tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34574100342576439842024-03-14T04:26:08.946+11:00Mathilde's Marvellous MeanderingsA middle aged adventure in the Middle East.Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-47958123552627467342019-08-18T18:31:00.001+10:002019-08-18T18:31:40.988+10:00Who went to deepest darkest Africa? We did!! Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yes indeed we did!<br />
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Our time in Oman is drawing to a close and David decided that he wasnt leaving without going on safari. He'd threatened to go without me once before, but went walking with lions instead. His 60th birthday was looming and so the time had come. Tickets were booked, a guide was found (as so often happens here, someone at work was related to someone in the business in Kenya) and David went on the search for accomodation. I was of no use at all, this was David's baby and he was organising it. I was just relieved it was going to be cooler down there.<br />
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Packing was a bit insane because we were taking stuff to France afterwards (last trip before heading back to Australia and the internet told us that there was secure baggage storage at Nairobi airport*)we were using our complete baggage allowance of around 80kg. But it all came together in the end (after adding box pockets to linen pants because it's impossible to get safari style pants in Oman and I wanted lots of pockets!!!) and we arrived in Niarobi safely.<br />
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Our first two nights were spent in a posh hotel (Four Points by Sheraton - Hurlington for those who'd like a nice place to stay with good food and service) and our only full day was spent being driven about by Erastus - a man with an encyclopaedic knowledge of his country and very strong views about what we should see. Our plans changed to what Erastus suggested and we had a fabulous day of elephants, storks,giraffes and museums.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are many large billboards in Nairobi <br />
and most of them seem to have storks on them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The storks nest in the tops of acacia trees</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding babies.</td></tr>
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Our first stop was the elephant rescue nursery. It's only open for one hour a day unless you are an elephant sponsor. I must say that there are very few things cuter than baby elephants, especially baby elephants who are dirt coloured. The elephants are hand reared and then slowly reintroduced to the wild. It is a long process of gradually introducing them to wild herds until they are adopted by a new family.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Branches are for chewing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby elephant toes</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ears - also known as airconditioning</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshine on eyelashes </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chillaxed baby elephants cross their backlogs! Who knew?</td></tr>
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After soaking up the elephants, we went on to the giraffe centre. There is a hotel attached to it where you can stay in rooms that giraffes come right up to. We decided that we'd like to stay there, but they were booked out for months. Luckily. It's mindbogglingly expensive. I did, however, hand feed a giraffe and buy a very cute pair of giraffe earrings.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not at the giraffe place, but the first room of the museum.<br />I was fascinated by the comparative sizes of the animals </td></tr>
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Erastus finally relented and took us to the Museum of Nairobi, where we oggled seriously old bits of human ancestry.<br />
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We returned to the hotel for some well earned rest and a cold beer (I heartily approve of Kenyan beer and cider). Also, the views were pretty awesome. These are some of the views from the rooftop bar.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cider!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite view.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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* There wasn't any baggage storage of course, so we carted 80kgs of baggage through Kenya - thank goodness for large hotel rooms!</div>
Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-57856834581853069612019-01-03T14:07:00.001+11:002019-01-03T14:07:57.769+11:002019! How did that happen??????<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Starting the new year in Brisbane after a lovely New Year’s Eve. Making pasionfruitbutter and mango chutney, embroidering a griphon for the hero cloak and watching the development of the new pol<br />
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-46999324653991227182018-02-26T20:32:00.000+11:002018-02-26T20:32:21.182+11:00Shells and blankets<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have quite a few ideas about how I want to remember Oman and they are all textile related. Actually, they're all weaving related. The one that has been percolating the longest is a triptique with the themes of the urban, mountain and desert landscapes. That is one for long days of sitting and weaving after lots of thinking, collecting objects and dyeing yarns. That leaves the sea, a place that I have become closer to in the last year.<br />
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My regular walks along the beach here in Al Hail are full of interesting things. Fish of all shapes and sizes, birds of My many varieties, wadi dogs, the occasional cat, not a few horses, far too many eels and sea snakes, and shells. Lots of shells. I'm particularly partial to cowrie shells, mostly because they were a rare find on the beaches of my childhood and they were always treasured. They used to be used as currency around this part of the world and it's not hard to see why. I still love them all and now have quite a collection. I'm still pondering what to do with them all. There are lots of other shells that wash up on the beach. Like these beauties.<br />
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I was very excited to discover the murex shells, but then I learnt that the dye comes from the critters that live inside them. When I came across one stranded by the tide, I elected to return it to the sea rather than torture it for its purple.<br />
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Mostly the shells come in different patterns of white and brown - many shades of brown.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like this fella<br /></td></tr>
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However, many of them come in GINGER!<br />
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Or combinations of both.</div>
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Then I discovered these beauties</div>
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How do you spell callista? That's right - PLAID!!!<br />
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I'm thinking that cashmere might come in those colours. What do you think?<br />
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-46824365104419973752017-10-23T17:49:00.000+11:002017-10-23T17:49:41.427+11:00Goodbye Bluey<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On Saturday morning Bluey scooted at the back door as usual and disappeared. This morning David found him curled up safely in the wheel well of my car quite, quite dead. He had probably been there for a little while given the fluids I washed off the paving before David could come home and see them.<br />
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He often came out from under my car when we arrived home in the Land Rover, it was a safe place where he could sleep and wait. We don't know what happened, it could have been a car or a fight, but at least he's not just missing.<br />
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Well, that's not really true, there's a little Bluey sized hole in our lives right now and it's likely to stay there given the whole leaving Oman, going to France and then to Australia senario. Our lives over the next little while will not really be condusive to introducing pets.<br />
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And now with apologies to Ogden Nash</div>
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Bluey was as brave as a barrel full of bears,</div>
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In a blink he'd chase lions down the stairs,</div>
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He always yowled like a tiger in a rage,</div>
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And would never cry for a nice, safe cage.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was the runt of the litter, but was the sole surviver.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes he was a little odd, but always laid back</td></tr>
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He was very good at relaxing on his chairs<br />
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He liked to sit with you wherever you were,</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the sewing room</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the couch<br />
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He protected us from the marauding hordes</div>
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And like to hold hands during his morning cuddle in bed</div>
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We'll miss you Mr Blue</div>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-59592606760616717942017-02-14T00:13:00.000+11:002017-02-14T00:13:12.606+11:00A little distraction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, David said that he was going to Cairo for work. I think he was just avoiding being in the same country as me coming up to a French exam. It may be that they don't let us know what kind of questions are going to be on the thing, or it could be that I might be a little bit of a perfectionist, but I'm a bit stressed. A bit, just a bit...okay quite a lot and David would be perfectly justified fleeing the country except that he has to sit the exam when he comes back.<br />
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So I'm here with a couple of hours to go and at complete saturation point. I can't actually remember anything, but that appears to be beside the point. I very carefully took myself out this morning to try to be calm and had a perfectly nice visit to Muscat City Centre. I managed to remember to pick up the moisteriser that I had run out of weeks ago (and received a lovely complement about my hair - it went like this:<br />
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Very Lovely Salesgirl (VLS) "I love your hair, it looks lovely." Me: "Thank-you, I grew it myself" (flick) - it should be note that I was wearing it out because the temperature is under 30 degrees. VLS (completely missing the irony because English is her second, third, fourth or fifith language). "Better than a salon, don't take it to a salon!"<br />
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There, a rather lovely thing to say. It was especially nice because it came on top of the need to take two or three classes to convince our French class that I am not a blonde. Non redheads will probably have no clue how astonishingly aweful it is to be called a blonde after years of copping quite a lot of "stuff" for being a redhead.**** <br />
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Don't get me wrong, I loved being a redhead. It was sometimes horrid, but mostly it was awesome. I'm still a redhead, just a grey and white one. It's weird. Very weird. But I refuse to succumb to the dye bottle, and lovely lasses like that VLS help me along the way.<br />
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Where was I? Right, the moisteriser. I remembered the moisteriser because I had time to kill while I waited for a response from Customer Service (via whatsapp, because everything is done via whatsapp here) about getting some bags for my vacuum cleaner. Apparently shops don't keep that sort of thing anymore (or quite possibly ever) so I needed to contact this random person, who apparently belonged to someone's customer service and he would tell me where to come - in all likelihood that would be Ruwi -50 kms across town and pretty much inpenetrable unless you have some sort of native guide. <br />
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After the moisturiser there was the Amouage shop where I discovered that they had just released a new perfume based on cherry blossom and rose - very apropos all things considered. It is gorgeous, and a bottle came home with me (when I eventually left). Then came coffee and a little pondering. There had been no phone call. Sigh.<br />
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Suddenly I was sick of waiting. Waiting for a vacuum bag for goodness sake. I decided I was not going to drag myself on a 100km round trip in vile traffic when I was going to have to do it this evening as well. So I went upstairs and bought a new vacuum cleaner - for 20 rial - with a one year warranty. We're only going to be here one more year and the two hours it would take to get the new one would literally cost me twice that. Sad but true. <br />
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I feel much better now. Especially after the chiropracter, coffee and cake. Now for that exam. But first a gratuitous Bluey shot.<br />
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****Before I get gutted by all the blondes I know (including my very lovely youngest sister) I want to be very clear it has nothing to do blonde jokes either. </div>
Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-76016464835024564902017-01-21T00:43:00.002+11:002017-01-21T00:43:30.715+11:00Whoops! I blinked and it's 2017!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This year has been a year of contrasts. There has been enormous amounts of travel, we bought a house in France (or rather finished buying a house in France), we started learning French (dear God!), I graduated (finally), number one son married the love of his life (we're pretty fond of her too), a dear friend left this world far, far, far too soon, and life generally trundled on (actually I'm still pretty much in denial about Michelle's death and I think our first visit to Canberra is going to be quite confronting.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most fabulous thing that happened in 2016</td></tr>
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I actually write a lot of blogs in my head. There seems to be a running commentary inside my head while I'm doing things and I take photos to sort of punctuate the commentary. Unfortunately it very rarely comes out of my head and into the aether. But maybe today will be different.<br />
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We have just come back from Europe. David had meetings in Brussels and I stayed for a in Sept Forges. David of course is straight back into work, but I have the luxury of actually starting the year in a more relaxed manner - except for French, that is never relaxed. You know, they say that when you dream in a language you're getting the hand of it, but I'm not sure that nightmares about conjugating verbs is quite what they mean. However, I was able to return the wrongly packaged ink cartridges in France, in French and no-one laughed - well not to my face anyway.<br />
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Where was I....whoops, the wind has just started barrelling about and blowing pillows off the bed. Maybe it will actually rain. Oh dear a crow just got blown off the electricity wires......<br />
