Darwin's Dream

Photos: My Photo scholarship 2011 entry

darwinsdream — Tue, 8 Nov 2011 08:23:00 GMT

Passionate with connecting to the world, travel has become my favorite playground, a time to leave without luggage except two things : the camera and the spirit of a child, without prejudices, virgin of any certitudes and past learning. Camera in hand, like a wand, suddenly i open the eyes wider and on the same ground, i finally find myself on a new place ready for the unexpected, ready to walk without plan, keep only one single objective: To report the heart of one another, its invisible truths and make the connections of the plenty worlds living apart on the same planet. Amazing photographers have open the eyes of the one who don’t have the time to look at what seems invisible to them. Beyond the trees, a nomad of borneo holding a rare flame in his eyes while a calao flies over him. Behind a wall of a shopping center in malaysia, a refugee woman working in fear, holding the hope of a meal for her baby tonight. A colony of ants reaching the peaks of a tree. A camera in hand and the road becomes obvious, ways are revealed along the way. Let the journey guide you and open the road to better see the world. Open all your senses and let instinct take the pulse of the trip. Divert, stop, listen, smile, share, bifurcate, leave, stay true. By instinct. Get Closer. Look closely. Listen, Feel, Live, Share, and Feel. Relive the memories. Sympathize. Humbly. Go beyond the limits of language. Penetrate the intimacy. Gain trust. Enter into secrets. The time is with you, within your eyes. Fusion happens. Photo is taken, immortalizing a world in evolution. Tonight i dream of a journey on the side of Jason Edwards photographing wildlife and landscapes in Kruger National Park.

Magic Bastos - Freedom in a Wheelchair

darwinsdream — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 04:33:00 GMT

I know him very well now … Magic Bastos!

A few days in Sydney and he turned my days upside down.

Charming, open and playful. Healthy and athletic. Relaxed, patient, observant and stubborn. Curious and dynamic.

Let the tourist guidebook I am writing go to hell for the time being. It can wait another few days. Time is moving at a great speed with Magic Bastos and that s for the better.

I have not done any sport for a long time ... and Magic Bastos was a must to get me back on track... He takes me to Penrith, a large ornamental lake, an hour from Sydney, designed for enthusiasts of Cable Wakeboard. He is already in the water when I sit on the bank of the lake, clumsy and totally uncomfortable, my arms outstretched while waiting – anxious- for the next cable to pull me in the water.

Magic Bastos is on the go, turning around the lake, playing with obstacles. He jumps with disturbing ease from water to the air, gliding back , while I keep belly flopping attached to the starting line.

On the path of Magic Bastos, water becomes a mirror, smooth, playful and harmonious

While that same water continues to grab me onto the mud and forces me into violent somersaults, infiltrate my nose before it finally let me drown and flow . Once again battle is lost and I return sheepishly to the bank for a retry.

When he passes by Bastien launches me cheeky winks but encouragements to persevere.

At the end of the day, Magic Bastos radiates with the pleasure he took during those three hours. I am completely exhausted from a fight that I completely lost. But the urge to tease the limits awoke. Inspired Bastien excited my own inspiration to life.

When Gavin, a friend of the tribe of the Australian couchsurfers that I met few months back, invites me to watch the AFL final on his roof with his ozzie friends, I immediately invite Bastien to join but then I realize .... How to access the roof ... There is no elevator ... a staircase only. What strikes me suddenly like a uncomfortable invitation that I shall avoided so as not to create discomfort between the possible and impossible, does seem to Bastien more like a new challenge to take and win. A physical challenge but also a challenge to prejudices. My own prejudice in the first place. The idea of attending the AFL finals with Ozzie guys on a roof with beer, barbecue style, does suit him very well. He will come and we shall see.

Well, if that is how he looks at things… then let's go!

The entrance is accessible, the elevator takes us to the 6th floor.

So far so good.

Once we reach the 6th floor, there are two additional floors to climb to access the roof.

In life, there is always a guardian angel to clear the ground for the intrepid and positive souls. That day, that guardian angel is embodied by a friend of Gavin, a sort of huge mass of muscles, built like a tank, who invites Bastien to join him to climb the two series of stairs. The tankman is a heart of cream. The ice is broken. The cursed two-story climb becomes a solidarity ascent and a beautiful encounter punctuated by ephemeral effort and joke. Once on the roof, Bastien already knows all the rooftop fans of AFL before me. He did not take him long to be well integrated into the group, his beer in hand and to screen the AFL while I make my merry way to introduce myself to anyone who wishes to detach their eyes from the screen. The game began. Australians gathered on the roof greets me from the corner of the eye with a polite smile. They are caught in the heat of the action taking place in Melbourne ... The tension mounts. Players are in the fire of action.

Suddenly, the unthinkable occurs in the middle of the match: black screen. It is the general cut ... The building loses its energy ... The entire neighborhood is off ...

