Traffic in Perth

Riding the train in Perth is probably the same as riding the train in any other bigger city out there. I can't tell you much about NYC and I can definitely tell you it's nothing like Mumbai, but you get the idea.

I'm not sure whether it's the busy lifestyle or the relaxing way of life that makes it so, but people here actually use the time they spend being driver back and forth. Be it reading, updating their correspondence or simply playing on their iPads.

School kids - who you can easily notice, since they wear uniforms) - sit on the floor, each playing on their phone, giggling and hoping no one's going to disturb them in their fun. Sometimes it's weird and annoying, but I'd rather go with that than paranoid people flicking their eyes and looking for any sign of trouble. That just makes me edgy.

Another thing which is not typical for Perth only is the fact that everyone likes to cram up right at the door, while the middle part is right there - so close and yet so far. I just rode next to a guy who kept bumping me with his backpack, obviously not being aware by its size and weight. But that happens a lot.

Even though the people are usually quite decent on the train, I somehow have the feeling that they're still lacking some awareness regarding others. A guy who's on the phone isn't gonna give a crap about the guy who's crossing the bridge on a bike, even though they have the same right to be there.

Pedestrians have the right to cross the street in theory only, so you have to look in seven directions while crossing the street. It's really weird to see people care about certain stuff as much, and not care at all about other at all. It makes me think...

Perth CBD from Claisebrook Station, where I catch the train to go home from work

Graham Farmer Freeway Bridge with Perth CBD in the background;

taken from Claisebrook Station after work today

New, new, news

Oi!

I’ve been so busy I didn’t have time to write anything, and let alone post it. Now I had dinner, did all the chores and I’ve got some time before I faint and hit the pillow. I’ll hopefully remember my face hitting the pillow.

Now there’s something wrong with Word and it’s not helping my mood. I’m super busy at work, there’s more and more paperwork cluttering up my desk, but there’s an upside to it. I have a new office.

The company got the other part of the building, so we’re all over the building now. The whole building. It’s an old red-brick school overlooking the park, with high ceilings and wooden floors. That might not sound special, but it’s so rare you wouldn’t believe it.

All in all, the new office is at the end of the hallway, there’s only three of us in it so far and it’s much better than the middle-of-the-office desk I had before. Another bonus is the high windows that reveal the sky, the treetops and the rain that’s going to fall as I finish work.

I moved into my new apartment two days ago. It’s not only furnished, but it has a TV, an amplifier, speakers, vacuum cleaner, iron, AC, kettle, toaster, washing machine and even a coffee machine. The TV does lose reception when the train passes, but it’s just something to remind me of reality.

No, seriously, the place is awesome, it’s right by the train station (it takes a four-minute morning no-coffee walk) and it takes me about seven minutes to get to work. I’m planning to get a bicycle, but it’ll have to wait until I have a bit more time to research.

I won’t be spending much time in the apartment though, since I’m going out into the field. I’m leaving on Monday and I’ll only be away for four days, but I’m going to a very special place, reserved for men only, due to its ritual significance. I already met some of the Traditional Owners I’ll be working with, and I’m still working on brushing up on my Aboriginal phrases.

After that I’ll have the weekend off and then I’m off again, even further and for even longer. I’ll be away for ten or so days, which will probably knock any memory of a comfortable bed out of my head.

With that thought, I bid you g’ nigh’…

What?

I don't know what's getting over me, but I keep running into heaps of proverbs and wise ones, as I call them.


The reason may be the fact that I have been going through the Draft folder on my Gmail account and, not weirdly at all, found some of these among 283 messages waiting to have some sense made out of them.


All the thinking about and pondering upon life and future and stuff is resulting in some reminders popping up and smacking me on the cheek. It's probably stuff that indeed needs pondering upon, but it's not something I'd put on top of my weekend what-to-do list.


I have had a really hectic couple of days, working on getting the last bits of paperwork (bits meaning 25 or so papers translated, certified, printed, signed, scanned, emailed aso.), preparing for the IELTS and taking it, all with an inflamed nerve that kept flashing from the middle of my back up into my brain stem. Lovely, no?


Yeeeah, no.


There were additional things: preparing for a friend-meeting trip around Austria, Slovenia and around, planning a good-bye party (which, luckily, my friends have the most to do with), almost going to a party on the mountain above my city and much more stuff. Not to mention the dishes, laundry, cleaning up, getting everything ready.


