A little bit of the world

Kampong Chhnang, A town on the Tonle Sap River

escape — Mon, 24 Nov 2014 04:25:34 GMT

I could not imagine a life without traveling and discovering new places. This is what feeds my love of photography and nothing inspires me more than trying to capture moments of different worlds that are foreign to me, yet a familiar home to someone else.

I am an Australian who ashamedly has not seen enough of her own country, though I hope to one day.

My job is in public health in the development sector. My dream is to let my work drag me around where it wants to (currently, that means Cambodia), and I in turn to drag my camera along for the ride too. While my photography has so far been a hobby, I would love to explore it more and turn it into something else, whether that be freelance photography for NGOs or presented in exhibitions and publications to inspire new travellers and global citizens. The world is an amazing place, and I hope to capture a tiny fraction of that to share with those who would otherwise miss it.

Photos: Cambodia

escape — Thu, 20 Feb 2014 18:00:00 GMT

Week 5 - Field visit

escape — Tue, 18 Feb 2014 18:54:00 GMT

To the health center we go. This is my second outing so far. I’m off to observe the outreach work my organization does in the community. We’re going to three health centers today, and they are the ones farthest away from our office.

We exit the suburbs in our maroon ute plastered with our big diamond NGO logo on the side doors. It’s hot and dusty as usual and I look back to see big orange dust clouds rise up behind us. The scene is familiar; it’s easy to get lost because much of the town seems to repeat itself every few hundred meters.. Didn’t we just pass a store selling the exact same stuff? And that red painted Khmer house with the gold stair railing?

Soon the scene is of seemingly endless dry plains, golden with old rice stumps cut neatly at shin height.

We pass 40km. Our first river crossing. We stop and pick some large pink and white water lilies shooting out from the mud drying on the sides of the dirt road.

A sturdy old wooden barge ferries us and the ute across with a number of other passengers and motos.

My colleague spots some palm fruit in the shade of the captain's hold. The barge men keep it on board to snack on. I’ve never seen it before. He chops at the peel with a giant machete far too large for such small fruit. Its soft, translucent flesh is refreshing and mildly sweet. It’s good.

Across the river, the houses are of much lower quality. We’re now on an island in the Tonle Sap River. Materials such as timber and cement are expensive as they need to be ferried over, so many of the stilted houses still have walls of layered dried palm leaves. Once in a while we pass a wealthier house with cement foundations for their stilts and walls of brick. I wonder, what sets these families apart?

The land here is low and we pass fluorescent plains of green rice growing from the second planting season. Only a few places can plant this late depending on how high the water level is over the course of the year. It’s a beautiful sight after the desiccated landscape I’ve become used to.

My colleague tells me all this will flood. I ask, what they will do? He points out the wooden boats lying in the front yard of many houses. All homes have a boat. We pass them frequently, dusty and dry like desert bones, and from the car I can see bright sun falling through gaping splits in the wood. To me they look unused, or perhaps unusable. “But they’re so old!” I naively say. The reply comes with a shrug, “what can they do?”

…

A few mounds of earth, like small hills are scattered here and there to complement the boats. Another flood relief strategy. Apparently they are all that will stand between the chickens, cows, dogs and other village animals from rising waters come September.

We pass a second river crossing, this time leaving the ute behind. School girls are the main passengers this time and they pile their bicycles on one side while they make the trip home for lunch.

The health center is a nice one. There’s brown sparrows nesting in the steel of the roof. It has two levels with a bit more space and facilities than some of the others I’ve seen. Good thing too as it’s the only one for miles around and people from a number of villages across the river have to come here if they need medical attention. My colleague meets with the health center midwives, makes some chit chat, and we start the trek back. I tell him he has the best job in the world and he laughs.

…

Shallow pools spread far in the distance. I think I’m looking toward the center of the island but I can’t see the other side to tell. It’s hard to believe that a place this dry can have so much water lying around.

The pools shine brightly, mirrors reflecting the grey sky overhead. They disappear and reappear like a mirage on the horizon; the interface between the land and heavens interwoven and blurred so I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

I do love my job.

