Live your dreams

Terra Nullius

juliabedi — Fri, 31 Oct 2014 13:23:00 GMT

_{Terra nullius}

A Journal Entry

22^nd August, 2014 Melbourne International Airport

"We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love... and then we return home. "

- ABORIGINAL PROVERB

There is a sort of chaotic melody being played out. Rushing and bustling, wheels of suitcases screech across me, tannoy announcements go unheard. And here I sit, in between one home and another; betwixt and between. In the midst of this paradoxically organised clutter, a family of five catch my eye. The son sits near a backpack the size of his little sister, and I can tell by his mother’s eyes that he will be gone for a long time. It reminds me of the way my dad looked at me the moment before I set off on my 1,700 mile journey across the Australian outback. But then some three girls sever my view of the family. They mask on smiles and take a thousand photos on their iphones, it bothers me how social media has destroyed the value of privacy. But I guess that was always so, like those news reporters and tourists who would harass me along my expedition, taking photos and stealing the authenticity and sanctity of my experience.

‘Flight number VL197 will be boarding in half an hour’.

I need to get up off this metal chair and stretch my legs, since I'll be sitting down for another 13 hours.

In a weird way I like the stench of the airport, artificial air mixed with corporate coffee. The airport is like a labyrinth, a fluid and dynamic structure. I think about Marc Augé’s description of ‘non-places’, places of transience that are more like passageways than rooms. I think it connects quite soundly with the idea of liminality. That is, the process of being betwixt and between. Not yet a man, but not quite a child. Not here nor there. Sitting on the threshold. Living on the tracks.

Back to my metal chair. The family is still there. The youthful boy sits alongside his mother, potentially embarking on a voyage of liminality. Of anti-structure. Liminality speaks of disrupting the order; disconnecting with social structures, detaching from a preconceived identity and essentially a rebirth of the self. I think that travelling is not about finding yourself but about losing yourself. Tearing apart your idea of reality. Shaking up your norms and rediscovering another way of viewing life. There are moments when we feel deeply embedded in a tribe or connected to a land and then there are other times when we can feel completely lost and detached, almost child-like in trying to make sense of the world. It is the latter period that picks at my curiosity. Being vulnerable and uncomfortable, testing the boundaries, scrutinising what we so naively accept as ‘common sense’ and burning the expectations and assumptions. Turner’s impression of liminality only falls short on recognising variation and over-specificity. Maybe he was nostalgic of the Ndembu in Zambia when he suggested that only liminality can only occur in small-scale tribe societies? Or maybe he was just drunk? Of course liminality can pertain to all humanity, in a myriad of shapes and forms. Or at least I think so. This is where Augé’s description of non-places, or more so, his elaboration of Michel de Certeau’s theory, fills in the missing gaps. He describes non-places as a space of alleviating the self of prescribed identity, and instead the person is judged on the basis of what they do in the present moment. No assumptions or prejudices. The only thing that matters is now. Although this is encompassed in Turner’s description amongst the Ndembu, he solely ascribes these qualities to the group of initiated children (neophytes). But what about those who never quite fit a social structure? Who always seem to be the Other? Or the Matter out of Place? Like those who are bisexual, transgendered, of mixed ethnicities or religions, nomads, or those who just want to dance along the threshold? Turner denoted that liminality is always temporary yet, how would Turner ascribe the lives of refugees who never quite assimilate into their foreign country? Or what about those whose land has been stolen from them? How would he classify the Aboriginals? Or, what about my life now, between the Indian Himalayas and Australia; or the fact that I consider three countries my home? Where would I fit in his category?

“Flight number VL197 is now boarding”

23^rd August, 2014. Somewhere between Melbourne and India

I think back to the early 90’s and how migrating with the nomads in North-East India made me realise that there are people who can be at home in empty spaces. Two years of non-places. Two years off the beaten tracks. In hindsight I realise that trekking with the Aboriginals in the Australian desert showed me how something strange can become familiar, and how the customary can become unusual. It is only a training of the eye, a training of the mind. Upon returning back home to Queensland I found it strange to wake up inside a home, rather than under the desert stars. Nomadic living takes the description of non-places and liminality and applies it to all corners of life. It emphasises the point that life is not hierarchical but seasonal. Unpredictable. Nomadic living teaches people to realise how easily we can adapt and move across the land. It teaches us how to see with a child’s eyes, it removes the ‘Other’ and emphasises that places are both empty and vacant at the same time. And only we try to classify them with dualistic terms. Nomads leave no trace, a space untouched. The collection of people who sit on this plane reminds me of how versatile the world is, and that in this plane, this ‘non-place’, we can come together to form a web of anti-structure. We belong nowhere and everywhere. Soaring through a passage in the air to reach a destination that doesn’t really matter. It is the process that counts.

I think it is important for domains such as psychology and anthropology to continue to move beyond their own confinements, to test their own theories with other cultures and to critique their own structure. To discover that there is no one way. I am not advocating destroying structure, I only encourage that people dance along a multitude of paths to find their own way. To realise that boundaries and structures are only made to be tested, broken and re-established. That is the only way we evolve.

“Real travel would be to see the world, for even an instant, with another’s eyes”.

Robyn Davidson

This piece is heavily inspired by the novels ‘Desert Places’ and ‘Tracks’ from the adventurous Australian author who lives an inspirational life of a modern nomad, Robyn Davidson.

Augé, M. (1995). Non-Places: Introduction to an Anthropology of Supermodernity http://asounder.org/resources/auge_nonplaces.pdf

Davidson, R. (1980). Tracks. Bloomsbury Publishing, Sydney. ISBN 9-781-4088-4714-5.

Davidson, R. (1996). Desert Places. Penguin Group. ISBN 0-670-84077-7.

Romantic love and the transformation of marriage styles (across time and cultures)

juliabedi — Fri, 27 Jun 2014 09:32:00 GMT

Love, particularly the marital aspect of love, is an innovative research topic in twentieth century anthropology. Many historians contend that romantic love is a novel invention from the Age of Enlightenment and so can only be experienced by elite societies. In this essay I examine the ways ‘the West’ has been placed above ‘the rest’, particularly in terms of the supposed shift from arranged to love marriages. I discuss Anthony Giddens’ (1990) theories on modernity and question the relevance of modernity to love. I contrast Giddens’ ideas to the views of William Jankowiak, Helen Fisher and Elizabeth Gilbert’s research who assert that love is an innate emotion and thus, a universal experience. I contend that marriages transform their style and function in response to changing societies. In order to identify the differences between love and arranged marriages and, their affect on personhood I examine the capricious features of religion, agency, honour, sexuality and gender in Perveez Mody’s ethnographic research in ‘The Intimate State’ (2008). I then draw on Gilbert’s autobiographical accounts and Strathern’s (1988) concepts of the individual and dividual to avow that a ‘successful’ love marriage is a delicate balance of interdependence.

Romantic love and the supposed evolution of love marriages have been rationalised as a product of modernity (Lipset 1990; Giddens 1990). Anthony Giddens and many other historians alike believe that the European Enlightenment in the seventeenth century was a catalyst to the West’s evolution in becoming modern and self-reflexive subjects (Lipset 1990, 1991; Aries 1962; Rougement 1974). Modernity refers to de-traditionalising socio-cultural customs, rejecting feudalism, and an emergence of capitalism and industrial order (Giddens 1990:11). It was assumed that romantic love was exclusive to the culturally refined societies who have the time and sophistication to engage in a supposedly complex task (Jankowiak 1990:1). Giddens (1990:37) emphasises that modern persons are characterised by their self-reflexivity, and in effect condemns that traditional societies are not capable of self-contemplation.

What is characteristic of modernity is not an embracing of the new, but the presumption of wholesale reflexivity- which of course includes reflection upon the nature of reflection itself (Giddens 1990:39)

However, René Descartes’ (1644) philosophical statement ‘Cogito, ergo sum’ defined all humanity as self-reflexive as it is the factor that seems to set us apart from all other creatures. Therefore, I contend that the theory that modernity influenced the rise of self-reflexivity and thus, romantic love only in the West is an egocentric approach that places the West over the rest.

As I reject the assumption that romantic love is a product of modernity I instead contend that marriage changes its function and style in response to fluctuating societal conventions. I believe that romantic love is a universal phenomenon (Jankowiak, 1995; Gilbert 2010) and so it is not the primal emotion of love that transforms but the role of marriage. Research into romantic love in non-Western cultures has been practically non-evident until recent years (Jankowiak, 1995). William Jankowiak contends that the freedom to select a partner was not a European innovation and is near-universally experienced. In an examination of 166 cultures Jankowiak and Edward Fischer (1992) found that 148 cultures displayed romantic love - 89 per cent (1995:4, 11). Additionally, there are a myriad of ancient art that portray romantic love all across the globe; the love story of Isis and Osiris written in Egypt over three thousand years ago (Wolkstein 1991); Ovid’s romantic love poems in the first century B.C. in ancient Rome (Melville 1990); even ancient Arabic poems influenced European notions of romantic love i.e. the story of Layla and Majnun inspired the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet (Davis & Davis, 1995). Fisher (1995) asserts that love is an innate part of our primary emotions like fear, anger or joy that evolved

Four million years ago in conjunction with the primary human reproductive strategy, serial pair bonding, to rear successive altricial young through their periods of infancy

Therefore, romantic love is an emotion we can all experience. However, I argue that marriage is dictated by the social-cultural demands within a given time.

Cicero (cited by Gilbert 2010:52) contends that, “The First Bond of Society is Marriage” therefore highlighting the functional importance of marriage to social order. I argue that marriage styles vary in terms of its function; two men could marry in ancient Rome or two children in Medieval Europe to secure agriculture or investments; in China ghost marriages (marrying someone who is already dead) were performed to maintain or gain fortunes. Marriages seem to have no predictable pattern of change as they vary with customs. Religions alike have not been consistent with their views on marriage, particularly the Catholic Church (Gilbert 2010:55). The Old Testament had always advocated the importance of love marriages, sex and keeping the blood lineage whereas the New Testament brought innovative ideas of treating everyone as kin but, in an attempt to create heaven here on earth, it was advocated to repress all sexual desires as to be more like angels (Gilbert 2010:56). Although the New Testament brought rise to individual choice and the acceptance of ‘the other’ it was an apocalyptic religion and therefore, held little focus on procreation and avertedly replaced sex with shame. Gilbert contends that the way we live also effects marriage; in nomadic times individuals would seek safety and security within partners, later with the formation of cities and villages marriage turned to a way of managing wealth and social order (Gilbert 2010:61). The freedom to select one’s partner (love marriages) can be traced back to medieval times; in medieval Germany people could marry for economic or personal reasons and two types of legal marriage were permitted, a Muntehe (a permanent contract) or Friedelehe (a casual living arrangement). However, in the thirteenth century, Gilbert (2010:64) states that ‘the church got involved’ and instead of trying to create heaven on earth were rather occupied with ‘controlling their growing empire’. In 1215, Pope Innocent III forbade divorces and only permitted marriages under the church order, turning marriage into a ‘life sentence’ (Gilbert 2010:64). A legal notion of coverture was then enforced, taking away women’s rights upon marriage. Gilbert (2010:66) affirms that these laws were maintained for longer than they should have; as it was not until 1975 that a married woman in Connecticut could legally open bank accounts or take out loans without her husband’s permission. And only in 1984 the state of New York overturned ‘the marital rape exemption’ that allowed a man to do anything he liked to his wife; no matter how violent it was (Gilbert 2010:66-7). As much as we would like to believe that ‘the West’ has broken off from the negative connotations of ‘unfair’ arranged marriages, even supposedly ‘modern’ places like America have their exceptions. There are extreme instances of racism that have limited any marriage or procreation at all, for instance; Paul Popenoe’s program of breeding only the ‘fit’ and, the imperceptible rights of slaves who were deemed unfit to make choices or to marry. These erratic patterns of marriage leads me to discern that we are not moving in a particularly predictable or practical direction rather, marriage transforms in response to fickle societal norms and limitations on the individual.

Taking a particular interest in how marriage shapes a person I endeavour to identify the differences between arranged and love marriages. As I reject the idea that love marriages were a product of modernity I examine specific facets that set love and arranged marriages apart; particularly the roles of religion, honour, sexuality, agency and gender rights. In northern India arranged marriages are seen as a ‘religious union’ in which Hindu and Muslim parents give the gift of a virgin girl to a respectable son, as per the parents’ judgement (Mody 2008). In this respect, the person views themself as a part of a religious collective; the marriage is formed by kin and sanctified by God with the gift of subsequent love. Mody translates from an ethnographic interview:

Love is a gift from God, gifted to two people on the day of their marriage. Love isn’t something that one does, that is lust. Love is given, only by God.

