Melbourne, Monday

Next on the agenda was Sovereign Hill in Ballarat. Sovereign Hill is a replica of a gold-mining town. It had one real ex-gold mine underground, which we explored, with a guide. Outside there was a small stream where children tried panning gold.

Melbourne, Sunday

Next was Brighton and the colourful bath houses.



Then the graffitty alleys.

Mebourne, Saturday

On Saturday each of us had our own activities. I preferred to explore the city so I did. I went through Chinatown and visited the Chinese Museum.



Found a wonderful little cake shop and bought a slice of mudcake. Took trams arcoss the city and ended the day in a Japanese resto. That wasn't really the end, though. Dhena joined me at the resto and before heading back we took some photo of the Yarra River at night.

Melbourne, Thursday and Friday

We bought a weekly ticket at Seven Eleven and walked to a tram stop. My made-in-Bandung suitcase was as unsteady as ever and it turned over everytime I tried to walk faster, and gave me a lot of problems when crossing the street. At one point my hat got blown away by a monster gust of wind. Ira ran after it half-way across the street. A truck came and the wheels ran over my poor hat, twice. Don't worry. The hat survived. Ira was also unharmed. After that I only put it on when it wasn't too windy.

We took a tram to Ira's relative's apartment and spent the day exploring the city.

The next day Dhena arrived. We packed some lunch and took a train to the Dandenong Ranges. Most people come to Dandenong in private cars or tour coaches. They usually take Puffing Billy (a steam train) to see the forest reserves. We, on the other hand, decided to leg it. So we asked around and then took a bus. We got of, had lunch in a small resto and asked for directions again. We found a guy with long hair (never trust a guy with long hair (I'm being racist here)) and he was very helpful with a lot of hand gestures. I wondered if he knew we didn't travel by car, so I told him. He was stunned. "Anyway", he said, "just follow the road and be careful of the cars."
We continued walking, turned around after a few meters, found a map ("Hey, we're not very far from the reserve!"), asked somebody again ("Sorry, I don't live around here. I live at the foot of the mountain. But there's a path just behind this school. I'm quite sure it leads to a bush-walking trail.") We followed his directions and found a picnic area full of tame birds.



From there we found a small gate where the bush-walking trail started. We walked through fern gullies, crossed small bridges, uphill, downhill. I'm really a big fan of workout. Lucky for me, Ira and Dhena often stopped to take photos. Still, I huffed and puffed and sweated waterfalls. It was very green and peacefull in the reserves but I was very glad when we finally finished.



I was really surprised that Ira and Dhena planned to go to Hard Rock Cafe to buy some souvenirs afterward. I definitely declined and went straight back to the apartment.

Melbourne, Thursday

The five-day-trip started at 5:10 a.m. with a call from my sis. I haven't taken a shower so I just changed clothes and carried my suitcase down to the car. We picked Ira up and arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare. We got on the plane and found our seats. Ira continued her sleep. As the plane took off the air pressure increased and a toddler behind us started to cry. (I'm just guessing that it was the air pressure.) She cried on and off, depending on the parents' techniques to get her to quiet down. Then another tolddler a few seats in front of us fell off the seat and started crying too. When I said 'cry' I meant the high pitched, maximum power, straight-from-the-diaphragm wails. These wails upset a baby somewhere and it started to cry too. The cabin was like a childcare center on a bad day. Thank God it was only 75 minutes. We arrived safely to a cloudy, windy and chilly Melbourne. That was how it would continue for the rest of the trip, except the last day.

Koala

Reckless

Another reason why I haven’t written for a while was a job that I did. I did some proofreading a while back and the next step was updating the documents. Updating means making sure that the comments during proofreading has been entered. It took me two weeks to do the update check. I finished last week and I was very happy. During the two weeks I also went for and interview and took a translation test. It was crazy. The interview was done by a panel of three. It was nerve-wrecking. I didn’t do very well but not very badly either. They promised to contact me in couple of weeks. The interview was on June 10th . It’s been a little over two weeks so I have very little hope at this point.

Two days after the interview I took the translation test. It started at 9:30 in the morning and finished at 12:00. I started to feel hungry at 11:00. My tummy growled and grunted and made all kinds of very scary and very loud noises. Good thing I was alone in the room and there was no one to supervise me. The walls were pretty thin, though. I think the people the next room was probably wondering what kind of wild animal was in the room with me. The next day I woke up with a horrible tummy pain. The late lunches and stress had taken their toll. I took some Mylantas and bought a packet of digestive biscuits. I actually love digestive biscuits, I demolished several packets in a matter of days, just as snacks, with the excuse, “I shouldn’t leave my stomach empty for too long.” The pain had gone, but I stocked up on the biscuits anyway just in case.

Then I went for a very dodgy interview. Dodgy because I don’t even know when the job is going to start. Maybe in two-months time, maybe never. The story is that somebody is starting a new language school. He is Pakistani and funnily reminded me of my old boss in terms of looks, except that he has a very nice set of white teeth. He needs a teacher/coordinator as part of the requirement to get accreditation for the school. My friend introduced me to the boss of his friend who then introduced me to this guy. To make the story short, the owner (the Pakistani guy) will continue completing the requirements and I can pull out or continue anytime I want. The problem is, of course, there are no students yet, no books, no accreditation, nothing. But hey, it’s not like I’m swamped with work at the moment, so I said yes to something that may of may not happen.

Stubborness

A friend complained recently that she kept seeing the indoor pool entry when she visited this blog; that means I haven’t written a new entry for a long, long time (: The reason for this was that my old computer had crashed again, for the millionth time. My niece is fed up with reformatting and reinstalling the programs so the poor old thing has been left in the comatic state for about a month.

I had been hunting for a cheap CPU tower for weeks, when I finally found the cheapest so far, $110 for a second hand Acer, a few days ago. The seller lives in South Coogee. That means a train ride to the city, a bus ride, and a 700 m walk to his house. I considered taking a suitcase to carry the tower back, but the only one in the apartment is so big I could fit in it comfortably. I considered the small shopping trolley that we have, but after a careful look, I found it too small. I rummaged around and found a doona bag. The size seemed perfect, so I chose the doona bag to take with me.

The address was easy enough to find. I arrived without much drama. The seller showed me the tower. I paid. He put the tower in the bag - it fit perfectly - wished me luck, and I started the journey home. Of course I expected a CPU tower to be heavy. I also expected myself to be as strong as Xena. I was right about the weigh. And I was wrong about Xena. I carried the bag for about twenty meters and had to put it down. I thought about taking a taxi. Then I thought, I’ll take a taxi at Central to save money. I took a deep breath and continued. I stopped again after twenty meters and changed the way I carried the bag. I continued again for twenty meters, stopped, continued, stopped to answer a phone call, continued and so on until I reached the bus stop. I thanked God because it was a downhill trip instead of uphill. Then I remembered that the walk home from the train station would definitely be uphill and I was more determined to take a taxi. I suddenly also appreciated the shopping trolleys that people took from the supermarket and left in the streets. If I couldn’t get a taxi, I prayed I would find one of these trolleys that I used to mentally complain about.

I got on the bus. It was so comfortable after lugging that bag that I didn’t want to get off. I finally got off, crossed the street and put the bag down, picked it up again, and cursed the long tunnel towards the ticket gate. I finally made it to the train. On the train I thought of all kinds of method to avoid carrying the bag again. I could leave it at the station while I went home to get a trolley or the suitcase, I could call my niece and asked her to help me carry the bag, I could call my sister-in-law and asked her pick me up at the station and drive me home. But I didn’t want to ask for help. I was really grumpy when I reached the station. My sister-in-law called just when I was looking around for a stray trolley. She offered to pick me up. I gave up and said yes.

