We arrived in Melbourne after 24 hours of train travel. What a bitch. Sleeping in a chair sucks.
Melbourne is a beautiful city. The group is staying at a hostel called the Nunnery, apparently an old convent converted into a haven for backpackers. On the scale of hostels, the Nunnery seems to be on the cool end; with a spunky cartoon nun as its mascot, the hostel boasts free breakfast every morning, pancakes on Sundays, and barbeque on Wednesdays. It is a beautiful old building harkening back to the large church presence in Melbourne several decades ago.
Melbourne’s tram system is excellent, with trams running on cables down the middle of the street at very regular intervals. However, public transportation seems unnecessary, as most things in the downtown area are within walking distance. Melbourne reminds me of a more spread out version of New York City. The first night we arrived, groups of us walked around on Brunswick Street amidst the trendy cafés, hip stores, and bar scene of the Fitzroy neighborhood.
Sustainabuddies
The next day, the Sustainable Living Festival began. It was Melbourne’s tenth hosting of the event, held at Federation Center, a large cluster of showrooms, open plazas, and park along the river. The three-day, environmental festival was packed with booths and tents, housing environmental companies, activist groups, organic food retailers, and green media outlets.
If the talks and information at the festival had been a total loss, I still would have had the best veggie burger I have ever eaten. One of Freddie’s Veggieburgers, with light mayo, satay, and sweet chilli, grilled before my eyes. The organic white-chocolate-raspberry ice cream wasn’t bad either.
Some of the talks were interesting and some were not. Some of the speakers were dynamic and some were less so. Many different perspectives on sustainability and the climate crisis were presented, but the messages were noticeably conflicting. That is not to say that the Sustainable Living Festival did not do its job; indeed it did succeed in educating the general public and raising some media attention. However, most who attended the festival were already “green-minded,” ready to reach into their pockets to afford the latest greywater treatment systems and solar water heaters for their homes.
The Three ‘Ates’
One of my favorite speakers was the last. Prof. Frank Fisher is an elderly man, who described himself as a blind, gutless, numbskull. He is in fact blind in one eye, has had twenty-eight operations for Crohn’s Disease, which have removed seventy percent of his intestine, and was recently in a bicycle accident in which he fractured his skull and broke his neck. However, Frank stood, unaided, for the entire hour of his talk. When certain people speak, wisdom seem to emanate from them. I cannot claim to know such wisdom when I hear it, but I was certainly riveted during Frank’s talk, and every sentiment about life that he related seemed like sage advice. As one of the last talks of the Sustainable Living Festival, he did not speak of environmentalism, peak oil, or eco-communities of any kind. He spoke instead of the social psychology of people. How do we change the habits which are engrained in society so that people wake up to what is actually going on?
One of Frank’s suggestions referred to a paradigm shift necessary in the elementary school system. He takes issue with the Three R’s, Reading, wRiting, and aRthinmetic, saying that they are outdated. We seem to be interested in teaching robotic, emotionless skills and not critical thinking and reasoning. He proposes a teaching philosophy to make our children Literate, Numerate, and Considerate, which I can only label the ‘Three Ates.’ Frank closed his talk by stating that as a psychologist, he often finds human behaviour predictable. He left us with these parting words: “If I have made you any less predictable, any more wild, then I have achieved my goal.”
Melbourne To Be Wild
On Friday night, our second night in Melbourne, three of my friends and I went to the Congregation of East Melbourne Synagogue (or something like that) for Kabbalat Shabbat services. In total, there were eight people present, not including Dovid, the Rabbi. He is a Chabad rabbi, but the shul is not a Chabad shul. Dovid was very accommodating, surprised at the turnout, admitting that he is used to never having a minyan for Friday night services. Also, Dovid knows Peretz Chein, the Chabad rabbi at Brandeis. Dovid invited all of us to dinner, but the group and I politely declined.
During some free time, Mia, Michelle, and I went to a trendy, yuppie, outdoor arts and crafts market. Some of the stuff was nice, and some was ridiculous. Too trendy for me. During another stint of free time, the three of us travelled by tram to St. Kilda, the boardwalk area, where we caught our first glimpse of the Spirit of Tasmania, the ship we would soon board. We also saw the exceedingly creepy Luna Park, reminiscent of a Coney Island by-gone era, haunted by some evil spirits. My first thought upon witnessing its harlequin gates was that its devilish architects made no effort to make the clown appear jolly. As parents and children lined up outside the gaping maw before the amusement park opened, I shuddered at the roller coaster, already operating within the park’s walls. Though this left me a little unsettled, I was calmed by the delicious pastries we then had at a European bakery on Ackland Street. A successful journey.
On to Tasmania. I am still planning on seeing a Tasmanian tiger (thylacine), even though the last known living one died in captivity in 1936.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Stranger in the Night
This is a story. There might not be a point. Proceed no further if you have something important/more interesting to do. You have been warned.
