sandybarker

Fa La La La Laaah La La La La

December 6, 2014December 7, 2014sandybarker

Early-morning beach walk (Denmark, Western Australia Christmas 2013) — Early-morning beach walk (Denmark, Western Australia Christmas Day 2013)

It’s that time of year – time to deck the halls and all that stuff. It’s my favourite time. It’s Christmas time.

I am not what you would call a religious person – I know this, because I was once very religious and I am now the antithesis of that – but I LOVE Christmas. Love it, love it, love it.

Music

The only reason that I don’t listen to holiday music all year around, is to retain its specialness. I love Christmas music – and I mean everything from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir signing ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ to Mariah Carey singing ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’, to Nat King Cole’s ‘The Christmas Song’. ‘Carol of the Bells’ gives me chills, and my all-time fave is ‘Silent Night’.

The only Christmas song I don’t like is ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’, a.k.a ‘The Date Rape Song’. Listen carefully to the lyrics if you don’t believe me. As an side, I have also just discovered Eartha Kitt’s ‘Nothin’ for Christmas’, which is essentially the Christmas sexual harassment song. So, I guess that’s two Christmas songs I don’t like, but, as I often do, I digress.

Food

My family is a wonderful mix of Australian, American and English, so the Christmas food that hits our plates is also an incredible mix.

American-style Christmas cookies are a must. Once, my sister and I embarked on an all-day baking intensive. We baked hundreds of cookies – 5 different kinds – including the ones that have to be individually iced. By the end of the day we were in a foul mood, but it soon lifted – we just ate Christmas cookies and all was well!

We ALWAYS have Russian Tea Cakes, which are, quite simply, the best food ever. In the history of the universe. And just so you can enjoy them too, here is the recipe:

1 c butter
½ c icing (powdered) sugar
2 ¼ c sifted plain flour
¼ tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
¾ c chopped nuts – pecans/walnuts

Mix, form into balls, bake at 180C / 375F for 8 minutes, dust with icing sugar while still warm. Then roll in icing sugar when they’re cool.

They looks like this:

The Pommie influence is in the traditional Christmas dinner, which we often persevered with even in the 40C heat of Perth. Christmas pudding is absolutely essential. I love it. And I can recommend buying it, not making it. The ones you can buy are so damned good, why would you spend all that time and effort to make one? Heston Blumenthal’s are apparently the best you can buy. We’ll be having one of those this Christmas. With custard. Warm, runny custard. Oh my.

My partner’s family traditionally make steamed cranberry pudding, which I have yet to master after two tries. It is tart and bitter, but is served with a super sweet caramel sauce. It’s not my fave, but I will give it another try – for him.

And, because I grew up in Australia, we have a Christmas tradition of breakfasting on prawns, smoked salmon, a summer fruit platter and champagne – lots of bubbles!

Decorations

Every year, my mom (she’s the American parent), gives my sister and me a new Christmas decoration. The collection is now vast, and each year, I trot out the old and add the new. I’ve taken to collecting them too, and giving them – it’s such a lovely way to mark a Christmas spent with special people. Mom has also extended this tradition to our S.O.s and my nephew. This year I will be delivering all five 2014 decorations to London, but more on that later.

I love to decorate for Christmas. Sometimes we’ve had a real tree – especially when we lived in the Evergreen state, Washington – and sometimes we’ve travelled for Christmas, so we decorated our hotel room with our Christmas stockings.

We also wear antlers during Christmas celebrations. My dad started this tradition, and it’s carried on to the next generation:

P1040380_edited-1 — Ben opening stocking gifts

Visiting with baby Oliver Christmas 2012

And, there are the Daves…

The first Reindeer Dave was made by my grandmother, Joan, along with Celeste, the angel who appears in this picture. My step-mum took up the tradition after grandma died, and made a Dave for all of us. Last year we travelled to spend Christmas with family in Western Australia, where several Daves congregated. Our Dave is on the right.

And here’s our Dave this year:

We’re travelling again this year, so no tree, but Dave shares a little Christmas tableau with our Aussie Christmas animals, and some of the Christmas bells that were given to Ben by his grandparents every year.

