Spring, sprung, sprang!!

Spring in Churchill. I've talked about this already in my previous posts. But I have to say more about it and the feeling of this season returning to this previously frozen and icy land. I love Churchill in all of its guises- with snow on the tundra, with ice in the pools, with the blazing colours of fall, with the blowing blizzardy snow. But the returning of spring and of life is something special to behold. It started with the return of the brown to the ptarmigan. These cute little birds are all white in the winter- obviously so that they can blend in with the snow and hide from predators. They are also very precocious and will walk out fearlessly in front of you as you walk or run along the path.
Next came the Canada geese. These are large, long bodied birds, which are regarded as pretty good hunting in this area. They are tremendously noisy and honk loudly as they fly or run across the tundra. But the most exciting thing thus far is the return of the snow geese. These are smaller than the Canadas, white with black tips although some of them are "blue" all over. They fly over Churchill in huge numbers, always in a straight line or in a traditional V shape. Hundreds fly over at any one time and its a truly breathtaking spectacle. Add to this the return of colour to the tundra, the smell of the open sea as the bay begins to break up and the noise of the birds and frogs that has returned to this once silent land, and you begin to have an idea of whats going on.


With the better weather (+19 yesterday!!) comes a variety of different pursuits, with various people. One of my friends here, Krista, had her field assistant with her, Joleen, who had never been to Churchill before. So we trotted into town along with fellow friend Geoff. Fun was had going around all the gift shops that were open, trying to get to LaDunes castle, looking out over the bay and walking on the sea ice (or in my case falling on the sea ice!) We hung on the inuksuit in town and had coffee at that Churchill institution, Gypsys.
The following week we headed out to the shooting range for some training and target practice. With the return of spring and soon, summer, we have to be ever more vigilant for polar bears and particularly for the researchers who will be out in the field, a little savvy with firearms. So LeeAnn showed us how to manage the 12 gauge shotgun and Carley was kind enough to bring along her beautiful .22 and allow us all to have some target practice with it. The kick back from the shotgun was tremendous and I still have the bruises to prove it but fun was certainly had!

The funnest time that I have had recently was heading out to the fen with Krista, who is great to hang out with and fast becoming a dear friend. Her research project is on methane production in northern wetlands so her site is set up at the fen, a boggy wetland about 20 minutes drive from the study centre. The first day I went out with her in the afternoon and the evening. We took the quad and bombed easily along the road,getting to the fen in record time. On the way back I leaned back on the quad and gazed up into the blue blue spring sky. Flocks of snow geese were flying over head, the wind was in my face and the sun was warm. The snow was crisp and we were making great time. Best of all I was outside and it was beautiful. Does life get any more perfect than this?
The next day we got slightly stuck on the way out there, because the temps had risen just enough to make the snow slushy and hard for the quad to stay on top of. But it wasnt too much of a problem and we made it to the site. We were only there about 20 minutes and most of that is walking through the fen to get to the site. However, it was long enough to allow the snow to melt even more and then we really started to experience difficulties!!! The quad insisted on getting stuck in the extremely deep, and extremely soft snow! We could get no further than about 6 feet without getting stuck. We tried digging it out, we tried walking beside it, pushing it- nothing worked. Eventually in frustration we drove the quad into the fen to avoid all the sticky snow and took it to a part of the road that was clearer. Even then we had to dig trenches from the fen to the road, we got stuck once more and also had to do some walking a bit further on. But here's the thing- I HAD A BLAST!! I've possibly never had so much fun in my entire life! Of course it was hard work with much sweat put out and there were a few times when I would have sold my soul for just one drink of water. But it was beautiful weather out and I enjoyed the fresh air and the exertion. We had to keep a close eye out for bears but with one digging and one bear guarding that wasn't too much of a problem. FUN!!!! :-)

So that's been my week. I've made no secret of the fact that recently I've been living with some levels of despair, and that I've been saddened and alone. My heart is no where near being healed and I still have not managed to move on. But at least with good times and good friends like these, I'm reminded that life is always worth living, that good times always come after the bad, that its always darkest before the dawn. I hope that my dawn is about to begin.


Photos clockwise from top left- snow geese return to Churchill, shovelling snow to get the quad out, pretending to be all badass on a trip to the fen, shooting Bazs' .22 at the range, me with Krista and Jo in town.

The sweetness and the bittersweetness

I came back to Churchill. Shortly after I got there I knew that I was no longer going to be working there and staying there. My boss was crazy and abusive and I simply decided that I would not and could not put up with working with that kind of person. I've suffered plenty of abuse in my life, and now its time to stop. I'm too old to be putting up with it any more...
So that was upsetting. I was sad as it seemed like my only chance to be in Churchill more permanently. But I was lucky enough to be permitted to return to the wonderful study centre and be a volunteer for a while again. This stint in the centre was much harder than before. The cook that I was working with seemed to take an instant dislike to me- and I can't say I was all that crazy about her either!! So there was a tension in the kitchen that I was not used to. I was also very adapted to working with Rob and Audrey- 2 people who were relaxed and easy going and who constantly appreciated any work or effort that was done for them, and this time that was not the case. So that was difficult. The centre was also very very quiet- very few people around, no other volunteers....I've come to realise how important fellow volunteers are while I've been travelling. They are people to work with and to play with, people to laugh and cry with, people to whom you can reveal your heart, or have a screaming match with. But most importantly they are the only other people who can appreciate the experience that you are having. Because they are having a similar one themselves. They know how it feels to be the person on the outside, the person that perhaps others don't make so much of an effort to get to know, since you are only going to leave anyway. They appreciate how confusing it can be to have workers responsibilities but none of the workers rights. And they understand a bit more about how it is to have such a cultural gap, which makes for a very interesting life. They are important people and I've realised that afresh with every new experience.

But the sweetness was coming back to Churchill at all. And coming back to the centre to spend time with people that I know and love and admire and respect. Even though I spent a lot of time on my own, it was still good to be here. The sweetness was going out running in the mornings with Silver as a bear guard, enjoying the clear resounding boom of the winter blue sky above me. The sweetness was stopping for just a few seconds on each run to listen and hear nothing. And to be able to just enjoy the silence with no vehicles destroying the peace. To be able to look out at the bay and marvel anew at the fact that the sea- the moving, restless sea!!- is frozen over and motionless. To marvel at the size of the snow drifts after a 3 day blizzard. To go snowmobiling with my friends and hear them laugh and spend time with them. The sweetness is to witness, for the first time, the return of the spring to this frozen land. To see and hear the geese as they pair up for spring mating. To see the ptarmigan turn from white to brown again. To feel the sun on my face. To hear the silence of winter turn to the busy calls of the birds as they return.

The bittersweetness. Ah. Thats a different story. That was knowing that Churchill also held the person who I have become too attached to. Knowing that after I split up with the last person I loved, 4 years ago, I was fairly certain that I was incapable of loving anyone again. And finding out when I came to Churchill that I was wrong. But that it was not to be, now or next year. I was happy to discover that I can still love and be in love. But that is truly bittersweet when you know that it won't be returned. That once again you must be on the outside looking in what you want most in the world. Also knowing that I must leave the person I care for and the land that I love most in the world, and return to my own country which I can no longer call home. And hope with all my heart to return. At some point soon.

