The Christmas Parade

I love a parade. Watching them. Being in them. I wave and applaud with the greatest enthusiasm. Don't know who they are , doesn't matter. It's all good. So I made way downtown this past weekend for the Channel 7 / RAC Christmas Parade with great anticipation.


The weather is a taste of a true Perth Christmas: clear skies, morning warming to a hot afternoon. Parents with kids in tow are either hiding in the shade or running from bouncy castle to one amusement or other (including the local chapter of Star Wars Storm Troopers who had set up a photo opp station) to burn off excess energy until the parade starts.

Of course, there are marching bands-this one has violinists marching along with the brass- and every dance school in the metropolitan area has a dance sequence marching in the line up. Local media hypes...er, I mean, types wave from convertibles and the few floats do impress with roaring life-size dinosaurs and pirate ships.

It should surprise no one that wild camels traverse the huge deserts here in OZ. So why was I surprised to turn my head and see three wise men riding camels happily sauntering passed me? Can't imagine anything more appropriate in a Christmas parade now that I am thinking about it. Of course, Santa brought up the rear.
Perhaps a sign of our super safety-conscious times, but no candy was thrown from any vehicle or float. What is a parade without risking life and limb by dodging between land yachts and unicycles to score cheap candy, I ask you?

December 1st

December 1st is a date that may not mean much to you. Just another day.....except here it starts the fall of many happy dominoes.

First, it is the first day of Summer. All seasons start at the first of the month here. Equinoxes (equinoxi ?) are rather irrelevant. To mark this important occasion, the media hits the beach at full force to do stories on all-things-summer-related as if the previous day was Spring's own purgatory. The sun rose at 5:03 a.m. (Daylight Savings is a failed experiment here in Perth) and set at 7:07 p.m. Some people forgot that it is the warm season and were found carrying sweaters to use "against the wind on the Terrace."

The first of December also starts the Christmas Holiday Season. Yeah, the department stores got a bit ahead of the game by the requisite three months, but now municipal workers are putting the finishing touches to the community decorations. People are watching sale circulars for gift shopping and writing greeting cards. A flurry of work/social parties appear on everyone's new calendar page. We had a 13-piece band at our last party and another live band the night before. Let the holiday begin!

It's also blow-fly season. Larger and slower than your average 'house fly' they have a real penchant for people's faces. People tend not to notice the buggers landing on their faces until they've moved to the eyes or mouth (a favorite resting place of "blowies") and even then give only a lazy swat to brush them away. Last year on TV, I saw a high-ranking politician talking on camera seemingly oblivious to the pest traversing his face. I was horrified and impressed until I realized that this is pretty much how all natives react to them. It's we newbies who spend December flapping our arms in front of our faces. Somehow two have managed to get into the house, so now I am permanently armed with a rolled up newspaper. Blowies are not my friends.

Happy SUMMER, Everyone!

Laos III: Sparklettes

Sa-bai-dee, for the final time. I could write 12 postcards from Laos but will limit it to three. And this final one will have just some random snippets.

Lifted from my journal:

Kev gets his traditional on-the-road haircut...and his ears cleaned as an extra service!

Loved the fruit shakes available for 5,000 kip (60 cents)!!!

Why would anyone eat on the main drag when the Mekong cafes were nicer & cheaper?!

Adventurous Kev orders Water Buffalo Hide Crackling and cracks a tooth eating it! Walks into pole and gets a scar on forehead (more hammer & sickle shaped than lightning bolt.)

Hot water from a rainforest showerhead. Worth the extra money. Who needs a TV anyway? (although Miss Marple dubbed in Chinese was marginally entertaining.)

Power and Phone lines are above ground--about 12-15 feet above ground on poles. Looks like 1907 anywhere else.

Recurring theme of trip: Forget or drop Hilary's food orders in restaurants.

Laotians were always clean & presentable. Expected the same from visitors.

No matter how decrepit the home or deep set into the rice paddy the hut, they all had a satellite dish.

National pedestrian curfew of 10 p.m. Also, no ironing or making porno movies in your hotel room. Duly noted.

"Friends" episodes run endlessly in TV bars in backpacker haven, Vang Vieng. Ugh.

Spent a morning watching the clouds dance with the mountains.

Geckos are our friends. They eat mosquitoes.

I really dislike pay toilets. A red letter day was when I pee'd for free...usually on my shoes in some bush.

Transvestites well tolerated and not few in number.

