Travels with Kylie

A Wollongong Sunset

2012-02-05T01:58:00.000+01:00

From our Corrimal St balconies the views are quite good. We can see Wollongong City Beach and the Five Islands. We can see the golf course and the steel works. We can also see Mt. Kembla and Mt. Keira.

I am not an early riser, so I rarely, if ever, see the sun rise. But I am good at watching it set.

On this particular January evening the colors were quite amazing. Pinks, purples, reds and oranges lasted for a little while as the sun went to bed.

Koala Spotting at Kennett Creek, Great Ocean Road

2012-02-05T01:36:00.000+01:00

I had heard and read about the 'wild' koalas along the Great Ocean Road and I wanted in. I can't ever remember seeing koala's in nature, sans fence, wire or zoo handler.

Precariously balancing on thin branches

So we followed the instructions on our brochure from the Lorne information centre. We went past the caravan park and up the dirt road for four kilometres or so. We thought we must have gone too far, so turned around and pulled over.

Very hungry!

Jeff spotted him/her first. High up in the eucalyptus tree. Moving quite quickly. Devouring gum leaves one after the other. Balancing carefully on branches which looked too thin.

A sight not often seen

The koala was huge! Clinging on to the high branches, it just didn't seem natural. But with no one around, no fences, no rangers, no board walks, what could be more natural?

We then made our way back down to the caravan park where we had to weave amongst the throngs of tourists getting in close and personal with some more marsupials.

Getting in close. Too close.

This is what you generally expect when thinking of koalas. Sleepy, sitting in a fork in a thick tree, gripping on for dear life.

Sleepy.

Looking very cuddly

Snooze time

We were both glad to have ventured up the unsealed road and spotted a swift, acrobatic, wild koala for ourselves, away from too close paparazzi and tour buses.

For even more koala's, you can make your way to Cape Otway where dozens of koalas line the road, perched high in their gum trees.

Yoga Challenge

2011-10-27T11:32:00.001+01:00

I have been so fortunate upon returning to Australia. I have been able to reconnect with my first ever yoga teacher, Maurie. Maurie connected me to Megan who has an awesome new Yoga studio in seaside Kiama. Now, I teach 2 classes per week and the occasional Saturday morning class too.

Devinely Fit Yoga, Manning St, Kiama

I am also lucky to be invited to participate as a teacher in YogaAid Kiama. YogaAid began in 2006 and allows local teachers to get together, raise money for charities and spread the love of Yoga. I am looking forward to the challenge! We will practice Yoga for 2 hours in the outdoors, next to the sea.

You can donate to my nominated charity, Barnados, and support me by clicking on this link.

Below are some pictures of my amazing Yoga team at Devinely Fit Yoga in Kiama.

Myself, Megan (studio owner) and Ginnie

Making Connections in Unfortunate Circumstances

2011-10-08T13:12:00.000+01:00

Our little car did not meet the same fate

I wish I had taken photos. Even got a number, an email. Perhaps even a name. But sometimes it doesn't fit.

We traveled over 7000 kilometers in 12 days, in a 1989 Honda Integra, bought for $200 by my car enthusiast dad, who repaired it to a safe standard. Jeff and I aren't likely to sit around and let a holiday get away from us. We tend to push the limits. We cram too much in. We book flights that on more than one occasion have had us in a sweat getting to before check in closes. We want to do it all.

We drove from Shellharbour, NSW, to Alice Springs, Northern Territory and back. We know we are different. Our little car was dwarfed by mammoth Land Cruisers, Range Rovers and Defenders. Our borrowed two-man Kathmandu tent was overshadowed by motor homes, caravans and purpose built trailers. But we didn't care.

Enjoying Uluru

We met Alex, a Polish born middle aged Australian while hiking King's Canyon, Northern Territory. He kindly took our picture. We chatted, we shared stories. He and his wife were hosting 2 couples visiting from Poland, friends since Alex and his wife left for Melbourne 30 years ago. We parted, continuing our hike, only to be reunited on returning to our car to realise we (Jeff) had left the headlights on and drained the car's battery. Alex didn't have jumper cables, but he had a caring side. He drove us back to the King's Canyon resort, where we borrowed jumpers. He then drove us back to the car and gave us a jump. He then drove with us in the dark to make sure the battery worked and we were ok. Alex even checked up on us in the morning at the campsite to make sure everything was in working order.

Feeling the burn of the Oodnadatta Track

We met Ann and Paul on the Oodnadatta track in South Australia. Our little car was front-end wedged on a dirt and rock bank on the side of the track. We (I) hadn't anticipated the curve in the road, braked too hard and spun out of control. Ann and Paul, retired, occasional teachers, stopped their caravan towing Land Cruiser to give us a hand. With some shoveling, lifting and pushing, the car became unstuck. Paul gave us some rope to keep the bumper on, while Ann assured us that we would be laughing about the incident in time to come.

Unsealed roads abound in the Outback

We met the famillies, and kept on meeting them throughout South Australia. We thought we were the only ones at an old school in Paranchilla, until three 4x4's drove in and set up camp too. Talking about our car (mis)adventures in the rugged camp kitchen, we were told they had some sturdy duct tape that might be of use to us. As it happened, in their group was a dirt bike mechanic. So with tools in hand, after the sun had risen he tightened the loose bolts and connected what had become unconnected on the bumper. One of the four high school aged children even took a sneaky photograph of us and our car. We ran into the families on the road and in a pub and cafe during the remainder of our trip.

Having a rest

Last but not least was Shaun. A motor mechanic recommended to us in Blaxland, New South Wales by the local Post Office. Our little car finally ran out of juice. Shaun installed a new battery while telling us some tales of his recent flight to Broome and the bushfires he could see from the plane, roaring in the NT - which we had managed to avoid. He taught us how to tap the alternator with our tent-pole mallet to keep the connection going and avoid the turmoil of the red battery light on the dash appearing. He gave us some magnets, wished us well and then we were on our way.

Animals of the Outback

2011-10-08T12:03:00.001+01:00

I kept missing them.

I wasn't camera ready.

We were driving too fast.

It wasn't until we slowed down that we could really look.

And be looked at.

The brumby was magnificent. We kept seeing the signs. The silhouette of a strong, burly brumby on a reflective yellow roadside sign. Would we be so lucky? He stood strong in the middle of the dirt Mereenie Loop road in the Northern Territory. By the time I was ready he had moved to the brush. Keeping a watchful eye on us as we slowed to a stop, taken by its presence. My favorite.

Penghu - Before the rains came...

2011-07-14T10:04:00.002+01:00

So we decided it was time to check out Penghu, aka Pescadores, off the west coast of Taiwan. Like all of our travel adventures, we arrived and wondered why it had taken us so long to get here...

With islands and places named Husband Islet, Wife Islet, Incense Burners Islet, Chicken Head Islet, Ox-Hearted Hill and Goddess Mercy Hill to name a few, the islands were sure to have lots of charm, or at least character.

We eventually made our way from Magong Harbour after the puke-worthy ferry ride, to our homestay Sunrise B&B on the eastern side of Magong, in Hu-hsi township.

We braved the cool light rain on our scooter ride over.

Then the rains disappeared and the sun came out. We made our way to the closest beach to our B&B.

The beautiful beach

View of the town from the beach

The shower/ toilet block and, yes, it looks like an army tank

Coral shore, blue skies and a big fat cloud rolling in

Now all we can do, after stopping in at 7-11 for some supplies of Smirnoff, Asahi and pea crackers, is sit back and wait for the rains to ease.

The view from the B&B - rain!

Overcast sky, miserable drizzle

Chillin' and waitin'

Mmm, I'm in love with Taiwan's LYCHEES 荔枝

2011-06-30T02:20:00.000+01:00

How do you like your lychee's? Out of a can? Perhaps with ice cream? Only in a martini? Never had one before?

I like my lychee's fresh. Fresh from a tree. Green bug bitten leaves intact. Stems and all. Smelling sweet and fresh.

We have been fortunate in Taiwan, having access to 'exotic' fruits such as guava, pineapple, papaya, various melons, mangoes and the sort. I love seeing my fruit growing in the roadside fields and then being sold at a roadside stand. I love knowing that the fruit was picked from the tree, stem and all to secure freshness, right before I bought it.

Lychee's just taste better that way.

To be brutally honest, I had no idea how lychee's grew until I came to Taiwan. I also had never seen rows of spiky pineapples shooting up out of the ground. And in Taiwan is where I spied green mangoes hanging from a branch, on random roadside trees. I will miss the ease, organic nature and family run businesses which supply us with our delicious fruit here in Kaohsiung. I will also be missing the price on return to Australia...

My Ex-pat Dilemma: Friends

2011-06-04T12:24:00.000+01:00

Travelling and living abroad has endless ups. New countries to explore, new places to find, new food to try, new people to get to know, new thoughts to have. BUT, it also has its drawbacks. When away from home there are some things which will be missed, and cannot be easily replaced. Some things last only for a little while - a mirage - and then the reality sets in.

The truth is, I miss my friends. We have now been apart for 4 years. Small visits within that time bring comfort back, but after the week, after the plane ride home, its gone. I think I have taken those friendships for granted. I assumed they would be easy to come by. Wonderful people like them can be found anywhere right? I was wrong.

Of course I have created relationships; colleagues and acquaintances, friends and foes. But nothing compares to that of real friends. Nothing comes close.

I feel comfortable being alone. Me and my thoughts, my meditation and projects. But sometimes, you just need it. You just need a friend to pop over, to watch a movie, to cheer you up, to take you shopping, to go for a run, to go for a drive, to cook dinner, to reminisce...

To be fair, this is the first time in four years that it has hit me this hard. I have met wonderful people, but I am sadly still not satisfied. I am not greedy. I am not selfish. I just miss my friends. That group of girls who will do something with you because you want to, not because they want to. Those girls who are up for a laugh and some fun any time, and if they aren't can be easily persuaded. Those girls who can read your mind. Unfortunately oceans have separated those minds and the girls do not know. It's too far away. I'm too far away. I'm too far away for them to know.

They can't be replicated and can't be replaced. They're one of a kind. Really. Years of getting-to-know-you are precious. Those awkward teenage years would bond anyone. Now, in a different phase, out of partying and into partners, weddings and babies, it's still the same. But it's different. I am out here and they are still there.

Perhaps it's time to bridge that gap.

Taiwan Traffic: A Graze with Death

2011-06-01T05:59:00.001+01:00

Well, it very well could have been. I could have been. Dead. Too close for my liking. Way too close.

It went down something like this.

I was heading off to an 8pm Yoga class at Our Yoga House, which is very conveniently located at the end of my street, past the Husia intersection. I usually wear my black zip-up jacket to Yoga, but since it was raining, and getting dark, I decided to wear my white rain jacket. I distinctly thought it would make me safer against – scooters riding on sidewalks, cars running reds, the usual Taiwanese traffic terrors.

I waited for the light to turn green, and then cautiously crossed the road, making sure not to skid on the slippery white paint on the crossing. I was halfway across when I froze. Well, I didn’t really freeze. I don’t remember. From the corner of my eyes, on my right I saw a gold coloured 4WD coming towards me. I instinctively swung my upper body to my right, grazed my right hand on the grill and thumped my palms on the hood of the car.

I can’t remember what went through my mind. I remember looking at the middle aged male driver, anger screaming through my eyes, terror on my face, head shaking slowly from side to side at the imbecile behind the wheel.

He looked fearful. Perhaps because he was almost a murderer, sentenced to a life of guilt and prison, or perhaps because he thought in rage I might damage his expensive car, or perhaps he wasn’t paying attention and this was a close call. Perhaps he ‘lost face’ – a term thrown around here in Taiwan too much for my liking.

