ONE year ago today I stepped off the plane in Brisbane after 14 months of living in Singapore. People sometimes ask me how long it took me to adjust to being back in Queensland. I knew I’d arrived the moment those two tiny Qantas wheels left Changi’s tarmac.
I moved to Singapore one month after Queensland’s devastating 2011 floods. I was battling a personal torrent of my own and needed to shake off those last, pesky, stubborn crumbs of my broken marriage. I, like Queensland, had some healing to do. Suffice to say, it’s been a rocky road for both of us, plagued by potholes and the occasional melt down. That’s the thing about healing, it takes its own damn time and you can’t rush it. And then there’s those inevitable relapses, as Queensland saw again in January this year when the flooding rains returned. As for me, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have some crawl back under the doona days.
But I’ve just spent the past two weeks on assignment out in the Queensland countryside in which I grew up. We were barefoot through the bindi patch kids. Dirt on your cheeks types who didn’t come inside until after dark. Cycled our daggy pushies without helmets, rode in the Kingswood without seat belts, got a scratch and fixed it with a bit of good old-fashioned spit.
And in the past two weeks, I fell in love with my state all over again. Southerners often mock Queensland. They say our weather is too humid. Humid to me is living in Singapore – 100km from the Equator. They say Brisbane is a big country town. If sitting outside by the river on a temperate evening eating food designed by world-class chefs makes us a big country town then yes, we’re epic. Sure, we don’t have daylight savings and our politics are ridiculously conservative. But that just breeds the underground movement of creatives and larrikins I so love here. In Brisbane, strangers still chat to you in the street. Thank the bus driver when they alight. Let your car squeeze in during peak hour traffic.
In the past fortnight, I experienced in spades the friendliness for which Queensland is renowned. In the South Burnett – Joh country – I stumbled across characters, entrepreneurs and optimists. Shirt-off-your-back people where dogs with names like Merlot are the stars of an Australian book about Wine Dogs. A place of dappled sunshine and dimpled smiles.
I met wine makers and farmers’ wives. Ate the local smoked pork, drank the new world Italian reds they are planting out there. Stayed in century-old cottages on hillsides overlooking charming valleys. Did I mention it’s emerald green out there? Yep, after all that rain that so scarred our state, it’s left a legacy of lushness. I took the time for a good old chinwag.
Last week, my travels took me to the Darling Downs. But not the Toowoomba I knew from my childhood – one of haberdashery shops and picnics in the park. Sure, they still exist, but walk past an inner city lane and there’s graffiti art and pop up coffee shops courting the trendy set. Toowoomba is finally embracing its organic food scene. I ate salty olives, fancy French cuisine and slept in an elegant mansion. I stumbled across eclectic art galleries and small designer stores. Had a cuppa with the locals. They keep me honest, no room for egos out here, just kookaburras, galahs and king parrots.
Queensland and I are both a little older and wiser after the past few years. Sure, we’ll always carry our scars, but we’ve also got fire in our bellies. Yes, people sometimes ask me how long it took to adjust to being back in Queensland after Singapore. To be honest, I don’t think I ever really left.
The Global Goddess travelled through Southern Queensland Country as a guest of Tourism and Events Queensland. To plan your own escape, go to http://www.queenslandholidays.com.au
Category: travel
An Affair to Remember
PAVAROTTI was in the Opera Suite, a Peugeot was parked in the lobby, there was a bottle of Moet behind every door, and if I didn’t know any better, I had stepped straight into a game of Cluedo. (Meet me on the Club Floor with the candelabra). If indeed this was Cluedo, it wasn’t a bad way to start, as normally, when it comes to the end of the working week, I’m pretty clueless. Sure, there’s always a cask of Chateau Cardboard (I’ll have a flagon of your finest red under $10, thanks) but no Italian operatic tenors hiding behind my bedroom door.
It’s a French Friday, but Paris this is not. Rather Brisbane, or the Sofitel Brisbane, to be exact. And thus begins my sultry Staycation, where I have precisely 17 hours to indulge in an affair to remember with my own city. And where better to begin than smack bang in the heart, above Central Station?