French, English and Manglish spoken/written here. Lao works, also.

Canadians pay the highest visa fee ($41) What did Canada ever do to Laos? All visas are paid in US currency only. Won't take their own money for them.

Morning and evening markets are definitely worthwhile. Bargaining is expected but without aggression.

The southern part of Laos is uber-laidback. The dogs don't bark and even the motor scooters can't be bothered to make much noise or go very fast.

Easy to see why expats stay and visitors return. If you're in the area, put Laos on your list -even if just passing through.

Laos II: Highlights

Sa-bai-dee, again! A few highlights from our Laos trip:

On the Road again: Yes, road. The infrastructure doesn't give you many choices on which path to take to get anywhere. But there are choices of what to travel in on that one road. Our first bus trip, from the capital Vientiane to Pakse in the south was on the overnight Sleeper Bus. Think: Harry Potter's Knight Bus without the squawking shrivelled head. Each bed fits two (small Asians) comfortably and there is a squat toilet on board for passenger convenience. The VIP is modern, air-conditioned transportation. Pinching pennies? Take the Local or 'chicken' bus. You can bring your small livestock, market goods and timber for building on this bus. And it stops everywhere and anywhere you'd like, it seems. It makes a long trip ( the Road is neither straight nor well-paved) even longer--10.5 hours for a 320 mile trip. Every trip a test of endurance.

Wheeee, on/in the water: Just like on the bus, one can see life unfold while travelling by boat. The Mekong River is not particularly wide so you can watch people going about daily living on both shores: people farming, young monks teaching younger monklets how to bathe, delivery of supplies, moving of tourists and young kids cooling down by jumping off of felled trees. It is also cooler and less bumpy a ride than on a bus. I loved it. And sunset on the Mekong is worth experiencing every chance you get.

Loved the many waterfalls also. This is the Huang Si Falls, a series of falls actually, with a magical pool at the bottom of each one. Locals and travellers alike enjoy this place. I'm the one waving in the back, not in the bikini up front. Tiny swimsuits prove problematic for conservative Lao and cartooned cultural posters try to educate visitors on this and other issues. But here a measure of tolerance is shown by local picnickers to scantily clad young backpackers.

Seeing the sights: Having lived in Asia, I suffer from Buddhist temple fatigue although they give joy to Kev. He also took in a few more of the ubiquitous caves than I did (oh,my feet!) including being guided through one by a local dog and "tubing" for free on a stream through another [personal highlights for him.] The cave I managed to get to was entirely more ...modest... than those. More of a hole in the wall with thousands of little Buddha statues in it. The place has high New Year significance for locals, every day interest for steep hill climbing tourists.

Climb a few more steep hills (and neither of us lost any weight?!) to see the Plain of Jars. Thought to be burial vessels, these stone jars are none too small. Most of the lids are missing. The views from their plateau beautiful. The nearby cave (a refuge during the Vietnam War bombing), cool.

The capital, Vientiane, is much like any other city although now getting a spruce-up. The 29th SEA Games (South East Asia games. A regional, multi-sport competition much like the Pan Am or Commonwealth Games) starts on December 9. Laos is getting its first real chance to show off (hey, the border didn't re-open until 1989) and is busy preparing. We watched the opening ceremony flag-and-drum corp practice at a local university. Locals tell us the government has been shutting down the city (e.g., schools) since October. Yoikes, that's early! This should be a huge economic boost to a country that needs it.

Commerce: Running out of space on this postcard... Pleased to report that Laos is not overrun with large corporate chain stores & restaurants. Rather surprised to find that a sophisticated till in shops was a desk drawer. Many small shops and restaurants just used a plastic pail-with or without a lid! And some shops are very small indeed as people convert small parts of their home or bits of furniture into sales areas. The United Nations and Laotian government encourage private industry with any number of business development schemes. I like the silk production from mulberry plant to worm to loom weaving to dyeing to finished product farms. Laotians are encouraged to improve their craft skills and tourists are encouraged to buy handicrafts (as opposed to national antiquities) as souvenirs. I can support this and don't mind when local village stops sometimes look like a maze of retail alleys. I draw the line at one tiny village of "Community-based, Development Initiative" had a specially laid walk path that wended its way past everyone's stand. The villagers themselves were very low key with a soft approach to getting attention and sales but we still felt like a Parade of Walking Wallets. Who does this benefit? The most interesting part of the walk was watching people bathe at the public water pump.

