Nerping

My family nerped while I was growing up. No you won't find it in the Oxford or Macquarie Dictionaries. But it should be. Here's my definition of a nerp.

To take a different route instead of the usual

To choose to take the back road not the highway

To keep your eyes and ears open for surprises

To always keep an open mind 

To change the routine of the day to give yourself a 'jolt'

To share the finds of the nerp

Anyway I think you've got the picture. My father was a great nerper! I suspect he had a PHD in Nerping! His nerp often entailed driving home from the office a different way as often as possible. And if he saw something of interest we were bundled in the car to go and see it. It might be a gate, it might be a rose in bloom, it might be a drive to the hills to look over Adelaide as the lights were coming on (described by my grandmother as her jewel box). It might be the Christmas lights on a house, it might be - well I could go on. See what I mean?

It also entailed my mother setting up dinner in a different room of the house (with a different view). It was about change and jolting the routine."Where will we eat tonight?" The kitchen, dining room, sun room, sitting room overlooking the city, living room in front of the fire, on the balcony, in the garden. If there wasn't a table nearby (not often!) then a fold out table (remember the old bridge table?) would be produced - and decorated! The choices were - and are - everywhere - if you choose to look. Even in a small apartment it's amazing how sitting in another chair at the table gives you a different perspective on the room. Try it. You won't regret it. And it's fun. 

The Edge of the World - Dee Jones

Now Dee Jones in the above painting was probably not a nerper. She described the reason for painting The Edge of the World (one of my favourites and the one most commented on in my picture-laden-home) as the security you feel as a child inside the gate of your garden and the unknown once you step outside.

Growing up I thought nerping was the norm and that everyone did it. It's time it went into the dictionary of life. Nerping will enrich your life. I guarantee it! As I say in my welcome to my Musings: 

The world is full of hidden gems. 

The more you look, the more you see. 

The more you see, the more you look!

Did your family nerp or do something like it? Are you going to give it a go? I hope so! I'm off for a nerp now! 

Fairyland on the Ayeyarwady

In an earlier post in May (see here) I talked about a very special event that took place while on the Road to Mandalay cruise during my stay in Myanmar.

And then one evening the crew had a special surprise for those who waited up till nightfall around 9.30 p.m. (not everyone!) Thousands - and I mean thousands - of candles floated silently down the river towards us. Tightly packed and taking up the entire expanse of the river it was an awe-inspiring sight. It was such a moving experience that my camera 'blew up'! The silence on board was amazing. So you will just have to imagine it. It was one of those unforgetable moments in time. The piece de resistance! And I missed recording it!

 

From the darkness came the light/s

Well finally I have tracked down some photos from my friend who had travelled on an earlier cruise (the same friend who described her single cabin as a cupboard - albeit a glorified one!)  

Fairyland dispersing around the boat

It's hard to explain how beautiful it was. A balmy night, silence on the river, silence on the boat. The breeze and the river in control. The wonder of it all. 

Memories.

 

Thank you Helen.

Preserving olives

Life seems to have come full circle for me. I grew up in part of an old olive grove in suburban Adelaide and in those days olives were hardly for eating by Aussies. It was the immigrants who had arrived from Greece and Italy after the war who lusted after them and seemed to know what to do with them. Every year they would come a-knocking on our door and my father would agree to allow them to harvest - albeit with certain rules. It was not about the olives - they could have as many as they wanted! It was not about sharing their finished products with us - it never occurred to us to ask! No it was about them agreeing not to damage the precious rose gardens nearby! Of course every year we would watch as they spread their tarpaulins under the trees and beat the olives onto the ground. And dare I say stomped on the rose gardens in their excitement to gather the prodigious crops. And yet every year my father would agree to another group (whoever knocked first!) taking the olives in the hope that maybe, just maybe, this year the roses would be respected. They never were!

My pleached olive hedge

And so over the years the gnarled old olives continued to bring joy to all - but us. Until one day many years later I moved to my current home in inner urban Melbourne with its tiny garden and what did I plant? Olive trees. And every other year (well I had a few this year but...) these two 10 year old trees bare an abundance of fruit. By this time I had 'got the taste' for olives and thought I would preserve them. After all we were coming into the new and fashionable 'hunter gatherer' period. Well I have tried the Biblical 'change the salt water ever day for 40 days and 40 nights' - ridiculous, I've hung them in coarse sea salt in hessian bags in my garage watching them drip their juice on the floor and been unable to eat them. In fact I've tried a million recipes - even one where the amount of salt should float an egg (?!) but I've finally been given the easiest recipe ever. 

Only one measly jar of olives this year

As this was a (very) lean year for my olives a friend delivered a bucket load the other night. She has so many and didn't know what to do with them (a regular plea from so many I know) - so here we go!

A nearly full bucket load of olives delivered to my door

THE EASIEST OLIVE RECIPE 

(let me know if you have a better one!)

