The Optimist

The East Coast (1)

2012-02-02T17:43:00.001+11:00

The Creativity of Summer

2012-01-03T10:52:00.000+11:00

The heat here in Hobart is intense. Sticky, crazy-making, heavy heat. These locals found a way to entertain themselves - performing this stunt over and over again on a quiet beach at sunset. The icy waters have their appeal, it seems.

Carpe Diem

2012-01-02T17:42:00.000+11:00

"Derwent Thriller"

2011-12-30T13:29:00.003+11:00

Close finish. Reported in The Mercury newspaper as "Derwent Thriller". Investec Loyal (Zebra boat) beats last year's winner, Wild Oats.

This Life

2011-12-28T19:20:00.004+11:00

Two kookaburras appeared at dusk in Melbourne over Christmas and I shot them laughing. An apt response to this time of year, I think.

Viral Video Chart

2011-12-16T22:49:00.002+11:00

Sea Shepherd Season Is About To Begin

2011-12-04T17:52:00.004+11:00

The new look Bob Barker with its jagged teeth is about to set sail. Best wishes to the valiant crew and the whales they are protecting!

Save The Tarkine

2011-11-28T20:48:00.000+11:00

It is ALMOST impossible to believe that anyone would consider mining in this area. One of the last rainforests of its kind that remains intact anywhere in the world.

Why Save The Tarkine?

2011-11-27T16:54:00.000+11:00

No Longer Invisible

2011-11-25T15:24:00.000+11:00

The Joy of Insomnia

2011-11-09T18:17:00.001+11:00

Six Seconds of Freedom

2011-11-08T17:39:00.004+11:00

Euro Bailout Animation

2011-10-29T08:49:00.000+11:00

How the Centuries Overlap

2011-10-13T20:49:00.001+11:00

Loveletter to Friedlander

2011-09-04T17:27:00.009+10:00

Bassoonarama

2011-08-27T18:33:00.010+10:00

Morro da Providência Favela

2011-08-14T15:00:00.002+10:00

Favela Morro Da Providência – Rio de Janeiro, 2008 - JR

Parisian photographer, JR uses the street as a gallery, pasting giant blow-ups of his photographs. Above: “Women” project, JR focussed on the marginalised Morro da Providência favela, posting photos of the women he had met.

Sunrise Surprise

2011-08-03T18:39:00.002+10:00

Last night I had a hankering. The weather here has been balmy of late. 17 and 18 degrees celsius. Like Summer for Tasmania. And, perhaps it was this unseasonal weather that triggered my rather specific desire. I wanted to see some dolphins. Badly.

And then this morning when I drew the blinds like sails, I saw them. Hmm. Not one but about 12 or 16 dolphins frolicking in the light of sunrise. Beautiful.

One leapt from the river as I watched. It took my breath away. As does this wondrous universe.

The Streets Where I Live

2011-08-02T17:03:00.003+10:00

July Moon

2011-07-16T17:09:00.001+10:00

Sunday Snowstorm

2011-07-11T09:31:00.010+10:00

Global Moon, Local Perspective

2011-06-17T19:07:00.008+10:00

Winter Retreat 1

2011-06-10T09:45:00.001+10:00

Winter Retreat 2

2011-06-10T09:28:00.008+10:00

The Gathering Crowd

2011-06-05T14:46:00.004+10:00

Temporarily Unavailable

2011-05-28T19:22:00.001+10:00

This Global Whirl

2011-03-10T16:26:00.000+11:00

Witness here the interconnectedness of humanity. News headlines in Southern Tasmania. If you travel straight out on the water in the photograph, you'll reach the Antarctic. Eventually.

Scarlet Lady

2011-03-10T14:38:00.000+11:00

The Whale Warriors Return

2011-03-06T14:46:00.027+11:00

Hooray, I say.

In the soft, golden glow of early morning, I watch the Steve Irwin and Bob Barker enter the Derwent River from the mouth of Storm Bay. The ships' silhouettes are like warships as they pass by the rising sun. And, for a moment, block the light. That this should make me want to cry comes as no surprise. Warships to protect whales. Crunching about in the ice floes of the Antarctic. Indeed.

Later, down on Macquarie Wharf, I stand behind a barricade where I watch the Australian Federal Police clamber about the two ships not unlike blue bees. Where's the crime scene?I think. Not here. It's out in the depths of the ocean. Out where the sacred mammals' song has now become a wail.

As I leave the wharf, where the media form tight rugby scrums about the likes of Bob Brown and the Sea Shepherd crew, I see Paul Watson lingering behind the crowd. I walk directly toward him and see he takes in my approach. I hold out my hand to shake his and say, 'Thankyou'.

The reply?

Thank you! he says.

Spirit of the sea, I think. In his eyes, I see, a whole ocean of wisdom.

Cockatoo Circus

2011-03-02T17:44:00.000+11:00

The Battle for Brighton

2011-02-16T11:53:00.000+11:00

The Lower Jordan River Valley Story...

2011-01-31T17:53:00.002+11:00

So Many Places to Get Lost

2011-01-25T16:14:00.002+11:00

What I Saw

2011-01-05T16:41:00.006+11:00

Actually, as is often the case in the Natural World, I heard it first. A bird was making a real racket. Bleating like a lamb. So I went looking for it. And, this is what I found.

An immature Pallid Cuckoo playing tricks. A canny game that resulted in two black headed honeyeaters continually returning to feed it. Weird.

I need to do some more research on this one but a quick Google search by my fellow investigator showed up a scientist in the '60's with his students in the field witnessing the same behaviour. Back to the books for me but I thought I'd share this with you.

Same Day, Altered View

2011-01-05T16:05:00.001+11:00

Hartz Mountains in Summer

2011-01-05T14:16:00.002+11:00

The Words That Made the Year - 2010

2010-12-31T17:33:00.010+11:00

mama grizzly: Coined by Sarah Palin, “mama grizzly” is the conservative woman’s battle cry, referring to mothers who ferociously defend their children or policies that benefit them. Often used with humor. In her new book, Ms. Palin wrote that it’s “bear propaganda” to insist that these bears are cute and cuddly.

poutrage: False outrage, usually put on for personal, financial or political gain.

refudiate: Another Palinism, this time a blend of refute and repudiate. Now used with an eyebrow raised.

shellacking: President Obama’s preferred way to describe what happened to Democrats in the midterm elections. Some might call it a knock-down punch.

