A Much Needed Update

Well, I always said from the beginning that this wouldn't be a daily thing. Though I so wish I had the patience and discipline to sit down each day and write about the experiences I've had. Every day is truly an adventure here - and I've never been so excited for the next day to come.

 I haven't travelled much yet - except for a recent weekend to Sydney with a group of friends, but the overcast weather and general exhaustion after the long trip meant we didn't get to see too much. Though we did end up sitting in the botanical gardens overlooking the Sydney Opera House for a couple hours which was truly beautiful. I've just booked myself on a trip to Alice Springs over Easter; the travel agents were adding far too much commission and I figured I could sort it out myself. I was right. But I did end up messing up on the fully booked train ticket... meaning I'm now due to take a 28 hour bus across the outback... but minor details.

I spend most of my time running late - there never seems to be enough hours in the day, but I'm especially struggling to fit in my friends and family from back home. I love speaking to them - although I do tend to get large spouts of home-sickness each time - but definitely don't contact them as much as I should. I've always been bad at replying to messages - I'm pretty much known for it. But when I'm not running across the mozzie-infested campus for my latest class, or in the gym training for a half marathon, or at the beach learning to surf... or writing my assignments (slightly off time), creating stories (I have yet to complete one) or starting this 'weekly' blog (hello post #4), there literally seems to be no time left to call home.

I'm not as home sick as I thought I would be, perhaps it's because I'm always on the move and I'm so intrigued by the small differences between here and home. Like... the 'green man' on the crossing makes a sound like a squirrel in an electric fence when he appears. (I know that sounds random, but it was my first thought when I heard it in Melbourne and the image has stayed with me ever since). Or how some phrases just don't translate (blagging, on my bill, hoover). Or everyone starting to wear jumpers for 'winter' whilst I'm still running along in a t-shirt and shorts. Or the size of Australia. (That one still gets me. It's so hard to contemplate how big the country is. The UK could fit in New South Wales.. and that's just a state. I vaguely mentioned that I was thinking of driving to Perth over Easter and everyone gave me the weirdest looks... turns out it's a 9 hour flight!

I also feel like I've lost my accent, though everyone assures me I haven't, as I can't hear anyone else's accents anymore. To put it simply, I've entirely adapted to life in Australia. I swear I'll do a proper blog post soon with happenings, feelings, culture shock - the whole shebang. But I've been volunteering at the Newcastle Writing Festival over the weekend so have been getting up extremely early every morning (and have also gone out every night) so I'm completely exhausted right now!

Keira :)

Bangkok

26th-28th January 2014

We were picked up from the airport by a chauffer service organised through the hotel.

[Now, before I continue, I should probably explain that I’m not starting my journey as a typical backpacker (though I most certainly will be continuing my trip as one!). My parents suddenly expressed a desire to visit Australia soon after I got my confirmation that I was study at the University of Newcastle, and ‘coincidently’ booked their flights for same month I was travelling out.

Although we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye with their travel plans, it eventually made sense to travel together as they had a larger baggage allowance in business class than me in economy, and I could, therefore, take an extra bag. Unfortunately, for my dad, this decision came shortly after they’d been booked into several luxury hotels on the way to Australia. Well, you’ve got to make the most of an opportunity. ;) ]

I remember in sociology lessons at school, my teacher mentioned how countries like Japan have a ‘community focus’ – to graffiti a public wall would be the same as peeing in your living room, and it is seen as an outrageous act. On several occasions I wondered if the same lifestyle belief was held in Thailand; at no point did I see any graffiti, children as young as five or six walked down the streets by themselves, and everyone welcomed each other with the same respectful bow.

Unfortunately, however, I wasn’t able to further explore my theory as a ‘State of Emergency’ had been declared in Bangkok a few days before our arrival. This restricted our ability to explore, and letters left in the hotel listed a host of tourist spots that we were strongly recommended to avoid. This meant that we couldn’t visit any of the markets or explore much of the local area. The closest we really got was that on one occasion the hotel minibus had to drop off another couple at their hotel inside the barriered area. A bloke in a balaclava and holding a gun allowed the taxi through the barricade, but to get out the driver had to cross over the raised platform between the two roads, and drive between the stones and trees to continue out of the zone. Otherwise, it seemed that life continued at it’s normal pace.

