tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4892318068379591052023-11-16T17:30:15.420+11:00...Toushka Lee...The overworked mind of a parent needs to spew forth a blog now and then.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.comBlogger429125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-51183377439295185592012-04-04T14:18:00.000+10:002012-04-04T14:18:12.472+10:00It's Finally Happening!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7s5Aqt4Y8MgLzF0Vb2FZ9ThPh4BI2gPJVXzNXIvdUj69NcjBgSdP4k8OytomuLCEbhEzBD_tdXT06uJuPQhiwcfQ-saOqAgcnrRkloS3f0xURjIr_uYhcUF02Uo65av7po-FvNhCmt7w/s1600/bags.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7s5Aqt4Y8MgLzF0Vb2FZ9ThPh4BI2gPJVXzNXIvdUj69NcjBgSdP4k8OytomuLCEbhEzBD_tdXT06uJuPQhiwcfQ-saOqAgcnrRkloS3f0xURjIr_uYhcUF02Uo65av7po-FvNhCmt7w/s320/bags.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I am <i>finally</i> moving to Wordpress. I feel like I've been talking about it and planning it forever. So if this blog appears a bit broken over the next little while, it's because things are actually happening. I'll be settled in my new home at Wordpress very soon thanks to the genius of Tracey at <a href="http://sh1ft.org/">Sh1ft.org</a>. I'll also have a new look. See you on the other side.<div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-12534511916303563022012-04-04T12:01:00.000+10:002012-04-04T12:02:17.190+10:00Wordless Wednesday - Taj Mahal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have so much to write about. But very little time to do it.<br />
So, for now, here are some photos I would love to share with you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWwIpxYo4eMil75gxBNjILkxfaqP7iBW5AlRveUj-R8rStoi-kUYzx_YagN0rRqWn15LRWVs9hwGZiHyQHTIp1xx_8n3OIIDIic-bHurTuYJE8VDQ5dMGWOH0yQ4pwORDrjoFOMosdE8/s1600/Taj+Kids.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdWwIpxYo4eMil75gxBNjILkxfaqP7iBW5AlRveUj-R8rStoi-kUYzx_YagN0rRqWn15LRWVs9hwGZiHyQHTIp1xx_8n3OIIDIic-bHurTuYJE8VDQ5dMGWOH0yQ4pwORDrjoFOMosdE8/s320/Taj+Kids.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79el9-wqfF3osuaYv1hyZ3aXb8UxoiWsPMji_VuyIgdyg6nexPUMUpeunqan427h6uI7OT5SUARULTjH_rLsg5IKLn2LnbLeZcPsGDVInw5S-wO-b8ZiW_d3b1cl9VI2zPJAI2XiEQsc/s1600/taj+mosque.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79el9-wqfF3osuaYv1hyZ3aXb8UxoiWsPMji_VuyIgdyg6nexPUMUpeunqan427h6uI7OT5SUARULTjH_rLsg5IKLn2LnbLeZcPsGDVInw5S-wO-b8ZiW_d3b1cl9VI2zPJAI2XiEQsc/s320/taj+mosque.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJWzaAr3x1Hp98138Qb8cj1w2uEZpxWBfoCVx2PWzhheAinwV9x1LWZqvqP3emxOujctNz8ByNKDZJjAJP4_TCOAt5xZFQgZx7a6lAIUZVxYPQgjqJgsmy1sSXwy7SK21WERy3eyRPBw/s1600/taj+through+arch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaJWzaAr3x1Hp98138Qb8cj1w2uEZpxWBfoCVx2PWzhheAinwV9x1LWZqvqP3emxOujctNz8ByNKDZJjAJP4_TCOAt5xZFQgZx7a6lAIUZVxYPQgjqJgsmy1sSXwy7SK21WERy3eyRPBw/s320/taj+through+arch.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD71UlIm-GnqvSwyAtmAqiJoIeLDm0TGe_TiUCsBUXFKvXERSShAlby3vtLCudEnctss-PrQ8wU3W4Uof77S3gHJT6jbhBHfc_InoqnivrZbBLI0uYMZbIwrKE4dcSqnYAdX773EdOoi0/s1600/taj.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD71UlIm-GnqvSwyAtmAqiJoIeLDm0TGe_TiUCsBUXFKvXERSShAlby3vtLCudEnctss-PrQ8wU3W4Uof77S3gHJT6jbhBHfc_InoqnivrZbBLI0uYMZbIwrKE4dcSqnYAdX773EdOoi0/s320/taj.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>
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Linking up with <a href="http://mylittledrummerboys.blogspot.in/2012/04/wordless-wednesday-he-said-what.html">My Little Drummer Boys</a></div>
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-37970769196707532132012-03-28T04:38:00.001+11:002012-03-28T04:39:18.287+11:00Dear Millar: Happy Fourth Birthday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdabubouXEFQitaydm1QiIRf7tSPjfiLBWWZ_r3Ytrg9nzZxjwXsr4hdj_GQFMKp-pc73J3_tP2mTeNbaIcvs2lP0grnz4V4DzNpH6QKyVcEeZP2dGn0BmSBB57cJtKtQwu4dRp_wbBc/s1600/Millar+Happy+4th.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdabubouXEFQitaydm1QiIRf7tSPjfiLBWWZ_r3Ytrg9nzZxjwXsr4hdj_GQFMKp-pc73J3_tP2mTeNbaIcvs2lP0grnz4V4DzNpH6QKyVcEeZP2dGn0BmSBB57cJtKtQwu4dRp_wbBc/s320/Millar+Happy+4th.JPG" width="227" /></a></div>
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My darling, amazing Millar,<br />
<br />
Four! You're growing up so quickly.<br />
I could go on about the amazing things you do but I would sound boastful. You are so smart and so funny and so caring and wonderful and I love you so much that sometimes I cry just thinking about it.<br />
<br />
It's not all sunshine and lollipops though. You are four now and have been getting better at arguing and asserting your independence and practising your loudest "No!"s an awful lot.<br />
<br />
I have a photo of me on my fourth birthday. I am sitting at the table with my mother and I have a super grumpy face and it looks like I've been crying. My mum is looking at the camera and looks exhausted, exasperated and totally over it. The looks on both faces are now very familiar to me.<br />
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At least I know that your tantrums are either normal or genetic... or karma.<br />
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I'm sure you'll love being four. You are enjoying "school" more than you used to and I know you will love kinder when we get back to Australia.<br />
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Happy Birthday Millar. I hope today is the best day ever.<br />
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I love you,<br />
<br />
Mum</div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-71581455348881633902012-03-23T06:00:00.000+11:002012-03-23T06:00:00.526+11:00Escape<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DsTnlnVPFdCxVEY5cpe78BmvY8sPUIy9_CMB653LnsAS1sVowvCbYHCtYFOft4u4xUByRVDrdJyz2hD7Ga3ztvUrxvcov2GrpU0eCwUDZXgOLJuFjZ8d7w17mfNt3Z-k9vjaCEkIRAw/s1600/Chennai.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DsTnlnVPFdCxVEY5cpe78BmvY8sPUIy9_CMB653LnsAS1sVowvCbYHCtYFOft4u4xUByRVDrdJyz2hD7Ga3ztvUrxvcov2GrpU0eCwUDZXgOLJuFjZ8d7w17mfNt3Z-k9vjaCEkIRAw/s320/Chennai.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>
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If I don't like something, I just quit. Always have. Sports, jobs, boyfriends, towns, clarinet lessons and personal training sessions.</div>
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I don't like it here and I want to quit. I saw the opportunity for escape on the horizon. It beckoned to me like a psiren in an oasis. Surely I can just change my flights and leave. But where would I go? We released the lease on our house before coming here and our stuff is in storage and when we return we need to find a place to live.</div>
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Then the psiren singing from the oasis sang louder and clearer. My dad is coming to visit soon. We can go home with him and live in Christchurch for a few months until husband finishes this assignment and flies back to Australia, finds us a house, puts all our furniture in it and then welcomes us home - back to sanity. Back to usable footpaths, meat pies, clean public toilets, efficient systems and a climate that doesn't melt me every minute of the day.</div>
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The price of the flights was less than the cost of the therapy I was sure I would need soon.</div>
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Three to four months in Christchurch. That would be great for the kids, surrounded by family and fresh air. - and did I mention clean public toilets? and pies? oh my kingdom for a steak and cheese pie!</div>
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All the pieces fell into place - the escape was possible, hurrah!</div>
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But then... well... three to four months is a long time for a dad to be without his kids, and vice versa. Skype is ok... but it's not the same is it?</div>
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And the family in Christchurch have got their lives too... I can't expect endless babysitting and help, so it would be a case of me playing single mum when I am lucky enough to not have that as my reality.</div>
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And, the financial benefits of being here would diminish with the cost of stuff in Christchurch... including the winter clothes we would need the minute the plane touched down....and all those pies...</div>
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Then there's those pesky, and surely quite frightening and taxing, earthquakes that Christchurch keeps having.</div>
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The psiren in the oasis falters on that last big note and chokes on a mouthful of reality before she disappears into where she never was.</div>
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Suck it up princess, it's not that bad. It could be so much worse. And one day, one day soon, this will be only a memory and I'll be complaining about unpacking my boxes and the cold winter in Australia.... and burning my mouth on a meat pie.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLTT4Eg-KoWPuXdGB2d4sTRKMap6oD76WYBPGNpxgIP_5r_4TbACxLv4OfETjnrR1IRm95EaXRs56HJznMXbm2fokR9dRTrlTfMrAAhau51sRpO_FS1jC83yLe_SkOy7m97xGW6DvH0U/s1600/footpath.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLTT4Eg-KoWPuXdGB2d4sTRKMap6oD76WYBPGNpxgIP_5r_4TbACxLv4OfETjnrR1IRm95EaXRs56HJznMXbm2fokR9dRTrlTfMrAAhau51sRpO_FS1jC83yLe_SkOy7m97xGW6DvH0U/s400/footpath.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, look. I found a footpath.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-61209545743565795652012-03-20T00:56:00.000+11:002012-03-21T02:31:17.411+11:00Dear Xanthe: Sixteen Months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGV7siEYD502xM-FLt3Ss_a97LDs-YLoN00pytxeOgPmunISjKx_oGoCDCG0cGJWVB-7D-7WsHBbxS_7TGKWYloVtaMJB25EvBy1V7LP94hNbfY5C5EEkHEK_qxUNc1oPu63sBXFG6GJQ/s1600/xanthe+16+months.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGV7siEYD502xM-FLt3Ss_a97LDs-YLoN00pytxeOgPmunISjKx_oGoCDCG0cGJWVB-7D-7WsHBbxS_7TGKWYloVtaMJB25EvBy1V7LP94hNbfY5C5EEkHEK_qxUNc1oPu63sBXFG6GJQ/s320/xanthe+16+months.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Xanthe,</div>
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Your hair is now long enough to put into tiny pigtails. It is super cute. Not that they last very long as you pull the hair ties out pretty quickly, inspect them and then try to put them back in by simply putting them on your head. Unsuccessful. But very cute.</div>
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Your kisses, giggles and dimples melt me. </div>
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<div>
As you play in front of the mirror, putting pants on your head and arranging a necklace just so, I can see the girly girl you are growing to be...</div>
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....and then you shove your finger up your nose.</div>
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I love you,</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Mum</div>
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xxx</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-47152805204356611882012-03-18T20:14:00.000+11:002012-03-21T02:31:56.625+11:00Bollywood Copycats<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQE4jOus4MQHwpij47xD8cYlJeHqxwper7bg7pTQX4P7N-K6SFy6KJk1OmIUDSvWlUjKrLJOQWyGC0q3B-NzHhj8yip0wS48A7o_n89Ol6f2m12mHuBKE3AGX4xBsxz5LeVrhGFbVPl8/s1600/daddy+cool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQE4jOus4MQHwpij47xD8cYlJeHqxwper7bg7pTQX4P7N-K6SFy6KJk1OmIUDSvWlUjKrLJOQWyGC0q3B-NzHhj8yip0wS48A7o_n89Ol6f2m12mHuBKE3AGX4xBsxz5LeVrhGFbVPl8/s1600/daddy+cool.jpg" /></a><br />
