Saturday, July 31, 2004

Daath

There was no Exit sign above the door you chose.
We were still asleep when you leaped off the cliff
into a chasm where no one holds your hand
alone,
silent,
final,
you remind us of the quiet transit of planets
each one following a designated path
Death your guide:
what mysterious promise
lured you over the edge
severed you from the present dimension
catapulted you into an intangible season?
I saw you early this morning
just after you left the train station
too late for farewells so all I said was hello
as I wished you a safe journey
I hope you will find the light
that failed you in your terrestrial wanderings,
now clouds soar about you
now little birds sow silver threads around your heart
now expanding Galaxies illuminate your passage
I walked past you this morning
on my way into town
and I felt your presence there,
tepid, between the tracks.

Childers Cove

Where the wind blows
through the cracks in the walls
and nights are as strong and black as tea
where bird skulls whitened by patient time
and driftwood
adorn the pastel rooms
I am Home
under the covers by the fireplace
I embrace you because you rock
my imagination with tales of mouse hunts
and a brown owl which flew free
I awake at your side into argent dawns
after the lead of a circling black tail
through the brush land
I step across rocks dispersed in tall grass
where foxes and snakes prey
on the edge of the overhang
moist dog nose against my cheek
I stare at the point
where heaven separates from sea
aquamarine unfolding
fingers curled around the serrated edge
of a cuttlefish bone inside my pocket
I know I will find you there
at work or on the veranda
and I’ll cheerfully return to your kitchen
to drive you along country roads
in your beaten up Renault.

Moolloollaba Koan


We used to go dancing together,
days of youth and sunshine left in the sand,
our time of surf-bathing and beer, and summer everywhere.
Blue Dolphins still swim upstream inside our veins.

Madonna d'Ongero

At the heart of the
chestnut forest the
smell of moist soil

along Via Crucis
leads to yellow and
ochre frescoes

between the roman
arches cobblestones
and moss stand guard.

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Are Women Masochists?

“Along the path of discovery, you will learn to suffer less and seek the blessings that lie hidden in disappointment.” — from Angel Blessings. Chapter: Uriel, ministration.


Based on personal experience I can assert that what cements relationships between women the strongest is the boy-talk. Just as the HBO television series Sex and the City has so colourfully exposed, the driving force behind women’s get-togethers is a need to purge unsatisfactory relationship-experiences over coffee

Generally, in a tête à tête it works like this. One party begins with a list of detailed complaints about her love life, while the other party actively listens. After a full run-down of the situation has been exposed, the problem is workshopped until both parties are satisfied that some real insights and perspective have been achieved. Next, it’s the other party’s turn to do the same.

Over time I’ve come to view this as a highly narcissistic process. Such a pattern is not the blueprint of a democratic friendship, but a symbiosis between needy and self-obsessed individuals in search of self-affirmation. The dynamic is such that each party agrees to digest the other’s stories, in exchange for their turn at obsessing over paranoias.

I don’t believe it’s true that women talk about relationships more than men do because they nurture relationships more. To the contrary. As the years go by, I become increasingly appreciative of men’s ways as opposed to women’s habit to dissect situations into infinitely minute fragments until it becomes impossible to discern the purpose of such an exercise. It’s infuriating to watch grown women disperse their energies in such a way, as it only leads them to neurosis and insecurity. If women didn’t constantly succumb to the need to hyper-analyse every single human interaction, they might see the bigger picture and at last discover the pleasure of just being alive. This is something men are much better at than we, just living the moment and being content. Without neurotically searching for deeper meaning. In terms of personal fulfilment, if women simply stopped asking for permission over the things they feel they deserve, and just started taking what is theirs like men do, they might discover the fast track to personal satisfaction. But women always need approval.

Why are women so insecure? Men love us in spite of our imperfections and annoying habits. Isn’t that enough? They don’t try and change us, but if a man isn’t happy in a relationship, he reserves the right to leave. Women aren’t like that. They embark in relationships as if it were some personal holy grail. Like renovating a house in order to increase its market value, women often will try and improve the man they are going out with. This is a hopeless task. If you want a guy with good manners you should go out with a man that has good manners. If you want to spend evenings in highbrow conversations, choose a guy that’s educated. If you want a companion in sports, don’t fall in love with a couch potato. Instead women embark on hopeless quests by picking the wrong guy.

The higher the chances that the relationship might fail, the more time and energy the woman invests in trying to fix it. And she’ll keep going because her ego wont’ allow her to admit defeat. She’s poured so much of herself into working it out that it’s now a matter of pride. Unfortunately, it’s this very inability to face failure that compels most women into the: ‘If only I try harder, be more supportive, give him more time…’ syndrome. Meanwhile the years go by and the woman continues to whine to her girlfriends about how all men are flawed, instead of admitting that if she’d picked a different guy he might have made her happy. In a way, women are masochists that have and ingrained penchant for martyrdom. I just ask myself how long it will take women to realize that no prizes have ever been handed out for playing the martyr in a relationship. Has it never occurred to any of these women that it might be more relevant to change herself and her beliefs rather than waste time trying to change a man?