Week 4 - An odd sight

escape — Sat, 15 Feb 2014 16:01:00 GMT

Short note.. it’s a pity I didn’t get the camera out in time.

On the “moto” (imagine the lovechild between a motorbike and a scooter) riding down the dusty gravel road in front of us, I see a lady holding a pole upright with a black plastic bag attached to the top. I take a closer look thinking this is some kind of new street food that I haven’t seen yet and I should look out for it next time I’m at the market. “She must be holding it by its roasting skewer” I reason with myself. Lo and behold, I see a hospital drip bag inside the black plastic bag and a long plastic drip line running down the bamboo pole into either the lady or her kid in front.

Did I also mention there were four people on this bike, two adults sandwiching two kids?

Or that this lady with the drip was wearing hideously eye catching salmon and sky blue patterned pajamas and slippers?

Wish I had a photo to prove this. Maybe I can draw a picture one day..

Week 3.5 - Second Impressions

escape — Wed, 5 Feb 2014 19:49:00 GMT

Well, well, well… this town is full of surprises isn’t it?

Having fallen asleep on most of the journey here by taxi ride** I guess I must have missed a good portion of the busy part of town and only awoken amongst the dust clouds and largely empty roads of the Kampong Chhnang “burbs”.

What I’d thought couldn’t be more than a few thousand at most is instead a small, yet charming city of approximately 50,000 people (according to the Lonely Planet). All the excitement is focussed between the main highway N5 that leads north from Phnom Penh through the central western provinces, and to what must have once been a significant port town along the Tonle Sap River.

So finally, after a few short days of seemingly endless dust, heat, and office tedium, I was given a greater peek at the beauty and hidden treasures that had only been hinted at from that one morning ride through rolling green fields and past fat water buffalo grazing in the lilies of a neighbouring pond.

In short, this town is not what it appears to be. Look behind, over, under, and in between and get ready to be pleasantly surprised by a unique landscape. (Many thanks to Martina for being a lovely guide. My view of this town just turned upside down!)

More photos in the Cambodia album.

**what the locals call a taxi here, was instead a private sedan with 5 people seated in the front (yes, that’s FIVE; 2 ladies in the single passenger seat with a child on one’s lap, and then the driver in his seat, and another man squished in between the driver and the door!) Normally there would also be 4 to 5 others in the back but thank goodness it is my organisation’s policy for employees to book “double” seats (ie. a normal seat) so we had a fairly comfortable ride over. And before you ask, no, there was no aircon or seatbelts; at the speed we were going, I doubt there were even brakes.

Week 3 - Welcome to Kampong Chhnang!

escape — Mon, 3 Feb 2014 00:34:00 GMT

Today I left the western bubble that is Phnom Penh for the not-so-glamorous country town I will be calling home for the next year.

I'm now in Kampong Chhnang, about 90km north of Phnom Penh. Mozzies are abundant and I've encountered my first squat toilet since arriving in Cambodia.

I was starting to think these elusive structures were but a myth here.

Sleeping nets don my four poster bed (even though the posts are but tall slivers of bamboo), and I've made a new friend.. a huge wingless cockroach that reminds me a little of the giant burrowing rainforest roaches we have in Australia.. only this dude runs ten times faster. And he seems to be getting closer to the bed with every pass he makes across the room.

Eep. If you don't hear from me again, I've been sucked dry by stripy dengue mosquitos or devoured by an aggressive armour plated roach. Or possibly the pack of dogs that have suddenly decided to bark in unison outside my window.

Ahh... the provinces. Where the real action is at!

Week 2 - Phnom Penh

escape — Fri, 31 Jan 2014 23:26:00 GMT

Being a volunteer in international development, I had expected life to be a little hard. Cambodia after all is a “third world” country. I'm sure it is for many of the locals here, including the 1/3 who live below the poverty line, however, as an expat on a modest budget in Phnom Penh, life is freaking easy as.

