Kerry Tolson's Blog, page 4

Corrugated Lines : A Festival of Words - Broome WA

image from Corrugated Lines: A festival of words Facebook Page. I am absolutely thrilled to be invited to participate at this years Corrugated Lines : A Festival of Words in Broome (5th, 6th & 7th of August) where I’ll be chatting about my book – Buddhas, Bombs and the Babu, as well as the minefields of writing about family and far-flung places. 

Every time I think about this upcoming event, I get goosebumps; a tickling excitement of being an author speaking at a writers festival and every now and then I break out into a little dance and sing " Yay! I’m jetting off to an exotic location to mingle with the literati -  is this really my life? ".  Although,  it’s more often the little nodes are fear horripilations  and the little song sounds more like a squeal of "what if I forget what words are and end up sounding like a blank page". 

I can’t wait to meet fellow readers and book lovers to discuss  and share new title suggestions that’ll encourage lots more late night reading and  I’m so looking forward to hearing readings and discussions from the attending authors like the fascinating Pat Lowe (who with Eirlys Richard will be launching the book ‘Two Sisters’), award winning Jacqueline Wright (Red Dirt Talking),  and Emilie Collyer, and Juliette Middleton (whose workshop on editing also promises ways to minimise the ‘square bum-itis’ we writers can be afflicted with), among many others. 

It’s a stimulating line up with distinctly Australian voices and an empathise on stories from the top end, swirling up from the red dust and the deep culture songlines of Kimberley region and wider region.

A perusal of the programme has me eagerly reading “Calypso Summer” by Jarred Thomas in readiness for the Broome’s Biggest Bookclub and telling Mal not to plan anything for the Sunday night as I’m scheduling to have us bopping away at the Roey (The Roe Buck Bay Hotel) to music legends Fitzroy Xpress and Neil Murray (of Warumpi Band). It’s sure to be a fun-filled, engaging, mind-spinning weekend.  Not to mention - I'm over the moon to be visiting Broome - that's a whole other goosebump frenzy. 

My own little event is set for Saturday 6th at 1pm in the Broome Public Library.  
Here's the blurb:
Whose story is it? Yours? Theirs? And how far is too far? Writing about another country can be tricky. Writing about family, fraught with danger. Blend together, throw in some culture shock and it can be an exploding minefield of enlightenment and hilarity. full programme details see Corrugated Lines: A festival of words  Facebook page

Sparkling in a light spectacular - Vivid 2016

They say there’s nothing like a quick dash away to recharge the inner vibe or infuse a little light in to the humdrums which was exactly what the ‘SpannerMan’ and I did just recently when we grabbed a super cheap hang-onto-the-wing flight to Sydney for the weekend and delved into the beautiful lights and sounds of the Vivid Sydney Festival.  Originally Vivid Sydney – the festival of light, sounds and ideas - began as a Smart light festival for energy efficiency back in 2009 and quickly grew in size with the 2015 festival drawing more than 1.5mil crowds to wow at the light spectacular. Over the last couple of years I'd been aiming to come, but always found myself at other ends of the country - like in Darwin or Townsville, or one year, out of the country in Turkey.     
So eager to visit Sydney after almost 8years of last being there and in true form of my bravura style of plan-nothing travel, we -or I should say I- didn’t check the calendar when booking, and being a dutiful little work-bee, clicked on the sparrow-fart return flight only to discover after paying for it, it was a public holiday that day. 
We arrived to brilliant sunshine with a hint of balmy summer in June, a big difference to the previous weekend end that had seen Sydney smashed by a wild storm and practically washed out and I could have cried when I saw the 5th floor room in our eleventh-hour reservation at the sweet little hotel The Rendezvous in The Rocks.   It was every long-weekenders dream – big beautiful suite with private balcony overlooking not just the gorgeous Rocks precinct, but the harbour, the bridge, and with full views of the Opera House!    Although right at that moment of arrival, the Opera House was obscured by a whopping great cruise ship.  “I’m heading down to the harbour to find the plug” quipped Mal when he saw the ship.  And we did trot off down to the Cruise Terminal to take a look at the big boat up close.   As we arrived we noticed that busses were pulling up with passengers loaded with bags and unable to help himself, Mal popped over to one and asked, when does your cruise go – Tonight, 6pm.  
A little jig and clap later and with the delighted knowledge in knowing the sparkling lit-up sails we’d be seeing tonight will be that of a masterpiece of late modern architecture and not of an oversized floating hotel we wandered off to the Foodies Market back in The Rocks to devour an okonomiyaki (Japanese pancake) and momo’s and soak up some hipster atmosphere. 6pm came and the cruise ship left, leaving a wide open harbour bursting into a glowing radiance of art and light.   The Quay and foreshore of the harbour quickly filled to capacity and more as the crowds descended, at one stage becoming a bit of a squash as we all tried to garner the best viewing spots.
It was hard to decide what to stare at first– the stunning Museum of Contemporary Art where the artist palette is poured over the sandstone magnificence.
Or at the animated creations of the indigenous artists : Karla Dickens, Djon Mundine, Gabriella Possum Nungurrayi, Reko Rennie, Donny Woolagoodja, and the late Gulumbu Yunupingu as they danced across the sails of the Opera House. 
We’re blown away by the witches, wizards and a cute little gecko, or perhaps it was a blue tongue lizard with a tan,  that zipped about on the Customs House in giant 3D.
The squash became extremely squishy – to be truthful, it did become quite a dangerous crush! – when the crowds flowed to the stunning Cathedral of Light in the Royal Botanic Gardens.  The flow soon banked up into an enormous ball and it looked like we weren’t going to roll anywhere as we all tried to enter the 70metre glowing tunnel.  Once inside it was obvious why the flow had stopped – what is it with photoshopping the pics there and then and not waiting until get home. . . or at least somewhere with a bit more elbow room!?  The tunnel lead to more light delight with wanderings through the gardens.  Beautiful old trees become a fusion of artworks with such installations of Synthesis and the devilish Will o the Wisps.     
We were transported from floating nature to techno vibrancy when we carried our sore tootsies to Martin Place and oohed and arhed at the human droplets of the infinity fountain, and held mesmerised by the lines of Geometrics.  
By 11pm we were so dazzled out we were needing sunnies and dragged our walked off feet back to our beautiful room with its private balcony of incredible views that were just perfect for sipping a sav and savouring the days end curtain call.  We would be doing it all again the next night, though this time from the water –  a dinner cruise from the sky deck. 
Va Va Voom

