So we're back from our Indian adventure and an adventure it was indeed!

We left Shanghai for Kunming in the south of China on Saturday 22 September. It was from there that we were to catch our connecting flight to Kolkata. A couple of hours later we arrived at the most beautiful airport we've ever seen. These photos will give you an idea.

The exterior canopy goes dark every 15 minutes or so and then is re-lit by over a hundred spotlights which come on sequentially to first light the apex of the canopy and then spread out to light the whole of it. This seems to mimic a sun rise of sorts. At the same time the 48 000 LED lights imbedded in the swirls that make up the building's facade light up spreading from the centre. Once all is alight and splendid those same LEDs start to morph in colour from gold to yellow to red, blue, mauve, green...It could have been as gaudy as hell but it is just done sooo well that it's spectacular!

This is the interior.

At 23h45, after a five-hour wait, we climbed onto our plane to Kolkata. The flight was an hour and a half and, with the time difference, we were due to arrive at exactly the same time as we left China! We were a little nervous as our research had suggested that it isn't easy to get a taxi at that time of night. Not to mention the fact that a Bangladeshi man we had chatted to in the smoking lounge told us that it was dangerous to be out on the streets at that time of night. However on the bus to the plane we got chatting to a man from Kolkata and he had offered to help us get transport to our guest house.

We got to the airport and knew immediately that we were in another world. The airport was so old fashioned and the immigration and customs looked like the Beit Bridge border post when we used to travel from Rhodesia to South Africa in the 70's and early 80's. We were welcomed by wooden and glass cubicles behind which the officials sat. The last time the place saw a coat of paint was probably back in 1947 when India gained independence from Britain. It was charmingly shabby and we thought, "Gee, we're gonna like this place!"

Then it was on to baggage claim and after we had gotten our bags we were accosted by a shady man who claimed he was a customs official and insisted we sign some kind of slip of paper stating nothing to declare and then despite our protestations and us telling him that we had a friend who was going to help us with transport walked off with our trolley. We eventually wrestled it back from him and escaped out of the airport. Our "friend" in the meanwhile seemed to have disappeared and now we were starting to worry. Eventually we spotted him, approached him and asked if he was still willing to assist us. He was but of course every taxi driver he approached either didn't know where our guest house was or, upon seeing two foreigners, started quoting ridiculous prices. Eventually he said that he would take us. His "brother", a taxi driver had just arrived to collect him and he bundled us into the funny little car - an Ambassador (Jay tells me it's the quintessential Indian make of car).

Now I must digress from this narrative briefly to say that I had looked at a map of the location of our guest house on the internet and it seemed pretty easy to get to. Straight down the expressway and then onto a main road into the suburbs of Salt Lake. Hmmm, expressway, main road? Not what we would associate with such things even coming from South Africa. Those roads are narrow, pot-holed and crazy even at one o'clock in the morning. There aren't any lines on the road so there is no defining path for the streams of traffic travelling in opposing directions and, adding to the mayhem, the many roaming cows and dogs have right of way.

So off we went. We were agog at what we were experiencing and greatly appreciative of the help we were receiving. Suddenly, about 15 minutes into what was (according to the guest house's advert) supposed to be a 22 minute commute, our friend's brother stopped on the side of the road where a bunch of taxi's were parked with their drivers lounging or asleep on their roofs or bonnets. After a brief exchange with one of the drivers our friend informed us that this was the end of the road with him and that this new driver would take us to the guest house and we were to pay him 100 rupees. Okaaay! So what could we do? We transferred our bags to the new transport and off we went.

It proved not so easy to find the guest house. The address was CE 119 Salt Lake. Turns out CE is like a grid number in a maze where nothing makes sense. One moment you are looking a AB addresses then around the corner you're suddenly looking at EF and around another DC. We were lost. We stopped many times to ask people on the street for directions. Needless to say the deeper we ventured, the later it became and the more tired we were the people seemed more and more unsavoury, lurking around the car and generally making us feel more and more uncomfortable. Some of them were kind enough to offer to phone the guest house for directions but it seemed that not even they knew where they were located. Eventually we stopped and asked some guys on a motorbike. Yes! They knew exactly where we were going.

"Follow us." they said.

And we did. Into the depths of this labyrinthine suburb. The alleys getting darker along with our thoughts. This is it! We're gonna end up in a back alley, robbed and left stranded! Fortunately this was not the case and thank goodness they actually did know where our guest house was. Two hours later we had arrived.

Another digression: Jay and I have traveled extensively in remote and uncharted territories of south east Asia and Africa, taken some unorthodox methods of transport to get where we have needed to go but, yet inexplicably, we have never felt the level of unease and sense of lack of trust in people that we did during our time in India. We are still trying to process it and still can't put our finger on why we felt this way.

Back to the story. Pronoti Guest House, Kolkatta: When "our" bikers delivered us via taxi to the door there was an understandably, rather grumpy man to greet us. It was, by that time, after 2am in the morning after all. He opened the door and we had to step over several bodies lying prostrate on the ground sleeping as he guided us to our room.

