Köpenick

Sitting at the relatively new library in Köpenick, an otherwise old town east of Berlin. It is a nice, brick box, with somewhat randomly arranged openings, although they must be somewhat calculated, right, because it is a Library. The front door here seems like the back door, and gives you both the feeling that you are entering a sort of forbidden door, into a place of forbidden fruit. Or that you are completely welcome and a full part of it, that you enter the same door as all the deliveries, all the staff. It is beautiful volume mostly consisting of air and light. Up on the third floor I ask, in English, for where the English books are. The librarian in response brings me over to the large space in the middle, the "vertically interconnected space", and points down to some shelves on the second floor.

Most of the books here in fact are somewhat forbidding, if not forbidden. But I am cruising along with Arabic again, so the German-ness here fades away in the background. You could say that I roam around on the periphery of Berlin, a city whose centre is perhaps known best for the vibes that emanate from it; or divided, for its east and its west.

Current thoughts are back to Vancouver, in the form of Jeff Wall. I have probably heard of this guy more outside of Vancity than within, and he will have an exhibition in Dresden soon. I am looking forward to seeing Vancouver again. But before that, the other omnipotent artist that has something seemingly everywhere is Olafur Oliasson, who has a current show at the Martin Gropius Bau.

Mors dag

A grey Mother's Day Sunday. In front of me is a window sill with lots of plants of unknown destiny. They all look the same when they start, like the offspring of mothers, but who knows what the future brings for them.

I've been flipping through a Danish slang dictionary. "Curlingbarn" or curling-child was an interesting one. Curling is a fascinating game of Scottish origin (as wikipedia says) that somehow really took root in the icy plains of Canada. It's probably a mythical, and I guess metaphorical, sport here. A curling-child is one whose parents have swept away all the obstacles in advance, to give the child the best possibilities to get to "the target". Such children may experience difficulties later in life, when they are not as well equipped to handle obstacles on their own.

It's damn cold here. Beware bare noses. If it weren't for the telltale signs of lettuce green leaves anticipating something in the air, and the hopeful flowerpots on balconies, it feels like Christmas is just around the corner and that the first snow just might fall. It's been a tough winter and now a hopeless spring. When I was in Damascus, many of the Danes coming and going during the months I was there were full of fabulous stories of a truly snowed-in country. Much like descriptions of what Canada must surely be like, in the hinterland east of Vancouver. I hear that the current weather in Vancouver is very pleasant.

I was at a Danish-Yugoslavian event the other event. My friend's father participated in a "youth corps" in 1947 to build a railroad and other works, and this was an event to commemorate it. It was interesting for me to hear that the Ottoman Empire stretched west of Vienna, and so included Hungary and Yugoslavia. Somehow it all comes down to Muslim-Christian relations too, and how it has evolved over time in different ways and in different gradients of peace and war.

Denmark is not "particularly" Christian, but state and religion are close bedfellows, and there are lots of religious holidays throughout the year here that people appreciate. I watched an edition of Joel Osteen yesterday. The idea of ultra-church where 40,000 attend service 5 times a week is close to inconceivable here.

Off to Nørrebro, an inner city suburb. I'll hear a lot of Arabic on the bus but I won't see too many signs in Arabic. Everything has to be Danish here in Denmark.

Den 5. maj

On May 5th, 1945, Denmark was liberated from 5 years of German occupation. Tonight, behind many a Danish window, will a bright candle or two be lit in commemoration.

Currently just north of Copenhagen, in a place called Brede. I'll be in and out of Copenhagen for the next little bit visiting friends, until I start occupying German land in two weeks. The weather is cold compared to even Melbourne, but I am surviving.

Round Dumplings

I've just checked the weather for the various upcoming cities. April is a good transition month between Australia and Europe. In theory in any case - I'm off to London with my fingers crossed...

Today is Anzac Day. It commemorates the sacrifices of thousands of Australians and New Zealanders in a failed attempt to quickly defeat the Ottoman Empire (which at the time also consisted of today's Syria) at Gallipoli. Generally though, it's just a long weekend here. It's either quiet (my experience at a restaurant last night), or, as rumoured by a family member, there's drunken debauchery in the City so I should definitely avoid Chinatown in particular. Or, as my architect-cousins experience, it's just another working weekend as they work to get a tender package out, on a project with very expensive angles.

Have just come back from some time on the east coast now. Coming from the Middle East, one thing that stands out is the amount of skin and cleavage here. It's not as much as in Moscow, but about one stitch more. On the beaches lie beautiful people in beautiful nothings. There's certainly not one hairy man or woman in sight, and rare are the overweight, the over-70s, and women who only have a modest one-piece black swimsuit (me) - they are wiped / wipe themselves from public view. Be beautiful or be gone.

London-based photographer Zed Nelson has an incredible exhibition entitled Love Me at the Sydney Centre for Photography. He shows with true clarity the price paid to fulfill the never-ending and highly demanding expectations of a beautiful body. There is a image of a nip/tuck from a surgeon's point of view that I find particularly memorable.

So right now I am going back to my aunt's place and am going to stuff myself with some soulfood brought by my aunts, maybe some of this sour soup that has been in our family's belly memories forever. I just learned how to make "tong yeun" yesterday from 5th Aunt and can't wait to do it again.