Don’t get me wrong. Normally I kick off a Friday night full of optimism. What’s not to love about the thought of no work for two whole days and the possibility of meeting a passionate paramour? I’m reminded of this by a piece of art in the Sofitel lobby art gallery. Yes, I too, start every Friday night feeling like a Foo Fighter.
I begin my journey with a short tour of the hotel which has undertaken a major refurbishment since last July. There are now six different room types, aimed at “infusing French elegance with local Brisbane culture”. The décor is fresh and sophisticated and is designed to provide a sense of coming home to your Parisian apartment. Even the colour of the carpet is a little ooh, la, la – it’s not just blue, it’s peacock blue, or was that green? I can’t really remember, as I said earlier, there was someone behind every door, with a bottle of something French and fizzy.
Up on the Club Floor (with the candelabra, remember?), the art-décor elegance continues, as do the unforgettable views of the city. If you want to feel a little French and smug, this is the place to sit and watch all the harangued office workers – of which you are normally one – rush to catch their trains home at the end of the working day.
Back on the ground floor, at the gracious Prive249 restaurant, the French flair continues with an Amuse Bouche of Poached Prawn with Herbed Aioli and Apple; Spanner Crab with Celeriac and Rhubarb Textures Entrée; Vanilla Confit Duck with Petit Pois a la Francasie Main; and Chocolate, Mint and Tonka Bean Cream Dessert.
After dinner my thoughts turn back to the Opera Suite, but not of the terrific tenor (I’m not sure about a man who returns from the dead), but of a photograph I took while I was there. Blame the bubbly if you must, but it looks like a couple enjoying the nocturnal activity for which the French are most famous.
I retreat to my room where I’d love to report that my affair to remember ended with a naughty nightcap, but the thought of curling up on my own in the Sofitel’s famed MyBed’s – all soft and squishy like you’ve been swallowed by a giant marshmallow – was enough for me. Frankly, that bed could have been packed with the North Queensland Cowboys, who I was reliably informed were staying on Floors 17, 25 and 26, and I wouldn’t have noticed.
And so, my sultry Staycation came to an end. This morning, predictably after so much Moet, I looked more like this creature I also found on the walls of the Sofitel’s lobby art gallery. Never let it be said that I don’t suffer for my art.
The Global Goddess was a guest of the Sofitel Brisbane. To create your own affair to remember go to http://www.sofitel.com/Brisbane
Snapshots of Samoa
My Samoa glow-a has all but faded, but my happy memories of my recent trip, and the amazing people I met, remain. Some places leave an indelible inprint on you. This South Pacific paradise was one of them. Please enjoy my Snapshots of Samoa. Talofa!
Apia, the Samoan capital, is a city with a sense of humour as these colourful buses, demonstrate. Yep, the big, burly locals ride these, all around the island.
The fish is so fresh here, it jumps straight out of the ocean, and on to your dinner plate.
Next time I return to Coconuts Resort, I want to spend a night in one of these overwater bungalows.
And several nights in one of those Fales at Lalomanu Beach.
And meet more of the country’s beautiful children.
The Global Goddess travelled to Samoa as a guest of the Samoan Tourism Authority. For more information on a Samoan holiday go to http://www.samoa.travel. Virgin Australia flys direct to Samoa from Brisbane once a week and several times from Sydney.
Dear Pageant Girl
IT’S Saturday Night Fever meets Sunday Morning Mass at this Samoan church service. Purple and white sequins adorn the altar and it’s as if Barry Gibbs himself has dressed the congregation which is resplendent in all white, bar the punctuation of purple ties. A sea of solemn heads, topped with white hats that would win any Melbourne Cup contest, are bowed in prayer. And so, too, is mine, yet I doubt we are speaking to God about the same subject. Why, God, why, did I choose to wear my leopard-print dress which stops just short of the knee to a conservative South Pacific church service and where in the name of hell is Dear Pageant Girl when I need him?
Let me introduce you to Dear Pageant Girl: Sydney’s Peter Sereno who, when he’s not promoting Samoa, is making the world a better place, one beauty queen at a time through his website, blog, industry commentary and training of pageant contestants around the globe.