It is hot in India even at ungodly hours of the morning and it was very good to have a shower and get to bed, after brushing a rather big dry chili and some forgotten some pubes from the previous tenants off the bed.

Next morning we awoke to do our day in Kolkata. And off we went. Our first stop the Queen Victoria Memorial. What an impressive building which really stands out in the squalor that we otherwise experienced in the city. And then on to find the river and the sights to be seen from there.

Whilst trying to find the river we passed these boys playing cricket in the sweltering heat...

...and this rather pretty carriage being pulled by rather skinny horses.

Eventually we found ourselves walking along what looked like old disused tram tracks. It was pleasant to be out of the sun and we were enjoying our meander, photographing the new sites that greeted us continuously. Suddenly in the distance we saw something that we couldn't believe...a tram coming towards us on those very same tracks that we both believed hadn't been in use for decades.

This one wasn't going in our direction but we decided that it might be rather fun, should one come along to jump on and see where it went. And so we did.

As luck would have it the tram was headed to the river so it was perfect as the heat was really beginning to get to us. Once we got to the terminal station we disembarked and headed to the river. Well, I guess we were along the wrong section of it coz from what we'd researched we should have been able to walk along its banks and sample food, drink and merriment. As poor as Kolkata is it is known as the "city of joy".

When we realised that this was not going to be an option we decided to walk back to the tram station and go back a stop or two to where we'd seen an interesting area and thought we might also be able to find a beer to combat the heat...Interesting it was but alas no beer!

I remembered the name of a hotel I'd researched and eventually we found a cab that would take us there. From my research there was guaranteed beer. So off we went. And the sights along the journey were awesome. We went to Siem Riep in Cambodia to see the "Lara Croft" temples where the trees have taken root in the ancient structures. It seems that we needn't have gone so far...Building upon beautiful art deco building had giant trees so deeply entrenched in their 4th and 5th storeys...This does not, can not take a year or two to happen....Such is the lack of upkeep in this weird land.

Eventually we were delivered to our destination and grand it was. Cold beer and refuge from the heat.We drank a bit, ate a lot (although Jay, having ordered a chicken curry was very disappointed by the amount of meat it contained).

When we were tired of this we decided we'd like to buy a beer or two and retire to our "luxurious" guest house. Being a Sunday it seemed that there were not many alcohol vendors open in Kolkatta. Eventually we got chatting to some strange characters  on the road and they took us to a hole in the wall where we managed to purchase our bounty. We purchased for them too as a thank you and then we caught a taxi back home...OOOOH! Again we found ourselves in the same situation as the night before. Couldn't find the place...Got there eventually, cold beers by then all warm and generally frustrated. Luckily the guest house had an open air deck where we could find refuge from the irritation of getting "home".

We marched ourselves up there. Despite the rank rooms, I'd booked this place for the option of sitting in this relative Nirvana depicted on the website...No sooner had we cracked open one of our beers than a lovely Indian man approached us and told us that this was a "private" space. Huh? Then why is it a featured photo on your advertisement...? It got a bit bolshy and he left us...That's all good and well but when the old granny keeps coming out from behind a door, glaring at you and then retreating, highly offended by your "invasion" of her space you need to know it's time to leave. Of course as soon as we we decided to do so, with threats of false advertising etc the "lovely" Indian man started to say we didn't have to go - obviously our threats of denigrating his establishment on the www were starting to take effect...

But went we did...

Lemon Meringue Pie, and its eventual cost

I just have to smile at my husband.

He is the one doing the shopping (an excuse for getting out of the house) whereas I prefer staying in my cave.

What gives me the giggles is that without penny-turning-me being around when he goes shopping, every time he comes back from buying groceries / vegetables / drinks, he comes back with some gizmo for the kitchen.

Today he went out to get potatoes and carrots, came back with those PLUS an electronic scale for it "will help him bake better banana breads". Just opened a cupboard now and found an electric mixer he bought two weeks ago. When I asked him about it, he told me it is so he can bake more fluffy cakes. Go figure.

Add to this the fact that winter is approaching and I wanna get back into making meat pies and also with us having been back here for almost a year the BIG desire is rearing its ugly head again: BOEREWORS. What is more South African than Boerewors? As we obviously can not find pies nor boerewors here (nor Mrs Balls) we have to make them ourselves. This all means that as soon as we get back from India we will have to invest in even MORE machines ....

Won't Mau be happy to go out and buy those ;-))).

Buying more gadgets means that our kitchen is definitely getting too small, meaning we will have to move - soon.

Won't Mau be happy, again!!!

Teaching Addy to fish and subsequent emails ;-))

Last week we had this emergency email from our "oldest" god-kid, 10 year old Addison.

