Category: Uncategorized

This post relates to my previous posting on being an internet sensation.

As of today, I’ve had one response from News.com.au to say that they are looking into it after my post–no doubt after it started to garner some wider attention from people who were friends of friends (we all know how that can go). It’s been another two days since their response to my post on their wall.

I’ve sent two online queries under two different sections, unsure of to which category my query related.

So, to upping the ante, which is apparently the only way to get a response out of anyone…

There’s this post over on the Facebook Page (where I got my response):
https://www.facebook.com/news.com.au/posts/1153638534663518
(Update 01/07/2020: This post has now been deleted. Not by me, as far as I can recall)

And also this post on Twitter:

Hey @newscomauHQ. More than a week ago, I sent an enquiry about copyright on a photo your site is using. Sent second query & still no word.

— Sophie, devourer of books 📚 (@Smoph) September 21, 2015

I even posted it on Google+.

If anyone wants to help me get answers, please comment on the Facebook post or like it. Twitter users, retweet or write a tweet of your own while sharing the original tweet as a retweet. Resharing or commenting on the Google+ would be cool too, if anyone has the time.

I’m a big believer in blood donation. My grandfather had an aggressive leukaemia and in the course of his treatments received bucket loads of blood. I’m sympathetic to haemophiliacs and burns victims, cancer patients, mothers and babies in distress childbirth, or those in surgery who need our blood. I try to donate as often as I can, but mostly donate plasma these days, as I feel less fatigued afterward.

I made a discovery when I came back for my first donation since I returned to Australia. When I had to sign to update my new release form, I noticed it now recorded my cytomegalovirus (CMV) status.

CMV is a herpes virus. It manifests for most as no more than a low-level cold. Around half of us have already contracted it without knowing. The largest risk is to immuncompromised people, more so for those who haven’t had it, and pregnant women in their first trimester. It can be a congenital condition, infecting 33% of babies and causing a myriad of problems where the mother has contracted CMV for the first time while pregnant. There’s less risk when the mother has had an infection.

The Red Cross Blood Service screens for it because they don’t want to give CMV to someone who hasn’t had it, or to a baby or to someone immunocompromised (like my grandfather fighting leukaemia), in the same way they screen for ABO (blood type) and Rheusus groups (that good old positive or negative next to your blood type).

But, apart from identifying those who’ve had the virus, they also use blood products to treat the mothers, by using hyperimmune globulin, which is a blood component created by our bodies in an immune response. These immunoglobulins are collected from the donors blood to be bottled and given to  Receiving this immune product allows for a passive immunisation, where someone else’s immunoglobulins fight the disease, like your own would if you had the antibodies. In the same way, nursing mothers protect their baby with the colostrum and antibodies in their milk; another great example of passive immunisation.

This realisation is important to me for one reason. My best friend caught CMV in her first trimester. We didn’t know much about it at the time because it’s not really talked about. And there’s not much in the way of treatment to allay some of the worse problems it can cause in a baby’s development.

Because of the generosity of many Australians who rolled up their sleeves, my friend was able to be treated and her unborn child was able to be protected.

Baby is here now, and she’s still on her journey, which will no doubt still have some ups and downs. But blood donors like you and me gave a little girl a fighting chance to beat the effects of CMV.

So I’d like to thank you if you donate, and for having tried even if you don’t fit the very strict Red Cross standards. I’d like to encourage people who haven’t thought to donate for a while, for whom it has just fallen off the radar, to ring 13 14 95 or visit www.donateblood.com.au to see if you qualify.

Bay of Fundy and Annapolis Valley

It was a glorious day as we wound through the south-eastern coast of the Bay of Fundy. The area is replete with wineries but the one we stopped at for lunch, Luckett Vineyard, was perfect. It had a simple and delicious menu, we sat in toasty sunshine overlooking the vines and shared a bottle of white. We had a few tastings and walked out with quite a few bottles of wine, including one blueberry wine. Delicious. I wish the interstate laws didn’t still prohibit transport of alcohol across state line so I could get them here. The fun little quirk about this winery is that they have a red telephone box in between the vines, and you can call anywhere in Canada for free. One of the wines is even named after it.