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One of the things that I've really enjoyed this year is weaving. I've played around with my little saori loom and had a great time. Then I decided to weave curtains for Sept Forge. The windows in the house face the road. Now, the road is just outside the front door, literally. It is a private road and there are very few houses on it, but people do walk down it and can peer inside and see what we were doing, if they were so inclined and if we were there. In my head the windows are quite small, but they're not really, in fact two of them are doors. But I made my plans anyway.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right on the road.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our kookaburras laugh at people walking past.</td></tr>
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Things were going swimmingly. I decided on a pattern (Swedish Mosquito Lace - very nice and windowy), ordered the thread (a lovely 20/2 white unmercerised cotton from Halcyon Yarns - which arrived almost immediately), planned the warp (this is when I began to question my sanity), spent a week winding a 15 metre warp (with 537 ends - which is a squidge over 8000 metres in case you were wondering), and then went to wind it onto the loom. David was helping (he's very brave) and it went pear-shaped almost immediately. The raddle leapt to it's doom and suddenly I was hanging on to a whole lot of out of control threads. The inevitable happened. Two warp threads broke and all the others decided to do something else that evening.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First there was the eight threads that had glued themselves together with fluff from the green linen.</td></tr>
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Then there were these lot who decided to party on together. Notice the lovely smooth, untangled right hand group? </div>
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Two days later I had untangled the mess and managed to get it on the loom. I didn't throw anything or scream even once. David very sensibly left the room and then fed me wine when I came out. See why I married him? All was well. Mostly<br />
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That was when I realised that when I had made adjustments to balance the pattern I had neglected to remember that my loom was only 60cm wide. The warp was wider. Okay, so now there are threads being wound off the back beam and onto little knitting bobbins as I weave - or through the brake, or under into the warp, or where-ever it wants to when I'm not looking. I finally tied everything on and started weaving. Cool, it looks like it's going to work! Except for the selvedges, the tension at the selvedges came loose, horribly loose. Sigh. I battled on and kept the selvedges sort of okay by shoving bits of cardboard and chopsticks in as I wound on.<br />
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Last night I got to just over two metres of fabric and the right selvedge went out on strike, it was time to declare selvedge defeat. I decided I had enough to make a pair of curtains for the smallest window, so this morning I cut it off. There were some pretty ugly bits.<br />
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But on the whole it was looking okay</div>
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I gave it a little wet finishing and things started looking even better. After I pressed it gently with my awesome 6kg dry iron a small miracle had happened. It looked just like it was supposed to, except for the green bits, the original was all white.</div>
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The all over look</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lace. These little windows just magically appear during the wet finishing.</td></tr>
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Tomorrow I'll tie the warp back on and continue weaving. Next time we go to France I'll be able to take curtains with me! Cheers everyone!!<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the best way to learn French, drinking wine with the neighbours.</td></tr>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-15570143974539110742016-04-03T01:04:00.002+11:002016-04-03T01:04:57.246+11:00After a long break a quick hello.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: left;">Gosh it's been a long time since I posted an update. There is a draft sitting around waiting for me to remember where I was going with it, but in the meantime this is what we did yesterday..........</span></div>
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Me and this bloke....<br />
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Drove into Wadi Mistal<br />
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With this bloke</div>
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And this lovely lass</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YW8v47Evh04/Vv_GvLJq9bI/AAAAAAAABwI/QamdeGZDwPsVuEhNoG2eZHx-H7hpYnq_w/s1600/DSCN0818%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YW8v47Evh04/Vv_GvLJq9bI/AAAAAAAABwI/QamdeGZDwPsVuEhNoG2eZHx-H7hpYnq_w/s320/DSCN0818%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An intrepid photographer<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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And saw some goats...well, we saw a lot of goats.<div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gGG9l0Prpn0/Vv_IZkoo22I/AAAAAAAABwU/kpovOL_NSaEPErueNYHWUvgASPq09xDeQ/s1600/DSCN0787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Si6SAZgBECc/Vv_DwGeI6MI/AAAAAAAABvs/4svRanN1qmAucDbBVBiTuU0RoT9_i_mIw/s1600/DSCN0764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Si6SAZgBECc/Vv_DwGeI6MI/AAAAAAAABvs/4svRanN1qmAucDbBVBiTuU0RoT9_i_mIw/s320/DSCN0764.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On sheer cliff faces</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-Lk_W3oHkI/Vv_DwkSJ1vI/AAAAAAAABvs/GaAeK5_QRaYGFlHui_msRcLk3EvffMNGw/s1600/DSCN0768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q-Lk_W3oHkI/Vv_DwkSJ1vI/AAAAAAAABvs/GaAeK5_QRaYGFlHui_msRcLk3EvffMNGw/s320/DSCN0768.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">even sheerer (and higher) cliff faces</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gGG9l0Prpn0/Vv_IZkoo22I/AAAAAAAABwU/kpovOL_NSaEPErueNYHWUvgASPq09xDeQ/s1600/DSCN0787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gGG9l0Prpn0/Vv_IZkoo22I/AAAAAAAABwU/kpovOL_NSaEPErueNYHWUvgASPq09xDeQ/s320/DSCN0787.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In trees</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u39u6wRnO24/Vv_IbkEc9oI/AAAAAAAABwc/h5OWwHJCAEMhwfgi4BhkorERW7qjW4fhw/s1600/DSCN0789.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u39u6wRnO24/Vv_IbkEc9oI/AAAAAAAABwc/h5OWwHJCAEMhwfgi4BhkorERW7qjW4fhw/s320/DSCN0789.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Quad bikes<br /><br /></td></tr>
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There were baby goats with the cutest tails<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8hzly82YZs/Vv_JRCDz5WI/AAAAAAAABwo/mL_Ydglexso67FU4b_cv7Fs-TAhPmbbTQ/s1600/DSCN0791%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8hzly82YZs/Vv_JRCDz5WI/AAAAAAAABwo/mL_Ydglexso67FU4b_cv7Fs-TAhPmbbTQ/s320/DSCN0791%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very new goat with a very jaunty tail</td></tr>
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<br />And very happy goats</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NulENTNoXXM/Vv_Iai8BSqI/AAAAAAAABwg/2M_H5yCr2Wcz_aUf1vr-l_PesZJW1VRcg/s1600/DSCN0785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NulENTNoXXM/Vv_Iai8BSqI/AAAAAAAABwg/2M_H5yCr2Wcz_aUf1vr-l_PesZJW1VRcg/s320/DSCN0785.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiley Omani goats</td></tr>
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<br />We saw men removing wandering wadi from the road<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TWQ5iz84k8U/Vv_LBvbrMQI/AAAAAAAABxA/EV5lyDir5kQKBWW8gT3Muy09hBEBjBuQQ/s1600/DSCN0772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TWQ5iz84k8U/Vv_LBvbrMQI/AAAAAAAABxA/EV5lyDir5kQKBWW8gT3Muy09hBEBjBuQQ/s320/DSCN0772.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with palm fronds and shovels of course</td></tr>
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<br />Some grand vistas. Some from high up.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-81P9F-oXuxg/Vv_NhMzpjjI/AAAAAAAABxY/KGLW5PiG00gNbC_fJ5i4TFtROjljL9pFA/s1600/DSCN0868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-81P9F-oXuxg/Vv_NhMzpjjI/AAAAAAAABxY/KGLW5PiG00gNbC_fJ5i4TFtROjljL9pFA/s320/DSCN0868.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ubiquitous felaj system, but this time with hanging vegetation </td></tr>
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<br />Some were far away (Wadi Mistal is HUGE!!)<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pfzNFCt-Gt8/Vv_K__w6J2I/AAAAAAAABw8/ORNe0KhkRbo1RqAJjgDJDZjgmfn2opmJA/s1600/DSCN0820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pfzNFCt-Gt8/Vv_K__w6J2I/AAAAAAAABw8/ORNe0KhkRbo1RqAJjgDJDZjgmfn2opmJA/s320/DSCN0820.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with added ruin in the foreground</td></tr>
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Some had villages nestled in them<div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YI3AueCrQYA/Vv_NgygC0AI/AAAAAAAABxU/U4nc14GWwKwEfIZYv5YZtShxYs19Cl1SQ/s1600/DSCN0879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YI3AueCrQYA/Vv_NgygC0AI/AAAAAAAABxU/U4nc14GWwKwEfIZYv5YZtShxYs19Cl1SQ/s320/DSCN0879.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">al Qurah Village where I spied a young girl curled up on her window sill reading.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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And in those villages, there were (apart from the goats)</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1BlmWCU_EAw/Vv_NaOt44dI/AAAAAAAABxQ/2Uz1eI0Jbw0rc9hV0Rf1edk8wqaXPzVHw/s1600/DSCN0880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1BlmWCU_EAw/Vv_NaOt44dI/AAAAAAAABxQ/2Uz1eI0Jbw0rc9hV0Rf1edk8wqaXPzVHw/s320/DSCN0880.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Cats doing what cats do ie sitting next to the felaj watching the water.<br /></td></tr>
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<div>
It was a lovely, lovely day and finished with wine and beer in Ali and Bob's garden along with multitudinous chirruping birdlife an Henrietta - the world's most spoilt chook. </div>
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Life is good.</div>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-62909326801238529422015-01-28T23:34:00.001+11:002015-01-28T23:34:21.769+11:00A Sojourn in Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm sitting in my study with the windows all open and a gentle breeze wafting in. They're digging up the road outside and chucking about concrete mixed with plaster in the building site behind. I'm on day 7 of my first cold in two years. I feel disgusting. Everything still hurts. I did manage to go to Arabic yesterday, but that meant that getting out of bed this morning was problematic. Bluey of course had the cure, but life really does have to start moving....... It makes me realise just how healthy it is living in this neck of the woods. Just three days in Paris, with what seemed like the entire population all coughing without covering any orifices, was my downfall. <br />
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I was thinking to myself, I must blog. My brain gave one of those snorts which translates as "Yeah, sure riiiiiiight," Then I remembered the sitting-cafe-times in Paris resting the ()*&*( knee, and pulled out my notebook. So now you are going to be treated to what I actually wrote in Paris......... Oh, and I should mention. There is a long sentence warning in this blog. I don't care how much my more sensitive friends twitch, it was in Paris in little cafes. I can make my sentences as long as I like. <br />
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Saturday January 17 2015 (<i>How does it get to be 2015? How?</i>)<br />
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So Paris is a much lovelier place after a good nights sleep, lushly gorgeous pastries for breakfast - the panne raisin was simply the best I've ever tasted - some sunshine, and slightly less traffic. It is not a very happy place place when you have just flown overnight with not nearly enough sleep, had your wallet stolen on the way to town from the airport <i>[David's, not mine], </i>and been too cold and tired to properly cope with Parisian traffic after two hours giving a statement to the police. Oh, having a new wool coat helps to!<br />
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It has not lived up to its reputation of being filled with rude and obnoxious people. Apart from the scumbag pickpocket, everyone has been lovely. Every time I had to tackle stairs with my suitcase some stranger would materialise and carry it for me. No-one seems particularly put out that we don't speak French. A cheery bonjour followed by complete puzzlement seems to work fine.<br />
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It is cold, but not too cold. There was rain, but soft gentle rain. There were frequent police sirens, but they more resembled counterpoint rather than cacophony and sometime could almost be taken for the the call to prayer <i>[so maybe that has more to do with living in the Middle East than anything else]. </i>The view from the windows of the tiny apartment is not of the gardens, but a large dirty building whose windows reveal enormous skeletons of creature long dead..........<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n-C36AURR_s/VMjFOTP6qfI/AAAAAAAABiE/Wxh5O-7LPN8/s1600/DSCN8024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n-C36AURR_s/VMjFOTP6qfI/AAAAAAAABiE/Wxh5O-7LPN8/s1600/DSCN8024.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our apartment, I never did catch any of them moving</td></tr>
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The Seine is dirty, fast flowing and really quite malevolent. At times the currents vie with each other, creating waves resembling the wake of seamonsters. I wonder how many little yappy dogs wearing knitted pink coats have been devoured in her depths?<div>
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Cluny was smaller than I expected and I kept being reminded of The Cloisters in New York City. It is a lovely place, with squeaky floors and multi-generational walls. The tapestries <i>[the Lady and the Unicorn series of course in case you were wondering</i>] were a revelation. No pictures that I have <u>ever</u> seen prepared me for their sheer size and astonishing beauty. I had never dreamed that the way the threads were manipulated would give a thread dimensional texture, which brings them to life in front of you in a way the photographs are not able. The jewels on the gowns seemed to sparkle and standout from the background. The brocade patterns were executed, it seems, at a slightly different tension so they are smoother and denser. The animals are so lively, especially the rabbits and dogs. </div>
