La Via da Qui

2011-04-27T15:56:00.000-07:00

panic in Rome

2010-08-17T22:23:00.000-07:00

It was two years ago, July, summer. I was sitting on the grass at Villa Borghese, cross legged with a book in my lap. The heat was stultifying and I was wearing as little clothing as I could realistically get away with in public. My hair was stuck to my neck and I was sipping from a waterbottle while reading through a "Guide to Europe" book.

I had a year stretching ahead of me and only a few weeks of it were solid, looming out of the emptiness like words floating in a vast universe... volunteering in July, La Tomatina in August, London for Christmas, New York for February, home sometime around April. The rest was....what? I had to determinedly avert my thoughts from a sense of panic.

I remember thinking at the time that I felt like I was standing on top of a very, very high diving board, blindfolded, with only my faith to tell me that there was water in the pool below. I dithered for a bit, then took a breath, opened a page of the book, liked the sound of a town called "Matera", and headed off into my adventure.

There were more moments like that, when I'd wake during that hour of the morning that doesn't exist on the clock (sometime between 3 and 4, there is a second midnight when the witches really do come out, and Alice's Wonderland is just around the corner) and I'd realise how far away I was from home. But that first moment, in Rome in the summer in a garden in the daytime, was the one that has stayed in my memory and that I am proudest to have overcome.

My life right now is a little like that moment in Rome, A lot of choices facing me and nobody else to tell me where to go. This time, however, it's the exhilaration without too much of the fear. I've trodden enough paths real and imaginary that I am confident in my footing, even as I am gaining the wisdom to be less certain of the destination.

I'm still a little trepidatious, but when I look back on my journey of two years ago, I feel satisfied and proud of the way I chose to travel and the places I chose to visit. And really, what is life but an extension of that trip?

A very wise man (ok - I'm pretty sure it's Dr Phill but let's not ruin the mood) says that the best predictor of future behaviour is past behaviour. With that in mind, I'm stepping forward to the next stage - willing to let it reveal itself as I go, trusting that I will be up to the challenge.

boots shmoots

2010-03-19T00:44:00.000-07:00

there was a young girl from perth
with new boots, pants and bright orange shirt
but her feet were getting so sore
as her boots rubbed more and more
she couldn't even outrun a man of large girth

il cuore dell' Australia

2010-03-17T20:54:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am on site. This'll be a quick one because it's getting late and I'm tired.

The people here are great. I'll introduce you to the team in a later post, but it seems like a close-knit team. We eat together and everyone is prety supportive. The camp itself isn't as integrated as Coyote was - there's no way you'd ever get to know everyone on site and when trying to find my room, I asked four people - none of whom could direct me there - and all of whom I later discovered were only a block or two away from me!

Our offices are brand new - so new that I don't even have a computer yet and am working on someone else's. They moved in a week ago, so the aircons are all in perfect condition, the desks are large, the rooms are clean and we're situated right next to the lunch room.

The landscape is beautiful. The dirt is a deep red, rocky, ever-changing, miniature gorges that are a gradual calming of the deeper gorges of the nearyby Karijini. I have a view from my room across to three hills, shaped like little mountains, pointy at the top. The rises and dips have character, some peaks knobbly and sudden, others smooth, others cut out in sudden edges like anvil.

The trees are small, the wildlife apparently is similar to what I saw in the Tanami - mangy camels and dingoes, healthy bungarras and grasshoppers, of course spiders and plenty of snakes. The skies are swirled with a mass of smoky grey clouds as the wet season struggles to make its mark so far south of the tropics.

The camp is huge, with lots of paths and lots of grass. I'm somewhere down the back, where it's quiet, dark and far away from the wet mess. (There are advantages to being the person who assigns rooms!) My room is s-p-a-c-i-o-u-s. There's even a little black leather couch and coffee table! Plenty of space for books and pictures and clothes. The bathroom is also huge, with a wide corner shower and a basin set in actual WOOD! Well, plastic made to look like wood, but the effect is pleasant. The bed is a king single and is happily situated under the remote-controlled LG aircon. There are plugs for phone and internet at my desk (yet to be tested for actual function so we'll see if they work once I get some cables). The tv has more stations than I've bothered to look at yet, including 3 movie channels. It's all very new and clean.