Each morning I was surprised by the mist that settled around buidings like the fog in a British winter. It was at such odds to the hot days, and was crazy to visibly see a direct, physical effect of pollution. I can’t understand how these hundreds of thousands of people breath in the poisonous air each day and are, seemingly, healthy. Perhaps it’s something that generations slowly adapt to over time. When I used to volunteer in The Gambia, we were always told to never drink any of the water and to make sure we used the iodine drops in every bit of water used, otherwise we’d get really sick. And, vice versa, when we gave our water to the kids at the school we were volunteering at, I vividly recall a young girl spitting the water straight on the floor whilst the other children ran to empty the liquid so they could keep the bottles. I guess our bodies adapt to our environments – and it’s no good pretending that just because the facilities at home work for us, it doesn’t mean it will work for everyone else.

On our first night we headed to the an outdoor shopping centre, with each shop competing for the oddest displays. For dinner we had the classic noodles and meat, and explored the bustling place. There were lanterns hanging over every street, and a lit up wheel in the background. It was very much how I imagined Bangkok to be – more like how my sister, Jade, had described it when she went travelling in Thailand a couple years ago.

The following day, my parents were eager to go on a tour of the places we were allowed to visit. The group consisted of seven people, and a tour guide who could have been talking about Willy Wonka’s new chocolate factory for all we knew: she had obviously offered the same spiel every day for years of her life, and the boredom seemed to radiate from her. It was like I was back in school, and had long since switched off.

As I predicted in my first post, I’m now writing these blogs roughly three weeks after I was actually in Bangkok and, to my shame, have completely forgotten the names of the places we visited. But I have photos. And descriptions. So I’m afraid that’s going to have to make do!

Our first stop was at a large temple at the top of a MASSIVE flight of stairs. We were told to abandon our shoes on a rack outside, and to walk barefoot into the temple. However, I was stopped before I could enter, as my dress was deemed too short. Luckily, my mum was on hand and whipped out a large shawl to act as a skirt (how are mothers always prepared?!).

A statue of the buddha was in the centre of the room, and smaller statues surrounded it. I managed to make out from our guide that every statue had a position that reflected a day of the week. Depending on the day of your birth, this would be the Buddha you would visit. You would also be told a colour to wear that would suit you. I was born on a Thursday – apparently my colour was Orange.

I admit, however, that my interest was mainly focused on the collection boxes. I had a feeling that if a crack appeared in the temple wall, they’d find a chute just big enough to slide in the crack and have a sign asking for money. It was like how in England, if there’s an artifact that the public aren’t allowed to touch, then a rope or glass box would surround the item to stop people getting near. It was the same hear, but this time the glass boxes weren’t around the statues, but the signs pleading for money. This was a theme that would continue for the entirety of the day.

 

My favourite attempt was in another temple we visited; the ‘Reclining Buddha’. A massive gold-leaf sculpture that stretched bigger than a house. Literally. It’s toe was the size of my arm. The Buddha is properly the main sculpture that has stayed with me – if only for it’s sheer size… and the genius behind the collection boxes. At one size of the Buddha were small black pots that were placed one behind the other. If you wanted to be rewarded in the afterlife, you were to put a coin in EVERY SINGLE POT. Bare in mind that the pots ran the length of the Buddha. The Buddha that was bigger than a house. And there were queues of people dropping coins in every pot: families rummaging through their pockets for that extra coin to put in the last pot – or all there giving to be blessed in the afterlife would have been for naught.

Genius.

You’ve probably noticed that I wasn’t really getting the sense of enlightenment from the Bangkok temples as all these travel blogs claim to have experienced. Part of me relates this to extreme jet-lag. Due to the screaming babies and large Dutch man, I hadn’t slept on the plane. And the time difference had stopped me from sleeping the night before. I hadn’t had more than an hours sleep since two days earlier, and was pretty much dead on my feet.

