Wanderings in Dublin...

Dear Reader, 

Welcome back to another expedition. This time I’ll take you on a bit of a stroll through the capital of the ‘Emerald Isle’, Dublin. We will be walking quite a lot so make sure you’re ready! Today we'll be roaming around the south side of the Liffey around the city centre. This is not your normal tour, that'll tell you the ins and outs of each church, museum with endless dates, we're mostly going to window shop through this area in Dublin and have a quick break at a few places. It will be a bit quirky and eccentric, but if you're interested in your normal middle-aged tour guide who wears a bright poncho with a matching umbrella, let me know and I can forward you onto a few places. 

Ladies and gents before we leave, you'll need a coat, preferably rainproof, windproof, snow proof, or even sun-proof, who knows with the Dublin weather. Please have COMFORTABLE walking shoes- no heels, no thongs, no Birkenstocks (this is so your toes don't get frostbite or you don't get mistaken for one of the twelve Apostles); bring some water and if you want b-grade pictures bring a camera, but we'll be walking pretty quickly so not much time to stop and get the perfect instagram snap. There will be just enough time for the camera to blink and capture a memory, but I recommend storing them upstairs.

This trip will be catered for those who want to distract themselves and take a break from the troubles of today and to smooth out those frown lines with marks of curiosity. There are options for you to break away from the group and explore by yourself, if you get lost, follow the Liffey and you’ll find your way back to your accommodation... or to a pub. 

We’ll start off in the Liberties. One of the oldest suburbs in Dublin that dates back to the Viking age and was a suburb in the medieval walled city. It’s a colourful pocket of the city with the new and old all trying to meld together. Most people will know the area as the home of the St James Gate, Guinness Brewery. Aswell as there being enough Irish pubs to fuel an army and a plethora of gorgeous churches. The Guinness Storehouse is worth going to if you enjoy absolutely EVERYTHING about the beer making process, from sourcing of the hops and grains, the brewing process itself and the history of the Guinness advertisement. The sky bar is a lovely panoramic view of Dublin, plus you can get the most expensive ‘free’ pint of Guinness in the world. 

We better keep moving! From here walk down Thomas Street and pop into Arthur’s Pub for probably the best shepherd’s pie you’ll ever have in your life! Even if it is a bit early in the morning. From here roam down and duck into John’s Lane Church. It is my favourite church in Dublin, from the unique stain glass windows, to the sky-blue church vaults and gold and ruby mosaics, it is a lovely space to remove yourself from the hustle and bustle of Dublin City. Once you’ve had a bit of a chat with the Father Almighty, turn back up Thomas Street and take a left up Meath Street. 

Meath Street heralds back to an older Dublin. Down here you can pop into another pub for a pint and food, pick up some groceries, duck into the Catherine’s bakery for something sweet or pick up an extra jacket at the St Vincent de Paul Society charity shop. But in recent years the street has felt the bombardment of the new age supermarket giants like Lidl and Tescos and trendy hipster coffee shops. Locals still carry on from the shouting of the outdoor fruit, flowers and household-good vendors, the local butchers, charity shops, communion shops, bakeries and the Liberties markets. We better keep moving though or we’ll be here for hours. We can come back another day if you like? 

From here we’ll walk down towards St Patrick’s Cathedral. You’ll notice that people in Dublin, particularly in the city don’t live in detached houses but terrace houses, all the same auburn coloured brick pressed together as if to keep warm in the winter. We’ll emerge out onto the cathedral grounds. 

You have a few options for what you want to do, you can pay a fee to check out the cathedral itself which is of course gorgeous, and was the parish of Dean Jonathon Swift (1667-1745), yes, the author for Gulliver’s Travels (1726), but he was also a prominent religious figure throughout his time.

Or for those less religiously inclined, I highly recommend the Marshes Library. You walk through an archaic stone door frame that is weathering away, up a flight of stairs and enter into a bibliophile’s wonderland. Shelves and shelves of knowledge about magic, travel, religion, politics, superstition and so much more. It is upon the reading desks where Bram Stoker researched folklore and the supernatural for Dracula (1897), and James Joyce read ferociously for his work, Ulysses (1922). Perhaps you could be the creator of the next classic?   

