NARCISSE | Romantic Restaurants Chicago | New Chicago Night Clubs | Chicago Restaurant Guide

Archive for June, 2011

Preview of Sheikha’s blog at TravelPod. Read the full blog here: www.travelpod.com This blog preview was made by TravelPod using the TripAdvisor™ TripWow slideshow creator. Entry from: Xi’an, China Entry Title: “Muslim market” Entry: “3/8/2010 It’s funny how thing turn out…….over the years, i’ve refused to go into a starbucks for reasons that would take many blogs to explain, i’d always find an alternative coffee house or roast. Well, now that i’m in China thats the only option where i can get a decent cup of coffee, breakfast, and WiFi….there goes my principles! hehehe Took a walk on muslim street, and looked at all the trinklets and niknaks they had to offer. All the markets are the same, and i’ve collected many souvenirs over the years that have just ended up collecting dust and space. Went into the Chinese mosque, which was unusual cause we didn’t have to cover our heads…odd. I had a yummy rice flour cookie, which was covered with molasses and nuts. The great thing about big cities in China, is the underground malls that can save you from the blistering heat;-) so spending a few hours to cool off and buy our essentials for the train to Turpan tonight would be the best plan (since it’s a free day), oh and blogging at starbucks ;-p In the evening we went for a lovely dinner at a local restaurant, with our guide cynthia. Nothing like a long brisk walk on the old South gates, whilst overlooking the ancient city with it’s curious lights. Our trains tonight at 11pm …

FREE Coupon! Text: SacEats To: 41411 or call (916) 234-3521 Dragon Palace Chinese Cuisine Named Top 100 in the USA by Chinese Restaurant News!

Video Rating: 5 / 5

Wild Scottish Pheasant Terrine

Image by Sifu Renka

Foie gras carpaccio in ponzu, micro shoots in truffle oil, wild blueberry coulis (dark), cloudberry coulis (amber), Dog Rose coulis (outside amber), strawberry jelly.

The foie was super creamy, airy and had a hint of truffle (possibly rubbed off from the micro shoots).

– rose restaurant toronto

chuck simms from newfoundland stopped into gerry dunnes cafe / beverage bar in toronto for lunch one afternoon and of course as any self respectable newfoundland musician will do he brought his musical instrument and gave the folks a few tunes. chuck simms is a well known singer and entertainer from the island of newfoundland who has over 20 cd’s to his credit. a naturally gifted singer chuck has played with many notable names in the newfoundland music world including the great harry hibbs, dick nolan, winston saunders, don mc’ lean, jimmy martin,gary gale, eddie coffey to mention a few and literally scores of others thru the years of his full musical career. he is currently living on the french riviera but comes to toronto, canada occassionally on business and to visit friends & relatives.

Video Rating: 5 / 5

– rose restaurant toronto

Wild Scottish Pheasant Terrine

Image by Sifu Renka

Foie gras carpaccio in ponzu, micro shoots in truffle oil, wild blueberry coulis (dark), cloudberry coulis (amber), Dog Rose coulis (outside amber), strawberry jelly.

The foie was super creamy, airy and had a hint of truffle (possibly rubbed off from the micro shoots).

Sophia Smith interviewing Rose Gellman – Renowned Western New York Fundraiser. At the Prince of Wales Hotel. Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, Canada.

Video Rating: 4 / 5

Hugh Hefner and Crystal Harris Part Ways. Interview occurs before the breakup at Playboy Mansion, where Hugh Hefner does what he does best: Supporting Charity… this time: The Thalians which doing wonderful things. Network broadcasters executive sky deal June andrew hollywood night well…

Video Rating: 5 / 5

feat london

Video Rating: 0 / 5

Exploring London, taking pictures of by-standers, waiting for Ben, and looking for a chinese restaurant to eat at

Des Vins Et Des Boissons Menu

Image by Wootang01

9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.

Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80′s and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.

Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.

11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul’s is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer – couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I’ll test for next time.

Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch – the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!

Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one’s eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.

My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey – on sale, of course – for good measure.

