Bus stop chats

Bus stop chat 1
I was at the bus stop waiting to catch the bus into town. A young man was also waiting and after a while he asked if the bus went into Queen St Mall, the main shopping area in Brisbane. I said near enough, that is where I am going and I am happy to show you were to get off.

So we travelled into Brisbane and he told me he was down from Noosa on the Sunshine Coast. It was his first ever trip to the city and he could not believe how big the city was. Noosa is very small by comparison. I asked him if he liked living there and he said there wasn't very much there but nature and the sea but that was good enough for him and yes he did surf. He seemed content with his life  but also eager to explore so like a good Brisbanite I showed him the City hall, the Tourist Information centre and where to catch the bus to get home. 

I left him strolling off ready to explore this mega city - his perspective was so different from mine it was wonderful. I love Brisbane for the compact small big city it is and he was exploring it for the mega new city it appeared to be in his eyes.

Moral of the story - always have a chat with people you meet at the bus stop. They will have a completely new take on something firm in your head.

Walking in the park -"Post it" on the railing

"In the world you may be one of many but to one you are the world."


Bus stop chat 2.

Woman rushes over to bus stop. 

I said "Don’t worry you haven’t missed it there is one coming along any minute now." 

"Oh good" she says.

Where are you off to ? she asks 

"I am going to a session on Brisbane's Dark Past at Brisbane Library."

"Oh that is interesting and I would have loved to have come along to that but I am actually going to hear this woman talk about Deadly Australians".

I laugh – "Well isn’t there a lot about this small town that we have to discover!"

Yes she said – "I remember those two lesbians who killed a man and drank his blood."

"What!"– "Is that true?"I say in astonishment.

"Oh yes gruesome stuff and I believe one of the women will be out already."

"I guess it matches the alleged murder committed by Patrick Mayne all those years ago", I add.

"One case of something bad doing a lot of good. He gave the land that the university is built on, to the city."

"Enjoy your deadly Australians" –

"And you the dark past!"

Breathing new life into the old city

I spent a few days recently in Nicosia, my home town. Two years ago when I was last there the effects of the global financial downturn were very evident. One of the main commercial roads in the city, Makarios Avenue was a terrible sight. Every other shop had closed down, there were empty buildings, for sale and rent signs everywhere and a general depression which enveloped the island like 

I write this of course as Greece struggles to maintain its economy, its dignity and its heritage. Cypriots went through the austerity and they were harshly treated by Europe. A lot of people lost a significant portion of their savings, I lost all my investments, others lost their businesses and one of the major Cypriot banks collapsed taking its shareholders and customers down with it. Three years on, the island is not over the worst, as there will be many foreclosures on unsecured loans yet to come but it has turned a corner. Makarios Avenue, which was the height of hip when I was growing up, has now re charged and while no longer the centre it used to be, there are more shops open now, trying to make a living.

What however was heartening was the walk I took in the old city. Nicosia is the only divided capital in Europe- we have a border which divides the Greek -Cypriot south from the Turkish-Cypriot north. This is also the only city with intact Venetian walls shaped like a star with 11 bastions and 3 gates through which citizens could come and go.

Following the invasion in 1974 this particular area of the city was a war zone - no one went there, the shops were deserted, the homes abandoned. There was barbed wire fence everywhere, a border had been created forcibly separating the city at its soul.

I have to translate this - Furniture and Shutters - "The Tyrrany " I wonder if he enjoys his job ?

A minaret in the South part of Nicosia, and nearby a Greek Orthodox church.

Now the border is open, people can come and go across it with some minimal formalities. The old lanes and the derelict buildings have become venues for little coffee shops and bars and the areas which were once characterised as war torn have now become desirable and sought after. Old buildings are being carefully restored and maintained. I was thrilled to see this life in the old city and it comes at a time when concrete hope has also been breathed into the talks. The future holds optimism and brightness. I wish I could say the same about Greece. 