There is a focus on divine love and in the process of marriage the couple become followers who respect others’ wishes in hope of reaching enlightenment or salvation. Alternatively, love marriages in Delhi challenge this belief and so are seen as ‘defiant love’ that represents the most ‘unholy union’ which disorders the ‘natural’ caste system (Mody 2008:8-9). Love marriages are characterised by a freedom to choose a partner however, in Delhi this is not advocated and so the degree of agency is obscure. Mody cites Strathern’s (1998) ‘Gender of the Gift’ research of Melanesian personhood to conceptualise agency in love marriage. Mody adopts Strathern’s concepts of the dividual and individual to assert that persons in love marriages need to juggle both “agency and personhood”; the individual love relationship and dividual legal and community restraints in urban Delhi. Mody gives an ethnographic example of a love marriage between Subhash and Indu prevented because of family honour. Subhash and Indu began their ‘love-affair’ in April 1995 however, in July 1997 Indu had a rishta (proposal) from another person of her caste, Subhash was not of her caste. Initially for Indu “honour came after love, [as] she was willing to challenge her parents through a court-marriage.” (208). However, Subhash considered that disobeying his father would be jeopardising both his income and honour. Hence, agency is a “double-edged sword” whereby persons have to consider ‘self-agency’ and ‘self-as-agent-of-groups’ (46).

Subhash’s honour and selfhood are dependent on him maintaining his own father’s honour, Indu’s family’s honour and that of a third party betrothed to his beloved.

Similarly, Indu ends up sacrificing her own individual happiness by honouring her parents’ wishes; “she permits her agency to be appropriated by her parents, such that her strength and honour in resisting their pressures is now theirs to domesticate.” (Mody 2008:211). Mody contends that in India the meaning of marriage is not of sexuality or consummation but of forming social and moral relations between kinships. However, this is not so in Indu’s case as it is deemed ‘unnatural’ that she has not had sex with her arranged partner (Mody 2008:216). Indu has a divorce from her first marriage as she is truly unhappy and asks Subhash for marriage albeit, still against her parents’ will. Subhash is discomforted by her immodest sexuality and rejects her offer for letting her sexuality be dictated by her parents in her first marriage (Mody 2008:220). This is an instance of both love and arranged marriages failing due to the fickleness of agency, sexuality and shame. Gender can also restrict the degree of agency in both types of marriage (Mody 2008:156). In Delhi, women who return from an elopement (love marriage) will often be rejected by kin as she is presumed to be no longer a virgin fit for a respectable son however, men can easily find a wife again and assimilate back into the community regardless of past relations (Mody 2008:155). In the most extreme cases women are killed by their fathers or brothers to remove the family shame i.e. Rajput clans (Mody 2008:198). Hence, agency can be dictated by gender, sexuality and shame.

As love marriages are associated with the freedom of choice I challenge whether the promotion of individual agency forms ‘successful’ matrimonies. I define successful as a fulfilling and everlasting relationship. Elizabeth Gilbert (2010) interviews Hmong women, from the mountains of Vietnam, and makes careful comparisons between their dividual culture and her own individual American nation. Hmong women do not place their marriage at the centre of their existence whilst in America the person you choose to marry is expected to be a best friend, academically equal and inspiring; Hmong women find these qualities in kin. Gilbert contends that while women in America look for a man who can inspire them, Hmong brides only ask for the “gift of certainty” (Gilbert 2010:47). From face value, it seems that the Hmong women are a part of a dividual system whilst Gilbert acts within an individual union who seeks a partner who can exclusively complete the other.

Marriage becomes hard work once you have poured the entirety of your life’s expectations for happiness into the hands of one mere person. (Gilbert 2010:48)

I theorise that love marriages that hold the expectation that a partner should ‘complete’ them are more susceptible to being unsuccessful. I believe that there needs to be an interdependent relationship between the partner, the individual self and the dividual external support systems; biological and social kin. I agree with Giddens (1992:93) idea of a ‘pure relationship’ whereby the individual recognises that:

The other is an independent being, who can be loved for her or his specific traits and qualities;[it is a] release from an obsessive involvement

Gilbert (2010:106) contends that she only learnt this concept during her second marriage: “he cannot complete me, even if he wanted to”. Similarly, in Mody’s ethnographic research Indu moved from a dividual marriage to an attempt to form an individual love marriage though, I argue that both her marriages failed due to an imbalance of interdependence.

Over centuries, marriage has changed shape and form in response to collective norms however love as an emotion has been traced back to The Middle Ages. I believe that marriage will continue to change its function yet love will always be experienced as an innate sentiment. In terms of building healthy or successful unions, I think it is important to consider the individual and dividual layers of marriage.

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward at the same direction

– Antoine de Saint-Exapery

How we see the world

juliabedi — Fri, 27 Jun 2014 09:24:00 GMT

She tells me to draw the sunset and says ‘it’ll be easy’. Everyone around me begins to work away at their easels I however am left with a blank canvas and what I can only assume to be an orange charcoal in my hand.

A sunset. She tells me it’s simple, just a circle with a straight line underneath it. But it’s not like that for me, or at least it wasn’t the last and only time I have seen it. It was at least six months ago that my husband took me to our favourite beach down at the Great Ocean Road. He blindfolded me until we got there. I remember the birds chattering their final words for the day, the smell of the eucalyptus trees around us before my feet touched the soft sand, and then my nose was swamped by the thick smell of the sea. I remember opening my eyes and being bombarded with an overexposure of light burning through to the back of my eyes. I don’t remember much of the sunset because it was too painful to look at. I only remember that all the colours seemed to mush into each other to create one huge patch of bleeding bright light. It was only when the sun had left the horizon that I could appreciate its beauty. A performance of lights and reflections shone onto the clouds to create a playful dance of colourful illusions, shades that I can now properly identify as purple, pink and orange. Though I still think our language is too limiting to give justice to the colour spectrum. So when this lady tells me to draw a sunset, I ask her if it has to be real. “What do you mean by real?” she asks. I contemplate telling her my story but instead I ask if I can make it a little more impressionistic... less true to life. She tells me “that’s fine” and walks to assist other pupils. My husband convinced me to go to this class; he said it would help develop a relationship between my eyes and my mind. I suppose theoretically it sounds great, taking art classes as a practical way of learning to distinguish form, depth and other three-dimensional elements. But it’s just been a very frustrating process for me. People expected me to be doing miracles by now, like driving, writing or walking without my cane. But no, it’s not like that.

It was over nine months now when I had the operation, I lost my vision when I was five and only regained it at thirty-four years of age. Vision to me has been like learning a new language. Or no, more like learning a language that has more exceptions than Cantonese. Especially with the advancement of technology in this generation, and the reliance of it, I am left clueless on many accounts. I still cannot tell the difference between photographs and reality until I touch it. So seeing phones with a cat inside of it always freaks me out, even though I always realise after touching it that it’s only a photo, and cats can’t possibly be that small. It seems to me that our culture tries to condense their lives into a snapshot, and social media sites like Instagram and Facebook really promote a movement of visual compression. This, to me, makes no sense at all. How can you explain a moment by a single shot? It’s like now, how is this lady asking me to draw a sunset? A sunset lasts around twenty minutes or so, and I’m supposed to draw that on the one canvas? But even still, how can I capture the smell of the eucalyptus or the chatter of the birds or the warmth of the soft sand with a piece of orange charcoal in my hand? So here I sit, left with a blank canvas.

The art teacher approaches me again and draws an orange line that connects again, creating something between a sphere and circle. She tells me to use the red charcoal to shade around it. I don’t like red. Red used to be my favourite colour. That was until I regained my vision. People would always describe it to me as the colour of love, passion and fire. But the first time I encountered red was when I was only starting to use my eyes to cut vegetables, a clean slice on my pointer finger let the blood ooze out of the cut skin. I think I projected some of the pain onto the colour red because now I can only associate it with pain and suffering.

I leave the art class with nothing but an orange line on white sketch paper, and a pair of useless eyes that can’t seem to make friends with my mind. My husband sees my face and decides to take me somewhere for a surprise. We arrive at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image at Federation Square and enter Screen Worlds where we find a number of elaborate visual illusions. We first stumble upon a flip book creation where we move our arms and bodies in different ways towards the camera. In response the screen shows us an animation of us two, merging the frames into motion. It reminds me of the moving photographs in Harry Potter, I really enjoy this remarkably playful art. It plays on the sense of motion and makes me think about ways we can break down the visual system, into still frames. My husband tells me that this is how all animations are made, frame by frame. Next we notice a dome where Michael moves inside and is captured by thirty-six different cameras, afterwards we watch a sequence of his movements, similar to the flip book but from different angles. He tells me that they used this in the film The Matrix (I haven’t quite gotten around to watching a full movie yet) where the guy dodged three or four bullets. He tells me he’ll show it to me when we get home.

We then come across a strange wheel that looks like a wedding cake with tiers of wonderful creatures. The lights begin to flicker. Mice jump into puddles, emus are running, platypuses dive into barrels and Tasmanian devils march with a boomerang in hand. The strobe light stops, the animals return to a single pose and spin counter-clockwise. It reminds me of a Ferris wheel as it begins to gain speed again. My husband tells me about how they are using the lights to exploit our visual system to create the illusion of motion but the thing that I focus on the most is the sound that fastens to an irritable rate when the lights begin to flicker again. It gives me a headache to stay in the room and watch this the second time round so I start to leave. I try to watch my footsteps it’s difficult to decipher their movements in the strobe lights. When I was reading about visual impairments I came across one where a person only sees frames, it made me think about what I was seeing now. Only snapshots of my feet, no motion. I wonder how those people would find crossing the road, or pouring a glass of water – it must be a tedious task. I decide that my mind needs a rest from all this visual stimuli so I take a seat.

After a moments rest we realise that it’s enough for the day so my husband takes my hand and guides me to the exit. I open my eyes for a moment to see a white building in front of us and ask him if it’s a real building, he tells me it is just another illusion. I still don’t know when my eyes are lying to me. As we walk past the building I see on its side that it has sort of triangular shapes moving out from the image, I still don’t get it. Michael tells me that the shape of the composition gives the illusion of a 3D object, when it is only partly so. I feel like such a child always asking him to translate the visual world for me, he must get bored of explaining all these things that would be obvious to even a seven year old.

Three months later of attending those classes, which I had eventually begun to enjoy and develop a good relationship with the art teacher, I decide to venture into the forest to meet the setting sun the second time round. I sit on lush green grass, the earth is still warm. The sweet smell of eucalyptus relaxes me so I close my eyes and lie down. It’s weird that I can still see colours even when my eyes are closed. White fluffy clouds in the sea blue sky is all that enters my vision, they remind me of chunks of flour-sprinkled dough. I slowly feel the warmth escaping from my body; the sun is like a magnet pulling the heat away from this side of the world. I sit up and see that the ball of fire is hidden behind the milky white flowers in the sky. The sunset makes no sound, has no smell and only touches you with a gentle heat that without eyes one would underestimate the beauty that it beholds. I never noticed this before, but it’s like there’s a dance between the sun and the moon. The sun kisses the trees goodnight with an array of golden yellows. For me the sun is still too loud and boisterous, but beautiful nonetheless, I much prefer the delicacy of the moon – especially when it’s a full moon. Here the wind becomes still, the air a little thinner and the stars come to dance and play in the night sky.

I guess it is fair to say that a degree of conditioning, association and memory play roles in the way we see the world. But this isn’t stagnant or limited in any way, one day you could see a mush of colours that make you feel uncomfortable, and a year later you can look at the same landscape to find that the intricacies of nature are now visible and instead of making you feel uneasy, give you a feeling of hope. Through this journey of regaining my vision, which is still not and never will be a completed process, I am realising that I can choose to see things as I want to as there is interplay of external stimuli and mental processing. No one could ever see the same thing in a single rose, or a sunset. Art is one way of expressing this subjectivity, as my final drawing of the sunset looked nothing like anyone else’s in the room, but not one looked exactly the same. We shared some traits, like a circle for the sun or a line for the horizon but then others went to cover up the horizon with trees in the background, or others focused purely on the sun and the surrounding clouds. In a strange way what we see in the world is determined by our emotions towards the stimuli, the associations made with it and our sense of self. We can choose to see things as incomplete and ugly, if we ourselves feel that way however, if we have a sense of joy and hope then we may see the world in this way.

Losing Faith

juliabedi — Fri, 21 Feb 2014 12:06:00 GMT

We are at a time when having no faith and turning against God is “cool”. Religion is something that crafts and defines our world. Why do people turn away from their religion? How does losing faith affect the approach and value of life?

So, I came to a conclusion that people who exhibit faith instil the following qualities:

- Devotion

- A belief in salvation

- Aware of the interdependence and the unity of life

- Spirituality

- Eyes of compassion

- Patience

- Sense of belonging

- Tune into the voice inside of them

- Hope

- An ability to embrace their purpose or destiny

This is not to say that those who do not ‘have faith’ do not have these qualities. It is more that I have found that those who believe in a God, or many Gods, seem to have a greater sense of hope and understanding of their purpose. They are driven in a direction with unwavering dedication and selflessness; trusting that their actions are a part of a greater picture. They are aware of the interdependence and unity of all living things: All is one. I am you, and you are me. They also believe in the idea of salvation such that we will be saved from all human suffering. And the list goes on..

