- Published on
(L) Abuelo and Abuela in Manila (R) My mum, with her siblings and cousins, aboard the Iberia, bound for Australia
The notion of writing down all that I knew about my family had been in my mind since coming to Australia... I did so with a particular audience in mind: my grand-daughters...
We are all part of a broad mosaic of many Spanish families that, since the Pacific War, have left the Philippines and today are now Canadian residents, or American, or Venezuelan, Argentinian, Chilean, the list is endless...
The couple that leaned against the ships's railings that chilly, drizzly April morning in 1963 as the "Iberia" sailed into Sydney Harbour, were thinking of their offspring when they set forth on their great migratory adventure. We believed then, and are more confident of it now, that generations yet unborn, our descendants, will join our children and grandchildren in thinking kindly of us for having put an end to the global wanderings of my branch of the family and settled in this blessed land, Australia."
Excerpt from My Family by Luis R. Esteban,
my wonderful Abuelo
my wonderful Abuelo
Forty-eight years ago you sailed into Sydney and leaned against the railing of the ship
Thinking of children who weren’t even born yet
All the children with you would one day be grown-ups and married with children of their own
Could you have imagined me, your granddaughter, named after you
Who when she went to Spain for the first time felt strangely at home
Despite the language barrier
Who longed her whole life to be European, to speak Spanish, who thrilled and delighted at finally getting a Spanish passport
How would you feel knowing your nieta is not an out and proud Australian
That I cringe at our accents and our inability to speak more than one language
That I find Australian culture frustrating
That I can’t stand that our national day of pride is a day commemorating a bloody battle thousands of miles away
That I cannot connect with Australian history because it is so contested
A few months ago I sailed into Sydney myself
I got up at 5am to watch the lights of Sydney Harbour come into view
And I thought of you leaning against the railing of the Iberia
Could you have imagined as you sailed past Nielsen Park or Point Piper or Taronga Zoo that these would be the sites of my childhood?
Strange to think that the Opera House wasn’t even finished yet
Could you have imagined me singing in the Opera House?! Or having my year 10 formal at the Zoo overlooking the giraffes looking out to the Harbour?
Could you have imagined that I would grow up among the eucalyptus and the smell of the Australian bush
And yet never feel at home in it
To feel frustrated every time someone asks “but don’t you feel so lucky?”
In two months, I’m leaving this place
To go to the land where your brothers live
And then to London to seek my own life and put down my own roots
Where I will be in forty-eight years time?
And what stories will have played out between my arrival at Heathrow and sitting down to reflect on it all?
Abuelo, forty-eight years ago you sailed to Sydney
To a land that for you was entirely sight unseen
No internet to do your research
No crystal ball to let you know that it was all going to be ok, that you were making the right decision
Our wanderings are not over yet
We are still shifting in time and space
But wherever we go, there we are
And we have our stories and our ancestors to guide the way
Thinking of children who weren’t even born yet
All the children with you would one day be grown-ups and married with children of their own
Could you have imagined me, your granddaughter, named after you
Who when she went to Spain for the first time felt strangely at home
Despite the language barrier
Who longed her whole life to be European, to speak Spanish, who thrilled and delighted at finally getting a Spanish passport
How would you feel knowing your nieta is not an out and proud Australian
That I cringe at our accents and our inability to speak more than one language
That I find Australian culture frustrating
That I can’t stand that our national day of pride is a day commemorating a bloody battle thousands of miles away
That I cannot connect with Australian history because it is so contested
A few months ago I sailed into Sydney myself
I got up at 5am to watch the lights of Sydney Harbour come into view
And I thought of you leaning against the railing of the Iberia
Could you have imagined as you sailed past Nielsen Park or Point Piper or Taronga Zoo that these would be the sites of my childhood?
Strange to think that the Opera House wasn’t even finished yet
Could you have imagined me singing in the Opera House?! Or having my year 10 formal at the Zoo overlooking the giraffes looking out to the Harbour?
Could you have imagined that I would grow up among the eucalyptus and the smell of the Australian bush
And yet never feel at home in it
To feel frustrated every time someone asks “but don’t you feel so lucky?”
In two months, I’m leaving this place
To go to the land where your brothers live
And then to London to seek my own life and put down my own roots
Where I will be in forty-eight years time?
And what stories will have played out between my arrival at Heathrow and sitting down to reflect on it all?
