Telegraph Avenue

While I am not a big one on street markets, they can be interesting. My experiences have been that they start early to catch the breakfast crowd and wrap up mid afternoon. Here they were setting up around 11.30am and not trading until around lunchtime.

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Both sides of the avenue had tables set up; mainly selling jewelry, pipes, mystical charms and other dust collectors. 

Bert was an interesting character. I’ll call him Bert as he was somewhat secretive about his details, but I still managed to glean a modicum of his story. He sells marijuana–well he makes the pipes to smoke the weed, but he has been a partaker of the product for some time. There were a couple of street stands where homemade pipes were being sold. Smoking of marijuana in California is legal, if done for recreational purposes, at home. Although by the aroma that rule didn’t seem to bother Bert all that much.

This bushy bearded character is of indeterminable age. However, after seeing my Nikon camera Bert stated: ‘I had one of the early F 1 models, got it when I was in my 20s, brand new it was. Wish I still had it, but can’t get film now-a-days.’ Given the F1s came out in the late 50s or early 60s that would make Bert somewhere north of 70.

He has been a street vendor for 47 years and came to San Francisco in ’74. ‘I was down south of here before then.’ He claimed he ‘got out’ before drifting to California. He didn’t elaborate on that, so whether he had military service, wanted to escape his past, or was serving time, is pure speculation.

Like many in the art of street selling, Bert loved to chat and went to great pains to tell me about his knowledge of Australia and New Zealand. He claimed to get the Paua seashells sent to him from a contact in Auckland and he makes the bowl of the ‘pipe’ by setting the Paua shell in a wooden stem. One special creation was a contraption with a brass framed magnifying glass built-in to it and using the sun Bert lit up a: ‘bit of special baccy just to demonstrate that it works,’ said with a wry smile as he sniffed the offending smoke.

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Line for popular restaurants is common

Being in walking distance from the university campus there is a profusion of eating places.  I’ll be wandering out shortly (again) to try a different cuisine tonight–possibly Korean.  Some of the eateries are so popular that people, (mainly students) queue for ages.  The staff hand out menus to those inline so that their selections are made by the time they hit the counter.

 

Settling in: Berkeley

Friday August 4

It is a pleasant change to enjoy some warm weather, here in Berkeley, California, after some rather cold weeks in Adelaide. The flights to Sydney and then across the Pacific were comfortable, but jet lag is a challenge. The Qantas flight was an hour late in departing Sydney, but we landed in SFO only fifteen minutes later than the scheduled time. Passport control, or Customs clearance was inordinately slow, certainly when compared to Singapore, Dubai, or even India, which is a bureaucratic nightmare. Over an hour to get through that process, including some probing questions as to why I was visiting the US.

I had pre-arranged my transfer from SFO to the hotel, the Rose Garden Inn. It has been over two decades since I visited San Francisco last, so my recall is limited. The first visit I flew in and the second visit I drove from LA. The Rose Garden Inn is different and quaint accommodation. It is made up of a main building with about a dozen separate two-story ‘houses’ with forty or so rooms. It is only fifteen to twenty minutes walk from the Berkeley campus where I will be spending the next week. With a bit of negotiation I was able to gain access to a room before the normal check-in time of 3pm thankfully, as I was bushed and needed a sleep.

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The Rose Garden Inn, quaint with rustic charm

Late afternoon, showered and refreshed, I did my normal orientation walk around the area. My practice when travelling is to get a lay of the locality, discover the food outlets, and transport options, where I can and shouldn’t walk alone and generally get a feel of the place.

By 6pm I was peckish and found an Italian restaurant that seemed reasonable. The entree size pasta dish was bigger than a normal meal back in Adelaide. Tipping: the bane of my life. I don’t like it. Okay, I understand why it is done, you tip after good service. To me the key factor is after. However, now the practice seems to be you tip when you pay, not after the meal or service and it is expected.

Saturday August 5

A wonderful night’s sleep. Breakfast at the Inn was plentiful and filling, but certainly salty and sweet.

I spent the morning wandering around the University of California Berkeley campus. It is huge and a beautiful setting. I located where I have to go on Monday, so I shouldn’t get lost. There were loads of people about, family groups and people on guided tours. Then I realised that this is the Australian equivalent of the summer break and the start of the new teaching year. Families tour the facilities with their son or daughter who will be commencing their undergraduate degree in a few weeks. The system is quite different as the majority of students come from far and wide to study at a university and live away from home for their three or four years of study. I spoke with one family and their son, not quite 18, is moving here from Cleveland on a botany scholarship.

