32 hours. Four timezones. Four cities. Three continents. One day. That has been the beginning of this odyssey to the good old US of A (and Canada of course). It all started of course back in Australia, leaving Melbourne and flying for 9 or so hours to the southern Chinese city of Gaungzhou for a stop over before continuing another 14 hours to Los Angeles from which we waited for our connecting flight to the big apple itself New York City.
We arrived at New York's John F Kennedy airport at around 8 am local time, current temperature, 1° Celsius! Welcome to the northern winter! We were both incredibly tired but this is New York City, the city that never sleeps, and our time here is only short so we decided that after checking into our hotel on the upper east side of Manhattan and taking the opportunity to freshen up, we'd put feet to pavement and explore the city with our final destination being Times Square.
I'd wager that on foot it's nearly impossible to get lost in New York, the streets are numbered so it's very easy to navigate. We started off by strolling the upper east side, wandering Lexington Avenue, Madison Avenue and 5th Avenue, home of companies such as Tiffany & Co. It is also where the famous toy store F.A.O. Swartz can be found. What makes it so well known? It's where the floor piano from the movie Big with Tom Hanks can be found. If you were wondering yes we did have a go on it and yes it was as much fun as it looks! It's the kind of store where if you had the means you could easily drop a couple of k there and still want to go back and buy more. From there it was on to my versions of crazy toy stores, the NBA & NHL stores. If you have little kids and are into basketball then the NBA uniform onesy's are very cool, ditto the mini hockey jerseys. We got chatting to one of the staff at the NHL store, a guy named Otto who had been to Australia and spent time in Sydney and Melbourne. One of the things that has really struck me about NYC is how friendly and helpful the people are. Yes there's the hustle and bustle of a city this size, but the average New Yorker takes great pride in their city and is more than happy to offer some good tips and advice to a couple of Aussie tourists of cool little spots that maybe off the tourist map.
Times Square really has to be seen in person to be believed. It's a symphony of lights and sound, constant colorful video images assaulting your eyes and colorful characters around the heart of the square. Our first stop was of course the Hersheys store and the M&M's store. As soon as you open the door the delightful aroma of chocolate hits you and is intoxicating. The range of products at the m&m's store in particular was immense. Pretty much anything you want can be found there branded with the logo or characters of the company. If you're a people watcher, Times Square would be your nirvana. The constant swell of people throws up some of the most bizarre people you'll see. We saw people dressed as spiderman & Mario, taking photos with tourists for tips. Elmo wasn't there this day.
Tipping is something quite bizarre and foreign to us as Australians, as is the sales tax situation here. If an item's shelf price is $24.00, you should expect to actually pay around the $27 mark. As for tipping, fair to say that that confused the hell out of us! Thank god we don't do it back home!
We finished our day with a stroll past well known landmarks as the Rockefeller Centre, Radio City Music Hall and the NBC Rainbow Room as we headed back to our hotel. It had been a long and crazy day, but so enjoyable. Let's see what you have to give us tomorrow New York.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Friday, December 23, 2011
2011. My Year In Review.
As regular readers of this blog (both of you) already know, I haven't posted a new entry for months. There has been many factors as to why there has been so little activity, lack of internet/computer over a long period of time for starters, writers block in my NT series - I still have plenty to write about, but I want to keep it chronological and I am really stuck trying to get the next piece even started, work has kept me busy and sometimes to be honest I simply could not be bothered. I was sorely lacking in motivation to write. But as I was outside my house, bathed in beautiful summer sunshine I had one of those rare moments, an epiphany if you will. This year mores that other years has been a roller coaster for me, full of a few dizzying highs and some very deep lows. What better way to get some catharsis than to write about it, publish it on the internet and let the whole world (theoretically) see it. I mean everyone is interested in the menial tasks of one middle class country boy Australians life right?
New Years rolled around for me to a soundtrack of Dashboard Confessionals excellent Alter The Ending album. I was fortunate enough to have the deluxe edition which featured both the regular album and an all acoustic version. I had spent most of New Years Eve on my own, Bec at the time was working at the Royal Mail Hotel in Dunkeld and didn't finish work until five minutes to midnight. 2011 started with a whimper for me. I had high hopes for this year after the almost surreal 2010 which began with Mikey & I living in the crapshack in Darwin and ended with Bec, Pup & I living in the spare room at Bec mothers house. 2011 was going to be our year, I was sure of it. We were back home in Ararat, both kept busy with work and had some big plans for the coming year.
January was very busy for me. I was kept busy with work, at one stage working around 60 hours a week, often sleep over shifts and weekends, which was handy as that was helping me keep a steady income despite working on a casual basis. In fact January seemed to be over in the blink of an eye as days and nights seemed to merge into one with all the hours I was clocking up with my job. I also was working casually at the day program service run by McGregor Community Services, with one permanent day a week there as well as my casual work. It was tiring certainly working so many hours, but I had regained my passion for the disability field after it had been slowly eroding to the point of near oblivion by the time over the past 2-3 years. I didn't see Bec or Mikey as much as I would have liked with both of us working long and strange hours, but I was back in my hometown, able to go to the Grampians or the farm whenever I wanted. It was a very unusual summer however. The decade long drought that had gripped the south east of this continent finally broke, and when the rains came, they didn't seem to stop. Tropical type thunderstorms brought with them massive downpours which are rarely seen in the south of Australia. This in turn led to flooding and landslides throughout the Wimmera/Grampians region, causing major damage to homes, bridges, roads and property. The Western Highway, the main road between Victoria and South Australia, was cut off in different areas between Ballarat and Horsham. At one stage every road into Ararat was cut off due to flood water. The landslips caused massive amounts of damage at Halls Gap, the tourist centre of the Grampians and carnage throughout the national park as the rain and floods dislodged large boulders, which crashed through the trees and undergrowth leaving a trail of broken and felled trees behind them.
January wasn't all doom and gloom however. On the 29th I got the phone call I had been waiting for. I was an uncle for the first time as my brother Adam and his wife Katie welcomed a gorgeous little girl named Evie Sienna into the world. I had never really understood peoples obsession with babies until I went to visit her for the first time and she opened up her little blue eyes and grasped my pinky finger in her tiny hand. I had tried to play it cool and be almost indifferent to the whole new baby thing, but that moment instantly put a stop to the charade. Now I knew why people made such a big deal about newborns.
February, March and April were quite uneventful months. I continued on the same way that the year had started, working long hours and often working nights and weekends. I purchased my ute during this time, which Mikey enjoyed greatly, especially if it meant trips to one of the lakes or the farm to swim in the dam. Easter came and went, I seemed oblivious to it however. Everyday still seemed to be interchangeable with others, except for Mondays which were usually the days I had off. I tried to get out and do as much as I could. Our house wouldn't be available to us until the middle of the year, so we were still at Bec's mother house. This became increasingly more uncomfortable for me. It was an environment that I didn't feel comfortable in and as such I tried my best to keep to myself as often as I could. I was looking quite forward to getting our house back.
The previous three seemingly innocuous months were soon to be shattered by the events of May. I had been sensing a distance between Bec and I for quite a while. It all came to a head in this month. At the end of May, not long after our four year anniversary, we decided to call it quits. No animosity, no anger, just a sense of belief that we had run our course together as the differences in us as both people and in our goals and desires in life became more and more obvious and overshadowed the things we had in common to the point where it could no long be ignored. Still, a sense of hurt lingered long and hard over the situation. After all, after spending four years of your life with one person, making massive decisions together and achieving milestones in life together, having once in a lifetime experiences with them, it would be impossible not to feel some sense of hurt and rejection. It also meant Mikey and I had to find another place to live for a few weeks until the tenants were out of our house. I was able to stay with local tattoo artist and one of my oldest friends Nifty Davis and his lovely wife Kasey, while Mikey went and stayed out at Moyston on the property of another couple of old friends Doug & Kelly McKinnon and their two labradors Jemma and Suzie (Mikeys girlfriend!) The support I received through this tough period from my friends and family is something that I greatly appreciated and cherished. It was also good to know that even though we were no longer together, Bec still checked up on me as she knew better than anyone the struggles I have had with depression over the years. At her urging I went back to the doctors and began the long and winding road back to some sense of mental stability if nothing else. Bec still keeps an eye out for me and is constantly checking up to make sure that i'm ok. I appreciate that.