Note that I am not applying this to a single religion but to all; truly religions are all different stories with the same contention. Different characters all searching for the same thing. Peace. Love. Unity. Now, if you define yourself as atheist, agnostic, ignostic or you think science has all the answers. Or, if you simply don’t care then, please try to. Try to think about what has made you turn away from your faith. Was it anger towards a parent or teacher who drove religion into your face without the freedom of choice? Was it how a priest spoke at mass, it didn’t quite connect with you? Was it a death or illness in the family that seems so unjust and you can’t understand why? Please, make an effort to find the roots of your resentment. For without faith we are merely robots moving unconsciously on this planet. Moving in a way that only feeds our senses and shallow desires. With little purpose.

Maybe it’s a particular religion that you cannot resonate with, for now. Please, do not give up! Discover the teachings of Buddhism, Judaism, Confucianism, Islam or even Indigenous Traditional Religions. Or even just find a new church, or a new way of expressing your faith – take up dance, or chanting meditations, or begin prayer and scripture reading with your family or alone. In reality all religions are all pointing in the same direction. But this is your own personal discovery, find which teachings suit you best, or take what you can from all – without spreading yourself too thin. Let this be a wonderful exploration.

Take the time to read the original spiritual texts and inspire yourself to find your purpose in life, because sometimes things can be lost in the translation. Look past any corruption you may see and let go of any resentment or anger that lingers on. Do not give up on faith purely to prove a point to the church or any religious systems. I do not advocate business-like people within the church however do not sell yourself short by cutting yourself off from faith. Turning away from God is only going to lessen the quality of your own life, do not deny yourself the opportunity to have hope and purpose. In the end, the most important thing is how having faith makes you feel. How it can define your life and lead you in directions that fulfil you so completely. You do not need to go to a church, temple or a synagogue to practice faith. Any act that brings you complete fulfilment and joy is an act of faith. It can be dancing, cooking, singing, meditating, drawing, walking, travelling – anything that stems from love. Most of the time these acts seem to have no end or apparent purpose: these are the acts of love.

I feel like our generation has almost lost all hope and in effect the value of life has lessened. Some people turn to illicit substances to find that exhilaration, to feed that curiosity or even to return to their youth. There is little awareness to the fact that religion can help fill this emptiness, without harming the body. Drinking and drugs ultimately evade conscious awareness, giving you a sense of freedom and liberation from your ‘real life’. Meditation, prayer and dance can offer such feelings, without the hangover. Life is about living, not about evading reality.

My faith, until recently, has been a little rollercoaster with peaks of joy and dips of doubt. I was born into a Catholic family and attended a Catholic primary and secondary school. My father is a very devoted Catholic, who taught me to see the world as no accident, and that the intricacies of Mother Nature can offer us lessons of life - if only we listen. He taught me to be grateful for all that I have, for the strength of love in our family. He opened my heart to sympathise for those who do not have such comforts. My mother has been more drawn to energy work and offered me a path to express my faith through meditation, Reiki, crystal healings and angel cards. She has taught me how to be positive against the odds, to tune into the voice inside me, to have hope and to embrace all who enter my life with compassion. It has been such a blessing to have many ways to express my faith – though, I don’t think I had really appreciated it, nor had I understood the true meaning of Faith until now. Even with all the doctrine and teachings, I had not felt alive and complete in my faith. Something was missing.

As a child I would attend mass with Dad, but in secondary school it felt like it had become a chore. I didn’t want to sit there for what felt like a decade, listening to a man speak some mumbo jumbo about this guy called Jesus. It didn’t appeal to me. However, in my last years of secondary school I felt drawn to the leadership role of “Faith and Social Justice” still with a resentment towards Catholicism, seeing it as something boring that only adults have the patience for. But still, I found so much enjoyment in tutoring Sudanese kids, helping to raise awareness to social injustices and promoting the use of the arts to raise money for those in need.

In 2013 I travelled to the Basque Country to visit relatives and found myself undertaking a pilgrimage that I had not planned for, El Camino de Santiago Compostela also known as The Way of St James. I took quite a risk travelling alone, 8 kilos on my back, map in hand, a pair of trekking boots and an open mind. Up until that moment, life had been about doing rather than being. I didn’t know where I’d end up, how far I’d get to, who I’d meet, what I’d get out of it – no expectations, no destination. But I wasn’t so concerned about that. I was more focused on my journey. Days fell into each other such that when I returned and tried to recall my journey I could not separate days from weeks. Everything was interlaced. Time was insignificant. The interrelatedness and unity of life was all that absorbed me.

El Camino was done in the country where my dad and his family were born, so this provided more depth and intention to my journey. There were moments when I felt my grandfather’s presence by a shiver down my spine or the warmth of a hands-touch on my shoulder – I had the chance to meet my grandfather after his death. It made me think about dying and, in contrast, about living. I began to ask myself, what is life really about? What do I want to be remembered for? What do I want to achieve in life? What is the most important thing to me? All answers I can now answer with: Love. Life is about love. I want to be remembered for spreading love. I want to achieve complete and infinite love. The most important thing to me is love. Faith strengthens my love. For myself, for others, for Mother Nature and for the peace that comes from giving love.

With my travels I had to go against my parents wishes. What they had given to me was ideal, but still I needed to embark on my own journey. It is through experience, especially when you take risks; that you can truly see the work of the Divine. There were people that I ‘bumped into’ more than once, some might say a mere coincidence – I say that they were guided to me, or I to them. They helped me along the way.

Even though my camera was stolen in a later trip to Barcelona, with all my footage from El Camino, it doesn’t matter. What matters are the memories that are embedded in my heart, the faith that grew that shaped me to be who I am today. And I love who I have become, and how my faith has grown, and so I am grateful for the steps I took to get me here. I just hope that the person who stole my camera watched the footage, and was maybe inspired to walk the pilgrimage too. Or maybe this is a little too hopeful? J

As a wonderful mentor reminded me – life is about being rather than doing.

Please, don’t give up on faith. We are all children of the universe, by having faith in a Divine existence we can see the signs more clearly and find greater purpose in our lives other than ‘sex, drugs, rock & roll’

Move beyond the ego and see the bigger picture.

Have faith!

I love you, always.

Recommended Texts:

‘Siddhartha’ by Hermann Hesse

‘Earth’s Echo’ by Robert. M Hamma

The Travel Mentality (for those w. Post-Travel Depression)

juliabedi — Thu, 13 Feb 2014 20:21:00 GMT

It is as though when you are travelling, particularly when going solo, you have no expectations, status or role to uphold. It feels like you are a blank canvas in which you can recreate yourself, free from past and future bounds. You aren’t worried about who is watching you or what they are saying, comforted by the reason that they are merely strangers and, chances are you will never see them again.

It is funny to think how a particular place can alter your entire idea of self. Limitless, free and daring. But, my question is: why can’t you maintain that liberating and doubt-free feeling while you are at the comfort of your own home?

Isn’t it really you who accepts and creates your own fears, anxieties, doubts, expectations, assumptions and insecurities? Are we not on a journey everywhere we go? Even if it is just to the corner shop. And why do we so easily forget that there is no permanence in anything in this world, greatest example being our own existence. Or our physical existence.

SO, why can’t we take that leap? Why is it so much harder to let go of the ego when we are at home?

I guess we spend our whole lives manifesting who we are and what we stand for – or for better terms: creating our identity. We are driven in this direction of defining the self within most aspects of life: family, religion, school, work and relationships. We are a sister or brother, a daughter or son, a mother or father, a Catholic, a Buddhist, an atheist, a student, an employee, a friend, a foe or a lover. There is a constant pull to define ourselves and find our place in society. To make future plans and stick by them to the bitter end, even if all our spirits are crushed in the meantime. But when we travel no one seems to know anything about you, nor expect anything from you. You have nothing or no one to live up to, you are ever present. Sometimes you even leave without knowing the name of someone you’ve spent the last month with. But you can recall almost every moment you shared. Laughing about the most mundane things. In the midst of travel we are defined by our actions, our ideas, our emotions and our stories. Notably, all of these are ever-changing qualities; alike our identity.

Back to the original question! Why can’t we maintain that liberating and doubt-free feeling?

My personal, short and sweet answer: We hold onto our doubts, fears, insecurities, expectations and ego that we have created over the years. Stuck. But we need to realise that, a place is only a place. It is our idea of that place that instigates a variety of thoughts and emotions. And if only we alter our own view of home can we create paradise within arm’s-reach, forever.

We are attached to a moment frozen in time. Without realising that it was the fleeting feeling of freedom that we truly enjoyed. We associate that emotion of freedom to a place, and fall into believing that if we return to this place we will be granted with that same feeling – unaware of all the added expectations. Assumptions, plans, expectations, doubt, fear and insecurities leech onto our happiness to create a feeling of incompletion. By meditating or even just purely being aware we can free ourselves from the negativity. We can find this liberating feeling in the comfort of our own home. Every day is a new day, you are free to act as you want. Free yourself from these chains.

A current, relevant and personal example: I received an invitation to return to Fiji. On my first trip I thought it would be a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ experience. Now I’m afraid of expecting too much, expecting the kids to remember me, to still be there, to be as inspiring as they were before BUT by acknowledging these assumptions and expectations I can free myself from them and acknowledge that every moment is fleeting and open my arms to a new experience. The children will be different, the place will be new and most of all – I’m a new and ever growing person. My values, priorities, beliefs and choices change every single day. Even though I may be returning to the same place, it is a different moment in time. A new journey and experience to be made. I'll leave it in the hands of the divine for now.

I’ve been reading this amazing book called “The Miracle of Mindfulness” by Thich Nhat Hanh which is written as a sort of manual or guide to living in the present moment. He explains how there are two different ways of washing the dishes:

To make the dishes clean
To wash the dishes

This example can be likened to the intentions of our own lives and evoke further questions as:

- Do you work to work? Or do you work to get money?

- Do you study to study? Or do you study to get your degree?

- Do you live to live? Or do you live to make a living?

Basically, are you living with or without any awareness?

Once you answer these questions truthfully and begin to listen and trust yourself you will realise how life really just falls into place, if you let it.

Sometimes we need to take risks, or a leap of faith to realise that there really is some divine guidance. If you don’t believe me then please try to prove me wrong, and let me know. Quit whatever you hate doing now and go in pursuit of your dreams, and if you don’t find even the smallest sign, guidance or coincidence then please come find me!

Here is a sweet quote that helps keep me in the present moment and assists me in decision-making:

A good life is when you:

assume nothing,

do more, need less,

smile often, dream big,

laugh a lot

and realise how blessed you are.

–Unknown author

Thank you for reading,

I love you.

Travel vs. Uni

juliabedi — Tue, 21 Jan 2014 21:05:00 GMT

Defer or study? If you’ve ever wondered about taking a year off to travel, the first thing you need to ask yourself is: What is it that I’m looking for that I don’t already find in my current job or degree or life? If you can’t put your finger on it but you know that there’s something lingering back there then please read on.

In 2011 I graduated from high school, kept sane only by the thought that I would be taking a Gap Year the following year. Free at last! When it came closer to actually deciding whether I would continue the original plan of deferring I became a little doubtful and scared. I had become bombarded with questions of doubt: Was this the right choice? Would I be wasting time? Could I just get that ‘travel bug’ out of me later, after my degree? Will I be disappointing my parents if I don’t go? I began turning to people for advice, but the majority seemed to answer with: yes, you should just start your degree now. But that wasn’t the answer I was looking for. As I began to look through my potential future subjects and timetable I had become overly stressed. How could I possibly start a year like this? Didn’t I deserve a break from working my guts off in year 12? I didn’t know where to go, but I knew that University wasn’t an option for me just yet. I knew that if I did go, I would end up neglecting my parents for making me continue on, and ultimately it was my decision not theirs. So I took a risk. I broke the preconceived path for myself and took myself overseas to try and find out what was missing. (May I add here that I have not once regretted this choice. Ever.)