I weighed the CPU tower this morning. It weighs about 11 kg. That’s not too heavy, isn’t it? I’m just definitely not Xena (((: but I am stubborn as a mule.

Indoor Pool

Something happened during my childhood that I vaguely remember. We had an open water basin (bak air) near the kitchen. Like most old water basins, it was huge and quite deep (for a 5 or 6 year old), and the kitchen area was a popular place to sit together and chat. I remember perching on the side of the basin. An older person was sitting next to me, but I forgot who. I remember thinking, "If I lean backward, I would fall into the basin. I wonder what it would feel like? The water looks very cool and nice." I can't be sure if these next things really happened because I find it so bizarre. I think I really leaned backward and rolled myself into the basin. My whole body and head was under water. It really felt cool and nice. It was a bit dark and I heard underwater sounds around me. There were a lot of commotion above the water. And I guess I was immediately pulled out, but I don't remember this, or anything else that happened after that. Was it real? Was it a dream?

Sugar Diet

I mean I'm trying to cut down on my sugar intake, not the other way around. The frostbite set of warning bells in my head. Why? Because the doctor's first question (the one at the emergency ward) was, "Are you diabetic?" Now, that's scary. My father had it.
So today I started the sugar diet. I started to fail in the morning, when I dipped my toast in honey. But honey is good sugar, right? Things went well for a while. Mid aftenoon I began to feel a craving for sweet, sugary things. I craved for bubble tea, chocolate bar, marshmellow filled cookies. I managed to stay away from those temptations, until after lunch. The pineapple cookie was too tempting. I only took one, though. I just had lunch but I still felt empty inside. I pottered around the apartment feeling bored and hungry, even though I know my stomach was still full. I surrendered at around 4. I had my second lunch, and topped it with a scoop of very sweet cookies and cream ice-cream. Gosh, I'm a sugar junkie!

Bondi

A very pretty day at Bondi.

The Proofreading Job

It has been interesting, this job. I really enjoyed being busy, doing something that I do well. I learned a lot too. Not just about the subject matter, but a lot of other things. First of all, I got to know a new friend. She's a friend's sister. I also got to visit a new suburb, Dundas. I went there with Ira, armed with a map. We were confused at the station, so we asked two local golden girls for directions. They were very nice. In fact, one of them drove us to the address. There I got to see the headquarter of scientology. It used to be a monastery. My employer lives and works there, seven days a week, from nine a.m. to nine p.m. Phew! I also got to see the church of scientology in the city. I was offered to watch a process they call auditing. Too bad I had to leave early (actually I was just famished, and I really craved nasi lemak at a Malay resto nearby). Don't worry, I'm not planning to join Tom Cruise anytime soon. It's just a job, and I finished the lot a couple of days ago.

Poor Toes

My big toes have been troublesome for some time. That's why I have been avoiding shoes, or even socks. I walk around the city in flip-flops, or thongs, as locals call them. One day the big toe of my left foot looked a bit swollen. So I soak my feet in salt water, as a doctor once adviced me. It didn't work. So I went to Bondi to get the "real" purifying, therapeutic sea water. Didn't work. I stayed over at my bro's house. There I gave the salt water bucket another try. The water was a bit cold, but it was in the middle of the afternoon, so I thought it was okay. In the evening my other toes looked a bit swollen. By around ten the swelling had spread to a larger area. I thought this must be some kind of infection. How big would my foot be in the morning? What if I got gangrene somehow? (I saw an anti-smoking campaign on tv, with a green leg as the main actor. Not cute.) I called a nearby clinic. They're closed. I called a hospital. Their emergency ward is open. So my bro and my sis-in-law drove me to the hospital. The doctor looked, poked, squeezed, and asked a lot of questions and said there's nothing wrong, and sent me home. So I went home, rather embarassed. A week later my toes were still swollen, red, and really painful at night. Pockets of water that looked like hot oil had landed on the skin appeared. I passed by a clinic on my way home from the supermarket. I went in, just like that, on impulse. After waiting for almost an hour, my turn came. The doctor had one look, smiled, and said, "You've got frostbite." Whattt??????????? I thought you only get that in very cold places, like Canada, or the Himalayas. Scary stories told about climers who got frostbitten and had to have amputations. Thank God I only needed a steroid cream and socks. Anyway, I bought lots of thick gigantic socks and a pair of fuzzy slippers, got the portable heater out and put it in front of me when I watch tv, and no more flip-flops for a while, not until summer next year.

Update

It seemed that God heard my Raphsody of a Job Seeker. I'm working on a translation project. The pay isn't fantastic, but I'm just greatful that at the moment.

I guess when you have a job and it's taking so much of your time, you might wish for a holiday. When you have had such an extended holiday as I have, you wish for a steady job.

It is actually nice to be jobless. You don't have to wake up at dawn, you don't have to squeeze yourself into a crowded train, full of people who wish they could stay home and watch Oprah. You can have a slow and leisurely breakfast while you watch the morning show on tv, you take a shower when you feel like it. Then you go to the supermarket to buy something to cook. You can take as long as you like at the supermarket, stop by at any shop and think to yourself, I'll buy that when I get a job. You get home, cook, clean the kitchen spotless, sweep the floor, and then you have a wonderful lunch all by yourself, in front of the tv. After that you browse the internet for job vacancy. That usually depresses you so that you would need something sweet to comfort you, like chocolate or ice-cream, which you would eat in front of the tv (again). After that you would become bored and sick of your tv addiction, so you take a nap. When you wake up, you reheat your food and have dinner, wash the plates aaaaand ... sit in front of the tv until it's time to go to bed. Then you would think, "I had a really nice day today. I'm living the live that many people could only dream of having. So why am I so depressed??"

That, my friends, is the paradox of unemployment.

Jakarta

Theme From Mahagony (OR Raphsody of the Job Seeker)


Do you know where you're going to (Nope)
Do you like the things that live's been showing you (Some of them yes, some no)
Where are you going to (I don't know)
Do you know (No, I don't)

Do you gain what you're hoping for (Not yet)
When you look behind you there's no open door (Hiks..hiks..)
What are you hoping for (A miracle, or just a job, pleeease...)
Do you know

Once we were standing still in time (We were? Why did we do that?)
Chasing the fantasies that filled our mind (How silly we were)
You knew how I loved you but my spirit was free (Like Free Willy)
Laughing at the questions that you once asked of me (Only because I didn't know the answer)

Reff

Now lookin' back on all we planned
We let so many dreams just slip through our hands (Slippery, they were)
Why must we wait so long before we see
How sad the answers to our those questions can be (Crying my eyes out)

Do you know where you're going to (I told you, I don't know)
Do you like the things that live's been showing you (I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but...)
Where are you going to (Wish I knew)
Do you know (Hey, Lady... Stop asking me the same questions and just give me the job!)

