Palegoldenrod

Being in temp accommodation (sans internet) after my house-hunting trek this morning I dropped into the office to use the net and prep some lease applications among other things.

And then the hail started, followed quickly by the flashflooding. I threw out this video of the view of Elizabeth Street from my office window.

Twitter picked it up and it suddenly ended up everywhere, which was interesting to watch . I’d not really had a chance to see that happen realtime on Twitter before – it’s no wonder there is research on social media in disaster areas and its use as a source of info for emergency workers and the media.

(Here’s another video of Elizabeth St after the waters receded, for comparison).

Knowing there was another storm front coming, and preferring to be in an office with internet and music than at my apartment, I stepped outside to get some food and beer when the water receeded. And I remembered what it was like after every minor incident I’ve experienced: there is energy in the air. That sense of community creeps back in.

Strangers were candidly sharing stories about where they were and what they saw. I saw the same thing years ago after the huge storm in NSW that derailed the train I was on, shut down half of the state, caused multiple fatalities, millions of dollars damage and ultimately beached the Pasha Bulker at a city beach in Newcastle.

I understand why it happens. Several reasons:

• Something out of the ordinary brings people out of their distracted world / sort of a wakeup
• Excitement / adrenalin
• Wanting information
• Sort of bragging / desire to share (the story telling)
• Shared experience (context)

I just wish that this removal of barriers was around more often. It would be much nicer to have more nice random conversations and connections with strangers – we do live in the same city, after all

#justputtingitoutthere

I’ve had such an odd start to the year, those who know me can probably tell things have been strange just by looking at me. I was talking to a friend today about some of it, and he used the term “shrouded in mystery” (particularly relating to my online absence) which didn’t sit well with me. Frankly I didn’t think people would pay so much attention to it, or assume it was caused by them.

So here is my spiel, leading into the year (some explanation rolled in, but not a full story).

There have been key points in my life where I’ve been aware that I am about to take that next step in the evolution of the personality labelled ‘Carly’. Almost always this involved me hibernating for a period of time. While I used to think that this was a bad thing I’m beginning to embrace retreating (either formally at an ashram or temple or just by myself) as something that I need to do regularly (a realisation on its own).

For some progressions the catalyst has been a significant event (joyous or terrible), some have been simply caused by self reflection without having anything actually prompting it. In those cases where something has happened, it almost always was an event involving people.

This time, people were not the primary cause, though several have (in different ways) put their momentum (unknowingly) behind the retreat and were responsible for several minor realisations.

This time it is my health in the driver’s seat – something I’ve never really had reason to be concerned about in the past.

In the last month or so leading up to Christmas I became concerned about my health – my regular exercise routine seemed to be tiring me rather than conditioning me; my sleeping patterns were deteriorating; I felt sick often; and I observed that it was increasingly difficult for me to remember things and get my brain working (to be honest this was what worried and frustrated me the most – I think even my ability to speak and write coherently is affected).

I took myself to the doctor and had a full checkup. Being used to the response “you’re fine. stop worrying. why are you even here?” – I was not prepared for the hesitant concern expressed by my doctor or the five million gallons of bloodwork she ordered.

This concern sat in the back of my mind over Christmas and New Years and I have no doubt it (and often feeling ill) contributed to the short fuse I had with many of my friends over that period.

Early this year I received the results of those tests – which were not great, but I’m not about to drop dead (so stop worrying – it’s the effect of the news and not the news I want to talk about). This was a slap in the face for me.

Essentially I am broken. There are several things that my body can’t do properly – one of which indirectly impedes my brain such that my ability to think and my mood are affected (in addition to the usual low mood that sometimes comes with feeling sick for long periods).

That particular problem has apparently been there for a long time, and has been steadily deteriorating over the last year due to me neglecting and pushing myself in ways most people can handle. Luckily there are ways to help compensate for most of what my body is unable to do for itself. Some other things are just broken and always will be.

My doctors have made it very clear that my body can’t take much more abuse (in no uncertain terms) as well as a few other things that affect my future self. And this is where I find myself assessing my current situation.

Am I doing what I want to be doing, big picture? Am I where I want to be at this point in my life? Have I succeeded in keeping my life free of those things that I know I don’t need or want (or at the very least made a good attempt at it)? Have I filled my life with those things that I do value and do need (or at least made a good attempt at it)? Do I at least have a rough idea of where I want to go from here and am I happy with where the current momentum is taking me? Have I maintained perspective?

There are two things that I want from my life so that when I’m on my death bed I can look back and be satisfied:

1. To have as few regrets as possible; and
2. To have left a positive impact on the world, no matter how unrecognised or quiet or local that effect is. (I guess the flipside of this is to reduce the negative impact I have on the world while I am here).

And the answers I find? This last week or so I’ve been more aware that medication is making me feel sicker rather than better (I was warned – it will improve soon apparently) and that my brain is only just starting to work again – a welcome change as I’d been doubting my ability to assess and respond to situations or make decisions. This fear of making bad decisions, executing poorly chosen responses and generally feeling ill have been the main reasons I’ve been keeping to myself so far this year (both online and IRL).