We stopped at Burnt Coast Lighthouse, which was full of blooming flowers and bright red cliffs. The sand is swirled with reflective metallic particles of some sort. As the lighthouse itself was closed, we wandered down on the flats in the hope of exploring and maybe seeing the impressive Bay of Fundy tide, which is renown for changing visibly. The whole bay is extremely shallow, so the changing of the tides can be quite dramatic.

Our home for a few days was a renovated church in Annapolis Royal, which was the most beautiful place I have stayed to date, and quite potentially my dream home. It had a reading nook upstairs, big bedrooms and a lovely deep bath, with the shower tucked away in a little stone corner. The owners had done an amazing renovation and it was so peaceful. All the smallest touches were present; old glass bottles embossed with crosses, a matching dining and lounge theme, a bookshelf full of books.

Part of the attraction of Bay of Fundy was that it was supposed to be another great area for whale watching, particularly an area called Digby Neck, a finger of land jutting out toward the mouth of the bay. When we went, the ocean was grey and stormy, and the incessant rain put everyone off. My brother Duncan and his partner Phoebe went back later in their trip and tell me that it is quaint and lovely on sunny days.

We did find, in a little tucked away cove, the story of a sailor dumped in the 1900s I believe with his legs cut off. He was known never to speak and only once to ever be visited. The mysteries you discover!

Hitting up a little fishmonger in town, we had the best scallops of our stay. Nova Scotia does seem to have a corner on the seafood market. Nothing compares to the freshness you get locally.

Our journey took us to southern coast of Nova Scotia. The seascape is really interesting here. In some places, particularly a little place called Blue Rocks, there’s barely any distance between the ocean and the road, approximately 2 meters and very little elevation. Undoubtedly, the road must be cut off often by rough or high seas. Pier pilings are built into the rocks and I even saw an elegantly designed boat ramp of one large, continuous piece of what I would think was shale. The rocks either dark and angular, or round with a rusty colour, and dramatic beside the iron-grey stormy seas. I must say, I was sad not to see it in the summer sunshine but the area had austere and aloof beauty that was not diminished by the turbulent weather.

We stopped at the famous lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove, which was crawling with tourists even before the high season. It’s a first world photographer problem when you can’t get a shot of what you want to without randoms walking in. There were signs everywhere reminding people that this was a lighthouse and water did wash up on to the large raft of rocks beneath the lighthouse. It may function very little, but it’s there because its close to rocks and treacherous seas! What stole our attention was the village below, brimming with dilapidated old boats, little shops with glass buoys and sweet little cottages on the rocks, all reflected in a dark glassy sea.

It was from here that we headed to the Nova Scotia state capital.

To read about our journey from the beginning, start here, or you can go on to Halifax.

Vancouver and Ontario

Since beginning my travels in Canada, I have been learning little bits and pieces about the culture and history that I was surprised not to read about before I got here. So for your reading pleasure, here’s 25 things I learnt while in Canada:

1. Provinces are all important here and the equivalent of our states. Ottawa is the capital and similar in origin to Australia’s capital, Canberra. It’s in a middle of nowhere place someone picked out to stop arguments and is not the name the uneducated (including me before we arrived!) would pick. But Ottawa is what Canberra only has dreams of being: it’s big and friendly, has some really interesting museums, and has an elegant gothic feel. On that note, Vancouver is not the capital of British Columbia. That fine title goes to Victoria, a smaller city on Vancouver Island, who negotiated it as part of their agreement for joining the province.

2. On that note, it is still illegal to take alcohol across the border, so you will find wine from home before you will get one from across a province line. Beer seems not to have as much of a problem though.

3. Canada is huge. In driving terms, it certainly owns Australia. In all likelihood, you have to head to the wilderness to see some real wildlife. For Vancouver, that means 2 – 3 hours from the city. Though, we saw a racoon in inner city Vancouver!

