A little vampire

This little vampire was created by one of my students who was a whiteboard whizz and crazy about manga and anime.

She created a few of these chibi over the three years I taught in the Middle East – at break or at the end of the day, crowded round by a group of younger girls, oohing and aahing their approval.

This little vampire stayed up for weeks and weeks as I was under strict instruction from my form not to erase it. One of my quietest students, always doodling during lessons herself, took it upon herself to personally guard our classroom chibi against any colouring in or scribbles, checking at the end of each day and carefully erasing any mischief-making.

Much later, after I’d left the school, I thought I’d give her something in return. I’d never drawn any manga and wouldn’t have known where to begin but I thought I’d have a go, using her characters to guide me, just for fun. So this is my attempt.

And I had such fun with it that weekend, my niece (who was nine at the time) and I sitting drawing characters for hours together. Who knew what a doodle would lead to?

(And, since all that doodling has lead to my whiteboard whizz studying multimedia design this year, I look forward to seeing what else it leads to...)

A travelling book

Today I set a book on a journey.

All I had to do was register it over at BookCrossing (http://www.bookcrossing.com/), label it and leave it somewhere for someone to pick up and read – and share with the next person. And maybe, just maybe, someone will report back on the website and I’ll get to follow the adventure.

The book I chose was ‘Tennyson’s Gift’ by Lynne Truss. It’s a farce that throws together some well- and lesser-known Victorians – the poet Lord Alfred Tennyson, the writer Lewis Carroll, the painter G. F. Watts and the photographer Julia Margaret Cameron amongst others – on the Isle of Wight one rollicking summer. I thought it was fun and funny, a book to stretch out in the sun with...

Choosing just where to leave it (on a sunny bench up on campus) took some deciding and checking on the website I was delighted to see how many books have already been left at spots all around Cape Town – including Lion’s Head, Table Mountain and Devil’s Peak. Now I wish I’d thought of that..!

I’ll have to choose a good title next time I go climbing... ‘Wuthering Heights’ maybe?

Taking off

Growing up, my brother and I both had BMX Raleigh Burners. They came out in the early Eighties and were bright and tough – they may be old school now but they were the latest and so popular back then!

We didn’t race or know any tricks but my brother had a go and set up a few stunts in our back garden. My favourite was a ramp at the side of our Portapool. We didn’t have a big garden but would pedal as fast as we could from the front garden to the pool at the back – up and fly off the top of the ramp – and, for just a moment, seem to hang in the air, before dropping and hitting the water, and slowly, slowly – so we pedalled all the more furiously, pushing against the weight of the water – sinking to the bottom. Then we’d pull our bikes out and race back to the far side of the garden to do it all over again...

And it was all the more fun because it was summer so we’d get back from after-school sport and take off still in our P.T. shorts and t-shirts, laughing all the way back in our clingy clothes.

Here’s a photo of my cousin Roz, and my brother Rich and I on our BMXs. We were visiting my cousins on holiday.

This year my brother has been hard at work building a house for his family. And this week my cousin and her three year old daughter are flying out to Malaysia to set up home with her husband there. She’s lived in the UK for – what? fifteen years now? – so this move is very exciting and, I think, a little scary.

But, I also think, so many of the best and most fun adventurers simply start out with a bike...

Give a girl a bicycle and she can go anywhere. Or believe she can – and that’s a start and what counts.

Through another lens

These photographs were taken at the Institut du Monde Arabe (Arab World Institute) in Paris. It was designed by French architect Jean Nouvel and completed in 1987 – which makes this year its 25^th anniversary.

Established by the French government in collaboration with eighteen countries in the Arab League, it showcases the culture and heritage of the Arab world, as well as promotes research and co-operation, especially in science and technology, with France. It includes a museum, library and auditorium.

Its south facade is a metallic screen of geometric motifs. These motifs consist of thousands of apertures or light-sensitive mechanical devices which open and close, regulating the amount of light entering the building. They act as a brise soleil (or sun shading device) by controlling the amount of light entering the building and create an effect reminiscent of the mashrabiyya (latticework, usually carved out of wood, which encloses balconies or covers windows) of traditional Islamic architecture. (A pity that this system seems to no longer actually be working – but it’s still very beautiful.)

The institute is now focusing on both Islamic and pre-Islamic heritage to highlight diversity in the region.