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Husband and I were flicking through the TV channels last night, trying to find something of interest.</div>
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We stumbled across a movie in Hindi called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daddy_Cool_(2009_Hindi_film)"><i>Daddy Cool</i></a> that reminded us both of <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0795368/">Death at a Funeral</a></i>. As we continued to watch, we noticed that it was EXACTLY like Death at a Funeral, except with different actors and speaking a different language. </div>
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Although the occasional word or phrase is in English which screws with my head and makes me think I'm either imagining it or that the total immersion technique of learning a language is working suddenly and that I am interpreting Hindi into English at such a speed that it sounds like English... or something. But no. Sometimes, they just speak a bit of English. Especially when swearing.</div>
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This is apparently very common - (the remaking of movies, not the swearing in English thing). Bollywood totally rips off successful western movies. I have read that no rights are purchased, permissions sought or royalties paid for this.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzx8Y819_tKRjgVTqwyhourRZ86g1SWSviPi750QsW2CZAgB0zM7HYGgbCI4NUg-FClFLXz70Kzchn4grraFCQC67uGdyGpHCTJXD5nnps7BKWIxxfEmrWkIcMJQUnMp2anjfod6kau7A/s1600/Ghajini.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzx8Y819_tKRjgVTqwyhourRZ86g1SWSviPi750QsW2CZAgB0zM7HYGgbCI4NUg-FClFLXz70Kzchn4grraFCQC67uGdyGpHCTJXD5nnps7BKWIxxfEmrWkIcMJQUnMp2anjfod6kau7A/s320/Ghajini.png" width="218" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kahin_Pyaar_Na_Ho_Jaaye_(2000_film)">Kahin Pyaar Na Ho Jaaye</a>, a remake of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120888/">The Wedding Singer</a> has some Indian changes but is still basically the same movie. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1166100/">Ghajini</a> is said to be "loosely" based on <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0209144/">Memento</a>, one of my favourite movies of all time. The movie poster for Ghajini is identical to the one for Memento, so I think the term "loosely" is interesting. I am keen to see Ghajini, so will be looking out for that one. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0267813/">Papi Gudia</a> is a complete remake of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094862/">Child's Play</a> - and a bad one at that according to the reviews.</div>
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There is an extensive list on <a href="http://kapsblog.wordpress.com/2009/02/25/bollywood-movies-copied-from-hollywood/">this blog here</a>, but some movies on that list are only "inspired" by Hollywood where as others, like Child's Play and Daddy Cool are almost complete scene for scene remakes. </div>
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<a href="http://www.totalfilm.com/">This website</a> also covers the Bollywood remake topic. Have a look at these classic remakes of <a href="http://www.totalfilm.com/features/7-bollywood-remakes-of-hollywood-films/page:4">Three Men and a Baby </a> and <a href="http://www.totalfilm.com/features/7-bollywood-remakes-of-hollywood-films/page:5">One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest</a>. There is even a <a href="http://www.totalfilm.com/features/7-bollywood-remakes-of-hollywood-films/page:6">movie inspired by Harry Potter</a> - I gotta see that one! </div>
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Regardless of the plagiarism and lack of creativity in Bollywood, these movies can be fun to watch and I'll be looking out for more copycat movies to view just for a laugh. </div>
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<br /></div>
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For Immediate laughs, check out Indian Superman and his girlfriend Spiderwoman. Has Indian Lois Lane seen this?</div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWQlHbT79Ec">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWQlHbT79Ec</a> </div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-63737007498968386222012-03-16T01:07:00.000+11:002012-03-16T01:07:16.221+11:00Things I Know: The Totally Over India Edition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<center><a href="http://www.singularinsanity.com/">
<img border="0" src=" http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7059/6796285720_6b1c84c9dc_m.jpg" />
</a></center>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that I miss the simple things - like usable footpaths, mince pies, road rules, clean toilets and cool weather</li>
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<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that constant shift changes are not healthy for anybody</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that trying to organise travel within India is a recipe for a migraine</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that I would rather vacuum my own floors that have to keep my kids out of housekeeping's way every day.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that I have to make a complaint before they stop using power tools and hammering on the floor above me every night. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that putting up with the damn noise is bad enough all freaking day so I get my ranty pants on as soon as it hits 7pm. The last time I let it go, I had to go and complain at 9:20pm. REALLY</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that hotels should actually finish being built before renting their rooms out. Especially at this star level.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that one of the fire escapes on the fire escape map in my room isn't even accessible due to continuing construction.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know that I miss home and can't wait to get back there.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I know a lot of other stuff that shits me about where I am right now, but I know that you've had enough of my bitching.</li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.singularinsanity.com/2012/03/things-i-know_15.html">Linking up with Dorothy at Singular Insanity</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-34515436543537865122012-03-15T06:00:00.000+11:002012-03-15T06:00:05.663+11:00Bollywood Pop Music<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was flicking through the TV channels yesterday and I found a music channel. I thought it could be interesting. I watched for a long time. Xanthe and I were enjoying the dancing and the occasional English word or phrase thrown into the Hindi mix.<br />
<br />
I was surprised that each and every video had a huge Bollywood dance in it. I thought that surely not all Indian music videos contain big dance numbers. Surely.<br />
<br />
After an hour or so of dance hits that started to all sound and look the same, I noticed the channel name "UTV Stars". I checked the website and sure enough it was the dedicated channel for Bollywood. So each "video" I watched was actually a scene from a hit movie - hence the dancing.<br />
<br />
I am yet to find some Indian popular music without it though.. I will keep searching.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, here are a few of my favourites from my "research" yesterday. Sitting on the couch watching Indian TV can be called research. I do it all for you dear reader. You're welcome.<br />
<br />
<br />
I like this because it's fun and silly.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Jvsgnk8lmn0?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
This one is like skanky hip hop meets bollywood. You'll notice the booty shake and pop and boob shimmy are alive and well in B-town. I don't think I like it. Maybe it's less offensive in the context of the movie.. maybe.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZTmF2v59CtI?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
This one is a bit catchy. It's from a movie based on facebook friendships. Or something. Very Gen Y<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6akX5DG5UFU?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
I might have to dance along next time - what a workout!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-8847402684114778502012-03-12T06:00:00.000+11:002012-03-12T12:24:09.977+11:00Sunday Selections: The Kids<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Most of my photos are of my kids. I find them quite cute actually. So here is a selection of photos taken here in India that I haven't shared before. I dedicate this post to the four sets of Grandparents, two sets of great grandparents and all the aunties and uncles that my kids are lucky enough to have in their lives.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSiPE8Krd7R6BSxTdJu-AFUIGjFP_kwroa5K_qeFZEAw7PTOW1ypodzMK_LIsixy9AUNaNQ70ZBpSi-2jVM-nYvil5jnsnWmv-ATubt0jBQPq8TjDMxiauckR__5W2gDpm_sxQEXYRNPU/s1600/chasing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSiPE8Krd7R6BSxTdJu-AFUIGjFP_kwroa5K_qeFZEAw7PTOW1ypodzMK_LIsixy9AUNaNQ70ZBpSi-2jVM-nYvil5jnsnWmv-ATubt0jBQPq8TjDMxiauckR__5W2gDpm_sxQEXYRNPU/s320/chasing.JPG" width="271" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chasing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5R2hHRZJMMzNvYhhMbTGXN50zvcEOr3fV7L9nVmaAwFvMVKm1yxpB5_9-XwFab4n6iykSdDmOrahPFJjB9SFcVM1YOAdPnLKAXvuKoGstTl2w07k_IWNX-NrMnzdFokmdPR-M1JHxw2M/s1600/cubby.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5R2hHRZJMMzNvYhhMbTGXN50zvcEOr3fV7L9nVmaAwFvMVKm1yxpB5_9-XwFab4n6iykSdDmOrahPFJjB9SFcVM1YOAdPnLKAXvuKoGstTl2w07k_IWNX-NrMnzdFokmdPR-M1JHxw2M/s320/cubby.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out in the "cubby"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGggH0bbpf-B2w541yfz4y9gEi-m3lsgP7bwz50fIBzXyNP5EmYEJnKTNSXRXKMMbUpdIf7nGVzCGCSgFFYZ4BuSzai9ZmfOz41mdNC9Ykv1aADooQrEQ5Fpg4A0XLFBeuE_R3J5FCnL4/s1600/kids+drawing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGggH0bbpf-B2w541yfz4y9gEi-m3lsgP7bwz50fIBzXyNP5EmYEJnKTNSXRXKMMbUpdIf7nGVzCGCSgFFYZ4BuSzai9ZmfOz41mdNC9Ykv1aADooQrEQ5Fpg4A0XLFBeuE_R3J5FCnL4/s320/kids+drawing.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drawing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfPHC0IEdu9N5chaxxHParGhYqRI7VUSzD83WaXMvIL9i3QPSSy8WM8-d3g_bMYo8YOmOJI2qoj6X1RvyztFoMGWBSyYNvy7_K3zkm9fIY6KNZnS8wNR7exWREPNxaLLbnTkjJuDqvGE/s1600/pot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfPHC0IEdu9N5chaxxHParGhYqRI7VUSzD83WaXMvIL9i3QPSSy8WM8-d3g_bMYo8YOmOJI2qoj6X1RvyztFoMGWBSyYNvy7_K3zkm9fIY6KNZnS8wNR7exWREPNxaLLbnTkjJuDqvGE/s320/pot.JPG" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hugging a giant pot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsltyNKB1jPKqY1PRXpyddk_BRhEFWH9pHsJkgmXfoN3MkPe2qzcOElfQPYTqX245st-4YNdYXvnLHVZ5MeUnfbz8wtwBrorVfOYP_fndXm0x5UkqYajdO-hBmosr6TM5b_G8rL7NKNyk/s1600/tv+watching.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsltyNKB1jPKqY1PRXpyddk_BRhEFWH9pHsJkgmXfoN3MkPe2qzcOElfQPYTqX245st-4YNdYXvnLHVZ5MeUnfbz8wtwBrorVfOYP_fndXm0x5UkqYajdO-hBmosr6TM5b_G8rL7NKNyk/s320/tv+watching.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching TV</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiE9VKXA0uINgyMzF2HqJvKsNc40_aoxFvKJMluhq4QuCkAZhyphenhyphenNJqOhdINg9UapojpiOnFSpDJQ4W61BQvTedoNgaLWdJjU_7-QsbTnssvm2EWz_vxiUKfSXI5KYpMRO_tozIqL6w9MP0/s1600/india+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiE9VKXA0uINgyMzF2HqJvKsNc40_aoxFvKJMluhq4QuCkAZhyphenhyphenNJqOhdINg9UapojpiOnFSpDJQ4W61BQvTedoNgaLWdJjU_7-QsbTnssvm2EWz_vxiUKfSXI5KYpMRO_tozIqL6w9MP0/s320/india+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asleep after half a piece of nutella on toast.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4SaZxmVmYqxgoYaO8T39JoAAcoQizi3SPNNvbkNtHhn96E44zHVDqSz4tsCVHNUguLXBT3-vJIH93qNZCUBmRWajldLpp_szB5yQS8FWlYqJK_mMr65gFJRg02R6B8V7sfkVBKZO9m84/s1600/xanthe+sleep.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4SaZxmVmYqxgoYaO8T39JoAAcoQizi3SPNNvbkNtHhn96E44zHVDqSz4tsCVHNUguLXBT3-vJIH93qNZCUBmRWajldLpp_szB5yQS8FWlYqJK_mMr65gFJRg02R6B8V7sfkVBKZO9m84/s320/xanthe+sleep.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Asleep, no nutella toast required.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Linking up with <a href="http://frogpondsrock.com/2012/03/sunday-selections-61/">Frogpondsrock</a> again this week. If you are visiting from there, "hi" and welcome to my speck in the blogosphere.<br />