...and back again...

Well as always the poor old blog is out of date....nice to see that some things never change...:-)

So. I left Churchill. I left on a Saturday evening on the train. I left with tears running down my face, cried for the first 3 hours on the train and then slept for the next 10 ( well there had been a LOT of partying that week!!) Poor Inge, my fellow volunteer, thought that she was getting some good company to Thompson- she was sadly misinformed. I've left a lot of places in the last 2 years with a lump in my throat but never with such bitter sadness as I felt when leaving Churchill. Ladies and gentlemen, I finally found the place that I want to be.....

Well that's easier said than done but more on THAT in the next post. This one is about returning home. I spent some time in Sainte Rita house sitting for the completely awesome Roger and Dawn before crossing the pond for the first time in 2 years to get to Heathrow airport. The journey from there to Auntie Mary's house in Greater London was enough to fill a book on its own (trust me, travel in darkest Africa was easier than that!!) But it was all worth it to see Mary again for the first time in 3 years. I spent 10 very laid back days at her house, talking with her and watching a whole lotta movies and cooking and eating and drinking wine. Then I boarded the train (BTW conversation between me and British Rail...Me "Hello I'm calling to check that the train from Kings Cross is still running tomorrow [Christmas Eve] to Edinburgh." BR Employee sucks his breath in through his teeth..."Not too sure about that love- we've had a bit of snow you know.." Me "Oh its not that bad surely?" BR Employee " Yes love we've had at least 3 inches. And its -1 so its pretty cold!" Me" Oh for Gods sake!!! You know in CHURCHILL...hello? Hello?") to head home. None of the family knew that I was coming so that made the journey home pretty exciting. It was the strangest feeling looking out of the window and knowing that I was officially back on British soil. The snow had been pretty heavy and it was beautiful over all the fields and dales. Finally I got off at Edinburgh Waverly and decided that I was going to the BFF's house first, since thats where the kids are. I hesitated for just a moment on Princes Street- did the No 26 still go to Clermiston? But it did and the bus fare had only gone up by 20p so on I jumped. Looking out of the windows I was surprised to see that everything looked exactly as it had when I had left 2 years before. And yet why was I surprised? Had I really expected everything to be so different? The answer was clearly yes and yet I would be hard pushed to tell you what I thought should be so different....

The whole time that I was home was like that. Nothing had really changed and yet I felt that I didn't really fit in. Therefore obviously it was me that had changed. We had a lovely Christmas, it was great to see the family again, the kids were excited to see me and my worst fears that they would not recognise me never materialised. And yet the whole time I felt as though I was a stranger looking in from the outside. It didn't help that more than half of me was back in Churchill- thinking about all the people that I had left behind there, wondering what they were doing at that moment, recalling my happy and sad times, feeling the itch deep down in my feet and my soul that told me that it was time to get moving, I had been here long enough.

I'll just take a moment here to reflect in general on my travels and all of the things that I've learned. It would take days to record them all in detail here so I'll just touch on the salient points...

I'm a stronger person than I thought I was in some ways. I CAN cope with things that are unexpected and that are thrown my way. Broken down camper van? No problem! Delayed flight? Easy! Mugging on the street? Harder, but definitely do-able. Insensitive roommates? Thats what earphones are for! Practical matters I can certainly do. Matters of the heart are where I am lacking- but more on that later.
I'm not as nice a person as I thought I was. Maybe because I was paying more attention to myself than I would normally, but I noticed a definite selfish streak. And the capability to be mean. And treat people like shit. Which I would never have acknowledged as a trait before now.
I'm sad a lot of the time. And its lonelier being in a crowd of people sometimes than it is being on your own.
I feel pain in a way that no one else seems to. I've had a lot of time to reflect on the pain both past and present in the last 2 years and I've come to the conclusion that I'm waaaaay sensitive. Sometimes thats a good thing- often its bad. One more thing that needs work in the future...
Material possessions just weigh you down, both in your body and in your heart and soul. Get rid of them. Now. You won't regret it.
I find it hard to be still. In my body and in my mind. Clearing my mind is impossible for me to do. And sitting still and doing nothing is hard. Easier than it used to be but still hard!
I have issues from the past that I need to address. I've procrastinated about that long enough.
People and friends are important. I knew that before but I never KNEW it in the way that I do now.
No matter how tough things have been, no matter how shitty you think your life has been, there's someone that's had it tougher. And still smiles about it.

There's lots more, both philosophical and practical but its silly to try and record them. Better to just hang on to the lessons learned and to try to implement them. Hopefully in the travelling to be done in the future.....

Finally I was able to pack that bag and get on that plane and head on back to Churchill. I was supposed to be going back to a job and hopefully a work permit. With the wonderful 20 20 vision that is hindsight, I can see so clearly now that I knew even then that was not to be. But I didn't care. I was going back to the land where my heart lies and that was all that mattered....

Talking about a Churchillian way of life

I was lucky enough to spend 7 weeks in the study centre at Churchill. Its a fair bit outside the metropolis of Churchill itself which is a point of concern for many people. But for me that just outlined and emphasised the uniqueness of the place. It could drive you crazy. It could make people insane. And you certainly have to be prepared to occupy yourself...

So. We drew on the menu board. We talked to each other on Facebook in spite of the fact that we were sitting 2 feet away from each other. We put the menu up in a different language every meal time. We went into town to eat and visit with Heather, the volunteer co-ordinator. We cooked and baked and ate and drank Kokanee. We played pool and darts (Badly. Oh so badly..) And when festivities like Thanksgiving and Halloween came around we threw ourselves into making them special and memorable.

And special they were. Much fun was had. But its not just the occasions that made my time at the CNSC so great. It was the people. Holly and Steve and Inge, my fantastic fellow volunteers with whom I groaned about the dishwashing levels and who kept me grounded and positive. We formed a system that meant that no one was ever off duty- everyone just pitched in and helped and then we all got to go and play. And the others who lived there- Avril, who has a steadfastness that I've never encountered before in someone at age 21. Sara, certainly one of my favourite people at the study centre, with her quirkiness and her wisdom. Kat, who just made us laugh and has a sweetness and specialness all of her own. Adam, who is the happiest and most upbeat person I ever met. Carly akd Basler aka Baz, who has a big laugh and a bigger heart. Rob and Audrey, the wonderful cooks and two special people who make the kitchen the best place to work. These were the people with whom I lived and worked and played, although there were many awesome others who came and went during the day (Mike, Kim, LeAnn,Cliff, Christina and Devon to mention only a few). It was because of these people that I found camaraderie and friendship and fun. They became like my family and I am proud to count them among my friends, even if only for a brief time.

And it was them who made it so hard to leave....

And so to bed.....

Eh?? Whats with that title? Its 1pm, I ain't going to bed. Although I was up all night having the most fun that you can have on your own. I was WRITING people- get yer minds oot the gutter!