I realised I’ve recently made some decisions that I regret, that I’ve handled some situations poorly: I’ve trusted people that have mistreated me, I’ve mistreated people I should’ve trusted. The last fortnight has been especially eventful: I’ve lost friends, made friends, and had a few old friends step back into my life unexpectedly (and for the latter, happily). You know who you are – I was (and am) glad to hear from you. I’ve also found out that some people have taken this retreat / hibernation personally. For those of you I hope this post explains it well enough. You are not the centre of the world

I realised that in some ways I’ve managed to get caught up in little-picture issues, rather than keeping view of the big picture as I normally do. I’ve been holding a few pebbles up to my eye and losing perspective of the fact that the path is strewn with millions of them, and the right place for them is beneath my feet. A part of me wonders if living in the city (city pace, city space, city people) is contributing to it… I don’t know yet.

My plans for study, regular volunteering and aid work prep are progressing as intended. My exploration of Melbourne and Victoria continues, albeit slowly. In these things at least I’m happy with their part in the big picture.

I’m more grounded when I’m in the big picture mindset: this is one reason I like to be outdoors – not necessarily to get away from the city and people (although that does have it’s advantages at times) but more to look up at the sky or the stars and think about the weather system or the universe and how tiny I am. Or look at the trees in the forest and think about time – how much has passed, how much more will pass, and how fleeting my life is.

It sometimes has the opposite effect on people but for me it makes my eyes wide in wonder, helps me feel the breath in my lungs and the feel of the soles of my feet on the earth. I can’t help but smile and laugh there. I am at my best there.

This is the place I’m slowly regaining. This is where I was in the year before I left Australia, where I was while I was away and is a place I’ve found only fleetingly since I returned. This is the place I want to be, am determined to be.

I hope I arrive to find like-minded people standing there with me.

I’ve teamed up with my mates for Movember 2009. As I have a moustache growing deficiency, I’m mainly providing support to the boys and also sporting a fingerstache

Movember is a charity project, with funds going to support causes of prostate cancer (support, education, research) and depression in men. Please support the cause by donating to the team, or join us! It’s not too late

Our Movember Team – Hashtag #Mo

Blog Action Day is coming up once again and this time the topic is Climate Change.

First of all for you n00bs, “What is Blog Action Day?”

Blog Action Day is an annual event that unites the world’s bloggers in posting about the same issue on the same day. Our aim is to raise awareness and trigger a global discussion.

Last year on Blog Action Day the topic was poverty. At the time, I found myself injured and stuck in Cochabamba, Bolivia, in the middle of political turmoil relating to a combination of politics (internal and foreign relations) as well as the initial impact of the global financial crisis. I walked through the streets, I saw both sides of the story there, I read the statistics and the world and internal news (and I assure you they were very different) and had my eyes opened to many things. It was such a valuable personal experience for me, made more powerful by being in the midst of it all.

This year, the topic is Climate Change. Now there are so many ways you could approach this… you could be passionate about global environmental policy and its movement into the future, its faults at present. You may have an opinion on what your country or state or community is doing well or badly. You could may want to shed light on activities in your area or you may even want to discuss the science behind it and whether global warming is real or not. The idea of the day is to provoke discussion and debate, and raise awareness.

This is an opportunity for you to be involved in a genuine discussion amongst the global community. Share your opinion. In the words of Kimya Dawson, “Your thoughts and words are powerful”. Think about it.

As for me, I have the seeds of a few ideas floating around already – at the moment they are likely to make for quite a disjoint post. I’ll see how those seeds grow between now and then, but you will certainly find a post here on the day

See you then!

Read more on the Blog Action Day website.

I’ve fallen so far behind with posting about my trip, I feel like it is starting to interfere with what was my usual blogging routine before I went away. I start to want to blog about something and then think “ah, but I really am so far behind… the task seems enormous”. Well, to hell with linearity – in the words of my friend Scott, “linearity is for losers”. I’ll continue to blog about whatever I want, and will interweave my posts and memories and stories and rants from my trips. If you don’t like it, stay in the past with your “continuity” and your “order”. Or whatever.

So! Strap yourselves in for a mega-update-a-thon.

Social-side

I’ve been back in Australia since around the end of March, catching up with friends and family around New South Wales and Victoria and have since moved to Melbourne, Victoria where I plan to stay for quite a while. I’ve never moved to a city where I know less than three people, so I’ve had a great opportunity to wave around my much loved “talk to random people” skills and have met people from many walks of life: buskers, bankers, teachers, students, defense personnel, backpackers, sex industry “technicians”*, farmers, bums, CEOs of multinational companies, Frenchmen – you name it, I’ve probably had a beer or at least a chat with them. Some I don’t really feel the need to stay in contact with. Some are all sorts of cool.