“It is kinda my little letter and beauty advice to the world. The beauty pageant industry is still growing in Australia and the majority of girls have no idea. They think they are just beautiful and that they will get by on their looks. I’m Filipino so I grew up with beauty pageants,” he says.
“I leave little notes on the site and give them advice such as ‘don’t leave the house without your dignity’ or ‘if you are going to sabotage the competition, do it with a smile.
“My top five tips are fake it till you make it; treat this like a job interview; there is no such thing as natural beauty; the higher the heels the closer you are to God; and be open to everything. Walk like the world is your catwalk.” (I spend the next day practicing walking like the world is my catwalk. I end up looking like a constipated crab).
In 2004, Peter worked with Australia’s own Jennifer Hawkins to assist her in winning Miss Universe and more recently with the current Miss Samoa/Miss South Pacific Janine Tuivaiti(pictured below) to secure her the prestigious title.
“I have seen the most beautiful girls with the most ugly personalities which no amount of make-up can fix. It is true what they say: beauty radiates from within.” Peter says.
“But beauty doesn’t win a competition, it is the ‘x’ factor and you can’t define that. It is an energy that can’t be taught. You can discover that and harness that but it can never be taught.
“My role is to expose you and say ‘I am beautiful, I am all that’.”
It’s not only beautiful people Peter promotes, but stunning destinations such as Samoa, in which this interview takes place. Even the name of the country itself possesses a raw beauty – the word Sa, meaning sacred and Moa, centre. It’s in this sacred centre of the South Pacific you’ll discover a land of magic and mysticism, of rainforests, reefs, waterfalls and the most beautiful of beaches such as Lalomanu, upon which travel gurus Lonely Planet bestowed the title of one of the top 10 must-see beaches in the world.
So smitten was he with Samoa, Scottish novelist Robert Louis Stevenson lived there for four years in the late 1800s in a large colonial-style building on the main island of Upolu. The Samoans loved the author and called him Tusitala – or Teller of Tales. And it’s simple to see why Stevenson found so much inspiration in this nation.
Here, mahi mahi jump straight from the ocean onto your dinner plate, lobsters bathe in coconut milk fresh from the tree, and the papaya is as golden as the sunset. There are 361 villages in Samoa and one church for each village so you could go to church every day of the year. In between, check out some of the highlights such as the thrilling Papase’ea Sliding Rocks near Apia and the spine-tingling Sua Trench cave pool on the South Coast, accessible by a steep, wooden ladder.
Some say Savaii Island, about an hour by ferry from Upolu, is the highlight of a Samoan sojourn with its markets, lava fields, canopy walkway, and blow holes down which a self-styled “coconut man” throws coconuts which are fired out into the ocean like canon balls.
For others, it’s the smaller islands such as Namua Island, about 10 minutes by a tinnie from Upolu, which float their boat.
Wherever you choose, there’s a range of accommodation options and one of the heavenly highlights is a night or two in a rustic beachfront fale. Forget your modern cons, and surrender to the sound of the waves crashing against the reef as you fall asleep under a thatched roof and mosquito net. (In my case, spending the night wishing a hot Samoan may mistake your hut for his and crawl in naked).
If, as Dear Pageant Girl claims, the world is indeed your catwalk, then Samoa is the perfect destination in which to strut your stuff.
The Global Goddess travelled to Samoa as a guest of the Samoan Tourism Authority. For more information on a Samoan holiday go to http://www.samoa.travel. Virgin Australia flys direct to Samoa from Brisbane once a week and several times from Sydney.
To unveil your inner Goddess, or to find out more about Dear Pageant Girl, go to http://www.dearpageantgirl.com.au
My Samoan Seduction
I CAN’T pinpoint exactly when, but at some stage in the conversation, Chris Solomona gets straight to the point. Of his penis to be precise. More so, the fact it’s the only part of his body from his middle back to his knees that is not covered in tribal tattoos, thus ensuring I spend the rest of our meeting trying to peek under his lava lava for confirmation. But this is not a story of sex. It’s one of seduction. A tale of tattoos, tradition and testosterone. Of tsunamis, tragedy and ultimately triumph. This is my tale of the South Pacific, welcome to my Samoan seduction.