And yes, I do realise it's Monday. well I do now anyway. With the time difference and husband's constant shift changes, I forget what day it is.<br />
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-74508839060982040142012-03-09T06:00:00.000+11:002012-03-09T11:53:13.517+11:00Our Regular Rickshaw<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-meflYBw56-I/T1h_GPvzhFI/AAAAAAAAAAg/FlCVIR2A6wU/s1600/india+speedb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-meflYBw56-I/T1h_GPvzhFI/AAAAAAAAAAg/FlCVIR2A6wU/s320/india+speedb.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've written about the thrill of <a href="http://www.toushkalee.com/2012/01/our-auto-rickshaw-ride.html">riding in an auto-rickshaw</a> or tuk-tuk before.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The thrill wears off pretty quickly when you have to explain where your son's school is to another rickshaw driver for the fifth time that week and then negotiating a reasonable fare - one that the driver knows is about twenty times the actual fare he charges the locals and the fare regulated by the government but one that is still way cheaper than the hotel car. It seems no one has a clue where this school is. It's near a very popular hotel so we usually say that and when they are close we yell, "stop here - here it is!!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This system was working well until one particularly trying day. We decided to all go together to drop Millar off at school and then go somewhere else to do some sightseeing while he was out of the way and unable to complain about the smells, the sounds, the people and the lack of McDonalds in his hand right that instant.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So we asked the driver of the rickshaw that approached us as we walked down the street, if he knew the way to the school or the hotel. He had no idea and also seemed unable to understand what we were saying at all, so we waved him away. The next rickshaw approached us and hubby recognised him as a driver that had successfully delivered him to a couple of locations previously. So with hope we piled into the rickshaw and gave our destination. He said "yes, yes" and headed off. When he stopped to ask another rickshaw driver for directions, we didn't mind, when it happened three times, we grew concerned. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We had not been in Chennai long enough to know the way ourselves, but we knew the general direction. The driver set off again after getting some more instructions but we felt we were going the wrong way. "do you know where you are going?" we asked "light house?" he replied. "no no no" we said, and tried to repeat our intended destination. This went on for a few frustrating minutes until we had had enough. We told him to stop and we got out. We said we refuse to pay anything because he doesn't know where he is going. He tried to get us to come back in the rickshaw and convince us he knew which way to go. He kept pointing in different directions with a hopeful look on his face. He had no idea but he kept trying to get us back into the vehicle. We walked away from him down a main street, sidestepping all manner of disgusting things on the ground. We then found another rickshaw, jumped in and amazingly this one knew exactly where we wanted to go. After dropping Millar off at school a bit late, we were over Chennai and just wanted to go back to the hotel instead of bother with any sightseeing. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
However, the next morning, Mr I-have-no-idea-where-I'm-going was waiting in his rickshaw. He held up a map, marked with my son's school. Clever. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He is now our regular driver. To and from school twice a day. We worked out a weekly fee which is more than we could pay if we negotiated each trip separately with different drivers (and which he has since raised by 20%) but it saves us the hassle. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We know we are getting severely ripped off with the fee and will not be paying any more if he tries to raise it again, but it's still cheaper than the hotel cars - and some of them don't know where Millar's school is either.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Traffic in Chennai is insane and every time I bundle both children into the rickshaw I question my sanity and my worth as a parent. Hard to tell if a car would be safer though as there are no child restraints. But walking is dangerous too. And staying in the hotel all day and never going anywhere would be a whole different kind of dangerous.<br />
<br />
I guess all we can do is weigh up the costs and the risks, make our decisions and hope for the best.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI92VAKYhWNaNEVDwLZicrHMxp-XImz-RhJtR1I5mXAoE-w5q_z2kAWGEILzzxrbgrrdFemu0VH-Y6Dym6kG9EnDoSUj6S4MhZ2fn1BW5_EF1m2VypFOFNnhFZTlHbeFQ1sOCLdN2enHo/s1600/rickshaws+and+bikeb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI92VAKYhWNaNEVDwLZicrHMxp-XImz-RhJtR1I5mXAoE-w5q_z2kAWGEILzzxrbgrrdFemu0VH-Y6Dym6kG9EnDoSUj6S4MhZ2fn1BW5_EF1m2VypFOFNnhFZTlHbeFQ1sOCLdN2enHo/s400/rickshaws+and+bikeb.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.wheresmyglow.com/2012/03/flogyoblog-friday-flogyofeminism.html">Flogging with Glow today at FYBF</a></div>
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</div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-39745655244713790362012-03-05T06:00:00.000+11:002012-03-05T06:00:01.325+11:00Radisson Blu Temple Bay, Mahabalipuram<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRCpr2qnYMAaEeDH8tY8LPJdwBI3GJtJyA5NUCA1YuF4CoXXzvwZ5KRmKwTiBXEJOH4mfg4OL9W0W1DZBw7LTTe1tBJWJYQ7hYwUTc_bprtxOK3OveQPsSBFkzCc3FPtYY4P0S7GCxYr7/s1600/radisson+lobby.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRCpr2qnYMAaEeDH8tY8LPJdwBI3GJtJyA5NUCA1YuF4CoXXzvwZ5KRmKwTiBXEJOH4mfg4OL9W0W1DZBw7LTTe1tBJWJYQ7hYwUTc_bprtxOK3OveQPsSBFkzCc3FPtYY4P0S7GCxYr7/s320/radisson+lobby.JPG" width="239" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last weekend we stayed at the <a href="http://www.radisson.com/rad/images/hotels/INDRDTM/INDRDTMtemplefactsheet.pdf">Radisson Blu, Temple Bay</a>. We went out that way to see the temples in Mahabalipuram - also known as Mamallapuram. It can be done in a day from Chennai, but with two little kids in tow, it is better to have a home base for some downtime. </div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When we arrived, check-in took some time, but that seems to be standard in India. The lobby is nice and we were adorned with leis of shells and offered some iced tea (I politely declined because I think iced tea is disgusting.) </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We were there quite early and our rooms weren't ready - we hadn't arranged early check-in. They looked after our bags while we explored the grounds. 44 acres is a fair bit of space, and the playground we were headed to was right at the end of the land near the beach. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd2wAFaN6VaEvx18RoA6RvkggmsJKoS5-LUU10OMOQSNh4uWWY3kADAS_41XPdzRYqvUVNJkRkAkOHQT7yVVaqG9pB3bH-3vx8GocVHdA_p1X_qDag-BE7RmVPdIsm-doDsLMtyibwP4Z/s1600/radisson+lei.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd2wAFaN6VaEvx18RoA6RvkggmsJKoS5-LUU10OMOQSNh4uWWY3kADAS_41XPdzRYqvUVNJkRkAkOHQT7yVVaqG9pB3bH-3vx8GocVHdA_p1X_qDag-BE7RmVPdIsm-doDsLMtyibwP4Z/s320/radisson+lei.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hubby's lei tries to eat Millar</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9vbA8SaLX9HlGu9p3jRgAySuT332GcI6BReAwvKHysj4LpMb2xdGZnSrnS-eOGQww7tCCwbLEHAkoAcoSB_ug-auUEYPX3Xjw5-t-9EhkDW5hoVF0WfqysrXgrsLqvDWPgHcFGkFVugc/s1600/radisson+lei+X.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9vbA8SaLX9HlGu9p3jRgAySuT332GcI6BReAwvKHysj4LpMb2xdGZnSrnS-eOGQww7tCCwbLEHAkoAcoSB_ug-auUEYPX3Xjw5-t-9EhkDW5hoVF0WfqysrXgrsLqvDWPgHcFGkFVugc/s320/radisson+lei+X.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xanthe with her Lei</td></tr>
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The playground is set in sand and has no shade at all. A couple of shade sails would be lovely, but no. The equipment is typical of playgrounds in Chennai, with faded (unsurprisingly in this sun) steel bars and a large plastic twirly slide. The occasional breeze from the ocean is welcome, but it still feels like a playground in the middle of the desert.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3H4nKGY7w942uAgmcDivFq02ROSxw581svTTRw6hNJzi6kM873hciqlsR3dSB7mH0jMAAsgb5COdhEUK6KVH5_ocM3KA2kIAzGqLXrWKwMPF_bqmp2_6UtCMpAWO1BHguPJEgfHIYrR30/s1600/radisson+playground.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3H4nKGY7w942uAgmcDivFq02ROSxw581svTTRw6hNJzi6kM873hciqlsR3dSB7mH0jMAAsgb5COdhEUK6KVH5_ocM3KA2kIAzGqLXrWKwMPF_bqmp2_6UtCMpAWO1BHguPJEgfHIYrR30/s400/radisson+playground.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxP0zTfYtW_wu2NdjXElyxKf_LNftFV-AUTFh4PN8rCuSJIer3p44omIBNuWcbbjpkEogDftrwSNlMaC_DvIIGErZyfu0PKH2dNfsx1LrwQJnIAPVeq2OI-qkBf3brj-yn6GOMBuVAWPh/s1600/radisson+The+Wharf1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvxP0zTfYtW_wu2NdjXElyxKf_LNftFV-AUTFh4PN8rCuSJIer3p44omIBNuWcbbjpkEogDftrwSNlMaC_DvIIGErZyfu0PKH2dNfsx1LrwQJnIAPVeq2OI-qkBf3brj-yn6GOMBuVAWPh/s320/radisson+The+Wharf1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wharf restaurant.</td></tr>
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Right next to the playground is The Wharf restaurant. We decided it was time for lunch. The menu has a great variety and the prices are reasonable. I had the spaghetti bolognaise which was awesome! Hubby had something hideously spicy and Indian. The welcome drink we received was a gorgeous pink guava concoction that hubby didn't like and the kids only drink water and milk, so I drank all four of them. Yum!</div>
