Letter to Students 06 September 2009

Dear Reader

On route back to New Zealand

I am on the plane, having decided that I am not in the mood to watch a movie, and smiling at the flight attendant who just delivered vegetarian meals to two passengers, but was informed they were fasting!  What a waste, and I hate waste!  When I ate my meal on my own at a restaurant in Darling Harbour on Friday night, I wrapped the bread I couldn’t eat up in a serviette, and had it in the morning with the avocado I was given at Paddy’s market.  My Scottish frugality will remain with me till I die.  However, I then surprise myself by being extravagant at Duty Free, and I can feel the guilt seep through my brain as I carry my plastic bag onto the plane!  How Presbyterian am I?

What have I done these past few days, or more importantly, how do I feel?  I have been through a range of emotions, and I am pleased to say that I feel more positive, more in control of my life, and more confident within myself.  In the Koru lounge at Sydney airport, where I only had a thirty minute wait, I talked with a wonderful English woman who is retired and travels the world.  She shared with me that her husband left her for a younger woman when she in her forties, which devastated her.  However, two years later, she fell in love with a New Zealand man who was the love of her life, and truly loved her.  Although he died eight years ago, she has so many happy memories, and she looked fabulous.  How could you not when you travel the world visiting friends and family all year round?  She reassuringly told me that I would be alright, and when she complimented me on my figure, I could feel my self confidence rise as she was such an attractive older woman herself. I would love to keep in touch with her as she had such a positive spirit.  

Arriving in Sydney on Thursday afternoon, I was surprised to find that the sky was grey and it was raining.  It had apparently been a clear morning, but I didn’t let the falling rain dampen my spirits, remembering that the rain was a sign of good luck! My Singaporean fellow passenger on the bus pointed me in the direction of my accommodation, and also showed me some landmarks so I wouldn’t get lost.  As the Tui ad says, “Yeah, right.”!  However, I didn’t mind taking circuitous routes to reach my destination, as every place was new to me, and I loved looking at all the different architecture. I walked along Harris Street, and passed the Ian Thorpe swimming centre, and acknowledged that such facilities encourage the nation to swim, and it pays off in world champions.  I remember passing an Olympic pool in Canberra, but Sydney wins hands down in terms of facilities, and sheer beauty.  I have fallen in love with Sydney, surprisingly, as I wasn’t so enamoured of it when I was there in my late teens.  At that time, I wanted to explore places that were totally different from my own environment, and Sydney seemed too close to home, and too much the same as Auckland. However, this time, I loved the multiculturalism of the city, and the wonderful blend this brings.  I found everyone extremely friendly, but then I always went up and greeted people to find they responded in kind.  To my Jordanian hosts, and the Indian and Bangladeshi taxi drivers in Canberra, the Singaporean medical student on the bus, the Lebanese fruit seller in Paddy’s Market, the Indonesian dress shop owner of Chinese descent, the Iranian art dealer in the Queen Victoria Building , the Irish hairdresser bordering Kings Cross and Pott’s Point, the Indian waiter at Sumac restaurant in Darling harbour, the Nepalese and Indonesian cleaners and the English concierge at the apartments, my Egyptian friend in Woollongong, the Japanese student in the pool, the Australians on the ferry, I give my gratitude for making my stay so memorable.

I am just about to have a bite of lunch so I will continue my description of my stay after a chicken and asparagus pie, although I could ask for one of the rejected vegetarian meals!

……Funnily enough, there was only one chicken pie left as I was near the back of the plane, and I offered for the other passengers to have it and I said I would have the vegetarian option as I had overheard the passengers say they were fasting.  The flight attendant was delighted, and it was a win-win situation!

On route to Dunedin

I didn’t get back to you on the flight as I ended up talking to an interesting woman from Tonga, and her fight to lose the weight which had plagued her since her husband left her eighteen years ago for a younger woman, the babysitter whom she had befriended.  We talked a lot about the power of positive energy, and her belief in God.  Her uncles was the bishop of Tonga, and her prayers were answered when she took her two children to Auckland to be educated, even though she arrived with only a visitor visa.  This strong woman was on her way to see her seven sisters who now live in America, having just visited her two brothers who live in Australia.  Both brothers had married “palangi,” white people, as she described them, and it was interesting talking about cultural differences. We talked about making tapa, the traditional cloth which is given at special occasions, and how consuming the making of it is.  My new friend said that although her daughter wants to marry a palangi so that she doesn’t have to go to the trouble of giving a tapa to her inlaws, the custom will not now die out as they have become very popular in America.  Now that they command good prices, there is renewed interested in making these woven and painted pieces of South Pacific art.  We talked about the obesity problem among Pacific Islanders, and this woman, who has lost 18 kilos since deciding she needed to do something about her weight, said that many of her friends are now taking steps to loose the debilitating weight.  It reminded me that I had read an article in the Time magazine at my friend’s home in Woollongong yesterday where they said that exercise is important for health, but not for losing weight. In the psyche of so many people, once they have exercised, they feel they should reward themselves with a sweet treat, which contains more calories than those they sweated off!  The primitive brain wants reinforcement for the effort it put in, and craves satisfaction in the form of food.  I found this literature fascinating, and it reinforced my belief that people are better served by working in the garden, or doing the housework, than uselessly slaving away in a gym.  It has never made sense to my practical way of thinking!

