Monday 30 September 2013

Pacific Specific - Kiribati /kɪrɪbæs/



The national flag, a frigate flying over the sun rising over the ocean.
The three white stripes depict the country's three groups of islands; Gilbert, Phoenix and Line Islands.

'So the children and pigs have time to get off the runway' was the answer to my question, 'Was that Tarawa? Why did the plane fly past it?' There used to be a fence around the airport's grounds, but now I notice the chicken wire has made some very nice pens for peoples pigs', explained a visiting airline consultant in a 'well, what can you do' tone of voice. This was unfortunately not the tone of the AQIS official's voice when I presented my I-Kiribati handicrafts at Brisbane airport three weeks later. 


Coming in to land at Bonriki International Airport, Tarawa

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonriki_International_Airport

The nation comprises 32 atolls and a raised coral island totalling 800 square kilometres dispersed over 3.5 million square kilometres of Pacific ocean.  'It's where??' I'm frequently asked. 'Due east from Brisbane, turn left at Fiji, it'll be a minute dot under you three flying hours later.' Or, 'you know where the date line does a whoosie? Well that's it, the date line goes around so the whole country is on the same day.' Perhaps the most accurate; it's at the junction of the dateline and the equator. 

When I was a child, I loved the enormous (probably not so big now) globe at the Subiaco Municipal Library. My brother and I used to play 'where do you want to go?' and we'd spin the globe. I almost always landed in the middle of the Pacific, so disappointed was I to have landed 'nowhere'. Little did I know that 'nowhere' was one of the most wonderful adventure destinations I was to one day visit.



It is the fourth least visited country in the world. As Kiribati is predicted to be the first country lost to global warming, the inhabitants are preparing to migrate to higher ground; Australia, New Zealand and Fiji. Therefore, English language teaching was to be improved through an AusAid sponsored project, of which I was fortunately involved.


The main road……the only road.




Well, I would've been lying if I'd said I wasn't shocked. I had never in my life seen anything like it. I understand now when they say “Kiribati, for travellers not tourists”. I really had no idea what to expect. But first impressions were shocking. It was very dirty and the bad smells made me dry retch. On the other hand it was really wonderful in that it was like nothing I had ever seen before and incredibly beautiful, something only seen at the cinema. The people were out playing in the streets (60% of the population are children). There are animals everywhere. The hotel is so basic, things we take for granted like shampoo, bathmats, drinking water, reliable electricity and water were absent.

Surprisingly the 737 was full. Most of the people on the plane were consultant aid workers or locals. There was a group of about eight tourists who had come for the 66th anniversary of the bloodiest battle in USMC history, which took place here on Tarawa. A new airline “Our Airline” took it’s maiden flight  arriving yesterday but unfortunately was unable to return victorious and was still grounded with the tool kit out.

Swimming at the broken bridge
Fri 20th of November

Our hotel (Otientaai) is famous amongst the ex pats as being a real dive. The staff don’t wear shoes, the breakfast buffet hosted four ingredients; cornflakes in their packet, cartons of UHT milk, sweet white bread and the most spectacular local fruit,  god knows how it got it’s two star rating?? On this day it was the anniversary of the infamous battle and the hotel was full of gung ho Americans. It was 2000 USMC marines who were mowed down by the Japs over a very short period. The yanks misread the tide and their amphibious landing was a real disaster. If it was any consolation to them most of the Japs got killed too. Lovely. Nice to hear from the gore hungry tourists that Red Beach is still littered with human remains.

The teaching is going well I have to test 30 student teachers for their English language ability. It’s good experience for me as I find testing such a difficult thing to do.  In addition, I am helping the student teachers to write lesson plans and to prepare for their teaching prac which I will then observe and test in a week. This is really the best way to find out about Kiribati and the people and culture. I already have students lining up to practise speaking English with me which means invaluable time one on one with the I-Kiribati people.




Tuesday 24 September 2013

Pacific Specific - Fiji



What are my first impressions of Fiji?
Joy, calm, happiness and friendliness. It just feels so good to be away from development. Here the people are in the streets talking, laughing, walking slowly. The bus has natural air conditioning (no windows). I've had two marriage offers within my first hour off the plane. Obviously I’m not the only one who thinks it’s not right to be 40, childless and never married.

On arrival I am delighted to see the male airport officials in floral shirts and wrap around skirts. Mar, who greeted me at the airport to take me to my accommodation, promised me my Fijian husband to be would be wearing a skirt at our wedding.