In June, Mikey and I finally returned to our home. We were both relieved that our nomadic existence was at an end and we could finally find some stability. It seemed strange coming back here however without Bec. However it also felt good to finally come back to our home, where we made the rules and had the freedom to do whatever we wanted without fear of upsetting any overblown egos. We felt free again. Although I was very thankful that Bec's mum gave us a place to stay when we returned from the NT, I was relieved to leave there. The situation had become increasingly uncomfortable for me and also I imagine for Becs family too. I didn't want to burden Nifty and Kasey with my presence for too long, nor Doug & Kelly with Mikeys, so to get the keys back to the house was a relief in many ways.
As much as I enjoyed the freedom of being back at the newly dubbed Palace Of Wisdom, I found myself sinking back into my old ruts and bad habits. The (still) ongoing saga of refinancing the house weighed heavily on my mind, my dietary habits slipped and I soon found myself back in that same old cycle again. My weekends were once again free, as I had began working full-time at the Viewpoint street day programs, however I lacked desire to even get out of bed. It all came to a head one night in August, after finishing work late (I had taken a group of lads to Melbourne for a footy trip), all the pent up emotions from the previous two years finally overcame me. I felt lost, hopeless and despondent. It was a rut I stayed in for most of July and August, with brighter spots in September and October,including my appearance on national tv on October the 13th. I was a contestant on Millionaire Hotseat, had a chance to win $100k but got a question I had no clue about. I still walked away with $1,000 and a once in a lifetime experience. In November however, my fragile mental piece was soon to be shattered again.
Ironically I was participating in the Movember cause with my friend Tom to try and raise money for Beyond Blue and prostate cancer research. However due to a number of factors I felt lower than low in November, and the moustache certainly didn't help things. I know it sounds ridiculous to blame a moustache for my deteriorating mental state, however I was to the point where I couldn't even stand to look at myself in the mirror. In addition to the mental angst I was feeling, I also felt extremely bad about myself physically, the moustache made me feel like a physically ugly person, the paranoia started to creep back into my mind because even though thousands of others around the world participated in it, I felt extremely foolish and ugly with it. I rarely ventured out in public and went back to being a recluse. I seriously contemplated selling the house and going bush, just leaving society as a whole behind. December 1st and my facial liberation couldn't come quick enough.
As I write this now, on the 23rd of December sitting at my kitchen table, Mikey laying at my feet, the dying roses from my garden on the kitchen table still mustering enough life to give the occasional burst of wonderful fragrance, the summer sun shining down upon the back deck, I can only wonder what 2012 will bring. There'll be lows, granted, but there will be highs as well. All I can do is strive to be a good person and make the world around me a better place. If I can achieve that in 2012, then the year shall be a success. So au revoir 2011. Don't let the door hit you in the are on the way out.
New Years rolled around for me to a soundtrack of Dashboard Confessionals excellent Alter The Ending album. I was fortunate enough to have the deluxe edition which featured both the regular album and an all acoustic version. I had spent most of New Years Eve on my own, Bec at the time was working at the Royal Mail Hotel in Dunkeld and didn't finish work until five minutes to midnight. 2011 started with a whimper for me. I had high hopes for this year after the almost surreal 2010 which began with Mikey & I living in the crapshack in Darwin and ended with Bec, Pup & I living in the spare room at Bec mothers house. 2011 was going to be our year, I was sure of it. We were back home in Ararat, both kept busy with work and had some big plans for the coming year.
January was very busy for me. I was kept busy with work, at one stage working around 60 hours a week, often sleep over shifts and weekends, which was handy as that was helping me keep a steady income despite working on a casual basis. In fact January seemed to be over in the blink of an eye as days and nights seemed to merge into one with all the hours I was clocking up with my job. I also was working casually at the day program service run by McGregor Community Services, with one permanent day a week there as well as my casual work. It was tiring certainly working so many hours, but I had regained my passion for the disability field after it had been slowly eroding to the point of near oblivion by the time over the past 2-3 years. I didn't see Bec or Mikey as much as I would have liked with both of us working long and strange hours, but I was back in my hometown, able to go to the Grampians or the farm whenever I wanted. It was a very unusual summer however. The decade long drought that had gripped the south east of this continent finally broke, and when the rains came, they didn't seem to stop. Tropical type thunderstorms brought with them massive downpours which are rarely seen in the south of Australia. This in turn led to flooding and landslides throughout the Wimmera/Grampians region, causing major damage to homes, bridges, roads and property. The Western Highway, the main road between Victoria and South Australia, was cut off in different areas between Ballarat and Horsham. At one stage every road into Ararat was cut off due to flood water. The landslips caused massive amounts of damage at Halls Gap, the tourist centre of the Grampians and carnage throughout the national park as the rain and floods dislodged large boulders, which crashed through the trees and undergrowth leaving a trail of broken and felled trees behind them.
January wasn't all doom and gloom however. On the 29th I got the phone call I had been waiting for. I was an uncle for the first time as my brother Adam and his wife Katie welcomed a gorgeous little girl named Evie Sienna into the world. I had never really understood peoples obsession with babies until I went to visit her for the first time and she opened up her little blue eyes and grasped my pinky finger in her tiny hand. I had tried to play it cool and be almost indifferent to the whole new baby thing, but that moment instantly put a stop to the charade. Now I knew why people made such a big deal about newborns.
February, March and April were quite uneventful months. I continued on the same way that the year had started, working long hours and often working nights and weekends. I purchased my ute during this time, which Mikey enjoyed greatly, especially if it meant trips to one of the lakes or the farm to swim in the dam. Easter came and went, I seemed oblivious to it however. Everyday still seemed to be interchangeable with others, except for Mondays which were usually the days I had off. I tried to get out and do as much as I could. Our house wouldn't be available to us until the middle of the year, so we were still at Bec's mother house. This became increasingly more uncomfortable for me. It was an environment that I didn't feel comfortable in and as such I tried my best to keep to myself as often as I could. I was looking quite forward to getting our house back.
The previous three seemingly innocuous months were soon to be shattered by the events of May. I had been sensing a distance between Bec and I for quite a while. It all came to a head in this month. At the end of May, not long after our four year anniversary, we decided to call it quits. No animosity, no anger, just a sense of belief that we had run our course together as the differences in us as both people and in our goals and desires in life became more and more obvious and overshadowed the things we had in common to the point where it could no long be ignored. Still, a sense of hurt lingered long and hard over the situation. After all, after spending four years of your life with one person, making massive decisions together and achieving milestones in life together, having once in a lifetime experiences with them, it would be impossible not to feel some sense of hurt and rejection. It also meant Mikey and I had to find another place to live for a few weeks until the tenants were out of our house. I was able to stay with local tattoo artist and one of my oldest friends Nifty Davis and his lovely wife Kasey, while Mikey went and stayed out at Moyston on the property of another couple of old friends Doug & Kelly McKinnon and their two labradors Jemma and Suzie (Mikeys girlfriend!) The support I received through this tough period from my friends and family is something that I greatly appreciated and cherished. It was also good to know that even though we were no longer together, Bec still checked up on me as she knew better than anyone the struggles I have had with depression over the years. At her urging I went back to the doctors and began the long and winding road back to some sense of mental stability if nothing else. Bec still keeps an eye out for me and is constantly checking up to make sure that i'm ok. I appreciate that.
In June, Mikey and I finally returned to our home. We were both relieved that our nomadic existence was at an end and we could finally find some stability. It seemed strange coming back here however without Bec. However it also felt good to finally come back to our home, where we made the rules and had the freedom to do whatever we wanted without fear of upsetting any overblown egos. We felt free again. Although I was very thankful that Bec's mum gave us a place to stay when we returned from the NT, I was relieved to leave there. The situation had become increasingly uncomfortable for me and also I imagine for Becs family too. I didn't want to burden Nifty and Kasey with my presence for too long, nor Doug & Kelly with Mikeys, so to get the keys back to the house was a relief in many ways.