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The flowers are meticulously gorgeous.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_a9RntQoBB0/VMjL0KGst0I/AAAAAAAABic/SDYbACYd8V8/s1600/DSCN8152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_a9RntQoBB0/VMjL0KGst0I/AAAAAAAABic/SDYbACYd8V8/s1600/DSCN8152.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a goat. Yes, just the one.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdvhRvO33lw/VMjK3xA9l1I/AAAAAAAABiU/YNutr0qTigA/s1600/DSCN8161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SdvhRvO33lw/VMjK3xA9l1I/AAAAAAAABiU/YNutr0qTigA/s1600/DSCN8161.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bunnies and puppies</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hw7Gttrv-cU/VMjMoTWm8WI/AAAAAAAABis/sI4syVUjuec/s1600/DSCN8171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hw7Gttrv-cU/VMjMoTWm8WI/AAAAAAAABis/sI4syVUjuec/s1600/DSCN8171.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And there were foxes!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DoK9AzupGjA/VMjMmipdIQI/AAAAAAAABik/5P2viBiayaY/s1600/DSCN8172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DoK9AzupGjA/VMjMmipdIQI/AAAAAAAABik/5P2viBiayaY/s1600/DSCN8172.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hope this captures at least some of the changes of texture. If not, you'll just have to go and look at them.</td></tr>
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I found it impossible to look away from them <i>[David's Dribblings has a photo of me standing next to one of the tapestries, it will give you some scale]</i>. <div>
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There are many other tapestries in Cluny, all of very different quality and none as spectacular as the ladies with their unicorns. There is one that comes to mind which seems cartoon-like or childish in its simplicity. It is not badly made, but the faces of the knights and ladies have a blocky simplicity and naivety not seen in the other works. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m0r26LWHljg/VMjPW8TPDMI/AAAAAAAABi4/CetVlppNRqk/s1600/DSCN8299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m0r26LWHljg/VMjPW8TPDMI/AAAAAAAABi4/CetVlppNRqk/s1600/DSCN8299.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's something Disneylike about them.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-761yTPsOyLw/VMjPo7OJJ_I/AAAAAAAABjA/lmjcIwSKKx4/s1600/DSCN8300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-761yTPsOyLw/VMjPo7OJJ_I/AAAAAAAABjA/lmjcIwSKKx4/s1600/DSCN8300.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Someone's not happy </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gfyx24vq1xk/VMjPrBCukDI/AAAAAAAABjI/WoM86D6ja4w/s1600/DSCN8301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gfyx24vq1xk/VMjPrBCukDI/AAAAAAAABjI/WoM86D6ja4w/s1600/DSCN8301.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure these are the romantic leads......</td></tr>
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<br />I wonder what its story is? Was it made by someone from the family? Was its design created by a beloved child and then worked by professionals? The expressions on the faces capture teenage eye-rolling and ogling particularly well.<div>
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The visit turned into a madonna and child festival. Often my visits to museums end up with a bit of a theme. Today I was drawn to the faces of the Madonna. So many of them have gentle, fragile beauty, while others have a quiet strength. I wonder at the women whose faces inspired the artists who created these portraits in wood, stone, alabaster, gold and enamel.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SRtO6SQfd94/VMjULndlIjI/AAAAAAAABjU/Sl_gfVM22Qs/s1600/DSCN8049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SRtO6SQfd94/VMjULndlIjI/AAAAAAAABjU/Sl_gfVM22Qs/s1600/DSCN8049.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So sweet</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most despairing Pieta Madonna I have every seen. My heart breaks for her.</td></tr>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-90226767841797668032014-10-18T16:37:00.001+11:002014-10-18T16:37:35.522+11:00An Unexpected Pleasure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Oman has been two years of unexpected pleasures. Yesterday was no exception (of course I wrote this at least two months ago* and then got busy and visited Australia, so you'll just have to wait for the Australia visit blog). On a Tuesday morning I general host a little "Stitch and Bitch," but today I went along with a group of about 30 other to see the Royal Guard Stables; oh what a splendid time it was.<br />
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We often go to the Lulu's hypermarket to shop and that sits slap bang in the middle of the Royal Court area, which is made up of a vast array of building, gardens, racecourse, palace, and, of course, the stables. The supermarket itself used to be the Royal Guard's quartermaster's store. You get very used to seeing the red bereted royal guard all over the place and very familiar with the walls that surround everything...lots of walls...lots of everything. Today I discovered there was also a Royal Guard motorcycle squad who rode large black motorcycles, wore rather sexy black leather and red helmets to match the berets. I'd never seen them anywhere before, even in cavalcades. We often muse about what might be hidden behind the walls. Well, today I found out about one little corner.</div>
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The group (a new ladies group called Phoenix) had arranged a tour of the stables and we all were told to meet in the Lulu's carpark at 7:30am so that we could be picked up and taken into the grounds. We all duly arrived and hopped into the bus, drove through the gates right in front of us and around a couple of corners...there we were. We didn't know quite what to expect and what we got was a little taste of some of the things that go on behind those walls. Starting with watching the new music recruits learning to ride. They will all eventually play on horseback for ceremonial events.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the new music recruits. Being able to ride is not a prerequisite for joining.</td></tr>
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Some of the lads looked at ease on horseback, some looked nervous and some looked like they were convinced the horse was going to eat them. Round and round and round they went. While we watched some of the more senior riders running the competition horses through their paces.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is their world champion dressage horse, who apparently likes to jump. Unusual in Arabians we were told. He's being trained for showjumping now</td></tr>
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And of course Omani's love their bagpipes, so there is a mounted band, including the most gorgeous drum horses. They were huge.</div>
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The new recruits had to hold their horses steady while the band walked slowly past. They looked even more terrified than when they were moving.</div>
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Then we went to watch the farrier hot shoeing a horse. Considering this large group of people were hanging about exclaiming and taking photos, the horse was pretty chilled. The farrier was pretty chilled too. Holy cow he was a big bloke.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hammering the still hot shoe on - with bare hands.....</td></tr>
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Then for our big treat of the day. Last week Oman hosted the world tent-pegging championships and the Royal Guard makes up a large part of their team. They were all still there so they gave us a demo. Seriously cool to watch. They use spears (javelins really) and swords, and it's not very difficult to imagine what tent pegging used to be very good training for...............<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The latest addition to the stables. 3 months old and full of fun<br />
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*Um errr, make that substantially more than two months. Here it was sitting in drafts.........................................</div>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-88776022237489570732014-10-17T20:38:00.003+11:002014-10-17T20:38:30.879+11:00Eid Mubarak! Ooops!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A week or so ago David went flying off to Brussels for meetings and then popped over to Manchester to visit Meaghan and Jamie, leaving me at home with the cats and what was going to be the last run for my thesis (yes was, but that's a whole other story).<br />
It was Eid and the country had shut down for over a week. Boy do I mean shut down. Practically every one I spoke to was heading out for a little trip to Europe, Thailand, Cyprus, Zanzibar, Dubai, Qatar, Abu Dhabi....... Pout.<br />
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I was being a good girl and sitting at the PC editing away like a loon and listening to the sewerage truck slurp up water from our unconnected sewer outlet. Dum de da de dum.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">CRASH!!!!!!!!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">What the hell was that??????</span></div>
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A quick dash to the front door showed me..........</div>
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Yes, the truck had clipped the gate and pulled down the wall and the pedestrian gate. Excellent. </div>
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"You broke the wall!" I cried cleverly.</div>
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"Madam, It is broken" was his even cleverer reply. Then he jumped into his truck and drove away.</div>
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Right. Good. Marvelous. It's a little nervous making when the whole world can see straight into your house when everyone lives behind high walls, and of course the whole world did come and have a really good look. Especially five times a day on the way to the Mosque. Quick call to my landlord had no reply, and a call to the handy man was met with "Oh....I will come and look at it maybe after tomorrow." SMS to landlord. Minutes later, the landlord called and the ability of Omanis to get things going even in the middle of a religious festival swung into action.</div>
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By the end of the day two handy men had been, and the police had been. The next day cleanup began happened and the following day the footings were begun. We were to get a little more front. Hooray!! Of course the hooray may be short lived as the owners are looking at renovating and moving in. Although their youngest boy has decided that he is going to live in a tree house at the top of the biggest tree so that David can live in the new upstairs bedroom.</div>
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Footings were followed by a wall that immediately gave us more privacy. The cats, however, were not amused. Either were the two beautiful pots that had been sitting behind the wall. The very flat pots. The plants, on the other hand, are Omani plants and can survive almost anything.</div>
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The wall was followed by two pillars for the gates. Getting in and out was a little "interesting" at this point. Well, for those of us with knees that don't bend too well and hadn't been to yoga for a couple of weeks (the teacher was one of the friends in Cyprus....).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bluey finishing his inspection of the new paving</td></tr>
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New paving ensued, and you can see that we have a new garden bed. Plus enough room to easily fit David's car if we wanted to. Actually, both cars. </div>
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This was all done by three blokes (here are two of them) armed with a jackhammer (for taking down the old pillars), a drill (for drilling holes of course) a shovel, some bessa blocks, quite a lot of concrete and even more sweat. The electrics were powered by a lead hanging over the roof. I'm not sure the tools had any plugs, they just stuffed the wires into the end of the lead.................. </div>
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There it is pretty much finished except for the painting. Bukra insha'allah.</div>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-18034983716585218672014-06-22T16:01:00.000+10:002014-06-22T16:01:06.576+10:00Adventures in Bread<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the frustrations here is the lack of yummy bread that is also good for you. there is no shortage of french-style loaves of crusty white bread, but I'm a bit partial to bread with actual food value. We can get a nice Norlinger, but even it palls after a while. <br />
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I'm also pretty partial to making my own bread, but with the choice of flours being a touch limited it is an exercise in frustration, unless I want to stodge out on flours based on white bread or plain wholemeal. Not so bad, but still boring.<br />
Enter a new bread making book, skilfully discovered by Michelle 'Enabler' Dean for very little cost and quietly exported to Australia in my hand baggage, with step-by-step instructions (with pictures) of the creation of a sour dough leaven. The Handmade Loaf by Dan Lepard for those playing at home.<br />
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Right. To begin. Rye flour. Now I'd seen that somewhere...Al Fair?...Carrefour?...Nevermind, I have to do this NOW!! I've got chapatti flour made of 7 different grains (except rye) there must be some wild yeasts sitting on some of that. Raisins. Sigh, I don't have any of those (maybe I should go to the souq...NO! It must be done NOW!!) I've got dates. Dates are sweet, they'll feed the wild yeasts that may or may not be lurking on the chapatti flour. Done, now to wait. One day...two days...found the rye flour...three days...feeding, feeding, feeding...four days...five days...AHA!! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White four leaven on the move</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rye flour leaven on the move</td></tr>
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Both leavens seemed to be pretty happy, so I went ahead on day seven and started to make my bread. Lepard's bread instructions call for very little kneading, 20 seconds only, but at regular intervals over about four hours before finally shaping the loaf and letting it prove for up to six hours. First up a rye loaf. Mmmmm, I don't think this is going very far......... </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The not very action packed rye loaf attempting to prove.</td></tr>
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Annnnd, it didn't. The white bread on the other hand (I call it white, but it was made with a bread mix from England called Barleycorn. It had whole wheat flour, barley flour and linseeds but no corn at all.) I didn't get any photos of these two loaves. They worked quite well and were somewhat reminiscent of ciabatta loaves, which David loves so that was good. They were a bit chewy after being frozen, but still nice. I think perhaps the dough was a little wet.</div>
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I was grumpy about the rye, so I tried another sweet rye recipe and using date syrup instead of honey. Mmmmm, now THAT worked. It tastes like pumpernickel and isn't very sweet at all. Now it's all chopped up and frozen for very slow eating.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cooked sweet rye loaf</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The inside of the sweet rye. Simply perfect.</td></tr>
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<br />Excellent. Not quite what I was hoping for, but still. I had lots of bread so I popped the leavens into the fridge for a week and sat in a corner muttering to myself. I also took off to Lakeland and invested in a temperature probe (good for meat, liquids and bread etc).<div>
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Then my yoga teacher showed me the "Diet Flour" that the Muscat flour mills produce. It's got whole grains, malted stuff and is enriched with iron and folates. It's sold as flour for making bread for diabetics. Right ho, I thought, I'll give it a go.</div>
