City Oasis

Tomorrow's my last day at the ANU. I'll have to have lunch here once more before I head off to Melbourne.

A report from Canberra

So, now that the whole shitstorm has quieted down a bit, I thought I could share some impressions about Canberra. (For those of you who are wondering how to pronounce it, it sounds like Kääm-bruh, with the stress on the first syllable.)

Canberra was built a hundred years ago (1913) to be the capital of Australia. The rivalry between Sydney and Melbourne was getting on everyone's nerves (including theirs), so the government decided to build a capital. It's located in the hills about a three hours' drive west of Sydney (they were aiming for an area that has seasons, as research says people are much more productive living in such areas), in hope of the city becoming a Mecca for politicians, students and rich families. Mission accomplished.

Canberra is spread out geographically, so that it doesn't actually have a CBD. The Parliament and the ANU campus hold up a lot of the central area, with pubs and restaurants lining up along the centre. The rest of the inhabited area is made up of suburbs split up by large areas of bush. It takes ages to get anywhere, but luckily the public transportation seems to do its job, so it's not that bad.

The city's reputation is, naturally, not one of an insanely fun city. You either see lots of people in suits and students having fun with a bunch of mates in the pub; or you don't see anyone at all. It's got a weird vibe–although not necessarily in a bad sense–so it takes some time to grow on you. Heaps of museums and galleries store historical treasures, while libraries and universities make it very appealing for those wanting to get into academia.

I was here during Australia Day, but honestly didn't even bother to go down to the lake (artificially made) so I wouldn't know how it was. I did see military planes flying over my building, so yeah. I can say I was there. Aside from my friends M&I coming over from Sydney and going around the city during the weekend, there's not much I've done here.

The research I'm doing at the ANU is taking up a lot of my time, so if I go anywhere after that, it's the pub for a bite and a pint. There's still a week left, but I honestly doubt I'll do much more than what I've done so far. Lazy as(s), I know. Who knows–maybe I go crazy and spend a couple of afternoons exploring the city. But given that all the museums and galleries close at 5 (and I rarely leave my office before that), I somehow doubt it.

The campus itself is so huge it's divided into precincts. I enjoy walking around, visiting different libraries and going through ancient encyclopedias. It reminds me of how inspiring it all is, but also how different things are once you're older and have to worry about other things in life. I still enjoy it (as short as it is), which only motivates me to hang onto the idea of getting a PhD.

But anyway. I've ranted on for the last week and was really stressed and pressured from a lot of different sides. At one point, I had enough of it all, but I guess things change when one sits down and reconsiders things.

All in all, I'm grateful for everything that's happened to me. I know I've been blessed, but I just tend to forget it sometimes, dealing with stupid little things and focusing on irrelevant things. I guess we all need a reminder here and there.

All good.

Should I just cancel my apartment rental and live at the airport?

I'm back from the Cook Islands and New Zealand. Now I can say I'm in luuurve with Polynesia and the Pacific. It's just amazing.

A couple of weeks at home, accompanied by a painful and annoying ear infection, and it's time to go again. This time I'm off to Canberra, ACT for three weeks to do some research at the Australian National University. Yes, I'm employed by the ANU. And yes, it's exciting!

After I come back, it'll be a couple of weeks to get back into working mode, as it's looking like a crazy year ahead already. I'm currently booked out until June, with the rest of the year likely to be as busy.

Of course, I'm already thinking about holidays and figuring out what my next trip will be. How about India and Sri Lanka?

Showing my family around my home city, Perth

The amazing Aitutaki, Cook Islands

New Zealand – no wonder LOTR was filmed there, because it looks like a fairy tale

  

Auckland

  

Queenstown, Otago

Whosing my wild side, with Queenstown, Lake Wakatipu and the Remarkables in the background

Driving around New Zealand is just one mind-boggling view after another

First swim of 2015 at the Abel Tasman National Park, Tasman

The amazing Aoraki aka Mt Cook, Westland

After walking the Milford Track in the rainyFiordland, the majestic Mitre Peak at Milford Sound welcomed us to Southland

The paperwork

Don't worry, I won't bore you with the details. There's so many papers and forms and codes and lists and numbers that I can barely follow it myself. No wonder people hire professionals to do the dirty work.


Now that I come to think of it, I might as well use the experience and charge someone for my service, bwahaha! :evil:


In any case, my profession code is on the list for the temporary working visa, which means there's no sweating about whether I'm eligible or not. Of course, everything might change, but from what it looks like now, I should be OK.

I should be hearing from the legal officer at the company soon, being that she's supposed to send me the Contract to sign and send back. I'm really excited, since this is the first tangible paperwork and it makes me realize this is all happening.


