Update on Being Sick

There’s not too much report right now. After a week in bed with a really bad cold, I was in bed for about two more weeks with amoebas battling it out with my GI tract. I will simply say, being sick in a foreign country without anyone around me sucks. Lots.

I got out only a few times while I was sick.

One time was for an evening where I gave a talk about the history of toilets to a large group of nerdy expats in a fancy bar (I stuck to ginger ale). I shared with them my desperate plea for everyone to wash their hands and use the toilet always because of my amoebic afflictions and joked about Thomas Crapper and other fun trivial facts about toilets. People loved the talk and came up to tell me this before I uncomfortably made my way to the bathroom. Despite my abdominal discomfort, the praise was nice while I continue tackling complications with my health and research project (far too many complications to mention in a blog post...also, too discouraging for me to want to explain cogently).

Another time I left my bed, right before I made a second trip to the doctor for more stomach medication, I went for a little walk around one of the parks near the Riverside area of Phnom Penh. It was just after sunset when as I walked slowly down the boulevard, and the air was cooler. I heard a thudding of modern electronic pop music in the park and looked around to see a few lines of people dancing in relative unison with a semi-choreographed jig. I kept walking and came across another group of line dancers, this time mostly young adult men (with some young adult women), bouncing and bounding to the music coming out of the big speakers. I didn’t know it then, but apparently this is a normal ritual for physical activity in the city. It was a lot of fun to see them, but I winced at the idea of joining them in any active movements other than my slow stroll.

I also went out for a few hours to go to a Reiki circle with a great group of local practitioners. I loved getting to know some people through my preferred method of meditation, even if only an hour or so. The group helped me feel more supported than I have felt since I got to Phnom Penh. I don’t mean that my friends and family elsewhere are not supportive (they have been very much so there for me), but it is a different feeling to have people physically with me and being supportive. I really needed that.

I have figured out that there are four types of foreigners here in Cambodia:

• Tourists – People who are in hotels and passing through within a few days or weeks
• Short-term expats – Like me, who stay only for a few months for research or a consulting gig
• Long-term expats – People who have a year or two of a contract here, then leave
• Lifers – People who move here for an undetermined amount of time and stay for over 2 or 3 years

Being a short-term expat, it is hard for me to figure out my place. I’m here too long to feel inclined to partake in most tourist activities, yet I’m not here long enough for building meaningful friendships, which I want/need. I have a few friends here, of course, and those people are wonderful and fun to talk with, when we have time to see each other (and are well enough). And I rent desk space at the incubator Impact Hub so I can be around other people more often; I enjoy getting to socialize with the group of researchers and entrepreneurs when I work there every few days. But, I had been sick for about 3 weeks and did not really see many people during that time. Those few weeks have definitely taken its toll on my overall pleasant outlook.

I really do like Phnom Penh, and I am not feeling dread staying here like I did in another place I lived in the past. That said, I look forward to being home with supportive loved ones for a while, and being able to eat a gluten free fudgy brownie.

Siem Reap (Welcome to Cambodia)

Marion and I landed in Siem Reap and were punched in the face with heat. We both had read that Cambodia would be hot, but after the cool (and often cold) climate in Myanmar, we were shocked with just how hot Cambodia is (and it’s only “winter” here). I’ll be here for a while, so I took an internal note that I would have to endure the heat for a long time. We were layered in DEET because of the intense mosquitos and the lingering threat to malaria/dengue fever/chikungunya.

We found our tuktuk driver outside of the terminal and began sweating our way to our guesthouse in Siem Reap.

Siem Reap was a fun and strange initiation into Cambodia, as it is heavily tourist-centric and brimming with foreigners with nice cameras walking through souvenir shops, and expensive backpacks on travelers drinking in bars. Tourists are watched and solicited by tuktuk drivers on every corner, waiting eagerly for some business. Fancy restaurants that look like they are cut out of the streets of Manhattan welcome tourists into air-conditioned comfort. Lounge bars with artistic lighting and plush couches were crammed on the streets. Organic soap shops battle for space with spas and artisanal market spaces, selling goods in strictly USD and speaking good English. It is still clearly a developing country, but it felt like a strange mix of poverty and Disneyland when we walked around.

We had been warned before coming that the abject poverty in the area was depressing and visible, but I was surprised how contained it seemed to be. I had expected to be overwhelmed by begging of all ages, including children for milk (as a lot of tourists have described this phenomenon), but it was not nearly as bad as I had worried. Sure, there were shacks in some places, some naked children running around tourists at bigger jungle temples, some unpleasant smells of poor sanitation, and some beggars here and there, but it was not unbearable to me. Maybe I am too used to the signs of poverty because of my travels and work.

Our trip was not for partying and fraternizing with fellow foreigners; we were there to take in the sights of Angkor Wat and the surrounded ancient Khmer temples. If we hadn’t had our fill of temples in Bagan, we were completely saturated with temples in Siem Reap. Temples are everywhere and gorgeous, just like in Bagan, only completely different in design and architecture and meaning. Hundreds (Thousands?) of years ago, the area had a slow mixing and evolution: from the original beliefs in Animism to Hinduism; then, Hinduism dominating yet cohabiting peacefully with Buddhism; and finally, to Buddhism taking the lead in religious appreciation. The temples, even the main Angkor Wat, had evolved with the beliefs, and Hinduism was mixed and substituted with Buddhism in ways that I only understood by reading a tour book while walking through. The different marriage of religions in the temples renewed my interest in temples for a little bit, and I was fascinated to explore the bas-reliefs. Some of the jungle temples were part ruins (or all ruins) as well, making it particularly mystical and romantic to walk through.