If that wasn't enough, I didn't get almost any sleep at all, and even when I managed to fall asleep for 15 minutes, I'd dream someone haunting me or running away from someone. Three days in a row and your brain starts to forget what it feels like to be normal.


On the train to Austria I ran into every possible school excursion out there. It was just mind boggling to comprehend why the hell this was happening to me. People yelling, compartments filled with pimpled adolescents, mobiles being used for a detailed what-he-told-said-and-what-I-told-him-next two-hour reports next to my seat...


And then I run into this:

Here's one for you, and yeah, it's a bum-me-out one

And I'm thinking wooot?!

India (Take Three)

TWO

The second time I was travelling alone, but I knew where I was going to and what was waiting for me. Or at least I thought so.

You wouldn't believe what kinds of things run through your head. Names of neighbourhoods in Kathmandu, my French friends' middle names, specific flags of the world and strange words in half-dead languages.

So I'm trying to figure out what time it is (because after the connection in Istanbul I simply wasn't sure anymore), but it's hard with this Indian guy sitting next to me. Or should I say lying. He keeps dozing off and, from what it seems, almost consciously and intentionally leaning off to my side. Luckily, there's the video screen that keeps me occupied with documentaries about the diamond industry in home-looking factories of wherever or just the snowy screen. Thanks.

In front of me is a so-much-in-love-it's-disgusting German-speaking couple that, with no consideration at all, pushed their seats fully backwards, squeezing me between Snow White and their unconditional love. The head set is astonishingly broken, so I can only listen to one station at a volume nine out of ten. Another big no-no for me.

The only ray of hope seems to be the eventual appearance of the world map, showing how we're flying over Ankara, Syria, Iran, Iraq, Karachi and hitting Ahmedabad heading south towards Mumbai.

That city is so insane that Delhi seems like a merry-go-round now. It's said to be more cosmopolitan and open than Delhi, but with its seventeen or so million people, I just saw it as a place I had to get out of as soon as possible. Same as Delhi, it just seems to be a place where you land and start your India tour or spend a day or two before flying out.

Although I really enjoy roaming Delhi, Mumbai simply seemed too much at that time. As soon as we landed I started sweating immensely and got reminded how it felt the same three years earlier. Hot hot hot. I had to get used to it as soon as possible, so I took the taxi to the Central which would give me a chance to cool down a bit.

Everything that I imagined - how silly of me - was the exact opposite and it felt like waking up into a nightmare. The colossal and supposedly magnificent building of the Victoria Station wasn't visible to me. I just saw this huge thing that seemed to contain all the possible horrors of big cities. I was aware of the fact that I was gonna get hassled over and over again, but I clenched my teeth and went inside the station with what I hoped looked like cool, confident and independent expression.

I didn't make more than a couple of steps when I found myself standing in the middle of the immense station (it's the world's third biggest station), turning on my heel and hoping for a familiar signpost or an arrow of salvation. I decided to run for the counter that sounded a bit odd, but was hopefully going to help me get moving - Freedom Fighters. The funny thing is that I felt exactly like that at the time, like I had to fight my own way through this big mess to reach the freedom that was waiting for me more than five hundred kilometres further south.

It took me around an hour to check dozens of windows, storeys and platforms and my plan to roam around the city for a while quickly evaporated. I took the first train out, sat by the window and watched a mega city wake up.

Two thirds of the city's population live in slums, small shelters made of any material that could be put in use, from carton to nylon, with little or no water, power and living conditions. I thought I'd be used to this since I've been to India before, but it was way too overwhelming. There's supposedly less poor people living here than in Delhi, but they sure seem to be way more exposed to the eye.

I got pulled back to reality, other than that outside the window, by the conductor. Since I left a bit more abruptly than I intended, I didn't have enough cash on me, so I went around the train trying to get the money I was owing the conductor. Soon I realized that being without money in India is one of the worst things that can happen. It took me what seemed an eternity to get one Euro worth of rupees from a group of Australians, with hundreds of Indian eyes staring and somewhat enjoying the situation.

This hit me a bit hard and I even started questioning this whole trip, my decisions and doings for the passed while. It happens to me quite often, but I wasn't expecting it in India. I had enough time to think about people, life and everything on a thirteen hour ride south anyway. After another train change, a ridiculously expensive rickshaw ride and a night in a fancy hotel, I was there.

At last.

- - -

And this is all I've got for the So-Called Book so far. I will try to work on it...

Karnataka, 2007

You can also check India (Take One), India (Take Two) and Gotta Love Airports for some more stories.