Presents

I love giving presents. I do love getting them too, but I have a lot of fun seeking out the perfect gift for my loved ones – right down to the stocking-stuffers. And oh yes, we’re big on stockings in my family, something I have enjoyed carrying on with Ben. This year, the biggest gift we’re giving is our presence, as we’re flying to London to spend Christmas with my sister, brother-in-law and nephew, who is 3-and-a-half.

I am guessing that once we’re packed, we’ll discover that one whole suitcase is dedicated to presents. It’s hard not to spoil your only nephew, especially when he’s such a great, appreciative kid, and he’s now at that age where Christmas is a big deal to him – and so is his aunty and uncle travelling to see him from Australia. He’s also a Brit born to two Aussie parents, and we are loaded up on Aussie children’s books and toys, so he will be an Aussie kid too.

Family

Yes, the music is festive, the decorations make me giddy, presents are awesome, and I adore eating Christmas food, but the best part of Christmas is family. And, that of course means the family I was born with and those who have become family. We dress up, we get together, swap gifts, eat amazing food, have lots of bubbles, and just generally partake in a mutual admiration society. The thing is, I am really fortunate that my family gatherings – and especially Christmas – are fun. We laugh, we play bocce or sing karaoke, we play party games, we watch concerts on DVD and Christmas moves, like ‘Love Actually’ (my fave). We just have a good time, which is maybe the reason I love it all so much.

Oh, and this year we will get to watch the Downton Abbey Christmas special as it airs live on British television. It’s a long way to travel for a favourite TV show, but it’s one of my Christmas presents to myself.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope it’s grand. And make the Russian Tea Cakes – you won’t regret it.

~ Sandy

Never too much of a good thing

October 4, 2014sandybarker

Poor us – we had to stay here for 4 whole days!

Let me set the scene. It has been 8 years since we met on Santorini and went on our first date. To celebrate this anniversary, we took ourselves to wine country. This isn’t really a surprise to anyone who knows us, as we both love wine, and have certainly made similar jaunts in the past. This time, we headed to the stunning Barossa Valley in South Australia. That’s right, home to some of the finest wine in the world – for 4 days and three nights. As I said, poor us, right?

If you look really closely at this photo, you will see where we stayed int he background. This is the view from the top of the hill that I climbed each morning as the sun was coming up – just one of the glorious details that made the weekend sublime. On arrival back at the homestead each morning, a freshly baked breakfast was waiting. The first morning it was muffins, the next was home-made toasted muesli, and the last, homemade bread with homemade jam. Our host was really into homemade.

We stayed at a little farm we found on airbnb. If you haven’t yet heard of airbnb, then he’s a quick and dirty: it’s a website listing homestays all over the world. Some are a room, some are are whole house. Typically, airbnbers host only one guest, or couple, or family of guests at a time. Ben stayed in the heart of Amsterdam once, and together we have stayed in three wine regions now – Napa, Yarra Valley and Barossa.

This stay was quite unique. We stayed in the farm’s original outer buildings – with three rooms side-by-side, each with a door to the outside. It’s the first time I have had to go outside from my sleeping quarters to get to the bathroom since I ran tours in Europe – but far nicer. Though in Europe, I typically didn’t have to chance stepping in geese poop – well, except maybe in Rome and that is a whole ‘nother story.

This is the view along the veranda:

This was our bed:

It wasn’t actually a feather bed, but we did use the mosquito net – country living, after all. Lots of critters.

This was the just one corner of the bathroom, which was the biggest room of all – our host is a woman with her priorities straight. And that tub was glorious.

On the second day, we were joined in the bathroom by a creature of the arachnid variety. Ben, who has yet to encounter one of those hand-sized huntsmen says, “Now I can say I’ve seen one of those giant Australian spiders.” This was my (slightly) patronising reply: “Actually, now you can say that you’ve seen one of a giant Australian spider’s babies.” (It wasn’t very big – maybe three centimeters across).

“And you know what is worse than finding a spider in your bathroom?” I asked my now concerned boyfriend. He shook his head. Like the tough Aussie chick I am, I must have impressed him with this important nugget, “Knowing there’s a spider in your bathroom, but not being able to see where it went. If it goes out of sight, check your towel before you use it.”