Around us, ten Australian fanatics of the most popular game in Australia are petrified. They see red in front of the black screen that does not cease to remain black while the game of the year, the big finale, continues to play in Melbourne and in all other TV in Australia ...

Electricity has every intention to prolong its break and electricity is not to be found at the grocer's around the corner.

We must take action.

Out of this cursed area right now.

Direction : towards the nearest electricity supplied pub !

Elevators are blocked.

We got to go down descent the 8th floor through the fire escape ... In the dark ...

One hundred steps at least ... In almost total darkness ...

I look Bastian.

Lights a flame of determination in his eyes Magic Bastos. No problem !

Before the astonished eyes of all fans of the AFL, Magic Bastos starts a determined descent with high hurly-burly. in his wheelchair, solo, in the dark, in the stairwell of the building, 6 floors ...

After all, why shall we be surprised… He has climbed Mount Kilimanjaro ...

Another day… We are speeding towards the opera for a special tour for disabled people Bastien. We're late. On Elizabeth Street, Bastien ride his chair… actually he is flying his chair…. He is already two blocks in front of me and I just can’t follow his rhythm. He will be late because of me ...

Magic Bastos moves like a rocket, ascending the gentle slope of Elizabeth Street. I am far behind in sweat, trotting, losing breath, having completely lost the hope to catch up unless he slows down his libertine surge.

Before the opera, we take our breath.

The tour was suddenly canceled that day because there was stage work in progress and it was more difficult to make visits to the disabled. Obviously Magic Bastos does never take a no for no and after some negotiations, the visit was postponed one hour later.

The time for us to speak about freedom…

We sat on the edge of the water.

Bastien then reveals what his freedom to him.

« My freedom is my wheelchair today ... »

INTERVIEW WITH BASTIEN ABOUT FREEDOM

"I'm doing a trip around the world, solo, with my wheelchair, to visit a little bit of the world, meet people, explore opportunities for Wakeboard in wheelchair.

Even though you are in a wheelchair, you can continue to do things: wakeboarding, skiing and lots of beautiful things. What motivates my life and my choices: I want to continue to live fully and make up things because life is too short. I do not want to waste my time.

I had a Kite surfing accident in 2005, which brought me into a chair.

I had my accident at age 27. Before my accident, I could live pretty good stuff and it's true now that I'm in a wheelchair, I still live beautiful and new things.

The chair gave me a lot of things because I had insurance. The chair gave me a little more freedom since the insurance gives me a little money every month and it allows me to be a little freer.

The problem of money is that it takes away a little your freedom because you cannot do anything you want if you have no money. The insurance provides me not a huge amount of money but I can do what I want to do and live fully.

My goals & my passions are sport, gliding, trips, meetings, discovery, and everything offered by travel and sport. Sensations, adrenaline and encounters are what are most important to me. That's how I like to live. Everyone has his or her own vision of pleasure because in life the goal is to get maximum enjoyment. There are so many things to do in life. What gives me most pleasure is sport and travel. This is not what is easiest to do in a wheelchair but it's possible and I find ways to continue my passion and have fun. Of course if my passion was computer and music that would be 10 times easier for me.

But no, there is no deal… For me, it is sport and travel! This is not the easiest choice but there are solutions.

The Symbol of Freedom: My wheelchair

Everyone has his vision of freedom. For me it's my freedom to do what I want to do and the wheelchair has given me this freedom. It brought me sponsors & another dimension in my life: it enabled me to get to do things that I could not do when I was not in the wheelchair so I do what I really want to do and I find ways to get to do it even if sometimes accessibility takes away some of that freedom. I always find solutions. Always people to help. Freedom is to be the most autonomous, do what you want to do, alone without asking someone to help you. It is not always possible but I can do things anyway. The chair took away a lot of freedom & accessibility. There are sports that I can no longer do because of the chair. Surfing for example. I would love to go surfing. Especially in Australia when I see all the surfers, it is a bit frustrating. I like football too, I loved running after a ball. Skydiving too, I was doing a little skydiving alone. I will do it one day again but with someone behind my back. When you do something with someone behind your back, which slightly takes away your freedom.

What are your new challenges to freedom?

I tried to find back the fun that I had in sports that I played before. I take pleasure. Otherwise, because I'm in a wheelchair now. You cannot do everything as before and as simply as before. I had to re-learn everything with new approaches. I had a very strong entourage around me who helped me to find solutions and to help me ensure to find pleasure in sports that I used to do and in life. I take a lot of fun doing sports, extreme sports, and sensational sports as alpine skiing, wakeboarding, kite surfing. Sport in which you happen to find maximum freedom and enjoyment. They were the sports that I practiced before and that I continue to practice with my wheelchair. I love to combine my trip to these sports.

The most memorable experience of my freedom:

To trip the world solo without anyone to help while I'm in a wheelchair, that's freedom.