As much as I enjoyed the freedom of being back at the newly dubbed Palace Of Wisdom, I found myself sinking back into my old ruts and bad habits. The (still) ongoing saga of refinancing the house weighed heavily on my mind, my dietary habits slipped and I soon found myself back in that same old cycle again. My weekends were once again free, as I had began working full-time at the Viewpoint street day programs, however I lacked desire to even get out of bed. It all came to a head one night in August, after finishing work late (I had taken a group of lads to Melbourne for a footy trip), all the pent up emotions from the previous two years finally overcame me. I felt lost, hopeless and despondent. It was a rut I stayed in for most of July and August, with brighter spots in September and October,including my appearance on national tv on October the 13th. I was a contestant on Millionaire Hotseat, had a chance to win $100k but got a question I had no clue about. I still walked away with $1,000 and a once in a lifetime experience. In November however, my fragile mental piece was soon to be shattered again.
Ironically I was participating in the Movember cause with my friend Tom to try and raise money for Beyond Blue and prostate cancer research. However due to a number of factors I felt lower than low in November, and the moustache certainly didn't help things. I know it sounds ridiculous to blame a moustache for my deteriorating mental state, however I was to the point where I couldn't even stand to look at myself in the mirror. In addition to the mental angst I was feeling, I also felt extremely bad about myself physically, the moustache made me feel like a physically ugly person, the paranoia started to creep back into my mind because even though thousands of others around the world participated in it, I felt extremely foolish and ugly with it. I rarely ventured out in public and went back to being a recluse. I seriously contemplated selling the house and going bush, just leaving society as a whole behind. December 1st and my facial liberation couldn't come quick enough.
As I write this now, on the 23rd of December sitting at my kitchen table, Mikey laying at my feet, the dying roses from my garden on the kitchen table still mustering enough life to give the occasional burst of wonderful fragrance, the summer sun shining down upon the back deck, I can only wonder what 2012 will bring. There'll be lows, granted, but there will be highs as well. All I can do is strive to be a good person and make the world around me a better place. If I can achieve that in 2012, then the year shall be a success. So au revoir 2011. Don't let the door hit you in the are on the way out.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Section 7: Alone This Holiday
I have always found early December to be a hectic time of the year, work or school gets busy from the crush to finish of projects, the shops and streets get crazy with the Christmas time rush, the days of summer are upon us and people are starting to feel the heat and for me personally, I have a few birthdays to deal with, namely my Mums and later in the month my own. For most people however, the Christmas to New Year period is a time to wind down and relax. It used to be this way for me too. Not this year though...
I made my first trip home around the 17th of December. I had only been in Darwin a month and already I was looking to escape the heat and humidity. I was extremely slowly finding my feet in my new job. It was an entirely new proposition for me to have the everyday needs and welfare of five total strangers being my responsibility and the whole whirlwind of the previous month had been wearing me down. Bec's cousin was getting married, so I hopped on a plane back to Victoria for the first of a few 4 or so hour trips back home.
The plane was packed with younger people just like myself heading back 'down south' to visit family and friends for Christmas. I was the odd one out for having only my backpack with me and not being hidden behind mountains of presents. Mikey had been taken care of, my fellow coordinator, mentor, confidant, chauffeur, partner in crime and of course friend Julie had agreed to look after him. At the time Julie lived on a nice chunk of land at a little spit on the map called Virginia, about 30 minutes out of Darwin past Palmerston. Mikey had plenty of room to run, play and socialise with Julies dog Sally, so he was more than happy after being stuck in the little courtyard of the crap shack. Julie had also kindly agreed to drop me off at the airport, which I happily accepted because as anyone who works in Disability Services knows, we sure as hell don't do what we do for the massive salary, so any chance to save a taxi fare was much appreciated.
I arrived back to something I had missed greatly since I had left Victoria. Cold weather! Oh and my Mum and Dad were there too to pick me up. I had never seen Mum beam so much. It was as if I had been away for years, not weeks. It had been extremely hard for my Mum having me move to the opposite end of the country. My Mum and I are similar in that we both wear our hearts on our sleeves and are not ones for much stoicism. We let our emotions show and Mum was more than happy to let the world know that yeah, it had only been a month, but she missed her son a whole lot. Even Dad, who is usually the opposite of Mum and I when it comes to showing his feelings let his guard down and it made me just that little bit happier to be home. Of course, I couldn't wait to get back to Ararat and see Bec and some of my friends, but for the moment it was about my Mum, Dad and their eldest son.
It was with great excitement and anticipation that I waited to get back to Ararat to see Bec. The hour and a half trip from Bacchus Marsh seemed to take forever. I was elated to actually properly see Bec, not over some grainy Skype web cam, not via an MMS picture, but in the flesh. I just wanted to give her the biggest hug of my life, just so she could tangibly feel how much I had missed her. After a month of either being on my own or with just Mikey (who I love to death but let's face it, he is not a great conversationalist) it was great just being around the person who understood me better than anyone else ever has. We chatted about nothing for God knows how long. Just random, stupid stuff that we could laugh about, until we fell asleep, with Bec in my arms where she belonged.
The wedding was fun, held at a beautiful old church on top of what seemed the biggest and steepest hill in Daylesford and a great time was had by all. The day after the wedding Bec and I headed back to Bacchus Marsh to spend a bit more time with my parents and enjoy a smoothie and breakfast. I also happened to be flying back to Darwin on my birthday and it was one of my birthday presents that would be part of just about everything I experienced while we lived in the Northern Territory, a brand new pair of black Chucks. The became my Territory shoes and when I left, they stayed, no longer black and a crisp white, but almost grey and stained with everything from the monsoonal rain waters to the red dirt of Arnhem Land. I also got for my birthday, thanks to the wet season conditions over the top end, some turbulence on the flight back to Darwin. I'd had a great time being back home, seeing Bec, Mum, Dad and my friends, but it was now back to reality.
Christmas in the Territory! I never thought I'd ever experience it! And on Christmas day I...worked. Yep, I worked on Christmas Day. At Somerville, coordinators and support staff didn't get public holidays off, nor did we get paid public holiday rates. So that was my Christmas. On the plus side, Mikey was able to come to work with me for the day and run around the yard like a lunatic, plus when we got back to the crap shack we were able to watch Animation Domination ALL DAY LONG! As soon as we got back to the crap shack, non stop Simpsons, Family Guy, American Dad and Futurama (only broken by the WWE and when we changed the channel to avoid King Of The Hill). Of course I did the ring around, my parents, the family out at Auntie Tina's farm etc. But it was incomplete without Bec, who was not having the best day either. (Also, I missed out on the croquembouche that Bec had made. If you don't know what that is, then remember, Google is your friend). We both wanted nothing more than to be together that Christmas day, but the tyranny of distance was our enemy. As for New Years, well let me put it this way. I was in bed asleep by 10.30 Central Time (I chose 10,30 as it would have been 12 back home). 2009 was done, a year of massive change and upheaval for us, now we had to see what 2010 had in store for us.
Title Song: Alone This Holiday by The Used from the album 'Maybe Memories'
I made my first trip home around the 17th of December. I had only been in Darwin a month and already I was looking to escape the heat and humidity. I was extremely slowly finding my feet in my new job. It was an entirely new proposition for me to have the everyday needs and welfare of five total strangers being my responsibility and the whole whirlwind of the previous month had been wearing me down. Bec's cousin was getting married, so I hopped on a plane back to Victoria for the first of a few 4 or so hour trips back home.
The plane was packed with younger people just like myself heading back 'down south' to visit family and friends for Christmas. I was the odd one out for having only my backpack with me and not being hidden behind mountains of presents. Mikey had been taken care of, my fellow coordinator, mentor, confidant, chauffeur, partner in crime and of course friend Julie had agreed to look after him. At the time Julie lived on a nice chunk of land at a little spit on the map called Virginia, about 30 minutes out of Darwin past Palmerston. Mikey had plenty of room to run, play and socialise with Julies dog Sally, so he was more than happy after being stuck in the little courtyard of the crap shack. Julie had also kindly agreed to drop me off at the airport, which I happily accepted because as anyone who works in Disability Services knows, we sure as hell don't do what we do for the massive salary, so any chance to save a taxi fare was much appreciated.