I’m sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I’ve been verily impressed with what I’ve seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace – his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.

For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold – 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I’ve had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.

Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket – if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That’s how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.

The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating – the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.

12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned – China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one’s mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!

We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn’t as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.

I celebrated Jesus’ resurrection at the St. Andrew’s Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that’s what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 – what is that to you?

Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that’s Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde’s Wherry, I’ve had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.

I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp’s DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.

My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history – the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering – and photographing – into every nook and cranny.

13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I’ve seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white – the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.

People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.

I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.

Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city’s love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.

Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.

I’m nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.

Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba – repeated in clever variants – and parodies of other masters’ works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson – I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.

14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.

Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge – for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.

I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn’t dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we’ve grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere – London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn’t add up for me.

I’m in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.

Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street – yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle – they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!

Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air – fantastic! Taliban beware!

15.4.09
I’m leaving on a jet plane this evening; don’t know when I’ll be back in England again. I’ll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I’m grateful for God’s many blessings on this trip.

On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley’s home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine – I’m happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.

John Wesley’s home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display – I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.

I found Samuel Johnson’s house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.

There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!

I regretfully couldn’t stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen’s take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.

I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies – I got no game – booyah!

Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn’t make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.

At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.

That’s all for England!

George Sarris of The Fish Market Restaurant, Birmingham, Alabama 30″ TV commercial Seven Meals for Ten Dollars

Video Rating: 0 / 5

Day 25: Oh Yeah!

Image by Moayad Hassan

This is Dana… doing a double hitting with a five

The victim? A dish of an authentic Chelo Kabab from Al Mubarakeya Market food court.

Everyone in Kuwait, either living here of visiting, must live the experience of Al Mubarakia Market… it’s an obligation! You must experience the crowded parking spaces, the gold market window shopping, the 50 and 100 fils shops, the meat, fish and spices smells and end it with a heavy meal eaten in the traditional open space restaurants of the famous Dalag S-hail.

This experience is what we will miss the most when we return to Birmingham because it is something you can only find in Kuwait, it was there for many years and will continue to be so for many to come.

—-
Day 25:
1/3/2008

Part of Back to Kuwait 2 photo project.

The Fish Market Restaurant – Birmingham Alabama (205.322.3330) Red Beans and Rice 30-second TV spot www.thefishmarket.net

Video Rating: 0 / 5

Lunch at Dhaba

Image by LexnGer

Each week Hyojeong pick a different restaurant for lunch. Last week we went to Dhaba for Indian buffet.
I had my new camera and my new cell phone and these are the results.

– restaurants toronto king west

66 Portland – Bright, Spacious Boutique Loft. First Time Buyers Delight! 1 Bedroom + Den With Large Living/ Dining Area – Amazing Layout With Low Condo Fees! Soaring 10 Ft Ceilings With Exposed Concrete. Stainless Steel Appliances, Granite Counters & Hardwood Floors Throughout, Spa Like Bathroom. Steps To Great Restaurants & Entertainment, Ttc, Shops & Minutes To Downtown Core. True Loft Living In Trendy King West. Parking & Locker & Gas Line For Summer Bbq Included. For more details visit: www.torontocondoteam.ca ALEX MOLONEY THE TORONTO CONDO TEAM www.TorontoCondoTeam.ca TOP 1% IN TORONTO FOR CONDO SALES RE CONDOS PLUS 1170 BAY ST #110 TORONTO, ON, M5S 2B4 CELL: 416.418.4910 | FAX: 416.640.2688

– restaurants toronto king west

Lunch at Dhaba

Image by LexnGer

Each week Hyojeong pick a different restaurant for lunch. Last week we went to Dhaba for Indian buffet.
I had my new camera and my new cell phone and these are the results.

