The (un)Ordinary Adventures of Janine

Turning Balinese

2009-08-25T21:17:00.000-07:00

So, I haven't updated in a long time. I had lots of thoughts on my time in India to share...I have such fond memories of India and am really looking forward to spending some more time in the country in October/November.

But meanwhile, there's so much fun to be had here in Bali. The first thoughts I had were about perspective and how different it can be in a short few years. Last time I came to Bali I thought the traffic was intense and hectic but after India, the roads here seem quite relaxed, casual and peaceful, still a bit loose on the rules but definently a dream after Bangalore!!! After arriving and spending a few relaxing days in Kuta I headed up to Jules village in Baturiti. Its lovely and cool up here in the mountains and it took me only a day or two to adjust to the crowing roosters and general village noise early in the morning... I absorbed myself into the rhythm of the village life and preparations for the ceremony, peeling enormous mounds of garlic and onion, getting stuck into the never ending piles of washing up and clothes washing... clean clothes are such a commodity when you are washing everything by hand!! and babysitting the kids as Jules rushed down to the markets over and over again gathering supplies for the mountain of offerings that were beginning to pile up down at the temporary temple the men built for the occasion. The language is difficult but I am improving; I am confusing quite a lot of people because I am speaking a mix of Bahasa and Balinese but they get the drift!!!

I spent some time with the women folding the offerings and preparing food..it's quite difficult becuase the ladies demonstrate only once with their hands flying and then giggle as inevitably I get my pandanus in a tangle!! Luckily Jules as taken some time to show me the more simple weaving and I have mastered some of those... After a few days the family arrived and things really got into swing. I covered myself in glory by catching the dragonfly required for the offering but then the next hour had a fall from grace as just before the ceremony it was noticed that the crab was missing. I had knocked the pot a few days before and not realising the significance had forgotten to tell anyone about it. With all the tremendous effort and expense that had gone into the cermony I was worried that all the good luck could be undone by the loss of the crab. Luckily the priest had a solution as Jules was justifiably a little upset... Louie did not have his head shaved and there will need to be another ceremony in a year and a half with the crab..Apparently I have to return and catch it. Well Bali is such a lovely place there'll be no complaints from me!!!

The cermony was full of lots of great dancing and performance and some great gamelan bands, Jules really put on a great party and with the extra time I have spent in the village I was able to participate more fully in the various tasks that had to be undertaken during the day. Greeting visitors with Om Swastiastyu and a fresh brew of Bali Coffee and a sweetcake. I took the gift they brought (each one the same; sugar, rice and noodles) and added it to the piles and then filled their baskets with cooked food from the enormous feast on offer.

It has been fun watching Mahuni, Jules three year old daughter adjust to life in Bali. One of the things I didnt consider before I arrived was the language.. after I arrived she switched back to mostly speaking English, leaving her poor grandma out in the cold. I felt bad for this because her grandma sees so little of her... but after a few days the penny dropped and she worked out that I don't speak Indonesian and that Grandma doesnt speak English but that she could speak both..clever little girl. I am always asking her for translations. The best one was when I said it was 'Panas Kali' and asked her what it meant in English. She responded 'Enormous Panas' (but pronounced it Penis!!) Hehheeh. It means Very Hot, so she was so close but yet so far!!!

I spent some time after the ceremony travelling around with Will's brother Ben on a bike that he rented. We toured through Lovina, Amed and Sanur and had a really great time. A few times we met up with some other family and friends and generally enjoyed a lot of nice meals, laughs, massages and bintang... Ben and I travelled together for a week and got along really well and it was so nice to have the freedom of the bike. He was a great driver, experienced rider and it put my mind at ease, which thanks to my father and his stories of bike accidents was full of all sorts of horror scenarios!! (thanks Dad! lol.)

I am back in the village now, reimersed in ceremonies...of course this is Bali. There are ceremonies all the time, I have been to cermonies for the car, ceremonies for the land, cremations and currenly we are in the middle of a three day village ceremony...but I enjoy it. It is nice to sit in a temple contemplating the universe and tucking flowers behind my ear, reminding myself to be grateful for all the things I have done and all those I am still to do....

When it rains, sometimes it pours...

2009-07-10T02:57:00.000-07:00

The monsoon rains have arrived, the dirty dusty streets are transformed! Into a mudbath! Its slippery and treacherous, especially at night and walking through the pooled water is not recommended, you never know what is in it to start with, but you also run the risk of falling through the open manholes that you could skirt before but now cant see.... i dont even want to think about all those exposed electric wires...

Luckily the part of Bangalore where we live and work has escaped most of the deluge and my slippey slidey escapades in my ever squelchy thongs are not a feature of every waking, moving moment... the temperature has cooled somewhat due to the thick cloud cover and it is the most perfect pleasant weather, a totally comfortable 25, beanie weather for bangalorites!!

The days go along with surprising speed in the routine of daily life at Janaagraha. I came second in the netball tipping comp at the office back in the 'gong and was able to explain the tipping comp concept to the office here at janaagraha. It might be my greatest legacy in India yet!! The inaugral Indian Premier League Cricket tipping competition!!

Other than these more light hearted pursuits I am learning about just how broken government in India is...bribes and buck passing. The other day I paid a visit to the Slum Clearance Board, a dirty building in an outer Bangalore suburb, where as I climbed the stairs my eyes began to water from the stench of ammonia... very cleverly, the doorless toilets were positioned at each floor directly off the stair well and in their neglected and unkept state, the pee seemingly flowed down the stairs to create an overwhelming stink... this government office made the modest janaagraha facilities look like a palace.

There were very few computers in the Department and officers sat at old fashioned desks pouring over huge ledgers that reminded me of the old shipment ledgers CSR used in the 1940s. It was grey and sparse with big old steel green cupboards where presumably the ancient ledgers are carefully stored each night. As the only colourful feature, the small hindu temple on the far wall with the flashing neon lights surrounding it caught my eye as it blinked its dedication to ganesha in alternating reds, greens and yellows, surely bringing perspacity and harmony to the humble office. We had come to ask a simple question and were ushered into a manager's office where we sat to wait our turn to speak with him on chairs positioned across from his desk as if we were sitting down to some kind of concert or performance. The officer was quite happy to talk at length about what the other departments were responsible for, but when i asked him what is was that his department was responsible for (several times) all I got was the silent and smiling head waggle... although we did get an answer to our question, were the statistics listed on the website up to date and complete? Yes and No; No and Yes!