So there was that. And there was also the unshakable feeling of being out of place. Almost feeling like a fraud. We’d go into shops or restaurants, and the staff would bow their heads and clasp their hands in a sign of respect, and we were supposed to respond in kind. On most occasions I just copied everyone else, but I felt ridiculous each time. Don’t get me wrong: I completely agree with respecting other cultures and wouldn’t dream of purposely offending someone on that basis. But, bowing to each stranger I met just didn’t seem right – almost like I was making a mockery of their customs. I know, I know. Just blame the exhaustion.

What did make me laugh was the visit to the King’s Palace. The group all took off their shoes for the countless time to visit another temple with the same statues inside, with the tour guide retelling her day-of-the-week-positions/colours fact for the also countless time, and I decided I would just wait outside on one of the benches. A couple minutes later I notice that all the people visiting the temple to pray or explore were being pushed aside by the staff. A large group of people walked out of the temple backwards with an older man being supported by three young women. They all, except the man, had their arms stretched out as they backed down the stairs.

My immediate thought was that the older man had collapsed of heat exhaustion, and the staff was there to catch him if he fell. This didn’t turn out to be true. The man was, quite simply, wealthy. He was the owner of some worldwide beer company. Apparently this meant he lost the ability to go down stairs.

People literally flocked around him like they were caught on a revolving wire, and pushed anyone out of their way. I noticed the man hadn’t been told to take off his shoes. Guess he wasn’t being blessed in the afterlife. But then again, he’d properly put a coin in every pot too. All bases covered and all that.

They led him out of the temple and, intrigued, I followed their journey whilst going to stand on the balcony. Below, were hundreds of monks in orange robes digging into (what looked to be) a three-course meal on silver plates and white-covered chairs.

I’d like to add that these were the same monks who had been begging on the streets just hours earlier. A different tour guide, who was waiting for his group to locate and re-wear their shoes, told me that this was a daily occurrence – paid for by the rich man who had now been seated at a chair in the middle of the floor and was taking pictures. His entourage stood a metre behind him.

I asked why the monks begged if they were served on silver plates each day, and the tour guide explained that people treated monks with respect so they were blessed in the next life. There seemed to be a lot of that going around. 

(Amusingly, I also noticed that monks got to skip the queues at the aiport too. I’m not sure why they all wore orange. Perhaps they were all born on Thursdays too.)

At one point I saw a stranger come over to the old man – somehow managing to get through his entourage – and kneel at the old man’s feet. Apparently some people did this in the hope they would be remembered by the wealthy if they ever needed a job. Well, at least that guy was focused on this life.

There’s not much more to say about our two-day stop in Bangkok. The swimming pool at the hotel was FREEZING. It was the kind of cold that made your chest tighten, and you experience the sensation of breathing through a straw. Refreshing apparently. I got talking to a man by the pool who, ironically, had a daughter who had recently graduated from Nottingham and had studied Creative Writing. Small world.

The sight of infants standing on mopeds as their parents dove through the traffic was an amusing sight – I’m fairly sure social services would have been called in the UK. We also bought some drinks off a street vendor, and rather randomly, I decided to look in the straw before using it. Covered in dirt. Nice.

We had a lot of trouble getting back to the airport as the travel company only provided transport for people in business class. They’d decided that, as an economy traveller, I could stay at the hotel (despite us already paying for me to also be transferred). The hotel had words, and an hour later the transfer service managed to rustle up an extra seat.

Wow, I’m pretty exhausted whilst writing this and I wasn’t the most energetic at the time so this may have come across as the most dead-view of Bangkok. But oh well, this is my travel blog after all.

Dubai Airport

As is always the way, I made myself promise to do some coursework and write an entry for this blog whilst in the air. After all, flying to Bangkok was sure to take longer than a trip to the shops and I made every effort to go through with my plan: taking my laptop, course books, notepads and assignment guidelines as hand luggage, leaving my ‘good’ headphones in my suitcase to ignore the temptation to listen to music or watch the tv, and having my kindle as my backup for when my laptop was sure to loose power.