Accommodation, food, entertainment, culture and good company all come cheaply and in abundance here (...as do drugs and women). English is ubiquitous and you really make few sacrifices coming here. I'd say it’s easier for me than living back home. (On a related note, my Khmer teacher took our class to a local market to practise our Khmer bargaining skills. Unfortunately for him, even when we managed to spit out the right phrases in the local tongue, we were more often than not given replies in clear English. Doh!)

It’s no wonder Phnom Penh has become the tourist mecca it has.

Phnom Penh Tip #1: coconuts are the best cure for almost everything; hangovers, headaches, dehydration, stomach bugs, etc. They’re the best spent 50c of my day.

Phnom Penh Tip #2: the price of the meal does NOT correspond with tastiness!! $2 dumplings out beat a $15 Chinese banquet … hands down! Go where it's busy and shop around.

Pics to come...

New Adventure Cambodia~

escape — Mon, 20 Jan 2014 23:00:00 GMT

Ok, I've said goodbye to my dearest friends who have essentially been (and are) my family these past years.

I turn off my mobile and as the red icon fades to black, it bodes me farewell and good luck at the end of this chapter of Sydney life; we are ready to reemerge at the beginning of my next in Cambodia...

I re-open my travel notebook, a beautiful gift of gold embossed adventures of the past... and adventures to be.

I am reminded of that seemingly long ago journey to Madagascar and the many before. Eye opening, inspiring, my beloved days on the road.

I miss those days, and hope you'll read these scrawlings again.

I have arrived.

PS. Sorry for being so sentimental (blame it on the champagne and jet lag)... I promise next time I will have something interesting to tell.

Photos: My Scholarship entry - A 'place' I have visited

escape — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 12:40:00 GMT

Photos: Hunting the Giant (Salamander)

escape — Thu, 5 Apr 2012 13:47:00 GMT

Hunting the Giant (Salamander)

escape — Tue, 3 Apr 2012 14:59:00 GMT

I’ve been living in Japan for almost 9 months (sorry I haven’t posted anything until now). It’s a land of great contrasts and cultural complexity that many easily overlook and stereotype. In fact, if you’re not of the right disposition, this place might well seem like just a cold, cement metropolis on one side and a backward, rundown peasant-land on the other (as I've well witnessed in my Aussie neighbours who incessantly feel the need to share their critiques and broad generalizations regarding the nation and people!)… I find though, if you attempt to scratch the surface, this warm country will certainly reward you ten-fold with its treasures.

Ever since I first saw a pickled Japanese Giant Salamander (Andrias japonicus) in a museum display, I have had a strange fascination with it. These prehistoric beasts have branches in N. America, China and Japan, but for me, my first and lasting love is with the Japanese variety. If you’ve not heard of them, it’s worthwhile to stop reading now, google “Japanese giant salamander”, have a quick read, and come back.

With some research I discovered that they are found not just on the southern islands of Japan but as far north as Kyoto. I had already had a trip scheduled there to see the gorgeous Sakura blooms in the city and thought, ‘It’s now or never! I’m going to go see one in the wild!’ (a big tick on my bucket list!)

So after some very kind offers from some researchers at Kyoto University, I set off in search of these beasts.

I’ll let the photos tell the rest of the tale. (There's some extras in the photo gallery too)

When we first met the researchers they showed us some endangered regular-sized salamanders at a small breeding pond on campus.

My first sighting of a giant was this juvenile in the lab. It's unfortunately one of the numerous Chinese/Japanese cross-species that are threatening the survival of pure japonicus salamanders.

Next, out into the field. Surprisingly close to the city too.

Being nocturnal, at this stage of the day we only had hope of catching larvae hidden amongst debris on the river bed.

No luck... We retreated and returned after nightfall.

Finally, a head was spotted under a mat of twigs after visiting perhaps 3 or 4 different sites!

The awe!

Note that down: 1m, 8kg, approximately 20-30years old, most likely a Chinese hybrid.

An adventure that would make David Attenborough proud!