Earlier today (what is now two days ago), my journey from Byron Bay to Melbourne began. After an hour bus ride from Byron to Casino (the beef capital), the whole SIT gang boarded the train down the east coast of Australia, bound for Sydney. The overnight route down the coast makes many stops, finally arriving in Sydney tomorrow morning, about twelve hours after it begins. I am currently sitting in my seat next to Megan, who is sound asleep to the sounds of John Mayer. I have also just had quite an interesting meeting.
Although it happened but an hour ago, Michelle and I began speaking with a woman who is sitting several rows of seats behind our group. She introduced herself as Beck, though not until we had been speaking for over three quarters of an hour. At the end of our conversation, when Michelle asked for her email address, Beck happily obliged, and below her email, she scribbled “the women you met on the train.”
Our conversation began with Michelle and I speaking about our group and the kinds of environmental classes we are taking. As it turns out, Beck knows Eshana, the leader of our recent eco-philosophy workshop. Having last spoken to Eshana three years ago, Beck lived with her in a rented flat in Lismore. The living spaces were cheap apartments for environmental activists who were essentially volunteering their time. Eshana was then the girlfriend of one John Seed, who was the man sponsoring the activists, and who is the head of the Rainforest Information Service.
Beck appears to be in her mid to late forties. She is travelling from Lismore, where she has spent the past few months, to her home in Canberra. She is an environmental activists, and has made a point since university not to work for a living. She dropped out of medical school at Melbourne University after her third year, and went on to get a degree in philosophy of science, having majored in philosophy as an undergraduate. Michelle, Beck, and I spent much of the conversation talking about contemporary environmental issues such as the recently approved 5% carbon emission cut by 2020 under the Rudd administration. However the most intriguing parts of the conversation for me were those about Beck’s chosen lifestyle and her worldviews.
Since Beck’s realization of herself as an environmental activist after dropping out of medical school, she had travelled all over the world, wherever her volunteer work takes her. She has since spent time living in Oxford, England, has gotten a degree in environmental resource management, and has travelled around the United States. I was surprised to hear that she makes it a point not to work for her living, and I was intrigued by the idea. As she said, her parents were always well off, so she never felt the need to work. She also has never wanted to take a paid position in environmental work, because she has always feared that someone else could do the work better than her.
Beck is a soft-spoken, intelligent woman with quite different life experiences than I have heard before. She laughs often, and happy wrinkles appear at the corners of her eyes when she smiles. She wears an orange and red, patterned hair band, a bright orange fleece, and old, worn-in jeans. She is only carrying a small, green pack with her; she left her belongings in a train station locker in Lismore by accident. “Someone will have to rescue my luggage for me,” she says with an unconcerned air.
Beck lives in an area of Canberra called Billings Cliffs. Originally founded as a commune, a utopia of people living with the land, twenty five years ago, it has stayed from the principles on which it was founded, laments Beck. The countryside is beautiful, and dwellers form relationships with each tree on their two acres due to the relationship that its inhabitants have with the land. However, Billings Cliff has suffered from some interpersonal issues, at least in the six years that Beck has been living there. Every attempt at a communal garden has failed, and the majority of the denizens of the 150-unit community are on welfare. For these environmentalists, once on welfare, it is tempting and easy to stay on it; you can live on government money if you cut some corners. Some grow their own fruits and vegetables, but many of these environmentalists have switched their two acres to cannabis, a more lucrative and indulgent cash crop. Though they must not make much money from it, given how much Beck says they smoke.
Over the years, the inhabitants of Billings Cliffs have become lazy from weed and government handouts. Beck believes that she is ready to leave. She loves living in nature, but she thinks that is almost a fool’s paradise, removed from the real world. How can you affect change when you live apart from the rest of society? I believe one of the tasks of environmental activists is to find a balance between spending time with the nature they wish to protect, and reaching out to those they wish to educate, often not willing to meet them in the wilderness. Beck will continue to travel, perhaps when she moves out of the doldrums of Billings Cliffs. She has not been to New Zealand yet; she’s saving the beauty of Australia’s neighbour for her old age.
One fellow passenger on the train = one new friend, Beck.
(the women you met on the train)
Earlier today (what is now two days ago), my journey from Byron Bay to Melbourne began. After an hour bus ride from Byron to Casino (the beef capital), the whole SIT gang boarded the train down the east coast of Australia, bound for Sydney. The overnight route down the coast makes many stops, finally arriving in Sydney tomorrow morning, about twelve hours after it begins. I am currently sitting in my seat next to Megan, who is sound asleep to the sounds of John Mayer. I have also just had quite an interesting meeting.
Although it happened but an hour ago, Michelle and I began speaking with a woman who is sitting several rows of seats behind our group. She introduced herself as Beck, though not until we had been speaking for over three quarters of an hour. At the end of our conversation, when Michelle asked for her email address, Beck happily obliged, and below her email, she scribbled “the women you met on the train.”