I arrived back to something I had missed greatly since I had left Victoria. Cold weather! Oh and my Mum and Dad were there too to pick me up. I had never seen Mum beam so much. It was as if I had been away for years, not weeks. It had been extremely hard for my Mum having me move to the opposite end of the country. My Mum and I are similar in that we both wear our hearts on our sleeves and are not ones for much stoicism. We let our emotions show and Mum was more than happy to let the world know that yeah, it had only been a month, but she missed her son a whole lot. Even Dad, who is usually the opposite of Mum and I when it comes to showing his feelings let his guard down and it made me just that little bit happier to be home. Of course, I couldn't wait to get back to Ararat and see Bec and some of my friends, but for the moment it was about my Mum, Dad and their eldest son.
It was with great excitement and anticipation that I waited to get back to Ararat to see Bec. The hour and a half trip from Bacchus Marsh seemed to take forever. I was elated to actually properly see Bec, not over some grainy Skype web cam, not via an MMS picture, but in the flesh. I just wanted to give her the biggest hug of my life, just so she could tangibly feel how much I had missed her. After a month of either being on my own or with just Mikey (who I love to death but let's face it, he is not a great conversationalist) it was great just being around the person who understood me better than anyone else ever has. We chatted about nothing for God knows how long. Just random, stupid stuff that we could laugh about, until we fell asleep, with Bec in my arms where she belonged.
The wedding was fun, held at a beautiful old church on top of what seemed the biggest and steepest hill in Daylesford and a great time was had by all. The day after the wedding Bec and I headed back to Bacchus Marsh to spend a bit more time with my parents and enjoy a smoothie and breakfast. I also happened to be flying back to Darwin on my birthday and it was one of my birthday presents that would be part of just about everything I experienced while we lived in the Northern Territory, a brand new pair of black Chucks. The became my Territory shoes and when I left, they stayed, no longer black and a crisp white, but almost grey and stained with everything from the monsoonal rain waters to the red dirt of Arnhem Land. I also got for my birthday, thanks to the wet season conditions over the top end, some turbulence on the flight back to Darwin. I'd had a great time being back home, seeing Bec, Mum, Dad and my friends, but it was now back to reality.
Christmas in the Territory! I never thought I'd ever experience it! And on Christmas day I...worked. Yep, I worked on Christmas Day. At Somerville, coordinators and support staff didn't get public holidays off, nor did we get paid public holiday rates. So that was my Christmas. On the plus side, Mikey was able to come to work with me for the day and run around the yard like a lunatic, plus when we got back to the crap shack we were able to watch Animation Domination ALL DAY LONG! As soon as we got back to the crap shack, non stop Simpsons, Family Guy, American Dad and Futurama (only broken by the WWE and when we changed the channel to avoid King Of The Hill). Of course I did the ring around, my parents, the family out at Auntie Tina's farm etc. But it was incomplete without Bec, who was not having the best day either. (Also, I missed out on the croquembouche that Bec had made. If you don't know what that is, then remember, Google is your friend). We both wanted nothing more than to be together that Christmas day, but the tyranny of distance was our enemy. As for New Years, well let me put it this way. I was in bed asleep by 10.30 Central Time (I chose 10,30 as it would have been 12 back home). 2009 was done, a year of massive change and upheaval for us, now we had to see what 2010 had in store for us.
Title Song: Alone This Holiday by The Used from the album 'Maybe Memories'
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Section 6: My Sweet Dog
The old saying goes that dog's are a man's best friend. After a few weeks of being on my own, nearly 4000 kms away from my family and friends, with little to no furniture, I was definitely in need of a friend. So to say that I was excited that Mikey, our big playful golden Labrador was on his way up, was a massive understatement. Mikey had a fairly gruelling flight up from Melbourne airport, instead of the usual 4 hour flight Mikey had an 8 hour trip with a stop over in Alice Springs. Already our almost one and a half year old lab had more done more travelling than some of my human friends.
Poor Mikey had had some difficulties with his first travelling experience, heading down to Melbourne he was blissfully unaware of what was ahead of him, all he cared about was that he was going for a big drive in the car. For a puppy born in the wheat belt area of Longrenong and raised in Ararat, Melbourne airport must have been something else. A veritable sensory overload, so many new people to meet and smell! For a social creature like Mikey that would have been nirvana. Unfortunately for Mikey, the person working for Australian Express that day wasn't in such a sociable mood.
As anyone who owns/has owned a Labrador knows, they are a breed of dog that despite being full grown display their puppish behaviours for the first few years of their lives, Mikey was (and still is) no different, his friendliness sometimes spilling over into unbridled puppy excitement. The Australian Express employee was either having a bad day/not a dog person/a complete douche (I personally think it was the last one) and didn't appear to appreciate Mikey's friendliness and unwillingness to get cramped into a travelling cage that was too small for him. Captain Australian Express decided that the best way to get Mikey into the travelling box was to yell at not just our poor confused dog, but also at Bec and her friend Alyce, who had gone for some moral support. Thankfully a more level headed person from a pet minding service was there to help. It was an emotional day for Bec as she watched Mikey board the plane, looking at her with the 'why are you doing this to me?' expression on his face normally reserved for when we go inside after playing tug of war with him, and tears were shed. Bec would not be that emotional again until a few weeks later when Mikey skyped her.
Up in the top end, my emotions were the opposite of Bec's. I was at the airport 45 minutes early, I was so excited to see my mate and take him for a stroll along the foreshore. When he got off the plane into Darwin, he seemed both relieved and a bit overwhelmed by the combination of the flight and the heat. But he had a wading pool of water, some new toys and a bed waiting for him at the crap shack. Hell, at that stage he had more possessions in Darwin than I did!
Darwin is, despite the mammalian unfriendly climate, very much a dog friendly place. It seems everyone has a dog, the most common being what we came to call simply 'Darwin Dogs' usually staffy crossed with god knows how many other breeds, usually behind 6-8 foot high fences that would come tearing down towards the footpath with a look of malice and intent in their eyes if you dared walk past with your dog. The beaches around Darwin are also leash free beaches, which we thought was a wonderful thing until we learned that the reason for leashes being optional is that if there happens to be a saltwater crocodile lurking in the water (and yes, there are crocodiles in the coastal waters of Darwin, last year over 300 were pulled out of Darwin harbour and a 2.5 metre croc had also been spotted lurking near the popular tourist spot Mindil Beach mere metres from a swimmer) then the crocs would be more likely to attack the dogs first, given the humans time to beat a hasty retreat. Suffice to say, we kept Mikey on a VERY close lead while down at the beach.
Crocodile worries aside, the beach was one of Mikey's favorite places. he had never been in the ocean before, so when the first small waves lapped at his legs he didn't know what was happening, there certainly weren't any waves in the dams he had been swimming in out on the farm, but he soon got used to that. he loved splashing in the shallows, misjudging the depth of rock pools and falling head first into them and chasing birds up the beach. He also loved the mangrove mud from the beaches near Cullen Bay and came back half golden, half dirty black mud colour. Fair to say that as much as he loved the mud, it did little to improve his personal odour. Mikey also loved going to the Jingli water Gardens and splashing around in the fountains there with the other dogs.
As was the case with Bec and I, the climate gave Mikey some issues. In his second week in the NT he was off to the vet after I had noticed blood behind his big floppy ears. the humidity had made the skin around his ears so soft that when he scratched his ears it broke the skin. And then there were the scourge of canines in the top end, the ticks. One of the worst things we had to do was pull ticks off Mikey, literally dozens at a time. This also meant monthly trips to the vet for tick prevention injections.
Mikey was an occasional visitor to my work place, where the household residents seemed to get a kick out of him being there, however that was infrequent due to a staff members phobia of dogs. Mikey also gave obedience training a second crack, a little more successfully than his previous attempt when he was a drop out. And if it wasn't for Mikey, i would have spent Christmas Day and New Years Eve alone. I appreciated having my big pup there with me on those days especially.
So many of our experiences involved Mikey, whether it was cleaning up after him after he had left a 'present' on his Auntie Madie's bed while she was out, watching movies in the air conditioning with Mikey asleep at our feet or Mikey freaking out the staff in the McDonald's drive through by sticking his big gold head out the window as soon as he saw his beloved soft serve ice cream being handed to us (he LOVES McDonald's soft serves and still gets excited when he goes anywhere near a McDonald's). Having Mikey with us made the whole Darwin experience that bit more tolerable and I sometimes wonder if he misses the place at all. Except for the ticks of course.