Corralling ducks...

“Are you ok?”  I hear Mal ask, with a slight pitch of alarm as he walks into my office.  I’m sitting on the floor, staring at a carpet of scattered papers.  It looks like I’m meditating, but really I’m in half child-pose half foetal position and moaning.  Only ten minutes prior Mal had popped his head in to ask if I wanted a cuppa – then I was sitting on a chair staring at the computer screen, albeit a blank one.  

“I can’t get my ducks in a row” I whimper. He does a double head shake, turns and walks out the door,
                with my coffee. 
                                          He’s not even going to ask “what ducks?”.

On my desk, a little yellow plastic duck with sparkly eyes and luscious lashes looks down, its bright red smiley beak taunting me.  The damn thing knows I’m a brilliant disorganiser.

Let me go back a bit, a few weekends ago I’d attended a writer’s workshop run by author and journalist – Susanna Freymark.  It was a fascinating workshop, all about simulating blowjobs, having sex on the front page of the Sydney Morning Herald and pitching your duck.  It only ran for four hours but I came away (along with the other 14writers) with some mindblowing information.

So what has ducks got to do with writing I hear you ask? 
Read More

The dark side of beauty

Brilliant sunshine streams down outside and once again the sky is a brilliant blue.  A perfect autumn morning for the drive back to Jakar however frosty is the only word that can describe the climate inside the vehicle.  Mrs Cranky-pants has already hobbled her way into the car and sits on the right side, a bandaged ankle raised up and stretched out over the full length of the rear seat.  Outside stands three sheepish looking chaps, all feeling seedy, one, very red-eyed and bushy-tongued indeed.  It was a very long night with very little sleep.  read more

A fumble here, a fumble there, adventures of a misadventurer

http://www.kerrytolson.com/blog-dash-...

I think I might just have to reassess part of my website title – Float-in Fumble-about Traveller - and rename it

"She’s a Travel Insurancer’s Nightmare!"

Today, as I was flicking through trips-of-the-past happy snaps I couldn’t help noticing there were a number of shots where I’m either wearing a moon boot, nursing a fat bloodied nose or looking a tad worse for wear thanks to ‘last night’s dinner’.

I’ll admit I’m a bit of a bumbler at times, but it’s dawned on me, when I travel, I don’t just have the occasional mishap,
I’m an accident prone disaster master.

