a little cameo

Screaming good fun on the water

January 3, 2011

Growing up on the Murray River meant that we spent a lot of time doing water-based activities.

My dad was a competitive water skier in his younger years, so our holidays generally consisted of camping trips along the river for one competition or another. Summertime family gatherings would be with the speedboat down on the sandbar and all us kids in lifejackets.

So on New Years Day the skiboat was pulled out again for a few runs. We’ve had the boat my whole entire life. Its golden yellow clinker hull with black cutouts on the bonnet, yellow fuzzy seat upholstery and leather steering wheel have worn and faded with time, but still provide plenty of thrills for all the family (except my sister, who only ever gets into the action on rare occasions).

Bro #1 likes to drive the boat, so he took his friends out for a tandem ride on the ski biscuits. Then it was his turn for a ski. Though he prefers a jump start, he had to go deep water because of where we were on the river and I nearly thought he’d lose his grip coming out of the water.

Dad had a go after Bro #1 and as always made it look super easy. His slaloms cutting back and forth over the wake don’t get any clumsier with age. Though he was knackered afterwards, he’s still got it.

I’d finally warmed up to jumping in for a go on the biscuit, but as I’d had some terse words over splashes with Bro #1, I didn’t want him in the driver’s seat. It seems Dad took Bro #1’s mongrel on, grew some big horns and had a one track desire to upend me out of the biscuit.

Dad was swerving and turning, sending me flying back and forth across the wake unable to do anything except hold on…TIGHT. I got through the fear to chortle with delight that he hadn’t tipped me out yet as I was getting good at holding and balancing in all the right places, until an innocuous little skid over the wake had me tumbling out the back.

Airborn — Getting airborne behind the boat

We were almost back to the start, but this was where Dad was saving up his best to send me sprawling (in front of a crowd) by doing doughnut after doughnut. Each turn I gathered more speed and pelted into bigger and bigger waves. I gripped on tight with my hands and legs, leaning my body weight forward. Miraculously I managed to hold on for the four or five circles Dad cut, getting through the choppy water and at one point flying over it, before he gave in and we went back to the shore.

I was jubilant at my awesome display of tenacity and strength but probably crowed one time too many, because they just left me floating out the back instead of pulling me in.

Apparently emus like mulberries

January 2, 2011

New Year’s Day 2011 was spent on the amazing, flooded Murray River with my family in what is something of an annual event, a boat trip to pick mulberries.

Two ancient mulberry trees planted circa 1850s on an old homestead, are the only things beside a grave to remain from that time. Somehow these stooped trees managed to survive the drought to produce a crop of dark purple berries.

We’ve been coming to these mulberry trees since the mid 80s when my dad, uncle and grandfather built a modern day paddlesteamer. It’s been a pleasant and productive family outing ever since. This year the numbers dwindled to just Mum, Dad, Bro #1, Friday Night Dad and some of Bro #1’s friends, but that just meant more mulberries for me.

I love the amazing feeling of tradition that comes with eating mulberries. There is nothing better than sitting in the higher branches, container in one hand and the other red stained hand transferring warm, ripe mulberries from tree to mouth. I would always be chastised for eating more than ended up in the container, but I guess I paid for that whenever I accidentally ate one of the ants that also loved mulberries.

This year, our biggest competition was the emus. I never knew that emus liked mulberries, but it turns out that they do, even when they give them purple seeded diarrhea. As we walked over the hill, the dogs started barking and running towards the two trees, flushing out three emus in the process. At least emus can’t fly, so there were still some berries left for us. Emus are also discerning mulberry eaters and wait for them to ripen before pilfering.

Whilst gravity is increasingly against me, I did relive some childhood moments as I climbed up a branch or two. It wasn’t easy going and my clumsy adult body almost pitched through the web of a giant orb spider. Then I was too scared of both the enormous spider and falling out of the tree that I hardly any picked mulberries from that vantage point.

Back at the boat we cleaned up. I had brought along some disposable rubber gloves to keep my hands stain free, but if you don’t have gloves when picking mulberries, just rub some green mulberries on the blood red stains on your hands and clothes and they will miraculously disappear!

