Sand

Farewell 2009, Welcome 2010

This may be late. But, still worthwile.

Well, 2009 is over. So, here is an overview

Most embarassing moment : no ultrasounds this year

Most painful moment : back and chest being waxed (again don'task)

Favourite TV show : Lost Season 5

Worst movie : Curse of the Golden Flower

Best movie : Slumdog Millonaire

Most memorable moment : Having a shower in a moving motorhome at a 100km/h driving down a freeway in Perth

Favourite book : Byzantium by Stephen Lawhead and A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khalen Husseini

So based on the current data at hand, 2009 will be a great year.

No Coriander!

Well, here we are again. One of my current realities is that I still live at home with my family. I am blessed with a loving familiy and a warm home. But, as a young, single bachelor, it is time I spread my wings and move out. So, I have begun the process of searching for houses, packing my possessions and diving into the sea of Bachelorhood.

A few days ago, I decided to take a risk and help my mother cook dinner. So, I entered the most sacred room, known as the kitchen. I asked mum what dinner were we going to cook. Her answer was Thai Green Curry. My stomach grumbled and I could smell all the herbs and spices already.

Lets take a step back and consider this. My mother is Italian and is a brilliant cook. Her kitchen is her sanctuary and her refuge of peace and hope. I am Italian and am a novice regarding all items that need to be cooked and, in her own words, "can only toast a piece of bread." In her eyes, I am invading her sanctuary with my mere presence and seeming ignorance.

Back to the kitchen, as I observed in silence, the chicken was sliced and being cooked. So, the next step, was for the curry sauce to be mixed in. This curry sauce was from a packet. My hunger increased as I read the recipe and saw that it asked for coriander and snowpeas and coconut milk. But, my blood pressure soared as I noticed that my mother was deviating from the recipe. Instead of snowpeas, she added some other green thing. Instead of coconut milk, she added Full Cream milk. Instead of Coriander, nothing. My mother did not add coriander. Nada. How can a Thai Green Curry not have coriander?

So, I took the unprecedented step of questioning my mother's cooking. I gently pointed out that there is no coriander and that we should use COCONUT milk and SNOWpeas. There was a moment of silence and then she grabbed a chopping knife and thrust it into my chest and stabbed me repeatedly to my death. Well, that was what I thought would happen judging by the look in her eyes. With fear in my eyes, I pointed to the recipe. Mum scoffed at the recipe and proceeded to cook, ignoring my protests.

So, I have been banished from the kitchen, never to return. When I move into my new home, I will plant coriander next to my kitchen window and remember that day of failed defiance.

The smile of death

Have you ever seen a dead body? I don't mean in a hospital or on a program like CSI. Have you ever seen a dead body in a place where everyone else is alive, where it shouldn't be. I have.

Once, in Santiago, Chile, I was at these shops near my house. There was a horrific car accident at a large intersection near the shops. Two cars collided and exploded. Being the curious person I am; I had to have a look. The smell hit me before I saw anything; the smell of burnt rubber mixed mingled with the stench of melting flesh. I saw the burtn skeletons of two cars and I saw the black, charred remains of the passengers. Their journey was over. As a fourteen year old, I still remember this.

Once, in India, I was on a bus from Chandigarrh to the airport in Delhi to travel home. As we travelled on the highway, we swerved all forms of vehicle or animal. It was a journey of survival. Along the way, I saw a dead body lying on the side of the road. We never stopped to see who this person was. Nobody did. Nobody cared.

Life is a gift and it is beautiful. But, here is the twist; I meet dead people every day. What I do mean by this? Their bodies are alive, they breathe air and blood is pumping through their veins. But, I look into their eyes and they are dead. Despair has overtaken their Hope. Their joy is extinguished by grief. Peace has been crushed by doubt.

In my favourite movie, Gladiator, Maximus (brilliantly played by Russell Crowe), says "Death smiles at us all; all one can do is smile back." One of the few certainties in life, is death. It is too easy to allow the darkness of fear and doubt to consume your spirit. Instead, allow the light of peace and hope to enrich your spirit. I am inspired by the words of Jesus of Nazareth, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

What do people see when they look in your eyes? Light or darkness. Life or death.

Top Gear

A few months ago, I handed the keys of my beloved 1995 Hyundai Excel to the mechanic for a service. In return, when he finished his work, he handed me a bill for 900 hundred dollars. Thats right, nine hundred Australian dollars. My heart sank. This car was worth more as a heap of junk.

So, I approached a second car dealer. He worked next to the Ugly Duckling, such painful memories. He encouraged me to walk around and have a look at the available cars. So, I meandered around and there it was. It shone in the sun. Its sharp angles reflect the light in all directions. Its deep gunmetal grey paint cried out for my attention.

So, after a lot of thinking, and many restless nights, I traded in my faithful excel and bought a 2000 Hyundai Accent. It was love at first sight. Now, the Excel meant nothing to me. The Accent had power in the form of a twin cam engine and style, in the form of a rear spoiler, which merely confirmed my masculinity.

