-BmtCHxa10mKp-aAzYSNa_WyYzI3y9Mgqt6srqzB9gesSQg_TLGHvT7vbC850S3eyOypvnarm71Jh27/s640/100_2076.jpg" width="523" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An outback sunrise.</td></tr>
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<br />
This was a new site we were investigating just for a week, and it was my first true-blue taste of The Outback. We were 600 km inland. The ground was as red as rust. The horizon was a dead flat thin black line rising to ever lightening heights into a diluted navy sky still dotted with a few exhausted stars. It was as close to the desert as I've ever been; cold, quiet, and empty. I was totally alone. Yet I remember thinking to myself, "I don't feel lonely. I feel peaceful."<br />
<br />
Later that day, the heavens opened up and flooded the dusty, parched earth with torrential rain that lasted barely an hour. It was beautiful. My workmates and I waited for the mud to drain away and took photos of a giant mushroom that exploded out of the ground.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8h7ONODOWGeUJxZSCPolljmLUoC7qk6X9tRPXLkrp4X5vcMYQ5alM3AYjoLbZOZzVo6ibWF9OjI6XIQdBoNsa-8ozY9YkwrYQER8T_W4NU5jRVF6DbrCFmqEDCBvdle2fKmDMvKtV9e4E/s1600/%2560100_2053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8h7ONODOWGeUJxZSCPolljmLUoC7qk6X9tRPXLkrp4X5vcMYQ5alM3AYjoLbZOZzVo6ibWF9OjI6XIQdBoNsa-8ozY9YkwrYQER8T_W4NU5jRVF6DbrCFmqEDCBvdle2fKmDMvKtV9e4E/s640/%2560100_2053.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love a sunburnt country. My country.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLBNzO1sr109veUBTL819SSp_YXLMfvERV3lkFM7_K-ll9wcq9wVicXo2_yA7YLlin0Cbw0jkb6zhZlQl4ZpeNppDRe2ng70u8wnDkebX53R8wnIWphGKZNmeCnwab-V2b1goSyKydo_1/s1600/%2560100_2036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLBNzO1sr109veUBTL819SSp_YXLMfvERV3lkFM7_K-ll9wcq9wVicXo2_yA7YLlin0Cbw0jkb6zhZlQl4ZpeNppDRe2ng70u8wnDkebX53R8wnIWphGKZNmeCnwab-V2b1goSyKydo_1/s640/%2560100_2036.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sudden shroom!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This experience was the first time I travelled. The disappointing thing is, I didn't realise it until now, simply because the way I got there was through work. I saw it as only work. Which means I lost years of appreciation for what I am capable of. It took me so long to understand that there are alternative ways to make my dreams happen.<br />
<br />
Work. Study. Family. The ultimate triad of life priorities, and they are good ones indeed. But when you've got other interests like travel, and you're not told how you can combine them with the other things on your list, you can feel like you've spent forever waiting to pursue that dream.<br />
<br />
All I can say is, don't wait. Find a way. It will be worth it. You will surprise yourself.<br />
<br />
~ ~ ~<br />
<br />
Hope you enjoyed my return post and my photos! I dug through 6 years of archives and countless feels to find them.<br />
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If you like what I write (and forgive me my lack of discipline) please share!<br />
<br />
Perhaps you could even <a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/vacuuming-on-holiday-12806105" target="_blank"><img alt="Vacuuming On Holiday" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a><br />
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Finally, and most importantly, I hope you have all had a very MERRY CHRISTMAS!<br />
<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-14208114029247483622015-11-04T09:45:00.002-08:002015-12-23T18:03:32.884-08:00Going alone pt 2there’s a peacefulness late at night that exists nowhere else<br />
in no other time or place<br />
not before dawn, when the restlessness of the earth waiting for daylight itches you<br />
not after dusk, when the evening is fighting for attention and friends to play with<br />
it’s the time when, if you haven’t sorted out your worries and anxieties, they come screaming blue murder for you<br />
it’s the time for you to let your fears and inhibitions go<br />
and they will float into the dark sky<br />
and you literally cannot measure how far they will fly<br />
so you may as well cut your ties now<br />
because when this time is over, you will not find them again<br />
and they will not come running back<br />
and if you can close your eyes and feel the calm within as well as without, you’ll finally be able to hear the world telling you how alright you will be<br />
so open your hand and feel how empty it is<br />
exhale deeply and watch your lungs collapse outside your frame of view<br />
and enjoy being alone<br />
enjoy being at peace<br />
enjoy the night<br />
enjoy the quiet<br />
enjoy the billions of souls at rest, dreaming, sleeping, living, for another day<br />
a day that sits beyond the edges of this one<br />
beyond the limits of your expectations<br />
where your potential truly exists<br />
behind the clouds of your regret and self-hate<br />
it is dark<br />
it is silent<br />
it is still<br />
but it is not dead<br />
what a beautiful thing it is<br />
what a beautiful thing you are<br />
<br />
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<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-91261636322617065852015-11-01T01:39:00.000-07:002015-12-23T18:02:28.089-08:00Going alone pt 1There’s a loneliness I cannot describe in travelling.<br />
<br />
The very essence of travelling is to discover the transience of beautiful things, to discover that there is so much more out there, more than you can handle.<br />
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There’s no point getting attached to things, because the very thing that makes them worth keeping, deserves to be set free.<br />
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But you can’t help it.<br />
<br />
Because no matter how many friends you make, places you see, memories you gather, you want to hold onto them all, even though you know it’s probably impossible.<br />
<br />
Why must we posses the things we love?<br />
<br />
Why can’t we just love them, as they are?<br />
<br />
Why can’t we love them from afar?<br />
<br />
Is it because we miss the way they smell? The scent of jasmine in the air on the first day of spring? The musk of your lover’s curly hair the second after they come? The salt spray of the ocean in the first light of dawn as you sit and knead the grainy sand between your fingers and wait for the light to blind you?<br />
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Of course we miss the things we see. That’s why we take so many pictures. But we can never quite capture the sparkle of the sun as it glimmers over that lake you spent every holiday at. Or the happiness in your best friends’ eyes. Or the way the fog melts into the dew over the mountains you grew up in. But we take the photos anyway, because we’re trying to hold onto something that cannot be kept.<br />
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Should we not?<br />
<br />
Does it make it hurt more when we have to let them go?<br />
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Or would it have hurt the same anyway?<br />
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As much as I try not to form attachment over things, I do. I feel like once I’ve had something, experienced something, felt something, shared something with someone, they’re a part of me forever. And I want them with me forever. Why is it so hard to let go? Why does it make us so scared? Letting go of them doesn’t erase the time we spent together.<br />
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It’s easier when travelling, because there’s always going to be something else equally good to distract us. What about when there’s not? <br />
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I fear that time. <br />
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I want to travel for a long time. But I don’t want to travel just because it’s a way to escape the things that are hard. Ironically, travel should be a way to challenge us, but the constant migration, the continuous flow of new faces and flavours, is another form of distraction. Instead of scrolling down on Facebook, we walk into a new city. Is that okay? Or is that avoidance of the highest level?<br />
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I’ve met people who’ve travelled for a long time, a really long time, and it’s enriched their lives so much. They’ve explored the world, solo, alone, but never truly lonely, because they welcome with open arms, open hearts, and enormous smiles, every sight and sound and voice that comes to them. I want to be like them.<br />
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So why am I so lonely?<br />
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I think all travellers are lonely, but we embrace the feeling, to truly embrace ourselves. I find another part of myself when I’m with others. But when I’m truly alone, indeed truly lonely even, that is, I feel alone regardless of how many people are there with me, faces either familiar or foreign who just can’t at that moment tap into the emotion that’s bothering me so much, I really get what cold is. I really get what hot is. I get what it is to feel wet, or dry, or hungry, or happy, or content, or frightened. Fear, when I’m alone, is paralysing. Happiness, when I’m alone, is giddying; the smiles that stretch over my face are painful. The aloneness, the vulnerability, the realisation that nothing happens unless I make it happen, is mind numbing. I can really feel my heart beat at those times. I feel the breath flow in between my lips. I see the lines in my hands and the freckles on my knees. I feel the gravity that pulls me down into the space that I occupy on the earth. The ground isn’t just dusty, it makes me cough. The sea isn’t just wet, it makes me gargle and choke. The sky isn’t just high, it’s endless. <br />
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I’m lonely in myself, I guess because I’m discovering myself for the first time. And it’s scary to meet someone new, all the time. Especially when you’re not sure you’ll like her. But acceptance is the highest form of kindness, and don’t we all deserve kindness?<br />
<br />
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<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-31293964433911664892015-10-20T04:05:00.001-07:002015-10-20T11:17:42.918-07:00"Where you from?"Those who remember the early days of instant messaging and chat forums - ICQ, Yahoo, MSN - will remember a/s/l, the universal way to begin a conversation. Age? Sex? Location? The question had become so common that it had to be abbreviated in that time-pressured era.<br />
<br />
I think the travelling equivalent - no acronyms yet, sorry - is "What's your name? Where are you from? How long are you travelling for?" New names are hard to remember when there's dozens of them. As for details about itineraries, they are frighteningly similar once you're in the same part of the world. Travellers often have similar routes, similar time periods on their visas, even similar budgets, so the places we see, and how long we spend on the road, can sometimes be almost carbon copied. It's not unlikely to meet the same faces in the same cities, or to find mutual acquaintances. In fact, most of my plans come from fellow travellers' advice along the way.<br />
<br />
But where are you from...? Everyone wants to know what country you left in order to visit this one. I'm someone with Asian heritage travelling within Asia but having grown up in a Western country, and it seems no one knows who I am. I'm pretty sure many people in my situation can relate.<br />
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People think I'm Chinese. They think I'm Korean. They think I'm Japanese. No? So they start to zoom out. Thailand. Malaysia. Myanmar. Still no? Those good with accents might guess the UK or New Zealand. Haha, sorry, no, but good guess. Okay, got it! American! The ultimate trump card. Nope, actually, I'm Australian.<br />
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<i>Oh... but you look like one of us.</i><br />
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That's the usual response I get from the locals, anyway. My features are quite Oriental, and there are a lot of Chinese tourists in Southeast Asia, so people have gone so far as to start speaking to me in Chinese. Sometimes they look quite proud of themselves, thinking they'd identified my ethnicity and my language in one fell swoop, only to stop when I've given them a dumbstruck look and said loudly and clearly, "English." The disappointment on their faces is like a curtain.<br />
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Especially from touts who have their sales line down pat. Touts who want to sell me a taxi ride, a motorbike ride, a massage, a mani pedi, a boat tour, dinner in a restaurant (or if I'm with a guy, marijuana - regardless of the laws or how close the nearest law enforcement officer is). They shake their heads in confusion and momentarily forget they were trying to make money off me. They have to reassess their approach to potential "yellow squinty-eyed" customers.<br />