Travel

cuddle class: Economy-class airplane seats that unfold into a bed or couch, as proposed by Air New Zealand, which calls them “Skycouch” seats.

porno scanner: A full-body security scanner that provoked outrage at airports and on blogs. Also called strip-search scanners and, more politely, by the Transportation Security Administration, advanced imaging technology.

enhanced pat-down: Frisking in which security workers slide the palms of their handsdown a person’s body in a search for contraband or weapons.

Things

inception: Popularized by the movie “Inception,” the word expanded from its usual meaning and now refers to ideas planted in the dreams of other people.

double rainbow: A phrase from the hugely popular YouTube video by Paul Vasquez, featuring his breathless amazement at the sight of two rainbows at Yosemite National Park. It spawned parodies, television commercials, dance mixes, Auto-Tune versions, parties and Halloween costumes, and is now used to refer — ironically and not — to something amazing.

vuvuzela: The South African plastic trumpet that invaded, like locusts, the World Cup matches in Johannesburg. Television viewers, as well as participants, couldn’t escape the buzzzzz.

Weird: Western, educated, industrialized, rich and democratic, an acronym and criticism of the typical subjects in studies by behavioral scientists. That is, they tend to be the easiest to recruit: undergraduates.

[The old and new puns, slang and jargon that we lived with this year. An excerpt from a list compiled by Grant Barrett for the New York Times].

Wild Oats XI Arrives in Hobart

2010-12-28T20:36:00.002+11:00

Spotted Pardalote

2010-12-28T10:05:00.000+11:00

Discarded Egg

2010-12-27T14:44:00.000+11:00

Banjo Afternoons

2010-10-26T09:28:00.013+11:00

Writers know about quiet. We are, in fact, as contemplative as monks (at times). And, in this articulate silence, we intuit things. We also hear things, sometimes in an acute way.

Lately, the dolphin like cry of the Yellow Tailed Black Cockatoos has been delighting me. A flock landed above our new vegetable garden yesterday and then a flock of sulphur crested cockatoos arrived in front of them. A peak moment for me. The air alive with sound.

Banjo Frogs are also providing plenty of music from their water holes at this time of year. Their sound is incredible. Just listen.

The Suburban Boy (1)

2010-09-30T09:14:00.000+10:00

The train flashes past graffiti covered brick walls, wire fences and the odd station. It is April, 1986 and I am on my way to what my teachers call 'work experience'. Through the window the sky shoots by in a bright blue stream. And, the air, I know, is cool.

Autumn here is the season of smoke. The time of year when everything burns. The smell of smouldering leaves and wood give the suburban streets a scent. And, this morning as the train rumbles toward the city I watch the slow burn of the haze about the skyscrapers. The sun rising higher into the sky.

In the window of the carriage I can see my reflection. I look, I think, a little like Superman. My dark hair combed back, my even features, square shoulders. In fact, I share the same name as the actor who wore the red cape and tight, blue suit. Though I suspect I am in reality, more like Clark Kent minus the spectacles. Mild mannered. Sometimes charming. I straighten my collar glad to be free of my school uniform. Today, in a clean white shirt, black trousers, I feel suddenly older. But what I am is a fifteen-year-old schoolboy on a four-day adventure from a Catholic all boys school.

When I reach the city, I walk several blocks with the herd of morning commuters. I find the building easily and climb the staircase to a gleaming door covered in stickers and signs. Standing on the landing, I imagine that I can feel the vibrations, the radio station’s energy enter me. I take a deep breath and lift the door handle and push against the heavy door with my body.

Inside a woman wearing padded shoulders, a perm and shiny black heels strides towards me. "You must be Mr Buchanan," she says. She actually says this. And, shakes my hand. Her formality makes me feel like a celebrity. Or, at least, a grown up. She begins to speak a little like a butterfly would if butterflies could talk. She flits and flutters from topic to topic. What I catch and keep, is that her name is Suzanne White and that she will, she promises, take good care of me while I am here.

I follow her through a room that is like a paddock for desks. There is a hum of activity, of organized chaos. We pass by a large glass panel where I watch talk back hosts' (with well-known names) mouths pop open and shut in front of their microphones. "The fish bowl," whispers Suzanne waving to the bearded man inside.

At the rear of the building we arrive at a small office. Suzanne takes the time to make me coffee before we talk. She is friendly and smiles a great deal. She reminds me, in a funny way, of Doris Day. When she outlines the duties I am to perform, I am young enough to be excited. She tells me that I will be the Production Assistant with the Afternoon Producers for the Audrey Lord program. I will, in fact, be part ‘dog’s body,’ part researcher. She lists tasks like photocopying, use of the phone, collating the daily papers and gathering information for the daily show. While she talks, I sit nodding and grinning, stupidly happy just to be here.

What I expect is something glamorous, exciting, cutting edge. Something laced with immediacy, intimacy. Something like the listener’s experience of radio. What I find is paperwork and staff moving almost soundlessly about me. What I see is the machinery, the workhouse that is so carefully concealed from the public.

On my first day, there is one man who takes a particular interest in me. He is handsome with his dark hair, dark eyes and blue pin stripe suit. From what I can gather, he drifts in and out of the radio station. Does special segments. Like a guest star, I guess. Suzanne calls him a ‘contract worker’. When she says this, I notice a vague curl in her upper lip. It appears that this is something she finds distasteful.

He tries to talk with me about sport, about football in particular. A subject he, it seems, is very interested in and one I am not. I respond with the rhetoric I have mastered at school. But he can tell I’m not interested. He changes the subject. "Want a career ‘on air' "? he asks looking at me intently. He wants to read my mind, I decide.
"Not exactly," I say.
"What then?" he laughs. And, I shift about the desk uncomfortably. He is, I think, standing too close.
"Journalism," I say. And, this, it seems, is the right answer. He lights up like the statue of David might, I think, if it could be lit from within.
"That’s my field," he says. "Maybe I can help."
"Oh," I say. And step away from him.