I spent the first half of my life in two long-term relationships with two dominant, self-centred men. I admired their self-confidence, their strength made me feel secure, until I realized that I both these relationships were stifling. In both cases, I was stuck in the same kind of situation: I constantly had to ask to be taken into consideration and resented my partners’ unlimited freedom. Eventually I realized that since I lacked the courage to spread my wings and try new things on my own, I was expressing these repressed desires through my domineering boyfriends. I had picked two strong-minded, arrogant men who put their needs and desires before mine, but while I resented them, secretly, I envied their personal freedom. Once I realized that I was wasting years in relationships that left me feeling second best, this very pattern became redundant.

It’s astounding how even intelligent women seem to be short-sighted when it comes to their own, self-inflicted misery. Looking at my single girlfriends what do I see? They all have a distinct pattern of their own.

Marion, 45, falls for men who are unfaithful. She moved in with a well-known playboy and devoted three years of her life to rehabilitating the man, only to discover that while she was abroad for work, he was canoodling with a former lover. Instead of dumping him, she quit her job in order to keep a closer eye on him.

Wilhelmina, 35, is a commitment phobic who pines for men who are elusive. When her long-distance boyfriend proposed marriage, she freaked out. She waited until the week preceding the wedding to call the whole thing off. During the five years that followed the aborted wedding plans she was riddled by guilt and second-thoughts, while having a series of relationships, which she invariably broke off when they became too heated, with the excuse that she was still in love with her ex fiancé.

Sondra, 30, is only interested in married men. She has spent the last four years of her life trying to convince two married men to abandon their wives and to move in with her instead.

Veronica, 37, gets drunk then has one-night stands with strangers. She craves love and attention so desperately; she cannot face the risk of rejection and disappointment. So she plays it safe by indiscriminately dragging home any guy who’ll follow her.

Bettina, 33, chooses abusive men. This is a physically strong, tall woman who plays the role of the vulnerable damsel in distress. She chooses rough macho men because they are masculine and make her feel feminine.

Claudia, 41, picks pessimistic men with low self-esteem issues. This is because these partners don’t constitute much of a challenge for her but they make her feel more competent. Unfortunately, what inevitably happens is that the men end up projecting their insecurities on to her, eventually gnawing away at her own confidence and joye de vivre.

Merissa, 27, is hopelessly insecure and suffers from a negative body image. She hides her awkwardness by flirting indiscriminately with any man in the room. When she sleeps with a guy, she get up early the following morning to put her make up on be fore he wakes up.

Gabrielle, 33, is addicted to cocaine because she feels sexually inadequate. Essentially a night creature, she roams the club scene looking for her next hit. After trying plastic surgery, pornography, and being in gay, S&M relationships, she has settled down with a brute that physically abuses her.

Doria, 44, is a jet setter. A society lady in the true sense of the word, she’s only ever seen wearing designer clothes and accessories. On a whim, she’ll fly off to Rio, New York, London or Madrid for a shopping spree and to catch up with friends. Truth is, she’s the eternal single as no man ever seems to be handsome enough, polite enough and rich enough.

With these kinds of patterns deeply engrained, women can ensure years of inexhaustible discussions about failed relationships and flawed men to their heart’s content. But persistent negative talk can be destructive. If the negative boyfriend talk becomes all-pervasive it eventually overpowers all other common interests between the women. Over time, all that is left between them are the words used to describe failed or unhappy relationships. In the case of my friend Sharon, I learned this lesson the hard way.

One afternoon, many years ago, sitting on the back steps of her home as I had done countless times before, I was engrossed in a long, detailed complaint about my partner’s shortcomings. Sharon listened intently but when I was finally quiet, expecting her to console me and then commence to relate what was wrong with her boyfriend in turn, she remained silent. She slowly unfolded a white plastic bag and commenced filling it with large lemons that she was picking from the lemon tree in the back yard. When the bag was full she haded it to me and said that she didn’t think that we ought to see each other any more. She said our relationship had become too co-dependent and depressing, that all it did was remind her of her failures. She’d given the matter some thought and decided that unless we had something positive to talk about, we were through. This is the only time a woman has ever broken up with me. I remember feeling mortified, for I could recognize that she was right, but I also felt that somehow she was being unfair. She’d changed the rules of the game without giving me a chance. I sat on the moss-covered steps of her house, clutching the bag of lemons, staring at the lemon tree, and felt like a fool.

At the time I thought that her attempt to coerce our relationship into a more sophisticated friendship, made Sharon more mature than me. But a few weeks later, her ex boyfriend had a restraining order issued against her. After he’d moved in with another woman, Sharon had commenced stalking their house. She’d never mentioned this to me, but apparently she was stuffing his letterbox with hate-mail, ringing the front door bell incessantly at all hours and calling his phone in the middle of the night, leaving blood-thirsty, threatening messages on the answering machine. I did hear a message in which she promised to rub the other woman’s face in broken glass. One night Sharon ran into the new couple in a nightclub. She gave the other woman a violent shove and pushed her down a flight of stairs. But her adversary was not easily overpowered. She retaliated, attacking Sharon and pinning her to the beer-stained carpet, clobbering her with a wooden clog. Two bouncers pulled the scratching, screaming, bleeding women apart. Later that night, Sharon threw a large potted cactus through the windshield of her ex’s Kingswood. It was raining. The next morning when he found his car, the rain was pouring onto the dashboard and the carpet through a gaping hole in the glass. Surrounded by a mound of soggy dirt, a large cactus and a cracked terracotta vase were strewn across front seat.

