Free wheeling at 45

I didn't learn to ride a bike as a child.  We lived on a hill, near some pretty busy main roads.  I didn't progress beyond a dinky in the back garden, until aged about 12 as I recall, at the family holiday house at Lake Macquarie.  Rickety old bike with a back pedal brake, again, lots of hills.  I recall crashing into the embankment at the side of the road with monotonous regularity.  It seemed like hard work for not much return and a bit of pain thrown in.

Then after that I just didn't ride.  Especially once I could drive.  And then once my grown up logical brain and understanding of consequences took over.  I could visualise the damage I could do to myself with no problem at all.  Mentally, I had decided it was too late.  Cycling was something I just wouldn't ever do and I was fine with that.

But we moved to Canberra, city of bike paths, and first one child, then the second and then finally, just before Christmas, the third child conquered two wheels and took their first steps towards independent travel.  The only one left lagging behind was me.  Even my non bike riding sister had taken to the pedals.

So I gathered up my courage and bought a bike.  A simple (yet surprisingly sexy) matt black Trek road bike.  Some gears and some brakes and not much else fancy.  And got on it, and rode around the reserve out the back of our house.  I didn't fall off.  I could put my feet on the ground when I felt nervous.  My little cheer squad was proud of me and so was I.

The first time I ventured down the hill, I remembered that I don't like down hill.  As a cycling novice, down hill feels remarkably like out of control.  Being well endowed with leg muscles from my gym work, to me, up hill is good.

But I persevered and we rode to the nursing home to visit the girls' grandfather.  And back again.  We rode around Lake Tuggeranong one evening, and I had to ride past walkers and dogs and children and only crashed into one bollard.  It turns out cycling is doable.  Especially when there is a reward at the end of it.

A Sunday morning bike ride, with some friends, to deliver the older child to circus training, with the lure of a good breakfast at the end.  Well, in the middle, because we had to ride back again.

There were hills - down and up.  There were roads to be crossed and ridden on.  A real bike ride, just like the 10 year olds do.

So at 45, I've done it.  Me and my matt black trek are friends.  My backside hurts and I need some cycling shorts, but I too have conquered two wheels and taken some different steps along the road to independent travel.

It feels surprisingly good.

So many flavours, so many egg whites left over

Merry Christmas.  Happy New Year.

There it is. 2012, right there in front of you.  A new year, all fresh ready for new things to do.  So what does one do with a new year?  One of course perfects a new skill.

Because I now own a chest freezer, I got something I have always wanted for Christmas.  The ice-cream maker attachment for my Kitchen Aid.  I thought I perhaps already loved my Kitchen Aid a little to much to be considered healthy, but now it has an ice-cream maker to go with it - hold me back.

December 27 and I tackled my first batch.  Plain vanilla?  Oh no, not me.  A little judicious googling brought forth a recipe for salted caramel ice-cream (which as we know is one of my favourite flavours).  Sadly, no pictures remain of this masterpiece.  It was delicious.  And since then there has been no stopping me.  We have made:

• Vanilla with raspberries
• Creme fraiche and lemon
• Mango sorbet
• Honey
• Coffee

The honey, made with Tasmanian Prickly Box, is particularly fine.  And the coffee pleases even me, which is a big call, since I am very fussy about my coffee ice-cream.

In this bowl, a scoop of honey, a scoop of coffee and a scoop of mango sorbet.  Perfect on a hot evening (or a cold evening for that matter).

Next I want to try liquorice.  And gingerbread.  And lemongrass.  And tarragon and anything else I can think of.  Meanwhile, we are buried in meringues, as I have to do something with all those egg whites and after one disastrous attempt I am happy to leave macaron making to the experts.  (Maybe some almond bread would go nicely with the ice-cream).

Sadly, this dairy excess does not bode well for the new improved Gretchen who has been making an appearance lately.

So today I bought this.

So surely now I can have one scoop more?

Running away to join the circus

The kids do circus after school.  We're very lucky in Canberra to have two groups that run circus training.  We've been doing it on and off for a few years and the girls absolutely love it.  This year, circumstances have meant that I haven't done many of the drop offs or pick ups (thanks Chelsey and Tim, couldn't cope without you) so I haven't really been on top of what they are learning, apart from what I see in the living room, which normally involves a variety of balancing tricks.

Imagine my surprise, when at the end of year performance, I found my children could do this

Stephie on the trapeze 

Rosemary on the tissue.  I was too stunned when she hung upside down by her feet to take a picture

Claire doing balances.  She also did acrobatics and dive rolls off the stage.  I was almost to scared to look.

We also have friends whose children go to the other circus school in Canberra.  Their talents lean towards juggling, unicycles and spinning staffs.  Between the two this holidays, I feel there will be no need for anyone to run away and join the circus.

We are the circus.

L'Este is more

OK, that's a really bad title.  But what else do you call a post about a trip to Timor L'Este?  It's only taken 18 months or so since Edward has been living in Dil to finally get over there and prove to his friends and colleagues that I actually do exist.

Timor L'Este is our nearest neighbour*, but it takes a hell of a long time to get there from Canberra.  Fly to Darwin, stay overnight, get up at 4.30 to hang around the airport until the 5.45 flight to Dili.

