Something Fishy at the Fish markets.

When friends recently suggested a trip to the Sydney fish markets I was filled with joy. I have the pleasure of visiting the fish markets often through the year and it is always a fun and interesting experience. It is such a dynamic place despite the hardships involved. The crush of people, the smell of the fish, the search for a place to sit, finding a drink and then defending it all from the ravenous sea gulls, while watching some “want-to-be captain” reverse park his boat into a spot that’s way too small for it. It all adds up to a fun afternoon next to the water, but talking with friends in the hot afternoon sun, a few bottles of wine or a few cold beers all the hardships are soon forgotten, it is one of Sydney’s great Sunday afternoons. In fact a trip to the fish markets almost has a primordial experience about it it’s like making a connection with a time when we were hunter gatherers, when people had to go out and catch a meal. 

I meet my friends in the city and I eagerly walked the short distance from the city to the markets with friends in tow anticipating the pleasant afternoon ahead, I almost outpaced them in my enthusiasm to get there. Imagine my horror as I arrive at the markets to be directed by my friends to one of the new café style establishments on the perimeter of the markets to buy my fish. As I walked among the aluminium chairs, pushing past gormless people gazing trance like at the pre-prepared food in the bain-maries I could feel my joy being sucked out of me. There was no hunter gather experience there was no selecting my fish from the ice filled counters, there was not even any challenge in finding a seat and there was certainly no water view. A trip to the markets had become a “shopping center  experience it was so “convenient”. I could be sitting inside any café in any shopping center in Sydney. I looked out over the sea of cars driving up and down trying to park it was as if my life had been taken over by convenience. Everything was convenient, the car park was convenient, and the food was convenient, the tables and chairs were convenient, even the wide screen TV showing a sport was conveniently positioned; in fact I didn't even need to leave the café to buy a beer it was all right there, conveniently.

As I sat in this air conditioned convenience with my overcooked battered fish swimming in hot oil sipping my tepid beer I could only envy the people down next to the water in the hot afternoon sun, warm wine in hand searching for a seat covered in sea gull deposits, sea food balanced precariously on a tray, pushing past the sweaty masses. There was only one thing to do. Hey mate! Get me another beer while you’re up will you? I don’t want to miss this guy trying to reverse park his car into that tiny, little parking spot.

My 3 rules in life.

Rule 1. Live your life in such a way that you can honestly look back and say you did your best, had joy in your life and brought help and happiness to those around you without harming anyone.

Rule 2. Don’t worry what anyone else thinks of the way you live your life. The way you live your life is between you and your God, if you believe. If you do believe then God gave no person the ability to look into your heart nor did God give any person the right or authority to pass judgment on you.

Rule 3. follow rule 1 the rest will look after itself.

If Only we were all able to keep rule one.

To Go or Not To Go? That is the question?

There are a few things that you just know are important: a drink of cool water on a hot day and a toilet when you really need one.

I think it is probably a common fear for all of us at some point in our lives, needing a toilet and not being able to find one. I spent may years working in out back Australia and it was not un common for me to drive 10 hours plus to reach a destination and should the need arrive that you needed to make a “pit stop” I would just pull over and “take a break” if you know what I mean. In fact I became very proficient at crafting conveniences out of old bushes, branches, stumps and forks in trees when you needed to make a stop for number “two’s”. The great thing about the out back is that I could often drive for many hours and not even pass another car let alone bump into another person so stopping and taking a break was not much of an issue. I would have said in fact that there was not much that fazed me when it came to the call of nature in this regard because lets face it when you need to go you need to go and there is a whole lot of land out there in the outback. Unfortunately the same can not be said for large cities and when the call of nature can be felt deep in the “bowels” of the city finding that elusive public loo takes on a who new meaning.