Our conversation began with Michelle and I speaking about our group and the kinds of environmental classes we are taking. As it turns out, Beck knows Eshana, the leader of our recent eco-philosophy workshop. Having last spoken to Eshana three years ago, Beck lived with her in a rented flat in Lismore. The living spaces were cheap apartments for environmental activists who were essentially volunteering their time. Eshana was then the girlfriend of one John Seed, who was the man sponsoring the activists, and who is the head of the Rainforest Information Service.
Beck appears to be in her mid to late forties. She is travelling from Lismore, where she has spent the past few months, to her home in Canberra. She is an environmental activists, and has made a point since university not to work for a living. She dropped out of medical school at Melbourne University after her third year, and went on to get a degree in philosophy of science, having majored in philosophy as an undergraduate. Michelle, Beck, and I spent much of the conversation talking about contemporary environmental issues such as the recently approved 5% carbon emission cut by 2020 under the Rudd administration. However the most intriguing parts of the conversation for me were those about Beck’s chosen lifestyle and her worldviews.
Since Beck’s realization of herself as an environmental activist after dropping out of medical school, she had travelled all over the world, wherever her volunteer work takes her. She has since spent time living in Oxford, England, has gotten a degree in environmental resource management, and has travelled around the United States. I was surprised to hear that she makes it a point not to work for her living, and I was intrigued by the idea. As she said, her parents were always well off, so she never felt the need to work. She also has never wanted to take a paid position in environmental work, because she has always feared that someone else could do the work better than her.
Beck is a soft-spoken, intelligent woman with quite different life experiences than I have heard before. She laughs often, and happy wrinkles appear at the corners of her eyes when she smiles. She wears an orange and red, patterned hair band, a bright orange fleece, and old, worn-in jeans. She is only carrying a small, green pack with her; she left her belongings in a train station locker in Lismore by accident. “Someone will have to rescue my luggage for me,” she says with an unconcerned air.
Beck lives in an area of Canberra called Billings Cliffs. Originally founded as a commune, a utopia of people living with the land, twenty five years ago, it has stayed from the principles on which it was founded, laments Beck. The countryside is beautiful, and dwellers form relationships with each tree on their two acres due to the relationship that its inhabitants have with the land. However, Billings Cliff has suffered from some interpersonal issues, at least in the six years that Beck has been living there. Every attempt at a communal garden has failed, and the majority of the denizens of the 150-unit community are on welfare. For these environmentalists, once on welfare, it is tempting and easy to stay on it; you can live on government money if you cut some corners. Some grow their own fruits and vegetables, but many of these environmentalists have switched their two acres to cannabis, a more lucrative and indulgent cash crop. Though they must not make much money from it, given how much Beck says they smoke.
Over the years, the inhabitants of Billings Cliffs have become lazy from weed and government handouts. Beck believes that she is ready to leave. She loves living in nature, but she thinks that is almost a fool’s paradise, removed from the real world. How can you affect change when you live apart from the rest of society? I believe one of the tasks of environmental activists is to find a balance between spending time with the nature they wish to protect, and reaching out to those they wish to educate, often not willing to meet them in the wilderness. Beck will continue to travel, perhaps when she moves out of the doldrums of Billings Cliffs. She has not been to New Zealand yet; she’s saving the beauty of Australia’s neighbour for her old age.
One fellow passenger on the train = one new friend, Beck.
(the women you met on the train)
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Dave
Peter Brennan is the program director; more on him later. Peter’s partner in crime, the Sustainability & Environment program’s second in command, is Dave. He drives us around in the bus, handles logistics, and serves as Peter’s buddy. They hang out and chat when Peter isn’t teaching or supervising us in some way. Dave is a songwriter, cook, gardener, father, and all around interesting guy. He is friendly and soft-spoken, and his Australian drawl makes him even more approachable than his easy-going demeanor. Dave is a simple man; he is content with a red Gatorade, newspaper containing a crossword and sudoku, and a pack of cigarettes. Smokes and number games seem to be his vices of choice. Dave used to surf, as most Australians have at one point or another in their lives, but stopped about a year ago when he hurt his back. Wading into the waves, you can almost see a wistful look in his eyes as he regards the ocean with a reverent smile. Always aware of the nearest bottle shop and ready to recommend a full-bodied, Australian brew, Dave is my new friend. Dave is now what I think of when I think of an Australian.
Monday, February 16, 2009
UNMOUNTABLE_BOOT_VOLUME
I cannot recall how many times I viewed this error message when the blue screen of death appeared on my Dell doorstop of a laptop. Weighing in at just over seven pounds, my Inspiron E1505 crapped out on me in Terminal 4 of LAX, right before my flight to Brisbane. Since then, I have been sans-computer, haunting every backpacker "free internet"-advertising dive on the main strip of Byron Bay. I have mastered the "first fifteen minutes free" policy by hopping around with my trusty USB drive, named Kingston. Moral of the story: Windows and Dell have been frustrating me to no end. But the turmoil is over now.