You see, a car is important to me since i drive roughly forty minutes to and from work every day. I drive from east Melbourne to south Melbourne across the Eastlink through busy traffic. Sometimes, I am driven off the road by semitrailers or am overtaken by 4WD's or fuel hungry sedans. Nevertheless, every day is a different and unexpected journey.

Here are some of the stereotype or lables I apply to the different vehicles I encounter.

• Rusted Semi-trailer - The driver is overweight, bearded and has a bottle of beer in his hand and likes to be in control.
• 4WD - The driver is a mother or businesswoman or both. The vehicle is in mint condition and never has been driven properly in rough, 4WD terrain.
• Large, fuel-hungry sedans - The driver is male, business type with a bluetooth headset and is forever driven by the clock and the next deadline. Most probably with a German manufactured engine. Don't mention the war. (Forgive the Fawlty Towers reference)
  
• 2000 Hyundai Accent - The driver is suave, charming, intelligent, confident adn good looking.

A sobering thought struck me as I was driving. As I drive in my bubble I call a vehicle, every other vehicle around me becomes an obstacle to my final destination. The appearance of these obstacles, or vehicles, defines the label or stereotype placed on the driver. But, the realilty is that every vehicle that I encounter on the road is driven by a human being. This is may sound quite simple. But, my point is that as a driver, I treat the vehicle next to me as an obstacle or an inanimate object that I just ignore or treat with contempt. But, every vehicle is being driven by a person with ambitions, dreams, anxieties and pains. I am challenged by the way I drive and how I treat others on the road. It is so easy for us to label a person based on the vehicle they drive and treat them as their stereotype dictates.

A quote says, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"

Then again, I love the label applied to the 2000 Hyundai Accent, quite accurate in my opinion.

I was sick!

Well, as swine flu sweeps across this nation, I bravely am still here writing. This entry is late though; let me explain.

A few weeks ago, I felt very cold with chills and realised I had a fever. So, I did not go to work and stayed home to recover. Instead, my condition worsened and I also had the flu. Every joint in my body groaned. I became delirious and could not think straight. At one point, I thought I saw the Angel of Death coming towards me and realised it was my sister coming to check on my temperature.

So, I visited a doctor and he gave me some medication. But, unfortunately, my weary body had an allergic reaction to the penicillin in the medication (I mean seriously, who uses penicillin these days?). This allergic reaction caused me to break out into hives and had pretty serious asthma. I felt like I had been bitten by a thousand mosquitoes and was coughing up a lung. So, on the saturday night, my family were quite worried and rushed me to hospital. So I waited for an hour and a half in the emergency ward. Once a doctor came to see me, he immediately put me in a hospital bed and placed an IV of fluids and antihistamines in my left arm, an oxygen mask on my face and an injection of more antihistamines in my right bicep. So the next day, I left the hospital with enough medication to last a lifetime. Apparently, the blood tests confirmed I did not have swine flu, even though I felt I had the bubonic plague.

So, a week and a half later, here I am. I can breathe again and am recovering. Life is beautiful

Life is like an airport

Well, here we are again.  My audience craves yet another insight into my unfathomable mind.

Life is like an airport.  Always changing; People leaving and entering my life.  One airport that will be etched in my mind is the Leonardo Da Vinci airport in Rome, where I caused a minor security scare.  (Why is it always me that ends up in these situations?  For an example of this, please refer to my previous entry, Manhunt in Mitcham)

Many years ago, I embarked on a nine-week journey, studying on the island of Crete and then backpacking around the beautiful countryside of Italy.  On the final week of this trip, i needed to fly from Rome back to Athens and then to Melbourne.  At the Leonardo Da Vinci airport, my weary body made its way through the airport to the terminal.  Along the way, my luggage passed through the metal detector and beeped, catching the attention of the guard.  Bear in mind that this was three days after the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center.  Security was VERY tight at the time, especially for international flights.  I found myself surrounded by three security guards who rummaged through my suitcase with complete disdain. Clothing (mostly dirty), souvenirs, and gifts were thrown aside. 

Finally the culprit was found. The guilty item was my trusty stainless steel pocketknife, faithful in every situation.  Immediately things changed.  The tension in the room increased.  Maybe it was my dark, Mediterranean features or my aggressive nature (as if!), but security demanded I return the knife or place it in a box, which would be placed in the cargo of the plane.  I agreed to have the knife in a box, but they informed that they had no more boxes and I had to hand in the knife.  Being the stubborn Italian-Australian I am, I refused.  The tension increased.  Nobody moved.  Time stopped.  You could hear the whistle from the Good, the Bad and the Ugly in the background. There was a tense standoff between myself (the Good), three security guards (The Bad) and the cute Italian flight attendant (the Ugly).