Also noted that villages tend to have specialized production. Thirty road stands in one village all selling watermelon, followed by 30 stands all selling woven baskets, followed by another village selling only papaya and another selling roast chicken-on-a-stick (a regional specialty). Fear not, your chicken bus will stop at all for your shopping convenience.

Laos I : the country

Sa-bai-dee!



O.K. - it's not from OZ, but I like sending postcards from wherever I go. And we just went to Laos for a three week vacation.

Laos? Laos. This South East Asian country is way off the radar of most people I know (including myself) who had nothing directly to do with the Vietnam War. Resting on the Mekong River and bordered by Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Myanmar (Burma) and China, it's a rather 'poor cousin' in the region. A Communist country which keeps that fact fairly well hidden [ save for the occasional red flag with a hammer & sickle on it ] as Buddhism is a stronger life guide for its people. Away from the Mekong rise mountains housing many waterfalls , caves , Buddhist temples and Buddhist temples in caves near waterfalls. Above the equator, its winter days can still be a bit warm. And the presence of avian and swine flu, malaria and dengue fever are real enough for authorities , residents and visitors.






Who travels to Laos? Cheapskates. Which explains the huge swarms of backpackers stretching their budgets by living frugally on $10-12 a day. What brings travellers back? Laos lacks the crowded conditions, frenetic pace, expense and sleaze factor prevalent elsewhere in SE Asia. And the laidback Laotians seem to take it all in stride as it brings money into their pockets with minimal energy expenditure on their part. Everybody wins.






I found many similarities between northern Asia and SE Asia but I focused on the differences. Two more postcards from Laos are in the mail. The next one will have some of the highlights of the trip, the third is filled with sparklettes of the experience.

Court Monitor

It took forever to get, but in some respects my first job in OZ was worth the wait. My new position gives me a front row seat to Perth's underbelly in action, a window into the lives of the devious and malcontented. I am a Court Monitor.

On paper, the job is fairly simple and the technical requirements well within my powers. I ensure high quality audio recording of court proceedings and log the proceedings against the recordings. But unlike manufacturing widgets or flipping burgers in endless succession, my scenery changes by the minute. Dimbulbs follow the grand schemers, teenage drunks precede the 66 year-old first offending thieves. People smugglers, corporate cheats, contentious lawyers, wife beaters and blokes stealing candy from babies--I get them all. With the added thrill of a different judicial system. OK, 'thrill' is more like 'momentary panic' at times, but that is also a plus in the package.

So much information to impart but I cannot possibly list it all here. I think I will answer some of the questions I've been asked amidst select tidbits:
Your day (minute) in court is spent looking at people with their heads buried in paper. The judge, judicial support officer, prosecution, your defense, the court officer and the court monitor are all staring at their copies of various paperwork pertaining to your matter. Don't worry, the JSO will give you your own set of paperwork to bury your head in later.
Judges and lawyers don't wear wigs in the lower courts or in civil matters. Judges do wear a black robe. In district court and higher, you can tell the status of a person by the size of his/her wig and jabot (JAB oh. white ribbon collar.) The larger the size, the more important the person.
Supreme Court handles serious crimes like murder and high value theft. It does not function as a last stop for appeals or rulings like it does in the U.S. The courtrooms themselves are gorgeous and storied in their wood panelling, raised prisoner dock and private fireplace for the judges (no longer used since the advent of central heating).
Magistrates Court is the first stop for everyone. You are either arraigned and sent on to the appropriate court or plead guilty and take your punishment. Mag Court, as we call it, is the intermediary step for attorneys who want to become judges. It is also the Lawyer/Mag's first chance to tell idiots and repeat offenders exactly what they think of them.
The terminology has changed in the past couple of years. It is no longer "The Queen vs..." , "Appearing for the Crown.." or "Your Worship", rather, "The Commonwealth vs..." , "Appearing for the State..." and "Your Honor, Sir, Ma'am" although I've never heard anyone being corrected when saying 'Your Worship'.
If you are entering or exiting a court in session, you must show reverence for the court. A short bow...even an irritated jerk of the head...is considered good form and proper behavior. No eating or drinking. Keep your kids under control.
Newbies are easily spotted. First timers are always dressed in the best clothes they own. Suit & tie. His brother's khakis. Her most expensive sweater. Their faces are white, bodies stiff and the most likely to come to tears during their appearance. This all falls away with each successive appearance. Habitual criminals just manage to change out of their pajamas before showing up. Only just.
Peculiarities in the legal ranks. It seems lawyers the world over have an unwritten code: the more attention paid to their clothing, the less time spent on grooming. I don't think more than two or three practicing attorneys in Perth own a comb or brush. And everyone uses their given names. There are no Bob's, Susie's or Andy's on the legal rolls.
Court Monitors do well to develop stoney faces. If we forget that we are part of the courtroom, utterances of "yeah, right", "loser", "you're kidding" are heard by those near us. Even facial expressions like rolling eyes aren't a good idea. Some very good reasons why most of us prefer the courtrooms that have Monitors in offset booths instead of near the judicial bench. No one is looking behind the glass.
Residential Tenancy appearances are a penance. Only the senior monitors get the juicy Supreme cases and no one wants Children's Court. A steady diet of heartbreak is hard on the soul.