I regained my composure, although I felt like I hadn’t lost it too much. I slowly walked to the end of the crossing, left hip a little jarred from the quick turn, right knuckles slightly scratched from the connection to the grill, head spinning, breath unlikely slow and deep.

People stared at me as I turned around, got my little notebook out of my bag and wrote down the license plate of the almost death -car. ZL-3616. I really didn’t need to write it down as I kept repeating to myself to the short walk to the Yoga House.

Taiwan traffic is dangerous. A well-known hierarchy exists here. Trucks and buses rule supreme. They are the bullies of the road, followed by large, medium and small cars, then scooters, bicycles and finally the lowly pedestrian. Just because the green man says ‘go’ and there are no cars in sight, does not mean you are safe.

Lesson learned.

My very own handmade Hakka Oil Paper Umbrella

2011-05-14T10:18:00.001+01:00

So pretty, so strong, so unique.

I wanted one.

I chose my favorite.

How could I resist?

I asked the young female cashier about it's history.

My father made it from bamboo. My grandmother painted it. The Chinese words wish you luck and happiness. It takes a month to make one. These umbrellas are special and will bring you good luck.

The family run business is quite famous in Taiwan. It is one of the only remaining paper oil umbrella workshops in Taiwan, and perhaps the world. The Hakka people used the umbrellas in their everyday life. They are also used as wedding presents with parents giving them to their children on their special day.

In 1989, after watching his skilled parents make umbrellas, Lee Ming-Hsiang decided to open a business of his own. I am glad he did. You can visit the family run business's website here.

Meinong is about a 50 minute drive from downtown Kaohsiung.

You can buy your own oil paper umbrella from the Lee family store. Directions below.

View Larger Map

Mmm, I'm in love with MANGOES 芒果

2011-05-12T15:06:00.000+01:00

Mmm, mangoes of all shapes and sizes

I loved Morocco for the fresh fruit and vegetables, namely the mandarins and strawberries. Now, my favorite fruit, well, one of my favourites, is now in season.

I have wonderful memories of Christmas time in Australia. Buying mangoes by the boxful from the vans that stop on the side of the main roads. Mangoes with ice cream, mango smoothies, mangoes in salads, or just mango is it is, dripping down my chin and off my elbows. Yum!

Now I am so happy it is mango season in Taiwan. Mangoes are cheapest bought from the back of the small trucks, or 'moving markets. Otherwise, a grocery store or fruit store is the other option. 'There are so many types of mangoes here. Big ones, small ones, medium ones... I have tried them all and they are all delicious. They are juicy and sweet and ready to eat.

I am not sizest

In Taiwan I have had mango tea, mango juice and mango with frozen ice 雪花冰; a very popular dessert here in Taiwan.

Delish!

Of course, I love mangoes a la Mark Darcy, just as they are.

Reflections: Yoga Teacher Training Completion

2011-05-04T09:44:00.000+01:00

Read about my reflections of my Yoga Teaching Practice here at the Yoga House Blog.

Yoga House Director and Teacher Sucharita and me

Graduation with a Difference

2011-05-01T10:07:00.004+01:00

The past 2 weeks of Yoga Teacher Training have been very awesome. We hiked to the second highest peak of Shoushan Monkey Mountain, meditated amongst a maze of tree trunks, roots and branches, each student taught an hour and a half class - which included us taking 12 classes over 3 days, and today was the culmination with our RYT 200 Yoga House Institute Graduation and party.

Monkey Mountain

Enjoying the view

It is difficult to imagine that 10 weeks, that's 200 hours of Yoga Training spread over 10 weekends, has come to an end. I feel that the Teacher Training has given me a purpose to being in Taiwan. I have met some truly wonderful, inspiring and knowledgeable people who have enhanced my experience in ways I only know. To be around such positive, kind-hearted souls, weekend after weekend, meant as much to myself as the Course.

I don't care what people say - tree huggers, vegis, hare krishnas, hippies, whatever. Who can possibly say that feeling and being healthy, happy, energised and strong is bad? Take it in. Try it. What do you have to lose?

Today's class, the last one of the course, was amazing. First, a student taught the class a variety of poses, calling from each of the groups - core, balance, twists, forward bends and backward bends. My flexibility and balance was challenged, even though I am mush stronger than I was at the beginning. Yoga is a continual practice with improvements being able to be made during every practice.

Secondly, another student-teacher taught an emotion filled class. She has recently learned that her father will be passing away in the USA in a few days time, while she is here in Taiwan. She was fortunate to be able to visit him last week and share with him some Ujjayi Pranyama. Her lesson was centered on opening the heart, spreading peace, love and compassion - and accepting them as well. Her poses called for strength and opening of the heart, connected to the breath.

Lastly, a very spiritual student-teacher taught the class heart opening chakras. We attempted to engage our Kundalini often referred to as the dormant serpent at the sacrum. We visualised different images as our chakras were engaged, seen and opened. Restorative postures ensured we remained relaxed and calm.

After a delicious pot-luck it was paparazzi time.

Yoga House Graduates and Friends

We then moved on to the emotional Graduation. Candles were lit amongst bright hibiscus bringing calmness and light to our ceremony. We were issued with a framed, signed and stamped certificate - the first of many for many of us, I am certain. Then came the emotionally awakening part of the ceremony. Chanting has been a part of our practice. It is a form of meditation - something to concentrate on and visualise. However, this chanting was different. We sang to each other All I ask of you is forever to remember me, by loving you. Oh, Kylie we love you, oh Kylie we love you. How powerful. How beautiful. How amazing.

Michael and Sucharita

I hope it is not the last time I will see my classmates from Yoga House. With so many experiences shared, it would be a shame to let friendships fall away. Through the natural course of life, I am sure some friendships will cease. However, I know that what I have gained will remain. For me and for them.

Namaste

Reflections: Yoga Teacher Training Day 12

2011-04-14T08:07:00.000+01:00

Energy

I sit here at my desk, typing this on my large, blue inflated fit ball. Learning more about yoga has made me more aware of my body; my limitations and extensions. Sometimes I am at my desk for hours – hunched over a keyboard, marking student work – and I feel my neck and back muscles tightening and aching. Of course, Yoga asanas help to relieve this tension. However, I am now thinking beyond that at what I can do to prevent muscle aching and enjoy my yoga practice for what it is, and not for what it can fix.

Reflecting on the Yoga Teaching Training so far, I have learnt so much! I have become more open in my thoughts, my instruction is more knowledgeable and my outlook is more positive. I have always been a positive person, but Yoga Training has allowed me to tap into my positive side even more, and become aware of it.

An interesting workshop that we shared was ‘Energy Healing’. When I was younger I suffered from painful headaches. My mother and I tried numerous remedies; yoga, massage, balm… It was during one of my numerous massage sessions that I think I encountered energy healing of some kind. I was about 16 and my mum had driven me to a massage practitioner of some kind in farming town, Jamberoo. At the end of the remedial massage, lying on my back, the aging male masseuse cradled my skull in his hands. I was a little freaked out. What was this guy doing? What happened to the rest of my massage? It is only now that I look back and understand. I was receiving a Cranial Sacral Therapy. The masseuse was giving me energy and was lightly massaging the nerves and joints in my neck to relieve my headaches. I was a little nervous at the time, and this alternative treatment was not explained to me.

Now I am aware of energy healing and its power. I used to not be so open, perhaps even a disbeliever. Although I do not understand the physics behind the thermodynamics, I understand to transfer of heat as energy. All 13 students as well as our two teachers participated in Energy Healing. We each took turns to lay in Savasana and receive the energy that was being given by the others, by way of placing hands on the recipient and giving positive energy for around 5 minutes.

The effects were amazing. Different people felt different emotions when giving and receiving. Tears were shed, for no reason and for many reasons. Happiness, anger and sadness was shed and shared. Upon completion everyone felt grateful, energized and calm. It was an amazing, experience that really can’t be described.

The energy workshop also taught me how the universe is good at balancing energy. We learnt to think that there is no bad energy. There is positive energy and no energy. Just like people may have positive energy or no energy at all. I already believe that certain people need more positive energy, and are able to ‘zap’ that energy out of people with lots of positive energy. I am one of those people with good energy. On many occasions, I feel that my energy has been depleted when I am around no energy people. After listening to a colleague or friend unload their problems, I often feel both mentally and emotionally fatigued, and then person sharing their problems or feeling negative feels better and energized. I understand now that I have been giving my positive energy, and not receiving any in return. I have to make my own energy in order to feel revived.

When I read what I have written it sounds a little weird. But it is the truth and it is how it works. Perhaps it has happened to you. After being around optimistic, life loving, energetic, high-spirited people do you yourself feel motivated, active and positive, even though you may have done nothing but listened and talked? And when you are around negative, gloomy, miserable people do you feel weak and exhausted, even though you only spoke or listened?

It is the transfer of energy that you feel. It exists. It’s there. Do you feel it?

Very cheesy, I know. But also very true.

Reflections: Yoga Teacher Training Day 10

2011-03-28T06:02:00.003+01:00

Halfway There Already?

Yesterday I completed my 10^th day of Yoga Teaching Training. Halfway there. Yoga Training at Our Yoga House is more like a Yoga retreat, or camp, than a course. We are greeted warmly each Saturday and Sunday morning, are fed healthy and delicious snacks, lunches and desserts (most recently – red bean cheesecake- yum!). We have access to organic teas, plum juice and coffee, of which Teacher Sucharita’s family grows right here in Taiwan’s mountains. Students mix, mingle, converse and learn together, breaking down language and cultural barriers, forming friendships and spreading good energy.

As cliché as it may appear, we are a big happy Yoga family. We care for each other, learn from each other, even upset each other. But we are all there for each other. I am a little sad that it is already week 5. Only 5 more weeks to go!

This really got me thinking - What will I do with my free weekends? Who will I share my leftist ideologies with? Who will inspire me to try advanced postures? Where will I get my cooking inspiration from? Where will I be able to talk about chakras and pulling in my ‘shining diamond’ or mudra bunda? Who will be the recipient of my unprofessional yoga massage?

My partner Jeff. Of course.

We will rekindle our free weekends with winding car drives and hikes; he will pretend to be sympathetic to my views on the environment and animals; he will un-yogi-like boost my ego as I demonstrate the difficult crane pose and wheel; he will be my cooking inspiration as I attempt to win over his stomach with delicious vegetarian meals; he will try to lend an ear without rolling his eyes as I teach him about energy flows and chanting; and finally, after learning asanas from me, he will gladly be the receiver of a neck lengthening, full body sprawling back compression massage.

Let's face it, whether he likes it or not really ;o)

Eka Pada Rajakapotasana
(Pigeon Pose) variation 1

Eka Pada Rajakapotasana
(Pigeon Pose) variation 2

Natarajasana (Lord of the Dance)
modified with a Yoga strap

Reflections: Yoga Teacher Training Day 6

2011-03-14T15:35:00.000+01:00

Anger and Gurus

This weekend's classes left me feeling so light, happy and balanced. Workshops centered on the Chakras - Sanskrit for 'wheel' or 'circle', and Gurus - Sanskrit for 'spiritual teacher', as well as core poses and forward bends. However, it is often the lunch time talk with newly acquainted friends, which captures my thoughts.

The lunchtime conversations between the foreign females can be just as educational and enlightening as the classes. Sunday's conversation centered on Anger. We all seemed to agree that girls, or at least the ones at our table, handle anger differently to men.

