It was perhaps surprising that there is so much ill will in China against Japanese school text books. The demonstrators we saw on TV were youngsters. They could not have remembered the Rape of Nanking when the Japanese butchered the civilian population, but they must be aware of it. Was the occupation of Malaya by the Japanese any different than the presence of the British? As I understand it from my reading, admittedly from English language sources, the British were in the Malay States by invitation from the Sultans. The British had bought the islands of Penang and Singapore from the Sultans and the Malacca Straits Settlement from the Dutch. Of course, they were followed by the Chinese who opened shops. Problems arose due to Malay bankruptcy law. If a debtor could not pay his creditor he and his family had to provide services to the creditor. Thus, debt slavery arose. As there was no such law in the Straits Settlement, population drifted from the Malay States to Malacca. To arrest the de-population of the Malay States the Sultans invited the British to provide the same administration as in the Straits Settlement with the exception of religious affairs. I guess there were benefits both ways and it brought the rubber industry which was essential to the twentieth century motor industry. Another source maintained that fifty per cent of the rubber was produced by Chinese smallholders. Though I digress, bankruptcy laws also caused problems in Vietnam. Under the bankruptcy law before the French a creditor could not force a creditor to part with his rice paddy. The debtor was always allowed to retain his rice paddy to support his family. The French repealed this sensible law and peasants became dispossessed of their land in a spiralling of debt owed to unscrupulous creditors. To get back on track, it is not today’s generation that should held accountable for the sins of the past. Holding Germany accountable for World War One created World War Two. However, history does serve a purpose because we can always learn from the mistakes of the past.

A Man and a Woman This film was on TV a few weeks ago. It is a French film and it was made in the late 1960’s. I video recorded it for my friend who saw it five time when it came out as he had enjoyed it so much. Did he enjoy it as much after the passage of time? Had it retained its old magic? Sadly, no. He wondered what he had seen in it at the time. He thought that perhaps after seeing mostly Hollywood made films in the 1960’s, this European made film was something a little different. The film starred Anouk Aimee and John-Louis Trintignant (?). I would say that they were both at the peak of their respective careers. My friend commented that the male parts in the film, that is Jean-Louis and his son, did most of the talking. When the camera swung to Anouk Aimee or her daughter, they would each be smiling prettily but without very much to say. I had not noticed this phenomenon but found it quite intriguing. Could it be that times have changed? There is no doubt that women are more outspoken now and take a more prominent role in most facets of life than they used to. Or could it be a cultural difference; that French women are seen but not heard whereas American women are both seen and heard.

I saw the film “Being Julia”. It probably received an Academy nomination. It was well acted. Perhaps, it was over-acted. The film is based on the Somerset Maugham novel “Theatre”. It is the first film version I have seen of that novel. I have read the novel many years ago but, in spite of that, my feeble mind had difficulty in following the plot. I have forgotten the name of the leading lady or anything about her except that in real life she is forty-six years old. The leading man is Jeremy Irons who I always enjoy. In addition someone played the part of a ghost who whispers approvingly or disapprovingly in the ear of the leading lady from time to time. I think this is an innovation of the film-makers rather than a character in the novel. The film-makers made a reasonable attempt to re-create London in the 1930’s. However, the slick colour photography of the 21st century somehow misses the mark. I am being unreasonably critical. I have recorded on video tape for my collection the 1935 film version of Somerset Maugham’s novel “Of Human Bondage” starring Leslie Phillips and Bette Davis. It is in black and white, of course; but it really is London in the 1930’s.

