Kuta Lines Surfshop, Redhead, where a local legend keeps shop in a unique building using recycled timber from old Lee Wharf on Newcastle Harbour. Large beams, sandstone blocks and other large pieces have found a place there as well as surf-inspired art works and a collection of surfboards from down through the decades.

Kuta Lines surfing goods have gone global after small beginnings in the seventies when two surfing brothers from Newcastle visited Bali and were impressed by traditional Balinese textiles and asked for a few clothes to be made and then worn back here.  When other people asked about these it led to the start of the business which involved Balinese workers.
The work of Tony Brown and Kuta is recorded in the National Gallery in Canberra and describes how hooded 'Streaky' jumpers used fabric developed in Indonesia.  Traditional ikat weaving and dying techniques were adapted to create a fleecy, heavier weight fabric that would keep surfers warm on cold southern beaches. Streakies came in many colours and became something of a cult fashion item on and off the beach.
It is said that the art of traditional textiles, in Indonesia, is in decline because it is very labour intensive and time consuming and modern conventional textile workshops have taken over and Kuta fashions are still made there.

National Museum, Canberra.

Cow hide. Classic posters advertising Akubra Hats.  Stick to Akubra Hats!  See or buy on line at http://www.akubra.com.au/  Copies made in China are not the real McCoy.  Rabbit's fur goes into the manufacture of the felt hats and the fur is even imported when local supplies are low.  Rabbits are largly eradicated.  They were in plague proportions once as a result of their introduction to our shores.

  

The live beef export trade from Australia to Indonesia has been suspended beset with hugh problems.
A cow is significant in the following enthuastic words about an Indonesian Wedding, written about ten years ago by an English bride. Really the wedding is much much bigger than any cow!

...The day, for me, really began with the COW. The cow was the first big surprise - not the fact that we had bought a cow to be slaughtered for food, nor the fact that the cow was LIVING, until not long before the wedding outside M's aunt (M the groom) and uncle's house, being fattened up for the big day. No, the big surprise for me was the sheer SIZE of the cow, or to be more precise the PRICE. The cow cost a whopping 4.5 million rupiah.  To put that into perspective, we are talking about $900 AUD - which (to explain my shock) was just under a third of the total cost of the wedding and about 10 times more than many Indonesian's monthly wage.  The cow (which I knew nothing about until I arrived in Indonesia a week before the wedding) was suddenly a very important part of my big day. I never knew I would spend more than on my wedding outfits, photography, flowers and entertainment combined on one BIG COW.

And let's be very clear about this - the cow was big.  Most of the meat was used to make massive amounts of beef 'rendang' - a traditional dish, made by cooking the beef slowly in coconut milk and spices until almost all the coconut milk is absorbed into the beef, making it extremely tender and very richly flavoured.  Rendang is mostly only served at special occasions as the price of beef is far too expensive for Indonesians on a meagre income to eat regularly.

Hugh pots of rendang filled the primitive cement floored kitchen on the morning of the wedding.  You couldn't walk through the kitchen without walking around a pot of it. It was my first meeting with the cow - and more importantly, my first real indication about just how many guests we were actually expecting.  That many pots of rendang?  How was it ever going to all get eaten?  I asked one of M's aunts - Isn't there a bit much here? - Oh no, she said gravely - we think we may have to buy some chickens later this evening.

And so I left the kitchen, to take my place in the main bedroom with R - my hair/make up artist and all round fairy godmother who was my personal assistant for the day.  With a cautious stroke of foundation (she had never prepared a Westerner for a wedding before and was absolutely terrified)  we began to prepare for the wedding costume.  It was 9 am.

It took two hours to do hair and make up and to don the first costume.  As I had expected, the door was often nudged open by giggling children and curious adults.  My hair had been teased, sprayed, pinned, shaped, sprayed some more and decorated with flowers and a golden hairpiece.  My eyebrows had been shaved, lined and brushed.  My forehead, most concerning to me, had been lined in heavy lack eyeliner - a traditional Javanese wedding look which I heared might look quite stupid on my white Western head: but as I said, R was truly my fairy godmother and I think she did a pretty good job.  My first outfit was a traditional Javanese outfit consisting of a tightly wound sarong in earthy colours and a heavy black jacket with gold trimming.  As I said, it took two hours for me to get prepared - M's dressing took less than 20 minutes.  Then we were on.

