How to Make Your Own Traveler’s Notebook Insert

§ May 24th, 2013 § Filed under writing § Tagged , , , , , § No Comments

Homemade Travelers Notebook Insert

I am a sucker for little notebooks and use them regularly either to jot down blogpost ideas, stick in the odd memento, collate my shopping receipts to see if I can afford another latte, set out my ‘To do’ list, or use as journals-travel or otherwise. When I lived in Japan I discovered the Traveler’s Notebook by Midori. Interestingly it has a wee cult following as they have been, until recently, very difficult to get outside of Japan. The reason they are so great is that they have lovely sturdy leather covers (made in Thailand) and there are mutiple inserts you can buy which are easily interchangable so you can basically design your own book for your own purposes. I believe you can now buy components in Hong kong, the US, the UK and probably a few other countries. Unsurprisingly, you can not buy them in New Zealand. We’re the small guys down in the Pacific in case you hadn’t heard of us. Anyway, the thing about being the small guys down in the Pacific is that we have quite a DIY culture. If you want something, just do it…er, maybe that phrase belongs to someone else. What I’m trying to say is that we can be resourceful when we need to be. So, here is how I made a utilitarian* blank insert to go inside my Traveler’s Notebook from a cheap sized 1A8 student exercise book.

1) I bought the 1A8 from my local shop for not-very-much-money and used my existing insert as a template for sizing.

Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert

2) I slowly and methodically sliced my way through the 1A8 a few pages at a time to get the notebook down to the correct size whilst still retaining the existing spine. This would work better with tools. I had no tools.

Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert

3) I saved the offcuts to clip into the back of my TN as nice list paper that I can write on and then take out individually to stuff into my pocket when I go to the supermarket. Waste not, want not.

Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert

4) Then, because I had hacked through the paper with scisssors, which left me with rough edges, I decided to sandpaper it until smooth. I had no sandpaper and so I used the rough surface of the front step. I’m sure my neighbours were intrigued. The large flat surface turned out to be perfect for the job.

Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert

5) I photocopied a photo of a traditional Indian kitchen to cover the notebook with because a) I’m fancy like that and b) Someday I will have an Indian kitchen to surround my spices.

Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert

And, ta da, here it is in action.

Homemade Traveler's Notebook Insert

Have you made anything useful recently?

 

 

*Not acid free paper and so not for keepsake journalling

How My Three Year Old Helped Me Reconnect With Tramping

§ May 7th, 2013 § Filed under New Zealand, Parenting, Tramping § Tagged , , , , § 4 Comments

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I find that it is when you are the busiest that you forget the things that once made you who you are. I’ve been busy since I came back from Japan in 2008 with finding suitable accommodation, dealing with the ridiculous, outdated and pointless bureaucracy involved in trying to adopt while living in New Zealand (a whole other post), looking for work, reinventing myself, raising a rambunctious toddler, researching new ways to stay afloat in this expensive country we live in, building new blogs, driving my son to and fro and also trying to fit in a bit of Mummy time.

The truth is that in my busyness,  I’ve been pretty down on New Zealand and, well, it’s not really New Zealand’s fault. Partly it’s because I am a nomadic person and people like me will never feel happy simply staying put in any one place. So, it’s easy to think “It’s been 5 long years. I just need to move house”. And moving to a new place would feed my itinerant soul like nothing else can but, only enough to make the difficult bits in life more interesting for a while. Truth be told, this is the best place to raise my son. Although people tend to paint it with an overly rosey brush New Zealand is not without it’s hazards , but I know the schools are decent, there is a relatively low rate of violent crime, many people try to be accepting of others* and things like this can happen:
 

 
The other thing we have here, the thing that drew me and countless others way down here to the middle of the Pacific, to Aotearoa, the thing I’ve been too busy to enjoy is just beyond the suburban borders. When I’ve got my waterproofs and my boots on and I walk around in the New Zealand bush smelling rain, humus and manuka I once again feel calm, reconnected and, most importantly, restored. I wonder, when I get there, why I’m not there more often. “What am I doing that I’ve forgotten to come out here?”, I ask myself.  But then I go home and get  stuck in the eddy of daily life again.

