Australian Collection Re imagined - with Cypriots in their midst !

Today I went to the opening of the new Collection of Australian Art at the Gallery of Queensland. A huge gallery beautifully laid out and thought out, with magnificent works of Australian artists, starting from  Indigenous groups, to colonial days and after, right up to more recent contemporary art. 

In amongst two hundred exquisite items are two Cypriots. I am particularly proud. I noticed the first some months ago in the gallery and wrote about him - a work by William Dobbell of a Cypriot waiter in London done in the 1940s. For those of you who read the blog you may remember him. He takes pride of place on one of the walls by an entrance, looking down at us with his piercing eyes and vibrant blue shirt. 

Right next to him is "Bad Dad" by the amazing Michael Zavros, a lively and likeable Cypriot Australian who is producing work of such calibre and talent that he has already taken his place in amongst the great Australian Painters. His work Bad Dad was recently acquired by the Gallery. As he describes it "he has cast himself in the role of Narcissus in a contemporary evocation of the ancient Greek Myth, and as something of a cautionary tale."

Forgive me for concentrating on these two art works when there is so much more - but these are links  to my Cypriot Australian life that I cherish and want to share. 

Pambos Savvides - an old friend and colleague

I picked up the phone and rang his mobile in the hope that he would answer. 

A male voice did answer and I said loudly and hopefully Pambo ? Pambo ?

No, he said I am a relative but we have taken over the business, is there anything we can help you with.

Not this time, I said, I am ringing to find out how he is.

Every time I go to the island this is one person I contact, often because I need his help and guidance but also because he is a lovely humble man who is good at what he does, but also a caring individual.

When I was a young barrister in Cyprus he was the certifying officer the office used to certify documents. Like a notary public. He was in and out of the office a lot and was always there to help and advise.

Unusually tall for a Cypriot with curly hair, now grey, and puppy eyes he had a cubby hole for an office at the end of Ledra St. He carried a briefcase and was generally well liked by all the pen pushers and you could be sure to track him down at the District Lands Office.  His only failing was that he spoke too fast and the wordsranintooneanother. He was hard to follow sometimes. 

I got married and left the office and the island but I kept in touch with Pambos  and wherever I was in the world I knew I could ring up, explain what I needed and he would be out there sorting it out. He rarely asked for money. He married late and had twins and he was so proud of the children. They were a good reason to make sure he was paid for all the work he did. There was so much he did for which he never got paid.We would sit down with a cup of coffee and one of the best cheese pies from Noufaro and catch up.

This year when I rang I was told he was in hospital. I went to find him. Cancer of sorts but one which they thought they might treat experimentally with some new drugs.The months passed and I often picked up the phone and rang. It never answered until yesterday. I was told he was not well. I asked for them to convey my thoughts and good wishes to him all the way from Australia. I will never know if they got to him. He died at 11.45am a few hours after I called. He will be missed.

Shave anyone ?

Just imagine all your menfolk taking a shaving brush in hot pink and mixing their shaving cream into a soft and luxuriant lather. Well now take this image and see what nature has provided in the form of yes, you guessed it, a Shaving Brush Tree. I came across this on a walk in the Botanical Gardens the other day and I was so taken with it I came home to look it up and tell you all about it. It hails from the Americas and is called Pseudobombax Ellipticum and it is tall and spindly but oh those shaving brushes are splendid and I just loved them in the tree, on the ground and in my hands.

 

And just because I love the contrast of the colours I am throwing in some balls - so very wholly natural, of the quadong tree dropping its fruit into my outstretched hand.

Nature always wears the colours of the spirit - Ralph Waldo Emerson.  

I love my neighbourhood

Shame on them

We left India in 2013. So imagine my surprise when unusually for me, I looked into the blog and saw that I had loads of comments mainly in 2017 !  Well, I am not a very controversial writer and I suspect that most of my readership likes a quickie (pardon the pun) on FB and wont bother with anything else, let alone write a comment. But for a brief moment my heart fluttered and I reprimanded myself for not being more diligent and checking with each blog entry to see who could possibly be commenting on my blog!