Before we exit the door and out into the marquis, I should explain a little about Indonesian weddings. They are not like Western weddings in many ways - most significantly because there is no specific arrival time.  When you receive a wedding invitation it says "From 11am onwards" - and that's exactly what it means.  Guests arrive all day long to pay respects, eat, maybe have a bit of a boogie, or a catch up with news and then go.  Many guests arrive and are gone within half an hour.  Few stay for the whole day.  Close family are pretty much the only ones there from the beginning until the end - and even they often leave at some stage to have a bit of a nap, or to get changed.  It is a very long day for the bride and groom.  As I said, hair and make up began at 9 am, and it wasn't until 2 am next morning that I crawled into the 'wedding bed' which also may offer you a surprise (more on that later!).

So it was 11am, and out we stepped into the incredibly, thankfully not too hot heat of the day.  There were quite a few people already there and the keyboard player had already started to play.

The music provision for the day is well worth a mention before I continue.  An absolute mainstay of the Indonesian wedding is the keyboard.  Without a keyboard, the wedding is considered to be not much of an affair.  I went to several Indonesian weddings with M, the first thing that he and his friends would discuss upon arrival home was the keyboard player, his range of songs and the quality of the speaker he used....So, I am sure you can well understand, after finding a fat enough cow, M considered one of his other most important tasks to be to find the best keyboard player. Than an email from M read - He had good luck! Best keyboard player for our wedding! Can play English, Indonesian, Spanish and Indian Songs!  His excitement was palpable through the email -  he couldn't believe the guy wasn't booked one of the most famous.  Indeed, luck had been with us. 

So, back to our exit, out into the heat of mid morning.  I can't remember what the keyboardist was playing, or singing, but I am sure it was probably an Indonesian love song.  So there were quite a few people there.  Many sitting down in the Sunday ( sorry, Friday) best, and kids lolling around, looking excited yet hot and itchy in their rarely worn very good clothes.

So, to the ceremonial part of the day: an MC, wearing a funky scarf and telling quite a few apparently very funny jokes in Javanese stood us before him, joke telling and then singing us a brief love song in Indonesian.  Very sweet.  An egg was then place at M's foot and the MC asked him to break it by standing on it.  I, then, with a great deal of difficulty, considering how tightly my sarong was wrapped around my legs, knelt down and washed the egg off his foot using floral water.  Everyone clapped and then we were led to our seat - really a throne.  All gold and bright colours and decorated with flowers and small parasols.  It was totally my idea of an exotic Far Eastern wedding throne.  I loved it.

Before M was allowed to sit down, he was taken away and returned with a procession of family members to be brought to me.  When we both sat together, officially, united as a couple, a large group of women with beautiful clothing and voices and accompanied by nothing other than a few small drums and tambourines sang some beautiful Indonesian and Islamic songs to us. It was very moving.

After the singing came the next part of the ceremony during which time M's parents and then grandparents sat on the throne and we knelt before them to receive their blessing. Everyone cried.

Following this, we returned to the throne and then people began to give us their blessings by sprinkling rice and flower petals over us and touching us on the forehead and hands with a small branch dipped in floral water.  More tears as M's close family came through, but as the whole procession of people took close to an hour, with the beautiful singing going on the whole time, we were almost trancelike,  it was quite mesmerising.

After this came the photo sessions, which continued over the whole course of the day. EVERYONE got their photo taken with us, it is very traditionally Indonesian to NOT smile in the wedding photo, such is considered the solemnity and importance of the day. All the smiling Indonesians suddenly become sombre and poe faced as soon as the camera appeared in fromt of them.

By the middle of the afternoon as the weather heated up, when some guests had gone home and more had arrived, and when we had changed costumes - into stunning bare shouldered blittering wrap around outfits of Jogjakarta - I began to make a real game out of trying to get people to laugh, or at least smaile, as the photos were taken.