Ahhhh, country life. I should say that we spent a great deal of time in the outdoor room, fending off puppy dog eyes, so we didn’t have to share our spoils.

Yes, that is actually the dog’s name. And while she is called something regal and she looks quite regal in this photo, she’s usually covered in dirt and the saliva of her two male counterparts. In truth, she’s a little slapper.

Here are some other shots from around the farm:

How cool are these horses’ manes?

Oh, and I nearly forgot. There was wine! Barossa is not just a beautiful location, they have wine there too.

We did our first taste the morning we arrived – late morning – we are not total lushes. And did our last taste the morning we left (again, late morning). Henschke was a highlight, as was Pindarie. I think we reached saturation point, however, when we got to the end of the third day, and were tasting what was probably a very nice Riesling. I looked at Ben and said, “I can’t tell if this is good or not. I think my palette is tired. And my brain is definitely tired.” He felt the same, so we excused ourselves and quit for the day.

We developed a set of subtle cues to tell each other that we didn’t really care for the wine without insulting the person two feet away who was pouring it for us. “Thank you, but I can only try one or two, I’m driving,” I said on numerous occasions. If Ben agreed, he’d follow up with, “We’re over limit on our luggage at the moment, but can we find your wine in Melbourne?”

Of course, if we loved something, we bought it and then we shipped it all back. A cool tip: there are about 15 wineries that will ship a mixed case for $15. That is, if you buy one or two of their bottles, they will ship a case that’s completed from other peoples’ wine. Ask at the cellar door, and if they don’t do it, ask who does. They will likely have a list. Penfolds doesn’t by the way.

Of course, there was also incredible food – not just at the farm-stay, but at little pubs and restaurants that dot the picturesque towns of the valley. We were impressed with the selections, along with the incredible produce.

All in all, the trip was exactly what we’d hoped it would be – relaxing, enjoyable, a feast for the eyes and the stomach, and a long-anticipated visit to somewhere new.

Happy anniversary, Ben. I can’t wait for our next adventure!

What’s My Excuse?

October 19, 2013September 30, 2014sandybarker

There has been some hubbub in the cyber world this past fortnight, because of this woman, Maria Kang. The backlash, both from the online community and from people I know, was passionate, angry and sometimes even vile. How dare she shame other women? ‘Fat shaming’ it was called. I watched this discussion unfold (mostly on Facebook and on Mama Mia.com where you can read two takes on the matter here and here) with interest. Most of the response was from mothers and I am not a mother, so I didn’t really join in on the discussion, because I figured I wasn’t ‘qualified’.

But then I realised that when I look at the photo of Maria Kang, with her taught body and three small children, I feel like she’s also talking to me. I have no children, I have enough time, I have means, so what’s my excuse? Why don’t I look like that? It’s a good question, Maria. Thank you for asking!

Because it is such a good question, I took the time to answer it for myself – honestly. This is what I came up with: “I do the minimal amount of exercise to maintain a healthy weight and a level of fitness that keeps me generally feeling well. I don’t really like protein shakes and all the other stuff I would have to replace the delicious food I do like with. And I really like wine, so my excuse is that I’m fine with how I am.”

And it didn’t make me mad. And I didn’t think she was a shaming cow for posing the question – particularly because I understood that her intention was to, as she explains in her response to the backlash, inspire other women, to let them know that they can benefit from making time for themselves. And on that point, I agree with her 100%. For me, taking time for myself just looks like something else.

Then I came across this discussion asking whether or not wearing makeup is deceptive. Good grief! And if you read the negative comments about how beautiful this woman looks in her makeup, they’re from women!

Ladies, enough!

Let’s go back a decade when I attended a professional development session (as a teacher) with Michael Carr-Gregg, who is a well-respected child and adolescent psychologist. He asked us to imagine that our life was represented by three baskets: our self, our family (including our significant other), and our friends, colleagues, job, and responsibilities. That third basket is a doozy – there is a lot going on in that third basket.