The brine solution: 125 gms cooking salt dissolved in 4 cups water

BLACK OLIVES

1. place olives in a glass jar and cover with mixture of 3 cups brine solution and one cup malt vinegar

2. carefully pour a light film of cooking oil over surface of brine and vinegar

3. screw lids on jars and store in cool dark place for 3 months

They can be use straight from the brine or if they are too salty soak them in water for 24 hours 

Then get creative by adding herbs/spices and oil

GREEN OLIVES

1. place olives in a glass bowl and cover with water

2. place clean cloth and plate on top of olives to ensure they remain completely submerged

3. change the water every day for 5 days (not 40 days and 40 nights!)

3. drain olives and pack into glass jars and cover with mixture of 3 cups brine solution and 1 cup white vinegar

4. carefully pour a light film of cooking oil over the surface

5. screw on lids and store in a cool dark place for 2-3 months before using

Then get creative by adding herbs/spices and oil

One bucket load of olives off to the cupboard for 3 months!

So if you've been scared to 'have a go' at preserving olives then be brave and try. You might surprise yourself! And it's fun to offer your own to friends.

Gurrumul and Delta

Recently on the TV programme The Voice (yes I watch it occasionally - shock horror!) the extraordinarily talented indigenous singer Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu joined one of the judges - the beautiful Delta Goodrem - to promote Reconciliation Week with a duet Bayini. If you haven't heard them singing this soul-stirring performance then get ready to be 'blown away'.

Yellow is the colour of reconciliation

His critically acclaimed multi-award winning solo album Gurrumul is an absolute must have - either in CD form or downloaded from ITunes (I'm an android gal myself!). The duet Bayini is also available on ITunes and proceeds from the sales will go to the Gurrumul Yunupingu Foundation investing in youth programmes in Arnhemland. 

Gurrumul album cover

Gurrumul was born in 1970 at Galiwin'ku off the coast of Arnhem Land 600 kilometres from Darwin. Born blind he only speaks a few words of English. Extremely shy, he sings hauntingly beautiful stories of his land in both his native language Yolngu and English. 

With the announcement of the untimely death this week of the former lead singer of indigenous rock group Yothu Yindi, of which Gurrumul was a former member, the renowned former Australian of the Year Mr Yunupingu (neither his visage nor his first name are mentioned here in respect to the tradition of his people - unlike many newspapers and television channels who showed no respect to these traditions - shocking) reminds us of how far we still need to travel with reconciliation in this country.   

Take your time 

Remove any pre-conceived thoughts

Relax

Breathe deeply

And go for the ride

(Hang in through the ever compulsory advertisement) 

To hear them singing just click on this link

You won't regret it

I bet you get goose bumps!

Old world meets new world - the things we take for granted

I was puzzled by my guides in Myanmar. Sometimes they spoke good English and yet at other times it was totally baffling and I couldn't understand a thing. That was until it was explained to me that they learn to read English but not to speak it. So although my wonderful young guide Ye min at Inle Lake read 600 page English novels voraciously as we swooshed along on the lake (also singing lovely English songs - were they love songs to me?!) his pronunciation of English sometimes left me scratching my head. I'll give you a simple example (although it's hard to explain):

"Here is the eer mumble mumble th" Ye min said.
After many repeats and head scratching from me I asked him to show me what he meant. 

"Ah ha" I said "earth. Now you say earth". 

Ye min replied "eer mumble mumble th". (see why it's hard to explain!). 

Well this went on for 24 hours with him practicing like mad to say earth!! 

Eventually I asked him to say "birth" He replied perfectly "birth". Now say "irth" I said. 

He replied perfectly "Irth - but it is spelt ear..th". (yes it is!) "Oh English is so hard".

Secondhand books, books and more books

Walking through the streets of Yangon I saw many second hand bookstores selling very old English (and other language) novels, school books, magazines and old newspapers etc. It seems that there is a voracious appetite for reading and learning. And then I saw school books being made by hand right on the street. No printing presses or the like. Just a simple collation of (poor) photocopies, hand stitched and bound. 

On the street book making

Sewing and binding the pages

And so to another conundrum!
My guide couldn't understand why I would need a credit card. Travellers are warned that Visa and Mastercard are accepted in very few hotels and shops and there are no ATM's in Myanmar.  Only local currency (kyats) and crisp new US dollars are acceptable. That means one needs to lug small denominations of US$ for all purchases, tips etc. It felt both unsafe and inconvenient. 

My camera needed replacing (certainly not budgeted for in the cash I was carrying!). I hadn't seen the point of taking my smart phone as one can't make international calls to and from Myanmar. But it would have been a great back-up camera! C'est la vie! Ye min generously offered to lend me the money until the next day! How kind but I was stuck of course as I couldn't repay him the next day!! And then his face lit up! (as it often did!) "We have a new ATM in my town and we'll be there tomorrow. We can go there and you can get your money". Imagine my combined relief and trepidation! And so we went on an adventure with my heart in my mouth. Would the card be gobbled up never to be seen again! Ye min and I both entered the sparkling new 3-sides-of-glass stand-alone ATM (no privacy here!).  Surprisingly all went smoothly (with Ye min watching my every move - including my pin number!) and then before you could say 'Jack Robinson' out popped the money with that all familiar burring noise (local currency of course less a large 'commission'). I will never forget Ye min's eyes! They were as large as saucers:

Where was the teller? 