The afternoon passed in this way.  I must admit that the keyboard player was indeed very good, and could play a very impressive range of songs.  His female companion was also very talented - particularly good at singing Indian songs (which 2 years in India--music-mad Indonesia have given me quite a taste for).  Quite a few people got up and danced whilst many just sat, ate, chatted and then left.

Until mid afternoon, D was the only Westerner in sight apart from me.  D was the subject of an intense amount of interest and was incredibly gracious and patient in both posing for photos and trying to work her way through a lot of broken English and mime and those who just insisted on speaking flat out Indonesian to her as everyone tried to communicate with the only other European peron at the wedding.

Mid afternoon saw D much relieved as many of the foreign guests arrived - mostly teachers from work - including E, who had been built up in the village as a very important man - an Australian Honorary Consul. A special arrangement had been made for a dozen bottle of beer to be put on ice for their arrival.  So as the afternoon melted into evening, focus shifted for a while from the bride and groom to the small group of foreigners in the middle of the marquis, merrily gulping down beer out of bottle whilst all the Indonesians looked on in curiosity sipping their water or tea.

By evening, such a crowd had gathered that stall holders had arrived selling icecreams and small toys for children, parking their bicycles laden with wares at either end of the marquis, cashing in on the festival atmosphere.  With no seats left, people had taken to sittingon their haunches anywhere they could and more and more people arrived.  We changed again, into lovely green costumes, again Javanese.  The headpiece was a crown, and very beautiful.   I really did feel like a queen.

At 7pm M's brother rushed up to the throne to give M the bad news that the BEEF, had indeed all been eaten.  I expressed momentary disbelief until I took a good look around.  The place was as packed as an outdoor music festival.  The COW had been BIG, but not big enough.  Money discreetly changed hands and M's brother took off on a bicycle in search of some chicken.

The evening prayer time (around 7 30pm) saw a brief lull in activity as many (including M) disappeared to pray.  I changed costumes again, this time into a Melayu dostume of bright blue - which involved a change of hair do as well as make up.  The costume was quite loose fitting - a lovely chance to breathe freely after all the tight fitting sarongs.  Not that I am complaining - I promise! I loved every minute of wearing every costume.  It was such a special opportunity to really be treated as a princess. I loved it.

The number of guests swelled even more. The atmosphere was electric.  A bus load arrived and carried over 50 people, some who had travelled on the roof, and a few who had spent the two and a half hour journey hanging out of the bus doors.  But they were not tired, they were ready for good times.  The music picked up, and as the 'young crew' of jungle dwellers began to dance, taking turns in singing a few of their favourite tunes (I never though I would be so entertained by a version of Knocking on Heaven's Door at my wedding).  There was dancing, Western and Indonesian style and by 9 30pm when it was finally time for M and I to leave our throne, cast off our regal wear and return to world as a married couple and no longer royalty, I was ready for a dance. The party went on until 1am when local laws forced us to shut down the music (yes, even in an Indonesian village!) and we returned to being entertained by a couple of guitar strumming lads singing Indonesian rock songs under a black Indonesian sky, lazily swatting mosquitoes from our skin.

It was almost 2 30am when I jumped on the back of a motorbike to be taken to M's aunt's house where we would spend our wedding party night - but not together.  Such was the way things work out in Indonesia, there was one bedroom free.  So, I gave my gorgeous new husband a great big kiss and curled up in the big bed, under a fan, not next to my husband, but to Christine, while M slept on a mat on the living room floor among his good mates.
An Indonesian wedding, right until the end.  I drifted off to sleep with the tune of My Delila on the lips, and wondering just where the hell the keyboard player had learnt to sing that song.  And realising, only now, that I, the bride, had not even tried any of the BEEF RENDANG, but didn't care.  Nor did I mind.....life couldn't have been any better......

Pop goes the weasel!  A touch of uneasiness... ambivalence....but the child returns for more.