                                               

Another option, is that you could go into the small antique shop called “Bohemia”, just up the road from St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It is probably only 2x2m in size and is stuffed so much with antique furniture, jewellery, clothes, handbags, records and books that it overflows out onto the foot path. Although your trip here isn’t really to find a unique skirt or retro brooch, but is more for the conversation that you could have with the lovely, eclectic lady on the inside. When I ventured in here, the woman was sporting a black faux-fur winter coat, a black tulip brooch and a Zhivago pill box hat. She was very much up for a chat, so leave plenty of time to talk about anything and everything. It was interesting to hear about her Irish opinion on politics, religion and history away from the academic environment. She was very passionate about each of these, particularly the role of the Sinn Fein Party, complexities of Irish history, the relationship between Catholics and Protestants, the problems of the modern day Irish pub and the ‘technology age’ that we live in today. We’ll have to say a quick goodbye for now, but I’m sure since she has been there for around 30 years, she won’t be going anywhere in the next few days. I'll let you know when I get back there myself. 

                                                     *Side Trip for those who aren’t tired*

You could pop in and say hi to St Valentine, (yes the real St. Valentine) at his shrine in the Whitefriar Street Church. Who’da thunk it? That the patron saint of love would find himself in Dublin. Perhaps you could say a few prayers if you need a little help from a higher power and then who knows what might happen... maybe you could bump into a handsome stranger on your travels? 

Alrighty let's keep moving though as it's hitting the afternoon now and I know some of you might be getting a bit tired. Passing Christchurch Cathedral, another gorgeous church. You’ll have to pay, but it’s worth it to just have a browse through the church crypt. Besides the obvious uses of crypts, it was the site where scenes from the tv show 'the Tudors’ where filmed. Yet, what is more interesting is that in the eighteenth century a tavern operated from the crypt by the notorious ‘Hellfire Club’. The area surrounding the cathedral that encompasses Copper Hill, Fishamble St, Winetavern St and Cook St, and up through to the Liberties was known as ‘Hell’, a place of debauchery and in those times, a place saturated in sin. Streets were peppered with brothels, taverns and other places of ill dispute. I do recommend researching a bit on the Hellfire Club, you will come across stories of sorcery, card-work and dealings with the devil. 

Down Dame Street, we’ll pop into Queen of Tarts cafe for a cuppa tea and I'll grab one of the greatest things ever created; the Bailey’s choc chip cheesecake, please and thankyou! As we waltz down this street everyone has two options, you can either go to the left and roam around the glimmering tourist snare of 'Temple Bar'. I do admit it is nice, but highly priced and packed with fellow tourists. Or, you can join me to the right and we’ll venture into Dublin’s ‘Hipster Triangle’. 

The 'Hipster Triangle' of Dublin (this is probably an old term for the area, but I couldn't find another name for it), is on the south side of the Liffey between Dublin Castle, Trinity College and up toward Whitefriar Street Church. As with all major cities around the world, Dublin has its own very pocket of exotic cafes and organic grocers, that in some cases are over priced, and others can give you something unique and funky. Not only this, but the Hipster Triangle is speckled with groovy retro clothes shops, interesting bars like the Hairy Lemon or Pygmalion, and quirky boutiques that are filled with inspirational quotes and throwback tunes. I do recommend wandering through the George Street arcade. It’s a lovely atmosphere to poke through the second-hand book shops, a knick-knack gift store, vintage clothes shops, a jewellery store where you can pick up a claddagh ring and a quick bite to eat.  The ring originates from Claddagh, a small fishing village near Galway, from around the medieval period. It symbolises friendship, love and loyalty and is to be worn in different positions whether a person is married, engaged, in a relationship or single. Make a note though because apparently it is bad luck if you buy yourself one! You might have to wait, like me, for someone to give you one…                                                                                