There is a bright orange full moon following our flight from Auckland to Dunedin, and I feel very lucky to have had such a pleasant flight.  Having joined the Koru Club just before beginning this trip meant that I could relax with a nice meal and a drink in pleasant surroundings, and although I planned to catch up on my emails and finish this letter, I became seduced by the Women’s Weekly and enjoyed reading that.  There were some inspiring articles on amazing women, and I hope that I can take a leaf out of their books, and continue my journey of positive growth.

Although I was only away a few days, I feel that I have moved along in my journey to feeling more complete on my own.  After I finally found Oakes Goldsbrough apartments in Darling Harbour  through a maze of unknown streets, I opened the door to my apartment to be greeted by a suite with oven, dishwasher, and even a washing machine in the bathroom.  When I saw the big bed, in which I knew I would sleep alone, I immediately burst into tears and threw myself onto the bed in pathetic self pity.  Wiping my tears, I reached for my book, the Secret, and the page fell open on a section about our emotions.  It told me, yet again, how our feelings reflect what we are thinking, and that your feelings powerfully attract what you are thinking.  Negative emotion will block your own good coming to you, and it is only my own positive thoughts that will change my situation.  “ ..the law of attraction is your magnificent tool to create whatever you want in life.”  I had read these words over and over again, but somehow I needed to read them yet again.  I put down the book, picked up my bathing suit and went downstairs with my head held high.  After a swim, a spa, a sauna and some stretching exercises, I returned to my room to change into some casual clothes.  I then headed off to Paddy’s market in the misty rain, and marvelled at the number of water features, excluding the rain which fell from above, which greeted the pedestrians in the area.  They say that a community can be judged by the number of pieces of art which are displayed in public, and these beautiful pieces certainly told me that this community was in good heart.  On entering Paddy’s market, my memory was immediately transported to the many Chinese markets I had visited, and I wasn’t interested in buying anything.  However, I wanted to find the produce section as I had decided to eat in my apartment that night, and wanted something tasty to eat with some wine I intended to buy.  The produce section was vibrant with the different colours of the fruit and vegetables, and alive with colourful characters on the stalls.  They yelled at each other, and I was drawn to one colourful character who also spotted me.  This rugged, loud Lebanese man lowered his voice and quietly told me how beautiful I was, and asked me I wanted to buy.  I had spotted some avocado, but they were still green, and he immediately scurried away, to return with three ripe pieces of fruit which he gave me free of charge.  I bought some strawberries, and oranges, and this garrulous fruit seller called Frank told me how I had made his day.  Given how desolate I had felt in my room, so missing the relationship which was over, this innocent declaration lifted my spirits no end.  This migrant trader had no idea how much he had raised my confidence, and enabled me to enjoy the rest of my day. I marvelled at the words in the secret about being open to attracting others by being openly attractive, and within fifteen minutes I was being told I was attractive!  All he asked was that I think of him while I ate the avocado, and I indeed did that.  He said that he wouldn’t be working on Friday, but that I could find him in the deli on Saturday, and although I popped in to see if he was there, I couldn’t find him.  I just wanted to tell him how much his compliment had meant to me, and I hope he was able to feel that.  After buying some wine on the main shopping street, George Street, I returned to  the apartment, and ate alone, quite happily, although hoping that this would be one of the last times that I holidayed alone.  I think it was an important process for me, but I am not a traveller who enjoys being on one’s own.  I love to share, and my happiest moments were talking with others whom I met along the way. I had a late swim and sauna before going to bed, and looked forward to spending the next day following the schedule my dear friend, Debbie, had planned for me.  She had lived in Sydney, and encouraged me to see her favourite places.

Hence, I woke early the following day and after an early swim in the wonderful indoor pool, which was in operation, (unlike the Canberra outdoor pool!) I felt ready to greet the day. I rang the Irish hairdresser whom Debbie had recommended and he had only one appointment space left, at one o’clock, which I duly took.  This left me three hours to walk to Pott’s Point, and discover a little more of the charm of Sydney. Although the concierge thought it was too far to walk, the distance didn’t look far on my small map, and I headed off. I passed the Chinese garden, located in Darling Harbour and much bigger than Dunedin’s Chinese garden with a lot more garden and pools around which to walk, but I resisted the temptation to enter as I knew my time was limited.  Again, I noted the water, ever present in the garden and outside.  It made me feel refreshed, and the different water features invited you to stop, to reflect, and even walk into.  Children with parents walked along concrete edging as the water tricked over corrugated passages.  I was enthralled.