The last time I ever saw and spoke to Sharon was the morning after this incident. Her phone call, asking me to meet for brunch, immediately followed the phone call from her ex, informing our entire circle of friends that a restraining order had been filed against her at the local police station that very morning. When I saw Sharon, with whom I’d shared a decade of complicity, camping trips, cooking tips, make up, countless parties and gigs, music, books and even pets, I felt a chill run down my spine. Instead of the distraught person I’d expected, the woman facing me in the café was cool and poised. She held a frothy cappuccino up to her impeccably groomed lips and complimented me on my outfit. I was expecting a confession, a cry for help even. But she didn’t mention anything. Instead, she flatly declared to be over her ex. She said she was feeling relieved about the end of their affair and was taking it as a sign to move on. At the time I was terrified by what I could only describe as schizophrenia. But today, I see a desperate attempt by a woman out of control trying to save face. After all, denial is another female speciality.

During the golden years of our friendship, when Sharon and I frequented the club-scene together, she used to have a favourite saying. According to her, men fell into either of two categories: Breeders – the ones you wanted to have sex with and Providers – the ones you wanted to marry. Interestingly, her preference always landed on softhearted, uneducated musicians with a drinking problem.

Why do women choose the wrong guy? I’ve listened to many a male friend wondering in disbelief why most women want to date a bastard. And in fact, who doesn’t know (or has dated) a nice guy that’s been dumped for an utter asshole? Why do we do this? Obviously we derive some perverse pleasure in being able to declare that all men are bastards. That’s so unfair! I know plenty of men who are simply adorable. Another cliché women like to use is that all the good men are taken. Well that’s just an excuse. The reason that the good men are taken is that, luckily for them, there are enough women out there without issues, who feel they deserve a nice guy, and are able to recognize one when they cross his paths and know how to hold on to him.

Perhaps women who date the wrong men are simply perpetuating a family practice. In my case, my puberty years are filled with memories of my mother sitting at the kitchen table, sharing cigarettes and coffee with her best friend while they engaged in interminable descriptions of their husband’s faults. The slander was justified, as both husbands were adulterous misogynists and the women’s daily coffee meetings served both as therapy and a form of revenge. But if mothers are married to a bastard – therefore exposing their daughters to a bad male model – what hope does the next generation have?

Many girls are born, grow up and develop into women within the bosom of a dysfunctional family absorbing all the toxic values those relationships exude. Wether articulated of subliminal, the messages about communication, trust, love or the lack of, attach themselves inexorably to the identity of the young woman. From these domestic dynamics the young woman assimilates knowledge about the amount of power that she might yield in the world, and this will in turn affect her feelings of self-worth, her self-image and what kind of relationship she may hope for.

It is difficult to break the hold of engrained, destructive, co-dependent behaviour inherited from families. But as daunting as this task may seem, an effort has to be made. Even if it requires professional help. Or else, we’ll never truly develop into complete adult women. We might go through life allowing our wounded childhood to stay in charge and never become truly free to make objective decisions, in charge of our destiny. We are responsible for the making of our own happiness and this begins with healing the past in order to be able of letting go of all those negative experiences that have marked us in youth.

Women who cannot complete this process will continue to experience self-fulfilling prophecies about love and relationship. Never realizing that they are subconsciously setting themselves up for failure. A good example of this dynamic is seen in women who engage in one night stands or sex on the first date, then spend the following days waiting by the phone and feeling miserable about themselves. Of course the one-night stand man never calls (and why should he?) The self-fulfilling prophecy is that all men are bastards. It never ceases to amaze me how single women everywhere continuously plunge themselves into hopeless, no-win romantic situations and then blame the men for it. But as my male friends have proven to me many times: there are men who go for the one nightstand and men who’d never dream of having sex with a stranger.

First, why have a one night stand, which by definition cannot promise anything lasting and only conjures up feelings of insecurity, need and loneliness the day after? Besides, sex on the first night with a stranger is hardly ever truly satisfying. Instead women are willing to go through with it just for the ego gratification that they get from being able to drag a guy home. But considering that hetero men out there all want the same thing, taking a guy home can hardly qualify as an achievement! Instead of feeling grateful that he chooses us, we ought to realize that in fact women are giving men out for casual sex a grand service. And what’s worse, free of charge and with no strings attached! With women prepared to give it all away for free, Friday nights must be like everyman’s Christmas. But clearly, this is not the correct technique to attract a good man.

Secondly, if it’s only casual sex women are after, as they claim, then why on earth should they care about ever seeing him again? If we really want casual sex, then it’s time we started to have sex like the men and happily move on to the next conquest.