The tattoos, deeply etched into Chris’ cocoa-coloured skin, scream of centuries of culture, tradition and the ultimate test of manhood…soul-searing pain. They speak volumes of this South Pacific paradise in which I find myself talking intimately with a man, whom I’ve never met, about the most delicious of subjects. Finding love, the Samoan way.
“We are still intact and alive in our old ways. We have a Council of Chiefs and laws you must abide by. The most common law is it is taboo to think about marrying a girl from your own village. If you marry outside your race you will get a slap on the back. They will say ‘that a boy’,” Chris says.
“There is quite a process that a man has to go through in order to get a date. Back in 1999, I was drinking kava and I saw a beautiful woman come into the market and I asked people for her name and some woman told me it was Nora. So I went home and cooked all this food such as taro and a roasted pig. On the way to her village I stopped and bought two bottles of beer. There was no way I was going to do this sober.
“I walked in to her house and I put the pig on the floor and then forget what I am going to say. I can see two girls but I can’t see Nora in this room and I am wondering if I am in the right family. It turns out she was in the kitchen cooking and when she came out and sat next to me and I felt like I was eating broken glass.”
“Two to three weeks later I spent the weekend with her family but there was no privacy. We went out for one year and there was no touching. I’m a modern male and this is paradise but we’re not that perfect,” he laughs at the sexual frustration.
Fourteen years later and the couple now have five children, all traces of sexual frustration seemingly erased. Chris, who manages the Samoan Tourism Association Cultural Village in the capital, may be a modern male, but traditions such as tattooing run deep within his veins. When the missionaries arrived here in 1830, they tried to stop tattoos but the Samoans refused to relinquish this crucial piece of their culture designed to test bravery and courage. But don’t be fooled. Chris describes the procedure, which takes several months, as “a world of hurt, pain and suffering you cannot explain”.
“It is pure pain and torture and something that no man in their right mind would go through. Coming out of it is like a second chance at living.”
A second chance at living is what this charming country knows all too well having survived its share of cyclones and a devastating tsunami in 2009 which claimed 189 lives in the South Pacific region, many of them Samoan children. Samoa is a land of love and loss. Of triumph over tragedy. You can’t have paradise without pain. The Samoans, who ooze charm, character and beauty, know this maxim all too well, for this is a country with soul.
According to Chris, if you want to find a Samoan man, first you need to find a Samoan woman.
“You find a Samoan woman and stay with her in the village and you mingle. Then, all the men in the village will be watching. In Samoa, you just sit back and wait and all the pieces will fall into place. Actually, waiting in the wrong word. You will be hiding,” he laughs.
I spend the rest of the day lurking behind coconut trees, practising my “hiding”. At the bar, at the beach, at the pool, behind coconut trees.
And I’m in luck. The very next night I stumble across my Samoan sista-in-crime in the form of Natasha Tamasese at Sinalei Reef Resort and Spa on the South Coast. What I don’t know at the time is that Natasha has married into Samoan royalty – the Tamasese name synonymous with one of the paramount chiefs of the country and highly revered. Yes, in terms of a wing woman, I’ve hit the jackpot. And best of all, I’m told there’s one unmarried brother in the family who lives in Queensland. Yes, you heard it, right under my nose. I’d reveal more details, but then I’d have to kill you all.
Aside from the opportunity to dine with the Tamasese’s, Sinalei is also home to Spa Tui I Lagi, named after the resort owner’s wife who died in the 2009 Tsunami. Even in languid Samoa, time marches on and tries to heal the deepest wounds. Joe, the resort owner, has found love again and just announced his engagement to Tammy. Yes, love, loss, tragedy and triumph. I contemplate these concepts during a massage at the resort’s oceanfront spa the next morning on the most perfect of days. My spa therapist mentions the sound of the waves breaking casually against the reef outside. “You can hear its voice,” she says simply. Even the ocean here is a seductress.
And so, too, is the language in this country. When Samoans speak in their native tongue, they tend to slowly wrap their mouths around each word, pronouncing every consonant and evocatively elongating vowels. On the flight home I fantasise about two things: learning to speak this lovely language to my new husband who is yet to learn of my existence, and a return trip to the South Pacific. Yes, you too, should wrap yourself around Samoa. I can guarantee, it will seduce you back.
