The first photo I took on the day I got my new digital reflex - a Nikon D50.
Le chat bleu is a very yummy gourmet chocoate shop in Lille, France
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Le chat bleu
The first photo I took on the day I got my new digital reflex - a Nikon D50.
Le chat bleu is a very yummy gourmet chocoate shop in Lille, France
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Saturday, July 22, 2006
You know you're in France when...
A certain brand of sparkling water uses a man ironing his own penis to sell the merits of its cool and refreshing qualities.
Friday, July 21, 2006
performance anxiety
Hello digital internauts! Been a while, but my lazy ass bone has been playing up again. That and I have performance anxiety. Old school friends from the olden days (when everything was in black and white - just like I used to think when I was 4 - see, see how stupid the television makes you?) have been proclaiming readership, others are proclaiming to want readership, and to that end I was just thinking the other day how many english collective description words and/or titles end in 'ship' - and, y'know, why...? So to any old friends (and a new one, hi the new one) who are tuning into this station....it's been 15 years, I'm still ranting.
So, y'know, it's been hot. And if it's not the heatwave, the hezbollah or Zidane's headbutt it's not news. And heat means a couple of major changes here in France - first is the transformation of old people into sort of geriatric houseplants (have you misted Madame Tartempion yet this morning?), the second being the bone melting epidemic amongst small dogs transforming them into a canine rag mutts. It's disturbing.
This weekend past was July the 14th, which, like most historical celebrations in any society around the world, means a chance to drink more alcohol. I went to some northern beaches in the pas de calais, soaked up the faux tudor and tacky souvenir shops, watched dogs get carried and witnessed some nightmarish toddlers face meets chocolate icecream incidents. I accidently went on a 50km bike ride - mostly because I didn't know how far I was meant to be going (distances on tourist maps with oversized local attraction icons are larger than they appear), went to a bird wetland sanctuary (daydreamed mugging the people with the severely expensive digital cameras and telescopic lenses), and went to Aqualud in Le Touquet (where I spent 3 hours thinking...'I paid HOW MUCH for this??)
Otherwise I just get the train back and forth to work everyday and spent 35 hours a week contributing to that overly complicated administrative system that the expats all violently hate. Bureaucracy is, after all, a French word (not to mention one of the bonus spelling words on the list when I was in whatever year you're in when you're 10 in your country).
So, y'know, it's been hot. And if it's not the heatwave, the hezbollah or Zidane's headbutt it's not news. And heat means a couple of major changes here in France - first is the transformation of old people into sort of geriatric houseplants (have you misted Madame Tartempion yet this morning?), the second being the bone melting epidemic amongst small dogs transforming them into a canine rag mutts. It's disturbing.
This weekend past was July the 14th, which, like most historical celebrations in any society around the world, means a chance to drink more alcohol. I went to some northern beaches in the pas de calais, soaked up the faux tudor and tacky souvenir shops, watched dogs get carried and witnessed some nightmarish toddlers face meets chocolate icecream incidents. I accidently went on a 50km bike ride - mostly because I didn't know how far I was meant to be going (distances on tourist maps with oversized local attraction icons are larger than they appear), went to a bird wetland sanctuary (daydreamed mugging the people with the severely expensive digital cameras and telescopic lenses), and went to Aqualud in Le Touquet (where I spent 3 hours thinking...'I paid HOW MUCH for this??)
Otherwise I just get the train back and forth to work everyday and spent 35 hours a week contributing to that overly complicated administrative system that the expats all violently hate. Bureaucracy is, after all, a French word (not to mention one of the bonus spelling words on the list when I was in whatever year you're in when you're 10 in your country).
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
soccer saturation
Y'know, there's a lot going on in this world, but nothing short of a national disater of epic proportions is going shift football/the World cup/why Zizou had a tanty off every real-time broadcast with pseudo-teleintellectuos speculating and surveying and replaying and devoting 96% of a 40 minute news program to one subject (see, I can do some bloody surveys too; 8.00pm - 8.26pm and 8.34pm - 8.40pm entirely football related. It's like they forgot there was a rest of the world out there.) Surrounded as I am, by morons, I too was dragged to a mysteriously-hiked-up-their-drink-prices bar to watch people yelling at a tv screen for over 2 very long hours...on some level, I can still argue that I'm just participating in some kind of cultural field trip, just with more alcohol. Soccer can transform a town like no other sport I've seen - I've seen it turn London into a flag parade, Amsterdam into a ghost town for 90 minutes on a Saturday night, and the Lille grande place into an open air party. So here I am, jotting down pointed observations in my imaginary moleskin as I watched the crowds silently file their way out of the bars to go home and puzzle over why so few euros rested in their pockets, flags refurled, red, white and blue body paint trickling down into their shirt collars. And philosophically ponder to myself...meh, nyer, whatever.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Encore un truc
Just the one. Let's not get carried away. But now that I'm back in the employment fold, I'm reminded how much this habit irks me.