The gym is also large and well equipped. Classes are held every evening, a variety of walking, core strength exercises and more. There's a 25 metre lap pool, hard courts, and a kitchen that serves an abundance of tasty, healthy food. I've been issued a crib pack which comprises a cooler bag, several containers, a water bottle and a cup for the fair trade coffee that is available from the site crib.

You might also wonder what I do. I work within the REG - the "resource evaluation group". My team are geologists, drillers and field technicians. Basically they find and analyse which bits of dirt the others should dig up. Mostly I spend my day emailing people to tell them that if they'd stop bugging me for five seconds I might actually get a chance to book the travel they're asking about. I'm dealing with some remarkably impatient and often stupid people, but mostly they need to be disciplined so that they stop changing bookings for tomorrow and then asking in the same breath about the status of bookings for next month. One girl in particular springs to mind - she has been thrown into absolute panic and despair at the thought of having to look up her own travel confirmations online. All this modern technology - how terrifying!

The core of my work is to book people's travel and accommodation, and confirm their site access is all in order. Sounds simple, but when you take into account the constant late notice and frequent changes, the lack of spare rooms and the panicked emails from people like the poor aforementioned damsel, it becomes quite time consuming. I'll also soon take on some of the work related to invoice approvals and then of course do all the other bits and pieces that come across my desk. A few of the team have already said it's not fair that I should be in the office all the time, so it seems I'll be given frequent opportunities to go out and visit some of the drill rigs as well.

First day on site: hectic, interesting, exciting. I'm especially dazzled by the beauty of the landscape and rejuvenated by my return to Australia's heart; the frizzled kiss of her heat waves, the dancing clouds of her skies and the deep reds, browns and greens of her paintbox.

Photos

The view of my room from the entrance

My little "lounge room" (that's the table you can see the corner of in the photo above)
The view of the entrance from my bed.
My pretty bathroom - you can't really tell but the towels and bathmat match the room!

the next adventure

2010-02-13T03:07:00.000-08:00

One of my resolutions this year was to write a blog post a week. I haven't quite been meeting that mark, but given the turmoil my life has been in for the past couple of months I think it's ok.

So, now I have a contract position on a mine - the money plus the lifestyle situation that I've missed ever since I last flew away from the red dirt. Coming home from Bali and flying over the northern soil put an urgency into me to head back to my other "home". In 12 days time, after inductions and driving courses and lessons in procedures, I'll be there.

La via è in corso.

chi scherzo? nessuno

2010-01-19T21:16:00.000-08:00

non e cosi facile, veramente

// it's really, really not so easy

la bella isola verde

2010-01-05T17:10:00.000-08:00

This time last year I was in Ireland. It's the part of my trip that I reflect on the most - Ireland sank into my skin and hasn't left me since. I think I will forever look back on it as one of the most beautiful, joyful times of my life.

This year, I am at work after a refreshing 2 weeks spent with family and friends. NYE was no better or worse than usual, but a last minute decision to go to Tijuana Cartel 2 days later was the saving grace of the NY weekend. They were fantastic, energetic and fun.

As the first post of the year, it seems sensible to make note of a few of my hopes for the year ahead. I'm trepidatious in that I can hardly imagine 2010 being as wonderful as 2009 was, but it's early days yet and life has a way of handing out pleasant suprises to those who are paying enough attention to spot them.

I hope I can:

manage to write here at least once a week. It changes the way I see the world.
continue to build a career that is challenging but also rewarding.
sate the endless desire I have for creativity.
focus on few enough things that I make real achievements.
drive myself into a healthy routine that includes more exercise and less wine.
face the fear of heartache with courage and dignity.
draw enough inspiration around me to live 2010 as colourfully as I lived 2009.

The things I'd like to draw colour from:

guitar
making my own clothes
making arty bits and pieces for my home instead of always buying them
taking long walks
morning kayaks on the river, when the water is like glass
appreciating every little moment for what it is and what it's worth

We shall see how the year ahead pans out, shall we?

da questa parte

2009-12-09T20:52:00.000-08:00

Time for a new direction, because I have been too prescriptive in my topics for this blog so it's a big undertaking to post so I don't.

From now on, the truth. The things that catch my eye, with or without the long description.

We shall begin with a centuries-old death.