The Global Goddess travelled to Samoa as a guest of the Samoan Tourism Authority. If you, too, wish to be seduced by Samoa go to http://www.samoa.travel for more information. Virgin Australia flys direct to Samoa from Brisbane once a week and several times from Sydney.
Spacifica Travel is offering a number of last-minute Easter specials to Samoa from $1449 per adult and $779 per child flying Virgin Australia from Sydney. The price includes return airport transfers, 7 nights for the price of 6 in the Tanoa Tusitala Hotel in Apia, and continental breakfast daily. http://www.spacificatravel.com
Can’t find Prince Charming, for all the tea in China
INTRIGUING news out of China reveals that despite there being 118 men to every 100 women – that is, a whopping additional 30 million blokes – more and more females are remaining single. And, not only are they single, but there’s a word for them: shengnu or “leftover women”, according to the latest edition of Marie Claire Australia magazine. Yes, like last night’s fried rice, if a woman isn’t married by the age of 28 in China, she’s left on the shelf, the report reveals.
Now, on the one hand, this gives me some hope. I was beginning to think it was just me who couldn’t find a partner and that maybe it was a specific Queensland problem with most of our blokes working in remote regions and down the mines. (In the north-west Queensland mining town of Mount Isa, there are seven men to every woman). But the best news of all about this report is it’s not only the men who are making the decision to stay single, it’s the women in China who now also believe the men are not up to scratch.
You see, these women have spent the best part of 30 years growing up, becoming educated, and in the case of many noveau riche, spectacularly wealthy in their own right, and they are now refusing to settle for second best. I mean, why would you?
Unfortunately, on the other hand, every Chinese man still believes he should marry a super model, with Marie Claire reporting that a matchmaking site called Jiayuan, which means Beautiful Destiny, revealing men want women with a “traditional, angelic smile” and…this will shock you…”large breasts and slim figures.” Still, some are still getting married, or at least, shooting wedding photo shoots.
Which pretty much leaves China, Australia and anywhere else in the world at a bit of a dating impasse, as this picture, below, demonstrates. (A tip: put away your mobile phones people, start talking, and whatever you do, DON’T kiss the girl in the middle).
I don’t have any solutions to this, or I would a very rich woman in a relationship. But I have decided to adopt a different approach. In the current edition of Brisbane Style Magazine there’s another interesting interview with Clinical Psychologist Dr John Barletta who talks about the desire to find a mate. His advice: “My counsel is to simply do things that give you pleasure and nourish you. If you are having a good life where you are relaxed, confident, accomplishing, and happy, people will notice that you are in a good space, that you are available, and they will see you as psychologically attractive and resilient.”
I have decided to embrace his advice and as such, am renouncing my bogan dating site. No more bad spellin’ fellas for me. Instead, for the rest of the year, I’m going to try all those things I’ve always wanted to experience. At least once. I’m going to do a Belly Dancing Class, try Zumba, learn Burlesque, head down to Manly on a Wednesday afternoon and jump aboard a sailing crew, stand-up paddleboard, take a surfing lesson, volunteer somewhere, perfect the art of Gnocchi-making, take a live-art drawing class.
Watch this space.
The Global Goddess took these photos while on a recent trip to Taiwan to which she travelled courtesy of Cathay Pacific’s Premium Economy cabin.
How to get to Taiwan from Australia: Cathay Pacific has multiple flights a week to Taipei via Hong Kong from six major Australian cities, including at least three flights daily from Sydney; three from Melbourne; daily from Brisbane; seven weekly flights from Cairns and Adelaide; and ten weekly flights from Perth.
For more info on Cathay Pacific go to http://www.cathaypacific.com
For more info on Taiwan go to http://www.taiwan.net.tw/
Taiwan: Tai-weird, Tai-wacky, Tai-wonderful
THERE’S a fascinating article in the February edition of Cathay Pacific’s Inflight Magazine Discovery which examines Asia’s love of the exotic, specifically its cuisine and culture. The story focuses on fashion, and how many traditional styles of dress not only still exist, but are part of the vernacular. From Vietnam’s elaborate ao dai’s to Japan’s kimono’s, wearing historic dress is not considered unusual. In China, women wear the qipao; the Balinese don the hip-wrapping kambe; while in India, modern-day Maharanis are embracing the sari. But what happens when certain Asian cultures swing dramatically in the other direction? The result, as I discovered on my trip to Taiwan last week, is weird, wacky and wonderful.