He said that he was off to Hong Kong with his family in a few days and that Adam, his dad, had organized a trip on a fishing boat for them because he (Addy) wants to learn to fish. However, he has never fished before and nor has Dad, so the gist of it was "could you please come and teach me how to fish before I go?".

Of course, yesterday on our off day, we went to the A-Family so I could teach Addy how to fish. These are the photos as taken by Mau.

At first we were treated to what Anna, Addy and Anson's mom, believes is a South African meal ;-)). Pasta and home-cooked tomato sauce (as taught to her by Mauro), pizzas from Pizza Hut and hard to find, expensive lamb chops (prepared as taught to her by me when they visited us in South Africa) . 

Then we got down to the serious stuff. The 1st thing was to teach Addy how to set up his rod, align the eyes, thread the gut and then also how to tie loops for adding sinkers and hooks. This we did in the comfort of an air-conditioned apartment.

After this we went outside (and I forgot to put on my slops so for the next 2 hours the very, very hot bricks underfoot had me dancing around). First thing was to show him how to release the reel and then how to cast without getting a crow's nest ... note how attentive he is. What an inquisitive, quick mind he has.

He thought I was the superstar for being able to cast the line (weighed down with a nail clipper for he did not have sinkers yet, but did buy some today, as you will see below).

Within ten minutes his young mind had it sussed, he had the rod in his hands and he was casting his own line into the gold fish pond outside their apartment ... and enjoying every second of it. For the next one hour and 50 minutes, with me hopping and dancing around in the background, sweat pouring off the both of us, he cast and cast and cast and cast and .....  !!!!!!.

Finally we got back to the aircon! Mom Anna had cold, refreshing and sweet as only in China watermelon and dragon fruit set out to beat back the terrible heat. Then the boys got onto Google Earth and flew around the planet in seconds, visiting Hong Kong, New York, London, South Africa and Varanasi in India where we are going in 5 weeks.

Upon us leaving, I left instructions with him and dad to go and buy stronger gut, heavier sinkers and bigger hooks with a barb today.

Subsequent to the last paragraph, these are the emails we have had from Addy today. These should give you an insight to it all. (Do take note that Addy has this thing of using "me" for "I" ... something fashionable amongst his peers at the moment so for now we are accepting and playing to it).

From Addy:

I bought gut, a hook and a sinker today but….. Me don’t know how to change it. Do u un rap all the gut and get a new one on there or what me don’t know!!! Ahhhhhhh!!!

Addison

From Mau to Addy:

 Hi Addy!

Me spoke to Uncle Jay and him is typing this answer for you ... over to he. Him is speaking now!

1.Take all the old gut off the reel. Throw it away. Now your reel is empty.
2. Take the end of the new gut on the spool and tie it very tightly around your empty reel.
3. Ask your dad to put a chopstick through the hole in the spool and hold the spool for you ... but he must hold the spool TIGHT so there is no loose gut (you wanna get the gut as tightly as possible onto your reel otherwise you will have the problem we had yesterday with gut going into the bottom of your reel).
4. You now reel the gut TIGHTLY onto your empty reel ... your dad holds the spool on the chopstick tight and you hold the gut as tightly as possible with your finger when reeling it on . MAKE SURE IT IS TIGHT ;-)))))

Then you go get on that boat and you go catch your fish and you BBQ it .... and remember NOT to say "Yuck" at anything - not at blood, not at snotty fish, not at killing the fish. Be a brave boy and just say "Yuck" inside your head!!!

Love
Uncle Jay

Hi Uncle Jay,

I have got the new gut on the reel!!>  YEAY!!!!

Ok me won’t say YUCK.

Love

Addison

P.S. is 4 one KG sinker enough??

From me to him

Hi My Boy

Me is very proud of you for getting the gut onto the reel. You are SUPER!!

Now, surely you do not mean that your sinkers are 1kg each??? One kilogram is 1 000 grams. A kilogram is about as heavy as  your computer / 4 of your shoes /  5 pizzas. Maybe you meant 100 grams (1/10th of a kilogram)?

You will not be able to cast 1 kg, my boy, and I have never heard of a 1kg sinker before  ......also, me thinks 1kg will break your rod into 25 (or maybe 35)  pieces ......  but if it REALLY is one kg, just drop it into the water ...  hold on tight so you do not fall into the water too ..... and use one only at a time ;-))))).

Have fun, empty the sea, BBQ them all and take loads of photos and email them to us.

Love

Uncle Jay

Ten minutes ago from him to me:

Hi Uncle Jay,

I don’t know it says it is 20 lb so....

yea

Love,

Addison

and my response to him:

Aaaaaahhhh, now I understand, young man.

That means the gut can hold a fish of 20 pounds (not kilograms) without breaking.  Twenty pounds is about 9 kilograms, meaning about 9 of your computers or about 1/5th of you.

If the fish is heavier than 9 computers, the line MAY break and it may swim away with your lovely food.