I had the great pleasure of traveling through the western districts of China a few years ago and we had traveled to Xi’an to visit the Terracotta Soldiers. For anyone who has ever contemplated the incredible monument to human endeavor that is Terracotta army I can tell you nothing prepares you for the incredible sight of the row upon row of soldiers standing in an area covered by 3 aircraft hanger size sheds it is truly one of the most amazing things I have seen. Every man is different from the other and includes horses, chariots and it is only a part of the total site that includes still more buried armies. The other great thing about visiting a place like China is the food. If you think you know about Chinese food wait till you go to the home of Chinese food. I would have to say that it is as astounding as it is confronting. I don’t mind trying new things and when confronted with the prospect of trying dog I did not flinch when it came to cold cuts of donkey meat I had a go. However there are a few things that I know are not going to work and one of them is shellfish. From experience no matter how it is cooked or how it is prepared I just know me and shellfish just don’t mix. For some with an allergy to shellfish the reaction can be as simple as coming out in spots but in its worst form it can restrict breathing and actually be life threatening. Thankfully for me my allergy is not life threatening but the reaction is violent. I know that when I do get a little taste of an offending sea creature the bodily response is not good and a bathroom is a necessity.

I had been in China for about 2 weeks and had managed to try just about everything and avoid any hint of shellfish, not bad for a country that just loves sea food. I had one day and one night to go before my flight back to Australia. We had decided to spend the last day at the Xi’an markets and do a bit of last minute shopping. The markets cover about 2 city blocks and are made up of food stalls as well as shops containing every conceivable object known to man and or woman. As we wandered around the stalls in a crush of relentless human activity we thought we should stop for lunch. Now there is another good thing about traveling in China and that is when you want to have a good feed of Chinese you don’t need to find China Town…. You’re standing in it. Interestingly every little district or place you go has its own particular style of food and in this particular part of Xi’an it was a kind of soup cooked on the table in front of you as you eat it. It comes with a soup base in a clay pot that is put on a small gas fire in front of you and then you chose the food you would like to add and as you cook you eat from the boiling pot of soup. The people I was traveling with went to great lengths to explain to the rather cute waitress that I could not eat shellfish so I was relieved to see that my selection of food when it arrived at our table was made up of meat of unknown origin but definitely not sea food and vegetables of equally unknown origin but defiantly not sea food. It was a wonderful meal with the aroma of the soup and the wonderful smells of the different combinations cooking swirling around us. At the end of the meal the remaining soup is poured into a little bowl and you finish it off with a cup of green tea.

You could imagine my surprise then when as the soup was poured into my cup a flurry of little prawns flowed into my cup. I instantly looked at my friends, my head turning to look at them and they instantly looked at the waitress (who now took on the appearance of a serial killer to me) with a look of horror and she said with a smile “no sea food, just in soup!” The sky around me suddenly grew dark as a hundred scenarios ran through my mind. It was my last day in China how could this happen? Determined not to let it spoil the rest of our day I took the courageous decision to ignore it but deep down I knew it was just a matter of time. Like a time bomb primed and ready to go off I know what was about to happen. For the next half hour we continued to walk around but I could not concentrate on the shops no matter how I tried. I just could not ignore the tide welling up inside me. I found myself thinking about the distance from my bum to the nearest toilet and that was the best I could hope for as I knew only too well that it often came up as well as come out.

It began slowly at first but just like a dam wall with a small crack I know something is about to give. It came on as a cold sweat at first and then the inevitable growling in the lower bowel; I knew it was on for young and old. I look at my friend and I said in a calm but cold tone I need a toilet and I need it NOWWW! It was right then just as the nowwwww was leaving my lips that I saw it. It was a low concrete and brick building at the far end of the street somehow inconspicuous but quite obvious now, my salvation. As I start to walk towards it I realise that I am walking like a speed walker in the Olympics and before I know it I have broken into a trot in my attempt to avoid the trots. I now break into a fully-fledged run and as I enter the building and peer through the dark humid air as wave of relief rushes over me. I turn into a small corridor of cubicles and a wave of dense stench so thick you could hardly see through it replaces the wave of relief. My first thought is thank god western toilets. I go to the first door and it is locked. I move to the second but it is occupied, that’s fine no need to panic. The third is clearly out of order as indicated by the precious white porcelain bowl scattered in pieces on the floor. This leads me to the last remaining cubical and I knew in an instant that without a door it was bound to be a simple hole in the floor but at this point I was beyond care. As I turned into the cubical I was confronted with a sight so horrendous that I almost lost not only lunch but a good part of all my bodily fluids all at once.

