Published in PRIMOLife Magazine June 2015
Taking a picture with a persnickety 1950’s Linhof Technika camera is hard work, but when Kit, my friend and artist invited me to try out large format photography using a technique that is over one hundred years old, I couldn’t wait to get started.
Read MoreI cut it all off.
There was no ceremony.
With my housemate in the other room I slipped away and unpacked the men’s clipper kit I’d purchased the day before. Inches of wavy hair fell into the sink as I ran the nibbly grille over my scalp. Rawl! Rawl! It growled deeply as it encountered thick patches. Rewl! Rewl! It cried at the short ones. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes, enormous now, looked back from between my black eyelashes. My thick eyebrows seemed thicker and I decided to start penciling them again. I ran my hands over my dome, still scattered with the debris of the massacre, and reveled in the tingly massage. I felt Egyptian, ancient, feline.
Read MorePublished in PRIMOLife Magazine May 2015
By the time I reach Sydney, I’ll have covered 4,352 kilometers, and taken one of the last great train rides of the world...
Read MorePublished in PRIMOLife Magazine May 2015
I focus on keeping my oar level, and look toward the backs of the six rowers in front of me who make up the Guildford Grammar School 2nd VIII. It’s 6:30am and we have already been on the water for an hour.
Read MorePublished in PRIMOLife Magazine Winter Issue 2015
Within ten seconds I’ve used two of the foulest swear words in the English language.
It gets a laugh, and I get to stay on stage for a bit longer, which is a huge relief because if there is one thing more awful that realizing that you aren’t funny, it’s realizing that you aren’t funny in front of a live audience.
Read MoreThis is the extended version of a short article called 'Face Value' which appears in the April 2014 issue of Primo Life magazine. While I am still new to the sweet science, these are some of the tips I've put together from my own experience, and from chatting to other women. It is far from a definitive guide, and as such I’d welcome any additional comments or tips you might have. This entry is focused towards female boxers, but many of the principles are universal to beginners.
Read MorePublished in PRIMOLife Magazine April 2015
I clear salt water out of my nose for the thousandth time, spit out a mouthful of sand and look around. My fellow beginners are in varying stages of surf: some unsteadily getting on their feet, some lying flat on their bellies, cruising in the whitewash, some wading back out into the line of breakers.
Read MorePublished in PRIMOLife Magazine April 2015
It had been years since I’d visited the great south west, the site of so many of my childhood memories, so when my Mum suggested a girl’s getaway in the region to celebrate her birthday, I couldn’t get ready fast enough...
Read MoreWith their lithe dancers’ bodies, death defying tricks and effortless grace, flying trapeze artists have always awed me, and I’m thrilled to be able to give this magical sport a try thanks to Access Circus and the Twilight Flyers team...
Read MoreYves Saint Laurent, Brigitte Bardot, Pablo Picasso, Bernard Buffet…
Wait who? Although his name is little known today, Bernard Buffet was once one of France’s most wealthy and successful artists, critically acclaimed at home and abroad.
So what happened? Due perhaps to his fame and the resentment and jealousy of Picasso, Buffet suffered from a severe critical backlash in the 1960’s. Although he remained well-loved among the “ordinary people”, the art world firmly turned its back on him, right up until his death in 1999. Now more than 15 years later, there is proof that the world is re-discovering Buffet, and liking what it sees.
Read MoreBefore August of this year I’d never knowingly tasted a drop of Swiss wine, and I haven’t tasted one since. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to, it’s just that Switzerland only exports 1% of its yearly production so it’s not terribly easy to come by.
That’s Switzerland in a nutshell: full of interesting treasures which it is happy to share, but which you will have to go there to enjoy. Luckily, I got a whole week to explore some of this small but remarkable country.
Read MoreMilan, I thought, is a grey city full of slim fashionistas stalking cafes where they drink tiny, piping hot espressos. Everyone wears black. This vague impression, conjured from god-knows-where, was blown to dust within moments of touching down in Malpensa airport.
Read MoreEvery city has its own unwritten rules and quirks and governing principles of which tourists are blissfully ignorant. The bad news is that this can make tourists annoying, even jerkish. The good news is that at least some of this jerkishness could be mitigated by knowing a few, key nuggets of information.
Read MoreIt was Rob Lowe who first introduced me to champagne, way back in the early 90’s. “Actually all champagne is French; it's named after the region. Otherwise it's sparkling white wine,” he smiled knowingly at me as the character Benjamin Kane in Wayne’s World. This guy clearly knew the good things in life, and the allure and prestige of the exotic French drink stayed with me. Since moving to France in 2011, I have certainly quaffed large quantities of the bubbly stuff, but I’ll admit that my knowledge of it has not vastly increased. I knew that it was an appellation d’origine contrôlée product, which means only sparkling white produced within a very strictly defined area could legally be called “champagne”, and that it was good for spraying on your teammates when you had won a Formula One Grand Prix, but that was about it. So you can understand my excitement when almost 20 years after my Wayne’s World initiation, I found myself whizzing on a high speed train towards Rheims, the capital of the Champagne-Ardenne region.
Read MoreGetting punched in the face is a weird feeling. Punching someone in the face is also a weird feeling, particularly when you aren’t angry or in danger. These were just two of the many things I learned when I began to box. In an era when One Punch deaths dominate news headlines and we drink ginger tea to boost our mental performance, boxing is generally seen as old fashioned, barbaric and downright smelly. This is a great shame, because as a comprehensive cardio and strength training workout, combined with discipline, strategy, and combat, it is one of the most rewarding and thrilling sports I’ve ever done.
Read MoreChanging derby leagues isn’t always as simple as dropping a Facebook message to your new team, rocking up with your skates and slotting into your accustomed position on the track. An expatriated player herself, Cat Cholera interviews two globe-trotting former Perth Roller Derby players, Dame Edna Haemorrhage and Lorrae Evans, exploring the ins and outs of changing countries, languages and cultures to play roller derby around the world.
Read MoreIt was the hardness that surprised me. That something so light and fleeting could pack down into a dense lump of ice, hard enough to get a yelp out of whoever you threw it at. I noticed that my gloves were getting wet. The dry-looking snow was deceitful in its appearance, and the coldness seeped into my hands as I eagerly scraped the bonnet of the car, rolling the powder between my hands. I stared into the middle of the ball, past the billion crystals glittering at me, trying to divine some hidden meaning ... as a snowball sailed past my right ear. Maëlstrom was creeping forward into my territory, pushing a wheely bin in front of him as the first line of defence. Laughing, I pegged my newly formed missile at his exposed elbow and completely missed, showering the wall behind him in a spray of white ice. Two seconds later I cracked up again as Joris nailed me on my right side with a well-aimed throw. I couldn't complain, I'd started it.
Read MoreThe iconic sites of France’s first city are familiar to most people but what about the Paris that only the natives know? Here’s our guide to the parts of Paris that the locals would like to keep to themselves.
Read MoreNow I know why, in mid-July, I couldn't write about my first year in France.
Because my true anniversary is September, à la rentrée. The dreaded gravity-well of Real Life. The inexorable return to school and work after the endless July and August holidays, the true beginning of the year. Budgets are drawn, goals are set, plans are made.
Re-entering, I am also reliving, reanimating, replaying and I see that I am not the only one. Ghosts and memories come knocking on my door. Instead of "speak of the Devil" the French say "when we speak of the wolf (we see its tail)", and I prefer this fleeting creature to the devil who rudely zaps into existence. Wolves tails flick out of sight behind every corner I turn.
Read MoreAnna Hartley is an Australian writer based in Paris.