My iPhone has been in the wars. I have dropped it so many times the screen is a little challenging to read at times. It works well, but in some lighting conditions the distortion is frustrating. In Australia the cost to repair it is over A$300 and could take up to a week to fix. Here US$101 and done in two hours. I dropped it in at a corner store at 11am and I’ll pick it up (hopefully) in 15 minutes. The gentleman I left it with is a former physics professor. His library in the workshop/office is impressive. He let me browse, but I didn’t understand the titles let alone the contents. One book on trivia caught my eye. I opened it and yes it was trivia, but the trivia of physics. However, I did know that Albert Einstein was considered retarded by his school teacher and was told not to return to the classroom and was then home schooled by his mother. iPhone update. All fixed for $100 US–no receipt, not tax, no worries.

Study Tour

It has been a while since I last posted to this Blog.  However, over the coming month my updates will be more regular.  On Friday I head off to Sydney and then onto San Francisco for nine days–given that crossing the international dateline gives me an extra day on the flight out.  Four of these days I will be immersing myself in the history and culture of this vibrant city.  My previous visits here were a couple of decades ago, so I expect much has changed.

For the other five days of my stay I will be at the Berkeley Campus of the University of California as part of an advanced Oral History Summer Institute.  This intensive course will take the participants through twenty-six session of lectures, workshops, presentations plus networking and special events during the week.

My next stop-over will in Winnipeg, in Canada.  Here my time will be at the University, of Winnipeg the Canadian Oral History Association and with the German-Canadian Studies, also at the University of Winnipeg.  By then my brain will be swamped with information, ideas and even more plans.  So for a few days of relaxation I will enjoy a train-ride from Winnepeg to Toronto and on to Montréal.

My week in this French-Candian city will be spent with the Concordia University and immersing myself in the local culture and history.  A significant part of this tour will be meeting with the enthusiastic and keen historians at The Centre for Oral History and Digital Storytelling.

Hopefully my posts will be regular (wifi connections) and of interest, even if you are not an oral hiistorian.  Maybe after some thoughs and ideas you may look to your own interests and record an interesting history.

A few updates from India

While I enjoy using WordPress, there are some gaps between my posts so I have to re-teach myself each time.  I’m slowly catching up with my experiences at the IHOA Conference in Bangladore, India.  My apologies for the cross-posting.  However, enjoy the read. Just click on the drop-down menu above: An Indian Experience for some more Blogs.

A rocky start to this trip

Follow: My Indian experience on this link.

It has been a while since my last post.  Frustrations of finalising the PhD, buying a motor-home, a bit of local travel and of course, teaching and marking assignments.  Today I’m off to India via Dubai to present a paper on a part of my research at the International Oral History Association (IOHA) conference in Bangalore, India.  Getting a conference Visa for India has been an experience.  Three letters of approval, my own university plus an abstract of my paper to start with.  Naturally these things were not coordinated and there were last-minute delays.  The online Visa experience is challenging and the applications form is also a bit of a nightmare.  Then $180 poorer (well $360) as I got double billed the Visa arrived.

Now let’s not get confused over the Visa Card, which is a must for travelling.  On Friday my Visa Card was swallowed by an ATM.  No chance of recovery.  I didn’t realist how much the card was used for regular payment of bills.  NAB could not have been more helpful and arranged a Travel Card for me post-haste.  Then Visa Global has been exceptional.  It has arranged a temporary card for the duration of my travelling and a new card will be sent to my home.  However, the temporary card cannot reach me today, before I fly out tonight.  Not only will the temporary card be delivered to me at my hotel in Dubai, but they have specified the time so that I can sign for it.  Now that is customer service.  Kudos to NAB and Visa.

Oh and my flight was changed, but after all the other challenges, this was just the icing on the cake.  Next stop the Adelaide airport.

Visiting when travelling

A colleague posted on Facebook last night, a piece on how a visitor from a ‘first world’ country had stayed with her and her family, didn’t engage with them, never said thank you, and left their home without saying goodbye.  Downright rude, me thinks.