Bondi

Photos from the new place

I had so many questions about the circumstances surrounding Mr. Lee's death, so I called my DOS to fish for more information. I asked for a Letter of Reference. She said OK. I asked again how Mr. Lee died. All she could tell me was that Mr. Lee was found dead at the school. Mrs. Lee arranged and attended the funeral, and then went straight home to Korea. She was quoted to say she would never set foot on Australia ever again. I asked if the staff would get paid for the last working period, my DOS said no. None of us would get paid, herself included. I didn't ask if students would get their money back. Probably not. Certficates? Don't think so. I think the certificates are very important to the students. Most of them would use the certificates to apply for jobs back home. They've spent a lot of money coming to Oz, they do some of the crappiest jobs to pay the school fee, they dragged themselves to school day after day, and this thing happened. I think I would be very pissed if I were one of them.

Mr Lee

Mr. Lee was the owner of our language school. He looked like a typical middle aged Asian guy. He never said much to the teachers. Most of the time, if you greet him, you would get half a smile and a grunt. Sometimes the teachers made fun of these grunts, when he wasn't around, of course.

I don't know much about Mr. Lee. The last and only time I talked to him, he asked me where I lived. So I asked him the same question too. Kingsford, he said. Oh! I said, Many Indonesian restaurant there.. Hrmf.. he grunted. Many Chinese and Thai restaurants. I suspected that Mr Lee (like many of my students, and other people) doesn't know the difference between India and Indonesia.

The last few days before I took a week off work, he was always busy. Standing or sitting near the front desk, watching Claire (our super receptionist, admin, accountant, etc.) like a hawk. He was often in a meeting with some businessman looking people. There was no sign that he was about to leave us.

My DOS called me yesterday afternoon, to inform me that Mr. Lee had passed away. She couldn't give me any details. She said the school is closed, maybe for a while, or for good.

Last week I felt that my days at work were numbered. It never crossed my mind that this would be the reason. Mr. Lee's death would affect the lives of so many people: his family, the teachers and other staff, the students.

As for myself, as of today, I am officially jobless.

Very Long Weekend

I couldn't wait for Tuesday, so I could ask my DOS why I was suddenly observed. Tuesday came and it was very difficult not to come to the school by daybreak. Anyway, I arrived at the station at around ten, pretended that I needed something at the supermarket and wandered around the aisles for ten minutes, I took some money from the ATM, and then I was ready to walk to school.
I went straight to the DOS. She didn't know anything about the observation. But she promised to find out.
She called me half an hour later to tell me that the marketing guy wished to be able to explain to prospective students how the class is taught. So he meant exactly what he said. He just didn't mention the purpose! *@%#&@% Oh, well. At least my worst fear was ungrounded.

Long Weekend

I had been looking forward to this long weekend. I was still a bit tired from the ordeal of moving. I had plans. I was going to set up the computer, finish unpacking and sorting out my stuff, sew a curtain for my bedroom window and just relax. My student cancelled our session so I had some free time in the afternoon. I arrived feeling full of energy. The class started. A student went out to get some coffee and didn't come back. I went out to check and she was talking to one of the marketing guys. I was a bit annoyed. I went back to class and after ten minutes she came back, with the marketing guy in tow. He suddenly said, Would you mind if I observe your class? I just want to know how the class is taught.
I said sure. He sat near a Japanese student, with a very serious look on his face. The class became more and more tense. In the end, the students all burried their noses in the handouts. They were too tense to even understand my joke (or maybe I was tense). The guy left after half an hour. The class was much happier after that.
That was just rude! Barging into somebody's class, sitting without smilling, speaking in Japanese to a student while I was teaching, and then left. What's going on? Did I do something wrong? Did a student complain about my way of teaching? There goes my wonderful long weekend.

I felt like quitting ):

Basil Beef

I was very happy to note that there are big, leafy trees along the way to the station. That means I wouldn't need to carry an umbrella with me all the time anymore.
I saw a little Thai resto near the station and thought, Great! I don't have to cook everyday. (:
The next day I packed some rice in a lunchbox and bought Chicken Cashew Nut from that resto. I took half and saved the rest for lunch tomorrow. But at school a student told me that he was very hungry and that his boss 'forgot' to pay him that day. I asked him if he wanted some food, he said yes, and I said goodbye to my chicken.
The chicken was delicious, so the next day I went to the resto again on my way to work. This time I ordered take away Basil Beef. The chef was very generous with the garlic, so I was basically enveloped in garlic perfume (and I hadn't eaten the dish yet). If garlic were flourescent, I would have glowed. A boy in the elevator covered his nose with his jumper to keep from fainting. When I arrived at the teacher's room, it was suddenly filled with garlic smell. I ate a little and put the rest in the fridge. Then I brushed my teeth and prayed my students wouldn't notice.

How to get to the train station (if u don't know the way)

I didn't really know how to get to the station from our apartment. I walked down the road and tried to remember the location. I saw a young Buddhist monk walking in the opposite direction. I turned around and followed him. Sure enough. Very soon I could see the station. I wouldn't reccomend this method to anyone, though.

The Apartment & Neighbours

Our apartment is not ultra new or ultra modern, but it's ok. The floor is made of wooden parquet, so no more carpet dust (((: We have a really nice view of the nextdoor neighbour's mansion. Their house is about the same size as our apartment block.

My room is still full of unpacked boxes. I don't know where I would put all the contents. I bought a bookshelf from IKEA and I managed to put it together all by myself. I'm quite proud of myself.

I haven't really seen my human neighbours from our block. But there are lots of fat pigeons flying and sitting about. A few mynahs, a few crows. Yesterday I saw a black rabbit in the front yard. It looked at me suspiciously, but since I didn't try to come closer, it continued grazing. I saw it again this morning. It's probably a resident.

Pindah (lagi)

We've just moved again. This time to a neighboring suburb of Ashfield. Just me, and my two nieces. Seems like it was just yesterday that they perched on a special seat on my bike and I took them to school. Now they are sharing the rent with me. Yona sometimes picked me up from the station. I guess the role has reversed.

We moved with the help of two big guys from the removalist. We had to help them because they were paid by the hour. So there we were, carrying boxes after boxes. (Mine was labelled Maya's Junk, Maya's More Junk, etc.) It was drizzling too. We finished moving everything in half an hour.

Another Grumpy Old Woman

A couple of days ago I went to the mall to buy some food supplies. Soon my hands and shoulders were occupied with shopping bags. I could hardly walk. After re-fueling with a huge plate of noodle, I headed for the ladies. My mind was wandering above and beyond my head, as usual, and I ended up in an unfamiliar place. I looked around and saw a long room full of males of all ages. It was the gents'!

Thanks to my short hair, jeans and boyish looks nobody seemed to notice that there was an 'alien' amongst them. I beamed myself out from there as fast as I could and rematerialized safely in the ladies', where I looked into the mirror and cursed myself.

After a few seconds, I forgave myself. That was when I realized that I am now more tolerant to my own faults and stupidities. I cherish my peculiar and not so peculiar tastes and habits. Sadly, my tolerance for other people have gone in the opposite direction.

The smallest things annoy me. Just the other day while I was sitting on the train, a man behind me kept whispering to himself. It wasn't anything offensive. He was just thinking out loud. But his voice grated on my nerves like sandpaper, so I moved to a different seat, far-far away.

Things are not much better at home. Other people's stuff lying on the floor and on the sofa give me a mild headache, while my own stuff are pilling higher and higher on the computer desk. I cringe whenever my bro eats something soupy. The slurp-slurp and smack-smack sounds could be heard loud and clear from the dining room and seem to rise above sounds from the TV. It made me feel rather queasy. I think soups should be banned from the house.