Abuelo, forty-eight years ago you sailed to Sydney
To a land that for you was entirely sight unseen
No internet to do your research
No crystal ball to let you know that it was all going to be ok, that you were making the right decision
Our wanderings are not over yet
We are still shifting in time and space
But wherever we go, there we are
And we have our stories and our ancestors to guide the way
- Published on
The sky is melt-your-heart-blue, and it has been snowing white flowers all over the back corner of the garden. When you go for a closer look you discover three small toadstools. There must be fairies at the bottom of the garden for all this enchantment. The breeze is warm, and the air smells like change.
- Published on
Sometimes you feel down. And tired. And frustrated. And you have to remember that it’s okay to feel this way. And you have to remember to allow yourself some down time. It is okay to sit and watch television and not be productive a thousand percent of the time. And you watch Adam Hills who is a very funny and lovely man because he is so human and genuine. And the episode is about hobbies. And you recall that your hobby is collecting moments of lovely. And Nick Vujicic warms your heart because he is all heart. And Jennifer Byrne inspires you to smile because she genuinely smiles and talks about optimism. And you remember that happiness and bliss and joy need to be consciously cultivated. And you feel better because you have had a cup of chamomile tea with honey. And you have laughed. And you have let yourself be. And that is a moment of lovely in itself. And that lifts you a little bit so you feel ready to go out into the world again. The end.
- Published on
Imagine that as a child you watched Mary Poppins on repeat and there are countless million times you have watched Mary float down from the sky and dish out coloured spoonfuls of goodness and hold the beak of her umbrella and say that will be quite enough of that thank you! And as that little child you wished and prayed that Mary would one day actually fly into your world. And then imagine one day you are living in a place you have never lived before and one morning you go out for a jog. And you are in the park and next to the playground you spy a statue of Mary Poppins. And there she is with her feet in perfect first position and her umbrella held above her head and the familiarity of her makes you gasp. And even more surprising is the discovery that P.L. Travers (who wrote the original books upon which the movie was based) once lived just a short jog from your house. And the person who unveiled the statue six years ago is your aunty. And it is surprising. And it is lovely. And your inner six year old says that is too cool. Mary Poppins lives at my park.
- Published on
And one day you find yourself in a theatre surrounded by a bunch of avid theatre nerds and you are all there because in time and space you have sat listening to the original cast recordings over and over and some of you have performed in amateur productions of his shows and the music is what gets you. And although it is not a large venue, it is entirely intimate and you can hear his breath and the plosive p’s and b’s and t’s and feel the pressure of his pinky hitting the top notes of the piano. And he exudes so much energy so much passion so much life as he plays and sings the songs you know so well but suddenly tonight they are new because the brain that wrote them is performing them in front of you and you wonder how he can possibly still be sitting with all that energy surely he must be floating surely the way he taps his foot so insistently that the whole auditorium can hear it feel its pulse surely he must need to stand but his back is straight and there he is sitting playing the piano and singing. And he is utterly marvelous. The way the music is driving and full of vigor but the lyrics are melancholy and funny all at once and the whole room is transported to intimate worlds far away in the land of America but still so familiar it could have been your own living room. You have had that conversation. You have had that heart break. You have felt that loneliness. You have shared that laugh. The magic of watching the craft come to life. Feeling like you are there as he writes the notes the chords the lyrics the song is created in front of you before your eyes inside your very ears. And all there is a piano a microphone and a man in a spotlight. And it is lovely. It is breath-taking. It is music. The end.
- Published on
Homer Simpson once said, "You don't win friends with salad." Well, actually you do. Because this week, salads, and variations thereof, have become some of my best friends. Rainbow chard and basil, grated carrot, beetroot, and ginger, roughly chopped tomatoes, goat's curd with olive rind, fresh corn on the cob, cold roasted potatoes, all drizzled with balsamic and olive oil, a sprinkle of black pepper and a pinch of salt. Oh my. The flavour explosions of joy. Filling refreshing, and so damn tasty. It's hard to believe I was once rather adverse to the idea of being a vegetarian. But fresh salads made from locally grown organic ingredients, and purchased from the markets where I have a community of friends who like me love the idea of fresh greens, I believe dear Homer, that I have won.
- Published on
There is a song in the musical [title of show] called "Part of It All", in which the two leads Hunter and Jeff sing about wanting to be a part of the buzz, excitement, inevitable post-show blues, and life that is show business. And it is lovely when you are in the midst of it, and feeling exactly part of it. When you spend your days singing and dancing and fluting and running to the theatre and from rehearsal to rehearsal and you go to sleep dreaming about inversions and chord progressions and you spend your nights covered in white paint and hair gel and glitter and the thrill buzz excitement of being in front of an audience. And you wake up ready to start all over again. And if that is being part of it all, I love it with every inch of my being.