Photos: My Photo scholarship 2011 entry

escape — Tue, 8 Nov 2011 01:16:00 GMT

My Photo scholarship 2010 entry

escape — Sun, 17 Oct 2010 23:11:00 GMT

All my life I have wanted to help the world. It’s a big goal for a tiny person, but I haven’t given up hope. I completed my degree in medical sciences two years ago with the dream of designing much needed vaccines for the third world. After time in the lab though I realised it was more likely I’d end up confined to a sterile room going nuts studying things far removed from reality. I’ve now decided to change my path, but aim to somehow still help the world. I think of travel photography as the holy grail of careers. My greatest passion in life is travel. It is all I save and plan towards and so far I’ve been lucky enough to visit various places in Europe, Asia and N. America. Most recently I spent two incredible weeks in the economically poor but environmentally and culturally rich country of Madagascar. I travel not to be just another tourist but to experience a cultural exchange. In my photos I aim to share both the amazing things that define a place and moreover, the simple stories that locals might find normal or mundane but which people here may otherwise never encounter. I believe that visual communication can be an incredibly evocative medium, able to bring about greater understanding of different places, natural environments and cultures, thus promoting respect for them amongst the global community. Shooting rare wildlife in Bhutan would be a dream come true. I love nature and animals but just never seem to be able to get them to pose for me! I bought my first P&S in 2007 and my NikkonD40 in 2009. I am a complete amateur but I love photography and have my camera in my backpack wherever I go. I know I have a lot to learn, but I’m not afraid to work hard and I would definitely make the most of any chance for me to get my foot in the door.

The End ... for now

escape — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 23:37:00 GMT

The man seated next to me on my first flight was a grossly overweight, middle aged slob. Besides encroaching on half my seat space, he alternated between humming loudly and picking his nose and flicking the boogers onto the floor. The other flights were otherwise fine and in my last leg I got chatting to a friendly and well traversed up and coming Australian filmmaker returning from Tokyo. It was a good distraction and consolation from the gruelling 32hours of travel.

***

Back at Brisbane airport now. The guy at customs called me darlin’. There is something about the Australian demeanor (and I think it’s partly the lazy drawn accent) that instantly disarms and renders you helpless to the charms of this country. Two people have already approached me for customer feedback and been disappointed when I answer in Aussie. They apparently need to fill their Asian resident quota and I’m just not good enough for them.

Montreal in Summer; oh how I miss you!

escape — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 23:27:00 GMT

Montreal. The city of festivals. You can’t walk more than ten minutes in any direction without encountering one of them. Street art (Nuit Blanche), French music, the Montreal Grand Prix and Fringe festivals, not to mention the International fireworks competition, are amongst the many on this month. My friend lives in a 6^th floor apartment overlooking Place des Arts, a plaza guaranteed to be packed on a Summer evening. Last year I was lucky enough to see Stevie Wonder play at the opening of the Montreal International Jazz Festival from here. Walk down a couple of blocks and you’ll pass a number of packed stages with different local and international artists performing their hits for free.

This is THE place to be in summertime.

***

I have never been a big sports fan. But I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. I met up with some mates at a sports bar (Champs) down St Laurent to watch the USA vs. England soccer match. “So, what makes a sports bar any different from a regular bar?” I asked my friend. I passed a bunch of other places playing the match, and they had beer too? I met with the answer as soon as I walked into the room. Not to sound hippy, but it’s “all about the energy man!” The room was at max capacity and die-hard fans filled the room with their flags, jerseys and synchronised roars with every action. Of course, it also helped that they had about ten TVs and the game projected on not only all of them but also a huge screen in the center. People left and right of me ran off lists of stats about previous cups, the teams and players. Everyone was an expert or at least weren’t afraid to give their two cents. All while there were intermittent pauses for cheering and chanting. There was also the obligatory bad mouthing of the other side’s teams and I was rather amused at the aggression and ferocity with which the tables on either side of us started arguing… It’s just football man… It’s football man!!!

Photos: Paris and London

escape — Tue, 25 May 2010 23:59:00 GMT

Day 25 - A few passing moments in London

escape — Tue, 25 May 2010 18:57:00 GMT

I must admit, I’ve never been a huge fan of London. It’s one of those places that people either love or don’t. Overpriced dirty hotels mixed with densely packed and polluted sidewalks are not my thing (ironic since I was just in Antananarivo!) Still, it’s always been a place to remember because of the people I’ve been with rather than the city itself.

