Competition

If you haven’t entered the competition with the dubious prize, today is your last chance. Tomorrow I will announce the winner.

And if you don’t know what I am talking about, look at the entry for September 8th.

You have to estimate how many words I wrote between Charlottesville , Virginia, and Kuala Lumpur, on the way home. Person closest to the actual number wins. If there is a tie, then all winners will get the dubious prize…

Why dubious? Well, the prize is a free copy, posted to you, of the book I am working on (first volume in The Random Rain Quartet), tentatively called Drouthlord, although I think I am going to change that to Waterlord. Or Watermaster. Or something.

The dubiousness of the prize refers to the fact that I don’t have a publisher for the book as yet. So, who knows, you may win and never get more than an emailed copy! And if I do find a publisher, well, it may be several years before it rolls off the presses.

Orchids again: Cyrtosia javanica (Blume 1825)



This post is a request from my husband.

He (and his team of Universiti Malaysia Sabah students) recently found a new orchid species for Tawau Hills Park in Sabah, previously found elsewhere, but a first for Tawau Hills. Any orchid specialists wanting to know more, or wanting to use the photos, can contact me, and I will send the request on to him.

p.s. in a moment of aberration, I called this a ginger when I first posted (mea culpa!) …I’m a bird person, ok?

Attack of the nail clippers!

Sometimes it is hard to keep up with the latest frivolity of security organisations. Can you or can you not take liquids on planes? What about duty free liquor bought in the airport shop? Do I take my shoes off or not? Is a boomerang a deadly weapon? (Yes, it is, apparently, although one wonders how far it would get you in the hijacking of a plane.)

Knowing that nail scissors were a no-no, I put those in the check-in luggage, but took nail clippers in the plane, all two and a half inches of them, i.e. about 6 or 7 cms long. One of those really cheap small ones, just in case I broke a nail – which I seem to do often while travelling. They went through x-rays once in Kuala Lumpur, once in Singapore, twice in Tokyo, twice in USA. No problems.

On the way back they were taken from me in Singapore as an obvious weapon of mass destruction threat to airline security. I was supposed to claim them back on arrival in K.L. and, of course, forgot.

I am still trying to imagine (and remember, I have an excellent imagination) a hijacker attacking a flight attendant with a small nail clipper: “Let me into the cockpit or I will clip you to death!”

On another matter: I also had the most remarkable airplane meal ever, on the journey home. We were presented with a snack that consisted of a polystyrene cup of dried noodles, to which they then added hot water. Wait for 4 minutes, then slurp eat. Yep, something akin to what is known as Maggi Mee in Malaysia.

Quite frankly instant noodles (much loved by kids) is ghastly ersatz stuff, to be eaten only when absolutely necessary – like on camping trips. We took some of the better ones with us when we walked into Camp 5 in Mulu National Park, simply because they are so light to carry. After 2 days of instant noodles, we sat down one night at the camp table to eat yet another meal of the same. Then had to watch, incredulous and salivating, as a young couple were conducted by their cook/guide/porter to an adjacent table with a tablecloth, upon which he placed an 8-dish meal. Chicken and ginger, curry, mixed vegetables, salad, rice, sliced pineapple, anchovies, beef and vegetables… By this time, we were panting like Pavlov’s dogs.

Slowly we opened up our cups, added hot water, waited for it to “cook” and then slurped our noodles, trying not to watch while that couple got tucked in to the business of eating fresh food that they had not had to carry, with real knives and forks. When they finished and moved away, leaving some of the food uneaten, it was all we could do not to pounce on the leftovers…

Please, don’t offer me instant noodles on a plane. Plane travel is bad enough without that.

Not noramlyed once!

If you discount the general horrors of two days travelling, eating plane food, without sleep, it was a pretty good trip.

I didn’t lose anything. Planes were on time. No connections missed. I discovered that there is such a thing as an electric hand blowdryer that actually dries your hands. They have them in Narita airport Japan. Mind you, they have the same effect on your skin as jumping out of an aeroplane at 10,000 feet and free falling a few thousand feet… (Ever seen those photos of naked skydivers? If not, don’t go looking. Not a pretty sight.)