After a brief spell of non-fiction I have gone back to fiction. Ironically, the story is connected with Shanghai – last blog but one and the Bolsheviks feature prominently again – last blog. So my reading is continuing along the same themes. This novel is very readable but it sometimes lacks detail. It is a modern novel, first published in 2004. It is rather swashbuckling and romantic. It rather reminds me of the work of Wilbur Smith who’s writing, I decided, is not for me. I might once have been entertained by that sort of stuff. But not now. The characters are larger than life. They are hardly credible as human beings. They are white Russians escaping the Bolsheviks to begin a new life in Shanghai as thousands did at the time of the Russian Revolution. The Bolsheviks had executed the Csar and his children so there could be no return to the old regime. However, an interesting point is made in a conversation. While the old Csarist regime was oppressive, serfdom was abolished in Russia long before slavery was abolished in the United States. I sometimes wonder why I waste my time reading silly stories about things that never happened. Only this morning there was an article on the radio about the Da Vinci Code. Could it be a case of Harry Potter for adults? At least what Harry Potter has done for children is to get them away from television and computer games and get them to read. This enhances their ability to use the language, their spelling and their grammatical construction. It is of enormous value to children. However, I met a gentleman in Amsterdam whose career is in books and I asked him if he had read Harry Potter. He said that he had not. It was not for him. I tried to read Harry Potter but I found it is not for me either. The author’s interest in Shanghai seems to arise from his parent’s visit on their round-the world honeymoon in 1932. However, the author visited Shanghai in 2002 to research material for the book. He also worked in Hong Kong in the 1960’s. I suppose it could be said that Hong Kong came to fulfil the role that Shanghai once had. My own interest in Shanghai arises from my uncle who worked there as a policeman in the International Settlement. The Russian connection comes from the fact that on one of his return voyages to Shanghai after a period of home leave, he met and married a Russian princess. Obviously, she was a White Russian who had escaped the Bolshevik Revolution. There were many Russian princesses who escaped the Revolution and called themselves princesses to create a bit of status for their new surroundings. However, on arriving in Shanghai, my uncle found that he had acquired a ready-made family consisting of twin twenty-one year old daughters. Sadly, on a subsequent home leave, my uncle underwent a minor operation which went wrong and he died. More recently, on my own home leave, I was shown an old album containing a photograph taken in China of a couple standing beside an old motor car; the lady was in a fur coat and the gentleman was in some kind of uniform.

Put Passion Into Your Pictures I found the following passage in a travel article in a newspaper. I was so impressed with the ideas in the article that I recorded them. As I am going on holiday quite soon it is timely to again consider these ideas. The passage read as follows: How often have we packed our camera bags and enthusiastically ventured out for the day in search of great images only to come back disappointed? The same can be said for wasted overseas phototrips that have produced little more than record shots of where we have been. Frank Calidonna writing about the creative process says that what is often lacking is a clear idea of what we want to say. Regardless of competency in technique, lack of a communicable idea will still produce dull images. Camera clubs have an abundance of good technicians and equipment buffs. Creative people share 3 precious elements: imagination, originality, and ideas they are able to communicate. The old maxim is that if your only interest in life is photography, you are probably a terrible photographer. Ask yourself what is my passion - what subject matter in my travels really attracts me? If you lack a passion for the subject you will be limited to taking uninspiring photographs. If you lack a passion for a subject at this time, find something you can develop a passion for. Enjoyment of the subject may grow with the quality of images produced and it gives you a goal in your travels. Ask: why are we taking these photos. What am I trying to communicate? Write ideas down before they are forgotten. Having captured the idea, develop it. Often it will lead to another or perhaps a whole series for a project or a collection, exhibition or a book. Ideals, like goals need to be specific. Avoid vague descriptions. Ideas may need to be nurtured to maturity which may take days or months. Who are the viewers and what do we want them to feel. Recording ideas may include dates for re-working them, resources needed, time frames for milestones leading to a final outcome. Proposed use. If it is a new way of looking at an old subject, what are some of the images from others that may be used as a benchmark. Follow your passion and start with well-written and developed ideas and this creative process to memorable travel images.