All of a sudden, the cute Italian flight attendant, let’s call her Giovanna, looked at my ticket in her hand and said, “Senor, your flight leaves in five minutes.”  In a state of panic, I hurled the knife at one of the security guards and ran to my checkout counter.  Of course, being faithful to Murphy’s law, my checkout counter was a whole kilometer away.  So, by the time I arrived at the counter, an asthma attack had seized me.  Now normally at a flight counter, several hundred people are congregated waiting to leave or farewell others.  But in my case, there was no one.  It was just me and Monica, the flight attendant.  She greeted me with “Are you Mr. Grace?”  (All my life, I have wanted to have a pretty Italian to ask me this!)  She then proceeded to contact the pilot to see if he had already left the tarmac.  Now, let us pause and consider this.  I guess the pilot was busy checking the pressure of the tires or something like that.

So, I then sprinted down the ramp to a bus that was waiting to carry me to my plane.  These buses (with no seats) are full of people packed like sardines.  Not this one.  The one was empty.  It was just the driver and I.  All you could hear was my beating heart and my asthmatic cough.

Well, finally I stepped onto the plane that was waiting for me.  Everybody was seated.  The plane was already fuelled up and ready to go.  Needless to say, I was not the most popular passenger that day. 

I would like to issue an apology to the Italian government for causing a minor security scare and to the security guards for throwing a trusty, stainless steel knife at them and the Giovanna and Monica for being abrupt and breathless and to the passengers in the Alitalia flight for delaying their flight.

The Man who was Born to Die

On February 7, 2009 bushfires raged through Victoria, causing devastation and loss of life.  

A few weeks ago, I went with some friends to badly affected Kinglake where the bushfires devasted some of the Victorian landscape.  I was struck and overwhelmed by the devastation. Australian flags hung on the rubble of burnt properties. A green forest stripped back to a eerie, desolate scene.  Kinglake National Park is shut indefinitely.  The walls of the police station are blackened by the fire.  The pizza shop is gone forever.

Yet, as we looked on I was impacted by the contrast I saw in a fern nearby.  The stark contrast of the lush fern against the darkened, burnt trees around it.  The vivid colour of the fern was even brighter against the darkness of the destruction.  This for me is what easter is about. Easter is about new life.

According to the Christian faith, Easter is a remembrance of the death of Jesus and a celebration of His resurrection.  But, why is the death of one man so important that it is still being remembered two thousand years later?  After all, he was the not the only man to be crucified.  This was common practice at the time.  For me, Jesus is remembered because of what he said and the way he said it.  Accoring to the Bible, Jesus said, "I am the way the truth and the life.  No one comes to Father but by me.”  He also said, "I am the resurrection and the life.  He who believes in me will live, even though he dies and whoever lives and believes in me will never die."  On an initial glance, these statements can be discounted as abstract and philosophical statements. Unless, Jesus Christ, was telling the truth about what he said.  A closer look is needed at Jesus.  He died, in the most shameful way, as he said he would; Jesus rose again, three days later.  This is verified by eyewitness accounts from the 12 apostles and from 500 witnesses at different points in time.  

Now, we can speculate, debate and discuss the implications of a physical man dying and coming back to life three days later.  But, I have a simple question here for everyone.  Jesus publicly declared He would die and rise again three days later ( a very definitive statement)  So, either Jesus was a raving fool and liar or Jesus was lucid and made these statements with the understanding of what would happen : that he was born to die. (Isn't it interesting that the two biggest public holidays in the world revolve around the birth and death of Jesus)

Jesus' life, bold statements, shameful death and prophesied resurrection cannot be ignored.   Jesus Christ is either embraced and followed as more than a philosopher and teacher or he is ignored and shunned as an empty voice.  

In my eyes, Jesus death gives new life for all who choose to believe.

Guitar Concierto de Aranjuez

I believe the body and the soul are connected; what I hear with my senses can affect and nourish my soul. An example of this is Rodrigo’s Guitar Concierto de Aranjuez.

Joaquin Rodrigo was born in the year of 1901. He was an exceptional pianist and composed many pieces over his lifetime. But, Concierto de Aranjuez is the piece he is most well known for. Joaquin Rodrigo wrote this piece in 1939, as the Spanish Civil War was ending and the Second World War was starting. At this time, Joaquin was excited at the news of his first child. On the night when the baby was due, tragedy struck and his wife miscarried. Stricken with grief, Rodrigo sat at his piano and composed this piece in one night. Now, here is the twist. Joaquin Rodrigo was blind when he wrote the piece. In fact, he had been blind since the age of three. Not only that, he wrote this piece for guitar despite the fact that he was a master at piano, but nowhere near as good with the guitar. So, this went onto become one of the most popular pieces of twentieth century classical music.

