Back To The Land Of Oz...

...tomorrow morning!! It's so nice to be heading back to Melbourne, a city I'm already so familiar with. An unexpected treat! Crazy to think that I was there this time last year, just about to head to the West Coast...what a year it's been since then! These two months back home have been a whirlwind, in every sense of the word...it's been great to spend quality time with my lovely family and friends, and to be reminded just how great the UK can be.

Onto the next adventure...Melbourne, Fiji at the end of June, then back in August for my cousin's wedding in France then...who knows what will happen? Stay tuned to find out...I promise I'll be pouring my heart out on this blog every step of the way!

REVIEW: MOTHER TONGUE- Bill Bryson

Ah, Bill Bryson- it's always a pleasure to read your work. Intelligent, funny, gently informative- a rare combination. Mother Tongue details the colourful evolution of the English language, or should I say this continued evolution...

   Although published 21 years ago now, there are still many aspects of it that are relevant. However, there are many words around these days- chav, etc- that I daresay might not have been understood in the early nineties. Bryson explores how terms like this enter public consciousness to such a degree that there comes a time when you can't remember them NOT being there! At the moment, I am transcripting my grandad's life story from tapes that he recorded in the early 90's, and he often uses terms that are not in use today, such as 'the pictures' for the cinema. Who knows what the English language will be like towards the end of the 21st century? My grandchildren will probably be using words and terms that I don't understand...probably mostly related to imminent technology that I couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams.

   Bryson explores all aspects of English, from the origin of names, swear-words, different dialects between and within countries, and of course, of the language itself. The present-day prevalence of English is misleading- it is more of a recent language, and more of a conglomorate of other langauges, than you might first assume. He even manages to make the explanation of grammar (a word that makes any English student shudder- or is that just me?) fun for the reader. The different dialects between and within countries was obviously one of the more interesting parts for me, having lived in Australia for a year and acquiring a Canadian boyfriend. It's crazy how people who speak the same language cannot understand each other; Patrick and I must have at least one linguistic misunderstanding every few weeks. Of course, I know of a few North-Americanisms from watching American films and comedies, but I honestly had no idea that words such as 'gutted', 'jumper', 'zebra crossing' and the greeting 'are you alright?' were so distinctly British. I knew that sweets were 'candy' in North America, but who knew they were 'lollies' in Australia? One of Britain's greatest assets- and frustrations for outsiders, probably- is our vast array of accents. 'Dinner' and 'lunch' mean one and the same in the North and South of England respectively; the former is the South's evening meal, which is called 'tea' in much of the North. Confused? Me too! But I LOVE the rich diversity of English dialects; it makes our tiny, often unpopular country all the more interesting and three-dimensional.

   One thing I have learnt from traveling is the arrogance of the English when it comes to language. We just let other nations speak English rather than try to speak in their language. I have asked in travellers what they think of this; they just shrugged and said English was the 'travelling language'. They were probably being polite, but this context made reading Mother Tongue all the more fascinating for me. Why is English the language that everybody speaks? If it was not the main language of the USA- a huge global presence both politically and in the media- would everybody still feel the need to learn English? A tentative debate, especially among (the few) patriotic Brits. The reason the USA, Canada, Australia and New Zealand speak English is because of British colonisation, but ironically, I think the English language would have found it more difficult to survive without these nations. Our reliance on fellow English speakers was really brought home to us in China, where often nobody spoke English; we couldn't even find an English-speaking policeman in Beijing after the tea-scam incident. The Chinese characters meant that we couldn't even GUESS road-signs or shop names...thank god for train times being shown in regular numbers at train stations, or we'd never have gotten anywhere. I'm ashamed to say that this was the only country in which we used our Lonely Planet phrasebook everyday. In other Asian countries, learning 'hello', 'thank-you' and 'goodbye' was enough; their proficiency in English allowed us to be lazy. After the experience in China, I've definitely learnt that we should NEVER just 'assume'' that people will understand us...there's no reason why the majority of Chinese (people involved in business aside) should learn English. If they want to, that's fantastic, but by no means should it be expected of them for our benefit.

