♥ an old flame

I was pretty happy to see my last entry at I ♥ Faces get a special mention, and lots of people were really kind to leave such nice comments.

This week the theme is I ♥ Tooshies, which conjures thoughts of lots of bums in nappies, but since I don't have anyone like that around, I thought I'd enter this shot of an anonymous couple looking out over the Eiffel Tower. They seemed to me like a couple thay might have said one day in their twenties "We'll make it to Paris one day, my love." And there they were. Awwwww!

Storm in a Teacup

Taken on my bedroom floor this morning.

Communal Living 101

Living just doors away from your friends has its advantages. Sure, parties get big pretty quickly, and we're all sharing one washing machine between 59 apartments, but let's accentuate the positives.

Like making Russian dumplings with your Russian friends. Or schnitzels and glü wine with the Germans. There was the mighty Australia v Britain Mite-Off between Vegemite and Marmite, and the big Spanish lunches complete with sobremesa. You can borrow saucepans, spatulas, butter, pasta, spices... You can introduce each other to all sorts of delicious oddities, and never have to venture outside.

Now please excuse me, I have a curry waiting in No. 36.

Money in the Bank

Apparently, it's rather outrageous that someone would want to deposit cash in the bank here in France. Faced with my last rent payment, an insufficient bank balance and a subsequent cash injection, I thought it a rather natural thing to just pop down to the bank and deposit the bills in my account.

I waited in line, I got to the counter, I had all the right French words, but the teller laughed at me. Laughed! Ok, perhaps it was more of a scoff. A scoff!

Me: I would like to deposit this money.
Teller: *pitiful smile*
Me: Ummm...?
Teller: No.
Me: Ummm...?
Teller: Sacré bleu! French french french 9am to 12 noon french french castle french french french automatique.
Me: Oh.

So I have to go to the branch near the Castle between 9 and 12 and use the ATM. I think.

This woman works stupid hours, and not stupidly long but stupidly stupid. They have lunch-time closures and a day off on Monday because they had to work 3 hours on Saturday morning. So I guess I will have to carry my money around in my shoe like a normal crazy person until I make it to the castle.

After all, this is France. You just give up on things making sense.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Mum said I have to ask you for the expensive stuff, so if you have a Canon EF 85mm f/1.2L USM II lens in your bag, please give it to me.

I've been really good this year.

Really, really nice photos by Siebe

♥ a little flare

I'm a bit of a lurker when it comes to other blogs, so I'll admit it's taken me a while to get involved with I ♥ Faces, but I saw this week's challenge and I thought of this shot I'd taken a little while back of my gorgeous friends Alice and Katie on our trip to Champagne.

If you're into photography (specifically portraits) and need a little inspiration every now and then, have a look at:

Bragging Rights

My apologies if you know me and you've read about this already, but I thought I'd mention it here.

Not long ago I wrote about Grant's birthday in Malta, and mentioned a certain present. He did most of the work actually, I just helped with the presentation. Well, this is it:

My boy wrote a book. He told me about it not too long after we first met, and I wanted to read it, but he said it was in no form for reading. After all, 175,000 words on a computer screen are hard to get through, hence only a couple of readers had ever finished. Not to be deterred, I was given the file and the matter all but forgotten.

He did ask me a couple of times over the next few months how I was going, if I liked it, where I was up too. "Oh, it's good, I'm starting to get into it," I'd say. Then I'd tell him all about the 'real' novel I was reading at the time (The Book Thief, highly recommended). "When I finish this one, I'll read your's."

Truth was, I'd printed the manuscript, read it twice, added a few missing full stops and had it printed at Blurb. It turned out really well - it looks and feels like a real book. Who am I kidding, it IS a real book! And sales have already sky-rocketed to double figures.

If you can't shamelessly plug your boyfriend's book on your own hedonistic online journal, where can you? There are boys with swords and snake-people but don't let that stop you - it's actually a decent read and I am more than proud of him. Ok, I'll shut up now...

Cobra

1st Edition

By Grant D Mills

Book Preview

The Last of the Autumn Leaves

Carte Postale

Once upon a time, I had an income. Mostly it was a tiny little wage from some big scary corporate, but every now and then people would let me do fun things, and then pay me for it. Those fun things became Urban Safari. For government/student relations, I had to put a hold on that while I was away, but it hasn't stopped me having fun. I've really gotten into photography and it's changed my direction a little.

After my first thousand or so photos, with them all sitting quietly on my hard drive, I thought it would be nice to, you know, print them. As my grandmother told me, she can't take the computer to bridge to show the girls my photos - she needed real ones. Long story short - the postcards I could buy from tourist spots were (in my opinion) not that nice, and I had some good shots I wanted to show off share. Enter Moo - problem solved! Real, sturdy photos, with space to write on the back and put your stamp and plenty of room for your photos!

I chose a few pics from my first month abroad, made 20 postcards, and sent some home. The others were a bit mediocre, and I still have them under some dust somewhere. But since then, there have been thousands more photos taken, and now I have some favourites. So I've made some more postcards, added a new name and some decorations - and they're on their way in 5-15 business days! And because I want to thank all 7 of you who read my blog, you can even view the set here.