One of the great things I love about travel is meeting people from other places, not only fellow travelers, but those local to the places I visit.  Occasionally I have been privileged and invited in to their homes.  For nine years I have been teaching in Singapore and Hong Kong.  The friends I have made there are wonderful and always happy to see me, as I am happy to see them.  Twice in Singapore I have been invited in to a home. While this may not seem as frequent as here in Australia, the cultures are different and home entertainment of guests is not as common as here.  Each of these occasions was dissimilar. One was a feast after Ramadan and the other to a Singaporean Indian parent’s home.  Both were wonderful experiences and I am happy to have them as my friends.  Others have made the effort and shared coffees, meals or beers that have been fun and enjoyable moments in my traveling journey.

This brings me to my recent trip to Cebu in the Philippines.  In my previous blog I mentioned that I was invited to the parents’ home of my colleague.  Having moved through the general area where the family lived I had a basic understanding of the style of home they owned.  Again, I cannot, nor should I, compare this with Australia, it is different.  In the part of the Philippines (at least) it is not normal for each house to have a road frontage,.  Each residence is connected to the main road via a network of pathways.  Whilst the homes are of a good size, the surrounding property is limited in area.  That is, no extensive gardens or outdoor areas other than for cooking.

This time the taxi ride, from The Henry Hotel, out past the international airport on Mactan Island, was quicker as the traffic, whilst still heavy, flowed easily.  It was dark and street lighting was minimal.  When I arrived I was formally met by the family.  And I mean the whole family, grandparents, older aunt, parents, children and grand children.  Thirteen adults and five children.  The formality was special.  Age is held in high esteem here and the younger family members not only greeted me politely, but in the formal custom of the Philippines brought my hand to their forehead as a mark of respect.  Conversation was polite and as people relaxed the formality slipped away a little and the family interaction became evident.

Conversation with the younger members was easy as their English was excellent.  Remember I was the one lacking here, I speak one language, they all speak at least three.   Even the youngest, Liam, a four-year old, understood at least two languages.  Their home was warm, inviting and happy.  All family members interacted and the conversations flowed.  They were interested in what I normally ate at home, if rice was a staple part of my diet and similar basic living experiences. I did not see a fridge and from the discussions around food and cooking I gathered that food purchasing and cooking was undertaken on a meal-by-meal basis.

Like many Australian homes the kids love computer games .  However, the whole family looked on and enjoyed the skill of the game.  Angel, a beautiful seven-year-old, loved colouring and her book from school depicted her artistic talents.  I was touched by the obvious love between the generations, no matter their ages.

Life is tough in the Philippines.  Often the working hours are long, up to nine hours a day and six days a week.  On average the take home pay is about P6,000 per month (that is with a university degree), which equates to less than A$3,000 per year.  Sure the cost of living is less, but try buying a car ,or an iPhone on that amount of income.  Forget overseas holidays, or weekends in the numerous resorts dotted around the islands.

My evening with this wonderful family was enjoyable, friendly and for me special.  They opened up their home, showed genuine friendship and made me feel welcome.  I thank them. On leaving, we walked back along the path and waited on the road for a pedal-trike to come past.  There were three of us.  Cathy, my colleague, Lorraine, her married sister and myself.  Lorraine is the mother of Angel and works night shift in an accounting call centre. We required two trikes and about five minutes later we met up at the main road and took a taxi back into the downtown area of Cebu city.  Lorraine had about twenty minutes before she had to be in the office so we ate a light meal in a local cafe/restaurant.  By the time my head hit the pillow, I was tired, it had been a long day, but complete with memorable experiences.

Cathy and her son Liam (4 years)

Cathy and her son Liam (4 years), Mactan Island, Cebu, July 2015.

Out of the ordinary

The saying goes something like this: ‘expect the unexpected’.  This past week of travel has certainly dished up the different and the interesting.  In my earlier post I wrote of my Monday in Cebu and the Cebu University.  By Tuesday I had an attack of the ‘guilts’ so I put a concerted effort in to editing the final chapter of the thesis.  Sitting at the Henry Hotel, by the pool, bottomless cup of coffee, cool water on request and the time slipped past.  No distractions – emails, texts, phone calls – then a reward at the end, a big ice-cold beer.  Around four in the afternoon I re-joined the world and walked through the back streets of downtown Cebu.  Life here in the Philippines is certainly different to that of Australia and I’m sure I’d struggle to adapt.  Tuesday night I had dinner in the hotel.

This is the Church and Convent of Santo Nino, in uptown Cebu.  First erected in 1565.  I did not realise that this was a funeral until I downloaded the photographs.  I have probably breached a protocol, although with social media now, maybe not.

