Category: daily adventures

Those things that happen to you and later on you think you have imagined them.

From Orble to WordPress – Aussie Folly to Daily Adventures

On By taniacreationsIn Orble - Aussie FollyLeave a comment

Back in 2008 I created a blog at the the Australian Orble Community called Aussie Folly.

It was dedicated to writing about interesting happenings and cultural differences.

The Orble community disappeared suddenly a few years after I started writing, taking all the posts and content without notice.

One day it simply went offline.

I decided to move everything across to WordPress.

I was able to transfer the text, finding the images (or as close as I could) inside my old files, noting how many votes I had in Orble, the date and time they were published. I wanted to keep as close as I could from the original for historical data.

I’m keeping the new archive inside the category “Aussie Folly” in my Taniacreations.com website.

Here is a print-screen of the final statistics of the blog before it went awol:

14 Posts + 2 Comments +. 1,263 Votes

The fellowship of Rainwalkers

On By taniacreationsIn daily adventures, roaming the earthLeave a comment

Walking in heavy rain is like being part of a tribe.

There’s an instant connection to anyone else braving the elements, holding the umbrella for fear of going Poppins with the wind, a daring to the hurricane to Dorothy you.
I get so many ‘good mornings’ and some belly laughs at the absurdity of the cats and dogs down-pouring. Sometimes I forego the umbrella altogether and let the drops fall to the face, looking up, tongue out, like a frangipani leaf.

Before, most people had to go to the office. Not now. Walking is a deliberate choice, a good one, turns out.

I feel alive. I feel like a knight on a quest. I feel connected to the other brave knights on the road.

Lara, Tony and the herd

On By taniacreationsIn daily adventures, English AustraliaLeave a comment

Sunday early morning, Lara and I are having a coffee in our shops. It is one of the little-door coffee shops, with tables on the walkway, squeezed against the walls to avoid blocking the pedestrian way.

Lara isn’t Lara’s real name, it is the name I gave her once she became my character. That is how I call her in my stories. For years I have been collecting Lara’s tales and working hard to get her stories shaped into a book. This novel is born in English in my head and that is why it is harder.

Lara became my focus because unusual things happen to her, or around her, all the time.

Today for example, we are going to work. She is going to work-work, because she is organising a huge event which is happening in two weeks. I am going with her because on top of keeping her company, I can dedicate my day to “my writings” which means anything from promoting my books, writing-writing, or plan my next steps.

There we are, coffee and toast in hand, and Lara looks to the side, looks back at me, and says quietly:

‘Look, it’s Tony Abbott, he is running!’

Then comes Tony, with a discreet smile pasted on his face because he saw Lara saying his name. She sees that he saw her, and she looks to the side pretending nothing happened. He runs by us, with a couple of friends, the three trotting by with their sweaty t-shirts.

Only in Australia, the former prime-minister runs around without security or any special attention.

There is a famous short-story by Luis Fernando Verissimo, one of the best Brazilian authors, who wrote this tale about a man who wants to play the Tuba within the concert of a string quartet. Verissimo explores the humour and absurd of the stress between the string quartet and the tuba player and ends his story releasing a herd of zebu on stage.

When I’m with Lara, the Tuba guy is the least of my worries, I’m often waiting for the herd!

The sound from the bush

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I’m walking home after work. Going up the hill, on the road that runs through the bush that takes me from the office. I am aware it sounds strange but I actually work in some offices that are far enough from the centre of the city to make me feel as if I am going on vacations every day. It is still close enough, about 35 minutes driving, to make it viable.

From the bush, comes a sound of music, I think there are voices coming from the trees. I imagine a choir, or a cult, people gathered among the trees singing. As I come closer, I can hear some pop song, no choir. I imagine where the party is, there is nothing but trees, a cliff and the water… Then I come to the clearing and I see a cruise ship, the source of the music.

I am received by the couple of turkeys that live somewhere around the place as I’ve seen the female before. I was given prime view of the male today, though…

Female Turkey Grazing

Chickenated Bicycle

This morning I was walking on a walkway near the road talking on the phone; I noticed that a bike was approaching, the movement behind me or the sound alerted me to the fact. I stepped to the side to give the person space to pass me by. As they moved, I saw this thing emerging in my peripheral vision. It was a bicycle but on top of the handlebars there was a stuffed chicken. Not just a normal chicken too, it looked like an African sort of chicken, appearing to be a bit special. The guy passed me by thanking me for having given way. I responded.