That’s not to say that I haven’t had my share of weirdness while I’ve been galavanting around Melbourne… it appears that unlike awesome backpacker circles, a girl by herself chatting to people is often interpreted as a pickup attempt. Because of course… I’m chatting to a guy I don’t know so I must only be talking to you because I want your body. Honestly, guys? Really? sigh

I do get frustrated with it sometimes – with people I thought I knew turning out to be something different (though admittedly there are a few occasions where that has been a pleasant surprise rather than a bad one). And I am tiring a litte of regular meet-random-ppl-at-pubs adventures. For now, I know some pretty awesome people and will, I’m sure, meet others through them. But never fear – Meet-random-ppl-at-pubs will certainly stay on the agenda, just paced. To give my liver a rest and stop my bosses thinking I am an alcoholic. (I’m not, guys. I’m just a lightweight having some fun )

Here is some info about stuff going on. You should get on board:

MTUB

MTUB (Melbourne Twitter Underground Brigade) has proven to be a really solid group of genuine and great people. They get together officially once a month and unofficially much more regularly, and essentially the only thing these guys have in common is Twitter. It makes for some fun sorta-nerdy socialising, and I was surprised and how well it all worked and everyone got along. They also welcome non-Melbournian Tweeps, so if you are passing through tweet in @mtub’s direction and give us a heads up. We’ll be glad to see you.

Melbourne Board Game Night

There is a group of us that is meeting regularly (roughly every fortnight) at MyCube Cafe in Lygon St to play table top games (Zombies, Munchkin, Settlers of Catan, etc) as well as traditional board games, cards etc. The cafe is a pioneer of the concept of a dedicated table top gaming cafe – they are aimed at gamers, and come equipped with a huge array of games, plenty of tables and goodies to keep you going. If you like salt and pepper shakers that are dice, this is your kind of place. Our particular group is still getting organised but the important things you need to know are: I’ll be there, and food, beers and beanbags are available. What more do you need? If you want to know more, contact me in some way. n00bs welcome, but you will have to undergo my initiation ceremony. Mwahaha. Mwahahahahahaha. Ha. Hmm…

Teh Muzak – Me

I’m living really close to a huge park in Melbourne at the moment, which means I can wander down there with my fiddle or mandolin and bust out some tunes for practice and my own amusement. Sometimes people come and talk to me or listen, or sit down and join in. I like that. Feel free to come and join me for a jam sometime.

Teh Muzak – Sessions

I’ve also been down to a few Irish pubs for some sessions – for those that don’t know, the celtic musical traditions are largely aural, passed down and shared via a session: a meeting of players who regularly sit and play together over a few pints, usually in a pub. Everyone is welcome to join in or listen or dance or whatever takes your fancy. It turns out that there is a session almost every night of the week in Melbourne, which is great. They’re each vaguely at different levels and skill sets, and there is quite a bit of variety. (I’ll post more about them later).

Roller Derby (or: “My new favourite thing in the world”)

I have started going to watch bouts in Melbourne organised by the Victorian Roller Derby League, which are roughly monthly. Last time I went I took a bunch of friends with me (roller derby virgins), and they loved it – since then there are more and more people who want to go… I think the next bout will have every person I know in Melbourne in the crowd

If you don’t know what Roller Derby is, check out the Roller Derby wikipedia page. It is cheap (usually under $20), the crowd is interesting, alternative and enthusiastic, there is beer/bundy and take away hot food served, the sport is unusual and entertaining (probably more so for the guys, being pretty much a girl-only sport, lol), and ultimately it is all still family friendly – there were a number of families with younger kids down there for the last bout, which was great. If you want to come down with our group next time, drop me a line!

Twitter

I’ve been on Twitter for a while, but I’ve not really done much with it until hitting Melbourne. And after getting down to MTUB and hanging out with people like Yonderboy and Bethanie I’ve essentially shifted from being a Facebook Ho to being a Twitter Ho. My acquisition of an iPhone completed this transition and now there is no turning back.

There is something beautiful about any system where I can broadcast a simple “anyone up for beers tonight” 15 minutes before leaving work, and being able to coordinate this impromptu even with others easily in a short time without having to deal with emails or website access or whatever. In my more fanciful moments I like to imagine that we have all decided to turn up at that pub at that time through some telepathic connection, rather than a technological one. But maybe thats just me…

Also being able to immediately tweet a photo of that weird guy doing that weird thing on the street so you don’t have to remember it and describe it to everyone later – high five for technology that encourages us to have even less of an attention span! That and it opens up an amazing subculture and world of injokes that is outside of the norm #andyouknowhowIlovethat

Work-Side

I have the great pleasure and good fortune to be working with Get Started in commercial .NET web development in Melbourne, for almost two months now. It has been quite an odd mix of enthusiastic energy and fatigue: getting back into full time work and full time development (I’ve been analyst / programmer /PM for a little while now) and I have to say I am really enjoying it. I was excited when I first had contact with GS during interviews (walking in to see one’s online life on the interview room projector makes one both exhilarated, interested and somewhat terrified all at once), and have since continued to be impressed by them daily. I think I’ve managed to find myself working for one of the most encouraging, professional, quality-focused, relaxed, productive, efficient and dynamic web dev shops in the city (which makes baby Jebus very happy), and that’s even before I start talking about the awesome people in the team. Lucky me!