He can see, I know, that he has intimidated me somehow. He looks me over like he is inspecting a chassis. Sizing me up, it seems.
"I’m Cain," he says, holding out his hand for me to shake.
"Like Cain and Abel", I say.
He grins at me. "Haven’t murdered anyone lately," he says.

The Birth Place of Wilde, Joyce and Swift - Dublin

2010-09-18T13:11:00.000+10:00

A girl stood before him in midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane's and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh. Her thighs, fuller and softhued as ivory, were bared almost to the hips where white fringes of her drawers were like featherings of soft white down. Her slateblue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and dovetailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird's soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some darkplumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face.

James Joyce (1882-1941). A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

The charm of Dublin is in its people. And, if James Joyce, so full of musicality and imagery and epiphanies is any indication, one can see why. Or Oscar Wilde, for that matter, the master of wit and poignant observations. Both writers were born in Dublin as were Yeats and Swift and Francis Bacon. Any city that can spawn such talent is worth its salt.

Dublin (Dubh Linn) literally means 'Dark Pool'. The capital of Ireland's name is inspired by the dark waters of the Liffey River that flows through the city from north to south. The Vikings, I know, were the first to settle there but Anglo-Normans also called it home building both the Christ Church Cathedral and St Patrick's Cathedral in the 12th century. That the Irish are a proud and feisty people is no secret. Nor is their history of struggling for centuries against British rule until they won independence in 1949. And, in Dublin such strength of spirit is something you can feel and evidence of its rich history is something you can reach out and touch.

In the depths of the Trinity College Library, for instance, you can see the illustrated and illuminated copy of the gospels, created by Irish monks in the early 9th century, the Book of Kells. Or you might first like to walk through the streets and lane ways of Dublin guided by the Ulysses Map of Dublin. The marked starting point is none other than the James Joyce Museum in the Martello Tower at Sandy Cove. And, if you are passionate about literature you might also like to visit the Dublin Writers' Museum where memorabilia, rare editions and photographs can be found that one might easily covet.

The National Museum with its Irish antiquities exhibitions and the Dublin Castle will help you make further inroads into the past but the locals, no doubt, will enliven your present. Apart from literature and a world of history you can get lost in, it is my own Irish blood that draws me to Dublin. King Scanlon and the O'Brien's, need I say more?

And, to me, being Irish means to be dark haired and wild eyed, quick with a joke and cursed with a love of humanity in a way that rejoices in flaws and takes joy in the wounds that unite us. And, this is what I hope you find in Dublin. A lively and compassionate and perhaps, soulful welcome.

About now the Dublin Theatre Festival begins, Dublin Loves Drama, 2010. Theatrical works like: A Game of You, Floating and The Girl Who Forgot to Sing Badly will, no doubt, knock your proverbial socks off. And, if you do attend a show, you'll soon learn what makes the Irish laugh.

At nightfall, from the haven of one of the many hotels in Dublin, you can criss cross the river via one or more of the 11 bridges to explore the funky bars and restaurants. Or drop into a local pub to listen to some Irish music or the beautiful lilt of the voice of an Irish local or two. The Temple Bar district is regarded as the bohemian quarter but there are hidden places to discover everywhere - do a little private research over your Guinness.

The following day you may feel like taking trip to the Boyne Valley or the Wicklow Mountains where you can roll in every shade of green the Irish countryside can muster.

Photo: massey Liffey River, Dublin

The Happy Prince

2010-09-15T17:06:00.000+10:00

Edinburgh Dreaming

2010-09-11T09:54:00.008+10:00

Photo: j.onathan

When my Grandmother passed away earlier this year, a very strange thing happened.

On the day of her funeral, I made my way to the chapel which was tucked away in a wealthy, inner east suburb of Melbourne. To prepare myself before going inside (where I was to speak) I took a short walk. And, around a corner I came upon a lush green park. Birds were diving through the cool blue morning and singing in the otherwise perfect quiet. It was an oasis of tranquility.

And, then he appeared. A Scottish bagpipe player. He walked into the park in full kilt, turned to face me and played a ballad, loud and beautiful, and then left. I was close to tears. You see my Grandfather was Scottish and it felt like it was his tribute to my Grandmother.

Anyway, it left me for a hankering for all things Scottish. And, this is new.

Lately, I have begun to rediscover the history and geography of Scotland and learn about its time honoured places. Edinburgh, for instance, has the reputation of being one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. Its buildings and monuments spread across the crags overlooking the North Sea. It is divided by the Princes St Gardens into Old Town and New Town but the whole Town is steeped in history.

People are drawn to Edinburgh by its fabulous International Festival, I know. And, rightly so. But the quieter times like now appeal to me. I want to walk the cobble stoned lane ways of this city and discover my roots. My grandfather's autobiography will serve as an additional map. And, of course, there are Ghost and History Tours on offer. But perhaps if I talk to the locals and listen to the thick, rush of tales they share I might make even greater inroads into the nature of this place.

What I would do in Edinburgh is explore the rugged coastline, the tough port of Leith and watch the way the light changes, constantly transforming the landscape of the city and its surrounds. I'd make my way up the now extinct volcano, Arthur's seat, to see how it shaped the land below. Perhaps, I'd have a picnic there and read a ragged copy of The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and My Hyde. And, recall the infamous local criminal of Edinburgh, Deacon Brodie, who is said to have inspired the story. Or maybe I'll just smell the air, watch the clouds change shape, take some photographs and think about my grandfather.

Lady Stair's is a small writers' museum in Edinburgh that I may visit though picking up an old collection of Robert Burns poetry at a second hand bookshop somewhere nearby is more my style. I'd wander through the Grassmarket area in the Old Town and track down the vintage wares that hold secrets to the past and check out what I'm told is a medieval maze of an area where the Edinburgh Castle watches over you like a stone god. I'd also make the short excursions from the city to seek out the wild beauty of the lochs and glens and mountains.

But I'm just dreaming now. I know there are plenty of cheap hotels in Edinburgh city centre, so nothing can stop me from taking flight. And, who knows, I might come across a lone, Scottish bagpipe player appearing like an apparition from the fog.