A 9kg fish will feed all of you: mom, dad, you and Anson and will still have enough left for little fatty Anson AND big fatty Uncle Jay to eat for 4 more more days, so that might be quite a good fish

I think the gut you now have is strong enough ... unless you catch a shark or a whale!!

Love you lots

Uncle Jay

Supplies or Surprise; Fun or Fan?

Fun, funny and interesting are words that always confuse our Chinese students - and did I have a good laugh today when trying to explain these three concepts!

Why the confusion?

Quite simple. In Chinese they have only one word for our two separate ideas of "Interesting" and "Fun" (youquu de). Their closest translation for our "fun" is "to play with an open heart (to play nicely)" - a sweet idea but  not exactly what we mean with "fun", is it?

An example of a common error, demonstrating this confusion, is for them to say that playing football or computer games is interesting (because they do not get the concept of fun).

The way we explain our concepts of fun vs interesting in a way that they will understand is to say that interesting comes from the brain. It is also mostly a once off experience. For example, I read an interesting book and I learnt something I did not know before. Next time I read the same book it is  not as interesting as I already KNOW this. John tells me an interesting story (from which I gain new knowledge or insight) but if he tells me the same story 5 days in a row it is no longer interesting. In fact, it becomes boring.Thus "interesting" is also the opposite of" boring" (boring is a word they understand, so this always helps).

Fun, on the other hand, is from the heart and happens again and again and again - the reason we do it so many times is exactly because it is fun (play football, kiss, play computer games ...).  We do explain that the two concepts can overlap, but normally only for the first time.

"Funny" we simply explain as humorous, for humorous is a word they understand and know because it is longer than "funny" and when they use their little electronic dictionaries, they always choose the longest and most difficult option to use. Humorous it is then, not funny.

So, now having explained this all to you, let me get to my own "humorous" story from class today.

As a lead up to the explanation above, I asked my rather advanced students if they know what the word "fun" means. One lady piped up, saying that she knows. I asked her to explain.

Her answer: "You are a superstar, so I am your fun" .......

I fell off my chair laughing.

Obviously she meant "fan" but the double-entendre simply got to me in that unguarded moment.

My next lesson is going to be on the importance of vowel recognition ;-)))

Turning 50!!

How did I get from that to this in such a short time? Been a hell of a ride thus far but if she knew what I know now, she'd also try and make the most of this very, very short time we have here.

The biggest gift she may receive is the one I received years ago from Mauro: true love. And that really is all we can wish each other on our respective journeys, isn't it?

(Taken after she bumped me old sunglasses all askew ... but if she likes it, I like it ;-))   )

Open letter to the small town of Steynsburg, South Africa: Why back to China?

Many of our friends have asked us why we decided to return to China ... I am sure many less intimate friends have silently wondered the same question from the sidelines.

Well, basically, since shortly after shaking off the euphoria of seeing Africa's beautiful blue skies; breathing her sweet air; again being awed by her billions of stars at night; re-acquainting ourselves with her motherly smells and comforting sounds and for the first time in a long time again feeling part of a culture we know and understand we started discovering that our feelings were mostly not reciprocated - from neither friends nor, sadly, from our closest family. Superficially everything was OK, but deep down there was sooo much animosity that even we, in our euphoria, could not pretend to the opposite for more than 6 months.

Somehow a gap had developed and somehow the bridges seemed to have collapsed beyond understanding and repair during the 5 preceding years that we were away. Somehow we seemed to have changed (grown?), somehow most people we knew before seemed to have remained where we left them when we got on that first plane out of SA. 

For the 1st 4 months or so we were ensconced in our idyllic home, on the outskirts of town, isolated from the inherent, in-bred Ugly around us. The two business promises that convinced us back were broken in this time but still we did not suspect the real motives. When we devised a new plan to make a living, with the sole aim of doing good and helping out the poor of our community where we decided to make our home, we were happy and, thinking well of ourselves, we went into this with gusto, especially after numerous locals stopped us on the street and promised support.

The whole situation changed the moment we emerged from our little house on the outskirts of town and actually started doing what we spoke to locals about for the preceding 4 months.

Suddenly we were people from outside, suddenly we were (said to us to our faces) "the Sinners on whom God shall have no mercy and whose business we will not support". Suddenly we were people who were trying to close down older, more established businesses whilst we were really just trying to ask a fairer price for our products, thus helping the many poor people in town. Suddenly and out of the blue a best friend and business neighbour, in his drunkenness,  started shouting horrible, below the belt abuse at people entering our new business at night  ....

We were robbed and broken in to more than once a year, we were told to "Go back to Europe where shit like you belong" ... Our animals were harassed when we were not at home and people would drive by in the middle of the night shining their lights into our bedroom and waking us with their hooters. During the day,  people we know would walk and drive past us, or stand in front of one of us in queue and and when we greeted them would not even acknowledge our existence.

In the end we could come to no other conclusion than that the source of the revulsion the community felt for us, living quietly on the outskirts of town and doing nothing but an attempted good in a poor town, was the fact of our sexual orientation.