We woke up one morning at 4 AM to get into a tuktuk and join the long parade of tourist tuktuks going to Angkor Wat. We all wanted to get to the temple in time to nab a spot before the other tourists could obstruct our views of the sunrise. With a few hundred tourists all having the same idea, this was a futile effort for most; fortunately, we were early enough to grab a sitting space right on the water, while the other tourists filled in the back of us. It was an annoying few hours of darkness, though, with camera flashes going off in the darkness in vain, blinding us for a few seconds, and the flashlights that never let us truly experience a starry darkness. I was also sad to see almost everyone’s faces tilted down, dimly lit with the glow of smartphones, instead of just being there and enjoying the fact that the sun was slowly rising above one of the most wondrous temples on the planet. I am not completely immune to the lure of the smartphone, but I am able to put it down, especially for experiences like that. Once the sun started coming up, some people looked up to enjoy the silhouette of the temple backlit with the rich and changing colors in the sky.

We visited many temples so it is hard for me to remember all of the names and descriptions, but my favorite was definitely Bayon, with the massive faces smiling peacefully on each side of the temple towers. We climbed to the top of the temple to get a better view of the faces; they were beautiful. The faces were hacked out of the stone after the construction of the temple, making it all the more impressive to me. I mean, someone had to stand up on some kind of ladder for days/weeks/months pounding away at rocks to make smooth godlike faces, times FOUR.

I also really liked Ta Phrom (also known lovingly by tourists and tuktuk drivers as the TombRaider temple). The Wat is in ruins, so it was difficult to get around the place without crawling on big rocks or ducking into a little hole. What was so cool about this temple, though, was how massive trees had taken over the area and had woven themselves into the rocks of the ruins, making the ruins look like something out of LOTR (or, I guess maybe TombRaider).

We tried to get through the temple tours early in the morning because of the unbearable midday heat. I napped in the afternoons once we were done stumbling through old places. We reemerged from our cool room in the evenings to eat good meals and meander through the Night Markets and Pub Street.

We also got a few massages that were quite good from a local spa. I am a very delicate creature, and most of the time massages hurt me more than help. I did get a head massage at this place, though, that felt amazing.

After few days into our Siem Reap, we got ourselves into a minivan with a number of other Cambodians. In the van, we took the 5-hour trek through the drought-ridden countryside, and into Phnom Penh. Here Marion would be leaving me in a few days, while I stay around for some research.

Last Week in Bangkok

In my last week in Bangkok I had a pretty horrible day. I won’t get into the details of everything that went wrong, but I’ll tell you one of the long, drawn-out stories from the day. It wasn’t anything particularly telling about the city of Bangkok's character; instead, it was more about having a lot to do in a place where I was still not completely comfortable yet and not fluent in the language.

It started after a Thai language class, when I needed to go to the Cambodian Embassy to get an extended visa for my upcoming trip. My teacher had told the cab driver a specific address to smooth the communication and get me more easily to the embassy. About an hour or so of being stuck in the ever-stagnant traffic of Bangkok, we finally got to the address my teacher had supplied, which ended up being on the opposite side of town (one of the numbers was confused in the location, I think). Instead, my cab driver was trying to drop me off at a local hospital on a dirt road somewhere I didn’t know. Frustrated, I got the correct coordinates for the driver and, both aggravated, drove through traffic for another 45 minutes to get to the embassy. 

Of course the embassy was closed by the time I got there. (Don't worry, I got there the next day and everything was settled.)

If you know me in person, you probably know that I am not someone who hides my emotions well when feeling things. Steam was coming out of my ears and I was thinking about getting a little cry out while on the streets of Bangkok in front of the Cambodian Embassy. Sweetly, the motorcycle drivers around me rushed over to try to help me feel better; some offered cigarettes, one gave me his seat, and others offered to get me some water. I finally realized I just wanted to be back at Lorena’s place and sulk for the rest of the day, and asked for one of the drivers to ride me home.

Something about Bangkok to know – motorcycle guys have zoned areas when it comes to their business. In some organized way, motorcycle taxis are permitted to work within a certain area, and understand to not go beyond those areas. My place was easily a 30-minute car ride through Bangkok to get to from where I was at the moment, and very much so out of this area's zone by a lot. One guy agreed to take me, still, and took off his orange taxi shirt and agreed. He took a pretty big risk to bring me home, and for that I am grateful he was able to bring a weepy girl home.

The ride, however, was terrifying. He sped through the streets and cut into parking lots to help save time. He also got on the highway and rode 80km/h, weaving between the cars flying off of every bump. Though I had a helmet, I clung onto him for dear life. I thought to myself, this was possibly the stupidest thing I could have done in my life. I was sure I was going to fall off of the seat and meet my demise on the roads of Bangkok. Thankfully, I got home safely, though shaking.

I failed to mention that the driver also held the motorcycle handlebars with only one hand because he had tried to hold one of my desperately-clutching hands while he drove. I felt the dread a woman can feel when in need of help from a guy and know that they’re trying to make something more out of it. I couldn’t change the situation because I was praying to get home safely, but I told him to drop me off a bit further away from the apartment just in case, so he couldn't follow me. He got off of his bike and kissed my hand a bit too enthusiastically (and tried to kiss me while I was walking away), and confessed my beauty and his love for me (after a 30-minute bike ride I’m not sure how that was possible). He asked to call and kiss me multiple times as I slowly inched away towards the complex. Precipitously, that day at class I had asked how to say “I have a partner” in Thai ("mii fan") and I repeated it until he finally rode of disappointed. I tiredly and weepily ran into Lorena’s place, and felt so completely spent and dejected that poor Lorena came home with a bunch of sweet bananas for my sad (emotional) consumption all night.