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I pulled out the white leaven and brought it back to life. Pow! Back into very, very active life! Goodness gracious it was excited! So excited I just used it rather than taking a photo! I used a 60:40 mix of Diet flour and barleycorn flour and was a little more careful about the amount of fluid. The dough was still sticky to start with but firmer than before. </div>
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I had bought two little one pound bread pans so I thought I'd have a go at putting half the dough in these two just to see if the sour dough would behave in a tin and create more sandwich/toast friendly shapes. They did!<br /><div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two one pound loaves and yes, they really did weigh one pound!</td></tr>
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Aren't they cute??? I was very, very pleased and was itching to cut one to see how it went. But first to cook the big one. I proved this one is a square basket and tipped it onto a semolina covered tray before slashing it around the top and sliding onto the bread stone.<br /><br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here it is just in the oven and beginning to cook.</td></tr>
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<br />Well that worked a treat!! It came out beautifully and sounding like a drum! The temperature probe was very useful, but also helped me discover just how hot my oven doesn't get. Grrrrrrr.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The results using the re-invigorated leaven</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first one pound loaf. Not bad at all!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The second one pound loaf. Mmmmmmmmm.</td></tr>
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The bread tasted fabulous! It was soft on in the outside, crunchy on the outside and tasted divine. It was also filling. However, we did accidentally eat almost all of the two loaves over the weekend. Actually when I say we, I mean I ate a lot more of it than David. What can I say? I'm an addict. Luckily I cut up the 2 pound loaf and froze it. It's not quite so tempting that way............<br />
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I'll have some of that for lunch with the Mango chutneys that I made as well.................<br />
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-51433985767196638862014-05-28T20:37:00.000+10:002014-05-28T20:37:29.223+10:00A Visit Home Part I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've just spent a truly lovely few weeks visiting home. It was not all wonderful, the sudden loss of a very special man made for a bittersweet welcome home. Words cannot express the joy in seeing friends and family on our home soil, so, as is my wont, it will be in pictures. <br />
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The first week was spent in Brisbane catching up with some of our favourite hairy friends and family. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Knights of the North</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite Knight of the North in the Whole Worlde.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And of course we all know that the Politarchopolis/St Florian<br />World Domination Treaty is alive and well.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favouritest Brisvegas Girlie</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimming between the flags at the Gold Coast</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely, and very old, Shubs who ran out to meet us in Brisbane.</td></tr>
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One of the loveliest things about Brisbane was spending time with Rufus and George, as well as a whole range of Rufus' school-friends and their partners. While David conferenced like a maniac I got to hang out with Jacky, the cutest little button Ivy, Matt, Phil, Dougie and Anna. It was fabulous. Then David and I climbed into the green and purple Jucy machine. It was special, but we had an uneventful drive to Canberra - including sleeping in the van in a rest stop - and visiting Byron Bay - where we didn't see any real hippies at all. <div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, for the first time we went to Byron Bay...<br />I did stop at the Rainbow Shop and bought Rainbow Pants.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is apparently legal to turn left, cross a road and run over a bike<br />Who'd a thought?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I was a girl, hippies were on the pill..........</td></tr>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-65215241317190185442014-05-28T16:29:00.000+10:002014-05-28T16:29:17.036+10:00A visit to Al Ain Zoo <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As many of you know, David is a little fond of visiting zoos. Very fond of visiting zoos. I am too, but sshhh, don't tell David.<br />
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It's just possible that David has already blogged about this visit already, but I'm in the zone and thought I would too. I still have very fond memories of our visit at the end of March as I was particularly taken with the relaxed and cheerful staff as well has the very happy animals. So here are some gratuitous animal photos......<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Cuwktzejus/U4VzZOqHzxI/AAAAAAAABQA/4zua327tAGA/s1600/DSCN5534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Cuwktzejus/U4VzZOqHzxI/AAAAAAAABQA/4zua327tAGA/s1600/DSCN5534.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we are. In Arabic a zoo is called "The Park of the Animals"</td></tr>
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We arrived early and decided to spend a small fortune on a guided tour of the zoo. Ever since the Great Kayak Disaster of 2014, my knee has been known to give up and go home without notice, so the fewer actual steps the better. Not only did the tour come with a guide, it also came with transport that could carry twelve. Never mind that there was only two of us. Next time......<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-84KD6BnqneI/U4VzjXiEJVI/AAAAAAAABQI/d_GpndDO-No/s1600/DSCN5536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-84KD6BnqneI/U4VzjXiEJVI/AAAAAAAABQI/d_GpndDO-No/s1600/DSCN5536.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the visitor's welcome area</td></tr>
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We started with some refreshments (coffee, dates and water) in the welcome area as our lovely guide prepared for us. I have a photograph of her, but I promised I wouldn't post it as her father would not approve at all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tqc_FLSQkOY/U4Vzw51Qa0I/AAAAAAAABQQ/eWcKCRKMeAQ/s1600/DSCN5543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tqc_FLSQkOY/U4Vzw51Qa0I/AAAAAAAABQQ/eWcKCRKMeAQ/s1600/DSCN5543.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first stop was pretty little beasties with horns.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2zQcc2SyoOI/U4V0F_iikzI/AAAAAAAABQY/-JHKwfxN9zk/s1600/DSCN5544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2zQcc2SyoOI/U4V0F_iikzI/AAAAAAAABQY/-JHKwfxN9zk/s1600/DSCN5544.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our second was larger beasties with truly impressive horns</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eXXnOUYngBE/U4V0J-ympyI/AAAAAAAABQg/-O8caAse0bI/s1600/DSCN5546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eXXnOUYngBE/U4V0J-ympyI/AAAAAAAABQg/-O8caAse0bI/s1600/DSCN5546.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I struggled to photograph him out of the shade, <br />
but frankly I think he looks pretty amazing just the way he is.<br />
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It wasn't very hot but, as with most zoos, day time is the lying around not doing very much part of the animal's daily life. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y0Z6fH-6Nh4/U4V4X1CAZNI/AAAAAAAABQs/YHEqO7S7nJU/s1600/DSCN5594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y0Z6fH-6Nh4/U4V4X1CAZNI/AAAAAAAABQs/YHEqO7S7nJU/s1600/DSCN5594.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Of course my favourites are the ferocious big cats.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_xSwc4odFqA/U4V445heLTI/AAAAAAAABQ0/gQHcJMfH7zQ/s1600/DSCN5582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_xSwc4odFqA/U4V445heLTI/AAAAAAAABQ0/gQHcJMfH7zQ/s1600/DSCN5582.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The killers of the savanah</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6hQID3FlsI4/U4V46R4SnkI/AAAAAAAABQ8/kyfAtM8viCQ/s1600/DSCN5617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6hQID3FlsI4/U4V46R4SnkI/AAAAAAAABQ8/kyfAtM8viCQ/s1600/DSCN5617.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to take down their prey in the blink of an eye</td></tr>
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<br />David, however, managed to get some fabulous shots of the white lioness chasing a bird. Mmmmm, domestic cats are not that far removed from their giant cousins after all.<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fiWSRjcH4fU/U4V_8yTFvkI/AAAAAAAABSE/zTP3c7fk7h0/s1600/DSCN5622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fiWSRjcH4fU/U4V_8yTFvkI/AAAAAAAABSE/zTP3c7fk7h0/s1600/DSCN5622.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She missed</td></tr>
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It's too hot in Al Ain to have elephants at the zoo and I'm not at all sure how the other animals stay cool. Even on a gentle spring day (about 32 degrees) the hippos were up to their eyeballs in their gigantic undercover swimming pool.<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cXXRl7wkAr4/U4V5HAv6OLI/AAAAAAAABRE/-zVmzpUPYgY/s1600/DSCN5629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cXXRl7wkAr4/U4V5HAv6OLI/AAAAAAAABRE/-zVmzpUPYgY/s1600/DSCN5629.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can seeeee you!</td></tr>
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<br /><br />In the middle of the reptile house was a little fennic fox. Lord knows what he was doing there, they are desert dwellers and a little bit of heat won't hurt them. They're sooooo cute with their gigantic ears - which are a bit of a disadvantage when inside with continual running, screaming children. However, the real reason he was inside might have been a protective measure. After our visit I was chatting to one of the SQU students about the cuteness of the fennic fox. He agreed wholeheartedly and mentioned they had them in their village. He talked of them with gentle pride before telling me they had killed all their chickens and run of with his favourite peacock. He thought that was a bit rude, but didn't dent his delight in the little critters.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p8m3poXo1tw/U4V5m86ZRXI/AAAAAAAABRM/P-mKJuYUTlY/s1600/DSCN5669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p8m3poXo1tw/U4V5m86ZRXI/AAAAAAAABRM/P-mKJuYUTlY/s1600/DSCN5669.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One little fennic fox trying to work out how to murder all small children in Al Ain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eNU_LVEjJgk/U4V5tbmmE8I/AAAAAAAABRU/JUU-b6CmtxM/s1600/DSCN5712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eNU_LVEjJgk/U4V5tbmmE8I/AAAAAAAABRU/JUU-b6CmtxM/s1600/DSCN5712.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And there were flamingos! Yummy pink flamingos!!</td></tr>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xe16vJZhaUU/U4V52drOxYI/AAAAAAAABRc/7R5alQ3xOr4/s1600/DSCN5726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xe16vJZhaUU/U4V52drOxYI/AAAAAAAABRc/7R5alQ3xOr4/s1600/DSCN5726.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Of course this is the Arabian Gulf so there were fountains</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And flowers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-039pj6inyLg/U4V6Pd5S7rI/AAAAAAAABR0/LtObJfnKPpU/s1600/DSCN5599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-039pj6inyLg/U4V6Pd5S7rI/AAAAAAAABR0/LtObJfnKPpU/s1600/DSCN5599.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of flowers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GcfVoUvpoH4/U4V58vL8fnI/AAAAAAAABRk/YKI31mxA0pU/s1600/RSCN5739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GcfVoUvpoH4/U4V58vL8fnI/AAAAAAAABRk/YKI31mxA0pU/s1600/RSCN5739.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And a pile of sleeping flamingos<br />Safe from rampaging fennic foxes...for now........ </td></tr>
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One of the highlights was feeding the giraffes. I got licked by a giraffe!!! How cool is that??!!! Also watching the birds of prey feed.........</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uydCxTHGpxM/U4WBBR3PhvI/AAAAAAAABSQ/YfxJJV4bNyY/s1600/DSCN5754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uydCxTHGpxM/U4WBBR3PhvI/AAAAAAAABSQ/YfxJJV4bNyY/s1600/DSCN5754.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't think this is fennic fox territory.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bq0iMzseY1M/U4WBOGsE4CI/AAAAAAAABSY/5WapD0APPJk/s1600/DSCN5741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bq0iMzseY1M/U4WBOGsE4CI/AAAAAAAABSY/5WapD0APPJk/s1600/DSCN5741.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The keepers come prepared for the worst.</td></tr>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-17983962860499581412013-10-18T20:29:00.002+11:002013-10-18T20:29:38.171+11:00Gah!! It's back to the grindstone!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, the jury's in. Revise and resubmit. Gah!!!!!!<br />
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One examiner thought it was "a solid piece of work," that the "quality of the thesis is of generally of a high standard" with "relatively few errors" and the conclusions contributed to "the body of knowledge for both researcher and practitioner."<br />
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Another thought it was "of interest and substance" and that I met my goals in all but the acoustic analysis and discussion in the arena of acoustic science; that I hadn't proved that I knew what I was talking about. That just made them more irritated by formatting errors (don't rely on word large documents to pick up things like ?? for you - apparently it's a proper word and don't whatever you do expect the printed form to bear any resemblance to the on screen form) and other things that might have been minor amendments.<br />
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The third examiner commended me for my approach but had the same serious concerns about the acoustic analysis, commented briefly about errors and then proceeded to give me very helpful suggestions regarding plugging the gaps including a reading list that mostly post-dated the work I had done. The perils of taking too long to write the rotten thing.<br />
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The whole thing is quite frustrating because much of the information was there, in an appendix that was referred to in the text, and it would seem that no-one got that far. I had been told that there was too much information, that it just sort of sat there not doing anything. I insisted that it needed to be there, but in the end I moved it out. What I should have done was to find a better way to incorporate it with the dissertation. <br />
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It is also frustrating because no-one on my panel picked up the problem, no-one, not even in my final pre-submission presentation, which heavily relied on acoustic analysis. I was worried about my conclusions, about the biographical chapter, about the formatting, about the tale I was telling but apparently I left some ducks out of the line-up.<br />
