Single Breasted Warbler

I am gutted.....a few hundred grams of my best friend is missing! That’s a whole lot of goodness gone. Even though it was infected.

J looked resplendent in her pink plaid pyjamas perched up in Ward 20 at Public hospital, her image incongruent with the previous days harrowing experience. After being injected with something nuclear , she was then wheeled unceremoniously (no fanfare) into a room to await her fate. Small talking till she ran out of words she then awoke to a gap in her bra. No body bandage, no hallucinatory drugs , no bosom.
Like the true soldier she is, she wore her pain on the inside and presented her usual bright sunny disposition that draws people like moths to the flame, like sailors to the sirens, like bees to the honeypot...you get the idea.

Wheeled back to her ward and deposited into “Anita’s” position she was lucky she didn’t get anything else removed or added on as she was in the plastic surgery area. Once that wrong had been righted she then had to face her next battle....the food.

Metabolic mush played havoc with her tender constitution giving her more nausea than being sucked into a centrifugal force like water in a revolving bucket. Several anti nausea pills later and she was almost ready to face her cottage pie as opposed to salmonella on a stick aka chicken satay. What don’t they know about bland there and the recuperative stomach? AND the bowls they give you to catch the stuff are small and unstable as one other patient conveniently demonstrated in the night.

If the op doesn’t get you the post op care will.

Cafe Chic - pronounced Chick

My brief but fulfilling career as a waitress is over. I am pleased to report that nine days of subservience did me no harm. Serving whilst was pleasant enough is not actually my calling.

I have a new found respect for wait staff and the work they do. It is not easy juggling large angry mobs and even angrier ones in the kitchen.

The Green Room was my cafe of choice where I pretended to a large and loyal group of industrial area workers that I actually knew what I was doing. The beaded sweat and blank stare may have been a giveaway to the contrary.

My loyal and adept barista collaborator Maddie, taught me the ways of the youth and how to remain calm under attack. She handled the regulars with ease, whilst knocking out hot drinks at will and only dousing me with hot chocolate chocolate once! It was from behind and cold at the time and she did try to (unsuccessfully) remove it from my person which only made it look more menacing.

The kitchen staff/owners were so hospitable...until they got to know me....then all bets were off. We were on swearing terms by day four. As long as they had their cabinet full and their catering delivered they were happy....at other times when you may have mistakenly written an order wrong or forgotten one, they began baring their teeth and snarling with unusual amounts of saliva visible. That's not hygienic!

Having tested the waters of hospitality I can now tick that off the big lists of
"haven't done that" and move on to one of the many other options on the list. Am trying springmaking in early January for a week.

This work experience thing is working for me.....

Officially Old!

I am now the proud owner of an 18 yr old daughter! Jesus H Christ...how old does that make me? Freakin ancient....if you believe their press. Of which of course I don't and to prove just that have taken up residence in a local cafe pretending to be a barista/front of cafe staff. I have the offical low slung black apron to prove it. Mentally tallying up coffees, muffins and chicken wraps in quick succession to ten plus long queues whilst simultaneously smiling sweetly and running my fingers fluently over the abacus beads.

Working a job, especially one you have no training in just two weeks before Christmas is not an experience I would recommend for the faint hearted. Adrenalin has been called upon in copious quantiites repeatedly throughout the day. Christmas tasks dreamily anticipated have taken on a frenzied fervour. A Christmas cake making expedition turned into a pressurized taunting task as dollars worth of pre soaked and chopped fruit lay about my pantry begging for four hours of baking. After a marathon effort of evenly distributing copious amounts of toxic fruit into baking trays and then pushed into a slow oven, whatever the hell that is....obviously not fast and not so obviously 150 degrees as I thought but maybe slower than that. Anyway, the festive treat maybe a little smoky in flavour and a little quicker in its step. Bah humbug.