But the worst offenders are obsessive caressers. I hate people who constantly and persistently caress their own hair, or face, or hands, or thighs in public. Why don't you look away? you might ask. Well, I don't care about things I can't see. But these people sometimes sit next to me in public places, and I can see what they are doing even if I don't look. What's wrong with doing what they do? you might also ask. What's wrong with picking your nose in public? I ask back.

The only thing worse than this is seeing people (usually women) who constantly and persistently touch other people (usually the husband or boyfriend). They seemed to have super-glued their hands on the men's head, or back, or shoulders. These guys very often wear a quietly suffering look on their faces, much like Sasha's face (the little dog), when her Mom gives her a bath.

When I went to see Summer Days with Coo, a middle aged couple sat in front of me. As soon as her bottom touched the seat, the woman streched out an arm an started caressing the back of the man's neck and hair. The hand stayed that way for about fifteen minutes without stopping. Didn't she get tired? I got very tired just having to watch. It was like watching the dentist drilled deep into a cavity. I was very relieved when the lights went out and the movie started. At least I couldn't see the hand anymore, even though it was still there. Really, Lady, you're obsessed.

I wonder if this is another sign of ageing. I am now a member of The Grumpy Old Woman Club.

It's Jaaanuaryy!! Two thousand ...EEEIIGT!!!!! *gasp, choke, splutter* Somebody get me a drink!

Happy New Year!!

Holiday

I haven't posted anything for a while. There was simply nothing to write. I tried to remember interesting things from Prmk, but I can't remember much. They just seem meaningless and small.
I've actually got a lot of time in my hands. I've got two weeks off, with nothing much to do and nowhere in particular to go. I'm already fed up with Christmas movies, concerts, Santa (I can't believe the extent of the effort people took to deceive children. It's so wrong.), Rudolf, Jingle Bells and all the commercialism and consumerism (I'm not anti Christmas. It's just getting more and more Hollywood). I'm watching tv, switching channels, trying to dodge Christmas-flavored programs. I've just watched a King Cobra swallow a smaller snake. Next would be the history of the British Monarchy. I'm such a geek.
Since the start of the holidays, I've filled my days with housework, tv, dvd, grocery shopping and craftwork. I am happily domesticated. Some of my handywork were beef stew, smoked trout macaroni cheese bake, burritos, and mie goreng. I've embroidered a couple of sleeves, lengthened a pair of jeans (which I previously made too short), and crocheted a pencil case cover. And I'm running out of ideas.
A few days ago I met somebody at the train station. He commented on my two big bags, and we continued to chat. We took the same train. He told me about his work. He said he would give me more information about his organization if I gave him my email address. He got off at Central. A few days later I got an email. Just a friendly one, not about the organization. I didn't reply. On Christmas Day, I sent him a greeting. A few minutes later I got a reply, asking to meet up. That freaked me out. This may be a trivial and ordinary occassion for other people. Not for me. I deleted the email and hope that that would be the end of it.
Since I arrived here I've been hit on by an Italian (60 y/o), a girl (????????) and a ... well, he was quite an ordinary guy (who could also be a psycho, for all I know). Is that an improvement?
The History of the British Monarchy has just ended. Now I know who Oliver Cromwell is. I learned a new word too 'regicide'. What important new knowledge (I'm being sarcastic here, ok).

Summer Days with Coo

Director : Keiichi Hara Producer : Yoshihiro Iwasaki Original Story : Masao Kogure, Yuichi Watanabe Screenplay : Keiichi Hara Cast : Futo Tomizawa, Naoki Tanaka, Naomi Nishida, Kenichi Nagira


Nice movie.

Another person I remember was also a teacher unionist. (What is it with these rebels?) He was about my age. Smiled a lot. At first I thought, " Politician's smile." But after a while I could tell whice ones are genuine (w/ friends) and which ones are political (when dealling w/ management). I didn't know him very well, but he was just nice and friendly, so I thought he was an OK kind of guy. He sometimes visited us at the Materials Department (I worked there for a while). One day he told us he was going to Spain. I collected coins, so I asked him if he could set aside some coins from Spain for me. I didn't expect him to care enough to remember, so I was surprised that he did. That was nice of him, I thought.
Then one day we heard that he was ill and was hospitalized. We went to visit him. I brought a Kahlil Gibran book to cheer him up. It must have been really boring to be in bed for days and days. He couldn't get out of bed, but he was his own cheerful self. He said the doctor didn't know what was wrong with him, but they had heard of similar cases and would try a series of treatment. He was so positive that I felt sure he was going to get through it and would walk and work again. We didn't hear from him again for more than a year. Then there was a formal news that he had passed away. He was so young. It was really sad. I couldn't help thinking that the doctor might have misdiagnosed his illness. The medical system had failed him. I just hope that he was finally free from his pain and suffering, and he is now walking about and in peace on the other side.

Every end-of-term, the staff gathered at the hall for class assignment. Normally, this included nice food and some kind of entertainment. At one particular class assignment, some of the teachers did a music gig for us. Somebody gave flowers to one of the singers. There was a huge applause. Then another singer came up. He sang a love song, but I don't remember what song. He kept looking at my direction and I began to feel warm around the collar. What's going on? I thought. We were just friends. I had never been serenaded like that. How flattering... Didn't last long, though. I turned around to find a beautiful, hot, new teacher. Hahaha! *blush* *blush* A bit disappointed, but relieved too.

I don't really know why I still remember this. One afternoon in the teacher's room, sitting near the corner with two friends, chatting about nothing. I mostly just listened to the jokes and smiled at appropriate times. One friend was singing STYX's Babe (I don't know why he did this). The other friend looked really happy and relaxed. That's what I remember most. He was happy. His eyes sparkled whenever he laughed. A few months later this friend got into trouble with the school management because of his activities as a teacher unionist. There were heated arguments. He resigned. I never saw him or heard about him again. But I remember that afternoon in the teacher's room, and thinking 'What a nice day. What a friendly, happy guy.'

Another interesting character was a gentleman in his fifties. He was actually very trim and very fit for his age. And he liked to show this off by wearing a very tight-fitting safari suit (looked like something from the 70s). With slick black hair and the outfit, he could've been young Elvis (even though he wasn't young). We used to have a giggle about him because whenever he dyed his hair, the dye would mix with his hair cream and would smudge his forehead, near the hairline. He didn't seem to care one bit.
Recently I've started to dye my hair too, to cover the greys. One day I found brown streaks in a white shirt collar. And I thought, Gosh! I haven't changed my hairstyle in about a decade, and I've got hair dye where it shouldn't be. Look who's laughing now.

Interesting Characters

There was a big dining table in the pantry of LIA Prm. It was big enough for about fourteen people. Funny thing, to see the seat at the head of the table empty, or used by one person only. It was as if it had a 'Reserved' sign on it. This was a favorite seat of one of the teachers. She was middle aged, a bit heavy, always wore a skirt/dress, hair streaked with gray, always in a coiffure. Not a stylish coiffure, but a simple round bun near the top of her head. I don't know how long she had taught. Judging from the way other staff treated her, probably from the beginning of the previous century. Maybe it was because of the stern look on her face. Maybe because she always spoke her mind (with thundreous, booming voice). Whatever it was, everybody was always very careful when talking to her. And we usually kept the 'throne' empty, just in case she came around to the pantry and would like to sit there. Some years ago I read a newspaper article about her. I don't remember exactly, but I think she was awarded a very prestigeous degree in Indonesian Literature or something like that.

