Tiny lives

Today was the second time this year that I've had to certify someone deceased.

A tiny body, lying in her mother's arms.
It was expected, but nonetheless...
She went well. We could provide that comfort.
Her parents wrapped her and she spent the day surrounded by a big, subdued family.
After they left her with us, I went to say goodbye - and, as always happens, farewelled all the others again at the same time.

For the first time that I've been doing this, I didn't need to call my mother. (Tomorrow, perhaps).

Audrey reminded me of the bounty of life instead.

What can I say, when the worst is happening to a close friend?
Not much.
It won't change anything.

I can listen.
Which won't change anything.

I'm praying for you.
Not for the obvious, although if that happens, I'll be sending up gratitude.
But for peace.
For you all.

Pre-night shift planning

Get up early - tick.
Go for walk - tick.
Do something useful - tick.
Have a beer - tick.
Have a good meal - tick.
Clean up room - tick.
Brush teeth - tick.
Turn on airconditioner - tick.
Turn off mobile - tick.
Get earplugs - tick.
Actually go to bed at 2pm -

New engine

I've been contemplating one for years. Sleek steel or cherry red. With accessories. The growl of the motor bringing interested glances. The expense had been putting me off but I was quietly working to justify it to myself. Today, I finally jumped in, but I went vintage instead.

I bought myself a mixmaster.

A Sunbeam mixer, 2 beater, creamy glass bowls, shiny black controller etched with the settings. It's older than my mother's, I'm sure. Perhaps has already passed through two generations. But it goes, and goes well.

Today, I made banana cake, adding my baking to a wealth that has gone before. Stephanie's recipe (naturally), new silicone muffin tray. Perfection.

And wholeheartedly licked the beaters.

Crossroads

Another decision to make. One that may define my life for several years.

Next year's jobs are in the air. Having just extended, do I stay or do I go?

More & more I feel it's not about the work. Up here, the job's great, the town's great, the lifestyle's great, the weather's great. I've got a fun network and feel healthier than in a long time. Down there, are friends & family. The ones who are important will stay in touch.

So comes down to a mythical possibility, one which is feeling more important than the mere issue of where I work. One which must be the basis of decision making but which is completely unpredictable.

And so I ache.

I'm thinking that getting a new housemate that I am more than a teensy bit attracted to may not be the best decision.

I've just become entranced by yet another website. However, this one is mightily impressive.

Microfinance is the process whereby an individual or group receive a small loan in order to start a business. In many countries, only a few dollars can buy a sewing machine, a breeding pair of pigs or seeds for the farm. This process has been shown to assist in lifting people out of poverty and is much more effective than handouts. In particular, women tend to run businesses in local communities and put the profits back into education, nutrition and health care for themselves and their children.

I have seen this in action. In the Philippines, I stayed with a family who sold fish at the market and used microcredit to purchase stock. In India, we had chai with a woman whose loan had bought a pair of goats, and the kids were running around beneath our feet. In Zambia, I bought sarongs from a woman whose market stall was set up with a micro-loan.

And now I have just found a site that lets those of us in positions of affluence lend to those who are not. It's a loan - so the money will be repaid (and is, in 98.5% 0f cases). And in the meantime, it'll be put to work well.

www.kiva.org

You can choose to whom you lend. You can search by region or type of project. And you will be making a big difference.

Can you help?

A new friend's mother passed away due to cancer last year. Well timed around Mother's Day, we are doing Relay for Life to raise money for the Cancer Council. Please think about making a donation here to support our team and research into cancer prevention and treatment.

3 good things

Chatting with family.
Warmth.
Let's build a spaceship.

Simple pleasures

A sleep in.
Fresh brewed Earl Grey tea.
Hot cross buns with melting butter.
A floral plate.
Last week's sudoku.

Again, I am led to consider the difference between a good death and a bad death. Today's was a good one.

A little girl, trapped in her own body for over a year.
Up and about yesterday.
Her dad here all weekend.
Her mum here today.
Softly and quietly. Quickly.
Surrounded by love.