March, 2012. Gap Year! I had been saving money for quite a while with part time jobs since year 10, I hadn’t known at the time where I would go with that money, but now was crunch time. Another mountain of questions towered over me: Where do I go? How long for? Who with? What will I do? I had no template to branch out from; neither of my elder sisters had taken a break and only very few of my friends had taken a year off to work full-time. I began looking into Gap year tours on the beloved google.com and found some really amazing websites for volunteer travel overseas. This was exactly what I wanted to do. Travel with a purpose. This is where I found the website for Projects Abroad – so I ordered a brochure online and when it came I found that my questions doubled but my enthusiasm began to flourish. I wanted to go everywhere! Africa! Asia! South Pacific! Here, there and everywhere! But, who with? How long? Did I want to work with kids or animals? Or in journalism? Was this the right organisation? I hadn’t heard of it before, so it’d be a bit of a risk. Things fell into place, the way they always do if you’re on the right track. I began to slowly prioritise places, and had come to the decision that I’d probably prefer to work in care with children, and I could do some conservation work on another trip. With a little bit of arm twisting and lots and lots and lots of convincing, Mum agreed to let me go. Though, she had decided it was too unbearable for her if I went alone on my first trip so Dad, my saving grace, volunteered to accompany me. We were deciding between conservation work at Peru and care work at Fiji. Given that he could only take off 3 weeks from work, I had decided that Fiji was the most practical option – since it is so much closer.

Fiji was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I could never possibly forget the people, the place, the smell, the freedom of time, the food, the beaches, the bars, the palm trees, the sweet coconut, the fresh pineapple, the constant warmth, the children, the family, the friendliness and the freedom from monotonous routine - it was just so incredible. Working with Projects Abroad, (I highly recommend looking at their website http://www.projects-abroad.com.au/), you are placed with a host family and are able to completely immerse yourself into their culture. Dad and I were placed in a large home with a wonderful lady named Ateca, and her daughter Papate (who I am still in contact with and am planning a potential return visit for this year). They had given up their own rooms and beds for us and had offered to sleep in a little spare room with extended family that came to stay, often enough to be considered living there. But on the first night, Papate asked if we could share her room together, and straight away she had become like a little sister to me. We felt so comfortable, so safe and so welcomed there. It had become easy to call this place home. So each morning we went to the kindergarten to help out with the kids and cleaning up what damage had been left by the recent floods. After this I went to the orphanage called Treasure House to help out with the children there. I felt like I had made stronger connections with the kids there, I’m not sure if it was because we could speak the same language or because we were in the setting of their home. Either way, I fell in love with all the children. They made me feel so alive, each day I was so excited to see their smiles and play with them.

*I have an earlier piece called “Here” in this blog that features one of the children who made an everlasting effect on me, Aseri. I used his real name and his real story. I have attached a photo of this child Aseri, so you can see his “wolf-eyes” for yourself.

Each weekend all the volunteers would organise something fun. We travelled to the islands or went horse riding and sometimes spent days sitting at beach resorts. I was so glad that I went against all the odds to get there. I was completely and utterly happy, I felt fulfilled by all the relationships I was building and the work I was doing. And it was at that moment that I truly realised that I needed those children at the orphanage more than they needed me. They taught me about life without realising it. Yes, at times life can be tough but we have a big but easy choice to make: to be happy. Our decisions must be based upon love for ourselves. If I had of chosen to continue studying it would have been out of guilt, for my parents. But this had been a choice of love, and in return I had received love and happiness.

Later that year I travelled through Europe with my sister, and then to Sri Lanka with some friends who have family there. Each of these experiences helped me grow in ways that I couldn’t have imagined. Learning to be more relaxed, peaceful, grateful and whole. Travelling also teaches you how to recognise the cyclical nature of life; people will come and go from your life without your consent. We each have different paths we need to take, and it’s made more obvious when you are physically in a state of motion. The friends you make on these trips are life-long friends, each to teach you a little something along the way.

*I hope to write a blog about each of these trips later, but if you want you can look at the video at the bottom for a snippet of my Europe trip

Then in 2013 I went back to begin the degree I had long forgotten about. I didn’t want to start just yet. I wanted to continue working and travelling. But I was given a sign, which was only seen as a sign in hindsight. Basically, if I deferred my course I would lose my place at the University. I wasn’t willing to waste all the effort I had put in during my last year of school. Negligently, I sat through my classes, feeling less and less motivated as each week went by. The only class I genuinely looked forward to was Creative Writing, where each person would share their piece each week and we would go around workshopping it. A lot of the students were mature-aged and I felt like they really wanted to be there. There was a lot of great energy and enthusiasm that I could work with. Another bonus is that I made a wonderful friend in that class who I am still in contact with and am constantly inspired by; even by the topic of this blog.

So June, 2013 I decided to fly away again. For five months straight this time, and solo. Still receiving the same advice as for Fiji; my Nonno had warned me, “Don’t go bella, it’s very danger over there.” As per usual I decided not to listen. I wanted to see for myself. I travelled to Ghana to do the same work with Projects Abroad, though this time it was for 2 months and again I fell madly in love with all the kids and their wonderful ability to see the wonders in life with so little. Unlike Fiji, I had went there expecting the worst. Expecting to see poverty in all corners. But I found ways to look past that and quickly realised that it wasn’t my job to fix all these people’s lives. It was and still is my job to find love in the shadows, and spread that love. I remember cooking with my host mum as the sun rose in the morning, dancing until morning on the weekends, riding on the scooter with my host brother, playing soccer with the street kids, sitting at home with a grandmother who was 105 years old, walking my little host sister to school and holding a baby with a piece of fabric around me till she fell asleep. All the children from the orphanage visit me in my thoughts almost every day. Their pictures hang on my wall, reminding me to smile and count my blessings every day. This experience made me grow in ways that I would never have expected. I had released old patterns of self-doubt and fear. I had developed an appreciation, understanding and greater value of what I have at home. Here in Oz. I learnt that life isn’t about getting the best mark in your class, getting the best degree, going to the best University, getting the best income and getting the best job – because “the best” is relative, right? I learnt that life is about feeling the best, no matter what income, job or place you’re in. So with all that pressure gone, here I am in 2014 waiting eagerly to begin my degree, for the second time round. I’m actually excited to fill my mind with information, to study and to share knowledge with others. And to be honest, that so called ‘travel bug’ hasn’t left my system and neither do I want it to. A desire to travel is like a desire to live, for all our ancestors were originally nomadic. But right now, I’m happy to be here. Home. With fresh eyes of appreciation: all those things I once overlooked are now daily sweet miracles.

So, if you’ve decided to take a break there are three questions that I would recommend asking yourself:

Who will I be travelling with?
How out of my comfort zone will I be?
What do I want to achieve from this experience? i.e. fun, self-growth, cultural immersion, language, history.

No place like home

juliabedi — Tue, 3 Dec 2013 21:30:00 GMT

3 de Deciembre

7:29PM Melbourne Time

A conversation over coffee, a line in a song, a newly made friend, a short story and a trip all have something in common:

A LESSON LEARNT.

A loss of a child, a wrong turn, a heart broken all have something in common:

A LESSON LEARNT.

A few days ago I was at one of my closest friend's house looking through her sister's sketch book. Amazed was I to find a quote so perfect, it went along the lines of a bird sitting on a branch happily and confidently because it knows that even if the branch breaks it still has it's own wings. The most wonderful thing about this story is that my friend's sister is only 11 years old.

Sometimes we underestimate the capacity of a child's mind.

For a child of that age to be able to even grasp it's meaning amazes me. It makes me wonder if feeding children's minds with "important" dates and equations that are only applicable in a school environment is really doing us good. Would it be better to teach them about this thing called real life? And to learn more about the world as a whole, the mind, body and spirit... I guess we do well to introduce religion in classes but I think there's a difference between getting children to re-write the 7 sacraments and actually instigating thought. Some people that i've met in their mid 40's still don't know who they are or what they stand for. I'm not saying we all need to go join the war or do something crazy just to find the value of life. No, it's the little things that add up to make you who you are. It's those little things that made me excited to come back home.

I just had a really wonderful conversation with two friends that I had the privaledge to work alongside in the leadership group of my last year of high school. I tried my best to give them an account of my 5 month journey and found that most of my stories were about PEOPLE. So i came to the conclusion that people make a place. Take me to the highest mountain point, the most picturesque garden and give me the most delicious piece of cake.. but in reality, if i have no one to share that with it all looses it's flavour.
It's the people i'm still in contact with, what really fascinates me is how people interact with their environment, how they interact with each other, how languages are formed, how religions are created, how we make sense of the world and of each other - how we are.

I guess what I'm focussing on doing now is maintaining my 'travel mentality' and combining it into my 'reality' at home. I've started fresh and am enthusiastic about truly living here, with eyes wide open. I've intentionally chosen not to work until February to give myself the chance to really think about what I want in the new year and what I want to cut out of my life that was there 5 months ago.

Now i'm more concerned about inner growth than how full my wallet or warddrobe are. Though i've never been the type to prioritise my life with these things it's hard not to get caught up in the 'stress of life' - if you're playing in mud you can't help but get some dirt stains..

A life of conscious awareness

A life free from the ego

A life of sensational immersion

A life free from distractions

Mind, Body and Spirit

Completely Here.

High hopes, big dreams and with feet on the ground.

Dream with eyes wide open!

Here

juliabedi — Tue, 3 Dec 2013 20:55:00 GMT

This is a little something I wrote for a piece during Uni, it's still a draft but for some reason I felt like sharing it... I know it's not well-written but I guess it's the message that counts, one thing i've learnt through travelling is that it doesn't matter how badly or how long it takes to express something, as long as in the end you're message is obvious.

Here

He wakes to the sound of a passing plane. The world around him feels unfamiliar. Elijah asks where he has ended up now. It takes a moment for his mind to readjust. This is home, just as he had left it three years ago. He turns over to look outside, the morning burning his eyes as he catches a glimpse of the plane. Only a week ago he had been so far from here, his flame still ignited.. His own bedroom feels foreign to him now. Where had he left off? Why couldn’t he find his footing again?

With his eyes closed, Elijah had spun the globe. His finger pointed to a land with little thought on how it would tilt his own sphere. He had left with only the bag on his back, his fresh passport stamped. With a one-way ticket in hand, he took a seat in the aisle and couldn’t decide whether his mind or heart was racing faster. He wasn’t running away from anything or anyone, he was just looking for something more.

Elijah was always searching for adrenaline; jumping out of planes, swimming with sharks, joining the army, and saying yes to almost everything. Sometimes it got him into sticky situations. But he was alive, and that was the only verification he needed to continue. He had left a world he was comfortable with; a loving family, childhood girlfriend, assortment of kind friends and a position at a renowned university. He had broken the bubble that had begun to suffocate him. Before he left he felt only complacent with his pre-determined path. He wanted to feel alive, to experience the bitter sweet taste of life. To take a risk.

“I have eyes like a wolf” was the first thing Aseri had ever told him. Aseri’s father had abandoned him and his brother Jaime in a closet of an apartment two years ago. A neighbour found them a week later. One of the nannies told Elijah that Aseri was lucky to be able to walk, and his brother was blessed to be alive. Jaime had almost starved to death. Their friendship grew as Elijah ritually visited them. They played with whatever they could find, flat soccer balls and blunt pencils. He would stay until dusk. Until he had to leave.

The sound of his mother singing in the hallway brings him back to his reality. He turns over to face his wardrobe again, a position he has become accustomed to. Her faint humming reminds him of that song. He recalls the night when he had found refuge in a dim lit backpackers bar, the old wood had creaked with his push. Everyone had stared hypnotically at her. Her voice, so captivating, had crashed and layered like waves, swiftly moving to mountain peaks. Elijah's blood danced to the rhythm. There was a prolonged pause before the applause, everyone seemingly recollecting their awareness. He had an intense desire to meet her. But he had thought it foolish to approach her, who was he in this village? Merely an intruder, she would find no interest in him.

He notices a scratch in his wardrobe. He feels so useless here. He realises that upon his return he has only indulged in quick fixes, unemotional lovers and temporary fun. No one needs him here. It was the same monotonous routine that frustrated him, why couldn't his friends just open their eyes to the real world? If only he could shake them out of their robotic routine. He knew that they thought him to be arrogant and selfish but he didn't care. His trip distanced him from their world. They wanted him to return to 'who he was' but he didn't want to go back, even if he had become the self-pitying person he once claimed he’d never be.

Aseri asked him one night, “Can you sleep here? There’s plenty of room on the floor,” referring to the tight squeeze between the cots that bordered the room.

“I’m sorry I have to go. I’ll be back in the morning, I promise.” He grew to unconditionally love this child. That day Aseri's brother had passed away from a common ailment, there had been no money or means of survival. Aseri was strong, he did not cry, but he had wanted the comfort of an older brother. His environment was so unstable, his friends and brothers constantly coming and going. Elijah tried to imagine his life without his brothers at home but found it near impossible.

Elijah had worked up the courage to approach her. He felt entranced by her autumn eyes. The brick walls dissolved around them. The lights had dimmed as he noticed her soft pale lips. Her stare ignited him like a flame. His thoughts erupted, the walls caved in. With tightness in his throat he blurted, “Tienes una voz muy bonita.”

“Gracias” she replied smoothly, he couldn’t help but imagine himself touching her. Reflexively he felt guilty and traced his thoughts back to his girlfriend. When did he last talk to her? She smiled at him and asked if he wanted a drink. They spoke all night. The language barrier seemed unapparent, as their energies intertwined and grew with every word they breathed.