Now that the sun is starting to set we’ll say our goodbyes at Trinity College. This amazing campus was founded in 1592 by Queen Elizabeth I and modelled on the collegiate system in Oxford and Cambridge. A couple of great areas included the Book of Kells and the Long Room (get to know a Trinity student because they can get you free access) and Frontsquare that provides nice photos, particularly on a sunny day, and the dining room that offers a Harry Potter-esque aesthetic. A couple of fun facts about Trinity are; 

1. It use to lie on the outside of the city walls, hard to believe now since it’s pretty much in the centre of Town. 
2. There are supposed to be secret tunnels that run underneath campus and it is only known to certain college leaders. 
3. Catholics were not allowed to attend to college until 1793, however they could not become a scholar, fellow or professor – for another eighty years. Just before these bans were removed, the Catholic Church placed a ban on its adherers from studying at Trinity in 1871. From then, until 1970, Catholics needed permission from their local bishop to attend the college. 
4. There is a bit of a superstition amongst students that if you walk under the Campanile as the bell tolls, the student will fail the exam.   

Farewell everyone...Hopefully this was a nice compact guide for those hoping to shut off the laptop, switch off Netflix, remove the trackies and reading glasses and to truly embrace a little bit of Dublin. Keep an eye out for the next instalment, and we’ll delve further into this incredible capital...

Through the Porthole...

      

Steam-Boat off a Harbour's Mouth (1842) by J.M.William Turner 

                         

Pioneering has a dark underbelly. 

We sit in its hull for days and nights,

clenching rusted nails to rivet ourselves, 

in the hope we are not whipped with limbs and ropes, 

or punctured by moulded wine barrels and untamed diseases. 

The kings men above in their damp crimson coats 

pray to prevent a rape by the Great Atlantic.

Yet it has already begun, 

the ferocious shrieks deafen the creaks of the mast and hull,

and the sun herself is being gagged with a black cloak.

Yet the cries of the dead that should sink to ocean’s floor 

whisper through the leaking holes. They are clawing up the bow now,

rattling right next to us, 

waiting to take the place of men who drown in scurvy.

Meanwhile, our macerated skin is soaking itself in 

a cocktail of sea salt, excrement, weeping wounds,

and the entrails left out of the captains evening meal.  

At least the growing tempestuous mountains that

gulp at all that cross their path,

gorging themselves on these desperate skeletons

aswell as us, the fatal foreigners…

The tempest has flattened

The cloak swept away.

Our wretched silhouettes huddle together, 

Many are heaving the bile that sits under your tongue

When you fear death.

Their shoulders stop shivering as some think that 

The ocean is ours again. 

Pioneering has a dark underbelly, 

that has been satisfied with only one ship in its pit. 

We now huddle around our only source of light—the porthole,

the glass has a fractured haze 

through which we can only see a wreck 

clashing against the rocks.

The sails are a white body bag wrapped over the corpse, 

yet the masks lies intact reaching for the teal above, 

with King George’s flag flashing above the destructor.

Regardless of the reach of the empire and the shackles of the officers

there are some things beyond colonial control. 

The honey rays brush around the raven mass that blocks the sun’s orb

stroking calm the throbbing waters, and letting our vessel breath again. 

Pioneering has a dark underbelly, 

this misty ring has given us death and life, 

our only connection to the chaos and serenity of the seas.

We thirst for more—knowledge—wealth, 

yet are halted and sometimes destroyed by the sublime. 

Dabbling in the Irish Countryside...

Welcome back everyone, from wherever you're reading I hope you're doing fabulously well!! Its been almost 9 weeks of me holidaying/travelling/living in Europe and it's gone ridiculously fast. This is the furthest and the longest I've ever been from home and I'm started to get use to the lifestyle over here. Although I don't think I've ever been continuously so cold. 9 weeks of wearing at least 3 layers every day has been a bit of a change from the 1 jumper you could get away with in a Sydney winter.

Anyways let's get going! This next instalment is about my day trip with the wonderful Paddywagon's Tour to a couple of places a stone's throw away from Dublin.

