I close my eyes for what seems like a few minutes only to open them and discover I am once again staring a new year in the face, having little to no time to say goodbye to the year that was. I suppose I should fill in all that has happened during my adventures down under, all sorts of rumours have been flying as I haven't had the time, nay, the strength, to put the rumours to bed. But lying here in the sweltering morning sun on the last day of the year I feel I ought to give an explanation of sorts.

My last post, short though it was, dabbled in poetry and riddles, though it wasn't particularly clever nor rhythmic. It hopefully would have made you think of the land down under, a vast continent of reds and yellows, not too dissimilar from my childhood in Africa. My Mother has resided in the Antipodes for quite some time now, and it was about time I paid her a visit. All was going well until, on Christmas Day, my knee and leg seemed entirely out of sorts. I cannot begin to describe the pain, and though I am now on the mend, I had to go under the butcher's knife which rendered me somewhat incapacitated. The country has many wonderful views and creatures to ogle at, but it did rather dampen my spirits as I was confined to my bed chambers for the festive period.

Now that my spirits soar, of course it is time for my bags to be packed as I ready myself for my return journey to the Orient. I am looking forward to giving home; though it is certainly the strangest place I have ever lived, I feel comfortable and happy and of course it helps that it is mine. So as I prepare for another journey, the sands of time continue to pour, beckoning the start of a new year ever closer.

Resolutions should be at the forefront of my mind, but in all honesty, other than chasing my creative dreams, there is nothing more I wish to change. Maybe I'll just continue with those I conjured up last year...

It's amazing how much can change in a single year. I daren't begin to imagine what this next year has to offer.

D. S.

Have a guess as to where I am in the world...? I have allowed myself to let go of my many responsibilities and travel even further away from my home and the Far East in order to frolic in the waves of respite and relaxation. It has been months since I last had a prolonged period of time to myself, experiencing the world through my unadulterated eyes, and discovering a new land.

Though Christmas is only a few days away, I am once again on the Southern Hemisphere and couldn't feel further away from the scorching fires, roasted marshmallows and goblets of mulled wine that I gave become so accustomed to. Instead I lie under the baking sun, dashing in and out of the tumbling waves, cooing in awe and wonder at the flora and fauna this vast country has to offer.

Have you worked out where I am yet?

It reminds me of my homeland: a yellow grass, 

Baked by an unrelenting sun, warms the morning 

To an almost unbearable heat, so that the midday has

An eerie silence of bodies hiding in the shade, waiting

For a distraction, to think of anything other than the heat.

Though similar, it has a more cultured heritage, a pride,

An arrogance, judging all those who dare appear uninvited.

Compared to my homeland, where I am now makes me thankful,

For all that I have and the future I am offered. No fear, I can speak.

Travel if you can darlings - at worst you'll have fond memories. At best you'll have your mind opened.

D. S. 

Normally if I take a hiatus from my writing it is because I have found a new love interest or an old flame is disintegrating before my very eyes. On this occasion however, there are so many love interests that I haven't been able to keep up and it is I, who has imploded. The downward spiral of self-destruction is not a new phase in my life, nor one that I intend to give much weight, but rather it has reminded me to take some time for myself.

I need some reflection time instead of constantly chasing after every social occasion and allow myself the opportunity to breathe.

I have managed to take the time to travel - the Orient is the gateway to much of Indochina that I have never before experienced, and I have been ever so fortunate to spend this time with natives who are more than willing to show me the culture they are so proud of. But even the travelling has not been enough, only fleeting moments shared under an almost familiar bright sun.

I suppose I should also mention the man who helped open my eyes to what I am capable of  - I still don't quite believe in myself like I ought to, but I am learning, and in all honesty that is the reason why I have traversed to the other side of the world for the second time. I need to get to know myself and decide whether or not I like what I find.

At the moment... I'm not so sure.



D. S.

If there were any more interesting news to report then I would have written all the sooner, but it seems I have become very focused on my work ~ concentrating on building up those around me, imparting knowledge to young children and perfecting my pencil drawing. Spending time with people is exhausting, especially young children who ted to unintentionally drain one of their own energy. I cannot remember the last time I sat by myself, with my thoughts being completely my own... No interruptions, no whispers of discontent, nothing to distract me from just being.

I suppose the last time I wrote would be the correct assumption, but even then I was caught in the juxtaposition of wanting to be on my own and wanting to be with my lover. How can my needs and desires be so conflicting?

Regardless, I am on my own at this very moment in time, reveling in my oneness and concentrating on what it is I love to do the most. 

The Far East has truly opened my eyes to a world beyond what I could imagine. I was not completely ignorant to the foreign ways that I would inevitably encounter, but to live here where there are few similarities to anything I have experienced before, takes a little getting used to. Recently there was The Double Ninth Festival, also known as Chung Yeung Festival, where we were encouraged to travel to the mountain peaks as is tradition, to avoid the Ruhe River monster. 

As the story goes, a man called Huanjing was determined to destroy the river monster after it killed his parents, so he ended up training to become a great and powerful warrior underneath the watchful eye of the celestial being Fei Changfang. Huanjing trains for a whole year until the 9th day of the 9th lunar month, and evacuates his entire village to the mountains, where he gives them cornel leaves and chrysanthemum wine. 


When the Ruhe River monster appears he finds the village abandoned and deserted, though he eventually discovers the people hiding atop the mounting. Scrambling towards them, the monster is determined to maim and kill, but the smell of the cornel leaves and chrysanthemum wine weakens hi, changing the colour of his skin and making him easier to kill. 

Of course, this is when Huanjing comes down the mountain, wielding two swords. The monster and the warrior do battle, and eventually Huanjing decapitates the monster. 

Here in the Orient, there are more stories that I will be able to remember, but I love how these legends still shape their culture and traditions. Coming from a country that has a little traditional culture, it is exciting to see that there are other ways of life that have been handed down from generation to generation



D. S.

Spending days languishing in self-pity and wallowing in gloom because of a sniffle or three, does not a happy Duchess make. I have battled with my body and am in the process of forcing myself to enjoy the autumnal air, despite the cough. 

The Scottish Marquessa and I have turned the Far East into our very own playground. We dally in all sorts of circles, though of late we have frequented the music scene ~ a cello concerto that I heard just last night moved me to tears. My only wish was that I'd had the opportunity to share that moment with the gentleman I mentioned in my last musings. However, it seems that the dreaded influenza has spread, affecting his health ~ though I may or may not have had something to do with it.

Regardless, the music of late has been phenomenal and truly inspiring. I have somehow managed to find my voice again, allowing the words to flow through me, all the while cultivating an additional art form as I endeavour to perfect my pencil work. (I cannot admit that my muse has been discovered in the man who has helped me to open my eyes and look at myself... That would be far too saccharine for me).

I am happiest when I am creating. That may be a solitary past time, but my inspiration comes from the exciting moments that I share with both friends and lovers. For example, I would not be where I am, writing in the comfort of my own bed, if it hadn't been for the longest week where I have been pulled in every direction, suffering with maladies (none of which are self-inflicted!).

The ramblings have begun so I ought to stop writing round about now... But my fingers continue to tap away, my hand unable to control itself as the words continue to pour out of me. Nonsense, it seems, shall be the theme of the day.

I suppose I should mention that the Duke of Albany is swimming in dangerously close circles... It is of very little interest to me, but I have no doubt our paths will unintentionally cross at some point. 



D. S.