Postcard to Tricky: From China

Another blog-card from Aunty Penny! Hooray! You can see the last one, from Nepal, here.

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G'day Tricky!

It's your Aunty Travelling Pen here.

I'm in China for two weeks, trying to be a bit adventurous. I started in Beijing, then visited Shanghai, and am now in a smaller city (still 6 million people, or 6 times the population of Perth!) called Nanjing.

Me on the Great Wall of China - looks like Emperor Nasi Goreng did
a great job - no rabbits anywhere!

From what I've seen life here is pretty different. Since you're a kid I'll focus on kid-related stuff, like when I sent you a letter from Nepal, when I visited there last year.

Doin' it for the kids
Couples here are only allowed to have one baby. It's called the One Child Policy and it started in 1978. It's because China's population has been growing so rapidly and the government is worried it won't be able to support and feed lots more people. So most Chinese people don't have brothers and sisters, which is a bit sad, I think. I didn't know before I came here, but there are two possible ways to get around this rule - first one is: if both parents are only children themselves, they may have two children. The second is: they can (well, they have to) pay a fine for having the second child. The fine is 10 times the couple's annual income. Ouch!

This young girl was dancing outside The Forbidden City
and went all shy when she saw me... then put on a show just for me!

Startin' 'em young
Toilet training is really different here! It's common for parents to cut open their toddler's pants so there's a split most of the way along the seam, and they don't put nappies or underwear on them. Then when the kid wants to go to the toilet they just squat down wherever they might be, and their pants open up and they do their business. I reckon it must get a bit breezy.
Consequently though, kids are toilet trained much younger than in Australia. And, apparently if a little boy pees anywhere, even in the middle of a shop or someone's house the owner will be happy and says it's lucky. Girls are not considered lucky. You can imagine how annoyed this makes me!

Are you ready, boots? Start walkin'!
There are hardly any prams or strollers that I've seen here. Probably because the footpaths and roads (while generally pretty good compared to other places I've travelled) are pretty bumpy and not all that well maintained. So littlies are either carried or they walk. Reckon the Hug-a-Bub people should market their product here - these parents' arms must be aching!

They breed their Apple fan boys young

The most dangerous ship in the world
Censorship. It's not always easy for local people to get information here. The government is really strict. So they can't access some internet sites, including really popular ones, like Facebook, Twitter and YouTube. Even many pages of Wikipedia are blocked (like the ones that mention China). Saddest of all is that Chinese people aren't able to view most blogs - that means your ma's blog is inaccessible here! How will all these people across the world learn what parenting in Australia is like without that???

There are so many gorgeous little Chinese outfits that I would LOVE to buy for you, but I'm trying to restrain myself. I'd also love to get a little cheongsam for your friend Boo, Missy Boo's daughter. You'd both look so gorgeous!

I got to visit the pandas! OMG PANDAS!

Missing you lots, and hoping that you don't forget how to say my name while I'm away - keep practicing, 'k?

See you soon

Aunty Travelling Pen
xxx

Postcard to Tricky

Aunty Penny arrived home safe and sound from her Nepalese adventure yesterday! She sent Tricky a blog-card (like a postcard but in blog form). And just like all postcards, it arrived after she left Nepal. Enjoy.

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Namaste Tricky!

It’s your Aunty Penny here, and I’m on a big adventure in Nepal (get your dad, Map Guy, to show you on the map where that is – it’s a long way away).

I came to teach English to kids here, as a volunteer, and for a holiday. The teaching part didn’t really work out like I’d expected. The kids here are way different from at home. There were 50 kids in each of the classes I was teaching with another volunteer at a Government school. 50! When you go to school there’ll only be about 30 in a class. And my goodness, these kids were sooo naughty! They’d run around the class, hit each other and pull each other’s hair, stand on the desks and put their hands in the fan. They copied off each other constantly, so there wasn’t much learning going on. The local teachers didn’t seem to care. And the noise! All the kids screamed and yelled, nearly all the time. It was pretty bad. I didn’t like it. After a while we told the school we wouldn’t be coming anymore – the kids weren’t learning, and we were wasting our time.

So instead I taught a conversational English class every day for blind university students, to help them improve their pronunciation. They loved learning and were very fun and enthusiastic. So that made me feel really good.