Sasha's Footwear Fetish

o

Boots, fuzzy slippers, thongs, ballerina flats, sandals, dirty socks, sock covered toes ... Gimme gimme ... gimme... mooooore... (Britney's song).

Nice Quote

From Paulo Coelho's The Zahir:

"And suddenly, ... , I realise something very important: the cathedral is me, it is all of us. We are all growing and changing shape, we notice certain weakness that need to be corrected, we don't always choose the best solution, but we carry on regardless, trying to remain upright and decent, in order to do honour not to the walls or doors or the windows, but to the empty space inside, the space where we worship and venerate what is dearest and most important to us."

Of course, not everybody was that nice. On the last day of the training program I had an unpleasant experience.
It had been a looong and stressful day. Interviews, orientation, class assignment and other shit. When they were done with us, I felt like my brain had been fried. I asked if I could go home, but was told to wait for the DOS to dismiss us. I asked the secretary if I could see the DOS, but she said the DOS was with a guest. So I waited, and waited, and waited. It only took less than a minute to ask for permission to go, right? What if I just knock on the door, pop in, ask, and get the hell out of there? Sounded logical to me. So I knocked, popped in, and ... the DOS (who knew who I was) looked at me briefly and continued talking to her company (the vise DOS). I was completely ignored, like a gecko on the wall. That was when I realized I had made a boo boo. I didn't know if I should stay or go. I was stuck at the door. That was one of the longest 30 seconds of my life. The vise DOS took pity on me and asked me what I came in for. I told her. She said yes, I could go home. I left, feeling totally humiliated. I wished I hadn't bothered asking. Idiot!!
That was my first taste of power display.

Clueless

When I first started to teach at LIA, a colleage commented that I seemed very confident and comfortable in the new surrounding. The teacher's room could indeed be intimidating to a rookie like me. It was huge! It could easily accomodate 50 teachers, with room to spare. The teachers ranges from youngish (20 something) to oldish (70 something). It wasn't always a friendly place for rookies.
Actually, I wasn't confident at all. I was just clueless most of the time, unaware of who is who and how I should behave towards whom. I was a bit of a social retard in that sense. To me everybody was created as equals. I just tried to be polite and friendly towards everyone.
In fact, my first boo boo happened even before I became a teacher. When I was still a student at LIA, break time meant a visit to the loo. It was usually not very clean, and always very crowded. So I was very happy to find a loo that was much cleaner, and much less crowded than the others. Sometimes there were teachers there too. It took me months to realize that it WAS the teachers' loo! Interestingly, none of the teachers ever told me to scram and use the students' toilets. Very nice people, those ladies.

A couple of months after my surgery in May, my stomach was slowly getting back to its normal, temperamental self. Too slowly, because one morning I looked down the toilet and found a pool of blood. Not a very nice way to start the day. The same thing happened the next day, and the next, stopped, and then started again. After a week of this, I went to see a GP. She had a quick look and said, "Too much codeine (pain killer)." She prescribed an ointment, told me to sit in a bucket of warm salty water twice a day, and drink a kind of fibre drink. I followed her advice and in a couple of days the pool of blood was no more. I was very happy. I wanted to tell all my friends the benefit of this fibre drink. I drank it religiously, twice a day, everyday. I even gained a few kilos, something that hadn't happen for almost a decade. Then I noticed that I also passed gas more often, but I didn't relate it to the fibre drink. I thought it was because of the unhealthy garbage that I normally ate. Anyway, it wasn't that bad...well, until it got really..ehm.. bad.
I went to a record store with a friend. I was a few meters away from her. Safe distance, I thought. Unfortunately, the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. It hit us both, hard. My friend didn't say anything, but I was really embarassed. I still didn't relate it to the fibre drink. So I continued drinking, and passing wind.
During my trip to Canberra, we went to a nursery. Just before getting back into the car, I felt the wind struggling to come out. I thought if I let it out before getting in, it would stay out. I was wrong again. The evil smelling gas followed me into the car. We had to open the windows. It was horrible.
When we got back, I went to the computer and Googled 'flatulence'. And there it was, the answer to my embarassing condition. When a person suddenly consumes a high quantity of fibre, the stomach goes to hyperdrive, and the side effect is gas, lots of gas. Fibre is supposed to be intruduced slowly, and gradually. Great! Somebody forgot to write that on the back of the package.
So I cut down on the drink, and the stink bombs was reduced significantly. I haven't gassed any of my friends since.

Regret

One of my biggest regrets at work: When I was a supervisor, I was asked by H& R - through my boss - to video tape some of our classes. The purpose was for trainee teachers to be able to look at and discuss the different ways of teaching. It sounded like a good idea, right? So who would be the lucky teachers? We decided to draw a lot. Then an idea came to take the videotaping more 'beneficial'. Why not tape some 'good' teaching and some 'bad' teaching?
I nominated my teachers, including the 'bad' one. I went as far as asking his permission to tape his class, without mentioning the good and bad issue.
Looking back now, what a mean, insensitive, wise-ass I was. Who was I to judge anybody? What if the coin was turned and I was the 'bad' teacher? And somebody asked to video tape my class so that trainee teachers could learn what not to do?
What IS a bad teacher? Some teachers prepare for hours, others like to think on their feet. Some teachers are quiet and reserved, others are funny and boisterous. My teacher prepared his lessons. He didn't treat students like shit. He didn't abuse or harass anybody. And I was out to humiliate him. In fact, I was so insensitive I didn't think about the effect on him. Horrible.
Good thing the teacher was smart enough to smell the rat. He didn't give me permission to carry out my stupid mission.

Floriade

Nothing special happened in Canberra. We drove a lot. Got lost a lot. Saw several dead kangaroos by the roadside. Sample foods at cafes and stalls. It was fun. That's it.


The Floriade this year? It was OK. A bit sad, because of the drought. The tulips were not as happy as two years ago. Many plants were in much need of water.

Collector

Went to Canberra a few weeks ago. About halfway to Canberra we almost ran out of gas. We drove for miles without air conditioner. The tank was very close to empty when we saw a sign for a gas station. We made a U-turn and turned into a small town called Collector. Population 150, according to the signboard.
The gas station was next to a small diner plus information centre plus public toilet.

I checked out the surrounding while my friend filled the car's tank. A few meters from the diner there was a quiet, green meadow. A cockatoo flew by the green trees but I didn't have time to take photo of it. There was also a small stone monument with Lest We Forget written on it and the names of soldiers who died in war. Very well placed, I think. It's been a long time since I visited a place that invoked such feelings of peace and tranquility.

My First Students

My first student was a mistake. I went all the way to Pasar Baru, found the posh house, and met my student. She was a uni student. I thought I was going to teach her English. She thought I was going to teach her Accounting. COST @#$*@ ACCOUNTING!!. I told her that that was not my area of expertise and that she was probably better than I was in Accounting. I went home and called the agency and asked them to assign somebody else.
My first real student was young Taiwanese girl. She went to an international Kindy. She was as chatty as chatty could be. She spoke Mandarin, Indonesian, and a little Javanese (from the maid). When mommy was not around she ordered the maid around like a princess. Most of the time she taught me songs from her Sesame Street Book. We played with her Barbie dolls a lot. Mommy said that her pronunciation improved a lot after I tutored her, so I was quite happy about that.
My second student was an elementary school Korean boy. I was supposed to help him with his homework. He wasn't interested in doing homework. He usually drew comic strips throughout the lessons and then told me the story, in broken Indonesian. I'm sure he improved a lot in speaking ... Indonesian.
My third student was a bit older than the others. Since didn't ask me to play with his toys or read his comics, it was much easier to teach him.
All three of them lived quite near from my house (+/- 30 minutes) by bike. Yep, I rode my bicycle to their homes. (I didn't learn to ride a bicycle until I was a uni student. But that was another story.) The job kept my quite fit.