And that is such a big part of the problem, departments with overlapping authorities and responsibilities so that problems and issues can be dodged and flicked and not responded to, you could go round in circles for months until you grow old and grey just trying to find out which department is responsible for fixing the pavement outside your house. An Indian bureaucrat is the buck passing genius, it is done with great style and flair and a good deal of pushiness is required to negotiate the murky depths of governance in this big city...

the same pushiness that is required to buy food, get tickets or be served in any way. Please forgive me if on my return home I push through the queque at the ticket counter for Harry Potter Six, wildly thrust my money over others heads while chatting on my phone, simutaneously positioning my elbow in a throng clearing thrust while barking my order to the cashier... I promise you I will do it with a smile, (even if its a little self-satisfied that I won the battle and got served ahead of you)...

On the other hand there are times when my white skin or foreign status clears the way and I get priority service... like at the sari sale, when I was pushed up onto the platform where only the staff usually stand and pushed and pulled into an array of fancy saris and then ushered and cajoled to the head of the ridicuously long line to pay and leave with the minimum of fuss. (I dont know at these moments whether to be hugely relieved at the hours saved or hideously embarrassed and apologetic to the woman who was (before I arrived) at the front of the queque and has no doubt taken the good part of two hours to get there.)

The celebrity foreigner thing has given me some pause to think over the past week...I am still being stared at and getting my photo taken and at each class I now have 60 girls clamouring for an autograph...seriously today I got a bit worried I wasnt going to get out the classroom without security detail... hehehe. It made me wonder if deep down it might be part of the reason I like India so much, the ability to go anywhere, get into clubs and overpriced shops, being treated like a princess with people rushing to open and close doors for you..and I decided no; its not. Id trade all of that in less than a second for the pleasure of not having to feel awkward every time the maid meets my eyes for a millisecond, raises her hand to her heart in a traditional namaste greeting and then scurries away as if she is not supposed to look at me at all...or to not have to walk past the tea lady who sits in the hall and stares at nothing while waiting until tea time so she can make me a cup of tea, or seeing people sweep the street in bare feet or have children kiss my feet hoping for a few rupees.....

i love india because despite all its difficulties the people have spirit and cheekiness and it is a colourful and infectious place, it makes me be assertive and confident (an especially important trait for road crossing) ... and it is changing, the caste system is heavily entrenched but it seems at times to be slowly washing away; it will take a lot of time to acheive equality here but I hope in that respect that every time it rains a little bit of equality in India it pours...

and as for the bureaucratic jungle, it desperately needs to be washed away in a great big biblical flood....

Temples and Load-shedding

2009-06-30T23:01:00.000-07:00

On the weekend, a group of about seven of us volunteers took a day trip to the temples of Belur, Halebid and Shravanabelago. They are all about a thousand years old. The temples are covered in the most intricate array of soapstone carvings, with detail that is totally astonishing and magnificent. We had a lovely day and great company. Santoosh, a friend from the office accompanied us and provided us with great conversation, ranging from Australia's no uranium for India policy to baksheesh (bribe payments) and urban planning schemes and governance, and of course Michael Jackson... we watched Kannada films on the bus together, they are sooo corny but entertaining in their own way, even as the language shifts between Kannada, Hindi and English. However it still puzzles me why on buses right across Asia, and now I realise the sub-continent as well, that the volume has to be so so loud!!

At Janaagraha I have been involved in teaching the civic education to program to some students at a nearby school. They are in about year seven, all girls. They are a really lovely bunch of kids, eager to learn and even more eager to ask me questions about Australia... They have about sixty kids in the class, in a room about 4 x 20m (I am not good at estimating distance, so I might be wrong!). The children all wear their hair in two plaits with large ribbons (its universal, I didnt see a single exception on a scan of the room) and crowd onto benches, about five or five to a bench. There is no room to move about at all. We had a great time taking them through the concepts of civic governance and participation, explaining the government structure in India and talking about the problems they face in their neighbourhoods.

Then we moved onto Australia.... they wanted to know the lot! What do we eat - kangaroo, ewww!!! (funnily enough that is their word for Australians), who is my favourite Australian cricket player, luckily in the brief silence, one small girl answered for me - Gilchrist!!! Yes yes thats my favourite I said, which got a cheer. Favourite Indian cricket player?? I stumbled over that one, luckily enough I said it was the really good bowler one and the girls answered for me... Singh!!

The girls wanted to know all sorts of obscure things and had a great excitement to be speaking with a foreigner. I am still an object of curiosity on the streets of Bangalore. At first I found the staring quite intimidating, unsmiling as it was, but I hardly notice it anymore. In fact today, I stared too!; as a foreigner, with her long reddish blonde hair streaming out from under her helmet rode past us on her bike in Bangalore traffic this morning. As we toured the temple complexes we also found ourselves the object of a great deal of foreigner induced amusement. Sara, with her gorgeous shoulder length red hair and porcelain white skin, and I were requested to feature in many happy snaps of the temple visiting Indians, and our smiling faces will be grinning out from family albums across the State...(it gets a little irritating after a time, but how can you say no?)

Of course, the begging is always hard but it hasnt been too much, the actual grabbing and tugging on your arm is not done in many other parts of the world and can be a little disconcerting. The heart wrenching guilt never leaves you though as you step away from the old lady or small boy who is asking for food and into a restaurant, where the most delicious food in jean busting quantities is to be served...

The country side is quite dry as still we wait for rain. Now the city has rolling power shortages as they cope with lower water in the hydro-electric dams. At first the power shortages were although common, quite short and not too annoying! In fact, I thought they were quite quaint. But now that they roll through for six to eight hours a day (and fifteen in rural areas) they are really irritating. I am beginning to understand why there are generators at all the fancy shops and houses and the whirr as they snap on as the main snaps off is becoming an all too common feature. For us, it means no hot water at home and more time on the roof of the office waiting for the computers to switch back on..... oh and I now use the stairs to climb the five flights to the office for fear of becoming stuck in the lift during one of the sudden load-shedding events!!

Waiting for rain...in Bangalore

2009-06-24T05:23:00.000-07:00

In the horizons at the edges of this city, that stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction, an endless maze of half constructed houses and occasional cluster of higher buildings. Through the brown-grey haze, enormous cumulous clouds are forming. The steaminess lulls me into an afternoon sleepiness that is almost impossible to shake even with the gentle cooling breeze of the office fans and the stirring air that seeps in occasionally through the open window; this same window that permits the sound of honking car horns and the tinny rattle of auto rickshaws to filter up as a few stories below they navigate the pot holes, animals, pedestrians and each other with alarming speed and chaotic precision. The colourful, aromatic and spicy lunch time feasts don’t help my sleepy mood.