Is it a nurse, a nun or a sign indicating the women’s toilet? I stumbled across little pinkie while in the acclaimed Taiwanese restaurant, Silks Palace, better known for its award-winning yin and yang beef noodle soup served in a cauldron. Yes, our host is at the table explaining all about this amazing dish, and I’m out the back taking a photo of the dunny.
I’m not quite sure what a Damper Baby is, but it seems to play a crucial role in Taipei’s exclusive 101 shopping centre, home to the esteemed Din Tai Fung dumpling palace.
This little pooch outside Taiwan’s first ever Bubble Tea shop in Hsinshu was not only wearing this attractive leopard-print coat, but had four baby shoes on each foot. I mean paw. I bet puppy was named Gucci or Muffin.
Everyone else was gazing at the amazing spectacle up in the sky at the Sky Lantern Festival in Pingxi. I was looking downward at this young lady who was not afraid to put her best foot forward.
Proving that if you stay anywhere long enough the culture rubs off on you, my fellow Australians Natasha Dragun (Double Dragon) and Bev Malzard (Honey Ooolong) unleashed their inner animals.
And immediately sparked a trend among the younger Taiwanese visiting the Shen Fen Waterfall as these two cute little copycats demonstrated.
It was not just the fashion which fascinated in Taiwan, but the food, as these decadently sweet tomatoes soaked in plum juice proved at the Silks Palace. Is it a tomato? Is it a plum? Who could tell?
Back at the world-renowned Ding Tai Fung, the mountains of dumpling dishes were enchanting.
While the coffee sign at Pingxi was a little confusing…
The pippies in chili, ulimately interesting…
And the Buddhists at Long Shan Temple, inspiring.
Meanwhile, Cathay Pacific’s Rosemary was as bubbly as the champagne the airline served on the flight to Taipei, via Hong Kong. The Global Goddess travelled in style courtesy of Cathay Pacific’s Premium Economy cabin. Launched in February 2012, the new Premium Economy experience features a more quiet, spacious cabin than the traditional Economy Class with between 26 and 34 seats per aircraft. The seat pitch is 38 inches – six inches more than Economy Class – and the seat itself is wider and has a bigger recline. Special features include a large meal table, a cocktail table, footrest, a 10.6 inch personal television, an in-seat power outlet, a multi-port connector for personal devices and extra personal stowage space. Premium Economy passengers are also allowed 25kg of luggage and have priority check-in at dedicated counters and priority boarding.
How to get to Taiwan from Australia: Cathay Pacific has multiple flights a week to Taipei via Hong Kong from six major Australian cities, including at least three flights daily from Sydney; three from Melbourne; daily from Brisbane; seven weekly flights from Cairns and Adelaide; and ten weekly flights from Perth.
For more info on Cathay Pacific go to http://www.cathaypacific.com
For more info on Taiwan go to http://www.taiwan.net.tw/
Betting on Buddha
I’M gambling with God. Dicing with Dharma. Betting on Buddha. This adventure unravels in the Taiwanese capital of Taipei, in Long Shan Temple. And I’m essentially playing Taiwanese two-up but it’s not money I’m chasing, it’s love. Of all the temples in Taiwan, it’s here that people flock to seek answers to their lives. Want love? Money? Health? Success? Come to the Department of Deities. I’m lured into the temple by the peaceful hum of devout Buddhists.
Around me, people are playing some sort of interesting game involving two blocks of wood. And just when I think it’s all lost in translation, out of no where, a Californian Chinese woman whose name I later learn is Su Lin, shows me how it’s done.
“First you take a stick which has a number on it. Then, in your head, you tell Buddha your name, where you are from and what you are asking for (in my case: love),” Su Lin says.