But I’ll focus on the kids I’ve met, ‘cause you’re a kid. Man, they are very different here. In many ways good, in some ways bad. There’s lots of playing outside with neighbours, unlike in Australia, and most kids don’t have a TV in their house (which I think is a good thing). It’s such a poor country though, that the kids don’t have many toys or books or clothes, or anything really. I bought stickers with me for the schoolkids and they were crazy about them. The other volunteer bought balloons and one day we blew them up and gave them to the kids that lived in our street. They loved them! They played with them for hours, or until they popped. Kids here really appreciate the things they are given and look after them, because they have so little. That made me a bit sad, but it’s really sweet too. They also make a lot of their own games and toys. Kites are really popular here at the moment. They make them out of bits of plastic bags and things like that. And they’re so good! One day I walked past a little boy who was about 7 and he had a string in his hand. I looked for the kite and it was so far away I could barely see it! It was amazing!

I met a little boy called Shivaraj at a support centre where the mother from the host family I stayed with worked. He had been a child labourer. He was about 8 years old and walked with a limp. My host mother explained to me that Shivaraj had been a dish washer in a restaurant, to support his father who wasn’t able to work, and his mother was gone. One day Shivaraj fell and broke his leg badly and so he couldn’t work anymore. His leg didn’t get properly set at a hospital because he was so poor and the government is so poor too that they can’t give free medical help to people like we get in Australia, so now he will walk with a limp for the rest of his life. But the positive news is that the centre where the host mother works tries to help kids like him, and get him back into school and get help for his family so the kids don’t have to work. Their aim is to stop child labour completely.

A lot of people speak a little bit of English here, and kids have to learn it at school. Speaking English here can help people get better jobs, especially in tourism. One day I was hiking up a steep hill to a lookout with my friends, and I got so hot and tired I decided to go back down after only a quarter of the way. A little boy called Arum (who told me he was 11, but I think maybe he was 9) saw me and invited me in to his neighbour’s shop to buy a drink, and told me that I could get a taxi up to the lookout instead. He spoke good English for his age, and he came with me to find a taxi, and told the taxi driver in Nepali where I wanted to go. Then he got in the car to come with me! He brought along his little friend, who didn’t speak English. All the way up Arum chatted to me and told me interesting things he knew about. At the top of the lookout he pointed out places we could see. When we got back to the bottom of the hill I wanted to check my emails at an internet shop, and asked if Arum and his friend wanted to go on the internet too and I would pay for it, to say thank you for being my ‘little guides’. He looked a bit shy, and said they would like to. So they sat next to me as I checked my emails and they watched YouTube videos of animals. They really liked one of a tarantula vs a centipede (spoiler alert: the centipede doesn’t come off too well). It only cost me 25c for internet for an hour, but it made them really happy.

I’ve got so much more to tell you, and I’m missing you and your mum Glowless and look forward to seeing you again soon little one!

You wouldn’t have seen Fraggle Rock yet, but it was a popular show when I was little. In it one of the Fraggles gets postcards from his uncle from around the world, and they’re signed ‘Uncle Travelling Matt’, so I’ll sign off now….

Love

Aunty Travelling Penny

Click to view larger image

Postcards from the Edge (of Nepal)

Not content to just donate to charity, my sister, the fabulous Aunty Penny, is currently on a solo trip in Nepal teaching English to underprivileged kids at a monastery school.

Doesn't that sound so cool? It's a little bit Angelina Jolie of her, except that there are no rainbow babies and no Brad Pitt just a Sherpa with some teeth missing and a Yak.

So I've pilfered her photos and come up with this fabulous list. You're welcome.