Manuka

As you may or may not know, three year olds are not known for their long attention spans but I took my son out into the bush as an experiment anyway. If you search tramping, climbing and even mountaineering forums online, you get a bevy of boot people freaking out that their outdoor lives may be over once the wee ones arrive. But the nice thing is there are others who have gone before writing calming words and warning newbies not to go with any expectations or goals (which is a serious issue for some competitive climbers!). I decided that our goal should be to focus on the lookabout rather than the walkabout. Turns out, he surprised me. Not only did he focus for 2 whole hours on walking, walking, walking, he asked questions like, “What’s that smell?”, “Can you hear that bird?”, “Is that water down there?”, and “Mummy, can I have my snack on that fuzzy rock?”.

Playing Pooh Sticks

Wow, I thought, he sees things and he likes to walk. I used to love this. I DO love this and I can do this again!

 

Jumping over sheep poo

The next weekend he actually asked, unprompted,  if we were going to go tramping. It took my husband and I a moment to realise what that word was he was saying (new words take a few goes to become clear).  “He’s saying ‘tramping’. Oh my God, he wants to go out again!” We were delighted, of course, but secretly I felt like I’d just been given a gift. He loves that centering thing that we once thrived on and he’s going to bring us back to it.

First tramp with his new boots

Now, whenever we have the chance, the three of us get our boots on, pack up our backpacks with provisions and drive until we get to the hills. I haven’t decided who is benefitting more from this but I do know that it is joyful when a three year old can take you back to yourself.

First tramp with his new boots

 

 
*Please don’t take this to mean there is no anti-gay sentiment, or racism, or any of those other nasty things in New Zealand as unfortunately, like everywhere else in the world, there most certainly is.

สวัสดีปีใหม่! Sawatdee Pii Mai! Happy Songkran! Happy Thai New Year!

§ April 14th, 2013 § Filed under meditation, New Zealand, Parenting, Thailand § Tagged , , , § 4 Comments

Lotus

We’ve had the most beautiful day at our local Songkran celebration. My son, who is three years old and too young to remember last year’s celebration, was so excited but didn’t really know what was happening as we walked from the car towards the noise. He even looked a bit nervous as we entered the crowd and asked to be picked up. So, to give him something to focus on, I asked him if he’d spotted the big Buddha yet.

“There he is! He’s yellow!”, he shouted.

Water blessing for the Buddha

He took the offering very seriously and watched intently as we poured water with flower petals over the Buddha. There is something about a toddler stood in a wai that just chokes me up, but I tried to concentrate on what I was doing. Come back, Monkey Mind.

Ready with the offerings

As we collected some food and chai yen we realised that Poom still hadn’t noticed the water pistols. But when we settled down on to our blankets, his little friends approached, soaked to the bone and donning tubes full of water. I started to regret not bringing one for him when a friend said she had a spare one. Here we go, I thought. But, really, he just wanted to play on the playground so off he went. 10 minutes later he came back saying,

“People spraying water. Not do dat! I told them, not do dat!”.

So we told him it was OK and that it was fun, a blessing. His eyes travelled back to the previously offered weapon and then it clicked.

Super soaker in hand…the rest is dripping, sodden, history.

Gonna gitchoo!