Each of my visits to London has been memorable for different reasons. The last time I was here, I was toured around the back streets of Camden markets and saw a stunning musical on the West End. The first time round I saw all the big sights of the city, but found I had the best time sitting in the window of a cafe with a friend watching the rush hour pass through Piccadily Circus. This time, I was visiting a real local and spent my time chilling out with this young and groovy diva.

I’m a very lucky traveller; everywhere I go it’s been sunny and beautiful weather. Furthermore, springtime is definitely the season for taking advantage of the lengthening days and cool, endless twilights. I can definitely suggest an afternoon picnicking at Greenwich Park where it was near impossible to resist dozing off on the lush grass.

***

I checked out the Museum of Natural History, very pretty; wandered around trying to find a decent cafe near King’s Cross with no luck and ate a decadent lunch in an obscurely situated, ancient Egyptian themed restaurant called ‘LMNT’ (the mussels were so good we had to order them twice!)

We tried to watch the passing of the guard at Buckingham Palace but the crowd was so big it was impossible to get a half decent view and we left.

It’s a mixed bunch.

(belated) Day 21- Final day in Paris

escape — Fri, 21 May 2010 22:25:00 GMT

This is a little late but some belated entries I forgot to post but have recently rediscovered!

--------------

I’ve lost count and it’s my final day in pretty Paris.

Even without doing the big attractions of Paris (the Eiffel tower, Notre Dame, Louvre, etc.), the atmosphere of this beautiful city has still managed to diffuse into our trip. (Although the indulgent amounts of wine and cheese of the past few days may have helped.)

I lie. We did see the Eiffel tower, from the best viewing point in the city, the Trocadero. The plaza looks right onto the monument and I’m sure I’ve seen that view in countless Hollywood movies before. All over Paris, and especially around the Eiffel Tower, men sell little trinkets (mini Tower keychains, etc.) illegally. You’ll see them walk around with masses of these hanging off portable steel loops and canvas bags. They are literally everywhere, and the dynamic between them and the local police can easily be described by reference to Speedy Gonzalez and Sylvester the cat.

My first trip to Paris, I was witness to a chase both painful yet hilarious to watch. A routine patrol had come round the base of tower, and with a sixth sense, the hawkers had in one swift motion gathered their wares and were running before I had even noticed the blue uniforms. No offense, and as a broad generalisation here, the hawkers were all tall, lean and fit... the police, not so much so... I saw one specific policeman chasing one man with such fruitless determination, that I had to give in to the overwhelming sense of scheidenfrauden, parked myself on a bench and watched the scene unfold. A ten meter chase, followed by two minute rest. The hawker meanwhile keeping a comfortable 10meters in front would pause and rest when the policeman paused and then started up a gentle jog when the gap closed a little. On and on this went for maybe 15minutes until they’d reached a footbridge quite far from the tower, upon which the policeman turned around and walked back. He was obviously puffed. I can still recall the expression on the hawker’s face. No fear. No alarm. He just leaned casually against a post for a couple of minutes, gave a brief look around and headed back to finish the day’s work.

***

Evenings in the Latin Quarter are something both the locals and tourists enjoy. There’s a couple of busy alleys lined with restaurants specialising in all sorts of cuisines (from Mediterranean to Moroccan) and friendly restaurateurs looking for new customers, so it’s a good place to try if you’re hungry but not sure what for. The quarter is also a close walking distance to a number of big attractions including Notre Dame and the Pantheon. I had my first authentic French cheese fondue and it’s worth giving a go if you’ve got a couple of friends to share the pot of golden, artery clogging goo with.

***

We attempted to go bouldering (think of rock-climbing but on low hanging boulders) at a nearby town called Fountainbleau. I myself had not heard of it but was told it is a very famous place for enthusiasts. Unfortunately we had bad directions and got lost trying to find the boulders amongst the many walking paths in the forest. I suggest bringing a clear map and proven set of directions.