This is the first really hot day after the winter in Sydney and he was topless, his body was thin and un-muscled, I could see his bones poking out of the skin and he had a hairy back. His bicycle had two saddle-bags that looked full. I have the impression it was his home… his and the chicken’s.

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Brazilian Dance at the Sydney Salsa Congress 2010

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Brazilian Dance styles are invading Australia and the Sydney Salsa Congress 2010 will have a Brazilian Room every night of the event.From 28th to 31st January 2010.
Samba, Gafieira, Lambada/Zouk, Forró and Capoeira are spreading and thousands of dance fanatics are getting into their groove.
If you have never been to the congress you are missing out on the biggest event of Latin Dance in Australia, one of the top 3 in the world.
It is an amazing experience, more than 5,000 dancers in the parties, more than 80 shows and 75 workshops.
Three days of dance classes and four nights with shows then parties that will go into the night.
The energy is fantastic and there are different options of tickets. You can choose from one night to the full passes for the whole event.
I’ll see you there!


97 Orble Votes

To be Brave Enough to Write…

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and more incomprehensible Australia…

Here I turn to the “masters” and to me they are the writers of this genre, this style of writing about day to day, making fun of day to day incongruous occurences, back in Brazil: Mario Prata (my personal master), Luiz Fernando Veríssimo, Arnaldo Jabor, among so many others.

From them I take the strength and the courage to say what I think: in capital letters and a large font.

After all, we would all be doomed without courage. Mario Prata would never have released a book about a pimp and his prostitutes, would he? Anjos de Badaró is a great book!

And the daily columns in many newspapers and media would be doomed to monotony, to what is agreeable to all and absolutely no fun!

I say all this because I was criticised for my last article {link}, because there are parts of Australia I find amusing. I will confess all I wanted to do was to hide and cry.

Instead, here I am again, smiling and all.

To prove my love for my Aussie Land here I will write a few new incomprehensible details. 

Good details, but still incomprehensible!

The ridiculously organised crowds: New Years Eve in Sydney is a good example. There is no shoving, no screaming, no mess. The people bring the sleeping kids in arms and prams, and they manage to be 1 millimetre away from you without touching anything. When the inevitable happens everyone always say sorry.

The signs in car parks in shopping centres that advise you to “lock your car” were one of the first things to get my attention when I first arrived here. 

It crossed my mind simply: how come you have to remind people to lock their cars in the car park? We would never consider otherwise back home.

The buses’ timetables: I would be dumb stricken to see written that the bus arrives at exactly 10:17. All I could think was: impressive! 

I know it is not totally perfect but just by having a time table that states time like 9:23; 10:17; 11:54 is a serious indication of what we can expect: precision. In my homeland I would go to the bus stop and someone would simply say it all in a few words: the bus comes around once per hour. The acceptable margin of error would be one: one hour more or less. 

No doubt one of the best nonsenses I have ever experienced was to be given money back from taxes by the Australian government. Only if you come from a land where a lot of corruption happens you would truly appreciate what this means. I would never believe it possible if I hadn’t seen it in my account myself. 

I can now criticise Brazil with confidence, because saying you don’t like a part doesn’t mean you do not love the whole. I love the Brazil I carry with me, I’m proud of being Brazilian and having been born there. I love Australia, the new home. I have worked hard to be its proud citizen, even if I do not like Vegemite!

98 Orble Votes

Incomprehensible Australia

On By taniacreationsIn daily adventures, Orble - Aussie FollyLeave a comment

I love this Aussie Land, especially Sydney that is now my home. I’m very glad to be a new Australian Citizen. 

Although I have multiplied my Brazilian love to include my new nation there are some things around here that do not make any sense to me… 

Foodwise: 

Avocados are not for sandwiches. I try to explain to the natives that that is not how you are supposed to eat it, I think when avocados arrived with no instruction manuals someone thought the nice green colour would do well with the bacon in bread. But they are actually much better as Avocado Frappes, Mousses and blended avocados with sugar (not salt!); Mouth watering hum? 