   I apologise for mostly rabbiting on about my own experiences with English instead of the book, although this is by no means a reflection of the book's quality; Bryson's enthusiastic writing just accentuated my passion for language. His love for English is truly infectious, and he has half-inspired, half-put me off teaching English as a foreign language! It is a daunting, exciting prospect- Mother Tongue makes you realise just how complex English is- but I'm determined to try it at some point. I would love to read an updated version of this book, to see Bryson's opinion of the future of English right now. My prediction? After traveling Asia and managing to speak English pretty much everywhere (apart from China), I believe that tourism and the media will ensure the survival of English for a good few years to come. Saying that, I also hope that the English-speaking world will wake up out of their language laziness and start learning other languages too...this can only enhance empathy, understanding and friendships between nations.

REVIEW: THE BOOK OF NEGROES- Lawrence Hill

After the struggle of Midnight's Children, this book was truly a pleasure to read. Canadian author Lawrence Hill presents to us the full story of the 18th/19th century slave trade, through the story of charismatic narrator Aminata Diallo. The plot may be fictional, but there is no denying that Aminata's tale was a true story for many Africans during that cruel time. 'The Book Of Negroes' itself is a true document, with the 'names and details of 3,000 black men, women and children, who, after serving...behing British lines...sailed from New York City to various British colonies'.

Stolen from the village of Bayo, Africa, Aminata experiences the slave trade at its most horrific: the three month trek to the coast, the disgusting conditions on board the slave ships, the monstrously degrading behavious of the white slave owners, and the lack of freedom. This book may be a little difficult to digest were it not for Aminata's intelligence and spirit, and the fact that in spite of adversity, she finds love. The power of love and the hope it provides is evident throughout. Aminata's bravery and resilience was incredibly inspiring; to still fight on after constant betrayal is unbelieveable. Though you know that she has survived, for she is telling her story as an old lady, you find yourself rooting for all of her loved ones, and hoping that they will one day be reunited. Of course, Aminata had to be educated and literate in English in order to realistically be writing her life story in her eloquent style: in a similar position to the real-life former slave come writer, Olaudah Equiano. I would be very interested in an account from a not-so-literate slave, one who only speaks 'Gullah'- the slaves' own language...does anybody know if such a novel exists?

It is incredible how fear can stop society from stepping up and declaring that something is wrong. The slave trade went on for hundreds of years before the cruelty of it was recognised: a fact I find difficult to comprehend. How can fellow human beings treat each other like that, and attempt to justify it? Aminata's calm and composed narrative enhances the horror far more than a seething one. Hill has got the tone of his prose completely right here. Though the huge issue of the slave trade cannot be summarised in one novel, a peep-hole into one slave's life is the correct route towards emotional empathy, never forgetting, and prevention from it ever happening again.

After reading two pretty heavy-going novels, time for a little light relief- Bill Bryson's Mother Tongue. Stay tuned!

Ice, Ice Baby...

Despite living close to London, I still finding going to London bars a huge novelty...especially when they're made of ice, and set at a temperature of -7. I've been meaning to head to the Absolute Ice Bar in London since forever, and was thrilled when my good friend Jess took us all there for her birthday. Our 40 minute slot (any longer and we'd have turned into ice sculptures ourselves!) was the perfect amount of time to enjoy our rather fetching blue cape (complete with mittens!), vodka cocktail (in an ice glass, of course!), and the impressive ice drawings on the walls. It was like drinking in Narnia, though I'm not sure C.S. Lewis would have appreciated that comparison! Apparently it changes every six months- a brilliant excuse to venture in again in the near future. Think I'll wear a few more layers next time, though...

Jess, Sarah and Tali.

Alice by the bar.

Erol and Tim.

Around The World In 10 Currencies...

Rupees. Yuan. Kip. Baht. Riel. Dong. All kinds of dollars: Australian, New Zealand, American, Canadian. Part of the joy of traveling for me is discovering new currencies; a joy that has been cruelly taken away in much of Europe. I know, I know, better for the economy, etc etc...not too keen on getting into a political debate about it. But the other day, when my dad fished out 25 Spanish-peseta coins with holes in the middle of them, and big colourful Greek Drachma notes, I felt a pang of regret that the upcoming generations will have no idea what 'pesetas' and 'drachma' are, in the same way that 'shilling' and 'farthing' now sound foreign to me. Call me overly romantic and unrealistic...but a country's currency helps to charactertise that country and make it unique. The Asian currencies are little works of art, often proudly displaying their crowning glories: Angkor Wat on Cambodian Riel notes, Ho Chi Minh on Vietnamese Dong, Gandhi on Indian Rupees. Platypuses on the Aussie 10 cent coin, and polar bears on the Canadian tooney ($2), also give me a little thrill. I love trying to work out how much 70 Baht is worth in British pounds, or withdrawing £80 in Laos and suddenly becoming a millionaire in Kip. May these currencies continue for as long as possible, and help to give countries their own unique flavour...