Incubation

§ February 28th, 2013 § Filed under nostalgia, Parenting, writing § Tagged , § No Comments

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There are a handful of blogs I have been reading, when I can, for a few years now. They are written by people who I knew were going to be amazing writers. Not that they weren’t already writing really well, but the writing was technically fine, mostly factual, holding the writer’s voice yet somehow separate from the person. It was sort of like observation from a near distance. But, I could tell that these people had stories and the personalities to tell them so I knew the wording would come over time. Of course, I am not any great holder of knowledge or writing ability or in any way in a position to judge, but this was just my own feeling. The words did come. And they did begin to make beautiful formations and express the most amazing stories. They are the type of stories that you feel lucky to be reading. You feel lucky that you saw the writers getting ready to write great things…and then write them. And then that writing has led to more self-reflection and further writing ad infinitum. It’s like being a teacher when a student hits their own goal, only I had no more experience than these particular writers at the time I first came across their writing. But while I can still enjoy losing myself in that writing, I wonder what will become of my own. I’ve been on a bit of a break.

Creative non-fiction. Is that my genre? Who knows, but I am not talking about the small bits of writing for work I have been doing since I have become a Mum. I am talking about this, this not fiction creativity that I used to like, well, need to indulge in. My mind continues to indulge in it because a brain like mine is doomed to indulge. Any person labelled as ‘creative’ knows this. The thoughts and ideas do not stop coming just because you can’t write them down.

But can the ability to form the lovely sentence disappear from disuse? Because it feels like it. It feels like there is a slow leak somewhere in my brain where the ability juice is sneaking out. I almost don’t even notice because I don’t have time to stop and indulge in thoughts of what I’d also like to be doing these days besides raising my cheeky son. But then I catch a lucky evening when he’s fallen asleep in good time and I have enough energy left to read something. Wow. This is what I miss, I think to myself. I know how the writer felt when they were writing this. Not the feeling in the story, but the feeling of the story whooshing through the body and out the fingers.

Ideas.

Incubation.

Sharp black letters.

I want to get there again. I want to find a way to tap into my adult language use that I’d built up of all those ridiculous academic years. No, not ridiculous. I loved those academic years! But where has that mind gone? How can I get my mind back? More specifically, how can I get my writer’s mind to open up the doors and let everything flow out into the orderly channels that make sense to others?

Sleeping Rules

§ December 14th, 2012 § Filed under freelancing, Parenting § Tagged , , , § 4 Comments

Sleeping Rules

I thought we had an agreement, you and I. This time of the afternoon was to be reserved so that you could sleep in your lovely bed and recharge and I could sit down to the computer in an attempt to salvage any possible remaining bits of my writing career that have been left out there hanging in the wind. But, I can see it in your eyes that you are not going to play the game today. Sure, I’ll keep up the charade by sitting with you for a few minutes to rub your ears and sing my ridiculous version of Mary Had a Little Lamb (I pity the teacher who discovers that you think these are the real lyrics). Sure, I’ll put your gentle music on and listen for you in the monitor as if all is well. I’ll make my cup of tea and settle down in front of the screen. But I can tell that today, I won’t be settled for long before you call me back with something.

“Music off, please”
“Where’s Daddy?” “At work” “At work?” “Yes, at work.” “At work?” etc.
“Drink, please”
“Music on, please”
“Read Brown Bear, please” “We’ve just read it. You can read it again in your bed if you want.” “Yes, please.” **I walk away to hear the thud of it hitting the floor**
“I’m awake!” “You haven’t been to sleep yet. Back in bed, please.”
“Mummy, mummy!”

*sigh*

Guess what? I’ve got some new sleeping music for you. It’s Christmas music. Do you want to listen to it? “Yes.”

I really don’t know if this is going to work and I’ve learnt that I can’t assume I’ll get any work time in, but I’m crossing my fingers and sipping my now cold tea in hopes. I can do positive thinking. I have faith in you. You can do it!

But when I hear lots of noise in the monitor, I know it’s over. I’m afraid to look because you know how sometimes you settle down if I don’t look. But I’ve waited…in limbo…and it’s gone a bit quiet and I need to know…

There you are, but not in your bed. You’ve pulled down your pillow and the beautiful quilt my friend made you and are holed up in the doorway next to the CD player.