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Sometimes it's funny. Sometimes it's annoying. It's a good reminder to not be too heavy-handed with our assumptions. As important as first impressions are, one cannot judge based only on the outside. This is something we should all know and follow if we want to live in a peaceful world, but travelling helps to really hit it home.<br />
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It's gotten a bit better now that I am in Vietnam, my country of background. I hide my ability to understand basic Vietnamese sometimes for my own safety, and once it is finally revealed, locals respond either with outrage that I didn't announce myself as a fellow Vietnamese immediately, or with amusement because I clearly look like a weirdo foreigner. Occasionally they will use me as their agent in trying to rip off another tourist, which is not nice at all, being put in an "us or them" situation.<br />
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Other times they just rattle away to me in Vietnamese and are pleasantly surprised that I can respond, but then they quickly and excitedly go beyond my very simple grasp of the vocabulary, grammar and slang, before I can squeeze in the words "xin lỗi, em không nói tiéng việt giỏi" (sorry, I don't speak Vietnamese well). Sometimes they slow down, but if they're a bit older, they kind of sigh and gently let it go...<br />
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Luckily there's a word for me here. <i>Việt kiều.</i> Vietnamese living overseas. When they ask me why I know Vietnamese, I bust out that phrase and that opens up smiles and a bunch of questions. Which country do you live in? Where you born there or here? Where are your parents from? They're curious about me. Suddenly I fit into a category.<br />
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I can't help but think about how my life would have been different if my family hadn't left Vietnam. I'm sure many việt kiều wonder the same. What kind of person would I be? Would I be a proper Vietnamese girl? Or would I constantly be seeking ways to go against the grain? What's normal for me back home lies outside the box here, but not as far as one might think. Vietnam is an edgy country, and I see change happening all around me. The thing is, my family didn't migrate to seek a better fortune. They were refugees fleeing post-war Vietnam. If my family hadn't left, I may not have been born, period.<br />
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I love Vietnam already, and I want to live here, nor would it be hard to find work to facilitate that. I'm sure I'd discover a lot of myself here in the mountains and coasts and forests of this diverse, colourful country. Yet meanwhile, my heart still roots a big part of itself in the dusty red earth and dry scrub of Australia, my beloved old continent. I can't imagine not returning to those sandstone headlands or eucalyptus woodlands after too many years.<br />
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So when someone asks me "hey, miss, where you from?", it doesn't really matter whether I answer "Australia" or "Vietnam", because, well, I guess I'm both.<br />
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<i>I'm a việt kiều, mate!</i><br />
<br />
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<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-8121171321422507122015-10-19T11:19:00.000-07:002015-10-20T09:51:27.735-07:00Hello. Goodbye.These are two words I hear a lot when travelling. Hello, and Goodbye. I've gotten better at using them, but never become quite used to it. How can I, when I've met so many awesome people I've had to see leave all too soon, or be the one to leave them? It can be hard to let go, to not worry that you'll never share a laugh or a story with them again. But the fact is, the world is a big place full of way too many amazing souls in it, ready to cross paths with yours. <br />
<br />
After 5 months on the road (yes, it's been that long, and I haven't posted since the beginning of my trip! You really must stop believing my blog-related promises), I've said hello to a great many faces from a great number of countries. Each and every time it's been worth the bittersweet risk of having to say goodbye afterwards, because the company they've given me, the memories they've gifted me, the lessons they've taught me, are everlasting and truly life changing. I never quite know who will make a mark on my travels, and sometimes it's been quite unexpected. Generally, a good rule to follow is not to expect anything from anyone, and people will surprise you.<br />
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I've heard some say they don't like goodbyes. If they can, they just silently disappear. I can't think of a worse thing. To just be cut off like that. As hard as it is, a heartfelt, genuine, sometimes teary goodbye is something solid I can hold onto. It's closure. It's my last chance to tell them, maybe for the first time, or maybe as a millionth reminder, how much they meant to me, and the difference they made, no matter how small. I think that's a beautiful thing. It makes me brave enough to step out of the doorstep the next time.<br />
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<i>Current location: Nha Trang, Vietnam.</i><br />
<i>Current situation: cough-y, phlegm-y, blocked nose-y, toilet-y, and clearly emotional.</i><br />
<i>Next stop: Quy Nhơn, Vietnam.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEyPbk7cbu4eZ7Y1nFy22w-B-XvuleWZViTMfUXBjK-VCmQwK_DgaGvH8jECMDJcBzqnOq6_vF4957KPmyxWf3BY_rPu9cjCxR409V5K0YGA6tDBvY2WIefXPtSSBe-3yYtzMdr9lacYVp/s1600/PA189726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEyPbk7cbu4eZ7Y1nFy22w-B-XvuleWZViTMfUXBjK-VCmQwK_DgaGvH8jECMDJcBzqnOq6_vF4957KPmyxWf3BY_rPu9cjCxR409V5K0YGA6tDBvY2WIefXPtSSBe-3yYtzMdr9lacYVp/s640/PA189726.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the road from Nha Trang to Lắk Lake.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kPlqK9I3juoNZ-k13et2h43n51dvr2u4qJTRrgC7iNhkZfjtnwwTv5iLnBCnIEGwjDHtEYvAFZD2YFpXgCfad6aSh99HPrei7ECSIXKqnF10xZiqqoSx5BkN5uljovaJqO5VLuTQe6xW/s1600/PA189776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kPlqK9I3juoNZ-k13et2h43n51dvr2u4qJTRrgC7iNhkZfjtnwwTv5iLnBCnIEGwjDHtEYvAFZD2YFpXgCfad6aSh99HPrei7ECSIXKqnF10xZiqqoSx5BkN5uljovaJqO5VLuTQe6xW/s640/PA189776.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first time with EasyRider, another fresh way to travel around and see the country.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I promise (dun dun dun!) to post some more updates soon.<br />
<br />
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<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-85842015771851455942015-06-01T04:48:00.000-07:002015-06-01T18:55:28.851-07:00The Tales of the Travelling PantsHowdy! It's been a long time since I posted. I have a good reason for that! (honestly)<br />
<br />
I actually drafted this ages ago when I was running around like a headless chicken preparing for my trip to Southeast Asia. I was madly organising visas, buying travel insurance, booking flights and accommodation, not to mention getting a tonne of vaccinations. Seriously, I am like a human pin cushion! After all that, thankfully I still had some money left to actually travel.<br />
<br />
So I wanted to write you (tearily) before I left, but instead, you find me typing this in Vietnam! I almost can't believe I've already been on the road for 2 weeks! While I take some time to absorb the happenings of the past fortnight, and the fact that my feet are once again on foreign soil, let me tell you about my Travelling Pants.<br />
<br />
I present to you the aforementioned:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQhDlF6OQ0mo9Fma3j1uxGQEIrwSY3vSO8yylXxY1OyOCnY2qUlNLOIrja_D50kaAmiLavTeG6S8ke833VSZERYcOE5nVAF2beu5_ueodUi14a_nl60xgM_npsRF6XejGvf4Ce_rUFXGJ/s1600/Travelling+Pants+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQhDlF6OQ0mo9Fma3j1uxGQEIrwSY3vSO8yylXxY1OyOCnY2qUlNLOIrja_D50kaAmiLavTeG6S8ke833VSZERYcOE5nVAF2beu5_ueodUi14a_nl60xgM_npsRF6XejGvf4Ce_rUFXGJ/s400/Travelling+Pants+1.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Travelling Pants. Dey be every where mon!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I bought this pair of jeans in the first week of my Europe trip last year. £11 at an ordinary Primark in London. Bargain.<br />
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I didn't think they'd last very long, but as the guy at the beginning of Aladdin said, don't be fooled by its commonplace appearance! They went with me nearly everyday for the following 4 months as I walked, plane'd, train'ed, tram'ed, bus'ed, and climbed (a lot of cathedral towers plus a couple of hikes in Switzerland) my way around 8 countries in western Europe including the UK.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pa8D6jb8ODqPnoANmKcRmSjGJBm9kGRrGekbUawg8Cz2sfrMGCOXNPSWSDFUaOTJNEEsKU31-WdpanFNHGsfh24Orzom4jIPGCu3SClJQ0b1wpiSfGqqwhkmiztwdIhZo-9EF4ztsQSx/s1600/Berlin+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pa8D6jb8ODqPnoANmKcRmSjGJBm9kGRrGekbUawg8Cz2sfrMGCOXNPSWSDFUaOTJNEEsKU31-WdpanFNHGsfh24Orzom4jIPGCu3SClJQ0b1wpiSfGqqwhkmiztwdIhZo-9EF4ztsQSx/s640/Berlin+wall.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berlin wall. Oh my god, yes, I'm finally uploading photos from my Europe trip last year! And it's nice to remember that Berlin is where I started this blog. :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Sometimes they were too much for me, like in hot Barcelona when I decided to lounge on the beach in something shorter while checking out cute guys with my friend M (to our dismay, there weren't any). Sometimes they weren't enough, like when I was shivering in cold Lucerne and my friend A introduced me to delicious roasted chestnuts, yum!<br />
<br />
Sometimes they were too tight, like when I ate that amazing duck in Nice. Sometimes they were too baggy... nah, that never happened.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5OTZ10udP3foM-R1hzH6gJiXmQmzR8YTDcwfqOLTGAQY5q8BFKnPq2JrwjVUYKymEqDJoknmjOVnLGO6yzr71jFsf7yMp2tbjpzFVo2-oRGA_XfmqlUGeuJbU71GC6SaWnoTnAUiB46e/s1600/Paris+Seine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5OTZ10udP3foM-R1hzH6gJiXmQmzR8YTDcwfqOLTGAQY5q8BFKnPq2JrwjVUYKymEqDJoknmjOVnLGO6yzr71jFsf7yMp2tbjpzFVo2-oRGA_XfmqlUGeuJbU71GC6SaWnoTnAUiB46e/s640/Paris+Seine.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paris at night, with a view down the Seine River towards the hauntingly magical Notre Dame Cathedral.</td></tr>
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<br />
So besides my booty, these jeans carry a lot of memories. There was that time I was having a horrible day in Antwerp: a man kicked me for no good reason (not even kidding), and then when I sat down on the wharf near the river to compose myself, the sun-scorched wooden pier bleached the colour out of the bottom. Wow, they got off to a bad start in Belgium. I even remember that time in Ghent when my friend's adorable frisky kitten Billy accidentally pulled out a thread near my left knee with his sharp little claws. After that, every time I fingered that loose thread, I remembered cute little Billy.<br />
<br />
But that was more than made up for by the many hours I spent in them wandering the cobblestones of beautiful Bruges, the canals of picturesque Amsterdam, and the alleyways of Florence. I wore them when I ambled all the way down the Unter den Linden in Berlin, from my hostel in the Mitte to the Tiergarten, a walk that was longer than I expected. I wore them again in Paris when I walked from the Notre Dame Cathedral, all the way down the Avenue des Champs-Elysees, to the Arc de Triomphe - another long urban trek. Then again in Milan, when my friend M and I diagonally cross-cut the entire city in search of good aperitivo (calories we totally earned!)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWb-J4lzcVnPdugqtR2sb5q89qgyNgXOoPkZ3UrTf5_dW-4JJotAujq-iYgohyphenhyphenb0HtluIGb6DN96J_YkFly6gf1QuzaJtMCvA4FQg8sQf_QFGZFlYkYIGrijixibU9rGSNo2OvZKmSqaKq/s1600/Grapes+Cinque+Terre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWb-J4lzcVnPdugqtR2sb5q89qgyNgXOoPkZ3UrTf5_dW-4JJotAujq-iYgohyphenhyphenb0HtluIGb6DN96J_YkFly6gf1QuzaJtMCvA4FQg8sQf_QFGZFlYkYIGrijixibU9rGSNo2OvZKmSqaKq/s640/Grapes+Cinque+Terre.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cinque Terre and the beautiful Italian Riveria. I'd never seen olive trees before, and there they were along the coastal hike from Vernazza to Corniglia. Kind of cool to think that almost a year later I was picking olives in the backyard with my cousins.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Still, that wasn't enough for my Travelling Pants! Even after I returned home to sunny Sydney, they wanted to keep on moving, although the adventure was taking its toll...<br />
<br />
So I wore them for 3 weeks in Melbourne, sightseeing and feasting with my friend D around the city, laughing my ass off at the International Comedy Festival with a crew of awesome mates, and visiting my cousins.<br />