TITLE SONG: My Sweet Dog by Hi-Standard, from the album Angry Fist.
Poor Mikey had had some difficulties with his first travelling experience, heading down to Melbourne he was blissfully unaware of what was ahead of him, all he cared about was that he was going for a big drive in the car. For a puppy born in the wheat belt area of Longrenong and raised in Ararat, Melbourne airport must have been something else. A veritable sensory overload, so many new people to meet and smell! For a social creature like Mikey that would have been nirvana. Unfortunately for Mikey, the person working for Australian Express that day wasn't in such a sociable mood.
As anyone who owns/has owned a Labrador knows, they are a breed of dog that despite being full grown display their puppish behaviours for the first few years of their lives, Mikey was (and still is) no different, his friendliness sometimes spilling over into unbridled puppy excitement. The Australian Express employee was either having a bad day/not a dog person/a complete douche (I personally think it was the last one) and didn't appear to appreciate Mikey's friendliness and unwillingness to get cramped into a travelling cage that was too small for him. Captain Australian Express decided that the best way to get Mikey into the travelling box was to yell at not just our poor confused dog, but also at Bec and her friend Alyce, who had gone for some moral support. Thankfully a more level headed person from a pet minding service was there to help. It was an emotional day for Bec as she watched Mikey board the plane, looking at her with the 'why are you doing this to me?' expression on his face normally reserved for when we go inside after playing tug of war with him, and tears were shed. Bec would not be that emotional again until a few weeks later when Mikey skyped her.
Up in the top end, my emotions were the opposite of Bec's. I was at the airport 45 minutes early, I was so excited to see my mate and take him for a stroll along the foreshore. When he got off the plane into Darwin, he seemed both relieved and a bit overwhelmed by the combination of the flight and the heat. But he had a wading pool of water, some new toys and a bed waiting for him at the crap shack. Hell, at that stage he had more possessions in Darwin than I did!
Darwin is, despite the mammalian unfriendly climate, very much a dog friendly place. It seems everyone has a dog, the most common being what we came to call simply 'Darwin Dogs' usually staffy crossed with god knows how many other breeds, usually behind 6-8 foot high fences that would come tearing down towards the footpath with a look of malice and intent in their eyes if you dared walk past with your dog. The beaches around Darwin are also leash free beaches, which we thought was a wonderful thing until we learned that the reason for leashes being optional is that if there happens to be a saltwater crocodile lurking in the water (and yes, there are crocodiles in the coastal waters of Darwin, last year over 300 were pulled out of Darwin harbour and a 2.5 metre croc had also been spotted lurking near the popular tourist spot Mindil Beach mere metres from a swimmer) then the crocs would be more likely to attack the dogs first, given the humans time to beat a hasty retreat. Suffice to say, we kept Mikey on a VERY close lead while down at the beach.
Crocodile worries aside, the beach was one of Mikey's favorite places. he had never been in the ocean before, so when the first small waves lapped at his legs he didn't know what was happening, there certainly weren't any waves in the dams he had been swimming in out on the farm, but he soon got used to that. he loved splashing in the shallows, misjudging the depth of rock pools and falling head first into them and chasing birds up the beach. He also loved the mangrove mud from the beaches near Cullen Bay and came back half golden, half dirty black mud colour. Fair to say that as much as he loved the mud, it did little to improve his personal odour. Mikey also loved going to the Jingli water Gardens and splashing around in the fountains there with the other dogs.
As was the case with Bec and I, the climate gave Mikey some issues. In his second week in the NT he was off to the vet after I had noticed blood behind his big floppy ears. the humidity had made the skin around his ears so soft that when he scratched his ears it broke the skin. And then there were the scourge of canines in the top end, the ticks. One of the worst things we had to do was pull ticks off Mikey, literally dozens at a time. This also meant monthly trips to the vet for tick prevention injections.
Mikey was an occasional visitor to my work place, where the household residents seemed to get a kick out of him being there, however that was infrequent due to a staff members phobia of dogs. Mikey also gave obedience training a second crack, a little more successfully than his previous attempt when he was a drop out. And if it wasn't for Mikey, i would have spent Christmas Day and New Years Eve alone. I appreciated having my big pup there with me on those days especially.
So many of our experiences involved Mikey, whether it was cleaning up after him after he had left a 'present' on his Auntie Madie's bed while she was out, watching movies in the air conditioning with Mikey asleep at our feet or Mikey freaking out the staff in the McDonald's drive through by sticking his big gold head out the window as soon as he saw his beloved soft serve ice cream being handed to us (he LOVES McDonald's soft serves and still gets excited when he goes anywhere near a McDonald's). Having Mikey with us made the whole Darwin experience that bit more tolerable and I sometimes wonder if he misses the place at all. Except for the ticks of course.
TITLE SONG: My Sweet Dog by Hi-Standard, from the album Angry Fist.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Section 5: The Artist In The Ambulance
I met a number of different people from different backgrounds during the year that I spent in the Northern Territory, some good, some not so good. Some immanently forgettable but some that I shall remember for the rest of my life. The person I am going to write about here is one of those people who I shall never forget. He gave me a different perspective on life and opened my eyes to a number of things I would never have seen. For confidentiality reasons, I won't be using this mans real name or even his skin name* I shall refer to this person as 'The Artist'.
I first came upon some of the artists legacy quite unknowingly. I was sitting in the foyer area of the Somerville Community Services administration building when I spotted a painting by an Aboriginal artist on the wall. This didn't surprise me much, after all, the NT is well known for the Indigenous art that is produced there, so I didn't pay it much heed at the time. That would change over the next twelve months.
It was on my tour of the facilities that I would be working in that I first met The Artist. Of course at the time I didn't know that the skinny man with the grey hair sitting in his wheelchair watching TV was an artist. At that stage he was one of the new residents of the house I would have to get to know, just like the other five people living there at the time. It wasn't until my third day on the job that I found out who he was prior to coming to Somerville.
It was the official opening day of the sparkling new facilities that the Somerville admin staff were enjoying and I was told that The Artist was to attend. I was happy with this, after all we were a disability service, why shouldn't he attend? It was on the way there that I was told the reason he was to go. The painting I had been admiring was actually one of his paintings. Someone from Somerville had found it in one of the local indigenous art galleries and decided to buy it upon hearing who the artist was. The painting would have been a metre high, on bark, and depicted Ngalyod the rainbow serpent and some Mimi Spirits, which are mentioned often in the Dreamtime stories of Arnhem Land. The detail was painstakingly intricate, done in the traditional line style of Western Arnhem Land that must have taken months to produce. Each individual line seemed to tell it's own story, about the subject, about the artist, about his and his people's history and culture. After the formalities (including a meet and greet and photo with NT chief minister Paul Henderson) were done, I decided that I had to learn more about this man, his art and his culture.
The Artist, unlike the majority of residents in Somerville's houses, wasn't born with a disability. Once upon a time he had been a respected member of the community of Oenpelli (also known as Gunbalanya). Oenpelli is a permit only community, about 300 kms east of Darwin in Western Arnhem Land. Oenpelli is known for it's spectacular scenery (being just outside Kakadu National Park) and it's artwork and artists. It holds the largest single collection of rock art in the world in the region surrounding it. It is also home to the Injalak art's centre. The main population of Oenpelli are the Kunwinjku people (pronounced Gun-win-gu for more). Kunwinjku is also the main language spoken in this area (click here for more info). The artist was prominent in his community, learning his trade at the feet of his uncle, also a renown artist. In addition to his art, The Artist was apparently a pretty good footballer back in his day and also used to coach the local kids in the finer points of Australian Football. Due to his people's custom, he never married as he had never been promised a wife and as such had no children. All this got me to thinking about how such a talented, respected, intelligent man end up here and not touring galleries in Europe with his work?