We did not want to believe that in a country like SA, with a most liberal constitution guaranteeing our status as a same-sex couple, people could behave like this.

The evidence, however, proved us wrong.

That is why we returned to China. She is a so-called communist state with all that might entail in the minds of the unenlightened, brainwashed and paranoid, but she is a place of true freedom where we live safely, happily and above all openly as a loving, single-sex couple, where people accept us for who and what we are and judge us only on what we bring to the betterment of the local community.

One thing I have to add, and there with admit my own skewed preconceptions, is that the one group of people in Steynsburg who accepted us fully, showed us true friendship, opened their homes to us and supported us all the way were the ultra-conservative farmers. To you guys, thank you. You have taught me a lot about taking off one's own blinkers!

An absolute disgrace the world should know about!!! If this carries on our South African kids will become mere silhouettes and eventually simply be mirages floating around in a world that has left them behind  ......

This parent, like millions of other parents in my country of birth,  will walk miles daily  taking her little one to and from school. The callous government she voted for in her uneducated bliss however, treats her and the millions of other uneducated, poor like her with utter corrupt, corrupt, corrupt, CORRUPT contempt.

Shame on you my government. Shame on you!!  Shame on you my fellow South Africans for allowing this. I am terribly ashamed and angered way down to my deepest soul, as you all should be!

You have done soooo much damage and I am not sure if it can ever be repaired.

Madiba must be crying, as am I. If only that Man could have been our leader for 20 years and not for only 5 .....

www.news24.com/SouthAfrica/Politics/Edcuation-dept-denies...

www.news24.com/SouthAfrica/News/More-dumped-textbooks-fou...

www.news24.com/SouthAfrica/News/Textbook-dumping-Official...

www.news24.com/SouthAfrica/News/Mandela-bio-among-shredde...

I think that, after years in the wilderness, I might be able to access this again. Let's see.

Crowds and the influence they have on one's visual awareness

See photos for a visual of this at the bottom.

In a recent conversation on my friend Kay Kendall photo site on flickr about a photo she posted of a friend of hers of Chinese descent, and the friends dreams as a young girl ( http://www.flickr.com/photos/kkendall/3458742400/) I said the following:

This is such a thought-provoking quote and photo .... for this is one of the things that fascinates me most about this awesome country and this gentle culture: constant crowds and the psychological influence of these on the individual - and eventually on the whole culture.

Arriving in China from Africa, a place drowning in space, it did not take me long before I started wondering about the effects of incessant crowds on one's psyche. From personal experience and from speaking to expat friends having lived here for an extended period of time, I have found that constant crowds do have definite influences on us. First to be affected is one's visual awareness, ie, is one aware of one's surroundings or does one "switch off" to one's surroundings in order to survive mentally. Most expats in China I have spoken to have told me that their visual awareness has decreased with time as simply switching off becomes a kind of a defense mechanism. Personally, when out on a pavement (without my cam, lol), I have found that my own visual awareness has decreased to as little as one foot in stead of the previous dozens of meters! The reason is simple: for most of the time one simply can't see any further than a few feet ahead in any case, so I guess the eyes just stop looking .... An amazingly interesting field of study, with China the perfect laboratory. My local students and I often talk about this, and those having lived abroad for some time absolutely agree with me on these inter-related themes. Two last thoughts on this: do not confuse spatial awareness with visual awareness as, somehow, spatial seems to be far more primordial ... and, how about this for a thesis, "How crowds influence visual awareness and how visual awareness influences culture" ?
Well, many a conversation were generated on Kay's photo, both in response to my and to others' comments, but Kay came back with something that made me think ... She said, " I see it as a PICTURE book."
That made me delve into my photos of the last two months to get some recent ones of this phenomena - crowds. Hopefully some of the following will give you an idea of what I meant when I said crowds in China makes it impossible for one to plan ahead or to think about the next corner. It is just in your face, almost constantly.

A few weeks ago, with camera held above my head in Yu Yuan Gardens. Try planning a route through this .....



Two days ago on the corner outside our apartment. SPOT THE BRIDE in the crowd ....



Also, two days ago, going into the park, camera at chest height.



In the park, from a vantage point about 60cm / 2 feet above the crowd



Chest height, walking amongst a crowd .... how do I plan to go ahead?


Chest height, exiting the park. Again, how does one plan for this? No wonder one stops looking ahead and planning - eventually simply stops planning for anything. What will be, will be ....



Exiting the Yu Yuan, again, held above my head walking / pushed on by the crowds ....

Age in China

Today is a public holiday in China, so for once we do not have to work. Bliss. Utter bliss !!!

We grabbed the opportunity and went for a photo reccie and picnic in the park to celebrate a sunny day with James, our photography friend we met via flickr, his absolutely lovely and sweet wife Amy (originally from Mongolia) and Amy's 17 year old daughter Kelly.