So standard work greetings in this part of the world are either a handshake or a cheek kiss (confound them at your peril). This habit, in itself, I'm quite ok with - having been semi-regularly exposed to the greeting system à la française since my childhood.
No, what does bug me beyond measure (apart from people whose head and legs are not necessarily pointed in the same direction when they're moving into my impact zone vicinity)
What DOES bug me beyond measure is the French version where the hand and the head are not pointed in the same direction during the workplace greeting rounds. So, you guys initiated this custom, right? Follow the damn thing through already and just LOOK at me when you're shaking my hand. A micro-second of acknowledgement is all I'm asking for here.
So standard work greetings in this part of the world are either a handshake or a cheek kiss (confound them at your peril). This habit, in itself, I'm quite ok with - having been semi-regularly exposed to the greeting system à la française since my childhood.
No, what does bug me beyond measure (apart from people whose head and legs are not necessarily pointed in the same direction when they're moving into my impact zone vicinity)
What DOES bug me beyond measure is the French version where the hand and the head are not pointed in the same direction during the workplace greeting rounds. So, you guys initiated this custom, right? Follow the damn thing through already and just LOOK at me when you're shaking my hand. A micro-second of acknowledgement is all I'm asking for here.
And if I'd met a carpenter instead?
Go out with an IT type lad, and his version of reality is that his spectacularly lucky girlfriend (or hey, let's be more open minded in honour of gay pride that I recall as having supposed to have happened sometime. Recently. This Year. I think....and call them a - partner) has hot and cold running access to superior computer technology, faster, stronger, better and constantly updated software. Now - there's the key phrase that is the bane of my existence...constant updates.
Constant updates translates to your online password to about a squillion sites being consistently wiped and I can't even begin to count how many bookmarked pages I've lost even AFTER I realised that there's a better way (delicious serving as nothing more than a replacement online toolbar that won't get wiped every other week) , there are still a bunch of temporary 'I'll check back on those later' that get swept under the cyber rug, how many online passwords I lose, then forget, then have to reapply for, then lose, then forget, then...including delicious, now that I think about it.
Constant updates translates to just when you think you've figured out where everything is, it gets moved/reconfigured/uninstalled/or just plain wiped. Unless it's his. It's always reinstalled if it's his.
Constant updates translates to 'whoops I just overwrote all your documents and photos by accident. Sorry'
OK, so I DO back up (hell, I was at uni for 7 years, I'd never have passed if I didn't back up, with 'the computer ate it' replacing 'the dog ate it' as number 1 most frequent excuse. In my case it actually was true. Re the computer, not the dog. I never really had a dog). But I, being a proud and robust techno-peasant, do not back up nearly as often as the meddling cyber geek plots opportunities for my 0101101 numeric destruction.
You know when you were a kid and you got your hands on that first bit of electronic equipment (in my case a portable am radio) and a screwdriver and you went 'hmmm, let's see now', and it was never quite right after?
Need I say more?
Constant updates translates to your online password to about a squillion sites being consistently wiped and I can't even begin to count how many bookmarked pages I've lost even AFTER I realised that there's a better way (delicious serving as nothing more than a replacement online toolbar that won't get wiped every other week) , there are still a bunch of temporary 'I'll check back on those later' that get swept under the cyber rug, how many online passwords I lose, then forget, then have to reapply for, then lose, then forget, then...including delicious, now that I think about it.
Constant updates translates to just when you think you've figured out where everything is, it gets moved/reconfigured/uninstalled/or just plain wiped. Unless it's his. It's always reinstalled if it's his.
Constant updates translates to 'whoops I just overwrote all your documents and photos by accident. Sorry'
OK, so I DO back up (hell, I was at uni for 7 years, I'd never have passed if I didn't back up, with 'the computer ate it' replacing 'the dog ate it' as number 1 most frequent excuse. In my case it actually was true. Re the computer, not the dog. I never really had a dog). But I, being a proud and robust techno-peasant, do not back up nearly as often as the meddling cyber geek plots opportunities for my 0101101 numeric destruction.