How could that happen? 

How could 'it' count the money that fast (and deduct a fee at the same time!)? 

(rather like a child thinking the newsreader sat behind the TV - way back in the late 50's!) 

"I want one of those credit cards" he said

And then we discussed my Kindle. "Inside this Kindle I have 55 books". 

Eyes wide again - as he turned it over to see where they were!

"I want one of those" he said

"But until you have a credit card you can't buy the books" I replied.
What a catch-22.

And then I explained that by the time I had finished ordering a book on the Kindle it was already downloaded  and my credit card debited from America. It was almost too much.

The eternally happy, learned and helpful Ye min. A great guide (don't look at the food - Western-style with appauling Burma belly results)

And yet he had a smarter smart phone than I did. But only to make local calls. Still I hope it won't take long till they catch up - and probably pass us! But in the meantime it's a great reminder of how easy life is when you have a credit card (too easy sometimes!) and that all the world is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year! 

Turner from the Tate - Downunder!

It's almost as though paintings need to 'earn their keep' these days. They seem to be moved around the world at will - in great secrecy for security reasons - and at great cost! But what opportunities we have when a 'shipment' comes to town. Suddenly the world seems a little smaller and a lot more exciting!

Peace - Burial at Sea - 1842

I popped over to my home town Adelaide recently for a 30th birthday celebration (being more than twice that age I hasten to add, it was sadly not mine!) And the bonus addition to the trip - other than seeing special friends - was a visit to the charming Art Gallery of South Australia which was hosting (is that the word) a marvellous collection of 100 works of art from the Tate Collection of J.M.W. Turner (1775 – 1851), one of Britain's greatest artists. Some of the works have never been previously exhibited.

A disaster at sea

The exhibition closed in Adelaide on 19 May but in true 'earning their keep' it is now on its way to the National Gallery of Australia in Canberra (1 June - 8 September). A timely weekend in Adelaide gave me an opportunity too good to miss. We headed in for a quick overview of the exhibition, before having lunch at the trendy Gallery Cafe and then returning to the exhibition for an indepth look with a Gallery Guide. We didn't miss a thing! His sketchbooks, paints and notes gave it an intimate air.

Venice - The Bridge of Sighs - 1840

I always remember my favourite 'Aunt', who hailed from England, talking about Turner and his skies.  I used to spend time with 'him' in the late 60's (that dates me) at the Tate so it was almost like visiting a friend - albeit with many paintings I hadn't seen before - in Adelaide. His oils were wonderful but it was his watercolours which 'blew me away' this time. They seem to have such spontaneity and a lightness of touch. They were achingly beautiful.

Venice, Moonrise - 1840

Scarborough town and castle: morning: boys catching crabs - 1810

Recently I received a blog on John Singer Sargent watercolours at the Brooklyn Museum . Sargent (1856 – 1925) was an American artist, considered by many to be the leading portrait painter of his generation. The exhibition closes 28 July or you can visit the exhibition in Boston in October. It seems I'm drawn to watercolours in ways that surprise. They have the gentle touch.

Sargent - Venice

If I was to compare the two then Turner wins by a short half head! Well probably a furlong! Do you agree? Whatever you do try to get to Turner in Canberra later in the year. And of course if you're in the States why not visit either Brooklyn or Boston. Aren't we lucky.

Roses are red....

I was fortunate to grow up in a home with a large and wonderful garden - much of it comprising my parents beloved rose gardens. I guess I took both the garden and the roses a little for granted - as you do when growing up - when it just seems to be the 'way it is'. Our home was always filled with large vases of beautifully arranged roses and towards the end of 'rose season' I remember my father raising his eyebrows (bushy) every time my mother said "This is the last of the roses". Somehow we knew that she would always manage to find the odd one or more in the garden for months until rose pruning time. Then it really was 'the last of the roses' for a while.

Heavenly

Spending a weekend recently in the country I was delighted to walk in my friends garden. The roses were blooming, the smells were delicious. It brought back so many memories. I couldn't wait to clip a few stems to bring home to enjoy and reminisce. 

More beautiful

Home grown roses are so much more enjoyable than a bunch purchased from the florist. Firstly they smell! Secondly they aren't tight buds. They have a softness to them that one never seems to get when buying.

In the bucket ready to travel home

What a delight it has been to have them in the house. It's reminded me of the past and how much I should have appreciated 'the last of the roses'.

Soft soft soft

There's something about roses that brings out the romantic in me. Do they do the same for you?

Nature at her best

And who wouldn't want to wake up to this by the bed in the morning - uplifting. Such a great start to the day.

Good morning to you!

 I think I can feel some rose planting coming on!