We began with a bus ride beyond the industrial facade and the Georgian Metropol of Dublin, I do love it, but it's nice to get out of the city every once and a while. About an hour outside of the city and we find ourselves in the wintery arena of the Wicklow Mountains.

The Irish bus driver drops us off near the ruins of Glendalough. It is well away from the relics of modernity and nestled within the sacred mountainside. This was my first time in the Irish countryside and it was so perfect that pictures and postcards only capture a small portion of it.

We started at the lower lake. The lake itself was still. Paused in a moment so that the rows of pine trees could check their appearance underneath the silver clouds without any distraction.

We then moved on and began trekking through to the ruins. Well, it wasn't really a trek, more like a leisurely stroll upon a cobblestone path surrounded by the trickles of waterfalls, a mist that clung around the trees and maybe even between fairy forts.  

The ruins themselves were incredible. They are an early Christian monastic settlement founded by St. Kevin in the 6th century. Even with a few attacks and raids from Vikings this 'monastic city' thrived here until the Normans destroyed the monastery in 1214. The ruins though are still intact with the Cathedral and the Round Tower standing proud, continuing their gaze over the sacred site. Some of the other buildings include St Kevin's kitchen and cross, the Priest's house and the expansive graveyard that coats the site. Some of these gravestones seem to be straight out of a thriller film. On the brink of toppling over with the green mounds protruding above the graves making you walk around and perhaps not far above these people from the past.

There was a constant dribble of rain that followed us throughout the day. Yet it did not dampen our experience, if anything it added to the gothic landscape. It's a place where you wonder what might be tip-toeing in the shadows, behind the trees and hopping on the rocks alongside of you. Maybe if I were to stay there long enough, I could catch a glimpse of figures that dance in the other Celtic realms...

We then took a quick detour twirling back around the mountains, to the bridge from the film P.S. I Love You, where the Scottish Gerard Butler plays a lovable Irishman (with a terrible Irish accent) and meets a young, colourful scarf wearing American in rural Ireland. And as almost every other rom-com goes they fall in love, plus a sad turn and a relatively happy ending. For those wanting to watch a movie about Ireland, might not be the best one to go for but it's still a good story. Anyways, there was no wandering young irishman about only a gushing tranquil river and a couple of sheep (less rom-com worthy).

A note to make about the bus driver, he was great. He had a continuous stream of facts about Irish culture and history which to some may be annoying but I couldn't get enough of it. Yet between the history and myth, he managed to touch slightly on the very distinct differences between the Irish and English, jokingly of course, with some sledging towards the Australians on the trip.

Moving on, we pulled into the little town of Kilkenny. Firstly a little fact  is that "kil"is the anglicised "cill" which means church in Irish. With only two hours to explore this place, we had lunch at a pub called the Kyteler's Inn. There is an interesting story that is attached to the place. In the late 13th century the owner of the pub was a woman by the name of Dame Alice le Kyteler, for the times it was considered quite scandalous that not only a woman had owned a pub but also had 4 husbands throughout her life and acquired a notable fortune. Yet, she had many critics and enemies who conspired that she must be a witch and pushed for her to be burnt at the stake. Alice fled from Kilkenny and fell off the records from then on, however her husband at the time was placed on trial and ordered to attend mass three Masses a day and donate to the poor. Her maid did not escape the same light treatment, Petronella (yes, that's her maid's name, that sort of sounds like a petrol company) was tortured, whipped and burnt at the stake.

After lunch we strolled around the cobblestone streets, walking past locals who were marching towards the local hurling grounds. On that day there was apparently a big game on. Hurling is MASSIVE in Ireland, perhaps bigger than football (rugby league) in rural NSW. It seemed that almost every boy between the age of 12-20 was carrying around a hurling stick. I still don't quite understand the game, even after a number of people, both Irish and foreigner, have tried to explain it. I'll get back to you when I've actually watched a game.