So. Churchill. I took the world's longest train ride from Winnipeg to Churchill- 48 hours. Actually I enjoyed it. There were fun people on the train including my train BFF Megan. Who was funny and chatty AND had a guitar. What more could you possibly need! There were also 45 cub scouts who instead of making the journey hell, made it fun and pleasant and it flew by.

So we arrived in Churchill a mere 3 hours late and were met by Mike. At first I had no idea who he was and assumed that he was just some worker like the rest of us. It wasn't till later that I discovered that he is the Executive Director. Fortunately I displayed my usual tact diplomacy and appropriateness at all times and so therefore had no need to be embarassed..ahem...

The Study Centre is about 30 minutes drive from the town centre and Mike was kind enough to point out landmarks as we went along. In this way if we ever found ourselves lost in the middle of nowhere, we could take comfort in the fact that the Golf Balls were right over there while the polar bear was chewing on our ankle.

On arrival at the CNSC we were introduced to Avril, program co-ordinator. Uh oh, I thought, she seems a little stern! First impressions are notoriously wrong and this was no exception. Avril possibly the least stern person I ever met in my life, and probably one of my favourite people at the Centre. I was also introduced to fellow volunteer Holly, and to one of the cooks, Audrey.

Work for me did not begin until the next day when I was trained (wonderfully!) by Avril. Most of the work appeared to involve washing dishes and some basic kitchen work so I wasn't too perplexed and got stuck right in. It was fairly quiet with just the scouts in residence so not too much rushing around.

I'm going to be painfully honest at this point and state right off the bat that the first 3 weeks at the CNSC was a little difficult for me. This had nothing to do with the lack of work, with being so isolated or any of the other problems that you might expect. As someone who has volunteered for a long time, I'm used to loving or hating my compatriots almost immediately. In this, the CNSC was different. At first it just felt...well, bland. I didn't feel that loud CLICK with the other volunteers that I was used to. They were perfectly nice and I liked them, I just felt that something was missing. In retrospect this seems almost funny, given the way I feel about them now. But at the time it worried me so much I even spoke to Avril about it to gain some perspective on the situation.

Anyway. Time went on. Dishes were washed. Cupcakes were baked. Veggies were peeled and chopped. But the best part of the study centre life is not necessarily the work, although I enjoyed it. It was the stuff that went on after work. The kitchen, as is the case in so many places, was the hub of activity. It was the place to hang out after work was over. It was the place to exchange photos, movies and music. It was the place to drink a few beers and shoot the shit. It was the place to get to know the people that you were living and working with and I will mention them in a later entry. The kitchen was the place that I finally felt that loud click with the others, it was the place that I spent most of my time working or playing. It was the place where the best music was played and all the drama was acted out. It was simply the place to be.....

Oh Canada!

Ya know, immigration people get a bad press. And trust me I can understand why. The most vivid immigration experience that I can recall is when I was returning to NYC from Niagara Falls. The immigration woman at the land border was not going to allow me to return since I had 3 Egyptian visas in my passport! I expected her at any moment to whip out the latex and give me a full body search....

So picture the scene. I'm arriving in Canada after striving to get there for 2 days. I have researched and taken advice and all the conventional wisdon tells me that I have no need for a visa as a UK citizen for at least 6 months. But I'm still nervous. This seems to good to be true. So I'm sweaty and a little shaky and look just as suspicious as the drug dealer next to me in line....

Called forward and the man takes my passport. He asks me why I'm in Canada, and how long I intend to stay. I answer to the best of my ability- and thats it!! He waves me through. With- get this!- a smile and a "Have a great stay!' Totally unbelievable.

The best part about arriving in Edmonton is that Carlee was there to meet me (you remember her- the 6 foot blonde that I worked with in Vietnam!) After so much travelling on your own its nice to actually be met at the airport occasionally. And its Carlee, one of my favourite folks!

So we hug and we laugh and we go to my hostel and then go for a drink and then talk and talk and talk. But its 2am and I'm dying on my feet so we agree to meet again tomorrow.
Edmonton is not the most memorable place I've ever been. The river valley is quite pretty and there's a good busy vibe about the place- not to mention a great YMCA. But thats it. Of course my view may be affected by the fact that once again I had a return of the dreaded LURGY-will this ever leave me alone??- and had to spend a couple of days in bed.

But catching up with others is always wonderful and continually reminds me of how lucky I am. First of all to meet these great people but also to be able to see them again and view their lives and see what they have been up to since I saw them last. Its a great priviledge.

But it can't last forever and I'm aware that my bank account is in a critical condition. So I search for volunteer farm work on the Help Exchange website- you get food and accommodation in return for working. And finally I talk to Donna, who agrees that I can come to her for a few days. She lives in Kevisville which is near Innisfail, which happens to be where Carly is driving through at the weekend. So its obviously meant to be!

At Innisfail I have to say goodbye- sadly- to Carlee. Who knows when I'll see her again? And I'm met by Donna. She doesnt look anything like I expected- she's younger than she sounded on the phone, very pleasant with long country style hair. And the first thing that she and her sister Liz do is whisk me off to a local country music festival.

Now lets make one thing clear. When I was growing up I enjoyed all kinds of music and warmly welcomed all styles into my life and my MP3 player. Except country music. I have no explanation except that I was often tortured for hours by my best friend listening to CMT for days on end. Billy Ray Cyrus- need I say more?

So I was little apprehensive. I've become a little more accommodating since then to the extent of appreciating Alan Jackson and Johnny Cash (love 'em!) But still....
I loved it! The vibe was fun and relaxed, the players played outside till it got too cold and then they moved inside. And I was introduced to the joys of two steppin' which I have to say I mastered quickly- just one or two toes trod on...
It was a late night and we eventually got home at 3am. To my horror I recalled that farms never sleep and we would still have to be on the job early the next day. And so to bed....
Working on the farm was one of the best times I've ever had. I arrived in the middle of haying season so it was certainly busy. We cut and raked and baled for days. But the weather was fantastic and it was great to be outside so much. And it was fun! I learned how to operate the raker and the baler. I learned how to operate the tractor and the 3 ton lorry. And it was enjoyable when we had put out some sweat to see Gus making his way across the field with a string of cold tinnies under his arm. Ahhhhhh, Kokanee.....
Donna also ran a greenhouse business and was wrapping that up for the winter. There were cows and horses and some gardening to do. Donna and Gus were fun, Gus' dad David, lived on the same plot and their two daughters Amanda and Tina lived right there. So it was a warm and comfortable homey place. And the house was a log house that they had built themselves, and it was beautiful.

I happily stayed there for 2 weeks and then it was once again time to move on. Donna took me to Calgary and there I met up with Steph (South Africa and NYC!) She is in residence at the University of Calgary so I spent week sleeping there, eating my head off at Steph's expense and chilling out. We hung out and went out when Steph wasn't in class and had a chance to catch up and bare our souls. Which is what friends do :-)
I felt sad leaving Steph behind at the end of the week. She has been having a hard time of it and I wished that I could stay and be supportive. But it was time to go to Winnipeg and catch the train to Churchill, my next volunteer experience.......