Dili is a complicated place.  I didn't love it.  I imagine it would be a very challenging place to live in day to day, especially if you didn't have a purpose for being there.  It's not a place where you can easily go out for a stroll or a walk along the beach, or pop out for a coffee.  It was my first proper look at a developing country.

They say the biggest risk in Dili is that you will get run over by a UN four wheel drive.  They are certainly everywhere, and then you add in the police vehicles from various other nations, plus all the ramshackle taxis, it makes for a rather dusty and noisy place.

However the view from Christo Rei (the big statue of Jesus on the headland) at sunrise was spectacular, (three hundred and something stairs to get there mind you) and I got a great pedicure from an Australian woman who has been there for the past 11 years.

We then headed into the mountains for the weekend, to Maubise, which is apparently the honeymoon captial of Timor L'Este.  Lots of the coffee is grown around here and there are flourishing market gardens.

We stayed over the road from the church and listened in to Sunday morning mass.   The singing was beautiful.  Sunday is market day in Maubise, so the village was full of stalls and traders and people from outlying villages crammed into trucks.

We had an explore around a coffee plantation and a fascinating time with a Timorese family, who told us some of the history of the area and showed us some of the significant historical and spiritual sites.

Edward had a lesson in how to de-pulp coffee.

The views from the top of the mountains were spectacular.  Horses and buffalo grazing.

Then back down the mountain, through the dust, past the road works.  Home in time to have a swim and wash off some of the dust.  Back to Australia on Monday morning.  I'm glad I went, especially now I have a proper picture of where Edward lives and what some of the issues are he faces daily.  Nation building isn't easy.

*Edited to note that I have been corrected - Papua New Guinea is closer by approximately 5kms.  My apologies.

Holy cr@p, how did it get to be December?

Wow.  That whooshing sound you just heard was 2011 heading past you for the door.  Blink and it's a month since you've written anything on the blog.

While we're not quite at the point of reflection on the past year, a lot of things did happen that have slipped past me and I never told you about.  Here's a little selection, there might be some more coming.

Of course there were birthdays - Stephie had an under the see party with lots of little people dressed up as creatures that live under the sea.  Steph was a scuba diver.  Great cake in the shape of a sea turtle from Aunt Bink.

And of course, in our house, birthdays mean birthday pajamas.

There was another trip down to our favourite part of the south coast - Mystery Bay.  This time, we saw humpback whales heading back to Antarctica just off the rocks at the end of the beach.  It was incredible.

People also may have been turned into sand mermaids.

It seems this is in no particular order...
There was Floriade, Canberra's annual floral festival.  This is the first year I have missed nearly all of Floriade - what with being away and the weather being absolutely crap...  I went for about an hour to watch the children sing in the choir and that was it.  But took a few pics anyway...

In this post I showed a picture of this garden bed getting ready to be planted out.  Here's what it looked like in bloom.

There was a visit to the Lodge (the home of the Prime Minister).  The children decided a career in politics could be worth it, simply because if you make it to the top, you get a house with a really cool garden and a great slope to roll down....

There was much gorgeousness in my garden.

There was the first BBQ of the season.

And there was a wedding.  You've got to love a year that has the wedding of your lovely nephew in it.  It was beautiful.

Hanging out with Rodin

I was in year six at primary school.  We had an excursion to Canberra which impacted me in two ways.  It showed me that the Australian War Memorial is one of the most special places we have in this country and it introduced me to the work of Auguste Rodin.  (Then Shelley Conrick spilled boiling water on her foot and it all went down hill from there.)

The Sculpture Garden in the National Gallery of Australia has a cast of four of the six figures.  It is a striking work and over the years I have visited the gallery, especially after moving to Canberra, I have always spent a minute looking at it.

It's not just the story of the burghers of Calais, who were prepared to sacrifice themselves to save their townspeople during the seige of Calais in the Hundred Years War, but the amazing power of Rodin's work.  He does hands so beautifully, along with everything else.

Anyway, fast forward to Paris and a visit to the Musee Rodin was always on my must do list.  The museum is located in the Hotel Biron, a house where Rodin lived for a time before his death.  It is an old house, stuffed full of works by Rodin, with a few minor paintings thrown in that he owned (anyone heard of Munsch, Monet, Van Gogh or Renoir?) and a beautiful garden with bigger works in it.

You'll find some familiar friends here - the Thinker and Balzac are in the garden, along with some other very famous works.

Inside there are more of my favourites.

The Cathedral is bigger in real life than you would expect.

And then there is the Kiss.  It is a breathtaking piece and it almost feels like intruding to take pictures of it. (I managed though).

Isn't it beautiful?

Tearing yourself away from this, and the chance to get up close and personal with Vincent (and check out the Munsch)

it is time to head back outside, to where the burghers are waiting.  My apologies that this post is so picture heavy - there could have been more, but I had pity.

I love the dignity of this sculpture.

Look at the hands - aren't they wonderful?

I took pictures from every angle possible and then some.  And then I just sat and looked and was happy. I'll need to go to Calais now, to see them in their natural habitat.  But seeing them in Paris was incredible and I will be forever glad that I did.

Auguste, it was a pleasure spending time with you.