"Yet," said Crito, "the sun is still upon the hilltops, and I know that many a one has taken the draught late, and after the announcement has been made to him,
he has eaten and drunk, and enjoyed the society of his beloved; do not hurry - there is time enough."
Socrates said: "Yes, Crito, and they of whom you speak are right in so acting, for they think that they will be gainers by the delay; but I am right in not following their example, for I do not think that I should gain anything by drinking the poison a little later; I should only be ridiculous in my own eyes for sparing and saving a life which is already forfeit. Please then to do as I say, and not to refuse me."

lorem ipsum

2009-07-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

In web and print design, we use a block of text that we affectionality call "lorem ipsum". First used by an unknown printer in the 1500s, it is widely thought to be merely a space filler, a bunch of nonsense words that fill across the page in much the same fashion as real text. It helps typographers arrange their type and helps designers convey a sense of what a page will look like, without distracting people with the content.

Well, today I became curious about lorem ipsum, so I dug around a little and discovered that it isn't nonsense at all. In fact, it was crafted thousands of years ago by a very sensible and intelligent man indeed - none other than Cicero!

Our useful little lorem ipsum that pops up all over the web on unfinished pages, began its journey in 45 BC, when Cicero wrote "The Extremes of Good and Evil", or de Finibus Bonorum et Malorum. (My love of languages notes that 'finibus' is finishes in English, fin in French, fine in Italian, 'bonorum' is bon in French, bene in Italian, and 'malorum' implies malady, illness, male in Italian and bad in English.)

In all my dalliances over the years with Lorem ipsum, I never suspected that my 'nonsense tool' was in fact over two thousand years old. Now, I know that every time someone lorem ipsum-ates a page, I am looking at a most meaningul piece of text:

But I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system, and expound the actual teachings of the great explorer of the truth, the master-builder of human happiness. No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure, but because those who do not know how to pursue pleasure rationally encounter consequences that are extremely painful. Nor again is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain, but because occasionally circumstances occur in which toil and pain can procure him some great pleasure. To take a trivial example, which of us ever undertakes laborious physical exercise, except to obtain some advantage from it? But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain that produces no resultant pleasure?

http://www.lipsum.com/

la sabbia di una vita

2009-06-24T21:45:00.000-07:00

It's a long time between updates. This doesn't mean that nothing happens, rather that so much has been happening and I've been living it and loving it, rather than writing about it.

Winter has hit Perth since my last post. From my office I can watch the rain beat against the glass and bounce from the rooftops. The cold weather lets me draw my various coats around me and they are as warm as my new post-travel life. I wear high shoes to step through puddles and spend my money and time on things I don't need but greatly appreciate. I have new suits, new heels, new furniture and new friends.

The commonest events, the every day minutiae, they make life matter. Lately the commonest events have been evenings throwing balls for a dog at the beach while the sun drops out of the sky, warm scarves to combat the frigid air, parties with old old friends that turn into happy chaos, new curtains and sheets that transform my room, washing the dishes while someone kisses my neck, cutting fresh herbs from my own garden; all these things are the sand that fills the gaps in a life.

Lately, I'm full to the brim, and enjoying every minute of it.

Sunday Night Strobe Light

2009-04-12T21:56:00.000-07:00

I had been out at the pub with friends, driving not drinking. I'd spent half the night on the phone to various people, one in particular who was getting steadily more and more drunk each time we spoke. With the pubs closing at ten, there wasn't a lot on so we all meandered home, on a high but nowhere to take it.

My friend called again at 11 with a unique proposition: Sunday night, strobe light, music, living room dance floor. Laughing, I agreed to go.

I arrived to blaring music and an expertly made vodka cocktail. Peter Tosh was carving up the sound waves, reggae followed by old school punk, some Sade when we were running out of breath and needed to slow it down and rap when we wanted to show off our best moves. Many bands made an appearance that night in our living room concert, while a strobe light, long ago liberated from a local BP, sliced against our pupils and broke our dorky dance moves into robotic jerks. We were breathless with laughter, hitting the floor as the vodka hit us.

Pillow fight, laughter, ice cubes thrown at each other and songs started then skipped for something better, until finally Tchaikovsky sailed from the speakers and slowed our heartbeats to something less approaching insanity. We collapsed onto the couch, giggling at our own sillyness and wide-eyed with a child's surprise at what the world can throw your way on a lonely Easter Sunday, with the simple intervention of an iPod and a flashing light.