“Then you take the two blocks of wood. If they both land face up, Buddha is still thinking about your request. If they both land face down, your request will not happen. If one lands face down and one lands face up, your request will come true.”
I nervously drop the blocks of wood. One lands face up and the other face down. Su Lin and I jump up and down like we’ve just won lotto. She takes the original number I selected and goes to a little cabinet from which she takes a corresponding piece of paper, all of it written in Chinese characters. She still doesn’t know my wish.
“Oh, you are very lucky,” she beams. “You will marry a man of honour.” I am then required to thank the Goddess of Mercy. Thank her? I could marry her myself for such good fortune.
This is a story of love and lanterns. At Hsinshu city, south of Taipei, the 2013 Taiwan Lantern Festival is underway to celebrate the last day of Chinese New Year and the first day of the full moon. If you think you’ve seen lanterns, think again. Every conceivable object has been transformed into an object of art. Delta Energy has also constructed the world’s largest outdoor projection screen which is 100 percent recycled at a cost of US$2 million.
Yes, things are changing in Taiwan where it’s a spell-binding blend of old and new. Here, 2000 year old lantern festivals and traditional food from its diverse regions, combine with concepts like conservation. The yin and the yang. For more contemporary Taiwanese experiences, head to Kaohsiung MRT in the south-west, where its Dome of Light ceiling has earned it the title of the second most beautiful tube station in the world after Montreal. At the nearby Ten Drum Ciatou Creative Park, they’re calling it “A Revolution of Drum Art” where an enterprising group of Taiwanese drummers – who performed at the 2000 Sydney Olympics – are taking tourists on a new beat. If you’ve enjoyed the show, you can even take a drum class.
Back in the north, about an hour east of Taipei in the usually sleepy village of Pingxi, the Sky Lantern Festival also takes place at this time of year. The traditional festival is held here, the home of waterfalls and mountains, as to have the smallest impact on the environment. Around 200,000 people congregate to write their wishes on a lantern and send it into the night sky. In my case, again, it’s love I shoot off to the stars.
According to Su Lin, the woman I met at the Long Shan Temple, should I meet my love, I must return with him to Taiwan to thank Buddha for making my dreams come true. I’m writing out wedding invitations as we speak.
The Global Goddess travelled to Taiwan in pure style courtesy of Cathay Pacific’s Premium Economy cabin. Launched in February 2012, the new Premium Economy experience features a more quiet, spacious cabin than the traditional Economy Class with between 26 and 34 seats per aircraft. The seat pitch is 38 inches – six inches more than Economy Class – and the seat itself is wider and has a bigger recline. Special features include a large meal table, a cocktail table, footrest, a 10.6 inch personal television, an in-seat power outlet, a multi-port connector for personal devices and extra personal stowage space. Premium Economy passengers are also allowed 25kg of luggage and have priority check-in at dedicated counters and priority boarding.
How to get to Taiwan from Australia: Cathay Pacific has multiple flights a week to Taipei via Hong Kong from six major Australian cities, including at least three flights daily from Sydney; three from Melbourne; daily from Brisbane; seven weekly flights from Cairns and Adelaide; and ten weekly flights from Perth.
For more info on Cathay Pacific go to http://www.cathaypacific.com
For more info on Taiwan go to http://www.taiwan.net.tw/
It’s raining men
WHERE in the world are all the men? As a travel writer I have trekked the globe looking for good stories and good blokes (usually in that order). Sure, I can always stumble across a decent yarn, but finding a fella is not so simple. Some people have even accused me of becoming a travel writer JUST so I could find a man. If that were the case, I’d be a spy. Far more glamourous. Then again, who am I kidding? I can’t keep a secret. So, in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, and spilling the beans, let me tell you where you CAN find a man. But first, here’s some places you might wish to avoid.
I stumbled across these two nice boys one late afternoon at Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Unfortunately, despite their snappy fashion sense, they advised me they were already in love. With Buddha. So I moved on.
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This one I found at Montreal at the Comedy Festival. Unfortunately, it was summer, and I like my blokes to be brave, so unless he can handle a bit of cold weather, he's not the one for me.
