This morning as I ate my apple and rhubarb oatmeal in Botanic gardens, I had a perfect view of a group of middle aged Chinese women doing some sort of traditional exercise, that involved a lot of slapping their own calves, chests, faces and hips.
A bougainvillea flower fell onto my thigh.
The women played traditional chinese music and did some squats. And then a group of expatriate women moved onto the grass field beside the chinese women and rolled out exercise mats and began doing yoga.
It was such a perfect juxtaposition, but at the same time it had an alluring symmetry - two groups of women, moving and using the bodies they have been blessed with, and talking and laughing and communing together in the mean time.
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