I've tottered in my mascara eyes and high heels to the clubs of London, Berlin, Spain and Japan, but even the brightest of Tokyo's city streets didn't compare to that silly night of bruising myself on living room furniture, in my thongs and a beach dress under a blue petrol station strobe.

Really Really Free Market Perth

2009-04-05T21:36:00.000-07:00

A typical Perth afternoon, sunshine and light breeze, grass dapple-patterned under huge Morton Bay Fig trees. The south west corner of Hyde Park was a hippy's paradise, with everything there for free.

The idea behind the free market is to foster a community of swapping, giving, helping each other out. It has that usual vibe you encounter at such events, of everyone being welcome, but vegetarians, vegans and those with incense-scented dreadlocks being the preferred clientele. But no matter, smiles were friendly and conversations with strangers were easily started and effortlessly continued.

The stage hosted several talks and discussions on whatever topics people wanted to raise. There was an hour or so of bongo drumming, various people coming and going, jamming together. Face painting took up one corner and clothes, books, zines and knick knacks jostled for prime viewing positions. There were even Popamatic Stress Relief Sheets... rebranded bubble wrap!

The best part was, as always, the food. The picnic blanket played host to platters of dip, mountains of bread, two giant pots of soup and innumerable biscuits, scones and nibbles.

I walked away with a pretty ceramic water vessel, complete with a sweet little wooden stand. I heard a girl say "what would you want one of those for" and I laughed at such a pointless question with such an obvious answer.

I had also collected some feminist zines, in which I discovered that the Gardasil vaccine is in fact a conspiracy by the patriarchal medical profession which is doing strange tests on women by injecting us with unsafe vaccines, a human trial to investigate whether they are safe enough for use on men. Because apparently men get cervical cancer too.

I love the air of these sorts of events. It's an intriguing insight into how various elements of society interact with each other. It's great that the take-it-too-far-feminists can have their rants, the born again vegans can offload their steak sauce, the booklovers can find new inspiration in someone else's cast offs and the artists can perform to an open minded audience.

With my zines, my ceramic and my free loaf of bread, I jumped into my friend's car and we went home, smiles sitting wide.

http://rrfmperth.blogspot.com/

And So They Were Wed

2009-03-29T08:12:00.000-07:00

The bride is a girl I've known most of my life. She used to hide behind her mother's skirt and it frustrated me because I wanted to play with her. Over the years, she grew into probably the loveliest girl I know; sweetly nervous but deservedly happy, the most gorgeous blue eyes and an ever present smile.

They've been together for 8 years, but I haven't met the groom many times. I've been busy living my city life and they live on the farm where my father was raised. I have met him enough times to feel that I know him and to be pleased that the happiness of such a good friend is safe in his hands, and that the house which holds so many treasured memories of my grandparents is safe on his farm. He speaks openly and he laughs often.

The day dawned darkly, clouds and spits of rain threatened from the skies, but lacked the will to stay for long and eventually retreated to make way for yellow light and fresh wind. We skuttled around in the bathroom, complaining about our make up skills, telling the boys if they wanted the shower they should have returned from golf sooner, giggling at each other's eyeliner lamentations. The bus was leaving at three so we jumped in the car with five minutes to spare and drove down the road, hopped on board, greeted our fellow guests and negotiated bag space with our better prepared mothers.

The churchyard was full of people I once knew but no longer recognised; I snuck quiet words with those who knew better and greeted old enemies like old friends, and old friends like new ones. We milled around, sunglasses and lipstick and kisses on the cheek until finally we were led inside and hushed by the organ.

Her dress was white, her tanned skin brushed by delicate lace and her glowing face framed by a high collar. A line of buttons down her back lay patiently waiting for the night's deep hours, when they would yield to the fingertips of her new husband. There was a train and I couldn't help but smile a tearily happy smile as it flowed around her all the way to the alter.

A hymn, prayers, some readings, but mostly just two happy people at the front of the church trying to say their vows loud enough for us to hear. We knew it was only really important that they were heard close, and that they came from somewhere beyond the voice. A bashful kiss, two signatures, hands clasped together and the endless click of cameras before they left the chapel. We followed to find the new wife standing in the courtyard greeting and hugging and kissing and looking delighted, relieved, beautiful. Her husband, with his dark hair winding around the breeze the way her dress wound around my feet, smiled his genuine, wide smile and stood by her.