In winter there is something that I do is to go alone into the mountains and ski. At that moment, I feel a tremendous sense of freedom.

Bastos Magic - Rendez-vous with the man who drove his world around

darwinsdream — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 04:33:00 GMT

4pm…

At a street corner, at the end of the world, minutes from the beach

He finally knocks the door of the happy house.

It’s about the couch!

He is like me.

I am like him.

We're couchsurfers.

I kiss him, it's normal we are from the same tribe.

That day, Jamie is offering a home sweet home to both of us.

Me for few weeks.

Bastien for one night.

He moves in. We start to discuss

and the connection is made.

It was no more a simple click.

The virtual connection died in the blink of an eye.

Reality built the connection.

From human to human.

He told me everything.

My eyes shone.

Before me, a rare man...

An extra-ordinary man holding the flame of freedom and life.

Bastien is Magic: Bastos is a magician.

Magic Bastos is a super man

He has the power to change the established order.

The power to impose his view on life.

The power to say Yes to life.

Yes to dreams.

Yes to the extreme.

He rolls, rolls, rolls across the world.

He rolls because his legs have fallen asleep and

He has every intention of not letting sleepiness take

possession of his body and his life.

Deprived from the use of his legs when he flirted with the wind,

Magic Bastos decided to take off otherwise.

« Magic Bastos » is a life run at hundred miles an hour,

Magic Bastos, it is several lifetimes in one life.

Until he was 27 years, he looked like any ordinary man in the world

with his dreams, with his follies, with his own small passions and his great passion.

Sport was the love of his life.

Day after day he was playing and flirting with all sports.

Orgasmic.

Fanatic Kite surfer, he flew up very high, too high.

Loved by the waves, adored by the wind, the passion was brutal.

The wind swept away Bastien through gusts.

Projected onto the cement, Bastien legs gave up on him.

Bastien, the ordinary man, became an instant paraplegic.

The doctor’s first words stab Bastien in the heart.

"You can not walk"

Bastien was in Shock.

It was a precipice. A shout.

"Sport is my life. If I can ever do

then shoot me a ball in the head right now "

The ordinary man was not considering the extraordinary man who was sleeping in him.

And Magic Bastos regained control quickly and brought Bastien back on the track of life in few days.

"Your life is magic Bastien, so now you’re not going to do without me" whispered Magic Bastos.

That fatal Kite Surf accident revealed to the world that Bastien was not Mister Anybody:

He will now be 100% Magic Bastos and he will roll all prejudices.

Until now, Bastien had lived all the possibles.

From now, Magic Bastos would target all the impossibles.

The wheelchair will help him to reach those impossibles.

Before 2005, Bastien dreamed the Xgames ,

as a dream to remain a dream of the ordinary man.

Magic Bastos crossed the barrier of the dream. He had to be part of it.

In 2008, he was athlete at the Xgames.

Before 2005, Bastien dreamed of long journeys.

In 2008, Magic Bastos climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in his wheelchair.

Before he continued flying high and start to roll his own world in 2010 for 6 months, solo,

To meet men, women, ordinary, extraordinary, on two legs or on two wheels.

And show the world that the mind constructs its own barriers that flight is within reach of everyone, because in each of us lies a Magic Bastos, ready to roll the world.

Let those who are on his path beware because

An encounter with Magic Bastos could disrupt your ideas

and give you wings to take parallel paths and targeting the impossible.

2007:

- 1st handicapped skier to participate in the Derby Meije

2008

- Climb Kilimanjaro

2009:

- 1st French boarder to participate in the XGames in sit skiing - Aspen USA

- Vice World Champion of Boating handiski.

- Champion of France sitting wakeboarding on cable water ski.

2010:

- Trip around the world, solo, without assistance for 6 months & 8 countries.

Couchsurfing, or How I was About to Meet Magic Bastos

darwinsdream — Thu, 24 Feb 2011 16:32:00 GMT

Late September 2010.

On the web, he is still virtual: Bastien Perret, French, 32.

Jamie shows me the electronic details about his new future friend.

-He shall arrive today, said Jamie.

-Can you open the door?

The door...

Open the door of the generous people to the happy people.

Open the door of open souls to free souls,

sedentary dreamers to travelers on their path.

I can do that…

I like it! Today I wont be the one who is opened the door to.

Through the time of an afternoon, I will be an ephemeral host in this house

Where I'm invited, hosted for eight weeks altogether.

Yes I will open to this stranger who has already a name: Bastien

and he shall come into my life.

A contact who will leave the following day.

A meeting without tomorrow on the paths of travellers.

An insignificant relationship.

A good friendly vibe of a day.

A friendship of one month, of a year.

Or a brother of a lifetime to come.

At that moment, with the present excited by the minutes passing by, minutes devoured by time, I do not consider all those questions.