Reading an old friend's blog brought back a lot of memories. Nine years of my life I spent in LIA. I've got a truckload of memories.
This was how it started: When I was a kid, the future had always looked bleak, with my father being ill and me caught up in growing pains and all. Then my father died. Then I finished high school. I wanted to study English. That's one thing I knew I was good at. But I didn't know what kind of job I could do if I chose English. I didn't want to be a school teacher. My own experiences at school kind of turned me off teaching. My brothers and sister were already working. They would pay my uni tuition. So I thought the sensible and responsible thing would be to choose Accounting as my major, even though I couldn't put two and two together without a calculator (I still can't).
I spent four and a half years studying something that I had no interest in. I actually did okay. I got some A's and B's here and there. I got a job as a finance staff (3 months) an accounting staff (3 days). I hated those jobs. I was a disaster at work. Then for months I was jobless, while my friends from uni had started building careers and making money. I felt like a total loser.
One day I read an ad in the newspaper. Private Tutors Wanted. I gave it a go. I went to the agency's 'office'. It was far, far away in old Jakarta, which I had never been to before. It wasn't much of an office at all. Just an old, dark, dingy place on the second floor of a house. There was an old, roughly made table and several long wooden benches. There was one lonely yellow light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There we were, a bunch of teacher hopefuls, getting a briefing while somebody was cooking and minding the kids downstairs. A few days later I received my first assignment. I got paid around Rp 10.000,- per visit (around Aus $1 and 20 cents). On one hand, the pay made me feel like a loser still. On the other hand, I was very happy to get a job, any job, after months of being unemployed.

Little Monsters

My friend from work's story: When she was little she used to have a competition with her younger sister. They dipped their heads in a bucket of water to see who could hold their breath the longest. One time the little sister came very close to breaking their all time record, so my friend 'helped' by holding down the sister's head in the water. The little sister flailed her arms wildly and desperately while my friend 'encouraged' her to 'hang in there' a bit longer. Don't worry, the little sister survived. She's alive and is doing very well.
When I heard that story, I wondered why I never did anything like that. I was a little angel compared to my friend. Then I remembered an incident involving a very unfortunate grasshopper. When I was about seven or eight, Mom bought me a kitchen set. There were tiny pots and pans and they were made of tin so I could really cook something in them! So I arranged some bricks and lighted a candle in the middle as a stove. Then I put a pot on and filled it with water, leaves and some flowers. I'm going to make a lovely soup, I thought. But a soup is not complete without meat. So I caught a fat grasshopper from the backyard, shoved it in the pot and closed the lid. After a few minutes, I opened the lid. I didn't know what I expected to see, but what I saw was a very dead grass hopper, bobbing up and down grotesquely in the boiling water. My stomach turned and I suddenly realized what a horrible death I had given the poor insect. I don't remember what I did to it next. I really hope I gave it a proper burial. If you think kids are angels, think again.

Pronunciation Lesson 2

Last night we talked about electronics in the classroom. My students told me about the famous brands in Korea. When it comes to LG, they told me that it means 'gold star' or something that sounds very much like a rude word. I knew that they couldn't possibly mean that word and it was probably something else mispronounced. I rummaged through my brain frantically, trying to guess what the word was.
"Gold business?" was my first guess.
"No, no. Gold star. Penis."
"Yes. Penis." another student confirmed.
I think I blushed a bit. I began to panic. Then suddenly Ping! 'Venus' They were saying @#*% 'Venus'! I secretly heaved a big sigh of relief. I thought to myself, OK, guys. We've got a lot of work to do. More pronunciation lessons coming up next week.

Pronunciation Lesson 1

People who go abroad sometimes find that the locals can't pronounce, let alone remember, their names. This happens to my students here. Hyo Bin, Se Min, Hye Young, Chan Uk, and Siu Yin sound all the same to non-Asian locals. Some students persevere and keep their names. Others caved in to the pressure and adopt a western name for themselves. Sometimes the new name is a translation of the original name, other times its a soundalike. Thus Se Min becomes Simon, Sun Mee becomes Sunny, Chan Uk becomes Charles, and so on.
One day a new student came to me and said, "I've got an English name now. It's Leo."
"Oh, you do? Leo is a nice name."
"Thank you. It means 'liver' in Spanish. My Korean name means 'liver'."
I was a bit confused at this point (ngga mudeng). Leo means 'liver' in Spanish? Korean parents name their children 'liver'? Why on earth do they do that?? But all I said was, " OK, I'll write it down on the attendance list."
I wrote down the name and showed it to him to check the spelling. It turned out that his new name was 'Rio' and that indeed means 'river' in Spanish. (Aaah.., I see, I see... (Baru mudeng.) We have a problem with 'l' and 'r' nih.) When the words come within a context, it is easier guess the meaning than when they are not.
So the week after that we did some pronunciation practices. When it came to 'l' and 'r' I showed off with Ular melingkar di pagar Pak Umar. The oohs and wows from my students showed how impressed they were. Those who know me know that my Indo 'r' is pathetically embarassing, but my students didn't know that (:

Korean Fest

Seeing Double

I usually have my haircut at KYS hair salon. The price is ok and the hairdressers never tried to yank my hair off or scrape my scalp away (like some hairdressers did in other salons). There is one branch in the City and one near my home, so it's pretty convenient too. Last month I went to the City branch. I was greeted by a familiar face, by the owner didn't seem to recognize me. So I asked, "Don't you usually work at Burwood (branch)?"
"No, that's my twin," she said.
They looked exactly the same. Same hairstyle, same dress style, same face. Same occupation, same work place!

Spring

My azaleas and little pink flowers with black-berries.

Drummoyne Walk

To celebrate the coming of spring, we went for a walk along the coastline. I found this beautiful, strange tree. And these beautiful strange flowers.

Sasha came along as usual.

After a while, it got too hot for her and she refused to walk. Then the sun disappeared and she got all energetic and ran and jumped at all the joggers we passed.

Junkies

A few months ago, during break time, at the college…
One of my classmates suddenly beckoned me to look out the window towards the quiet alley below. At first it looked like three friends, a young woman and two guys, were having lunch at somebody’s doorstep. After a while, I realized that it wasn't lunch. The girl took out a black elastic band and tied her arm with it, just above the elbow. One of the guys held a spoon over a lighted candle. The girl took out a syringe from a plastic box and started filling it with the thing on the spoon. Then she casually injected herself with it. The owner of the house seemed to hear something suspicious and he went out to check. The three junkies grabbed their ‘equipments’ and ran away like spooked chickens. I’ve seen things like this on TV, but to see it live was really freaky.

Lucky Escape

I was standing with a mob of people by the side of a busy intersection, waiting for the walking light to turn green. The light changed for the intersecting road to our left. The lady in front of me apparently believed that it was for our road and she confidently stepped forward. A stranger grabbed her arm and pulled her back, just as a bus zoomed by, missing her face by an inch.

The woman’s lucky escape reminded me again of how fragile, tiny, and insignificant life can be. One stupid, absent-minded step and BAM! Goodbye life, goodbye family and friends, goodbye world. Who knows when and how we will go? Take it easy and take care, friends. Keep safe!