There before me was a pyramid, no a cone of excrement so high protruding from the floor that I don't think I could have stood over it where visitor after visitor had contributed to this new monument of Xi'an. I stood in silence; the world stopped the sounds of a million people silent and the darkness almost pressing against my skin. I begin to slowly walk backwards from the cubical my eyes fixed to this “other” monument of human endeavor. It was like looking at a car crash that you know you don’t want to see but you just can’t help yourself. I continue walking backwards pushing past people on the way in, one who seems intent on going into the cubical I had just left. As I walk back into the street the light hurting my eyes the sound of someone calling me brings me back to the present and the realization that I still need a toilet. Just as I begin to give up all hope and come to terms with the fact that I am about to say goodbye to my dignity and lunch a taxi pulls up right in front of me. I reach in and pull the bemused people from the car and collapse into the back seat and cry out the name of my hotel in the best Chinglish I can while clenching my butt cheeks together and as I sit up grasping the startled driver by the collar I look into his eyes with a cold dead stare and I simply say FAST!

A Haunting Experience at Port Arthur

Have you ever seen a ghost? Unfortunately I am one of those people who have never had a convincing experience to make me believe. I do have a few friends who believe in ghosts but have never seen one and a few who believe they have seen one. Why do some experience these things and others don’t.

I am not saying that I have not had creepy things happen to me or thought for a moment that I was witnessing something supernatural. I have had conversations with people who say they have seen a ghost or experienced a supernatural event and I have come across common expressions in the stories. One of the most common reactions is “I just froze” or “I was so scared I couldn’t move” or another reaction is “I ran out of there so fast”. So why do some of us have these experiences and others not? I think one explanation is in the way you react to the experience. The human mind is a lot like a computer it can have valid information put into it but it is not interpreted incorrectly due to the circumstances surrounding the experience. I must admit my first reaction is not to stand and wonder or run in fear but confront what I am experiencing and find an explanation for what I am witnessing. I am not saying I am not afraid as it is only natural to frightened but I want to know what it is that I am witnessing. This was demonstrated to me in a very practical way a few years ago while on holiday in Tasmania. The person I was traveling with is someone who believes she has experienced a supernatural event and seen a ghost so when booking accommodation my attention was drawn to a particular establishment that was haunted- I booked it.

The main part of the house was once the residence for the commanding office of an outpost of troops who guarded a small group of convicts. The convicts managed government stores not far from Port Arthur. The little port was the public landing point for settlers moving into the Port Arthur area. As you can imagine the stories of brutality and hardship of the Port Arthur convicts make the location perfect for a ghost story and with the added murder of a convict in store room of the house the property had gained a reputation in the local area as a haunted house long before it was converted to a B&B. The home has been beautifully restored without loosing any of its original character and is situated right on the waters edge with no development around. I could imagine that it must look pretty much how it would have looked over 150 years ago. Our room, once the office of the original home was simple but decorated tastefully with a view out over the water.

We had decided to do the ghost tour at the Port Arthur historical site and we were bitterly disappointed to find that the tour was far more theatrical than historical and not very scary. It was however a fun night and did not get back to the B&B until after 11pm. As we drove into the parking area the lights were off in the house. After fumbling in the dark to let ourselves in we managed to find our room in the dark after taking a few wrong turns, one into the kitchen and one into the original store room that we were told earlier in the day was the most haunted room in the house. After making it to our room m we turned on the lights, had a shower, threw out cloths on to a wooden chair next to the bed and got into bed. It was a particularly dark night with only fingernail moon, low cloud and a strong breeze blowing, it probably made it a little more atmospheric than it might have other wise been.

Soon after getting into bed and drifting off to sleep I was suddenly woken by my friend with an elbow in my back. Can you hear that? She whispered slowly to me. Not being awake and still in a dream I ignored her and turned over and told her to go back to sleep. What seemed like a split second later, but was soon to find was more than an hour I was again woken with an elbow in the back but the whisper in my ear this time was far more fearful and panicked. Can you here that? A bit more alert this time I asked what she could hear. There is some one sitting in the chair next to the bed and he has been there for about an hour. The chair we had put our cloths on was next to her side of the bed and as she drew herself closer to me and further way from the chair I was pushed to the edge of the bed so I turned the bed side light on. I asked her had she seen something and she described the sound of the wooden chair creaking as some one sat in it and that she thought she saw someone when she first heard the sound. After reassuring her that there was no one in the room I turned off the light and drifted back off to sleep.