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The service was slow but friendly. The food was delicious, and the view of the ocean just gorgeous.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlV90KtowiQBTkej8sg-djqjKqj3BYErCweEZW2LK_fm9bFLeGthzTUk7CSeLLV2w77z190sKkUXXHjUMnWp1UHBlvdcA8aNtz_BhWTxq75KwZvrZF66YKxMxn9nlwRjilt5yw-Qc-4Vv/s1600/radisson+spag+bol.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlV90KtowiQBTkej8sg-djqjKqj3BYErCweEZW2LK_fm9bFLeGthzTUk7CSeLLV2w77z190sKkUXXHjUMnWp1UHBlvdcA8aNtz_BhWTxq75KwZvrZF66YKxMxn9nlwRjilt5yw-Qc-4Vv/s320/radisson+spag+bol.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spag Bol</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9vbA8SaLX9HlGu9p3jRgAySuT332GcI6BReAwvKHysj4LpMb2xdGZnSrnS-eOGQww7tCCwbLEHAkoAcoSB_ug-auUEYPX3Xjw5-t-9EhkDW5hoVF0WfqysrXgrsLqvDWPgHcFGkFVugc/s1600/radisson+lei+X.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMd2wAFaN6VaEvx18RoA6RvkggmsJKoS5-LUU10OMOQSNh4uWWY3kADAS_41XPdzRYqvUVNJkRkAkOHQT7yVVaqG9pB3bH-3vx8GocVHdA_p1X_qDag-BE7RmVPdIsm-doDsLMtyibwP4Z/s1600/radisson+lei.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
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Once our room was ready we went inside and started unpacking. The first thing we noticed was the twin beds. We had booked a double room and asked for an extra bed for Millar. There was no extra bed, but after a quick inspection of the couch, we decided he could sleep there and we wouldn't worry about the extra bed. One of the twin beds had a stained sheet, some rusty droplet stains, like from a curry or bolognaise sauce (or at least that's what I hope it was), we called house-keeping and got it changed immediately. We also got an extra sheet for the couch. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYM_D1qrJ_QWkhy-IZ4aHehiAdR4ALlR1TMk6pMq9lVYmRyGBRq4SzUv7_mCSeL4hY3IMABW9thGPxF_LbqXNRiHMap49wYM40NZkK0uqcLMexOOdSeDKIkY-wgNiK_g3_nRlIO4wz9kmh/s1600/radisson+pool+chalet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYM_D1qrJ_QWkhy-IZ4aHehiAdR4ALlR1TMk6pMq9lVYmRyGBRq4SzUv7_mCSeL4hY3IMABW9thGPxF_LbqXNRiHMap49wYM40NZkK0uqcLMexOOdSeDKIkY-wgNiK_g3_nRlIO4wz9kmh/s320/radisson+pool+chalet.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pool view chalet. We had the ground floor one. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidC2f2k0CPxLE9CyoaaazEUsLqwOgvXm84phN9xUXAsgP_0JKWdfGvhNrPM3TzRviowkri0LWFsCeu2uPojdQ9qLdnGerkhtZu953ZoV2YscmnhkhI95J7WAblP7JohPiU9Nj7UcOyh5Ll/s1600/radisson+beds.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidC2f2k0CPxLE9CyoaaazEUsLqwOgvXm84phN9xUXAsgP_0JKWdfGvhNrPM3TzRviowkri0LWFsCeu2uPojdQ9qLdnGerkhtZu953ZoV2YscmnhkhI95J7WAblP7JohPiU9Nj7UcOyh5Ll/s320/radisson+beds.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Millar and Hubby hang out on one of the twin beds</td></tr>
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Then we went for a swim. The amazing pool is by far the best thing about this hotel. The longest pool in India and one of the longest in Asia, but it's not a boring rectangle, no siree bob! It's a meandering pool of blue awesomeness with inlets and bays. It has a swim up bar at one end and two kiddy pools inset into the main pool. Our poolside chalet was 5 steps from the pool. I could have handled staying a few more nights just to take advantage of the pool more often.</div>
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There is also another pool near the beach, an infinity pool, as well as several villas with their own private pools. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgua2z5vWyd7BmIr6jea7VqyGrvYs-7aZpSPGPlJGZMwVRpmulSF4ECglvgKEx2_03jxULK6blgd8e6G35e0O3q39W0pLZQDK6lS_7ZrYZsLvm0LiMRe57TxJsx9JizylnZrEPdwMwD4LNb/s1600/radisson+pool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgua2z5vWyd7BmIr6jea7VqyGrvYs-7aZpSPGPlJGZMwVRpmulSF4ECglvgKEx2_03jxULK6blgd8e6G35e0O3q39W0pLZQDK6lS_7ZrYZsLvm0LiMRe57TxJsx9JizylnZrEPdwMwD4LNb/s320/radisson+pool.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRbqC-gTnjjALNhjXYyAtJfTQp1U7lV5Q1zj66yi27yvymkIu4QUaCQ7p0bd9gKbsR2b5nSNJG7XkXd_WYk7fROWlW88eO7KPW_zXjHakBbOSbwgeuWi1ZAg7aF9oZ1dd5cSNXhR0NP2s/s1600/radisson+pool2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRbqC-gTnjjALNhjXYyAtJfTQp1U7lV5Q1zj66yi27yvymkIu4QUaCQ7p0bd9gKbsR2b5nSNJG7XkXd_WYk7fROWlW88eO7KPW_zXjHakBbOSbwgeuWi1ZAg7aF9oZ1dd5cSNXhR0NP2s/s320/radisson+pool2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnaNhyphenhyphen4w81OG7yMJnJL1fJOtMpPJCZHi1VG2cG54dhHDDDuMcWxcYQuKPsAlLB9CZNl2-0I8jerBOanX4DgJZ5b5ap3oi7xQWI5klg6w9GjT4TFR7Khh-c4-iMk44HAmjyetYSeMkvUien/s1600/radisson+kids+pool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnaNhyphenhyphen4w81OG7yMJnJL1fJOtMpPJCZHi1VG2cG54dhHDDDuMcWxcYQuKPsAlLB9CZNl2-0I8jerBOanX4DgJZ5b5ap3oi7xQWI5klg6w9GjT4TFR7Khh-c4-iMk44HAmjyetYSeMkvUien/s320/radisson+kids+pool.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little inset pool you can see in this picture is one<br />
of the two 2ft deep kiddy pools. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQGSclzDAdse44tbSd464K1nQP1NtzA1G0HgznizN5xHsMQx14HUiOOkBjG36LWhxwH688_44ZO80lJP-1Xe9fkG3aWGi8RBDgHwRKCQ9aDCw9JiTc-bDBm0rR8769gO7fnYX_SCQruDD/s1600/radisson+swim+up+bar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQGSclzDAdse44tbSd464K1nQP1NtzA1G0HgznizN5xHsMQx14HUiOOkBjG36LWhxwH688_44ZO80lJP-1Xe9fkG3aWGi8RBDgHwRKCQ9aDCw9JiTc-bDBm0rR8769gO7fnYX_SCQruDD/s320/radisson+swim+up+bar.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swim up bar.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF366EyEgaemNnlamk5rXLkJ8N0z2xLgcjwMvplDEktMzd1la0rzLKnawMMl-3LHSpVPbz9MIG1_dyGWxAY2x4z1Q43FUdIhkAx1RoRvOKLZxyhN8pYJ8RxCeyQX-WBzYBpObVNgMUSkTR/s1600/radisson+infinity+pool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF366EyEgaemNnlamk5rXLkJ8N0z2xLgcjwMvplDEktMzd1la0rzLKnawMMl-3LHSpVPbz9MIG1_dyGWxAY2x4z1Q43FUdIhkAx1RoRvOKLZxyhN8pYJ8RxCeyQX-WBzYBpObVNgMUSkTR/s320/radisson+infinity+pool.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">The other pool in all it's infinite goodness.</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Come night-time and we managed to get Xanthe off to sleep in her porta-cot, but when it came to Millar's bedtime he threw a major tantrum and refused to sleep on the couch that he was so excited about before. So I slept on the couch and Millar had one of the beds. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">In the morning we went to the breakfast buffet included in the room price. It was a pretty impressive buffet.</span></div>
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Then we set off to explore Mahabalipuram <a href="http://www.toushkalee.com/2012/02/shore-temple-at-mahabalipuram.html">which I wrote about here</a>.</div>
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When we got back we packed up and checked out. It would have been awesome to have another swim but the free late check out is only available when the rooms are available and unfortunately, ours was not available. So after we checked out, they stowed our bags and we went to the Waters Edge Cafe for lunch. Another buffet, the food was great but it was the most expensive meal we have had in India. The service was dismal - a lot of staff standing around doing nothing. We had to ask to get our plates cleared and ask several times for another drink among other complaints. There is a duo with a keyboard and a guitar playing some horrible 60's muzak-esque tunes. This place is not worth the price. We didn't try the other two restaurants on site but out of the two we did try, I would recommend The Wharf restaurant over the Water's Edge Cafe. </div>
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We spent the rest of our waiting time playing in the cubby house and chess set and trying to get a good photo of the many squirrels but only getting photos of bits of grass where squirrels were just a second ago.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVln5Lm8vd8OU0UV3mnGZaQtGQRSaAXQEAPjDhBh55DEpczeGRuB26cNT-TDxNPzJSS3fNCZiKhvoHhRxkEVhm7ZutSoTnuaSEtKnMQAwyaOUY_spDtZILn0MhK2F1xNaoTriVf46v9xO0/s1600/radisson+chess.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVln5Lm8vd8OU0UV3mnGZaQtGQRSaAXQEAPjDhBh55DEpczeGRuB26cNT-TDxNPzJSS3fNCZiKhvoHhRxkEVhm7ZutSoTnuaSEtKnMQAwyaOUY_spDtZILn0MhK2F1xNaoTriVf46v9xO0/s320/radisson+chess.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chess</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_06y3aFlmQNQByvLf6qbSnCtFKxCuSyEpGFK44BlYpeayx7JWuWlHOANtUL_F1t_KZTnF9oT146EJQt2biLofRC3r9YvSqqEEYntd_-w0ocqLPUO5r1dVf8kvRH3kX4y2219c8KyjvsU/s1600/radisson+cubby.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_06y3aFlmQNQByvLf6qbSnCtFKxCuSyEpGFK44BlYpeayx7JWuWlHOANtUL_F1t_KZTnF9oT146EJQt2biLofRC3r9YvSqqEEYntd_-w0ocqLPUO5r1dVf8kvRH3kX4y2219c8KyjvsU/s320/radisson+cubby.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cubby house<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jwPrjpTNgF3thn3ae4lKLykE9Flyu8yhuZDwXOuTDseLabZVRMDn672ZaD0oseinZZP3SM1bkt__SqwjcD50Df0JcspejQ9EZrQWzSIukePIPedyDIqQGO25U8AIksAIgZZNQSGm_BqR/s1600/not+a+squirrel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jwPrjpTNgF3thn3ae4lKLykE9Flyu8yhuZDwXOuTDseLabZVRMDn672ZaD0oseinZZP3SM1bkt__SqwjcD50Df0JcspejQ9EZrQWzSIukePIPedyDIqQGO25U8AIksAIgZZNQSGm_BqR/s320/not+a+squirrel.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">There was a squirrel here a second ago</td></tr>
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Another weird thing here is that inside the walk-in wardrobe in our room was a bathrobe. Just one, very small and tatty and dirty bathrobe. I can only imagine that it is some kind of beachy decor thing. Fail.</div>
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Overall, a great place just for the pool and the rooms are nice enough. Food overpriced but good. Close to the temples. Plenty of cheaper guest houses closer to the temples and still right on the beach. We chose this place because of all the mixed reviews about other places on tripadvisor, and didn't want to risk a horrible place with kids. </div>
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We were glad we went, but we were glad to get back home - or at least, our home in Chennai, another hotel.</div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-3974807752942322432012-03-04T06:00:00.000+11:002012-03-04T12:36:11.354+11:00Sunday Selections: Street Scenes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">A collection of photos of the streets of Chennai</span>. </div>
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I would normally be inking up with Sunday Selections at <a href="http://frogpondsrock.com/">Frogpondsrock.</a> But this week it is hosted by <a href="http://somedaywewillsleep.com/sunday-selections-60/">Veronica at Sleepless Nights</a> </div>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-35207446130388224542012-02-29T06:00:00.000+11:002012-03-01T19:46:09.792+11:00Wordless Wednesday - Work Experience<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QXCrDUnWRQ4/T0zZT2dcGmI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/TJ7U0hi7CjQ/s1600/xanthe+reception+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QXCrDUnWRQ4/T0zZT2dcGmI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/TJ7U0hi7CjQ/s320/xanthe+reception+2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely Abinaya shows Xanthe the ropes<br />
of front desk duties.</td></tr>
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Linking up with <a href="http://mylittledrummerboys.blogspot.in/2012/02/wordless-wednesday-apple-fun-park.html" target="_blank">Trish at My Little Drummer Boys for Wordless Wednesday</a></div>
<br /></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-32954212000359979742012-02-28T15:08:00.001+11:002012-02-29T12:21:44.537+11:00Dear Millar: 3 years 11 months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Millar,<br />
<br />