No, this is not the original agreement we had about you sleeping in your lovely bed so I could get some work done and you could recharge. But what can I say because I, too, love sleeping on the floor, and sleeping to music, and enjoying precious things like the quilt my friend made you. And, most of all, I like breaking the rules, just a little bit, just like you.

Sleeping in the doorway next to the CD player

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wherein I wrestle with “sheep in New Zealand” facts

§ December 3rd, 2012 § Filed under New Zealand, running, travelling § Tagged , , , , § No Comments

It's not true what they say about sheep being everywhere in New Zealand. Well, it's a little true.

Be assured that sheep in New Zealand are free ranging.

In our daily activities and rhythms we often forget that where we are is a foreign place to others. It looks and smells different and there are very different things that punctuate our day. After dropping my son off at day care, I wanted to go out for a run before settling down to work for the day and so pointed the car in the direction of a place I knew I could don my headphones and listen to some travel podcasts and forget that my legs were annoyed with me for making them move at this hour.

I’d slowed my car to a halt and was waiting to get through when it suddenly struck me that my windscreen framed what some might call “a  New Zealand scene”. I was in Corwall Park at the base of One Tree Hill, one of Auckland’s 50 odd volcanic cones. It was fully my intention to run around the cone if only I could get to the car park and set off. But I was stuck, waiting for three sheep to decide which way they wanted to go. One was halfway up a hill and already tucking in to a fresh patch of grass doused in morning dew. I’m thinking this is like a power breakfast for sheep, greens and hydration in one.  I had a lot of time to think.  Another of the sheep was just looking at me and chewing , like they do. “What are you doing here?”, he seemed to be thinking. The last one was contemplating the cattle stop but finally decided that what lay beyond the stone gate was not something worth treading over narrow metal strips for, at least not today. When they finally inched over a bit I slowly rolled forward enough that they got the idea a flitted up the hillside.

Much of a travel writer’s job is to take up the challenge of describing a place without the dreaded “commodification”. Like salt has pepper, Japan has geishas, Paris has the Eiffel Tower, England has Beefeaters (I never understood that one), and California has  the flashy cheesiness of Rodeo Drive (never understood that either). Places get stuck with images, often not actually very representative, and then they are copied and pasted ad infinitum. This is how we package things up to sell the story and sell the place. Perhaps some people actually still want this kind of writing. Perhaps they want to have critical mass of a particular image in their mind so they can tick it off on their list when they arrive at the destination, you know, for reassurance that all is as we believe it to be in the world. Indeed, I’ve had clients request this kind of writing. If that’s what they need, who am I to refuse? But I can say that it is difficult to spin that story in a new direction for the ten millionth time and it still be interesting. Very difficult.

As much as I hate reading the same bloody exclamations of  “There are more sheep than people in New Zealand” and “They even have sheep in the middle of the cities” over and over, I have to admit that, in this case, it is absolutely true. There ARE sheep in the middle of Auckland. I’m sitting in my car, the rainy mist is hanging low, the stone walls are grey and the grass is green and covered in sheep. This doesn’t happen in London or Beijing. There may be some people who might want to know.  Sheep in cities is sort of interesting… I guess. I suppose I should write about this. Oh, I just did.

Mornings

§ November 28th, 2012 § Filed under meditation, travelling, wabi sabi § Tagged , , § 1 Comment

Old lantern and Kyoto

Although I dislike getting up for mornings, I do like being out in them. My ideal morning is early, in a hot country, preferably with lots of activity to watch in slow motion while holding a hot drink. I don’t even mind the  annoying nights beforehand, sweating and swatting away mosquitoes, by the time morning rolls around because the calm that cool morning air brings on invades the mind to the point that all else falls away. You know that it is soon to be unbearably hot, but right now it’s easier to watch people lighting incense and the cool breeze blowing the smoke into shapes that last a millisecond each.

Milky light is what photographers call it. Everything softened. Even hands seem to be efficient yet somehow graceful and leisurely. It’s as if the thick light can lessen movement without slowing it down. But once the sun hits a particular angle, it is time to go out, start the day, and forget. The magic is over until tomorrow when you see it all again as if you’d never experienced it before.