A fumble here, a fumble there - Adventures of a misadventurer

 I think I might just have to reassess part of my website title – Float-in Fumble-about Traveller -  and rename it
 "She’s a Travel Insurancer’s Nightmare!"
Today, as I was flicking through trips-of-the-past happy snaps I couldn’t help noticing there were a number of shots where I’m either wearing a moon boot, nursing a fat bloodied nose or looking a tad worse for wear thanks to ‘last night’s dinner’.

I’ll admit I’m a bit of a bumbler at times, but it’s dawned on me, when I travel, I don’t just have the occasional mishap,
                                    I’m an accident prone disaster master.   A maestro of mischanter!
And it would appear that this is something I’m really good at.

Right from the very start when on our first trip, I kicked it all off by losing my eleven-year-old son one night in Nepal, and then got us kidnapped. 
                                        Yes, pretty sure that was what was happening. 
                                                                           There was machete and a gun.   I’m just say’n. . . So I’ve compiled a list of stumbles, fumbles, tumbles and down-right fuck-she’s-bloody-unlucky awkward moments to ponder while contemplating the next trip abroard.

I have fallen off Mount Olympos in Turkey and sprained my ankle. 
I have fallen off a stupa in a small isolated village in Bhutan and sprained my ankle.
I have fallen off a look-out monument in New Zealand, totally stuffed my back and spent the rest of week laying prone in the rent-a-bomb camper-van while Mal spent the week forcing himself to go deep sea fishing around the beautiful Bay of Islands.  

And in Nepal I fell off my bicycle and sprained my ankle. And my knee. And my wrist. But it’s not all falling over!  In the Perhentians I smacked myself out on a TV Cabinet when I bent over to pick up the backpack, and ended up nursing a bloodied nose and purple eye for near on a week.
If I’m not taking a tumble, I’m having the occasional run-in with the local wildlife – in Bali’s Monkey Forest I was attacked by a monkey. . . but then so has just about every other traveller to Ubud,   mind you, my monkey wanted to rip my sarong off me.

I’ve also been chased by a monkey at Pura Uluwatu, stalked by a monkey in Langkawi and monkey mugged in Thailand.  And charged by a rhino in Nepal. In Sapa I was attacked by bed-bugs, chased by dogs in Bhutan, bitten by a fish in Penang (and I don't mean the touchy-feely fishy massage nibbles, this little blighter was a face fanger!), stung while snorkelling in the Perhentians, chased some more by cows in Bhutan and in Vietnam, narrowly missed being bitten by a highly venomous snake as it slithered between my legs. Oh and it also emits a toxic poison through it's glands – like seriously, this little mother-sucker means business and so I proceeded to spend the next two days in a state of high anxiety compulsively exploring my ankle for a rash and wondering how long it would take to die from a snake fart. I’ve narrowly missed being caught up in a bomb attack on a temple in Thailand, slept through a bombing in Nepal, arrived the morning a cyclone hit Fiji, and found myself in the midst of an earthquake in Nepal, and not realised it. 

I was pick-pocketed in France, and possibly car-jacked in Vietnam – well it entailed a man hoping in our car uninvited, telling the driver to take him to some place nowhere near where we were going to and then refusing to get out until he got there. 

I’ve been cursed by  a little old lady in Nepal, goosed by men in Istanbul, and flipped the bird by a sweet little hill tribe lady in the Golden Triangle.   But it’s not just been me who suffers from travel misadventure.

Mal also has his own little fumble moments  (funny thing is, it's always when he’s with me) – he was drugged in Thailand, escorted into a police booth in Malaysia, got stuck in the doors of a bus in Singapore (his backpack on the outside of the bus, still strapped to his back!) and was also chased by cows in Nepal, oh, and his faced swelled up and turned a very funny shade of purplish-red with strange white spots in Kota Bharu (Malaysia).

And then there’s been the times I’ve had to cut a trip short.

Like the time I’d just flown into Singapore to start a six week trip through Asia – and within 24hours of landing I developed purple bruises all over my body along with flu symptoms, thought I had meningococcal, went into overdrive, had a massive panic/anxiety attack and caught the very next flight home (dosed up on Valium given to me by a Singaporean Doctor who told me I had nothing to worry about – of course I didn’t believe him)  - turned out, I had a common cold and the bruising was from the aspirin-thinner I’d taken the week prior to help reduce the risks of DVT clots.  

Or when I found myself  (7weeks into a 5months trip) in the Chiang Mai hospital with a severe case of stomach cramps and not-so-worried doctors – off course I launched into another panic attack, cancelled the rest of my trip (I was just about to fly into Burma) and instead jumped onto a plane for home - weeks later it was confirmed I had a lovely little amoeba taking up residence in my gut.