4. Dollar coins are bigger and in a move that makes no sense at all, 5c is bigger than 10c and in the coin part of your wallet looks almost identical to a quarter. And yes, the notes are a veritable rainbow.

5. Walk/drive/queue on the right side dammit.

6. There’s food markets and there’s pharmacies, and between them they sell everything that you need. The be-all supermarket chain that you get in Australia is a different beastie to these supermarkets. But, we just don’t have coffee shops and cafes inside ours.

7. Disappointment central. Despite having met a delightfully charming member of the RCMP in Ottawa, they no longer wear their gorgeous red jackets unless it’s a special occasion. I am told the Calgary Stampede is the place to see them. (Also, you cannot get baby Mountie outfits-bummer!)

8. Rent of an apartment in the downtown area, complete with cable television, gas and internet is less than just our rent in Melbourne, which is not the most expensive city in Australia (in comparison with Vancouver being the most expensive city to live in here in Canada). Hooray hydro power!

9. Taxes are added on top of advertised prices. In BC, that’s 10% national tax plus 5% provincial tax (more for alcohol). So you think you have an idea of what it is going to cost, and then realise you forgot to add taxes. Damn.

10. Tipping is optional, but waitresses are paid minimum wage here too. 15% of the pre-tax total is standard. Surprise them: no one here expects Australians to know how to tip.

11. I’ve only seen one place advertising a Canadian breakfast of eggs, bacon and pancakes. Though I have encountered them tucked away on menus but…

12. There is maple in oh so many things. We had maple bacon on the weekend. And there’s lots of bacon.

13. An entree is not what we Aussies call an entree. Expect a meal folks.

14. Weird names: cilantro=coriander, squash=pumpkin or that other squash, peppers=capsicum.

15. The water is damn cold. As cold as Victoria. In the warmest part of the country. During the summer.

16. If you look lost, someone will stop to help you. If you look like a beggar, most people will ignore you, but some will buy some really decent food for you.

17. That being said, I can attest to Canadian drivers being as angry as Australian drivers. Yes buddy, that’s a horn. You’ve let them know that they did wrong. Sure, keep leaning on the horn. What’s that? Folks actually live in those apartments around you, and funnily, are sleeping at 2am?

18. Those huge snow storms? They happen only on the interior or perhaps just not in Vancouver.

19. Despite searches for Vancouver inner city bringing up Whistler as a great place to live, it is not just within city bounds. It’s almost 2 hours from the city. I will however accept Burnaby and Surrey.

20. Phone calls and data are heinously expensive by Aussie standards, which I really don’t get.

21. The Seabus is not a bus. The Skytrain, sadly, does not fly. While the sun shines, Canadians bike everywhere. Be sure to wear your helmet when you are out though-the law is the same as Australia.

22. The seawall is a wall along the very extensive ocean frontage. Very imaginative naming, but everyone knows what you mean.

23. Aerosol deodorant, particularly for women, does not exist. They seem not to understand that I need it. Although, I am feeling better about less waste and no propellants that I have been using.

24. In Quebec, cars only need one numberplate. How does that even work? Also, everywhere but Quebec, you can turn right at a red light providing it is clear. And indicators might just be your brake lights flashing (really confusing!).

25. An unofficial addition to my list, by request of my partner Greg, is coffee. American filtered coffee is the norm here so be prepared to go looking for espresso. Tim Hortons is a perpetrator of this crime against coffee. Blenz is the Canadian version of Starbucks. Shop local!

I wouldn’t consider myself a completely unexperienced traveller, but maybe I should have done some more reading.

Have you travelled in Canada? Is there anything you would add to this list?

Yesterday Vancouver was overrun… With zombies!

The annual Vancouver zombie walk was a huge success, with lots of varied and imaginative costumes. There was people of all age groups, from little babies (well-taken care of by Mama zombies of course) and small children, all the way up to adults with a few greys that worked well into their costumes. Families abounded, and boy, was there some of the cutest zombies I have ever seen! One pregnant zombie’s unholy offspring also sprung straight through the abdominal wall, not wishing to wait for birth.