I am really glad to be there, enjoying catching the challenges being thrown my way and looking forward to that time in the not-too-distant future when I am back to 100% capacity (I am still a little over-reliant on coffee… but it is oh-so-tasty). I will keep you all posted on some of the more awesome things going on at Get Started – possibly over on my tech blog Kleene Code, but if so I’ll blip it here anyway.

Tech – Google Wave

I’ll keep this brief, mainly because I don’t want to say too much before I’ve had time to go through it properly. Through another incredible fluke I’ve managed to get developer preview access to the Google Wave beta (and before you ask, no there is no invite system in place, and the entire sandbox is going to be nuked before launch). I’m pretty excited about what I have seen so far in the sandbox itself, and in the api… once I’ve had more of a chance to get in and go crazy I’ll probably post some thoughts on Kleene Code.

Health

Quick updates, because I know some of you have been asking me about it generally in emails which I haven’t replied to:

• No, I do not have, nor have ever (to my knowledge) had, Swine Flu.
• My appetite is still weird since coming back.
• I’m no longer a slave to cancer sticks (bad habit I picked up for a while during my travels)
• Funnily still no migraine auras since leaving Australia (was it something in Newcastle, I wonder?)
• Yes, I have been lazy with jogging. Keep reminding me (d’oh)

Wrap Up

So there you have it. Almost all news in one convenient post (well, most of the important stuff anyway). Aren’t I nice?

Footnote: * yes, she really did describe her profession that way, and I LOLd. She also did – awesome sense of humour.

When I left Australia at the start of my trip, the time felt like it extended on before me into that grey haze of “a long way in the future” and it was difficult to contain my excitement. I didn’t want to go home, I wanted to be right there, on the road, exploring, adventuring, finding answers to questions – or just questions.

I remember thinking about the famed “travel bug” (the addiction to travel, not a stomach upset ) and whether I would catch it. I wondered what it was about travelling that had so many addicted.

By the end of my travels in South America, a year later, I felt that time had flown by and I was ready to come home. Well, not that I wanted to be home in Australia specifically (though I did want to catch up with my family and friends). Not even that I wanted to be away from South America, but that I felt a need to have a home. To have my own space for a while, to be able to hang out with the same people without having to part ways just as I got to know them. I wanted to sit down with my old friends who knew me well, who I could talk to about “remember when” and feel like I belonged.

I’ve been back a little more than a month now. When I came back I chose to surprise most of my friends and all of my family and was incredibly excited about it. The 20ish hour flight back from Buenos Aires was sleepless due to the energy building up (though admittedly my body crashed once I touched down in Sydney).

I remember the train ride from Sydney to Newcastle, a calm sunny day, and marvelling at how beautiful the countryside is, the lakes, the mountains. Sitting with Amos on the balcony of a pub in Newcastle one afternoon and looking bemusedly at the streets: so clean, well maintained, orderly roads… such big houses and new cars!

I have great memories of leaning over the fence to Amos to greet him in person for the first time in a year: “I say, sir, have you heard the good news about Jesus Christ?” “What the ….? Woah!” and shortly afterwards suprising Jared and Chelsea as they walked into the house. Wandering into my favourite pub where some of my friends were gathering for the afternoon: “Hang on. What the f@#k? When did you get back?”. The silent greeting of a full 10 minute hug from Nick. Or trudging with all my gear up the long gravel driveway to my parents’ house in the midday sun when my brother walked out the front door, did a double take and then ran to the gate to meet me; my parents becoming tearful when they realised that I wasn’t asking them to be home so I could Skype them from South America, but to hug them in person.

And then, bit by bit, the excitement faded away. I am left with strange feelings – a few friends I was quite close to are no longer there; one group is on the verge of falling apart due to the loss of a friend while I was away; very little feels like it did before. I remember sitting with one of my closest circle of friends and feeling out of step. Had they changed, or was it me? Or both? I caught up with a few groups of out-of-touch companions and noticed things about them that I hadn’t before: some things I liked and some I didn’t. In some cases I started questioning what I saw in them in the first place. Several people need me in different ways than they did before I left, and while I love them I don’t know if I am up to the task. And a big surprise for me is that one group whose company I enjoyed but always felt a bit on the outer has turned out to be the only group where I actually feel more comfortable, has made me the most welcome and is making it clear that they want me to hang out with them, though we’re missing one of my closest buddies.

I’ve caught up with several people I met on the road, whose company I love and who I want to spend time with and get to know better. Here they have histories, they have complications, many have lives which appear to have little room for me despite so much common time spent together and shared experiences. So much was different on the road.