Aspasia- Alexis

These are the bigger moments that we take away from these special days. The celebration of a marriage. They start a new life together with wishes from friends, much love, support and joy at how beautiful they both were on their special day and how much they enjoyed the ceremony and the party.  The guests were plentiful, the food delicious, copious drinks and dancing and it went on all night long. In an unsuspecting moment of calm Nick took this picture of the two newlyweds as they breathed in the salty air, looking out onto the vast expanse of the sea in front of them perhaps wishing their life will flow as gently as the sea lapping the edge of the sand.

Much to look forward to in their lives together. Times full of laughter and fun but also testing moments when they will need to find balance and compromise in their goals and how they want to achieve them. They have everything it takes to ensure the channels of communication are open and their fulfilment are respectful of each other. To them both we wish boundless happiness and joy. 

Capturing the detail

Sometimes when we have gone on holiday and come back, we remember the bigger things we experienced and I shall write more about that in the next blog. We quickly forget the detail, the weather, the land, images we see even fleetingly but which at the time leave their mark on our day and on our mood. As the years go by memories of such detail recede, disappear and all that is left is the feeling of well being we have taken away from that particular time.
So this blog is all about capturing the beauty in the detail which was abundant in Cyprus this June. I say this because it is not uncommon for June to be hot and dry - and the island was cool and even a little wet. The result a profusion of flowers, which fill me with untold joy.

Along the road of the villa where we were staying for the first time in my life I saw a whole field of prickly pears. Normally they are seen on the edges of roads, really more like big weeds rather than cultivated plants, so this field was quite exceptional and I stopped to wander among them and take pictures of their delicate flowers. They are from the Opuntia family of indian figs and come from the new world. They are rich in vitamin C and antioxidants and we would have them for breakfast when we were young. There is an art to picking them and peeling them so as to avoid the fine but prickly spines which cover them.

On a drive in the mountains of the Akamas we came across many goat pens and a river-bed which was painted pink because instead of water it was filled with flowering oleanders. You could pick out the snaking of the river bed through the flowers and it was quite exceptional but the pictures perhaps don't easily convey fully what an extraordinary sight it was.

The coast line of the area of Pomos and my sister's beach house on the hill.

 The holiday would not be complete without the some sweet balls !

A corner of this place

We have landed on this troubled but defiant little island which is my homeland - so small that it would disappear many hundreds of times over in the Australian continent but big enough when I was growing up to fill my world and to be the image of all that I had.

Coming back is always a nervous affair and there is no rationale for it. I have butterflies in my tummy as the plane comes in to land over the sea. I walk into an airport with the welcoming but very bored airport officials before jumping into a car and speeding down the motorway, part fearful of changes that might have happened since the last time I was here, part blasé about how well I know it.The central reservations on the otherwise unremarkable motorway in total bloom of white and pink oleanders, possibly the most effective barriers on the globe and such pretty ones too.

We holiday in the north western tip of the island overlooking the mountains of Turkey which might just be shadowed on the horizon on a clear day. The bay is quicksilver broken only by the movements of blue where the wind has disturbed the surface.

The villa is in an orchard of fruit trees, some lie forlorn on the ground. There was obviously a surfeit this year. On the one side I look out onto a harvested field of wheat and mountains in the background. On the far side olive trees and carobs.Inside a mixture of Cypriot kitsch, dried flower arrangements and supermarket art work, but comfortable and welcoming with a fridge stocked with food so that as weary travellers we did not need to look any further. Cypriot hospitality at is best.

Waking up to the sound of a cock crowing in the distance is so comforting and familiar.The air is cool in the morning and the sun just beginning to work its magic. Not long now before the cicadas will overtake the music score and silence the cocks.There is a good dose of rural in this corner of western luxury villas, welcoming tourists, and the mixture fills me with solace. Over the years I have been coming, the road by the sea is largely untouched and while the buildings have proliferated they are mainly low lying and acceptable. I walk into the bakers - I have not seen them for two years, yet the baker smiles and welcomes me as if I haven't been away for more than a day. Possibly the best bit is swimming in the sea freely. My sister and I swim out for miles, jumping into the waves and under them and floating on our backs, chatting, catching up on the gossip and the politics, enjoying the salt on our faces and the deep underneath with no fear or failure other than sheer physical fatigue.