The humidity is building on some days to a point where you can feel your body straining to experience the cool relief of a shower of rain, a shower that hasn’t yet arrived. But I’m not complaining, I love the steamy sleepy heat, especially now that I have discarded my too hot tight shirts and jeans, packed in the middle of a Sydney winter where I couldn’t quite imagine the enveloping warmness of an Indian summer, for cotton kurtas and loose cotton ‘MC Hammer’ pants. Bangalore is one of the mildest places in India, it’s usually about 30 degrees each day; a world away from the 40 plus heat of Delhi at this time of the year. But still, down on the streets of this city, frogs and trees are being married in full Hindu tradition, as an appeasement to the god Varuna, to bring on the late-coming monsoon rains.

What can I say about Bangalore India? A place of incredible contrasts. It's a busy and chaotic city with streets lined with ancient banyan and tamarind trees, rich and poor, hungry and fat, grey and yet colourful!! The Hindu and Catholic women are like beautiful shimmering rays of brightness in the city, their chuppatis thrown backwards over their shoulders and streaming behind them in a dazzling array of primary colours as, alongside black burka wearing women and the (slightly controversial) modern woman in jeans and tight tees, they expertly manoeuvre their way through the hair-raising traffic, the rubbish strewn sidewalks, the sleeping stray dogs and cud-chewing cows lazing by the road sides.

The city is a patchwork of busy lives, from IT business executives, McDonalds, KFC and exclusive stores to bare footed rubbish sweepers, corner sellers, beggars and those who live in the partially constructed buildings and shanties that dot the paths and roads. Walking to work from our original accommodation required a certain amount of guts and blind faith to cross the road and pass through the tunnel under the railway – which we nicknamed “Hell Pass” as it involved edging along the tunnel wall with cars, buses, trucks and rickshaws which bottle necked at the entrance and thus filled the tunnel to a total capacity almost literally brushing past us with only inches to spare as we made our way along its edge. I am still amazed at how everyone spewed into and got spat out the other end of the tunnel intact each morning.

We are now staying a short twenty to forty minute rickshaw ride from work, and have finally begun to have consistent success at getting the driver to turn on the meter, paying only a ten rupee ‘foreigner premium’ on top. The ride is a bumpy charge through crowded streets, often on the wrong side of the road (even when there is a divider) inches away from the wheels of trucks, buses, motorbikes, other rickshaws and donkey carts that crowd the deeply pot holed and badly built roads. Traffic lights are a rarity in this city of over 6 million so at each intersection a delicate dance of intersecting traffic takes place. It takes an iron focus on your destination and many stops and starts but each time everyone manages to navigate the whirlpool of traffic and resume the break neck pace, screeching to a stop to re-perform the dance each time at a road narrowing or unmanageable pot-hole.

I’m not sure the commute is worth it every day but we are staying in a really lovely part of town in a beautiful house with a retired Dr and her twenty four year old son, Vivek. We managed to rent rooms here for only $184 per month and we have a shower, t.v and hot running water!! Vivek is a bit of a party animal and so far has shown us only the pubs and ‘beer buffets’ (yep. all you can drink) dotting the streets where we live. Indian hospitality is first class, although having a beautiful Nepalese security man who runs to open the gate with a huge smile each time I enter and leave and a maid who receives a ‘tongue lashing’ from the homeowner each morning is a little weird.

The work they do at Janaagraha is varied but it all relates to trying to create a better city for the citizens who continue to drift in from the poorer rural villages. It is a monumental task. The sidewalks are littered with holes that drop straight down to the rat infested drains that run beneath the city and every second day or so it seems a story about a child who has fallen down the drain and been swept to their death features in the newspaper. It is amazing; workers walk away leaving enormous holes and often the granite drain coverings move or rock as you walk across them, (yes people have come a cropper on what looks like solid ground) there are perilous holes and uncovered electric wires everywhere, deeply rutted streets and rubbish dumps that spew across major arterial roads; yet when a monkey falls off a wire to its death there is an immediate burial and ritual and a huge public movement to have a shrine built at the site of the fall. So when a child falls to their death on the sidewalk it is hard to understand why the government is not galvanised into action. (I think the answer lies in its bureaucratic remoteness from the people) Janaagraha is working towards solutions, but the answers are more complex. There is a new monorail currently being built across the city from north to south and east to west to try to alleviate the traffic nightmare but it is expected to be completed in 2020.

Janaagraha advocate and try to work with the government to keep them accountable and to try and keep city initiatives on track. The city connect program they run has as one of its aims, getting school students on buses and taking parents cars off the road. The new bus pass system will send an SMS to the parent when the child boards the bus and when they get off. (I hope they can find it through the avalanche of spam SMS’s you get on your Indian sim card!! PS. no wonder the call centres are all based here; I can call home to Australia for less than what it calls me to ring you from there) - but that’s India: a place of complete contrasts, like the office where I work where there is no air conditioning and the computers don’t have USB ports, yet the employees sign on and off each day using a fingerprint scan technology. I am working on drafting laws to create the equivalent of local council wards so that people in the cities have a mechanism of access to the municipal councils. Currently, through their One Billion Votes (yes, literally! It took me a little while to comprehend that this was not a figurative number) campaign they have identified that the citizens are mobilised (ie shrine sites for monkeys and angry editorials about the state of the sidewalks) but when they seek to make a change they hit a rock hard solid bureaucratic wall. For instance, if the Council suddenly stops collecting your garbage you currently have no way of making your complaints known officially.

A world of rules and no rules; (its hard to explain) - where you can drink and dance but never together and there are pubs and clubs everywhere but the cops enforce an 11.30pm curfew so house parties are all the rage. The people however have such a disarming charm that I am falling in love with India. I’ll explain some more next post, this one has been long enough!! And elle; if you’ve managed to read this far! Hehehe (I don’t think you will have!) – I’ll put up some pretty pictures on the next instalment!!!

A Heart full of Happiness

2009-01-26T05:13:00.000-08:00

The soft crunch of a rattan ball being kicked across the street, gentle chirping crickets, the tinny rev of a motorcycle and the soft voices calling tuk tuk and sabidee (hello), the shy giggles from the young girl in the door way of her house, loud music being pumped from a stack of speakers heralding another chinese new year party and the soft sounds of the latest thai soap opera that spill from almost every house and shop along the street. In one of the temples monks have continued their soft chant punctuated intermittently by the gentle tingle of bells and as always the howl of a littany of barking dogs, the gentle clank of cutlery and soft dinner talk and the sizzle of the street stall vendors tending the sticky rice and other numerous 'delicacies'...this is the soundscape of Vientiane at night.