To fill in the last hour we had a tour around Kilkenny Castle. A fortification has been there since the 12th c. and was later transformed into the residence of the Butler family in which it stayed for 600 years until the 1960s when the Marquess of Ormond, handed the castle to Kilkenny. It is a spectacular castle filled to the brim with all the excess of an upper class residence. This includes, many many mirrors, fireplaces, gold laced cushions, tapestries, crystal glasses and massive portraits of old men who never seem to be enjoying life and only seem to open their mouths for food and colourless conversation. Nevertheless, it is a grand display of aristocracy and wealth.

The gardens of the castle have the layout of a Celtic cross, a symbol that legend says was brought to Ireland by Saint Patrick, at the same time he was sweeping all of the snakes outside of Ireland and spreading Christianity. 

Well, that'll be all for this week! Hopefully you've enjoyed this brief attempt to capture the beauty of Ireland, and keep an eye out for more attempts soon. There might also be a special appearance the Scandinavian beauty that is Copenhagen. 

Irish Beginnings...

Welcome one, welcome all!! We will be trekking around Dublin and other parts of Ireland through a short and hopefully sweet series of blogs about living, studying and travelling around this magical country. 

Let’s begin in the gorgeous capital, Dublin. For some she may appear to be an unorganised and industrial city, yet step onto the cobblestone streets with open ears, open eyes and an open mind and you’ll see that she holds a character like no other. Her grunge and rough facades have come from the hardship and sacrifice of her history and people, yet try not to label it as chaos, for there is a beauty in the cracked concrete and stain-glassed windows. With this, beyond the tourist mirages and Carroll’s gift shops, living in Dublin reveals another set of quirks to the city. 

Dublin is a captivating city. Regardless of the 2 hours of sunlight that happen some days and the frequent dribbles of rain, you get your warmth from the numerous cups of tea that people offer you and the melting central heating everywhere. Even better is that you can walk pretty much everywhere. I am living near the historic area called The Liberties, which is about a 20 minute walk to Trinity College and Grafton Street. It is a great place to live yet with most major cities caution and vigilance is needed. Nevertheless, it is a patchwork quilt of people, monuments and a strong fervour for history. 

As much as I’d love to just wander around for 6 months as a tourist, actually ‘setting up shop’ or settling in to Dublin can be a little bit difficult if you don’t know where to look. Moving from a catered college in Sydney, Australia, to a self-catered and alot more independent environment has been a big adjustment. My first night here was an experience to say the least. I had arrived late on a Monday afternoon and had thought that I would have enough time for the first night to run around to stores along Thomas Street and grab essentials like a doona (duvet), pillow, sheets and a towel. After almost 26 hours in flight and transiting, a shower and a good sleep is really all I was after. Due to my shock these homewares and knickknack shops were closed by around 5:30pm. Long story short, all I could find was an hand towel and a pillow. Drying myself and my hair with an hand towel wasn’t a pleasant experience but thank goodness for thermal clothing. I was so tired it didn’t bother me that I was wearing a thermal shirt, sweater, hoodie and coat, plus a pair of tights and tracksuit pants matched with thermal socks on both my hands and feet. My blanket was an oversized scarf. I think I was so cold partly from not being able to figure out the heater and also coming from 40-45 degree celsius days in Australia. I can appreciate the sun alot more whilst being here. Anyways, there is no use complaining about the weather when we can’t change it, let’s keep going!!

Now coming up next I’d like to make a few observations about my initial response to some of the small things about living in Dublin. 

There is a major difference in the supermarkets compared to Australia, here is what I have noticed so far;

• They are ALOT smaller than home, yet this doesn’t seem to make a major impact on cooking as Lidl and Tesco have become my life. I think I have been almost every second day since I’ve been here. Although there is not much of a range, they always to seem just what you need. 
• You have to bring or buy your own bags which at first seems annoying is alot better than having a bunch of plastic bags left over. Yet you have to bag everything yourself, no matter how busy the place is. 
• Also that there isn’t specific alcohol shops, but all of the liquor can be found in the supermarkets and convenience stores right next to your morning cereal or canned tomato.
• The fruit and veg are from far and wide none except for carrots and potatoes are grown in Ireland. For example I’ve bought tomatoes from Spain, kiwi fruit from Greece and grapes from Chile. Yet, all the meat is locally produced and sold both at the supermarkets and cooked in restaurants and pubs. 