Thirdly, it’s about time women were more honest and admitted that engaging in casual intercourse is only a way to mask their longing for relationship. Because of their fear of sounding desperate and therefore be less competitive in the sexual market, women will pretend to be open and free, based on the belief that one night sex is better than nothing. But this is a compromise that will always see women as losers, because it will never bring them the satisfying interaction they really crave. Until they become clear about this dynamic, women will continue to trade physical relationship for the meeting of heart and mind with a lasting partner. Once again, all they are doing is catering for men’s needs while sublimating her own.

Love and relationship are areas of our lives that are too valuable to be traded. You cannot bargain for a high quality relationship. You either have one or you don’t. You’re either ready for one or you’re not. You are either prepared to consciously work towards manifesting one or you don’t.

Instead, all I hear is women moaning or getting all worked up about some toad they dragged home one night and hoping that by a pure miracle, he’ll turn out to be Prince Charming. Oh, really, what are the chances of that happening? These are all intelligent, educated women I’m talking about, my single friends, yet they’re all on the same merry-go-round, wondering what went wrong! Has it ever crossed their minds that it is not a lover’s task to be a catalyst for self-realization and resolving women’s issues of relationship? Because we are supposed to resolve all the emotional baggage first, in order to make room for true love to come into our life.

I for one, would refuse to embark on any emotional relationship that was based on resolving a partner’s issues; knowing perfectly well that this will not pave the way for an equality-based, healthy, long-lasting relationship. The dynamic at play there would be like parent-child. Therefore not exactly a mature relationship, based on equality between two consenting adults. But even assuming that a woman met a partner that was willing and able to take on such a responsibility, you’d immediately have to be suspicious about his ulterior motives (need for control?) But even assuming this were a feasible relationship, once the healing occurred the relationship would be completely exhausted. There could even be resentment. In any case, there would be no space, no mystery left between the partners, they’d both be forced to move on.

Looking outside oneself for the answers and the love we deserve is not the answer. There are no knights in shining armour out there, no heroes. But if we’re lucky, and if we’re prepared to work hard on paving the way, and if we believe, out of just a bunch of honest, kind-hearted men out there, we’ll find the one that is right for us. Because a happy relationship is not simply based on finding the right partner. A lasting, satisfying relationship first starts existing in our own hearts, the moment we realise that we are ready to embrace such an experience.

Sure, he may be just as flawed as the rest of us, but what sets the partner apart form the riff-raff is that he’ll stick with you through the ages, because he wants you, and in spite of the fact that he can truly see who you are and still loves you just the same, even when all your guards are down. And he’ll stand up for you and honour your name instead of playing childish games. And when he leaves the morning after, he’ll thank you, and asks when he can see you again.

As I said before, we cannot expect this healing to come from the outside. It’s like weight loss. You can spend a fortune on beauty products, buy all the self-help books on the market and go to the dietician every day and lecture your friends about nutrition, but it is not without commitment, sacrifice, perseverance and patience that real, long-term progress can be achieved! I guess everyone must find her own way. But actively seeking solutions to life’s problems is an ongoing process. It doesn’t necessarily get easier, but at least, over time we gain confidence in our instincts and accumulate some successes. Overcoming hurt and cynicism is a challenge that requires great courage because it has to be done alone. Some pain never really goes away, but it’s important to learn to co-exist with it. Because as long as we let it rule our lives, we’ll always make choices that are based in fear. Then our freedom will be stifled.

We are fortunate to live in a world that is full of resources that are easily accessible to us. Help is out there: wether in books or self-help groups, workshops or community work, therapy or yoga and meditation; there are such a many varied ways that an individual can explore. I think this inner search is an exciting journey that always brings its own rewards and is never short of gifts.

Wednesday, July 21, 2004

Summer in Ticino


Summer spreads its golden fingers in the spaces between shadow and light. the scent of moss and soil reach from the flower beds against the stone wall. Stinging sun-rays pinch my bare wrists. Along the gravelled path that leads through the wrought-iron gate, Cypresses lean their blue shadows across the lawn.

It’s summer and the ants are weaving their restless pattern through the grass. At the far end of the garden there is a pond with tad-poles in it. Water lilies grow there and water weeds. Speckled goldfish dart through the murky water; they come in and out of sight like sparks of lightning inside a cumulus of green storm clouds.

There is a stillness in the air, a tension which is softened only by the sound of swallow’s wings. Swallows dive through the turquoise sky to catch insects. Sometimes they land by the pond and gather a portion of soft clay to mend their nest. The nest is high up, just beneath the wooden beams of a roof — from here, it is visible through the foliage overgrowing the pergola.

The vine is a python coiling its fluid body around the granite structure of the pergola. It stretches its broad leaves toward the sun, it grows tendrils that test the air like slender fingers. Grapes hang in clusters, they are swelling and growing plump on the vine. Blushing.

A ladybird lands on my forearm and crawls towards by wrist before wearing off, on to the wooden surface of the table.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Crème De La Merde!


Recently at the Clarins counter of a large department store, I enquired about their Multi Active day cream but was turned down. The representative said that this particular cream isn’t suitable for me as it’s designed for mature skin, for women over 40! Ha, ha, if only she knew!