After such a long time in the disability field, not much shocks or saddens me. I have learned not to feel sad or sorry for disabled people. They are not objects of pity, they're human beings who when given the right opportunities have as much chance of making a success of themselves as anyone. But I couldn't help but feel somewhat sad for The Artist, even though I know he wouldn't want my pity. Here was a man with a wonderful gift that had been struck down by a plague on society but a particular curse on Aboriginal society, alcohol. The Artist had had an alcohol induced stroke so severe it left him permanently brain damaged and wheelchair bound. Gone were the fine motor skills that allowed him to produce such beautiful pieces of art such as the one displayed in the Somerville foyer, gone also was the capacity to verbally communicate his thoughts, hopes, desires and dreams to people. But probably worst of all for this proud Kunwinjku man, gone was his independence. He was now totally reliant on others to do the things in life most of us take for granted such as feeding himself, washing himself, dressing himself. Gone was the option to go wherever he liked whenever he liked, replaced by a reliance on others to take him places that they thought he might like to go. Also gone was his attachment to his community, no longer living at Oenpelli with his people and his traditional culture and ways of living, but into the stagnant world of twenty four hour group home care. An intensely private man now not just living with strangers, but having strangers have to complete the most basic of tasks for him.
It took a little while for me to get to know The Artist. He was a naturally wary and reserved person around strangers especially balanda (whitefellas) from down south. We shared a common interest however, football, and at first that was our major discussion point. The Artist was still able to indicate yes or no by nodding or shaking his head, had a very expressive face and a wicked sense of humor. So at first we talked footy, I found out he was an Essendon supporter (but I didn't hold that against him!) and we spoke about the Bombers, my team the Swans and about some of the past and present champions of the AFL, in particular Aboriginal players such as Michael Long and Adam Goodes. The Artist also loved to read books, especially ones that were on familiar topics such as Aboriginal art and the top end, his beloved Oenpelli and bush tucker (we would sometimes compare notes on the different bush tucker we had eaten). He also loved the Footrot Flats comics, just like I did when I used to read them on my auntie and uncles farm growing up. Plus we were both country people (albeit, Ararat and Oenpelli are VASTLY different!) so we could talk about the bush, about goanna's chasing us around camping sites and going swimming in dams and waterholes (no chance of kinga (crocodiles) eating me in Victoria though!
The Artist loved nothing more than getting out and about, seeing people he knew from the past and observing those he didn't know. He enjoyed going to the footy, seeing the NT Thunder and the AFL games, going to the pub for a quiet beer and going to cafes for a delicious mango smoothie. The more I was around him, the more I came to appreciate this man and what he could and did teach me. The Artist also found my attempts to speak Kunwinjku somewhat amusing, but nodded knowingly when i finally managed to get the words correct. He had to deal with disappointments during my time there, such as seeing his trips back to Oenpelli cancelled for varying reasons out of everyones control, but he took it in his stride. After a while, I saw The Artist less as a tragic figure and more as an individual who could teach me so much about his culture and life.
By the end of my time in Darwin, I was proud to call the Artist my mate. Even he said I wasn't too bad for a balanda. When the time came for me to resign, he was the first person I told. He seemed sad that I was going, but he understood. Just as he liked to be with his mob at his home, so did I. Saying bobo (see you again) to The Artist was the hardest of all, but he gave me a smile and a nod as if to say thanks. He's a person who shows all to clearly the dangers of excess alcohol consumption, yet despite everything else remains a rightly proud and dignified person. The Artist is one person I'll never forget and I look forward to seeing him again someday and saying kamak (hello) to him one more time.
*For an explination of skin names in Western Arnhem culture
Title Song: The Artist In The Ambulance by Thrice, from the album The Artist In The Ambulance.
I first came upon some of the artists legacy quite unknowingly. I was sitting in the foyer area of the Somerville Community Services administration building when I spotted a painting by an Aboriginal artist on the wall. This didn't surprise me much, after all, the NT is well known for the Indigenous art that is produced there, so I didn't pay it much heed at the time. That would change over the next twelve months.
It was on my tour of the facilities that I would be working in that I first met The Artist. Of course at the time I didn't know that the skinny man with the grey hair sitting in his wheelchair watching TV was an artist. At that stage he was one of the new residents of the house I would have to get to know, just like the other five people living there at the time. It wasn't until my third day on the job that I found out who he was prior to coming to Somerville.
It was the official opening day of the sparkling new facilities that the Somerville admin staff were enjoying and I was told that The Artist was to attend. I was happy with this, after all we were a disability service, why shouldn't he attend? It was on the way there that I was told the reason he was to go. The painting I had been admiring was actually one of his paintings. Someone from Somerville had found it in one of the local indigenous art galleries and decided to buy it upon hearing who the artist was. The painting would have been a metre high, on bark, and depicted Ngalyod the rainbow serpent and some Mimi Spirits, which are mentioned often in the Dreamtime stories of Arnhem Land. The detail was painstakingly intricate, done in the traditional line style of Western Arnhem Land that must have taken months to produce. Each individual line seemed to tell it's own story, about the subject, about the artist, about his and his people's history and culture. After the formalities (including a meet and greet and photo with NT chief minister Paul Henderson) were done, I decided that I had to learn more about this man, his art and his culture.
The Artist, unlike the majority of residents in Somerville's houses, wasn't born with a disability. Once upon a time he had been a respected member of the community of Oenpelli (also known as Gunbalanya). Oenpelli is a permit only community, about 300 kms east of Darwin in Western Arnhem Land. Oenpelli is known for it's spectacular scenery (being just outside Kakadu National Park) and it's artwork and artists. It holds the largest single collection of rock art in the world in the region surrounding it. It is also home to the Injalak art's centre. The main population of Oenpelli are the Kunwinjku people (pronounced Gun-win-gu for more). Kunwinjku is also the main language spoken in this area (click here for more info). The artist was prominent in his community, learning his trade at the feet of his uncle, also a renown artist. In addition to his art, The Artist was apparently a pretty good footballer back in his day and also used to coach the local kids in the finer points of Australian Football. Due to his people's custom, he never married as he had never been promised a wife and as such had no children. All this got me to thinking about how such a talented, respected, intelligent man end up here and not touring galleries in Europe with his work?
After such a long time in the disability field, not much shocks or saddens me. I have learned not to feel sad or sorry for disabled people. They are not objects of pity, they're human beings who when given the right opportunities have as much chance of making a success of themselves as anyone. But I couldn't help but feel somewhat sad for The Artist, even though I know he wouldn't want my pity. Here was a man with a wonderful gift that had been struck down by a plague on society but a particular curse on Aboriginal society, alcohol. The Artist had had an alcohol induced stroke so severe it left him permanently brain damaged and wheelchair bound. Gone were the fine motor skills that allowed him to produce such beautiful pieces of art such as the one displayed in the Somerville foyer, gone also was the capacity to verbally communicate his thoughts, hopes, desires and dreams to people. But probably worst of all for this proud Kunwinjku man, gone was his independence. He was now totally reliant on others to do the things in life most of us take for granted such as feeding himself, washing himself, dressing himself. Gone was the option to go wherever he liked whenever he liked, replaced by a reliance on others to take him places that they thought he might like to go. Also gone was his attachment to his community, no longer living at Oenpelli with his people and his traditional culture and ways of living, but into the stagnant world of twenty four hour group home care. An intensely private man now not just living with strangers, but having strangers have to complete the most basic of tasks for him.
It took a little while for me to get to know The Artist. He was a naturally wary and reserved person around strangers especially balanda (whitefellas) from down south. We shared a common interest however, football, and at first that was our major discussion point. The Artist was still able to indicate yes or no by nodding or shaking his head, had a very expressive face and a wicked sense of humor. So at first we talked footy, I found out he was an Essendon supporter (but I didn't hold that against him!) and we spoke about the Bombers, my team the Swans and about some of the past and present champions of the AFL, in particular Aboriginal players such as Michael Long and Adam Goodes. The Artist also loved to read books, especially ones that were on familiar topics such as Aboriginal art and the top end, his beloved Oenpelli and bush tucker (we would sometimes compare notes on the different bush tucker we had eaten). He also loved the Footrot Flats comics, just like I did when I used to read them on my auntie and uncles farm growing up. Plus we were both country people (albeit, Ararat and Oenpelli are VASTLY different!) so we could talk about the bush, about goanna's chasing us around camping sites and going swimming in dams and waterholes (no chance of kinga (crocodiles) eating me in Victoria though!