Here are some overdue pictures. Today I just got my computer back from the fix-my-computer shop; it was fixed by an Israeli dude.
This is the EASTERN MOST POINT OF AUSTRALIA. I am as close to the United States as I can get on the continent of Australia. Also, I am as close to my buddies studying abroad in South America (you know who you are, even if you're not reading the blog, Anya). While camping at Linnaeus, we awoke one morning at 5:30 AM to go see the sunrise at the Byron Bay lighthouse. This is the view of the Pacific, post-sunrise. And now, for the sunrise.
Yea, it's pretty sweet. The light house was atop a huge hill, and the path up to it was covered in coastal rainforest-type vegetation. Something I did notice in the long trek down the hill was all the the peopl passing me; they were old. I don't mean one-foot-in-the-grave old, but they were in their late-60s to early 80s. And they looked great. And they were power-walking up this enormous hill at six in the morning. It dawned on me then that Australians are more health conscious than Americans. They also seem to enjoy a more active elderly life than most of us in the US.
To the right is Linnaeus, as seen from the infinity pool. Since we have left orientation at Linnaeus, we have returned, and each time, our taxi drivers ask what the expansive property is for. At one point in time, it was zoned for education use after a huge resort deal fell through with some Japanese investors. Phil, the millionaire architect/owner, ingeniously fudged the zoning laws to create a posh vacation home settlement for Australia's rich environmentalist. The one catch: they have to donate large sums of money to education and environmental groups. It works out for our group, though, because we get to use Linnaeus occasionally.
On an unrelated note, completely unlike in the Unites States, egalitarianism is of great importance in Australian society. The taxi driver is equal to the head of state, and they can have a conversation as equals, and they treat each other as equals. Peter, our program director, made the group aware of this by explaining how taxis work. Unlike in the United States, a passenger sits next to the taxi driver, even if all the passengers can fit in the back. That is to say that the driver is not a chauffeur, but another guy who really wants to have a conversation with you. I have had the pleasure of sitting next to the driver during three of the four taxis we have been on; all of the drivers were interesting and had jobs other than taxi driving. Three taxi conversations = three new, Australian friends.
Speaking of new friends, my trip buddy Michelle introduced me to the two Italian twenty-somethings living next door to her at the Byron Bay Holiday Apartments, where we are staying. Simon and Giovanni are taking a break from their post-undergraduate jobs near Bologna to travel around Australia. Simon was the talkative one, probably because Giovanni does not speak English. Apparently taking an immediate liking to me, Simon gave me his cell number so that I could call him to go out to eat (and then to party) the next night. Not trusting that I would make good on this deal we had made, he made me give him my phone number. The next night, Simon did not call me, and I did not call him. But I am assuming I have a place to stay if I ever visit Bologna.
I have added a couple of pictures to the previous post, so feel free to check them out. Today is a free day in Byron Bay, and this evening we get on a bus to Casino, and then a train to Sydney, and then a train to Melbourne. I will be on a train for 23 hours, chugging away into the areas ravaged by the fires in Victoria.
Here are some overdue pictures. Today I just got my computer back from the fix-my-computer shop; it was fixed by an Israeli dude.
This is the EASTERN MOST POINT OF AUSTRALIA. I am as close to the United States as I can get on the continent of Australia. Also, I am as close to my buddies studying abroad in South America (you know who you are, even if you're not reading the blog, Anya). While camping at Linnaeus, we awoke one morning at 5:30 AM to go see the sunrise at the Byron Bay lighthouse. This is the view of the Pacific, post-sunrise. And now, for the sunrise.
Yea, it's pretty sweet. The light house was atop a huge hill, and the path up to it was covered in coastal rainforest-type vegetation. Something I did notice in the long trek down the hill was all the the peopl passing me; they were old. I don't mean one-foot-in-the-grave old, but they were in their late-60s to early 80s. And they looked great. And they were power-walking up this enormous hill at six in the morning. It dawned on me then that Australians are more health conscious than Americans. They also seem to enjoy a more active elderly life than most of us in the US.
To the right is Linnaeus, as seen from the infinity pool. Since we have left orientation at Linnaeus, we have returned, and each time, our taxi drivers ask what the expansive property is for. At one point in time, it was zoned for education use after a huge resort deal fell through with some Japanese investors. Phil, the millionaire architect/owner, ingeniously fudged the zoning laws to create a posh vacation home settlement for Australia's rich environmentalist. The one catch: they have to donate large sums of money to education and environmental groups. It works out for our group, though, because we get to use Linnaeus occasionally.