It is interesting that a piece of music, with baroque influence and flamenco rhythm, can appeal to such a widespread audience. Its influence is so varied. A few examples are :

Music

• Miles Davies, one of the greatest 20^th century jazz musicians, was in awe of this piece and transposed it to jazz trumpet and used it in his popular album, Sketches of Spain.
• Amici Forever, the Opera Band – a cover song in their album defined.
• Chick Corea re-interprets the second movement in his live jazz performances.

TV

• Fawlty Towers, the memorable comedy with Basil Fawlty (John Cleese) and Manuel (Andrew Sachs) from Barcelona. It is heard in the background the during the episode “Basil the Rat” in Fawlty Towers.
• Nip/Tuck – 2^nd season finale

Movies

• Jesus Film (with well…..)
• Brassed Off (with Ewan McGregor)
• School of Rock (with Jack Black)

Sport

• Michelle Kwan won her fifth World Championship skating to this piece

Religion

• According to wikipedia, Some Jewish cantors, specifically of Sephardic tendency, have adopted the main melody from the Adagio for the Kaddish, one of the most important parts of the Jewish liturgy. This can be seen especially in Sephardic congregations of Latin America (Mexico and Argentina), as well as in Israel. The phrasing of the Kaddish verses corresponds almost perfectly to the phrasing of the Adagio, resulting in a surprising religious effect and tone color.
  

Personally, in my humble opinion, the Concierto de Aranjuez is about hope in a confused world. This piece of music begins with the gentle strum of a Spanish guitar. (All pieces of music should begin with the gentle strum of a Spanish guitar.) The adagio movement shifts in mood from intense and melancholic to wondrous joy. This is how life is. A tireless journey with valleys of struggles and mountain peaks of victories. I will never forget the death of my grandfather or saying goodbye to my previous life as I moved from country to country. Yet, I will always rejoice as I remember my first kiss, sitting around the table with my family eating homemade pasta or watching as Australia qualified for the World Cup of soccer (for the first time in hundreds of years – well, it felt that way at least). This is life and this is captured in this piece. This world is being shackled by stereotypes, labels, and catch phrases like Global Financial Crisis, climate change and political correctness. And yet there is hope. As the adagio draws to an end, the orchestra builds up and finally the solo guitarist takes over and breaks through and swells joy crescendo.

“The whole second movement was his way of conversing with God,” Pepe Romero said, referring to Joaquin Rodrigo. (http://www.audaud.com/article.php?ArticleID=1101, 2009) Rodrigo expressed all the raw emotions of loss, despair, hope and freedom. I believe the Concierto de Aranjuez captures the character of God. Not a God of fury and anger but a God of creativity and beauty who offers hope to those who will listen. In one of the Psalms of the Bible, it says “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want….Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Joaquin Rodrigo understood that God was not only with him in the highest mountain; but also in the darkest valley

This first clip of John Williams, one of the greatest classical guitarists, playing the second movement of the Concierto de Aranjuez with the Berlin Philharmonic, Live at Waldbuhne, Berlin, Germany June 21, 1998.

 

This second clip of Paco de Lucia, the master flamenco guitarists, interpreting the second movement of the Concierto de Aranjuez.

Fine Fine

Recently, in my local council, elections were held to choose the new mayor.  This is part of the democratic process in this country.  The people choose who should represent them.  From the people, for the people.  We have a choice.  But, I ignored this choice and forgot to vote.  Now, this was unintentional; I just forgot.  Now, I could blame the Global Financial Crisis or climate change; but I clean forgot.  Well, I could walk away from this mistake and learn for next time.  But, instead, the Victoria Government has decided to fine me for failing to Vote.  I mean, can u believe it!!  A fine!!

Well, I have had enough.  Fine.  So, the fine has been paid.

But, this is not the first time.

1. Speeding fines - How can they fine me for speeding over a speed limit which they determine.  It is not my fault the speed limit was too low.
2. Parking fines - I grew up in a third world country where parking was based on whoever drove the bigger vehicle.  This could be a new policy for the Victorian government.
3. Fines for crossing a light that is not the color green.  What right does the government have to determine red as a colour for stop.  In some cultures, the colour for stop is the faded grey of a gun or a tank.  (Don't mention the war.)
4. Centrelink, a welfare organisation, fined me for receiving payments from them that i was apparently not entitled to receive.  
5. Video shop fine - It is not my fault that the movie was so good I had to watch it again.
6. Library fine - Today, I received a ten dollar fine for having a book that was three weeks overdue.  Now, it is not my fault that it was such a good book.  Highly recommended (Christopher Priest for those who are interested)

After being battered by fines by every government department or retail establishment, which in turn pays money to the government, I have had enough.  

Most probably, I will be fined for writing this blog.  Last weekend I was hiking in a cave near the Twelve apostles, the wall of the cave smashed into my head causing lots of blood to flow.  Will I be fined by the Victorian State Government for leaving blood in a national park?  Or should the cave be fined for causing damage to my head?  