This month you have shown us what a real tantrum is. We are all finding our surroundings challenging right now, so it's no surprise. But boy! You are certainly asserting your independence and defiance with a new found vigour. Sometimes I have to hide my laughter when you do things like cross your arms and say "I don't want to hear it. Ever. Again. I'm NOT kidding!!"<br />
<br />
You don't like people much. Especially new people. You used to be happy to talk to anyone and tell them your name and some random tid-bit of information. But here in India, you get annoyed with people touching you, trying to pick you up and chasing you. It's not fun for you and you hide from people now and refuse to talk to anyone. I hope it's just a phase and we are working on it. We are helping you say hi to people and shake hands and be polite, but we are also letting people know when to leave you alone. I can completely understand your need for some personal space though!<br />
<br />
Your reading and spelling is coming along amazingly well. I am so proud of you. The amount of words you can spell and read far exceed my expectations of what you would be able to do at this age. You love reading and want to know what everything says.<br />
<br />
You turn four next month. WOW! You are growing up. You often say you don't want to grow up. You want to stay a little boy. You will always be my little boy, but neither of us can stop you growing up.<br />
<br />
I love you so much,<br />
<br />
Mum<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-86939408223759419202012-02-27T12:04:00.000+11:002012-02-27T12:04:27.161+11:00Shore Temple at Mahabalipuram<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This weekend we visited Mahabalipuram. This is a small town full of world heritage listed monuments of religious significance. It's a busy tourist destination about an hours drive from our hotel in Chennai.<br />
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We arrived on Sarturday and spent the afternoon at a hotel, swimming and relaxing. Then on Sunday morning straight after breakfast we left to visit the monuments.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyImhcwmKucRfyY_eh445fHO8wPqCy3m9NTm1g0ByBDxjRw5rlnXrgHEpnX22R2Sf7DXxSm6G50YBjq0bLfbJxPgpSUBBUHmygUjxgK1xlMNGi0wZsOQmPuY6t0Q7T6urvM6PSR27a61PC/s1600/mahabalipuram+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyImhcwmKucRfyY_eh445fHO8wPqCy3m9NTm1g0ByBDxjRw5rlnXrgHEpnX22R2Sf7DXxSm6G50YBjq0bLfbJxPgpSUBBUHmygUjxgK1xlMNGi0wZsOQmPuY6t0Q7T6urvM6PSR27a61PC/s320/mahabalipuram+4.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our hotel. The bit that sticks out in the distance<br />is the peninsula bit that the Temples are on. If you squint, <br />you can see the temples too. </td></tr>
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We could see the Shore Temple from the beach outside our hotel. It was in the distance but definitely walkable so we decided to walk. We forgot to factor in how much that would suck with two kids and temperatures of 33 degrees. Sand walking is hard. Having so much sand in your shoes that there is not enough room for your feet is sucky. We walked along the beach for ages, noticing the bizarre bits of washed up trash strewn along the beach. I wondered how the tourists could just put a towel down and sunbathe with all that rubbish around them. Mind boggling.<br />
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The temple is heavily fenced but we were able to walk through the back gate of another hotel to gain entry to the area. However, after walking to the temple gate we were told we needed tickets which were sold at another gate 300 metres away. We walked back there and bought our tickets. We nearly didn't. I was over it by then. The journey here had been long and hot and painful, we were constantly being accosted by people trying to sell their services as temple guides, sell us necklaces or just beg for money. Several people had tried to take our photo and touch the kids. I was sweating litres and my feet were cut up from evil sharp sand. But after a quick discussion with hubster, it was agreed that we would be super pissed off to come all this way, stay in an overpriced resort, and not see the temple.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUojMotfM8yfm3I4qcAvVk9ccJjFSc0DuBvmU_d5VuN6R40FquqF95akROmtvoBToqT9kJtrB59q8xGCt6N40l8Dvv2fPg72km54zD60B4DXLmssEspUFAIs5s4cJGVNY17pw_sZRkaANQ/s1600/mahabalipuram+tickets.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUojMotfM8yfm3I4qcAvVk9ccJjFSc0DuBvmU_d5VuN6R40FquqF95akROmtvoBToqT9kJtrB59q8xGCt6N40l8Dvv2fPg72km54zD60B4DXLmssEspUFAIs5s4cJGVNY17pw_sZRkaANQ/s320/mahabalipuram+tickets.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buying tickets for the monuments.</td></tr>
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So to the ticket window we went.<br />
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The sign on the window reads "Indians: 10 rupees. Others: 250 rupees."<br />
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Children are free, Indian or otherwise. The ticket is valid for all of the monuments in the area. At AUD$4.77 - it's a bargain.<br />
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Tickets in hand we trekked back to the temple.<br />
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This temple was built for Lord Shiva in the 7th century. Legend has it, that the temple was part of a group of seven temples known as the Seven Pagodas. The Shore temple is the last one standing. The granite rocks show the wear and tear of centuries of sea erosion, but the fact it's still standing is impressive.<br />
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Instead of destroying the temple, the tsunami that struck on boxing day, 2005 exposed some long hidden rocks that are believed to have been part of the Seven Pagodas. A large lion statue dated back to the 7th century was completely uncovered by the tsunami. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Pagodas_of_Mahabalipuram" target="_blank">Information here in Wikipedia</a> tells of witness accounts of seeing a long stone wall when the water receded, before it came crashing back to shore with disastrous consequences.<br />
Searches have revealed walls and two submerged temples that indicate the area was home to a large complex of temples. The search for more continues.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuI2VldjD352DvJz9XaQnvWUR0pBN5yOx99PYNFRVCqPWjb8sqTMdLCe-eRtTFyoI1_EE0jCJqhZ9k-4644cjc-HhREqtFpuwa72zLRY7oi3koLcfcB3_XBTzSMfWMHfIipStPG5tYXek/s1600/mahabalipuram+8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLuI2VldjD352DvJz9XaQnvWUR0pBN5yOx99PYNFRVCqPWjb8sqTMdLCe-eRtTFyoI1_EE0jCJqhZ9k-4644cjc-HhREqtFpuwa72zLRY7oi3koLcfcB3_XBTzSMfWMHfIipStPG5tYXek/s320/mahabalipuram+8.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bats; Not my favourite creatures.</td></tr>
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The Shore Temple includes three cave-like shrines. Two are for Lord Shiva and one is for Lord Vishnu. The shrines are also home to many bats. Darren ventured inside and took a photo for me, because I don't like bats much. <br />
I've heard that the temple looks it's best in the light of dusk. I imagine it would look pretty amazing at sunrise too. But we were there at 11am. It was still pretty amazing.<br />
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Walking around the temples, between the walls, it's very pleasant and cool. The sea breeze whistles through the narrow corridors and creates a natural air conditioning effect.<br />
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Immediately outside the Shore Temple gates are many market stalls selling food and beverages and also souvenirs, from plastic palm trees to postcards and jewellery. For good souvenirs, the surrounding streets of Mahabalipuram have handicraft stores aplenty.<br />
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If we were to do this again, I would not walk along the beach, I would go the front way. Along the road. Or take a rickshaw. Which is how we got home - it took only three minutes. We didn't visit any of the other monuments as we were running out of time and the kids were hot, cranky and tired ...and so were we.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfpBqG2z3oV4iI3DDvD8RWeh5AYdPua0lht7wbXEXV5KhJfejFb0kny18Y-xPQgMNhDQcKAmfIXSGCcDhnMt4Qh8jspMuc0Z3DMSQ1-QPsvOzbl51N7bJaQDHmj2CeARxlAQ1GkdOXg8B/s1600/mahabalipuram1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfpBqG2z3oV4iI3DDvD8RWeh5AYdPua0lht7wbXEXV5KhJfejFb0kny18Y-xPQgMNhDQcKAmfIXSGCcDhnMt4Qh8jspMuc0Z3DMSQ1-QPsvOzbl51N7bJaQDHmj2CeARxlAQ1GkdOXg8B/s320/mahabalipuram1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nice shade of red despite the sunscreen.<br />Hats are on the shopping list.<br />Xanthe keeps taking hers off, so we may need an umbrella.</td></tr>
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I may go back for a better look one day without the kids. It could be done in a day, leaving early from here and coming back in the afternoon, without the need for a pricey hotel. Maybe I'll pay for a guide, maybe I'll learn something. Maybe I'll buy a plastic palm tree.. or not.<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-82927588424680540842012-02-23T00:38:00.000+11:002012-02-23T00:38:18.107+11:00Happy Birthday Hubster<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Happy big 30th birthday to my favourite guy,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> my awesome husband.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgDBKG0E51vIKt6G__S_8xhnZXI29SFK_pz9n671x3LkhYa12f1KZJZ9i8hH2oxGv50adEmMPRAVSIvqj-g-uOmnqNIqebI0FDaNxUyf-QN76brsInEDtqBAU-BRxyGvopDSTiJ5K1sZa/s1600/darren2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgDBKG0E51vIKt6G__S_8xhnZXI29SFK_pz9n671x3LkhYa12f1KZJZ9i8hH2oxGv50adEmMPRAVSIvqj-g-uOmnqNIqebI0FDaNxUyf-QN76brsInEDtqBAU-BRxyGvopDSTiJ5K1sZa/s320/darren2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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He's also the best Dad on the planet.<br />
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Have an awesome day, honey. Hope you love your present. I'm pretty sure you will, since you picked it out, gave me the money for it and then carried it home because it was too heavy for me. But you can still act surprised when you unwrap it.<br />
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Love you lots and heaps and 30 times infinity.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-70492560400016221002012-02-22T02:39:00.000+11:002012-02-22T02:40:30.047+11:00Christchurch - One Year Later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiZJxMG_mw7PEqI7bIdzxk1f3aTXdyl2SiPRxwkr5wHl4L5k2dtp3mPvXK1xMlWZfikpHCX8mt9Np1-N_4D7OsSRI0l7f7uyjLNEhh9fc1T54e42dCUvjXGih4CxvQiB3iuw96Td2joiw/s1600/180878_10150092045000887_22265760886_6822310_8314658_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiZJxMG_mw7PEqI7bIdzxk1f3aTXdyl2SiPRxwkr5wHl4L5k2dtp3mPvXK1xMlWZfikpHCX8mt9Np1-N_4D7OsSRI0l7f7uyjLNEhh9fc1T54e42dCUvjXGih4CxvQiB3iuw96Td2joiw/s320/180878_10150092045000887_22265760886_6822310_8314658_n.jpg" width="239" /></a>It's been a whole year since the devastating earthquake that rocked Christchurch on February 22nd 2011. Christchurch had been experiencing many aftershocks since the <a href="http://www.toushkalee.com/2010/10/showing-no-cracks.html" target="_blank">7.1 magnitude earthquake hit on September 4th 2010</a>. </div>
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The 6.3 earthquake in February was the worst of these aftershocks, causing the death of 185 people. Leaving families and friends with lost loved ones. People without homes, businesses and jobs. </div>