In my dorm are two neigh neigh horse play horsey girls from country Glostershire in the UK. They are celebrating the completion of their masters with  a southern hemisphere adventure. In the bar I can hear American accents and there are Indians in every nook and cranny. No evidence of Australia, very nice. I think it’s been too long since I was in another culture.

 Another cocktail and maybe wander down to  “Sitar” for a curry…. when in Rome do as the Indians????



Maybe it’s just because people want my tourist money, but I have the feeling that  they like me, they have time to chat, they laugh at my jokes and they are helpful. Their good spirits towards me do feel genuine. It’s really really nice to feel liked. It’s so good for my self esteem. I know I’m good and likeable, but some evidence doesn’t hurt at all.

After chatting with the equestrians I was happy to learn that they too had experienced this notion of stress and study induced brain damage. So it’s not only me doing spoonerism-o-rama and loss of short term memory etc. Good news is that  after a while in Fiji brain function returns to normal.

It becomes evident how regulated, controlled and ordered Australia is once you are out of it. I'm now required to think for myself, use my initiative. In which filing cabinet of my brain are those skills?  I haven't used them since I left Europe five years ago. There are no signs or policeman or advertising to tell you when to cross the road, who to give way to, where to leave your luggage , what to buy, what to eat and how much and when etc etc etc. Maybe the cost is a little chaos, but isn’t that better than being constantly watched and treated like brainless idiots?


Today I lazed around the backpackers hostel and  made some jewellery out of coconut fronds at a craft workshop. In the late afternoon all the guests got together and had drinks. I think I over did it. Looks pretty harmless though.




I feel really terrible. I am socially so insecure. I am so wanting to interact with people and I find it so stressful being in company because I am so scared of annoying them or disturbing them. It’s really difficult to feel confident about myself. I know that a fat woman who walks around feeling confident about herself is a real admirable woman, yet I don’t feel that confident all the time even though I feel it some of the time. I have considered lying and saying that I suffer a medical condition that makes me fat despite my diet and excersie regime. But I really can’t lie. I know I am obese because I am lazy and because I eat and drink too much.

I am so sick of depression. I thought I came here for a holiday and now I am burdened with ill health yet again. Lets hope for tsunami.

What was that all about? Hmm, I was drunk last night. Evidence that my non-drinking efforts are good for me and are worth the effort.

Today I came back to Nadi (pronounced Nandi??? Go figure!) from the Coral Coast. I am staying at the Raffles Gateway Hotel right next to the airport. It's very beige, desperately lacking charm or Fijianess. Tomorrow Amy and I fly to Kiribati. I’m very excited. I think in the way that Morocco is the hard core version of Tunisia, Kiribati will be like the hard core version of Fiji, lets see if I’m right.



Monday 23 September 2013

The First Fat Girl in Paris

Before we even get started, there is one thing that I must clear up. When a girl calls herself fat, it is more a reflection of how she feels than how she looks. I don't know one woman with an honest mirror. Hindsight has taught me the flaws of my former ways; but how I wish I could get back down to that 75kg 'fat' of 1995?  Now that I really am fat, maybe hindsight is not such a talented teacher, I promise to appreciate all my good points. Audrey Hepburn said it herself (can you believe that even her mirror lied?), focus on your good points and forget the rest. OK Audrey, consider it done.

The First Fat Girl in Paris is a wonderful novel, semi autobiographic like David Copperfield, which follows the life of a girl who led a life not without adventure, courage, travel, language, friends, eighteenth century rhetoric, tears, laughter, bassoon, Jaqueline du Pre and Audrey Hepburn, oh and the invisible fat. In addition to being wonderful, it is unwritten.

So if indeed there was no fat, why mention it? Because my dear readers, it was felt. The boogey man, did  he frighten you? He wasn't real was he?, but you were still frightened, so the fat and the boogey man go in the same box. 'Feel' is the operative word in this story. This story is about so much more than the aforementioned nouns, it's about feeling. In the mind and soul of a Bi Polar / Borderline Personality Disorder sufferer, reality is irrelevant, it's the feelings that matter. 

I recall the moment at 35 Clapham Common Northside when I titled the non-existant novel. It was anxiety and excitement, adjectives that bear no difference in the German language, belittling my confidence to nasty name calling. I felt inadequate to step outside Gare du Nord station and into the real world of France. Do the aesthetic police circumnavigate entry points to the country ready to pounce any being that may disrupt the national standard of beauty? In any case, I was concerned about being a source of visual pollution. Should I also adopt the national diet of Gauloise and expresso?