Mad about avocadoes

One of my favorite treats. A colleague saw me sipping one during break time. ‘What is that?’ Avocado, with milk and chocolate. Everybody went, ‘Whattt???? Avocado milkshake???? How could you drink that??’

Hey, it's not bad at all. Ok, ok, so it doesn’t look pretty. But it tastes great, really. I convinced one of them to make some at home and try it ((((:

A Japanese friend spread avocado (like butter) on a piece of bread and sprinkled some sushi soy sauce on it. I did the same at home, and my folk thought it was crazy. But they're used to seeing me trying out alien food combination. (I think I've passed that on to one of my nephews. He likes cookies with his rice dish.)

If you read this, feel free to experiment. Let me know if you like either one, or both, or neither.

Avocado Milkshake

1 ripe avocado
1 glass of cold milk
1 tablespoon Milo OR
1 teaspoon cocoa powder
sugar

Put all ingredients into the blender and turn the blender on for half a minute. Pour into two glasses. Serve with vanilla ice cream on top (optional).

Botanical Garden

It was a warm day, so I thought it was a good idea to check out what's blooming in the Botanical Garden. Here are some of the best shots.

Late Winter BBQ

We had a BBQ for Wawa's birthday. Winter was almost over, but by 5 everybody's anxious to get back in the warmth of the car (((((: We didn't even cook the marinated chicken.

My Plants

The Black Prince (menurut labelnya).
A Gift from a freind.
Beli di pasar.

I thought about my father this afternoon. I suddenly realized that I don’t know much about him at all. He passed away when I was around fifteen, I think. Before that he was sick most of the time. I remember him walking me to school – before he fell ill - probably when I was in Grade 1 or 2. I remember his cigarettes – 555. I remember that he had thick hair, and that sometimes he dyed it black. He liked white, short-sleeved shirts. He never wore black because it was the colour of mourning. Even now, whenever I choose a shirt, black is out of the question. My father had dentures. He told me that it was because of an evil watermelon seed. From then on, I meticulously dug the seeds out of my watermelon before biting into it.
Once there was a big portrait of grandpa, I don’t remember where. So I asked what grandpa was like. He said grandpa was a huge man, and when father was small he would sit on grandpa’s lap. I asked him what his childhood was like. He said he used to wade a small river to get to school. And after school he would explore the backyard (somehow I imagined a railway). Sometimes he caught cockroaches, roasted it (I imagined a small twig as the skewer) and ate it (Eeuw…)

He had stroke, three times. During each and every episode, he fought valiantly. As soon as he was able to, he would crawl out of bed and moved around the house. Family and friends helped him learn to walk again. He exercised religiously. It was a losing battle, though. In the end, there wasn’t much left of my father. He couldn’t get out of bed at all. He couldn’t speak clearly. What he did say didn’t make much sense. He didn’t recognize any of us. Despite it all, his eyes were never dim. They always shone, sometimes a bit wildly. When at last the light dimmed, Mom knew that the end was near. She called all of us to sit around the bed. We all prayed. My father closed his eyes. His breath became fainter and fainter. Then it stopped. Now what I remember most about my father is his fighting spirit, his courage and his spirit to live. (This ending sounds like an essay. Yuck. I’ll edit it in the future, maybe.)

At the Food Court

The next Wednesday we met again at the food court. This time we sat closer to the corner. Two guys were sitting next to our table, an elderly man and a younger bloke. But they were not talking to each other. There was anticipation, nervousness. A few more guys joined them. Two of them sat across from one another. Others stood around them, watching. More guys came. By this time the group was a mixture of guys between twenty-something to seventy-something, from various racial backgrounds. They watched the two sitting guys intently, their faces dead serious. There were no pleasantries, no chit-chat. The air was tense. At one point there were shouts and exclamations, in many languages. Then everybody moved, very quickly (including the seventy-somethings). They stood up, barked a few words at each other, changed seats, and banged things on the table. All these in a few seconds, and then all was quiet again.

At around five-thirty I had to leave my friends to go to work. I stood up and had a better look at the group and wondered "How could playing chess be so damn intense???"

One Winter Afternoon

I had just found a seat on the train, wiggled into a comfortable position and was preparing to daydream all the way to the city. Then I heard some familiar sounds from the seat behind me:

Man: Ashpil (Asfield) … Masih jauh, Dek. Hombus (Homebush) sih… rada jauh dari City.
Woman: Iye, Koh. Kagak pa-pa. Sambil liat liat. Disini beda ama di Pet(Perth) ya? Kagak banyak poon.
Man: Iye. Liat aja. Poon-poonnya pada mati. Apalagi kalo dibanding ama Indo. Poon mangga, poon pete, poon durian… Banyaaaaaak…
Woman: Kenape ya?
Man: Pemerentah sini, sih… Kagak ngasi bawa tanaman dari luar. Goblok! Bla..bla..bla…

Bajuri and Oneng di Sydney???? ((((((((: How I miss home…

Note: Oz Govt is super strict about plant and animal quarantine. They are afraid that the new comers would wipe out the indiginous plants and animals.

Next Days at Hospital

The stomach is indeed not very smart. It was the last part of the body to wake up after a drug-induced sleep. I threw up most of the things I ate on the second day. The nurses gave me anti-vomit pills to take with the painkillers. They also gave me several kinds of laxatives. I normally love food, but even a whiff of food made me sick. This must be what it feels like when you're pregnant. Very sad. In the meantime, the bruises and swelling began. After fighting the pain for hours I gave up. That night I put on my most pathetic face and asked for morphine. The nice nurse who smelled like Body Shop’s White Musk injected some into my stomach. It worked wonderfully and I slept comfortably through the night.

There was no drama after that. I learned to raid the pantry for Arnotts biscuit to eat with my pain killers. It kept me from throwing up. The next night nurse was a young Asian guy. He looked a bit like Tuo Ming Se, with Hwa Ce Lei’s haircut. I guessed that he was from Thailand or the Phillipines. When I saw him I immediately thought of my dear friends back home who are big fans of F4 and I tried very hard not to grin too widely.

Days began to pass more quickly. I couldn’t wait to get the drain off. The good doctors visited me throughout the weekend. On Monday the nurse announced that the doctors said it was ok to go home. Yeeeiiy!! She would take the drain out soon. Yippie!! (Actually I was also a bit scared of the procedure.) She left and I watched TV absent-mindedly, and trying not to panic. I heard the nurses chatting outside my room.
“Can I watch? I’ve never taken a drain out…”
“Sure.”
When a nurse came half an hour later, I recognized her voice. She was the one who said “I’ve never taken a drain out..” and she came alone… That freaked me out a bit. I asked her where she was from. 'The Phillipines.' I told her she looked like an Indonesian. 'Many people said that.' Then I asked her if she had done this before. She was miffed.
“My dear, I have been a nurse for years!”
Ooops. But my dear, I heard what you said, with my own ears. What were you talking about, then?
“I’ll just cut the stitches here (snip) and here (snip)… Now take a deep breath. I will count to three and then I will pull it out.”
“I don’t like the sound of that…”
“I’ll give you some pain killers later if you need it.”
“OK. I’m ready.”
“One, two, three …” the tube came out, then the absorbent tape. It looked like a big, fat fettuccine. And about that long, too.
“Wow, that’s long …”
“I’ll put a bandage over it. Place your hand here … Yes. And put some pressure on it for five minutes. OK?”
Big sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Waking Up

I couldn’t remember where I was when I first regain consciousness after the surgery. I’ve got an oxygen tube up my nose, an IV tube needle in my left forearm and a draining tube under my right arm. Despite all that, I felt quite comfortable. Must be the morphine that they pumped into me through the IV. It was very difficult to wake up. It felt like pushing a truck uphill. I kept drifting back to sleep, but I fought it. I know I had to wake up to prove that the anesthetic didn’t damage my brain.