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Back to the drawing board. Most of the work has in fact been done (to quote the wise BJ), time to make it all work properly.<br />
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-58639936055178153302013-09-22T02:37:00.002+10:002013-09-22T02:37:36.467+10:00Lots of bridges and plenty of water....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Six months! I haven't written a blog post for six months? How can that be? Where on earth did six whole months disappear into the abyss? There has been, as the title of this post hints, a lot of water under those there bridges - not to mention the odd wadi or so. Where to start? For those of you who read Davids Dribblings, you may feel that you are a little up to datish. But only just.<div>
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Life has pottered on here in Oman. For the first time in I think my entire life I have no reason to organise my day (my week, my month) and the effect is disorienting to say the least. You'd think that I'd revel in being able to do things I haven't been able to do for years -read a novel during the day guilt free, watch television during the day while sewing, embroidering or knitting (or patting the cat), go wandering, write blog posts lots of things. But no. The days seem to manage to evaporate with there being absolutely nothing to show for them apart from a made bed, the occasional attack of dish washing and perhaps some clean clothes. Well that's what it seems like anyway. I suppose the reality is a little different.</div>
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In my last post I was playing with some natural dyes and about to learn to spin with an Omani drop spindle. What I was actually doing was feeling pathetic about not taking part in an exciting arts pentathlon with the rest of my household. So of course I had to help. So apart from the legumes I played with saffron, indigo and madder. I cannot believe how easy it is to get these things here! Just pop down to the souq and pick them up! This is what I made with my little balls of coloured wool. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9OEzZ6KI238/Uj2quoAWljI/AAAAAAAABH8/tlxwsdD0G1c/s1600/IMG_2868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9OEzZ6KI238/Uj2quoAWljI/AAAAAAAABH8/tlxwsdD0G1c/s320/IMG_2868.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back of the bag</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front of the bag.<br /></td></tr>
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It's a bag for keeping gaming pieces in. Yes, I went a little crazy, but isn't it cute???????<div>
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Getting the hang of being able to dash away on the weekend has been difficult to come to terms with too, but we have been doing it. There would be lots of lovely pictures but we also go burgled and off went my brand new camera and my laptop (which was full of carefully downloaded pictures from the camera sigh) so there aren't any. You will just have to make do with some from our Eid Al Fitr trip to Masirah Island, home of five different species of critically endangered turtles. It was our first time camping by ourselves (I of course stressed about the food. We had too much - who'd a thought?)</div>
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Masirah Island is someway down the coast of Oman and takes three or four hours to drive to the ferry. We had been told many horror stories about how hard it was to get a place on the ferry, hundreds of cars and only a few places, they only ran at high tide, you could never tell when or where you had to be to get on. "It'll be fine" says David (another thing to stress about) and, of course, it was. It usually is. We drove down the road towards the dock and they waved us into the last spot without us stopping. We found out later that they had waited for us.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the ferry. It takes 11/2 to 2 hours to get to the island</td></tr>
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<br />After arriving we tootled off down the ocean side of the island to find somewhere to camp. We were hopeful of seeing turtles and that was the side they nested on. We hunted around, driving in and out of coves, on and off the beach, over some rocks (lots of rocks, we have a four wheel drive and David's not afraid to use it!) until we were almost out of light. Then we found a beach with some sheltering little dunes and decided that was it for the night. Cooking on the hibachi took a little longer than intended (let's not go into why foil wrapped potatoes shouldn't be baked on an hibachi) but we finally buried the potatoes and cooked the steaks anyway.<div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iR-2qPpUY98/Uj3FEabiujI/AAAAAAAABJ8/oI1vSlgRFm0/s1600/Eid+al+Fitr+2013_097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iR-2qPpUY98/Uj3FEabiujI/AAAAAAAABJ8/oI1vSlgRFm0/s320/Eid+al+Fitr+2013_097.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David attending the hibachi</td></tr>
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After dinner (and maybe one or two beers) we drifted off for a walk on the beach. It was hermit crab heaven! There were shells of all shapes and sizes scuttling along the beach away from our torches, not to mention the very indignant looking crabs (the ones with the googlie eyes on stalks) who watched us from the edge of the waves. We saw the tracks of turtles (they're a little obvious) before we came across a determined female who ignored us intently as she dug her hole. It was pretty amazing I have to say and we might have been a bit excited. Then I saw a little baby turtle. I did a very silly happy dance and called over David. By the time he got there (slowwwww, 2 seconds at least) there were hundreds, all appearing out of nowhere. Now <i>that </i>is an experience that it not likely to be topped in a hurry. I confess I picked up little turtles and turned them towards the sea. They run around like crazy and really have not much idea where they're going. Until the sea hits them and they become little swimming machines. If I managed to get just one extra turtle into the circle of life I will be pleased. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A teensie bit of our first campsite.</td></tr>
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We had an excellent sleep, some beach walking and then David couldn't stay still any more. We'd brought the kayak with us and we were determined to get it into the water. Just not the ocean side with its rough surf and suspicious under tow so we packed up and headed round the Island. </div>
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First of all we went in search of water. There are wells dotted around the place and there is something very satisfying about getting your water from an ancient well. At least from watching David get water from the ancient well......<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WELL!<br /><br /></td></tr>
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We went an looked at the wrecked dow. Still a tourist attraction, but it's slowly disappearing. Some people who don't pay attention when taking photographs might also disappear.......</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wrecked Dow. If you want to see it, get there soonish.</td></tr>
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We went hunting for a congenial camping spot on the Oman side of the island. Bad idea. They have wind surfing and paragliding schools there for a reason. It's flat, featureless and, you guessed it, windy. We eventually found a place where we could snuggle between spiky trees amongst the camel dung. It was loud and encouraged us to rethink our method of fixing our shelter.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David relaxing after a hard day of something. Notice the carefully placed kayak- otherwise known as Mr Windbreak.</td></tr>
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A quick visit to town failed to find either a repair kit for the air mattress (spikey teeth marks were found and the mattress stayed on Masirah in a comfy rubbish bin) or a fisherman to sell us fish for dinner. Fine. I then discovered that not only were Johnny cakes great on an hibachi, the Camembert, smoked salmon and avocado went extremely well inside the johnny cake dough.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nom Nom Nom</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What happens when you don't use sunscreen. Ow!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found all sorts of things on the beach, including this little bird made of seaweed, sand and shells.</td></tr>
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<br />We left Masirah swearing and declaring that we would be back. We travelled across on the ferry to the sounds of young Omani blokes have a sing song on the deck and the sight of a pod of dolphins cutting across the bow. Driving back along the coast road we discovered that the signs that told you to be careful of moving sand dunes were right<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sand blowing across the road, BACK to the desert.</td></tr>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-57591858083549470032013-04-24T19:14:00.003+10:002013-04-24T19:15:45.089+10:00Gettin' Ma Hippy on - Dyeing in Muscat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There might be some knitting going on here in Oman that needs the odd bit of colour.... I just might have picked up some of Chris Robertson's white hand spun from my Canberra stash....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M06Y3VRs_Q8/UXeKcFsnBwI/AAAAAAAABEo/pH36WJIgG1o/s1600/IMG_2741%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M06Y3VRs_Q8/UXeKcFsnBwI/AAAAAAAABEo/pH36WJIgG1o/s320/IMG_2741%5B1%5D.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original hand spun</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 18px;">I want a nice brown. I could spin the dark fleece that also came home with me or I could dye some of the white. I want it now! </span>Time to dye!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
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What to use...what to use.... I know! To the kitchen!<br />
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<b style="line-height: 115%;">Black lentils</b><a href="file:///C:/Users/Public/Documents/Katrina/knitting/Pentathalon/Dyeing%20in%20Oman.docx#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" style="line-height: 115%;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span></span></a><span style="line-height: 115%;">::</span></div>
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1kg black (beluga) lentils covered with water and soaked overnight (all I have to do now is think what to do with many, many soaked black lentils.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original amount was just a little mound in the steel bowl</td></tr>
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I strained the water from the lentils and placed it in a smallish
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The murky browny blurg</td></tr>
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I dampened the wool and placed it in the dye stuff, raised the temperature to boiling and simmered for 1 hour. Since there was not very much liquid I left the lid on the pot throughout this stage and made sure that the wool was covered. I also stirred it regularly and occasionally turned it over. </div>
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I left the wool in the pot to cool, then rinsed out the liquid and left it to dry.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before and after. The photograph really doesn't do it justice</td></tr>
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<br /><span style="line-height: 18px;">The result is a gingery milk-chocolate colour that matches bits of the cat and apparently tastes quite good. Now to sort out the next culinary dye adventure.</span><div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's Button coloured and will be kept out of her reach....</td></tr>
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The next step is to learn to spin with an Omani drop spindle, although I've not seen them actually dropping them only sitting and using a short draw. Although this probably has more to do with the fact they're spinning goat and camel hair rather than wool. The lady in the centre has a spindle and is teasing out the fibres prior to spinning.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From "fleece" to yarn to ropes<br />Three ladies at the Muscat Festival February 2013<br /><br /></td></tr>
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The spindle itself is made completely of wood and is top weighted. I've never played with a top weighted spindle before, so this should be interesting.......</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Omani spindle. Wish me luck!</td></tr>
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<a href="file:///C:/Users/Public/Documents/Katrina/knitting/Pentathalon/Dyeing%20in%20Oman.docx#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-AU; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> <a href="http://twocrowsdyenaturally.blogspot.com/">http://twocrowsdyenaturally.blogspot.com/</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-61236096207755843282013-04-22T23:40:00.000+10:002013-04-22T23:40:02.822+10:00Tis Done Diddly Done Done!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yes, it's done. Finished. Completed. Printed. Submitted. I've even got a pen to prove it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One letter of acknowledgement and an ANU pen</td></tr>
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The final three months just don't bear talking about. They were full of long days at the computer, occasional visits to the gym, book-club once a month and not a whole lot more. David would drag me out when he was sick of me and make me have fresh air. I feel that I really should be able to remember some things that we did, but right now the brain is somewhere halfway between Canberra and Muscat. If anyone sees it could they give it a kick and tell it to get over here?<br />
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The last three weeks were in Canberra at Michelle's place (that would be the incredible, amazing, well-travelled and unbelievably generous Michelle) while she was in London having a marvellous time. David played the tourist and I lived and breathed thesis. I could not possibly have made it through those weeks without the help and support of a small army of friends who kept me fed and entertained. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the entertainment team.</td></tr>
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Most importantly, the thesis would not have been finished but for some very special people dropping everything and being there for me when I most needed it. In particular Leslie, Kiriel, Brooke and Miesje (all of who ditched family and friends to spend days and nights with me) and Libby who baked and decorated up some Easter goodies that were amazing!!! Six came home to Muscat with me and David, Rufus and George got to enjoy them as well.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rVeT4Jp37K0/UXUWBOoVeBI/AAAAAAAABDQ/CEEaZF2pSWk/s1600/IMG_2695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rVeT4Jp37K0/UXUWBOoVeBI/AAAAAAAABDQ/CEEaZF2pSWk/s320/IMG_2695.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Libby's Thesis Completion Easter Biscuits</td></tr>