That topped with a celebration of the eighteen years sinced the famed pushing of the first offspring via the birth canal at a rapid pace of knots made for a busy week. An obligatory sharing of raw meat on an outdoor burning instrument amid the clanging of a number of alcoholic beverages saw that celebration celebrated.

Second offspring calling now for me to attend to one of its every need so must away. In the meantime......If you are interested....
check this out...http://www.resene.co.nz/wallpaper/preview.php. Awesome photo murals for your kids bedrooms etc.

It's Ovah!

I have decided that blogs are for the moment not retrospective rantings! i.e. S.E.A. holidays past. So no more!

Anyway, as we speak...I have a man cramped into my manhole....two children in bed, 'he that is king's' lunch waiting to be delivered to his work(to enable his training ride en route to work hampered by ten sandwiches in a large tupperware lunchbox and she will bring it because that is what her life has amounted to). Floors have been sucked and licked, biscuits have been baked, newspaper has been browsed, muesli with strawbs and kiwifruit consumed and procrastinated blog begun...

Great morning.

Oh yeah, man in hole....electrician. After spending up to a year on the ground we are finally mounting and connecting the heat pump. Thank you Mary for staying at home to facilitate this. We shall now be able to utilise the second floor this summer without losing 5 kgs.

Kids in bed - studying....NOT!

What does today behold? Xmas cake, Xmas presents, bills, installation including man with sunshade, Trade Me uploading and current sale, call Mum, buy tuner for laptop so I can watch tv on it (Breakfast show in the morning), arrange Friday night GGG (Glamour Girls Gig.

Have procrastinated (a common theme) on Xmas cake. As a virgin baker of aforementioned festive delicacy am taking my time and savouring the experience. Purchased ingredients a week and a half ago..got recipe off sister in law....moved recipe to kitchen area...moved it again to read while eating breakfast....hoovered....mopped....hung out washing...forgot about recipe....blogged...

Ah well, must go and check my multitude of lists to remind me about what I am supposed to be doing...

Am thinking of consulting a life coach..

12 September Farewell Hanoi

Saturday and all is well. I survived potential swelling, infection and a bout of Dengue fever. After a quick couple of showers to go we raced down to the pre-booked farewell breakfast only to discover our instructions were lost in translation. We lingered impatiently as they set up the buffet and pounced upon their every delivery. Happy with my standard 3+ plate intake of fruits, smoothies and coffee we bid the Serenade and Hanoi city farewell and leapt into the waiting car with the same speedway driver for the final shake up to the airport. Consistent to the end he surged through the inclement weather to our international departure lounge. Bidding him goodbye and good riddance full of smiles and hand shakes we turned our back on Vietnam and left on VN869 via Laong Prang (Laos captial) bound for Siem Reap (Cambodia) and three nights of cultural exploration.

*We ran into the Russians again at the airport and giggled at our chance reunion. They en route to Laos shared the first leg of our journey to Cambodia. K engaged them in the transit bus and again on the Laotian tarmac where an international exchange of business cards took place. One of the four was called Vladamir (of course) Belov and his wife was coming to Nelson later this year for a wedding. Pleasantries over we lamented the loss of an opportunity to bond on the boat in Ha Long Bay. Maybe an extra night would have done it. It is a fine line between balancing the courtesy of giving people their space and wanting to interact with them.

We had a quick uneventful turnaround in the Laos airport transit lounge of around 15 minutes where we managed to stretch our legs and bladders and catch some quick footage on video.

Our arrival in Siem Reap airport was to full sunshine. After escaping the Vietnamese acid rain, we welcomed the breeze less 30+ degrees reported by the airport. We cleverly bypassed the airport currency exchange and were greeted by the newest guide, Sophura and another 'mute' driver clueless to our language as we were to his. Eagerly we took extensive video footage heading into town on our 15 minute transit. Sophura was around our age and knowledgeable. We approved.