It’s just as well: I refuse to get caught up in that horrible guilt trip that if you don’t spend $$$ on cosmetics, you’re going to turn into a shrivelled up old prune! It’s a huge marketing scam that is holding women of all ages hostage. Now every skin type has different requirements but that doesn’t mean having to spend thousands on skin care. It’s ridiculous. As any dermatologist will tell you, the purpose of skin is to keep things OUT so the action of any moisturizer, realistically, can only go so deep. When it comes to toiletries, my philosophy is: keep it simple and as natural as possible. Consider this: the benefits of multi-billion-dollar research from the world’s largest cosmetic companies are available at supermarket prices!

Absolutely no way I’d be wasting my hard-earned cash on face cream. For $360.- I can pay my quarter-year bill at the gym or five of my weekly massage treatments. I can throw a fabulous dinner party or go away for the weekend. I’d rather buy a beautiful Hermès silk scarf, or a pair of Prada shoes or some other luxury leather goods or a piece of jewellery, something to show for that will last longer than a pot of chemicals on my bathroom shelf. Those kind of things would actually help improve my image; because let’s face it (pardon the pun), no one’s going to stop you in the middle of the street to compliment you on your moisturizer!!!

I’d rather kick the alcohol and caffeine, get plenty of fresh air, sleep on a good mattress, and stick to a sensible beauty routine. If I’m blessed with a glowing complexion and hardly any wrinkles at all, surely it’s got a lot more to do with: a) luck and the fact that I don’t smoke; b) the fact that I keep my face out of the sun and my hands out of my face; c) I’ve been using a weekly peel and mask for as long as I can remember.

A recent survey in Italy showed that 93% of women were unsatisfied with their appearance. What a waste of time! To think that all the women here are thin, spend hours at a gym and their pay checks on beauty treatments. (And as a result, they all end up looking the same…) I think focus is really important. To remember what defines you as an individual and makes you unique. It’s certainly not the dress size. Alas, there will always be prettier, thinner, younger women out there, so confidence cannot come from the surface, but is cultivated from deep within. To be a woman of SUBSTANCE is what matters.

As I have now entered the second-half of my life, my value system has undergone a deep transformation, I see things clearly now and therefore my priorities have also greatly changed. For me, nothing can be more valuable than having the element of quality in my life; quality of life, quality time, quality relationships. Quality not quantity is what matters to me. So in regard to body image, this translates to a healthy body, not a thin body. Thinness doesn’t necessarily equate to health or beauty, but a healthy body is always attractive. So I do not eat to starve myself but I eat in order to nourish myself and maintain maximum health and vitality. Forget moisturizers, it’s what you put inside your body that shows up on your skin!

Food has many purposes. When I’m bored I tend to eat sweet comfort food, but the sugar hangover that ensues only makes me groggy, so the downward spiral of sugar consumption begins. After a 2-hour gym session I’m starved for pasta, so I eat the wholemeal variety. At regular monthly intervals, I crave chocolate. The important thing about food is that the right food in the right quantities at the right time can actually clear many symptoms such as sugar sensitivity, IBS, PMS and arthritic pain. Exercise and healthy food can heal and rejuvenate the body more that any pill or cream ever will, and best of all, the benefits are long lasting!

To conclude, here’s a quote from Deepak Chopra:

“When a proper diet is not present, medicine is of no use. When a proper diet is present, medicine is of no need.”


Good health to you!

Friday, July 16, 2004

Gym Speak

See my gym

- repeaters
- side-to-side
- lunges
- sqat
- chassé
- mambo
- basic
- step touch
- over the top
- big step
- around-the-world

Sunday, July 11, 2004

Oops


I’m sitting by the window in my fiend Zep’s bar, Oops, reading the paper. The regular crowd in here is composed mainly of uni students and potheads, all of which are much younger than me.

Zep’s not here and within the establishment reigns the familiar, laid-back slightly anarchic atmosphere that always rules in his absence. The music’s loud and the ashtrays are full. Some of the empty tables have not been cleared of the debris left by previous patrons.

The bar tender sits on a barstool, drinking beer with a group of ‘darks’ – that’s what they call kids that go for the gothic look. I’d almost forgotten – youth – the glamour of spending a whole afternoon on a barstool, chain-smoking cigarettes and wearing black denim.

But then I heard Sonic Youth through the speakers. The deejay was showing off his musical savvy to his friends – and I remembered: head banging to Sonic Youth live, a Crown Lager in my hand and my boots sticking to the carpet of the Corner Hotel.

As I remember this, my hand fiddles with the pearl in my earlobe. Have I changed that much?

I don’t think so. I may come across all respectable, but I still get the music…

Designer Dreams

Indiscreetly someone enters my boudoir and asks me what kind of bedding I use, which books lie on my nightstand and how do I sleep…

What do you wear to bed?
Cotton pyjamas.

Whom do you sleep with?
My husband Nicholas.

The bedroom is the ideal place to…
Lie down and relaax… In the morning, before I get up, I give my self Reiki and balance my chakras.

The secret of a good night’s sleep.
A comfortable mattress and good pillows, crisp sheets and the window open.