This Mom and daughter two-some are so photogenic together, and I could not resist taking several photos of them.

Kelly doing the bubble thing ...

Mom taking a video ...



And them sharing the video ...



Whilst taking these photos, as I do, I also wondered about the cultural story I was photographing. Taking these photos of their shared joy, I again ended up comparing cultures, amazed at the differences between teens here and teens in the West !

What 17-year old in the West would be sitting with a teddy, blowing bubbles for mommy and looking like she is 12? No wonder everybody in America thought China's Olympic gymnasts were underage. However, young Kelly here really is the standard for local kids - in fact, if a kid
here "looks his age" it is very, very strange.

On this same topic: a real story story from one of my 16 y/old students who recently returned from 2 years of High School in America, showing how we are viewed here:

When I asked her what the strangest / most interesting experience was for her, she said that on day one of her going to school in America, she was sitting in class and she saw all these parents coming into class and sitting down. She kept on wondering why she was the only child in class ... until the teacher walked in and started teaching .... only then did she realise the "parents" were actually the other kids in her class.

Happy Birthday da Mama

Been a hectic week, so only getting time to post this now. Sorry, Da Mama.... but at least we did send these to you on time!

On Sunday night we went out with some of our fellow expat friends to say goodbye - again! - to someone leaving our circle of friends, and privately also to celebrate da Mama's birthday. For those of you who do not know da Mama (Janine), she is the lady responsible for giving birth to my husband, Mau - the lovely, way-too-kind, beautiful soul filled with both joy and wisdom; the lady Mauro is kissing on the photo above. The nickname "Da Mama" comes from the Italian heritage of "Da Papa".... even though Janine is as African-born as Mau and I.

We blew up one of the photos Mau took of her last year this time when she visited us for her 60th, and took it with. Mau quickly roped in all to pose with da Mama.

On the photo above, fltr are: Old Man Rob (Aus), Alex (Br), Gailan (US) , Bret's friend visiting from America, Bret (saying goodbye to him - USA), Joy (Singapore, whose mother chose her name perfectly), Joy's friend, Mauro, Olga (our loveliest girl from Russia) with new teacher Ant and her husband from England.



Phillip (UK) , Joy, me, da Mama and mau. Told you I do not like that side of the camera.

On the way back home on the subway, he roped in two youngsters on the train with us into posing with her again.



Happy 61st, Janine. Enjoyed taking you out on the town again. Maybe next year we can do it in person?

A Village to raise a Child?

Today was one of those perfect days. Somehow everybody just smiled love around us and we were again reminded of why we are so deeply enamored with China.

The day started with with me checking up on my flickr friends, their great photos, interesting lives and above all, fascinating insights into life. As always, I found a lot of food for thought on esp K's flickr page - a lady with deep African connections, a fellow educator and someone both Mau and I now reckon as a dear friend, even though we have never met.

Whilst browsing her photos, I could not fail but notice that she has been taking a lot of photos of kids as of late. They are gentle, sweet pics clearly showing her love and appreciation of youngsters.

Then, another thought came to mind: with her living in the USA, I wondered how her taking these was perceived by those around her. Did she do it overtly as a photographer, or did she secretly blend in as a mother? More interestingly, did she get away with doing this simply because she is a mature woman? It is certainly something I, as a middle aged, bald man would never be able to get away with in the West. Even worse: if the parents knew that I was actually married to another man - they'd probably call the cops straight away!

K's photos and the discussion it bore also reminded me of one of the more interesting experiences I have ever had regarding this topic. About 9 years ago, when I was teaching in New Zealand, two male friends (both much older than me and married to two colleagues of mine) and I drove past a Primary School in Christchurch. The sprawling lawn and football fields looked particularly lush and green; the early sun skipping in silvers and coppers off the blades. I pointed at this, looking out the window of the car. They immediately asked me not to point at the school as they would not want those in the car behind us to get suspicious ......

Thank goodness it is so different here in China.

Here, when we go walkies on a Monday, we almost always end up with children around us. We have parents bring their kids to say "Helloooo", to speak a word or two of English, to squeeze a cheek, to rustle a head and then to walk off again. When the cameras are out, parents bring the kids to pose, coax them into the Chinese V-sign (for smile) ... and leave smiling when all is done. It is just the norm.

Should we sit down somewhere, we soon have parents bring kids over, talk a while and often wander off leaving the kids with us. In the neighborhood we frequent the most we are even seen and used  as babysitters! Often, when we go there on a Monday, we'd be sitting chatting or whatever, just to have a baby or toddler popped into your lap unceremoniously - the parent disappearing to do some shopping or something. Whilst the parent is away, Uncle and Aunty and Little Mary and whomever else, will come by, play with the baby, then pass him / her back.

Raising a kid here is simply a communal activity.

With this in mind, I went out today to take photos showing the Chinese reality where the Village still reigns supreme, where innocent interaction between adults and children is not yet viewed suspiciously. We did not coax anyone into these things you see in the photos: they happen every day, every where.