We spoke about our experiences with our boyfriends, husbands and brothers. It seems us girls don't take other's anger personally. If someone gets angry at us, or cuts us off in traffic, or says something nasty, we often react by feeling bad for that angry person, because they are... angry, unwell, troubled. While our male partners may get upset because they feel we are letting someone 'walk all over us', we feel that becoming angry would only make us upset. It is easier and more positive to let it go. Yelling back, or thinking violently only serves to make us mad - an emotion that we fell is not favourable.

I mean, everyone gets angry. But it is how you deal with that anger that got us thinking.

It seems that it is hard for us to convey this idea of non-negative reaction to our partners. Just as men may think that this approach to anger is frustrating, we too, find it difficult to understand how our dearly loved men can easily turn to violence to feel better or solve a problem. Perhaps it comes down to one thing. Hormones. Or perhaps, Empathy. It could also be that the world has distinctly moulded us into two groups. Boys and Girls. Men and Women. Even Lovers and Haters. Optimists and Pessimists? Maybe it is not a simple girl vs. boy thing after all...

Perhaps we all need a Guru.

Immediately when hearing the afore mentioned word, my mind races to stereotypical images of lotus sitting Indians, perched on the edge of the Ganges, clad in an orange loin cloth, with matted greying hair falling over a painted white face. Of course, I knew better than this. I know a Guru is a teacher, guiding one to their personal awakening. However, that cynical side of me that often rears its ugly head, popped up first.

Teacher Michael said, "Absolutely. You must have a spiritual teacher in order to learn about yourself." He said that he himself has many gurus. His wife, son, the ocean, a contented homeless man, every student he has ever taught. People who allow you to learn more about yourself and your world can be your spiritual teacher, your Guru.

You don't need to select a Guru. I think your Gurus will find you. It got me thinking Who are my Gurus?. Who has allowed me to learn about myself? The world? Books? Am I allowed to say Oprah? This is one I am going to have to think about...

Reflections: Yoga Teacher Training Day 4

2011-03-06T13:29:00.004+01:00

Saturday's training session left me feeling refreshed and energised. I am beginning to love balance poses and felt extremely comfortable and relaxed in Garudasana (Eagle Pose). I felt my hips open in Virabahdrasana Tri (Warrior III), thanks to home training against a wall. I felt proud and my inward ego grew.

This is not very Yogi-like. Not at all. It is very natural to feel proud when accomplishing a difficult task or pose. However, this is not the point of Yoga. I was reminded of that fact today, Sunday, Day 4 of teacher training. Although my body and mind felt strong in the core poses, I encountered a great sense of contradiction when practicing 'Mindfulness Yoga'.

Mindfulness Yoga is about being aware of your body. Being in the posture in every way. Being an observer to your body. Being and enjoying the moment. It is about being able to stop, look and listen. Being present in Yoga. This means not letting the mind wander. It is feeling the sensations in your body. It is not attaching emotion to a pose; just... Being.

Yoga is not a performance. It is not a gymnastics display; you are not being judged or criticised. Too often however, there is a judge lurking in the darkness. This judge is the most harsh and unforgiving. This judge does not speak out, but acts silently. This judge is you. It is me.

I experienced this today. I experienced this harsh judge when the class and I were being guided through Mindfulness Yoga. I tried to pay attention to my body. I moved slowly. I breathed. I felt the asana. I felt my body tighten, my upper back muscles clench. I found sitting cross legged frustrating. I couldn't forward bend in the pose. I became restless. Annoyed. Frustrated. Angry. Useless. I became even more perturbed when I realised I was not allowing my body to relax, not allowing my mind to be in the moment. The whole point of the exercise was to be mindful. I was being judgmental. I relaxed in Savasana (corpse pose) and let my body rest. I began to become mindful. But when the exercise finished, I felt annoyed for being that judge that shouldn't exist in Yoga.

I know it takes practice.

Now we begin our practice.

Note to self: must remember.

Read more about my Yoga Teacher Training
Yoga Reflections
Day 1

Reflections: Yoga Teacher Training Day 1

2011-02-26T13:25:00.001+01:00

Where do I begin?

What an awesome day. I feel a little tired, but refreshed. I feel confident, but still have so much to learn. I learnt that I am not as flexible or strong with my asanas (postures) as I used to be. But I quickly latched on to the first sutra - verse - of the first book of Yoga Sutras of Pantanjali,

Now we begin our practice

For me, this is an important thought not to be forgotten, but embraced. Yoga is the moment. It is not about previous experiences, or future practices, it is about being centered and clear. It is about sharing the practice. It is about practice. I have to lose the need to be the most flexible, strong and balanced. I think I am almost there. Today's teacher training lesson allowed me to do that.

We began the morning with Ujjayi Pranyama - breathing techniques - and meditation with Teacher Michael. This allowed me to become centered and remember my fondness of learning and practicing breathing techniques over 10 years ago. Meditation followed for five minutes. I must have been in a deep meditation because I got lost in the moment and it felt like less than a minute for me.

I judged myself too harshly during Teacher Sucharita's asana flow. I found the postures asked for strength I didn't seem to have, and for balance which had escaped me. My inability to 'master' the asanas made me internally unbalanced, which only added to my frustration and showed in my poses.
Throughout the day I learnt to accept the idea that Yoga is about practice. It is momentary. Every day and every practice is different. I shouldn't compare myself with the 16 year old ex-gymnast I used to be. I have to move on. I have to practice Yoga now.

In a way, I feel that I am beginning my practice from scratch. Learning how to be grounded. Learning how to stand in a seemingly simple tadasana - mountain pose - correctly. I have to pay attention to my feet, knees and hips in a way I have never had to before. I enjoyed 'pulling apart' the poses, body part by body part, and teaching techniques with other students. We are more hard on ourselves than each other. Being able to correct each other and learn more about the pose was enlightening. A roll of the shoulder here, and slightly bended knee there, and the pose becomes deeper and stronger.

In the first book of The Yoga Sutras of Pantanjali, a sutra really struck me,

Misconception occurs when knowledge of something is not based upon its true form

I wrote in down in my notebook, to serve as a personal mantra. However, when it came to the last activity of the day, chanting, I couldn't get past it. The chant today was Hare Krishna. Immediately my mind raced to stereotypes. I thought of the lyrics of 'I am the Walrus' by The Beatles and of students at my university in Australia coming to lectures with a shaved head and bare, dirty feet. After reading the handout we were given, I understood Hare Krishna to be a universal feeling of spiritual awareness and inner peace.

I reread the sutra I had previously written down. I tried to chant and join in, but I held back. I had dove into seated quiet meditation earlier in the day, but I couldn't perform this type of meditation. Maybe chanting isn't my thing. Maybe I have been consumed by misconceptions. Maybe I just need to let go. Maybe I am just not there...yet.

Reflections: Yoga Teacher Training RYT 200

2011-02-26T12:41:00.005+01:00

I began practicing Yoga when I was about 16 years old. My mother and I used to head down to the local community centre on a Tuesday evening for our Yoga class with Maurie. I suffered headaches and neck tension as I grew up and Yoga, as well as remedial massages, was a way for me to overcome those pains. I loved Yoga immediately. I was flexible and relished in the opportunity to learn advanced Asana's, or poses, especially the more difficult balancing poses. I loved learning Pranayama - centered breathing techniques. I didn't love meditation though. I found it a boring - I wanted to perform headstands and full shoulder stands, not close my eyes and think of nothing.

Fast forward 10 years and my practice of Yoga has continued, albeit sporadically. I practiced Yoga at home and in gyms, as well as Bikram 'hot' Yoga in London, taught it to my lovely Grade 2 class and as an after school class in Morocco, and have recently began teaching it to Grade 10, 11 and 12 students at my current school in Taiwan. I am not as flexible, balanced in mind and body and perhaps strong as I used to be. I want to get that back.

I have not taken a 'proper' class in years. By 'proper' I am referring to the full practice. From Pranyama to Asana's to Meditation. I felt it was time to return to my practice and love of Yoga, so I joined a Registered Yoga Alliance Teacher Training school - Yoga House Institute, in Koahsiung.

I have been super excited for the course since signing up. I have to be honest and confess to being a bit of a nerd, and am happy at the prospect of having to study and complete projects. I want to learn more about Yoga and be able to help others who want to practice Yoga too.

The course takes 200 hours. That is every Saturday and Sunday for 10 weeks. I was a little apprehensive about 'giving up' my weekends. But then I thought about it with a different perspective. I will be gaining so much. Knowledge. Strength. Flexibility. Calmness. Balance. Positivity. As well as Yoga teacher certification.

Read my reflection on my first class here.

'Learning Lunch' with Paon Bali, Ubud

2011-02-16T09:06:00.000+01:00

After much research, it came to be that the most popular Balinese cooking class, courtesy of trip advisor was Paon Bali. With fantastic reviews I decided not to bother with any more research and booked Jeff and I into a class.

Our day started at 8:15am with Wayan, the friendly husband of the duo, collecting us from our hotel. We then stopped at the Ubud market where we met with the rest of our class and Puspa and her assistant. We were led around the market and learnt about woven hats and steamers, which are not to be confused with each other, but which often are, by unassuming tourists. We learnt about the offering baskets, made by hand each day from banana leaves and bamboo sticks and filled with sweet things that a spirit may need. We tried some traditional Balinese cakes as well as many kinds of fruits and vegetables.

Palm sugar

Fresh garlic

Puspa teaches us about the 'offerings'

A skilled woman makes the offerings in the market

The colorful offerings are found everywhere in Bali

The flowers used for the offerings

Spices ready to take home

Fresh flowers and more offerings

Dense Balinese cakes

The fresh produce section of the market

Purple eggplant and bittermelon

Women selling their produce

Puspa warned us not to try everything!

Juicy rambuttans

Snakeskin fruit and oranges

Imported produce

The suckling pig

Jeff even tried the famous Balinese suckling pig and was impressed with its tenderness and tasty sauce. With an iron stomach, Jeff was as tough as a local eating the wares, although other foreigners may not be so lucky.

We took a stop at the village’s rice fields for a quick information lesson with Wayan. The particular rice paddies we were shown did not belong to Wayan’s family. His was being served a bid helping of fresh chicken poop and he did not want us to endure the stench.

One of our hosts, Wayan

A soaked rice paddi

We learnt that all of the paddies in this particular village were once organic, as the farmers did not know about chemicals until introduced to them by the greedy government who wanted to yield three crops a year instead of two. Now, after the bugs have formed a strong resistance, farmers are going back to old farming methods, with their crops almost being certified organic. Organic farming techniques must be employed for 5 years for a farm to be certified, and the village is well on their way almost into their fourth year.

We learnt that for a village to exist in Ubud it must contain at least three temples, two rice paddies and one holy banyan tree. Wayan is currently the assistant leader of his village, Laplapan, and he must settle disputes and offer advice. For example, if one family blocks the water supply to other fields, they may be punished and told to pay each family affected with a sum of money.

We were then driven a short distance to Wayan and Puspa’s family home in Laplapan. We were warmly welcomed with a tasty fresh lemon drink adorned with fresh frangipani’s and we learnt about the formation of a Balinese home.

The entrance

Puspa's assistants

At the front of the property, closest to the street entrance, is the alter. The Balinese believe that the spirits of their ancestors inhabit that place. Then to the east of the compound is the family temple or house where important ceremonies take place like a wedding or wake. To the west is the building which houses the ‘King and Queen’ or eldest members of the family. This is also the room where a newlywed couple will spend the first 24 hours locked in. The Balinese believe that without the forced, yet romantic ‘lock up’ a couples’ marriage is doomed. Wayan told a story to cement this belief. To the south is where other family members sleep, like the children. To the rear of the compound is the kitchen, beyond the kitchen the garden, then finally the animals at the rear.