This next section is more about miscellaneous things that I’ve noticed; 

• Almost all stores, except for H & M and Zara are not the same as Australia which makes it sometimes difficult but mostly exciting to try and navigate around and figure out what’s best for what. Fun tip, Penney’s will become your go to shop for clothes, shoes, homewares and weird gifts. 
• For school books, Hodges and Figgis is great, partly because it sounds like a bookstore that should be in Harry Potter. Yet for leisurely reading, quirky interests or my fellow bookstore browsers who find comfort in books, CHAPTERS is your humble abode!! It is a massive bookshop on Parnell Street on the North Side of the River where you can spend hours tickling the pages and smelling the second hand pages.
• Dublin is very much a student city, so get that student card as quickly as possible and there will be many coins saved from student food, venue and events discounts on offer both at the University and throughout the city. 

Now, I know I could have presented a blog that seems meticulously planned and rational but I suppose my sporadic observations match the incredibly haphazard beginnings to Dublin and Ireland that we all experience. These experiences will never be tightly organised into a plan or calendar but happen through an open mind, wandering with maybe a sprinkle of risk-taking and accepting challenges that present themselves. 

And on that note, I shall leave you with this; 

 If you ever get lost, just follow the River Liffey, it is like a natural compass. 

And so the Adventure begins...

Welcome back everyone, now make yourself comfortable. A massive apology should be sent out, hand-written with gold ink, wrapped in amazonian leaves and sealed with the tears of a unicorn, for how long it has been since I've written one of these. With the New Year I hope to be writing more and more about many different topics. Never mind the excuses and subplots, let's get straight into it!

I'd like to take you on a little bit of an adventure, only a small one to start with. I hope to take you away to another part of the world. I have arrived in Ireland, to live in Dublin, study at their best university, breath the Irish air, take a sip of Irish beer and walk through Irish hills and ruins. I hope to delve into some travel writing as well as other bits and pieces over the next 6 months.

Now block out the annoyance of the world and I welcome you to another realm...

You walk through the frail emerald mahogany door into a vintage emporium. It is a tiny second hand shop that has the dusty aroma that clings to old books and the earthy spices attached to leather. These books are filled with many stories, so many in fact the pages cough conversations and observations. Yet beyond the endless rows of romance, classics and fishing volumes, these are not what catch your gaze.

You find to your right, perched upon a copper singer sewing machine, a pair of brown boots. They are stained from the rain and mud. The grips on the bottom have started to wear out and the laces have tassels upon tassels. Lift them to eye level. Aren't they wonderful?

Now may you take them home for a generous price of $27.00. The older lady has wrapped them in parchment paper. You take them home without even trying them on, convincing yourself that even if they don't fit they'll look good on display.

Let's wear them. Your right foot fits perfectly, snug and warm like a cup of tea on a crisp morning. Yet something is stopping your left foot. It scrunches against your toes.

A note. Iron out those crinkles with your dewy finger tips. As you unfold the edges you see that it has been inked with these words;

'To the next wanderlust traveller,

These boots of mine are bruised and used,
they have trodden through great lands,
that are filled to the brim with great tales,
of lands with gruesome pasts and promising futures,
with people that speak in different tongues,
those that who are ancient and young,
ones with one god and many.
They have danced with people from forests
upon cobblestone streets and in a snowy haze.
Through sand dunes of the East and the quagmires of the West,
and at the end of the day are always hung up to dry.
They have known many sights, sounds, smells,
if you ask them nicely they may share them with you...'


Now reader, instead of simply listening to the tales, go and live them! Be the person who has worn these boots. Wear them until the sole is falling out and the laces have unravelled. Stay in touch for the next edition which will be hopefully of my tales around Ireland...