When I was travelling I found a lot of questions – some with answers, some without. Some questions have changed since I have travelled. One I’ve had for a long time is wondering where I belong. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere before I left, though at times overseas I’ve felt fleetingly that I’ve belonged in that place at that time: mandolin-ing alone in a park in Santiago; a night out at a club with great company in Buenos Aires; deep, honest and nerdy conversations in a hammock in Cusco; afternoons spent in the hills near the ruins outside Cusco; blowing up balloons during a prank in Lima; red wine in a riverside cafe in Cuenca; hilarity at the equator in Ecuador; and getting awesome hugs from some people I adore, to name a few. Since I’ve come back I haven’t felt at home even in the house of my childhood. I am starting to think now if maybe the place I belong is not-belonging, even though more and more often I find myself wanting it to be otherwise

It has all made me ask myself if this “travel bug” thing might be the wrong way around… what if its not so much that the road calls people back, but that home never has the same feeling. Maybe you can never feel like you are home again unless you keep moving. I’ve since heard it from other friends that have returned home in the last month or so: “Why does everything need to be so complicated?”, “Things are more complicated than I thought”, “Urgh, its all just so complicated. It was easier on the road”, “I wish I was back on the road. Normal life sucks”. Complicated. That is coming home. Not “Ah! I’m home!” for long, but soon “I wish I were out there again”.

We talk about long term solo travel being a challenge, taking courage… after you’ve done it for a while, does it just become escapism? Do we do it because when we hit the road, to some extent we’re avoiding the real complications? The ones that arise from the likes of social, family and relationship politics, of the responsibility of a real job, the mundane stresses of day-to-day life in permanent society? After all, an often-touted advantage of solo travel is “when I don’t like someone or some place, I leave. I don’t have to answer to anyone”.

I am in Melbourne now, where I know very few people. I wanted to come here before I left Australia, and while in some respects I am probably lying even to myself about a few reasons I am here, I am still interested enough to give it some time and see what happens. It is a great city, and a new city to me. Some companions from my travels are here but things don’t seem to be the same, no matter how much I might want to catch up like old times. A few of my friends from before the trip are here, but more distant – almost strangers to me, and I am on the most excellent adventure of job hunting during a market downturn with no money and little time to organise myself. Oh, how fun

The challenges are different now. I thought I might stop asking questions when I stopped travelling, but coming home has raised more for me. In the last few weeks I’ve found myself reviewing and questioning what I thought I saw for myself in the future, and what I want: some things I know and have known for a while – that many things I want I can’t have, and many things I don’t want I have. Fact of life, no argument will be entered into, case closed. And as for the things I don’t know, well… I guess for now the adventure is finding work and a home and good like-minded friends here in Melbourne (I now know there might be a few other people in the world with warped minds like mine), and if the answers don’t come to me then the road is always open*, at least to a new place to call home for a while.

*Except if you are in Peru or Bolivia, where roads seem to be closed a lot of the time. lols.

(Once again on post catchup mode…. this part of my trip was so long ago now, urgh)

Our bus trip from Uyuni to La Paz was both interesting and amusing for me, and thoroughly unenjoyable for my companions. When we bought the bus tickets, the girls asked if there was heating on board, if there were meals, if there was a bathroom. The response was an emphatic “yes”. I warned them to assume these didn’t exist – the trip was 12 hours long, and Bolivian bus companies can sometimes be unreliable. As we climbed on board the realised their mistake pretty quickly – no heating, no bathroom. We finally got moving along the dirt roads out of Uyuni at about 8.30 at night, and just out of sight of the street lights the bus stopped to repair a flat tyre.

Five or six more hours along, the bus stopped for the one and only bathroom break on the 12 hour journey. Luckily they stopped at a small “rest stop”, basically a two house village with a small cafe and what can barely pass as amenities available for use of travellers for a small fee.

I smoked a cigarette with Jay as we stretched our legs outside the bus – he was miserable: uncomfortable, tired and just wanting to get to a nice warm bed. I felt bad: prepared for discomfort and cold of the Bolivian buses, I had taken my coat on board with me and was using it partly as a blanket and partly as a cushion for my lower back. Being sensitive to sedatives and having a cold, I had also taken a night time dose of cold and flu tablets and was incredibly groggy and sleep

Jay, Sarah, Sophia, Anna and I arrived in La Paz to the Adventure Brew Hostel, not far from the bus station. The girls had decided that we were staying at the slightly more expensive hostel with the free/included all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast and that was that. (Personally, as a fan of pancakes, I think it was worth it).

We took incredibly long hot showers, relaxed and spent the next few days exploring the new city. The witches’ markets were the main drawcard. Unexpectedly touristy, they were still worth the look: how often do you see dried llama fetus for sale? Or herbal spells and charms for Pachamama (mother earth)? It was a nice walk – the cobble stoned streets and overpriced (for Bolivia, yet still startlingly cheap compared to other countries) alpaca wool goods and hand crafts of every colour laid out along every back alley and sidewalk.

For me, the altitude was a problem immediately. I was out of breath, light headed and struggling with the steps that I seemed to be required to haul myself up regardless of the direction in which we were walking. La Paz is set in a steep valley, with the main road running down the centre: it doesn’t matter where you want to go – at least half of your trip will involve those lovely steps. My appetite all but disappeared, which didn’t help my energy levels either. Over the next 2-3 months at altitude it never returned and it wasn’t I left the heights and returned to La Paz much later that my energy levels and stamina came good again.