Painful recollections from the past

It's late. And I'm tired. I want nothing more than to go to bed. But I've been reading through my older blog posts and something is bugging me and won't let me sleep.

As I read I became aware that I've missed out so much from my journey that has brought me this far. Of course that's normal. It's totally impossible to remember everything. But some things are more important than others and should be remembered. If only as a mark of respect to those that we have lost...

I'm recalling my time in Kenya and there are three important events that I have not recorded. That's because they were awful and painful and I've avoided them. But that's unfair. Let me share with you what I mean...

The first is my recollection of going to visit Auguste, who was a teacher at the local primary school. He was a handsome, friendly and educated man. However, despite the fact that he was educated he was one of the many who refused to believe that AIDS exists. This was particularly unfortunate as he was one of the millions who was infected with the dreaded disease. He had been prescribed ARV's but would not take them. He was convinced that he was under a spell, that someone was practising witch craft on him.
The group got word that Auguste was not doing well, and that he may need some support, so we set off to walk the 3 miles to his house. We got there and found him in the roadside by his street- he had been walking to try and get water and collapsed. He was in a dreadful state and had obviously been vomiting and was soiled with diarhorrea.We knelt down beside him and tried to talk with him but he was barely conscious. Alice stopped a passer by and told them to run and get the doctor, who was miles away. While we waited, Auguste started to vomit again, this time bringing up blood. His temperature rose to umbelievable heights, and after some convulsions, he died painfully by the roadside.

The second event was the second time that I was mugged. The first was a simple matter of 2 men running up behind me and snatching the gold chain that I wore off my neck. I was upset because the 2 crosses that I had on the chain had sentimental value for me, but nothing worse.
The second time was much worse. I was walking home in full daylight- about 4pm. 2 men came up behind me, attracted by the MP3 player that I was foolishly carrying in my pocket. They jumped on me from behind and dragged me to the ground, and another 2 men came out from where they had been hiding in the bushes. The 4 of them proceeded to search me and became very angry when they found no money. They became very bold, even going to the extremes of putting their hands down my T shirt, at which point I screamed my lungs out. They became pretty angry because I had no money and proceeded to beat me. I don't wish to dwell on the details but suffice it to say that I could not sit down properly for a week and I walked like an old woman for a lot longer.

The third event is the one that has most resonance for me and the one that I have carried with me for almost 2 years. One of the women in the group, Janet, had 8 children and had been left to support them by her philandering husband, who was responsible for giving her HIV. Her youngest son, James, had been born uninfected but her husband had forced her to breast feed the child, and she passed the infection on to James. He was 9 months old and a fine, happy baby. She often brought him to the group's hut so that he could be looked after while she worked as a seamstress. I often cared for him and became very fond of him. James had been sick for some time by the time Janet had enough money to take him to the doctor. He was diagnosed with TB and pnemonia, but she had not enough money to get the drugs for him. I offered her the money and she refused with great dignity, saying that it was up to her to provide for her child. She worked very hard for weeks and almost had enough money to take him back to the doctor. She was at the hut one day working and James was lying on my lap. He was feverish and had clearly taken a turn for the worse. His breathing was poor and laboured. Through the day he deteriorated, and, as I tried to raise him to ease his breathing, he died. He simply stopped breathing and did not respond to anything that we did for him. One of the other members ran for the doctor, who refused to come. He had living people to attend to and was too busy to attend to a baby for whom nothing could be done. So it was that the child who had had no life was left to slip away. The traditional African method of mourning is to scream and shout but Janet did neither of these things. She came and sat on the floor beside me. She gathered her dead child in her arms. And she laid her head in my lap and wept for her baby.

All of these events shape and are indicative of the time that I had in Kenya. It frustrated me greatly that people could literally die in the street and the government did not care for or assist their own people I wanted to help more, but found myself thwarted again and again by red tape and bureacracy. And all the time people died, including small babies. Who never had a chance. And men have to attack others, simply to get money to feed themselves and their families.

So despite the fact that I find these events painful, I record them. I do not blame the men who attacked me. I understand that things more powerful than them drove them. Starvation will do terrible things to people. And I wanted to put Auguste and James down on paper. So that I will not forget them. And to honour their memory.

I hope that I have succeeded.

We're the Kids in America!! (in the words of Kim Wilde...)

Well let me just say that there won't be any photos attached to this blog entry or the next few that follow it. The reason? Well of course I'm behind with it!! And I've deleted the photos off the camera! Shocking I know! I'm usually so diligent in keeping this thing up to date...ahem...

Anyway!! I left NYC. I left on the bus. I left with a smile on my face at the thought of seeing a new place. And I left with a small pain in my heart because I was leaving a city and friends that I love and have come to treasure.

But onwards! Join me on the bus to Philadelphia! Join me as I travel for a mere 4 hours down the East coast of Sister America. Join me as I alight from the bus and get called a cracker and told to fuck off by one of the lovely residents of Philly...hold on...

So after that wonderful welcome I hitched up my back pack and set off for the hostel. According to the map it was a few short minutes walk away from the bus station. Note: NEVER BELIEVE THE MAP!! After 20 minutes walking with all my stuff in 95 degree heat, this truth penetrated my ever so thick skull and I hopped on the bus. This saved me from arriving at the hostel looking like a greasy spot on the pavement. Instead I arrvived looking like I had just stepped oot the shower..

Ach well. I loved Philly. It's just steeped in history. Independence Hall was the big moment for me. They have live reenactments and movies of the War of Independence. Allow me to be stupid just for a moment and tell you: I never realised that this war was to get away from British rule!! I was shocked to discover that the enemy they kept talking about was me!! (Well ok not me personally but you know what I mean..) After this breathtaking revelation I toured the hall where the Declaration of Independence was signed- not on the 4th of July as they would have you believe, actually on the 4th of August!- and then took the bus to Betsy Ross' house. This lady was the person who sewed the very first Stars and Stripes and did so at great risk. Had she been caught she would have been viewed as a traitor and almost certainly killed...

Philly is also where the gawjus Cynthia (whom I met in Tanzania) lives and we did get the chance to catch up. We had a lovely hike for a few hours by the river where George Washington crossed beng chased by the British. We went for lunch and for ice cream. And we talked. And talked. And talked! Well, it has been months since we saw each other last! Cynthia has been one busy lady and has set up her own NGO to assist mothers and children in Tanzania. She refused to take credit for it but I know that it is her hard work and perseverance not to mention her money, that has gotten this project off the ground.

And so away from Philly and on to Boston on the train. I didn't get the chance to stay long in Boston. I had high expectations of this city. And I have to confess I was a teensy bit disappointed...maybe I just didnt stay for long enough but I never got the Boston thing. I was staying in a wonderful YMCA where I was able to run every day in the gyn and swim in their great pool. But the highlight for me was getting to the "Cheers" bar and having a few pints of Sam Adams Red. I drank it and recalled the many Friday nights that my brother and sister and I fought over the best space to see the tiny TV in the kitchen so that we could watch Cheers....ahhhh nostalgia. And meeting 2 lovely older ladies in the bar who were just desperate to chat and very nice it was too. I must not forget the Freedom Trail which was long and hot but definitely worth it. I would recommend the audio tour with it- its subtly more interesting.