In Salem, I discovered there are actually more witches than lawyers. Still, that’s pretty handy if you are getting divorced and want to cast a spell on your ex. But I was unable to conjure up a boyfriend.
In Dubrovnik, this lovely old man looked like a prospect. Until he told me he was waiting for someone. Much younger than me.
In Brisbane, things are so dire, you’d think every man was dead.
So, where in the world are all the men?
NEW ZEALAND! According to a report released yesterday, a stack of hot tradies have been flocking to Christchurch to rebuild the city after its 2011 earthquake. Things are so good there for single women, there’s four men for every woman. That’s right, I’ve travelled the globe and they’ve been sitting right under my nose all along. So Happy Valentine’s Day. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a plane to catch.
Our home is mirth by sea
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AUSTRALIA Day. Race 12. 4.45pm. And The Global Goddess is off and racing. Problem is, I can’t figure out which one she is, among the other critters on the field. I’m at my first cockroach races at Brisbane’s Story Bridge Hotel and have paid $10 to name and race a cockroach. But The Global Goddess doesn’t stand a chance against the tough boys like “Campbell’s a cock head” and “Keep your cock in your pants” and I never see her again. Just like the time I paid $60 for a lizard at the Eulo Lizard Races in the Outback. Oh, the frilly ran alright, straight out of the ring and into the Aussie desert, and like my $60, never to be seen again.
Australians love a wager and we’ll bet on anything. Some say it’s our ragged spirit, borne from living in the harshest country on earth. As I write this, a tornado rages around me. Last week it was the sickening stench of drought. I’ve spent this morning deciding in which room I might need to shelter later, and whether I need to do my hair and make-up in case a handsome emergency volunteer arrives to save me in the midst of the fury. And who said you can’t find someone while hiding under your bed?
But it’s exactly this rough and tumble of the land that I love. Whenever I’ve lived overseas, it’s the early-morning and late afternoon cackle of the kookaburra I miss the most. The punctuation mark on my day. Others hate the nagging crows. I adore them. They’re brusque and ballsy. I love how the summer rain tap dances on the hot tin roof of my timber cottage. The imperfect knots in the wood of my bare floor boards. I ache for the smell of the ocean when I’m stuck in a foreign city. Salt air you could eat sprinkled on a bucket of hot chips. Coconut sunscreen you could drink. Sticky mango fingers. Real waves that dump you, thrash you around and pick you up again. Just like this harsh land.
In her latest book Honestly, Notes on Life, novelist and columnist Nikki Gemmell writes of returning to Australia after living in England. “Life is about wringing the most happiness we can out of our time on Earth, and for me that means old mates and family and land and beauty – a spiky, prickly, ravishing Australian beauty, not that soft, benign, European one. Under a replenishing sun.” Her words make my soul do a somersault. Lost and lonely sometimes in foreign lands, I wonder if I’m the only weirdo who feels sentimental and soppy for the Southern Cross.
Knowing all this, who wouldn’t want to live here? And so this Australia Day long weekend I turn my thoughts, yet again, to boat people. I’m stunned when Australians who claim to love this country turn their backs on asylum seekers. Like they’ve forgotten how their own families arrived in the Great Southern Land. For me, it was five generations ago, via a perilous three-month boat journey from Europe. My adventurous Great, Great Grandfather Christian and his brave wife Amelia boarded the Susannah Godfrey in search of a new land and a better life for their family. I am direct descendent of a boat person. Who am I to deny any other family the same privilege of living in Australia?
My Great, Great Grandparents, Christian and Amelia
And yet, somehow Aussies do. It’s what I call the ugly Australian. Devoid of compassion, insight and education. There’s a nasty rumour doing the rounds of Ipswich that the Sudanese refugee population receives $30,000 upon arrival in Australia. The ugly Australian is outraged. Frankly, if I had my way, they’d receive $100,000 to start a new life, away from the ravages of war, rape and the kind of hunger we will never imagine. Yet the ugly Australian resents these beautiful shiny black people who have suffered so much, they’ve relinquished their homeland.
So, enough. The time has come to accept we are global citizens and all the responsibilities that come with that privilege. Or before too long, Australia will not be our home of mirth by sea, but the laughing stock of the world.
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The Global Goddess 