Figure this is as much as I can display legally of my newest project...preserving notes and sorting out coins from the countries I've visited in the past 2 years...a very addictive hobby...

Children's Poem Of Mine #2...

...inspired by an observation on an Agra rooftop by none other than Mr. Patrick Martz! Hope you like it; as ever, feedback is greatly appreciated!...

The real-life Monkey King...minus the banana skin.

AGRA’S TWO KINGS

Come, child, let me take you by the hand

To a colourful and musical land:

Agra, India- see that roof up there?

There’s King Isra sitting without a care!

You only see a monkey’s silhouette?

The MONKEY King- didn’t I say that yet?

(Metal crowns are too heavy for his head,

So a banana skin sits there instead.)

Long ago, he thought he owned ALL the town-

But another kind also had a crown.

King Sunny, ruler of the sacred cow,

Before whom every cow must take a bow.

(I, for one, have never seen a cow bow

I’m betting the poor creatures don’t know how!)

Meeting outside the Taj Mahal one day,

King Isra said ‘I’ve got something to say.

You cows are nasty, and always look down

At us monkeys and think you own this town.’

King Sunny replied ‘We look down at you

Cos you’re smaller than us- what can we do?’

‘HUMPH!’ said King Isra, ‘I just think that’s rude!

You’ll be sorry you took that attitude!’

As he scarpered through the legs of a man,

King Sunny shrugged (as well as a cow can!);

After enduring a stress overload,

Sunny plopped in the middle of the road.

King Isra, back at his rooftop palace,

Said to his monkey subjects, with malice:

‘Who watches everything down below

As these humans put on their daily show?

Who can scamper here, there and everywhere-

Even that big white palace over there?

(You and I both know the palace’s name

Isra did not know the Taj Mahal’s fame

He claims his great-grandad was there when built-

Anyway, let him finish- I feel guilt!)

‘These cows need to learn that we may be small

But we’re the strongest animal of all!’

One monkey said:  ‘Maybe a compromise?’

King Isra screamed ‘A word I despise!

Gather the monkeys in Agra to fight;

We will soon put all this injustice right.’

King Isra got that mad look in his eye

That has made many a strong monkey cry!

With one SCREECH- all the monkeys came- it’s the truth!

You should have seen them gathered on the roof!

King Isra with his banana skin crown,

Asking them: ‘WHO deserves to rule this town?’

‘King ISRA!’ they screeched, without a pause,

Then to Agra’s streets to fight for his cause.

For humans, marching monkeys are a sight!

‘Are they rabid?’ one suggested with fright,

No, dear sir- their behaviour was funny

Because they were off to find King Sunny

Who still lay in the middle of the road,

Getting over that HUGE stress overload!

Then he blinked his eyes open to the sight:

‘Either I haven’t woken up quite right,

Or lots of monkeys greet me on this night!’

The monkeys all screeched ‘We are here to FIGHT

For our King Isra, Agra’s rightful king!’

King Sunny said ‘Well, isn’t that something?

Look, I know you’re all keen to go to war,

But frankly I find this business a bore,

Why can’t we both go on just like before?’

Half the monkey troops said ‘I’m not sure!’

The other half cried ‘You said we were small,

But we’re the strongest animals of all!’

The cow king said ‘You know what’s stronger STILL?

If we work TOGETHER with no ill will!

Your king rules from the top, we’ll rule down here,

Over our JOINT subjects- a kind so queer

They need TWO kings to keep up with their pace-

I speak, of course, about the human race!

So, my monkey chums, there’s no need to fight,

Let us rule in harmony, and UNITE!’

From the monkeys, not a sound could be heard

As they asked themselves: ‘Is this all absurd?

Are those dozy cows too lazy to fight

Or could King Sunny actually be right?' 

One monkey shouted ‘It makes sense to me!’

Then other monkeys began to agree,

This happy event made them want to weep-

But King Sunny was already asleep.

So the monkeys returned to show the love

And cheer King Isra of Agra Above!

First off, King Isra was angry- and then

He listened hard to their story again,

And softened to the generous cow king,

As he realised you can’t have everything!