On an unrelated note, completely unlike in the Unites States, egalitarianism is of great importance in Australian society. The taxi driver is equal to the head of state, and they can have a conversation as equals, and they treat each other as equals. Peter, our program director, made the group aware of this by explaining how taxis work. Unlike in the United States, a passenger sits next to the taxi driver, even if all the passengers can fit in the back. That is to say that the driver is not a chauffeur, but another guy who really wants to have a conversation with you. I have had the pleasure of sitting next to the driver during three of the four taxis we have been on; all of the drivers were interesting and had jobs other than taxi driving. Three taxi conversations = three new, Australian friends.
Speaking of new friends, my trip buddy Michelle introduced me to the two Italian twenty-somethings living next door to her at the Byron Bay Holiday Apartments, where we are staying. Simon and Giovanni are taking a break from their post-undergraduate jobs near Bologna to travel around Australia. Simon was the talkative one, probably because Giovanni does not speak English. Apparently taking an immediate liking to me, Simon gave me his cell number so that I could call him to go out to eat (and then to party) the next night. Not trusting that I would make good on this deal we had made, he made me give him my phone number. The next night, Simon did not call me, and I did not call him. But I am assuming I have a place to stay if I ever visit Bologna.
I have added a couple of pictures to the previous post, so feel free to check them out. Today is a free day in Byron Bay, and this evening we get on a bus to Casino, and then a train to Sydney, and then a train to Melbourne. I will be on a train for 23 hours, chugging away into the areas ravaged by the fires in Victoria.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Funnel of Freedom
Peter says it means that we have lots of chaperoned, intense programming at the start, and as we get farther into the program, we get more freedom. It's a funnel of freedom, narrow at one end and... OK, you get it.
Linnaeus
Our four-day orientation was held at an estate on Seven-Mile Beach near Byron Bay. The estate is run by Phil, a millionaire architect and entrepreneur, and he runs an estate the likes of which I have never seen. The estate consist of a huge open field, a pool house with an infinity pool and grass tennis court, a gorgeous community house that houses a kitchen and offices, and several posh beach homes, not to mention miles of pristine, private beach.
Linnaeus, as the estate is called, functions as a vacation home site for the extremely affluent, a $3-4 million price tag to own a home there. The laws governing the property dictate that it must be used for environmental education. This translates into the fact that Linnaeus runs with a miniscule carbon footprint, from the re-used materials that make up the architecture to the comprehensive recycling and composting practices that take place. We were lucky to have use of its five-star facilities.
On one of the days, a black and white magpie flew into our classroom. This might not be so strange, given that the room is completely open on two sides to the elements. However, Maggie, as she will henceforth be called, remained in the room, squawking at us, as if she had something important to say. This was comical the first couple of times, and ended when she was shooed out of the room. She returned shortly, though, much to Peter’s and the group’s surprise. We continued the lesson as planned, ignoring the intermittent, squawking comments from the polly-want-a-cracker gallery. After a few minutes of distraction, Peter attempted to scare is away, making noises, waving his arms, and stomping on the ground, anything short of kicking Maggie. His actions were futile. At the end, he gave up and shrugged, to which Maggie replied, “Squawk!” Maggie hung around for a while, and even followed us to the beach the next day, where she proceeded to swoop at the group and land momentarily on Mia’s head. Had the Aborigines seen this, they would have believed Maggie to be someone’s spirit in Magpie form, trying to relay us a message. I wonder what Maggie was trying to say.
At Linnaeus we explored the private beach and pool, and slept outside in tents. I slept in a tent with Yoshi and Brian, the two other guys on the program. The first night we face sweltering heat, the second, heat and a broken tent pole, the third, heat and another broken tent pole. On the third day our tent collapsed. We took another unused tent only to face heat, wind, rain, and about a hundred ants on the last night. Given that we had not had air conditioning in our room on the first night in Brisbane, this luck came as no surprise. There was a big push from the group to sleep on the beach, but Peter insisted that we should not. Apparently, people get drunk at night and drive around on the beaches, running over unsuspecting beach-nappers.
We woke up at 5:30 AM one day to go see sunrise at the Byron Bay lighthouse, which is attached to the Eastern-most point in Australia. Stepping outside our tent into the dark morning, I saw the milky way in the sky for the first time; it was spectacular. Following the celestial heavens up was a stunning sunrise atop the Byron Bay lighthouse hill. It made for an energizing morning.
Fire & Water
The Australian state of Victoria was hit two massive bush fires that have already claimed 181 lives and thousands of homes. The north of Australia is plagued by rampant flooding. There have been two recent shark attacks, occurrences that occur very infrequently. In the wake of mother nature’s wrath, the fires being the largest natural disaster in Australian history, my Sustainability and Environment program seems all the more pertinent. Is this how the environment is responding to ours unhealthy habits?