I'm too busy waking up, organizing the canvas of my day, thinking about those I love in Sydney and whom I want to see or know better. My new friends. Living the day full. And yes, I ought to be back to the house at 3pm to open the door… opening the door is my only duty today, and then I ill return to my favorite coffee shop, the Lush, back to the smile and dynamism of Sunny, the gate keeper of my writings who always makes sure I don’t fall in lack of coffee through the days I write there, making sure I keep the rage to write and win every battle against the white pages.

Today my only plan is to keep on the routine of a travel writer who has to fill these empty electronic sheets, in high speed - my breadwinner. It's been a month since I arrived, mowed and in debt in Australia, with a monster job to accomplish in a short lapse of time - creating a full guidebook for Sydney city. It was the only way I found to finance my ticket to Australia. A bit of a financial aberration. Exploitation under the disguise of a dream job. I agreed to it. In order to get this plane ticket that approach me closer to freedom: Habib.

Again, an avatar of the Couchsurfers community is coming out of the canvas to enter my reality.

His name is Bastien. He is French. He is a couchsurfer.

I'm just like him.

Up to the neck, at this end of September 2010.

He comes from the same tribe as me.

The tribe that does not allow material deficits to take up space in our daily nomadic routine. One that does not force an empire on our freedoms. It is our everyday struggle.

Couchsurfing is the locomotive for freedom, exchanges and experiences for the nomads in financial debts. It is the opportunity to continue the human adventure without being submissive and without having to play the game of capitalism and “every man for himself”.

My limits are my windfalls. My limits open new fields of human exchange.

Couchsurfing is a crossroads of great and unexpected people that converge towards the same ideas of sharing and openness. A nest in which cigalles and ants are willing to mix, are living together and in harmony.

I presently live with Jamie that I contacted via Couchsurfing.org and who was planning a trip in the mountains just few days after my arrival. I would keep his cat while he’ll be away.

This, an exchange of services that came perfectly for my arrival in Sydney. An ideal apartment just 2 minutes from Bondi Beach. A room overlooking the sea, emptied at a transitional period in the life of Jamie.

Couchsurfers. A large community that develops in parallel while in the travel world, prices ignite. Outdated Hotel rooms. Exorbitant rents. Travel and cultural exchange may no longer be accessible to everyone if solidarity did not resist. In this couchsurfer community, there are those who travel and those who welcome travelers who travel not for the postcard, but for sharing, communication, more exchange. Those who left their own home, routine, security to find the hearts of others, access to a better world understanding. A fragile path. Couchsurfing is the meeting of those who dream and those who live their dreams. Those who give and those who giveback. People who love with the big L that lover of life have deep inside. People who want to connect the world and deny the rampant individualism that encompasses the globe. This is the idea of community couchsurfers. With its ideals and sometimes its drifts.

We enter into the intimacy of each other. We, travellers, interfere with the routine of those who are settled and we bring our fantasies, our dreams and inspirations, while continuing to run from one house to another. With our own energy.

We come and we leave, always with a firm conviction that we'll meet again. One day, sooner or later, here or elsewhere. Because we are part of the same tribe. Squatters around the world. And our world is small, just big enough that we always can add new inspiring encounters in the cycle of the family. A large family of nomads, dreamers, lost souls. A home sweet home everywhere. Thousand homes for a free spirit, without material attachment. A growing family in the community of solitary souls. There are resistant souls to capitalism power. Resistant souls to individualism. Men and women willing to share in the present, to be a consolidatted tribe in the future.

Requested to allow virtual to become real, Jamie, my host said yes to Bastien.

That evening, the little house up the hill north of Bondi will be full of three people.

It is 3pm.

He calls me. Bastien is late. Airport. The train. Complication.

Changes. Find access. Buses.

I prepare a salad in the meantime.

Bastien, 32, French that goes around the world solo for 6 months.

Paraplegic.

Photos: Bondi 2000 2010

darwinsdream — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 10:38:00 GMT

From 2000 to 2010, snaps of the life of a backpacker in Bondi

Bondi Waves 2000 - 2010

darwinsdream — Sun, 5 Dec 2010 11:44:00 GMT

It's back...

My Australian Dream ...

It's been 3 months since I bathe in a dream that had captivated me and recalled me back ten years later. I was madly in love in May 2000…My ideals ignited by the Olympic torch, floating in my new world inhabited by strange creatures: Australian Jesus, Kangaroo, Platypus and LifeSavers. A happy tribe, eaters of life, dancing to the sound of the Yidaki.

In 2010, My Australian Dreaming returns!

The circle is complete. After trekking in Asia here and there. Taking one directions, changing directions, having dreams on the way ...

Many dreams ...

Nightmares as well...

No ... Not too many nightmares ... a few anyway, eyes wide open at the crossroads of the long way taken by the Burmese people ...

That's another story ...