In the end we managed to get five containers of mulberries, meaning plenty to have with ice cream for dessert, which is my second favourite way to eat them, right after straight from the tree.

My blogging new years resolution

January 1, 2011

With a bit of encouragement from dailypost, I’m pledging to write a blog entry a day for 2011.

It sounds daunting and rather tricky. Yes, I have blogged daily for a whole week now, but my ENFP personality type hasn’t kicked in yet. I like to start things but I get bored after a while. There’s the perfect example of a monthly industry newsletter I created in one of my previous jobs. At first it was great fun, but then it grew tiresome as each month rolled by until it got to the point where I was like, “It doesn’t really matter if it comes out every two months now, does it?” And it was only a two-page email newsletter.

I think my blog activity of the past week can be attributed to an extra helping of available time, and that it’s pretty hot and I just want to stay inside.

Regardless, it’s a noble goal to write something to share with you every single day, so I’m going for it. The saying go hard or go home is resonating with me right now. Be prepared for all manner of content
(including photos and video), but I guess judging from my categories so far, it’s going to be about food, fashion, shopping, music and dancing, travel, cleaning, film and work. That plus the brand new experience that will be me living in LA.

Please stick with me, encourage me if you think I’m falling off the bandwagon and let me know your thoughts via the comments section.

New year, new habits.

Travels in 2010

December 31, 2010

Somewhat (un)inspired by watching The Tourist yesterday I want to celebrate a year of travels to places new and exciting, old and inviting. (I know, it’s a very weak link I’m making between the film The Tourist and travelling, but I’m making it anyway.

: Admiring the dead at Recoleta Cemetery
in Buenos Aires

I saw the new year, 2010, arrive in Rotorua, New Zealand, amid the stinky geo-thermal gases and with a somewhat chilly and of course jaw-dropping fireworks display on the lakeshore.

A big 6 week trip in April and May with my mother took me to Argentina to visit Emily and Pablo, Peru to marvel at Machu Picchu for a second time, Mexico to eat grasshoppers and visit ruins, Guatemala to see a Mayan Shaman and a quick stop in LA to meet my email penfriend of 4 years, the man who puts the A in LA.

On the domestic front, I’ve also managed to visit some thus far unexplored corners of Australia and revisit some favourites:

Two weeks traversing the Kimberley from Broome to Darwin on a magnificent and indescribably beautiful camping tour
Bunbury and Margaret River to see my friend Travieso who I met at Iguazu Falls 6 years ago
Darwin to do some serious dancefloor carving
Three trips to Sydney for a conference and shopping, a flight to Buenos Aires, some xoxo, and to see some German buddies from my Kimberley tour along with a good friend from school
Gold Coast to visit my little bro and do big sisterly things like buy him kitchen utensils and shoes

Thumbs up for making it up to Machu Picchu
Melbourne goodness knows how many times to see friends, shop, go to parties, watch Mary Poppins the musical, go to exhibitions, meet my fellow LA adventurers and soak up that gorgeous city vibe
Adelaide to see my friends, go to a baby shower and meet the new baby
Falls Creek to ski with a friend, visit her family and catch up with other friends in Wodonga

Chapulines — Eating chapulines, grasshoppers, in Oaxaca, Mexico

So it’s been a pretty travelsome year. Especially when I list it all down like that. It’s a wonder I had any weekends at home!

New places always thrill me. I can’t wait to move to LA where I will no doubt get an overload of new experiences, places and people.

That said, the alternative to moving to LA was a year (or more) of travel. That’s a pretty big ‘sacrifice’ to make, but I’m confident I’m going to have one hell of a 2011, even if it isn’t living out of a backpack but rather out of a backpack, rolling duffel and suitcase with a brand new suite of Apple gadgets in my possession.

Even though the big travel adventure is but a former plan, can I please, please, puh-lease share with you my travel wishlist for 2011… I promise you can share yours via comments on this post!

America, duh. Like, all over you know. I totally want to see it all.
Europe – has remained elusive of my travel map thus far and if I REALLY have to select just a few places it would be Spain para hablar espanol (to speak Spanish), France and Germany to visit friends in each of those countries. I’d also like to add the Greek Islands, Italy, Russia and Croatia but that would just be greedy.