Preschool stories and television are all about imaginative animals that talk. There is little else. Beginning with Peter Rabbit and Winnie the Pooh who could resist the delightful stories that have captivated us all the while.
Animals are given human characteristics. Is there a hint that animals are not quite good enough just as they are?  Real life animals don't conform to story book image. Do they disappoint? What impression are children left with?
Or is it all a good means of getting in touch with nature and with biodiversity?  

.

Up the wooden hill
to Bedfordshire
Down Sheet Lane
to Blanket Fair.

Traditional English Nursery Rhyme.

Clue: It is evening and the Wooden hill is the stair case
Prompted by: Up The Wooden Hill by S Braun, S McBratney. Published  by Harper Collins.  Update. To be more specific the book was Tell Me A Story and has same details.

These are no waring tribesmen but exponents of traditional dance from the UK and celebrating at a festival.

Osama was far from the mind of festival goers  but one well known entertainer sang about current warfare and its futility and in a well meaning rendition frequently alluded to the Islamic deity and to Jesus.  

I am sceptical about political correctness but I wondered  if the lyrics and reference to the Islamic deity were against tradition. The audience were probably all WASPs.  All is fair game at a festival. And will the Chasers parody the current events in Pakistan?

  

Anzac Cove  In Mural. In Kurri

New life New hope!
the little old church in Gresford

Mangia mangia.

Market stall in Hunter Street Mall for delicious pizza baked in a wood fired oven set up inside a van - where else!  

After building one pizza oven a former bricklayer and partner have become very successful in selling pizzas at market and at parties and is filling a demand from homeowners for more ovens. 

While the cook in not an Italian, she has the 'mangia mangia' approach which celebrates food and family which recently featured on Life Matters on ABC Radio national. 

From the little I have seen, old style domestic Italian pizza is a lot different from our commercial versions. My version....anchovies...kalamata olives...etc. ....non-trad rich pastry...simply delicious...occasionally 

We begin April in this town frozen in time. Retro ville. Up to date ideas have very little impact. Visitors are conspicuous.

Pin up retro fashions.  Until we see the iPhone! And the males.

Disco.
Another rant.
Over time our rag trade gradually changed and our shops became filled with stock from Asia. Local manufacturers became non-existent. Clothing became very plentiful, affortable and styles changed. Synthetics ruled.
Earlier on, dare I say, most of this imported clothing looked 'common' and exploited new ways of using up fabrics, such as interlock ad infinitum.
All of which to a large exstent took over from the fabrics, colours, sizes and garnments which we were accustomed to and that used different craftmanship.

Naturally, Asian manufacturers were not nuanced about our traditions. They had their own distincitve style of clothing which influenced what they made. In detail, their fashion was at odds with ours. However, imports, good and bad, came to dominate the lower and middle end of the market and shape our entire wardrobe. As well, a revolution has occured in what we wear and casual is in.

Fashions for tiny children undergo change but the overseas producers have a lot to answer for. Vivid colours and new styles are acceptable on little kids but overdone clumsy styling swamped the market.
The idea of delicate childrens' clothing, in scale with a child's size and make-up via colour and light weight fabrics was totally alien to the eastern producers.
To dress toddlers in elaborate formal wear like mini versions of adult-after-five was once totally alien to us.  The aim to dress as adults also begins in the first twelve months, for example, jeans or army fatigues and sport shoes. Little babies do battle to take their first steps in giant-sized clumsy laceups.
Older teens wear very brief casual clothing any old place, such as university campus. Dressing for the occasion is not popular but there is room for certain alternative fashion on campus but an upcoming professional careers usually demands conventional standards of dress.
Thanks to levels of undress and the slut look, the old fashioned can better imagine how some cultures react to our standards and reject our lifestyle instead of seeing our positives aspects. 


However, the message gets thru and designers are employed so that better styles emerge from Asia in line with our traditions and sizes. But, of course, taste differs enormously and conventions are up for grabs.   
  

Here is a unique shop front. Left standing in Lambton by sheer luck, I suppose. What a shame when it could be modernised and given the tile treatment just like Marianne Fashions nearby.