After finishing our drinks we were invited to the rear of the compound, which used to be home to hundreds of ducks, but is now a purpose built outdoor cooking studio, complete with organic garden, outdoor stove and barbeque, gas burners and large dining tables.

Traditional outdoor stove

Puspa explains the colorful ingredients

The organic garden

Fresh coconut oil

Ingredients for the gado gado peanut sauce

Ingredients for clear mushroom soup

Making the 'basic sauce'

Hard work! Crushing and blending the spices
for the 'basic sauce'

The finished 'basic sauce'! or Bumbu Kuning

Delicious clear mushroom soup, or Sup Jamur

Rolling the tuna in the banana leaf

Pepis Ikan, stemed fish

Curry or Kare Vegetable

Snakebean and coconut salad, or Jukut Urab

Deep fried tempe in sweet soy sauce or Tempe Kering

Pepis Ikan

We were reintroduced to the spices and vegetables that we met at the market, and began slicing and dicing the ingredients to make our first dish ‘basic sauce’. I had the envious job of chopping the garlic. My hands took on the smell like a moth to the flame. We then proceeded to make many more dishes – satay, tempeh, bean and coconut salad, clear mushroom soup, steamed fish in banana leaves, gado gado as well as a delicious and creamy banana and jackfruit boiled in coconut dessert.

Banana and jackfruit desert or Kolak Pisang,
flavoured with a pandan leaf and
sweetened with palm sugar

Options were given for the vegetarian of the group (me) and to another student who had celiac disease.

We were served our delicious meals at a large table big enough for the entire group. The clearing and washing of dishes was done for us and it was just as well – as we were all very tired from creating, cooking and eating such delicious Balinese food!

The course cost 350,000IDR. There are cheaper cooking courses available, and everyone has an ‘uncle’ or ‘aunt’ who teaches a class, but Paon Bali is professional, friendly and holistic.

Find Paon Bali here.

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Stumpy Tailed Cats in Indonesia

2011-02-13T13:46:00.001+01:00

A friendly short tailed kitten

I know I am not the first tourist to ask a local What is up with the cats’ tails? on Gili Trawangan. If you have ever been to Gili Trawangan – a very small island off Lombok, Indonesia, you will have definitely noticed, and perhaps be bemused by, the strange tails that adorn the pleasant feral cats. Some are stumpy. Some are curly. Some are crooked. Some are just your average, run of the mill long and slender.

I thought about the different reasons for this. Torture? Accident? Mass accident? Diseased? Deformed? I really had no idea so asked a local.

Our Dive Master for the day, Adi, is from Lombok and lives on the island for work. I asked him about the curious cats. Yes, you are not the first to ask. Many tourists ask this. We do not cut off the tails. Cats are cute and fluffy. We do not want to harm them. They are just born that way.

So there it was. There were too many cats and kittens with deformed tails for it to be accidental. And Gili Trawangan’s small population is too polite and relaxed to cause any harm.

Practically non-existent

Possum like curl

Stumpy

I decided to take this further and did some research for myself.

It seems that the cats in Indonesia and elsewhere through Asia may have descended from the Japanese bobtail breed. This, mixed with interbreeding being that some islands are very small, has increased the chances that a cat will be born with a smaller tail. So rest assured that cats with stumpy or curly tails have not been harmed, but are the result of breeding.

These photos were taken of cats in Gili Trawangen, the largest (far east) of the Gilis off Lombok.

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Arie's Warung - Ubud, Bali

2011-02-13T13:16:00.001+01:00

Arie's Warung recently moved locations

After finding a cheap home stay in Ubud, we wandered around and found the main tourist information centre. This term ‘tourist information’ should be used loosely however, as the employees are hardly informative on tourist matters and wants. Regardless, Jeff picked up a poorly printed black and white brochure with a smiling cartoon advertising delicious Balinese food at Arie’s Warung. With no other agenda, we followed the directions on the brochure to the small warung – small familily owned Balinese restaurant – on Jawal Sukma.

The flyer boasted of smoked succulent duck, friendly service and great cheap food.

We entered the warung and were greeted by a smiling woman and given menus in the empty, simple restaurant. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until we were greeted enthusiastically by the smiling cartoon himself – Arie.

Arie in real life

Arie's prized possession - A Mick Joffe original

He showered us with Balinese facts – fruits and vegetables, distances to and from other Balinese towns, useful Balinese sayings to keep the street vendors at bay… He also proudly showed us his treasured ‘feedback books’ – bloated journals containing the praises from previous customers from far and wide. Their nationality highlighted at the top of the page. He is proud to be mentioned in lonely Planet, as well as the French Michelin 2010 Guide.

Most customers praised the friendly Arie for his knowledge and food. Most strongly recommended the smoked duck. As I am a non-duck eater among other things, we passed on the duck for two and instead ordered a vegetarian and non-vegetarian Nasi Campur.

Vege Nasi Campur

We were told by Arie to eat each part individually as mixing it all together would spoil the flavours.

We ate our late lunch listening to Arie’s stories and reading multiple newspapers and booklets courtesy of Arie of course.

While we have had more extravagant and adventurous food during our Bali travels, especially during the Paon Bali cooking lesson, Arie’s Warung was certainly one to remember. If you happen to visit, perhaps order the duck.

If visiting Ubud, Bali, Arie's Warung can be found here

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Hair Wash - the Taiwanese Way

2011-01-16T07:01:00.001+01:00

I had heard the boasts by many ex-pats about the luxe hair washes in Taiwan. I had more than one friend offer a hair wash date, so I took up the offer and went.

I am not so fond of hair cuts abroad. My hair is thick and curly and tests even the most experienced stylist. So a visit to the hair dresser without scissors in their hand, made me less anxious about my visit.

My friend took me to DMS Hair Salon where $250NT (about $8.50US) bought me 2 hours of bliss.

First, I sat in a comfy chair and had my neck and back massaged for about 10 minutes. Then, the stylist took a large paddle brush and strongly brushed my hair, concentrating more on my scalp than actual hair, for about 20 minutes. I closed my eyes and relaxed. Then, I felt a strange action on my scalp, kind of like a monkey tickling my head. When I opened my eyes I saw that the stylist was using the end of the paddle brush to make circles on my scalp - bliss.

Next, I moved on to the horizontal chair where I was covered in a blanket, and my head was laid on a little pad in a basin. A fragrant cloth was placed on my forehead, partially covering my eyes. My hair was shampooed with L'Oreal products and massaged not once, not twice, but THREE times! Conditioner was applied and then after what felt like a n hour, it was time to move back to the styling chair.

Peppermint oil was applied to the nape of my neck and my neck was massaged once more.

To finish, my hair was meticulously blow dried straight, the stylist like a orchestra conductor with nodding head and all while he dried my soft, clean hair.

What an experience! There are many women who go at least once a week for this experience. And for less than $10US who wouldn't?

This will become a fortnightly "splurge" for me and I am so looking forward to my next visit.

The salon I visited is DMS Hair Salon. I received a L'Oreal Shampoo for $250NT.
I tipped $100NT.
View Stylist Max's blog here.
A map to the DMS Hair Salon is below.

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New Years Fireworks in Kaohsiung

2011-01-01T04:58:00.001+01:00

2011 was brought in atop a friend's apartment building in Kaohsiung City, Taiwan. We made it up to the 22nd floor just in time to witness the coming-in of the new year, heralded with numerous fireworks displays.

We enjoyed the displays of Dream Mall, Kaohsiung Harbor and many other parties. The view was spectacular, even without the fireworks.

Happy New Year to you and your families.

Shoushan 壽山 and Monkeys Galore at Monkey Mountain, #2

2010-12-27T04:00:00.000+01:00

We enjoyed Monkey Mountain so much the first time, we decided to head back and hike another route. This time, we persevered and found the entrance near the Gu Shan High School. We parked the car in the large parking lot, shaded by a rock face. We took the wooden stairs by the vendors selling hiking gear, to the trail and began the ascent.

The northern parking entrance

We began our hike here

Just the same as the southern side of Mt Shoushan, the trails are very well marked in Chinese and English.

Before we knew it we were face to face with some friendly, and also not so friendly, mountain Macaques.

This little guy was chilling waiting for
some orange from a fellow hiker.

We were strangely fascinated to see some gym equipment occupying some shaded leaf littered areas of the trails.

Jeff couldn't resist

The board walks took us to numerous caves, view points and banyan trees. The vegetation changed from coarse and dry to soft and lush throughout the hike. We ended up walking the entire route that day. In part because we had lots of energy, and in part because we got a little lost. Regardless, the hike was enjoyable and entertaining.

A view of the eastern side of the Kaohsiung

And the view of the east

During the last 15 minutes of the descent to the temple, a few minutes north of where we began our hike and parked the car, we stumbled across a troop of monkeys making their way up the stairway. The numerous amount of placid monkeys at the bottom can be attributed to the temple and large amount of visitors feeding them. Definitely the place to go if you want the monkeys without the hike.

Hanging out on a side trail

Can you see the monkey in the background?

See how close you can get to the Macaques in this short video I took

Christmas Day Cycling in Meinong 美濃

2010-12-26T15:59:00.001+01:00

My partner and I are not your usual present-giving types. For birthdays we have taken each other to Normandy, France, and to a Broadway production in New York City. Christmas' have been spent in Casablanca, Morocco as well as in scenic and snowy Collingwood, Canada. This year, due to a mildly confusing rule at the semi-International School where we work and only Chinese holidays are observed, Christmas this year would inevitably be spent in Taiwan.

We attended a 'Croissant, Champagne and Coffee Christmas Brekky' organised by an Aussie family from work. After, we decided to do something a little more unusual and headed 45 minutes north east of Kaohsiung for some cycling around the fields of Meinong.

The drive was pleasant along the quick paced highway. Following the signs for 'Meinong' there was no chance of us getting lost. Once closer, we then looked for signs directing us to the Hakka Museum. The Hakka are a Chinese minority who migrated to Taiwan in the 12th century.

We rented bicycles for a steal at 100NT each in the building next to the museum. Then it was up to us to ride our single speed bikes through the various fields of tea, tobacco, bananas, cabbages and other numerous green vegetables.

Bike Rental

We took a map from the bicycle rental store, which although in Chinese, gave us a little piece of mind that we could find our way back if need be. There are various bike routes in Meinong, but we decided to venture on our own. We came across the Green line and Red line. Faded painted colored lines can be found on the road, along with interspersed signs containing maps.

One of the Bike Route signs

We found the maps a little difficult to read, but followed some of the lines regardless to see where we would end up. The Green path led us to a large temple. The Red path led us to an Arboretum where we decided to eat our Christmas picnic lunch of tomato and cheese crackers, fruit salad, juice and chocolates.

We stumbled across this Temple on our ride

A sign in the arboretum

Heading back to the rental shop, we saw some familiar sights so we knew we were on the right track. The lush scenery, endless working fields, sleepy towns and friendly faces make us want to return. Although we don't need an excuse to return, I want to see some of the Oil Paper Parasol workshops for which Meinong is famous for. I am looking forward to our next visit.

We stopped for some water at a small shop

Meinong can be found here,

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E-Da World Ferris Wheel

2010-12-26T13:02:00.003+01:00

View of the Ferris Wheel from my workplace

I work at I-Shou International School which is part of the E-United Group. The E-United Group is the fifth largest steel producer in the world. It is also responsible for a university, amusement park, luxury hotels, housing development, theater, mall and giant 80m in diameter ferris wheel.

I had been wanting to ride the Ferris Wheel since arriving at work during August. For some regrettable reason, I did not ride the London Eye, although I walked past it on many occasions living in London for almost 2 years. So this was the next best thing. Tickets were on sale, just 80NT, down from the usual 200NT, so it was time to ride the wheel.