My wicked backflip into Manning Gorge
in the Kimberley
Shanghai – to visit my old housemate who’s also making a big overseas move in 2011. But only if she sends her driver to pick me up from the airport with a sign that says “Chickety China the Chinese chicken wants a little cameo” and is in the shape of a love heart with pink feathers on it.
Australia – to visit the doctor and assure the family that I haven’t gained an American accent.
Mexico – to cross the border to TJ and go to Cabo darhling. Though I think the Copper Canyon, San Miguel de Allende and a return visit to Taxco are more my scene.
Canada – Vancouver anyone?
Colombia – simply because if I didn’t have it on my list I would be LYING. Desperada, that’s what I am to get there. Hmmm, maybe I need to think up a good doco, TV show or film we can film on loco location in Colombia…

On the job, reading scripts

December 30, 2010

I read my first script today. Well not technically the first, but my first script as a PROFESSIONAL in the film industry.

It’s an upcoming project for Yellow Brick Films and it is a horror/thriller, the one I was doing research for a few days ago. We’ve already ascertained that this genre is not my strong suit, but reading a script whilst thinking “how will we make this work, where will we find this location, who will play this character” is very different to seeing the end product with the special effects, clever editing, eerie soundtrack and gruesome visuals all rolled frighteningly together with the intent to make me squeal and squirm.

Being such a novice and with only one previous script read under my belt, my friend Richard Gray’s early version of Summer Coda in 2006, I wasn’t really sure how I should approach the task.

Should I just read and read and read my way through the hundred odd pages of Courier New typfaced script or pace my way through it with loo breaks and coffee pit stops?
Should I read it onscreen or print it out?
Should I make notes, comments and suggestions as I read?
Should I proof read it (I am a pretty talented proof reader and usually struggle to hold back proofing urges all the time, particularly when reading restaurant menus) and pick up the typos?
Should I read it while munching on popcorn, just to get in the cinema swing of things?

Reading scripts — Isn't this how they read the scripts in Entourage?

In the end I read it onscreen (common sense and frugality dictated that I wasn’t going to print out 100 pages if I was paying for the ink cartridges). I read it all in one two-hour lounge session on the couch with an already brewed pot of coffee and only small breaks to get some chocolate and respond to a message on Skype from a friend with “Am reading Richie’s script for a horror/thriller right now, otherwise I’d suggest getting on for a chat” and to tell my brother to be quiet because I was working (even though it looked like a big old internet surf session).

My long-held aversion to the Courier New font was overcome. For some reason it did not bother me one iota, far unlike receiving email replies in that font after my messages in clear and simple Arial. I think that font just works for scripts. So I will accept the industry standard font and embrace it … but only for scripts.

I made some notes as I went, marking down the page numbers with my questions such as “Is this mystery character Amanda I haven’t read about before supposed to be Claire, did she have a name change?” and making a couple of brief comments. Not even a page though. I mostly immersed myself into the script, cheering on the bad decisions the characters always make in a horror film. Only once did my concentration waver, and I put that down to a crick in my back caused from un-ergonomic posture on the couch.

So now I’m excited. I’m revved up and ready to make a movie, even if it is one that might scare me half to death at the end, or bludgeon me to a bloody pulp in the process.

A suitcase for all seasons

December 29, 2010

I’m rather excited about the fact that I get to take 3 bags each weighing up to 23kg with me to LA in February (thank you Qantas Silver Frequent Flyer membership!)

However it didn’t dawn on me until after the initial exclamations of “I get to take my body weight in luggage!” had subsided that I don’t have three pieces of luggage. I have a much treasured and travelled backpack in cherry and navy and a red duffel on wheels that was an emergency purchase in the Philippines in order to get 17 pairs of shoes from Imelda’s own collection back home. But that was it. No cabin bag other than a daypack, and no suitcase.

Since I’ve started putting together my packing list now, I thought I’d better get myself a suitcase to pack it into.