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My beautiful cousin M suggested my Travelling Pants deserved a post all of their own when she saw how hard they'd been working:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFcWazTu0KfbH-b0Ex_n8MyAUi8SS0lo1g9AyB6z0HJCNGSZ_jbIOl4C-rPsqqecWgmk9-Y2IB-Uy7YE-7_DxMRx4sfQB8SVEoS6GiqktSeG-2Ju78g_WDgmQPYfMcH4j8NLDMJTlT_PG3/s1600/Travelling+Pants+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFcWazTu0KfbH-b0Ex_n8MyAUi8SS0lo1g9AyB6z0HJCNGSZ_jbIOl4C-rPsqqecWgmk9-Y2IB-Uy7YE-7_DxMRx4sfQB8SVEoS6GiqktSeG-2Ju78g_WDgmQPYfMcH4j8NLDMJTlT_PG3/s400/Travelling+Pants+3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yup.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTR6472vmRCBxr4RwFGO2EgWUC75kYn_p2gg2RttfwlVpd16J8Y_COxMYfKBAQeCCr4PESAUSth8OIzNCVlcpsbuBj989VnOonO7AoORjW8ypkJbo7ht4mVf_TYH8IQJdCIPOo7qgtnSdl/s1600/Travelling+Pants+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTR6472vmRCBxr4RwFGO2EgWUC75kYn_p2gg2RttfwlVpd16J8Y_COxMYfKBAQeCCr4PESAUSth8OIzNCVlcpsbuBj989VnOonO7AoORjW8ypkJbo7ht4mVf_TYH8IQJdCIPOo7qgtnSdl/s400/Travelling+Pants+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Uh huh.<br />
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All the thigh chafage they've prevented! There's no way I can repay that debt.<br />
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Now that I've properly recognised what they have done and what they mean to me, I can gracefully retire them to the rubbish bin. Ain't no charity is gon' need them. I pushed them to their limits and now it's time to herald their farewell with the attention and respect they are entitled to.<br />
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It's funny how the things that mean so much to us can be so unassuming in and of themselves. Just a cheap pair of jeans. One among hundreds on the shelf at a chain store. And yet they've been everywhere, man. With me.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9AZZXgfWCgv-tvU0zCEPg8HaNkK_yrKbOWChaoOodSb2Knjt0XGWZo0vyClIA2U7mNrsqp2f1a-bL1ER62ECsvuepx8JndFbrgpn6PbTVzCQY1soIE2IKEYs29FAg-m2h6K_p3KNHTge2/s1600/Flinders+pier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9AZZXgfWCgv-tvU0zCEPg8HaNkK_yrKbOWChaoOodSb2Knjt0XGWZo0vyClIA2U7mNrsqp2f1a-bL1ER62ECsvuepx8JndFbrgpn6PbTVzCQY1soIE2IKEYs29FAg-m2h6K_p3KNHTge2/s640/Flinders+pier.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flinders pier. D and I visited the scenic Mornington Peninsula on a day tour while we were in Melbourne.</td></tr>
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As I embark on another long backpacking trip through a new continent this year, I think it's helpful to remember that the things/people that matter most are not measured by how much money we spent on them, but by how much time we spent with them. And it seems like the experiences we value most of all are the ones that we absolutely didn't see coming!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREiEbvFNL5V9Kb3fXUA9p3dfzjJRNI3naLPo28GAROsR3I58VaoZ5LdtQUJLq7bpHKG3DmB87RxI0TU_5WN1daRUZBjI3Vo0hsZoQf4Qu27iQ-Wmi7nvS7j3AdU0u7XwVKEWK5gMtbh3X/s1600/Mornington+Peninsula+vineyards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREiEbvFNL5V9Kb3fXUA9p3dfzjJRNI3naLPo28GAROsR3I58VaoZ5LdtQUJLq7bpHKG3DmB87RxI0TU_5WN1daRUZBjI3Vo0hsZoQf4Qu27iQ-Wmi7nvS7j3AdU0u7XwVKEWK5gMtbh3X/s640/Mornington+Peninsula+vineyards.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of several picturesque vineyards in Victoria's Mornington Peninsula, Australia.</td></tr>
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Thanks for stopping by to adieu my Travelling Pants! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_0FWTQ_K3bWk sx_cecf64" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yS/r/ckxre_asY0y.png); background-position: 0px -7863px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; height: 16px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">grin emoticon</u></i> It's already taking me some time to sort through my photos and stories from the past 2 weeks in Vietnam. I know first-hand that it's super hard to stay updated while I'm constantly on the move, but I'll try to do a better job of blogging this time!<br />
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With that promise made, here's a bit of a visual preview of my current journey through Indochina:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6_k4NJHpgUYBi43tgdzhIOCBYARxCgBcdT1X_t-vDYg_rdkFTZoacyJMIcHq-K9V-5Utmk3OuJXnMogw42VTPbap1a7iaxtPnUQ8rMYqxTAdfL-hkGi3lpzsT_10BEP1OGpq9NjMtVSk/s1600/Bui+Vien+Saigon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6_k4NJHpgUYBi43tgdzhIOCBYARxCgBcdT1X_t-vDYg_rdkFTZoacyJMIcHq-K9V-5Utmk3OuJXnMogw42VTPbap1a7iaxtPnUQ8rMYqxTAdfL-hkGi3lpzsT_10BEP1OGpq9NjMtVSk/s640/Bui+Vien+Saigon.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bùi Viện: backpacker central. One of the busiest streets in bustling, hectic, chaotic Saigon. Haven't yet figured out if I love this city or if I'm stressed out by it, but it's certainly got me captivated!</td></tr>
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As always, much love to all of you, my readers, and please share your thoughts in the comments below. Backpacking solo can get lonely and it'd be great to hear from all of you!<br />
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/vacuuming-on-holiday-12806105" target="_blank"><img alt="Vacuuming On Holiday" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=12806105" /></a><br />
<br />
<i>I wrote this in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/C%C3%A0-Ph%C3%AA-Ng%C3%B4i-Nh%C3%A0-S%E1%BB%91-7/308855422513752" target="_blank">Cà phê Ngôi Nhà Số 7</a>, a beautiful cosy little caffeine-infused secluded retreat, hidden down a long driveway off Ngô Thời Nhiệm street. I won't go so far as to review it <a href="http://vietnamcoracle.com/best-hidden-cafes-saigon/" target="_blank">since Tom has already done such a good job</a>, except to say that it's probably my favourite café in Saigon, and I've come back 3 times in almost as many days. If you're in town, make sure you pay it a visit - and bring your charger! You'll want to stay a while.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-37787359617092725152015-04-24T08:05:00.002-07:002015-04-24T08:05:20.741-07:00TGIF!If you haven't already heard, it's been raining cats and dogs here in Sydney and across the greater state. It's been all flash floods and gale force winds and power outages and even, sadly, fatalities.<br />
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Today we saw the first bit of sunshine we've seen all week, so I thought I'd take a moment to celebrate the beginning of the weekend and enjoy the small pleasures of life at home. Normality is underrated!<br />
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I really like the look of my family's coffee table right now - it reveals a bit of insight into how we like to unwind in the evenings after dinner. It's peaceful and calm and comforting to share quiet telly time together in the living room.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5O9s2Z2lrPvtOqgPH6LczNiiKM07dOttm8wvFspOF2jttRuoaXguwloadPGPjJMeoTVVBuaMOboLMS2nHG1H6gi23WAYvqfJEM3edTNYAyGJ2IMVB-Ud4TN_d6AosCYKdds4jDGWCu-wi/s1600/coffee+table.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5O9s2Z2lrPvtOqgPH6LczNiiKM07dOttm8wvFspOF2jttRuoaXguwloadPGPjJMeoTVVBuaMOboLMS2nHG1H6gi23WAYvqfJEM3edTNYAyGJ2IMVB-Ud4TN_d6AosCYKdds4jDGWCu-wi/s1600/coffee+table.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea, yarn, roses, and tasty morsels to schnickety-snack on... everything a person needs to relax.</td></tr>
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Did I mention I have a lot of yarn-fans in my life? My sister is one of them and she's constantly working on some knitting project. There's always lots of patterns and needles and baskets of multicoloured balls of wool and cotton lying around. My friend M recently got me into basic crochet too, which I've been doing off and on (currently on), leaving me with a bunch of practice squares.<br />
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I'm trying to look past my perfectionism and actually use them, rather let them go to waste lying useless in the bottom of a bag in a dusty corner somewhere. They're lumpy and imperfect, but my sister insists there's an element of charm in that! Right now they're doing well as coasters and place mats to protect our wooden surfaces.<br />
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My thoughtful mother also often dots the house with beautiful flowers that she clips from her garden. They brighten up the place fabulously - very important in dark, dreary weeks like this one has been!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qm9ds6PELO35Cnew320lyVhbHjZz0xfEXxbl1MYLeu4mOelAamXXJLArXQovJ-bWL2mt-6RCf3zTKfZ-2SPnxaQUxEFeymj1veJv3rbGI9uoKqk1n7EMirHrCNiCPtlWRQ5Y5P1pgb1K/s1600/squares.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qm9ds6PELO35Cnew320lyVhbHjZz0xfEXxbl1MYLeu4mOelAamXXJLArXQovJ-bWL2mt-6RCf3zTKfZ-2SPnxaQUxEFeymj1veJv3rbGI9uoKqk1n7EMirHrCNiCPtlWRQ5Y5P1pgb1K/s1600/squares.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih49PNPxpye9IyU6aXONFLbVIPVcw5xFe-1qkvabjNZ_wML6_7TMF_tgz95w-pgQvlwn-Yq-_Ry35z-NbJTbKhpEeUsejLQ7c_h1P4JTKh5dgUW0wu6GYRXUQtG4_MyEn1jX79DjXyJccQ/s1600/flowers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih49PNPxpye9IyU6aXONFLbVIPVcw5xFe-1qkvabjNZ_wML6_7TMF_tgz95w-pgQvlwn-Yq-_Ry35z-NbJTbKhpEeUsejLQ7c_h1P4JTKh5dgUW0wu6GYRXUQtG4_MyEn1jX79DjXyJccQ/s1600/flowers.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This tiny vase is so cute! I found the glass jar a few months ago when I was working in the Aussie bush, and I loved it so much I dug it up and took it home. The rosemary, from our own herb pots, was leftover from a roast veg dish - perfect for makeshift leaves, and deliciously smelly.</td></tr>
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Anyway, it cheers me up. And it's so simple! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_0FWTQ_K3bWk sx_72c37c" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yS/r/ckxre_asY0y.png); background-position: 0px -8033px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; height: 16px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i> What's putting a smile on your face this thankful Friday?<br />
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By the way, if you were wondering, my head torch is there because I use it to help me see my stitches at night when I'm working with very dark yarn. I look like a total dork wearing it, but I'm not crocheting to impress!<br />
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The little ziplock bag of coloured squares are miniature tasting blocks of chocolate (did I mention I'm a chocolate fanatic?) that I got from ... but I'll save that story for next time. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_0FWTQ_K3bWk sx_fa23c4" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yS/r/ckxre_asY0y.png); background-position: 0px -8135px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; height: 16px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">wink emoticon</u></i><br />
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Happy weekend folks!<br />
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/vacuuming-on-holiday-12806105" target="_blank"><img alt="Vacuuming On Holiday" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-75967780893862324162015-04-09T01:13:00.000-07:002015-04-24T08:07:25.967-07:00This week I smiled becauseOf all the children! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_0FWTQ_K3bWk sx_cecf64" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yS/r/ckxre_asY0y.png); background-position: 0px -7863px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; height: 16px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">grin emoticon</u></i>
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I've been staying with my cousins in Melbourne for the past couple of weeks, and seriously, their kids are <i>funny!</i>
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For example:
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Me: Your other Aunties are coming to visit you tomorrow.<br />
Bob the builder: Are they your sisters?<br />
Me: Yep!<br />
Bob the builder: So do you know them?<br />
Me: ... yes ...
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There was this gem the other day when I was playing hairdresser:
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G-Girl: What's taking so lo-ooong?<br />
Me: Sorry honey, I'm a bit slow. I guess I'm not as good at doing your hair as Mummy is.<br />
G-Girl: Yeah, Mummy's way better.
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Then to tip the cuteness scales, Mr Incredible replaces his r's with l's, so he often says things like "this is velly good!" and "that's my flavourite!"<br />
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And recently:
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G-Girl: We built a Kids Club! Wanna see?<br />
Me: I'd love to! But you have to make me a Visitor's Badge so I can get in.<br />
G-Girl: Why?<br />
Me: Because I'm not a kid!<br />
G-Girl: No, silly, I meant it's a Kids and Adult Ladies Club.<br />
Me: Oh I see. So that means all the kids and adult ladies can go in.<br />
G-Girl: Yep.<br />
Me: So the only person who can't go in ... is Daddy.<br />
G-Girl: ... Yep!
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(The following day, she made him a special access card.)