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It didn't crush the spirit of Canterbury but with over 10,000 aftershocks and no end in sight, it is sure to be chipping away at it.</div>
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Last Sunday night on 60 minutes, they showed a story containing footage of the minutes after the quake that hit the city at 12:51 that day. I found out about this on facebook and watched the comments of family and friends as they watched scenes they had never seen. Many Cantabrians were without power for quite some time following the quake. Most were a bit busy being the story, instead of watching it. </div>
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<a href="http://www.tv3.co.nz/Feb-19---Aftershock/tabid/2059/articleID/75799/Default.aspx#.T0MyrgJD6K4.blogger">Feb 19 - Aftershock - Stories - Story Archive - 60 Minutes - Shows - TV3</a> You can watch it here.</div>
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I remember watching most of this footage on the news. It was all I could do from Melbourne. We sat in shock, glued to the TV for days. My Dad was supposed to be coming to visit and we had booked a holiday home in Rye for the weekend. He couldn't make it as the building housing his shop fell down around him. He made it out alive and went back in to save Brewster, his pet cockatiel . </div>
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We still went to the holiday home and sat glued to the TV there. We watched the death toll climb and cried. A lot. We were lucky not to have lost anyone close to us. </div>
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I wrote <a href="http://www.toushkalee.com/2011/02/gone.html" target="_blank">this post</a> the day after the quake. I was sad and angry. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZy8X6xTwugGCNwIPGEIA_Go6Hsf68sgmWfxFCbNVJ9GgqBLvhDWN6Rl0xbfxWO5I8a3W4KOXFTKGTYVGbOuupYacgXf0aazto7rN0a25zgkZwk8KUGIWI6LOq75DsLAYcuMbcKqoog-L/s1600/New+Regent+St+Flight+Centre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiZy8X6xTwugGCNwIPGEIA_Go6Hsf68sgmWfxFCbNVJ9GgqBLvhDWN6Rl0xbfxWO5I8a3W4KOXFTKGTYVGbOuupYacgXf0aazto7rN0a25zgkZwk8KUGIWI6LOq75DsLAYcuMbcKqoog-L/s320/New+Regent+St+Flight+Centre.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where I worked before moving to Melbourne.<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/geoftheref/5520282597/sizes/m/in/photostream/" target="_blank">Photo by Geof Wilson</a></td></tr>
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When we went back home recently for a holiday, we saw what was left of the city. Some suburbs look like nothing happened there at all. Some parts look like someone came through and stole all the chimneys and left everything else. Some suburbs still have portaloos outside. Some suburbs have been "redzoned" and are set for complete demolition. Some parts of the city have gaps. Gaps that used to hold houses, shops, churches and restaurants. Some of those gaps I could remember easily what used to be there. Some I only knew that there was once something there, but couldn't remember what, exactly. </div>
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When Darren and I drove past the first house we lived in together and saw that out of a row of four town houses, ours was the only one that had fallen, it felt bizarre. Like a piece of our history was gone forever. That's what all those gaps are. </div>
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We didn't take a lot of photos. In some places it just felt wrong to whip out the camera. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOygANbBsEiZU2zpGgvNoT39sLI23u07X2X7_OUlPF3QQnKbjy0ZW2UaW5gUZ7IzG-FCHom3qt2BhWfkfpSyDl7mrdlYOZxV4iEPG-TL8VvyWIK6xXI5I5mZFpNl9PR1qVIJYtXd8DC0T/s1600/gaps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMOygANbBsEiZU2zpGgvNoT39sLI23u07X2X7_OUlPF3QQnKbjy0ZW2UaW5gUZ7IzG-FCHom3qt2BhWfkfpSyDl7mrdlYOZxV4iEPG-TL8VvyWIK6xXI5I5mZFpNl9PR1qVIJYtXd8DC0T/s320/gaps.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaps </td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Not being able to see the central city was hard to deal with. We wanted to see. I wanted to see the Cathedral. Most of it was still cordoned off. They started tours soon after we left. I imagine it helped give closure to a lot of people. As sad and frustrating as it was for me, not being able to enter, I can imagine the daily frustrations of those living there and dealing with the ongoing cordons and lengthy waits for rebuilds or demolitions, all while each aftershock sets things back even further.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISjwdHNuwfk4l5UC2RU-P4HN-kiNuKsMfu4zBgdAKW0MvnnoWjUKW9jwj1SfcTHcyhEagQB_iZOiGGQlJ1drY3pC62BVYYhY6Akfz3OVcALsOBLVjzbwEWk0bk1cXhYNtLHyrZo637iD8/s1600/cashel+mall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiISjwdHNuwfk4l5UC2RU-P4HN-kiNuKsMfu4zBgdAKW0MvnnoWjUKW9jwj1SfcTHcyhEagQB_iZOiGGQlJ1drY3pC62BVYYhY6Akfz3OVcALsOBLVjzbwEWk0bk1cXhYNtLHyrZo637iD8/s320/cashel+mall.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cashel Mall, Shipping Container Shops.</td></tr>
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I recently heard that they had started bulldozing houses in Bexley, a suburb in the east of Christchurch. Next time we visit our hometown, it will be very different, with some suburbs no longer existing. Entire neighbourhoods only a memory. </div>
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My heart still breaks for Christchurch, but my favourite part of the visit home was seeing the colourful containers in Cashel St. These funky shipping containers serve as a temporary shopping centre and house some great stores and coffee shops. It's refreshing in the middle of cordons and rubble. As corny as it sounds, it gave me a sense of hope for the future of Christchuch. </div>
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On this anniversary I am sending love to everyone back home. Kia Kaha, Christchurch. Arohanui. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPHc5y7lZ-7dSLMEmvGbvHZpkGFr_zNTjGnaBXBNzZbcLTzCTW9b1YIBIIp6NbhilYmb6Zod0yAnJZnQoZ9Xd5uITHvSpGKX666erwgi0GAzxwqhM1Laz_rlmIZbpS9uhNvJczRMzbjN9/s1600/chalice+and+cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPHc5y7lZ-7dSLMEmvGbvHZpkGFr_zNTjGnaBXBNzZbcLTzCTW9b1YIBIIp6NbhilYmb6Zod0yAnJZnQoZ9Xd5uITHvSpGKX666erwgi0GAzxwqhM1Laz_rlmIZbpS9uhNvJczRMzbjN9/s400/chalice+and+cathedral.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Before</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-45518863864239222992012-02-21T02:39:00.001+11:002012-02-21T02:41:15.783+11:00Dear Xanthe: Fifteen Months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVF1AkDiLgQeXaXXgdlviurybhVd6z27qaMvSW9_WFxOxk_ejoafKNE34A_ubotwN93NvrikZQtREAYqoXQZdeGSmOKIs366fGLemjH3fkfw18uCbiKyJlqYCCLpjMY7Ll_HTUJ25JiO37/s1600/dear+xanthe+15m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVF1AkDiLgQeXaXXgdlviurybhVd6z27qaMvSW9_WFxOxk_ejoafKNE34A_ubotwN93NvrikZQtREAYqoXQZdeGSmOKIs366fGLemjH3fkfw18uCbiKyJlqYCCLpjMY7Ll_HTUJ25JiO37/s320/dear+xanthe+15m.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My gorgeous girl, </div>
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<br /></div>
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You are at that age where you are into everything. You are learning the word "no" and are learning to ignore me and go ahead and do it anyway. You have a look on your face that tells me you know you're being difficult and you like it.</div>
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You like to climb. Especially onto the coffee table. But this at home practice has made you master the playground and you can climb onto the fort with no issues. You can run very fast, especially if I am chasing you.</div>
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Your hair has gotten long enough so that I have to tie it up to keep it out of your eyes. This is adding extra cuteness to your look, I must say. You have little curls at the back and it gets curlier in the humidity. You are a bit of a fashionista and love to play with clothes, hats, scarves and headbands, looking in the mirror and checking yourself out before parading your new outfit. Usually a pyjama top on your head and a pair of leggings around your shoulders. </div>
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But my favourite thing right now, is the kisses. You blow kisses and you also lean in and give proper kisses and say "mwah". It's beautiful. </div>
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I love you, </div>
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Mum</div>
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-9338822319917194612012-02-20T06:00:00.000+11:002012-02-20T12:18:56.740+11:00Whiter Shade of Pale<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmM3FY3n4vtZPcEeWoZ557XHlPeg2EIsI20htLqeQDNPyTialwQlutbRoNKGjpSz-6zAY39ZE1eUIZlrhmsxuVKG3KXLATa8FiPtUhu5RdpsBk1fJSnfPmC8JbNkw3ixj3r6qS0NyYYCL/s1600/Firass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmM3FY3n4vtZPcEeWoZ557XHlPeg2EIsI20htLqeQDNPyTialwQlutbRoNKGjpSz-6zAY39ZE1eUIZlrhmsxuVKG3KXLATa8FiPtUhu5RdpsBk1fJSnfPmC8JbNkw3ixj3r6qS0NyYYCL/s1600/Firass.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Firass Dirani</td></tr>
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There has been a lot of talk in the media recently about racism on our TV screens. Thanks to <a href="http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/entertainment/sydney-confidential/actor-jay-lagaaia-backing-race-call-for-australian-tv/story-e6frewz0-1226272184660" target="_blank">comments</a> by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Firass_Dirani" target="_blank">Firass Dirani</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jay_Laga%27aia" target="_blank">Jay Laga'aia</a>. The comments are about television in Australia not quite reflecting the depth of cultural diversity that is the reality in Australia. </div>
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We don't expect the story lines to reflect reality, hell no, but I definitely agree that showing a truer representation of the many colours of our neighbourhoods is necessary. </div>