It is my last night in Laos and it has been a slow and easy day. After making a wide detour of the many massage places and herbal saunas to which I have become (already was) addicted and nursing my bruises from the last very 'relaxing' and perhaps a little over-enthusiastic lao traditional massage, today I relaxed with my book by the shores of the Mekong looking across at Thailand, almost close enough to swim. I feel relaxed and at peace with Asia although it has not been an easy relationship for me...every day I have struggled with bearing witness to so much poverty and hardship while carrying on with the comparably trivial business of being a tourist... I have thought long and hard about the merits of capitalism and how it can increase a standard of living but then also about the impact when money becomes a ruling factor in life at the expense of the artfulness and spiritual exercise of living...I have battled with the slowness and inefficiency of asian service and looked within myself to try and understand why it is that I am almost always in a hurry or feel impatient... i have struggled with the heat and the pervading smell of sewer and garbage only to turn the corner and be meet with the sweet aroma of fresh jasmine garlands and slowly burning incense... and on top of all that I really don't like eating fish...i really dont get the fascination with it or why fish sauce has to go in Everything! solution more chilli...woolah - the cooking is good (maybe. when my mouth cools down and i stop sweating)!! Asia has also taught me that you just cant have it all; the shower must have pressure or be hot - never both. oh well, better than a bucket and at least my money buys me that choice...

There is so much going on here. I often feel so overstimulated that I get bored...I look at the animals (great place to come after writing an honours paper on animal rights) and feel their neglect and often hunger and pain and I hate watching them get caught and killed for dinner but then again they have their freedom and a better life than many many animals get at home in cages. Pigs in asia get to roll in the dust, eat your shit and generally do what pigs do, chickens scratch in the dust and dogs roam the streets in packs being.. well dogs.

Its definitely a difficult relationship but one with more love than hate...there are lots of rules; generally disregarded; and there is a gentle fun-loving happiness within the lao people that is infectious... you would be hard pressed to go for more than ten minutes without hearing the sound of laughter...of course the politics and the history are more complicated and I doubt I'll ever come close to understanding that even if I stayed ten years...but these are the kind of people who make new bells for their temple out of unexploded ordinance..

so after a day relaxing and an hour this evening of vipassana at a temple, after contemplating my navel and all the contradications that asia has to offer, i go home with a heart full of happiness as the monk who practised english with me yesterday morning had hoped for me...

....lets hope it lasts through the two day cheap flight epic journey home....

Nothing to Report!!

2009-01-18T00:56:00.000-08:00

The pace of life in laos is slow, especially on a Sunday so there is nothing to report; other than that I am glad the smile on my face lasted the entire eight hour public bus journey with the young kids pulling my hair and pinching my skin (all smiles and giggles) as the only foreigner on the bus I wasnt left alone for even a second....tonight i'll be on the overnight VIP foreigner bus to Vientiane......

Scary Lao Ghosts

2009-01-15T19:25:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in the sun at a really beautiful eco-lodge waiting for my German friends to return from their morning elephant ride; I can hear the sploshing of water buffalo behind me slowly moving through the wetlands munching the grass with big rhythmic ripping sounds and the gentle tingle of the cowbells tied around their necks makes a soft, melodic and beautiful accompaniment to the chirping crickets and bird twitter. Over the past few days we have been trekking through the Xe Pian protected area with a Lao guide enjoying the jungle and the Brun minority villages along the way. We have tried so many different kinds of bush foods (including the base compound for paracetomol) that I have lost track, some, like the fresh raw cardamon stem or the red leaves that tasted like those sour lollies (I forget the name) were tasty, others like the bush bean were not so good. We stayed overnight at a village called Ta Ong in the forest with a project that is trying to convince the villagers that they can make money from tourism instead of poaching the sun bear, asiatic bear and tiger that still lives in their forest...last year they cut down a really large swath of forest to grow more sticky rice (the national dish that gets eaten at EVERY meal) since then there are no more yellow-cheeked gibbons. Although the village guide made no admissions our english-speaking lao guide from town suspects the gibbons were eaten...so there is still plenty of convincing to be done...
We arrived the day after an old man in the village had died and many villagers were frightened of the ghost that was said to be still hanging around the village. This particular village still practise animism as well as buddhism and had strong beliefs that the dead persons ghost was still around. No-one would walk alone for the next few days until the body had been removed from the house and the correct ceremony to convince the ghost that the person was dead now and to leave the village had been performed...the children were really scared and the adults seemed to enjoy provoking them by proclaiming sightings in nearby trees and then laughing at the reactions... it seemed to actually be quite a lot of fun.
We had dinner with a local family but then the generator was started and a chinese movie was played...the whole village seemed quite addicted to the television so we went to bed early because it was difficult to compete with the movie... also we had had a long walk and were a little tired and the interaction was difficult; the children often cried in fear if 'the long noses' came too close so getting the community to relax around us was quite a challenge (but we did manage a few laughs mostly by trying [and spectacularly failing] to learn a famous lao song)...

In the middle of the night I needed to get up for the toilet and as I made my way outside in the moonlight I could hear the ceremony not too far away, the pounding drums and calls and screams of the villagers spooked me out and I had to pee right beside the house rather than walk alone for 100 metres to the toilet...yep. I got scared of the lao ghost.

As I lay awake back in my bed I listened for a long time to the animistic calls and drumming of the village ceremony and as it mixed with the night sounds of the jungle I felt peaceful and transported to an otherwordly moment in time. I felt I was listening to a living and breathing history, a timeless tradition that has been echoing throughout the jungle hills for a long long time. It was a beautiful way to drift back to sleep....

My fear made for a great deal of mirth in the morning and the villagers seemed thoroughly entertained by my reluctance to walk alone...then they explained that the lao ghost is afraid of the long nose foreigner who of course is much taller and bigger than the lao ghost.... but whether taller wins - well, I'm still not convinced and with my time over I am certain that I still would have watered the plants near the room rather than make that 100 metre toilet run in the dark and take my chances with the ghost....

lazy mekong daze

2009-01-12T00:02:00.000-08:00

I am now in Southern Laos having crossed the border a few days ago...which was an interesting experience and the first time I have haggled a little with customs officials..in the end I got out of Cambodia for a one dollar processing fee and into Laos for two, which also involved the guy sitting on my passport and folding his arms for a few tense minutes...but it ended in smiles and good lucks and goodbyes...