We all sewed butterfly crystals on to her dress. We said goodbye.
Rest in peace.

So how was your trip?

How does one answer this question?

"Good, how's your last six weeks of work been?"
"Great, I missed the economic meltdown?"
"Awesome!" (...)

It's always hard to express a holiday, beyond, "Great!". Most people don't really want to hear, or are jealous, don't really care, or just forget you've ever been away. One of the girls on my trip told us of an exchange with her workmate:
"I'm going to South America!"
"Where's that?"

But I'm finding it difficult to answer because my trip WAS great. I feel rested. I feel that I saw amazing parts of the world, got a little insight into a new culture, met some fun people. I got to push myself mentally and physically, process and grow a bit, learn some new skills. I ate wonderful food and lost weight. I caught up with a close friend.

I loved it.

And I'm not a gusher. Saying positive things is something that I sometimes struggle with. So translating my trip into a catch-up setting is challenging me a little. But - it was great.

Trailing the Incas

It was bloody tough. Walking up 900m in a few hours, walking down steps in the rain, puffing and sweating and plodding. But, I kept going. I kept going up, not looking at the top. I kept taking the next step down, looking for the drier rock, the concavity in the ledge that suggests you're less likely to slip. I told my muscles that one more step could not possibly be too hard. I chatted. I chewed coca toffee. I refused to look over the edge. I listened to my novel. I bonded with my walking sticks. I wore my purple plastic rain poncho with my sunhat. I saw the tiny flowers and the mountaintops. I stood in temples and houses and saw fountains that still run. I ate three course meals and slept in tents that someone else carried. And, after 4 days, I looked down into Machu Picchu and decided to climb another mountain.

Is wasn't as hard as I expected. I kept going, and that's all that was required.

Salty

The white salt crunches under the wheels, flat as far as the eye can see. We get out and climb, between cacti flowering for the only time in a century, pausing to catch breath in the thin air. Reaching the top, my Spanish friend & I avoid the hungover Brits and stare - out at the whiteness, its nothingness drawing us in. The shrine to Pachamama, the earth, has coca leaves & cigarettes left at it and in the midst of nowhere, we stop, and give thanks.

Poor little rich girl*

So, I planned ahead. For the first time, no traveler's cheques. However, ATM card, Visa, US$600 and, at the last minute in Sydney aiport, a prepaid visa that can be used in ATMs too. Activated online immediately & away we go.

In Auckland airport, change my last aussie $20 to buy a drink & sudoku.

In Buenos Aires airport, wander around for a while, looking for an ATM. I want to call La Paz & confirm my room, since I will arrive at 5am.
- ¿Por favor, donde esta la... la... machina por pesos?
- No, no hay. (Points downstairs to arrivals lounge, which, after careful consideration, I decide is insufficient reason to officially enter Argentina for 10 minutes).
Find Casa di Cambio (exchange booth). No pesos on credit cards.
Try the internet cafe, who take Visa, but reject my prepaid card.
Try the "no change required" phones. My Visa doesn´t work. My prepaid Visa doesn´t work.
Finally give up on keeping my US$ until I actually arrive, change $20, and buy small things at different shops to get enough coins for the phone. Ah, booking is confirmed.

Only I don't get to La Paz. After my first night at the Sheraton in Lima, thanks to the airline, I am relieved to find an ATM in the lobby. However
- Your card is invalid for this transaction.
Check the sign: Plus. My card is a Plus card.
Try again. Invalid.
Try the prepaid. Invalid.
Ask the bored Peruana sitting at the change booth.
- But it is a Plus card!
- Yes.
- So it should work.
Hmm.

Try a second ATM and manage to get Nuevo Soles.
Try the prepaid several times and it´s rejected every time.
3 days later, call Australia (I have coins!!!) & am informed that it's not activated, despite doing it immediately. At least it´s not skimmed. Realise that it's already Saturday there & can't activate until Monday.

Arrive in La Paz at 4am & change into Bolivianos at the airport. Sleep for 5 hours but miss the Saturday am banks. Oh well, there are six ATMs within 50m of my hostel, all displaying the Plus sign.