In contrast, I passed an inner city Catholic school where the students studied in what looked like a huge office block, and their playground was the downtown shopping area.  Back to the water, I discovered a wishing well, near which was engraved, “the hand which gives, gather,” and I duly threw a coin into the well.  It reminded me again of the Secret in which they talk about the need to give in order to receive.  The well was erected last century, as was the Queen Victoria Building, a gracious mall which had been beautifully restored in all its finest glory.  The tiles, stained glass, the classy boutique shops all oozed history and money, (which I didn’t have,) but it all added to the feeling that one could have been  walking there one hundred years ago.  I was pleased that I had worn my designer clothes and expensive boots, although after four hours of walking I wondered if my choice in footwear was that wise!  I wandered my way up to the third floor where I discovered a gallery of Aborigine art.  I ended up talking to the art dealer, Omid, the Iranian I mentioned earlier, who talked of the twenty artists he worked with, and the meaning of the dots used in their work.  Life is a cycle, a circle which never ends, and the dots sometimes depict the seeds which support the Aborigines in the desert where nothing else grows to sustain life.  What first attracted me into the gallery was Omid’s playing of the didgeridoo, that incredible resonance of breath through honed wood which reaches right into your spirit.  Omid brought the wood to life, layering tone upon tone, till you realised the instrument had a real life of its own, but unable to share this life without the gift of one such as Omid.  It was interesting that Omid had such a passion, and it seemed strange in one so Arab looking in his crisp white shirt and black trousers.  He said he had been drawn to the didgeridoo at an early age, and it was through the love of the instrument that he had come to appreciate the art and the people who had suffered through oppressive colonisation.  He said that only time could heal the wounds which were all too recent, with many of the “lost generation,” still remembering being torn from their mother’s arms and placed in white Australian foster homes.  It was another time when Anglo Saxons believed they were the superior race, and the British held the Maori in similar disdain for many years.  I feel very proud that our government has endeavoured to right the wrongs towards Maori, and dispossessed Maori have come a long way further than their Aboriginal brothers. 

After buying a print by a well known Aboriginal artist who had written the meaning of her work on the back, I walked through Hyde Park to St Mary’s Cathedral.  Consulting my Sydney map, I realise that I missed the Pool of Reflection, the ANZAC Memorial, but I was on a mission to get to the hairdresser by one o’clock, and was heading in what I hoped was a straight line.  St Mary’s is an impressive Catholic church, and I entered the hallowed place to say a prayer for Vicki and my family.  It was cool after the warmth outside, and I enjoyed a moment of quiet contemplation.  Emerging into the bright sun, I passed through the domain and noticed a memorial to a police officer who had lost his life in the course of his duty on an innocuous spot on the grass in the innocence of daylight. Obviously, something had gone terribly wrong, probably one evening, and a worthy life was lost. 

I was told not to linger in King’s Cross by friends who had lived in Sydney, and I wondered if I would recognise the area when I reached this infamous place, as there were no defining marks on my map to show me exactly what area I was in.  However, King’s Cross is notorious for its underbelly, the drug culture which keeps people in a continual state of debilitating inertia.  I passed a number of people who had taken the wrong path in life, and it was confirmed that I was in King’s Cross when I saw the famous King’s Cross fountain.  It was as a five year old that my parents took my younger sister and me abroad to Sydney, the first and only time we went abroad as a family, because my father had won a competition among the grocery stores in Dunedin.  I distinctly remember seeing the fountain, as it looked like a fireworks display when I was a small child.  I remember very little else about Sydney, although when I went past St Martins place, I had the feeling that I had sat on the steps with my mother and sister.  When I looked at the steps, a sense of melancholy came over me as I mourned the passing of my father and sister.  However, I was not in a melancholic mood as I sat by the fountain with a sandwich which I had bought from a delicatessen with tempting delicacies.  There was such a selection that I let the flamboyant gay assistant choose my lunch.  It was then a sense of disappointment when I munched into my ham and rocket sandwich to find that it was almost all rocket and little of anything else.  I felt ripped off after paying the equivalent of fifteen New Zealand dollars, especially as I had been frugal in my spending up to that point.  I had a good talk to myself, and told myself to just enjoy the ambience, and enjoyed watching a film being shot by the fountain.  It looked like some kind of B grade movie, judging by the marginal looking characters who interacted over and over again as they filmed the same scene over and over again.  It was only when I looked over the scene from the hairdresser’s which had been my destination did I find that the scene that was being shot was for Underbelly, a very popular television series about the underworld in Australia.

There is still so much to tell you, but I must close now, wishing I had time to continue as I fear it may be some time before I begin my next letter and time will have faded those vivid scenes which impressed me at the time, but were not etched in my memory to retell to you.

I hope you are happy and well, and I look forward to being back in Dunedin and enjoying the promise spring brings.

Love

Sharron