Freeport, Maine

We have moved! In the space of one day, we went from the suburban spread of Charlton, Massachusetts to a totally eclectic house on the coast of Southern Maine. I have re-entered the realms of creativity! This house is phenomenal. It was built for an artist, so is south facing, filled with windows and surrounded by meadows and pine trees. We have this cozy basement apartment with a stove and french windows that open onto three acres of land. If we were in Hong Kong, this house would be considered a millionaire's. I have to admit, I'm feeling rather like one right now.

Sport as Life

We arrived at Nichols College at 8pm on Friday night. There was the occasional pack of drunken young things roaming the campus, but on the whole most students appeared disarmingly sober. We parked near a young man who was pissing into a bush, and then descended the large hill to a floodlit football field.

Two teams were battling it out below, in shining helmets and cartoon costumes. All you could hear was the crash of helmets colliding, like rams smashing their horns, the sound of bones breaking. It was a visual representation of good versus evil - Brit's boyfriend's team wore blue and gold and the other side were a sinister black.

We settled ourselves onto the freezing bleachers, and watched as two seconds of play would occur, a whistle would blow, and they would spend about three minutes in "time out". There was much talking, and drama, and not a whole lot of sport.

There had to be about fifty kids on each side - most of them not playing. Each team had four coaches complete with earpieces and mics. And I noticed something that I have been seeing with regularity in this new world: I witnessed the insane confidence and outrageously outgoing behaviour of American beings. Unlike the calm and restrained Confucian ways of Hong Kongers, Americans by contrast let it all out in public. On several occasions grown men would start shouting "F**K!" to themselves in absolute seriousness and bash their heads into the ground. Another dude knelt right in front of the bleachers and started to pray - seemingly oblivious to the 80 people watching him.

Halftime arrived and the teams trekked off the pitch. I noted with annoyance that the cheerleaders were not cheering in the slightest, but sitting around gossiping. Fortunately a man dressed as a ram appeared to liven things up. Then, the players returned like an ancient battle scene - marching in single file from opposing sides and shouting their war cries.

By the time it all ended, our team had lost. It was close - at the last minute the blue and golds managed a touch down - to make it 21/20, but then the young chap wearing bright-green boots missed the kick and victory floated over to the other side of the field.

As we walked back to the car, I thought about how America's sport reflects it's culture: The game has been crafted with frequent breaks for adverts. There is ample opportunity for one individual to break out of the pack, score a touchdown and be a hero. And they wear silly costumes that make them look bigger then they really are. Anyone for ping pong?

All-American Anticipation

In approximately 20 minutes I will be hopping into a car in the faded fall evening, and driving to the outskirts of a nearby town. There, I will leave the car and walk upon grass and make my way to glaring floodlights and an ALL-AMERICAN COLLEGE FOOTBALL GAME! Yes! This is football of the ridiculously-clothed kind. Grown men (well college dudes) in shoulder pads and tights. I'm excited! I will recount my adventure very soon, I promise.

The Mental Drive-In

One of things I am exploring, during my days on holiday out in the wilds of Massachusetts with no vehicle to my name (and no means of being able to drive one anyway)... is the Internet.

In the sunny mornings, I sit down with my "British Blend" cup of double strength tea and look into the shining face of Granny Smith (our blessed i-mac). I get started on the writing of my award-winning novel. But in order to do this, I need musical accompaniment. It's a bit like playing the piano. My fingers create words in a rhythm, and if I have driving, flowing tunes - I write well. If I have crap ass boring top 40 tunes, I write like a sluggish oath.

It's been something of a struggle, what with our CD collection gathering dust at the bottom of a cardboard box in a self storage unit three miles down a country lane. But then I discovered online radio. More specifically, the love affair started with www.kcrw.com. A lovely Californian soul with many personalities and many channels and podcasts. But today, I discovered an even greater love, Seattle's finest: www.kexp.org.

Great Lord of Musical Inspiration! It's vast! It's insane! It drives me like a virtual Cadillac down the superhighway of wordsmithery! Praise those geniuses who are single-handedly taking on the music industry! Go listen now.

The Final Days of Summer

Howdy!

It's been a few months.

I went off on an epic six-week journey through Europe. I sunbathed in French meadows and chewed on fresh plums. I sat on English trains and enjoyed the bliss of moving worlds, matched with i-pod sounds. I cooked Lasagne for Grandma and bought socks in Blackburn Market. I ventured like an intrepid explored to the Lake District - weighed down by tent, Himalayan-sized rucksack, sleeping bag and copious amounts of clothes. I slept under ancient trees and meditated in a holy temple surrounded by thousands of Sangha. I felt the immeasurable love and huge compassion of a humble Tibetan monk as he gave his final teachings.

Sleeping out with the elements was amazing, and the major realization was my all-new respect for the animal kingdom. How the hell do they cope without walls? The terrifying power of thunder when you're lying on the Earth, FEELING its roar coarse through your veins. In an instant I understood the ancient people who worshiped Gods of the sky, who knew the religious fear that only a storm could conjure.

I had a blissful final five days with my parents and my precious Brother's family, a magical niece and nephew who I love so much that it feels like my heart my burst in my chest. At last I flew back over the Atlantic to see my gorgeous Tim.

So here we are now in the final days of summer. A few snatches; blueberry picking with a coffee tin swung around the neck. Dappled sunlight, blue lips. A week-long trip to Saco and an eclectic night out with Tim's aunt - to a theatre in a barn and a play about the winters of Maine. Ice creams under the black pine trees during the interval.

And today, the continual rain falling and a cold front pulled in by the passing of Hurricane Bill. A sweater is needed. Socks come out of the drawer, and I sense my first movement to the end of an American season. It's a surprising feeling. Instead of dread, it's a rush. Of change. Of a new chapter. And a reason to write again.

The Mad Gwei Mui Visits High School

This is a photo of Clare invading an American high school. We stopped by late one Friday afternoon, to check out my funky 17-year old niece Brittany's art projects. Upon entering the building I began to snigger quietly to myself, as one does when one lands in the US and sees iconic visions that one has only ever seen before on the TV. To find oneself standing amid such a vision is even more amusing.

When we saw the rows of lockers I had to stop for a quick photo session. The nearby students no doubt thought I was insane.

Magical Sunset

Wandered out of the house this evening and I was struck by a mesmerising sunset. Complete silence and a pink and orange streaked sky, that spread for miles and miles and miles. All the birds were quiet, the wind had dropped and it felt like a magical energy was at work on the Earth.