After an overdose of fiction it is refreshing to get back to extraordinary events that actually happened albeit in another time and place. The author is a lieutenant colonel in the Indian Army. In 1919 he is sent from Kashmir via Giligit over the Pamirs to Tashkent in Turkistan, now controlled by the Bolsheviks (Russian communists). To get there he crosses mountain passes at 13,000 feet where he takes the opportunity to add to his butterfly collection. The purpose of the mission to Tashkent, or its outcome, is unclear. Perhaps it was still secret at the time the book was first written in 1946. It becomes apparent that the Bolshevik authorities wish to capture the author. The author takes certain steps to evade capture. In that environment just after the Russian Revolution there was no such thing as a fair trial. Capture usually meant being shot. To evade capture, the author disguised himself as an Austrian prisoner of war of Rumanian nationality. Although he seems to have been something of a linguist, he could not speak a word of the Rumanian language and therefore had to take extra care not to meet any Rumanians who would quickly jump to the conclusion that he was not who he said he was. Other measures included lodging with a different family each night. He seems to have made friends easily with the local Russian residents and he acknowledges that they took very great risks in harbouring him. He says that the Bolsheviks spent 3 months keeping the author’s dog under surveillance in case he should lead them to his master. At one point the author leaves Tashkent for the safety of the surrounding mountain is the depths of winter. Here the author had an accident and injures his leg with the result that he is stranded on the mountainside for several months. On his return to Tashkent he discovers that the Bolshevik authorities are trying to recruit a spy for counter espionage activities in Bokhara, a city not under Bolshevik control. The Bolsheviks have lost all 15 of their previous spies. None of them returned. The author gets the job. He also gets clearances with the Cheka, the Bolshevik secret police. Life under the Bolsheviks was very difficult. People could not move around freely. They were required to have a permit to move from place to place. In the initial days of the Communist regime the principles of the ideology were rigidly enforced. Only when they were found to be unworkable were they gradually relaxed. A person with less than 5,000 roubles was allowed to keep his money, but a person with more than 5,000 roubles must be bourgeois and had the lot confiscated. It is ironic that the Nicholai currency of the deposed Tsarist regime had a better exchange value than the new currency of the Bolshevik regime. In spite of the author having been given up for dead he manages to escape to Persia after crossing several hundred miles of desert surviving hunger, thirst and the Bolsheviks. The story is not the easiest to read and is confused by the foreign names of people and places. It is made even more confusing because we never really know what the author set out to achieve and whether the mission to Bokhara served this purpose or was merely part of an elaborate escape plan.

This is an autobiography of a lady who was imprisoned for six years during the Cultural Revolution in China. The story commences just before the beginning of the Cultural Revolution in 1965 and continues until she leaves China for the US after obtaining a passport in 1980. After the death of her husband the author worked for the Shell Oil Company in Shanghai until it closed. She seems to have been left in rather comfortable circumstances as she has a couple of servants. Her daughter had been born while they were posted to Canberra, Australia. On the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution the author is called to a meeting at which employees of foreign firms are denounced. The author’s house is ransacked and looted by red guards in the name of the Cultural Revolution. Presently, she is taken away and imprisoned at the No 1 detention house. The conditions at the prison are very bad. There is no heating and the food is barely adequate to sustain life. Periodically she is taken from her cell for interrogation. She is encouraged to make a confession. She steadfastly refuses to confess to any crimes she did not commit. It seems as though the authorities have nothing on her but are hoping they can get her to confess to something that would justify her incarceration. As one year draws out into the next she falls ill. Medical treatment is almost non-existent. It seems as if the authorities are not too concerned whether she recovers or not. Her courage in the face of adversity is nothing short of amazing. At one point she is handcuffed. The handcuffs are squeezed so tight by a particularly mercenary prison guard that they cut through the skin on her wrists. She is told that she only has to confess to have the handcuffs removed. She is seriously worried about the permanent damage to her hands that could occur but she still maintains she has done nothing wrong. She still does not confess. It is six years before the Cultural Revolution is running out of fervour and changes are taking place in the top echelons of government. Eventually she is released but she is still under surveillance. But, with the release, comes the cruellest blow of all. The author continues to live through the changes in regime. From that of Mao Tse Tung to that of Deng Xao Ping. At one point it looked like the “Gang of Four” headed by Madame Mao would seize power and continue the reign of terror. It is almost inconceivable how cruel governments can be towards the people that they are supposed to serve. Yet, it happens time and again. The democratic system is no guarantee. Adolf Hitler, too, was democratically elected. Margaret Thatcher said that it is not that society needs to be protected from the individual, but the individual that needs to be protected from society. People are still detained for their political beliefs. People are still detained without trial. And yet this is described as “bringing them to justice”. There is so much hypocrisy in the world. We say one thing but do another.