It was not long till I was woken by her literally pushing me out of the bed and yelling that there was a man sitting in the chair next to her. Gaining my bearings and having been pushed out of the bed anyway I turned the main room light on. By this time she was bordering on tears and begged me to check the room again. After looking in the wardrobe and in the hall out side I told her to swap sides and I would sleep on her side of the bed if it would make her feel better. Before she could say yes she was back in the bed and huddled under the sheets. I turned the lights off and got into bed. Being fully awake and unable to go back to sleep I lay silently listening to the dark room around me. It is times like this that your senses become hyper receptive and I began to imagine all sorts of sounds but after 10 minutes or so there was one sound that I could hear above all the rest and it was the sound of the chair next me as it creaked under the weight of some one sitting in it. I instantly reached over and turned on the light. My friend just lay there and did not move I nudged her gently, she was sound asleep. As I stood there in the center of the room I began to question my own ability to rationally explain what I my self had experience. There was only one thing to be done. I turned off the light and instead of getting into the bed I crouched down next to the chair and stayed very still and very quiet. After about 10 minutes it began, a slow creaking, cracking sound but it was not coming from the chair. Next to the chair and under a small table was a bar fridge and every so often when the fridge came on the ice in the little freezer creaked and cracked as it cooled. It sounded just like someone sitting in a wooden chair. I got up, got back into bed and went to sleep.

To this day I have never told my friend what I found and I have listened to her tell that story many times and each time it gets just that little bit more elaborate but she remains convinced that she saw a ghost that night. I don’t think it is difficult to see how some ghost stories begin and I don’t think it is that difficult to see why some people are convinced and others are not. When the mind is willing to accept what you are experiencing as reality it is a simple step to a wrong conclusion.

Curraweema Station. Outback NSW Australia

There are a few famous shearing sheds and sheep properties in out back NSW. Henry Lawson made many famous like Dunlop station and Toorale Station when he lived and worked around Bourke and then latter wrote about his experiences in his poetry. The remarkable thing about stone shearing sheds is that they are very rare when most sheds are made of corrugated iron or split timber.

About 15 years ago I was working in Bourke and got to talking to an old shearer. He told me that there was an old abandoned sheep station that in the past would have rivalled any of the big name stations of 100 years ago and that he used to work there 60 odd years ago. He told me it was unique in the outback. I was keen to see it so I asked him if he would take me out and show me.

Curraweena station is about half way between Bourke and Cobar and you would never know it was there unless you knew it was there. As we drove in some way off the main road I was mesmerised as I saw this wonderful old stone house ahead of us. The house is made of local stone and handmade bricks and still has many of its original fittings. The kitchen has its original cast iron baking ovens built into the walls with full cast iron fronts and handmade brick interiors. You can see from the photo of the window the detail the builders built into the house. But it is the effort that the owner put into the property as a whole that is remarkable not just the house

In front of the house you can still make out the rows of stone marking out the garden beds. The rows are made up of broken white quartz and show that the gardens must have been very extensive. The amount of effort that it took to collect the stones is a testament to somebody’s devotion to the garden. It made me wonder where you would get the water to maintain it. My question was soon answered as we walked around to the back of the house. Out the back is one of the largest hand dug underground water tanks in NSW made from possibly thousands of handmade bricks fired on site. It is huge and when you consider the effort that was needed to dig it out and make all the bricks over 100 years ago it is remarkable, the ground is like rock. Every available down pipe from the house runs into it eventually. It must be 3 or 4 meters deep, it is like a swimming pool. Running into the tank from the back we found something just wonderful. Running into the tank from the small hill behind is an aqueduct system. What was so amazing about it was that it is made from beautiful terracotta sections making up the pipe. The old shear told me that the owner had them imported from Italy specifically to make the aqueduct so that he could collect every available drop of water from every roof on the property to fill the tank even rain from the stone shearing shed. It was at this point I said -"stone shearing shed”?