光荣的中国兔年新年的新年
Year of the Rabbit..
...the sun rises in the eastern sky and hundreds of birds sing in harmony....

from Chinese Propaganda Posters. From the collection of Michael Wolf. publisher Tashcen. Gorgeous and sinister in equal measure - The Independent London

Saturday is the day for Weddings and a number of  couples retain the Marriage custom.

In the wild a male magpie goose and two females attend to nesting and breeding tasks together.
This flock of geese enjoy a home at Hunter Wetlands. Originally these birds were distributed more widely before loss of their habitat occured in our temperate areas so they hang around tropical northern areas. Even there exotic grass introduced for cattle grazing competes with native foods that suit Magpie greese best. What an inheritance!

It has been said that the family became an institution to facilitate issues to do with inheritance. There would be new unwritten laws of inheritance used to craft a will and testament suitable for blended families and change of status. Should inheritance generally be an unconditional right for family members?

's

Knit 1 Purl 1 Slip 1. Tradition continues. Warm Australian knitting wool continues to be made in Victoria - for one. A patterned Aran cardigan is pictured and a selection of knit wear, or failing that,  the pure wool (or other blends) and knitting patterns are for sale. Competent knitters will keep alive this art using lacy patterns influenced by the Aran Islands, off the West Coast of Ireland.
Textured stitch patterns do not lend themselves to mass production so off-shore production is surely limited - for a change.

...see the fluffy horses feeding at the troughs in the field, scattering their hay on the trodden yellow snow; watch the miners troop home - small, black figures trailing slowly in gangs across the white field. Then the night came up in dark blue vapour from the snow.
.....The snowflakes, suddenly arriving on the window-pane, clung there a moment like swallows, then were grone, and a drop of water was crawling down the glass.  The snowflakes whirled round the corner of the house, like pigeons dashing by.  Away across the valley the little black train crawled doubtfully over the great whiteness. 

An un-Australian indulgence. By Lawrence.

The Duyfken Replica ship visited Newcastle some time ago - where is it these days? The original sailed for the Dutch East India company, round 1606, and sailed not only to Indonesia for spices but ventured south and recorded the first maps of part of the land of Australian.
On that journey the ship sailed in warm waters. No need for the duvet. When the weather is cold enough, as it is right now, many people like to have a Doona as a bed cover. 
Doona is a trade name that has become the common Australian slang description for a quilt with filling.  (So Doona is a form of metonymy).  Derived from the Scandinavian term dyne; popularized by Ikea in the 1970s (Wikipedia). The name, Continental quilt, also became known at one stage.
A Doona has a removable washable cover.  Originally, quilts, which in these parts were often named Eiderdowns, came in floral and coloured fabrics and were stuffed with feathers and eider-down and had the cover and filling stitched together as one. Perhaps the duvet is made the same way and is intended to replace sheets and blankets. The term Comforter is probably not commonly used here.
Koreans and maybe Chinese were seen to favour traditional padded quilts with cotton type covers in yet another style.
Down: the first feathering of young birds. Eider-duck: a north sea duck sought after for its fine feathers.
Wikipedia notes that Duvet Day is used in come countreis to describe on allowance of one or more days a year when employees can simply phone in and say that they are not coming in to work even though they have no leave booked or are not ill.

e-Books....i-pad. Where do picture books fit in?
This tale from ancient Java is filled with striking detail in illustrations highlighted in gold and makes wonderful use of traditional motifs.
Indonesian culture has a traditional world of wayang puppets such as these and tell grande tales such as Rama and Sita taken from the Hindu epic The Ramayana. Adventures and the ageless struggle of good against evil is told again and again. 
I suspect the same theme is found in other cultures of South-East Asia.

Rama and Sita. A Tale from Ancient Java. Retold and Illustrated by David Weitzman
Published by David R Godine Boston 2002

Fish 'n Chips?  From the past, a Cafe where real burgers are served. An array of pale yellow pre-cooked things in batter fill the display case waiting to be fried in deep boiling oil. Plastic strips hang across the doorway.