To a Mountain in Tibet by Colin Thubron

The latest novel, by prolific travel writer and novelist Colin Thubron, To a Mountain in Tibet takes us on a very personal journey to Mount Kailas—one of the most sacred and rarely traveled to mountains in the world.

After the death of his mother, Thubron decides to trek through the central Himalayas with only a Nepalese guide and cook. A trek that turns out to be a relatively isolated reflection of his life, with focused memories of family members who are no longer with him.

As much as I wanted to enjoy this book it was a little like a lukewarm bath; I couldn’t wait to get out. This is a deeply personal and sad book, which is written well and exhibits a great reflective style, but also one filled with tremendous detail on the history of the Tibetan people and their customs.

While ordinarily I find this form of travelogue interesting, there was little in this book that engaged me as a reader. Much like Thubron’s arduous journey through the cold and desolate landscape, I found myself trapped inside his meandering thoughts for an arduous 218 pages, gasping at altitude. His memories and personal beliefs seemed detached from the story itself, which had the potential to provide some colour to the landscape, but instead the reader remained but a slightly distanced observer.

This novel requires a great deal of concentration and reflection and I wonder if memories are sometimes like diary entries—perhaps only interesting to those who experienced them.

I have read similarly themed novels on treks through forbidden cities of Tibet, but feel, unfortunately, that others have done it better.

Having said this, there appears to be unanimous admiration and appreciation of this book out in the world, gracing bookstore ‘staff recommended’ lists and with glowing reviews. Perhaps I lack the concentration required to fully appreciate the story at hand.

My appreciations lies more towards the author himself, tackling such a journey in his seventies—and appearing to be less affected by the journey than some of the locals who are traveling with him!

Thubron lacks no skill to turn a phrase and produces beautifully crafted sentences throughout the entire novel, with lines like, ‘Easy to imagine this an apocalyptic fracture in the order of things, a portent of sacred chaos, or at least a fanfare for the dawning holy month. I stand outside my tent, distracted by some dream I have forgotten,’ scattered across the novel like nuggets of written gold.

To a Mountain in Tibet does indeed read like some dream that is forgotten, but is being remembered again in the way that can only be remembered when we have the silence to do so.

Published on Media-Culture Reviews.

The Honey Spinner by Grace Pundyk

I came across this author a few years ago when I saw her at a travel writing seminar at the Brisbane Writers Festival. She just described her travels in search of honey, how it was made around the world and the political and environmental effects the honey industry had on it's countries with such passion that it made me want to read her book.

At the time I was about to take off to South America so I compiled my list of books I wanted to buy from the festival and decided to wait until I got back before breaking the bank on yet more books. Not sure why it took me three years to finally purchase the book, but here I am, finally done with it.

I've never been a fan of honey, it's too sickly sweet for my taste buds, but as I sit here typing this I'm sucking on a teaspoon of liquid gold with flecks of honeycomb, so I'm wondering if Grace has converted me.

Throughout the entire book I kept wanting to re-taste honey to see

if I had mistaken the taste that this woman wrote so passionately about. Grace writes about thick, dark yellow honey from the middle-east and her favourite honey, from Italy, that it made me reluctant to just go to the supermarket and buy some plain Australian generically manufactured honey like Capilano in a squeezy bottle.

However, this morning I had to trundle over to the Bi-lo since Rich was out of milk and I was in desperate need of coffee, I spotted a jar of Beechworth with a full honeycomb inside. I'd never seen honey like this on supermarket shelves (possibly because I'm never in the market for honey) so decided to buy a bottle. My first spoonful was exactly as all my previous experiences with honey went - cringe and then say, 'Meh, it's honey'. My second spoonful, however, I started to reconsider - I could see how this could be appealing.

I doubt I'm suddenly going to be converted into a honey lover, I'm thankful honey has no expiry date so I can keep it in the cupboard for however long it takes me to use - probably in some baked good or something. But this was an interesting book, if not exactly what I was expecting.

The book traces Grace's travels through a few select countries in her search for beekeepers, discusses their methods of beekeeping, the issues they have with a declining honey market, blended honey, bee diseases and logging. Like all non-fiction books, this one had it's moments of struggles when my brain wanted to run free amongst some fiction rather than focus itself on the subject at hand, but I'm glad I read it. I'm fascinated by how bees work, how the hives work, what the beekeepers job is and this book answered all those questions.

With my burning need to read The Honey Spinner out of my system I need to move onto my ever growing pile of books to review.

A cubicle with new view

I'm having one of those mornings where I got up at the usual time, made coffee, put the bins out, did some banking (because all of this occurs on a Wednesday) and now I'm sitting here procrastinating looking through my Flickr photos.