‘You know, those cows aren’t as bad as I thought…

(I still think we would have won if we’d fought!)’

Now, if you go to Agra and you see

A lazy-eyed cow talk to a monkey

Who has a banana skin on his head,

You’ll know, fellow human, what’s being said:

‘Those mad human folk! Look at what they do!’

That’s right- they’re talking about me and YOU!

REVIEW: MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN- Salman Rushdie

After reading the last few pages of Midnight's Children, I feel like I've just stumbled off a rollercoaster. Exhausted. Dizzy. Disorientated. Speechless. Wondering why I put myself through it. Proud that I made it through. And most of all, relieved that it's over!

   That's not to say that I didn't enjoy it; I revel in a literary challenge once in a while. I have an awful habit of abandoning books that I'm not enjoying...first time round, I read a third of Midnight's Children before tossing it aside, which in a 647-page book, is a big investment. It's unusual for me to return to these abandonments, but I thought my recent experiences in India might make the book more interesting and easy-going this time round. Well, I was right about the first part at least...

   Midnight's Children tells the story of Saleem Sinai, a boy born exactly at the stroke of midnight on August 15th, 1947: the exact moment that India was declared independent from Great Britain. From that moment on, the destinies of Saleem and India seem to be entwined, as the former tries to prove by telling us his life story. What's more, Saleem and five hundred other children, all born between midnight and 1am on that August evening, have consequently acquired supernatural powers, the dominance of which depends on how close they were born to midnight. As a result, Saleem, midnight-born, is one of the most powerful of 'Midnight's Children', along with a boy called Shiva, his biggest threat in every sense...

   Saleem is a long-winded, self-obsessed narrator, whose tale thrashes and backtracks like a stormy sea. Sometimes it's frustrating to keep up with his thought processes, as he lets hindsight and impatience get the better of him. However, Rushdie brings him closer to the reader through the addition of Padma, his long-suffering girlfriend that reads and questions his life story as he writes. There's no doubt of Rushdie's incredibly vivid writing; you're not classed as the best Booker Prize winner in the accolade's first 25 years for nothing. Saleem's use of facial features to characterise his family and friends created truly startling images in my mind, as well as adding much needed comic relief throughout. It was also fascinating to discover a new side to Mumbai; as a rich child, Saleem experienced a very different sort of Mumbai to Shantaram's Lin, a convict-gangster. The reader is never sure of how much 'truth' Saleem is telling, of whether he is 'the chosen saviour of India' that he claims to be; even Saleem seems confused sometimes, as he goes from first-person to third-person within the same page. Despite his fluttering narrative, you still learn an incredible amount about India's culture and history from 1947 until the 1970s. Rushdie's ability to make political events relative to one boy's life is an incredible achievement...

   It's been emotional, it's been difficult, but I'm glad that I gave Midnight's Child a second chance. If you love originality and are intrigued about India, give it a shot. It won't be easy, but then again, the best things in life never are! Challenging, surprising, and- even if it will take me a while to absorb it all- ultimately rewarding.

The Best of British...

What a great weekend it's been- and it's not even over yet! I'm not ashamed to admit that I watched a fair bit of the marathon 8-hour Royal Wedding coverage...and I would happily do it again. Even at home, my skin tingled with the anticipation of the bride's arrival to Westminster Abbey, and got goosebumps when the choir boys sang those haunting hymns...as though I was actually in the Abbey myself. Patriotic, or tragic? You decide! I'd like to think the former...same applies for the stupid smile on my face for the whole horse-drawn carriage procession. Kate looked like a true princess: elegant, poised, classy, just stunning. Her sister Pippa now has a legion of male fans after her complementary dress. William looked dashing in red, both in his nervous blushing cheeks and his outfit. Princess Beatrice...well, I think this outfit speaks for itself. 

No words. Anyway, continuing on my 'I Heart the UK' theme, over the weekend I've been sampling some of the best of what Britain has to offer...

Drinking champagne at my friend Rosh's royal wedding street party, complete with barbecues, cupcakes and all...

...punting on the River Cam in Cambridge with Emma, passing 7 of the 25 colleges...

...and spying a very familiar landmark beaming out beautifully over London on my way home.



Picture Source:

Princess Beatrice: http://www.rickey.org/princess-beatrice-of-york-the-royal-wedding-hat/