The Land Before Time

When I imagined my time in Europe, I honestly didn't consider Malta. I had bigger plans, bigger countries on my list but, as it happens, the world has a habit of changing your plans. I came, I saw, I dived (or dove?) and I loved it. I've talked about the diving, I've talked about the landscape, but there's a couple more things before I move on.

Firstly, the towns. Malta is a Scrabble player's dream - Xhagra, Marsaxlokk, Birzebbuga... If proper nouns were allowed, Xewkija would be worth 78 points - and don't get me started on the triple word scores.

I spent my days on Gozo, the smaller island. Frankly, it's a little behind the times, but in a good way. This is a place where 7-Up battles for top spot with Kinnie, and you can make up your mind about Best Soft Drink whilst enjoying a cheese or pea pastizzi for 25c. They complain that the euro has made everything three times more expensive, but they are still WELL behind France when it comes to expensive.

The buses are also cheap. Super cheap. As in, you can get around for 47c, and why wouldn't you when it's in one of these babies:

I really want to highlight the buses. Coming soon to a tea towel near you, these buses definitely emphasise the journey over the destination. Malta has several bus types that are no longer in service anywhere else in the world, and the operation model dates back to a system introduced in 1977. The bus authority determines the schedules, which are then operated by the private bus owners, who remain responsible for the condition and upkeep of their buses - and believe me, the Maltese know how to pimp a ride.

The Virgin Mary looks down from her spot above the windscreen, right next to framed photos of previous buses. They're all named, and they convene in Valetta around the enormous fountain like the cool kids hanging out at the mall.

We took one from the ferry into Valetta, the capital of Malta. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that the capital city has got to be a little more modern, a bit more 'with the times'. Well, it's not. But that's not a bad thing - life moves at a different pace, which is about as quick as ice cream melts.

We walked around Valetta for most of the day, stopping to see the noon canon fire over the bay, and again later at the snack bar for an icy cold can of Kinnie (think creaming soda with orange peel and spices). As you can see, Valetta is not a flashy place. Understated is a suitable term - it's not about to waste time with unnecessary pomp and glamour. It's certainly no Hotel Ritz, but this place on Gozo is:

Malta boasts no shortage of local characters. Here's a couple of my favourites:

I walked past this gentleman in Valetta, and couldn't help but smile. He smiled back, and I continued walking. A way up the street, I stopped and looked back. He was still looking at me, grinning. As if he had a thought bubble protruding from that hat, I could tell he was thinking "She totally wants my picture." He was right. I went back and asked if I could take his picture and he grinned even more. "Bingo," went that second bubble.

This dashing gent was parked by the Inland Sea on Gozo. I wasn't going anywhere near a man wearing two shades of red simultaneously, especially red corduroy, so I took to stealth approach and pretended I was photographing the van. Sneaky.

So there it is, my autumn vacation in Malta. 2 weeks well spent, and now I'm qualified to see the world up to 18m below sea level. Don't discount this place, it really is a different side of Europe and a welcome break from the account-draining streets of Paris or Rome. I loved it, and I think you could too.

Back in '88

The world of scuba is not new to me. Memories of my childhood are littered with weekends away on dive trips, surrounded by big people dressed in rubber and lots of funny looking backpacks we weren't to touch. I've been naked in a tub more than once (Fig. 1, above) while Dad hosed stuff down in the backyard. My parents met through diving, so it was always part of their lives together, and subsequently part of my life with them.

Mum and Dad would sometimes take my sister and I along on their scuba trips, mainly to local beaches but once as far away as Vanuatu. I remember the big house we'd stay in with Dad's diving mates, the gear all spread out after a day in the ocean, and eating hot chip sandwiches. Christmas usually featured a crayfish, snapped up from the sea not too long before. Summer nights we'd sit out by the pool, eating scallops or the calamari my sister called 'the chewy stuff'. Every now and then, something weird would come home in Dad's bag. There was a blue-ringed octopus in the kitchen sink one time, and he got put in a jar of spirits and taken to school the next day. Even now, the sun shines into our dining room through a window full of dinglehoppers (Fig. 3) and snorfblatts.

Dad worked in a dive shop for many years, mainly the ones where we were too young to be left at home on school holidays. Plenty of days were spent messing up the shop while he filled the tanks. I'd try to pick up the lead weights and put snorkels on while asking Dad how much everything cost - he always knew the price of everything. Sometimes he'd get sick of Sally and I and stick us in the classroom upstairs. We'd draw on the whiteboard with permanent markers and then we'd be back downstairs again, getting in the way until he took us to the bakery for lunch.

I'd asked about diving when I was younger, and Dad gave me the PADI book to read. He said when I finished it, he'd get me in the pool. I got through Chapter 1, then High School rolled around and the manual was lost beneath textbooks and Girlfriend magazines. We stopped going on trips with Mum and Dad, and Dad stopped working in the dive shop. The wetsuits get used occasionally, but generally people are busy with other things.

I certainly didn't think it would take journeying to the other side of the world, but it would seem history has the habit of repeating itself. Now, with all the spare time in the world, and the convenience of a boyfriend working as a Dive Master, it's all back again (see Fig. 2, above). The smell of damp neoprene, salty kisses and hot chips for lunch - I think I could get used to this.

Dad, if you're reading this, you'd better get your wetsuit out because when I get home you're going to need it.