You are most probably thinking : If I had followed the rules, then there would have been no fines.  But, I draw a line in the sand.  There should be a system where for every good deed acted on, you receive a credit point.  This credit point can then be used when an infringement is committed as a form of payment.  For example, when I give way at an intersection to allow an elderly lady to cross the road, then I receive an immediate credit point.  When I drive my car in the left lane, using bio-fuel and driving twenty kilometres below the speed limit, then an immediate 5 credit points is allocated to me.  So, there is always balance.

P.S.  If anyone would like to contribute to the Payment of Fines for Andrew Grace Fund (PoFAGF) please leave a comment in this entry.

The One That Got Away

During a past summer, Robert, Rod and myself travelled down to Mornington to embark on a fishing experience.  This is the story of the one that got away.

Now, before I go on, I need to explain how diametrically opposed these two friends are : Robert and Rod.  The only similarities are that their names both begin with R.  

Lets Start with Robert.  Robert is one who is most dignified and cultured.  Rumour has it that he descended from the Royal family (still to be confirmed).  At home, i will find him drawing a castle or playing the violin or polishing his Queen Anne couch.  But, above all, his faith  in God inspires me every day.

Let's move on to Rod.  Rod is one who is the quintessential bachelor.  As soon as you walk in the house and past the line of fishing rods, you can sense that he is unique.  But, above all, his faith in God inspires and encourages me.

So, back to the story.  We hiked for a kilometre or two to a river.  For some reason, I was the designated one to carry the bait and equipment all the way (I am still bitter).  Anyways, when we arrived at the river, the conditions were pristine.  The birds were chirping, the water was sparkling and the sun bathed us in its warmth.  With much excitement, I baited my hook and cast the rod with much vigour.   Sort of.   The hook caught on the collar of my shirt and the line tangled around me.

So, on my second attempt, I cast my rod again.  The hook flew through the air and across the river and landed on the other side of the river.  So, I slowly reeled in the line; when all of a sudden, a blur of grey ran out of a bush and bit my hook.  A moorhen came from nowhere and grabbed my bait.  Hook, line and sinker.  

Now, according to wikipedia, "Moorhens, sometimes called marsh hens, are medium-sized water birds which are members of the rail family Rallidae. They constitute the genus Gallinula.^[1]They are close relatives of coots, and because of their apparently nervous behavior (frequently twitching tail and neck) are sometimes called "skitty coots". Often, they are referred to as (black) gallinules.Moorhens can walk very well on strong legs, and have long toes that are well adapted to soft uneven surfaces.

These birds are omnivorous taking plant material, small animals and eggs. They are aggressively territorial during the breeding season, but are otherwise often found in sizeable flocks on the shallow vegetated lakes they prefer."

Now, let us pause and consider what is happening.  I am in the beautiful Mornington Peninsula wiht two good friends on a fishing experience.  Now, generally, fishing, according to wikipedia, is the "activity of catching fish."  But, instead, I have caught a hen or a bird!  

So, I had no choice but to reel in this moorhen to retrieve my hook.  As I stood on the jetty and reeled in my line, the moorhen had other ideas and tried to fly away.  The battle was set.  A five foot uni student on a jetty versus a medium - sized water hen in the air.  It was vicious; but eventually, I won.  Sort of.  After I reeled in the moorhen onto the jetty, Rod pinned it down and tore the hook out.  By that time, the moorhen was quite violent and scratched Rod's hands quite badly.  But, Rod was brave and once the hook was removed, the moorhen was released and got away.

So, ends the story of the One that Got Away.  

NOTE : To all environmentally conscious readers, the moorhen is fine.

2nd NOTE : To all non-envrionmentally conscious readers, Rod is fine

Welcome to my nephew Eloi Simeon Grace

Proud parents Tim and Jacqui

Proud Uncle Andrew with his newphew Eloi (who has  a strong grip on his finger)

A New Superhero

Have you ever been asked what superhero you would be?  I would be Gadget Man.  You may not have heard of him.  There have been other superheroes, such as Batman, Superman, Ironman or Spiderman.  But, Gadget Man is who I would be.  Basically, Gadget Man owns all the gadgets of the world and has them at his disposal to save the world from its problems.  Perhaps the heat wave has begun to mess with my head.  Basically, I hang my head in shame and admit I LOVE MY GADGETS.  Let me explain.

 Here are my 3 favourite gadgets : 

1.          GPS (Global Navigational System) : Tom Tom One XL.  Really Cool.  This GPS has the ability to guide me to any street or location in Australia.  I have the ability to choose what voice to hear and can decide what is the best route to travel.  Whenever I am lost, MY GPS can find my location and guide me home safely.

2.         Another one of my favourite gadgets is my 80 Gb Ipod Classic.  At the time, this was the high end of the Ipod range.  With the ability to play a myriad of podcasts, all my music, videos, TV shows, games and store my vast collection of photos.  This Ipod was a status symbol which I cherished, that is until the iphone was released .  Now my Ipod Classic has been relegated to stand aside common gadgets.