Knee-Deep Ecology
From the low-lying beach town that is Byron Bay, we travelled about an hour in our faithful blue and white bus, with a stand-in for Dave at the wheel. We went up into the rolling hills of the lush Australian coast, passing green fields growing various agricultural products. We finally arrived at a eucalypt forest with a rainforest growing up under it. The eucalypt trees come in several varieties, with the moist distinct being very tall, sturdy, smooth white trunks, with branches only sprouting above the rainforest canopy. The eucalypt trees cannot compete for sun with the rainforest cover, so as rainforest growth comes in, the eucalypt branches fall off. If the forest continues to grow uninterrupted, the area will become a true rainforest, and the eucalypts will die off; the eucalypts will only survive if a fire comes through the area to burn away the rainforest vegetation.
The eco-philosophy workshop was held at a rainforest meditation center and Buddhist retreat, where alcohol, drugs, and killing are prohibited, and honesty in any sexual encounters is a must. Eshana, formerly Elizabeth, was the charming and intelligent workshop leader, who is herself a deep ecologist. Our actual class was held in a large room in the middle of the forest; a vast hardwood floor was covered by an aluminium roof supported by wood beams cut from forest trees. As the name of the location suggests, it poured torrential rain for the duration of our two-day stay. The pounding downpour created a large din as it beat on the metal roof, making it impossible to hear Eshana at times. The whole group participated in a mix of discussion, role-playing, yoga, meditation, massage circles, games, and readings to internalize the broad spectrum of ecological philosophies.
Leeches. They are scary looking, and they suck your blood. They stick to everything. They are a single, black, blind tentacle, probing the air for your skin, ready to clamp onto your soft flesh and not let go; they are the vampire-pitbulls of the underworld. Realistically, they don’t hurt, are easy to take off, and are pretty harmless. Leeches. Meh.
Our night in the rainforest was spent in the attic of the kitchen building, the most substantial of the few structures at the retreat. About ten people lay their sleeping bags down on the attic floor, covered overhead by a tin roof. One side of the attic, the one I was facing, was protected from the forest by a large wire mesh. When we went to sleep, we were kept company by two large, black moths whose eyes glowed orange when reflecting the light of our headlamps. I awoke about two hours after I fell asleep so the sound of flapping. “Flith flith flith flith.” In my groggy, half-awakened state, I thought, “Those moths are loud.” It slowly dawned on me that there were many more than two of whatever was flapping their wings, and they were larger than moths. As my friend Brian turned on his headlamp, I witness about a dozen bats, flying not two feet above our heads, zigzagging around the attic, squeaking their sonar voices, bumping into the tin roofing. My initial fear turned into awe, and the bats left twenty minutes later. The moths were gone, too.
The next day resumed with more rain and leeches, more thought and discussion. I was unsure where I stood with eco-philosophy at the beginning of the workshop, and now I am even more unsure, but at least I have more to think about.
By-Rain Bay
Just after the eco-philosophy workshop, we have a free, unfortunately dreary day in Byron Bay. It is still raining, and I thought we had left the rain when we left the rainforest. It is frustrating that we cannot get rain down in Victoria, where it is dearly needed. Today consisted of food shopping, trying to find Brian underwear (“undies” in Australian), and homework. Also, I found a place to fix my computer! It should be ready by Monday night, at which point I will be able to upload photos (it is now Saturday). I am off to Melbourne midweek for a sustainability fair next weekend. We begin the day-train ride on Wednesday, amidst the fires to hazy, smoky Melbourne.
Linnaeus
Our four-day orientation was held at an estate on Seven-Mile Beach near Byron Bay. The estate is run by Phil, a millionaire architect and entrepreneur, and he runs an estate the likes of which I have never seen. The estate consist of a huge open field, a pool house with an infinity pool and grass tennis court, a gorgeous community house that houses a kitchen and offices, and several posh beach homes, not to mention miles of pristine, private beach.
Linnaeus, as the estate is called, functions as a vacation home site for the extremely affluent, a $3-4 million price tag to own a home there. The laws governing the property dictate that it must be used for environmental education. This translates into the fact that Linnaeus runs with a miniscule carbon footprint, from the re-used materials that make up the architecture to the comprehensive recycling and composting practices that take place. We were lucky to have use of its five-star facilities.
On one of the days, a black and white magpie flew into our classroom. This might not be so strange, given that the room is completely open on two sides to the elements. However, Maggie, as she will henceforth be called, remained in the room, squawking at us, as if she had something important to say. This was comical the first couple of times, and ended when she was shooed out of the room. She returned shortly, though, much to Peter’s and the group’s surprise. We continued the lesson as planned, ignoring the intermittent, squawking comments from the polly-want-a-cracker gallery. After a few minutes of distraction, Peter attempted to scare is away, making noises, waving his arms, and stomping on the ground, anything short of kicking Maggie. His actions were futile. At the end, he gave up and shrugged, to which Maggie replied, “Squawk!” Maggie hung around for a while, and even followed us to the beach the next day, where she proceeded to swoop at the group and land momentarily on Mia’s head. Had the Aborigines seen this, they would have believed Maggie to be someone’s spirit in Magpie form, trying to relay us a message. I wonder what Maggie was trying to say.