The Artist loved nothing more than getting out and about, seeing people he knew from the past and observing those he didn't know. He enjoyed going to the footy, seeing the NT Thunder and the AFL games, going to the pub for a quiet beer and going to cafes for a delicious mango smoothie. The more I was around him, the more I came to appreciate this man and what he could and did teach me. The Artist also found my attempts to speak Kunwinjku somewhat amusing, but nodded knowingly when i finally managed to get the words correct. He had to deal with disappointments during my time there, such as seeing his trips back to Oenpelli cancelled for varying reasons out of everyones control, but he took it in his stride. After a while, I saw The Artist less as a tragic figure and more as an individual who could teach me so much about his culture and life.
By the end of my time in Darwin, I was proud to call the Artist my mate. Even he said I wasn't too bad for a balanda. When the time came for me to resign, he was the first person I told. He seemed sad that I was going, but he understood. Just as he liked to be with his mob at his home, so did I. Saying bobo (see you again) to The Artist was the hardest of all, but he gave me a smile and a nod as if to say thanks. He's a person who shows all to clearly the dangers of excess alcohol consumption, yet despite everything else remains a rightly proud and dignified person. The Artist is one person I'll never forget and I look forward to seeing him again someday and saying kamak (hello) to him one more time.
*For an explination of skin names in Western Arnhem culture
Title Song: The Artist In The Ambulance by Thrice, from the album The Artist In The Ambulance.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Section 4: I Never Told You What I Do For A Living.
I had been in Darwin for just over a week when two major events happened, I finally got to see where I was going to be working while I was in the NT and I experienced my first monsoonal storm. The fact that these events were both on the same day gave me pause to reflect on just how much different my life would be.
I had arranged with one of the managers to have a tor of the facility that I would be working in. My official job title would be 'Disability Services Coordinator' which I believed would have me coordinating a section of a day program/work program similar to what is in place in Victoria, especially when I had been asked what programs I had run in my previous experience during my interview. I had worked in day programs before and quite enjoyed it, so I was looking forward to starting up and trying to think of ideas for new programs that could be implemented. After a short stop at Casuarina Square I headed down to Wagaman to the Somerville administration offices. My appointment time was at 2.30, but I wanted to be early to A. make a good impression and B. try and cool down a little out of the stifling heat. The administration offices were impressive, extremely new with a modern sophisticated look. They even had a brand new swimming pool for the staff to use and a huge fleet of vehicles marked with the 'Somerville, the courage to be' logo down the side. After coming from working in a school of portable classrooms, this place looked luxurious.
So I mustered up my confidence and walked to the front counter. 'Hi, my name is Gareth Olver and I'm here to see the Disability Services manager please.' 'What? Who did you say you were?' OK, I thought as I looked back somewhat stunned at the sharpness of the response I got to my greeting, 'My name is Gareth Olver, I have a scheduled meeting at 2.30 with one of the Disability Service managers' 'Oh right, well I'll see if they're in...yes got a Gary Oliver here' 'No, it's Gareth Olver, O-L-V-E-R, no I' (Over the years I have become somewhat accustomed to having to repeat and spell out my name for people) 'Ok, well there's a Gareth Olver here. Just sit down they'll be here soon.' another abrupt response, my first impression of the facilities had been shattered by the rudeness of the person o the front desk.
I was met by the same New Zealander manager who interviewed me about 5 minutes later. After the obligatory introduction and comments regarding my tattoos we set off to tour the Somerville Disability Service facilities. First stop was what we call in Victoria a CRU or Community Residential Unit (for those unfamiliar with such jargon, it's one of the houses that people with a disability live in). Interesting, I thought to myself, they must do in home care as well as day programs. Next stop, another CRU. OK, I thought, something is up here, surely they'd only show me one CRU and then get straight into the programs centre. On the way to the third stop, I decided to ask if they ran day programs at all. I wasn't enthused by the response, a politicians pause followed by an answer so vague that there could have been multiple ways to take, 'Ahh...yes we do something like that yes.' (the correct answer would have been 'no, we do nothing at all like that'. I was disappointed to say the least. I had never had the slightest bit of interest in working in a CRU and it certainly wasn't what I thought I'd signed up for.
As we pulled into the driveway, I wondered what the staff and residents would be like. The house itself was a five bedroom house on a massive corner block with an outdoors spa. There were six people living there at the time, one of whom was a resident of another house that was undergoing renovations. Four of the five permanent residents were wheelchair bound and three of the five were indigenous. All five permanent residents were men. One of the best parts of my time in Darwin was getting to know these guys and seeing each of their individual personalities shine through. I also met some of the people who would become 'my' staff and some of my best friends during my time in Darwin. Somerville had a very multicultural staff and during my time there I worked with people from Fiji, Nepal, New Zealand, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Zimbabwe, the Philippines, Germany, China, India, East Timor and England, some were Buddhists, some Muslim, some Hindu, some Mormons. It was an eye opener for me, being from Ararat, a small town in Western Victoria to learn about these people, there cultures and beliefs and of course eat the delicious food they would cook up.
The staff were all very friendly and welcoming and for the most part around the same age as me. The staff working that day, Lisa, a very friendly, good natured and bubbly person who was the only other Australian born person working there and Rosy, a stunning Fijian with a heart of gold, were both enthusiastic to have a chat ad give me the general rundown of the place. I left feeling somewhat better about what lay ahead. It appeared that I had been blessed with a good staff and a great group of household residents. What the hell, I thought, I'll give this a go and see what happens.
I had not long stepped through the front door of the crap shack when thunder that had been rumbling in the distance seemed to roll straight over the top of the house, bringing with it my first experience of monsoonal rain. I had seen heavy rain before sure, but nothing like this. It looked like a months worth of rain back home coming down withing the space of half an hour. I stepped outside into it, after the stifling humidity the rain was like manna from heaven. It was cooling without being cold and so refreshing. The best part was that for a blissful fifteen minutes or so following the rains, everything cooled down and provided an oh so brief but welcome respite from the constant humidity. One thing was for certain, this whole time in the Territory would be something completely different from my life thus far.
I had arranged with one of the managers to have a tor of the facility that I would be working in. My official job title would be 'Disability Services Coordinator' which I believed would have me coordinating a section of a day program/work program similar to what is in place in Victoria, especially when I had been asked what programs I had run in my previous experience during my interview. I had worked in day programs before and quite enjoyed it, so I was looking forward to starting up and trying to think of ideas for new programs that could be implemented. After a short stop at Casuarina Square I headed down to Wagaman to the Somerville administration offices. My appointment time was at 2.30, but I wanted to be early to A. make a good impression and B. try and cool down a little out of the stifling heat. The administration offices were impressive, extremely new with a modern sophisticated look. They even had a brand new swimming pool for the staff to use and a huge fleet of vehicles marked with the 'Somerville, the courage to be' logo down the side. After coming from working in a school of portable classrooms, this place looked luxurious.
So I mustered up my confidence and walked to the front counter. 'Hi, my name is Gareth Olver and I'm here to see the Disability Services manager please.' 'What? Who did you say you were?' OK, I thought as I looked back somewhat stunned at the sharpness of the response I got to my greeting, 'My name is Gareth Olver, I have a scheduled meeting at 2.30 with one of the Disability Service managers' 'Oh right, well I'll see if they're in...yes got a Gary Oliver here' 'No, it's Gareth Olver, O-L-V-E-R, no I' (Over the years I have become somewhat accustomed to having to repeat and spell out my name for people) 'Ok, well there's a Gareth Olver here. Just sit down they'll be here soon.' another abrupt response, my first impression of the facilities had been shattered by the rudeness of the person o the front desk.
I was met by the same New Zealander manager who interviewed me about 5 minutes later. After the obligatory introduction and comments regarding my tattoos we set off to tour the Somerville Disability Service facilities. First stop was what we call in Victoria a CRU or Community Residential Unit (for those unfamiliar with such jargon, it's one of the houses that people with a disability live in). Interesting, I thought to myself, they must do in home care as well as day programs. Next stop, another CRU. OK, I thought, something is up here, surely they'd only show me one CRU and then get straight into the programs centre. On the way to the third stop, I decided to ask if they ran day programs at all. I wasn't enthused by the response, a politicians pause followed by an answer so vague that there could have been multiple ways to take, 'Ahh...yes we do something like that yes.' (the correct answer would have been 'no, we do nothing at all like that'. I was disappointed to say the least. I had never had the slightest bit of interest in working in a CRU and it certainly wasn't what I thought I'd signed up for.