The Ferris Wheel has 40 carriages which carries its passengers for one full rotation in 15 minutes.It stands atop the roof of the Outlet Mall. My friend and I decided to take the ride at night, as the university, mall, amusement park and other grand buildings shine brilliant lights upon an otherwise vacant landscape.

The view of the rooftop of the Outlet Mall

The Crowne Plaza

Jess getting ready for the ride

The Ferris Wheel's luminous rainbow neon lights change constantly and are quite spectacular from the ground and while in the carriage.

However, I am quite glad we weren't among the passengers on board when the Ferris Wheel malfunctioned earlier in the year, leaving passengers locked in for over an hour. See the article about this incident, reported by The China Post here.

If the above China Post article doesn't freak you out, visit E-Da World here.

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Shoushan 壽山 and Monkeys Galore

2010-12-13T04:57:00.000+01:00

Shoushan gives me a feeling of deja vu - it is similar to that of Cascades D'ouzoud; a large waterfall in Morocco that is home to many Barbary apes. It was a destination we wanted to visit, but that kept being put off. When we finally went, we were very glad we did and wondered what had taken us so long.

Shoushan, or Mt Shou, is located on the western side of Kaohsiung. It is home to various temples, a zoo, a military base,university, walking, hiking and mountain biking trails, wild dogs and many Formosan Rock Macaques. Shoushan stands tall to the side of Kaohsiung and is visible from our apartment's kitchen window on clear, non-polluted days.

Jeff and I had tried to hike there previously, but the poor signage and lack of parking, as well as our lack of navigational skills, left us driving around the city in all directions. So after some research and advice from friends, we made it.

We parked just before the zoo, in front of the February 28 Memorial Park and walked up the stairs. We followed the signs and found ourselves on a pleasant 2 hour hike, surrounded by Taiwanese locals and non-threatening macaques. The main paths are well signed, with rocky short cuts interspersed throughout the trails. The higher up the mountain we climbed, the more macaques we encountered.

Where we began our hike

Take the stairs to the top, and keep going

The view of the city from the top of the first stairs

Try your luck on some of the smaller trails

We went a little off trail and ended up at an
army base.
We were offered some help from some
locals and followed their lead.

The view of Kaohsiung and the 85 story building

Short clip of the view from the highest vantage point on Shoushan

Short clip of a family of macaques grooming and goofing around

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See the Delighting Sights of Alishan 阿里山國家風景區

2010-12-11T02:28:00.004+01:00

Alishan National Scenic Area is a mountain range situated in the Chiayi County, 3 hours north of Kaohsiung, in Taiwan. It is famous for its endless mountains, hiking, tea and wasabi plantations, amazing sunsets and sunrises and the historic Alishan Forest Railway - one of only 3 remaining in the world.

I think it is best that the pictures speak for themselves.

The view you will encounter before entering the area

Clouds on the mountain range

Entering the Area - a nice a fresh 12 C

The famous 3 Generation tree

Can you see the elephant in the trunk?

One of the many staircases on the trails

The Mountain Railway

This bridge was built in 2002 to connect the many trails

The hiking trails

The Giant Trees are well labelled

Can you spot the happy monk?

Off the trail, you will find some treasures...

Food carts can be found at the Primary School along the walk

Sausages cook on hot pebbles

The wasabi markets

Feeling the love at the heart trees

Read the sign below. Do you see the love between the Dragon and Phoenix? I can't...

Can you spot the pig?

The much photographed pagoda in one of the Sister Ponds

Workers fixing the tracks

The view of the sunset from the main railway platform

The mist moves over the tourist town

We boarded the 5:40am train to watch the sunrise from a higher vantage point in Chu-shan

The sun begins to appear

Fore more information, visit Taiwan, Touch Your Heart

Where is Alishan? Here.

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The end of the voting brings peace and quiet - I hope.

2010-11-28T01:36:00.000+01:00

So Taiwan has been enveloped in elections, campaigning and voting, and more campaigning and more voting. We do not watch Taiwanese television. We do not read Taiwanese newspapers. We hardly even converse with Taiwanese locals. So how did we know there was an election going on?
We heard it.
Every night. Every morning. The wannabe mayors and representatives came out in droves and blasted their promises to the streets. They stood on soap boxes on the corners of busy intersections, with their support groups in tow, waving flags, giving away pencils and tissues emblazoned with their faces.
Little trucks meandered through the streets, airing the delegates promises out of large speakers.
Fireworks lit up the sky, scaring the stray dogs I am sure, continuously.
But now, the votes have been cast. Hopefully, the campaigning will cease. And we can watch a movie without having to close the windows as the sound of the trucks and fireworks takes over our living room. And we can walk calmly around our streets without having to listen to crackling speakers and staring at cheshire-cat grinning campaigners.
All we will have to listen to is the soothing sound of the ice-cream come garbage truck, singing its happy melody at 7pm every night. The closest to a noiseless Kaohsiung that we will ever get.

I DID try it on, and then I spent, spent, spent!

2010-11-20T10:50:00.001+01:00

No silly 'can't-try-it-on-here' store was going to squelch my need for some retail therapy!
I took myself and my purse full of cash off to Hanshin Department store, a mere 2 minute walk from our apartment building, for some indulgence.

I found shoes that fit. I found jeans I could try on. I found a cute sweater dress on sale that I tried on! I even found a helpful assistant in the Levi's store that was eager to speak to me in English.

So I tried on, and bought.

Admittedly, I spent way more than I would have than if I had bought items from the cute street stores, but then, I couldn't be sure that they would have fit my oddly shaped body.

Looks like it will be quality, expensive clothes over cute, cheap ones here. And it is not my fault.

But WHY can't I try it on?

2010-11-17T14:36:00.002+01:00

This is what I keep asking myself. Out loud. In a cute Taiwanese fashion store. I am asking myself because my Chinese is non-existent. Non-existent like the shop assistant's English.

I have walked past the cutesy clothes stores many times, admiring the girlie articles- the tops trimmed with ribbons/chains/flowers/beads; the tweed shorts adorned with bows and the lace trimmed jackets. I filled my purse with wads of NT1000 notes and went shopping. I found a cute embellished t-shirt and went to try it on. The fitting room was free - but - the assistant would not have it.

No.
No?
(pointing at sign on fitting room door that read) No fittings for sale items.
I once more made the universal gesture for trying on clothes.
Shakes head.
Confused, I put the top on the counter and walked away.

Unusual. Or so I thought. Apparently, that is the norm. Not only with sale items either. I went into 3 more stores and the same thing occurred. I even purposefully chose items that were NOT on sale. No. The assistant took the items off me - to put in the fitting room I thought. No. To fold and put into a shopping bag for me to buy. So I walked out. Confused. Again. And again.

As a foreigner in Taiwan, I am finding more and more things different here. I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg.

You got Towed!

2010-11-13T07:55:00.002+01:00

Yes we did. We are slowly, very slowly, becoming Taiwanese. We are becoming initiated, one little initiation at a time.

After enjoying a delicious and meal in Kaohsiung city, we walked the short distance back to our car. But instead of our car, we stared at an empty spot. After a little confusion, we came to the conclusion that we had been towed. We walked back to the restaurant where a helpful server called the towing company for us to make sure our car was there, and not stolen. We took a cab a short drive away even further into the city center to the holding ground.

Just a few of the many impounded scooters in the lot

Motorists paying their fines

There were many people there, paying their dues to free their cars and scooters. While waiting for about 5 minutes in line, we witnessed 2 tow trucks bringing in unlawfully parked cars. Both were silver. Since there are many, many cars parked unlawfully in Kaohsiung, my theory is; the tow truck drivers play a game. They pick a color, for example, silver, and tow only silver cars on that particular evening. It is only a theory... But you never know.

Evidence #1 of Color Theory

Evidence #2 of Color Theory

We stood in line, waited our turn, received a piece of paper, and then drove our poor car home. The fee was not huge - $2000NT or about $66US. It was certainly a lesson learned on the art of parking in the city; Park in the white lines, or, get towed.

Evidence #3 of Color Theory

Boo!

Men sporting Fur

2010-11-12T12:29:00.003+01:00

We were prepared for some similarities and differences between Morocco and Taiwan. Driving is similar in Morocco and Taiwan - crazy with roads littered with bad motorists; scooters vying with cars, buses and trucks. Although, Taiwan does not have the problem of sheep, donkeys and horses vying for road space too.

Anyway, there is something that the men encounter that women don't. Fur. Not animal fur. No. Human fur. In Taiwan, body hair is basically non-existent, just like, I am sure, most Asian societies. The children at our school come from privileged backgrounds (I am told our school is one of the most expensive in Taiwan), with access to internet and television.

However, nothing prepares them for an encounter with male body hair, even if it is only arm hair, oh, I mean fur. Six year olds and sixteen years old alike, like to pet and pull at the fur on males' arms. They are amazed. They are also alarmed that the men with the fur don't shave their arms. They shave their face, no? Then why not their arms?

One male teacher with shiny blonde hair told me a story. A boy in grade 7, about 13 years old, petted the teachers fur. "You are just like a golden monkey!" the boy exclaimed. "Oh, no, wait. You are more like a golden dog!" he corrected his mistake.

Vegetarian Cooking at Fo Guang Shan Monastery

2010-10-16T10:33:00.002+01:00

I had driven past the imposing Fo Guang Shan Monastery, just past I-Shou International School, and felt compelled to visit. I was excited to see that the Buddhist Monastery was offering vegetarian cooking classes in English and so joined up. Miao Ming, a Buddhist Monk, originally from Canada, has been living at the monastery for the past five years. She thought it was about time that the Kaohsiung community of ex-pats saw what the Fo Guang Shan had to offer.

Ms. Wu is the awesome cooking instructor, and a warm hearted nun, our translator.

During this particular class we made;

Deep-fried Seasoned Beans
Celery and Dry Bean Curd
Bamboo with Oyster Sauce
Stir-fried Asparagus with Gingo
Stir-fried Noodles
Light Cucumber Soup

Well, Ms. Wu made the soup for us. And we ate it.

First, we learn about all the different ingredients; how to clean them and prepare them for each dish.

Ms. Wu cooks each dish, demonstrating for us. She cooks all of the dishes and we carefully look over each finished dish, admiring the colors and textures.

Then it is over to us!

A little bit of salt...

Lightly frying the asparagus, gingo and lilly bulbs

Frying the beans

Who said too many cooks spoil the broth? The more the merrier we say!

From back clockwise: Bamboo with Oyster Sauce, Stir-fried Asparagus with Gingo, Celery and Dy Bean Curd

Deep Fried Beans and Stir Fried Noodles

When all the dishes have been cooked, we all head down to the dining room to enjoy our creations.

I have learnt to cook lilly bulbs and gingo; wash, prepare and cook bamboo; cook and learn about 'veggie lamb' which is made from mushroom stalks; eat a delicious warm cucumber soup and more.

Highly delicious and recommended.

After Typhoon Fanapi

2010-10-03T14:41:00.001+01:00

Typhoon Fanapi was disastrous to the county of Kaohsiung. The level 3 typhoon hammered the area; flooding many homes and leaving many without electricity. Here are some pictures close to our street the day after the typhoon.

At a random restaurant

Out the front of our apartment building

Fallen trees just outside the Hanshin Mall

Heading south along Bo-ai to the Kaohsiung Arena MRT

It took a couple of days, but the trees were restored to their original position, albeit, with some bandages and some extra support.

With the strength of the typhoon, I am surprised that there was not more damage. A school was shut down for a week for a cleanup, and apartment buildings were damaged and flooded. Let's hope that the worse of typhoon season is behind us.