It  refused to vacate for the next four years.

And then there was the time my darling grandmother died while I was wandering around Turkey.  Yet no matter how unlucky I’ve been - and I like to think I’ve been extremely lucky! - there’s absolutely no way I’d stop travelling, it wouldn’t matter if I’m here or ‘over there’, every little fumble makes me feel alive.  

Plus I just realised, I personally know five people who’ve been attacked by sharks.
                                                                         
                                                                               I don’t even go to the beach, let alone surf. 
                                                                            
                                                                                                                What are the chances of that!?

I'm on the move... off to a new blogging patch, a whole new adventure

http://www.kerrytolson.com
Hello wonderful readers, travellers and site watchers,  I have a lovely new website that's just been unfurled,  I hope you'll pop over and check it out,  let me know what you think and even follow me.
Here's the new link http://www.kerrytolson.com
Looking forward to seeing you over there.

Brand new website, Brand new look - same frazzled writer ! ! !

Hi everyone - I've done it. I've given birth finally, to my new website. 

I'm really hoping I haven't gone too premmie with it,  it's only  taken me four months to get this far, and its so tiny it's a mere step in cyber space, but it's up.  And it's searchable. 

So fingers crossed  I can fill the blanks and maybe remember to post something that's interesting for you to read.   Let me know if there's anything that catches your fancy or grimace. 
                                                                                                                     Cheers. Kez.

Book Review : The Dragon's Voice - How Modern Media found Bhutan. by Bunty Avieson

Bhutan is a country that is covered in mystery; barely raising its 'head' from under its cloak. It is an isolated and expensive country for the average person to visit and unless you hold an Indian, Bangladeshi or Maldivian passport, the only way to visit Bhutan is to go on a booked tour, to have a guide and driver, who will escort you to every sight/activity and town. Bhutan does not issue its visas to 'independent' travellers to wander at will around its stunningly beautiful, intriguing, mystical country, that is unless you garner a personal invitation from a Bhutanese person (or company) you have known for a length of time. Because of this, a visit to Bhutan does not enable the average tourist to see the 'real' Bhutan. What is so wonderful about Bunty Avieson's "The Dragon's Voice" is that she quietly and gently lifts the hem of Bhutan's cloak and allows the reader a more in-depth insight of this isolated country.


I devoured this book just prior to my own recent trip to Bhutan and found it fascinating and informative, and I must say delightfully humorous in parts. I loved learning about Bhutan's strong belief in the "Gross National Happiness" doctrine and how it is implemented (and is at times floored) into the country's lifestyle as well as its staunch environmental values, I was intrigued and curious about the strange dating techniques of night hunting and impressed by the clarity and compassion Bunty Avieson showed when describing her observance, understanding and personal experience in challenging the myth that Bhutan is the perfect utopia many in the west believe it to be.

This is a fabulous book, highly recommended to anyone who is thinking of visiting this incredibly stunning country, it will give an invaluable insight to the culture, beliefs and the hidden reality of Bhutan. But even if one is not planning a visit to Bhutan, this book is still a delight to read.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/32493830-kerry-tolson">View


Paperback, 240 pages Published May 1st 2015 by University of Queensland Press

Drink more coffee and catch lots of butterfly kisses - great ideas for a life renovation

Today I resumed a project that I'd started back in 2012 - renovating my office. I decided we needed to get stuck into it when I read an article in The Guardian about 'False Hope Syndrome' and I began to wonder if I was suffering from it - when one makes a new year’s resolution to better themselves and then gives up a week later.   Yes, this was definitely me.  I'd made a NY’s resolution to renovate my office back in 2012, when I was watching fireworks explode over the yatch club at Hamilton Island. The moment I stepped back into my house less than a week later, I had started stripping the paint off the banisters leading up to my office. And that's as far as I got. Four years down the track we're still living with half stripped railings and banisters and carpet ripped up off the stairs exposing bare, unpolished steps covered in paint splotches.

It not even that much of a major job, it’s not like we're going to move walls... well ok we've got a small wall to change so that a pair of 100year old French doors can go in ... or do any major building works, though there are plans for a wall-to-wall-floor-to-ceiling bookcase to be installed. No it'll be pretty easy stuff to do such as ripping up the carpet and laying floorboards that we got for free - compliments of a lovely young couple who were modernising a 1890's workers cottage and were skip-binning those dented old bits of wood - and finally putting up the lights we brought and carted all over Turkey, paid a small fortune in excess luggage to bring back and then to have rewired and have ever since sat reboxed in the linen cupboard taking up room while the towels sit in the corner of our bedroom on one of the dining chairs.
 