As we pulled into the driveway, I wondered what the staff and residents would be like. The house itself was a five bedroom house on a massive corner block with an outdoors spa. There were six people living there at the time, one of whom was a resident of another house that was undergoing renovations. Four of the five permanent residents were wheelchair bound and three of the five were indigenous. All five permanent residents were men. One of the best parts of my time in Darwin was getting to know these guys and seeing each of their individual personalities shine through. I also met some of the people who would become 'my' staff and some of my best friends during my time in Darwin. Somerville had a very multicultural staff and during my time there I worked with people from Fiji, Nepal, New Zealand, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Zimbabwe, the Philippines, Germany, China, India, East Timor and England, some were Buddhists, some Muslim, some Hindu, some Mormons. It was an eye opener for me, being from Ararat, a small town in Western Victoria to learn about these people, there cultures and beliefs and of course eat the delicious food they would cook up.
The staff were all very friendly and welcoming and for the most part around the same age as me. The staff working that day, Lisa, a very friendly, good natured and bubbly person who was the only other Australian born person working there and Rosy, a stunning Fijian with a heart of gold, were both enthusiastic to have a chat ad give me the general rundown of the place. I left feeling somewhat better about what lay ahead. It appeared that I had been blessed with a good staff and a great group of household residents. What the hell, I thought, I'll give this a go and see what happens.
I had not long stepped through the front door of the crap shack when thunder that had been rumbling in the distance seemed to roll straight over the top of the house, bringing with it my first experience of monsoonal rain. I had seen heavy rain before sure, but nothing like this. It looked like a months worth of rain back home coming down withing the space of half an hour. I stepped outside into it, after the stifling humidity the rain was like manna from heaven. It was cooling without being cold and so refreshing. The best part was that for a blissful fifteen minutes or so following the rains, everything cooled down and provided an oh so brief but welcome respite from the constant humidity. One thing was for certain, this whole time in the Territory would be something completely different from my life thus far.
TITLE SONG: I Never Told You What I Do For A Living by My Chemical Romance. From the album 'Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge'.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Section 3: Kick, Push
Going somewhere new and different is always a bit daunting, especially if it just happens to be nearly 4,000 km's away at the other end of the continent, so it was with a little trepidation that I alighted the taxi in the Darwin suburb of Rapid Creek which I would live in for the next twelve months or so. I knew nothing of Darwin's suburbs despite having been there on holidays in 2008. I knew Cullen Bay, Parap thanks to having a friend living there at the time and whatever suburb Casuarina Square shopping centre was in but that was it. I have to admit that I found the Rapid Creek/Nightcliff (we were right on the border of the two suburbs) area where we lived to be a pretty nice spot. We lived in a quiet little Cull-De-Sac that was less than two minutes walk to the Casuarina beach, Nightcliff foreshore and the Rapid Creek river mouth that had a very nice walking/cycling path that snaked it's way through parkland containing various BBQ areas, rotundas, playgrounds and gym equipment. Also along this route was the Nightcliff swimming pool, a veritable oasis for us in the early days that was seemingly underutilised by the locals (understandable though as everyone has a swimming pool up there, so why bother to pay for a swim at a public pool). Nightcliff pool was perched on a piece of land that looked out across the ocean and was the sort of place where you could just while away the day staring out to sea without much hassle or with a minimum of squealing kids. Further along was the Nightcliff jetty, which is a very popular spot to watch the sunset year round. Sometimes there might be a coffee cart or kebab stand there to try and tempt people into enjoying some sustenance while they watch the sun go down and I'll admit it, the kebab stand did get me a few times. If you were really lucky you may spot a dolphin or dugong while sitting down there watching the world go by (my total: 1 dolphin, 0 dugongs, heaps of fish). It was a nice little spot most of the time.
My exploration of the foreshore happened within my first few days in Darwin. I had been preliminarily getting my bearings in the area via Google Maps and discovered that there was a fish and chip shop in the area. Fantastic, I thought, a fish and chip shop down at the jetty! What a perfect spot! In the first few weeks in Darwin, I had no car (or for that matter, no furniture. For two weeks I made do with an inflatable mattress, a camping chair and bar fridge I brought when I got there and a netbook computer and modem. Also, no curtains in the unit that would become known as the 'crap shack' so my towels became curtains and bed sheets.) But I did have my skateboard. What better on a nice sunny NT afternoon than a skate around the foreshore to the quaint fish and chip shop on the jetty?
So off I set around the foreshore in search of said fish and chip shop. Having reached Nightcliff pool I was a little surprised that there was no shops or commercial establishments at all except for the Beachfront Hotel (more on that place another time) and the adjoining Chinese restaurant. Undeterred I pushed on, sweat dripping from my brow. Actually the sweat was dripping from everywhere and by the time I reached the jetty I was more than ready for a piece of fish and some chips washed down with a refreshing beverage or two. I pulled up at the jetty and scanned my surroundings. Nothing. Strange, I thought, as I consulted trusty old Google maps on my phone. There was supposed to be a place called Aralia street nearby, where the holy grail fish and chip shop was, but i couldn't see it, so once again I set off around the track.
It was probably and hour of fruitless searching before I gave up and decided to head back to the Crap Shack. By this stage I was drenched in sweat and cursing myself for not grabbing a bottle of water from the Beachfront Hotel as I was beyond thirsty from being out in the afternoon sun (despite the ample shade). It was probably another 45 minutes before I reached the Beachfront and was able to purchase a bottle of water. Down it went, all 2 litres, in one hit. Even someone with no medical knowledge like myself knows that's not good and by the time I was back to the Crap Shack I had the headache to end all headaches and was vomiting back up anything I may have eaten in the past week. This went for 2 days and I later found out that I had the classic symptoms of dehydration. Less than a week in Darwin and it had been so far so bad.
SIDE NOTE: Bec and I ended up finding the mythical fish & chip shop one day while driving around the area. Suffice to say, I was disappointed.
TITLE SONG: KICK, PUSH by LUPE FIASCO, from the album FOOD & LIQUOR.
My exploration of the foreshore happened within my first few days in Darwin. I had been preliminarily getting my bearings in the area via Google Maps and discovered that there was a fish and chip shop in the area. Fantastic, I thought, a fish and chip shop down at the jetty! What a perfect spot! In the first few weeks in Darwin, I had no car (or for that matter, no furniture. For two weeks I made do with an inflatable mattress, a camping chair and bar fridge I brought when I got there and a netbook computer and modem. Also, no curtains in the unit that would become known as the 'crap shack' so my towels became curtains and bed sheets.) But I did have my skateboard. What better on a nice sunny NT afternoon than a skate around the foreshore to the quaint fish and chip shop on the jetty?
So off I set around the foreshore in search of said fish and chip shop. Having reached Nightcliff pool I was a little surprised that there was no shops or commercial establishments at all except for the Beachfront Hotel (more on that place another time) and the adjoining Chinese restaurant. Undeterred I pushed on, sweat dripping from my brow. Actually the sweat was dripping from everywhere and by the time I reached the jetty I was more than ready for a piece of fish and some chips washed down with a refreshing beverage or two. I pulled up at the jetty and scanned my surroundings. Nothing. Strange, I thought, as I consulted trusty old Google maps on my phone. There was supposed to be a place called Aralia street nearby, where the holy grail fish and chip shop was, but i couldn't see it, so once again I set off around the track.
It was probably and hour of fruitless searching before I gave up and decided to head back to the Crap Shack. By this stage I was drenched in sweat and cursing myself for not grabbing a bottle of water from the Beachfront Hotel as I was beyond thirsty from being out in the afternoon sun (despite the ample shade). It was probably another 45 minutes before I reached the Beachfront and was able to purchase a bottle of water. Down it went, all 2 litres, in one hit. Even someone with no medical knowledge like myself knows that's not good and by the time I was back to the Crap Shack I had the headache to end all headaches and was vomiting back up anything I may have eaten in the past week. This went for 2 days and I later found out that I had the classic symptoms of dehydration. Less than a week in Darwin and it had been so far so bad.
SIDE NOTE: Bec and I ended up finding the mythical fish & chip shop one day while driving around the area. Suffice to say, I was disappointed.
TITLE SONG: KICK, PUSH by LUPE FIASCO, from the album FOOD & LIQUOR.
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