Once we had imagined the baskets, he gave us 30 imaginary eggs to disperse between the baskets. How would we split up the 30 eggs between the three baskets? When we came to the results of the experiment, he told us that many women opted to place the smallest amount of eggs in their own basket, and then split the rest between baskets two and three. Typically, however, men don’t. Generally, men will put the most eggs in their own basket and then split the rest between the other two.

(Just so you know, I initially put 10 in each basket).

Carr-Gregg’s argument was that to be a truly contented and balanced person, one who felt like their needs were being met and who could give to others happily and without resentment or feelings of obligation, we needed to put 15 eggs in our own basket, 10 in the second basket (our spouse/spice and family) and 5 (!) eggs in the third basket.

His reasoning was that if we dedicate enough of our time, energy and love to ourselves, by the time we crack those eggs in the third basket, they’re double-yolkers. I loved this. SO much! I have carried this with me for a decade.

And those times when I feel strung out, wrung out, and as though my obligations – ones I mostly took on willingly – are piling up over my head, when I resent the people I love the most, when I mindlessly hate strangers who I perceive to be more accomplished, more attractive, or just generally more than me – when my default setting is ‘negative’ and I am quite unpleasant to be around, I do an egg audit. And I usually find that I have been putting too many eggs in the wrong basket.

One of these woman exercises to honour herself, the other wears makeup. Let us not call them names. Let us not be insulted, or intimidated, or indignant about their choices. Let us not fight amongst ourselves. Rather, let us be inspired by how many wonderful ways we can pursue our own goals and aspirations. Let us (myself included) turn the question inward, and ask, ‘how many eggs are in my basket?’

Slump

October 11, 2013October 12, 2013sandybarker

There are a lot of writer’s who say that there’s no such thing as writer’s block, because you can always write something – even if it isn’t very good. Maybe that’s true. I mean, I’m writing at the moment. I’m writing this blog post.

So, if writer’s block no more real than Santa (sorry, spoiler alert), what do you call it when you simply don’t want to write? When you re-read stuff that you loved a month ago, and think that it sucks? Is there a name for the feeling you have when all you want in the world is to be a writer – as your full-time, paid, ‘I’d-almost-do-this-for-free’ day job – and you wonder if you really have the writing chops to make it happen?

I’m suffering a crisis of confidence. That makes for a great comedy routine – thank you Rich Hall for this awesome gem – but does not make for a productive writer.

With this in mind – and drawing on my almost obsessive problem-solving skills – I have begun a new writing contract. I did this about a year ago with a good friend of mine in Seattle who is also a writer. But, because of the nature of the contract – I need to text someone when I am ‘done’ each day and I really don’t want to send her a text in the middle of her night – this time I am leaning on a different friend. She is also a writer, and I know that she gets ‘it’ – ‘it’ being the intangible, yet visceral pull that both compels and repels me. How’s that for some good wordplay? See, the contract has already started to work its magic.

Here ’tis:

Write (at least) 30 minutes a day, every day for 5 weeks
Only 4 ‘free’ days
Write my blog, my book, my book proposal, an insightful article for a magazine – you get the drift

The idea is that writing will stop being a chore, something that beckons me and then chews me up and spits me out, and become part of my normal everyday life – like working out, or checking Facebook, or helping to fund my barista’s retirement. thirty minutes a day – easy right? Write?? We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted, so to speak.

7th Heaven

September 1, 2013September 1, 2013sandybarker

This month Ben and I celebrate the 7th anniversary of our ‘meet cute’. Ours was a cute meeting, and we have retold it in various forms to an array of people over the years. If you know us, we have likely delighted (bored?) you with it at some point.

I am currently penning a (mostly) fictitious version of our meeting in novel form, but for those of you who don’t know us first-hand, we met on a dock in Santorini – yes the Greek island – just as we were about to board a 9-day sailing trip on a yacht throughout the Cyclades Islands. Feeling nauseous yet? Yeah, it is one of those wouldn’t-believe-it-if-it-didn’t-happen-to-me moments. Anyway, we both got off a cranky old bus filled with locals at the Vlychada marina on the southern coast of the island – just me and him – regarded each other for a moment and then introduced ourselves.

