A Dingo in the Dunes – hard times in Dogtown (Cape Arnhem, Australia)
We are 1000km east of Darwin, our only access to here via the Central Arnhem Road, arriving at the turnoff late afternoon. Then it's still another 20km off the main track, with compulsory vehicle restrictions fair warning - `Vehicle must be 4WD with plenty of...
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Remembering Robeson – a book review
Paul Robeson was a black American man and an important civil rights activist of the early to mid 1900s, but there is so much more to this story. Until hearing Jeff Sparrow's impassioned presentation at his recent Melbourne book promotion, my own knowledge of Robeson...
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Welcome to The Badlands – a latenight lullaby
Bodies of children, guns more sacred Lay in heaps on crimson pavement The future dead, the ghosts of hope A shattered nation with prayers will cope . Pagoda beauty, suddenly soured Hateful icons, a new leader's power Crowded camps, no fault their own Despair and...
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Lost Time and Loose Ends – unfinished business (Honfleur, France)
"I have less and less time and more and more to say" - Pablo Picasso We sit on the edge of the wharf, the paving stones cold, the coffee shops closed. I gaze behind us at rows of seaside apartments, the drab dollhouse facade a collage of browns and greys. The aroma...
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Ding, Dong, the Blog is Dead – pondering progress
Blogging these days is not like it once was... a fickle, little-read beast at best. And it's hard to believe that just five years back I chose to take a dip in the blogosphere, a late starter, a wandering writer through the once-was maze of Wordpress and Blogger, of...
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A Poison Peace – lost but not forgot (Uis, Namibia)
I am in Namibia, 350km northwest of the once colonial centre of German West Africa, Windhoek; on the edge of the 2000km Namib Desert – the oldest in the world I’m told. From the setting sun my gaze drifts north and way down to the road at the toe of this great...
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Looking for a Life – the fruits of our labour (Lagos, Nigeria)
Mosque minarets pierce soggy Lagos skies and I ask my driver to stop, the road potholed with waterlogged lakes and lined both sides with traders' stalls. Just here are piles of tomatoes on tottering stacks of pavers. Ribs sizzle next door, sweet basil wafting from the...
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The Good, the Bad, and Barcelona – Gaudi on sunday (Catalonia, Spain)
In the crowded hotel lobby, my daypack zipper sounds conspicuously loud. I poke a hand inside: a woollen vest, an apple and a light rain jacket – nothing more. I rummage about. Still nothing. Everyone looks when I tip the contents out. A single euro coin rolls across...
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Snow Monkeys – and absent friends (Yudanaka, Japan)
The Tokyo bar is a circle, Teppanyaki hotel chefs in tall hats and shirtsleeves in the centre; their shiny cleavers deftly dealing with slabs of beef, cabbage, prawns and abalone.The air smells of garlic and warm vegetable oil. I sip a Sapporo, the man across the way...
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The Flower Girl and The Lizard King – Père Lachaise (Paris, France)
There's a raspy laugh, parted purple lips, a toothy gap and shining silver orb perched on a pierced tongue. "French? Me?" Mascaraed eyes shine from an impossibly pallid face. "Like... God no." There's a slight lisp, the word 'God' stretched for effect, the intonation...
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