This is the Church and Convent of Santo Nino, in uptown Cebu. First erected in 1565. I did not realise that this was a funeral until I downloaded the photographs. I have probably breached a protocol, although with social media now, maybe not.

While Cebu is great for some adventure tourism, diving, climbing and para-sailing the more traditional venues of museums, art-galleries, and street architecture is not high on the list of things to do here.  However, with local friends a new world opens up.  I will write this up in a more detailed segment to these blogs in the next day or so when I get all my photos organised as well.  We visited the uptown area of Cebu, looked through malls, walked the avenues, visited churches that date back to the first Spanish settlement (invasion) and then took a ferry ride across the harbour to Lapu Lapu – Mactan island.

Row upon row of candles available to light for the Catholic rite.

Row upon row of candles available to light for the Catholic rite.

Another church and so many candle sellers, and candles, which are lit at almost every shrine. We took a stroll through the attached high school (to this specific church) and then into the totally confusing labyrinth of traffic congested streets.  I didn’t notice any public transport.

There are taxis, jeeps (partially covered vans where the passenger hops on and off at their leisure) and then the trikes – motor-bike and sidecar is a lose description and pedal power.  We used them all.

A typical bike/trike.  They are often loaded with a couple of people and a pile of goods.

A typical bike/trike. They are often loaded with a couple of people and a pile of goods.

I was privileged to visit a local government office where (Vicki) the mother of my colleague and guide is the office manager and secretary to the Mayor.  Her role is a complex arrangement of formality, minute-taking, welfare, assisting tourists in difficulties and helping the local community navigate their way through the complexities of the legal system.

The 'Local Government' offices I visited and where the mother of my friend, colleague and guide, Cathy, is the office manager of the 'Barangay Buaya'.

The ‘Local Government’ offices I visited and where, Vicki, the mother of my colleague and guide, Cathy, is the office manager of the ‘Barangay Buaya’.

While her position is a normal office hour role she is well known in the community and often people will call on her at home.   I will end this blog on the mention of their home.  Vicki invited me to visit their home later that evening and to meet all of the family.  This was a surprise and I understand the importance that is placed on this offer, which I graciously accepted.

Monday in Cebu

One of three campuses of the University of Cebu.

One of three campuses of the University of Cebu.

Well plans are just that, never locked in.  I had a day in the downtown area of Cebu and while I could write a few thousand words about this vibrant and interesting place however,  I thought it best to restrict it to my University of Cebu visit.  Not all universities are the same, yet they have commonalities.  Follow this link and experience a little of my day here. (Posted Monday July 13, 2015)

The chalenges of Travelling

Do I qualify?

Do I qualify?

In a previous post I mentioned that the train from Sazlburg to Frankfurt was cancelled resulting in a round-about trip via Munich and Nuremburg.  Thankfully none of the flights were cancelled.  However, booking your bag from Frankfurt to Manila does give one a moment of worry – four airports and two different airlines.

The flight to Dubai was uneventful other than having a snotty little six-year old needing a good slap on the bum.  Yes I know, child assault, but parents either ignoring her bad behaviour or telling her she will be put in the naughty corner does not work.  I was about to speak to the parents when one of the flight crew politely asked them to manage their daughter.  Anyone would have thought that it was declaration of war the way they reacted until about five other passengers voiced their concerns pointedly and loudly.  The result – three very subdued people for the rest of the flight.  Plus they got some child rearing advice from a number of passengers as we were disembarking.

I prefer an aisle seat when flying and had that arranged online before I left Frankfurt.  But I got bumped.  Apparently a family of four – with two young kids – needed to sit together.  Okay I wasn’t complaining, but the only available seat was in the middle of one of the rows.  Ugg I hate that.  Then at the boarding gate I was asked to step aside.  The result, an upgrade to Business class.  For a night flight it is the only way to go.  For the seven hour flight to Singapore I slept for five hours.