We became fast friends – as we did with the other 5 people on the trip – and spent a great deal of time talking while taking in the beauty of Greek island life. A week later, we went on a date – without our 5 new friends. Seven years later, we are living in a new city (Melbourne), where we moved after a 4-year stint in Seattle, with our cat, Lucy.

In honour of our seven years, here are 7 Things I Love About Ben in no particular order (yes, there are more, but I’m sticking with the theme!)

One: He is hilarious

He makes me laugh pretty much every day, and I’m talking about good ol’ belly laughs, and sometimes the kind of laughter where I don’t make any noise and I can’t breathe. His retorts are so quick, and our banter so witty, we’re like a Billy Wilder script. No, we really are that funny together!

Two: He is kind

He catches me when I fall. He looks out for me. He takes out the rubbish, ’cause I hate it. He answers my inane questions about technology over and over again, without making me feel like a dolt.

Three: He is smart

Like crazy smart. He knows about a lot of stuff – including some really obscure stuff – because he never stops learning. And, he is the most technologically-savvy person I have ever met. Plus he makes the best cocktails – Tom Cruise, step aside!

Four: He is adventurous and fun

The things that we have accomplished together, the places that we have gone, the cool things that we’ve done, the amazing people that we know, all of that is because Ben wants to live a life less ordinary.

Five: He takes charge of stuff I don’t want to take charge of

Like collecting and collating our wine collection, sourcing cool stuff to watch and listen to, and maintaining our household tech stuff.

Six: He sees me

I mean the real-deal me – the one who is imperfect, but a good match for him. He sees me and he lets me see him.

Seven: He strives and he encourages

We challenge and encourage each other to be bolder, better, kinder, smarter, more open, happier. We individually and collectively aim high (see #4).

P.S. He is so handsome, he takes my breath away

This one will embarrass him (sorry, Babe), but he is.

Happy 7th Anniversary, Ben! Can’t wait for the next 50!

I had the craziest dream last night

June 17, 2013June 17, 2013sandybarker

It’s a little-known made up statistic that 9/10 people who insist on telling you about the dream they had, start re-telling it with these seven dreaded words, seven words that would make even your mother cringe. Because the truth is, no one wants to hear about your dream, not even your mum. I know that inside your head, it’s a vivid, incredible collection of imagery, heightened feelings, and impossibilities, but you won’t be able to tell it well enough to convey even 1% (*) of what it felt like to dream it. No, really. You might have dreamt you’d been to Shangri-la and back again, and it still won’t make a good story.

That’s why I would like to publicly apologise to my significant other. This morning I regaled him with the particulars of a dream that left me so out of sorts, I woke up in a panicked state at 5:45 and couldn’t get back to sleep.

I mean it was a particularly crazy dream. My X-boyfriend was in it, except he had an afro (he’s white), and so was Kevin Smith – the director and podcaster. We were at some kind of festival up a mountain, where the staff were paid to sweep the snow. I didn’t like that we slept outside, or that I didn’t get to do any ablutions in the morning, or that I couldn’t get home before midnight that night. I also didn’t like not having my mobile phone with me, because I couldn’t tell anyone where I was. A former friend was there too, telling me about all the mistakes she had make at work, and apologising for being a crappy friend. Finally, I teed up a ride home with one of the snow-grooming help on his motorcycle. And then I woke up.

See? Boring, weird and enough to make my mother cringe.

Sweet dreams!

* Another made up statistic

NZ ’13

May 18, 2013May 19, 2013sandybarker

I was a lucky bugger and I won a trip – an all-expenses-paid trip – to New Zealand. 25 words or less on who I would take to NZ and why, and a couple of months later Ben and I were winging our way to Wellington. This is a retrospective of our 7 night, 8 day adventure along the New Zealand Classic Wine Trail. Kia Ora, New Zealand!!

We arrived in Wellington where it was a little windy and wet and the locals kept apologising for the weather. Settled in at the Wellesley Hotel rather quickly, we then made our way to the Te Papa museum for a private tour. At both places we were expected and were greeted with, “Are you Sandy and Ben?” We decided that we could get used to this treatment, which we received at many of the places on the rest of the trip – others seemed to have forgotten that we were coming (oops). Either way, though, the Kiwis are lovely and gracious people and we were generally treated like the rock stars that we think we are.