What kind of bed do you sleep in?
A King size bed with a hard mattresses.

Your favourite sheets.
White cotton sheets from Home, the older they get the softer they become.

Where would you like to sleep?
In a swag, under a tree in the Simpson Desert, with the stars twinkling above.

What’s on your nightstand?
A steel jar from Habitat filled with colourful condoms, a heart-shaped rose quartz, a wooden back massager from The Body Shop, an old pair of tortoiseshell glasses and a pile of books.

What are you reading?
The Powerbook by Jeannette Winterson, 31 Songs by Nick Hornby, and The Voices of Marrakkesh by Elias Canetti.

Bedroom: sanctuary or seduction?
A sanctuary of peace and quiet to protect us from the crazy world outside!

Do you prefer light of complete darkness?
I prefer darkness, but I like it when the full moon creeps through the shutters, drawing milky pools on the floor.

How long do you sleep?
On average seven hours a night.

What do you do before falling asleep?
I kiss my hubby goodnight.

Friday, July 09, 2004

A blowfish in Sardinia?

On the news last night they showed a report on how the effects of global warming are bringing about permanent changes in the Mediterranean weather and ecology.

Because of the increase in temperature, during the last decade the climate has increasingly become sub-tropical. During the summer months temperatures stabilize well above 30 degrees Celsius, with high humidity and short, violent thunderstorms.

As a consequence, we have seen a 2% increase of mortality over the past couple of years, which is directly related to the rise in temperature.

The sea levels are rising and therefore, eroding large portions of the beaches along the entire Mediterranean coastline.

In the past years, the fruit trees have been flowering two weeks earlier than normal.

The flight pattern of the migratory birds has been affected; they now migrate later, well into autumn, while some northern species actually remain within Europe instead of flying to northern Africa.

But perhaps the most astounding change of all has been the presence of increasing numbers of tropical fish, which are populating the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. These fish such as the blowfish and a number of colourful reef fish are not endemic to Europe. Yet, they’ve left the Red Sea through the Suez Canal and the coast of Egypt, traversing the Mediterranean, and started populating Italian waters.

Who needs to book a holiday in Sharm el Shayk?

Monday, July 05, 2004

Create Your Own Image

What does having style mean? How do you create your own style? NinaOndine has achieved a personal, unique and exclusive style with precious accessories and original vingage designs. But also re-inventing classics and the use of black. Read on to discover her pièces-de-resistance, her ideas and suggestions.

A Diploma of Arts, NinaOndine speaks six languages fluently and has lived, studied and worked in Europe and Australia. Over the last decade she has evolved within the communication industry and electronic publishing in particular. Today, she lives and works in Lugano, Switzerland’s Italian speaking canton; only 45 minutes north of Milan. Currently, NinaOndine is focussing on developing a new novel inspired by her 1994 sojourn in Malawi.

Define your style.
Eclectic, unpredictable, unique but most of all: comfortable! Once I’m out of the house I’m ready for action so I don’t want to be slowed down by pinching shoes or a tight fitting jacket.

How do you achieve your style?
My tastes are diverse as my taste in music, I don’t discriminate between styles, I can go for something ethnic as easily as a classic piece. I like to mix and match but the overall effect must be restrained, I don’t want people to remember the clothes, I want people to notice me! One thing all my clothes do have in common: each item and accessory in my wardrobe must flatter my body to maximum advantage.

Do you prefer black or colours?
As much as I love black because it conveys an immediate sense of style and power, I detest the exclusive wear of black. It can be quite draining and can make you look washed out. People who only wear black end up looking dull and uninspired.

How long do you keep your garments?
Oh, an eternity! If the item still works for me I find ways to re-invent it. However, I go through my wardrobe every season and weed out any fashion mistakes and items that don’t fit properly.

How do you shop?
My favourite way to shop is knowing I need a specific item to update my wardrobe. I’ll have a very clear image of this item in my mind, wether it’s a pair of slacks or a new handbag. Eventually, I might be casually window-shopping one day, and see that very item on display. Then I immediately have to buy it!

Where do you shop?
I don’t discriminate, I’ll just as easily shop at Sysley or Dolce & Gabbana. Luckily Milan is close by. Though I prefer the Banhofstrasse in Zürich; sometimes I’ll organize a shopping expedition especially to go to Zürich.

Share a shopping tip with us.
If you don’t love it, I don’t buy it.

Wlho are your style icons?
Fashion today is so derivative and unoriginal that a nobody in the street may have more style than a celebrity. When I see a woman who’s well turned out I cannot fail to admire what she’s accomplished.

What do you consider a style blasphemy?
Wearing something that’s inappropriate for the person’s size, age and the occasion.

How do you select a clothing item?
Whatever I try on has to make me feel fabulous or I’ll just put it back on the rack.

How do you feel about jewellery?
I love, love jewellery! For every day use, I don’t mind industrial designs in stainless steel and resin. However, I especially love gemstones since studying crystal-therapy. My preference goes to young designers who have a fresh, original approach. It’s also an excellent way of acquiring an exclusive piece at a realistic price.