Photo: photojenni

Highlight from the Edinburgh International Festival

2010-09-09T18:39:00.004+10:00

The High in the Sky

2010-09-07T11:12:00.001+10:00

Some are born too beautiful for this life. May your spirit know true peace my little brother.

The Whales are Back Again

2010-08-30T20:38:00.001+10:00

How to Eradicate History

2010-08-26T09:52:00.015+10:00

In early August, 2010, an archaeological report was released that identified an Aboriginal site on the Lower Jordan River levee at Brighton in Tasmania as being of "extremely high scientific significance."

It has been found that the Lower Jordan River Levee holds the most extensive and best preserved evidence of human existence dating back some 41,000 years.

"It has the potential to give us a glimpse into an unknown part of world history and the spread of Homo sapiens across the earth," according to the report by the principal archaeologist, Rob Paton.

Rob Paton also states in the report that, " The Jordan River Levee site is the oldest and best stratified open site in Tasmania, one of the oldest and most intact open sites in Australia and would rate in importance amongst those of a similar age from elsewhere in the world."

The report also states that the site has an "exceptional" capacity to enhance the understanding of Tasmanian Aboriginal communities. Rob Paton estimates that there could be some 3 million artefacts present here.

Exciting news, hey?

Well it would be if the Tasmanian Aboriginal people didn't have to currently battle with government authorities to stop plans to erect a bridge over the site.

The overpass is the Government's compromise. They actually wanted to put a highway through it.

The Jordan River Levee is a sacred site.

That Tasmanian Aboriginal people have to fight to preserve this site in its entirety is a national disgrace.

The facts, I think, speak for themselves. Dominant ideology, expediency and short-sightedness fill in the gaps.

If you would like to take action: Tasmanian Aboriginal Centre Inc http://www.tacinc.com.au/

The Nostalgic World of Walt Disney

2010-08-20T20:36:00.000+10:00

As a small child I sat in darkened rooms with my brothers and sisters watching slides in brilliant colours projected onto a screen. What I saw was magical. What I saw whet my creative appetite.

My grandfather with his big, gentle hands revealed to us in a stream of light the world of Walt Disney. Pictures of giant brightly coloured spinning cups, yellow submarines splashing through waterfalls and children hurtling down mountains were tantalizing. Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and Pluto were larger than life yet somehow real. We wanted to meet these guys. Soon.

The excitement in the room with six children sitting on a scatter of cushions was palpable. Yep. M. I. C. K. E. Y sing-song kind of palpable. The lust for everything Disney, lasting.

A world designed for kids. What was not to love?

Walt Disney World is the largest and most well known theme park on the globe and rises, I have read, miraculously from Florida swampland. It takes the whole planet as its theme making divisions via the four distinct theme parks and two water parks within its boundaries. These parks are all linked by road and monorail: Disney Hollywood Studios, the Magic Kingdom, Disney Animal Kingdom and EPCOT as well as Blizzard Beach and Typhoon Lagoon. Within each park there is a great deal to discover.

The Magic Kingdom alone includes Adventureland, Fantasyland, Frontierland, Liberty Square, Main St USA and Tomorrowland. But Typhoon Lagoon appeals to me. You can snorkel among stingrays, sharks and thousands of tropical fish, plummet down flumes and ride 6 ft waves created by a giant surf-making machine. Great for the water babies among you.

Disney Florida Holidays that cater for families can make it a more economical and well organized adventure. It took me half a lifetime to find myself in the world of Walt Disney. Don't wait so long. If you have children in your life, take them or take yourself. A day wherein magic is celebrated can be underrated in the adult world. It shouldn't be.

Birth of a Southern Right Whale - Right Here

2010-08-19T11:11:00.039+10:00

Photo: sontag

A Southern Right Whale and her calf appeared at our local beach this morning. I spotted their shiny backs in the water through the front window. And, I swear my heart lifted from my chest when they rose to the surface.

According to the ABC, the Southern Right Whale gave birth to the calf in the Derwent River just offshore, here at Hinsey Beach. The birth is thought to be the first in the river for about 190 years and is seen as a positive sign for both the whales and the river.

How to Charm Your Soul

2010-08-17T13:15:00.004+10:00

Photos: pedrosimoes and RuTemple

French writers make me hum and brood and finally break open to the transitory yet beautiful nature of life. Of course, I think here of the Greats like: Marcel Proust, Jean Paul Sartre, Gustav Flaubert, Simone de Beauvoir, Albert Camus, and Jean Genet. What a kick ass beginning to a list, hey?

The literature they produced is somehow now embedded in the city of Paris. The streets are full of philosophy, poetry and existential possibility. Maybe this is why Paris is one of the most loved cities in the world.

Although, you could live in Paris and never truly know her. She is elusive in this way. But if you visit she will undoubtedly charm your soul.

How exactly will this happen?

This way.

In a Lebanese-French restaurant you stumble upon somewhere in the Place de la République (in the 3rd arrondissement), you will order a light meal of Bouillabaisse et pain using your best school girl French. The waiter, impressed by the romantic tone you apply, will go down on bended knee beside your table. He will ask you to marry him. And, you will say "Oui" not quite understanding what he said but delighted by the exchange.

On your first morning in Paris, when you see the original Mona Lisa in the Musee Du Louvre you will want to smile back, albeit in a less mysterious manner. You may also be surprised by the dimensions of the painting (smaller than expected) but still you'll want to gaze upon Leonardo Da Vinci's masterpiece for a long time. You have arrived.

You will eat roasted chestnuts from roadside booths and stop into delicatessens to buy French wine, cheeses and saucission, baguettes and duck pate or anything your taste buds desire. French delicatessens stock gourmet food that is both locally produced as well as the best the world can offer. With your picnic hamper in hand, you will visit Fontaine des Medicis which is tucked away in the north eastern corner of Jardin du Luxembourg. Here, in a chair beside the long, reflecting pool you can relax into the quiet and contemplate the inspirations of Impressionist painters, the French Revolution or the lover you have at your side.

Later, after drinking an espresso in a sidewalk cafe and watching Parisians stroll by, you may choose to spend the rest of the afternoon at Musee Rodin. Here in the 18th century Hotel Biron you will wander through sixteen rooms as soft light falls through the windows in diagonal shafts. Works by both Rodin and Camille Claudel will show you beauty you'll want to touch (and let's face it, probably want to take home). Works like :The Thinker, The Burghers of Calais, The Kiss, The Hand of God and La Vague will probably be familiar to you but there are thousands of works to discover here. There is also a sculptural garden where you will probably want to take up residence due to its beauty too.