He missed that feeling of meeting someone for the first time, that anxiety of not knowing where life would take him. He tried to meditate, run, pick up new sports, go to bars – but everything soon became dry. As quickly as lovers came, he had left them. He had withdrawn from his friends and family. He’d prefer to be alone than to be with people who made him feel lonely.

Aseri had fallen asleep in Elijah’s arms. He had stayed for nap time, he knew it would make it difficult to leave, but he was trying not to think about tomorrow. A new born baby had arrived that day, a child of an affair. Aseri had asked one of the nannies if he could see her, they said after nap time he could. Elijah wondered if the newborn would ever know the truth of her parents or if she would be given a story.

In the moonlit street Elijah gazed at her as she watched the others dance the Huayño. It was a freezing night, but he hadn’t noticed. She told him, “I am sick of living everyone else’s expectations.” He was mesmerised by her. He reached for her hand and joined the others. They danced with no sense of time or self. With great restrain, he refused her offer to go back to her place that night. He had fought the urge with great difficulty. He imagines now what would have happened if he had have said yes...

His mum opens the door, interrupting his thoughts. Her gaze reminds him of when he had hurt himself as a child. She understood that he was in pain, trapped in his own despair - but this gloominess was only temporary. Like every other fall he had, he would inevitably pick himself up.

The day came too quickly, he didn’t want leave but he had to. When he told the children Aseri asked, “But, but.. can’t you just stay a little longer?” He explained that he had to leave 'for good'. His wolf eyes had turned into clouds. Elijah had hugged Aseri last, he told him that he loved him and would think of him every day from that day on. Elijah kept a strong face, but his heart burned at the sight of Aseri’s drowning eyes. He didn’t want to hurt them, he wanted to stay there forever but he couldn’t.

They said goodbye with only words, that’s all they had ever done. But he felt more for her than any other woman before. She had taught him how to fall in love through words. He hugged her tight, never had they been so close, her felt body warm against his. He wanted to stay but knew he had to go. As he walked away he had felt the heat defuse; the lingering energy he knew he would continue to crave.

He can’t seem to remember her hair, the way she walked or talked. But those autumn eyes still haunt him in his dreams. Still persistently arise in his mind when he makes love to other women. Who knew how he had juggled so many lovers, but none of them gave him the same feeling she did. Even when he returned, embracing his former girlfriend at the airport, he thought of her. Wanting her to be the one he was hugging instead. He knew this was wrong, but it was true, and that’s why he chose to be alone.

She kisses him on the forehead, something she has done ever since he was young. Something he had never admitted to but, missed during his time away. He knew the answer was simple, everyone kept telling him: stop searching for more and see how great you have it here. He had seen some incredible things, but he was always looking for something more. Was it wrong? Should he have just settled with comfort? He knew he was lost, but he’d rather feel this desolation with blissful memories in his pocket than nothing at all. And so his eyes wonder from his ceiling to his bed-side table. The little globe sitting there, teasing. He closes his eyes and it begins to spin.

*** It feels funny reading over this piece again now because many of my embedded questions in this piece have changed, and i guess i feel my mind is a lot more settled than it was before

Feeling with your ears

juliabedi — Thu, 21 Nov 2013 20:47:00 GMT

Singapore airport, waiting for my plane to board. Melbourne at last.

"It's too hot" i hear in the faint distance, a voice that sounds so familiar - but i don't know anyone here??

I have to turn and look, "too hot for ya son?" says a man to his son, in a tone that rings home. How wonderful it feels to hear our lazy pronounciation of words, a flavour of aus! It's crazy how much i've longed to be home. How much i want to be home. I've never felt homesick like this before. Ever. My sense of identity lies within the borders of that huge huge island. I'm so proud to be an aussie. A place I will forever call home.

My family, My friends, My life. Always.

I know i will forever maintain this so called 'travel bug' or as i'd prefer to call it: cultural interest. But i know ill forever return to our great green and gold.

And now, even before ive actually made it home i have more plans, more places and more possiblities in mind. The world is my playground, i need to explore it.

Things i really really look forward to back home:

Seeing my doggies!!!!

Table conversations with the family

Sitting on bec (my sister's) bed talking all night

Mum's hugs

Dad's humour

Sam's insightful conversations and delicious sweets

The australian accent

The australian sun

My grandparents

Our beaches

My friends

My little cousins and extended family

Mum's cooking

Painting outside

Helping bec to decide what to wear

Dad talking about football until your ears burn

Doing yoga every morning

My yoga mat

Eating healthy

And the list goes on infinitely...

On my way to Switzerland

juliabedi — Fri, 15 Nov 2013 20:45:00 GMT

9:33 Barcelona to Zurich 15 de noviembre

It all feels so surreal still, it feels so ordinary and so exciting at the same time. Im really excited to see Anina again and to see Switzerland. I know its going to be an amazing week with her

Yesterday was my last full day in Euskal Herria, i woke up with the feeling that i was back at home in my room. It was a strange feeling, and i hadnt experienced that for a long time. Seems like im ready to go home. I went for my last long walk with the dog Ortzi, we climbed Santa Maña and I said goodbye to the beautiful town of Elorrio. Afterwards i packed my suitcase, which was strange because i felt like i was packing for a new journey away from home. After i went to visit the grandparents of Iratxe to say my final goodbye. Then i caught up with my close friends from elorrio and we exchanged gifts and partially said our goodbyes. Then we went to pintxo pote with other friends from elorrio, bar hopping through the streets. Then i came home to a wonderful dinner of tio's home made tortilla. This morning tio took me to the airport where i took my first flight, bilbao to barcelona. He was sweet when he said goodbye, he held my bag and waited with me until he couldn’t anymore – he dropped my bag and gave me a big hug and told me to come back soon. He reminds me of dad, in the way that he’s so caring and loving but so shy about it, and won’t say it unless he really means it. I know i’ll be back soon J Now this leads me to where i am here and now, waiting for the plane to take flight. It was sad to say goodbye but at the same time im really ready to come home. My body is craving routine, healthy food, fitness, the heat (again), my family's love, my friends' company.

The last few days have been spent with family and food. All their goodbyes and home made beautiful dishes to send me off nice and plump on my long journey home. I also went to a concert the other day with my close friends Gotzon and Txeki, the two boys who i will miss dearly from elorrio.

I know ill miss everyone, but i hope to keep in touch through skype and i hope that one day ill return again.

Until next time...

Things im looking forward to doing at home:

Living my own life.

Going for a run

Buying a bike, riding it

Road trips

Making pancakes for bec

Playing with the doggies

Taking care of my body

Taking vitamins

Road trips to the beach

Seeing claire

Sleep overs

Cooking for myself

Having my own room

Not living out of a suitcase

Having good conversations with sammy

Mums hugs

Dads conversations

Playing tennis

Painting outside

Loooong walks

Making my books

The sun

Getting a job

Diving

Dream board for 2014

Euskal Herria

juliabedi — Fri, 8 Nov 2013 20:44:00 GMT

**** Sorry english speaking friends who needed to translate all my spanish blogs, i wanted to practice, things are spoken/written differently in Spanish so when it’s translated sometimes it won’t make complete sense or it will say ‘he’ rather than ‘she’, simply because in Spanish it will be the same word for girl and boy i.e. ‘se’

8 de noviembre 8:30 Elorrio

Estaré en el avion esta hora en la semana que viene. Tengo ganas a ir a ver mi amiga y a ver nieve por la primera vez, pero al mismo tiempo estaré triste a salir pais vasco y mis amigos. Estos días les quedo con mis amigos de aqui. Tenia suficiente tiempo sola durante el dia y normalmente estoy con ortzi haciendo un paseo. Los montes aqui son muy preciosos y creo que me voy a extrañar esos paseos y esas vistas. Hay muchas cosas que me voy a extrañar de aqui, una es quedando con mis amigos, una mas es las fiestas de la calle, mis parientes de aqui, y la lista continúa. La otra semana les mandé unos postales a mis abuelos, mi amama y unos amigos. Ayer mi madre me digo que mi abuela, su madre, tenia su carta en su mano toda la noche. Eso es que echo de menos la mayoría, tiempo con mi familia. A veces me imagino que estoy con mi hermana o con mi familia, y lo me ayuda mucho.

Aqui aprendé que tenemos que mantener nuestras objetivas en la vida. Sin objetivas estamos sin sentido. Tenemos que crear, movernos y experimentar. Esencialmente somos lo que hacemos.

Puedo decir que estoy muy contenta con mi vida, y con las decisiones qué tomé. Una cosa que me preocupa es regresar a la misma rutina que dejé. Para mí, la rutina es mi enemigo worste. Su madre de aburrimiento y monotonía. Prefiero que mis días se llenan de imprevisibilidad que la seguridad de rutina. Ahora se dar un gran paso de mi mente y hablar de mi tiempo en España.

Hoy probablemente voy a dar un paseo con Iratxe y Ortzi, más tarde podría ir a Bilbo para comprar algunas cosas con mi amigo Gotzon y esta noche no soy tan segura de lo que está previsto aún pero probablemente saldrá para bebidas. Este fin de semana podría ser va a la frontera entre España y Francia. Luego la semana siguiente, del lunes al miércoles por la mañana, estaré visitar a parientes de Gernika a despedirme, o más "nos vemos". Entonces el miercoles y el jueves pasaré mis últimos dos días aquí en elorrio, donde comencé. También tengo que encontrar tiempo este fin de semana a ver a la familia de durango. Y luego del viernes por la mañana voy a hacer mi vuelo a 7:00 a Suiza donde será saludado por mi amiga anina, que conocí el año pasado mientras que hacemos trabajo voluntario en fiyi. Estoy emocionada a verla. Ella tiene todo planeado para nosotros, vamos a ver la ciudad, las montañas, su pueblo y todo. Luego el 21 de noviembre se llevará mi vuelo a casa, que podría ser mi último avión del año... Eso es si no encuentro un trabajo de verano para conseguir más dinero viajes.

Surrendering to Love

juliabedi — Fri, 18 Oct 2013 02:14:00 GMT

00:50 18 de Octubre

Surrendering to love

Im here in Gernika staying with a relative. Her name is Mari Carmen, but i call her Carmintxu (pronounced carminchu) as she requested. She reminds me of my mum and my nonna, spoiling me with food and love. At first i enjoyed the pampering, as i had come from the rain and discomfort that comes with el camino, but within a few days i found it a bit suffocating being given everything i wanted and needed. There was no challenge, everything is layed out for me, but now i am surrendering to her love. Surrendering my desire for independence and allowing myself to sink into this so familiar relationship. I began el camino on the 9th of october, but before that i was staying with a close travel friend in san sebastian. I stayed in her apartment from the 7th of october and spent some funny days with her. She wasnt happy with the people she was living with because they were a bit cruel so we decided to start looking for apartments. One of the days we went to visit three different apartments, and it was as though we were in a reality tv show. The first house was filled with six south americans who all shared the same bathroom and couldnt speak any english. The second apartment was an older man with his daughter and another younger girl, and on the ad he requested "solo chicas"... We felt like he was going to keep us captive when we first went into the flat.

It was fairly funny but at the same time stressful because if we couldnt find anything my friend would have to stay where she was uncomfortable. But lucky last was an older lady who was from Donosti who was very caring and sweet. Now my friend moves in there next month

Anyway, that was a while ago. But that same friend is coming to Gernika tomorrow to stay with me for the weekend, and if we are lucky we might go to a festival in Durango this weekend. Yayaya.