I had looked around online, albeit rather halfheartedly, for a suitcase that would stand out from the crowd on the baggage carousel. I wanted a funky print that no one could mistake for their staid black suitcase. My grandfather has a great story of how he’d checked in his hand luggage for a connecting international flight on his initial flight to Melbourne. It contained his passport and all their travellers cheques and some other guy had the same bag and took it without checking. Luckily for Papa, the other guy’s name and mobile number was on his bag, so he whipped out his mobile and called the guy who was walking through the arrivals hall. Close call.

I didn’t really find anything online, although I did toy with a Catherine Manuell Aboriginal Artwork print but the one I liked didn’t come in a big enough size.

So I paid a visit to Peter at Luggage International in Mildura. I explained that I was after a red suitcase (to match my other red ones) in which I wanted to move my possessions to LA. Peter showed me three different ones, talked about their relative quality, weight, durability and cost. I drag tested a few and decided on the big and ultra light Airport model which has the very snazzy statistic of weighing a mere 2.9kg. It wasn’t as luxurious as the Jag one, but it will do the job just fine. I mean after hitting the big time in Hollywood I’ll probably upgrade to tailor made luggage, or settle for the Louis Vuitton set anyway.

I also decided that I’d get a cabin bag in which to take my laptop and my Roberto Marquez painting. Whilst there wasn’t a matching cabin bag, and I initially wanted one on wheels, I settled for a black carry bag that attaches to the suitcase handle. It is plenty big enough for all my carry on and will double as a handy overnight bag in the event that I can condense an overnight stay into just two outfits and one pair of shoes.

So Peter, being a champ and all, offered me a nice little discount in addition to the personalised and pleasant service. It’s people like him that keep you going back to the little boutiques rather than online or chain stores.

I walked out of the store after a yarn towing my big red suitcase behind me dreaming of when I’m looking swish and wheeling it through airports around the world.

Brunch, my favourite meal to eat out

December 28, 2010

I love the languorous nature of brunch. It starts with a sleep in and (usually) unhurried getting ready time. Then there is the soul rejuvenating coffee, the eggs and bacon or pancakes and most importantly, the excellent company of good friends.

Brunch always seems to be the most gossipy of shared meals. You can debrief the events of a big night, each person recalling different details and plots. You find out what people are up to in a bulletin that beats any newspaper or Twitter feed. Afterwards, there is a whole afternoon that can be filled with activity: shopping, more coffee, checking out an art gallery, seeing a movie or just aimless wander. It’s quite spontaneous.

Today I had a two-hour brunch with my friends KP and Galleria*. It’s been awhile since our last brunch, as KP has moved away and only Galleria remains on the arts board we all served on. At our last brunch, we all arrived wearing the same shade of green, which was a rather coordinated fluke that earned a paying out from Mario the owner. The strict instructions were not to wear green, so I thought I would be safe in a grey tank top with a print on it. However both girls turned up in shades of grey, so we managed to pull off our fluke for the second time running, though this time it wasn’t as obvious. I should have gotten a photo, but we were too busy chatting to pause for a “cheese!”.

So instead, here’s our no-it’s-not-St Patrick’s Day brunch pic instead.

We chatted about all the important things in the world:

Christmas and the exchanging of gifts
Plans for new years
Plans for 2011
Small-town gossip
Animal Kingdom (the movie) and assorted TV programs
Family and the mixed bag of love and hate that comes with it
Work – the good, the bad and the blah
Oprah’s visit to Australia
My farewell party(s)
Do they think I’ll come back with an American accent (the response was “no, but you’d better not”)

And surprisingly there was hardly any talk of any boys. There just wasn’t time between all that, my two coffees and Moroccan eggs. I heart brunch.

*She may be of Italian descent, but her real name doesn’t translate to Gallery.

The big wardrobe downsize

December 27, 2010

It’s 38 days until I move to LA and in preparation I am taking a fashion trip down sentimental lane.

I will freely admit to anyone that I am a hoarder. I won’t get rid of clothes, shoes or accessories because I come up with an excuse, such as:

I might fit into it when I lose weight one day
I might fit into it when I put on weight one day
It would make a great costume for a fancy dress party (that I never get invited to)
My mythical someday daughter will see me in a photo and wish I’d kept the outfit because it is suddenly retro cool again
It has a story such as “Oh, but I got this poncho in Bolivia from a little old lady in full Quechua dress at the market”

I even have some makeup that my aunt gave me when I was in early high school, and I still use it, on the occasion that I need some bright 80s eyeshadow.