Te Papa, by the way, is phenomenal – NZ’s history, culture and natural wonders encapsulated in one impressive structure. I was particularly struck by the Colossal Squid exhibit.

The next morning, we drove north-east for about 4 hours to the Hawke’s Bay region.

The sun was high in the sky as we pulled into Ash Ridge winery for lunch – the first of MANY wineries.

After lunch it was into Napier, a town on Hawke’s Bay that was destroyed in 1931 by and earthquake and completely rebuilt. It has one of the world’s finest collections of Art Deco buildings and architecture. We were taken on a walking tour of the town by the Art Deco Society.

Back at their HQ, the Art Deco Society showed us a film about the town – with footage from the ’30s and gifted us with some souvenirs. How lovely!

The next day we were driven out to Cape Kidnapper’s to see the gannets. Actually, when we arrived at the appointed time, we waited (and waited) and finally decided to call our contact. Her immediate response when we said we had arrived for the gannet tour was, “But the gannets are gone!” Then she realised that we were “Sandy and Ben – the prize winners” and roused her hubby out of bed to drive us out there anyway.

We were on private property most of the way – it’s a working farm and golf course owned by an American billionaire. The views are ridiculous. And there were a few gannets waiting for us at the cape – the late bloomers who had yet to depart for the winter.

P1000251_edited-1 — This little guy kept a close eye on us.

After Cape Kidnapper’s (so-called because when Cook arrived, the Maoris mistook one of his crew, a Tahitian, for one of their own and kidnapped him. Cook and his crew got him back and sailed off around this cape and he named it at that time), we were due to collect bike for a 1/2-day ride, but instead we found Clearview winery.

We were greeted by a lovely lady who took us on a guided tour of their tasting menu and then deviated from it a few times. She and her partner had found a couple of unlabelled cases the day before – and ’00 cabernet and an ’02 cabernet-merlot – and she gave us a pour. Holy guacamole. She said she would price them while we had lunch – which we thoroughly enjoyed – and we bought a bottle of the ’02. Pricey, but we’ll save that for a special occasion.

We did end up grabbing the bikes for a couple of hours when we got back to Napier. We rode 8kms to the closest wineries – Mission Estate and Church Road – and bought a bottle from Church Road (a Riesling). It is easy to excuse yourself from buying when you’re on bikes. And it is a little harder than you might think to ride back into town after tasting at only two wineries – not that we were too tiddly, but after a few days of no exercise, lots of sitting and lots of wine, the body can protest a 40 minute bike ride (each way).

The next day we drove south, heading towards Greytown where we would have $100 to spend at Schoc chocolates.

At a place where the 75g bars are $11, this took less time than you might think, but we tasted our way through their menu too – and found some great selections. Dark chocolate rose – yum.

And on the way we saw some cool stuff, including 2 giant kiwis and a Viking (for Ben’s mum, who barracks for the Minnesota Vikings – and for Ben, who is descended from them).

We even met this little gal, at Loopline, one of the first wineries you will come to heading south on the 2, just before Greytown.

She rushed out to greet us at this beautiful place.

It has a simple tasting room, where you’ll meet the winemaker and his lovely dog, whose name we never caught. Still, we bought a bottle of their Riesling, because it was dry and delicious.

Into Martinborough, which is a lovely town reminiscent of small towns in the south-west of Australia, like Bridgetown, we were shown to a spectacular suite, which had an equally spectacular bathroom.

We just had a night there, and popped across the road to the local where we had great wine, and great food – and met the locals! Packing the next morning was a little tricky – we had a kilo of chocolate, 5 bottles of wine, we still had Marlborough to go, and we were getting on a ferry that afternoon.

We headed towards Wellington, and miscalculated the arrival time at the (not so) stunning ferry terminal, so got to spend 3 hours there. On the ferry we were treated to the executive lounge, and had a lovely late lunch and wine as we headed to Picton on the South Island. The views were rather gorgeous.

That night and the next we were at the Marlborough Vintner’s Hotel, where we woke up both mornings to stunning sunrises over the vineyards.

Our full day in Marlborough we were treated to a private winery tour, with our guide (other) Ben. He took us out to Cloudy Bay.