The top 10 tips for traveling in Nepal

(by someone who hasn't actually gone there)

1. When traveling to Nepal you'll want to pack for a range of weather conditions. Make sure to borrow your sister's suitcase because it's bigger than yours and then ensure the lock malfunctions so you can't open it without the aid of a hacksaw

2. Getting around in Nepal is quite easy and cheap, especially if you use taxis with posters of Avril Lavigne on the roof

3. If you don't manage to find a teeny bopper taxi then you could always use a space craft to get around. It makes the trip to the top of Everest a hell of a lot quicker

4. Be sure to check out the markets because shopping is great in Nepal, especially for fabric

5. The Nepalese people have a rich, religious culture. While you're there, make sure to pay your respects to the Holy Men - they accept donations in the form of cash or shampoo for their two metre long dreadies

6. In the event of an earthquake, make your way to your nearest cafe and enjoy wine and wifi. Tweet home that you're safe and brag that you've now one-upped your sister who has never been in a natural disaster

7. Be careful of cows. They have right of way and will often just sit wherever the hell they like. Making hamburger jokes and mooing is optional

8. If a complete lack of local safety regulations doesn't bother you, strap yourself to a hunky man and jump off the side of a cliff. The view will be fabulous and if you land without dying or breaking your leg you'll have a great story to tell

9. If after your death defying paragliding stunt you need to unwind, consider a massage. Great for those who are "being in a heap" - performed with medicine oil by professional expert Miss Jelly

10. If you'd like to feel better about your rich white person status then head to a tiny village and teach English to some gorgeous kids who look like they're about to sing in a Qantas commercial. Pose for photos and give them lots and lots to stickers to shut them up encourage them

Miss you, Aunty Penny. Come back safely xxx

Have you traveled anywhere cool? Upload your strangest travel snap to the Where's My Glow? Facebook wall so we can all have a laugh.

~ Follow Aunty Penny on Twitter. Her #firstworldproblemsinathirdworldcountry tweets are hilarious ~

Quite a Spectacle

Tonight I got something caught in my contact lenses and ended up with tears streaming out of one, bright red eye. It looked like half my face was either terribly upset or stoned. So the contacts were whipped out (kinda hard when it hurts to open your eyes) and replaced by my glasses.

I don't often where my glasses, even though I love them to bits. Maybe I should wear them more since they're so awesome.

Imagine them with clear lenses, OK?

I totally love that chunky, plakky frames are in fashion. My eyes are so bad that my lenses look like coke bottle bottoms, so some of the dainty wire rims just can't handle the weight. But these babies? These are chuck-a-licious.

Yup, that there is leopard print on the arms. But as far as I'm aware, no animals were harmed in their production so you can call of the PETA intervention.

My whole family wears glasses/contacts. Poor eyesight is just one of the many genetic gifts I was blessed with along with a dose of crazy.

Aunty Penny has worn glasses from age two. So when I reached age three, even though I hadn't been showing signs of poor vision yet, it was decided that I should get tested for the same eye muscle weakness that affects the family... but there was a slight problem.

I flat out refused to open my eyes for the test.

Not actually me, but might as well be

My Mum describes it as one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, but when it's not your kid, it's kinda funny, right?. Karma will get me for laughing at this.

What I found out only recently was that because I stood there, eyes screwed shut, refusing the test, they had to do it another way. My poor Mother had to take me across the city on two buses to Fremantle Hospital where I was anesthetized!

Yep, a three year old knocked out, put under, drugged up for a freakin' eye test!

Aaaaaand what was the result of said eye test? My eyes were fine. I didn't need glasses then. All that effort for nothing (sorry, Mama!).

I didn't get my first pair of glasses until I was 11. I hated them. Actually hate is not strong enough. I loathed them. Detested them. I ordered a pair of brown plastic frames that were hideous but were the nicest ones in the column I was allowed to choose from - none of the in-fashion wire rims were in our budget. But instead of the ugly brown ones, they sent two pairs of the ugly pink ones Aunty Penny chose...

We had matching glasses. Vomit. I am forever scarred.

Do you wear contacts or glasses? Love 'em or hate 'em?

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Glowless rocked the Aussie Bloggers Conference thanks to
HealthyChart and Baby Goes Retro and Simply Colors

Life on The Edge

It has been a huge weekend at Casa de Glowless!

I've celebrated a birthday, had mastitis (TMI? Sorry), gone ten-pin bowling, almost broken a tooth on a non-pitted olive on a pizza (seriously, why put olives with pits on a pizza? That's just asking for trouble), celebrated Christmas1.0 with my family and Tricky got his first tooth!

But the most memorable, amazing and sore feet inducing part of the weekend was going to see U2 with Aunty Penny! It was so nice of them to come to town for my birthday (and super nice of Aunty Penny to buy me a ticket for said birthday).

