Filed under: Melbourne 2009

Sharing - an indicator of a healthy life.

"Build your ghettos and wonder why they try to exterminate you. Build your castles and wonder why they turn their ploughshares into swords against you." 

When I went to Melbourne recently, I noticed how some immigrant communities tended to seek out their own, and kind of huddle together, creating Little Wherevers according to their lands of origin. Certainly, there's honour in remembering your roots. And there's practical support to be had from mingling with people of like culture. But in the context of the larger culture - you need to be more outward facing. 

In the bad old days of genocide (which are today, in some parts of the world, sadly), minority cultures have been exterminated by the dominant cultures surrounding them. (Which are not always larger in number; it's the strength of influence that matters.) 

It's easier to destroy a class or a category of faceless persons. But it's harder to destroy people that you know. So people should not form ghettos, but they should seek to engage and enrich the larger society. Not out of fear of extermination, either, but because it is the divine spark within us than drives us to missional behaviour - to give, to share. 

(Also in Melbourne, I visited the Jewish Holocaust Museum and was reminded again of the people who were forced into ghettos. That's a different story, of course - it was a path they did not choose.) 

Then I was reminded of medieval lords - landowners who literally dominated the peasants. What could people do when the entire economy was built around farming a plot of land - and you owned no land but had to pay hefty taxes, in terms of money and human dignity, to the man whose land you happened to be born on? There were benevolent lords, of course - but you know human nature and the powerful temptation to oppress. (It's very much alive still.) 

What's the natural, logical outcome of a tiny minority living fat and large in comfy castles while the teeming masses around them scratched an existence from the soil? Of course - revolt. 

Sharing - it sounds so kindergarteny. It sounds contrived - but largely, I suspect, because we were forced to share as children; it was the "right" thing to do. But sharing is the normal mode of life. I don't think that the underclass or the upperclass should share out of a hope of avoiding violence done to them. I think that everyone should share because that is the natural thing to do. Revolts are just nature's thermometer telling us that the engine's blown. 

Would you share a little something today? Would you give something that's yours to give? Even if it seems so common to you, it seems common only because you have so much of it. Someone outside of your circle of existence is dying for some. Let your gift find them. 

The Butcher of Church Street

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Alessandro, managing director of King Island Meatworks & Cellars. [ http://www.kingislandmeats.com.au/ ]

They have a mind-blogging array of meats there. Plus plenty of wine and good coffee to go with it! 

Outside the shop, there's a grill going on, giving off free delicious smells and cuts of sausages for the sampling. 

The place is also awash with red meat "propaganda" - extolling the benefits of eating red meat. You can see a couple of signs behind us in the pic, and there are more all over the place. I found that rather endearing. 

Good times! 

Me: Have you been to Malaysia? 
Alex: Once, on the way back from Roma. 

I think he's Italian ;). 

The First Supper and the Lamb

David picked us up from Melbourne International past 1 am on Aug 6. The drive out of the airport looked like KL, except that the signs were all in English.
I guess modern international highways look the same, eh.
The further we drove, however, things started to look different.

When we got to the Berrys' home in Camberwell, Sigrun came down to greet us (the delicious smell of baking fish greeted us first); she had something baking in the oven.

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Fish pie!

The next evening, David conjured this for dinner. It's a lamb roast stuffed with greens and mushrooms.

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Back from Melbourne, satisfying curry craving with @SpicyCorner's banana leaf mutton.

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We got back from Melbourne today.
My dad picked us up from the airport at 7-something am.
Then we braved the welcome-back traffic through to Kuchai Lama for some dim sum.
After that we came home and crashed on the bed for a couple of hours.
At least I did.
Adeline got up mid-crash and caught up on her manga reading.

Then we decided to order Spicy Corner.
I told @SpicyGuy I would, when I got back to KL.

We ordered two banana leaf sets - vegetarian and mutton.
When the girl from We Deliver brought the food, I thought she'd brought along a promotional poster or something.
It was two sections of banana leaf rolled up in brown paper!
That was a nice surprise.
Also, the banana leaf sets were packed in biodegradable paper-based containers. Very admirable.

The eating itself was a refreshing experience. And that's not just because I spent almost two weeks away.
It was genuinely tasty Indian food - in the comfort and convenience of home delivery!
It could have been hotter, but I'm not complaining, since we were sharing it with two-year old Seth ;).

I would definitely recommend Spicy Corner to any spice lover. (Especially if you're feeling lazy to go out.)

Now I'm going back to unpacking, preparing for work tomorrow, and later finishing up the egg thosai and Portugeuse chicken.
Still sleepy.

More updates to come!

New York Strip

Final fancy dinner by David. We fly back tomorrow night. (Technically, Tuesday am.)

 Not pictured is most awesome lemon meringue pie by David who supposedly does not eat sweets. I reckon that may be changing in days ahead ;).

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Migrants, all of us.

I ponder about the migrants who land here in Australia and immediately seek out their racial sectors. Ghettos, at worst. Perhaps these are not marked by poverty in this land of plenty. Or perhaps they are marked. By a poverty of the mind. A poverty that turns inward or at best toward like-minded, like-coloured people.

 Sure I'd seek out Malaysians if I landed here. I did, in fact. But my opinion is that our cultural enclaves should be staging areas into the great wide world, otherwise they become a self-congratulatory club of incestuous thought that's going to breed quasimodos of the mind.

 And then my thoughts drift back home to Malaysia and the migrants who do the same. And we're all migrants, really. Just that some of us migrated earlier than others.

 At some point, some societies try to demarcate their cultural borders. "This is who we are and we're not else." At such historic points their culture begins its last waltz of death, I care not who you are.

 Thankfully, their children often resurrect a similar creature from the ashes. A creature changed but close enough that observers often perceive it to be the same creature, but it is not. It is a new Phoenix. Maybe better, maybe worse, likely both. But that is the way things go.

 Who will we be tomorrow, Malaysia? We decide today. Or we die when today's sun goes down. Becoming the living dead, afraid of the dawn, afraid of the revealing light.

 Melbourne, 090813