But my time in Bangkok has ended for the time being, and I feel like it requires a final note before I move on. Overall, I like Bangkok quite a lot. Aside from the overbearing humidity and heat (that I got used to), and aside from the oppressive pollution, I could stay in Bangkok for a while. I feel like that is a place that, like NYC, takes years to understand without simply scraping the surface of commonly visited areas. I’m not sure I would feel alright with staying there for the long term because of some cultural differences, but Bangkok is cosmopolitan enough that I felt comfortable there. Also, the food really is fantastic. I look forward to seeing it again.

But I'm in Myanmar now, which is a different story.

Ageing in Queensland

I have a bigger post to write about my last trip – to industry-filled Gladstone in Central Queensland. But first I have to get this off of my chest: I am realizing that I am getting old.

Over the weekend I went to see a movie (Paper Towns, if you must know). The theater Colorado Meg, Bangkok Roshni, and I go to is a cinema not known for its pristine seats and clean interior. $6.50 per student ticket makes the grime and grease well worth it for us poor students trying to entertain ourselves responsibly.

I got into the ticket line and noticed a swarm of teenagers in front of me, taking up two lines. Being confused, I went up to ask one of the kids, “Sorry, are you in the queue here?” I felt the group straighten up a bit and quiet down. The kid looked down and slid out of my way, “No ma’am! Sorry!”

Ma’am?

But the biggest shock was a few weeks ago. My upstairs neighbors are definitely young college students who are having a blast in their fancy apartment-away-from-home. They throw a lot of parties. The days don’t really matter to them, either.

One Thursday they decided it was a particularly good day to party with their friends. I was hearing elephants dancing and girls squealing for a few hours, and I thought to myself, “Don’t be the jerk who tells them to stop. They’ll seek revenge on you. Don’t be a jerk!” So I tried to deal with it, mildly intimidated that they’d try to fight with me about it, or get indignant. In my head, I was seeing them as my equals.

Midnight came and went, and they were still zoo animals while I tried desperately to rest for the morning commute to work. I became fed up.

“This is bloody Brisbane! They should either be at a club in the Valley, or sound asleep! There are noise codes!”

I resolved to go upstairs and nicely ask them to turn it down. I feared I’d end up getting in an unwanted fight or get some attitude I dreaded, but I craved sleep. I tiredly trudged up the staircase to their door. I knocked.

When I knocked, I heard a pause and a fast rustle of items behind the door. Someone opened the door, and another guy came to me, with a look of horror in his eyes. I saw in the corner people see me and hide behind walls and under counters. The place reeked of old vodka and freshly-smoked pot. I saw a terrified anemic girl sitting on a beanbag chair behind the guy.

“Hey guys, can you turn it down? I have work in the morning and can here absolutely everything you’re doing up here. Thanks.”

“Yes ma’am! So sorry!” “Yeah, so sorry! Sure thing!” “Have a good night, sorry!” And the door closed, and I slowly turned around and walked back to my bed.

I was stunned. Why did they look so scared? Why were they so compliant? That’s not like college kids…..OH MY GOD I AM THE SCARY OLDER NEIGHBOR! They saw me as that older woman they try not to upset because she could tell their parents or something. I looked like the older grumpy neighbor. They did not see me as an equal, but as someone to FEAR! This terrified me – I thought I was still young and fun?! When did my age become clear on my face? 

Am I that grumpy old lady people talk about during brunch??

Luckily they did quiet down and I got some rest for work.

Homesick, Perhaps

I have really been enjoying studying in low-key and quiet Brisbane. The area’s peaceful lifestyle has made my learning experience much more enjoyable than my previous degrees in NYC. Why? Because I can simply tune out the world while I’m writing large papers and not feel like I’m missing out on life. In NYC, that nagging guilt for not enjoying the city to the fullest while studying was constant.

It has been said on many occasions, though, that Brisbane is not the most thrilling city in the world. 

The most prominent attractions in the city revolve around nature hikes (only during the daytime) and the growing urban foodie culture. Most non-food activities and events are restricted by limited engagements, like a festival’s weekend presence, or its unreasonable distance from/through public transport.

This did not bother me during the semester because I was busy working on assignments and learning. I had a packed schedule of classes and homework.

The last two weeks, though, I have led my life with the lack of schedule only had when unemployed and/or on school holiday. Because of this, I have truly felt the absence of activities that NYC’s constant running list of (vibrant and diverse) options used to keep me interested. My habitual aimless wanders in NYC are not easily accomplished here because things are spread out over a large stretch of hilly land and patched with shops that close early (I’m talking 6pm). Whatever options are available are pretty expensive because, well, I am in Australia.

Brisbane is a cool city when you have a car because the fun things are accessible more easily and less at the mercy of a changing bus schedule and long hikes from stations. I do not have a car (read that as I do not want and cannot afford); exploring and finding fun things to do can be pretty unreasonable. The bus system works, but I get carsick, and getting from one place to the other can take an hour in the buses (to compare, driving would only take 20 minutes). 

I sorely miss the NYC subway system, since I could easily read a book while getting from any Point A to Point B situation. Just the other day I wanted to go to a novel salt therapy spa I found through Groupon – it took over an hour to make my way 8 miles, and consequently I won’t likely return despite how much I enjoyed it (it was great).

This all has been teaching me how to cope with less – something I never really had to learn in a city with a revolving list of free events. Entertaining myself is taking more effort and research, and I am having to accept more quiet evenings with just my laptop, my books, and me. Other hobbies cost money I’m not able to sacrifice with my budget or travel times that still seem unreasonable; running hurts too much with my painful arthritic feet (thanks, ballet).

I have to admit that it has not been the easiest transition. Don't get me wrong - I still like Brisbane and think it is a pretty town with great people.  I just am currently feeling a bit homesick for NYC and my active lifestyle.