Well haha - there was surprise, mild amusement, but mostly disgust when on closer inspection I came across these, many, many of these, in slightly different wording, the best of Hindglish and from everywhere on the vast Indian sub continent you can imagine, from the busy Bazaars of Chandni Chowk in Delhi to Chandigarh. From Jaipur to Mumbai and my word there is so much on offer here. Shame on each and everyone of them, all written by men of course, exploiting young and probably destitute girls. Well it took me ages to get rid of them all but now I am  can safely say I am Escort Free.

Two select extracts of the gibberish nonsense they write. Hopefully NO ONE would be attracted to this. All wholesome comments gratefully received.

Needless to say, the people who are intimately disappointed in their lifestyle opt for the precious agency of the females and find general satisfaction in their company. All of them have their own costs components about the ongoing service promotions. On the involved internet web page, you can possess each and everything about their promotions and select the scheduled program accordingly. What creates the true variation between the real satisfaction provider of Escorts in ..... and the various other common women can be that of strategy and abilities. 

We believe that trust is hard to earn in this modern world but our Escorts along with our Celebrity Escorts, Airhostess Escorts and College Escorts in..... are working hard to maintain this trust. Apart from it our  Escorts are looking forward for a good relationship with you maintaining your secrecy also. 

Are you NIPPY or a JOLLY ?

As the Economist put it are we the new GERIACTIVES, The SUNSETTERS or NIGHTCAPPERS ? How about the NYPPIES- not yet past it ! Or the more expressive OWLS- older working less, still earning. There are more descriptive terms, which is an indication of the heightened interest in finding the right description for this new group of luvs. One family called them the HOPSKIS : Healthy Old People Spending Kids Inheritance. Another group remembers calling them WOOPIES Well off older people, or JOLLIES Jolly old ladies with lots of loot which I love. Finally the rather deadpan INDY-

 I am not dead yet.

Reaching that magical 60 is almost the stuff of dreams - my dreams from which I havent quite woken up from of being 16 and on a long beach in Famagusta or 21 and graduating from University and pursuing law until that day when my father's departure released me into another world. A world which was a little uncertain and wholly unfamiliar and one which to this day remains full of surprise and wonder. Wonder at where I have lived and what I have survived, wonder at the three wonderful sons who have made it to adulthood in spite of the tribulations, vaccinations, linguistic challenges and strange foods. Finally perhaps but by no means least a lasting respect for a companion whose work and principles and a perpetual quest for knowledge are what persuaded me to follow him to the end of earth, guessing, learning and evolving. Today 31 years married and a mere 42 since we met. More to come in this geriactive state.

So dear friends which is the term which you identify with and why ? 

The Samaria Gorge- Crete

The Samariá Gorge has been a National Park in Crete since 1962 - a major tourist attraction of the island – and a World Biosphere Reserve. We travelled by bus from Chania to a height of 1,250 m at the northern entrance.The cool winds swirl around the pine trees at the top and a little shiver goes through you. We entered the National Park with lots of other eager hikers and started making our way down on the broad stone steps. You need to keep your eyes on the ground because the stones are uneven and very slippery from use so it is easy to slip over or sprain an ankle. We saw a hiker do exactly that but she was rescued and placed on a horse or mule ambulance to take her out of the park. It would be a long ride so ... eyes on the ground for the most part but then stop and look up to this- 

Not sure those logs will be long lasting but there were parts of gorge where clearly walkers had enjoyed the thought of leaving their mark playfully on the wood and with the rocks. 

We walked down many steps, slipped on stones and fumbled our way over loose ones. The hike was through the pine trees, plane trees and tall cypresses. In parts it has shaded rest places. After some four hours of walking we were finally right in the depth of the gorge walking along the river bed which burbled with crystal clear water. We crossed bridges and walked along dry river beds, looked at the geological formations and saw the pressures on the earth's shape right in front of our very eyes. 

We marvelled at the trees that came out of bare rock and compressed layers which formed their solid seas. 

The most animated of all were the expressive goats that scrambled fearlessly on the precipices or lay sleeping during siesta time. The gorge was 13kms long and at the end of it was the village of Agia Roumeli which appeared completely isolated on the edge of the most beautiful bay. The water deep and soulful and very cooling and the scenery passionate. The sand black as the goat and burning hot.