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The final night was loooonng. Brooke finished re-jigging the discography. Leslie mopped up the Katrina after her brain completely refused to boot up and even admit what the thesis was about. Kiriel was formatting, formatting, formatting. The night ended at 7:30am when the formatting checks were done. Into the car and off to the printer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j16rwgZfRC0/UXUWBxvdBQI/AAAAAAAABDY/QOZk0wYWqI4/s1600/IMG_2731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j16rwgZfRC0/UXUWBxvdBQI/AAAAAAAABDY/QOZk0wYWqI4/s320/IMG_2731.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what 9:00am looked like after no sleep (well for Kiriel anyway) and two very delicious egg and bacon rolls<br /><br /></td></tr>
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After a few little heart attacks (what do you mean you printed it in black and white????? I'm sorry, the Chairperson of your panel is in a meeting at the other end of the University and won't be back until four...you have to submit at 3:30?...Oh...just a minute...The printer left out how many colour illustrations?????) the 400 page baby was submitted. On an odd note, it weighed just about the same as Rufus when he arrived in my life.............<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TNwJBGNFRa0/UXU7mhkwJ2I/AAAAAAAABD4/0_iMIm8d1OE/s1600/IMG_2737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TNwJBGNFRa0/UXU7mhkwJ2I/AAAAAAAABD4/0_iMIm8d1OE/s320/IMG_2737.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">.....and here it is in all its temporary binding glory! </td></tr>
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I arrived home to visits from Rufus, George, Mum and Dad (but that's another story) and now I'm a little trashed. It has taken me until this week to pick up a book of any kind and I still am completely incapable of multi tasking in any useful form. Soon I'll have to think of how to develop my own daily schedule with no must-do's, for the first time that I can actually remember. Wish me luck and watch this space!<br />
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-43762121828910704952012-12-27T05:00:00.003+11:002012-12-28T00:47:29.856+11:00An Alternative Christmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It really didn't feel like Christmas. The people I spoke to agreed - "It's the weather," they said, "It's not the right weather, it's all sunny and warm." Well, it wasn't the weather. The weather was perfectly presentable as far as Christmas weather went. Was it being in an Islamic country? Well no. Christmas decorations appeared for sale in the shops in November (really? That early in a non-Christian country? Really?) There were even Christmas trees dotted around the place. There was a big one in the Sabco Commercial Centre (a bastion of bloke-ness Omani style - it even has it's own souq) and who should be seated in front of it? Father Christmas! Ye Gods and Little Fishes!<br />
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No, it was the lack of boys. My boys. I've done Christmas with just one of them. That was fine. But with none at all, I couldn't quite get the hang of it. I couldn't get revved up at all. I was getting quite pathetic, so David decided that we had to do something completely different. The desert perhaps? Spend Christmas eve in a tent in the desert, stars twinkling overhead, camels doing what camels do, the whole desert Omani thing. "Nope" I said "I need to be able to talk to the boys on Christmas Day - we can't do that in the desert." That fixed that. Not to be deterred (possibly the thought of being stuck at home with a totally pathetic, damp wife on Christmas Day was his motivation) he booked us into The Sahab hotel on the top of Al Jabal Al Akhtar, one of the highest points in Oman. "We'll wake up early, have a quick breakfast and be off!). Right. Those of you who read David's Dribblings will have read the great Christmas plug saga and know that we didn't wake up early, we didn't have a quick breakfast and we certainly didn't dash off. We did however, spend a lovely couple of hours eating bacon and eggs and chatting with Rufus (for whom it wasn't quite Christmas) and BJ (for whom it was almost all over, bar the dishes), along with several assorted family members spread across Melbourne. Lovely.<br />
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We arrived at the hotel with plenty of time to spare before sunset. In fact, in plenty of time for a beer in the garden. Beer in the garden is not unheard of in Oman, but in a dry hotel it is alittle unusual to say the least. You can only get in the garden. A lovely young (non Islamic) lass pops it on your table for you and it was rather nice after the drive up the mountain on a lovely new mountain road with concrete barriers hiding the precipitous drops rather than trees. I've decided I rather like naked mountains, you can see what you're getting yourself into before you get into it!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1-TsWHXQsmo/UNsmPAVsSMI/AAAAAAAAA-8/hGH5FgdkXsw/s1600/DSCN4054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1-TsWHXQsmo/UNsmPAVsSMI/AAAAAAAAA-8/hGH5FgdkXsw/s320/DSCN4054.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just before we started the climb. All dark and big and looming.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w59UoaVfD-o/UNsnTGJCfII/AAAAAAAAA_o/Y9ph5yXEe44/s1600/DSCN4070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w59UoaVfD-o/UNsnTGJCfII/AAAAAAAAA_o/Y9ph5yXEe44/s320/DSCN4070.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trouble you can get into even after you see it.<br />
This was sitting at the police check point just so you knew......</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lC9Cn0ZfOcA/UNsm8dKe1RI/AAAAAAAAA_E/VY1AlIxzylo/s1600/DSCN4080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lC9Cn0ZfOcA/UNsm8dKe1RI/AAAAAAAAA_E/VY1AlIxzylo/s320/DSCN4080.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way up!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pG3YkBQQrGE/UNsnm04HOmI/AAAAAAAAA_w/lyFQhcn2_3U/s1600/DSCN4095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pG3YkBQQrGE/UNsnm04HOmI/AAAAAAAAA_w/lyFQhcn2_3U/s320/DSCN4095.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oooooo look toy houses (that are already most of the way up)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4y7leK2qE1o/UNso_44FKOI/AAAAAAAABAU/JrVgCUiazs0/s1600/DSCN4108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4y7leK2qE1o/UNso_44FKOI/AAAAAAAABAU/JrVgCUiazs0/s320/DSCN4108.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And yes, sunset was rather nice</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s2heAP-qLek/UNspRuHs65I/AAAAAAAABAc/Dsc4BVLbVr8/s1600/DSCN4109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s2heAP-qLek/UNspRuHs65I/AAAAAAAABAc/Dsc4BVLbVr8/s320/DSCN4109.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely village with some terracing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cx6Jklumk_k/UNspi2dkeII/AAAAAAAABAk/6wmybDAzc7M/s1600/DSCN4123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cx6Jklumk_k/UNspi2dkeII/AAAAAAAABAk/6wmybDAzc7M/s320/DSCN4123.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just to put terracing in perspective</td></tr>
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After a simply scrumptious breakfast, that came after sleeping until the sun came up!!!!! (Note to those who don't realise...the sun now comes up after 7:00am, David's alarm goes of at 5:15) We set off for the three villages walk. An easy walk the map said, just four kilometres, it will take around two hours one way. Right! The hotel offered a free pickup service from along the route - you would've thought that might have told us something...it didn't. We did, however, get the phone number (phew).<br />
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So this easy little walk started well. We were following painted markers. It all looked lovely. There were cute stone houses.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DBErV63RDnY/UNsx5Z3--pI/AAAAAAAABCU/TD7AGMYbLBQ/s1600/DSCN4126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DBErV63RDnY/UNsx5Z3--pI/AAAAAAAABCU/TD7AGMYbLBQ/s320/DSCN4126.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cute stone house with an even cuter door. The doors in Oman are awesome!</td></tr>
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We wandered through the first village, hibernating pomegranate trees with their Christmas decorations of dried pomegranates everywhere, magnificent views on the other side of nice, study fences. Then the goat track went up...wait goat track? Yes look at the painted thingy! Okay goat track... and went down, up and down, down, up...you get the picture. A friendly (!!) Bangladeshi fell into step with us just in time to help me down some quick ikky bits. Ahhh, that's why he was helping, copping a feel of the western ladies tits hey? Luckily I remembered the arabic word for finished and he knew it to. Otherwise there was going to be a husband dealing with the 'guide.' ***</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-inSWsPkkbhI/UNsyYam8ccI/AAAAAAAABCc/eA_t26afbUE/s1600/DSCN4131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-inSWsPkkbhI/UNsyYam8ccI/AAAAAAAABCc/eA_t26afbUE/s320/DSCN4131.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David with our 'handy' guide before I discovered how handy he was.</td></tr>
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Then things started getting interesting. Those of you who know me well, will know that I have a little phobia - falling. Mmmmm goat tracks on a mountain...falling...who'da thought? Never mind, the courage got screwed to that place where courage gets screwed to and I soldiered, slowly, on. David was frightfully helpful, he'd quite kindly fall down the parts that were tricky so I knew when exactly to be extra careful. Have I told you how much I love my husband. Anyway it was all worthwhile. We came out (or should I say down, over, across etc) in the terraces of the second village. Here was high country idylle, Omani style.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_FfsdA_3H4/UNsrqQd1KfI/AAAAAAAABBM/iVWRqGszfts/s1600/DSCN4145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_FfsdA_3H4/UNsrqQd1KfI/AAAAAAAABBM/iVWRqGszfts/s320/DSCN4145.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before playing on your terrace it's important to have a chat and organise before you jump....</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p1AM24Ve_-M/UNsrUhN_7-I/AAAAAAAABBE/N421SSEqkWA/s1600/DSCN4148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p1AM24Ve_-M/UNsrUhN_7-I/AAAAAAAABBE/N421SSEqkWA/s320/DSCN4148.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">...down to the next terrace.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S1gzl5FtEBs/UNsr9EldVdI/AAAAAAAABBU/WQTTrcywfyk/s1600/DSCN4150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S1gzl5FtEBs/UNsr9EldVdI/AAAAAAAABBU/WQTTrcywfyk/s320/DSCN4150.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mountain of extremes</td></tr>
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We will definitely be back in summer, if only to see the pomegranates in leaf and fruit. Apparently this is where they grow the best pomegranates in the country. It's also where the roses are grown and the the essence distilled............mmmmmmm roses........mmmmmmm. We kept on trundling down and across the mountain and eventually arrived in the third village. I was feeling rather tired, dripping with sweat, and very pleased with myself. The end was in sight. We just had to go to the final village (yes, I know, the three village walk has four villages sigh) along next to the road. It must be this way. There were four of us at this stage, a lovely, young Canadian couple had caught up to us and we walked on together chatting. Not paying much attention. Look, steps this must be right it's going down. "Hey guys, there aren't any markers and the roads up there" "But it must be right, we'll see you at the end" Walking, walking, down the steps, the many, many steps (you can see where this is going can't you?) "Errrr" came a voice from below "this isn't the right way" Back we went, up the many, many, many, many steps - did I say there were steps? Up? Right, now up to the road. Up. To. The. Road. Up, in the steep sense of up. The the real road and path. Goodness gracious! What a surprise! It's going up!!!!</div>
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There were moments during this part that I was sure that I had made a very bad mistake. My left knee agreed. Loudly and painfully. "You're 54 you stupid woman! What are you doing?!" I ignored it and my back, which had been in spasm for the last few days wisely kept quiet and doing its getting Katrina up the road job. We got to the top and there was flatness. Stoney, hot and windy flatness. Who cares? I was dripping wet and sweat finally got to do its job. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vZvwOaVmEGg/UNsssiLdUwI/AAAAAAAABBk/B_VUbNv04L4/s1600/DSCN4155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vZvwOaVmEGg/UNsssiLdUwI/AAAAAAAABBk/B_VUbNv04L4/s320/DSCN4155.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A mountain within a mountain</td></tr>
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This view meant that I knew my knee was not lying when it said I'd gone a long way. From the hotel I could only see the other side of this little beastie! We got to the final village and rang the nice people at the hotel. Five to ten minutes they said. Less than ten minutes later the very, very lovely Omani picked us up and took us back to the hotel. I got as far as the restaurant and David suggested lunch. Yay! I'd been thinking very fondly of orange fizzy drink and there it was. Aaaaaaaaah.</div>
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Another lovely surprise was a little FB chat with my sister while I ate and I staggered off to the beautiful deluxe room to get my togs on. The my knee had its little treat. A walk in the cold pool. It was ecstatic! The rest of me was not at all impressed! So, once the knee was almost back to normal knee size I hopped into the warm pool. Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh.</div>
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So all in all a very nice Christmas and Boxing Day. Whether either of us will be able to move tomorrow is still to be discovered. I have to say though, whether you are religious or not, Christmas without family is a little odd and I don't think I'm prepared to get used to it. <br />
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***The incident of the handy man was duly reported after I thought about it and started worrying about other women coming through. The hotel owner was horrified and insisted that a report be made to the police. He took us to the police and explained the situation - thank goodness, our Arabic is nowhere near that. The upshot is that a local file will be opened, no courts involved. When they find the fellow (they have a copy of his photo), he and his sponsor will be called into the police station for "hard words." The hotel also has a copy of the photo and they are going to keep an eye out and deliver him to the police. There is a zero tolerance policy here and the result will probably be his sponsor sending him home, but no negative publicity for what is a very beautiful hotel in a very beautiful place. This is the outcome that we wanted which is very pleasing.<br />
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-22941985950426445652012-12-02T22:18:00.002+11:002012-12-02T22:18:18.629+11:00Just some random images<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5R95UtGKccA/ULoJdPpqJcI/AAAAAAAAA7k/Jke-_okeap4/s1600/DSCN3862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5R95UtGKccA/ULoJdPpqJcI/AAAAAAAAA7k/Jke-_okeap4/s320/DSCN3862.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A stationary Button</td></tr>