A bus took us to a nearby winery and we drank the stars, champagne bubbles living up to their creator's mythical exclamation. My sister was across the room, radiant in her laughter and her achingly tender pose. My mother was close behind me and I realised she looks younger every time I see her - kids out of the nest she is enjoying life. I watched her dance with my father after the meal and the speeches were done and they spun their way around the floor, as enthusiastically as the 20 year olds and still glowing in each other's company as much as the day's newlyweds. I took dad's hand after their dances were done and we jived, dad's hands still the strongest and most reliable of any man I've known. Flung out of breath, we retired to the sideline and rested our way through the evening until midnight hit, the pumpkin coach appeared in the guise of a blue and white bus, and we wended our way through the dark raods of one of my favourite parts of the earth. In my bedroom, I dove under soft white sheets and dreamed my way towards the sunlight.

It wasn't my day, but it was a day in my life that I will forever remember fondly.

West Coast Wildlife Adventures

2009-03-28T22:08:00.000-07:00

People travel from all around the world to Monkey Mia, sitting high on Australia's west coast, where they get out of bed early in the morning to stand in a huge group of people and watch a bunch of dolphins swim around. It's nice enough but in the scheme of things, it really isn't a very special experience.

Special experiences are something you don't have to go far to find in WA, certainly not all the way to Monkey Mia.

On Friday morning I woke to the sun streaming in through my bedroom window and the breeze floating softly across my cheek, the wooden blinds that shade my window clicking softly against each other. I rolled out of bed, pulled on a bikini and grabbed my bag with sunscreen, hat and towel in it, then drove fifteen minutes north to The Beach Shack. A boat greeted me in the front yard, then a dog and finally his owner, my host. His sister followed soon afterwards, and throwing our stuff into the boat, we hooked it up and headed down the road to the boat launch. In less than an hour, I had left my bedroom and was floating across a gentle swell of aquamarine waters that turned deep blue, then red-gold as the coral spoor floated around us. We dropped anchor and took out the fishing rods.

The breeze, the sunlight, the golden coral spoor dusting the water's surface and the gentle tug of fish on a line - we relaxed, three people on a boat off a coast with nothing on our minds but the salt air.

After some floating and Rex Hunt style fish kissing (ok it sounds good but there was not actually any kissing) we headed back, cutting through the waves and slewing from side to side wet-dirt-road style. At Seal Island, we again dropped anchor and pulled out a beer each (11:45am, close enough to noon) then settled into our seats to watch the four seals sharing the tiny island.

We wanted to know what sound seals make, so our fisherman host's voice rang out across the water in the strange "ungh ungh" of sealspeak. We got the attention of a young seal who raised its head, then, doglike, jumped into the water and angled his way out to our boat, popping up in a spray of water and whiskers to say hello.

For almost fifteen minutes, our friendly seal ducked under the boat and surfaced on alternating sides, greeting all of us but always, in emphasis of his canine similarities, coming back to his favourite - the one who spoke Seal. We splashed the face of the seal, marvelled at his huge round eyes and soft furry pelt, jumped back in surprise when he popped up where he wasn't expected, hung over the boat when he was hiding from us, trying to catch a glimpse of his feet. He was playful and we could easily imagine him tossing around a ball, if only we had one.

Finally the game was over and we were left to the breeze and the beer. We ducked into the water, swimming and talking in breathless wonder about our luck at meeting such a social seal, before the Sealspeaker suddenly shouted in surprise and then burst into laughter as our friend surfaced loudly close behind him. I'm sure the seal would have laughed too if he could - instead he swam cheekily towards me and circled around us again as we all climbed out of the water, not entirely sure how tame our wild, big-teethed friend was.

In some of the world's most pristine waters, just south of one of Earth's most diverse and unspoiled coral reefs, on the coast of the world's most isolated capital city, an experience that people pay huge money for was given to us for the price of a few litres of fuel and three beers.

La vita e bella, qui in Australia.

La Via da Qui

2009-02-28T20:09:00.000-08:00

// The way from here.

I enjoyed writing my travel blog. It added a little creativity and thought into my time away and kept my brain ticking. In the spirit of the final post on that blog (thekaratrail.blogspot.com) I thought I would create this one to record all the little things that I come across at home - the little trails that may not go as far in distance but can take you as far in thought. Who knows where this blog will lead...