I don’t know how long I’ll be in LA for, but I’m taking advantage of my current “clear it out, give it away” mentality to do a sweep of my wardrobe so there isn’t so much temptation to squeeze it into my luggage. So far so good. I’ve managed to part with four pairs of shoes, a handbag, a long formal dress, a suit, a skirt, two hats, a scarf and a few belts. And that was just to one friend.

The outfit of never give aways — All my most loved items in one stunning outfit!

I’m setting aside more things for my 10 year old cousin (who already has a size 8 foot and will soon fit into my size nines) and her dress up box. Mum has already said that she’ll have whatever is left over.

So while people are getting excited as to what they might be able to find in my wardrobe, the sad news for them is that I will still be taking the best and most loved things with me. There will always be room in my luggage for my dress of dresses, the incredible multi-coloured heels, my white hat, my motorcycle handbag, silver crysacolla ring from Mexico and the Bolivian poncho.

This hoarder’s going to hit LA and commit a major fashion faux pas, but what the heck!

I’m scared just thinking about it

December 26, 2010

I don’t do scary movies very well. I am big on anticipation so I jump, scream or break out in a petrified sweat before the scary bit even happens.

The thought of sitting in a darkened cinema being surrounded by frightening sounds, screams and super scary activities makes my skin crawl. Perhaps because I get so swept up into a film that it becomes my reality for a couple of hours is the reason why I don’t like scary movies. I can’t make that delineation between what’s real and what’s not and so I feel like I could be a possible victim in the storyline.

One of the more memorable moments was when I watched Jurassic Park on a school outing to the cinema in Year 9. It was during the scene where the kids are hiding in the kitchen and the raptor is stalking around outside them. The moment the raptor’s head appeared in the round porthole window, I screamed loudly. I was the only person in the cinema screaming. And I got teased mercilessly for that.

So it’s quite ironic that I am researching horror films right now. Just looking at the poster art makes me a little squeamish, so I’m thankful for the bright sunshine and birds chirping outside. Many of the titles are somewhat familiar, but I’ve only watched a handful of them.

So if you’re a horror fan, maybe you could help me out here. What type of scary movies do you like? What are your stand out horror films and why?

There’s gotta be a pavlova here somewhere

December 25, 2010

One of the recent themes on my Facebook and Twitter updates is that of making pavlova.

I have taken on the humble pav as my dessert specialty. I take them to barbecues, dinner parties, family gatherings and am about to start making them for friends just because they love them and heap praise upon my abilities to make a great pav.

Pavlova is an antipodean cultural phenomenon that was created in honour of the Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova whilst she toured the region.

There is much conjecture as to whether it is an Australian or New Zealand invention, so I don’t want to turn up the oven heat on this and will say that both countries regard the pav as a cultural icon. Read more about the fascinating history of the pavlova on one of my favourite educative sites, Wikipedia.

I believe the pavlova is making a comeback. Once alongside the old Savoy biscuits with kabana and cheddar cheese or the coloured pickled onion on a toothpick in the party food category, it is making a retro comeback – a well deserved retro comeback that I’m helping along.

Take last Sunday for example. I rocked up to a party at a friends house with a guest list oozing with foodies and my pav decorated with blackberries and kiwifruit. I had no less than five people remark on the pavlova and how it rocked their world in that moment.

About three years ago, I had never made a pav. My aunt had given me her mother-in-law’s recipe in a book years before, but I’d always put it in the too hard category. I was afraid of failing. Until one day, I was so desperate for a pav, that I opened it up and made my very first pavlova. It wasn’t a bad effort, but it was mostly crusty meringue and not the marshmallowy inside that makes a truly great pav. So the next time I adjusted it slightly, and I’ve been making them ever since. They are super easy to make but just require some intensive output from the beaters.

So I’m making a pav today for the family Christmas lunch, making it with love and sitting back to watch the pavlova’s resurgence to the dinner table.