What would you wear to the office?
I love power dressing in classic, tailored suits teemed with expensive shoes and designer eyewear that transform me into a force to be reckoned with.

And for drinks with friends?
Depends where I’m going. If it’s a casual affair jeans, boots and a tee shirt. Otherwise I might show up in a low-back cocktail dress and heels.

What about the beach?
I don’t enjoy walking around in my bikini, so if I’m not lounging or swimming, I’ll slip into a sundress and a baseball cap.

Do you have any fetishes?
I simply love lingerie, especially the sexy kind – it’s almost an addiction. But because I need to feel comfortable above all else, some of the loveliest things I have just stay in my drawer.

Tell us about your wardrobe.
My approach is functional, pieces such as dresses and jackets etc. are grouped and divided by colour. I also separate between winter and summer, between work and leisure, and between day and night.

What do you pack to go on holidays?
First I throw everything I want to take on the bed. Then I take out everything I cannot mix and match with at least three other items. I do the same with the shoes.

What was your most recent purchase?
A pair of Kalvin Klein summer pyjamas.

What do you wear to seduce?
Diamonds and perfume.

And to relax at home?
I walk around bare foot. I pull my hair into a ponytail and slip into jazz pants and a sports’ top.

What about hair and make up?
My motto for hair, like everything else, is keep it simple. I don’t like fiddling with brushes and hair products so I always go for a great cut that I can manage with no fuss. I do a lot of sports and use a scooter so my hair has to be super-functional. But I enjoy wearing make up and I like to experiment. However, I don’t use mascara and foundation because I don’t like the gooey feeling, I like my skin to feel squeaky clean.

TIPS:
*always look your best because you never know who you may run into
*don’t wear high heels if you cannot walk in them with poise
*don’t follow fashion blindly or you’ll just look like every one else
*make sure your shoes are in excellent condition
*keep your look simple, clean and uncluttered
*exercise regularly
*look after your skin
*avoid sequins like the plague

Saturday, July 03, 2004

With Mic at Sahara Café

A retro café at the top end of Swantson Street walk, just above Revival Clothing & Co., across the road from the skating ramp.
Hanging ferns, mismatched 50s tables and chairs, vinyl couches make up the sparse decor. A twirl of froth in creamy coffee, cigarette smoke and the pungent odor of moist wool on rainy days.
Autumn and lace-up boots. Thick socks. The tenderness of early cold days — I wonder wether I am out of place in my clean clothes – I even stopped at the Body Shop to squirt some perfume behind my ears, on my way here.
Next to me, a group of young people with matted hair and beaded dred-locks are smoking around a laminated coffee table. The two girls wear 70s ski vests and miniskirst over flared jeans.

I was reading a literary-fest brochure wen he walked in, just as I begun reading the program featuring H. G. and Les Murray. He was late: fire time being a whole lot different to earth time.
He sat down at the same moment in which the Heidi look-alike, dressed in recicled wool, dropped a tray of cappuccino cups behind the counter.
He sat down with a great shatter, as if all his bones had suddenly snapped at once, and in the act of reclining, he twisted his narrow lips into a smile.

Why Are Guests Like Fish?



Because after three days they start to stink!

I recently had the misfortune of spending a week with the visitors from hell. A former flatmate and her husband decided to visit Nick and me in Lugano, on their honeymoon. First of all, their timing couldn’t have been worse. They arrived when our cash flow was at an all time low and work wise, Nick was at the busiest time of year – the end of June being peak season in the fashion industry. Nick was looking forward to a peaceful weekend and the opportunity to unwind after a hectic few months at the office, before having to spend a week away from home for the buy in the Milan showroom.

On the other hand, I looked at my former flatmate and her new husband’s visit as an opportunity to renew a friendship with someone I hadn’t seen in over five years. We’d shared a house in Armadale during my last year at uni, before I moved back to Switzerland. I looked forward to spending some quality time together, catching up and bonding. In expectation of their visit, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, stocked up the fridge, bought expensive wines and made a list of activities and sites to entertain our guests.

But their visit turned out to be a bitter disappointment that cost Nick his much treasured tranquillity and left a big dent in our housekeeping budget. We wined and dined the newlyweds, took them out and showed them some of our local treasures. But throughout, our guests did not reciprocate our enthusiasm. Mostly they just looked bored, showing no interest in the local attractions, nor any appreciation for our efforts to entertain them.

This wounded our egos as Nick and I have become experts at showing our visitors a good time. Over the years, we’ve had the pleasure of entertaining a great variety of visitors from Australia who drop in at regular intervals throughout the year. I even keep a drawer in my desk filled with brochures, timetables and calendars of local events. So far, our visitors have all left us with great revues about their Swiss sojourns.

It’s only natural that one should wish to offer one’s guests the very best. And usually it’s easy; considering that we live in one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. Therefore it’s unfathomable that someone could remain unimpressed by our dramatic landscapes, the harmony of the towns’ architectures, the many culinary delights and the streets with luxurious boutiques. Switzerland is notoriously a boring holiday destination unless you care for extreme sports, the cultural attractions, spa-ing or shopping. Having said that, I’ve seen even the most hardened city dweller and the most alternative traveller moved by the sheer impact that the Swiss landscape has on the soul. And for a short time, the cool nightclubbing scene is thankfully replaced by the simple enjoyment of the Alpine scenery and getting a peaceful break from the painfully trendy.