U-turns, leaps forward, passions, questions, detours, pitfalls, failures and joys, loves and disenchantment ... I'm back on the beach which remained intact, where me and my girls friends exchanged giggles 10 years ago , shouting loud a spicy song we barely understood, so loud that we would lose our voice to it:

"How long how long Will I slide

Separate my side I do not

I do not believe it's bad .... "

Red Hot Chili Pepper ...

Bondi Beach ... The Beach ...

Over-real beach, vibrant and overrated, over-crowded and popular, endearing and horrifying, obligatory passage for dreamers who arrive, in bulk by the thousands each year in Australia with the intention to live at least a year that special "Australian Dreamin ' "...

As of September 2010, I invent my own ritual for that special reunion with the beach of my dreams. I offer a lock of hair to the waves coming to swallow it as a sign that it accepts me on this beach a while longer. Let those waves never stop ...

And then I dip the feet in the sand and wiggle my toes. The feeling is always the same ... Excited and snorkeling for a year in this fascinating city, I had anchored dreams, loves, passions, small follies, hopes. It is around this beach that some of my greatest friendships have taken seed: Stephanie, Muriel, Sebastian, and the whole troop of Warners Avenue ... A breath of wind made this ephemeral microcosm fly away spreading all of us at one end and the other of the planet. What remains from this microcosm, our microcosm, We, The "Bondi Band » my own Australian world10 years ago ? very little .. Only Dov was fairly confident and crazily enough in love with this sacred soil to build the empire of his life what ever the sacrifice where. Dov grew up. And we? and me?

I push my feet deeper in the sand. It is cool ... This Present moment, me aside, is similar to itself, like the present moment 10 years ago. Constant. Consistant. Around me Backpackers wander around with working holiday visa, experimenting with all sorts of jobs - in cafes, bars, restaurants, a few weeks sometimes - a few months before moving elsewhere as free spirit. In here, who wants something can.The unemployment rate is weak and young people are a easy labor, cheap and they do not complain because they are dreaming and they have no space in their positive impulse for complaining. Same as 10 years ago, young backpackers live fully, go out, flirt, whoop it up, get wasted with pitchers of beer that they pour into their throat every night, discover surfing, making love, get burnt by the violent sun, ride the vans, ready to eat thousands of kilometers in the Australian Outback to feel the infinite possibility of the infinite.

They dream , eyes wide open shut, their Australian Dreamin.

BONDI, A LOVER ASLEEP

Oddly, back 10 years later, I rediscovered the pretty bubble of Bondi Beach with a detached glance, softened look. Not as aflame but still very deep. A bit like seeing an old lover with whom once had fallen in love madly, blindly in love, so blindly in love when life is just beginning and so attached that it was better to exit from a dream too sweet, too well done and to build its own road.

Ten years ago I could accept any job to stay, without giving its luck to elsewhere while elsewhere would promise mystery, challenge the improbable, the unexpected, the difficult, the unusual, routs. Sydney promised pleasure and happiness to anyone who will cling. The Sun and the vibes of sacred land Sydney was sufficient to my happiness then. It was the ecstasy without ecstasy. The atmosphere enveloped all of us, me in any cases, into a well-being that was selfsufficient. A little paradise on the road of life like a terminal where it would be sweet and euphoric settle down. Very sweet ... I was seduced.

In this present moment, in 2000, Bondi was my delicious lover. I did not need anything else. I'll stayed in Bondi and I’ll shaped my self to merge into him. A Visa coming to an end was quick to propel me out of my bubble, tearing me out of this empirical love, pushing me to embrace the other worlds, to fly elsewhere without the passionate attachment to grow independently of a dream served on a silver platter, so tempting, so desirable.

I was lucky because once out of my Bondi 2000 bubble, I was dizzy, I woke up and I was hungry again. Hungry for life, hungry for experience, hungry for wonder.

As I caress the sand, I'm happy to have gone finally, for perhaps a better return one day. Later. Today? Never? Tomorrow? The present will give the answer.

The waves come and go before me. Tirelessly. Here and elsewhere. Constant and reliable.

Time has smoothed out the passions. The return on Bondi Beach is one of tenderness and love, strengthened for a land that still bears its imaginations, ideals, ancient dreamings, its wealth of differences. Time and travel have only reinforced these deep links.

I am back now, appeased because I kissed the world, desperately enough that it allows me today to love Sydney without the doubts that previously touched me that elsewhere the grass may be greener. Today, I look towards my feet: the gras sis green, the sand yellow and I am in love. The present. I like the new Bondi 2010 in its similarity to the old Bondi, in its constancy.

I love elsewhere beyond the waves with its constant mystery. I love this amazing continuous universe. Here and there. Here with there.