I started off so well!

…And then I made the fatal error of looking at what films were available throughout the flight.

On the 15-hour total flight from Manchester to Dubai to Bangkok, I managed to fit in more films then I’d likely watch in a month. My laptop – and all the heavy books I’d lugged with me – remained untouched.

Well done, Keira.

From ‘Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters’ (a surprisingly good take on the book), to ‘Diana’ (an exceptionally long-winded film that could have been summed up in a quarter of the time). Not forgetting ‘The Butler’ (a brilliant film of a man trying to make a life for his family as a butler to the White House, whilst set against the American civil-rights movement), and the good old reliable episodes of ‘Friends’ (when Ross finds out Carol is pregnant). Then there was the internship (a pretty decent comedy) and the obligatory documentary on Australia that I felt I should watch (though, admittedly, I spent most of this time attempting to eat the vilest plane food instead).

It didn’t help that it the first seven-hour leg, I’d managed to get sandwiched between TWO infants. One of which decided to test its lungs for the majority of the flight, whilst the other was force-fed calpol and horrific smelling food. The same baby decided to throw its rattle to the ground near the beginning of the flight, and I instantly leant over to hand the damp toy back to the mother. This led to hours of the child throwing the toy at my feet, whilst I felt obliged to pick the toy back up again.

I literally spent hours playing fetch with a baby – and I wasn’t even the one throwing.

Dubai airport completely fulfilled my expectations. It’s reputation as a place for the super rich – and large gap between those with less money - was shown through the 24-hour designer shops, the connecting train between terminals, the unneeded waterfall, and the flashy technology in every glance you took. There were parts of the airport that seemed completely at odds with the glossy airport – like the loos, for example, when I walked through one door to find a hole in the ground. In another, I tried to figure out how to lock the door – presuming it was some up-to-date technology that was needlessly complicated - and turned out to just be a broken lock.

I also noted the differing styles at the airport, including some complete contrasts between couples – there was one woman who was dripping in designer items head to toe, whilst her husband wore the more traditional white robe and head cover (I still have no internet and can’t think of the correct term).

Otherwise there’s really not too much to say about Dubai airport due to only being there for a couple hours. I had a cookie… which was pretty good… but that’s really about it.

The flight to Bangkok was uneventful and I managed to get a window seat – though the large Dutch man beside me meant that my face was pressed against the window several more time than I would have liked.

Starting Out

For those that know me, will also know of my countless attempts of a diary. Stretching back to being five years old, there are entries in various notepads with an earnest promise to write each day in every single one. As of yet, this has yet to be accomplished. It’s with that in mind that I start this travel blog.

I’ve always figured that when I’m old, I would want to read about how I felt when I was young. So what makes this entry different to all my previous attempts? It’s most definitely not the forum – over the years I’ve tried every outlet to record my life: from journals to voice recordings, and blogs to home videos. If one were to scour my bedroom – as my mum is now threatening to do since I’m no longer there – you’d find a collection of half-hearted attempts of noting daily occurrences of ordinary school life and the common idealistic dreams of a child planning her future.

I’m hoping this blog will be different. Partly as a result of leaving the ordinary behind and stepping out of the mundane by moving to the other side of the world for nine months – completely by myself. Another factor would be that this blog is part of an assignment into looking at cultural values held in other countries and communities.

I already know that my main challenge will be keeping these entries updated.  As much as I love to write and one day hope to make a career out of it… I’m not (and highly doubt I ever will be) a reflector. I act without thinking, am highly impulsive and find thinking before speaking an awful waste of time.

On the 25^th January, I’ll start my journey to Australia, where I’ll be studying until the end of June before travelling until September. I currently don’t have any signal to post this online – so it’s likely that I’ll already be in New South Wales before this gets posted. Typically, I’ll already be running behind!

Whether it be friends, family, professors or a random stranger who stumbled across this page – feel free to leave comments below and I’ll make sure to reply! So here we go. I’m Keira, and I WILL write soon.

Note: I've now been in Newcastle for three days and have found internet in the main building. Much to catch up on... cue the hasty entires!