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Here in The Menagerie, life is carefree and easygoing. There's nothing quite like vaulting over plastic hammers and Lego pieces on the way to the toilet, or constantly losing UNO games, or pretending to be the Hulk and chasing the twins when they don't go to bed on time. Also, Mr Incredible keeps getting <a href="https://youtu.be/k85mRPqvMbE" target="_blank">crazy frog</a> stuck in my head.
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It's not only that they cheer me up with their wonderfully good looks, and their adorable plush toy voices, and the beautiful way everything about them is so tiny and squishy. They are genuinely positive and happy children. In fact, their entire family is. Their influence is therapeutic and <i>velly</i> healing. Outside it might be more chaotic, with the thundering of small feet down the hallways and raucous laughter echoing around the house, but inside, it's blessedly calmer and more peaceful. Lately I've been less worried in general, and more engaged in the present - and that's always a good thing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrpvvawhVxz5_W3_pbfEL4W_ATZEZ4LdQQyzwXyjGXt49CIZcIp0oxT7O60p4wezxERuTehpDAgvrw6zMLEFWMs97xfqspMS5lf6D5nCPCy7tLMEcmO__dbbnYgMN3iiOwL5K1m6Nu666/s1600/olive+tree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrpvvawhVxz5_W3_pbfEL4W_ATZEZ4LdQQyzwXyjGXt49CIZcIp0oxT7O60p4wezxERuTehpDAgvrw6zMLEFWMs97xfqspMS5lf6D5nCPCy7tLMEcmO__dbbnYgMN3iiOwL5K1m6Nu666/s1600/olive+tree.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picking fat olives from the trees in the backyard.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dKaayYUpBN8UAU3Q5-yPqZfTqVvBx8rMUYXAxGFUZ2tV9v1rtvM0rhniqcNQSuvz9rrzmmr-wv2jGZvKtOyQG9OpWw2l-57-q1AuzINZM8kMaJ_Qbg_eFRuja6BKi_j4tZVEGsI5KWjD/s1600/la+la+falls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dKaayYUpBN8UAU3Q5-yPqZfTqVvBx8rMUYXAxGFUZ2tV9v1rtvM0rhniqcNQSuvz9rrzmmr-wv2jGZvKtOyQG9OpWw2l-57-q1AuzINZM8kMaJ_Qbg_eFRuja6BKi_j4tZVEGsI5KWjD/s1600/la+la+falls.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poking around in La La Falls near Warburton after a lovely walk through the rainforest.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6b6LIuOLPKZC-xuF6BITvLjJWtku-RtX2rE3QQ70t7Ij9l1Kzg0vwX-_lw2kPOi7QM48SGsnQgpBbqbfBaYfP14VB2-yJtTC4dn5xWTSaJuKsw-81y_VkFnpGIEytpms_kk7sp1-LSGJ/s1600/mushroom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6b6LIuOLPKZC-xuF6BITvLjJWtku-RtX2rE3QQ70t7Ij9l1Kzg0vwX-_lw2kPOi7QM48SGsnQgpBbqbfBaYfP14VB2-yJtTC4dn5xWTSaJuKsw-81y_VkFnpGIEytpms_kk7sp1-LSGJ/s1600/mushroom.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">13 year old Beno took this photo of a mushroom growing out of a log. Quite a talent!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/vacuuming-on-holiday-12806105" target="_blank"><img alt="Vacuuming On Holiday" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-77637344039609310932015-04-01T03:42:00.001-07:002015-04-01T03:42:46.602-07:00It only takes a smile...In preparation for my trip to Southeast Asia, I've been reading the Lonely Planet. I don't tend to overplan my holidays or rely solely on guides, but I find them a good starting point when I'm feeling overwhelmed by all my travel options, not to mention a great source of inspiration.<br />
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The other day I read a testimonial by one of the contributors saying that one of the things she loves about Asia is the friendliness and the generosity of all the people she met, regardless of whether they were locals or fellow tourists.<br />
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It made me think of what I have loved most about my experiences overseas so far, and I realised I'd have to agree with her wholeheartedly. Sure, the food always a huge thrill to me - I get a big kick out of trying the local cuisine and it's always a highlight (sometimes the goal) of my trip. The beauty of the landscape and the natural environment is also another major plus that I hang on to afterwards - how could I not, when every continent has its own unique character?<br />
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But by far, the kindness of strangers and the fun of making new friends sits at the top of the list of highlights for me. Before stepping foot in Europe, I was pretty worried about the possibility of becoming lonely - in a big unfamiliar place by myself, not knowing who to trust, would I alienate myself? Would I come across as unapproachable, or fail to engage if people did try to connect?<br />
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Very quickly my anxieties faded away as I realised <i>how easy</i> it is to meet people while travelling. Whether it's a super nice roommate in a hostel, or a friendly couple sitting at the table next to you in a restaurant, or a chatty ticket handler at the museum - travelling brings people together. Fellow tourists are just as keen as you are to make connections, and they're up for anything. Locals hear your accent and ask you where you're from, want to show off their hometown.<br />
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Without even trying I found myself chatting away with randoms in Paris, Berlin, Amsterdam, Barcelona. It was a very pleasant and welcome surprise! Sometimes if we got along really well, we forged deeper memories together, going on walking tours, visiting the beach, shopping, sightseeing, drinking. But even if we didn't, I still got a huge sense of the warm and fuzzies every time I got an unexpected smile from a stranger, and something about it alleviated my social fears. Each and every positive encounter I had boosted my spirits, no matter how brief it was. It helped me reach out to the citizens of whatever city or town I was visiting, and also to be more open to them reaching out to me, even to welcome me. It's a nice feeling, right?<br />
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And that's the beauty of travelling - it's more than just seeing a new place. It's about putting myself in the shoes of someone else from another culture, and being a part of their community, even if only for a little while.<br />
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It's fascinating thinking about how a physical space can shape the lives and mentalities of the people who occupy it - and I'm certainly not talking about deep philosophical reflections here. I'm just talking about the subconscious appreciation travelling gives me - appreciation for all the countless things in the world I haven't experienced yet, and the little kudos I can't help feeling because I had the courage to seek new experiences while others either can't or won't. Most importantly, it gives me an appreciation for all the things I left behind back home and never noticed before.<br />
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The perspective and the gratitude it gives me is so much more worthwhile than that great wine I had or how pretty that building was (though those things are rather awesome too).<br />
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Have you had similar experiences meeting new people on holiday? What does it give you? I'd love to hear your stories, please share below. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_0FWTQ_K3bWk sx_72c37c" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yS/r/ckxre_asY0y.png); background-position: 0px -8033px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; height: 16px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">smile emoticon</u></i>
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blogs/vacuuming-on-holiday-12806105" target="_blank"><img alt="Vacuuming On Holiday" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-57691872736108225552015-03-24T17:19:00.001-07:002015-04-24T10:13:31.771-07:00Back from the deadI feel like I'm going to be one of those bloggers who constantly apologises for late posts!<br />
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I'm a perfectionist, a procrastinator, and I feel like I'm never home. Doesn't help with the regular posting business, does it?<br />
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I think the solution to my blogging tardiness is also the solution to my life: to stick a Post-It on my forehead that says "Stop Worrying" - preferably backwards so I can read it in the mirror when I look at myself!<br />
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So before I can overthink even <i>this </i>very post I'm typing right now, I'm just going to bring <a href="http://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank">Vacuuming On Holiday</a> back from the dead <i>right now</i> and update you on what's been happening!<br />
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Firstly, I was very kindly nominated for the <a href="http://crochetbetweentwoworlds.blogspot.com.au/2014/12/peace-and-harmony-award.html" target="_blank">Harmony & Peace Award</a> by my favourite and most inspirational pow-wow blogging pair, Michelle and Anne over at <a href="http://www.crochetbetweenworlds.net/" target="_blank">Crochet Between Worlds</a>. This happened way back in December last year! How neglectful am I? What a way to thank them for their consideration! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_0FWTQ_K3bWk sx_e50f78" style="background-color: white; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yS/r/ckxre_asY0y.png); background-position: 0px -7812px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; height: 16px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">frown emoticon</u></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> </span>To be slightly fairer to myself, I did immediately draft - not one, but two - entries in response! So what happened to them? Well, the fact is I'm so new to this, I couldn't even name 7 blogs that I regularly read, let alone 7 blogs that fit the profile! I spent so long fussing over this task that I just never got around to actually doing it (story of my life). My goal for this week is to do justice to my Award, and get it and my nominees loudly and proudly posted up for all to see and share - so watch this space!<br />
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Secondly, I've recently returned from a mammoth non-stop 6 week jaunt in the Australian countryside working as an Ecologist! I'm very lucky I landed this job and I'm pretty thankful for all the cool, talented, amazing people I worked with and all the new things I learned. I handled beautiful and fascinating animals from lizards and snakes to birds to frogs to bats. I spent quiet moments in glorious ruby red sunsets admiring the unique outback landscape. I missed home and family and friends and the fun of the city, not to mention I was pretty exhausted by the end of it! But it was a memorable, rewarding, valuable experience, and I hope more like them come my way in future.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgMgiRqW8F9V_lP5tY9tn0ztM2wOsl8KUCL7WObMQr0ayQWrD16gAUUx5Ehi1vkC1-P1IJWoCFnHBO3dib014XipJPRnkmDQ0Mqo_R43wIORL6pX2fRReskJSHG4uEplM3s9d2sBAenxm/s1600/Mormopterus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgMgiRqW8F9V_lP5tY9tn0ztM2wOsl8KUCL7WObMQr0ayQWrD16gAUUx5Ehi1vkC1-P1IJWoCFnHBO3dib014XipJPRnkmDQ0Mqo_R43wIORL6pX2fRReskJSHG4uEplM3s9d2sBAenxm/s1600/Mormopterus.jpg" height="400" width="353" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cute little free-tailed bat I helped rescue - basically just another day at the office. This species <i>Mormopterus </i>is one of my personal favourites. I love the way they hide their eyes behind their ears!</td></tr>
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Thirdly, after many fears about delaying my entry into full-time employment, I have decided to take the plunge and go on another long trip - this time to South East Asia! It's something I've always wanted to do, many years before I ever stepped foot in Europe. I've sought advice from everyone under the sun, and while opinions have at times been very divided, the general consensus - and what I've ultimately chosen to live by - is that now is the time to do it. Everything comes with a trade off. Maybe I will have to fight harder to land a good job when I come back. Maybe it won't come as easy for me as it would for someone who works straight after graduating from university. But it won't be impossible.<br />
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The thing with going on adventures is that afterwards life inevitably settles down. More importantly, I know I'll regret it if I don't travel now, before things like kids and bills and climbing up the career ladder become a terrible reality. Happiness happens in the present, not in the future.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7S5yk4_8SuGT4LjaInIMtsVWK7uB-my5jLSKjJS7ETb9gk5N-Oe86no0MEVE6rCNmZ_qrkJZ30i-rCxt7_kQaagUD6y1-ayzUSu9_7dTqMnBF1llzVZb_FMLaPgct8uiUU6Wm0ZVJ390a/s1600/Sawn+Rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7S5yk4_8SuGT4LjaInIMtsVWK7uB-my5jLSKjJS7ETb9gk5N-Oe86no0MEVE6rCNmZ_qrkJZ30i-rCxt7_kQaagUD6y1-ayzUSu9_7dTqMnBF1llzVZb_FMLaPgct8uiUU6Wm0ZVJ390a/s1600/Sawn+Rocks.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sawn Rocks, a beautiful feature of the Mount Kaputar National Park in northeast NSW, one of the places I visited while I was working out bush. The organ pipe-like rock columns were formed naturally, just by the way the lava cooled. I told you geology is awesome.</td></tr>