At Linnaeus we explored the private beach and pool, and slept outside in tents. I slept in a tent with Yoshi and Brian, the two other guys on the program. The first night we face sweltering heat, the second, heat and a broken tent pole, the third, heat and another broken tent pole. On the third day our tent collapsed. We took another unused tent only to face heat, wind, rain, and about a hundred ants on the last night. Given that we had not had air conditioning in our room on the first night in Brisbane, this luck came as no surprise. There was a big push from the group to sleep on the beach, but Peter insisted that we should not. Apparently, people get drunk at night and drive around on the beaches, running over unsuspecting beach-nappers.
We woke up at 5:30 AM one day to go see sunrise at the Byron Bay lighthouse, which is attached to the Eastern-most point in Australia. Stepping outside our tent into the dark morning, I saw the milky way in the sky for the first time; it was spectacular. Following the celestial heavens up was a stunning sunrise atop the Byron Bay lighthouse hill. It made for an energizing morning.
Fire & Water
The Australian state of Victoria was hit two massive bush fires that have already claimed 181 lives and thousands of homes. The north of Australia is plagued by rampant flooding. There have been two recent shark attacks, occurrences that occur very infrequently. In the wake of mother nature’s wrath, the fires being the largest natural disaster in Australian history, my Sustainability and Environment program seems all the more pertinent. Is this how the environment is responding to ours unhealthy habits?
Knee-Deep Ecology
From the low-lying beach town that is Byron Bay, we travelled about an hour in our faithful blue and white bus, with a stand-in for Dave at the wheel. We went up into the rolling hills of the lush Australian coast, passing green fields growing various agricultural products. We finally arrived at a eucalypt forest with a rainforest growing up under it. The eucalypt trees come in several varieties, with the moist distinct being very tall, sturdy, smooth white trunks, with branches only sprouting above the rainforest canopy. The eucalypt trees cannot compete for sun with the rainforest cover, so as rainforest growth comes in, the eucalypt branches fall off. If the forest continues to grow uninterrupted, the area will become a true rainforest, and the eucalypts will die off; the eucalypts will only survive if a fire comes through the area to burn away the rainforest vegetation.
The eco-philosophy workshop was held at a rainforest meditation center and Buddhist retreat, where alcohol, drugs, and killing are prohibited, and honesty in any sexual encounters is a must. Eshana, formerly Elizabeth, was the charming and intelligent workshop leader, who is herself a deep ecologist. Our actual class was held in a large room in the middle of the forest; a vast hardwood floor was covered by an aluminium roof supported by wood beams cut from forest trees. As the name of the location suggests, it poured torrential rain for the duration of our two-day stay. The pounding downpour created a large din as it beat on the metal roof, making it impossible to hear Eshana at times. The whole group participated in a mix of discussion, role-playing, yoga, meditation, massage circles, games, and readings to internalize the broad spectrum of ecological philosophies.
Leeches. They are scary looking, and they suck your blood. They stick to everything. They are a single, black, blind tentacle, probing the air for your skin, ready to clamp onto your soft flesh and not let go; they are the vampire-pitbulls of the underworld. Realistically, they don’t hurt, are easy to take off, and are pretty harmless. Leeches. Meh.Our night in the rainforest was spent in the attic of the kitchen building, the most substantial of the few structures at the retreat. About ten people lay their sleeping bags down on the attic floor, covered overhead by a tin roof. One side of the attic, the one I was facing, was protected from the forest by a large wire mesh. When we went to sleep, we were kept company by two large, black moths whose eyes glowed orange when reflecting the light of our headlamps. I awoke about two hours after I fell asleep so the sound of flapping. “Flith flith flith flith.” In my groggy, half-awakened state, I thought, “Those moths are loud.” It slowly dawned on me that there were many more than two of whatever was flapping their wings, and they were larger than moths. As my friend Brian turned on his headlamp, I witness about a dozen bats, flying not two feet above our heads, zigzagging around the attic, squeaking their sonar voices, bumping into the tin roofing. My initial fear turned into awe, and the bats left twenty minutes later. The moths were gone, too.
The next day resumed with more rain and leeches, more thought and discussion. I was unsure where I stood with eco-philosophy at the beginning of the workshop, and now I am even more unsure, but at least I have more to think about.