Freebies at 7-11

2010-10-03T14:21:00.002+01:00

So, for a while now we have been collecting little stickers like this and from 7-11 and FamilyMart stores. every time you buy something over a certain amount, you are rewarded with one or more little stickers. The blue ones are from 7-11, and you receive red ones from its rival, FamilyMart.

I forgot to take a photo before we claimed our prize in 7-11, so here is a photo fromhttp://linnstrand.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html

We have been dutifully adding the stickers to our little chart, and today, was the big day. We claimed our prize.

We opened it up and were surprised with our prize. A large-pen-with-fan-on-a-big-girls-head-thing. It even came with batteries.

As you can see, Jeff was thrilled that the painstaking collection of stickers paid off. He now has a portable large-pen-with-fan-on-a-big-girls-head-thing and couldn't be happier ;o)

Jeff's 100NT Haircut

2010-10-03T14:04:00.002+01:00

Jeff had been to Uncle Bear haircuts, a barber-type shop in one of the MRT (tube) stations, but wanted something a little more. We walked around our neighborhood in search of a real barber. Not a big bear where you put your 100NT note in its stomach, receive a receipt, and then go into the store and in return for giving the barber the receipt, receive a haircut. No, Jeff wanted a REAL barber shop. Like the old ones in Morocco, where the greying barber will sit you down in an ancient ragged chair, unwrap a new blade and cut your hair in the style of every other Moroccan man.

But, our search was fruitless, and we ended up here.

Yep, a cheap 100NT hairdresser. But instead of having a giant Uncle Bear to put your money into, they had a slim lined vending machine, dispersing a receipt to be exchanged for a haircut.

Jeff sipping on iced milk tea before the haircut.

During. No, he is not getting his haircut by a doctor or nurse, or any other person who wears a surgical mask. Here in Taiwan, if you are sick, or riding a scooter, it seems a surgical mask is a must.

And after.

We may need to search a little longer for an old style barber shop.

Shark Fin Soup Trade here in Kaohsiung

2010-10-03T07:42:00.002+01:00

Photo credit: Jeffrey L. Rotman/ Corbis

I had heard of the notorious Shark Fin Soup, a soup made of shark fin eaten by wealthy Chinese, but I was unsure of the details. Unfortunately, I am now living in an area which is home to one of the worlds largest supplies of shark fin. I have seen the dried fins in shops in Hong Kong, as well as various stalls down at Cijin Island in southern Kaohsiung.

I came across this article by CNN reporter Lisa Ling detailing the shark fin trade in Kaohsiung.

It unsettles me to live so close to the port where the sharkless fins are unloaded into trucks and taken to be sold and made into a flavorless prized soup. As more Chinese are able to afford the delicacy, the trade has intensified.

I am going to see what I can do to push this issue. Laws and regulations surrounding the hunting of and selling of shark fins are not being adhered to. I guess the push has to start somewhere...

Famous! Moon Festival Appearance

2010-09-23T11:17:00.004+01:00

Jeff is famous! We attended a Moon Festival Barbecue put on by a local business owner. I think it's main purpose was to promote local political candidates, however the barbecue and noodles did the trick. Jeff was interviewed by a local television station and was on television that night. The few people we know here saw it on the news and sent it our way.

Check us out eating the free food, and hear Jeff's interview here. Skip the ad, and then watch the video with sound.

Fancy a fan, or some tissues, with a political candidates face emblazoned on it?

Half a day at Cijin Island

2010-09-19T15:11:00.001+01:00

The weather was warm, the weekend arrived, I was in town - it was time to check out some sights. Jeff and I caught the MRT down to Sizihwan and then hopped on a ferry over to Cijin Island. The ferry takes a whole 5 minutes or so to reach the island and costs a whole $30NT ($1 AUS) for a return trip. Not a bad deal at all.

The walk down to the ferry

The view of Kaohsiung from the ferry

A traditional rickshaw

Fancy some brown toilet icecream???

Temples and scooters - common sights

We had hoped to go for a swim and cool off as the humidity was stupidly high, but the beach didn't look clean and the sand was black - not that appealing.

Instead, we settled for a fresh seafood lunch and walk through the markets.

While I shopped unsuccessfully for hats, Jeff enertained a Taiwanese high school student wanting to practice his English. A favourite line "Do you enjoy sports?" - text book English.

Back to the mainland we walked up to the British Consulate and escaped from the tropical rain.

Off the bridge...

...follow the signs to the sonsulate

Up the stairs...

...past the stray cats...

and up to the consulate for some beautiful views.

Engrish

2010-09-19T13:21:00.001+01:00

We attended a business sponsored Moon Festival barbeque in our neighbourhood. It was smokey, loud and attended by happy people.

I however, was impressed by how someone could get the dessert so wrong.

Creme caramel maybe, brulee. Even pudding?

Nope, in Taiwan it is Putting!

Typhoon Fanapi is well and truly here

2010-09-19T12:51:00.001+01:00

The wind woke me up at about 3am Sunday morning. Then came the rains. Then came the weather report on Tealit and the Taiwan Central Weather Bureau. Typhoon Fanapi hit this island and would work its way west to China by 2am Monday morning. In the mean time however, we brace ourselves inside our apartment, hooked to seasons of Entourage and the odd break with some Nat Geo HD television and crackers.

I took some video on my camera around midday.

That was before the storm worsened. Now it is 7pm and the exposed southern part of our apartment is being rocked by the wind and rain. We have exhausted our meagre supply of towels soaking up the uninvited water. I am thankful for a supply of power and water (touch wood) unlike some of the other areas of Taiwan.

Our county, Kaohsiung, has received at least 490mm of rainfall since the morning, while poor Pingtung has received 690mm causing landslides and evacuations.

Schools have already been cancelled for tomorrow. The typhoon is set to leave the island by sunrise, but that does not mean that everyone can leave the safety of their dwellings. Rain will continue even though the winds will disperse. This is a level 3 typhoon (5 is the worst), meaning there is flooding and road damage, so things will not get back to normal for a little while.

There have been three deaths in the northern part of the island. Two of those occured in the county of Taoyuan, where I went with a school group during the week to a centre for the disabled while on a camp in Longtan. It is more than a day off work tomorrow, but a terrible natural disaster.

Typhoon #1 in Taiwan

2010-09-01T06:20:00.001+01:00

We knew it was coming. We had heard that typhoons were common, and should be expected. We arrived in Kaohsiung, Taiwan at the beginning of August and it had rained every day at some point. The Taiwanese Ministry of Education states that students should attend school for 200 days of the year. That is about 30 more days than the average Australian or British school. So it comes as no surprise that teachers and students were eagerly awaiting their first day off school for a typhoon day.

I didn't know. Jeff left early for an Athletic meeting in Taipai. He woke me to tell me it was raining very heavily. It was before 6am, so I went back to sleep. I went and waited for the school bus just after 7am. I waited. And waited. After I got tired of waiting, I called another teacher and asked if I had missed the bus.
"You haven't heard? School's cancelled. It's a Typhoon Day!" he declared.

Awesome. I walked back to my apartment thankful that cable and internet had been installed only the day before. So here I sit, on the internet, flicking between Oprah and the Nat Geo channel. It is raining. It is windy. Is it really a Typhoon?

Yes. It is a tropical storm called Lionrock and is centred on the southern part of Taiwan. It is dark and cloudy and the skies are not expected to clear until tomorrow, Thursday.

Stranded inside my apartment, I will brave the storm, with cable and internet in tow.

B-Boys in Dream Mall

2010-08-17T16:21:00.000+01:00

Dream Mall is far from a dream. It is located in southern Kaohsiung and close to the Harbor. We went there on the weekend and were overwhelmed with the amount of consumers milling in the mall. Dream Mall is huge. We lingered for longer than we thought we would as we followed our ears to the pumping bass. We found ourselves at a large stage watching B-Boys compete against each other for the coveted 7-eleven title.

The first clip is good.

But the second one is awesome. The little guy is from South Korea and is a dancing machine. He was obviously a crowd favorite. The other competitor, friend of the little guy, and pant-dropper is also from South Korea. We didn't stick around to see who won. But I think we all know who did.

Sights around Lotus Lake, oh, I mean Pond

2010-08-17T15:57:00.000+01:00

Well, it should be called Lotus Lake. It is big like a lake, not a pond. And Lotus Lake just sounds better. And it is what I call it mistakingly all of the time.

We began our walk around Lotus Pond from the northern side from the train station. The path led us all around the lake and past many interesting sights. To the west of the lake are various temples, traditional and modern houses and schools. Below are some of the eye catching treats on offer.

Dacheng Hall

Zhouzi Qingshui Temple

Tianfu Temple

Beiji Arbor and statue of God Xuantian

Men fishing off the Beiji Arbor

The Spring Pavilion

Xuantian from the southern side

A lonesome windsurfer with the pond all to himself...

The Autumn Pavilion

The Autumn Pavilion with turtle pond in front

The wall along the Wuli Arbor

The Dragon and Tiger Pagodas on the south western side of the pond

Fancy a walk in a dragon or tiger?

Sushi Chips

2010-08-15T03:36:00.000+01:00

Yep. Sushi flavoured Pringle style chips. I bought them because they were a novelty. I will continue buying them because they are delicious. Yum!

Not quite what we were expecting - a Shrimp Restaurant in Kaohsiung, Taiwan

2010-08-14T06:46:00.001+01:00

After walking around the Zuoying district, checking out random apartments, we decided it was time to stop and get a bite to eat. However, we got a little more than we bargained for in the seafood restaurant on Bo Ai Road. First, we ordered some yummy shrimp starters like deep fried shrimp balls and shrimp and vegetable rolls.

For the main dish we ordered a spicy shrimpp soup hotpot. We choose the option of cooking it ourselves on a portable gas burner on our table. Other diners were doing it and it looked like fun. We were taken bit by surprise at how fresh the seafood really was.

Watch the clips to fully appreciate and understand what I mean...

Lamma Island, Hong Kong

2010-08-14T06:35:00.000+01:00

We had a few choice choices for day trips whilst in Hong Kong. We picked up the Discover Hong Kong Nature D.I.Y. Guide from the information booth at the Star Ferry concourse in Kowloon and were spoilt for choice. Would it be the hike to Bride's Pool, the Giant Buddha at Lantau Island or the rural Peng Chau with its clear beaches? Finally we settled on Lamma Island. Jeff had travelled around Hong Kong before, but had not made it to Lamma Island.

We caught the ferry to Fisherfolk village at Sok Kwu Wan on the southern side of the island instead of Yung Shue Wan in the north, simply because the ferry was already there and we didn't have to wait.

The impatientness paid off however as we arrived in from Central and immediately enjoyed the slower pace and the surrounding nature. We walked the southern Lamma circle hike, around hillsides on a concrete path. The banana trees provided a much needed escape from the ultra humidity and burning sun. We passed temples, massive spiders, deserted buildings and a Butterfly Barbeque Area???

After almost 2 hours we came back into Fisherfolk village for a rest and cool down. Inspired by the variety of fresh seafood in the tanks adorning the restaurnats on the pier, we feasted on some fresh spicy squid and mushroom noodles, washed down with some TsingTao.

Then, after a minor detour due to invisible signs, we made our way north across up the island stopping at Hung Shing Yeh Beach for some respite and a swim. The water was calm and the swimming area netted off against the sharks that like to frequent the waters. After a warm yet refreshing swim it was back on the trail through the more hectic town of Yung Shue Wan through shops, cafes and eateries, on to the ferry for a 40 minute ride back to Central.

Oops! Check that departure time carefully!