*photos are not my own.

Why History?

Why History? This is something I am asked all the time. Why couldn't I have been interested in something more practical? Something more modern? More stream-lined to a particular career? This is for all you who love history, those that share the passion for the past. This is for all of you who hate history, who would rather wait in peak hour traffic or watch paint dry, than read about the Titanic or Henry VIII's Field of Cloth of Gold, or Viking raids.

This piece of writing is pretty much me rambling about why I looooveeeeee studying, learning, immersing myself in history of pretty much any era. It isn't a scholarly deconstruction on history or the problems that occur with studying it. Anyways, so here we go. The only way I could simply describe the feeling is probably the same as when a painter gets new paintbrushes or a gym junkie finds a new protein powder; it's exciting. Yet I'd hope that history has a more meaningful impact on me than the protein powder or paintbrushes have for others.

It is fascinating collecting knowledge of the lives of people, how they interacted, lived, thought, acted and rebelled. History is a sort of intrigue and curiosity, the whys?, the hows? when? where? We investigate it, as Sherlock and Watson sleuth around a crime scene.  It is all about questions, and if we're lucky, sometimes they are answered. How were the pyramids built? Why did women wear corsets? What does the Great Wall of China keep out?

I could care less for dates, statistics and policies; History is not made up of numbers but of people, rebels, revolutionaries, day dreamers and night thinkers, sufferers, hardships and hope. The French Revolution was not important because it began in 1789, but because of the ideas it fought for, the legacy it left, that sketched a mark throughout Europe. Just as Leonardo Da Vinci's great inventions of the ball bearing and flying machine, the beauty of his paintings transcended his time.

                (The Vitruvian Man) 

The past seems to sit in a milky cloud, that we peer through often seeing the golden memories, the quirky abstracts that transform into novelties. Like how in the Georgian period noble women and men wore white face powders as make-up that were lead based some including vinegar and horse manure. Wigs were also popular because of the fear of lice. The next image is an eccentric wig belonging to Marie Antoinette.

History evokes emotion, for myself, I feel a patchwork quilt of emotions ranging from heart-wrenching sadness, to wild anger, to curiosity and happiness. The only fatal tragedy is that we can't change it...



                        "The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there." (L.P. Hartley)


History does boast a dark side. A side that ignores wrongs done, trauma that slices through generations and horrors across all continents that still remain unknown because of an unwillingness to accept the mistakes and abuses of our ancestors. Hindsight is such a luxury for us, we know what  has happened in the past, the overall picture of a narcissistic ruler that systematically destroys or the dominating coloniser that destroys the peace of first peoples. We remove emotion and raw tragedy with academic examination, scholarly intrigue and judgement-- some don't care for the people.  History is such a powerful force because us in the present are handed with hindsight to stop what has previously happened. Yet many people abuse it, will mimic the mistakes, galvanise the failures and wrong doings of the leaders to roll them over into our time. It takes courage to combat this. The courage of the Suffragette Movement of the 19th and 20th centuries and the rebels of the Easter Uprising of 1916.

It makes you grateful for how far we've come, for example in the Western world the advancement of women and Indigenous rights, but even though we're thankful for the progress, it makes some people complacent, they stop continuing this progression that has clearly not finished. History has walked with us thus far, yet we have many more journeys to go.

History will always be relevant and important. We will always be cherry picking into the past for reasons to explain the present and change the future. We will always try to chase back with nostalgia for the 'good ol' days'. And I don't think I'll ever stop chasing. I've always been told I was born in the wrong era, and I intend to keep exploring that world as closely as possible...

Stay curious...

Hello everyone, now I know we have all aged since my last post, but hopefully this will make up for the new found wrinkles and grey streaks in our hair. As you may remember or are yet to read, my last post was about the tingles and stirrings of happiness and excitement that adventure can brew. This week we will take a step back. Let's retreat under our blanket cubbyhouses and fairy lights and delve into the realms of curiosity and inner adventure. Within your clouds of blankets I hope you can enjoy these snippets of adventure, imagination and curiosity to be flown away to someplace different.