La Paz is a strange city – the poverty through the rest of Bolivia finds its way here to be displayed in its homeless, beggars, street sellers and Bolivia’s usual informal retail market. The bright colours of clothing and goods and the busy chaotic bustle during the day can hide a slightly darker side: stories from other travellers of police corruption, scams, of kidnappings (where the taxi driver is involved), travellers falling to drug addiction and the usual muggings that can be had in every city in the world. You know you are in a special place when in the hostel, alongside pamphlets about tours and tourist attractions you find a leaflet for a lawyer specialising in “tourist issues”. In my experience, as in the rest of South America, you can avoid almost all of this by paying attention, being careful and staying away from much of the seedier side of South American life. You know what I mean.

I’ll write a little more about La Paz in a later post (I returned to the city for a longer 2-3 week stay and saw a lot more) – stay tuned.

We celebrated Jay’s 30th birthday by a cake and clubbing, with those of us who could last the distance wandering home at an insane hour the next day and promptly retiring to bed. The girls headed off shortly after, and I left Jay not long after that for Cochabamba to visit my friend Cristhian.

I had to walk 2 blocks uphill to the bus terminal, with almost 20 kg of gear. I had to stop several times, out of breath. An incredibly old Bolivian woman glanced at me puffed and resting as she easily carried her huge cloth sack of something uphill past me. She giggled. A few minutes later she walked past me again, grinning at me and exaggerating how easy it was for her, and how funny it was that it was difficult it for me. She did it twice more before the novelty must have worn off (or I finally dragged myself into the bus terminal and out of her sight).

The Bolivians are tough (especially their women), and they have a cheeky sense of humour. Damn them

(Another pathetic attempt to catch up with my blogging. This stuff is more than a month old now).

Jay and I walked across the border from Argentina to Bolivia at the twin towns of La Quiaca (Argentina) and Villazón (Bolivia). You can’t catch buses across the border – you need to walk or go by car. The crossing is actually formed by a very small bridge over a dried river bed, the border posts at either end.

The crossing was the least painful so far – in 10 minutes or so, and without questions or bag checks, we were into Bolivia and what felt like a different world. The street immediately on the Bolivian side of the border is full of colours and smells and clothing that isn’t really seen in Argentina – it set the scene for the rest of our travels in Evo’s land.

I was sick – I hadn’t managed to shake the cough that I had followed me around for the last week, and even walking the five or six blocks from our La Quiaca hostel to the bus terminal in Villazón had me out of breath and feeling wretched.

We were lucky enough to snag a ticket on a bus leaving for Tupiza almost straight away and were glad of it (the next one was apparently not for another ten hours or so, and there is very little to do in Villazón). Our first taste of bus travel in Bolivia was fun. The bus was ricketty and aged, but appeared up tot he task. There didn’t appear to be much of a road – our driver chose dried river beds and rocky outcrops seemingly as often as the faint dust tracks of the “road”. Given that the border crossing and trip to Tupiza is a common one I was left wondering what the road situation was like in the rest of Bolivia and how the government decided where to pave roads, if at all.

Tupiza turned out to be a sweet, small town nestled in amongst wind and water eroded dirt hills. It was one of those places where there are so few foreigners that they all say hello to each other on sight; there was no ATM – only cash advances using your passport and credit card, please; and maybe 4 places to eat in town, all with similar cuisine.

We stayed at one of the local HI Hostels (there are two) and booked our tour of the Salt Flats to leave the next day (via the hostel travel service, if you were wondering). We learned there would be two or three others with us.

I think if I had more time I would have liked to stay in Tupiza a few more days – it is well known for its horse riding trails, hiking and climbing and seemed like a pleasant place to chillax for a while.

The next day we were off on our 4 day jeep ride to Uyuni via the salt flats, with our driver Emilio, our cook Dehsi and our new travel companions – three brilliant English girls who call themselves Sarah, Sophia and Anna. While I resigned myself to the fact that I was in for 4 days of “Have you been to pub X in suburb Y in London?”, “Shall I be mother?” and occasional adoration of Shane Warne from my English friends, I had to admit that we had a good group and the outlook for the trip was promising.

The Salar de Uyuni is the largest salt flat in the world – visible from space. I had been to the salt flats in Chile in the Atacama desert, but I wasn’t sure what to expect from this famous landmark. Much the same but bigger? Would it be worth the expense of the jeep ride just to see the a similar landscape?

It was worth every cent. The company was excellent, the terrain changed almost every half hour and the tiny villages we stayed in were gorgeous. I looked forward to my regular evening stroll with the others and, when we finally entered onto the salt flat itself on our last day, I was blown away by the immensity and beauty of the damn thing. It really is unbelievable.

The food on the tour was delicious (Dehsi really knows how to cook a veggie soup!), and while a few of us had a bit of a bad night at the highest point (due to perhaps pushing ourselves a bit hard on our sunset walk that afternoon) aside from shortness of breath we were generally unaffected by the altitude. The tour took us as high as 5000m above sea level.