Off Balance

§ September 26th, 2012 § Filed under running, wabi sabi § Tagged , , § No Comments

Things are off balance, out of kilter, listing, not quite right. The mechanics of the human body are such that doing a small thing differently, like carrying a heavy bag on the arm you don’t normally use, can put everything out of whack. I’ve always thought this was all that was happening when I started getting pain when stepping down on my ankle. It’s happened about half a dozen times to me in the past, but it always gets better within a few days and I’ve never thought much of it. But this time was different. The pain lasted longer and was more intense. I went to that place you never want to go when you are sporting an injury or ailment for fear of your mind running wild with possibilities, the internet. Far from deciding I had an incurable foot disease, I was able to find out that my symptoms are very common and it is only a light sprain. RICE, they tell me, rest ice compression elevation. So, I decided to try it and then get to the doc after the weekend if needs be. It worked a treat, I thought, until attempting to go for a run and ending up in a lot of pain. Damn. I decided to give it more time and check the internet again to be sure I was wrapping it correctly. I haven’t felt pain in a couple of days now and today is one of my running days. Fingers crossed, I’ll start out with a vigorous walk and see how I go.

Do you want to know the ironic bit? I did this doing yoga. Yes, that’s right, that therapeutic thing you do. I have not practised hatha in a long time and I overestimated how stretchy my ankles were. I did a lot of triangle-type poses and I should have stopped and listened. But, as I’ve mentioned, things are out of balance. I am resettling my son into his own bedroom after he stayed in our room while we were travelling for three weeks. I am thinking about how much I need to get back into work so we can keep doing crazy things like eating food and paying rent. I am worrying about my husband as he deals with tragedy at work and I am wondering what to cook for tea every night. I am thinking about the next job and making task lists in my head that I can’t remember in the very next minute.  My body is right here, but my mind is somewhere out there. I am not listening.

Being present can feel like climbing onto a rooftop and trying to lasso the moon. I guess it’s all a vicious circle. When I run, my head becomes clear and I can be present more easily. But I can’t run right now, so I’ll have to wait. Sit, and breathe and wait.

About that running thing…

§ September 16th, 2012 § Filed under running, wabi sabi § Tagged , § 6 Comments

My new runners which were christened in California and are patiently awaiting their Aotearoa debut

Why, yes, it continues that “I am a runner“. Thank you for asking. Well, OK my original plan has been a bit altered and I am essentially starting over, but still…

If you may recall, I’d decided to do a sofa to 5k- type running plan and I was really enjoying it for a good three weeks. But then my time got sucked up. Prior to this point I’d pretty much blamed becoming a new Mum as the reason that I no longer had time to do things for myself, but it turns out the kid is not actually the one to blame. Once I started thinking about when I could run, there was a very small window between when my husband came home and dinner time. Any time after that would see me too wired to sleep. Yep, fine. But then my husband’s work started getting mad out of control with managers jetting in who needed to be taken out for dinner (This makes it sound so grand to be in education, does it not?) accreditation audits that needed to be prepared for, etc. Long-short, my small window disappeared. Yes, I admit that I sulked.

But we had a talk and somehow he’s managed to organise so that I can have two days a week for running. Wednesday, Friday and I can sneak a run in at the weekend. That just sounds grand, but theory is not practice. Things come up like clingy ill children, ill adults, unplanned meet ups, birthday parties, one-year celebrations and trips abroad. I’ve felt myself slipping into the idea that I am not meant to do this.

“Shake it off!”, I tell myself. “I AM meant to do this.”

So, I’m shifting my viewpoint. Rather than regretting my lack of running time at the end of every week, I am just trying to be grateful for all the sessions I can get in. Yes, my progress is going to be a lot slower, but I need to remind myself that I’m doing this for my own health and enjoyment, not to win any sort of contest. Shall I abandon the ‘Sofa to 5K’ rubric? I don’t think so. If I have to stay on week 6 of the plan for two months, so be it. Slow and steady wins the race, right?