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Anyway, wish me luck! I'm nervous but excited! I feel like the decision to travel and explore the world is a really relevant one for many people in their twentysomethings; it comes up constantly in conversation. It's a stage of life when everything seems ripe for the taking, and there's just not enough time or money to satisfy all the things we want to do. It's when we all want to start making a name for ourselves in our jobs and have really satisfying, fulfilling work. But we're also young, and fit, and our feet are itchy. And even though <i>we know we're not old</i>, we're also starting to look ahead to when we will be. What will we be doing with our lives when we're in our 30s, 40s, 50s? How do we reconcile all these desires with our responsibilities?<br />
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Do you know anyone who's had to make a big (and seemingly life-changing) decision like this before? Maybe you've had to make one yourself. Please share in the comments how you tackled it! I'd really love to hear from all of you. <span class="emoticon emoticon_smile" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yP/r/90b8T5aM1AH.png); background-position: 0px -7986px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; height: 16px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px; vertical-align: top; width: 16px;" title=":)"></span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px;"> </span><br />
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To end this on a lighter note, I dined at world famous Japanese Restaurant <a href="http://tetsuyas.com/about/" target="_blank">Tetsuya's</a> back in December with acquaintance and travel journalist Paul Oswell from <a href="http://www.shandypockets.com/" target="_blank">Shandy Pockets</a>. I was <i>very lucky</i> to get the impromptu invitation, and didn't quite realise the enormity of the experience until I was already there! I mean, of course I'd heard of Tetsuya's, and I knew it was rather fancy, but I didn't know just <a href="http://www.top10restaurants.com.au/tetsuyas.html" target="_blank">how fancy</a><i>.</i> He and I were both rather unprepared and therefore pretty blown away by it all!<br />
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I was super chuffed to visit the shiny kitchens, which was impressively organised and controlled - not at all like the steamy, hot, noisy, chaotic back stage scenes of five star restaurants you see in movies. We even got to visit the cool and quiet dessert kitchen, where a lone pair of calm and collected pastry chefs prepared the many small pretty sweet things in peaceful solitude.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCX8HBSnEDcu1HhYSla50b8tjw-IKQ6Oji18f4pQWp7PV0oY3Ul9lVHGhzdmtCSdjZST63FhzS2AtWQrKQTT3PmNsFi9BYZ8r8q-YvhyLTmPIF4tBhg_h0VBq7pJ9iR_ZOUTuhceY4F1La/s1600/Tetsuyas+kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCX8HBSnEDcu1HhYSla50b8tjw-IKQ6Oji18f4pQWp7PV0oY3Ul9lVHGhzdmtCSdjZST63FhzS2AtWQrKQTT3PmNsFi9BYZ8r8q-YvhyLTmPIF4tBhg_h0VBq7pJ9iR_ZOUTuhceY4F1La/s1600/Tetsuyas+kitchen.jpg" height="640" width="411" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tetsuya's behind the scenes - making marvellous delicious things.</td></tr>
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Paul has finally released the review of our amazing degustation meal and fine dining experience, and you can check it out <a href="http://www.shandypockets.com/tetsuya.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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That's it for now. Catch you again soon!<br />
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-8468571440754070382014-12-21T08:57:00.000-08:002014-12-21T09:02:38.504-08:00This week I smiled becauseThis week was a bit of a tricky one when it came to smiles, but discipline does pay off because I'm a pretty happy chappy this Sunday looking back on the week that was, ready to celebrate my wins where I can and not sweat the small stuff.<br />
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<b>Monday: </b>Had a check up with the doctor and everything is right as rain! Can't take good health for granted. (Remind me of this next time I skip the gym.)<br />
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<b>Tuesday: </b>All-day quality catch up time with my best friend P. Haven't seen her in literally years, and she is as beautiful, sweet, and inspirational as ever. I've always said the truest friends in our lives are the ones with whom time and distance does no damage - and this is certainly true of P.<br />
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<b>Wednesday:</b> Plumber emergency this morning to repair the broken tap that flooded the kitchen last night with hot water. Not so fun. But hey, the problem was fixed for good. And who doesn't love lifetime warranties? As stressful and tiring as it was cleaning up the mess, Mum and I laughed about it later.<br />
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<b>Thursday:</b> Enjoyed the rare experience of couch potato-ing with my sister who has this week off and was therefore was able to hang out on a school night!<br />
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<b>Friday:</b> Today ended up being Parents' Day as I did grocery shopping with Mum in the morning (my favourite kind of shopping) and had dinner with Dad in the evening. They shared some funny stories which gave me ideas for a writing project I've been stewing on for a while...<br />
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<b>Saturday: </b>Went to <a href="http://www.eventfinda.com.au/2014/t1000-pres-code-featuring-dubfire/sydney" target="_blank">an AMAZING gig</a> - at which I was fully prepared to dance all day and alone (while well lubricated, since, as we all know, that ensures the best moves are implemented on the floor) - but to my surprise, my gorgeous bestie D joined me at last minute, and her company simply added to the sheer delight that was hours of proper top quality house and techno spread across three stages, stretched out over a stunning day that melted from summer sun into musky dusk through to deep night. Pure magic.<br />
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But it didn't end there. Then, because I'm a very lucky girl, I also got to see my close friend J and a bunch of our lovely mutual friends at her well-earned graduation party.<br />
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<b>Sunday:</b> A totally indulgent and leisurely day with the two stooges who always make me laugh. Food, nails, massage, movie, walking in the sunshine, lounging on the couch, and a few D&Ms, made for a pretty much perfect day.<br />
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Overall, this was a week that topped the gratitude scales. I took on a few more responsibilities at home, learned how to ask for advice, and made role models out of my friends who are all manner of empowering traits combined. I'm quite honoured. <span class="emoticon emoticon_smile" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yP/r/90b8T5aM1AH.png); background-position: 0px -7986px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; height: 16px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px; vertical-align: top; width: 16px;" title=":)"></span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px;"> </span><br />
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-30942549366065765522014-12-10T22:57:00.000-08:002015-09-20T10:29:30.589-07:00Where the sky meets the seaTime for another round of <a href="http://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com.au/2014/11/the-new-normal-flashback-blogging.html" target="_blank">flashback blogging</a> – this time, about my day-trip to Brighton in the south of England. Historic seaside town and royal romps-ville.<br />
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The main thing I remember of Brighton is the colour, an overriding muted blue-ish grey, probably owing to the fact it rained all day (it was late October). It wasn’t exactly bleak, though it’d be hard to convince someone else otherwise. I mean, look at it:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrdCtqRQlmcYtBAlP0uMqgPfSxEfD-DnWOgMzsRvzW6YCHk65raDSRthnDX-4Eb1LQPojMANKQh5uW9INxkvL1SpYLbbOkvg7piMgNPhcYEGh7PADC2GH-Fgt4TRx8tCjDJ3pvgxuSn6d/s1600/PA301801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrdCtqRQlmcYtBAlP0uMqgPfSxEfD-DnWOgMzsRvzW6YCHk65raDSRthnDX-4Eb1LQPojMANKQh5uW9INxkvL1SpYLbbOkvg7piMgNPhcYEGh7PADC2GH-Fgt4TRx8tCjDJ3pvgxuSn6d/s1600/PA301801.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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For me it felt like a dream, slightly haunting, and very mystical. The sky melted into the sea in a strange mixture of white and pale green. Everywhere I looked it was faded and soft, like an old photograph, which went really well with the sense that this was a place full of history and intrigue.<br />
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In the late 1700s when Brighton was still a small fishing village, people came here to bathe in the waters they believed would <a href="http://www.mybrightonandhove.org.uk/page_id__7539_path__0p224p1218p.aspx" target="_blank">cure them of every illness</a>. The king also visited regularly for his debauched holidays, to escape the stifling regularity of the court in London, making the gossip-mongers go wild. And still it remains one of the most visited cities along the country's rocky southern coastline.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImWWKDKeIIBJP07S0bo7hfdlw9zO4IAUIuJxwBdvkP6yxvpORo6ypf5BSErRb9h5n5YctaTNFWaAkPS085FcsM3ZVFEkB1viBFUxUAc3ifgr4h_JzIm1h1ELPMVNBwhFZDaExibm3d_vK/s1600/PA301800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImWWKDKeIIBJP07S0bo7hfdlw9zO4IAUIuJxwBdvkP6yxvpORo6ypf5BSErRb9h5n5YctaTNFWaAkPS085FcsM3ZVFEkB1viBFUxUAc3ifgr4h_JzIm1h1ELPMVNBwhFZDaExibm3d_vK/s1600/PA301800.JPG" width="472" /></a></div>
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On the whole, it all had me feeling lost in time, just out of reach of decades of drama. I can’t exactly say why I liked Brighton, only that I did. It fascinated me. I got the impression – as cruel and unfair as this sounds – that it’s a place that tries to preserve the old years of excitement rather than keep it alive today.<br />
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I had fish and chips on the famous Brighton Pier. Despite the bad weather, there were still lots of people about who, like me, were determined to make the most of their day. As I walked over those oh-so very old and rather loose wooden planks, distrustfully reading the signs about how much money they put into maintaining the structure to ensure safety, I began to feel uneasy.<br />
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I could see through the gaps to the sea beneath my feet. The arcade house was groaning with countless hyperactive teenagers and their exacerbated parents giving them strict instructions not to get lost. Bored couples were lining up to go on the rickety rides, which I listened to clanking and shaking with no small amount of trepidation.<br />
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I don’t consider myself a fidgety person, but I was suddenly met with vivid images of a bumper car crashing through the barriers, of a giant teacup breaking free from its rotating saucer and flying into the air; in another instant, I imagined the entire pier shuddering and then collapsing into the cold grey water in a massive pile of splintered matchsticks. I felt a bit silly, but I had to get off that pier!<br />
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I must have been onto something because as soon as I hit the promenade, I saw this little sunburst fight its way through the blanket of cloud over the horizon. It sounds cheesy but it really was mesmerising.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4UwD2_xdxTWmv-AFirdWAMZX3eny8k_tMDH8wRQllHLBoeIQgTuLY-0yfjrn56_68ws00GBt8kWwkZMNWGa-p1KYgrrO0KIoGlcO-8c2ySl0zcs0WjWnjfrLpcMFjU2R0IYttDuGyX0t3/s1600/PA301807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4UwD2_xdxTWmv-AFirdWAMZX3eny8k_tMDH8wRQllHLBoeIQgTuLY-0yfjrn56_68ws00GBt8kWwkZMNWGa-p1KYgrrO0KIoGlcO-8c2ySl0zcs0WjWnjfrLpcMFjU2R0IYttDuGyX0t3/s1600/PA301807.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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My day in Brighton actually started off very frustrating. I woke stupidly up early to catch my train, which ended up being diverted twice and ran horribly late. When I finally did arrive, there was nowhere to store my backpack! Many places in the UK removed their luggage storage facilities years ago due to security concerns. Most hotels won’t take luggage from non-guests. So beware if you are planning a trip there – pack light! I spent the first half of the day walking around with my 60L pack on my back, negotiating an umbrella in my arms, trying not to hit other people with it.<br />