I am finding I am more easily pleased with whatever I do manage to do, luckily. Petting a puppy while walking to the bus can my day a great success. There is a fundraiser book festival happening this weekend, and I excitedly combed the massive and full tables in the huge convention center for a heap of books to bring home that will keep me company. I may even go back tomorrow.

I missed a big event to tour a newly-opening highway tunnel, and I felt partially devastated that I was unable to go.

In some ways it feels like the universe is working on me in a way so I could be happy living in a quieter area outside of my beloved NYC. To show me that suburbia doesn’t have to be a death sentence – a belief I’ve held onto firmly for the last fifteen years. I have not let go of that belief yet, but I can start seeing that maybe it’s not as fatal as I have felt before.

But if you know of any fun free/affordable activities in Brisbane I don't know about, do share!!!

Medical Hiccups

It's been a while. I've been finishing up my semester and have been pulled away from self reflection and adventure writing. Instead, I've been writing for long assignments that have been coming and going in my life as if through an ever-revolving door that might be spinning a bit too quickly.

But I'm back, for now.

The first story that I can share since coming back from the darkness that is the school library is about medical shenanigans that happened recently.

Let's just start this off by saying I am shocked how much I currently miss the American medical system. Not specifically the amount of money I have to shell out to get care or the mind-numbing loop holes US insurance companies have to back out of payments - of course I don't miss that! What I do miss is knowing exactly where to go should I need some good quality services now-ish.

I should note as a disclaimer that most of these experiences here have been inside the university health services center. That said, it's been a pretty rough go of it for a few weeks.

I woke up one day with some part of my body swollen and clearly not right a few weeks ago. Being a diligent and impatient New Yorker, I ran to the student health center as soon as it opened and got in with a doctor to check it out. I was put in with a guy who kind of mumbled and swabbed the area for testing and sent me home with low-strength antibiotics and an anti-fungal cream, scheduled to come in the next week for results. Perplexed though I was about having antibiotics and anti-fungal at the same time, yet ever-obedient, I took the medication like a champ for the next few days.

A couple of days later, my swollen self was looking (and feeling) worse. Unfortunately it was the weekend, and I live in a place where none of the medical offices here are open beyond the 9-5 drudgery of the week. My sources tell me that urgent care options have only entered Brisbane in the last year or so. Desperate, I called a home-visit doctor service and waited for four hours until a doctor showed up and quickly decided that my antibiotics were too weak for the infection and that anti-fungal cream was clearly a mistake. He recommended I take a double dose of what was left of the antibiotics. The antibiotic cream the home-visit doctor gave me worked like a charm, and I wondered why I wasn't given that before.

I get back to the university doctor for my results and things start unraveling. First of all, he made an awful lot of comments about the American health system, flipping from why his analysis must be right because he's using American products to why the American system is not up to snuff and why I should be grateful I'm getting medical advice in Australia. This has left me thinking he's got some dark past with some American lady who's left him with many therapy visits to feel better.

I won't get into the details of the ordeal, but let's just say he knowingly gave me an inadequate amount of medicine and told me in a very candid way that the test results indicated that I might have some health problem that would need further investigation (not exactly like I need more health problems in my life). He also told me information about this potential health problem that I know from research is offensively incorrect. To make it worse, I now had a whole week ahead of me to be worried about my health and lament not being able to call my doctors in the US about what was happening to me and get information I can trust....and during finals.

So I requested more in-depth blood tests (which probably should have been his idea) and was leeched of a few vials of blood. Feeling uncomfortable with this doctor, I requested at the front desk to be put with a female doctor next time to talk things through, which seemed to confuse the appointment receptionist. I came out pretty upset and irritated with that doctor. I also found out this guy specializes in Men's Health...so I'm not entirely sure why I was put in the same room with him at all in general.

Yesterday I went back in for the blood tests. The doctor I had originally seen, despite requesting another doctor, was given to me once again and I politely hid my inner rage of having to see him again. The guy, unsurprisingly, took the first half of the 10-minute consultation to stare at the computer screen without addressing me. I requested a print-out of my results so I could share the time in silent contemplation with him, which seemed like a great idea to him. I peered down at my test results to see everything in the clear....I am free of syphilis and Hepatitis and a bunch of other fun things he ordered for testing. Except, he hadn't ordered the initial blood test that was the whole reason my blood was taken. I asked him what happened, and he looked around saying, "Oh, I just assumed they would have tested for that. Oh well, I'll call the lab to see if they've some blood left for testing."

Now I have to email next week for the results I have already been waiting over a week for, from a doctor who seems to lack bedside manor skills in the worst way. And I now have anecdotal evidence that (alongside my experience at NYU) absolutely no student health center in the world will ever be able to adequately serve me and my high-maintenance body correctly

All of this is to say is that, aside from the student health center I have no idea where in Australia I can go get a doctor who can give me the service and support I need to feel healthy and comfortable while I'm here. I don't have the public health insurance option, so most places I'd have to pay for consultations. I don't like the feeling of uneasiness I get when trying to figure out if I can go to doctors here, and who can take care of my special needs well. And also, who will recognize me as in need of Women's Health, not Men's Health. I'll be trying a new clinic next week that is near my home and pay a little bit of money to see if they're a better option for my sad, sad body.

In NYC, I know exactly where to go when I feel unwell and know that I won't have to come into the office three times for one issue, unless it's chronic. I won't even need to come into the office for test results, as they're digitally sent to me. I asked the doctor at the university why things weren't digitized here, and he snarkily said, "Well, if we did that you'd have to pay as much here as you do in the US!"

Don't worry, though - my other upcoming posts will be a lot more cheerful.

Housing Drama: Resolved

Busy assignments and long days of classwork aside, this has been quite a rough week.