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Regardless of who said what and who attacked who and who wasn't popular on what show anyway, the fact remains that we need more diversity on our screens.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlywzWTy9HEvmHPSzwBviNQ59ufjWUpTIhZDwTLwUgpFqFq_pcKrFicJBewFaL6Mn6GDANKRvXAHdG8ji0xTwvgGCxWpy6mB4JCP81zR3iAialQ-SpShGi6KBKE5sC0h84MUL4J4t-rpph/s1600/jaylagaaia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlywzWTy9HEvmHPSzwBviNQ59ufjWUpTIhZDwTLwUgpFqFq_pcKrFicJBewFaL6Mn6GDANKRvXAHdG8ji0xTwvgGCxWpy6mB4JCP81zR3iAialQ-SpShGi6KBKE5sC0h84MUL4J4t-rpph/s320/jaylagaaia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay Laga'aia</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I think it's good for people of all races to see people on screen that they can relate to and also for people to see different cultures to their own, in their living room each night. I'm not saying this will put an end to racism or ignorance, but it certainly can't hurt. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But this is not a uniquely Australian issue. There have been complaints for many years about TV in the United States being <a href="http://tutube.nalip.org/service/displayDiscussionThreads.kickAction?as=18188&w=91097&d=34688" target="_blank">too white</a>. The same issue was <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/2419710/Britains-most-popular-television-programmes-too-white-says-Trevor-Phillips.html">raised in the UK</a>. The US has come a long way to remedy this in recent years with shows such as Glee, Modern Family and Big Bang Theory, with cultural diversity shown in the core cast, not just in token roles. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Here in India, I have seen a similar problem. Shade-ism. There is a preference on Indian TV and Cinema for stars with lighter skin. This preference is not just on the screen, however, it is also in matrimonial advertisements. In some ads, fair skin is listed higher in preference than a university degree in the search for a potential partner. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And the sales of skin whitening cream and the advertisements that push it are disturbing. This is just one example.</div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hFE6-ixUHlc?rel=0" width="480"></iframe>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have seen many shades of skin here in India, and beauty does not decrease the darker the skin gets and it certainly doesn't increase the lighter someone's skin is. So why are we telling people that it does? </div>
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<br /></div>
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I think the message that this sends is damaging and dangerous. We need to promote healthy skin as beautiful skin, no matter what shade it comes in. </div>
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I read an article somewhere (that I would link to if I could find it again) that suggested the way to remedy the problem in TV and Cinema is to get writers from different cultures. That may be a good place to start. We can't tell everyone's stories if the story tellers don't represent everyone. Then, when we have all the colours of the skin rainbow represented fairly on TV, maybe the self esteem of some will be strong enough to throw away the whitening cream and be confident in the skin they are in.</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-53328250548288700012012-02-19T06:00:00.000+11:002012-02-19T11:33:49.114+11:00Sunday Selections<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
A couple of critters we share the playground with here in Chennai.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9l7AsH0mgmyWF-CX-YHhHm6r79nIgbUxewCxg289mhPFTYiYbWM0WFk0PQtnRZQ53hL5RjK3xRn-5ybL8DqtzwkIa7IQ18dLgKJZOjxd6sh8pXbJnqqp7F4Po_unjblwECaJemoYc2wj/s1600/dragon+fly.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9l7AsH0mgmyWF-CX-YHhHm6r79nIgbUxewCxg289mhPFTYiYbWM0WFk0PQtnRZQ53hL5RjK3xRn-5ybL8DqtzwkIa7IQ18dLgKJZOjxd6sh8pXbJnqqp7F4Po_unjblwECaJemoYc2wj/s400/dragon+fly.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very large dragonfly </td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZ1cfltpMZcGrFg1xzvP44HhZ2JbthyJpDt1Yucco9CyXcw2nJhUUn3rr0KA47uTom4JDusU13ZosLllKF2uFf6RjuABRhDuBuUMsJZTFjMLbkB3yoS92765qa6PShMQ9z3G-W8z9Eog-/s1600/lizzard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZ1cfltpMZcGrFg1xzvP44HhZ2JbthyJpDt1Yucco9CyXcw2nJhUUn3rr0KA47uTom4JDusU13ZosLllKF2uFf6RjuABRhDuBuUMsJZTFjMLbkB3yoS92765qa6PShMQ9z3G-W8z9Eog-/s400/lizzard.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heaps of these lizards. Heaps.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6Cu99KLyucBWNsL9jGKWGm1cJSyoGhOIUNcThOH5sx2l6smkdY9Fj5k0d0d0j4rABwxbodjWmw50bZ1jVsc07mOuoFDdkUl3YSsa7Ang92ksyakZyf6-htlT7EEcevKuHWDysvUNXZrv/s1600/lizzard2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie6Cu99KLyucBWNsL9jGKWGm1cJSyoGhOIUNcThOH5sx2l6smkdY9Fj5k0d0d0j4rABwxbodjWmw50bZ1jVsc07mOuoFDdkUl3YSsa7Ang92ksyakZyf6-htlT7EEcevKuHWDysvUNXZrv/s400/lizzard2.JPG" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy thinks he's invisible<br />
with his camouflage. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Sorry for the crap photo quality, these guys don't let me get too close and I don't have a telephoto lens for the iPhone.<br />
Linking up with <a href="http://frogpondsrock.com/2012/02/sunday-selections-58/">Sunday Selections at Frogpondsrock.</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-53054354103918951002012-02-16T16:44:00.000+11:002012-02-19T03:37:24.805+11:00Where Is Your Husband?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3RVm6kxGHcStPbCUBlac5BxUWCmww5bVVN5wQIKCJhQuliWeVOczrKyoVFGHAomuoNOhMpPWpgVGCD768CMDd-mkTZ4BmA-eiHhgrbW4lo8WT9I0590ssCnUv7Qa9pGHKbxms5uUXODB/s1600/fav.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3RVm6kxGHcStPbCUBlac5BxUWCmww5bVVN5wQIKCJhQuliWeVOczrKyoVFGHAomuoNOhMpPWpgVGCD768CMDd-mkTZ4BmA-eiHhgrbW4lo8WT9I0590ssCnUv7Qa9pGHKbxms5uUXODB/s320/fav.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Husband, (I MUST get some new<br />
photos of us)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Whenever I go somewhere by myself, either in the hotel or using a hotel car for a trip alone, I am asked "Is sir coming down?" or "Where is your husband?"<br />
<br />
I am still unsure whether this is a genuine concern for his whereabouts or welfare or whether they are horrified that I would dare venture out without him. Or that he would allow me to do so! Sometimes I want to answer "I'm running away, quick, go go go!"<br />
<br />
When my husband ventures out alone, he is never asked where I am. Never. Such is the way in Chennai. I cannot speak for all of India.<br />
<br />
One day recently, our little family was all having lunch in the hotel restaurant. Husband and Xanthe left the table to look at the buffet and Millar didn't notice right away. When he eventually realised the absence of half our family, he turned to me and asked, "Where is your husband?".<br />
<br />
Millar makes me laugh.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-77257287115646382952012-02-13T15:29:00.001+11:002012-02-13T15:29:58.273+11:00This Week in India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANcMYv2bMIZrltXLDkA4VitueNEfQRGv06EtRq0qRs5C8JoWU5TEjxYWM4tMgLsReMrHCgwSv7gksssfswuj1j9mA4ZUPJClsI2XJFlNwgR3gRFrqJhxBgf_rAmsdUu3doE-eoZCqGjK2/s1600/rubbish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANcMYv2bMIZrltXLDkA4VitueNEfQRGv06EtRq0qRs5C8JoWU5TEjxYWM4tMgLsReMrHCgwSv7gksssfswuj1j9mA4ZUPJClsI2XJFlNwgR3gRFrqJhxBgf_rAmsdUu3doE-eoZCqGjK2/s320/rubbish.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fragrant</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
We had a pretty cushy lifestyle back in Australia. Pretty predictable, some may even say boring. But I like the predictability of daily routine. Husband worked the same shift each day, so routine came naturally. Our life was pretty low on the stress meter and we liked it that way.</div>
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Here, in Chennai, Husband is on a different shift each week. For the first few weeks he left here at 3pm and came home around 1am. Then it changed to pick up at 5pm and home around 2:30am. It meant he was here for the morning stuff and we got into a routine of him taking Millar to school in the rickshaw while I hung out with Xanthe and then we swapped for the pick-up in the afternoon. We would have lunch together and then he would go to work.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This week he gets picked up at 3:45am and gets home around 1-2pm. This means that I will be taking Millar to and from school in the rickshaw with Xanthe coming along for the ride as well. I wasn't looking forward to this at all but I have just returned from dropping Millar off and it went smoothly. Xanthe even fell asleep on the way back and is now in bed. Bliss. </div>
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We all spent the last week very ill. Millar especially. Husband took him to the doctor last Monday and was told he had pneumonia. The doctor wanted to admit Millar into hospital, but Husband said no. He needed to take some yucky medicine three times a day and also go back to the hospital each day for an injection - which of course he hated. He has had the all clear from the doctor but is still taking one of the meds for another day or two. But it's back to school, because the pneumonia is no longer a threat but he may die of boredom if he stays here another day. I can't imagine how he would have coped in hospital. That boy needs to run, everywhere, all the time.</div>
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On the weekend we tried out a new mall. It's further away but the supermarket there was the best we have been to. Seriously. It was clean and well stocked and not too busy. Will tell you more about that awesome find later.</div>
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I am getting over my flu and today I noticed that my sinuses had cleared enough for me to smell again. It is very ripe out there today. With the weather heating up, the sun hits the rubbish early and the smell is most unpleasant. Not as bad as the smell coming off the river though. I can share stories and photos with you, but the smell is something you will just have to imagine. </div>
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<br /></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-14206095370075478682012-02-11T02:47:00.000+11:002012-02-19T03:38:11.267+11:00Of Funerals and Music and Parades and Stuff<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV8oGivg4_kij6tghi7OZgPF6DN-DWQiHNZW4ilW1urSySksZHiGc4FgLnyCcFDh-XZZYgwCwTiYC0zEHLSsRjme_i7Zqp8-2GXsuuEm3D-NoSY4AjixOHM_0AT0j2L9Z7cF-icPhJ34Wm/s1600/piano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV8oGivg4_kij6tghi7OZgPF6DN-DWQiHNZW4ilW1urSySksZHiGc4FgLnyCcFDh-XZZYgwCwTiYC0zEHLSsRjme_i7Zqp8-2GXsuuEm3D-NoSY4AjixOHM_0AT0j2L9Z7cF-icPhJ34Wm/s320/piano.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/21749115@N00/141286730/in/photostream/">Piano by MaltaGirl</a></td></tr>
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While travelling in a shuttle back to our hotel from the mall, we saw what looked like a parade up ahead. There was a large float covered in flowers and there were men dancing and chanting in front of the float. There was drumming and fireworks. It looked very festive. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I picked up my phone to take a picture while saying, "Ooooh, what's that all about?", expecting the driver to tell me about some festival I was unaware of but suddenly very interested in.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Funeral" he said.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"What did he say?" I asked husband.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"It's a funeral, see the dead guy?"</div>
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"..oh" and I put the phone down, because I don't take photos of funerals, usually. Is that just my rule? If you are curious about this kind of thing, feel free to google Hindu Funeral and you will see lots of youtube stuff that people without the same rule as me, have posted. </div>
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Anyway, so they do funerals a bit differently here. If you are Hindu that is. I haven't seen any other types yet.</div>
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The body is cleansed and prepared by singing women while a guy puts together a stretcher out of bamboo and twine (or rope - I didn't ask), the driver called it a death-bed.</div>