It was unbelievable! The stage was totally awesome and looked like it was straight out of War of the Worlds. If Tom Cruise and Dakota Fanning had popped up I would not have been surprised at all.

Take me to your leader

Other than "Elevation", the best bit was when Bono compared himself to David Boon and a massive "Boonie" chant echoed round the stadium. I had no idea U2 fans were such bogans - I fitted in really well.

But Aunty Penny and I were a little bit naughty... 

We bought a bottle of water - but there were big signs up saying that we couldn't keep the bottle caps. That it was a request "from the band". Hrmmm, how am I supposed to jump up and down, singing my lungs out if I'm also being careful not to spill my water? 

What if, in the hype, I flicked water on someone? Perhaps mosh-rage would ensue? There was only one solution... hide the bottle cap. I am totally hard core, sticking it to The Man.

I know, I live life on the edge. Not The Edge*, he's still in town but I'm pretty sure that'd get me arrested.

Aunty Penny and I with the contraban! We Rock.

So with a concert and a teething bubba I've had about ten hours sleep since Thursday night. My eyes are hanging out of my head. But with my new GHD from Map Guy, at least my hair looks pretty.

*For the uninitiated, 'The Edge' is the name of the guitarist from U2.

The Blind Leading The Blind

Recently Aunty Penny has been dipping her toe in the dating pool... actually dive-bombing in to the deep end is probably a better metaphor.

Because she is much stupider braver than I am, she's even gone on a few blind dates.

I don't even know how blind dates work. Is it like the movies where the man carries a folded newspaper and the woman wears a yellow ribbon in her hair? I must remember to ask Aunty Penny if she has ribbons.

So each time one of these blessed events have occurred, for safety, Aunty Penny has emailed me the information of the bloke she's about to meet. You know, so I can point the police in the right direction if she goes missing. And always, at the bottom of the email is "Use my bridesmaid photo".

Yes, we have arranged what photo to give to the media in case she goes missing.

This isn't a new thing. Oh no, not at all. We've discussed this for years. In the event of one of us going missing the best, most prettiest photo of us will be used - under the belief that the amount of effort put in to searching for someone is directly proportional to how attractive they are.

This idiosyncrasy, this quirk, is just us. We are a little bit strange.

But I don't think it's bad to talk about things like this, and the pretty photo instructions are just a nice way of lightening the mood when you're talking about awful things like going missing.

We are very open when it comes to our family policies. Some people would say it's morbid that we have a prearranged "Switch Me Off" policy if one of us is ever on life support and we already know that at my Mum's funeral the main song will be "I Still Call Australia Home" by Peter Allan and the rest of the songs will all be John Farnham numbers - if the group isn't up and bopping by the end of it, then a little bit of Cher should fix that.

But I like it. I find comfort in the ability to control one tiny little bit of the uncontrollable.

Does your family have any policies? Or am I the only weird one?

The Sound of Silence

This post isn't going to be funny. Not even slightly. But I'd still like you to read it.

Today Aunty Penny and I attended the 20th Annual Silent Domestic Violence Memorial March at the Stirling Gardens in Perth city. It was dedicated to all those who have lost their lives as a result of domestic homicide in Western Australia in the previous year... 15 people. 15 too many.


On the ground in front of the stage there were 15 white coffins displayed.

13 of the 15 coffins

There were two smaller coffins for children.

And right in the middle there were two tiny coffins.

Some of you may remember, because of the giant media circus at the time, that those coffins represent seven month old babies. Twins. Lachlan and Sophie.

I sat on the grass, in front of the tiny coffins, playing with Tricky's feet while he smiled and babbled away, unaware of the somber mood of the crowd. I had a massive lump in my throat. I was consumed with thoughts of Tricky - almost the same age as the twins... but I could not even imagine what it would be like if he were gone. My mind simply cannot process it. So seeing those tiny coffins, knowing that someone had murdered those innocent babies... I could not contain my sadness.

My chest was on fire and my stomach ached... and I wept.

I felt embarrassed - I was, after all, crying over people I had never met before. But when I looked around, there were a lot of other people crying too.

The few hundred people gathered then walked the streets of Perth in silence. Men, women, children. Gay, straight. Christian, atheist, Muslim. Black, white and every shade in between. All were represented because all are touched by this horrific crime.