Next Holiday We set out on 27 May and after a short sojourn in Kuching say, for an hour or two we arrive in Kuala Lumpur later that day. It will be in the evening. I think we will be staying at the Concorde. The point of staying in KL was to get a mid-season air fare instead of a peak season one. My initial plan was to take the bus to Trengannu (such a romantic name) then go back to KL for the flight to London but I don’t think I will get away with it because you got to be in KL for the shopping. As a non-shopping person I would like to take a bus to Genting Highlands, Cameron Highlands, and Fraser’s Hill. I have been to KL so many time without going to any of these places. In KL I want to get some DVD’s for my new DVD player. After KL we fly to London. We stay at Heathrow overnight and venture out to my favourite restaurant, a Balti takeaway near the Ibis Hotel on the Bristol Road. I should try to work up an appetite for this. Balti is a particular style of curry made in Birmingham by people from Kashmir. The next day we catch the flight to our favourite holiday destination the nest day. Nice, South of France. We managed to get the time share again in Rue Masena, near the beach. I was not really planning to swim, but you never know. A bit of Mediteranean experience to add to a lot of Indian Ocean experience. What do we do when we get there. At least a day for looking around Nice. There is the Matisse museum there. We need to walk through the old town and round to the old port and look for a bouillebasse (fish soup). We need to have another day at Ventimillia in Italy, about an hour along the coast by train. I have been to Antibes before but the Picasso museum was closed. There is the perfume factory at Grasse. We went to St Tropez last time and it is quite a long way from Nice. We have been to Monaco before, so not again. However, never been to Villefranche-Sur-Mer. Only been through it on the train and it looks very nice so it might be worth a day. Menton we have spent a good day at. We will find another seaside town, maybe Eze, and that will take care of six days. In Italy I want to get an Italian table cloth as a souvenir and in France I want to get a French table cloth. I also want to try the pink wine from the region. After that back to the UK and up to Stratford where we will stay at Walton Hall, just out of Wellesbourne four miles south of Stratford. We have stayed at Walton Hall many times we knew it well. We are here for a family reunion. But first we must go to Scotland for another family reunion and I may visit the Roslin chapel mentioned earler in relation to the DaVinci Code. Shopping in the UK will only be for clothes. After Stratford we stay a week at Cheltenham. Cheltenham is a “spa” town where people used to come to take the waters. It used to be a town where army officers and senior civil servant retired. Now they can’t afford to retire here. Whereas Leamington is another “spa” town, it looks a bit shabby. Cheltenham is not at all shabby. Its Georgian terraces are in pristine condition. As for what to do there I haven’t a clue. It has shops. A Marks & Spencer’s. If we have wheels we are with range of the Cotswold villages where we could go for pub lunches if it is not raining. After 3 weeks in the UK it will be back to London airport to catch the flight to KL. This time we only change aeroplanes in KL and go on to Kuching where we will stay for three nights. Everybody who has been to Kuching that I have met seems to have enjoyed it. It is a lot less stressful to break the return journey from the UK to recover from jet lag before we return to Australia and work.