I had my first negative experience with an Aussie here. It manifested as a crazy roommate situation where I had to move out right away. Don't worry, I have moved into a new place today that is safe and quiet and not too far from where my last place was. With sane roommates.

The roommate fiasco definitely put a damper on my experience here in Australia for the last week. I really started to question my life decisions and if this was all a good idea or not. I was wondering if I am on the wrong path because some stranger did not like how I cleaned his kitchen. Strangest to me was that not even a week before the same stranger was planning road trips we could share with each other. He even offered me Valium (much to my shock) - I politely declined.

The most aggravating part is that the whole situation blew up on the very day I had a big interview with a higher education institution for a teaching job, and I am almost certain that it made me mess up the interview. I had been crying for a good part of the day during class. Once I had gotten to the interview, I had a puffy face and feeling pretty devastated about life, and I was supposed to put on a good show for an employer. I may have sounded overly interested in the teaching position. Perhaps I didn't express myself very well. In any case, I have not heard back since.

But I also am unsure how comfortable I was with the general layout of the interview. It was an extremely casual interview to me; they did not ask me questions about my qualifications or my best qualities. Instead, it was more about logistics. Having had a bad day and really liking the idea of being stable in at least employment, I of course tried to push the American style of interviewing and explained my awesomeness to the two interviewers excessively....but that might have been what made it not go so well. Now I know.

Despite the traumas, my most pleasant surprise during super-stressful week was the support I found in my classmates. There are 18 of them and are all from different parts of the planet - from Australia to Zambia. But our different backgrounds didn't seem to matter this week. Every single classmate took time to see how I was doing and offered any help they could muster between classes and studying. Some gave me phone numbers of landlords in need of tenants, some searched for rooms for me, and some even offered couches for my temporary placement. Many offered to help me move out of my bad situation and rough up a few idiots should it be needed. It's felt like I've found a great reserve of lifelong friends who have been there for me for ages only this week. I am feeling so glad that I joined this program, even if just for the people.

I ended up taking one of the classmates on her couch offer for a couple days. Kyle and her boyfriend (Chris) helped me move my heavy bags of things out and in apartments (7 minutes each time) and let me crash on their futon while I hunted frantically for a new place. Chris looked around all macho and ready to fight for me, which was both amusing and humbling. I think I owe them my first born. Or at least a lot of meals.

And living with them was actually fun! They are simply two wonderful and humorous people, and I am so glad I got to hang out with them more, even if it was brief.

But now I am really understanding the important of having a home really is. Having moved about four times over the last 2 months has been exhausting, and I am actually starting to consider having a home where my things can stay put forever. Even when I travel. I cannot believe I just said that.

Little Things...and a Forecast Fear

I've been asked for another blog post about my adventures here, after a two-day hiatus. The problem is...there really hasn't been too much going on. As a dashing lawyer in CT has said to me reassuringly, not every day is about wild adventure. I've been applying for casual jobs here and there, and I have been napping. I've gone out with the water ladies, but we are really trying more to get a feel for the area still than go on some incredible journey. This will be our home for the remainder of the year, after all.

Tuesday Denise and I went onto the CityCat ferry and aimed for a town called Tenneriffe. It seems like a pretty quiet and pleasant area. There, I saw a strange sculpture of a ewe posing with a handbag. The building behind it has the words "Woolstores" hanging on top. I gather this area, when it was more a rural backwater, was a wool manufacturing (read as: farming) area. It isn't a wool area anymore, though; the building was converted to apartments a while ago. The whole area seems pretty residential, aside from the construction garages and boutique offices speckled around on the streets.

We ended up going to a little corner cafe to get lunch. You know, I've heard complaints that (compared to NYC food) restaurants here aren't that great. I'm not sure I believe this -  every meal I've had out in a restaurant (all 3 of them) has been excellent! Here, we shared a salad and corn fritters with bacon, and it was pretty delectable. The bacon was generous and crispy, the corn fritters were actually good, and the salad was refreshing. And the portions were massive! For the cost, especially.

Anyways, we ended up getting lost for a few hours in an area that was either New Farm or Fortitude Valley. Fortitude Valley, should you need to know, is apparently where the wild nightlife of Brisbane takes place, and has a few seedy places as a result (so I don't really plan on spending much time over there). Apparently it has shops as well. We did find an RSPCA thrift shop and enjoyed looking around the books on display; I know now where to go when I need nicer stuff on a student budget.

Yesterday, the water ladies and I met up to enjoy the Museum of Brisbane in City Hall. There is a river exhibit there about the history of the watery snake that splits the city up into separate pockets and reaches (pockets are where the land turn into peninsulas; reaches are where the land curves around the peninsulas). Once again, the short timeline on city history confused me a bit. Most everything that has happened here has been photographed in some way!

We did learn that the Aborigines would paddle/wade to cross the river with spears between their legs, in preparation for crocodiles. So that was fun.

They also had a Hollywood in Brisbane exhibit, which displayed a healthy amount of costumes that were worn in movies from the Golden Age. This was a bit baffling to me as well - Australia hosts Hollywood costumes? Apparently they were gifted by a private collector in Brisbane. Good on him? The costumes were pretty and well made.

We reserved a time to go up the City Hall tower to admire the clocks in the tower. We got to ride an old elevator and check out the square from about 10 stories up.

Other than that, I've been trying to find a face soap that successfully scraping the excess oils on my summery skin, and trying not to freak out about the upcoming cyclone expected to hit Brisbane later tonight. They're forecasting pretty significant flooding. I'm really anxious about it, since the place where I'm supposed to be moving in tomorrow is right in a flood-prone area. Think, right on the water. I'm very much biting my nails from nervousness, and praying it all works out. Because I am not sure what to do if it doesn't.