HOME SWEET HOME

It s not like i have a status in Sydney: Neither backpacker nor expatriate nor real tourist. Actually, I don’t have any status .. Anywhere. Fortunately, unlike theone person I've come to visit here in Australia in 2010, I have a European passport, Almighty sesame ! And a visa, so I have the right not to be confined in a detention center or to be in hide. Taken as granted, the luxury of having it , does not prevent me from losing it and that’s when you realize the value of it. As i lost it, i was about to be sent back to France because i could not renew my visa without passport and my visa was to be expired. Luckily i found it in the police station after lots of moments of despair.

When will the ID chip embedded in the neck? ...

Before coming back here, I took some side roads, winding & uncertain ways detaching me from all these prefabricated rails that one is too early encouraged to take, precipitating one in a destabilizing compliance. Blinding compliance. To the glory of profit at the expense of Life and its simple essences. Studies that are "globally" venal, dehumanizing. Studies that denature man who get lost in a spiral of surreal numbers, letters and profit. Studies that oppose man to man rather than encourage solidarity and links to Mother Earth.

These studies that seems to forget that we are not the only ones living on mother Earth and that there is an empire of earthlings which are much larger than the only 7 billion of people ... That life that surrounds us is not a product to be processed, modified, cloned, sold, and consumed ... The creature, the earthlings and the balance around us deeply imply our humanity.

I'd love to have a Shaman of Borneo as schoolmaster, a healer in the Amazon as doctor, an Indian guru as philosopher professor, a Tuareg of Niger as teacher. With them, I would learned the world, the reality. I would live away from artifice from abstract and from utopia. With their teachings i ll learn to follow the Movement. I ‘ll learn the essential and not the trivial.

I am a child of profit, born on a soil enslaved by human beings.

Sometimes, without first knowing why we do it, in one’s metropolitan bubble, we resist a little, a lot, passionately, or not at all. We all just trying to make our own nest on this small planet in motion. We stumble, we move on, we jostle, we kiss, we stop, we leave, we get hurt, we makes mistakes, we desire, we like we love, some stay, others split up to meet again soon or later, or never meet again.

We're all kids without confidence despite our mask full of certainties. A full on movement made one appreciate the moments of solitude as much as the social moments. but most important movement allowed one to to stop to the gist, to the core and pursur the journey the rest of the time.

Once in and out Out of my bubble of Bondi, now returning in again, everything ihas become more intelligible. Here in Sydney, I feel Home because Sydney has a unique and rare treasure: Sydney invited the world to live in: Indian, Chinese, Aborigines, Turkish, Greek, Indonesian, ... It is a celebration of cultures thoughts and philosophies.

In my country, politic scares me sometimes because it has stigmatized identity and difference. By doing so it is stabbing our integrity, our humanity and our core values of fraternity. As humans born on the same soil. Planet earth.

Here in Australia, apparently in all cases, the difference is encouraged, loved, welcome. The difference is wealth and there is no discomfort at being a foreigner. As a matter of fact, it is a pride to brng one "foreignness" as an input into the Australian identity. Overall ..

THE CONSISTENCY OF A BEACH

In 2000, on Bondi Beach, as i finally conceded that i had to leave Sydney, I started my next dream. I dreamed Latin America, i dreamed chaos, i dreamed a hurricane of feelings, of music, i dreamed to take the challenge head on, dive into a mess, dance, learn Spanish, kiss life. Passion love suddenly made me dream San Francisco. Then Australia again. then Latin America again. I got dizzy. I finally took the gamble of Paris to make the big Latin leap. I did not have Latin America, I did not have San Francisco, I was propelled on a long unlikely trip in Asia. Malaysia.

Fromm my Bondi 2000 dream, it is not the Love which was rescued in Malaysia but rather Stephanie, my great Bondi friend, who made the leap with me to Malaysia. For a long adventures of few years… Malaysia, a country that then seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Malaysia ... Magic Country on arrival, trickster on departure. Another long story.

I will never have set foot in Latin America. Not yet. I'll go. At present, I will. It s going to be another exciting story.

Sydney looks like itself. The waves keep rolling. All the joggers parade on the Esplanade. Fine muscular characters, humans in perfection. I feel like i am in the land of Care Bears sometimes. The sand is there. The waves are there. Everyone looks happy. Bondi's world seems to have maintained its lifestyle and neighborhood issue is virtually nonexistent. In appearance.

In 10 years, Bondi Beach does not seem to have aged an eyelash.

Our group of young backpackers at the time - wanderers, in emulation and self-seeking adventurers, driving by the will for good fun for most of us, for sexadventures for a few of us, or for love of a lifetime for others, building ideas towards a flawless career, a lifestyle, sun or beaches - … This group is still there ... but it is not us anymore. We’ve gone one step further.

Our group was replaced by a new generation of young people leaving school, eyes wide open at the crossroads of possibilities, ready to devour life and follies, ready for the most wacky jobs, picking fruit, ready to board the Australian adventure or to getting drunk all night in order to celebrate the youth finally released from school, ready to take life head on.

The fickleness of me?