Angkor Wat was really an experience and quite full on, I went out to the temple to watch the sun rise and at first spent quite a while stumbling around in the dark before the sun came up but it added a bit of mystery to my first approach to the temple complex...I did hope to get a sense of mysticism or to spend some time meditating at the temple and contemplate the sunrise but to tell you the absloute truth even though it was awesome and the temple was huge it just didnt happen for me... I was frustrated in my attempts for quiet by fellow tourists having inane conversations about their trips to Whitehaven beach last month or some ridiculous and loud story about the bad service they experienced last night in one of the many bars and restaurants in town.. when I went somewhere a little more quiet I was faced with a group of older british tourists stubbing their cigarettes out on a thousand year old carving/ statue or the like and it was enough to make me sit there and ponder not about the beauty of the place or the wonder of an ancient Khmer kingdom but rather a human loss of spirit and soul...
and then it started....
before the sun had actually risen just on first light as shapes became more solid out of the darkness.... lady lady you buy something; lady you want breakfast; you buy t-shirt lady???on and on and on...and I thought the tourists had lost their soul but the hawkers were worse; here we are at the symbol of cambodian national pride (angkor wat is even on their flag and often they make claims to modern day greatness because 'we built angkor wat') it's their temple and cambodians were crawling all over it in search of the next dollar... although to be fair I cant say I blame them; they are quite poor but there is no respect at all and the barrage is constant and quite painful...it just made me despair a little for the place...

I spent the day out there with a 'soccer hooligan' from Wales who actually turned out to be quite a nice bloke; he was glad he saw the temples with me because he said that he learnt lots more about them and he also saw a lot more than he otherwise would have (actually i think he was over it by 10am!! but he soldiered on until 3pm; which considering we got there at 5am was quite a solid innings) and he never would have seen the sunrise if I had not insisted... and he helped me keep my sense of humour as I was bombarded by the constant calls to 'lady lady you buy something,,one dollar one dollar' all in all we had a 'good laugh' and really saw some amazing things including the tomb raider temple which is all overgrown with forest (and crawling with tour groups) but nevertheless is a spectacular crumbling and ancient wonder...

I didn't go back to the temples after that but I did spend a nice few days by the pool with some NZ'rs and we had a great night out with karoake and at a local nightclub where they were frisking everyone on the way in and lots of guys were checking their guns at the door...me? I had to check my water .... and then we were allowed inside, the only foreigners there and we were escorted to a VIP table...my god the rich kids in there were totally wasted on drugs and the roof was covered in silk... with seriously big bouncers surrounding the dancefloor and a foreboding sense of danger we didn't stay long..

I did see the Irrawaddy dolphins on my way through Kratie which was a tremendous experience considering they are one of the rarest mammals in the world and we were blessed to witness them at play, jumping right out of the water, most people only get to see a little bump in the water so I was very excited and hardly minding the breakneck motorbike ride back to the guesthouse at night with the bugs smashing into my face and eyes and hair...

walking through villages in the north of cambodia is wonderful, people use lots of donkeys and carts and water buffaloes here and the first time I came across a herd on the path I was a bit nervous because suddenly I was surrounded - I walked so so carefully to get out of that one...

Now I am in Laos and the pace of life is so so very slow and relaxed; I am on four thousand islands on the border with cambodia and it is a really beautiful part of the Mekong - and looks exactly as the name suggests; I have a bungalow and a hammock on the water to which I am compelled to now return...

hope everyone is well --- my stubbed toe is healing well after i smashed it on some rocks badly enough for the german doctor i was with to think about stitches.. but after a local guy stopped, stripped a plant, chewed it up and put it on my foot things are looking pretty fine and I should be good for some trekking tomorrow

much love - janine

laying low in phonm penh

2009-01-11T23:59:00.001-08:00

This post is for all of you whose email addresses I havent updated...sorry to all those that have already read this post...

03/01/2009
Hey all,

I thought I'd go back to the traditional email style for this one because I am having trouble remembering my extremely security concious and complex blogspot password and this feels a bit more personal like I am actually writing to someone even though it's to quite a few of you,

So, sous s'dai? How are you? I am not feeling ""la-ah" (fine) which is the only khmer response I know to the question.

I have been having a challenging time in Cambodia, which is fitting - because it's a challenging kind of place. Christmas Day I spent out at Pol Pot's killing fields and the torture house (which used to be a high school) it is a place beyond description and is very difficult to wrap your head around the absolute horror that went on here in the space of three short years... the government abolished money, emptied the streets of Phonm Penh and killed one in four Cambodians. They bashed babies heads against a tree which still stands in the killing fields and teeth are visible rising up through the soil that covers shallow mass graves that have not been disturbed. I have been having so much trouble understanding the atrocity that finally I guess that I have come to the conclusion that it simply is unexplainable evil madness. Cambodian people refuse to speak about it and hang their head and look at the ground if it is mentioned. An English guy who lives here described the killing of intellectuals as thus.... "you know how Australia is full of those rough neck bogans, well imagine how Australia would look if everyone else had been killed and they were the only ones left...not too smart, rough and ruled by the fist." (cue horror music) could you imagine a country full of Pauline Hansons...or worse ruled and populated by the idiotic drunken mob responsible for Cronulla a few years ago without any sensible people to keep them in check...

Today there are a lot of NGOs in Cambodia but unfortunately they do not seem to be winning the battle, although I have seen some very very good initiatives and also heard some really amazing personal stories. For instance the cook that gave the Cambodian cooking class grew up at Friends restaurant where they train street kids in hospitality and gave him a future to dream about, he hopes to study overseas and then return to Cambodia to work in development and give back to other street kids like him (and here in PP there are a lot)... Five years ago there was no rich in the country but now there is a rapidly expanding upper class - but no middle class and corruption is absolutely rampant...many here are saying Cambodia is at a turning point but thoise who seem to know the place best feel that the country has already turned the corner the wrong way and is heading for another disastraous and corrupt regime...terrible news because on the face of it they are such a happy and smiling people...

so enough of the politics... Cambodia itself is a very beautiful place and in the countryside still very poor, most people use water buffalo and ox to plow the field and to cart goods. It is a place of contrast, there will be a flashy new house suddenly (and by flashy I mean flashy in a style that it seems only Asia can do) amongst old wooden and straw houses and men about town driving brand new lexus' (again with the bling - blue underlights and lexus in bold writing down the side) next to poor old guys pushing cyclos and touting for 50 cent jobs like their life depended on it. (whoops Im back to politics)

All the people constantly say "hello bye-bye" to you particularly in the country side and when you respond there is usually a fit of giggles. I am starting to wonder if it is the local slang for fareng\ or foreigner.