Fauna & Flora

Today's big event was meeting up with a friend of a friend's for a while. She introduced me to the city's free river ferry service, and I got to tug up the river with her for an hour or so as she pointed out different city areas and points of interest from our seats. It was a really lovely ride - the two riverbanks teeming with life that hug the river banks are fascinating to watch change and alter as the boat skims the water. The river's meandering really come to life when you're actually on the water because one second the CBD is right in front of you and disappears behind you, only to reappear in front of you again when you make it around a large bend.

While we walked around we discussed the wildlife (both fauna and flora) in the area. This place really is quite wild, and Australians (or, at least Brisbanites) like to keep it that way. Trees are protected with stone walls to cover the bases, and animals have a whole slew of rights that actually surprised even me (because of the Nature Conservancy Act of 1992, if you're curious).

For example, it is a major offense if you kill any animals. At all. No killing lizards trespassing in your house, or potentially lethal snakes that might take your backyard hostage. They talk about these things on the news here. I've heard a story of a guy who found a python in his garage, and the authorities informed him that he must keep an eye on the python (KEEP AN EYE ON IT?!) until the Snake Removal Services came and coaxed the massive thing out of his house. Killing it would have put him in some major trouble. Also, a logger recently accidentally killed a koala sitting in a tree he felled. It's a common occurrence in logging, apparently, Welp, those people have to pay major fines for it, and can lose their jobs as a result.

There are also these curious trees called Moreton Bay Fig Tree. These things are pretty large, and the branches end up growing back down to the ground and become roots (Apparently those are called aerial root shoots). They end up looking kind of like a forest of trees instead of one tree with exposed roots. They're around the parks here a lot, and I'm fascinated. Similarly, there's a tree here that shoots straight up, and the pollinated seeds are at the very tippity-top of its tall body. The tree ends up rotting and falls to the ground at some time, planting only then the seed on the top where it falls. As Miami Dave says, it is kind of like the tree walks over time.

The new friend and I ended up walking around South Bank, and I got a small cup of ice cream. It was almost $7 for the thing! I choked a bit while I counted the cash. Luckily it was creamy and delicious, so the splurge wasn't so bad. If you care to know, it was nitrogenized ice cream - they make a creamy custard, and mix it up with dry ice! It comes out smooth like gelato and has less ingredients as other ice creams.

At the end of the day, though, things are expensive here. Like ice cream. And the rest of the food one buys for a week. And the bus cards. And car petrol. And electricity. Shall I keep going? I ran errands earlier this morning, and swallowed hard when I found out face soap would cost me $12 for a small bottle. I spent 10 minutes in front of the sunblocks debating which one was more cost effective. I am grabbing every discount card I come across  (I've currently counted 5 in my wallet). I'm used to having a salary and buying things that I like...even splurging...but here? I am going to have to be extremely careful (even stingy!) with my cash.

Last thought: It's always difficult feeling sick in a foreign country. I might get annoyed with American healthcare and gripe about the cost of medicine, but I always know where to go and what to do if I don't feel well. I know I'm over-generalizing a very complicated topic here (I'm not going to get involved in that larger discussion), but it's just easier to feel more comfortable at home. Kenyan Peter and I were talking about this a few days ago; it's simply nicer to feel sick in your home country. If you need a doctor in a foreign country, it can get very stressful as you hunt for a "good" doctor. In your home country, you can go to just about anyone because you know generally what you're getting, no matter what. Even with medicine can be concerning because options vary between countries. In the US, I head straight to the aisle where I can buy the product I know works for me. Elsewhere? It's a learning process with trial and error, which you really don't want to manage when you feel gross.

I mention this because I have a stomach ache from something I cooked earlier today, and I am rationing my Rolaids in case I can't figure out an option in Brisbane soon.

Meet the Funders

So apparently not ALL Brisbanites are early risers. Last night I got home around 11:30pm from hanging out with some of the part-time students in my program over (a delicious Turkish) dinner in the West End. Everyone was so welcoming and friendly! That's one word with which I would describe here: FRIENDLY!

But let's rewind a bit. My morning started with meeting my funders. My education here is fully funded by the International Water Centre (IWC), and I went into CBD to their office to meet these people responsible for helping me with this program. I sat down nervously in their conference room and waited with a fellow scholar from Malaysia named Denise. We waited and talked together about housing and our pre-departure freak outs. Ah, and! she's around my age!

Quick note; I was concerned that I would be the oldest person in my masters program here...but that is not the case at all! If anything, I'm on the younger end. I rather like being surrounded by older people, so yay!

About five IWC employees came over to greet us - a rainbow of nationalities (Aussie, American, British, French, Japanese). They sat down and started talking almost immediately about which areas are more fun to live in and how to not get screwed by slumlords (yes, even Brisbane has those). It took me a few minutes to register that these five people were, in fact, my funders. So casual and kind were these people, cracking jokes with us and talking about poo, I almost felt compelled to ask them if they really were the people who just threw a lot of money at me (I was expecting more official legalities here).

And that is something I'm learning about this place: everyone, no matter the occasion, is laid back. Just got an email saying, "Yeah alright you're good to go"? You might have just won a scholarship. Did someone say to you "Sure see you next week"? You might have just landed an apartment (more on that in a bit). The casual setting is something that I am not used to at all - us Americans like to have things in writing and official with stamps and lawyers and everything, right? But I've been told to get used to this, as I feel my neurotic controlling tendencies creep up my back.

The funders chatted with us about housing and about the layout of the program. The format of our masters is pretty different than most masters; it's more like a series of intensive workshops throughout the semester while we work on our piece de resistance. There may not be a consistent schedule because of the material and the experts who are teaching us are coming in from all different places all over. In fact, the only consistent thing about the program will be our classroom, which is a single room for about 50 of us (23 full time students) stationed somewhere in the UQ campus.