- Published on
- Buy bag of achachas from Eveleigh Farmers Markets
- Freeze entire bag of achachas
- Take desired quantity out of the freezer (always one more than you think) and
allow to sit out of the freezer for 5-10 minutes. - Ensure you have a damp cloth or serviette handy
- Peel off the hard orange skin
- Marvel at the small white ball of goodness in front of you
- Sink your teeth into the flesh
- Enjoy the cold sweet fruity sorbet goodness that is the frozen achacha. Enjoy the sensation of fruit juice running down your fingers and hands. It is like you are five and eating a melting icy pole. It is better.
- Repeat steps 5-8 as often as necessary
- Place scraps in compost bin, clean hands and face
- Enjoy the contented feeling of having consumed frozen fruity sorbet achacha goodness.
- Published on
to dance around the living room
to watch cyd with her legs up to eternity flirt with gene
who danced in the rain laced with milk
so it would be more visible on camera
to watch yul and deborah
one-two-three-and across the royal palace of what is now Thailand
but used to be called Siam
etcetera etcetera etcetera!
to have tea with jam and bread on the mountains of austria
maria and mary are your nannies
julie is magical because she sings and dances and appears in two different movies with different coloured hair and rescues the
children of europe and england from their sad fathers
just a spoonful of sugar and imagination and pop into the pavement to win races
singing makes everybody happy
even retired grumpy sea captains
yes sir!
to want to be a part of that world
to be a strong princess
to be like barbara and fiercely independent and capable
just leave everything to meeee
hello dolly, hello dolly, it’s so nice
to one day find yourself transported
from the land of oz to the rooftops of london
and all you have to do is click your shiny red shoes together
and wish and pray your life could be enchanted
the end.
to watch cyd with her legs up to eternity flirt with gene
who danced in the rain laced with milk
so it would be more visible on camera
to watch yul and deborah
one-two-three-and across the royal palace of what is now Thailand
but used to be called Siam
etcetera etcetera etcetera!
to have tea with jam and bread on the mountains of austria
maria and mary are your nannies
julie is magical because she sings and dances and appears in two different movies with different coloured hair and rescues the
children of europe and england from their sad fathers
just a spoonful of sugar and imagination and pop into the pavement to win races
singing makes everybody happy
even retired grumpy sea captains
yes sir!
to want to be a part of that world
to be a strong princess
to be like barbara and fiercely independent and capable
just leave everything to meeee
hello dolly, hello dolly, it’s so nice
to one day find yourself transported
from the land of oz to the rooftops of london
and all you have to do is click your shiny red shoes together
and wish and pray your life could be enchanted
the end.
- Published on
magine if you will, a purple bean. It is so purple it is the very definition of purple. It is what purple should be. The bean is long and skinny. And you have a handful of these purple beans. And you chop off the end bits and peel off the stringy bits and you throw them in the fry pan along with some chopped zucchini and capsicums and kernels of yellow corn and Spanish onion and garlic. And it all smells amazing. And as the stir fry simmers and sizzles, a miraculous transformation begins to take place. The purple beans, so purple in their purple beanery begin to change colour. It is like kitchen magic. See here my purple beans! See how radiant they are in their purpleness! Look closely, watch carefully... a flame, a sizzle, a wave of the magic wooden spoon and VOILA! Green beans! And before you know it, there are no more purple beans in your stir fry. Just green. And the tiniest traces of purple to remind you of what was once before.
And soon the stir fry is ready. And you turn off the heat. And you munch into your greens. And they are delicious. And another day you can add purple beans to a salad. You can sauté them in olive oil and a bit of garlic. You can drizzle lemon or garlic butter over the top. They are even delicious raw. And as you consume and remember to be thankful to the people who took the time to plant the beans and watch them grow and harvest them from their vines and bring them to the markets, you know you have shared in the magic that is the bean. Lovely.
And soon the stir fry is ready. And you turn off the heat. And you munch into your greens. And they are delicious. And another day you can add purple beans to a salad. You can sauté them in olive oil and a bit of garlic. You can drizzle lemon or garlic butter over the top. They are even delicious raw. And as you consume and remember to be thankful to the people who took the time to plant the beans and watch them grow and harvest them from their vines and bring them to the markets, you know you have shared in the magic that is the bean. Lovely.