Sydney

I'm not sure that the world is ready for China. And equally so, I'm not sure that the Chinese is ready for the world.

Apparently a miniscule drop of Mainland Chinese -- very affluent of course due to our collective consumption of Made-in-China goods -- have come to Australia and very recently have upped the real estate market by a very considerable amount. It's made the sellers very happy but of course not first-time home buyers. It's yet another "reason" to keep Australia, well "Australian".

Many countries have residency- or citizenship-ownership laws. In Oman, only Omanis can purchase land. And to be an Omani you have to be resident fo 30 years.

It's nothing new of course. I doubt that the Aborigines / Kooris have economic access to land here. And I remember the combination of Expo 86 in Vancouver / the Hong Kong handover hiking prices up. But everythings been legal. Everything is by auction, allowed by property law and banking law here.

Not so in the Middle East, and of course I am talking about Isreal and the Isreali settlements in the Palestinian Authority. I'm currently engrossed in a book by Stephen Glain, "Merchants, Mullahs, and Militants". Easy to read, I'm glad I'm reading it now after Syria, and I highly recommend it.

And as said, the Chinese are not ready for the world. I always knew that I had a physically hard time existing out of my "bubble" that is Vancouver. Actually, it must be some part of China. I have skin and lung sensitivities. I'm getting to know more and more Chinese living outside of China to have serious and severe skin and lung sensitivities, and major allergies, right from the time of birth. One young relative is even allergic to rice. (!) Even my father, who never in China had hay fever, developed it in Canada.

So we'll see how long this all lasts...

Currently in Sydney. Off to Parramatta in a little bit.

Family

Usually I leave my taxes to the very last day, in tact with the rest of Canada, but to the dismay of my father. But this year I am being a good girl, and have just finished them now. Besides bearing gifts of winter wear and packages of family photographs for the relative here, he also brought my T- slips and a couple of Christmas cards. He will return with a minor bundle of excess cargo from me...

It is quite a culture shock to be in Melbourne from the Middle East. Even my friend M., who I met in Damascus but is now back home here, is just getting over it after 4 months. As cities, the difference between Canberra (where she studies now) and Damascus is far and wide. Culturally, I am still not quite used to it. I'm converting prices into Syrian pounds and nothing makes sense. (I even convert to Canadian dollars and nothing makes sense) When I was at the bank, I asked for some small bills - there were never enough small notes in circulation in Syria. And generally, it's too easy here. My brain is numb from how easy it is to do easy things. I know, people spend their entire lives making daily life easier for the general public, but still...

Despite that it's the usual thing - they drive on the left side, the water's spins the "other" way, it's late summer here, and everyone walks upside down here down under - except me, of course, being from up and over. And there's no recession here, there never was. A highly coal-fired China has propped up the country like nothing else.

My father came in earlier this week, and that night the entire clan got together for dinner. My current research project is to find out who's who here, and have managed to collect data for a well-sized family tree. Inputting names should be interesting - formal Chinese name (blah blah blah), informal Chinese name (ah blah), transliterated Chinese name, English name, and "relation" name (what I call that relative, because of my relation to him/her).

The Chinese food intake has been constant and consistently very good. I think it's actually better than Vancouver. The dishes are a little different but very well done, and I have also had by now some good ol' jook and cheung fun.

Whereas last week I will getting over jetlag, this week is about visiting relatives. Next week may involve some local travelling, possibly a walk from Torquay to Anglesea.

Box Hill

No more 4-car garages, no more unlimited irrigation of Malaysian tropical plants with desalinated water in the heat of the afternoon. Maa salaame Muscat.

Now I'm in Oz, the land of fires, droughts, and floods. Where in Melbourne the water reservoir is at a fantastic 34% level. Where you are only supposed to have 4 minute showers, and signs on the suburban streets around my aunt's house proudly proclaim that they are watered with reclaimed or tank water.

I'm in Box Hill, a western suburb with its own "enlarged map" in the Melways map book - so it must have some significance. Box Hill is also a place in Surrey, England - where all of Emma's plans fell through in Jane Austen's book. I'm not sure if I have any plans just now except to wake up before 1pm and exercise a bit. My aunt's border looked at me in a certain way when I said that I wanted to walk in a park rather than see the city centre today.

Specifically, I'm at an internet "cafe". More like an internet hall. It's completely reminiscent of the one I used in Urumqi, China - just a small version. There's about 40 computers packed efficiently here, and everyone (except me) is an Asian male, most Mandarin-speaking. Everyone is chatting, it is pretty lively in here. My Windows is a Chinese version, and the language input is some version of Chinese. It's an instant pop quiz in terms of remembering the short cuts for "new window" or "new tab".

Box Hill is, in my eyes, a total success in terms of suburban town planning. It's changed quite a bit in the past 5 years. It seemed like it used to be Cantonese - now it's quite Mandarin. The centre is charged with a subway train station and a shopping centre, with a high-quality Asian version of Granville Island Market. It has a lot of people around, a lot of small restaurants and outdoor places to enjoy bubble tea, and a life up to 2am.