The funder folks were enthusiastic about my interests in researching WASH, and encouraged me to keep in contact with other universities for my final research project. They also told us they were 100% there to serve and help us throughout the program. We were offered coffee shop talks whenever, connections to organizations for networking, and a lot of support. A lot of support. LOTS. Think phone numbers coupled with the phrase, "If you need anything. Really." At this moment, I'm really glad I signed onto this program.

Afterwards, I went house hunting some more. Again with the casual aspect of the culture here, I texted someone to confirm I wanted to rent their (very nice) place, and his response was "k, c u next week then". I stared blankly at the text message for a while. Did I get the place? Doesn't he need to finalize words officially with me? No stamp? Again?? Those I've met agree that yes, I have the place. But I'm used to something a bit more. I'm not that casual.

Similarly, I'm not worried...but people here allude that I might be often. Whenever I thank someone for anything, the response is, "no worries." It always halts me, and I do a quick internal check if I seem worried. Am I worried? I know, some Americans use this term as well...but I always feel a bit lost. Should I reply with, "Don't worry, I'm not"? I think it goes back to the casual culture here, but I still want them to know that I'm not worried. But I am worried that they think I'm worried.

In other realizations, people here seem to genuinely want to help. I handed my dying cellphone to some cashier at a corner store near the restaurant for charging while I went to dinner. Right after I released my clutch, I reflected that in most places in the US that would have been coined a "really stupid move". I mean, it could be gone by the time I return. Here, though? I don't think that the guy was fathoming doing something like that at all. So while he charged my phone I conversed with fellow students about America's confusing gun policies and racism. And when I came back it, he handed my phone back like it was the Grail or something.

Before meeting up for dinner, I sat on the riverbank and enjoyed the sunset over the tree-lined waterway. It was really peaceful; everything here is calm and relaxed. I breathed and realized I didn't really feel the anxiety with which I came here. I think I'll be just fine. Except with this whole sun thing....it's really intense.

Final note: I either have a big spider bite, or a heat/sun rash on my arm currently. It's about two quarters long and one quarter wide, and it is a red welt that itches and burns a bit. Any medical readers out there? I do know that my skin needs more sunblock than I've been using because other parts of my arms are getting mildly rashy. All good and fun!

On Corruption and Double Standards

It was bound to happen someday. I tried very hard to avoid writing about it, but I have to. Corruption. It's everywhere. I know, I know, what else is new, Kim? But I don't think I'm talking about the kind of corruption most people think about.

My Ugandan colleague always shouts out, "This is corruption!" Whether it's someone taking an extra chip off of a plate, or it's someone who didn't answer her after she asks them something. It's all very tongue in cheek. As I am.

Anyways, I'm talking about the corruption in the people.

While, yes, there is always corruption on a more institutional level, people in their daily lives exude corruption on a very subliminal level. And it all boils down to one word: Sorry.

Sorry sorry. Oh, sorry.

Why I Don't Want to Be an Aid Worker

I'll stick to this kind of aid, methinks.

I was walking home today from Woodlands, the neighborhood convenient store, thinking about a lot on my mind. The big thing that has been so incredible to realize on this trip, for me, has been the fact that I think I don't actually want to do the thing that I thought I wanted to do in life, anymore.

I don't want to be an aid worker.

I don't know...maybe that will change in time someday. Maybe one day further into life I'll wake up and realize that is actually what would serve my highest good. But for now (and I am pretty sure for a good amount of future) aid work is not on my list of things to do anymore. It's funny, how it was kind of this pie in the sky dream for me for a long time, and I had fantasies of living the life of an aid worker overseas, saving children from burning bushes and wiping the brows of survivors of conflicts, and getting gold-dipped pictures of me in the bush smiling with a sage-like sense of peace and compassion on my face. With adoring locals surrounding me like I'm Jesus giving the Sermon on the Mount. You know the pictures - we've all seen the do-gooder images plastered all over the place.

Kvetching

*Insert blood-curdling scream here*

Okay, there's a problem in the house.

Today was the second day in a row where I was in the shower and halfway through the shower, in mid-frothy sud, the water in the shower stopped coming out. I don't mean drops of water still sputtering out of the spigot - I'm talking no water coming out at all. First the water is there, then it thins out rather dramatically, then....nothing. Had you been there for my mysterious, unfortunate turn of bathing events, you would have heard a colorful array of words and grunts coming from the bathroom. I was pissed.

At first I thought that it was a potential poaching problem. Someone is tapping our water pipes and taking out our hard-earned water reserves!

Then I thought, oh my goddess we're in a drought! That's it! The water is gone! We don't have any more water! I can't live like this! I have to evacuate this place ASAP!

Sunburned and Baffled

People here love country music. It surprised me quite a lot, waking up to the sounds of old-time country music echoing off of the courtyard into my bedroom on Sunday. I remembered, when I heard it so clearly with its twang and "dang da-da-dang dang" guitar, that a few of my students have mentioned to me their love of country, specifically greats like Dolly Parton, Don Williams (who?!), and Patsy Cline, to name a few. I find it so perplexing that, of all music genres in the world from which to choose, they pick old-time country music to relish. And apparently, I've been told by a colleague, it's considered a high-class thing, to listen to country music. Talk about a different perspective on things!

March for Me

The last few days have been less than stellar. I've been pretty sick and weepy, for starters. Our students were all sick pre and during midterms, and apparently covering your mouth when you cough is not standard etiquette here. What does that mean? Well, it means that they cough on your while you walk around the classroom, and three days later, you're sniffly and congested and coughing. It's not fun. And especially during midterms, when you're grading under a tight deadline and administering over hundreds of individual exams, it breeds the perfect cocktail to make you an emotional wreck.