And then he took us to Cloudy Bay.

We got private tours and tastings at 6 wineries, and stopped for lunch at Wither Hills, where – again – we bought the Riesling. Seeing a trend??

The next day – my birthday – we returned via ferry to Wellington (back to the Wellesley), where we were greeted with champagne and a Devonshire Tea. Did someone mention it was my birthday? We decided to skip Zealandia, which was supposed to be our afternoon activity, but the weather was not great for an outdoor nature experience, and we really just wanted to go shopping. Wellington is a hip city, reminiscent in many ways of Seattle, although (sorry Seattle-ites) the Wellingtonians dress FAR better than the average Seattleite. The 40 and 50-somethings had the coolest style. Diggin’ the Kiwi vibe.

That night we decided on a cocktail (no more wine, please!!!) at Matterhorn and then dinner at Monsoon Poon. Both places gifted me with a complimentary cocktail (thanks!) and the salmon at Monsoon Poon was crazy good. We even got a massive booth, with some cool signatures lining the walls.

How’s that for a cross section of celebs? Sachin Tendulkar, Nora Jones, and Gordon Ramsay.

The next morning, we began the long journey home.

Thank you as always to my darling travel companion, Ben, with whom I row merrily.

Legends On Stage

April 30, 2013sandybarker

Today I saw Darth Vader and Jessica Fletcher – on stage together.

Well, not really, but I did see the matinee of Driving Miss Daisy starring two of the world’s most famous octogenarians. James Earl Jones, 82, and Angela Lansbury, 88, together for 90 splendid minutes.

They were joined by a 3-time Tony winning actor, Boyd Gaines, who held his own against this formidable pair – and a few times, stole the scene from them. Miss Lansbury was – at times – magical, even though she missed a few lines here and there. I was stunned to read afterwards that she is nearly 90! She’s so elegant and it was a lovely performance. I choked bad a quiet sob when she said, “Hoke, you’re my best friend,” and there were tears in my eyes in the final scene when he feeds her her pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving and she gives him the most loving smile.

And, Mr Jones – how incredible his performance was. Such a study in dichotomies – the man who is both humble and proud – the humour and the pathos of this wonderfully portrayed character.

At times the play itself leapt about – almost clunkily – it spans 25 years in 90 minutes, a one-acter, which means there are large chunks of their lives that are missed. I liked the simple staging, which mostly worked to tell the story, but at times the actors seemed rushed into the next scene with nary a moment to transition emotionally. Still, I laughed throughout – Jones’ and Gaines’ comic timing both incredibly sharp, and of course there were the few highly poignant moments.

It was someone else’s bad fortune that this ticket fell into my lap – and I am grateful to the friend who thought to pass it on to me. I hope your mum is better soon, Simonne. And please thank her again for me. I am completely amazed that I got to see two legendary actors on the stage.

What’s On My…

April 28, 2013April 28, 2013sandybarker

This blog post is inspired by Renée who was inspired by another, who was inspired by…it goes back a ways…

BATHROOM COUNTER: Pretty things in seafoam blue. And tissues. My dad taught me that you should never have to be more than 10 feet away from tissues in your home. Of course, the box is seafoam blue.

PERENNIAL TO DO LIST: Don’t drink on weeknights; get a job; go outside at least once a day.

REFRIGERATOR SHELVES: yoghurt, cheese, white wine, olives, eggs.

ITINERARY: New Zealand. I won a cool trip.

FANTASY ITINERARY: Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam and Laos for a month – with Ben.

PLAYLIST: My ‘work’ playlist is the Enigma Pandora station. My ‘play’ playlist at the moment is vintage Bowie.

NIGHTSTAND: The Passage (on my Kindle) and Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert (of Eat, Pray, Love fame. I barely got through the first part which described my greatest nightmare about being kept apart from your love because of immigration laws – but I do want to finish it). My silk eye-mask (get one – they are amazing!)

WORKOUT PLAN: Move every day – even if it is just to the grocery store (which is a km away and I walk and then bring everything home in a trolley – not one of the store’s trolleys – one we bought – and not a nana trolley – a cool one). Otherwise I spin, ride a bike, run or jump on the elliptical in our building’s gym.