The sun was going down so we hurried along following the aqueduct through the scrub and as we came through some small trees I saw in front of me an incredible stone shearing shed in remarkable condition. The shed was made from local stone and as the sun set the walls were glowing a wonderful burnt red colour in the light. As we walked around the shed scattered on the ground lay bits and pieces of its shearing past like old combs and bottles. There was even a pair of old rusty hand shears left sitting on the fence as if the shearer had just finished using them and put them on the fence and then forgot to go back and get them.

Inside the shed it was like going back in time it was almost like walking into a Henry Lawson story. The timber inside was in amazing condition and the floor still smelt like lanolin from having thousands of sheep pass through the shed over the years. The gates on the pens had no mettle fittings and the hinges were a sort of handmade wooden peg system it was just amazing. The shed had never been mechanised so it was never fitted with a steam engine or power it was just so original and special. As it was now getting dark we started to head back to the car. As we walked through the scrub a flock of white-winged Chough birds flew through calling to each other, they have a very strange chime like call quite musical. It was as if they were making sure that we were leaving. It was very surreal. Even though it was about 10 years ago the memory is still very fresh in my mind I don't think I will ever forget the experience. I hope one day I will have the chance to go back.

Hong Kong Trains V NSW Trains- spot the difference!

For anyone living it this great state of NSW and who must use public transport to get to work, particularly the train I have a little story for you that will brighten your day and make you feel better about how good our trains are. Next time you are late to work because you are stuck on one of our fine trains, mid summer with no air-conditioning, your face crushed up against a fat bloke with B.O and sweat soaking through his shirt and a school kid with his IPod up so loud that the driver could hear it 2 carriages down think of Hong Kong.

Yes Hong Kong! One of the things you learn about Hong Kong is that the people are not just from China but they are from Hong Kong and for many having a British passport is an important distinction from your average every day Chinese person. Even today if you refer to them as being from China some will correct you and say no I am from Hong Kong. The British may have done a lot of bad things in China through the years but when the poms gave Hong Kong back to China in 1997 they left it in a far better condition then when they got there. As a result Hong Kong is a modern city and the people are proud of what has been achieved.

Hong Kong can only be described as dynamic, incredibly dynamic. The crush of people, the food the shopping there is something happening 24 hours a day, it is very exciting. During his term as the last governor of Hong Kong Chris Patten undertook a massive building and infrastructure program building new housing developments and opening up new areas of the island and territories for development. One of his great achievements was the upgrading of the rail system and the development of new lines and stations on the rail network.

As a result getting around Hong Kong is very easy. Most signage is in English and the public Transport is well…..very British with double decked buses and a cute little tram that runs right through Hong Kong Island and for just 20 cents Australian you can jump on and off were ever you like to experience the great shopping or strange and “interesting” food. But it is the trains that held the greatest surprise for me. The Hong Kong Train system or MTR as it is called is simple, efficient, fast and frequent. The system is fully automated and the train has no need for a driver. You never seem to have to run for a train because if you miss a train another comes along in a few minutes and you get on that one as they run to a very tight timetable.

Late one night after a night out at Yung Kee one of Hong Kong's most famous restaurants we were making our way home. It had been a great night with great food and plenty of beer and wine finished off with VSOP in the finest Chinese tradition. We made our way to the nearest MTR station and after waiting for a whole 2 minutes along came a train and we boarded along with a few thousand close friends, the train was packed but despite the train being full it was soon out of the station and powering along at a great rate in air-conditioned comfort. As I dozed in and out of my drunken stupor knowing that in a few minutes I would be back in my hotel room and fast asleep I just happened to glance up at a metal plaque fixed to the wall next to the door. Here I was on a train in Hong Kong and the manufacturing plate on the wall read “Proudly made in Australia” Not only was the train made in Australia it was made in NSW.

So next time you find yourself stuck between the fat boy and the terminally deaf school kid in 35 degree temperature and 98 percent humidity and no air-conditioning smile and know that NSW trains are doing their bit to improve things in Hong Kong. Shame we couldn’t get the NSW government to do the same for us.