Hi, nice to meet you. I'm an emotional wreck. Have we met before?

Robbed Blind

The last few days have been haywire. I'll start with the positive things:

• I am enjoying networking.
• My English student forgot our lessons two days in a row. To be fair, he is leaving on Friday to return to Korea, so he is a bit busy in his head. But the plus! He brought me out to the most amazing Korean BBQ. In Rwanda. It was a beautiful open villa-type restaurant hall with a bunch of bright colors and really tasty food!
• I am finding some great expat friends - Denise and Jane, to name a few. They've been amazing to me while I get myself settled and familiar with the place.
• The hustling for The Man continues, and keeps getting more interesting.
• My students are starting to grow on me. I'm beginning to like them more, and they're beginning to listen more. They may not understand things, but we're getting them. I figure out facilitation would be so much better than teaching - so I am making them create their own math problems and do IT exercises that let them have fun and be creative. It's really fun for me, too! And less stress.

And now onto the negative...

So last night I was robbed while I slept.

My roommates and I went to bed around 10/10:30pm last night. I woke up at 4:45/5am this morning, like usual, to call The Man. I walked into our living room, and my laptop wasn't there. The camera for the laptop was there, but no laptop. I thought, "That's odd, I could have sworn it was there last night............where's my bag?!" So I started hunting around for my stuff. I look at the back door of the house to find it slightly ajar, and it seemed a bit broken. In the dark kitchen is our solar-powered flashlight from the living room, sitting on the kitchen counter....turned on.

I turn to a frantic hunt throughout the house. Where is my wallet? Where is my camera? My Nook? MY STUFF!!!

I slam on Prosper's door and wake him up. My laptop isn't in his room. This is when I start freaking out.

"JESUS CHRIST I WAS ROBBED! SOMEONE CAME IN AND TOOK EVERYTHING!! EVERYTHING!!!! OH MY GOD WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?!!?"

Both roommates are up now, and confused and worried. They start looking around. I'm screaming. And throwing things. I can't remember if Scovea locked the back door or not last night, and I yell at her. She starts to cry.

I order Prosper to let me use his laptop so I can call my family. They need to freeze my accounts! And I am panicked even more, and slightly hysterical (okay, a lot). I call Denise and beg her to call my family in the US to let them know. Call my Mom! Call my boyfriend! The computer takes a long time to turn on, and while it turns on, my roommates had gone outside to scope out the backyard. The thieves had thrown my pilfered backpack and purse into the dog's area, with all of the zippered pockets searched. They had also thrown my credit cards out into the shed for my housemates to find. I am so glad I have at least those. I might be alright.

The Man and I worked on changing all of my passwords to my accounts, and informing my mom about my bank account and how/when I'd take out money. It was lightning speed, all of this.

So my colleagues run over to my house to figure out what's going on. Denise is trying to understand why someone would go through so meticulously through my stuff, but no one else's.

What did they steal?: Cash in three currencies, insurance cards, license, wallet, laptop, camera, harddrive, eReader, and a fake diamond ring I've been wearing as a fake wedding ring to deter sleezeballs. Oh, and cooking oil from our kitchen pan. But the rest of the stuff that was in my bag were still there. In our backyard.

It seemed too well calculated...they knew exactly what they were going for, it seems, and they didn't just grab and run. And no one woke up! The dog didn't even bark.

So after I sob into my hands for about 45 minutes or so, a colleague came over with his car and drove us to the police station to file a report. Apparently, this normally doesn't work. But the guy has a friend at the top of the Criminal Investigation Unit here in Rwanda, who was able to expedite an investigation.

We found they had crawled over the fence and used a ladder in our backyard to climb back over. I have no idea what him and my roommates discussed, because it was all in Kinyarwandan. But now the police are investigating and considering it a potential "inside job". Now, without a guard or a cleaner, that means they suspect my housemates....which makes me uncomfortable.

So I moved out of the house. I took everything I owned that I still had and packed it up in my bags. And the founder of the school offered to let me stay with them at their mansion while I sort things out and find another place to stay. I've decided to not go back, and to find a place with a guard and lots of security all around. A nicer area, perhaps. That means I'll have to muster the money together somehow, because it's expensive, but I have to. I can't afford to lose my valuables again.

Prosper just texted me: "just talked to our neighbor who is also related to the landlord. she said that even the people who lived here before us had their furniture stolen when they were sleeping. she also said that her house got broken into several times. apparently this area has a long history of theft.  i don't know how this can help the situation but i thought you might want to hear this. it is so sad that your first experiences here are bad and for a person who is new in the area this is so frustrating. we are looking for a new house and will move as soon as possible. we'll keep asking places where second-hand computers are sold maybe from that we can know who stole your stuff. i'm so sorry" I find it interesting, but The Man advises me to not trust many people right now. Because I can't afford to.

I'm borrowing a computer from school and Denise's modem to go online. My family has been calling my phone, and other than that I'm on my own. I'm glad I had bought a few hard copy books the day before, so I have books to read, and I'm blessed my passport is still at immigration. I black listed my Nook, so it's unreadable now. And I plan on going to the Embassy tomorrow.

But I'm exhausted, and today has been trying.

Preparing More for Rwanda

...Alright, so maybe I'll write a few more blogs before I get to Rwanda. It's all so new, and there's so much involved!, that I feel like the preparation process has become an adventure in itself.

There are days in the US when I wonder if my faith in humanity is going to fly out the window. I had the feeling of throwing in the towel on a connecting flight in Phoenix, AZ once. And on the subway most days. And other places.

Today I had it while in Bank of America.