Seeing family and friends for precious moments in this over demanding time is a gift. Gift giving and taking all play a part. I remember arriving on so many occasions and my older sister would have something a little special she had set aside for me or collected on her travels. Thinking them all up afresh each time is a challenge but good fun. I await the arrival of my boys and my mother in law with a real sense of excitement in anticipation of my niece's wedding on the 25th.

We have so much to catch up on, to share over a cold bottle of Keo and the ubiquitous kebab. It's hard to sum up how this place sits in my life and Cypriots say " There is nothing like Cyprus." Σαν την Κυπρο εννεσιη. It is a gift to me. I can truly say "There is nothing like Cyprus" and now I can add and "Australia is something else" and life unfolds between the two, because luck and birth have allowed me the luxury of being part of both. 

Cunningham's Gap

Allan Cunningham (1791-1839), botanist and explorer was an extraordinary man with a love of plants. He collected hundreds and thousands of botanical samples from his voyages of discovery arriving in Sydney cover in 1816 and on numerous trips thereafter.

'I find I can blend discovery with botanical research tolerably well',

he wrote and I think that sums up perfectly his whole persona.

While exploring the Darling Downs he found a gap in the ranges, now called Spicer’s Gap, which he thought would give access from Moreton Bay to the downs, with fine grazing lands. In July and August 1828 he returned to Moreton Bay by sea and explored the country southward to the Logan River and Macpherson Ranges and found another gap, now known as Cunningham's Gap, and in May 1829 explored the upper part of the Brisbane River valley.

So when we visited Cunningham’s Gap at the weekend it was with this man’s life work very much in our minds. We stayed at Spicers Peak Lodge which has its own interesting history and you can read more about this on http://spicersretreats.com/spicers-peak-lodge/

The journey from Brisbane is an easy one. The last part of the road leading up to the Lodge is narrow and not all tarmac but do-able by most four by fours.

The lodge is perched on top of a hill looking out onto the Great Dividing Range and Main range of Mountains. It is nothing short of spectacular. The architecture of the lodge allows you to enjoy beautiful views in all directions. It has a safari feel to it and is full of comfortable sofas, great coffee table books, good coffee and good food.

The pool and hot tub are in the front of the lodge and after a fairly up and down hike of approximately four hours, the hot tub, even on a cool evening, was really welcome.

Hiking around the area, and there are lots of tracks, we came across kangaroos and wallabies, all quite human shy, which I think is a good sign and countless birds, black cockatoos, red and green parrots and crimson rosellas. The vistas are heavenly. We walked on forest trails full of fallen eucalyptus branches and turning leaves or fields of yellowing grass that were springy and light underfoot. The perfect weekend gateway and largely thanks to this man and his early discoveries through these majestic mountains.

1st June 2015 - The first day of winter

Its the start of the Australian winter today and as if not wanting to disappoint us "seasonalists," the clouds have rolled in and covered the antipodean blue which so often graces these skies, snow has come down in parts of Victoria, and I have reluctantly put on a top as the wind is chilly for a change. 

It is still quite hard to get my head around  thinking of the 1st of June as winter and I wonder if this will ever change.Two years into my Australian adventure I am still surprised to go to the shops in June and find strawberries but also the freshest tangerines. Pumpkins and butternuts are being rolled out and the web is chocker with winter warmers. 

Yesterday it was warm, probably about 26C and half the street wandered off down the Ithaca creek to explore the new farmers market that is being set up every Sunday right next to the Broncos club. This, for those unfamiliar with Brisbane Geography is a stones throw from where I live and so there was great excitement about what we would find. Babies, glorious, cherubic, a melting pot of ethnic  backgrounds making for the most angelic faces, a generation of beauty ahead.My boys would have been a little irritated as I took in every one of those faces, smiled at the mums and conversed with the olive man, told him he had eyes just like his mother, only to find they were not related. Dogs, short, long, fat, massive but rarely mean, being showered with attention by the toddlers and those pet-deprived families. Young people everywhere, young families with some hip grandmothers in tow, a status to which I aspire. 

The market a profusion of fresh cut flowers, fruit and veg, holistic treatments, juices and jumpers. Enough eateries to fill any stomach and we opted for a few coffees and some gozlemes while listening to a lovely ceilidh band. Could not really think of a better way to say bye to autumn.