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I later found out that the delay-causing “incident” was a very unfortunate track death, which sadly put my problems in sharp perspective! But what really turned my mood around completely was the kindness of all the lovely people I met. The staff at the train station, a guy selling <a href="http://smallbatchcoffee.co.uk/locations/brighton-station/" target="_blank">the only good coffee I’ve ever had in England</a>, a man working at the <a href="http://www.brightontoymuseum.co.uk/" target="_blank">Brighton Toy & Model Museum</a>, a lady at the <a href="http://www.brighton-hove-rpml.org.uk/Museums/brightonmuseum/Pages/home.aspx" target="_blank">Brighton Museum & Art Gallery</a> - they were all so helpful, sincere, and patient. I always say that nothing beats good customer service, and it was never truer than on this day. A simple smile or gesture really can make or break it, especially when you're on your own.<br />
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For a pound, I managed to squish my pack into one of the large lockers at the Brighton Museum & Art Gallery cloakroom, which made me feel like I’d achieved some huge victory! The beautiful building was packed with families. Where else do you take your kids when they’re bored and restless and it’s pouring outside? When you’ve got a museum with a huge array of diverse collections to suit everyone, as well as free entry, the answer is obvious!<br />
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When I was there, I had to stop myself laughing out loud at a few funny things I overheard some very articulate English children say in the restrooms. A couple of good ones:<br />
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<i>Mummy, I like it in here, the girls toilets are a lot better than the boys, I think I’ll go here from now on. </i></blockquote>
And my favourite:<br />
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<i>I’m afraid I’ll fall in! </i></blockquote>
I also wandered North Laine and The Lanes, getting lost like a rat in a maze. My travels around Europe have been far from short of centuries-old winding cobblestoned shopping alleys, but they're still one of my favourite parts of old cities. I got a kick out of the cosy pubs, the tea parlours, and the retro shops selling cute vintage knick-knacks. I wanted to buy everything! Of course, the only safe thing to do was to buy nothing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81KPWmtalDl0zkKlOeZv5RuXhuKsHbDmLZTqdlE9pVKklCRsaN2qtR4Z2M3MkAuYNrgitAbJtiWMOjVo90967cgTXXjJDKbZ2wuJZTh4A4lPTv74F5edeFt1g5oCbOJkpu_PTZQH_SB0A/s1600/the+lanes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81KPWmtalDl0zkKlOeZv5RuXhuKsHbDmLZTqdlE9pVKklCRsaN2qtR4Z2M3MkAuYNrgitAbJtiWMOjVo90967cgTXXjJDKbZ2wuJZTh4A4lPTv74F5edeFt1g5oCbOJkpu_PTZQH_SB0A/s1600/the+lanes.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entrance to The Lanes. Is it just me, or does the sign say "Fresh to Death"? I hope they're referring to the produce on sale, not the customers!</td></tr>
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I finished off my day at the <a href="http://www.brighton-hove-rpml.org.uk/RoyalPavilion/aboutthepalace/Pages/History.aspx" target="_blank">Royal Pavilion</a>, which I enjoyed more than I can say. I never had an appreciation for interior design before my holiday. I find it a great mix of history, culture, art, and humanity. I'm sorry I don’t have any photos for you because photography wasn’t allowed inside, and even the outside of the building was obscured by temporary construction. But it's a stunning piece of architecture, and if you ever find yourself in Brighton, please don’t leave without seeing it!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iroGEfQ3BlkrpVioQxqxXx8VTPOwiZ_V4hOgLwXM4gGzWGrV_73kIZfaw6HZbCFUTgz3Voeft5PBhZ1jJWFmRvn981TcpbOInmKRlgjOVB-5thIh0nYTG6q7PSVO8TiMWIPbZseqGyMJ/s1600/Lydia+Bennet.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iroGEfQ3BlkrpVioQxqxXx8VTPOwiZ_V4hOgLwXM4gGzWGrV_73kIZfaw6HZbCFUTgz3Voeft5PBhZ1jJWFmRvn981TcpbOInmKRlgjOVB-5thIh0nYTG6q7PSVO8TiMWIPbZseqGyMJ/s1600/Lydia+Bennet.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Oh, I want to go to Brighton!" She got there in the end.</td></tr>
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My last memory of Brighton is of how many times I ran through in my mind a particular scene from one of my favourite novels, <i>Pride and Prejudice</i> by Jane Austen - when Lydia Bennet had a temper tantrum because her father refused to take the family to Brighton on holiday, even though Mrs. Bennet herself admitted that “a little bit of sea bathing would set me up forever!” It made me feel very lucky to be there.<br />
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-89597577089852980522014-12-10T00:26:00.000-08:002015-03-25T21:43:24.992-07:00It only takes a momentIn the lead up to my <a href="http://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com/2014/12/where-sky-meets-sea.html" target="_blank">next</a> <a href="http://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com.au/2014/11/the-new-normal-flashback-blogging.html" target="_blank"><span id="goog_1677236059"></span>flashback blog post<span id="goog_1677236060"></span></a>, I have to tell you about one of my “tearful moments”.<br />
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There were a few moments on my holiday when, in the middle of a stellar day, I’d come across something that made me cry. Besides being a bit embarrassing, I actually kind of liked these moments, because they always reminded me that I wasn’t seeing new things for the sake of it.<br />
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I had such a moment at the <a href="http://www.brighton-hove-rpml.org.uk/Museums/brightonmuseum/history/Pages/home.aspx" target="_blank">Brighton Museum & Art Gallery</a> while checking out <a href="http://www.brighton-hove-rpml.org.uk/WhatsOn/Pages/BMAGwarstories12jul2014to1mar2015.aspx" target="_blank">an exhibit about WWI</a>. A couple wrote regularly to their son on the frontline, regretting that they wouldn’t be able to celebrate his birthday with him, and telling him how much they missed him:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuu8s_xPqfv4MU3gMQJ64TyHIGxmoKMYXXSoab3NZ4HHsnIUf7J7WmqKdvmUgwXI8XyYa5d_i3PUmro5YlDq-BSEyeiu2qg-CnnzMnN4cwiPwIV5nolH2UbMVIweXdFU76Yan_Qv07bD8-/s1600/museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuu8s_xPqfv4MU3gMQJ64TyHIGxmoKMYXXSoab3NZ4HHsnIUf7J7WmqKdvmUgwXI8XyYa5d_i3PUmro5YlDq-BSEyeiu2qg-CnnzMnN4cwiPwIV5nolH2UbMVIweXdFU76Yan_Qv07bD8-/s1600/museum.jpg" height="273" width="400" /></a></div>
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Far from detailing what must have been horrible times in battle, the boy wrote back to his parents with his hopes and dreams to cheer them up, telling them not to worry, reassuring them that they would be able to celebrate his next birthday together.<br />
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A few weeks after this letter, he was killed in battle...<br />
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I'll admit, it totally undid me.<br />
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Travelling is an emotional and a beautiful thing, even when it’s carefree and unexpected (sometimes because of it). I think the world will come to an end when we are so apathetic that we have no sense of curiosity or respect for the things that challenge us.<br />
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-74152451835738297372014-12-08T02:24:00.000-08:002014-12-11T03:08:14.439-08:00This week I smiled because<b>Monday: </b>Random catch up with my beautiful bestie M. She treated me to <a href="https://www.sydneytheatre.com.au/whats-on/productions/2014/switzerland" target="_blank">a play</a> produced by <a href="https://www.sydneytheatre.com.au/" target="_blank">my favourite theatre house</a>, and I didn't fall asleep in the middle of it! Conveniently for me, it was indirectly about creative writing.<br />
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<b>Tuesday:</b> Had a nice long chat and some sweet hangs with a couple of friends in Hyde Park on a hot, windy, sunny day that now and again randomly involved thunder. Gorgeous.<br />
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<b>Wednesday:</b> While I was out with my dad, who's a pretty gruff guy, I started noticing all the little ways he shows he's proud of me. Felt pretty nice.<br />
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<b>Thursday: </b>I had the most amazing popcorn. Honestly, I was like Tolkien's Gollum, crouched over this massive bowl of happiness in front of tv in the dark, shoveling that stuff in inbetween amazed giggles. You gotta try it. Make it on the stove with some oil like normal. Melt some butter in the microwave. As soon as the popcorn's ready, pour the butter over, sprinkle in lots of salt, some sugar, ground cinnamon, a bit of nutmeg, and cayenne pepper, then toss like mad. You're welcome.<br />
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<b>Friday: </b>I met a nice tourist from the US who I found out has his own travel journal. He was reviewing <a href="http://www.tetsuyas.com/index.html" target="_blank">Tetsuya's</a>, a super fancy Japanese restaurant, and he invited me to join him! Not only was this a rare and mind-blowing fine dining experience for me, but I also got it for free, and with good company. I'm very lucky.<br />
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<b>Saturday:</b> I slept most of this day, so really, what's there not to smile about?<br />
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<b>Sunday:</b> Lazy day with the two stooges, D and T, who I've missed very much. <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com.au/Restaurant_Review-g3675710-d3673844-Reviews-Scrambled_Cafe-Enmore_New_South_Wales.html" target="_blank">Brunch</a>, TV, tea, ice cream, <a href="http://www.thestinkingbishops.com/" target="_blank">more food</a>, <a href="http://blackstarpastry.com.au/" target="_blank">dessert</a>, more TV. I think I may tortured D with my terrible fake French accent all the way through one of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1911553/" target="_blank">my favourite foodie movies</a>. Love it.<br />
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-36974450804049043662014-11-30T18:25:00.000-08:002014-11-30T19:07:33.451-08:00NaNoWriMo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My history as a writer has been a bit half-hearted. One of the earliest dreams I had as a kid was to publish a novel, and as far as I can tell, the fantasy hasn't lost its appeal, even though my creative writing has bled dry like a creek in the desert over the last few years.<br />
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I entered the <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">National Novel Writing Month</a> challenge last year to poke the muses, but since it was mostly a distraction from my far more difficult and terrifying thesis, I didn't get very far.<br />
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The NaNoWriMo challenge is to write 50,000 words in the month of November. I didn't get there this year either, but I got much more out of the experience than merely words. After all, who is a writer that doesn't write?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRr1_83UzAl7E_i7PbaktzUwe-rWqp4Jmw5qEO96NLflzK-bu57WOOQx2ACIwhp117S96K99HiHtvH6IhYeczE87CmHg-wHwMxOD4NMBJXBWQO1L5FGd7sR9uIBRKJ2JVRFPONp-5zgx6t/s1600/wordcount.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRr1_83UzAl7E_i7PbaktzUwe-rWqp4Jmw5qEO96NLflzK-bu57WOOQx2ACIwhp117S96K99HiHtvH6IhYeczE87CmHg-wHwMxOD4NMBJXBWQO1L5FGd7sR9uIBRKJ2JVRFPONp-5zgx6t/s1600/wordcount.png" height="290" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My achievement graph. Words, words, words.</td></tr>
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For people who have never written but want to, NaNo is a great source of inspiration. For people who have written before, NaNo offers focus and motivation, support and encouragement, and a chance to practice. Amateurs and pros the world over get something out of it it, because even published authors fall into the trap of letting "normal life" get in the way, or of feeling insecure.<br />
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Writing is a fairly solitary endeavour, but with NaNo comes heaps of online support and local events. I met some fellow writers in my area and discovered the community is a lot bigger and friendlier than I realised.<br />