3.         Finally, my phone.  The ubiquitous accessory that every human being must have.  It is a Nokia 6500 slide phone.  Black Finish with Carl Zeiss Lens for its 2.5 Mb camera.  This phone basically exudes coolness and sophistication.  That is until the Nokia N96 is released with its touchscreen and slide out QWERTY keyboard. ( I am salivating already)

Sad, isn't it?  I love my family and friends but I love my gadgets as well.  In one sentence, I am applying the word love to my beautiful family and friends and then to lifeless pieces of metal and plastic.  It is so easy to have this continuous lack of contentment trying to have the latest model or trendiest fashion.  I found such delight in my gadget until the next model was released, which was a week later.  This can easily be applied to what I wear, what I drive or how I appear.

There is this quote from the Bible that says, "For we brought nothing into this world, and we can take nothing out of it.  But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that."  By no means is this saying that we should throw away all our gadgets and all our possessions; but, I think it helps to place a priority and perspective on everything around us.  Technology changes and trends come and go; but family and friends remain (and they cannot be upgraded).  In the last few days, this nation has faced a terrible tragedy in the form of bushfires which showed no regard for status or income; where everything has been lost.  There is a further quote in the Bible, "Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun."  Whether I own much or have lost everything,  I am grateful for the life God has given me and the blessing of family and friends.

Well, this blog must end; my phone has finished charging and my ipod has finished syncing.  

It is Hot

As I pondered today what to write.  Several topics churned in my head from events in the last week. The inauguration of President Obama (congratulations) , my holidays on the Mornington Peninsula, the excitement of the Australian Open or the decline of the Australian team in the one day cricket.  Whilst, all these topics are riveting and need to be addressed, the extreme heat impeded me from writing.  Tragic.

You may be wondering how does some mild heat stop someone from writing?  Good question.  I am glad you asked.  

This is not just mild heat.  Yesterday, it was 37 degrees.  Today, the temperature hit 40 degrees.  Tomorrow, it will be even hotter.  Not only that, the heat is not just hot, but dry and arid.  It takes incredible effort just to breathe.  The heat was so intense that the railway tracks for the public transport buckled because of the heat.  (Lynn Kosky, the public transport minister should be sacked).  Because of the heat, 150 of the rail services have been cancelled (Get rid of Kosky).  The railway service, Connex, resorted to handing out free bottles of water and ice-cream to impatient passengers. (Again, blame Kosky - why are bottles of water being handed when we are in the middle of a severe drought) 

This is not just hot heat.  During the Australian Open of Tennis, Novak Djokovic, the defending champion, retired because of heat exhaustion.  The roof to the stadium had to be closed.  The tennis ball spontaneously combusted during a match.  Nadal served the ball.  It sizzled as it flew through the air and then burst into flames in mid-air.

This is the hottest heat in the last 100 years in Australia.  Blackouts are expected as the demand for electricity is at an all time high.  Rubbish bins around the city are spontaneously combusting.

So, to all the readers of this blog, I apologise for not writing a blog entry.    I had intened on writing an entry; but, it is hot.  Really hot.  

Embrace the Pain

Streaks of pain ran down my back as I worked today.  My right thigh muscle throbbed with every step.  My body ached with every breath.  So, let me explain.  Yesterday, I visited the gym during my lunch break.  This gym is only five hundred metres from my work and is my way of relieving stress and remaining reasonably fit during my workdays.  Yesterday, the workout consisted of running (1km), cycling (4.5km) and boxing.  All of this under 37 degree heat.  I suffered.  Why as rational human beings do we place ourselves under this torture?  The physical body was not meant for this.  

Many years ago, when I was thirteen years old, I was playing soccer with some friends at a birthday party.  During the match, I was tackled from behind (a highly illegal move) and the player fell on my left thigh.  Consequently, my left femur was broken in two.  The match was stopped and I was moved to a bench; this shifted my broken leg.  By the time I arrived at the hospital, both broken bones were side by side.  After surgery, I was in a body cast from the bottom of my ribcage to the ankle of my left foot and to the knee of my right foot, for six weeks.  These six weeks were life changing.  At the age of thirteen, I was confined to a bed.  Everything, I mean everything, was brought to me.  This including being hand washed, hand fed and the toilet came to me.  This is not easy for a 13 year old, who is discovering the world.  I even travelled on an international flight Chile to Australia, in this body cast.  The cast spanned the distance of two plane seats and a bit more.   During the flight, the plastered foot stuck out into the aisle.  Every passenger on the flight must have knocked the cast.  Just in case you are wondering, I am fine now.  But, at the time, it was difficult and challenging.   

When I was eighteen years old, I spent five days in hospital for a series of test.  One of these tests was a spinal tap.  Basically, the test consists of me curling up on my side in a foetal position and then a sharp needle being placed into my spinal cord and fluid being removed, all for testing purposes.  The pain descends after you straighten out and the needle is removed.  The human body was never created for such pain.