Day 17 - A day in a French ER

escape — Mon, 17 May 2010 08:33:00 GMT

I’m in the St Louis Hospital emergency waiting room and it’s filling up. I tried to see a regular GP but was told to go to the St Louis ER instead. I have a stomach bug that won’t go away. It’s been more than a week now and I thought it’s probably about time I see a doc. Plus, it’s not Madagascar anymore, the doctors in France should be well educated and speak SOME English right?

Most people look fine like me, grumpy faces but otherwise ok. I’m a little disappointed. It’s my first visit to an ER and in a big city too. Where are the car wreck patients? Where’s the blood and guts? The old lady on the stretcher doesn’t look too healthy, but she’s managed to fall asleep peacefully with her mouth wide open.

2 hours later...

I’ve been in to see the nurse who has taken my details (blood pressure, etc.). He could barely speak any English like the nurses at reception. I can tell today is going to be fun already. I hope the doctor will speak a little more. The drinks machine is broken and I’m in desperate need of some water. Thank god Maryanne brought some magazines to read.

2 hours later...

A very young and rather cute doctor examined me. He had very poor English like the nurses, but this time I was prepared and had a timeline of my symptoms written out in French, thanks to my trusty dictionary.

The only problem was while he got all the details from me, I couldn’t understand much of what he was saying.

“Blood test... I’m sorry,” he said with a frown. “No problem!” I replied. I’m usually not too bothered by needles, and so told him not to be sorry. Spoke too soon. The nurse came in and took 8 vials of blood. She was very friendly and surprisingly spoke Mandarin and some Cantonese (she was an African migrant). I was quite relieved when she filled her last one and began disassembling the connectors from my arm. Too bad it wasn’t all coming off. The needle and final connector piece was left there shoved in my vein and taped over with 5 layers of bandage and tape. It is to be left in for the rest of the afternoon... It’s extended past the joint too, so it’s impossible to bend my arm even a fraction. Despite my protests, the nurses insist they can’t remove it until later, whenever that might be.

4 hours later...

The doctor called my name. No private examination room this time, just a corridor. They must’ve all been full. He began to explain the test results to me in slow French and broken English. Je ne suis pas. Desole.

Luckily we were in a public place as a girl waiting on a stretcher piped up and translated in perfect French and near perfect English between the doctor and I.

All tests negative. Take some drugs. Go see a doctor again if it doesn’t improve. Go home.

It was past 6pm when I finally had the needle removed and was let out.

-------------------

I’ve never been bothered by the language barrier while travelling until today (I’ve also never been bothered by needles till today!) Being sick and being unable to communicate is not pleasant to say the least. It’s also made me think how important translational services and a little bit of patience and understanding can be for migrants in new countries.

It's just one more adventure every traveller must experience at some point or other and I’m rather happy to be not quite dead yet!

Day 16 - Paris

escape — Sun, 16 May 2010 07:43:00 GMT

The tourist information centres at the Charles De Gaulle airport are excellent, so take advantage of these friendly and helpful English speaking staff before you get to the city booths which may or may not be so helpful.

We checked into the Auberge de Jeune Ferry youth hostel near Republic. I’d got the list of YHAs from the info centre and then cross referenced with the Lonely planet. Not the best of their recommendations I’ve used. The cleaning lady was quite impatient and bossy and ordered us to take our bags out of the lobby the minute we’d checked in. The bathrooms are pretty old and grimy and the internet stalls hard to use when not frozen or completely out of order. Furthermore, their spiral staircase is unending, and I pity the guests staying on the 5^th floor as we’re already worn out being on the 3^rd.

Our afternoon was spent on Montmarte where we shared a bottle of wine on the grass just under the towering white basilica in the warm spring sun. The local buskers were out and proudly displaying their talents. So we sat lazily and were serenaded by a nearby guitarist while watching a man juggling a soccer ball while stripping. His act ‘climaxed’ with the young and very fit man balancing the spinning ball on a pen, in his mouth, while climbing up a light pole shirtless.

I suddenly have the urge to join a soccer club.