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The procession with flowers and dancing and celebration is all about sending the deceased away with good energy for the next life. The "mourners" who look like revellers do not wear black. White is preferred as it gives off good energy. They save their proper mourning for the 13 days after the funeral.</div>
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So, if you ever see this festive procession, you now know the cheering and dancing is not because they didn't like the guy very much, but because they wish him well in his next incarnation.</div>
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<a href="http://www.edenriley.com/2012/02/tell-me-your-funeral-song.html">Eden</a> is talking about funerals today and asking about funeral songs. I'm not sure what I want mine to be. It changes a lot. </div>
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I've been to a lot of funerals. Mostly thanks to my couple of years working in a nursing home. Lot of death there. Those funerals tended to have a lot of hymns at them.</div>
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I went to the funeral of a boyfriend when I was just 15. They played his favourite music, Guns N' Roses - it was 1993. There were two songs selected; <i>Sweet Child of Mine</i> and <i>Patience</i>. I don't know who was in charge of the music but they left the tape playing afterwards and the next song came on loudly. "I used to love her, but I had to kill her, I had to put her six feet under....." It was slightly inappropriate and his brother rushed to turn it off while we tried to stifle our shocked yet amused teenage laughter. I still giggle when I think about it. I'm sure Scott would have liked it but I don't think his Grandma did.</div>
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So, back to me. No hymns. There are hymns I really like, musically, but it feels somewhat hypocritical having songs of worship at the funeral of a heathen. </div>
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Green Day: <i>Time of your Life</i> is a bit done, isn't it? Maybe, Train: <i>Drops of Jupiter</i> - that song does things to me, I don't know why. A bit of Smashing Pumpkins, something from Siamese Dream perhaps. Bit of Pearl Jam maybe. Oh, gotta have some Kiwi music too! Bit of Dave Dobbyn, Bic Runga, Exponents and - gosh... too many songs to choose from. Maybe I'll put a CD together and it can be played at the wake. </div>
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As for THE song. The music played at the ceremony, the song to be known as THE funeral song. I dunno. Maybe I'll know closer to the time. Maybe it hasn't been written yet. Maybe the person that writes my funeral song hasn't even been born yet - here's hoping.<br />
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<center><a href="http://www.edenriley.com/"><img alt="Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade" src="http://lizosaurus.com/EdensFreshHorses.jpg" /></a></center>
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-83183408391271678982012-02-10T06:00:00.000+11:002012-02-10T12:04:10.546+11:00Ikea Inspiration<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIgAG9eUsOSxn_X-9wHs_7xc0kPHb_KYMWmZBcofUL6CqfgDKnnasr1WrAe-BkoylEO6GTZ4wrb9qi34dt_PDstDWwvpsMgzCi7vtvzfXitA6ghvPIwC5D1JnfvGSTa2U66WlK2StYqY2/s1600/ikea1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBIgAG9eUsOSxn_X-9wHs_7xc0kPHb_KYMWmZBcofUL6CqfgDKnnasr1WrAe-BkoylEO6GTZ4wrb9qi34dt_PDstDWwvpsMgzCi7vtvzfXitA6ghvPIwC5D1JnfvGSTa2U66WlK2StYqY2/s320/ikea1.png" width="242" /></a></div>
The thing I am really looking forward to about moving back to Australia in July, is getting a house and then going shopping at Ikea. It's no secret that I love Ikea and I believe there is a storage solution for every problem.<br />
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I love looking through the catalogue or even visiting the store and seeing the inspirational room ideas. It's like a 3D Pinterest. But it's also a little bit unrealistic.. so, a <i>lot</i> like 3D Pinterest. Sometimes it's hard to imagine what those Ikea bits and pieces would look like in a house in the real world. A house like yours and mine. A house with kids and... clutter.<br />
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<b>Imagine no longer.</b></div>
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The family in the videos below, have some clutter issues and somehow they got some Ikea angels in their yellow stripey uniformed awesomeness to come and install some seriously cool storage solutions in four rooms in their house.<br />
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This is the real world, not a glossy magazine. And this is how Ikea works in that world. Click on the links to see the videos and watch the Ikea magic happen.<br />
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<a href="http://go.clickmeter.com/ToushkaLeeIKEALaundry/" target="_blank">Laundry</a><br />
LOVE the fold up clothes airers and all those storage tubs.<br />
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<a href="http://go.clickmeter.com/ToushkaLeeIKEAKidsBedroom/" target="_blank">Kid's Bedroom</a><br />
I want those desks!<br />
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<a href="http://go.clickmeter.com/ToushkaLeeIKEAAdultBedroom/" target="_blank">Adult's Bedroom</a><br />
Those shelves beside the bed; Awesome. And under-bed storage? good bye clutter.<br />
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<a href="http://go.clickmeter.com/ToushkaLeeIKEAStudy/" target="_blank">Study</a><br />
Magnetic boards and little stationery drawers. <b>:love:</b><br />
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<b>Do you have a room that you wish would get done over by some stripey uniformed Ikea angels?</b><br />
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This post is <a href="http://www.rocketmanmedia.com.au/rocketfuel">RocketFuel</a> sponsored</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-489231806837959105.post-14208647964681157982012-02-07T06:00:00.000+11:002012-02-07T06:00:04.751+11:00Millar Goes to School<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Day</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">School Fees</td></tr>
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When we were planning this stint in Chennai, I knew Millar would be missing the first six months of kindergarten. I looked at international schools in Chennai and baulked at the price. I figured that I would just make sure his education was kept up and learning was encouraged from home. After all, it's only kindergarten, not second year law, right?</div>
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It only took a week for me to go mad. Millar needs more stimulation than I can provide at home, so we enrolled him in an overpriced "play school". </div>
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I paid for the school fees with a huge wad of cash in an envelope; It felt very dodgy. This is only for three months. We'll decide if he's going back for the next three months closer to the time.<br />
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They call it school. Not kindy or preschool. Just school. Sometimes it is referred to as baby school. It seems everyone is called a baby until about the age of five. </div>
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He goes for three hours a day, five days a week. For the most part, he enjoys it, but he is always talking about the length of time. He says "I don't know why it has to be such a long time". </div>
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It is the exact same length of time as his previous kinder programme in Australia. But I think because the way they teach is different, he feels the length of time longer. Or something. </div>
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There is a lot of sitting at desks and writing and no running around playing dress ups or play-doh. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the kids to be returned.</td></tr>
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As a parent, you can go into the principal's office and watch your child on the monitor. They have CCTV in all the classrooms. It's good to be able to see how he's doing without him knowing you are there. The parents are not allowed upstairs in the class; the class is not to be disrupted or upset. </div>
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Each morning I hand Millar over to a teacher and she leads him up the stairs to his class. Each afternoon, I wait in line with all the other parents while the children are brought out one by one and returned to us. Maybe this is the bit that takes a "long time" that Millar is referring to. </div>
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Millar thinks it's amusing that the teachers say "happy morning" instead of "good morning". I like it. It's much more cheerful, I think.</div>
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The school building is nice. Very colourful and there is a tree inside with soft toys climbing up it. The tree goes up through both floors and out through the roof. There is a small fenced indoor pond with some fish in it. Xanthe loves looking at them. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside</td></tr>
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Outside the boundary of the school gate is a completely different world. A small slab of concrete makes a temporary step down onto what used to be a footpath. Either side of the step is a large deep wet muddy trench. This is a common site around Chennai. The trench has been dug up to install utility lines. Some of the trenches that are dug out for this purpose are never filled in again. I wonder if that will be the case with this one. There is a security guard at the gate. He also acts as the door man and pick-up and drop-off traffic co-ordinator. </div>
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But it's what's inside the gate that really matters. The teachers seem lovely and the environment is clean, cheerful and modern. The classes are taught in English but the students are from all corners of the globe. It's a happy place and I'm happy with it. </div>
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I have already noticed the benefits of sending Millar to school. This week his vocabulary has increased, and talking to him can be quite interesting. </div>
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He has been working on his handwriting with letters and numbers.</div>
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They even gave him homework (!), which we did this afternoon. We also covered his homework book together. We weren't able to find any contact or cover-seal so we had to improvise. I'm pretty impressed with our efforts. Thanks to Grandma for the stencils for Christmas, they came in handy here.</div>
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While Millar is at school, we are trying to get out and do stuff. Stuff that Millar doesn't like to do, like look at stuff and walk down stinky streets. We take Xanthe. She's not old enough to complain yet.</div>
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Something that is very similar to Kinder in Australia, something that was a bit of a pet peeve and <a href="http://www.toushkalee.com/2011/05/kinder-cakes-and-sugary-crap.html">I wrote about it here</a> is that last week Millar had cake twice because it was someone's birthday. </div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17396378364156813235noreply@blogger.com0