And so to my favourite place in the US- Phoenix!! Only my favourite place cos the lovely Chelse and Ivan are there and I was able to stay with them. We cooked and ate out and drank and played Wii and talked and hung out. I had a great time with them as I always do and I was priviledged to be involved in the plans for their wedding next year. Chelsea and I hiked in the White Tank Mountains and experienced the dry desert heat- followed by beer and lying by the pool at their apartment.

But all too soon the time had come to leave. I hopped back on the bus and headed for Vegas, baby! Chelsea and Ivan got engaged here so I was looking forward to seeing the hotel in which this momentous occasion took place! And see it I did. The best thing about Vegas was the hotels. I have to say that so much effort and time and money is put into these places and they are beautiful. You never have to leave your hotel if you dont want to. You have casinos and restaurants and shops and bars right inside the hotel. I'm not a gambler so I didn't spend much time in the casinos and I was doing in on the cheap (staying in a hostel!) but I was still impressed and a little overwhelmed and amused by all the lavishness surrounding me.

Back on the bus! And the train! For some reason Amtrak does not run through Vegas so you have to do bus-train-bus- to the streets of San Francisco. This was not my favourite city in the States- NYC will forever hold that title! But it was fun! The bar just down the street from my hostel was Maxi's and had some of the most entertaining characters that I've ever met! And that was just the wait staff! :-)

So I went to Alcatraz and I cycled the Golden Gate Bridge, braving the cold and the fog. And I visited the art museums and hung out at film locations and visited lovely Sausilito. And I enjoyed, enjoyed, enjoyed.

Getting out of San Fran was a little trickier since I had booked with Delta (there was my mistake right there!) and of course the flight was cancelled. But they did have to put me up in the swanky Hilton Hotel in Oakland and feed me so that was fine with me. But the next day when they got me as far as Salt Lake City and then tried it again..oh no. This was my last legal day in the US. I was determined to get the hell out!!

And out I got. It took flirting and sexual favours but hey. I didn't have any money.

And so to Canada.....

Leaving New York

Well as always the time has come to say goodbye to a place that I've come to know and love. I'm always excited to get moving and to discover new places but as usual I feel a tiny tug in my heart when I think of leaving Manhattan.

This place has so much to offer and I've been very happy here. I've worked hard and tirelessly for the Caring Community, doing social work and non social work type jobs. I've served meals and washed dishes in the kitchen, I've assisted people with their Medicare- not the easiest job in the world it has to be said!- I've answered the phone, I've filed at least a million ceased files- you name it, I've done it. And I've sincerely enjoyed every minute. I feel that I've been appreciated and I've met wonderful people. The lovely Deyna, Christine and Loretta that I work with in the kitchen and so many members who I will miss.

I also feel so fondly about Manhattan because I started so well with meeting dear friends here- Chelsey, Steph and Ivan are a big part of my memories here. I met Cass here who was such a support to me when I felt down, I met Elouise who was one of the few people that I've met in my life who came even close to understanding the web that is my mind! All good and lovingly remembered.

One of the few criticisms that I must make about Manhattan is the way that people are treated here. Maybe its because I came from places like Australia where in general people are considerate to one another. So it was kind of a culture shock to live here and see the little regard that folks have for one another. One of the main fall guys are elderly people. I remember seeing an elderly woman struggling up the stairs of the subway and being nearly knocked over by impatient people who pushed past her in their hurry to be up there and be important. Not one person stopped to assist her or to make sure that she was ok. The same goes on the subway where older and pregnant people are left to stand for long journeys, while young fit people take up many seats, looking disinterested and uncaring. The attitude of the general public towards marginalised groups such as the homeless is appalling. The stream of thought is that someone must have brought such misfortune on themselves. There is no recognition that this could be any one of us- there but for the Grace of God go I simply does not come into it.

To be fair I must say that I have experienced New Yorkers in many guises and they have ususally come up trumps. They have a reputation for being heard hearted and arrogant and in some cases they are. But they can also be kind, amusing, warm hearted and willing to help. It just depends on how you catch them! I've met the gorgeous Ras and the warm, kind and generous Greg who deserve a mention simply because they are the antithesis to the sterotypical New Yorker.

And thats the Manhattan that I will miss, that has shown me her best and most kindly face.

Farewell, lovely New York.

Spending time on Broadway

I just had to do a quick post on the fact that I went to see The Lion King last night on Broadway. It has to be said that it was not my first choice for a Broadway show- I wanted to see Phantom of the Opera. But my friend Val wanted to go and didn't want to go on her own, so I said ok.

It was wonderful. From the first opening musical notes, I was immediately transported back to Africa, a place that I feel I know well and dearly love. The voices of the actors- all black- were rich and strong and reminded me of the voices of the teachers that I worked with in Tanzania, who would frequently burst into song for no other reason than just to help the day along a little. The scenes in the jungle reminded me of being on safari in S Africa, watching the savannah go by with the occasional leopard or elephant to break the wonderful openess of the land.

It also reminded me of the kids that I worked with in S Africa. The Lion King was their favourite movie, and any time we were trying to get them to settle down a little or go to bed, we would put it on the TV. They would straight off sit to watch it and more often than not fall asleep on someone's lap, secure in the knowledge that Simba would live again to sing another day.

And to be fair to the musical it wasn't just great because it reminded me of happy times in Africa. The singers were great, the costumes were breathtaking and the way that the animals were portrayed was the cleverest thing I've ever seen.

Altogether a wonderful show and a very happy experience. Well worth the $121 (gasp!) dollars that I paid for the ticket.....

New York, New York, so good they had to name it twice!

I was horrifed to see that I haven't blogged anything since I was in New Zealand- where has the time gone. After NZ I, of course, returned to the wonderful continent of Australia where I spent a mostly happy month being a bum and moving around constantly. I did the East coast by bus which is a real experience in Aus. My favourite place was Townsville, although Cairns for the Great Barrier Reef also holds a special place in my heart! The bad times were nothing to do with Australia but all to do with some of the dreadful people that I met in the hostels there- the Irish guys who took it upon themselves to rake through my back pack when I was out and used my camera to take gross pics of themselves, the drunks, the loud hostels where everyone wanted to just get drunk and shag. But a few weeks in Perth and S Australia (Margaret River, Albany, Pemberton, Denmark) with the vineyards and lovely beaches, were balm to a wounded soul. Then Darwin with its beautiful national parks, then Adelaide, then NYC!