In Kampot in the south I took a walk with a lovely Londoner called Alistair through a small village and turned down a very small track though the most gorgeous fields with a huge mountain range - the Elephant Mountains as the backdrop. The dogs weren't so used to weird looking fareng wandering down the street and we were greeted by a snarling pack of dogs and each house that started to get worse and worse...then we started to get really afraid, for a while we forgot as we got very enthusiastic responses at each house with kids running out to wave and in hysterics as we showed them the photos we took....one guy even came running out with a tape deck and proceeded to record us speaking english to howls of delight as he replayed us over and over...(he only taped over some of that absolutley AWFUL cambodian pop music that is so hard to get away from I think it will give me nightmares for years)..
but then the dogs... bring on the flippin dogs....when we finally got to one house where it was so bad I picked up a rock to throw at the dog because I really thought I was going to get bitten but it made it worse and we had to flee across some putrid water on a thin ladder laid across... we stopped and looked back from where we had come.. snarling dogs still out on the track in front of every house and ahead probably even more to navigate... ahhhhh... well we survived without being bitten. I have no idea how.

The Cardamom mountains were beautiful but very difficult to trek in because the government is actively blocking tourist access (they haven't finished clearfelling over the ridge and dont want anyone to see). It was also the last hold of the Khmer Rouge and many have been resettled here. The feeling is different and edgier...I don't have time to explain in this email but in short it is not as foreigners friendly...and it is on the border so there is a lot of drug smuggling and girls smuggling too I think. Everywhere here you can see the sex trade it is very sad...mostly old caucasian men about town with girls who look to be sometimes no more than twelve. Its disgraceful.

I did make it into the jungle quite a way and it is absolutely stunning what is left - virgin rainforest stretching to the sea.... but sadly not many birds or monkeys, nothing like the forests of Borneo at all... (even though there are tigers, rhinos and bears still living in the far reaches)... apparently when the khmer rouge were forced into the hills they ate everything... I did see some monkey scat though and a beautiful scarlet honeyeater (very small like a hummingbird) and some nice butterflies although I guess they aren't great eating....although if they did eat them I would NOT be surprised, at the cooking class we ate crickets, (a few different varieties) and tarantula....

alright... the yanks there ate the tarantula, I did not. But I did try some of the tarantula eggs and a little bit of cricket. We also spoke about the local fondness for dog and monkey, about which I felt extremely sorry each time I saw a dog (oh you poor thing you are going to be eaten)...UNTIL the above mentioned incident. now i feel almost happy, but not quite... it's a hard one to adjust to when you treat your own dog like a princess... anyway this is now a very long email and brings me to the present which is back in Phnomh Penh.

I was blessed to meet a French couple living here, one an agronimist and the other a public health worker while Koh Kong on the Thai border...I came back in their flashy car with them which was SO MUCH nicer than the public bus I caught out there (a 12 seater mini van with 20 adults and four babies inside and an additional five people on the roof)...and very lucky and a blessing because it was at this time that I was very sick with a high fever and lots of ahem 'runny bum''....they kept me at their house for the night which was so great because its one of the great horrors of lone travel to get sick on your own but they took great care of me until we were sure that I didn't have dengue... I am still sick and will go to the doctor today but the fever has gone so its just a serious tummy bug (probably fixable with antibiotics) rather than malaria or dengue which I would have been very unlucky to have... meanwhile I am splurging on a nice hotel and relaxing as much as I can, trying to recover so that I can continue my travels... I think from here I will see only Angkor Wat and then skip the rest of Cambodia that I was going to see and get my (very sore and overused) arse to Laos where it is so much more chilled out...

with much love - Janine xoxox

Cambodiacious

2008-12-25T17:37:00.000-08:00

Having a great time so far in Phnomh Penh, although the banana blossom salad I had for dinner last night has created a bit of ruckus (nothing huge) and is a timely reminder to be a bit more careful with food.

Khmer food is very salty and not very spicy, luckily I got a good dose of Malaysian sambal on the epic that was the low cost carrier journey to get here.....

Cambodia is a bustliing hive of construction activity there is some serious rebuilding activity going on here. I have been travelling about with a really nice group of turkish travel agents and a chinese woman from beijing and who speaks excellent american english.. They are all leaving to go to Siem Reap today and I am off to the monastery to teach english to the monks and do a cooking class tomorrw... then I need to take a deep breath and dive off into the countryside by myself, which is a little scary, all the more reason to do it, I will be making my way down to the Cardamon Mountains to see if they smell as sweet as they sound....
much love and merry christmas, janine
PS - No escape from chrissy here, there is no way cambodia was going to miss the party!!! Santa hats everywhere....

dis-combob-ulat-ed....

2008-12-20T19:18:00.000-08:00

...is how you feel when, suddenly, you get 'home' unexpectedly, dip your toes in the Indian Ocean at sundown and then suddenly, with no prior planning, dunk your head in the Pacific at sunrise.

After feeling homesick for a number of weeks and a little bit disorientated and, both perturbed and disturbed! by my experiences in Native Title I came home to be with my family on hearing the news of my uncle's passing. It was a strange feeling. After pining for 'home' for quite some time I got back to Wollongong only to feel like something had irrevocably altered and that the grounding in people and place (thought to be a necessary pre-requisite for homesickness) had evaporated. Gone. Illusion. It was, well, discombobulating (to use a simple word).

The tinglings about the desert, native title work and the people and places I have had the privilege of experiencing and meeting over the last few weeks started on the plane. As excited as I was to fly over a lush green south coast landscape, absolutely drowned in water after seeing nothing but browns, reds, yellows and salty dams for days on end and as I felt that familiar feeling of moisture and abundance wash over my skin and soothe my eyes (I get this after a day in Canberra) there was a niggling yearning inside me to turn back and once again scuff my bootheels in the red dust of outback WA.

As you have done nothing but hear me complain about native title work on this blog maybe it's time to explain some of the good things and the reason for a kind of infectiousness that I feel about doing work with a native title rep body.

It's humbling to work alongside people from whom there is so much to learn about life. Groups that conduct business according to relationship building and mutual benefit rather than at an arm's length. That it really does make a difference getting people all the way to remote places at time and cost to discuss a mining tenement for five minutes rather than by email or phone. It can demonstrate who's committed to treating traditional owners with respect and who is not.