You know when you were a kid and you got your hands on that first bit of electronic equipment (in my case a portable am radio) and a screwdriver and you went 'hmmm, let's see now', and it was never quite right after?
Need I say more?
Saturday, June 24, 2006
tower and bridge
Two photos stiched together using the most basic software there is. I just got lucky.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Happy Day!
Some British toff (that's Brit slang for scholar type person innit) has calculated that today - the 23rd of June - is the happiest day of the year (based on a bunch of factors including sunlight, and only applicable in the Northern Hemisphere I imagine), but then the reverse 'sad day' wouldn't necessarily apply for every Southern Hemisphere country because it's set at January 23rd, but then January 26th is a public holiday in Australia, so Australia Day could well be put forward as that nations happiest day, right? Anyway, if anyone else comes up with the idea, remember that you heard it here first* and that should give me the right to sue them or something.
And I'll have you know that I spent this allegedly monumentously joyous day on active mould duty as this apartment (told you I'd complain about it eventually) tries to pass itself off as The Best Little Sporehouse in Texas. Ugh.
I have work again, starting in July. So that should keep me out of mischief for the next 6 months or so. It's in the nearby town of Armentières, an interesting little town. Visually. I wouldn't want to live there. It's like a town whose glory days have passed, the grand edifices that marked when it was more vibrant, more active have been boarded up and abandoned, but not torn down. Like they're just waiting for the day they can be opened up, dusted down and live again. In other words, it's a shithole.
But the run-down look is pretty common in the Nord generally I guess. It used to be a mining and textile region, but coal mining went out of style, and - like many areas in France - good quality textiles became a thing of the past. So the factories closed, and the slag heaps grew green and sometimes became little ecological zones of interest.
The Nord has had to branch out in alternative areas to compensate, and health, technology and research have filled in the void to a significant degree. I hope though, that should the region ever rediscover its former prosperity, and a use for some of those old buildings, that they'll be kept as part of the local patrimony.
*Austalia Day, Australia's Happiest Day TM
And I'll have you know that I spent this allegedly monumentously joyous day on active mould duty as this apartment (told you I'd complain about it eventually) tries to pass itself off as The Best Little Sporehouse in Texas. Ugh.
I have work again, starting in July. So that should keep me out of mischief for the next 6 months or so. It's in the nearby town of Armentières, an interesting little town. Visually. I wouldn't want to live there. It's like a town whose glory days have passed, the grand edifices that marked when it was more vibrant, more active have been boarded up and abandoned, but not torn down. Like they're just waiting for the day they can be opened up, dusted down and live again. In other words, it's a shithole.
But the run-down look is pretty common in the Nord generally I guess. It used to be a mining and textile region, but coal mining went out of style, and - like many areas in France - good quality textiles became a thing of the past. So the factories closed, and the slag heaps grew green and sometimes became little ecological zones of interest.
The Nord has had to branch out in alternative areas to compensate, and health, technology and research have filled in the void to a significant degree. I hope though, that should the region ever rediscover its former prosperity, and a use for some of those old buildings, that they'll be kept as part of the local patrimony.
*Austalia Day, Australia's Happiest Day TM
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
my aches have aches
It's crazy how a really long stretch of sitting around can leave you feeling like you've done a couple of turns in a tumble drier.
So, obviously I'm home. For those of you who didn't twig that I'd left, well, I left, and now I'm home. I had an awful trip back. Awful. I met the Winner of 'My most annoying travel plane seat neighbour. Ever' on the Darwin Bombay/Mumbai section(I was in high school during the fall of the USSR, surely that exempts me from having to learn the changing name of any more cities/countries?). I met the second runner up on the Mumbai-London leg. Karma just never gives me a break. I should probably never go to India.
Introducing our winner - an incessant chatterer with 2 like-minded 6 year olds and overly developed magpie tendencies, collecting as much as possible of every object possible on the plane in the 8 hours available to her. Including a lot of my seat space, not to mention making overt advances towards adding my pillow to her rapidly expanding collection. And consistently breaching my personal taboo of 'never talk to me while I'm watching wildlife documentaries. Ever. Especially David Attenborough. Unless you want me to gind me teeth at you and start twitching'. I mean, the overt wearing of headphones HAS to be a pretty big clue too, right? Well, obviously not, because our runner up - the old fart from hell - didn't quite get that I might not want to be asked questions every 5 minutes after not having slept for about 24hours. Especially when the questions were upwards of 50% in Hindi. Even when I told him. Repeatedly. Including requests that he stop ramming his twice-the-legal-size-limit suitcase pointy legs into my ribs (oh, that might explain some of the aches actually).
