14 Sept 2010

Foreign Objects (travel anecdote)

I could see she was sipping a tin cup of Chai Tea; its steam rising into the air as she blew across the surface and created waves that any surfer would envy. I salivated at the sight of the tea. It was all we drank on our expedition through the foothills of the Himalayas. A sweet aromatic scent was coming from the stone tea house sitting alone on the edge of this part of the mountains looking out into a brilliant valley of yellow and green canola terraces. Sipping Chai tea was like the nectar of heaven for me, with its fusion of cardamon, cinnamon, cloves, fennel, bay leaves, ginger, honey, brown sugar and milk combined melodically through the warmth of a wood fire.

She doesn’t speak a word of English. Jade eyes like the rushing Karnali River, a silver stud reflects light from the right side of her nose. Her auburn black hair is twisted tightly into a plait and twirled into a bun on the back of her head. Vivid turquoise, purple, yellow, red and navy flowers and birds and curvaceous patterns twist all over her sari and around her body. A marone circle sits symmetrically between her eyebrows signifying her righteous piety, and either that she is married or a modern Hindu woman who wears the symbol nevertheless.

From looking at her relaxed gait one can see these mountains are her home. She knows every crack, crevice and rock from here to Joktapur. She is relaxed and seems to me to look like any 20 year old enjoying the sun and not thinking about anything in particular. She flashes us a white waterfall smile.

After three days on the Anapurna Circuit I was bewitched by this place. A light mist had fallen over me, like the mists you can see shrouding Everest when you fly past it for the first time. A Himalayan spell of dirt tiered mountains, jagged rock edges framed by deep blue and white above, mountain streams no longer breathing but frozen in ice beauty, monkeys chattering and following us through the dense darkness of majestic trees in forests that reminds me of Tolkien.

Our guide Prakash chats to the girl in Nepalese. She giggles but does not make eye contact with him. We sit down on the rock cut chair. In the distance, two parkers can be seen advancing on us. A red and a navy parker, two dark beanies, two sets of hiking boots and two walking prods striding in strong, and determined motion. Prakash leans over to me and says:

“The girl told me ‘they’,” he points to the oncoming travelers, “are German and are how you say, “rude,” rude to her family at their lodge,” he whispers.

“Oh, that’s no good.” I say to him.

The girl nods towards me and smiles. She obviously recognizes their mannerisms and stride. As the two continue, they keep their pace up, rhythmical and rigid. When they get closer the man says, “allo,” and I say, “hello” and the others nod towards him.

Winter in Nepal, icicles jut out of caves, chasms and over rocks, and freezes waterfalls; but it won’t deter these people. They are going to conquer this land and are not going to slow down or alter their paths. A stubborn blindness to the magnificent Himalayas and the medieval culture around them is evident. Nothing will distract them from their course. It is as if a mental checklist is being ticked off with every squelch of their walking sticks into the ground.

As they come nearer something else becomes obvious to us, but not to them. They do not look at us as they approach, but smile impersonally, looking off at some imaginary point straight ahead. We try to look away but find ourselves drawn back, like when you see a large hairy wart on someone’s face. But this was clear and rigid, sticking straight down from their noses to their top lips as direct as the path they have set for themselves. Four frozen phlegm stalactites from their noses to their top lips transform them into figures on the stage of a Divine comedy. I suppress my laughter and so does Jasmine, my traveling companion. The Nepalese girl puts her hand over mouth.

Onward they march, no breaks for these troopers. When they disappear over the slope the four of us roar with laughter. Our Nepalese friend laughs long after we stop. I wonder if she sees it as some kind of Divine retribution towards these people; moving through her mountains with an arrogance and entitlement not unlike European explorers in Africa.

21 Aug 2010

Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert

I am not a travel memoir reader, but this is a journey-book, of as the cliched term describes it "self discovery." Though I do not see the world exactly as she does, (and who ever does anyway?) I have found many parallels to myself in her personality and how she experiences everything. She is entertaining and funny. Sometimes she seems too American but mostly her nationality is not obvious. In our lives there are a few uncanny similarities that I wont share now cause it would be too personal. I think I will share some quotes I love on the another post. I love books where you laugh out loud and I love it when I have written in the past something that made people laugh out loud, it gives me so much satisfaction and pleasure.

11 Jul 2010

Poem that received a Highly Commended award in the WARM Writing Competition 2010

This poem expressed my emotions following the death of a close friend. As I have said before I do not consider myself a poet, however at the moment, poetry is all I am writing.

Breath

Breath is all that separates,
Me from you,
Now…
So often lately,
I have to remind myself to exhale,
My torso holding my breath in,
Like an unconscious desire,
I have to tell my body to release the air,
Let it escape there.

Cause deep down I know,
It is this simple thing,
These air vapours passing across my tongue,
They are all
That separates me from you.

You lay on the road,
Your life was going,
That day I became breathless,
For no real reason,
But now I know why,
Cause you were leaving,
My body knew.

And now I remind myself,
Breathe, Sue,
Breathe…
Cause sometimes somewhere deep,
I must remember,
It’s the only thing separating me from you.

9 Jul 2010

Film and Television

Hey there!

In a couple of weeks I am going to embark on another subject at QUT, film and television script writing. It should be good and interesting to see how to write this type of work. I hope I can come up with a good idea for a 15 minute drama script. If anyone has done film script writing please feel free to leave any comments on here. I know that with other subjects in the post grad Creative Industries area it is best to prepare yourself with an idea before you start the subject. Notoriously, I usually have an idea but wish to think of something new, this is not always a good strategy. : )

I am trying to be more prepared this time. Regardless of this I am excited to do this subject. I am moving house again, I cannot believe it. But after I have moved I hope my life can get into some kind of groove, as they say.

So if you have anything to share about script writing, feel free. Until next post. Happy writing or happy experimenting. : )

19 Jun 2010

Highly Commended Poem in the Sunshine Coast Literary Association Competition

Hi there,

I received a Highly Commended Award for a poem I entered in the Sunshine Coast Literary Association Awards 2010. I like this poem because it expressed how I felt in the weeks after my close friend died.

It is just nice to have received some recognition for my writing, as we all send out stories or poems, or other items and may not always be accepted. It is nice sometimes to receive something in recognition of our work. Thanks for being here.

30 Apr 2010

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Competitions and Blogger

Hello there, I am not sure what is happening with Blogger but I am hoping my blog wont die in the next few days...

Anyway, I am currently trying to select some poems and maybe a story to send into a competition. I think it is good to just keep sending things into the universe and see what happens with them... : )

I am going to write a post on a novellas and I am also going to run some writing workshops for beginners. If anyone is particularly interested they can email me about it. I am running a writing therapy course for four weeks coming up in May. Writing Therapy - I call it Expressive Writing, is a superb way to release any emotions, memories or things that are holding us captive. I will post more about this later.

I thought maybe I should simply put something up on here, as I haven't communicated on here for so long.

Thanks so much for reading. I love having visitors.