If you are in Paris in the cooler months you will stand beneath the Arc de Triomphe and see your first snowflake. The delicacy and beauty of the crystals frozen in a unique pattern only you will see will never be forgotten.

At twilight you'll climb through the cobbled streets of Montemarte where artists like: Salvador Dalí, Pablo Picasso and Vincent van Gogh once had studios, until you reach the dome of the Basilique Du Sacre-Coeur. From here you'll see the way the city stretches out, unravels if you will, before you.

At night when Paris truly shines, you will wander along the river Seine and then slip through a maze of lanes to find a hidden wine bar and talk to Parisians about the secrets of their city. Afterwards you'll climb the Tour Eiffel and undoubtedly protest your new love for Paris, the City of Light.

Or, at least, this is what happened to me.

There are plenty of hotels in Paris city centre. I like the Marais quarter with its history that dates back to the 12th century or the 11th adrondissement. But it's not exactly like pinning the tail on a donkey to find a great place to stay in this city. You don't need to be an aviator and poet like Antoine de Saint-Exupéry to land in the right place as it is literally a smorgasbord of good taste.

Paris, we have all been seduced by her...however, if by some strange twist of fate you have not experienced her charms to date, now is the time for your rendez-vous.

Tales of the City

2010-08-17T13:10:00.014+10:00

Photo: http 2007

When you go to San Francisco take a trip to Twin Peaks, which lies close to its geographical heart. From here, over 900 feet above sea level, you can see the city spill across toward the bay. Beautiful. If you take in this vista at night the city will shine for you. And, if you visit by day, you'll be surrounded by indigenous flora as well as indigenous fauna such as raccoons, skunks and red tail hawks. And, if you're lucky, you'll sight an endangered Mission Blue Butterfly.

San Francisco is bountiful in rare qualities. It is colourful and vibrant and unbelievably temperate. Maybe this is why it is the city that most Americans dream of living in 'one day'. It is a cosmopolitan city where you can breathe in the excitement in the salt air that flows beneath the Golden Gate Bridge from across the bay and into the hills of San Francisco.

Photos: Twin Peaks Bar in the Castro District - sfphotorama and City Lights Bookstore

Holidays to San Francisco are always fun.

What to do there? What the locals do.

You can just relax in San Francisco like the seal lions that lounge on Pier 39 or go hurtling down steep hills on the Cable Cars looking for thrills. There are popular landmarks worth checking out like the Painted Ladies, Lombard Street and the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge. Some like to visit Alcatraz to explore the prison but I'd prefer to catch a ferry to Angel Island - a State Park where you can eat oysters, listen to local bands and go hiking.

Wandering through The Castro ( the gay district) will enliven your sensibilities and a visit to the City Lights Bookstore will enrich your soul. Be on the lookout for local poets and beatnik memorabilia. Eat clam chowder and an array of seafood dinners prepared by top chefs. And, be sure to stop into the Mexican Museum to see Mexican, Latino and Chicano Art as well as their growing rare book collection.

And, when you do want to stretch out in the sun, head to one of the great local beaches like: Ocean Beach (5 miles of surf and sand and panoramic views), Baker Beach (known as 'nude beach' but you can wear togs if you want), Aquatic Park (an urban bay beach close to Fisherman's Wharf).

Live like the locals: freely, creatively and perhaps, with a tad of eccentricity.

Photos: surfrs and trodel

Theatrical Living

2010-08-16T13:07:00.007+10:00

Lately, it has been pretty dramatic around here.

Beautiful, though. It's just been unfolding in unexpected ways.

Last weekend on South Bruny, a wedge tailed eagle glided above my head close enough for me to count her feathers. Her wing span was approaching the two metre mark. The size of a small plane, it seemed. My heart stopped, I gasped. And, said a prayer to the gods.

And, in the week that followed I pounded through electorates with my hands full of Greens leaflets. No surprises there. But I sure made discoveries. (More on that later).

When I returned from five hours in foreign territory, I saw a whale in the waters outside my front window. My reward, I felt. And, what a reward.

Hidden Joys

2010-08-04T09:30:00.005+10:00

There are moments of inexplicable joy in life, aren't there?

In the late afternoon I take a walk on the short arc of the river walled by cliffs. The sky is soft pink and blue and there are birds everywhere going crazy about huge flowering gums. I am in heaven, I know it and I'm grateful. And, then I notice the seal. Bliss.

I watch it frolic in the water. Appear then disappear. And it stays right there alongside me while I walk. And, for some reason this feels beautiful.

A friend recently said of me, " She must think she's died and gone to heaven." And, sometimes, well, I do.

Wild Lupin

2010-07-24T18:26:00.000+10:00

Postcard from London

2010-07-19T10:30:00.016+10:00

There’s nothing like holding a postcard in your hand to make one dream of travel. Postcards have an old world charm (so ‘old world’ in fact, that they have to be explained to the e generation). Postcards put you physically in touch, albeit via postal services, with the globe.

And, this morning, one arrived all the way from England to my Illinois made mailbox, which ironically, is located in the southern most State of Australia. The postcard had a picture of the 'Manhattanized' skyline of London on the front and my younger brother’s signature on the back. It made me a tad nostalgic. You see I’m ready for another trip to Europe because, well, she’s changed.

London, like most cities, is a dynamic place that is forever metamorphosing. The old architecture interlocks with the new. And, the immigrants who now live and work in London have contributed significantly to its vibrant cosmopolitan edge. Yet its quintessential British nature somehow remains, reinforced by political and class structures and the resonance of history.

Now would be a great time to go. You see it’s Summer in London and it really comes to life there with an abundance of festivals like the Shoreditch Festival, the upcoming Latin American festival, Carnaval Del Pueblo, and the Indian Film Festival. And, I can see myself, picnic basket in hand loaded with gourmet treats strolling through Hampstead Heath en route to the Ladies' Bathing Pond.