The transfer at Changi airport was simple, but time-consuming however, I managed an aisle seat again for both legs of the Philippines flight.  This was a different experience though.  Philippines Airline is a no frills airline.  A coffee or cold drink if you ask for it, no inflight entertainment and noise, not the engines, but the passengers.  Ninty-nine point two seven five were Filipino (naturally) and they talked and talked and talked.  Even to me, as they wanted to practice their English.  It was an interesting flight.  It was bumpy and a number of times we had to buckle-up.  Coming into Manila airport, wheels down and locked, I estimate we were about a minute from touch down and then the approach was aborted.  I have never experienced this previously.  All conversations stopped and the silence was heavy.  Resigned to leaving my fate in the hands of the flight deck, the look of concern on the other passengers could have mirrored my own.  Then try number two.  Third time lucky I hoped.  Apparently there were severe wind sheers close to the ground causing some problems for the pilot.

Manila airport is busy and a little chaotic.  English is a third language here, so it took me a while to navigate my way through Passport Control, but being a ‘teacher/lecturer/academic is valued in the Philippines and helped the process.  Then to collect my one bag.  Other than a mild dispute with an American woman who mistook my bag for hers, (apparently it was my fault for having a bag like hers) the next chllenge was the transfer to the domestic flight to Cebu.  Twenty minutes later I was directed to the Gate for the final leg of this journey.  Mmmm wrong gate.  Total confusion.  The plane was at one gate and the passengers at another.  A thirty minute delay but we eventually got away.  The pilot must have stepped on the gas as the ninety minute flight took seventy.  Once again my bag and I were reunited.  It was nice to walk out of the airport and see a familiar face.

The taxi ride to the Henry Hotel was an eyeopener.  The roads were not crowded, they were packed.  Complex road junctions didn’t have traffic lights, but it all seemed to move in some order.  Road works, two lanes merged into one, motorbikes meandering between slow moving vehicles, horns blaring and the ‘trikes’ and hop-on hop-off vans stopped where-ever to collect or disgorge passengers.  Three or four on a motorbike, people hanging off the backs of the vans, the heat and the noise.  What a vibrant, rich and constantly moving morass of vehicles, people and images.  The twenty-five minute taxi ride cost P175, sounds a lot, but it works out to A$6.25.

I think that some of the constant complainers and whinging ‘Advertiser, Letters to the Editor‘ writers in Adelaide need to get out a bit more often. Life in Australia is not all that bad.

This is a rather long Post, my apologies for that, but the process of travel has been interesting, enjoyable, frustrating, and educational.

The Henry Hotel here in Cebu is an experience to enjoy.  I will cover it with some photographs of this quirky and different hotel.  It is Sunday and I’m invited to a colleague’s son’s fourth birthday celebrations.  I anticipated this and have a ‘Blinky Bill’ DVD for him.  Apparently he loves animals, animated and real.  I wonder how the cross cultural understandings will work out?

Never far from home

When I travel I love meeting people.  Different cultures, languages, places and nationalities.  Let’s put aside the fact that Europe is a melting pot of peoples from all over the world for a moment.  On the flight into Vienna the flight attendant’s girlfriend was on the same flight and she is from Adelaide.  In Vienna I met a tour guide from Sydney (Hop on Hop off) and his girlfriend is from Adelaide.  I’m assuming that they are different girls.  Today walking back from the Salzburg University I bumped into a guy who is studying at Flinders uni in Adelaide.  I was wearing a UniSA top, which got me entrance into some of the older areas of the university here.

Woman at rest – something different for a campus, which had Theology as a department.

Woman at rest – something different for a campus, which has Theology as a department.

Behind the stone walls and cobble stoned plazas is greenery and coolness conducive to learning.

Behind the stone walls and cobble stoned plazas is greenery and coolness conducive to learning.

Tonight I decided to walk into the cultural area of the city.  Wandering around I picked a cafe come restaurant at random for my dinner.  I had a choice of two seats, one next to a rather pretty young woman and the other was next to a young couple.  I have a suspicious nature.  Especially after a big smile.  An older guy, by himself, and a young woman almost too happy to see you.  I chose the couple.

The first twenty minutes or so, I could hear the couple chatting away and obviously they were also from Australia.  After some quick introductions, Skye and John are from Adelaide.  Skye teaches at Grange Primary, where my sister worked for many years.  John’s father is a retired South Australian Police officer.  Feeling creepy yet?  John’s father’s best ‘mate’ from his police days, John calls ‘uncle Alan’, and I trained with Alan for three years in the Police Academy  at Fort Largs.

Naturally things moved onto important issues such as ‘who do you barrack for (Aussie Rules Football)’?  None of us follow the Crows or the Power, so all was good.  What started out as a thirty minute dinner alone, finished with a two hour chat.

And why do I love to travel …. (Follow the link)