And my card is invalid at every one.

Spend the next 2 days wandering around the city, sightseeing but trying every single ATM I pass. About 40 little green screens confirm my invalid status.

Calculate that, if I change all my remaining US dollars, I can do the tour I wanted and scrape through back to Lima. Perhaps. No back ups. But Lonely Planet saves the day & informs me I can do a cash advance on my credit card.

On Sunday, call Australia and activate my prepaid. It's still invalid on Monday morning. I currently have 67B, about $14. My tour leaves tomorrow.

So, enter the bank. There is a ticket system & 50 people waiting. Today is protest march day - hundreds of thousands of campesinos (rural people) have come to the city to call for the new constitution to be passed. They march & chant & set off fireworks**. As we wait, the security guards open & close the metal doors, barring the entrance to the bank. Everyone seems to be depositing their business' weekend takings, in piles of notes literally 50cm high, taking half an hour to count by hand. We are barricaded in, and it is 2 hours before my number is called.

And today, because of the protests, they cannot do cash advances. Perhaps I should try the ATM?

Despite my best efforts, my frustration wells up. Crying is a necessary part of entering a new culture and here it comes, day 6, right on time. Usually I prefer it in private, not in a barricaded bank with immaculately groomed tellers peering at me & Gwen Stefani on the video on the corner. However, it is useful and I soon have the directions to the central office of another bank written out for me by the manager.

Back to then hostel, to explain, recover & check the map.

Out again into the throngs, each group of marchers seeming to randomly follow its own path. Find the bank - it's open! I can get in! They can do cash advances! But - only with my passaporte originale, not a photocopy. It's safely in the safe at the hostel.

Back through the crowd. The elderly farmers are resting on the central grass on the main road, their red ponchos against the green grass. I have to ask a campesina, in her bowler hat & tiered skirt, to get up off the step so I can get into the hostel.

Explain again at the hostel. Get the passport. Back through the city. Get a ticket. Wait. And finally, I have money.

On the way home via a side street, the crowd scurries to look at the main road. Women with babies in their shawls stand on fences. The President is marching.

And now, they are dancing in the main square. The campesinos have made their point. They are marching for a proposal that will redistribute land. Their subsistence existence can perhaps be improved.

I have money in my pocket, after 3 days of trying. They may be making history - and tomorrow, they return to their farms.



* Apologies, I needed to get it out of my system.
** Peaceful!!!

Chilling in La Paz

Well, sleeping means chilling, doesn´t it?

It's been an eventful few days. Estoy aprendiendo castellaño por siete horas en dos diás, which has taxed my brain somewhat but has meant I can at least stumble through basic transactions & even chat to taxi drivers.

Spent a wonderful afternoon yesterday on a bicycle tour of the bays of Lima, winding through clifftop gardens & watching the surfers & paragliders harnessing their respective elements. Wandered the plazas of Barranco, the traditional hangout of artists & ate jamon del norte in Jaunito's bar, while 96 year-old Juanito snoozed in the corner in front of his glass of vino.

And arrived in a dusky nocturnal La Paz, the lights rolled out through the valley as we swung around down into town. The visa signs have been recently updated in thick black texta - US citizens must show their hotel booking, letter of introduction, ability to pay, onward journey & pay $135. I got a smile & a stamp for free. After a day of markets & churches, am now sipping my coca leaf tea (can´t be too sure about that altitude sickness) & ready to snooze.

Amazing how a little flirting can turn the day around.

OK, a lot of flirting.

Overheard on the tram

- I got a text from Famous Man today. He's engaged.
- To a woman or a man?

I have my life back

I worked night shift last night, so had to make myself go to sleep like any other day. Woke at 2 and forced myself back to bed. Good thing, too - when I woke again at 4:57, the website still said "Exam results will be posted at 5pm".

I've checked about 12 times, and it still says that I passed.

So I can now start to move on from 18 months of study and try to remember what it is like to relax again.

After tonight's shift.

Go Mum!

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