It's one of those days where going to work seems like the worst possible option and I'm dreaming of dusting off my backpack and taking out my camera for a new adventure.

I'm not usually the type of person who has too many personal items in the office. A habit from being a serial contractor, I suppose. You don't want to get too settled because you'll just have to move it all again. But after two years in the same place (albeit, I have moved around different roles since being there) I'm noticing some decoration of the cubicle occurring. Mostly by way of photos.

Travel photos mostly... and some of Richard. Because once work was an important part of my life (getting to the writing positions I wanted), now seems just like any other job. I used to have no trouble working buckets of over time, but now I can't get to the weekends fast enough. It's just not that important to me anymore. Spending time with my friends and Richard and going on holidays - that's mostly what I care about. Hrm, when I think about it... travel has always been my goal of working... so yeah, I guess not too much has changed in that regard.

But here I am procrastinating further by writing in this blog. Putting off the need to go iron some pants and make the bed and put on some makeup - turn into work Denver. Blergh. Least work Denver now has some pretty inspirational photos to look at in her cubicle with no view.

So... I'm just going to have wee rant about work for a bit, because the last few weeks have been difficult to tolerate. Not exactly easy when your partner is feeling equally unsettled in his job and dreaming of greener pastures, but I'm trying to keep on until the project completion.

Initially, I thought I would like to stay on for a long while, but circumstances, which I won't go into here, have changed my mind and I think I'll be happy to leave once the disability project has finished. Not that websites ever really finish, they continue to grow and expand, an every changing life form of their own.

But for all my complaining and restlessness I'm having an inspiring month - I've been given the Arts and Culture section to write on our website, much to my delight, since this is an area close to my heart.

Last week I had the pleasure of speaking with a member of National Disability Services (NDS), who we liaise closely with for this project. She's a former professional dancer who developed MS ten years ago, naturally bringing her extensive and international dance career to a halt. Michelle is an amazing presence, however, very enthusiastic about our project, filled with ideas and she brings a great deal of energy to the table, while lately I feel my energy levels are running on empty. Speaking with her gave me a bit of a boost and I plan to ask if we can do a feature story on her for the website.

Today, I spoke with the Executive Director of Access Arts Queensland, an organisation dedicated to accessible arts in all it's forms, specifically focusing on communities and people with disability. In my job I'm fortunate to see up close the small differences that communities and people driven organisations can do for their community and those at a disadvantage. As I sat in Emma's office, blind with her yellow guide dog at my feet, it was great to speak with her about all the work Access Arts do around the state and how much knowledge can be gained from speaking to these types of people.

Next week I'm less out and about and am in conversations with Arts Queensland, and while another government department, seem very enthusiastic about having a say and feel they will have rich resources to draw from. I only hope so, because while exhausting and having to deal with challenging members of my team, in the end this is the type of job I always felt fit my personality. A writing position that, albeit somewhat removed, makes a small difference in the world. In this case, the world of Queenslanders with disability.

Putting it down in writing helps remind me of that.

4 years without a car

When I first moved to Brisbane I decided against getting a car, still fresh with living in London thoughts of not needing a mode of transport. I lived in Spring Hill and had public transport, why would I need a car? I managed in London without one for two years... of course, London transport is significantly better than what Translink offers. I did okay living so close to the city and working in the city or city fringe areas, I even walked to and from Milton when I worked down that way - it was great exercise and I didn't have to worry about paying for insurance or registration or the increasing price of fuel.

However, after four years I had decided what I would gain back with a car was time—where it would normally take me 10-15 minutes to get somewhere via car, it would take me at least 40-60 minutes via walking and public transport. And since none of my friends have the ability to appear anywhere on time, it also meant I had a lot of waiting around time for people too rude to show up when arranged.

I'm also someone who likes to go out and explore other suburbs and while I managed some of this via public transport, there was none of the 'jump in the car and go far south, or north or east' as I used to do back in my Perth days.

So I started looking for an affordable secondhand car, but I couldn't find one that was what I wanted or didn't require some work. I wasn't interested in a project. I didn't want to buy a fifteen year old car and spend months getting it up to scratch. I just wanted something I could drive straight away without any fuss. Eventually, it dawned on me I should just buy a new car—I'd never owned a new car and well, why not? I'm earning more money now than I've ever earned in my life, I'm doing a job I like and want to keep going with long term, it's a little inconvenient to park on the street in Spring Hill, but my rent hasn't increased by some miracle in two years and I'm happy to stay here, the boy has extra parking at his place—it all seemed to be working out fine.

So I got my ex-Mazda dealer dad to suss out some deals for me, because of course, I'm a Mazda car person and always will be. They're just a fantastic car (I would go into a rant about why, but that's a whole other entry). He managed to get me a great deal in Mackay—and even with flights up, fuel and driving back I was still better off than buying direct here in Brisbane.