And so i began el camino from the 9th and walked from Donosti to Zarautz, the first night was pretty uninviting. Firstly the albergue was "full" so i had to stay in a pension and i had met an older man from there named Karlos who was a little too friendly. Initially he was nice to talk to, but when he asked me to come to his room for dinner and stay another day with him i thought it better to avoid his company. Luckily i bumped into an american guy who i went to have wine, cheese and bread with near the beach. It was an unusual start to "my camino", but nonetheless a start itself. The next morning i bumped into a group of six from Menorca who were walking to the same place as me so i tagged along with them. They were kind and friendly and i felt as though theyd taken me in as their daughter, it was comforting and sweet. That night we slept at Deba in an albergue that was a school, it was comfortable enough. The following day I decided to walk alone because i didnt want the menorcans to wait for me. I wanted to walk solo, to have some me time. I started walking at 8AM and found myself off track, but soon enough i bumped into a girl i recognised from the albergue, we found the path and continued to walk together with another guy who was also doing el camino. That day i bumped into the menorcans again but left them to wait for my friend Alicia who was moving at a slower pace. Later in the day it started to rain and so i began to walk faster to get to the destination quicker before the rain got worse. I ended up loosing my friend and fell tired before my predicted destination, i found myself in Markina and my legs were hurting from the walk and all i wanted was a shower, food and some rest. I found the albergue but to my dismay it was closed... But on the door hung a number of another albergue. I asked the police officer if i could use her phone to call and she told me there was another private albergue around the corner. Saving Grace!! I walked to the street where she told me and couldnt find it so i asked some guys at the bar and they pointed in the direction of a man standing on a balcony. I greeted him in basque, "kaixo!". When i walked up the stairs i felt like i had come home from a long journey, the man took my rainjacket, my backpack and told me to leave my boots at the door. He showed me where id sleep, where the shower was and my two new room mates who were a couple from Catalanya. Again, This was another time when i had surrended to being taken care of and i enjoyed it immensely. So i bathed and relaxed and found myself devouring the delicious meal prepared by the catalan couple. Then i took a siesta and that night we all went out for dinner together. First we went for drinks at one bar, then another, and another, then we went for dinner. After that i felt sure that i would explode if i had anything more. Then the couple and i went for drinks at another bar, but i didnt drink because i had no more room left. I learnt that i had arrived in Markina- Xemein at the perfect time because tomorrow was a festival where there would be typical dancing and lots of food and animals all in the town. The following day i went around town with augusto and his grandson and fell in love with the festivities of pais vasco. That day i had a choice, stay in markina to celebrate the festival or go to durango to celebrate another festival there with iratxe and my friends from elorrio. I decided to go back to elorrio and so i took the bus at 7PM after a few kalimotxos with some locals. On the bus i met three guys who had done the same thing, spent the day in markina and were going to spend their night in durango. I had another drink with them as i waited for the bus from durango to elorrio to drop off my backpack. It felt nice to return to elorrio, almost like home. It was nice to see iratxe, tios and ortzi the dog again. I really enjoy their company. That night we went dancing an

d bar hopping and i ended up coming home, to elorrio, at 8AM on the bus with Txeki and Jorge. I really had lots of fun dancing all night! I might go to the same festival again tomorrow if i can catch the bus. The festivals here are so different to home, theyre all in the street or in a row of bars or a huge hall. The following day i slept till 1 and tio jose took me to gernika at 7PM to meet more family in Gernika and to leave me where i had assumed is continue my camino...

Now im here almost a week later enjoying the comforting love of my aunty and contemplating whether to continue el camino or stick with my own camino of visiting family. Mari Carmen is really a wonderful lady, she has two daughters who themselves have children too. Theyre all so sweet and have very typical basque names. Leire, Nurria, Unai, Haisea and Uxue. Its quite beautiful. I feel like here im learning and developing more than i would on el camino. Im learning more about my heritage, the language, the culture and me. I dont know, i guess people make a place and instead of me travelling solo trying to find myself i could just as easily stay here and take advantage of the time i have here and how welcoming my family is. So now my plan is to stay here until the following week, 30th october, return to elorrio to visit other relatives and then see family in durango ans then return home to elorrio with ira on the 7th to spend my last week with them before heading off to switzerland. Because right now i th

ink id prefer to stay in Paia Vasco than to go exploring into new things that hold little significance to me. I dont know why but when i speak to dad on the phone i feel like crying, im not sure if its because im learning about his side of the family and so feel in a way deepened by that, or if i simply miss him. But its a weird but nice feeling.

These days i spend with Mari Carmen and because she doesnt work we do what we want during the day. The other day we went to the beach with Leire's daughter Haisea for a visit. Its only a 15 minute train ride from here, and soon we are going to cook arroz negro!!!!!!!!! Wowowowowoeoeoewowowowow. And, if we can we might visit the pueblo of my amama (grandmother) which would be really sweet if i could take photos and all for her to see.

So lately my motto is to kill all plans and live now. For i think i have a horrible habit of thinking in the future, but now, slightly planless i will enjoy every moment i have and learn to be humble and grateful for all that is given to me.

It's not about being lucky

juliabedi — Thu, 3 Oct 2013 07:41:00 GMT

It's not about being lucky

It never is.

If an average 20 year old girl can do it then

Who can't?

It's not by luck that I juggled three jobs

It's not by luck that I got here

It's the anticipation and preparation

That intensify the awe and appreciation

Mi aventura,

None of my expenses went to branded clothes,

It's all gone to This.

Learning about cultures,

Other ways of Life

Gives me greater satisfaction

Than receiving any piece of jewelery

Coming face to face with Nature

Gives me a greater sense of humility

Than any other man made place

Finding the answer in its enormity

Brings me back to the reality of my littleness

So please don't tell me luck got me Here

I worked for this

I cried for this

I begged for this

I Live for this

But I didn't make it here alone

I'm being watched

By someone above

And my family,

On the other side of the world

I'm blessed

La cuenta regresiva

juliabedi — Wed, 2 Oct 2013 06:30:00 GMT

Seis días mas

30 de Septiembre

10:25 Elorrio

Que tan rapido ha pasado el tiempo! Hace tres semanas hoy, y tengo cerca de una semana querda. Ya no tengo ninguna idea que esperar en el camino. Me da miedo y emocionada al mismo tiempo. Pienso que no estoy lista para el camino, pero igual nunca estoy lista. todavia no estoy feliz con mi castellano pues no puedo explicarme en un forma de fluencia.

Yo no se si ha cambado pues yo siento como la igual persona que hace dos meses. creo que cuando yo regreso a casa me di cuenta cual cosas sobre yo que cambiado. Estoy tan emocionada que encontrará personas diferentes en el camino, de países diferentes con divertidas historias. Tambien tengo ganas para andar todos los mañanas y a ver la costa!

Cinco días mas

1 de Octubre

21:48

Con solo cinco días mas yo estoy un poco miedo pero todavía tengo muchas ganas. A hoy me siento mas lista, mi mochila y mi mente, pero estoy un poco nerviosa que hacer el camino sola. Para la primera días yo quiero ir sola para mover a mi ritmo. Pero yo espero que hay personas allí que me enseñarán cosas de vida. Cosas que dejarán un huella y me forman en un positiva manera. No se que a esperar, un mapa no puedo decir tanto - ni un pagina de web. Yo tengo voy y experimentar por mi mismo. Esta aventura es para mi, a aprender sobre mis abuelos, donde crecieron, les culturas, lenguas y mas - pues, soy una parte de ellos y a aprender ellos mas es una manera que aprender yo mas.

Creo que no bastante de gente piensa que es muy importante en su vida ni hace que lo quiere realmente. Yo se que eso es un gran generalización, pero todavía es la verdad. Nos ocupamos con cosas triviales, sin significación ni pensamiento. Nos olvidamos a mirar los cosas simples con ojos de gratitud y apreciado. Que estoy intentando decir es que mañana nunca encontrará, es una día inexistente. Hoy es solo que tenemos, y necesitamos hacer todo que podemos. Estoy viviendo mis sueños, con un gran sonreír, no para todo el tiempo pues eso es la vida. Tienes experimentar dolor a experimentar alegría.

todavía me siento un poco frustrada con mi nivel de castellano, pero espero que mejorará en el camino.

Vale, no tengo mas que decir esta noche.

Espero que todo esta bien y estas feliz.

Te mando mi amar.

Hoy es la día para tus sueños.

Gabon, buenos noches, buona notte, goodnight, da yie.

xxxx

Photos: El Camino de Julia

juliabedi — Fri, 27 Sep 2013 22:54:00 GMT

James' house will have to wait another year, my path is to discover my heritage

Plan

juliabedi — Wed, 25 Sep 2013 23:23:00 GMT

25 de Septiembre 23:23 Elorrio

It feels weird organising another journey while im already in one? To plan within a plan, to dream within a dream - it all feels beyond surreal.

Im planning for El Camino de Santiago Compostela.. lento pero seguro, slowly but surely.

Ive written out a day to day plan, which im sure will change within the first week or so. I really look forward to beginning the pilgrimage, but I know that its going to go so quickly.

Im having lots of fun here in Elorrio, on the weekend I was with some of Iratxes friends climbing the mountains for seven hours. I think I struggled a bit and am really greatful that im being so active everday because i will really benefit from it later when im doing el camino.

As Iratxe said to Tia, "youve climbed more mountains in fifteen days than tia has in all her life of living here"

I think my mind is more inept than my body. Slowly slowly my body will follow.

I feel detached from my world at home, excluding family, its as though I dont know what im going to return home to. But I know that when im back at home it will be as though nothing has changed, though im not sure if l want that.

Tonight i ate one of the best tortillas of my life, forgive me abuela and mama, but tio made an amazing tortilla, and im sure to dream about it tonight.

I think my castellano has improved drastically, especially my comprehension, i dont feel like an incomprehensive child anymore.

mama ive been doing yoga almost every night and feeling really good, as you, sammy and beca keep reminding me, this part of the journey is for me. I will try not to forget it :)

The other day i went for a morning hike to a place i have no idea the name of, but of course i lost myself within my curiosity of the forest. With pure instinct i followed a path down to my left and reached a more suburban area. I had no idea if i needed to turn left or right, in my head i asked "where is elorrio?" and to my far left was a sign written Elorrio. By god's grace.

And just today i was looking for the post office with directions given by my tia but still i couldnt find it, on the edge of giving up a huge truck drove beside me written on it "el correo", and so i followed it to soon find the post office.

Its the little things like this that make me feel safe about going on el camino, i know that someone is watching over me very carefully.

I think the main thing i like about this place is the serenity and tranquility. In the midst of gigantic nature lives very few people and i love tht. Surrounded by mountains, lakes, farmland.

Today i began to write a list for what i need to bring and buy, and have begun packing - very very basic packing!

kiti kiti is small small in a ghanain dialect

whilst txiki txiki (pronounced chiki chiki) is small small in basque

in my head it sounded more similar, written down not so much.

Plan of attack:

Begin el camino 6 o 7 de octubre, but stay with a friend in Sab Sebastian for 3-4 nights (leaving erly the following day)

reach the end of the world (finesterre) by the 9th of octuber the latest

elorrio for another week

suiza from 15th of octuber until the endd of my trip, 22nd of november.

then to come home to my loving family and be welcomed by the summer sun and more holidays! viva la vida!

im off to sleep,

gabon, buonna notte, buenos noches, da yie, good night

xoxoxoxoxo

A Silent Cry For Home

juliabedi — Sun, 22 Sep 2013 23:24:00 GMT

23:08PM

I miss you

Today is the first time ive really felt homesick during my trip. Earlier I cried after reading something that Beca sent me, and now im reading over letters from the children from the orphanage in Ghana, reading Becas and soon to read sams letter from the airport.

Theres a part that I just read now in Beca's letter that made me cry again, i miss laying in my room with beca and not having to say a word and understanding eachother, i miss having really thoughtful conversations with sam and watching her silly fights with mama, i miss mums smothering but soothing hugs, i miss dads humor, i miss walking the dogs in the morning, i miss waking up to their begging eyes outside my window, i miss My house, i miss My family, i miss My world. But i know im learning and experiencing so much, its a torn feeling between being here and there. I miss home but im also happy here. But no place is like home, no one can compare to my family. I love and miss them so so much.

Dad, mum, sammy, beca, buddy, tommy, i miss your love. And I crave your company.

Please know that not a day goes by without me thinking about you all (especially my doggies :P).

I have just under 9 weeks left, I know the time will fly because Ill be doing el camino de santiago compostela and going to Switzerland, but at the same time I know that each day onwards my desire to be home will increase. I cannot wait for Christmas this year, to be home, to be understood, to be cared for with a motherly touch, to be with my sisters, my dogs, to see dad's smile that lets me know that he's proud of me, painting, the list is neverending.

I miss home, but im here now and not there, later I will be there. Later i will be there, Home, with a rested heart, bliss mind and a mountain of stories.

I miss you and love you more than anything else in this world.

I am safe, happy, healthy and so pleased to be alive.

Thank you for always supporting me, without you I wouldn't be half the person I am today.

You have given me the confidence to treat the world as a place without boundaries and taught me to respect my life as a gift.

Always, your darling daughter and sister.

Julia

En la mitad

juliabedi — Mon, 16 Sep 2013 20:01:00 GMT

20:01

Elorrio

16 de septiembre

Tengo 67 días mas de mi aventura.

En el fin de la semana pasada yo subí a la montaña con Iratxe y sus amigos. Llevó cuatro horas a pie de la montaña, La mesa de los tres Reyes, y nos comenzamos a las diez menos cuatro y volvimos a las cinco. Fue un buen día, me encantan los deportes de aventura. El domingo fuimos a pueblos cerca de la montaña para ver y comer. Amigos de Iratxe son buenos y me siento afortunada porque tengo un primo muy agradable.

La sola cosa que molesta es mi mal castellano, yo pienso esta mas mejor que antes, cuando llegué por primera vez, pero todavía no esta a una nivel yo lo quiero.