A warm evening may tempt me to take a cruise down the Thames to see the well lit landmarks that hold thousands of stories. Like the Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament and St Paul’s Cathedral. And, by day I'd love to visit the Tate Modern to see the current Francis Alys exhibition (one of my favourite artists because of the poetically and politically charged nature of his work): think releasing a trail of green paint from a can in Jerusalem as he walked the route of the territorial line on a map of Israel after the 1948 Arab-Israeli war.

I’ll drop in at the Natural History Museum too, not just to see the Earthquake Room or the Gigantic Crocodile skull that is close to 83 million years old but because my brother works there. I’m sure he’d escort me through the butterfly house and try to freak me out while looking at the replica skeleton of a Diplodocus dinosaur which is some 26 metres in length.

Hunting through the clothes racks of independent designers and examining vintage wares at Spitalfieds Market also appeals. And, catching those iconic red double decker buses or black cabs or the underground. And, perhaps, taking a trip to Tite Street in the Royal Borough of Chelsea to visit Oscar Wilde’s old address. Really, I’m just warming up here (and getting excited). Such is the power of postcards!

And, there’s no real concern that it’s “all full at the inn” where my brother lives (a shared household of avid travellers). There are plenty of cheap hotels in London city centre. And, insider tips from Londoners suggest that there are hotels located in Soho, Shoreditch and Notting Hill that are great places to stay.

Summer in London. Let’s go.

The Whales are Back

2010-07-18T16:34:00.000+10:00

Just another quiet day in Tasmania.

A Southern Right Whale made an appearance this week in Hobart and created quite a stir.

At first it was sighted near the Aurora Australis and the Sea Shepherd at the docks which incidentally is in the heart of town. And, on Friday, they frolicked in the waters outside my house all afternoon. Consequently, yesterday I did the dishes looking to see the spray from a blowhole or tail(s) rise above the surface of the river/Storm Bay.

All agree that this is a great sign. The return of the whales suggesting healthy waters and a healthier population size. The numbers of Southern Right Whales are thought to have increased by 7% since hunting was prohibited. There are between 10 -12 000 of these creatures in the oceans each one the size of a bus.

In the 1800's there were 100, 000 Southern Right Whales and so many were present in the Derwent River that they kept the Governor General awake at night. (God forbid). These mammals weigh up to 80 tonnes and can reach 18 metres in length. And, I hope to see 'more' of them in the future.

Just wish I knew more about whale singing. What I do know is that they're incredible.

Yosemite National Park

2010-07-17T09:37:00.005+10:00

Photos: sontag

Why didn’t any anyone tell me about Yosemite National Park? Seriously.

Well, the truth is someone possibly did and I just didn’t take it in.

The concentration of incredible beauty at Yosemite is what I noticed first. No wonder Ansel Adams first picked up his camera here. You have to do something when confronted by the overwhelming nature of this living cathedral. You may as well shoot it. No harm done there. And, plenty do.

Yosemite National Park is 1, 200 square miles. You can drive the 190 miles east from San Francisco and take advantage of the deals to America wherein you can drive and fly to the best spots in the West of the United States.

The heart of the park is the valley where the Merced River flows through vibrant green meadows and deer, coyotes and black bears roam. Yes, bears. (If you follow the rangers’ advice, seeing these huge creatures in the wild is a thrill rather than a disaster).

There are massive granite peaks surrounding the valley floor that are two miles high. And, some of the tallest waterfalls in the world thunder down their sheer faces. The sound is not unlike the roar of the ocean and the spray will definitely leave you wet if you venture too close to the rocks at the base.

Tracks radiate through the park making it possible to enjoy the fields of lupine, glacial lakes and granite spires in relative isolation. At Yosemite it doesn’t matter which way you turn, what you see is sublime. Truly. And, amongst the grandeur there are Steller Jays, Acorn Woodpeckers, squirrels and American Robins to keep you company every inch of the way. There are, of course, literally thousands of animals that you may see here including the Great Grey Owl.

Whilst we were at Yosemite it snowed. A magical thing in spring. And, it gave a whole new look to the forests of pine, fir, incense cedar and giant sequoias that we had gradually become more intimate with.

I need to return to Yosemite. A week there was just a tantalizing introduction.

Yosemite is simply one of the most amazing places on the planet.

What We Need to Know

2010-07-16T11:05:00.002+10:00

Budgie Smugglers

2010-07-14T09:50:00.019+10:00

We do things differently here. There's no denying it. Why try?

Tucked away in the north east pocket of Hobart in Tasmania, there is a local cafe called, Budgie Smugglers.

The name does not refer directly to the Federal Opposition leader's penchant for Speedos. But it is about those who like to cram into their togs. (As opposed to men who put birds in the holds of ships to sell in foreign lands).

I am particularly enamoured with their signage but they also make great burgers and espresso. The cafe is a cool spot. It is located in an old petrol station that I guess went broke. Now it's painted red and yellow with funky stools and a bench where the petrol pumps once stood. You can drive in if you like but I prefer to walk.

Oh. And, I can't wait to check out what happens in the driveway here in the Summer. Should be a hoot.

Highway One

2010-07-10T10:06:00.009+10:00

Photos: sontag

In America, I found beauty in the remote wilderness region known as Big Sur.

Big Sur encompasses 90 miles of the rugged west coast in California that stretches from Carmel to San Simeon. Its name is a derivative of the Spanish name for the area, " el pais grande del sur" which means the Big Country of the South or so I've read. The Spanish words do the land, sky and water justice, I feel. It is exquisite.

To get there take Highway 1 and snake about the cliff tops in the dying light of a summer's day and you'll see the California coastline at its most sublime. I did. Mother Nature created paradise here and I am not the first to notice. Writers and photographers like Henry Miller, Edward Weston and Jack Kerouac (to name some of the Big Names) were attracted to this place in the mid twentieth century. The wild beaches that rise up steeply into the Santa Lucia mountains and the smell of the Californian redwoods and pine must have seduced them. That, and the secluded nature of this place.