This little one's father (man right) watches him perform for Mau with the video cam. Aunty from the stall next door smiles on whilst a stranger passing by (next to Mau) joins in the fun.



The 1st place we sat down at was a small restaurant we have not visited for almost a year. Soon the wee child of the owners, who was a baby last time we saw her, came over and started playing with Uncle Mauro. She calls us "Yee-Yee", or "Paternal Grandfather". Go figure, lol!!



She absolutely loves the camera and performed to her heart's content. She also roped in the neighbours' son. Every time a photo was taken, they'd run to look at it. Here they are peeping at James' screen.



Not long after that, and he was playing Doraemon with us. Super hero to the rescue .... ;-))



Next stop, and soon we had a crowd of about 30 people around us, many with kids. This little bundle of fun insited on sharing his lollipop with Mauro. How could he refuse?



Now do not get me wrong. I understand the sensitivities involved and I am the first to advocate the death penalty for those who err against a child, our most vulnerable members of society. I am just concerned about losing the golden midway here; about how we exclude esp men from interacting with children, and how this affects all parties involved, now and in future.

Comfortably Uncomfortable

In colder climes spring is associated with airing the stuff that's been inside all winter, and I need to air some ideas a little as verbalising my thoughts usually makes me think better. I do apologize profusely for anything negative I say about a city and a country that has only been very, very, very good to us, a country we sincerely love and respect, but I do need to put this on paper....

Since having returned from our trip around SE Asia 5 or 6 weeks ago, for the first time ever, we have been wondering out loud about the possibility of leaving China. I have a feeling that it is going to happen in the next 12 or so months. Ideas are forming about where to and nothing is definite as of yet, but I do think we are China-ed out.

For now, in any case.

It was strange leaving China for the 1st time in 3 years. Being outside reminded us of something we have forgotten: just how absolutely DIFFERENT and yes, DIFFERENT, this great, great country is, and how we have allowed ourselves to not only accept but also no longer see these differences.

Being outside reminded us of how comfortably uncomfortable we have become.

One rekindled memory was about something as basic as food. The taste of real bread without sugar added as they do in Shanghai and the taste of meat without sugar was just magical .... (yes, Shanghainese food is sweet - the bread we can now kind'a do, but the meat and sausages - no!!! Even after 3 years neither of us can stomach it!!)

The next was the simplicity of walking around and actually understanding what the signs, the advertisements, the street names, everything, said and meant.

We had forgotten how it feels to NOT feel like an illiterate person .... this photo, I hope, will give you an idea of just how illiterate we feel. You know the price, but you do not know what it is for .....


Very important was seeing a blue sky again, breathing air not smelling of petrol fumes and being able to see more than 17 stars in the sky (our record here in 3 years is 17 stars in half of the hemisphere as visible from our balcony - normally we are happy if we see 5 or 6 in a three months period). Please do remember we are form Africa where, just about every night, you have a sky spray-painted with white clouds of stars ..... we understand why it is called the MILKY Way ....

Probably most importantly was to again find the sheer joy of people able to debate and form opinions - in whatever language available.

Outside China, we had so many wonderful, vibrant, exciting and inspiring conversations with people capable of voicing a PERSONAL and more so, hallelujah, an ORIGINAL opinion .... Sad to say, but despite the absolutely charming, warm and generous nature and character of people here, there is an inherent inability to think outside of the box and to engage in an argument involving anything alternative to what their parents have taught them or what they have read in the papers. All "debates" have to end in agreement, and normally it boils down to "What you do is OK, what I do is OK and therefor we do not disagree or discuss it", or as in Chinglish, "We do not put our minds on other people". Beautiful sentiment, guys, but  .....

There are sooo many socio-historical and socio-political reasons for this, and I honestly do understand and above all respect these reasons, but it is getting a little tiresome getting the same answers and excuses to anything remotely controversial.

By the way, for the sake of interest:
The only NOT OK's are
It is NOT OK to use violence or become angry.
It is NOT OK to slap a child (for he does not know any better).
Both beautiful and OK characteristics making this a special people .....

For the rest, if it is OK or if not, it is OK too.

Sadly, in the end, it just becomes limiting and limited.

Although our hearts will stay behind, I think our brains need new challenges.

On a more positive note, should we leave, neither of us see this departure as permanent. This departure will simply be a way to a means - a return and final retirement in the Western parts of China, probably in Sichuan Province. We must just figure out how we can make that happen within the next few years.

Light at the End of the Tunnel: What a Mother!

In SE Asia, it is quite common to share a table with a stranger at restaurants and pubs. This is how we met Neakrat. Us walking along the Mekong River for the first time ever and happening upon a small place selling beer at a cheap price, there was nowhere else to sit, so she beckoned us over to her table. Here she is with Monkey and Panda, our travel companions and "kids".

She is one of only a handful of people we met who could not speak English but between our limited Chinese and her friend's excellent English and French, we managed to have a 2 hour long conversation.