There is an interesting quote that spoke about pain or suffering.  It said, "know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character; and character, hope.  And hope does not disappoint us."  Basically, we live in a world where there is pain and suffering.  But, at times, we try to deny or avoid the pain.  But, perseverance is a result of working through the pain.  Character, the moral strength of a person, is developed; from this hope.  In this world, hope will thrive and triumph.

Romance in Rome or otherwise knows as Beauty and the Beast

Well, my fingers dance randomly across the keyboard as I ponder about what to write in my next entry. So, here goes.

In 2001, i studied and backpacked around Europe. Half the trip was spent on the island of Crete, completed my degree in IT. The rest of the trip was a chaotic journey across Greece, across the Adriatic Sea, and the slow climb from Brindisi (southern Italy) to Sondrio (nothern Italy -where my relatives lived). Along the way, I caught with one of my close mates, James Kenyon. We met at the foot of the Colosseum in Rome. It was fairly easy to find; hop on a subway and go towards the station called the Colosseo. So logical. If only Melboure were this logical. For example, if I needed to go work, I simply hop in a train and head towards the station called work. Brilliant.

Back to my story, James and I visited several destinations in Rome, including the Colosseum, Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon and the Vatican. As James and I meandered (or was it sauntered) around St Peters Square and were amazed at the architecture around us. I saw a newly wed couple posing for photos in the middle of the square. They seem to be quite wealthy; both of them were dressed in an opulent fashion. This is besides the fact that the couple are having their wedding photos taken in front of the Vatican in the middle of St Peters Square. I mean, seriously, who has their wedding photos taken in front of the Vatican among priests and clergymen and in view of archbishops, Swiss Guards and possibly the Pope.

So, (I can't remember whose idea this was) James or I suggested I get a photo with the bride; just the bride.

Now, let us consider this for a brief moment. The bride was stunning; she dark, olive skin and wore in a white wedding dress that shimmered in the sun. On the other hand, I was not stunning, but rugged. Instead, I was unshaven, sweaty and dressed in drab travel gear. ( So, I waited until the groom was distracted and approached the bride and, in broken Italian, asked for a photo. She said yes!!!!

So, here I present to you Beauty and the Beast. (I will let you decide who is the beauty and who is the beast).

Goodbye 2008, Welcome 2009

Well, 2008 is over.  So, here is an overview

Most embarassing moment : ultrasound on my groin (don't ask) - Just in case you were worried, I am fine.

Most painful moment : back and chest being waxed (again don'task)

Favourite TV show : Lost Season 4

Worst movie : The Happening (M. Night Shmayalan disappointing)

Best movie : a close tie between The Dark Knight and Bedtime Stories

Most memorable moment : Learning how to build a computer from scratch - I have created a monster

Favourite book : Adam by Ted Dekker and the Shack by William P. Young

So based on the current data at hand, 2009 will be a great year.

Manhunt in Mitcham

In my past, I used to work as a bookkeeper for a non-profit organisation in Mitcham, an eastern suburb of Melbourne. (Can you imagine me balancing books and writing financial reports? Either this organisation enjoyed taking risks or they were desperate). Anyways, I digress.

On a Wednesday morning, I woke up late and missed my train. So, by the time I arrived at the Mitcham train station, I was one hour late. Normally, it was required of me to walk roughly two kilometres to my workplace. Today, I was struck by a briliant idea and proceeded to ask for a ride from someone in the carpark. (Before I continue, my action is justified since I grew up in a third world country and catching rides from strangers is a natural thing to do.) So, I quickly approached a small hatchback and was about to knock on the window. The driver, who was a young female, panicked and drove off; even though I was dressed in a smart business attire and was carrying a briefcase.

Let us take a moment and consider my situation. I am one hour late and have just frightened a random, young female driver.

So, my mode of transportation changed and I proceeded to walk. One hundred metres from my workplace, a police car approached me (with its siren on - as if I could not see it). A police officer stepped out dressed in a fluorescent yellow vest and asked me, "We are looking for a man who matches your description. Apparently, this man tried to attack a women in her car." Now, firstly, I would love to know what my description was. Secondly, why are they looking for me?

For the next thirty minutes, I experienced the Spanish Inquisition all over again. The police officer interrogated me regarding my occupation, why I needed a ride and so on. All of this on the street in public view for all and sundry to see. After the officer was satisfied that I was being honest, he pulled out his walkie talkie and said "Cancel, Cancel, Cancel, We found the man."

Let us take a moment and consider my situation. I am one hour and a half hour late, have frightened a random, female driver, and am being publicly interrogated by the police.

The police officer turned to me and said, "Do you realise that there is a manhunt looking for you?" Of course, my answer was no. (At this point, I should have run into the side streets and hid beneath the bushes.) He said, "Yes, there are dogs, one divisional van, two police cars and a helicopter looking for you." (Now, what should be my reaction to this?) He then said, "Please don't hitchhike. This lady was so frightened she dialled Emergency (000)."