We stayed in a salt hotel on the last night – the beds were carved from salt rock, the floor was crushed salt gravel, the walls were made of salt bricks. The moon rise over the plains that night was something of fairy tales: a large, bright silver disc hanging in that still silence, seeming to be only just out of reach of your fingertips. It threw soft light over the low hills near the hostel and disappearing out onto the edges of the flats themselves, highlighting only some small feature here and there and leaving the rest in shadow. It is not something that can be described easily, especially by someone having as limited a vocabulary as I. I hope I can at least keep that clear memory with me for some time to come.

We celebrated Jay’s birthday on our final morning, an unhealthily early start to the day in order to see the sunrise on the salt. There is an “island” in the middle of the flats, (maybe it is more like a tor?) covered in cactuses and rubble. We fought the altitude and climbed it (well, I fought more than the others, hehe) and were rewarded by a 360º view of the sea of white – Jay mentioned that apparently the salt flats could contain Wales in its entirety.

Arrival at Uyuni confirmed the rumours we had all heard. It is an unattractive, dusty town with little of interest and little to do. We didn’t want to stay any longer than we really needed. We booked a bus that night to take us to La Paz (the girls included), and killed the rest of the afternoon using the internet and drinking and discussing terrible coffee. As we killed the time, I realised with dismay that the English had managed to insert the word “fancy” into my vocabulary.

Today is Blog Action Day around the world and this year’s topic is poverty. As I am currently in Bolivia I thought I’d post a little about the country, some statistics and a little about the current situation.

It is difficult for me, as an outsider who has only been here for a month, to explain Bolivia and its issues relating to poverty, politics (international and internal), economics, employment etc. But hopefully I can provide a few bits and pieces that might help to shed a little light.

I wish I could change the timing of the Blog Action Day and my plans. Next week I start my volunteering at a local orphanage, which would (I expect) make for much more interesting reading than what I am about to provide. But if you return at the end of next week I will hopefully have posted something about the orphanage for you.

First, a little background info. Bolivia is landlocked in the centre of South America and is one of the poorer countries on the continent. It is the 3rd largest producer of coca in the world, after Colombia and Peru.

Last year Evo Morales was elected with a 54% majority (an unusually high figure in Bolivia) and became the first indigenous president of the country.

Evo and Coca Farming

Evo was also a coca farmer which puts him in an interesting position. Where the US had been encouraging (and financially supporting) eradication of the coca crop entirely, Evo’s view is “Coca yes, cocaine no” and so gives full support to legitimate farming of the crop. The farming of coca (for uses such as teas, medicine etc – not exclusively for cocaine production, which is illegal) supports a significant portion of the Bolivian workforce. While I don’t have a solution for the cocaine production issue, I am sure that the sudden and complete halt of coca farming in Bolivia would be disastrous.

Current Situation: Sucession of Provinces

There is a wide gap between upper and lower classes in Bolivia which also seems to be roughly the breakup between people of Spanish descent and those of indigenous descent. The provinces containing the upper classes don’t want to participate in Evo’s plan to restructure and redirect funds to support the poorer provinces. As they prefer to keep their earnings in their own provinces, they are trying to suceed and establish their own government. This has prompted violence in those areas and a long series of negotiations which are taking place on neutral territory here in Cochabamba.

Now, I don’t have an opinion here. But the issue is interesting… when some parts of the nation are incredibly wealthy and others have high levels of poverty, what can be done to help restore the balance? Should anything be done?

Stats: Wealth Distribution and Health

Bolivia has such an imbalance of prosperity internally (a minority hold the majority of the wealth) that the number of people in the lower classes and the issues facing the government relating to investment in infrastructure and social support, mean that overall Bolivia is struggling compared to most other countries.

The UN Human Development Report for this year ranks Bolivia as 117th out of 177 countries – putting it in the “medium human development” category. Lets have a look at a few statistics compared to Australia, my home country, ranked 3rd of 177.

The enormity of the wealth imbalance astounds me still, even though I have read these and similar statistics many times in the last month. And there are countries that are worse off in the world. Scary, no?

As expected, the effects of poverty are visible in health as well.

I have come to appreciate clean and drinkable running water, a flushing toilet and a clean bathroom so much more since having spent time in South America

Emloyment and Income as an Indicator of Improvement

The informal labour market supports a significant part of the Bolivian population, which makes it difficult to really get an idea of the emlpoyment situation of many Bolivians. As Diego Cevallos points out in his article Not Everyone Celebrates Improved Poverty Statistics:

By adding cans to the products she scavenges and sells, Guadalupe raised her average monthly earnings from 70 to 85 dollars. But she feels as hard-pressed as before and finds no reason to celebrate.

An increase in income or even a job in the informal labour market is not necessarily a good indicator of an improvement in situation or of a financial situation at all.