By-Rain Bay
Just after the eco-philosophy workshop, we have a free, unfortunately dreary day in Byron Bay. It is still raining, and I thought we had left the rain when we left the rainforest. It is frustrating that we cannot get rain down in Victoria, where it is dearly needed. Today consisted of food shopping, trying to find Brian underwear (“undies” in Australian), and homework. Also, I found a place to fix my computer! It should be ready by Monday night, at which point I will be able to upload photos (it is now Saturday). I am off to Melbourne midweek for a sustainability fair next weekend. We begin the day-train ride on Wednesday, amidst the fires to hazy, smoky Melbourne.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Success/Messages
After my six-hour flight to LAX from New York, I used my computer in the airport to check email. I then turned my computer off. I then turned it back on again, and to my dismay, was met with the blue screen of death. Over and over. Instead of carrying around a means of communicating with all of those I love, I am carrying around an expensive doorstop.
I am writing this from a hostel in Brisbane; it's big and orange. More on Brisbane the city when I have more time on a computer.
One of my first Australian experiences: I am carrying with me a lot of medication for Crohn's Disease, and it was a big hassle to get enough medication from my insurance company for the duration of the trip. I also stressed about getting documentation from my doctor, and I agonized over what a field day Australian customs would have. I was sure I'd be placed in a sweltering, dimly-lit room in the bowels of the airport upon arrival in Brisbane. They would not give me any water, and there would be a menacing dingo in a cage in the opposite corner of the room.
Hauling my backpack of the baggage claim carousel, I hobbled over to the last customs check. I handed them the customs card on which I filled out "No" for "Are you carrying anything that may be subject to restrictions, such as medication?" because I assumed that having proper documentation, they would not be restricted. My bag passed through the scanner, and I was asked what all the bottles were. I recited, as if from a script rehearsed for fear of this situation, "They are non-steroid pills for treating Crohn's Disease. I have documentation for them."
To my surprise, the baggage lady nodded, and my bag slid gracefully down the metal baggage slide. I turned away from the claims desk and heaved a sigh of relief, only to hear "Wait a minute, mate," spoken from behind me. I froze. How could I have gotten so close to freedom only to have my meds take it away? "Come over here! I'll help you put your bag on."
I am in Australia.
I am writing this from a hostel in Brisbane; it's big and orange. More on Brisbane the city when I have more time on a computer.
One of my first Australian experiences: I am carrying with me a lot of medication for Crohn's Disease, and it was a big hassle to get enough medication from my insurance company for the duration of the trip. I also stressed about getting documentation from my doctor, and I agonized over what a field day Australian customs would have. I was sure I'd be placed in a sweltering, dimly-lit room in the bowels of the airport upon arrival in Brisbane. They would not give me any water, and there would be a menacing dingo in a cage in the opposite corner of the room.
Hauling my backpack of the baggage claim carousel, I hobbled over to the last customs check. I handed them the customs card on which I filled out "No" for "Are you carrying anything that may be subject to restrictions, such as medication?" because I assumed that having proper documentation, they would not be restricted. My bag passed through the scanner, and I was asked what all the bottles were. I recited, as if from a script rehearsed for fear of this situation, "They are non-steroid pills for treating Crohn's Disease. I have documentation for them."
To my surprise, the baggage lady nodded, and my bag slid gracefully down the metal baggage slide. I turned away from the claims desk and heaved a sigh of relief, only to hear "Wait a minute, mate," spoken from behind me. I froze. How could I have gotten so close to freedom only to have my meds take it away? "Come over here! I'll help you put your bag on."
I am in Australia.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I pack 'til 6 in the AM
No one else is awake because it is already 2:30 in the morning. I am sitting in my living room, wondering how I am going to fit four and a half months worth of clothes into my Kelty Coyote backpack, finally realizing that I can only carry one week's worth of clothes with me. That means I'll have to do laundry at least a few times.
I leave on Wednesday, three days from now. 6-hour flight to LA, 6-hour nap in LAX, 15-hour flight to Brisbane. I arrive in Brisbane on Friday morning.
At this point I am wondering how many times the Cash4Gold infomercial can air in a single commercial period. So far it is three times.
Sitting amidst my raincoat, camping towel, first aid kit, and bathing suits, I am starting Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country (at the suggestion of my future, fellow travelers) to prepare me for my journey. I am both excited and nervous. I catch myself daydreaming about what my experiences will be like, only to realize that I cannot anticipate what is in store. Next time I write, I'll be in Australia.
My program is Australia: Sustainability and Environment. Details are here.
I leave on Wednesday, three days from now. 6-hour flight to LA, 6-hour nap in LAX, 15-hour flight to Brisbane. I arrive in Brisbane on Friday morning.
At this point I am wondering how many times the Cash4Gold infomercial can air in a single commercial period. So far it is three times.
Sitting amidst my raincoat, camping towel, first aid kit, and bathing suits, I am starting Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country (at the suggestion of my future, fellow travelers) to prepare me for my journey. I am both excited and nervous. I catch myself daydreaming about what my experiences will be like, only to realize that I cannot anticipate what is in store. Next time I write, I'll be in Australia.
My program is Australia: Sustainability and Environment. Details are here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)