FINALLY, I arrived at my workplace. More than two hours late. As I walked in the door, my boss wished to speak to me. I knew there were two possible outcomes : either he would fire me or he would see the funny side of the situation and laugh. Fortunately, my boss is irish and chose the latter option.........

........whenever a helicopter flew over the workplace, everyone looked at me.

In conclusion, I would to apologise to this random, female driver who I never met. My humble apologies. I would also like to thank all the taxpayers for covering the expenses of the manhunt in Mitcham.

Merry Christmas

On my last day of work, I wished my colleague a Merry Christmas and he turned to me and said "No, Happy Holidays!"  I was struck by how one day of the year, Christmas, has been changed and re-labelled.  How the frantic purchase of gifts and yearly photo with Santa Claus take precedence.  As we sing carols, there is a strange blend of Jingle Bells, Santa Claus, Rudolph combined with 3 Kings, Away in a Manger, O Holy Night, Silent Night.  I feel confused since it is as if there are two distinct holidays being celebrated.  One focuses on a jolly man from an unknown area with 12 reindeers that can deliver gifts everywhere.  (Santa Claus, or St Nicholas, has been commercialised from his true nature.  If you trace back to the origins of St. Nicholas, there are a myriad of tales of his origins as a saint who gave gifts)  The other one focuses on a unusual and bizarre account of a baby in a manger surrounded by shepherd and farm animals.  

A clue to what Christmas is about is found in the first six letters of the word Christmas. Christmas also has mention of a baby born in a manger and Mary and Joseph and shepherds. There seems to be a clash between the spending of cash and a baby in a manger.  So, what is it about this baby that generates so much interest?  So, I quickly dashed to faithful Wikipedia and Google to research about this baby; who was born to die.  We seem to focus on the birth of baby Jesus and forget that baby Jesus grew up be a man who died on a cross.  It sounds so morbid and dark.  The celebration of the birth of a baby.  In four months at Easter time, we will remember the death of this baby.  

Perhaps I am morbid to speak about the death of a baby.  Perhaps the fact that the account of the birth of this baby should be remembered even after two thousand years is significant and worth considering further.  As a christian, I have the strong conviction that the greatest gift that was given is Jesus coming to earth.  The frantic and blunt focus on purchasing and buying simply detracts from Jesus.  I did enjoy receiving gifts; but, the true nature is that the greatest gift was one I did not deserve.  The birth of Jesus should be remembered and cherished every day not just once a year.  Let us not forget that baby Jesus grew to become a man who died for all people.  This will be remembered at Easter time (again, we are distracted by the Easter bunny - but thats another blog).

The Ugly Duckling

A weeks ago, my car was broken, my passenger door lock was jimmied and my GPS was stolen.  It was tragic and I felt violated.  Why me?  How dare they?  

To make matters worse, I experienced the joys of liasing between a mechanic and a bureaucratic insurance company.  Finally on Friday, the insurance company settled the payment and my mechanic began work on the remnants of my car lock and handle.  I was elated.

But, I needed a car to get to work.  Fortunately, there was a car rental yard next door.  The name of this place was the Ugly Duckling (this should have my first warning).  This business establishment comprised of one shack and five or six random cars.  I drove away with a white, 8 cylinder, manual Ford Falcon and I was thrilled at the power.  After all, I have only been driving a small Hyundai Excel.  As I was cruising to work, an emergency light flashed on the dashboard and the temperature gauge soared through the roof.  This could not be good.  So, I rang the owner fo the Ugly Duckling and he asked that I turn around and bring the car back.  As I drove back into the yard, smoke began to pour out of the front of the Falcon; as the owner of the Ugly Duckling watched; as potential customers looked.  (This was not great advertising)  So, the owner quickly apologised for the inconvenience and gave me another car at no cost.  

Let us pause and consider my situation.  By now, I am late for work and have driven an overheated car at potential risk of arrest or even death.

The next car was a light brown, rusted, manual Datsun 400 King Cab ute or pickup truck.  I was less elated.  It was a vast improvement in that I survived the trek to work, except the rain seeped through the rusted roof (mild inconvenience).  So after finally arriving at work, I parked my dilapidated hired truck next to the executive cars owned by my managers.  

Let us once again consider my situation.  I am two hours late for work, wet from the rain; having driven a rust bucket.

Well, the next morning I returned my hired pickup truck to the Ugly Duckling fifteen minutes after nine am.  The owner was upset because he was supposed to close at nine am.  Who closes their business at nine am on a Saturday morning?   Apparently, he was annoyed because the white Ford Falcon overheated and the alternator belt broke and the cost to fix it was high; as if it were my fault.  So, he charged me ten dollars for the petrol and that was the end of my dealing with the Ugly Duckling.   

So, the Ugly Duckling will never become a beautiful Swan.