Highway One (2)

2010-07-10T10:01:00.014+10:00

Photos: emot, sontag

To immerse ourselves in the beauty of Big Sur we stayed in a yurt. 'A what?' you may well say (unless you’ve travelled through Central Asia where they are emblematic of the nomadic lifestyle). Yurts are large, circular tents with wood lattice frames. Of course, this was, I guess, relatively speaking, a three star yurt. It had polished wood floorboards, running water and French doors that opened onto a redwood deck with views that could take one's proverbial breath away. It also had a clear dome at its peak which proved to be fabulous for bird watching.

Here, the quiet of Big Sur seeped into our bones. Descended, if you will. At breakfast, we watched hummingbirds and eagles fly by as we looked out across the Pacific Ocean toward the incredibly vast blue horizon. And, reflected that Australia was, in fact, on the other side of the world.

Holidays in America don't have to be about glitz and glamour, unless that's what you seek.

At night, we fell asleep listening to seals bark as they came ashore. I woke one night to a sky full of stars and then peered out the door to see that a fog had rolled in. All about me the yurts, looking not unlike a colony of spaceships, gave off a beautiful glow. But that's not all I saw. Several metres from me stood a deer. And, I watched for a while as it ambled away, its white tail disappearing into the mist. I felt like I was in heaven. And, in a way, I was.

Tarkine Revisited

2010-07-06T12:22:00.000+10:00

Too Beautiful Tonight

2010-07-04T17:31:00.001+10:00

The Secret Beach

2010-07-04T17:25:00.005+10:00

Anything Blue

2010-07-03T10:33:00.010+10:00

In California, I became fascinated by the Stellar Blue Jay. They are as common as seagulls there, as eastern rosellas, rainbow lorikeets and dare I say, sulphur crested cockatoos are here. Doesn't make them any less lovable, does it?

I have a penchant for all things blue too, so this adds to my interest.

The colour blue features a lot in my writing actually. And, when something blue is flashing through the trees (and it's not lightning) it's, well, exciting.

But I'm interested to hear from you. What do you love that is blue?

Tranquility

2010-07-01T20:02:00.002+10:00

Black Bear Crossing at Dusk

2010-06-30T11:10:00.002+10:00

Can You Believe ?

2010-06-26T09:55:00.009+10:00

What a spectacle we have witnessed in Australia this week. Political theatre at its most dramatic and, dare I say, cut throat. Swapping the Prime Minister in a day. Fast work, huh? Maintaining power now has a short cycle (not unlike or perhaps linked with the media cycle) and of course, the fickle polls pre election.

There before the grace of god, go I.

If only real issues could be resolved so expediently.

Biodiversity

2010-06-24T17:27:00.000+10:00

Most scientists consider the rapid loss of biodiversity, I have read, as being one of the two big environmental catastrophes we now face. Apparently, it is possible that the mass extinction of plant and animal species will occur at up to 1000 times more than the natural rate. Alarming, hey?

In California, I fell in love with this Acorn Woodpecker. I first heard it drilling the wood. It sounded like a construction site. The woodpecker has beautiful colours and is ingenious when in comes to hiding and reclaiming its acorns.

I hope future generations get to see this beauty.

Yosemite in Spring III

2010-06-23T17:04:00.005+10:00

The Beginning of the Day

2010-06-21T17:01:00.000+10:00

Bridgewater Jerry

2010-06-17T12:42:00.029+10:00

In Tasmanian, you can look out the window and see some pretty amazing things. I saw one this week. Low fog that lies across the water and shrouds the hills. It is thick and beautiful. A phenomenon to be noted. I first saw it at sunrise.

Local Tasmanians shrug and say that's the Bridgewater Jerry. Like it's a cousin that appears regularly and everyone is, well, pretty used to him.

Jerry who? I thought.

According to David James (no relation to Jerry) from the Centre for Tasmanian Historical Studies the Bridgewater Jerry is a fog that occasionally affects the Bridgewater-Hobart area.

He writes:

The 'Bridgewater Jerry' is a fog which occasionally affects the Bridgewater–Hobart area. At night, in cooler months, cold air drains down the mountains of southern Tasmania as katabatic winds and collects in the Derwent Valley. Fog will form if this invading air is moist and cool enough. It drains out of the valley in the mornings, blowing the fog with it. The fog mainly affects the Derwent and the northern and western suburbs of Hobart, but occasionally reaches the Eastern Shore.

The most likely explanation of the term 'jerry' is that it came with convicts from London, where it was thieves' slang for 'fog' or 'mist'. In 1821 Governor Macquarie, staying at Austins Ferry, could not leave for Hobart until 12.30 pm due to thick fog – probably the first recorded Bridgewater Jerry.

Another mystery solved. And, a new mysterious beauty revealed.

Drive By Shooting

2010-06-16T09:27:00.005+10:00

Los Angeles is a cacophony of freeways. Californians talk with reference to highway and freeway route numbers more than places. Even the weather man on TV points to route numbers when introducing the prospect of an incoming storm. Strange place.

Needless to say, I spent plenty of time on 10 lane freeways. This felt a little like riding on the Mad Mouse...right side of the road, left hand drive and all...what a thrill. But all that concrete and asphalt and glamourous metal doesn't do it for me. Nor do the endless rows of mini malls. The omnipresent poking palm trees offer hope. California is at its best beyond the sprawl of its cities.

Yosemite in Spring II

2010-06-15T13:17:00.007+10:00

Harlequin Lupin

2010-06-15T09:40:00.004+10:00

Yosemite in Spring

2010-06-14T18:59:00.005+10:00

Big Sur Hummingbird

2010-06-14T11:32:00.003+10:00

And so, I'm back from California with the voiceover at LA airport still ringing in my ears: Thankyou and we salute you. What a strange amalgam America is. More on this later. One of the most beautiful creatures I saw there was this humming bird. Those transparent beating wings are really something.

America, America

2010-05-15T10:59:00.001+10:00

What I Love About Being Here

2010-05-14T10:31:00.004+10:00

Two dollars at a roadside stand can buy me bags full of red. Red tomatoes and apples, that is, ripened on vines that I can see from my car. And, in summer raspberries. And, boy do they taste fresh. Sharp, sweet, crisp too. The joy.

Strawberries, blueberries and boysenberries await me. Not to mention cherries by the fistful. What was I thinking strolling down the aisles of fluorescent lit supermarkets? I was dreaming of Eden. Of temptation. Like this.