For this reason, I couldn’t help becoming upset when I noticed that the honeymooners remained unmoved by the most romantic villages we showed them. Now, I believe that a beautiful landscape has a transcendental quality about it that reaches out and touches a person intimately, indiscriminately of his or her level of education or experience. But I realized that beauty was wasted on our visitors.

I looked at my former flatmate; when we lived together she bragged about having the perfect breasts. Ten years my junior, tall and blond, she used to be slim and athletic. Then she had rhinoplasty and a face-lift and entered the Melbourne S&M scene. She started working as a bouncer in Melbourne nightclubs and talked with self-importance about the many drugs that were endemic to the scene. That’s how she met her husband, also a bouncer. A couple of years down the track though; her former splendour has completely faded.

When I picked them up at the train station they looked unhealthy, overweight and obviously retaining fluids. She was puffy; her belly bulged over her belt, her heavy breasts pointed downward, bunches of wrinkles circled her lips and eyes. Only the nose contrasted unnaturally against the rest of her features, which have started to sag. Her man was covered in an assortment of large tattoos in different colours and styles that decorated both his legs and shoulders. They were both terribly unfit and started wheezing and perspiring as we walked up the hill to our house.

Conversation was difficult. While the groom chain-smoked cigarettes and drank endless amounts of coffee, the bride whined about the preceding weeks of their honeymoon. They spent their time visiting his relatives in Puglia, Italy’s deep south. She hated the fact that she couldn’t understand the language, didn’t like the food nor was she thrilled by the landscape. While we chatted, the groom remained dumb throughout most of our conversations. He is quite expressionless, with a blank face that appears unable to conjure up anything deeper than a vacuous gaze. The only topics that managed to shake him out of his torpor were those of a most grotesque kind. He bragged about how in Puglia they have the highest rate of paedophilia in Europe, and told us that when he works as a bouncer he likes to carry a firearm!

But the topic that really turned him on was drugs. The longest conversation we had was when he expounded a long-winded conspiracy theory about how governments ban drugs because they cause mind-expansion and how Hitler used to do a line of coke every time he invaded a new county…? He also informed us that Prozac is used to ween addicts off various white powders. Starring at his blank face I wondered if he was talking from personal experience. He also had an encyclopaedic knowledge of Chopper Reed’s writings (apparently the only books he’s read). Still, his ignorance was startling; he had no idea of where he was and believed Lake Lugano a salt-water lake! He gawked at us in disbelief when we informed him that Switzerland is surroundedby land and, therefore, has no ocean.

“They are just not our kind of people,” Nick said in the end. It’s true. We have nothing in common. In hindsight, the signs were there from the start. First of all you’ve got to ask yourself, what kind of people don’t smile, hug or kiss on their honeymoon? What kind of people don’t want to be alone on their honeymoon? What kind of people have completely dissimilar wedding bands? And what kind of people have their credit card rejected on their honeymoon?

Following their wishes, I’d organized a rent-a-car for over the weekend. Not only was I asked to walk them to the Hertz agency and assist in filling out the paperwork, but I also ended up having to debit the car expenses to my Visa after his MasterCard was rejected. Now you would think that they’d offer to pay me back in cash then and there but they didn’t. I didn’t even get a thank you for organizing the car. Not even after Nick and I spent all of Saturday driving them up and down the hills and around the lake to show them the place. Not even after we had to return the car on their behalf on Sunday evening, after they bailed out of a pic nic that we’d organized for them.

We had agreed to spend Sunday by the river, high up in the mountains. After five hours sleep following a late night on Saturday after taking our guests to a club, I woke up at seven a.m. to make potato salad and prepare enough food for the four of us. At ten a.m. when we were meant to leave, an sms informed me that they were both sick and allegedly bed ridden!

After that, Nick and I had enough and left them to their own devices. I even joked about it saying, “I bet they’ll eat at Mary’s and think it’s really good.” I was right: they later raved about how much they enjoyed the food at Mary’s and at this and that restaurant – tourist traps with dubious hygiene that offer average food at inflated prices. On their last day in Lugano, we asked them if they wanted to lunch with us but again, they cancelled at the last minute. On other occasions, they were happy to let us shout them drinks without any attempt at reciprocating – again we never even got a thank you. It was a struggle even to get them to pay for just half the car rental!

In the end we were glad to see the back of them. Meanwhile, I’ve come to the following conclusion: they were just a couple of crude and shallow suburbanites. After all, what kind of man buys a pellet gun and tries to smuggle it back illegally on his honeymoon? And why did she feel compelled to tell us she wasn’t wearing any underwear? In conclusion, their visit has really made me appreciate my friends a lot more. It’s made me realize just how easily we can take the people who are important in our lives for granted and how precious these relationships are. Having spent a few days in bad company, Nick and I have come to re-asses our own standards and we are truly grateful, for all the richness and beauty in our lives!