We started off by talking about this and that, but after a while the conversation turned to the people of Cambodia and how we loved the friendly faces and the welcoming smiles we saw everywhere. We also mentioned that we were planning on visiting the Killing Fields the next day. This, I think, made her trust us a little more and that was when she started telling us her story.

She was about 13 when Pol Pot marched into Phnom Penh and turned the clock back to the Year Zero. With her father being a Professor, the whole family was detained due to his connections with the University and Academia . Within the year she lost both her parents to his torture chambers. She, on the grounds of being the daughter of an educated man was not only detained and gang raped several times (this was the only time a tear rolled over her cheek) but, as other kids of the Intelligentsia, destined for The Tree of Horrors (see photo below).

With luck, wit and the help of a kind, older woman, she succeeded in escaping the labour gangs one night and somehow managed to survive in the forests with other refugees until the end of the genocide.

After Pot's fall, she started off selling coconuts and later on she had a small mobile kitchen mounted on a bicycle, selling food on street corners.

This was when we discovered that she is, in fact, the owner of the little establishment we were at - just one of two thriving, modern convenience stores she owns in Ph Penh. As time went by, we also discovered that she has 4 daughters, three studying in America with the youngest a model in Ph Penh.

Towards the end of our conversation, she ran up to her small apartment and cooked us some Amok, the favourite local dish. All simply because we previously, somewhere in the conversation, commented on the lovely taste, smell and homeliness of Khmer food. Lovely gesture - amazing meal!

The whole time we spoke to her, she had a smile on her face.

The only other signs of the pain besides the tear when she talked about her rapes were the occasional wave of the hand at memories to go away, and when she mentioned the name Pol Pot - that name came with a sneer and a spit!

A determined, kind yet strong motherly soul who has pulled herself from the depths of despair to what she is today!

Avoiding the Killing fields of Cambodia

I normally take my camera with me where ever I go, even to work. These last few days were different ... nothing visual inspired me during this time - I felt no need to even look at photographic opportunities and saw absolutely no beauty in any street nor any face for nine days straight.

Upon our return to Shanghai 9 days ago, I put my camera bag down next to my desk. I looked at it a few times, but just could not bring myself to touch it and do the last downloads. This morning I had to clean around my desk, so I had to lift it from where it' s been sitting since we walked into the house after our vacation ...

This afternoon I forced myself to download the last photos from my camera.

I must say I am very happy that I did so, for the mind-fog is lifting; the reasons for my distance from my camera and my lack of interest in anything photographic these last few days are becoming somewhat clearer, I guess.

The reason, it seems, has two sides.

Firstly, there is the fact that I have taken over 20 000 photos - yes, twenty thousand - in just over 4 weeks. Guess I am a little "photoed-out".

Secondly, and I think far more importantly, looking through the last downloads from the cam today - taken of the Killing Fields of Cambodia during the last 2 days before we returned home - made me realise that I used the camera to create a wall between me and what has been a very emotional experience. I have been avoiding looking at these - until today.

Any normal human walking these "fields" would cry or become very emotional. I did not. Only by facing these photos could I allow my emotions to surface and experience what should have been experienced during this visit.

Maybe I have been afraid of it.

Here are some photos and the explanations to each.

The Killing Tree. Here the babies and children of the new regime's enemies were taken by the legs and swung, head first, into the trunk. After this they were simply dumped into a big pit to the right, some still alive, some mercifully dead.



Just some of the 6 odd storeys high stack of skulls collected from the mass graves around an area no bigger than one hectare.



The look on the faces of people walking through the Torture Chambers of Pol Pot. What hit me as a teacher most is probably the fact that in his horribly sick and twisted way, he and his madmen, having abolished all schools and education, perversely used a High School, a sacred place of learning, as his Headquarters of Torture.


The Gym Poles where kids used to do excercises were transformed into Torture Poles to lift people up by the arms - arms tied behind their backs - as a tool to elicit confessions to imaginary crimes. The clay pots once used by children to drink water from, were filled with the faeces and urine of the prisoners into which any one who passed out from pain, were dumped, head first, in order to revive them before the next hoisting.



Of all the places he could use in an emptied out city, he had to use a classrooms for this : torture dens! The photo on the wall is of the body found in this classroom when the Vietnamese liberated the city.




On the second storey of the school, he transformed each classroom into various holding cells.



Some of the photos of merely a handfull of the millions of the victims who suffered in this Place of Learning at the hands of this mad man.



In Cambodia many amputees and people disfigured by the landmines planted by Pol Pot and his lot today make a living from selling books about those time. We bought several of them. Two days ago I started reading the first, "Stay alive my Son" by Pin Yathay. If you can get hold of it, do yourself the favour and read it. It will definitely give you some insights into the soul of this man and why, symbollically, he chose a SCHOOL to do his torture. Excellent story about personal tragedy and, eventually, victory.