2010-08-13T01:51:00.000+01:00

So we have made the move and are now in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. After spending a month in Collingwood, CA with Jeff's parents we set off to Hong Kong on August 4th. However, it was almost the trip that never was, as we had misread the flight departure time and for the previous month had been reinforcing to ourselves and everyone who asked, that we would be leaving at 10pm on the 4th. A quick glance at the itinerary the night before take off told us a different story. Our 24 hour times were a little off whack. Our flight was not at 10pm, but 10am! Meaning that we needed to get packed quickly and headed to bed for a few hours sleep before waking at 5am the next morning for the drive to the airport. Could have been worse though...

Scuba in Ibiza

2010-07-04T22:40:00.001+01:00

When you think of Ibiza, I am sure diving isn't the first thing you think of. Parties, drinking, clubs, drinking, music, more drinking and many late nights come to mind. However, after living (mostly) dry and healthy in Marrakech for a year, we wanted something a little more substantial. Both Jeff and I regretted not visiting Ibiza (as well as Ireland, Croatia and Greece for me) while so close when living in London. So before saying goodbye to Morocco, a little break was in order before a bigger break in Canada for the summer.

We were sitting on the fence with regards to the scuba course. 4 days. Earlyish mornings. Hundreds of Euros. However, we arrived in San Antonio to the sound of drunken and annoying young northern Brits, to the sights of tattooed, pierced and sunburned teens and realised our time would be better spent exploring the open waters, rather than partying with people young enough to be our students.

The Arenal diving booth caught our eye. Colourful underwater pictures, friendly and flexible staff and a relaxed attitude sealed the deal. Our first step was getting passport pictures and a medical check. An unthought-of of extra. Then before we knew it we were introduced to our instructor, Moo, sitting in a classroom, watching diving DVD’s and taking multiple choice quizzes. The afternoon session saw us suiting up for the first time and breathing underwater in a hotel pool. With weights on our waists, fins on our feet, masks on our faces and regulators in our mouths, it was time to release the buoyancy control device and sink to the bottom of the pool. What a surreal experience. Your breathing gets deeper and slower and you try to stop yourself from holding your breath - a big no no in scuba.

After successfully completing our confined dives, it was time to try the open water dives off San Antonio bay. The first descent saw my mask flooding due to my seemingly irregular shaped head. A quick change of mask and constant sucking through my nose kept my mask from fully flooding. But by this time I had mastered the clearing the water out of the mask technique. We descended and the open water experience began. We took 2 dives that day, the first in Des Marguerites at a depth of 11.6m for 30minutes, where we got used to the buoyancy and explored without exercises or technique drills. During the second in Punta Galera to 11.2m for 34minutes we put our skills into practice by flooding and clearing our masks, using the octopus for out of air simulations, controlling buoyancy and weight removal. Our instructor Mo spotted an octopus in a crevice and I was lucky enough to touch its head and get my hand sucked by its tentacle.

That evening we headed back to the classroom for a 50 question test, with both of us passing successfully. The next day it was time to complete our course with two final open water dives. This time to Islia Avel to a depth of 17.9m for 36 minutes and then onto Torre for 38minutes to 11.8m. We completed all of our tasks, throwing our BCD's into the water first and then getting into them. We used snorkels and a compass to follow directions. A sea cucumber squirted sticky sperm on us and an Arenal Underwater Photographer took a liking to an octopus, kissing and caressing it, which made me laugh and swallow the salty water. Its head felt fragile like tissue paper and its tentacles as suctiony as a vacuum cleaner. We swam through a small cave, me a little apprehensive at first due to the lack of light. But after losing my inhibitions, the rest of the dive was smooth sailing. I felt comfortable and relaxed as we hugged the cliff wall, viewing blue coral and watching out for spiky sea urchins. We swam through the reeds amongst kissing fish and jelly fish.

Our confidence increased and our underwater skills soared. We were now certified Open Water Divers. We can't wait to explore the waters of Taiwan, with perhaps some diving in the Great Lakes in Canada over the summer. Mo recommended Okinawa off Japan for some great diving.

Our final day of diving was made even better by a gorgeous sunset on the rocks at Cafe Del Mar, a pre-party appearance by David Guetta at Mambo Bar and also a DJ set by Calvin Harris at Ibiza Rocks. So we did sneak in some drinking and music after all ;o)

Did I really just see that? Taking the bus to work.

2010-06-12T13:01:00.001+01:00

I have been taking the organised transport to work at ASM since September now, and sights still surprise me. At first the route to the school was a little exciting, maybe even exotic for some. Now, after 10 months of riding on the bus, I am spying more of the weird and wonderful from the windows every day.

Some sights are found every where in the world. Some, I am certain, are specific to Morocco. We start off in the villle nouvelle, Gueliz, where most of the other teachers live too. Here it is common to see mopeds carrying non-helmet wearing drivers and passengers, speeding on the wrong side of the road and men starting their day with thick black coffee while watching the world wake up. When we exit Gueliz and make our way past the medina, the sights really begin. A poor kitten convulsing in the middle of the road after being hit by a speeding car, a slender stray puppy playing with a waste paper basket while a trendy young man walks his healthy dog by, and aged homeless people taking shelter outside the unkempt graveyard. There are weathered men and women selling their wares - popcorn, colorful baskets, candy and rattan stools.

Next to the graveyard is a dried river, and graves sit precariously on the dried banks. On more than one occasion I have seen the banks being used as a toilet for the humiliated homeless. Opposite the graveyard is the 'chicken souk' selling live chickens, turkeys and rabbits, jellaba wearing men crouch down over some mint tea. Traveling on the route de Ouarzazate we come across an old large pipe that was made into a rustic see-saw for local children, Moroccan children wearing white coats walking to school and the large gated Jenna community for the wealthy.

The route to the school makes me feel sad most of the time. People look helpless. Usually domesticated animals look starved and alone. The communities look neglected. But I am an outsider looking in. I will never fit into Marrakech and I really don't think I would want to. We are chaperoned to a private school each day, teaching the wealthy and privileged, only to be visually reminded of the real world and state of affairs each afternoon, on the ride home.

Toubkal: Highest Peak in North Africa

2010-05-17T15:39:00.006+01:00

I have never climbed a mountain before. Jeff had climbed 3099 meters to the Buddhist Mountain Emei Shan in China. The closest I had come was hiking Mount Keira behind the University of Wollongong in Australia. A whole 464 meters. Not impressive.

Jeff and I had planned to hike Jebel Toubkal, the highest mountain in North Africa and 36th highest mountain in the world, for some time since living in Marrakech. We knew it was best hiked from May, as the winter months brought masses of snow and ice, and we are definitely lacking suitable clothing and equipment. We had met some new friends, Chris from Intrepid Travel, Ellis and Alex who were working and staying with some friends of ours, Fatima-Zohra from work and Kin, a friend of a friend. We picked a hiking date, and then it was on.

We had somewhat researched the hike. We knew it began at Imlil, with a hike to Sidi Chamarouch which was home to a muslim shrine, and then on to Base Camp. We had heard from various people that serious hiking equipment was unnecessary, as was a mule and guide. We took only snacks and Alex packed his weight in Lion Bars.

When we reached Refuge Du Toubkal at 3207 meters, we were a little worried. Serious Spanish summit monkeys surrounded us and were decked out in various enviable trekking gear. We however, the self proclaimed Weekend Warriors, were seriously decked out in running shoes, sweat pants and fleece. Some of us possessed snow jackets and beanies, but that was as serious as we got. We knew we were behind the pack when our dorm room buddies arose noisily for breakfast an hour before our scheduled wake up time. I even spied some Spaniards filling their camel backs with effervescent energy boosting hydrolites the night before. Our supply of Mars and Lion bars however were energy boosting, chocolaty and delicious.

So at 7am we began our ascent. We had cleverly dressed and slept in our hiking outfits the night before, so were ready to go after some breakfast of stale bread and jam. Our loose plans for the climb were put into perspective when we looked out of the window during breakfast to find a fellow Toubkal hiker amusingly slipping and sliding on the ice. We were definitely ill prepared. He was was wearing snow gear and hiking boots. Holy crap. We crossed the river and then literally stumbled upon the scree, being sure to avoid the ice unlike our breakfast comedy show. Climbing up the larger stones was a breeze. But as our feet and hands pounded the smaller stones, they gave way beneath us and we redesigned the look of the slope. After somewhat successfully overcoming the scree, our jogging shoes hit the snow. Luckily, we were not the first to tackle Toubkal that morning, and footprints had already been made for us. We followed them to the end of the snow and then hit more scree, but more stable this time at 3700 meters. We followed the winding dirt path and overcame various bouts of altitude sickness consisting of non-serious shortness of breath and dizziness. Hikers on their way down from summit told us how long we had left, and after 30 more minutes, we were there.

Jebel Toubkal is not the fanciest of mountains, nor is it the most exciting. Anti-climatically, you see the weird graffitied pyramid structure before you reach the top. What takes your breath away isn't necessarily the views and the excitement, but the altitude. Regardless, we took the the time to document the evidence of our climb, snapping away in this pose and that. After downing some Mars and Lion bars, it was time to follow the other hikers back down to the Refuge. The descent was much shorter than the ascent. We scurried down the dirt and onto the snow. We had spied some tunnel sledding-like tracks on the way up and decided that we would take that opportunity to shave some time of our descent and have some fun. Chris went first and slid down 30m to the applause and cat calling of fellow hikers, waiting and watching the forms of the sliders from the safety of the rocks. We all followed, with Jeff and Alex walking back to the top for a second slide, this time, head first.

We made our way back to the Refuge, slipping, sliding and hiking. Returning to base camp with damp and dirty clothing, we filled up on more Mars and Lion bars and then got our gear together for the 4 hour sunny hike back to Imlil. Altogether we hiked 5 and a half hours from Imlil to the Refuge on Saturday morning and then 3 hours from the base to the summit on Sunday morning. We spent half an hour at the top, and then spent about 2 hours making our way back to the base. Needless to say, we were sore and tired. Everyone had their own ailments; calves, quads, coccyx, shoulder blade, ankle, feet, headaches, minor cuts and abrasions and sunburn.

Jeff on the route to Refuge Du Toubkal

Chris, Jeff and Ellis

Myself and Jeff during the ascent to Base Camp

Base Camp at 3207m

Kin, negotiating the path

Making our acsent up the scree

At the highest point in North Africa, on top of Jebel Toubkal

Jefff and I enjoying our first mountain hiked together

At this moment in time, Jeff was quite possibly the highest person in North Africa

Alex and Chris at the summit

The view from the top

Making the descent

Snow still covers the mountain in May

Ellis thinks 'To slip or to slide?'

Cascades D'Ouzoud, Refreshingly Beautiful

2010-05-04T18:21:00.003+01:00

Jeff and I traveled to numerous towns, cities and medinas in Morocco on our first two visits, so when we arrived in Marrakech to live, there were not many new places high on our list visit. However, one destination kept standing out to me on our little Lonely Planet guide map, Cascades D'Ouzoud (ouzoud is Berber for olive, of which many trees surround the falls). The Cascades are only two and a half hours from Marrakech, so just a day trip. When we planned to go, other things kept popping up and different opportunities arose. However, when driving back in our little burnt orange Kia hire car from a Safi-Ouladia-El Jadida-Casablanca road trip, it was time to give the cascades a go.

We were not disappointed and wondered what had taken us so long in the first place to get there!

The cascades are in Azilal in the Atlas mountains. The waterfalls a 110m high and are stunning, refreshing and untainted.

You begin at the top of the falls, where you will come across Berber guides offering you a 1-2 hour hike around and to the bottom of the falls. We decided to come back another time to do the hike properly.