Current Political Situation: Further Impact on Economy

Compounding the impact of the worldwide financial crisis, Bolivia´s political issues (internal relating to sucession of some provinces, external relating to diplomatic relations with the US) are also having an effect on the economy. There are significantly less foreigners in the country, and therefore less money being pumped into the multitude of businesses in the tourism industry, as well as vendors and beggars on the street that usually rely on donations from comparatively wealthy travellers.

In addition, according to local news, some factories for US companies are considering shutting down operations operations in Bolivia and relocating to a country with a better diplomatic relationship. If this happens, it is likely that many Bolivians will be out of work, many businesses that supply these factories may lose their primary client and of course the knock on effect could be dramatic. I imagine that some existing trade or financial aid agreements with many allies of the US may be in jeopardy too.

In Australia when such a significant event occurs the government may be able to offer some support or guarantee to the employees of those companies. Here, where the government doesn’t appear to have enough money to provide well paved roads between many of its major cities, I wonder if those workers will have anything when (if?) those companies leave.

But even with employment there is something I don’t understand. Here in Cochabamba there are people on almost every block asking for money, or busking – including children who seem to be only 2 or 3 years old with no parent in sight. Yet, when I walk down the streets in the centre of town every second store has a “help wanted” sign in the window – almost all of them have been there since I arrived. I’m not sure why these jobs aren’t being filled…. maybe one of you can help me figure that one out.

Resources

Here are a few resources for you:

• Sustainable Bolivia – Non Profit – volunteering support and co-oridinator of sustainability projects in Bolivia
• Volunteer Bolivia
• Kiva – financing entrepreneurship in underdeveloped communities
• UNICEF – Poverty in Bolivia
• Global Call to Action Against Poverty – Bolivia
• WorldBank’s PovertyNet Library – Bolivia
• Freerice – expand your vocab while providing rice to those who need it

Wrap Up

Thanks for reading. I’d like to encourage you to find out more about why I posted this at the Blog Action Day site.

Next week I plan to post about my experiences volunteering at the orphanage. I hope you gained some small insight into Bolivia from this spiel. If you have anything to add or ask, please comment below.

A 23 hour bus ride from Iguazu to Salta left me feeling a little drained, but it was still good to see a familiar face in Jay when I arrived. Through some fluke we both ended up there at the same time, and were planning to travel north in roughly the same direction at the same time too. high five

Salta was warm, fairly tranquil and generally a nice city. We stayed at one of the HI Hostels (the one in calle Buenos Aires) which, as well as having a bar, breakfast and a good feel also had a pool and dinner included most nights as well. This was a great opportunity to meet people and have some good food while saving that precious ca$h.

My accomplishments in the week I was in Salta were few. Jay and I climbed the nearby hill – by the steps, not via the pansy cable car doohicky, mind you. 1070 steps up, 1070 back. It was a good walk, though it did remind me how unfit I am! I sampled many a coffee in the areas around the main plaza too – nothing too memorable there.

We met some other guys and gals on a day tour to Cafayate, which took us through some beautiful countryside as well as a short walk in a few gorges and finally to Cafayate itself where we sampled wine at two vineyards, had lunch and lazed on the grass in the sun in the main plaza. We also got to have photos with the “World Famous” llama named Thalia. Thalia selected Jay as the only member of our tour to spit upon, which he narrowly avoided due to quick reflexes. It was a great day.

One memory I will keep from Salta: The night before the Cafayate tour I wasn’t able to sleep, so I got up at 5.30am or so and went for a walk. Continuing with my trend of speaking with homeless people, I started talking to a vagabond (Fernando) who had some stories about how he lost his daughter and how he had been living on the streets for years, as well as a bit of poetry here and there. He shared some gin with me while a working girl came up and started talking to us as well. There was an awkward silence at one point which was then filled by Fernando’s (impromptu, I think) recitation in Spanish. I can’t remember the exact Spanish words, but the gist of it in English was:

I have no words for you, friend
Only the warm sun on my face
And the gentle breeze at my back.
I’m sorry.

After which he gave me a hug and wandered away into the early morning light, almost-empty gin bottle dangling loosely in his fingertips.

We went out to the clubs a few times – all the clubs are on one street, and were OK. While walking home one night with Jay and Claire, we saw what appeared to be a working girl sauntering towards us, dressed in the expected revealing attire. As we passed this person, they let out the biggest, most masculine grunt imaginable – as if to prove the point that “she” was in fact a “he”. We all looked at each other as we kept walking, and finally burst out laughing uncontrollably. It was so unexpected, and, while I am not capable of describing it well, was hilarious.

On our last night we went to a traditional restaurant that is not well known by tourists, but is popular with locals. The food was great, and there was a group of 3 guys (with guitar and cajon) singing Andean music which was excellent.

Eventually Jay and I bought our tickets to La Quica (the town on the border with Bolivia) and caught a bus up there. We had heard about unrest in Bolivia (it turned out to be only parts of it). We had even been told by the information desk at the Salta that the Bolivian border was closed and we couldn’t enter. They were wrong.

We slept through our 6 or 7 hour bus ride to La Quiaca, stayed the night in a random hostel and then walked across the border to Bolivia without incident the next morning.