God grant me an eject seat button and beware of overhead storage cabins. Maybe he was the most annoying after all. They both managed to get entirely different flight crews on entirely different flights tetchy enough to want to hiff them out the airlock. It's not only that I'm just intolerant.
So I get home to an empty fridge AND one less bottle of champagne. It was the Moët. The bf is, frankly, lucky to be alive. I think he is under the impression that having bought a new car last fortnight absolves him of pretty much everything, somehow.
So, obviously I'm home. For those of you who didn't twig that I'd left, well, I left, and now I'm home. I had an awful trip back. Awful. I met the Winner of 'My most annoying travel plane seat neighbour. Ever' on the Darwin Bombay/Mumbai section(I was in high school during the fall of the USSR, surely that exempts me from having to learn the changing name of any more cities/countries?). I met the second runner up on the Mumbai-London leg. Karma just never gives me a break. I should probably never go to India.
Introducing our winner - an incessant chatterer with 2 like-minded 6 year olds and overly developed magpie tendencies, collecting as much as possible of every object possible on the plane in the 8 hours available to her. Including a lot of my seat space, not to mention making overt advances towards adding my pillow to her rapidly expanding collection. And consistently breaching my personal taboo of 'never talk to me while I'm watching wildlife documentaries. Ever. Especially David Attenborough. Unless you want me to gind me teeth at you and start twitching'. I mean, the overt wearing of headphones HAS to be a pretty big clue too, right? Well, obviously not, because our runner up - the old fart from hell - didn't quite get that I might not want to be asked questions every 5 minutes after not having slept for about 24hours. Especially when the questions were upwards of 50% in Hindi. Even when I told him. Repeatedly. Including requests that he stop ramming his twice-the-legal-size-limit suitcase pointy legs into my ribs (oh, that might explain some of the aches actually).
God grant me an eject seat button and beware of overhead storage cabins. Maybe he was the most annoying after all. They both managed to get entirely different flight crews on entirely different flights tetchy enough to want to hiff them out the airlock. It's not only that I'm just intolerant.
So I get home to an empty fridge AND one less bottle of champagne. It was the Moët. The bf is, frankly, lucky to be alive. I think he is under the impression that having bought a new car last fortnight absolves him of pretty much everything, somehow.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Technology's great
That is, when it's not transforming you into a shrieking banshee of rage and despair, of course...
I got an iPod! Yes, I have finally joined the apple generation thanks to an old dear friend of mine (a lot dearer since he gave me an iPod) who was offloading his iPOd mini since he's upgraded (it has a battery glitch, but it seems to be going ok for the moment). So you've been warned. This is what I have learned. If I support you for a good decade of changing hairstyles, partners, sexual orientation, clothes (which are sometimes mine) and coffee, then I expect a technological offering at some point
Well, my ever shortening stay in the land of Oz is drawing to a close. As always it has made me laugh, made me cringe, made me nostalgic, made me yell at the television a lot (yes, thinking about not pumping raw sewage into the harbour MIGHT be an idea to start thinking about - Hello! Darwin Council? ARE YOU PAYING ANY ATTENTION?!). I've caught up with most all the people I wanted to see, and haven't run into anyone I really didn't. Really. Didn't. I've played tourist, I've played local, I've played outback delivery driver girl. I am - like many politicians up here - wearing many different hats. But now I'll put my beret back on...
I got an iPod! Yes, I have finally joined the apple generation thanks to an old dear friend of mine (a lot dearer since he gave me an iPod) who was offloading his iPOd mini since he's upgraded (it has a battery glitch, but it seems to be going ok for the moment). So you've been warned. This is what I have learned. If I support you for a good decade of changing hairstyles, partners, sexual orientation, clothes (which are sometimes mine) and coffee, then I expect a technological offering at some point
Well, my ever shortening stay in the land of Oz is drawing to a close. As always it has made me laugh, made me cringe, made me nostalgic, made me yell at the television a lot (yes, thinking about not pumping raw sewage into the harbour MIGHT be an idea to start thinking about - Hello! Darwin Council? ARE YOU PAYING ANY ATTENTION?!). I've caught up with most all the people I wanted to see, and haven't run into anyone I really didn't. Really. Didn't. I've played tourist, I've played local, I've played outback delivery driver girl. I am - like many politicians up here - wearing many different hats. But now I'll put my beret back on...