Working alongside people that recognise what they have capacity to fight for and walk away from what they do not ... and who know this limit! this comes from age and experience struggling in circumstances often far more onerous than anything I have likely encountered in my life. And who defend the personal and communal right to be self-determinate with all they have, smelling bullshit and patronising attitudes from miles and miles away.

Working with people who under the most trying and offensive of circumstances will often respond with humour, good grace and a hell of a biting wit.

Plotting in my head that this is just a stage on the way to self-determination and treaty and that I am not just another white lawyer benefiting from the 'Native title industry'.

Knowing that it is a privilege to work alongside these groups and that while I bring some skills to the bargaining table that the traditional owners can be bringing so much more that sometimes they are willing to share. The most important thing I think I can learn is how to build relationships based on respect. This appears to be the singularly most important aspect of working in indigenous communities and while it goes both ways, I still think this white-middle-of-the-road-young-law girl has an incredibly lot more to learn. There's a job going in Perth, maybe it's time to pick up 'home' and move.

Reflections on Native Title

2008-12-16T19:05:00.000-08:00

It's like the shimmers of heat that appear in the distance on a hot road; teasing you with a resemblance to a sparkling lake of cool refreshing water but disappearing suddenly as you approach; evaporating into thin air leaving only a small memory that makes you feel, maybe, possibly, slightly cooler as you imagine diving into, submersing yourself in that lake while in reality your head pounds from the extreme heat.

If there is one thing I have learnt from my time out here it's to adjust my expectations. If you adjust your expectations you can find ways to feel like you are making progress in a system like native title. Deals that I would have thought were awful and would shudder at advising communities to accept suddenly appear more of a triumph if you lower your expectations and remind yourself that any deal can be a good deal for people that have nothing and who have virtually no recognised rights or power.

Native title is an incredibly racist system of recognition. It is the ultimate colonising process. White laws expect claimants to jump through legal loopholes (with almost no funding to do so) often only to be told at the end of the fifteen year journey that you are not who you say you are... or to quote that favourite phrase from Yorta Yorta 'the tide of history has washed away' your rights - meanwhile even if you do get native title rights recognised, they are a bundle of rights that for instance that might allow you to hunt on pastoral land but not live there. But then if this right to hunt is recognised the courts will often force you to enter into an agreement with the pastoralist negotiating terms such as how many dogs you can have and how many firearms and what type. how many people at any one time and you may not be allowed access to dams (these are 'improved areas' because they are fenced). (talk about mirages on horizons in the middle of hot stinking cattle stations!) Other times the relationships may be good and then it seems that a whole world of potential freedoms and recognised rights can be enjoyed by mutual recognition and respect.

But after the last three weeks which I have spent with various claimant groups in the outback it seems that our nation still has some ways to go. A prospector can still bring shiny worthless rocks and 'wow the crowd' who will then agree to almost anything... pretty impressive if you dont have much and you can take a bunch of shiny rocks back home as presents. At least that's something concrete because even if you are able to negotiate a royalty payment how are you going to keep track of who owes you money and chase the defaulters, particularly if over your large claim area you might have thousands of these little 'agreements' to issue mining tenements (they usually get issued anyway if you say 'no'). Of course the government funding that pays for your native title lawyer doesn't extend to trusts and financial and business planning assistance. And geez as a claimant you must be dog tired of all these years and years of meetings with nothing to show for it.

But then there are those who have big mining going on in their country and who will likely get quite a sizeable sum. The government then seems to expect you to spend this compensation money (that you get as recompence for a great big whopping hole in your country and extinguishment of your rights) on salary for a teacher and any medical services you might need; services that in other places are provided to the public. It also means that suddenly there are boundary disputes and people clamouring to get mining deals on their land so that they can get a dialysis unit and an aged care facility too.

BUt what I really wanted to talk about was expectations...and the lowering of them. A lot of the native title claimants that I met were simply looking for respect. Sometimes all that is needed is a sign recognising that they are the traditional owners. sometimes they just want the shire council to ask them before a new road goes in so that they get the opportunity to rebury their dead when it cuts through a burial ground. (sometimes in places that grandparents are buried so not even always that old) sometimes they just want to be involved in discussions about development and occasionally they want to be able to fish and camp and teach their kids bush skills when almost the whole of their country is a national park and they are not allowed. Symbolism is huge and even going through the motions of making symbolic gestures that indicate respect for the traditional owners of this country will go a very long way... Kevin Rudd understands that, which is why he said 'sorry'. I know that there is still so much work to be done but out here the struggle for repect and simple symbolism continues.

To illustrate - Here's a sign. Good start you might think. It was erected several years ago. It's spelt wrong. Can we get the shire to change it to Malgana? To do so has and will waste precious little resources that are supposed to be allocated to native title work. You would think it would take a simple letter, but no, nothing, no action for many years and the group continue to raise it as an issue. See what I mean by lowering expectations. To get the sign altered would be a success. I won't even bother saying anything to the white dude who just came into the meeting and said 'it's my land' about a million times.

The Lawyer in thongs

2008-11-28T20:58:00.000-08:00

Thongs are a great measure of happiness, they are a sign of warmer weather and the lazy freedom of student days. When I have a pair on my feet I feel like all is well with the world. Second only to the exquisite pleasure of bare feet, they instantly lift my mood and make me feel grounded which is so very important for an earth sign like me. Yep, I've done it again. Gradually got comfortable in the office to the point where most days I wear thongs. Was a lot quicker this time, I wonder if it's because I feel sort of like I'm travel/working? As a girl who has an incredible dislike of pantihose I'm not sure what I was thinking when I signed on for this law caper. To speak of which I have now officially finished my degree and am graduating in December. I did well enough in my final paper to maybe just scrape into first class honours depending on things get calculated. Big relief (and very exciting for me because i never thought I'd make the grade) however I'm not feeling very smart today, how many times do you need to make yourself sick before you stop choosing to raise hell at the pub as a method of celebration???

So now I have the first bit of paper (and yes there's another one still to go) but am I prepared to whack on a pair of stockings? It was towards the end of my degree before I looked around and the horrible truth dawned on me like a prickling hot cold flush - most women lawyers wear pantihose and heels. Can I face a lifetime squishing all my womanly curves into a restricting mesh that tears at the slightest touch only the devil himself could have designed?