Enough about Aus! Manhattan alone is enough to fill this page. I truly love this place. Its certainly not somewhere that is sympathetic, nurturing or caring (I witnessed that myself when I slipped and fell in the rain in the middle of the road. No one offered any assistance and cabs just drove around me shouting at me to get out of the way!) But if you are able to get around and enjoy it, it has so much to offer. The touristy things are of course things like the Empire State Building (wonderful views!), the Statue of Liberty (smaller than I thought but strangely powerful and special) Central Park (where my favourite spot is next to the Jackie Onassis Kennedy resevoir) and things like shows on Broadway. Not to mention Times Square and all that jazz. But what you don't see as a tourist are all of the tiny and out of the way things. The little cafes and patisseries in the East Village. The wonderful and comic pubs and jazz music in the West Village. The deli food in the Upper West Side. The beat and rhythm and soul in Harlem. The snobbishness and uppity manner of those who can afford a place in Midtown. The atmosphere as you stroll the streets on a warm summer night in any of those places. The tiny and inexpensive shopping options on the famous 5th Avenue. I love it. The food, the music, the bars. Oh and the free stuff- even in Manhattan. There are free Shakespeare plays and dance shows and concerts, mainly in Central Park, all throughout the summer. You can sometimes get free trials to the health clubs. And there is always a bargain to be had in the street stalls- whether its bags, boots or bell peppers, its all there!

I'm also enjoying the volunteer work that I'm doing. The Caring Community is one of the few organisations in Manhattan that looks after the interests of older people (in Manhattan, once you turn 60, you're pretty expendable and no one really cares what happens to you.) So they offer food and company and classes to anyone over 60 who wishes to come. I'm doing some work on the social work side of things, since the funding for social workers has been cut very drastically in Manhattan in the last couple of weeks. 4 social workers have had to leave this week because there is no longer funding to pay them to keep their jobs. Of course the one client group that suffers most from loss is the older people, who resent anyone new coming along and don't deal with transitions well. So I'm just doing very basic case management, answering enquiries where possible and helpingout as much as I can. Sometimes this just involves answering the phone- but it saves someone else having to do it!! And I'm working in all 4 centres in different places in Manhattan so it keeps me busy and I get around!

So thats it. Loving life in the good ol' US of A!

Cape Reinga

One of the places that I wnated to visit most in New Zealand was Cape Reinga. Its not quite the most northerly point but it is one of the most important. Cape Reinga is where the Maori believe that the departed souls of the dead begin their journey to the underworld. It goes something like this....

When the soul is sentinent enough to realise that it may be departed, it makes its way to Cape Reinga. On the mountainside there are 2 springs. To drink from one means going onward to the next world. To take from the other means going back to humanity. The spirit must choose and decide which way to go. If they decide they wish to go to the next world, they must drink and then make their way down the path to where the oceans collide. Then they must find the tree on the cliffside. This tree is sacred and only Maoris may go anywhere near it. The roots form rough steps and the soul must make its way down them and be precariously balanced over the rough sea. Then with a great leap and joyousness of spirit, the soul begins its long and arduous journey to the next world.....

The Creation of New Zealand

One day the great Maori warrior, Maui, was out fishing in his waka (canoe) when he caught a giant fish. It thrashed and tried desparately to escape but Maui was strong and hung on, knowing that the fish could feed his family for a long time. But their strength was equally matched and neither could win. The battel went on for so long that they turned into stone. Maui's waka became the South Island of NZ, the anchor for his waka becam Stewart Island and the fish became the North Island. The places where the fish had struggled and beaten Maui with its tail became the mountains and volcanoes of the South Island, which is why its so rugged and mountainous.

Being in New Zealand

Things I like about being in New Zealand:

Being able to walk around at midday in a T shirt. Even though its officially winter.
Being able to look up at midnight and see the stars- and sometimes the Milky Way- without any pollution from lights or other electricity sources.
Being able to smile and say hello to strangers and not have them think that you are crazy/perv/maddo/strange.
Being able to drive for 8 hours and see only 10 cars.
Being able to stop and get out and walk around and be in the country side even though you are on the State Highway- because they are all in the mountains and country side.
Being able to feed the ducks.
Being able to walk sown any street at midnight and not fear for your life/wallet/virginity (ahem!)
Being able to stare into space with your thoughts and not have the locals think you are crazy/perv/maddo/strange.
Being able to be in the rainforest but still admire the awesome glacier- because the live companionably side by side.
Being able to find serviced petrol stations. And occasionally a serviced grocery store (I kid you not!)

Actually....just being.

Fleeting impressions of New Zealand

Photos from top- Queenstown from the bungy platform, me at Abel Tasman National Park and the Remarkables mountain range.

I keep thinking of things while I'm driving or doing something else and thinking Oh I must put that into my blog. Of course by the time I get here I've forgotten all about it and waste valuable compter time scratching my head and trying to remember what it was. So I'm just going to put down a few of my impressions of New Zealand while I recall them. These are in no particular order....

The people. Amazing. Friendly. Helpful. Welcoming. At first we had a few problems with the camper van and folks just broke their necks trying to assist us. Lovely.

The scenery. Awesome. Breathtaking. Loads of mountains and hills and lakes, not to mention the most beautiful coast lines I have ever seen. And the funny thing is that you don't get tired of it, you just get progressively drunker on it.

The peace. So many areas are small with small or no population. So when you turn off your engine all you can here are the birds singing and the waterfall running. Wonderful and soothing for the soul.

The driving. There's been a whole lot of it and sometimes I get tired but in reality it gives me time to think and assess my life and try to figure out what I'm doing next.

Having a friend to share it with. I am so used to travelling on my own that it took my a while to adjust to having Hannah there with me. But for some things its wonderful to Ooohhh and Aahhh over them with someone! Waiheke Island, Auckland, Rotorua- it also helped that she is another LOTR geek so interests in common!

These things deserve a whole entry of their own so I'll just briefly mention them:

Swimming with real wild dolphins at Akaroa. The Hector dolphin is the smallest and rarest fo dolphins so it was a real priviledge to have these intelligent and friendly creatures come up to me and say hello. Really puts life in perspective.

And of course the bungy jump. AWESOME thrill and never been so terrified in all my life. Talk about putting life in perspective!!

The last mention goes to Sarah and John, a couple from Auckland that I met while on a wine tour in Blenheim. We chatted for the few hours that we knew each other and on leaving they provided me with John's business card and their home phone number. Also with strict instructions to call them if I was in Auckland and stuck in any way- from needing bailed out from jail to needing a bed for the night. See what I mean about the people.....

Amazing Australia

So although I was in Aus for 3 months I never did get around to blogging anything about it. There are a number of reasons for this but I think it was most likely that I wasn't working and felt I had nothing to say. Also I felt as though I was living there instead of travelling there so it was a different vibe althogether.

Australis is certainly one of my favourite places so far. The people are friendly and welcoming and ready to assist you in any way that they can. Its beautiful- and, of course, its hot which is high on my list of priorites!

I visited Tasmania, Alice Springs, Sydney and lived in Melbourne. For a city, Mel is very laid back and relaxed and I loved the atmosphere there. Alice was small and not very exciting but of course I was really there to be picked up for my camping safari to Uluru which was the height of cool. I have had an interest in this genuine monolith (the only one in the world!) for some time so it was fascinating to really see it and hear more about its history and the importance it represents in Aboriginal history.