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I've loved the confidence I've gotten from NaNo, and how it's helped me develop my story. It's a strange experience, getting to know characters I should supposedly know everything about because I invented them. It really is like meeting people in real life, slowly building their trust, hearing about their pasts, becoming familiar with their personalities and quirks.<br />
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To those who say "But you can't write a novel in a month!", of course they're probably right. Novels aren't just about word limits. You need to plan, edit, organise, and that takes a lot longer than 30 days to do. But you can write a first draft, which gets you one step closer to a novel, and hopefully have lots of fun along the way too!<br />
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NaNo isn't for everyone, but for me, it's helped me beat away the travel withdrawal blues, and I've learned a lot about the process, about how I can be a better writer. So 50,000 words or not, I feel like a winner. <span class="emoticon emoticon_smile" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yP/r/90b8T5aM1AH.png); background-position: 0px -7986px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; height: 16px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px; vertical-align: top; width: 16px;" title=":)"></span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px;"> </span>
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-18033309203925454182014-11-30T16:57:00.000-08:002014-12-02T15:57:09.691-08:00This week I smiled becauseA lot of good reasons to smile this week!<br />
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Many of them have been writing-related. I decided to give the annual <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">NaNoWriMo</a> challenge another try this year, even though I was still partying it up in Europe when the clocks ticked over into November 1st. I'm very proud of what I've done, even though I didn't "win" for various reasons. Because you know what? Without NaNo, I wouldn't have written as much as I did! <a href="http://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com.au/2014/11/nanowrimo.html" target="_blank">Here </a>I talk a little bit more about what NaNo means to me and my experience with it this month.<br />
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<b>Monday: </b>Over 3k words.<br />
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<b>Tuesday: </b>Over 5k words. (Wow!)<br />
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<b>Wednesday: </b>Nearly 4k words.<br />
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<b>Thursday: </b>Over 3k words. Also, this was somehow my most focused writing day in ages. Later on, I went to a super cool <a href="http://www.hustleflowbar.com/" target="_blank">hip hop bar</a> with my beloved F to watch a rap battle. I saw some amazing talent and met some friendly strangers. Then on the drive home, my friend's friend, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/izzyntheprofit" target="_blank">a kind and seriously skilled MC</a>, blasted the beats in the car and did some improv rap out the window. Great memories! Oh, and I stuffed my face with <a href="http://www.mrcrackles.com.au/" target="_blank">this heart-stopping creation</a>:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2jWPpDhAWkB3jGlu39eiCMjFjtdc1sjuZfGPnHs-jraFecbmOkDAe04XhG7R6RCD0e30VuFDWeEtlQ93Gy65mUON0Qci_vwW-ojny2PpetrV37eAASkbN4AmR_R2iDz_PFdghFcDHcku/s1600/Mr+Crackles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2jWPpDhAWkB3jGlu39eiCMjFjtdc1sjuZfGPnHs-jraFecbmOkDAe04XhG7R6RCD0e30VuFDWeEtlQ93Gy65mUON0Qci_vwW-ojny2PpetrV37eAASkbN4AmR_R2iDz_PFdghFcDHcku/s1600/Mr+Crackles.jpg" height="320" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you haven't been to Mr Crackles on Oxford street, then you must. Pork belly roll with crispy crackling. Drool... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUi_G0ZnqCLKjACtxmKABTTa_cgkXr-yoUMA5h3RCJVBdLG-dto0KqAu7sSGGtKbB-akQcXn22uBmC0srNkEX37xXwD1oV6Ph3xxJT08X9Vwwd_7IElYvGnneTQZDS0WD8lIEMD1hzgnH/s1600/hustle+and+flow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUi_G0ZnqCLKjACtxmKABTTa_cgkXr-yoUMA5h3RCJVBdLG-dto0KqAu7sSGGtKbB-akQcXn22uBmC0srNkEX37xXwD1oV6Ph3xxJT08X9Vwwd_7IElYvGnneTQZDS0WD8lIEMD1hzgnH/s1600/hustle+and+flow.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hustle and Flow on Regent street. Fantastic little joint with great art and a rather interesting shot challenge.</td></tr>
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<b>Friday: </b>I dropped the writing ball a little today. But I went to an amazing techno gig in the evening with a simply brilliant DJ out of Detroit, <a href="http://www.residentadvisor.net/dj/mikehuckaby" target="_blank">Mike Huckaby</a>. I literally danced till dawn. It wasn't easy to show up on the d'floor alone, but some lovely fellow boogie-woogiers gave me kudos for my bravery.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrL2_2urjoHM9ezDN7SnamE8hfYaUWvVhSZSPyxTrHluJ0Yfi1Az0FGBp2lkyLJmU9rOHRlv-0kQO72WGyc0RVHysvBVfIqHIVGhAT-5a-yLy8nw7xz6Rkg-vf7Ux7e9wUqcg5KsJvPFrS/s1600/Mike1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrL2_2urjoHM9ezDN7SnamE8hfYaUWvVhSZSPyxTrHluJ0Yfi1Az0FGBp2lkyLJmU9rOHRlv-0kQO72WGyc0RVHysvBVfIqHIVGhAT-5a-yLy8nw7xz6Rkg-vf7Ux7e9wUqcg5KsJvPFrS/s1600/Mike1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spinning and shuffling at the Burdekin Hotel on Oxford street.</td></tr>
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<b>Saturday: </b>I welcomed home my sister who I haven't seen in ages! I also caught up with some friends I hadn't seen in months, who greeted me with cheers. Way to feel loved! A day of reunions.<br />
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<b>Sunday: </b>It’s a lovely day. Hot, bone-dry, and typically Australian. The sky is darkening to a deep ominous blue, the wind is picking up in that unsettled way just before a storm breaks, and though there isn't a breath of moisture in the air, there is loud, rumbling thunder overhead, and it's getting louder and closer every minute. It won't be long before lightning is splitting the sky and the rain is bucketing down. Very moody. Very beautiful.<br />
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<a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-13961757015468153082014-11-22T02:26:00.002-08:002015-03-25T21:50:21.825-07:00A Gallery of Clocks in TimeWhen I was in Switzerland, I took myself on a day trip to Zurich. Most of the nation's major cities are easily accessible by a few hours' ride on the train. <br />
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One of my favourite parts of Zurich was visiting the <a href="http://www.beyer-ch.com/en/museum/portrait/portrait-museum.html" target="_blank">Beyer Watch Museum</a>. It was only one room, but I must have spent at least an hour in there, admiring and examining their huge clock collection. They were organised chronologically, from the first primitive instruments, through to the earliest mechanised devices, and eventually to the most accurate electronic clocks to date. I couldn't believe how old some of them were!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1i43UEtcg1V6mLOf3VfjeWUCHZBwYiaJpvr0SL9UMMhkMt6KEN7dbncm-7g0r3HKZj03ent7P31GJmlZt3AbapFTfNbYxAJ2fYRUyvA9UbA4iPdkdMOoqooVudvDgvTYDsUIqJ_oGY_l/s1600/Beyer3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1i43UEtcg1V6mLOf3VfjeWUCHZBwYiaJpvr0SL9UMMhkMt6KEN7dbncm-7g0r3HKZj03ent7P31GJmlZt3AbapFTfNbYxAJ2fYRUyvA9UbA4iPdkdMOoqooVudvDgvTYDsUIqJ_oGY_l/s1600/Beyer3.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The candle was used to measure time by how much wax melted every hour. The oil clock worked by a similar principle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful collection of hourglasses.</td></tr>
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Many were stunningly beautiful, and were works of art in and of themselves, not merely tools for measuring time.<br />
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Many of the clocks had a hidden switch that, when you touched them, activated moving parts which played music or reenacted a live scene, so they functioned as much for entertainment as they did for practicality.<br />
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Unfortunately all the artefacts were captioned in German, so I didn't always understand how they were meant to work. But the friendly and very eager museum staff was ready to answer all questions in whatever language you desired.<br />
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My favourites were the pocket watches with their intricate details. Just by looking at them, you get an idea of the person who would have owned it, their sense of style and taste, and how they might have used their expensive watch to show off to others about their social standing.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Landscape etching.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeT5NVJsFTEl1VtAnMIPT9ryC-FFOadE2smKjhIISs5KfapQRPuvUru4yBVBwKEyiGLcLOav5OQJSMqX8X4UUFj2FYvHKSgIcd5dOOWs0bvog-MCSRtgHO3y1SvtSweDi1zZKXjvk5Tb0/s1600/Beyer13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNeT5NVJsFTEl1VtAnMIPT9ryC-FFOadE2smKjhIISs5KfapQRPuvUru4yBVBwKEyiGLcLOav5OQJSMqX8X4UUFj2FYvHKSgIcd5dOOWs0bvog-MCSRtgHO3y1SvtSweDi1zZKXjvk5Tb0/s1600/Beyer13.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The key is as beautiful as the watch itself.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QB7064AfO_K5oPN9d6J1f1uRyMDSZyoqThFEJH3FCb5hg0DgqpxGZPvDIqASrhGMEs6IayLIs533fRLfTDTvm2VAEm9EgxWKpfOvM1dP8qMn4uBYRXjFBd9T1pICS3nCmuKzKZYNLqP1/s1600/Beyer16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QB7064AfO_K5oPN9d6J1f1uRyMDSZyoqThFEJH3FCb5hg0DgqpxGZPvDIqASrhGMEs6IayLIs533fRLfTDTvm2VAEm9EgxWKpfOvM1dP8qMn4uBYRXjFBd9T1pICS3nCmuKzKZYNLqP1/s1600/Beyer16.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lot of care was put into the details.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwH7rdkPluOWcd-lACS63EcHlH3D7bkUh6IgVSMVfEw24ZzIm9sl7uFFDu0LeGDkkcX0l3XSG2cLneHtnSXytgGrtC5_aHJMhkzNLNZyi74tUPR-nFgJZlJkMjV4z2mKxVbxCH_q8P9kiD/s1600/Beyer15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwH7rdkPluOWcd-lACS63EcHlH3D7bkUh6IgVSMVfEw24ZzIm9sl7uFFDu0LeGDkkcX0l3XSG2cLneHtnSXytgGrtC5_aHJMhkzNLNZyi74tUPR-nFgJZlJkMjV4z2mKxVbxCH_q8P9kiD/s1600/Beyer15.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watches often featured fine period or classical paintings.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FdhKLrWwJmNTebtiDbMuz1C5GhbtkfP3JwSU6aMwMZrVXW67pu5tjLAH0FFm0Ue8sp67W9uVHloZAGBIXG_AaOSidEjMVDxqNN2trDXNzKKY0yycF0Rj5zpJ_V_zdY_WHjjzRFdqQ0yG/s1600/Beyer18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-FdhKLrWwJmNTebtiDbMuz1C5GhbtkfP3JwSU6aMwMZrVXW67pu5tjLAH0FFm0Ue8sp67W9uVHloZAGBIXG_AaOSidEjMVDxqNN2trDXNzKKY0yycF0Rj5zpJ_V_zdY_WHjjzRFdqQ0yG/s1600/Beyer18.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some were a bit naughty.</td></tr>
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I can't begin to imagine the kind of focus and skill needed to design these watches - and that was just on the outside! I really enjoyed seeing the interior workings of the clocks, too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKqtvlhpWA0tX84BTbIOUZ_NLw-Uzxp7f7EqF8CjgEI6a2JMoXR52QeDUL7oNUBvzs0cocTlY5xEirGPpcNuVDJdxF_rV8U337tF30gDAmZcRNDuHSPNPj8-0w_ms83bP3fmDo-cGX_DQ/s1600/Beyer19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgKqtvlhpWA0tX84BTbIOUZ_NLw-Uzxp7f7EqF8CjgEI6a2JMoXR52QeDUL7oNUBvzs0cocTlY5xEirGPpcNuVDJdxF_rV8U337tF30gDAmZcRNDuHSPNPj8-0w_ms83bP3fmDo-cGX_DQ/s1600/Beyer19.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the inside of this pocket watch was decorated.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmXxkq0YRolo5N3qirg3xXmSoqe67OwnyTY9jFKtzqhT5b77Lo1CPhvs_wqXvDK1MhFP_nPABOORYZbT0-GVLJYfUHcfSZtWVmyuNAO_VaoTRZFx0p5K1hfkFpnmMoR30jRq0N4r7NDDm3/s1600/Beyer21.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmXxkq0YRolo5N3qirg3xXmSoqe67OwnyTY9jFKtzqhT5b77Lo1CPhvs_wqXvDK1MhFP_nPABOORYZbT0-GVLJYfUHcfSZtWVmyuNAO_VaoTRZFx0p5K1hfkFpnmMoR30jRq0N4r7NDDm3/s1600/Beyer21.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghKUVfxLkX4EcI_ROaGjGIrlasTg9OM30s63t-Vs0ZMqfvrTqe36BhN9sbkXRakZFVA4pdJmBkYMi7KiNMGZgEziIMj-s2DJMqH1j9v5JyFllt9R9MFYC6Ai-t3RypbmNNzv9zWmj-P6Wg/s1600/Beyer22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghKUVfxLkX4EcI_ROaGjGIrlasTg9OM30s63t-Vs0ZMqfvrTqe36BhN9sbkXRakZFVA4pdJmBkYMi7KiNMGZgEziIMj-s2DJMqH1j9v5JyFllt9R9MFYC6Ai-t3RypbmNNzv9zWmj-P6Wg/s1600/Beyer22.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3h7K05htoHJXFP6dRPd6QhGA6TYNV4J1C0cEZCRC7JI9n1bo3JQvoPyVMoKDR91rbZyMtyyq1AHTz7TfWFmYp4wulmqotJQmoNikPcASJ9FVfwb_yRpDIGUUuDhSowFPz5p0dtc0F1fY/s1600/Beyer10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3h7K05htoHJXFP6dRPd6QhGA6TYNV4J1C0cEZCRC7JI9n1bo3JQvoPyVMoKDR91rbZyMtyyq1AHTz7TfWFmYp4wulmqotJQmoNikPcASJ9FVfwb_yRpDIGUUuDhSowFPz5p0dtc0F1fY/s1600/Beyer10.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A see-through pocket watch, one of my favourites in the museum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTnZFQw22p5LZLK1EBqBfmNGsn9BWFsCa0QxAFwoNunQgX6h_b5KwgKlu4ypeYWX73wh08MhMcfscAlfCsfASOGYMrJnsC5BZwPrBOn7nI4hSOL86gtEhQv6XOV2KM7en2QzJ53RSuywr/s1600/Beyer14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTnZFQw22p5LZLK1EBqBfmNGsn9BWFsCa0QxAFwoNunQgX6h_b5KwgKlu4ypeYWX73wh08MhMcfscAlfCsfASOGYMrJnsC5BZwPrBOn7nI4hSOL86gtEhQv6XOV2KM7en2QzJ53RSuywr/s1600/Beyer14.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wooden pocket watch. It must have been so difficult to make!</td></tr>
