Adventures Down Under

Another rule of traveling is to be a seat hog.

I learned this the hard way on my flight to Paris from Madagascar.  Magically, I was left with the entire center rule – 3 whole seats! – and was planning to take them over after lift-off.  But my big plans crashed when a rather large French lady (French women can get fat) sat at the other end.  And then she brought her baby over.  And then all her stuff spilled into the middle seat.

My flight to Malaysia on the way to Perth also left me with an empty row of 5 seats by some dumb luck.  I was uncompromising in my take-over of 3 of those seats, even when a lady sat at the other end.  Amid glares from everyone around me, I got my delicious few hours of airplane sleep.

And then again on the Indian Pacific railroad on my way to Adelaide.  It seems symbolic that I almost always have an empty seat next to me – especially on the train, which was reminiscent of the Amtrak ride I took with Mom to Chicago and something she would've enjoyed joining me on.  Whatever the significance, though, both seats were mine.  There were empty threats of having to give it up when new passengers boarded.  A guy I talked to complained about having to sit next to a smoker.  But no, I was going to enjoy my extra seat.  

And I did.  Somehow, among the loud whispers and incessant snoring of the older crowd and the creaky sway of the train, I didn't wake up until they started playing cheesy power ballads and 70s music that tried in vain to break the obvious age gap in the train.

I got into Adelaide yesterday, mid-way on my short 2 weeks through Australia.  So far it's made me homesick more than anything, since it's so much like home, with the outspoken, friendly people, beautiful California-like weather, organic food, stunning sunsets on the beach...

Aussie baobabs!

I spent my first few leg of my Aussie adventure in Perth on the west coast, enjoying the beautiful botanical gardens and the European-style architecture.

Speaking of dumb luck.. I managed to lose my hostel key right on my way out the door (of course).  After spending an hour searching and re-searching through my stuff, the lady at the front counter said, "I'm sorry, but that'll be a $20 fee".  I was expecting some astronomical amount that would cover changing all the locks, so wasn't too disappointed.

But the tables turned.  I left the hostel and hopped on the Indian Pacific train, which takes 2 days and nights to cross the Outback at a pace similar to Amtrak (does a train really have to go slowly through deserted countryside?).  The train crew handed out optional surveys, which would be used in a raffle.

Ghost town in the Outback

I never win raffles.  There must be one lucky person in the world that attends every raffle and wins each one, adding yet another flat screen to their collection of cars and priceless artwork.  I'd like to be able to say that I won a flat screen when the crew announced my name, but, honestly, I was happier with the $20 voucher for food in the restaurant.

As my Grandma Val would've said, there are no coincidences.  But at least it was a nice way to recoup the money I lost for losing that darn key.

I have no idea who this is, but thanks for the amazing shot!

Or when I went to Cottesloe Beach to enjoy the sunset on the Indian Ocean.  The sunset was absolutely gorgeous, turning from pastels to brilliant orange against the deep cerulean blue of the ocean, reminding me of the one I saw in San Luis Obispo when I decided to take this trip in the first place.

I decided to head back to the train station early, only to find everyone there in a state of confusion.  It turns out that that night - and only that night, of course - they were doing work on the tracks and the last train would leave at 7:10 pm.  It was 7 pm and everyone was having trouble getting tickets.   The machine wouldn't take bills, and it required exact change.

War memorial statue in Adelaide

The train pulled up and a young Japanese couple came up to me, asking what was going on.  "I think this is the last train!" I said, and we all jumped on.  As luck would have it, I didn't see one ticket collecter, and when I reached Perth again, all I had to do was explain the situation and got through without a fee.

In Madagascar, I got used to things being cancelled or postponed - it's just how things work and there's no way around it.  Perhaps it's superstition or a healthier, more positive and patient outlook, but all these signs have helped me realize that I'm doing exactly what I should be doing right now.

Sunset on Cottesloe Beach

End of Summer, then Spring, then Fall

A friend had asked for suggestions on camping long-term.  I’ve never camped before longer than perhaps a week, but my two months in a tent flew by.

For one thing, my tent was my sanctuary. It is the one place that can be insect-free, organized, and personalized. Bucket showers leave you vulnerable to sun exposure; mosquitos hang out around the drop toilet; hissing cockroaches take over the eating area at night.  But my tent was an escape from all the petty annoyances and gripes, where I could lose myself in a book or journal in peace.

For another, I tried to maintain perspective.  Cold showers became refreshing, especially after a day of walking under African skies (yes, I had Paul Simon in my head quite a bit, as well as the intro to Lion King every time I saw a sunrise).







Night walks in the forest were spider traps, but also a unique opportunity for photography using headlamps as a light source, lighting the canopy layers from below like a Toulouse Lautrec painting.

Even though the area was infested with bugs, it also allowed me to watch the sunrise on the beach, go to the most beautiful island-forest by pirogue, and dance in the rain during the local bush party.  And where else could I claim having taken the only pictures of a gecko in its natural environment?



But the part that was hard to come to terms with was the lifestyle of the people around our site, whose lives are twisted into a downward spiral.  The lack of education was heartbreaking – the local teacher didn’t show up during my two months there because the state wasn’t paying him.  Malaria took a number of young lives.  The heavy rain washed out crops, leaving people desperately hungry.  The painful deforestation in the area is a concern for everyone in the area, yet it’s difficult to judge when any rational person would do anything to feed their starving children.  A mining company is going to displace the entire community in the next year and tear down massive swaths of forest – just so we can have whitened toothpaste and paint from the extracted ilmenite, luxuries the residents of Sainte Luce will never have.

Elie, one of the volunteers, lent me Shantaram, a book about an escaped convict that joins the mafia in Bombay and lives in the slums, and oddly enough it brought some sense to the incomprehensible plight of the community.  For as desperate and hungry as everyone was, they were generous and positive.  Kids would offer bits of their food when we were around.  Church choirs and bands practiced spiritedly at night.  And as serious as people seemed at times, all it took was a cheery “Salama!” (“Hi!”) to wake up their faces into vibrant smiles.

One of the things I mulled over during our long walks stemmed from a rather ridiculous conversation. A volunteer was discussing the difference between counter-clockwise (American) and anti-clockwise (British). While counter-clockwise indicates the exact opposite of clockwise, he argued, anti-clockwise can be in a different dimension entirely, much as someone can be anti-war but supportive of a well-trained army.

That got me to thinking about losing loved ones, as well as the injustices I saw in the torn clothing the children wore day after day as I hung my clothes out to dry.We have a perceived idea of happiness that is tied tomaterial and immaterial things.  Abrupt changes throw this off-kilter, but over time we create a sort of “happiness otherwise”, for lack of a better term, an anti-clockwise rather than a counter-clockwise that encompasses the old with the new, the memories with the reality. Humans are amazingly adaptable, finding comfort in friends and family, and that is what keeps me hopeful for the community in particular and everyone in general.