Sydney was quite pretty and I liked being there but I was glad that I was only there for three days. It doesn't have much depth to it and its heavily based around the tourists.

Tasmania was beautiful and amazing. I loved Launceston in the north which is tiny and has a real country town feel to it- very few people live there so its not surprising! Hobart is in the south and that was interesting but not terribly exciting. I also visited the stunning and gorgeous east coast in particular Freycinet National Park, which is one of the most beautiful areas I have ever seen.

But a lot of my time was spent at the gym and just hanging out and appreciating all the things that you don't get to have when you are constantly on the move (you know- a real kitchen, a shower that you don't have to share with dozens of others, playing a cd or watching a movie whenever you feel like it!) I love travelling but it was good to catch my breath, take stock of what I'm doing and just appreciate standing still for a while. I made good friends, stayed with lovely people and was very sad to leave this land behind.

One small comment that I must make is, of course ,regarding the aboriginal people. These folks are in a real sad state. Especially in places like Alice and the more remote regions its not uncommon to see very drunk and drugged up Aboriginies. They have high unemployment, high drug use, high alcoholism, low education- all the worst social problems. For me the saddest thing was seing a proud and beautiful tribe of people reduced to squalour and it all being our fault (as in the white person's) Remants of the Stolen Generation are still around and the effects resonate to this day. The government has only now begun to recognise that much assistance is needed and is now beginning to give land and so on back to various tribes- but there is a strong sense of too little, too late. There is also still an element of Aboriginals being a bit pissed off that white people are still trying to tell them what to do- albeit in a well meaning manner. My feeling is that they need to be given help and support to solve their own problems. White people have no clear idea of the difficulties faced by black people- so of course it makes perfect sense for white people to make it all better- NOT! I could go on in this vein for days as it is a subject very close to my heart. However, I won't. I will say that the Prime Minister of Australia has recently made a very public apology to Aboriginal people for the way that they have been treated. Maybe this will start the healing process and the long road to recovery for this "Lost People".

We can only hope.

Talking Thai

So I never did get around to posting any blog re my time in Thailand which is shameful given that I was there for so long and was stuck for days in Bangkok. Here it is now though...

Spent 2 days in Bangkok first of all and was not impressed. Perhaps my perception was coloured by my reading about it and thinking about it before I went. I don't know. All I know is that I found it to be big and noisy and dirty, with not that many exciting things to do really. Very disappointing. I also found the people of Bangkok to be different to other Asians. Not so friendly or helpful although it should be noted that this is a generalisation in the extreme!

Moved on to Chiang Mai and the Thailand experience immediately got better. Chiang Mai is an ancient city in the north of Thailand, and is populated heavily by hill tribes who live very peacefully and with only the basic amenities available to them. It's beautiful and not so noisy as Bangkok although its nearly as big. I had some fun there - did some volunteer work with elephants, did a 5 hour zipline course which was amazing fun and met some very cool people there. I also visited the hill tribes and did a days trekking in the mountains- which nearly killed me by the way! The guesthouse that I stayed in was cheap and clean and comfortable and the people who ran it were simply lovely. The only bad thing about Chiang Mai is that it is where I parted ways with Mido which was the right thing to do but made me very sad, so I have some upsetting memories of the place. Otherwise all good.

From Chiang Mai I moved on to Koh Chang, one of the little islands that is situated in the west coast. It has only 5000 inhabitants. I would recommend that it be visited as soon as possible though as it will soon become the Benidorm of Thailand. For the moment however, its got the right amount of amenites and conveniencies without being painfully touristy. The waters are crystal clear, the sand is white and the people are warm and friendly. Beautiful. Also did 2 days volunteer work here- with the Koh Chang Animal Foundation. Run by American Lisa McAlonie, it provides treatment and assistance for the islands small animal population. She also does surgery etc for the islands pets and if the owners cant afford to pay then she doesnt charge them. Lisa is a little bit crazy and I think if I stayed any longer she would make me crazy too! But she is warm and good hearted and I enjoyed the experience.

I stayed in Koh Chang for 6 days then headed back to Bangkok to discover that the airport was shut with protesters at the doors and no flights were taking off. So I had the joy of wasting 5 days in Bangkok- trust me, it was no joy!! But it did give me time to relax a bit and take stock of where I was and what I was doing. 10 months away from home already and it only feels like 5 minutes. Time really does fly by....

Travelling has opened my eyes not only to the differences in the world but also to the similarities. People are just people, no matter where you are in the world. They get up in the morning and try to get through the day, some with a smile on their face and some with a scowl. They have the same trials and difficulties, they have the same joys and celebrations and the same heartbreaks. I remember going to a funeral in Tanzania and although the customs were different, the widow was still a widow and the children had still lost their father. The adults in Kenya were battling Aids with some of the same perspicacity and courage that can be seen at times in Britain. When you suffer a loss or a struggle, you think that you have the toughest of everybody and that no one could understand what you are going through. Travelling has shown me that is not the case and the world is filled with folks just trying to get by. Not to mention the fact that there is a McDonalds on every street corner no matter where you are in the world and that there was a KFC in Cambodia- perhaps not such favourable comparisons. I'll leave it for you to judge, dear Reader.

Till next time.

The Khmer Rouge

This is the second time that I have attempted to complete this blog entry- damn Asian internet connection.....!

I wanted to make sure that I remembered as many details as possible regarding the Khmer Rouge as they are such an important part of Cambodian history. So here are all that I can freely recall...

The Khmer Rouge first started to become a problem in Cambodia around the late 60's/ early 70's, although local knowledge suggests that they were around for a lot longer than that. They were led by the dictator Pol Pot, who can only be likened to Hitler in his mad quest for power and world domination. Pol Pot believed that all those who consisted of the old regime in Cambodia- that is, those who were in charge before his demented takeover- should be removed and gotten rid of. He apparently believed that they were responsible for the difficulties in Cambodia, although in all honesty he was not interested in making life better for those poorer members of the public.

Pol Pot created 2 particular areas where he was able to rid Cambodia of the "filth" that consituted the old regime. One was Choeung Ek, more commonly known as the killing fields and the other was Tuol Sleng.

Choeung Ek was in the countryside and this was where most of the killings took place, so that members of the public would not be aware of what was going on. People would be arrested- sometimes for crimes such as wearing glasses- and taken to Choeng Ek. Here they were made to carry out very intense manual labour, working in the fields nearby, in order to provide good food for the guards. (Said guards were often their former friends and neighbours). The prisoners were often beaten, they got little or nothing in the way of food and they were often tortured. Men, women and children. The Rouge had many different ways of carrying out torture on their victims, but one of the favourites was to hold the head of the prisoner in a barrel of water until they became unconscious. They would then be revived by a flame being held to their face or feet, and the torture would begin again. The Rouge were not really looking for any information or anything that the prisoner could give them. They simply delighted in causing pain and distress to others. According to survivor accounts. the worst times would be in the middle of the night. Sometimes they would hear new trucks arriving, loaded with new prisoners. If the new people did not do as they were told they were simply shot on the spot. At other times the prisoners would be sleeping and the guards would enter the room, seizing anyone that took their fancy and dragging them out. The remaining prisoners would then hold their breath waiting for the terrible sound of the gunshots that would tell them that their fellow was dead. 17,000 corpses have been found thus far in the killing fields and the excavation is not yet complete. Many of the corpses found were those of children. No one seems able to say what crimes these kids had committed that led to their death in such terrible ways. The skulls and clothing of many of the victims are on display at Choeung Ek.