In 2000 I was a girl, naive and backpacker, broke, living a day to day life on a floor mattress in a room shared with 3 or 4 other girls in an apartment of nine to ten people. I wanted to sing in the street the word Love, quite blinded by the power of love that i was convinced that by writing a poem and plastering on the walls of Bondi, a sensitive soul - in the name of love – will sponsor my trip to join my American lover, the love of my life - at that time, as pennyless as me and forced to get back to San francisco.

Today I am a woman, happy, a little stubborn, a little more confident, more certain of my present, ignoring future, more broke and in debt than ever, holding tight to the present, holding to my dreams, still on a floormattress here and there, moving every two weeks or every two months during the good times.

Homeless always … and forever?

I finally divorced the career and the salary that pretentious studies promised me. I have no certainty about the choice. It's hard sometimes, other times exciting, always passionating. But at least I have the basics: The Present time has taken up residence in my life - sometimes sweet, sometimes tedious, observer or actor, lover of life forever. Instinctively, as a precaution, the Future has disappeared and its death - essential for fragile broke people for which the words investment, deposit, insurance or savings – are the surreal luxury of a parallel world - is largely a guarantor of happiness without a single stress, allowing a broader visibility of the world around us, granting transparent loves and friendships.

I love humans who are still human, sensitive, alert to other earthlings, down to earth, who can still communicate with the soil and have the freedom in their skin. I live a little with my little world of solidarity, with my expending tribe scattered here and there, strangers, friends or friends of friends, where we squat at each other’s place and are enriched with 10 000 houses around the world, ideas and various projects. A Growing family. Growing Differently.

AROUND THE WORLD

Lying in the sand, My eyes riveted on the Pacific Ocean, beyond the waves, I remember the band from Bondi ... What have they become?

The band ...

All those who have shaped my ephemeral world ... hung out with me and without me, with Muriel, with stephanie, all together in small groups, crazy friends, friends forever or ephemeral acquaintainces on the beach, some having lived the euphoria of the Olympics which was the catalyser for many of our friendships at that time. We were bounded by the olympic fire.

In 2010, our Bondi band has explod all over the world and in the meantime the world has shrunk. Some of us see each others here and there in Australia, the USA, France and Asia. Regularly or irregularly.

Stephanie, my Partner in crime at the olympics, became one of my best friends, with whom we had continued a stretch of road together for several years in Malaysia. She is now working at the embassy in Singapore and lives with Jerome that she met in Malaysia. They will be in Sydney a few days. Will Jerome penetrate the memory of Stephanie when they come ll walk on Bondi Beach?

Muriel, with whom we sang with much passion, the song the Otherside - Red Hot Chilli Peppers which lyrics had been plastered on the walls of our apartment on Warners Avenue (Bondi beach) - lives in Italy with some one who popped into her life since then : Philippe who became her husband.

Dov remained in Australia, he set up a business in selling surfboard and married the pretty Yael with whom he had amazing Julie and Adam.

Alexia, a young beautiful woman thin and sexy, ocean blue eyes wide open on the world, world traveler, with whom we share all our crazy dreams and made crazy encounters on Bondi, has committed her life to God to the surprise of everyone. She was renamed Sister Mary Cecilia today. She became a nun in the Franciscan church in Paris and the most curious is that she is the one that i find the most difficult to go and meet although i have been staying in Paris for a while. I have not met her since she became a nun few years back. Is the psychological barrier the most difficult to overcome?

Justin, an American, my "crazy love" of the time – As broke as me at the time - which I was separated from because our visas expired at almost the same time and we reached the bottom of our savings making it urgent to find a job. We met a few months later in Malaysia: We were two new characters, two monster of careers in the making. Our crazy genuine flame was extinguished. He is about to get married in Greece.

Ghislain and Cathy met at Bondi in 2000, returned to France, separately, felt in love and got married. The small Baptist was born this year 2010.

Oliver, the handsome and smart athlete who came for a windsurf competition and soon was recruited to be organizer of the Olympic committee, was the precursor of my friendship with Stephanie, he volunteered us to help distribute the orange juice to all new volunteers who sailed for adventure in the French Olympic Committee on 33rd floor on Market Street. Since that special olympic month, he launched his own business in sport & business with a passion and an amazing freedom. From one country to another. He continues to sail & surf or African & American waters. He travels around the world. Week after week he may be in Switzerland, Brazil or South Africa. You're never quite sure, but strangely enough we come to see each other regularly. He is an inspiration to me.

Simon became the Vietnamese Kiwi and seems never want to leave Hanoi. We regularly write to each other. Chat to be more precise. Nothing serious Just Words and delirium. Jokes and teasers. He is no more from my physical world. He became a memory of Bondi, an avatar of the net who regularly jump on the screen to tease my long writing days. Photos of him don’t match my memories of Simon of Bondi. I now chat with sort of a man that i never met before who reveals his funny side, a sort of a stranger that was not the reserved simon i knew, I learned about him through virtual world he is this popping avatar brightening the screen once in while for few minutes.