Ipad: Draw Something, Reddit Pics, Facebook, FaceTime (with my fam in the UK) and gmail.

TOP 5 LIST: Hanging with my BF (Ben – best friend and boy friend); Lucy (weirdest cat in the world); riding all over Melbourne thanks to bike share; learning new stuff; possibilities!

BUCKET LIST: Retire from all other work because I am a published author – yeah, that’s it – I am doing everything else.

MIND: Making some $$ from the current cool projects I am working on AND our house-warming party next weekend.

WALLS OF YOUR FAVOURITE ROOM IN YOUR APARTMENT: I love our whole new place, but the ‘wall’ I love most is the glass one that overlooks the marina from our balcony – we call that our TV. People watching is super fun!

LIQUOR SHELF: Nothing. We need to stock up – hopefully our house-warming and an international trip will do the trick.

TV MOST NIGHTS: Ep after ep of our faves: Mad Men, Dexter, Buffy, Vicar of Dibley, Community. We have eclectic tastes. I just watched 8 eps back-to-back of Up All Night. LOVE it.

Gallipoli 1997

April 24, 2013April 25, 2020sandybarker

In 1997 (February) I was on Contiki’s European Training Trip. This is what I wrote about going to Gallipoli.

935617_10200756709741705_1627507760_n — Attaturk’s Memorial, Gallipoli, Turkey. With thanks to Patrice Andersen.

Leaving Greece we were on a pilgrimage – to Gallipoli. Most of us were antipodean and we were keen to see where our ANZACs had landed, fought and died, and to pay our respects with a brief service at one of the cemeteries.

Our coach was met by guide, an older Australian gentleman who led us through the displays at the visitor’s centre. I was antsy and wanted to get out in the fresh air to see the trenches and touch the grave markers. We loaded up and drove some way up a dirt track, stopping at the section of coast the soldiers should have set down on. I was struck by the silence. It was cool in the pale sunlight, the sky a milky blue, so different from the sky that had delivered storms the day before.

The water lapped the beach gently, no waves, no ocean sounds, no wind, just stillness, as though the ocean had been silenced along with those who lost their lives. I stared down into the clear water, only inches deep, and saw a smooth, snow white rock. I reached into the cold water and collected it; it fit perfectly in my closed fist. I remember wondering if it was illegal to take from the beach at Gallipoli. Probably. Selfishly I pocketed the rock.

The next stop further along the trail was a monument, one of dozens. However, this monument would stand alone in my mind from then on. It testified of the great mutual respect felt between the two warring sides during the battles of Gallipoli, and the eventual alliance that formed between them. This monument left me speechless. It was erected by Attaturk, and it is engraved with his words:

Those heroes who shed their blood and lost their lives,

You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country.

Therefore, rest in peace.

There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lay

Side by side, here in this country of ours.

To the mothers who sent their sons from far away countries,

Wipe away your tears.

Your sons are now lying in our bosom

And are in peace.

After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

We wound our way up the hill, passing trenches left open for nearly 9 decades, gaping holes the reminders of lost lives. At the top of the hill we stopped at one of the cemeteries, populated by Aussie diggers – most of whom were barely post-pubescent. We walked the rows of grave markers, the lawns were trimmed, small shrubs well attended. The ANZAC monument gleamed in the morning sun. Our heads were bowed to the markers as we stopped and read selected epitaphs.

It was numbing to imagine the young men, terrified, landing on the beach in darkness, met with bombardment. I know that many of us were replaying that final scene from the film “Gallipoli” in our minds, realising the futility of the ANZAC and British assault as we stood upon the terrain.

I stopped in front of one grave marker, its message burning on my brain, “To see you just once again, to shake your hand and say ‘well done’”. I turned, the tears that ran silently became a sob, and buried my face in a friend’s chest. He put his arms around me and hugged me tightly.

We laid a wreath and listened to “The Last Post” played on a portable tape player. One of us spoke, eloquently, a kind of prayer. “Lest we forget.” I touched the rock in my pocket, washed clean of any blood that may have marred its pure surface 90 years before. Such brave men and boys. I had never been so proud to be an Australian.

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