How do you compromise on your goals? How much compromise is too much?

 

 

One Year

§ July 14th, 2012 § Filed under adoption, nostalgia, Thailand § Tagged , , § 13 Comments

On the balcony

On the balcony in Bangkok

One year ago today your Dad and I walked in amongst teak houses in thick air to hear laughing, crying, and women giving instructions in Thai. We sat and had a cup of tea and talked about your first months and looked at baby photos of you. We wanted to jump up and find you, but we knew that this was our chance to get all the details we could about you. So we sat patiently and asked. When did you sleep? What did you like to eat? She told us you were a cheeky one, and she was aboslutely correct.

One year ago today we saw you getting your blue plastic shoes on to hop in the car with these two strangers that you now call Mummy and Daddy. You had little idea of what your new life would be. Later you took a nap in the air con and you must’ve felt that kind of cold for the first time. We wrapped you in a sarong and placed you in the wooden hotel cot. And when you woke up, you were wary but happy to eat rice porridge and fresh mango.

The next day you really started to understand that everything had changed, and you cried a lot. We finally put you in the carrier on Daddy’s chest and you immediately calmed down. You were enveloped in the warmth of Daddy on one side and Monsoonal breeze on the other, guarded from rain by the covered balcony. You both watched the tuk tuks drive along the road below.

Later we became busy with trips to embassies, consulates and hospitals. Document after document was gathered, stamped and turned in until the government authorities at the court told us they were happy for us to take you home. We went to a cafe, relieved. You still love going to cafes.

About once a week he asks to go to a cafe. I love this time:)

At the airport, Daddy and I were nervous. Would you cry the whole way to New Zealand? We had fun in the airport trolley, but then it was time to board. People tutted and rolled their eyes when they saw you and other children  as if no children should ever be allowed on an aeroplane in case they cry, but we know that aeroplane trips are special for children, especially one like you. It was an aeroplane that brought you to our home in the Pacific. You had a one-way ticket. And you barely cried at all! You enjoyed your infant meal and had fun playing with the Thai Airlines flight attendants. But, most of the time you slept on either my chest or Daddy’s.

At home, we felt a bit guilty for bringing you from the warmth of Thailand to this cold place. The first time we bundled you up you just stood there as if you didn’t know how to move under the weight of all those clothes. We slept on the floor in your room so we could all stay warm and check on you if you woke up confused. You were much happier (as were we!) when the summer finally came and you got to discover sand, buckets and spades at the beach…and ice cream!

Still working hard

You’ve always loved the park even though you cried the first time you stood on grass. You were not so sure about the swing at first. You’d go back and forth a couple of times until you got a strange, greenish look on your face and we took you out. Then you’d ask to go back in. Eventually you fell in love with it and we spent a lot of time pushing you “Small” and “Big!”. You also started to climb. And even though you were intimidated at first, now you will climb on anything you can reach.

Hello goat

Hello goat!

One year ago today I wondered what you’d think of your goofy parents. It turns out that you like to make silly jokes and be cheeky just like us. Three sanuk-ers in a pod!

One year ago today we all thought we loved each other, but it is nothing compared to what we have now. Every mountain we’ve climbed has woven us more tightly together. Even when you throw your best display of two year old rage in the supermarket or break your cup because you can’t have juice in it, you go for your nap and I sit and think about how much I love you. And when I can’t make the tea for you clinging to my leg after you’ve been ill, I just dial the pizza place so I can spend the time with you instead.  One takeaway here and there can’t hurt, right?

And one year ago today, I was already planning your party. I knew you’d make friends (I could just tell) and I couldn’t wait to have them over to play and eat cake and celebrate your day. Happy One Year Day to all of us, but  especially to you for making our lives so incredible.

Baking with Poom

Waiting for the bread dough to prove

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