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<br />Button was on the head board of the day bed, completely still for 20 minutes. I wonder what she was looking at? No prizes for guessing...................................<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xwxlbVW5QpY/ULoL09ewTdI/AAAAAAAAA7s/aqOFa1fDT5E/s1600/DSCN3863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xwxlbVW5QpY/ULoL09ewTdI/AAAAAAAAA7s/aqOFa1fDT5E/s320/DSCN3863.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup, a bird</td></tr>
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I have no idea what kind of bird this is. Possibly some sort of dove. It had just had a bit of a bath in a puddle and was drying it's feathers on our wall. Since we have reflective stuff on our windows, it was completely unaware of the killing machine only a few feet away. I shall call it the Oblivious Bird! We have a lot of birds visit the garden. Luckily the local cats are not interested.<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJ2sQnj-PEw/ULoQDjUpvRI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/x8vL8jBLjyk/s1600/DSCN3872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJ2sQnj-PEw/ULoQDjUpvRI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/x8vL8jBLjyk/s320/DSCN3872.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dome of the main prayer room of Sultan Qaboos Mosque<br />Shiny</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the spinnerets lurking behind the bulk of the buildins</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We parked at the wrong gate, but the walk round was lovely.<br /></td></tr>
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The Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque is only open to non Muslims on working days, so we took advantage of Eid to have a look. On this visit, we neglected to discover that it was only open from 8:00am to 11:00am, the longest period between prayers. Of course, I left my camera behind the other times I have been. It is a must see for soooooooo many reasons, not the least of which is astonishing combination of Islamic arts from so many different countries.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The full moon</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We now have a sitting area on the roof, a perfect place to snooze away a day. At night it's rather nice too. So nice, that the moon came to visit</span></div>
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So what happens when it rains in Muscat? Well, the ground gets wet and the water runs to the sea through the wadi's and, apparently, Mutra Souq.<br />
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The Souq is covered, sort of, and the roof is a roof, sort of. Let's just say that it didn't rain for the couple of hours that we were there, but water kept flowing.<br />
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Equality of the sexes is alive and well in Oman - the men have to worry about their hemlines as well (as my mother-in-law rather cheekily pointed out).<br />
<br />One of the very lovely things about Oman is that the white, or off white, houses and landscape mean that every bit of colour gleams, whether gold, silver, celebratory lights in the streets, the loops of amazing lights on the LuLu Hypermarket (it's big, there are A LOT of lights), the colours of the traditional Omani clothes. The rain at the souq gave a glimpse underneath the black abaya that has become the most common street wear. When I visit the hospital I get to see the older women in more traditional dress and this time it was a chance to see the younger women flash their pretties. The abaya is worn very long and mostly Omani women walk very slowly and gently, so as not disturb their out covering. However, when there is water up to an inch deep flowing over your sandals, the time for hoiking up the abaya had come and revealed to the world are the vibrate colours and flashing metallic braids that hide underneath.<br /><br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little bowl of fire</td></tr>
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Audrey cunningly told us that we needed to chose a hanging lantern - that we both agreed on. Now normally when we go to the souq together David spends a lot of time looking at guns, knives and swords and hustling me past the fabrics and bling. This time he had to look bwhahahahahahahahahahahaha! We found this little gem and now it hangs in the loungeroom doorway and glows merrily to itself. <div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first piece of Omani embroidery</td></tr>
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My most exciting purchase came in a rabbit warren of a shop, filthy with dust, crowded with mountains of stuff - old, new and ancient. There was a glass counter hidden behind some piles, protecting the guns and swords on the walls. Inside the glass counter was stuff, just stuff and in the corner, a little wad of embroidery. What caught my eye was the silver work on black velvet. What the shop keeper pulled out was this. Yes, it's all silver embroidery, slightly tarnish, although not very. It's stitched onto white silk, backed with linen. The embroiderers amongst you will recognise the techniques, but something caught my eye - the colours. When I have played with metal thread embroidery the colours have usually come from the threads holding down the metal. In this style, the silver purl is threaded with thick coloured threads which hold the coils of silver apart just a little. It's a lovely technique and a sample just had to come home with me. Now all I need to do is find someone to do some curatorial type framing for me.</div>
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Another place we visited quickly was a cultural arts exhibition at the Qurm City Centre - they have an exhibition space just outside the lower entrance to the Mall. Oh dear, I know what I'm going to be doing after the T-thing is done. Learning more Arabic so I can talk to these weavers........................</div>
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Part of traditional Omani dress, and a symbol of status, is the the curved dagger, the khanjar. The khanjar is worn pushed into the front of a belt. The belt itself is made of leather, but mounted on the leather is a decorative, warp faced strap, woven on the cutest table loom you've ever seen. The warp is gold or silver thread (like a Jap thread - metal wound round a thread core - they come by the tonne from India) and black mercerised cotton. The weft is a lightly spun white cotton. Guess what I want to learn............</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The table loom for weaving the belts</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the finished belts</td></tr>
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The pattern draft for the belt on the loom</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And of course Bluey needs to have equal time :-)<br /></td></tr>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-89094849933335469802012-11-27T20:36:00.001+11:002012-11-27T20:36:26.164+11:00And now to Blog again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Don't get excited, I haven't finished the T-thing. The School of Music managed an even more spectacular melt-down than usual and I ended up with no supervisors. Well, now I have interim supervisors. So interim that they have no idea what my topic is and don't have the time to talk to me. Yay! I'm sure you all know how good I am at slogging on under those circumstances - not at all! <br />
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Well, I have surprised myself a little and am still slogging on. If I can manage a few more thousand words by the end of the month I will only be two weeks behind. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Yay me!</span> Of course if someone gets round to looking at my new outline, and disagrees with it, I get to throw out 20,000 words. Worried? Me? Noooooo.<br />
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Anyway, life in Oman has been speeding by. I just cannot believe that we have been here for nearly nine months. NINE MONTHS!!!!!! We must have been here for a little while, I've started running into people I know at the shops! Of course, I might be running into the lovely Omani ladies I workout with at the gym, but that's not so simple when the difference between gym clothes and street-wear is so dramatic.<br />
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Talking about gyms. I left Horizon. It was too expensive and really, all I like was the PT. I needed more. A friend from book-club suggested aquarobics at a private gym. "Sure" I said, and went off with her. Such fun! I've never done it before and there I was, jumping up and down and doing all sorts of things that my knee just won't let me do. Anyway, the lass who owns the gym had decided that she was going to open a public ladies gym and her entire top floor is now given over to a small, but dynamic gym. I'm doing PT with her and she's pushing me much harder than the far to nice trainers at Horizon. I did my first body pump class for about 3 years the other day (arrgh) and am now back to a regime of weights, cardio, yoga and pilates. With some circuit training thrown in for good measure. I can feel the difference (says she with a cold pack on her knee). Of course when I say lass...she's not all that much younger than me, Omani of African background, married to a Dutch man and mother of six. What a power house.<br />
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The weather is cooling nicely, it now drops into the mid 20s overnight - which would be great if we could open the windows. Too many mossies and too many cats that need to stay on one or other side of the wall. The plan is to get fly-screens -if we can find someone to make them. I have no idea how to even begin to find out.<br />
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So what has been happening over the last three months?<br />
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We got to go to the opera house!!!! Twice! The first time was to see the Royal Oman Symphony Orchestra, which was very enjoyable, but I should have left my assessment brain in the bed-side table. The folkloric society was amazing and such fun. You're not supposed to take photos during performances, so I didn't, but here are some photos of the inside. It is amazingly spectacular!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view stage from our box (yes, we had a box) </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The outside, walking from the carpark</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the worlds cutest usherettes. We discovered that they dress like that for all the concerts, traditional Omani dress from different areas of the Sultinate.<br />OHHHHH THE BLING!!!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The auditorium. What can I say? You have to see it to believe it!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The organ. We're hoping to go to the debut concert on 3 December!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pretty little lad who comes and eats nectar out side my study. <br />A Purple Sunbird. He is wearing his boring plumage for winter.</td></tr>
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Well, we've had our first international visitors! The Sexi's and the Inlaws came and visited at the end of their European tours. I can't tell you how lovely it is to talk to people we know. It was just lovely. The size and grown-upness of the girls reminded me that time is passing over there as well. Of course the cats just had hysterics, Bluey had never seen a non adult before. They were very relaxed pussycats when those short people left :-)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The results of hitting the Mutrah Souq</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drama on the roof</td></tr>
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Speaking of roof. We've put up a shelter on the roof and filled it with chairs, table and couch - not to mention a BBQ! We've also spent a small fortune on pots and plants to go up there. Hopefully we won't kill them in our usual way. The cat's love the roof, although Bluey has worked out how to get down, which does cause interesting problems with mummycat downstairs. Of course, he loves hangin' with his bro's. It is a particularly beautiful place to be in the evening. Lots of frankincense to keep the mossies at bay, a beer, a glass of wine. Some flashing lights... Wait, what?? Yes I wanted fairy lights and the only ones we found were green, red and blue. Flashing, flashing, flashing. Anyway, we found some white ones and managed to calm them all down, so for National Day we had green, red and white lights on the roof. Very cool.<div>
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So there we are. I think I'm going to put some time aside for a little blog each week. Wish me luck!<br /><br />
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-28704329892299417642012-09-11T02:00:00.000+10:002012-09-11T02:01:58.808+10:00Serendipity Strikes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know I said I wouldn't be posting, but I just had to share this little, and totally amazing thing.<br />
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I've been researching this dissertation for years, too many years, and a couple of years ago I decided to drop Helen Morgan from the study, because I decided she wasn't necessary. Ha! Foolish woman! I think what I actually meant was that she was too hard!<br />
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Okay, having left all the information about Helen in Australia (possibly in the bin) I have recently discovered that she is particularly relevant. Damnation! I'm praying that Michelle has the bits of paper but......<br />
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Anyway, I decided I needed a wee bit of a break from the gorgeous Mary Martin and to write that couple of thousand words I'd been avoiding on Helen. I'm sure it couldn't be too hard. Sure. Now I remember why she was hard - all the sources are contradictory when it comes to her actual birthdate and place. Now, it's not particularly relevant to the thesis, but, you know me, I have to have the right information. I started writing about how everyone disagrees (and makes snide remarks about each other) and how she lied about her age to all sorts of people (customs, the census, her husband) and got bogged down. It was too much! Who cares? Certainly not anyone reading my dissertation. Anyway, more searching found me staring at the Wikipedia page that had, what looked lik,e a huge amount of very specific information.<br />
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Grrrr, it had to come from somewhere! I'd found the 1910 census which had her listed with her mother and (I thought) father and worked out that she was probably born two years later than most of the sources said and only one year earlier than on her death certificate. But goodness gracious it was irritating. So I headed into Ancestry.com once more and started putting in every possible name I could. Bingo!!! Some amazing person had found the evidence of her mother's multiple marriages and put them in to Ancestry.com within the last 12 months or so. Now I <i>know</i> that she was the daughter of her mother's first husband and took the name of her mother's third husband! Hooray!! If I hadn't found it too hard a couple of years ago, hadn't decided to leave her out, hadn't decided she had to go back in, and hadn't moved to Oman and made whatever information I had (lots and lots) inaccessible I would never have known.<br />
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It may sound silly and it may sound like an interesting form of procrastination, but I just couldn't let it go without actually knowing! Anyway, I've emailed the people involved and hopefully they will share with me the story behind finding the certificates.<br />
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The beautiful Helen Morgan. </div>