Of course, there's a lot to be done in the meantime. I've booked my IELTS for May 10th, so I really should get on to it much more than I actually am. At least I have something to work towards to...


On other fronts, I'm holding a seminar at the university tomorrow (fancy, I know). My former mentor is out in the field and he's asked me to jump in. I said I gladly would, being that I get to grade and act all important. :evil again:


I had to clean out my Gmail account, since it's almost fully clogged up. I know no one else who's had to do it, but that's me. I make it all messy.


That's all for now. Here's a photo that doesn't really have to do anything with... well, anything.

Balloon in my garden

Fifth... floor.

I'm thinking whether I should write. I shouldn't since it's already quite late and I have a busy schedule planned out for tomorrow (like it matters), but I might as well drop a line.

I've been shocked today. Proper shocked, like when you realize you're going to trip and fall over (seeing yourself in slow motion as you're drooping downwards for aeons) or when you send a personal email to your whole address book.

I had a bad morning, waking up too late, living through hell tutoring the kid and being too late for the lecture that I wanted to take. I'm not the type who'll burst in after thirty minutes and apologize. Not with this.

So I meet up with a friend (let's call her Cloud) and go around a bit, check some literature with my mentor and have a coffee. God knows I needed it. During the one-hour coffee (which is short for our terms) we come to the conclusion that we're all fucked up, that we have no future and that we're doing a lot of stuff that we don't really want to do (but have no other choice really) and that we're both kind of stuck in the stuff we're into.

(I'm always missing an English translation of the Swedish phrase att syssla med, which would mean something like to be occupied with, but in such a different manner that I would actually just camouflage it in between all the English).

I have my job as a hobby. I have my PhD as a hobby. Nothing is proper. And a sentence comes up and really carves into my brain. I have my life as a hobby.

We both just give up and puff the last cigarette smoke. Cloud takes off since she's got some more stuff to do and I bravely take the elevator and press the five button. The automated voice says Going... up. ... Fifth... floor. Literally. In English. That's what you get for studying at a philological university.

I'm sitting up there and it's already getting slightly dark. Since they changed the time last weekend, it's getting darker even earlier. I'm the type that need a kick in the butt, so I get right on it and do some quite serious work. I was really surprised by myself since I really did do a lot of work in those couple of hours.

So I figure I'll go have a smoke, make a tiny break, have a refreshment and I can go back to translating again. I click the elevator button, the doors open and I enter. I'm alone in it and it's no wonder, since it's already late and no one sane is still in the library.

The ride to the ground floor takes eight seconds and I half-consciously glance at the mirror. I hate those elevator mirrors. I don't know if they make them especially to ruin people's lives it's the lighting, but you can see every effing thing in them. I hate them. I don't really hate many things, but I hate those.

Within that second I catch a glimpse of my face and see a grey hair. It might not really come as a surprise, since I've been getting grey since six or seven years ago. People comfort me saying it's genetic. Yeah, I have more of those than my older brother. So, that's no wonder.

But this one was in my beard. Now, this sounds even more hilarious, since I don't actually have a beard. I don't have a beard at all. I have some hair above and under my lips and a bit on the chin, but that's all. People find it funny. I find it irritating. I have to shave or I'd look like a mountain shepherd in his teens, but there's really not much to shave. I don't know how to put it properly, but it sure as hell is super annoying.

The elevator is too fast and I simply don't have the time to actually panic about it. There's a Door... opening and a ding! and there's two people staring at me, waiting to get into the elevator. Yeah, now you wanna go up. Dammit.

I barely manage to roll the cigarette while everyone's chattering on the big flight of stairs in front of the building. It's dark and there's no one familiar around - maybe for the better. I simply can't believe it. Am I that old? Am I that fucking old? Do I really deserve this? I'm going over my chin with my hand, as if I'm going to feel the hair under my fingers. It's miniature. But I think Laika can see it right about now.

I'm not the panicking type. I'm depressive and pessimistic and annoyed and hard to handle, but I'm not the panicking type. I light the cigarette and think to myself, for lack of a better word, what the fuck?! I don't know if it came out loud, but I didn't really care.

After the whole day and all the crap that's happened (well, it might not have been that bad, but let's stick to the mood), after the twist that I managed to pull off and all the stuff that I've managed to translate, after convincing myself that I'm doing OK - this happens. Geez.

I go back inside, enter the elevator and hear the so-well-known Going... up. ... Fifth... floor. Fuck... you. I wanted to say that. But I didn't.

This is not a photo from tonight, since I was obviously in too much shot to take it. It's from when I was going up the highest building in Zagreb. Not much to do with this actually, but you get the picture...