No Australians ever agree with me.

Vegemite: 

Most South Americans have tried the bread with the chocolate colour paste expecting a sweet sensation on the taste buds. Only to be almost knocked out of the chair by something salty, strange and very strong. 

‘What kind of pie is this?’ I ask.
‘Cheese pie.’ Says the nice lady.
‘Ok, may I have one, please?’
One minute later I’m back:
‘Sorry, I believe you sold me the wrong pie. This is meat.’

‘Of course it is, they all are! It’s a cheese meat pie.’

It was the traditional meat pie with a thin layer of cheese between the filling and the pastry. 

In Brazil a cheese pie is made of cheese and pastry only, no meat. It’s a cheese-cheese pie. 

In transport: 

The changes of drivers in the middle of the bus route do not make any sense to me. 

The first time I saw it I thought I had gotten the wrong bus and it was the final stop. I stood there on the tip of the bench, all packed, ready to go. But no one else moved, not even to look to the front. So I waited while the driver packed and left with money box and all, and a new driver got comfortable, set up the bus, restarted it and we all got ready to continue the trip. I find it hilarious every time. 

Another incongruous thing is the same route number for buses that go to different destinations. I have found myself in North Sydney more than once having taken a “175” that usually goes to the city. I think they like to create crazy people, several times I thought I was losing my mind. 

Another absurd is to be able to go to the city using one bus and not being able to catch the same bus to go back to the same stop because the bus will only stop there if someone is there trying to catch it, as some of the express lines do.

Lose-trolleys: the champion non-sense: 

Supermarket trolleys: the ones from Australia are the drunkest ones I’ve ever seen. In my motherland the two back wheels of the trolleys are locked, that means you have much more control over the thing. I know there is always someone that will think the trolleys are much better here, but to that I can only answer: “are you serious?!!” 

114 Orble Votes

My Father’s Secrets

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‘Come on! Smash it again! Do it harder!’

This is what my father heard when he arrived at his new fraternity house, where he was going to live while studying for his bachelor’s degree. 

He went to the backyard to find four blokes trying to get the pasta out of the pressure cooker after leaving it cooking for a long time.

To be the eternal hero of the house and to be protected above everyone else, it took him only one phrase:

‘I can cook.’

And he truly does like a master! I love the story of how he was inspired into learning.

It was one of his first fishing trips without his mom, with all the mates camping next to a river. He arrived to find his cousin holding a pot of boiling water, over the camping fire, while his uncle holding the 5k bag of rice pouring the grains directly into the water. Even being only a teen he knew one thing:

‘This is not how my mom cooks rice!’

They made an agreement with the troupe in the tent next door to clean fish and all they needed and be their slaves for the rest of the trip if they cooked for them, and that’s how they ate that week.

That was when he decided to learn how to cook and survive anywhere. During Uni he cooked everything, his only rule was that any strange meat had to be dead and clean! 

He never questioned the origin of the meat or the talking about missing cats, chickens and ducks in the neighbourhood. 

The downside was sometimes to be awaken at three am by a bunch of hungry guys whose sobriety was highly questionable. 

From my dad I learned most of my secrets. My sister and I cook as he does: no recipes, using all the leftovers in the fridge, creating food out of thin air in fifteen minutes. 

That is the result of countless Friday nights seated while he pampered us with delicious food as well as from family meetings and weekend’s lunches and dinners.

We learned from him a lot of other things like the power of common sense, how to enjoy life, how to be calm and rational in difficult situations. 

He passed to us the best Guardian Angels on Earth and Heaven. Dad is the kind that gets his Angel to send a mechanic, in the middle of nowhere when the car breaks down. 

I also learnt with him how to live happily every day. What I didn’t really learn was a secret he keeps from his time at the Uni. Once he started telling me some story but finished mid sentence:

‘Youngsters are naughty, some of the things that I’ve done…’

I’ve been trying to get the full story out of him for years but all I get is him to blush, start laughing and playing “mute”. He doesn’t say a word. I think I will never get this secret out of him!

105 Orble Votes