This year I’m embarking on some research into Islamic education so perhaps it was serendipitous that I came across these old photos because I’m hoping that my reading and research will be like another lens through which I can view my own world as well as others.

Inside the Institut du Monde Arabe

Paris through one of the apertures

If your French is better than mine, you can read more at: http://www.imarabe.org/ (Or on Wikipedia.)

Un point c’est tout

It was my first summer in London and I couldn’t wait to go travelling in Europe. But – where would I go? How would I get there? And... who would come with me?

With eight of us sharing a small three-bedroom flat in West London, there always seemed to be a copy of The Evening Standard scattered around the lounge room, with someone searching through the classifieds for a new job, another perhaps for a new flat, another for what was on in London and yet another for the latest travel deals. And the offer that caught my eye was the coach over to Paris... and because he also wanted to go travelling, and because sharing a room would be cheaper, one of my flatmates decided he’d come too.

‘Sorted!’ I thought.

But it was disastrous. Before we’d even arrived in Paris, we’d run out of things to talk about. We arrived with completely different itineraries in mind: his was more of a checklist that included the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Elysees; mine (I guess because I’d been to Paris before) was much more haphazard, and included visiting some of the museums I hadn’t been to and much wandering through the narrow hilly streets of Montmartre where our hotel was. By our second day there, we were going our separate ways during the day – only stuck with each other in the evenings when I would sit on our tiny balcony, writing letters and postcards, and he would lie inside watching cartoons, complaining that they were in French. He wasn’t enjoying Paris and neither of us was enjoying the other’s company.

On the evening of our last day in Paris, we joined the long queue at the coach station and I made a decision. I turned to him and said, ‘I’m not going back with you – I’m staying.’

Un point, c’est tout.

I just couldn’t bear another seven or eight – or more – hours of his surly silence on the coach. And, more importantly, I didn’t have to be back at work for another few days, so... why not? I hadn’t booked a room for that night but I knew my way back to our hotel, had my guidebook, my phone and enough money to stay another night or two. What could go wrong?

Well, the hotel we’d stayed in was fully booked. But the concierge suggested a few other hotels in Montmartre I could try and, a little later that evening, I found a youth hostel nearby where I could share a dorm room. It was pretty full so I met quite a few more travellers, saw a bit more of the city (although the rain set in so I didn’t stay on as long as I thought I might) and discovered I could quite easily, and dreamily, find my way around Paris and back to London again on my own.

The Eiffel Tower at the turn of the millennium

The view from my balcony (You can see the raindrops on the railing...)

Scrambling up and up

A week ago I climbed up Table Mountain with friends. We took the India Venster route as it’s not as well known – or as crowded – as the route up through Platteklip Gorge. The path runs up under the cableway most of the way up, then passes around the mountain above Camps Bay and finally ends at the top of Platteklip Gorge.

The ravine through which the route runs apparently looks like the shape of India when viewed from below – though I couldn’t see any resemblance myself..! And the venster (‘window’ in Afrikaans) is formed by some of the rocks in the ravine and frames a great view of the surrounding mountains.

It was an exciting climb but far more strenuous than I was expecting. I suppose I’ve always viewed Table Mountain pretty much as a postcard – or a dramatic backdrop. Until now...

I soon discovered that setting off on no more than a cup of coffee was not a good start..! Although we began climbing by 8.30, it was very hot by then already and quite still on the lower slopes. I think my blood sugar level must have been too low because I’d only been climbing about twenty minutes when I felt so dizzy that I crumpled into a little heap on the steps leading up from the lower cableway station. Those last steps I could only do munching on my apple – and that, incredibly, got me most of the way up..! (Well, an apple, plenty of water and a whole lot of stubborn determination not to miss out on any of it...).

We made it up in about three hours, stopping just below the upper cableway station to eat our sandwiches and watch the cable cars whizzing by overhead.

Taking the cable car back down felt far too easy but, as a very inexperienced rock climber, I wouldn’t climb down India Venster (this can be dangerous if you don’t know the route) – I have far too much respect for the mountain to attempt that – just yet.

Slogging up those steps...

Beginning to climb

Scrambling up

Hanging on

Cape Town and Table Bay in the distance

At India Venster

Through the venster

A glimpse of Devil's Peak

A cable car whizzing by overhead

Going around the mountain

Naomi and I very nearly, almost, there...

(Thanks, Brahm, for the great climbing photos!)