And the weather over North America was so clear we had a spectacular sightseeing trip. Leaving Washington D.C. behind, we headed north over the Great Lakes and into Canada, across Hudson Bay (definitely a first for me) and then skirted the Arctic Sea. I have never seen so many lakes in all my life, as if this end of the continent is sinking under the summer-melt. Thin threads of dry wend aimless paths through a watery barren landscape. No mark of mankind, not here. No roads, no towns, no ports, no smoke. No footprint of destruction, except that left – possibly – by our power to warm, so wantonly, a globe floating in the cold of space.

This was a land seamlessly becoming a northern sea, or a sea insinuating curving fingers and sinuous arms into a flat expanse of taiga, tundra – call it what you will. For hour upon hour, until the land gradually lifted itself up out of the water into rugged ranges of iron-mauve, capped with blue-grey peaks. No snow in this early September weather, no trees ever, no roads or pipelines – yet. It could have been Mars, raw and beautiful and forbidding.

Alas, as northern Canada switched to the the rough scouring ranges of northern Alaska, the clouds came down, and I saw no more.

At Singapore airport…

It’s now 1.15 a.m., heaven knows what day, and I am at Changi airport, Singapore. I leave at 7.10 a.m. for Kuala Lumpur.

The nice thing about Changi is that it is littered with free internet connections and places to work at a desk and plug your laptop in – unlike all the other airports I’ve just been through. I’ve just said hi to my grandson and seen him too, all while seated at my laptop in Singapore – mind you, he thinks I can produce everyone he’s ever chatted to through Skype. After all, we must all be in the same place, right? Technology can be very confusing when you are three…

More tomorrow. No, later on today, maybe. When I am more coherent and less sleep deprived.

Oh, pity me…

All good things come to an end. Tomorrow, at 6.30 a.m., I start the journey home.

37 (real time) hours later I arrive at Kuala Lumpur airport, after 22 hours on planes plus 15 hours spent at respective airports.

The good thing is that with all those airport stops I ought to get 15 hours of writing done, right? Plus two hours each (battery time) on 2 flights… Yeah.

Ok, I am running a competition.

How many words will I get done on the way home between Charlottesville, Virginia and Kuala Lumpur? Whoever gets closest to the actual number of words written as on the moment the plane touches down, will win a copy of the book when it comes out, posted to where you live.

The catch is that I don’t have a publisher for it yet! So you could have to wait quite while…

Competition is open for a week.

Black widow in the kitchen

Sorry, didn’t take a photo. Son-in-law was too busy killing it.
New one for me, dangling on a line from the kitchen cupboard on its way to the floor, right out in the open…

Sometimes even an environmentalist is happy to see wildlife corpses. Live and let live? Sure, just not in our kitchen.

I have no spider phobia even though I was brought up on a farm that had poisonous red-backed spiders in every corner (not usually lethal, though) and my Dad was bitten several times. But somehow, there is a bit of a ring to the name: Black Widow Spider. Hmm.

Malaysia has a few spiders that can give nasty bites, and there is one that is called the Bird-eating Spider, and yes, I have seen several photos of them actually trapping birds in the web and killing them.

I remember trying to gently coax a humungous huntsman spider out of the door, back in Malaysia. The thing was as big as my hand. I was successful, sort of. Big Mama ran out, but not before she left behind hundreds of the little babies she had been carrying with her – and for the next six months we had a plague of the things…inside.

Ode to a working mother…

Early mornings.
Breakfast to be had. Things to be remembered.
Three-year-old to get off to school, to be dropped by parents (first week back at school this week, so not without trauma).
Mother and father of said three-year-old to get selves off to work.

Dog to be walked before they all go. (I can’t help here because I am not walking anywhere that involves hills until my hip muscles mend.) So my daughter dashes around, finding shoes and dog-leash, patiently tries to manoeuvre son out the door with her to walk the dog, but he doesn’t want to wear this, he wants to wear that, must get changed…chaos in the doorway while things get organised…finally front door closes on daughter still clutching the dog leash, her son suitably clad (at least by his lights) at her side…

And opens again thirty seconds later.
She’d forgotten the dog.