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I had fun trying to photograph the miniscule details close up.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdn53uCpIsdqN3eFQMiPm4x-729dYRfnZFjSylKPKz1Pj9SsvXqnBlIsngWUOUnFQZfRv_KtRMSrvMkFAw-jp19h3xvS-IHxlQRLKZJsHH3usRwHs33Psi892vbtJTPPAdrlmbcr-2Cjn/s1600/Beyer2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdn53uCpIsdqN3eFQMiPm4x-729dYRfnZFjSylKPKz1Pj9SsvXqnBlIsngWUOUnFQZfRv_KtRMSrvMkFAw-jp19h3xvS-IHxlQRLKZJsHH3usRwHs33Psi892vbtJTPPAdrlmbcr-2Cjn/s1600/Beyer2.JPG" height="489" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was amazed by these delicate little clocks set onto rings - even a miniature sundial!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgA2LJxoznkJ6meh_axxMlIWllY69lmFaFbpLoN7IMGHepJAB4lFwQaBvKtgsEXrSPBAh7zTBR00msC9ldmEEFQ3NsN-HOGVmPPr0vSlkaoO4bFiG92Dtk7H0ge86m1m19GU5IAQeapt2/s1600/Beyer1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgA2LJxoznkJ6meh_axxMlIWllY69lmFaFbpLoN7IMGHepJAB4lFwQaBvKtgsEXrSPBAh7zTBR00msC9ldmEEFQ3NsN-HOGVmPPr0vSlkaoO4bFiG92Dtk7H0ge86m1m19GU5IAQeapt2/s1600/Beyer1.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiI9TyP6mjfJnuuJKYP0sJmgXwtOg8HQpcx32XU1QzUtQi9GtBKcp7p7RVr9DcID7vfqhnf1xyjkHy1Q_QeXcazmInnPTzmImCICexp1Oq-oEx7vU9p2MOyBJmnnssKm2aPlInhOJCfcpM/s1600/Beyer9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiI9TyP6mjfJnuuJKYP0sJmgXwtOg8HQpcx32XU1QzUtQi9GtBKcp7p7RVr9DcID7vfqhnf1xyjkHy1Q_QeXcazmInnPTzmImCICexp1Oq-oEx7vU9p2MOyBJmnnssKm2aPlInhOJCfcpM/s1600/Beyer9.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet the smallest pendulum clock in the world! The square metal frame was about the size of the nail on my pinky finger.</td></tr>
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I left the museum with a renewed appreciation of the artistry and science that our society has devoted over thousands of years to the understanding of time, and our attempts to control it for daily use, but in the end, how time-keeping has shaped us.<br />
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Besides the museum, what else did I see in Zurich? Well, I had a simple but lovely day (despite the grey weather), wandering around, sight-seeing, visiting the major landmarks, <a href="http://www.spruengli.ch/?lang=en" target="_blank">drinking hot chocolate</a>, and strolling along the Limmat river and Lake Zurich. I snapped this audacious swan, which was probably trying to con some food out of me. Of course, I made it my model.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4521rj0F2aUdEECcVIAZDLC8pmzZJVjQEmXvwAKXq5AtOaa0dfBtCHsbd48AS3EDdpkJyjMUPFMkwWl-vAhDvNLePTSOgyySQ8wv9pWBaeV6Gh8cXUkGZAFsMvjcTD1ZWGhurYZU-apuK/s1600/Swan1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4521rj0F2aUdEECcVIAZDLC8pmzZJVjQEmXvwAKXq5AtOaa0dfBtCHsbd48AS3EDdpkJyjMUPFMkwWl-vAhDvNLePTSOgyySQ8wv9pWBaeV6Gh8cXUkGZAFsMvjcTD1ZWGhurYZU-apuK/s1600/Swan1.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUojOwhDYuqLeUMVTV-EshObUvy-xRpGK7ykj057C4ZGTAGQjrLronMbfdzgiMvK23JUmbaqJ9otxP_yXJJLBIIOjBSMUDooQk6ncGa3yII_LeH1YTQ5ikDjyQZgsS6fFpVCIZ3raLDA9/s1600/Swan2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUojOwhDYuqLeUMVTV-EshObUvy-xRpGK7ykj057C4ZGTAGQjrLronMbfdzgiMvK23JUmbaqJ9otxP_yXJJLBIIOjBSMUDooQk6ncGa3yII_LeH1YTQ5ikDjyQZgsS6fFpVCIZ3raLDA9/s1600/Swan2.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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Having only a day to spend there, I left with an impression of a bustling commercial city that still retains its sense of history and culture (not that I got to see much of the latter). But I think next time, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Street_Parade" target="_blank">I'll stay in Zurich overnight</a>.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2Icque8j4oVSMoAG195MLOwC7zQepX_W9WNIoY0ve0U3PSlFOexQ1gHxSNMMiOWiT_mfAibt2EMMDO56nQ3SOJWj5pJBzR3N6DL1SwbsIuONmbUXroUsv5-HSGuZJkpsz6fFA2nQHZ-u/s1600/Zurich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM2Icque8j4oVSMoAG195MLOwC7zQepX_W9WNIoY0ve0U3PSlFOexQ1gHxSNMMiOWiT_mfAibt2EMMDO56nQ3SOJWj5pJBzR3N6DL1SwbsIuONmbUXroUsv5-HSGuZJkpsz6fFA2nQHZ-u/s1600/Zurich.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
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Before I went, I got mixed responses from my various informants. Some said they found it boring, others said they loved it. Have you ever been to Zurich? If so, what did you think of it? <a href="http://vacuumingonholiday.blogspot.com.au/2014/11/a-gallery-of-clocks-in-time.html#comment-form" target="_blank">Please share below.</a><br />
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Did you like the photos in this post? Perhaps you'd like to take a moment to <a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a><br />
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And as always, thanks for reading! <span class="emoticon emoticon_smile" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yP/r/90b8T5aM1AH.png); background-position: 0px -7986px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; height: 16px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px; vertical-align: top; width: 16px;" title=":)"></span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px;"> </span></div>
Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-82046276001125161252014-11-18T19:46:00.000-08:002014-11-30T18:58:19.808-08:00The New Normal + Flashback BloggingHi all! It's been weeks since I've last posted. The reason for that is simple, and may I say, was totally predictable: I had no time to blog about my holiday while I was holidaying! <br />
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<a href="http://memypackandi.wordpress.com/2013/10/23/travel-blogging-pros-and-cons/" target="_blank">This blog post</a> pretty well sums up my attitude to travel blogging, and I have learnt (read: am learning) not to worry too much about how I approach it, because everyone is different anyway.<br />
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I'm back home now in my beloved Sydney. Like a migratory bird, I've chased the sunshine, and summer here is proving to be another beautiful one. When my family picked me up from the airport, we made many jokes about how life is "baaaaack to normal!"<br />
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I've now got the opportunity to leisurely reflect on the four months that was. Flicking through thousands of photos, and pages and pages of my handwritten journals (see, I kept up to date with <i>something!</i>), I can't describe how bittersweet it is to know that it's all over. My precious memories are the key to reliving all the special moments - infinitely so, if I wish. Which is why I don't feel like my trip is something that's "ended". Now that I've had all these incredible experiences, they will stay with me forever, reminding me that life is never just "normal". So in a way, I'll always feel like I'm holiday!<br />
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With that in mind, I fully intend to treat you to some <b>flashback blogging </b>in the coming weeks, sharing with you the things that made me smile, laugh, or cry (embarrassingly often) while I traipsed around Europe. <br />
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Meanwhile, I won't forget that Sydney is a stunning holiday destination in its own right. Like most, I take it for granted because it's familiar to me, but I'm truly lucky to live in a city that tourists are vying to visit even for a day, and which sits arguably in the top ten of the list of world must-sees. From now on, I'll be more appreciative, something I had to cross the planet to learn. I really do think gratitude is the secret to happiness.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQy49q15LNhjy92938knqC9ly4T-eMD4v0IThezN9SSl6unneFJPxUQB1fDjAWBQOXhiHSOmIMc3kCpdpvwO0eoUmRVq0vzZTqCPyRmKeYUSUrVQmc1nRVypvWL4RjOOIt2rBnEJAL_Kb/s1600/Sydney,+my+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzQy49q15LNhjy92938knqC9ly4T-eMD4v0IThezN9SSl6unneFJPxUQB1fDjAWBQOXhiHSOmIMc3kCpdpvwO0eoUmRVq0vzZTqCPyRmKeYUSUrVQmc1nRVypvWL4RjOOIt2rBnEJAL_Kb/s1600/Sydney,+my+home.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying the perfect Sydney Harbour on my first weekend back home: the Bridge, the Opera House, the brightly lit Lunar Park, even the ferries. That night, my siblings and I saw Sir David Attenborough speak live! Something to tick off my bucket list for sure.</td></tr>
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How do you feel about your hometown? Are you indifferent, or do you adore it? What do you love, what do you hate? Please share below, I love comments! <span class="emoticon emoticon_smile" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yP/r/90b8T5aM1AH.png); background-position: 0px -7986px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; height: 16px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px; vertical-align: top; width: 16px;" title=":)"></span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186px; line-height: 17.0666675567627px;"> </span><br />
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<b>Bonus random trivia: </b>Do you know which Aussie artist made an album of the same title as this blog post? Person with the first correct answer gets kudos.<br />
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>
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<br />Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5103163352188578927.post-41720795052701664092014-10-02T14:31:00.000-07:002015-03-25T21:47:15.165-07:00Why Vacuuming On Holiday?I got the idea for <i>Vacuuming On Holiday</i> when I was renting an apartment in Port Douglas, Australia with my friend P. We were on a one week holiday visiting Cairns, which has been on my bucket list for years. I was vacuuming up the place, and I thought how nice it was that P let me do my thing. I suppose cleaning on holiday would annoy other people, or amuse them at my expense. Holidays are about "relaxing", right?<br />
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I am a naturally anxious person. For me, vacuuming up of an evening was therapeutic, not stressful. The nicest thing was being able to be myself in that little apartment. But what I also liked about being on holiday was the chance to learn to relax in my <i>own </i>way, and to discover that if I believe in myself, things will turn out okay.<br />
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I deliberated over whether or not to start this blog for ages. Thanks to the support of friends, here I am, finally, blogging! However, this is not a "travel blog". I don't have amazing photos. I don't have many useful travel tips (in fact, I am a novice traveller). I'm not raising money for charity. I'm not trying to change the world, or your life, or even mine. I just want a place where I can collect all the special moments I've experienced on holiday, whether that has been on foreign soil, or in my home town.<br />
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I don't think we need to be far from what's familiar to feel like we're on holiday. What does being on holiday mean? For me, it's about being curious enough to try new things, and being grateful for what we have by gaining a fresh perspective of the world. I hope you enjoy what I have to share. Happy reading!<br />
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What are you grateful for? Try and go about your day today as though you are on holiday, and see what comes up. Also, I do love comments! Please share by posting below. <span class="emoticon emoticon_smile" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yP/r/90b8T5aM1AH.png); background-position: 0px -7986px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; color: #141823; display: inline-block; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186035px; height: 16px; line-height: 17.066667556762695px; vertical-align: top; width: 16px;" title=":)"></span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.222222328186035px; line-height: 17.066667556762695px;"> </span><br />
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<script src="https://widget.bloglovin.com/widget/scripts/bl.js" type="text/javascript"></script><a class="bloglovin-widget" data-blog-id="12806105" data-img-src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12806105" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/lank.gif?id=12806105" /></a>Berniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02423572958053629364noreply@blogger.com0