So as I cajoled Mal into swinging the hammer and supervised the installation of sliding tracks for the storage door.... did I mention that I wanted to move the inbuilt cupboard from one end of the room to the other...?  and I set up a temporary office on my verandah, I thought about how I would renovate my life for the better.  I'm not normally one for making new year’s resolutions - I couldn't think of anything more boring than giving up wine or dieting - bugger that! there's no way I'm giving up croissants or New Zealand South Island sauv blanc for anyone...not even me.   so this is the list I came up with

Give up ironing underpants
If this was a gold medal sport, I'd be a serious contender - as a writer, I'm a world class procrastinator. Even writing this  has seen me doing lots of everything else except write – I’ve pulled staples out of boards, cleaned the bathroom plug and walked up to the shop to buy an onion and lettuce, even though I don’t need either for dinner tonight and I’ve been for two walks already today  But this year I’m going to try my hardest to wring out 1000 words every day.  It’s not that I don’t know what to write about, I've still got to finish the blogposts for the Bhutan trip, then Nepal and Singapore, and I’m 20,000words into a new manuscript on traipsing through Bali and  toying with the idea of a historical memoir - the stories are there,  I just need to 'get out of my way' and tap them out.

Drink More Coffee.
... that is, drink more HOT coffee with OTHER people. I spend a lot of time spitting out cold coffee as I tap away in my little writing cave (or ironing undies) or when I'm at my business' office shuffling through invoices I'd like to set fire to. As both activities are best done in solitude - especially when mumbling expletives over the bills - I don't catch up with my wonderful friends as often as I'd like.  I'm so blessed to have such forgiving friends who understand I'm not really an anti-social hermit, just a self-absorbed dreamer - these are the same beautiful people who read and re-read  and then will re-read again my manuscript and smile supportively as I babble on about my anaphora infliction or bore them to near death with my travel pics.  They are always there for me, rain hail and shine with a happy smile and joyful hug. Making sure I keep to this 'resolution’ I pick up the phone and organise a coffee date for this week with the fabulous Jan Pearson - fellow writer and author of Red Bird Summer and Tiger Autumn. 

Read more books
like all writers, I'm a reader, and like most writers, I struggle to find the time to read and the book pile keeps growing and growing.  Last week I took a peek at the titles sitting on the table waiting for me to crack the spine of and decided to sign up for the Goodreads 2016 reading challenge. My goal for this year is - 30 books.  I have to admit, I’m wondering if I should have picked a smaller number like 10, but when I think that I easily read 15 books last year, I thought why not double it.  It’s a diverse list, with a mixture of fiction and non, many are authors I saw at last year’s Byron Bay Writers Festival and whose books I brought and stacked on the floor waiting - beside my overstuffed bookcases - while I read through the previous year’s festival buys.   First book off the pile is Di Morrissey's – Tears of the Moon.  The size of a cheese platter, it's light and fluffy, but absolutely perfect as the years starter as it combines my side interest of digging around the family tree with travel, more importantly, this year’s travel destination for me – Broome.  After that I'll pop on my green boots and go find some ‘Optimism’ with Bob Brown.

Write more thank you notes.
A few years back I read a wonderful little book called '365 Thank yous' by John Kralik – at the risk of sounding so clichéd – this was a book that literally changed my life, it made me reassess how I felt gratitude and what made me feel blessed.  I’ve always written thank you cards when I’ve received a gift or someone has done something nice for me, but it wasn’t until I read this book that I realised why I felt such gratitude.  Thanking others makes me feel blessed to have such lovely people in my life and how appreciative I am because of what others might have done for me.  These days’ hand written thank yous are becoming scarce as email and texting is more the norm, then last week I received a beautiful handwritten letter from a person I didn’t know but felt very grateful to have made happy.  She had read my book and it reminded her of her own trip to Nepal.  After receiving this letter, I floated on a cloud of warm-fuzzys for the next couple of days – not because she had read MY book, but because I’d brought back to her some wonderful memories of a trip she had done with family – incredibly precious memories. 

Catch lots more  butterfly kisses.

This won’t be such a hard goal at all to keep - this year…or any other year.  Those soft little hugs and butterfly kisses from my little grandbabies lighten my day and paint joy in my heart, and will make this year an incredible delight.

Ah yes,  I think these ‘resolutions’ will be achievable and if not, well I’m not going to stress too much about sinking into the depths of ‘false hope syndrome’, just as long as my office is ready in the next couple of weeks …..