I would not have chosen to see an Israeli Film but we found ourselves in the position of having two tickets left for the Festival of Perth film season and this was the last film. However, it turned out to be possibly the best film of the season. The film opens with a scene on a pleasure boat on the Bosporus; the channel leading to the Black Sea. A man in sunglasses in eyeing a couple with a young child. The man in sunglasses goes to the toilet and loan a syringe with some pink fluid. In the next scene the couple with the child has disembarked followed by the man in sunglasses who brushes past the husband, apologises, and makes for a waiting car. Meanwhile the husband rolls over stone dead. He was a Palestinian and he has been assassinated by an Israeli Mossad agent by a lethal injection. The Mossad agent returns home to find his wife has committed suicide. In the next scene a young German tourist has arrived at Tel Aviv. He is met by his tour guide; our same Mossad agent. The German boy has come to Israeli to visit his sister who is working on a kibbutz and to persuade her to return to Germany with him for a family reunion coinciding with their father’s 70th birthday. Now, Mossad has worked out that the boy’s grandfather is a Nazi war criminal who has eluded them for many years. The Mossad agent has been assigned to try to find out where the grandfather is hiding. During the tour, several interesting conversations ensue. The Mossad agent asks the German what he thinks of the holocaust. The German replies that he does not think of it and neither does anyone of his generation. It was simply nothing to do with his generation. There was another interesting conversation on circumcision. The gist of the conversation was that while all Jews are circumcised Germans are almost never circumcised but the English and French are both circumcised and not circumcised. In a biography I read recently the writer had become circumcised later in life. He was having some problems. The foreskin should be able to retract for cleanliness (and for other purposes). If it cannot, it will cause pain. The German boy is a homosexual and it did not take him long to latch onto an Arab boy; much to the chagrin of the Mossad agent. Eventually, the tour is over but the German boy has failed to persuade his sister to return for the family reunion. The German boy, in his charming innocence, invites the Mossad agent, if he visits Germany, to look him up. Presently the Mossad agent arrives on the doorstep, in Germany, and is invited to stay for the family reunion. The family reunion takes place, speeches are made, and the surprise guest appears. He is none other than the Nazi grandfather come out of hiding. The boy’s mother remarks to her friend that for all she knew, her son’s Israeli friend could be a Mossad agent. Now we come to the exciting part. which I have edited out. If you want to know what happened, and have not already seen, you will have to see the film.

It might be the “Satanic Verses” for Christians. The Vatican is not too happy about it. It undoes some of the teachings of the Catholic Church. I cannot see this work ever becoming a classic even though it has been hugely popular. Of course, it is all linked to Da Vinci. In his painting of the “Last Supper” of Jesus and the twelve disciples, the person on the right hand side of Christ is possibly a woman. The disciples are supposed to be all men. The Church does not admit to any of the disciples being a woman. Perhaps this is the reason for the Church’s opposition to the ordination of women as priests, bishops, cardinals, etc. According to the Church’s teaching the twelve disciples were all men. How could Leonardo painting an event that took place about 1,500 years earlier know that one of the disciples was a woman? The implication it raises is whether Jesus was married to this woman who is probably Mary Magdalene and did they have children. Both are quite possible. But not according to the Church’s teaching. I cannot fault the work for creativity. It is easy to read and darned exciting. The story hovers between the worlds of fact and fiction. It delves heavily into cryptology, symbolism, and secret codes. Although I am usually defeated by cryptic crosswords, I am happy to brag that I did discover the final password, which defeated the main characters for some time, before it was revealed in the text. The story meanders from one exotic location to another. The illustrated edition includes photographs of the various locations and the buildings in which the events occurred. This is an innovation I have not previously seen in a work of fiction. I guess it is the interface between the truth and the fiction that facilitates this approach. No doubt it saves the writer from attempting graphic descriptions of the things far better illustrated in the photographs and allows the writer to concentrate on the fiction. The final location is the Roslin Chapel, a few miles south of Edinburgh, Scotland and just a few miles from where my sister lives. I must admit that I am rather tempted to add to the hoards of visitors to the Chapel since the publication of this novel. One of my friends thought the book was a load of rubbish and gave up reading it. Perhaps it was too much for her Christian sensibilities. I find this new interpretation somewhat appealing and perhaps more credible. It is all tied up with the Knights Templar. The Knights went to the crusades. They were exterminated by the Church on Black Friday. I do not know much about them except that they came up in “The Avignon Quartet” of novels by Lawrence Durrell which I have mentioned in an earlier posting about that author. I recently came across the statistic that five million women were burnt at the stake as witches. Joan D’Arc was but one of them. I have always wondered what those guys had in their heads that they had to have an 18 year old burnt at the stake. If they feared loss of their jobs to women, they should see us now!!!