Christelle, the good living one, happy and very comfortable with herself and others, ready to laugh, tease and joke, great queen of the relationship, lives in Cannes and see Cathy and Ghislain regularly. She always put spices and fun in the group.

And the list goes on… Nicolas will marry a new Stephanie, Charles, who is husband and dad lives in beautiful place in France, Jacques is to marry an Australian .. and so many more!

But then of course there's my favorite Bondi bump: Seb, the wild, crazy vélomaster, very independent, highly resourceful, endearing, present, listening & a premium confidant, authentic, who does not waffle, loner wolf, who toured Australia with his cycle, who kayak through Alaska, and who always has been by his loneliness. Finally love has caught him and he now lives on a farm somewhere in the wilds of Australia and just had a baby.

Everyone grows ...

In 2010, on the beaches of Bondi, there are still echoes of Muriel, Stephanie, Alexia, Simon, Christelle, Cathy, Ghislain, and all the others … Echoes of my friends in the form of new boys and girls, friends of my friends, who were there in 2000 somewhere aournd Bondi, Satellites around my core group of friends. Men and women who did not exist in my 2000 world and who have populated my Bondi 2010. Today they are the core of Bondi and have printed their mark on the beach during these ten years. Through their mouth, I hear the echoes of names muriel, stephanie.

Bondi 2010

In this morning of September, before me, before the waves, there's another name that has entered my world Bondi 2010, the waves of Liberty and this name is printed in the wind, on the fragile waves breaking relentless…

This name printed is Habib.

Habib has a dream: freedom.

A Dream: Live free.

One day be a free man.

He does not dream of having nothing. He only dream of Being. Being a Human Being.

Dream to get out of its four walls that surround the past 11 months.

Live free, free to work, have the right to have ideas, proposals, to take care of his family, his people. Being the spokesman for people without a voice. And then just study, work, build its own life

Habib has not trodden Bondi, not even the soil of Australia, except the ground floor of the detention centers since he arrived by sea and he was arrested at sea. Since then, he has taught English at the centre to his comrades in detention. Sadek speaks over six languages ... He could be a diplomat, teacher, lawyer. He has its place among the great ... Today, at present, he is in custody and it has last for 33 years for him. He is in custody and he really has nothing to do there. A life is to be lost unless justice is made and bureaucracy take of the barriers.

I'm not back in Australia by nostalgia but because life is pulping for more… because present recalled me on Bondi. Habib I hope someday will be part of those men who walk freely on Australian coast watching the waves and enjoying the word Liberty. Looking at the waves who have carried his freedom, his will, his courage, his life…

His dream has inspired mine.

It is time to dive into what brought me here: My Australian Dreaming:

Darwin's dream in which Habib is imprisoned.

Let’s hope that he’ll soon wake up out of this Dream that has slips into a too long nightmare. Let him wake up soon as a free man.

For when he wakes up free, this man's dream will voice and awaken the world to a forgotten issue: that of a stateless nation: Burmese Rohingya.

My coffee is rich

darwinsdream — Wed, 1 Dec 2010 11:12:00 GMT

This morning over coffee, I happened to be sucked in by the lens.

Then, It seemed like I entered a world of fantasy where people have forgotten that an adult is no longer a child ...

The parrots go shopping at the cheese shop,

Angels eat hamburgers,

and the police hapilly allow themselves to be drenched.

A world where children rule over the planet as wise emperors,

And men have finally discovered the best way to access to heaven.

They also prefer to embrace each other rather than to quarrel.

The weather can be predicted in crystal balls

and through the night, men will light up.

A world where Lords aren’t any more those who sit enthroned, but those who toil.

Where women in white are sometimes naughty.

and little girls penetrate you with their eyes brimming with daring

I would happily allowed myself be trapped, but

once I finished my coffee, I managed to get out of the lens ...

It could then have faded, but that world was still etched in the eyes of the daugther of the coffeemaker,

and in the laughter of a young street boy.

From the depths of my attic, I removed a few cobwebs

I dusted off my boots of seven leagues, my turntable

and brought out my magic potions.

I had to find the road to a world full of appetite.

So I looked the sun right in the eye and blew dandelions ...

I closed my eyes and once again i was gone ...

To fly over the planet in 80 days, the road was long and full of pitfalls I first had to be prepare to be upside down

Ready to make a few dance steps

before climbing the steepest rocks,

and find my balance on tight bridges

and not hesitate to jump into the water and

navigate the most improbable vessels

before flying under rivers

but one could well imagine that in the dark waters, There is still a dream to ride, an unlikely creature emerged from the depths allowing us to continue to trace the route of a journey of 80 days that would lead us to go first class to meet some of the wonders of this world ... Wonders that might well be where one would least expect them ...