Double Happiness

2010-05-13T14:47:00.000+10:00

Volcano II

2010-05-13T14:05:00.001+10:00

On the Volcano

2010-05-03T09:40:00.001+10:00

Mount Wellington in Hobart, Tasmania is a volcano. Albeit one that has never erupted. Charles Darwin found fossils somewhere in the dolerite that were 260 million years old, apparently. So far I have found rare pink robins and an abundance of flora with names I do not know yet. And, the toadstool pictured above. So much magic here.

Nostalgia

2010-05-02T14:57:00.005+10:00

In memory of my grandmother 1916-2010

Fagus

2010-04-19T10:42:00.002+10:00

Tasmanians talk of Fagus. "It's beautiful," they say. "You just have to see it."

And, when people talk to me using language I don't understand, (especially with words that sound ancient) I become keenly interested. Fagus? Don't you?

Fagus, or Nothofagus gunnii is, in fact, deciduous beech. And, according to Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife, "it is Australia's only winter-deciduous tree, and you will find it nowhere else in the world except Tasmania. And, its autumn display is superb."

So, in search of beauty, we hiked up a mountain not unlike goats, to arrive on a wombat-roaming plateau.

We were not disappointed. Alpine lakes lay like mirrors surrounded by the Fagus which was turning from green to rust to gold. Mystical, indeed. I felt I was in Paradise. A paradise reminiscent of the largest Japanese architecturally sculpted garden possible. Made by the Universal powers. (See pics taken above)

White Goshawk : Messages

2010-04-18T20:36:00.001+10:00

White Goshawks are endangered (Tasmanian Threatened Species Protection Act 1995), according to the Threatened Fauna Manual for the Production Forests in Tasmania 2002. This is due to the 'low densities of White Goshawks and their limited breeding distribution.' And, also due to the incidental fact that a high proportion of their core habitat is in unprotected areas.

Bird Chaser

2010-04-06T11:15:00.003+10:00

An orange moon appears on the horizon as April begins. One evening whilst watching it rise I see something circling it. I climb from my chair to inspect what I think might be a wayward parachutist. Silhouetted against the moon it is dark and beautiful. I look more closely. God. A bird.

Not just any bird, a white bellied sea eagle circling the moon. Breathtaking, indeed.

Beauty is spoiling me here.

Earlier, on the same day, through the bedroom window I see a flock of yellow tailed black cockatoos cross Storm Bay and head for land. I, in turn, leap from bed and partially dress to race out the door. It is early here and the air is cool. And, standing in my bare feet on the asphalt road I have an epiphany of sorts.

I am a bird chaser.

You have heard, I know, of storm chasers. People who with a mad gleam in their eyes chase the eye of the storm. Marvel at the spectacle Mother Nature provides. Well I belong to this breed somehow, I decide as I follow the flock of black cockatoos from tree to tree to watch them eat and listen to them talk and become ecstatic when they stretch their beautiful yellow and black wings and fly.

The joy.

The Last Morning in March

2010-03-31T19:59:00.000+11:00

Firefly - Watch This Space

2010-03-20T22:44:00.003+11:00

I'm on Fire

2010-03-20T22:39:00.000+11:00

In the Spirit of Mardi Gras

2010-02-28T18:10:00.005+11:00

Tucked up my sleeve are a whole host of nun stories, remnants from my Catholic schoolgirl days. When I tell these tales people are generally glued to their seats and their eyes pop in their heads.

"They're great," they say. "You should write them down. Put them in a book."

And, maybe one day I will. Perhaps, after seeking legal advice :) In the meantime, here are some splendid substitutes.

Whistling Kite

2010-02-26T22:00:00.007+11:00

From the shotgun seat, I saw this bird swoop over the spines of grazing cows toward the long grass. Seconds later, I was at the paddock fence with my camera and caught this image for you. What I saw were native hens scuttling from the long grass, escaping the talons that had appeared from the blue. And, what I learnt later, was that Whistling Kite's take their prey live. Like politicians and the occasional businessman. Still in flight the Kite looks impressive.

Albino Wallaby Airborne

2010-02-25T23:46:00.002+11:00

Alpine Lake

2010-02-25T23:20:00.000+11:00

Tree Spill

2010-02-24T22:37:00.001+11:00

Flocks of Light

2010-02-24T13:54:00.010+11:00

The Whole Sky Opened

2010-02-23T23:14:00.004+11:00

When I walk I look toward the sky. Like the blue dome holds all the answers. As if it can soothe all the philosophical questions my heart drums out daily. And, sometimes I pray.

I ask the universe for simple things. Like beauty, like joy. Like to see signs to help me keep the faith. Answers arrive quickly.

On this day, I ask for something to fill my soul and to show my travelling sister mystery. The universe at first reveals three pademelons, three yellow tail cockatoos and three green rosellas. There are three of us. I thank the universe. Deeply, quietly.

A short while later, the whole sky opens. Hundreds and hundreds of Sulphur Crested Cockatoos burst in flocks of flight. They play and dive and soar through the dissolving light. My ribcage floods with light. I am simply in heaven.

I thank the gods.

(Images to follow)

Gay Death Penalty

2010-02-16T22:00:00.009+11:00

Uganda’s parliament is preparing to pass a brutal new law that would punish gay people with prison -- even death. Initial international criticism drove the President to call for a review. But after a well-funded and vicious lobbying effort by extremists, the bill looks set to be passed -- threatening widespread persecution and bloodshed.

The bill proposes life imprisonment for anyone convicted of having same-sex relations and imposes the death penalty for “serial offenders”. NGOs working to prevent the spread of HIV could be imprisoned for up to 7 years for “promoting homosexuality”. Even members of the public face up to three years in jail if they fail to report homosexual activity to the police within 24 hours!

We need laws to protect people -- not ones that will humiliate, ridicule, persecute and kill them en masse.By rejecting this dangerous bill and supporting the breadth of opposition to it, we can help set a crucial precedent.

Let’s build massive support for Uganda’s human rights defenders, and save lives by stopping this bill -- sign now here, then tell friends and family:
http://www.avaaz.org/en/uganda_rights_3/?cl=478675898&v=5390

(Avaaz)

Passionate Love

2010-02-14T00:01:00.000+11:00