Naturally with all this excitement going on during our days, Court Monitors can't wait to tell their spouses about the latest case (omitting sensitive information, of course) and the new things they learned. Oddly, spouses don't seem as excited about the whole thing. And not everything I learn has a legal aspect. One week I learned how to tie a double (full) Windsor knot in a necktie, Monday I learned that the optimal bull:cow service ratio is 2:50. Hey, I had to get something out of that monumentally boring civil case.

Ribbons

I am an addict.

I have aspired to this state since I was about nine years old. On the outside, looking in. Eyes mesmerized by bright lights reflected off glass, wanting what others had. Plotting, planning, scheming how I, too, could come to glory.

Shelf after shelf loaded with bottled beauties. Tables of creations which able and amateur hands had made. Some worthy, some unworthy of the accolade draped upon them. Accolades that could be, would be, mine. Ribbons, of course. Prize ribbons at the State Fair are what we are talking about. And the first one sets a person on the path of obsession, nay, addiction to wanting more.

I had many nonstarters. First with my favorite bread to make called Sally Lunn-baked in a bundt pan. But the entry deadlines are months before the fair and I didn't develop a fever for it all until too late. The DT's hit during the fair itself, when sadly nothing could be done. A successful victor knows patience and when to strike. [This also describes terrorists, but we aren't going there.] My last year in Ohio saw my perfect opportunity to achieve goal. I was canning peaches when I had a vision. A dozen or so of the peaches were of equally small dimension. They twinkled. They winked. They waited without complaint while I carefully peeled and placed their worthy fruit into a mason jar. They held their shape and heads high when the blue Christmas ribbon I placed on the lid was replaced with a first place ribbon by the judges. They had delivered my dream.

But what to do in Perth? The Royal Show had different rules and the preservation method itself was different. I checked out the competition on my first Show here. Ha! This wouldn't be just a ribbon, this was going to be ownership of the competition. The fever never left. I measured peaches at the grower's market so they would fit my jars perfectly. OK, they gave me a funny look when they spotted this until they heard about my plan. I was then escorted to the nonpublic sorting room to have my pick of the harvest. I also carefully selected tomatoes for judge-blinding shape and size. My pickled pepper relish looked like heavenly confetti. Ammunition ready, I reached for the application.

Problem. The rules seem to indicate that every entry must have a twist-off lid to allow the judges to taste the contents. All well and good for jams & chutneys, but one never opens vegetables without using or refrigerating afterwards. I called the Chief Steward who agreed that was an issue and said to enter my canning jars as they were. Indeed.

But, in fact, my tomatoes were not rule-compliant. They were not pickled. The judges could/would not taste them...and I would not have expected them to. But who uses pickled tomatoes in their spaghetti sauce? Who pickles tomatoes? This requirement may be the entire reason that only three entries were turned in for the vegetable class. The other two were bread & butter pickles and a jar of pickled mini peppers. My red beauties were destined to be fourth in a three horse race.

My tomatoes won a red ribbon--second prize--untasted. Gosh, how bad were those peppers? You might notice that re-using commercial jars is perfectly OK here at the Royal Show. An absolute no-no at State Fairs back home.

I happened upon the Chief Steward during my day at the Show. She had the grace to look repentant. She realized about an hour after talking with me on the phone that she had given the wrong advice and had no way of correcting the information.

One can't function without a few extra fixes during the year. So during the off season, I enter a few creative contests-either ideas or writing- to scratch the itch. When one pays off, you'll be the first to know.