After much running around with the bank (getting contracts signed, finding JPs, transferring monies etc), who said I passed a loan application with flying colours, I secured my new car and made plans to get up to Mackay with the boy to drive the new green machine back home. :)

Twelve hours of driving and it's sitting outside my little art deco unit waiting for my council parking permit so it can stay there every day without fear of a fine. ^_^ So exciting! Back in the wheels again.

Pilgrims by Will Elliott

Two friends of mine introduced me to this Brisbane author and insisted I read his first book, The Pilo Family Circus. A sucker for horror fiction I started it straight away. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting and took me some time to get into; however by halfway I was hooked. Pilgrims is no different, although I’m not a fantasy fiction reader, the story was not so fantastical as to keep someone like me from continuing on to the end. Probably a good thing since it’s the start of a trilogy.

A mysterious door appears below a train bridge where our lead character, Eric, passes it every day on his way to and from work. One day the door opens and they discover there’s another world beyond the door along with some other world characters who have popped in and quickly disappear.

You can probably guess where this is going, right? Yes, the protagonist, Eric and his friend, the bum who lives under the train bridge open the door and go through to the other side. Where they discover they’re suddenly on a journey with some interesting and varied characters from the other world.

I liked this book because it takes you on a journey with it’s characters, always picking up and discarding people along the way and in the background a war is brewing. Hugely funny in places, much to Will Elliott’s style, and terrifying in others I really can’t wait to break the spine of book two: Shadow.

Community Recovery

Virtually the entire department I work for has been out on Community Recovery since the floods hit Queensland. Of course, once the floods started taking out more and more towns, they kicked up the training sessions to twice a day for… well, I think they’re still running.

I only did my recovery training a few weeks ago since I was tagged as someone who needed to be in the office (whichever available office we could work from while ours was being flood affected) so I could write and post stories to our website. When Cyclone Yasi hit and again I was needed for more story preparations and it seemed like little chance of me going anywhere.

Now we’re back in our office, and most of the team is back from leave/Community Recovery/other life commitments, I got the call and was placed inIpswich for a week. Slightly less interesting than the previously thought placement of Cairns or Townsville, but also a relief that I didn’t have to go away for 7 days and could come home every night, even if it was a long commute each way.

The whole processes was very tiring given I’d already worked a four day week and come Friday I felt like I should be ending the week with drinks and happy thoughts of two days off. Unfortunately I was starting a new week and wouldn’t get my weekend until the following Wednesday.

The first four days I was lucky enough to be placed in Goodna Service Centre where I could sit in an office and process people’s applications for financial assistance for them. Each centre also housed Centrelink officers, Red Cross, Lifeline and a security guard, so we had no end of support—I really loved working with the people from Red Cross and Lifeline, they’re amazing in their volunteer work and looking after, not just the stressed out people coming through the door, but also us Community workers.

I will admit that being in a people facing environment again was refreshing the first day, everyone was happy with the cheques and assistance I could offer them. Come the second day though, when the Emergent Assistance Grant was no longer available, we saw the more colourful and challenging characters coming out of the woodwork to pile abuse upon us for not giving them what they wanted. I could understand their situation, but unfortunately, I have to follow suit with what services/assistance we’re allowed to offer. It’s also difficult to see people who have already been through so much stress to have to face yet another challenge put in place by the government.

For four days I had people cry, shout, argue, hug me—and while those nice people who sat down to tell me their story made my week, I was also vastly aware of the safety of my silent cubicle back in Brisbane CBD. By day 8 I was well and truly ready to get back to my writer monkey position.

My final day I was sent back to Ipswich Coordination Centre and put on Outreach, which means you spend all day in a Community Recovery 4WD with one other person door knocking in all the affected areas in that region and talking to people about their circumstances, making sure they’re aware of any payments they may be entitled to.

My housing officer I was pared with was happy to hear that I could read a map and made me navigator for the day while she steered the giant 4WD around Goodna and Gailes area. It was a long day, I imagine even longer if you didn’t like the person you were pared with, but I enjoyed it more than sitting in the Recovery Centre. Instead of doing assessments and delivering bad news to those ineligible for assistance, I was actually just talking to people and hearing their stories and providing them information—and as a writer I feel much more comfortable doing this than filling in administrative forms.

My two fatigue days came as something of a relief with me falling in bed around 8pm on Tuesday night.

I’ve already been asked when I can be deployed again—I do like that I have the option of putting my personal life first when I can and I’m playing that card now. But, in the longer term view this thing is definitely far from over, so I expect to be placed again in the not too distant future.