Mi lucha con el idioma me ha hecho apreciar el valor de la comunicación verbal. Sin él no puedes expresar tus pensamientos, lo que quieres, lo que tiene, o conocer una persona. Una persona sin el lenguaje es como un pájaro sin alas, no puedes ir a ningún lado. Sé que tengo que practicar más y quiero sólo hablo español todo el tiempo estoy aquí pero yo se cuando yo empezar el camino todas personas van a hablar en inglés. Por otro lado te agradezco que el inglés es mi lengua materna porque no encuentro esta dificultad en otros países. A veces es como si mi mente va a explotar porque no puede aguantar más mis pensamientos.

Me siento como involuntariamente he hecho un juramento de silencio. Pero yo se esta sensación es sólo temporal, con el tiempo que mejoraré.

Estaba pensando en cómo mi abuelo llegó en un barco a Australia con sus cuatro hijos y su marida que estaba embarazada. Qué riesgo se llevó! una tierra donde no tenía ni idea de lo que sería, no tenía amigos de allí y no podía hablar el idioma. Es un hombre valiente. Su triste que no lo conocí, qué maravilloso conversaciones habríamos tenido, pero sé que él está vigilándome ahora - sobre todo ahora que estoy en su tierra natal.

Fui por un paseo esta mañana y yo pensado que yo estoy en la mitad de mi viaje y en ghana no tuve la oportunidad de parar y pensar. por si no estaba el orfanato era en el pueblo, si no estaba en la ciudad estaba viendo mis amigos jugar al futbol, si no lo estaba mirando futbol estaba con los niños en el pueblo, si no estaba con los niños estaba ayudando a mi madre en la cocina y mas como así.

Nunca tuve un momento para mí, ahora siento que tengo tiempo para relajarse y pensar y reflexionar. ¡Que gran momento de quietud! Para reflexionar sobre lo que he hecho y lo que voy a hacer.

Estoy emocionada por el camino, pero es difícil porque mis planes siempre cambian. Así que si hago un plan cambiará cuando estoy allí. Y no quiero seguir un camino que alguien preparó para mi, quiero crear mi propio así tendrá significado para mí. Pronto conseguiré un mapa y encontrar los lugares que quiero ir - y será el camino de julia :)

Pais Vasco, Elorrio

juliabedi — Fri, 13 Sep 2013 23:41:00 GMT

Un pequeño lugar con un gran corazón

Elorrio, Pais Vasco

10 de Septiembre

21:30

Después de la cena

Que bonito pueblo! Me siento como una princesa y pienso que estaba lista para relajarse. Ahora quiero escrito en castellano porque es mejor que yo practico.

Esta mañana me desperté a las ocho y media, no sé por qué tan temprano pero he dormido bastante. Toda la mañana yo estaba organizando mis cosas porque no tenía tiempo en mi última semana de ghana. A las dos menos cuarto Iratxe llegó a casa y pronto tio también. Nos almorzamos una sopa con verduras y yo comí algo con pescados y los otros comían carne.

Después que almuerza iratxe y yo fuimos a un café para conocer a algunos de sus amigos. Sus amigos estan muy amables, y yo voy con ellos este fin de la mañana a las montañas. Las montañas se llaman mesa de los tres reis y petretxema, estoy muy emocionada por el fin de la semana. Estaba lloviendo todo el día, pero no estaba mucho frío. Este temperatura me da mucho sueno. Luego que fui la cafe, Iratxe y yo fuimos a las calles y he enamorada de la arquitectura. Los edificios son tan antiguos y siento que estoy en una vieja película europea cuando ando en la calle.

11 de Septiembre

22:24

Después de la cena

Hoy Iratxe, Tia y yo vamos a Bilbao para conseguir algunas cosas. Yo compré botas y pantalones porque toda mi ropa son para verano. Me enseñaron la ciudad y nos comimos unos pintxos, que vida yo tengo!

La temperatura era mejor que ayer, y espero que no va a llover al fin de la semana. Estoy muy agradecida que Iratxe y su familia son muy amables, se me han hecho sentir tan cómodo y cuidada.

Estaba muy cansada después de ir de compras y yo tuve una siesta. Y cuando me levanta yo pasé tiempo con mis tios y luego fui a la cafetería con iratxe y sus amigos. Vamos a hacer jabón en el 21 de este mes. Sus amigos son muy buenos, estoy muy afortunada que la gente esta tan paciente conmigo.

Tengo que empezar a planear mi viaje para el camino de Santiago Compostela.. Creo que iré el nueve de octubre y regresar el siete de noviembre o más tarde. Iratxe tiene amigas que han viajado por el camino y yo voy a hablar con ellos para aprender buenos sitios.

Son las cosas pequeñas que hacen lugares especiales. Todas las señales están en euskera aquí, y cuando camina por la calle puede ver las montañas claramente. Que especial!

Estoy muy cómodo y feliz aquí,

te mando mi amor

un gran abrazo

buenos noches o gabon

Photos: Pais Vasco

juliabedi — Tue, 10 Sep 2013 23:48:00 GMT

Elorrio y mas pueblos

From Cedis to Euros

juliabedi — Tue, 10 Sep 2013 18:24:00 GMT

Yesterday I took my 5:55AM flight out of Ghana, it was sad for me to leave. I had cried the morning before, thinking about how I might not ever see my host family or the children at the orphanage again. It was such a wonderful and special last week because it was a festival in my home town, Cape Coast. It was called Fetu Afehye, a week long festival that ended the day I left Cape Coast. Basically it was a week of music and cultural dance, and Friday and Saturday were the mains days so Friday I had danced until 5AM, and Saturday I did not sleep at all. There were plenty of people in the street, people from all across Africa and Europe come to see the festival. It was a nice way to end my time in Ghana, end with a big bang. But still, i had visited the orphanage Saturday evening to say goodbye one last time and give them their gifts. And I told myself I would stay strong but when i had left i was giving them all individual hugs, and this one boy named Derrick went to hug me with tears in his eyes and told me he would miss me, I couldn´t help but feel my heart sink and so I held him tightly telling him I would return. So then i continued to hug everyone, but I hugged Derrick last because he began to cry in the corner. So after the orphanage I made sure I had danced my tears away.

I think I´ve taken so much from my experience in Ghana, and I know there will be more things that I wont even realise until I get back home. The main things that I can think of now is to be assertive, not to sulk, to be confident, to be humble and grateful, to not be attached to materialistic things and always give to others who will need it more, to always smile and realise that life is a dream, life is not a rush, to value and respect the opinions of the elderly, and to never ever ever EVER stop dancing.

I know now that I need to work with kids, they are my passion. Their curiosity to explore all that life can offer brings me this everlasting energy. Everyday I looked forward to spending time with the children at the orphanage, and I had spent maybe 10AM till 5:30 - 6PM each working day with them.

I will always appreciate the way that Ghanains were so welcoming and caring, those are two of their greatest attributes. As soon as I came to Ghana I was greeted with open arms by everyone I had crossed, not once had I received a racist or rude comment during my two months. And always always always, if i looked lost, sad or confused one of my friends or even a stranger would always ask if i were okay or if i needed to be escorted somewhere. Never did I feel unsafe, I could even walk the streets of Cape Coast alone at 3AM and feel perfectly comfortable. I think it did help that I had been there for 2 months and that I had made plenty of friends, so if i were walking alone within 100 metres I would bump into someone I knew.

When I left everyone began to ask when I would return, especially Joe, Angela and Ma Millicent. I´m not sure when or if I will, but I hope I do. I told Joe I would be back for his wedding. One night when I went dancing and I bumped into Joe, he had taken me home on his scooter and we had a really nice conversation when we got home. He told me that I was unlike any other volunteer before, I was ¨natural¨, i told him that i didnt understand what he meant by that. He told me that ¨you´re willing to try everything, you don´t complain about anything and you are always helping. Ma is really proud of you, I told her that we should keep you¨. It really made me feel special when he said that, it´s a nice feeling to be valued.

The children at the orphanage wrote me letters and it was so sweet, I only read a few yesterday but I dont think i realise how much im going to miss the kids until I get back home. I felt so comfortable with them, so at home. I slept over on the wednesday night last week, it was so sweet. I slept in the girls room and in the morning we all just hung out.

I think its sad that all the children there still have family, most of them aren´t real orphans where they have no parents but most of them have close to 8 siblings and so the parents can´t afford them. Someone that really caught my empathy was a girl named Elizabeth, her father is a farmer and her mother is dead. Some days she would speak of her dad and wonder if he would come home, she told me that she missed home and her siblings. I asked her when was the last time she went home, she told me it was at least 5 years ago. So I don´t know which is worse, to know instantly that you were unwanted by your parents, or to be unsure of whether your parents can´t afford you or if they have forgotten you. What is even worse though is that children like Elizabeth watch the other kids go home to their families while she needs to just sit and keep waiting.

Thank you mum and dad for always loving me.

Sorry this is so disorganised, I guess now im skimming through my thoughts and so this is all coming out as a stream of thoughts. But I guess that´s how I sort of feel right now, in between three different worlds with memories, the present and my future all rolling around in my head. Ghana, Spain, Australia.

And now I sit in the living room of my cousin Iratxe´s home, its a very beautiful little town. I haven´t had the chance yet to walk through the streets, but driving back home last night at 10PM the street lights were that European orange that made the streets look so antique. At first I was really worried about the language barrier in Spain, but on my flight from Casablanca to Barcelona I sat next to a man who couldn´t speak English and we had a perfectly fine conversation. And even last night with Iratxe and her parents, I could have a perfectly fine conversation - it may have been simple but still my ability to communicate is not entirely hindered. I think my Spanish is better than I thought and with time, precisely two and a half months, my Spanish will improve.

Yesterday I had my first warm shower in two months, and let me just say it was a pretty heavenly experience. I also had my first real salad in two months, which also was a heavely experience for my tummy! I really feel like a princess here, I have my own room, my own wardrobe, I can drink out of the tap, I dont have to wear shoes in the shower and i am treated so so well by Iratxe and her family. Iratxe is a nurse and so she works from 8AM until 1PM, and her parents, my Tio and Tia also work in the mornings so I will be alone in the house each morning.

This weekend Iratxe is taking me to the mountains with ten of her other friends, im looking forward to it though i think im going to be very very cold.

I was writing on the plane and thinking about what I hope to gain from this experience and I guess what I basically came up with is that I hope to understand my heritage more, understand myself more (when I walk the camino), be fluent in spanish and adopt some more mindsets of this culture that I can keep with me forever.

Until next time,Hasta Luego!

Ghana - leftovers

juliabedi — Tue, 3 Sep 2013 20:41:00 GMT

*I had been leaving notes in my phone, these are some leftovers that I forgot to post while I was away.

The kids are so sweet, I had a lovely day today. It was Jennys last day so we had some toffee and played a bit of baseball. Emmanuela left today to go home, I didnt know until her brother came asking for her. I went into her room and asked if id ever see her again and she said probably not. She told me shed miss me and so my eyes began to water, it all hit me at once that id be leaving soon. Im really going to miss the kids. So I'm coming in tomorrow and I might go to church with them the following day, and next week I promised elizabeth that I would sleep. Tonight I helped them with dinner, I stirred the banku. I feel really close with all the girls now, time really has a huge influence on friendships.

This morning on my way to work one of the men who work at the school showed me his farm, it was very nice. He gave me some carrots and cucumber which was really kind of him. I loved walked through the fields, it's such a raw landscape.

Georgia and elizabeth were sad today because they miss their families. I don't know which is worse, bring abandoned at birth or during your life. It's hard because it might have to do with money but elizabeth hasn't seen her family for many years. And she gets to watch all her other friends go and return from visiting their families

**In hindsight it feels so weird to think about children of that age having thoughts of abandonment from their own fathers, I could never imagine my own parents letting me go – even if they couldn’t afford me. It’s near impossible getting my mum to say yes to any of my trips, she never wants me to leave her sight, so to imagine being unwanted or never called back... and on top to imagine watching other kids being picked up by their parents, it’s like the coal inside of you loses its flame.

***This wasn’t Malaria but rather a blood infection – the glories of being in a third world country, though with saying this, I can hardly remember being sick on my journey. It’s only the good memories that you bring home with you, the rest missed the plane home.

Malaria: Take two Yesterday I felt the symptoms again, dizziness, fever, headache, loss of appetite, weak muscles, diarrohea. I slept all day and all I ate was a small bowl of oats. Today I feel lots better, not as weak or dizzy, but I had a sore throat. I'm currently at the DIS clinic with Eric, one of the staff members from Projects Abroad. We are just waiting for my blood and urine results. I think I will get better fast, I just need to rest lots. But its hard because the festival is on this week so I know I will want to stay up dancing all night. I will take care of my body though.

Final Weeks

juliabedi — Fri, 30 Aug 2013 23:56:00 GMT

30th August, 2013. 7:59

Cape Coast

The world doesnt need someone to try and change it, it will evolve no matter what.