Police blocked traffic and we walked the streets in silence

Today's march was silent. But if you, or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence then don't be silent any more. For a list of resources in your state, visit ReachOut Australia.

Berlioz and Boobs

What better way to celebrate my 100th post than by getting my gear off in public.

I didn't buy many pregnancy specific clothes. I got one pair of pants and a few t-shirts second hand (with tags still on because the chick I bought them from had a premmie baby and didn't get the chance to wear them) but when I needed some other bits and pieces I just bought normal clothes a size or two larger - because when you put a maternity tag on something the price doubles, and I'm too stingy frugal to pay extra for something I'm only going to get a few months wear out of. I don't see the point in it all. But breastfeeding friendly clothes? I definitely see the point in them.
 
I have a few specific breastfeeding tops that are purpose made to allow easy feeding without hiking up your top - perfect for when you don't want the entire world to see your flabby, stretch marked belly. But I also just have a few tops that are button up and they do the job just as well. Add to this a nursing bra (which, due to their peep show panels, I like to call my stripper bras) and I'm all set to feed Tricky whenever, wherever. I've even got the whole breastfeeding in public thing down to a fine art - I do use a thin blanket to cover myself up when I'm putting him on and taking him off, not because I think I have to, or I think it's indecent exposure, but just because I'd prefer that not every man and his dog see my nips - which immediately after a feed look like they've come straight from page three of a National Geographic magazine.

So the other evening I was lucky enough to be taken to the symphony by Aunty Penny. I dolled myself up and decided that since Tricky was staying home with Hubby and a few bottles of expressed milk that I wouldn't need to wear any of my feeding tops - I could actually put on something that didn't scream 'lactating mother'. I put on one of my favourite dresses, a multicoloured, silk maxi dress. I dressed it up with some killer heels and a bit of bling. It was pretty exciting (sad, I know).

When I got to the Concert Hall I did what all good mothers do when they have a night off... I went straight to the bar. I nearly fell over and it had nothing to do with the heels I was wearing, rather the $9.50 pricetag on my glass of chardonnay. I figured, hey, how often do I get a chance to get dressed up and go the symphony? So I splurged. $9.50 on a glass of vinegar. Great. But I wasn't going to let it get to me. I was at the Concert Hall seeing the West Australian Symphony Orchestra, baby! And they were about to perform Symphonie Fantastique by Berlioz! *Insert excited geeky muso squeals here* See, I'm a big music lover - I studied it for years and have even performed right there on the very stage we were looking at. I was having flashbacks (possibly caused by the foul wine) and it was brilliant.

At intermission, Aunty Penny and I were having a chat and laughing at all the random stupid things we normally laugh at when for some reason - possibly because there were lots of posh looking people - I said "Wouldn't it be funny if there was a streaker?" Being obsessed with social media I even tweeted it! Who would have thought those words would foreshadow the rest of the night's events?

Tweeting at the symphony - I'm all class

When it finished Aunty Penny and I made our way down to where Hubby was picking us up and I didn't even have to open the car door to hear it... Tricky was crying. My poor bubba had been yanked out of bed in the middle of the night (see, you don't like it much do ya, Tricks? So stop doing it to your mother!) and to top it off he had a fever. It had only been a couple of hours since he'd had paracetamol so I couldn't give him any more, so the sure fire way to comfort him when he is upset like that is to feed him so Hubby turned off the engine, Aunty Penny jumped in the passenger seat while I climbed in to the back to feed Tricky. But there was a slight problem. The super-fabulous-non-breast-accessible-dress. Crap. I couldn't pull down the top half of the dress (it was a racer back and wouldn't come down) so I had no choice... I would have to take it off.

Now normally, stripping off in the back seat is done for an entirely different reason and therefore the car is usually in a secluded spot (if it's not then you're probably an exhibitionist). But we were parked at the steps to the Concert Hall whilst three hundred of our fellow concert-goers walked past to get to their own cars. I couldn't get out of the car to take my dress off, there were too many people - so after a crack from Aunty Penny about this not being the first time to take my clothes off in the back seat of a car, I stripped. If any of the people walking by looked in they would have seen me, sitting on the back seat, wearing my stripper bra and undies with my dress laid over my lap and my child at my breast.

What a night - symphony AND a peep show.