Well native title could be the answer! Where else can i work with lawyers who wear akubras and work boots to the office and would be more likely to use pantihose on a guest appearance in Bush Mechanics then as a wardrode 'must have'? I am settling here and I think I'm coming to quite like it. I leave Perth tomorrow, Geraldton will be the next test, and from there to Mt Magnet, the towns keep getting smaller and I suspect stockings on the legs of lady lawyers will be harder and harder to find. But apparently so will thongs, they aren't great snake shoes you see!

Catching up on sleep in the "hippie bus"!! Yay!!

2008-11-24T00:01:00.000-08:00

I had a lovely weekend staying in Penny's lovely Bedford "Hippie Bus" on her property at Jarrahdale. It was a lovely escape and I got the chance to do some gardening, helping to lay out irrigation pipes and bushwalking, together with lovely meals and great company. A fabulous weekend that went a good way towards my much needed attitude adjustment.

After some really long deep and meaningful conversations I realised that some of the problems I had been having adjusting to the work environment were affected by all sorts of other factors and it's nice to know that in most cases my intuitions served me well and I had been reading the organisation's culture pretty accurately.

Despite that, still feeling quite a bit of culture shock - I don't think I'll ever get used to receiving legal agreements to review that are covered in red dust!!! They come from all those small time prospectors out there scavenging a living in the WA outback, an interesting but undoubtedly tough way to scrape a living.

The work is incredibly interesting and provides me with so much stimulus for deep thinking about Australia, how (not) far we've come and how the process of deep colonisation continues. In a climate where the WA government has just overturned a ban on uranium mining and the choas surrounding native title is still so far from resolution, it's hard to stay positive but I keep in the forefront of my mind the words of an elder who has been fighting this battle for a very long time, affected by choices and government actions way beyond his control. That this is just another step towards a treaty and in the geological time scale of aboriginal culture, the journey has only just started.

I also enjoy immensely the humour and reminder of how ridiculous the legal system must appear to those who live outside it. After pouring through a ten year claim history and reading how lawyers have tried to explain the various amendments and new decisions to their aboriginal clients. You can almost hear the sigh go around the meeting - what now? what does this mean? we sick of talking same rubbish. We already told you. It's an incredibly salient look at how incongrous the two worlds are and it's us whitey lawyers that look the clowns.

The Pain and the Pleasure of New Places

2008-11-18T23:00:00.000-08:00

Wandered around Fremantle over the weekend and was blessed enough to run into the Fremantle Arts Festival, so at least there was some music to entertain me. Ann- you'd have loved the WA Mandolin Orchestra. Fortunate enough to have the choice of Lindsay Pollack, a long time favourite, playing at Kulcha or the Herd playing down at the Arts Centre or some funky groove stuff I never heard of over at the Fly by Night musicians club. I chose the funky happenings and wasn't sorry...but as I was incredibly hung over and totally outdone binge-drinking wise by the seasoned party crew at the Perth office it wasn't a late night.

It's a strange city, Perth, they don't have that many people so they added a few bronze extras, mostly with a colonial feel to match the buildings. Its clean and refurbished and after so many good boom years it still looks flush with money. However it is a boom and bust kind of place, and all good Perthians are preparing for the big bust, commiserating with me for coming out West at the start of the wrong kind of cycle. You know you hear about the resource boom back in NSW and know that its a mining town but just how big and how skewed and how totally pro-mining it is still came as a huge shock to me. I guess I am still reeling and this week the shock of the place nearly had me totally undone.

Maybe I should start at the beginning... First of all the reality of work at a seriously underfunded and under resourced statutory body like a Native Title Review Board in what appears to be the most discriminatory state of them all - WA. Means that the accommodation that you knew would be nothing flash turns out to be a horror show that you can't switch off. Here is a photo of my hotel, I live in that yellow strip next to the jacaranda at the top left. People of Wollongong- think about those units at the corner of Crown and Mt Keira and you'll get the idea...

Next, welcome to an organisation that has been so chronically underfunded that the mining companies (opponents) had to request more funding for them, just so that they could manage to perform the totally one-sided farce that facilitates mining operations in this state. The result of which is a state of disorganisation second to none. Which means you get dumped in front of a computer, hardly introduced and you start working, never really sure what you are doing or why or if you should be doing it differently.

The frustration and bewilderment of landing in a place like this and needing to basically fend for yourself brought me to tears yesterday (not to mention the lack of sleep brought on by the eleven (yes, count them) lane freeway running past my window) ...BUT then amongst all that are the moments of humour and bewilderment that you get by looking at the world through the eyes of another. How strange this native title system must seem to the traditional owners who having been working in such a crazy, disorganised and frankly embarassing debacle that doesn't really get them anywhere anyway; except with a whole lotta money that they can fight over and at war with their neighbouring claimant groups about where exactly, with pinpoint GPS precision, their country stops and another's starts.

It is, despite all that, interesting work and the some of the people I am meeting here are really inspiring and amazing people. Thanks to the heavens for my fellow intern Akmal who has a great attitude and keeps me laughing through the day. And on the weekends to escape the accommodation horror I have been doing all sorts of exciting stuff, at least it's a great motivator!

On Sunday I went for a paddle around the Shoalwater Marine Park near Rockingham and also snorkelled through some really amazing kelp and seagrass forests. A marine environment I had never thought I would enjoy exploring so much (due to my absolute terror of seaweed) but it's really nice when it's all attached and alive, growing in a more orderly fashion with (naturally) seaweed free avenues you can snorkel through to look at all the different and countless types of kelp.

In the evenings I am not far from King's Park, its beautiful...and some of the Wildflowers are still out. There is also a flight of more than 600 steps (my estimate) and each night I join all the other crazies walking up and down them in an effort to fall into an exhausted (and traffic oblivious) stupor. Altogether, (although not if you asked me yesterday) I am still glad I came because I am learning and after all that is what it's all about.

super-blogger

2008-11-12T00:58:00.000-08:00

Following in the well trodden footsteps of those pre-eminent and world weary friends who have travelled the far flung corners of the world before me and lived to blog it all in hyper real detail to their friends; welcome to the astounding, hair raising and altogether normal ponderings and wonderings of janine the ordinary blogger.

I'm here. In Perth; not what I expected. Working in Native Title. there is enough fodder here to feed the cynic in me for decades to come. hats off to all the amazing folk who work their guts out in such a flawed and racist system. I'll blog some more when I have settled in have something more interesting and jolly to report... right now, frankly Im dead tired.. and my legs are cold... so adios for now xoxo and welcome to the latest in blog-tastic entertainment. :) much love janine.