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Torch singer, Broadway star, movie star, speakeasy co-owner and friend of the occasional gangster. </div>
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Born 1902, died of cirrhosis of the liver in 1941 aged only 39.</div>
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Helen was the original Julie in Show Boat and also starred in the 1936 remake which included many of the original stage cast.<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5WEQ8j1Me0&t=30s" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5WEQ8j1Me0&t=30s</a></div>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-14225322422067149752012-09-09T00:18:00.000+10:002012-09-09T00:19:28.541+10:00Not dead, just working!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello all!<br />
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Just so you all know that I'm still alive I thought I'd better write a post. It's been a while and lots of water has trickled under quite a few bridges.<br />
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Life is still lovely here in the wilds of the Middle East, I'm just working to a real and mighty deadline to get the thesis done and in. It's due to be submitted on 2 January 2013, so I am working pretty much full time on on meeting that deadline. If I can't meet this one, the thesis doesn't go in - unless it has a doctor's certificate to say why not. So, in it must go.<br />
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As usual I am incapable of emptying my brain onto the page and editing it later, so it is a hard, hard slog. Popping off and writing in a blog seems like cheating, so I'm avoiding doing it. I hope nobody minds too much. We will be back to business in January. David is of course still blogging, so make sure you keep up with him :-)<br />
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Maybe I'll be able to put up the occasional picture so that you can see we're alive.<br />
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Wish me luck!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David doing what he does best<br />
Walking - in Namur</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The oldest church in Luxembourg - built into the rock </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just so you're sure of where we were<br />
An arty beer shot</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luxembourg is a touch picturesque...just a touch.</td></tr>
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Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-10792063465481151742012-07-14T00:29:00.002+10:002012-07-14T00:29:27.905+10:00Time to Knuckle Down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, the moment has come. I have an absolutely final date on the doctorate 1 January 2013, no more extensions. So life is going to be mostly house bound for the next five months with only a couple of exceptions. Visits to the gym, morning coffee on Monday mornings (aka sanity break), maybe (if I'm very good) book group meetings once a month and oh, that's right - a two week visit to Europe to visit Kiriel and cheer Christoph on at his wedding! Luckily (depends on how you look at it really) we booked the tickets before word came through of the deadline, so we couldn't change our minds.<br />
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It's a little bit exciting really. We'll be flying into Amsterdam midweek and David will be catching up with some Customs blokes (he's suggesting a tour of the port of Rotterdam - I think I might be in a museum that day) and then on to Brussels for more catch up with Customs blokes for David and some touristing for me. I think there might be a visit to the Musical instrument museum in my future....... <br />Then things get a little blurry and, if David has anything to do with it, very fast. A wander down to Namur to visit the nuns who look after medieval gold works, a visit to Luxembourg and its millions of castles (which apparently will only take an afternoon) and then on into France just because. I think we're planning to hit Geneva Monday or Tuesday and throw ourselves on Kiriel's mercy. We can visit all of Geneva and its surrounds in a few days I'm sure. Up to Basel and then back to Geneva and home. I'm sure the planning will turn into real planning soon, so if you've got any suggestions, let me know.<br />
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In the meantime I'd better look into some cat sitters. Speaking of cats (notice how I deftly slipped them into the conversation - good hey?) the two kitties are getting along like a house on fire. They are eating in the same place, using the same kitty litter and playing like maniacs. Button's nose is a little out of joint, but she loves the company and our kitty cuts are mending. I don't look quite so much like a battered wife anymore. Bluey is slowly getting to like people and to trust us a bit more (at the moment he's trying to work up the courage to jump on the keyboard - nope, chickened out, off to wreak havoc in the study cupboard) and even curled up next to David in bed last night<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blurry but beautiful</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yMVgzhDUFCg/UAAgm1Uw7VI/AAAAAAAAAyk/Efm3L1jZ7ys/s1600/IMG_2323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yMVgzhDUFCg/UAAgm1Uw7VI/AAAAAAAAAyk/Efm3L1jZ7ys/s320/IMG_2323.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One out of joint nose and a forgotten tongue</td></tr>
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<br />Then this morning, while I was doing the dishes..................................................................................<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/Ganuz_a5iJs/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ganuz_a5iJs?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ganuz_a5iJs?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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Mmmmm, they can get up to all sorts of things when left to their own devices. The toilet paper was stolen from the cupboard that was left ajar when David fed them earlier. Bluey is rapidly finding all the toys Button has lost <i>and</i> hiding in places she can't fit into any more. Let's just say that they are either playing or sleeping, not much in between.</div>
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In other news, David is off visiting border stations for the next week. There will be no excuses for not getting work done! </div>
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</div>Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-75323636389804761232012-07-06T23:40:00.000+10:002012-07-06T23:40:14.426+10:00A Birthday Abroad<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, it happened. I had my first birthday far away from all my family and friends and I survived!!!<br />
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HOW COOL IS THAT??!!</div>
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I confess to a partial melt-down a few days before. I almost stayed home and moped until it dawned on me that going to a coffee morning with a bunch of girlie expats would be a good idea, so off I went. I had a little cry, got reassured that I wan't being silly and felt much much better.<br />
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Then I got proactive and decided to have some people over for dinner the night before, so we had a little dinner party. That was an excellent idea and we all drank a little too much and were vastly entertained by the antics of young Button and a lovely little 9 year old girl - Elise. Elise has never had much to do with animals and was as uncertain of Button as Button was of her. The result was a lovely evening of squeaks, squawks and high speed chases.<br />
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We spent my birthday morning in bed. How divine! Lying around, watching David's hangover and chatting to friends and family on the telephone. I can't tell you how fantastic it is to be living in the 21st century and living a long way away. Oman is definitely <i>not</i> Australia and sometimes I feels every one of the thousands of miles it is from home, but the digital age has made is sooo much easier to keep in touch and shorten those miles. It was not that many years ago that I would have had to go into the post office to arrange a long distance call, hoping that someone might be on the other end. Now it is possible to call quickly and cheaply. Even better, it's possible to call using Google Talk (Oman's internet speeds are too slow for video images and government really doesn't approve) and chat away for ages for no money at all. I spend a lovely hour or two every Wednesday chatting to Joanna, just the way we did in person on a Friday. Sure, sometimes the connection is interesting (to say the least) and you have to persevere, but it's lovely to just chat with someone you know well. Viber is pretty good as well. As long as your telephone is running through a network. It also gets wonky, but that's a small price to pay for chatting regularly to family and friends. <br /><br /><br />But there's something to be said for a good old fashioned letter. My mum always claims to not be very good with technology and has been writing regular letters - just little chatty notes with a bit of gossip and a bit of family news. They're lovely to read over and over again and reinforces the power of the written word. When we went to the Handwritten exhibition at the NLA at Christmas, I felt the same way about seeing the handwriting of those people. It's a personal connection that you feel, knowing that someone touched that same piece of paper. <br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trashing wrapping paper is exhausting</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday Perfume</td></tr>
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David decided he was getting me perfume for my birthday. He's never given me perfume before so he dragged me off to shop for perfume. Sniff the perfume, sniff the coffee beans, sniff the perfume, sniff the coffee beans and so on... A young lad who had very little English, but was a very clever salesman, sold me on a rose/musk combination. Perfume here is a high art and taken very seriously; not just the mixing and making, but the presentation and the selling. There are perfume shops everywhere, and Muscat is home to the most expensive perfume in the world. I have no idea how much this cost, but the bottles, display case and box are beautiful! The lids screw off and they have glass rods that sit in the oil. You only need one tiny dab on each wrist and you're perfumed for 2 days - including showers! It makes the bed smell rather nice too. <br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday top all the way from Australia<br />(in record time - 4 days!)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday flowers</td></tr>
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Ali and Bob (who came to dinner) presented me with the most gorgeously huge bunch of flowers, which necessitated the purchase of the birthday vase! After all that lying in we popped off for brunch at the Intercontinental - expensive and lush -if only David could have appreciated all the food!<div>
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All in all a very satisfactory day.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And introducing............</td></tr>
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The young lad from our backyard. He was enticed in last night and will hopefully be joining the household. He's been living wild with mum here and there. Someone's nose is distinctly out of joint.<br />
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</div>Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3457410034257643984.post-4077699199206595022012-07-05T20:05:00.000+10:002012-07-05T20:11:16.979+10:00Goodness gracious it's July!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How on earth did that happen? We've been here for almost four months now and it is still a little surreal.<br />
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Last night we went to the last class of the ten week Arabic course - I'm surprised we made it. There is a final test on Sunday, which we are postponing for two weeks because neither of us would pass the test at the moment. It's been a massive roller coaster. We are the only people on the course who started with no Arabic at all. The grammatical rules, at this point, are very straight forward, but there are sooooooo many of them and they affect everyday language intimately; but that is not really the issue. The issue is the vocabulary of more than 500 words that we really should have memorized by now - not to mention the 29 letter alphabet that we were introduced to last week!!!<br />
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The alphabet was the straw that broke the camel's back. <br /><br />We hadn't made the first session (it's the only one I've missed in the whole ten weeks- 48/50 hours is not bad!) because a certain little kitty snuck out between my legs straight into the welcoming killing machine that is "Mother Cat" in our back yard. Mother Cat (who is not Button's mother and is pregnant again) didn't take kindly to Miss Button's appearance and proceeded to drive her out of "her" backyard - with extreme prejudice. It was a very subdued Button who curled up with David that evening. The next morning, Button was not quite her usual self and slept in a dark corner most of the day. She came out just as I was deciding to drag her out. Surprise, surprise there was a very sore lump on her side with a puncture wound near it - along with several other puncture wounds. A call to the vet...they opened at 4...over the other side of town...if they kept her overnight we could go to Arabic...if it didn't take long we could take her to Arabic... we could rush her home and come back to Arabic late... Of course none of those things happened. It didn't take long - she either had an abscess or she had perforated her thorax - we needed to watch her breathing closely and feed her antibiotics twice a day for a week. When she was spayed that was easy...but now? Watch the video and see....<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The upshot was: the cat won, Arabic lost, and wasn't <i>that</i> a bad idea!!<br /><br />In the next lesson the teacher very kindly went through the letters, their sounds and most of their physical structure. Arabic letters have different shapes depending on whether they are written alone, at the beginning of a word, in the middle of a word or at the end of a word - the explanation took about 30 minutes. Then we tried to keep up. Oh ye Gods and little fishes!!!! He went so fast that I wasn't actually able to focus on a word before he had finished with it. We all tried to slow him down, but to no avail. I walked out in a fury about half an hour before the end of class. It's the first time I have ever walked out of a class as a student, but it was that, or throw things. Anyway, driving along on Monday, listening to myself saying "If only I had another week," it dawned on me. The teacher had said we had three weeks to do it in! Hooray!! All we have to do now is practise..............<br />
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Emma (the slightly dotty Englishwoman that every class must have) and Sabrina (American/Spanish and a convert to Islam) keep telling us that we have learnt more than we realise. I know we've learned alot. Just not enough. We're not going back to the Polyglot for more, we'll find somewhere closer to home to avoid the two hours of travel time. Preferably a course that is purely conversational. We do have all the building blocks, I just need to get over the terror of taking that first plunge into the deep end.<br />
<br /></div>Mathildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09808109459852605026noreply@blogger.com1