Our hotel was relatively new, stark white and an easy four stars in congruently fancy in this dusty little village/city. Large and expansive complete with swimming pool water feature and heaving in staff we were well impressed. Straight to the pool to test its water and cocktails while we waited for our room to be made up. The sun loungers, pina coladas and noodle dishes didn't disappoint as we took up residence poolside for a couple of hours as if we had been there for a week. Champing to get into our room before our 3pm pickup we reluctantly unhinged ourselves from the loungers and headed for room 318 three floors up. Changed and back to reception Sophura rejoined us after admitting to a lunch and afternoon nap prior to his return. Bundled back into the van we headed 10 minutes down the road to the famous Angkor Wat.

Our guide got us dropped off on the roadside where we were ushered over a fence and under some well placed trees. We could see the temple about 400m away magnificent from a distance surrounded by a moat and thousands of milling tourists in the oppressive afternoon heat.

In true Asian style I erected my travel umbrella to shade my skin from the sun. We literally dripped perspiration as we painstakingly listened to Sophura's exuberant verbose rendition of the entire history of the Angkor (area) wat (temple) and the common misinterpretations of the lay tourists.

It was about then after being bored into submission that we started to witness some chinks in his armour. The first nervous tic could be forgiven. The more fervant he become,the worse they got. We politely ignored the head rolling and shoulder shrugging but became slightly alarmed at the insane mutterings. I think he was taking a couple of personalities out for the day. The fact that he admitted to 'replacing' the original guide (due to sickness) left us nervous as to his credentials and sanity. We followed on dutifully distracted by his repetitious rantings and insistent interactions. A couple of his favourite phrases began with "I would like to inform you.... and It's amazing, How do they do that?"

We stifled giggles as not to enrage him as we now considered him fully blown 'pyscho serial killer' material. Glad of the company of the hundreds of fellow tourists we walked on tentatively. The temple had been built in 1113 and had see-sawed between Buddhism and Hinduism dependent on the King of the time. The Indians had brought both religions with them from India to Cambodia and of that the locals were grateful otherwise there would be no Angkor or the multitude of temples in it. This particular one was the most magnificent and had only been rediscovered by the French colonists in the late 1800's lost for the previous 400 years when the then King had fled to Phenon Penn pushed out by the invading Thais. As the Thais had captured all the scholars of the area and the majority of the people had left with the king, the Angkor (and all its temples) had been left to return to nature. The remaining populace were illiterate and thus the history and temples were lost. The jungle took back its place engulfing the area completely entombing the entire lot of wats.

Enter the French (19c) colonising at will and upon rumours learned from the locals they rediscovered and subsequently restored the lost city of the gods. The main structure consisted of five conical temples within a walled area surrounded by a moat that served to deter enemies and provide water for the city. A long central entrance path (400m) went out to the gate another horizontally wide magnificent structure decorated b intracately carved apsyrah (heavenly dancers) buddhas, serpents, lions and elephants. Sanscrit (Cambodian writings) told the story in carving too on the large blocks of sandstone used in its construction. Locals dotted the ruins worshipping the same gods in the same temples as their ancestors did centuries before them. Twin libraries were also a regular feature of the original architecture and lay on either side of the entrance. Large short steep staircases reminiscent of Inca temples led up to the five main towers. Pointy towers signified Buddhist temples and more low lying temples represented Hindu ones. When the Hindus were in power the Buddhas were all removed or chipped out of the carvings. The attention to detail was astounding and astounded the guide was with his disbelief of how it could have been done!

He said it only took 40 years to build which seems a 'jiffy' considering its expansiveness and intracacy. We were reminded of the wonder of the pyramids and Roman ruins and put it right up there in that league.

Agog at the experience and that of our ever insane guide we were happy to be redeposited back out our hotel 2 1/2 hot tedious hours later.

Alone again we discussed in depth the mental health of our Cambodian foe over more restorative cocktails poolside and wondered how we would survive the next two days with him.

Shaken but not stirred we decided not to venture out into town after dark for fear of meeting more of his unbalanced countrymen and instead stayed wihin the sanctuary of the 4 stars.