Curiosity involves a little sprinkle of risk taking. To be curious is to reach out and roll around in something that is unfamiliar. To fall in love with being alive, not through square screens with the swipes of apps but in what inspires, enraptures, challenges and makes us curiouser and curioser.

Now, I confess that I'm not the one for major risk taking. I'm yet to jump out of a plane or spring from a cliff, but risks can start with trying things that are fresh, new, outside your personal comfortable bubble. Try a piece of that spicy food (although it might singe your tongue), eat those marinated insects and snails or even something as simple as watching a film with subtitles. By all means though, go jump out of a plane if you want to... let me know how it goes. 

Moving on, remember our surroundings can provide us with pots and pans full of curious imaginings;

You curve and coil, then stretch and dive as if a wave. You have a mind of your own, making your own choices, at points feeling serene, bobbing cheerfully yet you also go through tough times in a violent dance with the cliff. But the sea salt always sits on your lips and crystallises in your hair. 

You are an autumn leaf that floats away giggling like a carefree toddler with twirls and curls choreographed by the breeze. Moving left and right, up and down, wondering about your surroundings until you find somewhere comfortable to land. Until the next breath moves you, you rest until next time.

If the brown boots of your travels would speak, the tales and fables they possess would allow you to delve back into these adventures. Where some moments have been swallowed into the gapping mouth of forgetfulness. Imagine the stories your shoes would hold?

You are the 10 cent coin that has found a place suffocated between receipts and business cards.  Your current master fails to spend you on tipping a waitress or to a homeless person. Your previous masters have been a florist, a priest, a truck driver and a surf instructor, to name a few. Who will you be passed onto next?

You are this girl, carefully amazed by the cloudy white of a pearl. How could something so pure be trapped beneath the spikes of a shell and the force of the ocean?

Your days that are constant can sometimes be reassuring but is it really something that you want to continue? Sitting at work, at a desk, with the vibrating twangs of phone calls? The continual worries about washing, ironing, the gossip of about the unnecessaries, for we a simply stardust, with absolutely no need for rudeness and unkindness. Now may these be gone and take notice of the weird and random things throughout your day, in particular the little things. I was sitting on the train that shakes like ice in a cocktail shaker and noticed that my hands are coated in porcelain triangles wedged together.

Find through the noise, the embers that whisper your purpose, waiting to be enflamed into a bonfire!

Now I have a plan, for you who want to build your inner crusade for curiosity. Yet the beauty of this inward expedition is that it can begin with the calmness of you, sometimes as simply as staying in your home. Keep asking yourself the whats? whys? hows? and wheres? Also, start with these steps that will let your brain take three deep breaths, start with these and you will enjoy what is simple that is enchanted with tranquility. Start with these and your sense of curiosity will flower. 

* Read at least 20mins every day (or every second day). It's the only way to trek abroad, meet new people, see new cultures and worlds for almost under $20.

* Switch off all electronics for 1-2days.

*Go outside and savour some sunlight before the artificial glare of indoors is all we can get at work and school.

* Even indulge in the splendour of our own private space. Our own castles and four poster mahogany beds without the knocks of annoyance and rudeness.

*Be grateful and empathise with others. Not talking about yourself all the time can unlock something as magical and simple as kindness.

* Don't compare yourself to others. As the wise philosopher Dr Seuss penned "Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is you-er than you. Shout aloud, I am glad to be what I am. Thank goodness I'm not a ham, or a clam, or a dusty old jar of gooseberry jam. I am what I am, what a great thing to be. If I say so myself, happy everyday to me!".

* Write a handwritten letter to someone who you care about, lace it with love, sprinkle some humour and make people smile with words.

* Read, watch, write and do something you love in a small or big way every day. Go for a walk to your favourite place, take up photography, go see a movie or live performances. Escape from the superglue of monotony.

Be curious; this world is a puzzling place. It is curiosity that allows us to piece it together.