Keeping an orderly shuffle, respecting red lights (for blood!) and the policemen volunteering with the event, the hoards of the undead made their way from the Vancouver library down Robson Street, veering left at Denman, and finally congregating at English Bay Beach, clearly unsure what to do at the water’s edge. Some of the shuffle were obviously a bit hungry, biting out at the bystanders, sending little Asian girls shrieking away. The eerie screams of some zombies set the scene for the apocalypse to come.

A few survivors struggled amidst the zombie throng, some prepared against the airborne threat with gas masks, or armed with (water) guns and (Nerf) darts. However, the survival of humanity seemed unlikely given how few stood against the rising tide.

Hats off to the dedicated people who participated yesterday. It was great fun even just to watch, and everyone was so happy to have their photograph taken.

Which of the photographs was your favourite? Have you ever taken part in a zombie walk? What was it like?

I know your last thought about being older is that it’s sexy. If you read my title and thought, “Sophie’s coming a bit out of left field today, where is her head at?”, then bear with me.

Newspapers appear occasionally with good news stories of those happily married for 30 or more years, whose hearts, lives and hands have belong to each other as long as they can almost remember.

These older couples are a hopeful contrast to the Australian divorce rates of around 50, 000 per year. A few couples that make it to this point give us all hope that perhaps we won’t be another statistic, a person alone when it comes to our twilight years.

But why sexy, I hear you asking? Sure, it’s not so sexy if it’s your grandparents or parents, or anyone you know really. But tell me, does your heart not lift a little when you see an older couple cuddle or hold hands? Thinking, that could be me one day.

But do you want to know the most attractive part of all? That there is still love when you’re grey and wrinkly as an elephant; when you wear pants well above what used to be your waist; when nothing works or looks as well as it once did. Loving someone’s wrinkles around their eyes (when you know the events that carved those lines), the changing curves of their body (those well travelled paths that are being mapped anew), the loss of colour in their hair (from those events that shaped your very lives together)… That is what real love is.

And damn, don’t you think that’s sexy?

This love will never, this old love will never die
~Lior~

I have been listening to the Hack broadcast on Triple J in this man week forum, and it has been quite thought provoking. Part of today’s discussion revolved around men who hadn’t known their fathers. It is a very relevant and distressing topic.

But what about the boys who never knew their mothers? Mothers generally help us to become tender, loving people. They guide us without words, offering their ears and their arms to relieve us of our troubles. They know when we’re happy or distraught or doing wrong. How do these motherless boys develop? Do they grow up without that rudder, that guide on how to love unconditionally?

This topic is particularly close to my heart. For those of you that don’t know me personally, my father lost his mother tragically at a young age. He was lucky, he came from a large family, with older siblings, and he was 15. My father is an exceptionally gentle, kind, caring and generous man. I know no tenderer man. I think this was always his nature, but I wonder how much of his family orientation was caused by the passing of his mother. I also know the loss still plagues him, as it does his brother and sisters.

Also, in my family, I believe my brother is closest to my mother. She is the only one he will open up to, discuss his troubles with. And believe me, this is important. My brother was a bit of a troubled child – tantrums, hyperactivity, a bit of misbehaviour and a whole lot of not understanding the dangers of the world. He doesn’t say alot (in fact, those friends of mine who know him, would verify he says very little). I attribute the work of both my parents in moulding him so he could become the quite lovely young man he is becoming today.

I know it doesn’t always happen, but I hope for all those boys without their mothers that they have role models who will help care for them, console them and guide them to their path. Maybe we should all think about our community impact and start volunteering for little brothers or sisters.. A worthwhile cause, and you help someone who might otherwise not get a good start in life. Please take a look at the Big Brothers Big Sisters website if you might be interested.

In the meantime, I might appreciate the men in my life this week, from my friends to my brother, my grandfather to the first man who stole my heart and will hold a piece of it always – my father.

Thanks Dad, for showing me what the meaning of “a good man” is,
and the sort of love I am capable and deserving of.
Love you always.