Friday, June 09, 2006
Pontiac
A lot of old cars get dumped out in the bush in the remoter areas of Australia. I liked the grass growing through the motor of this one.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Through tourists eyes
Want a tip on how to fix a recurring lens jam problem? Drop your camera onto the street. Really hard. If that didn't work, then what are you stupid? Why would you voluntarily drop your fragile bit of electronics onto tarmac?
Anyway, Temporary Techniques For Startling Your Camera Into Working Properly tips aside, I think I have to face the fact that my camera is getting old and weary, and my constant habit of shoving it into my handbag sans protective covering to let it fight it out with other accesories has taken its toll on the lens mechanism. I hope it'll stand up to the next two weeks as I've been viewing the Darwin and NT landscape with a new 'tourists' eye, where mounted buffalo heads in pubs, beat up 70s Holdens and heck, even Red Rooster fried chicken signs become potential fodder for the lens. I can even understand why people might like to photograph road trains.
One thing I have noticed is the modern architecture in the city centre, having being (mostly) faced with centuries-old buildings for the last couple of years. Posting online is time consuming, I'd forgotten how painfully long everything takes with dial-up.
I'd write more, but I've been forced into slave labour by my father, as usual.
Some local news: they're seriously considering heating up the local pools up here because 'nobody goes' in the dry season (ie now). Heated pools, in the tropics...
If I find out they're thinking of using anything but solar power to do it I may burst a blood vessel
Because all the talk hereabouts is about nuclear...and 'going nuclear' and building nuclear. And why? Because dear George 'nucular' W., clearly having heard some vague rumour about excessive fossil fuel consumption or some rubbish, thinks the solution lies this way. And here, in Australia, despite all this bloody sun just gadding about and sunburning the country, despite having a population 1/10th size of the US, whatever George can do, Australia should do too!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Sunset in Darwin
Darwin, Australia is my home town and I think it has the nicest sunsets in the world.
Monday, May 29, 2006
oh, that's more like it...
I'm eating a Tim Tam, it's pretty good.
I've been back about 4 days now, slowly getting back into the rhythm of the tropical lifestyle and changed time zone. Mostly recovered but still getting up insanely early. But that's also partly because around the equator the sun has pretty much only 2 states - set and up. The intermediate dawn business lasts about 10 minutes.
I had this whole plan sorted out in my head whereby I would notice things, and remark on these fantastic differences that I'd never realised and that I'd be very philosophical and wise about it. Essentially it boils down to; it's not as cheap as I remember, what passes for commercial journalism is worse than I remember and the fashion police need to pay this town a visit. Seriously. Otherwise it's like I left yesterday.
But what I had forgotten are the lovely delicious smells of just about everything - satays cooking at the morning markets, heavy frangipani flower smells at sunset, the sea, bushfires, small animals rotting in the heat... (just thought I'd throw that it because that's exactly what nature did while I was whimsically sniffing down at the foreshore during this mornings bike ride)
But I just missed guava season by about 2 weeks. I'm pretty irked about that.
I've been back about 4 days now, slowly getting back into the rhythm of the tropical lifestyle and changed time zone. Mostly recovered but still getting up insanely early. But that's also partly because around the equator the sun has pretty much only 2 states - set and up. The intermediate dawn business lasts about 10 minutes.
I had this whole plan sorted out in my head whereby I would notice things, and remark on these fantastic differences that I'd never realised and that I'd be very philosophical and wise about it. Essentially it boils down to; it's not as cheap as I remember, what passes for commercial journalism is worse than I remember and the fashion police need to pay this town a visit. Seriously. Otherwise it's like I left yesterday.
But what I had forgotten are the lovely delicious smells of just about everything - satays cooking at the morning markets, heavy frangipani flower smells at sunset, the sea, bushfires, small animals rotting in the heat... (just thought I'd throw that it because that's exactly what nature did while I was whimsically sniffing down at the foreshore during this mornings bike ride)
But I just missed guava season by about 2 weeks. I'm pretty irked about that.
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