Tuol Sleng was a school until the Rouge took it over during their reign. It was then used as a holding prison for those who were not taken in to the country for whatever reason. The prisoners there were also starved beaten and tortured in many ways. When left in the cells they were chained constantly to the wall. The cells were made from brick and were tiny. They had to be used by the prisoners as a sleeping place- they are not big enough to lie down in-, as an eating place and as a toilet. The conditions were horrific. Tuol Sleng became particularly famous as it was where the Rouge held their final 14 prisoners, just beofre the Vietnamese broke into Cambodia and liberated it. The final 14 were found dead, having died in the most terrible of fashions. They were clearly starved and their bodies were found on the floors of their cells, having been eviscerated while they were still alive. The bodies included 4 women and 2 children under 5 years. Tuol Sleng is now a museum open to the public as is Choeung Ek and the final 14 have been laid to rest there.

Perhaps the most distressing element about this episode in Cambodia's past is that no one has been held to account for it. A war criminal trial is about to begin but in many cases it it too late. Pol Pot himself died in the late 90's- one can only hope that his death was neither peaceful or painless- and so have many of the other large names in this dreadful part of very recent history. They will never be held to account for the deaths that they caused (some estimate as many as 3 million). And the families of those who died will never have the satisfaction or closure of knowing that murderers have been brought to justice.

Beatocello

While I was in Siem Reap I noticed that the local childrens hospital, Jayavarman VII (named after one of the great Angkorian kings!) was advertising that they desperately needed blood. I can do that, I thought, and off I trundled. Turns out that Cambodia and particularly SR are having an enormous crisis of dengue fever. This is always present in SE Asia and other parts of the world but has risen its ugly head extensively once more. The kids need blood transfusions to assist in their recovery and without they would die, hence the need for donations. The staff at the hospital were delightful and wanted to chat after they got over their shyness at the "farang"or foreigner coming into their hospital. They talked a great deal about Dr Beat Richter who is the founder of the hospital. It has branches in Phnom Penh and other parts of Cambodia. Anyway they told me that he perfoms Bach on his cello every Saturday night as a way of raising funds and awareness for the hospital, and I promised to attend the one in 2 days time. By the way they look after their givers very well- I was given tea, water, crackers, a T shirt and some iron tablets to ensure that I didn't suffer as a result of giving blood.

So I attended the concert and was immediately captivated by Dr Beatocello (Dr Beat playing the cello!) This man has fundraised and worked for the hospital since before the Khmer Rouge days. Even now he tirelessly works to raise funds for the children that he treats every day. The government give 3% of the funds and the rest has to come from private donations, like the tourists that come to his concerts. By the way his cello playing wasn't bad either. This man has a spirit and a humour and a sense of compassion like no other that I have ever come across. With his work, children in Cambodia can be treated for free. Without it 5 million children in Cambodia would die every year- their parents cannot afford to pay for expensive hospital treatment.

There is no way that I can describe the emotions that raged through me while listening to this man as he humbly explained why the hospital need money. If he was to go back to Switzerland where he comes from, he would be able to make a fortune, yet he stays in Cambodia being paid a fragment of what he is worth and working long days, 7 days a week. He does not complain- he just asks that we are aware of what is going on in poorer countries and if we can help, then please do. I felt admiration and awe at his guts and his determination, not to mention his selflessness. I felt the survivor guilt that people of richer countries often feel when faced witht he reality of life in a poorer country. And I felt guilt that I was not doing more to assist, when I am more than able to.

So I dontated blood. And I donated $20. And I felt bad that it wasn't more. The only other thing I can do is pass this info on to you, dear Constant Reader. And hope that you too will be inspired to help. In any small way that you can.

www.beatocello.com

Comment on Cambodia

I'm slightly frustrated by my inability to get my photos to download in SE Asia- the sytems just don't like my USB cable. The poor thing will be starting to take it personally.

Anyway all it means is that I can't give you lot photos to look at on this next blog- unless I can add them later? Anyone...?

So. Cambodia. I was slightly on edge when I got there, due to reading way too much Lonely Planet info. Tip: Read all that stuff and take it as good advice but don't read it as a bible for Gods sake! My worries included getting scammed into staying at the wrong guesthouse, getting ripped off for a taxi fare, getting lost- you name it. And I've been travelling on my own for a while now! Anyway I arrived at Phnom Penh and was graciously greeted by a tuk tuk driver who didn't rip me off and didn't take me to the wrong place. All was well. The guesthouse was lovely and very clean, and PP welcomed me with open arms. I didn't really get to know PP intimately, maybe because I was only there for 3 days and one was wasted as I was unwell (again!) with the very persistent lurgy! But what I did see was stunning. The Royal Palace was just amazing and beats the British stuff into the ground, the Silver Pagoda (which is what I really wanted to see!) was breathtaking and I would highly recommend both. I also went to the Genocide Museum of Choeung Kek- otherwise known as the Killing Fields. Very sad, very horrific and I won't pretend to be able to put it into words. Go and see for yourselves. Another separate blog on the Khmer Rouge coming soon.

Then it was onto Siem Reap, which I preferred to be honest. My room at the guesthouse smelled slightly damp and it had bedbugs, but hey- what can you expect for $8 a day. That also included breakfast, bicycles, laundry and lots more. A great deal. SR has the famous Angkorian temples of Angkor Wat, the Bayon and many others. I spent 3 days climbing around them in the fierce heat but enjoyed every minute of it and it gave me an excellent excuse to have a few beers at the end of the day! Other attractions in SR included the wonderful Angkor museum ( a very happy 3 hours spent there!) the minature Angkor Wat and the Water Festival that was going on at the time. Add that to the tour of the floating villages and some traditional dancing not to mention a Cambodian cooking course and it all adds up to a very happy 7 days.

Just a brief comment and comparison between Vietnam and Cambodia. I am always interested in how different cultures etc are despite being so close together (although why I don't know- its not like the Scots and the English are identical and we are far closer together!) The Cambodians are poorer, there can be no doubt about that. However they are now starting to get back on their feet after years of war, poverty and absolute starvation and the tourist industry is assisting greatly with that. The 2 races look very different with Cambodians being darker in the skin and having rounder eyes. Cambodians are also somewhat quieter than Vietnamese and at first I thought that this was them being stand offish and unwelcoming. After a few days I realised that this is just as a result of them being shyer and quieter, and also not so used to having visitors in their country. But they are a proud and dignified people who are delighted to show their beautiful country off.

And so they should be. Its worth showing.