Descending the concrete steps, you will walk past many shops, restaurants, and if you are lucky enough, some Barbary monkeys!

With the warm temperature, it is important to cool off. If you don't want to totally immerse yourself and go for a quick or leisurely dip, you can always pay a mild 10 dirhams per person to board a raft and be paddled into the falls.

Highly recommended.

Warm smiles and Warm heads

2010-04-12T00:01:00.001+01:00

Jeff and I bought woolly beanies before in Taghazout whilst travelling there for Christmas in 2008. They were warm and thick and made of wool straight off a sheep’s back. Jeff’s even got a little wet and smelt exactly the way I imagine a wet smelly sheep would.

Anyway, while swapping the mayhem of Marrakech for laidback Essaouira, with my visiting mum and aunt, we stumbled across Otman. He was perched comfortably on a goatskin, knitting thick colourful cotton beanies or bonnets, welcoming us with warm a smile and friendly eyes. I had heard about Otman from other teachers who escape to Essaouira once in a while. He and his father knit the beanies and sell them along Derb Laalouj near the rampart walls for 50 dirhams each. Not a bad deal at all. If you like, he will even knit you a customised beanie in an hour and a half.

While my mum and aunt looked for their favourite coloured beanies as great gifts for family and friends, I had a chat with Otman.

Jellaba wearing Otman began making beanies at just 12 years old, alongside his father as a family business. He used to make them from sheep’s wool, but found that customers were complaining of the intense heat and itchiness that the wool produced. As well as fabricating bonnets Otman is also studying French. Many Moroccans speak French very well, but are limited when it comes to reading and writing the grammar intense language. Otman is currently 22 years old and he told me he would really like to study English, but at the moment there are no English language centres in Essaouira. Not a bad business idea I thought...

My mum and aunt had selected their beanies and Otman helped to finish them off, by adding extra tightness around the edge and stretching some where necessary.

With his friendly, calm and inviting manner Otman is sure to delight more tourists with his colourful and practical wares. With emails and business cards swapped, we were on our way with a bagful of beanies and snugly warm heads.

Yes, I have been to Morocco, how can you tell?

2010-04-11T22:55:00.001+01:00

I did it. I finally did it. I have wanted one for a while and was wondering how long I could resist the urge. I held off for 9 months. I knew which design and color I wanted, and the price point. So I bought one.

Guide books tell you that you are really out of the ordinary if you leave Morocco without a carpet. Other teachers at my work have bought carpets. My friends visiting from Australia bought carpets. Even my mum is the proud owner of a Moroccan cactus fibre and cotton hand woven carpet. So it was my turn. I found the desgn and colors I wanted and was intrigued to find that my particular carpet was made out of camel hair. Definitly not as silky smooth as the cactus fibre, or as soft as the sheep wool, but as strong and sturdy as a camel itself.

Jeff and I had visited the same carpet sellers house on our Moroccan trip back in 2007. We were backpacking then and although we loved the carpets and wanted one badly, we could not afford one or bear to carry it around with us. So upon walking through the mud bricked entrance of the berber house, I knew this was it.

Carpets are everywhere in Morocco. But how do you know if one is handmade? Well, let me tell you. Look at the ends. One end will have tassels, and the other, knots to show how the carpet weaver tied the fibres to the loom to begin the weaving process.

My mother was first. She was taken withe a saffron dyed cactus fibre and cotton carpet. Very silky smooth and bright, with the all seeing eye embroidered in the middle.

Then it was my turn. I played coy to get the price down. Then when the seller would go no further, we shook hands on the deal. A handmade, one of a kind, bright, berber, camel carpet all for myself!

Saharan Sunset and Sunrise

2010-04-11T22:10:00.002+01:00

I had been to the Sahara desert before, in 2007. Unfortunately, the photographic evidence was lost, along with the contents of my bag, on an overnight train from Madrid to Barcelona. So this time, I took as many photographs as I could. My mother, aunt and I went on the same trip as Jeff and I had previously done 3 years earlier. I was surprised to find that we stayed at the same hotel, stopped at the same photographic vantage points, and even slept in a campsite in the desert very, very close to where I originally stayed.

I love the sand dunes. I especially love them when the sun sets and amazing shadows are cast upon the monstrous dunes. I love the texture, the ripples, the color.

We rode our camels for about 45 minutes from the Kasbah Yasmine in Erg Chebbi to our campsite. From there, a stroll up the sand dunes led to views of an amazing sunset. We ate delicious berber tajines, drank sweet, minty mint tea (Mum - Tastes a bit like Colgate, don't you think?), and attempted a tune on the goatskinned drums.

Then it was wakey wakey time at 5:30am for a camel trek to a stunning sunrise and back to the kasbah for a breakfast of msemen (Berber crepes) with honey, olives, sweet bread and fresh orange juice.

Our guide Mohammed, with a Saharan Salamander

A colorful sunset over the dunes

The setting sun

The moon still in the sky at dawn

My mum watching the sun rise

Dawn on the dunes

Our camels wandering off for the morning feast

Mmm, Moroccan Strawberries

2010-04-04T23:05:00.001+01:00

I love eating fresh, seasonal fruit. Mandarin season is now over. So mandarins out, strawberries in.

At the moment, strawberries are going for 10 dirhams a kilogram. I think the Aussie dollar is at $1 for 7.5 dirhams. So needless to say, strawberries are cheap!

Strawberries can be found by the crateful in the supermarket chain Acima, street stall vendors and roaming vendors. I have bought and tasted kilograms from all three sources and they are all as delicious as each other.

I love living in a country where produce is seasonal and tasty. I love indulging in fresh fruit, knowing that it hasn't crossed continents or oceans to land in my mouth.

Which fruit will be in plentiful and cheap supply next?

Go and Get Plucked

2010-04-04T22:27:00.003+01:00

I had been putting it off for too long and knew the consequences. Pain. Agony. Watery eyes.
Nice, shapely eyebrows come at a price. So it was time for my first visit to a Moroccan Esthetician for an eyebrow wax. My friend had been to Salon Smira before and liked it for its cheapness and smooth results. So off I went to the small Salon in the building next to mine.

Salaam alikom. Eyebrow? Shcccccct (finger pointed at eyebrow).
Oui. Eyebrows. No problem.

So I sat in the chair, head reclined in a small red pillow. Then came the unexpecteed. Tweezers. Ok, I thought, a bit of a tidy up before the wax. But the plucking did not stop. Ouch. Ow! My eyes were clenched shut and watering, my toes curling and feet squirming. Just say it. Say 'wax' I kept telling myself. No! This is how they do it and this is what you get for neglecting your brows. It can't get worse than this. It felt like 15 brutal minutes passed by. Then came the scissors - snip, snip. Oh my.

Look in the glass.

Hmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. Really good actually.

Ok, sit back.

Oh no. Here we come again. Beauty comes at a price. Especially in Morocco.

The Pitter Patter of Kitty Feet

2010-04-04T22:10:00.001+01:00

Marrakech is full of cats. For the vast amounts of cats roaming the streets, I am surprised I have not seen more of the dead variety (just one laying in a garden and one, ironically, laying outside the walls of a graveyard). We have a couple of cats living in our building, just like any other apartment block or restaurant. There is a black one who liked to hiss and bear its teeth and also liked to sit on our washing machine. There is also a lithe grey one that likes to dart down the stairs as we are walking up. You see, cats are not really our friends. So we were more than a little surprised to open the door and find two kittens, less than a day old, on our door mat. They were extremely newborn and abandoned. The placenta and blood was nearby; but no mother was insight. We followed the blood trail downstairs, but still no mother.

Kittens must be born everyday in Marrakech, with no vetenary care and no human contact. But I felt some ownership for these kittens on our door mat. We waited inside for the mother to come back. Perhaps she just needed a rest. However, after some internet research, I knew that the kittens would soon die if they were not kept warm and fed every two hours. So I made a little shelter out of an old kettle box and some kitchen towel and carefully placed the kittens inside. Every five minutes we checked for the mother. Still, she had not come. I went downstairs again and found the mother resting in the sun in her usual place. It was the grey cat that likes to dash down the stairs. However, she was not lightning quick, but sore and bloodied.

I brought the kittens downstairs and left them there for their mother. Later, when we left our apartment, the grey mother leapt out in front of us, spooked by the openning of our door. She dropped one of her kittens but picked it up quickly. I was relieved to see the kittens being taken care of.

I spotted the mother for the first time in over a week today. I will keep an eye out for the kittens too.

A windy time in Essaouira

2010-03-16T22:46:00.003+01:00

We were in desperate need of a weekend retreat. A fellow teacher was having a visitor for the weekend so it was decided that we would take the 3 hour bus ride across to Essaouira and join them. Essaouira is a coastal town of about 70,000. It was originally a trading port and called Mogador, which now refers to the island off the coast. The medina is UNESCO World Heritage listed and Orson Welles filmed 'Othello' in the medina in 1952.

The beach is expansive and very windy. There are not many waves, but the conditions are perfect for kitesurfing and windsurfing. Jeff and I previously had a go at windsurfing in Essa back in 2007. I had a great time and would love to try it again when the weather heats up a little.

So this time, we relaxed with friends in a huge apartment/riad deep into the medina. We ate delicious fresh seafood and relaxed in the sun. Essaouira is a very pretty and clean destination in Morocco. I love the white walls and bright blue doors, windows and balconies. The locals are friendlier and the air is fresher. A perfect destination to escape the hustle and bustle of bursting Marrakech.

Great Hiking in Picturesque Imlil

2010-03-09T20:45:00.005+01:00

A grand taxi (200dhs) took us an hour out of Marrakech to Imlil, at the bottom of the Atlas mountains. Imlil is the starting point for the Jebel Toubkal hike, 4167 metres. We all got well acquainted; myself, Jeff, Chris (a friend who works for Intrepid Travel here in Marrakech), Fatimazohra (an Arabic teacher at ASM), Lisa and Martin (Chris' friends visiting from Hastings).

From there we made our way through the damp and unbelievably green town of Imlil, past the Kasbah Toubkal (where Kundun was filmed, above) and into a Gite (a home-run type of hotel). Chris was able to book us into the gite, run by Hussein Tajine and his family. The gite is used by Intrepid Travel for groups to stay before they hike into the mountains.

We relaxed in the colorful couches and bundled ourselves into blankets. Unfortunately the concrete walls were beginning to do their job - keeping out the harsh Moroccan heat. We noticed the altitude was affecting our snacks! We were warmed with some mint tea and biscuits. Hussein brought us some delicious harira (traditional Morrocan soup) tajines and fruit, which was demolished with ease.

We woke up to some delicious breakfast on Sunday morning and then began our hike. Lisa was suffering from Marrakchi air pollution and a bad leg, so Martin and Lisa hiked for an hour with us, and then spent the rest of the day relaxing in Imlil.

We hiked up the top of the first mountain and stopped to admire the view, take some pictures and drink some mint tea.

Fatima-zohra couldn't resist kid-napping a... kid. Rest assured it was delivered back to its herd to continue its journey through the mountains.

We wandered down the other side of the mountain to a lush valley with a gushing stream.

We crossed the other side and walked through another village, where boys grow in trees...

... and others walk arm in arm following the outsiders.

After the village we crossed the river once more and made our way up another mountain...

...and then down the other side.

At the bottom we had another river to cross. This time, wading through the icy water.

And then back into the sleepy mountain village of Imlil.

Our hike took roughly 7 hours, including a stop for tea and lunch. I am writing this entry 2 days after the hike, resting hurting hamstrings, quads and calves... It was well worth the pain, but I don't think I will be rushing off for another epic hike anytime too soon.