No one is made with superhuman qualities to come and "save" the world. Because it doesnt need saving. The greatest human quality is adaptation. Everyone is able to live with what they have, and if they cannot then maybe in their next life they can.

Im not going to try and play God, I do not hold anyone's life in the palm of my hand. All we need to do is teach others to be self-sufficient so they can continue when you are gone.

Im not here to "save" anyone. The only person im really saving is myself, from greed and naivety. Im here to see whats real and whats not, to experience a culture and pick and take all the good things to apply into my life back home.

So far it has been an amazing experience, but at the same time there have been moments when ive felt cheated and angry. But thats all a part of growing and understanding. My shell is hardening.

I realised that my greatest weakness is sympathy and I think my time here has really hardened me because some people try to use you, because you are white and so you must have money, they will try to cheat you. But ive learnt that you must always study a person before you can trust them. I will never forget what my friend Stephen said to me during my first few weeks here. He told me that "you have to show them that you are smarter than them" when a couple of kids were trying to persuade me to give money and sign a petition for their fake soccer team. I think this phrase is embedded in my mind and has been useful in many other situations during my time here.

The sooner we banish the idea of us white and apparently so fortunate people need to come save the third world, the quicker we may realise that we can learn some genuine life lessons from them.

To fight on no matter what, to respect the elderly, to mend instead of throw away, and the list continues to grow.

But also, the difference in culture means a difference in mentality. I dont think I could ever marry a Ghanain because our customs are too opposing. Its really weird here, everyone asks if youre married or if youve had kids but when you ask them theyre either unmarried with kids or theyre married but theyve cheated or have other kids with other women. Its a bit all over the place really. Its a bit of praying without preaching.

Travelling around the world really makes me appreciate home, the variety of culture and our open-mindedness. I used to be frustrated by the lack of Australian culture, but now i really value the spectrum of nationalities and accompanying traditions.

My Experience of Malaria

juliabedi — Fri, 30 Aug 2013 07:23:00 GMT

30th August, 2013. 7:23AM

Cape Coast

Last weekend on the Friday I travelled to Kumasi with my host aunty. It was a five hour bus drive and so i began to feel feverish on the bus but I just disregarded it and thought I was just hot from spending so much time on the bus. Later that night when we arrived at her partners family house all I wanted to do was sleep, i had begun to feel sick in my stomach and developed a headache. So I took dinnerand then fell asleep straight after. During the night I felt extremely hot and felt dizzy when I stood. I was so hot that my host aunty Angela had to pull her had away after holding my head for 3 seconds. I told her she could fry an egg on my face if she wanted.

It was then that they said I had malaria.

I feel so very lucky tohave travelled to Kumasi because Angela's partners dad is a medical doctor so I had treatment the very next morning. I was jabbed in the bum just after I took my breakfast, which i only had one spoonfull of because i had lost my appetite. The doctor also gave me some dissolvable tablets that I took for 4 days after. That day I went to church with the family from 10 till 3 (church usually goes from 9 till 1) and by the end of it I was falling asleep on Angelas shoulder because the medicine had kicked in. My muscles also felt very weak that it was difficult to walk without feeling dizzy, tired or wanting to throw up.

As soon as I got home I had lunch and fell asleep, I slept for 16 hours. And in the morning I felt almost perfectly normal, it was such a nice feeling to not feel dizzy or nauteous when i stood. I was so appreciative of my bodys ability to fight back.The doctor gave meanother injection the next morning because he said he wanted to make sure it was all out of my system, especially because i was travelling back home the next morning.

I think I was so so lucky to have mine treated straight away because millions die each year from malaria, and I know that the symptoms get worse as time goes by.

Thoughts

juliabedi — Thu, 29 Aug 2013 23:53:00 GMT

29th August, 2013. 23:12

Cape Coast

Im undecided, I think Im ready for my next stop. Its a fairly lonely feeling watching people come and go. My room mate Leisa left today, she is so lovely I really enjoyed living with her. Every day after work I'd come home and yabber on for at least an hour talking about all the funny and stupid things that had happened that day. She really felt like another sister and it made me feel less home sick, but now I know that I need my alone time to reflect on completing this journey with satisfaction and entering a new experience with a ready mind.

We promised each other that we would catch up in February for her birthday, she will come down to Melbourne and we will go on some road trips :) We both said we are really looking forward to an Australian Summer. Sounds like Heaven.

Another volunteer who is not from Projects Abroad is also leaving tomorrow. Hername is Jenny and shes very sweet, without her I dont think I would have done no way near as much as I have with the kids at New Life Orphanage. Shes been very helpful and encouraging, I think we have worked well as a pair. Shes a teacher back at home in the UK, i think it takes a lot to be a teacher. Ive found myself enjoying the company of more of the older crowd, i feel like i can learn more from people who have lived longer than me.

I feel like two months was just right. Not too short, nor too long. Ive had enough time to make wonderful friends and learn as much as I can within this space of time. But now, I am feeling tired. I havent taken a day off work, with the exception of two mondays beause of travelling. Ive applied myself as much as I can and everyday has been a wonderful memory. But im ready to take a new step, start something fresh.

Im missing dads birthday, and that really does sadden me. Lo siento dad. I bought you a gift the other day, and Im sure you will like it. I hope to meet you in Spain, we can continue to travel together. Pick up where we left off in Fiji!

The Countdown Begins

juliabedi — Fri, 23 Aug 2013 23:58:00 GMT

23rd August, 2013 7:55AM

Cape Coast

With two weeks and two days left im beginning to truly realise how much ive fallen in love with this place. My first African home, from day one I was welcomed by everyone and quickly grew fond of their culture.

Music, dance, food, nature, children, religion and family are all words that come to mind when i think of ghana.

Some of the things i am sure to miss are:

* The children at the orphanage

* Loud music in the streets and taxis/tro tros

* The friendliness of strangers

* My room mate Leisa

* Playing football with the boys at the orphanage

* Playing Ampe with the girls

* Being escorted to the taxiby seven kids fromtheorphanage

* Local food - red red, yam, wachi, cassava, plantains

* The sweet taste of fresh fruit - coconuts, pineapples, mangoes

* Watching people carry everything on their head

* Sitting with Millicent as she cooks

* Nana and Asantua screaming myname and jumping on me when I return home from work

* Hanging out with Angela

* Playing with the street kids

* The absence of technology

* Oasis, dancing on the beachside until 4AM

* Being woken by childrens laughter

* Drinking water from a plastic satchet

* Buying lunch on the street for less than 50 Pesowas

* Buying fabrics

* Climbing the ladder to the balcony when weve been out till late

* Not worrying about how I look

* Being with children every day

* Meeting so many people from across the globe

* Being invited to eat by friends from nearby shops

* Being proposed to

* The consistency of warm weather

* Doing yoga on the balcony

* Getting my feet dirty

* The attitude of not babying the kids

* Their strange terminology: toffee means chocolate, sweet means it tastes good for anything (even chicken), are you okay? means are you full?, im coming means i will be back.

Things I wont miss:

* Being sweet-talked by guys who see a dollar sign above my head

* Being sick

Once in a Lifetime things:

* Swim under the tallest waterfall in West Africa

* Climb the tallest mountain in Ghana

* Walk through Kakum National Park from darkness to light (4AM-6AM treck)

* Travelled to Kumasi and the Volta Region

* Experience the Fetu Afehye (Cape Coast Festival)

* Get Malaria

Photos: Ghana Journal

juliabedi — Sat, 3 Aug 2013 03:37:00 GMT

I believe I can fly

A Temporary Home

juliabedi — Thu, 25 Jul 2013 06:45:00 GMT

A Temporary Home

24th July, 2013. 6:56AM in Cape Coast, Ghana

Ive been here for just over a week now and already I feel like I know this place really well, in terms of both people and getting around.

Ghanains have such a welcoming and kind hearted nature, they're always wanting to help you out or be your friend. Whenever I walk down the street, even if its just to the shops (2 minutes from my house) I am sure to say hi to at least 5 people, not including the lady at the shop. And its funny because you wont just be saying a simple hello, you will be asked how you are, what your name is and where you come from. Being proposed to and told 'i love you' is also very common here as well, even many taxi drivers have proposed.

Ghanians remind me of Fijians by the way that they're incredibly helpful and friendly. The dominant religion here is Christianity, followed by the Islamic Religion and then Traditionalists. So there are quite a lot of churches, I was hoping to attend last sunday but my host brother told me that I would have had to get up in front of everyone and introduce myself and say why I was there... I think that would be a little overwhelming for the first week. Maybe next weekend.

My host family is so wonderful, i love coming home to them each day. I still don't know everyone who lives here, its a 3 storey house and I meet someone new who loves here every day. There is even a grandma who lives here and is 102 years old, wow!!

My host mum Milicent, who i just call Ma, works at a shop near our house selling her own food - so I definitely have been loving the food here, shes a wonderful cook. She is very caring but also gives you the privacy you need. From what I know she has two kids, Angela who is a teacher and Joseph who works at a clinic. They are both unmarried and have children. Angela's child's name is Eugene but we call him P.K, he is I think 7 years old. Joe's child's name is also Milicent, but we call her Nana. I have uploaded a photo of her, she is very very sweet. I play with both of the kids lots cause theyre funny and very happy all the time. Only the other day I met another little girl who lives here too, her name is Dorothy Asantua and Im not sure of her mums name yet. She is very very cute, she loves to braid my hair and she is such an awesome dancer! I hope to upload a video of her dancing soon! Another person that I know who lives here is Jeffrey, he is just a friend of Joes who doesnt really have anywhere else to go, his english isnt as good as the others so I dont feel like I know him as well as i do the others but still he is very friendly, we went to watch them play football yesterday.

Volunteers are generally very nice, initially it was 3 of us living in the house - my room mate Brianne, and another volunteer named Greg, but a new guy names Christoph moved in the other day next door.

Greg is from Canada and Christoph is from Austria, they are both really nice and we usually hang out.

Julie from Norway, pronounced Yulia, is my closest friend here. We arrived on the same day and she lives just next door so we see each other every day and apparently act like a married couple, in the eyes of Greg. I really am appreciative of Julies friendship because I feel so comfortable with her and trust her completely.

A girl named Jenny moved in with Julie and she is very kind as well :)

The food here is really amazing, but I think I am very fortunate to have a wonderful cook as a mum for my home.

I just walked Nana to school at about 7:30 AM, came back to hang out with Joe, Jeffrey Ma and another lady whose name I dont know, had breakfast, soon to wash (when the water starts running again) and then catch a taxi to work, stay till 4:30 or 5... depends if i play football or not, come home, play with the kids from the street, wash, eat and then hang out with the other volunteers - very very basic outlay of my general day here. Though the times will continue to fluctuate i.e. the other night i came home at 7 because I didnt want to leave the kids at the orphanage, or i can leave as late as 12 from my place. I really enjoy flexibility of my days.

Every school has holidays this Thursday so this week is mainly cleaning n so on Friday only the orphans will be at my placement, which means about 30-35 people.

To be continued... :)

Photos: Ghana

juliabedi — Tue, 16 Jul 2013 08:17:00 GMT

It is in giving that we receive

First Impressions

juliabedi — Tue, 16 Jul 2013 07:38:00 GMT

i guess at first I was anxious of how things would be like in Ghana. I could never really form a picture in my head about it, all that ever came up was either the corrupt images from the news or the lion king...two huge extremes. Though, I had only ever heard good things about Ghana, the people are nice and friendly etc.

I guess first impressions really do make all the difference. When my last flight landed, after 33 hours spent travelling to Ghana, I was not as exhausted as I thought I would be. I left the plane and headed towards the Immigration Desk. The man behind the counter asked me why i was coming to ghana, i replied quietly with the reason of volunteering. He told me I was beautiful and asked if we could be friends. I didnt think I heard him right so I asked him to repeat himself, only to get the exact same response. I told him we could be friends. He asked for my facebook, which I took the paper he gave me and wrote my name. Soon after papers were done he gave me my passport back. To my surprise I found a little loose paper between the pages where he had placed his name and number...

Never ever would I have thought I would enter a country in that way.

I have already met some wonderful people from all over the world, tonight I spend a night in Accra with some other volunteers who are from other organisations but im also with a guy from Canada who will be helping out with a building project in Cape Coast with Projects Abroad too.

Tomorrow morning we will make our way to Cape Coast after breakfast. Im lucky to have wifi tonight because of the hostel, however I am unsure of whether I will have any connections at my host home.

I bought some paintings from a man named Don.D, his actual name is Maxwell, but he says too many Ghanian's have that name. His paintings are very beautiful, , they are inspired by the north of africa where the villages are.

I feel safe here, the people are so friendly and curtious. When you walk down the street they always make the effort to say hello.

Im excited for tomorrow, I get to meet my host family and see my placement.

Mama, tomorrow I will buy a sim card.

I love you, sweet dreams <3