Ching He Huang/Chinese Food Made Easy/Seafood/Wok-cooked hoki fish with sesame soy sauce www.chinghehuang.com thecookskitchen.com itunes.apple.com www.amazon.co.uk Ching shows a regular fish buyer at the market how to make hoki fish served with sesame soy sauce. Ingredients 2 hoki fish fillets, membrane removed salt and ground white pepper 3 tbsp groundnut oil 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped 2.5cm/1in piece fresh root ginger, peeled, finely chopped 1 red chilli, seeds removed, flesh finely chopped 1 tbsp of Shaoxing rice wine 4-5 tbsp light soy sauce 2 tbsp toasted sesame oil 2 spring onions, cut into thin strips (julienne) 1 tbsp chopped fresh coriander To serve steamed rice or wholewheat noodles steamed asparagus steamed broccoli Method 1. Season the hoki fish fillets with salt and ground white pepper, then slice into six equal-sized pieces. 2. Heat a wok until smoking and add the groundnut oil. Add the fish, pressing down lightly on the pieces of fish as they cook. Cook for 3-4 minutes on one side, then reduce the heat to medium. 3. Turn the fish over and sprinkle over the garlic, ginger and chilli. Cook for a further 3-4 minutes (depending on the size of the fillet), or until the flesh has turned opaque and flakes easily when poked with a pair of chopsticks or a fork. 4. Season with the soy sauce and sesame oil and spoon the sauce over the fish. Add the spring onion strips and chopped coriander and cook for 1-2 minutes, or until the herbs have wilted slightly. 5. To …

Gordon Ramsay lets the competing restaurants in the F Word challenge to find the best local Chinese restaurant know who has won. Season 5 of The F Word. A bold, modern and mischievous take on the world of food combines location VTs, kitchen actuality, celebrity interviews, stunts and recipe based challenges to give the format its trademark energy, pace and visual richness and create waves in the food world and beyond.

Ten Miles Of Fancy Field, is that Rome or Shanghai? Paul Wong’s last day to see Pantheon, Colosseum and to Tien Tsin Cina Restorante, background songs by Li Xianglan

Bay of Fires (v), Tasmania, Australia

Image by Matthew Stewart | Photographer

Gear: Canon 5D Mk II | Canon 17-40

Settings: ISO 50 | f/16 | 1/30 | 30mm

[Facebook Fan Page][ShutterBugs] [Twitter] [iFolio] [iPhone] [SEQ Meetup Group]

Tasmania Trip Video! – www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WBGjkiarxc

Taken after sunrise at the FABULOUS Bay of Fires in Tasmania.

Perth – Friday! To do a workshop with Nick Rains and Christain Fletcher!

Binalong Bay

The Bay of Fires is a region of white beaches, blue water and orange-hued granite (the color of which is actually produced by a lichen). The northern section of the bay is part of Mount William National Park; the southern end is a conservation area. A wide range of activities can be pursued in the Bay of Fires area, including camping, beach activities, boating, bird watching, fishing, swimming, surfing and walking.

Chef Rick Tramonto visits the studio to discuss the challenging path he took to become a celebrity chef and then he cooks a little something for Gordon and Terry. The 700 Club The Christian Broadcasting Network www.cbn.com

Video Rating: 2 / 5

Bay of Fires (vii), Tasmania, Australia

Image by Matthew Stewart | Photographer

Gear: Canon 5D Mk II | Canon 17-40

Settings: ISO 160 | f/9.0 | 30.0 | 40mm

[Facebook Fan Page][ShutterBugs] [Twitter] [iFolio] [iPhone] [SEQ Meetup Group]

Looks bigger LARGE, the new web sharpen I do seems to look a little ordinary when the image is small and not at 1100px!

Tasmania Trip Video! – www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WBGjkiarxc

After sunset I got the moonrise too at Bay of Fires. Due to having to head off thinking my folks were waiting for me, I missed most of it (they’d already walked back to the hotel though!)

This tree is AWESOME. I’d go back just to photograph this tree!

Binalong Bay

The Bay of Fires is a region of white beaches, blue water and orange-hued granite (the color of which is actually produced by a lichen). The northern section of the bay is part of Mount William National Park; the southern end is a conservation area. A wide range of activities can be pursued in the Bay of Fires area, including camping, beach activities, boating, bird watching, fishing, swimming, surfing and walking.