It’s funny how people have the most irrational fears. Mine was of peeing into a bed pan. You can’t stand up a few hours immediately after a surgery so if you need to pee, you’ll have to do it in bed. The nurse would put a pan under your bottom and you’ll have to do it on your back like a roast turkey on a plate. I had to do it last year. It was one of the most humiliating experiences that I’ve ever had. So this time around, I prayed that I wouldn’t have to repeat it. It was mid afternoon when I first came to. I had a sip of drink, listened to the nurse while she checked my vital signs, and talked to my sis a bit. Then I went straight to sleep again.

It was hard to wake up, but it was impossible to really sleep. How strange… A part of my brain kept waking me up right before I really fell asleep. It’s another one of my irrational fears. My brain was subconsciously warning me that if I fell into deep sleep, I would never wake up again.

When I woke up again it was past midnight. I calculated the hours. Yep, the nurse might just let me get up and go to the bathroom by myself. I rang for the nurse. She said it’s ok and helped me up. She arranged all my tubes so I wouldn’t trip on them or pull them out by accident. I leaned on the IV pole and pushed it along to the bathroom. I peed in the bathroom. Strangely, I felt very proud of myself.

ME Day - Part Deux

I went outside into the bright sunny day. It was still two thirty. Too early to go home. A cake would be nice. I bought a slice of chocolate mud cake from Mitchel’s. A girl was giving away bottled tea near the station so I took one. I found a seat at the courtyard of St. Andrews cathedral and munched slowly. The cake was really, really sweet. It made me crave for something savoury. My eyes caught KFC across the street. Nooo… Bad food… I wasn’t even hungry. But then again, what the heck. It’s not like I have better things to do.

I went to KFC. The Indian girl who served me was very rude. I was quite annoyed. I finished my food and left as much garbage as I could as a tribute to the Gringe behind the counter. My ME Day had turned out to be rather disappointing.

As I left I suddenly remember that I had to buy some cartons for my lesson plan at the childcare center the next day. I headed for Dymocks. There were some homeless people in the streets. One was selling magazines, another was sitting across the street on a wooden crate. A piece of paper was stuck on a board in front of her, explaining who she was and what had happened to her. Another was a haggard looking bearded guy who was sitting with his back against the wall of a mega shop. I know it would be freezing at night so I felt sorry for those guys. I hoped they had a good place to shelter from the cold.

A man in a suit passed by and gave the old lady a five dollar note. Good on you, mate.

On my way home from Dymocks I passed those homeless folks again. I felt bad because just like the millions of people rushing around me, I didn’t help. I took some money from my coin purse. I know that if I bought a magazine from that guy, half would go to his pocket as his share of the sale. It wasn’t much, but at least I’m trying.
I smiled as I approached him. I took a magazine and was about to pay.

These AREN’T FREE, you know?! He snarled.

I gasped and showed him the money. He was so embarrassed. So was I. People were staring at us. He quickly apologized and gave me a lengthy explanation about his back. He had arthritis and only had two hours of sleep the night before. I assured him it was alright, paid him, and wished his back would get better. I walked away quickly and didn’t turn back. Even when I heard him cursing himself IDIOT! loudly.

NOW I’ve really had enough. I was desperate to come home. Before I reached the ticket gate at Town Hall I burst into tears. I retreated into a quiet corner and faced the wall and cried like an idiot. I stopped long enough to go through the gate and find my platform and sobbed again. I buried my face in tissue so people couldn’t see. Not that anybody cared. Only one middle aged guy looked long enough to show that he noticed I was upset. But that wasn't important. What's important is that I could finally cry. The anger, sadness, anxiety, fear, and helplessness that had been poisoning my system for days were slowly melted and were flushed away by the tears.

I cried a little bit more on the train, then felt calm and at peace with the world and with my health condition.
I never read that magazine. I put it in the Dymocks’ plastic bag and never took it out. Today it is still somewhere in the magazine stack.

ME Day - Part One

It was Thursday. On the same day next week, I’d be at the hospital, having my surgery. I felt depressed. Usually when I’m upset or depressed I just need a good cry and then I would feel all better. So far I had been depressed for days and weeks but the tears just wouldn't come. I had a lot of negative feelings inside – fear, anxiety, sadness, helplessness. I was desperate to get rid of them.

That day was my last day to be alone and to get away from school, work, everything. I decided to skip school and go to one of my favorite places in the world – Sydney Aquarium. Something about the sea creatures swimming gracefully in the gigantic tanks is so relaxing. It usually cheers me up.

I had an easy morning. No rush to do anything at all. To day is ME Day and I’m going to take my own sweet time. After lunch I took a train to Town Hall and walked to Darling Harbour. It was a nice sunny day in late autumn. I bought a ticket and walked inside the darkened halls. I revisited all my favorite sea creatures and some new ones. The seals were wonderful. I touched a baby Port Jackson shark. The skin felt rough, like sandpaper.

The underwater tunnel was crowded and noisy. I waited until the noisy group moved on then I walked slowly through the tunnel, and on to a glass room. It’s a fairytale world. The walls, ceiling and even floor were made from glass. It was dark and cool and nobody else was there. I sat down on the glass floor, put my face as close to the glass wall as possible, and watched the rays and sharks swimming like space ships around me. The UFO music in the background helped create the out-of-worldly atmosphere. I was miles away from the real world.

The wail of my cell-phone (Come On, Eileen) beamed me back to Earth.

Hello?
Hello. My name is …(not clear)…… MEGT. …….(not clear)…
(Somebody from my school? One of the managers? Wanting to talk to me about
my three week leave? Let me make sure …)
Mmmm. Sorry, who would you like to talk to again?
I’m looking for …(my name)…
Oh, this is her.
Good. Is this a bad time?
(Very bad. It’s my ME Day. Could you hear the UFO music in the background?)
No, that’s alright.
Right, Irish told me that bla..bla..bla…
Yes, I’m going to have a surgery next week, on May 31. The doctor said five to eight days at the hospital and then some rest at home. I’ll have the surgery here at … (Damn! I can’t remember the name of the hospital. Prince? Wales?) … at the New South Wales Private Hospital (or something like that). That (name) doesn’t sound right, does it?
That (situation) ‘s OK. Just make sure to bring a certificate from your doctor .. bla..bla..bla..
Thank you. Bye..

The glass room lost its magic. I moved on. Past the reefs there was a big glass wall that looked like a movie screen. I sat down on the steps in front of the glass screen. People posed in front of it and have their pictures taken. When they left it was quiet again and I could feel a tiny itsy-bitsy tears creeping down from the corner of my eye.

Excuse me, could you help me take a photo? A nice young woman asked pleasantly. She looked like a student. Maybe from another state.
Sure. (sniff…sniff..)
Just press here.
Here? (sniff..)
Yes. Thanks.
BLITZ.
Here you go. It that (photo) alright?
Yes. Thank you very much.
Your welcome (sniff).

I blew my nose. It’s time to get out of there.