Sunday, November 30, 2003
Rise above the Daily Dark
A stranger walks into the room and asks you for your earliest memory of a book…..
This is how the creative writing workshop – a free workshop conducted by the local council and presented by a local author, Christopher Cyrill, started. I was the youngest person at the workshop and was interested to see people of different cultures and backgrounds present in the classroom. We were all united by one thing – an interest in writing or at least a curiosity in the process.
During the 4 and ½ hours, we dug deep into our memories to pull out images and stories that were uniquely ours.
I struggled with the exercise. I think from a very young age, I was captivated by books. I remember being a library assistant in primary school and having a very good relationship with the librarian, Mrs Collins. I was definitely a bookworm. I also remember the excitement of starting a new book, not being able to wait to get home to start a new adventure – albeit in my mind. I also remember using my pocket money to buy ‘mini-books’ from the newsagent and visiting the local library often with my friend, Dinh, who was also an avid reader. I can’t pinpoint my first book that I ever read on my own. I suspect it would have been a fairytale or a Dr Seuss book. My favourite books were Secret Garden and a book about a little boy growing up in a foster home in England. I can’t remember the title, but I remember the foster father in the book was called Mr Tom. In Year 6, I was introduced to Daphne Du Maurier’s books – ghost stories and mysteries. I was captivated by Rebecca and other characters. I also started reading Virgina Andrews and learnt about the dark secrets of dysfunctional families. I enjoyed reading for reading’s sake.
However high school came and books were read for analysis and for homework. Although some of the books on the book list were brilliant (for example, To Kill a Mockingbird), it took the fun out of reading. Reading literature was associated with school work – it was no longer a past time.
University made it worse. There was so much to read for each semester. Speed reading was the way to get through university and I felt that there was no time to get into the details.
Now I want to rediscover the joys of reading. The workshop today certainly opened my eyes to the art of writing. Every good piece of writing is deliberately composed, from the name of the character, to the placement of a word on a page and even the use of grammer. In understanding the dedication and hard work that goes into constructing a good piece of work, I become more appreciative and more aware of the details of the writing. To go beyond reading the story and the characters and to see how the whole process evolves, would certainly be a satisfying experience.
I guess that is why classics can be read over and over again, each time with a new and deeper understanding and insight.
We studied several opening passages from various books. Although some were very brief (about 50 words), there were many insights and references that could be drawn from those words. One of the passages that really caught my attention was from Carson McCuller’s “The Heart is a Lonely Hunter”.
I’ve subsequently borrowed the book and have started reading it. McCuller’s writes in a very direct and simple way, yet her imagery is very poetic and engrossing.
A book can really change a person’s life….
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
Went swimming today at Ashfield Pools. It’s been a LONG time since I’ve done any swimming and it was good to get back into the water. Thankfully, Ashfield Pools is undergoing a facelift. The pool water no longer feels like a chemical dump and the ladies toilets are half-decent.
I really love swimming. Once I get into my ‘zone’, I can just keep going. It’s really peaceful under the water. All you can hear is the lapping of the water and your own heartbeat.
I’ve come to a few conclusions about life, after my adventures in Armenia.
Firstly, we are not in control of our lives. We can try really hard to get something, but God always has the final word. All I can say is that Armenia wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps God has another plan for me.
Secondly, we only cause ourselves unhappiness when we try to hold on to wants and desires. We should just appreciate what we have and not try to hold on. Letting go is true freedom. I think this is what Buddha discovered.
Friday, October 17, 2003
2 October 2003, Yerevan, ARMENIA
The worst thing about being unemployed, other than not getting any income is not having anything to do.
--
1 October 2003, Yerevan, ARMENIA
Lost in Yerevan
It’s been exactly 20 days since I’ve been in Armenia. Although I haven’t exhausted all the touristic activities, I am getting sick of being on holiday. We always want what we don’t have. When I’m at work, I’m dying to go on a holiday. Now that I’m on a holiday, I can’t wait to start working.
Had an early start today at 9.30am. This is early compared to my usual 10.30am. Had my usual fried egg, tomato, herbs and bread. It’s the easiest thing to make and usually at this time of the day, I’m lacking inspiration for anything else. I was anxious to hear about the progress of the Romanian job. We checked Megan’s email and there was nothing from Romania although there was an email from Russia regarding a position with one of the largest truck companies in Russia. They were looking for a Chinese speaking person as they were interested in breaking into the China market. The position was in a part of Russia that I’d never heard of…..something Chelny (not Chechyna). We tried to look it up on a map but the connection was so slow that we didn’t get very far.
It was about midday by the time I left the apartment. My mission was to go to the Romanian embassy. I only had an hour as they only open on Monday, Wednesday and Friday between 11 and 1pm (talk about cushy). I didn’t get very far before I realized that I’d left my map at home. I only had the name of the street and some vague notion of where it was. After 20 minutes of walking in the direction of my instinct I realized that I had to ask someone for directions. This is not an easy thing to do as my Armenian is not exactly conversational (or anything, for that matter). So I walked into a respectable looking bank and asked the receptionist if she spoke English. Luckily she did, but she had no idea where Sepouh St was. I gave her a phone number to call and ask for directions. She not only asked for directions but requested more information for me. Now that’s service. I finally found a use for banks. Only problem was that she gave me a different address and pointed me towards the direction of home. Hmmmm it was evident that I was not going to find this Romanian embassy for the third time.
I trudged back home defeated. Lacking motivation to do anything constructive, I decided to go to the Sarian Musuem. According to the Lonely Planet, Sarian is one of the most famous Armenian artists. Sarian Museum is located on Sarian Street. It looked easy enough to get to. Catch a metro to Marshal Baghramian station , walk through the park down Proshian St and Sarian St should be parallel. Of course it was not easy. I’d located Proshian St (even found a Thai restaurant!!!) but could not find a road that lead to Sarian St. So I located a landmark on the map. In this case it was a church and I proceeded to walk around it. I must have had a lost look on my face as a local approached me and started speaking in Armenian. All I could manage was “Sarian St” with a fake Armenian accent and a shrug of the shoulders. I think my body language is of such high standard that I would be champion at the toughest charades game.
Anyway, the local lady summoned her son to escort me to Sarian St. The tyke was only about 7 or 8 and he led me happily down some stairs, through some apartment blocks and onto Sarian St. That was definitely NOT on the map.
On the way I managed to practice my Lonely Planet Armenian….
“Inch e dzer anun?” (What’s your name?) I’m sure my pronounciation was wrong coz he just smiled back. I tried again. “Im anun’ Connie” (My name is Connie). This time communication was successful as he replied with something that sounded like Samoan…
Then he said something I interpreted as “We’re nearly there” but only because he stopped walking shortly thereafter. At that point I wished I’d brought some Aussie souvenirs to give him. A handshake and smile had to suffice for now.
Sarian St. Next challenge was to find number three. Of course there are hardly any numbers on the building. Again I had to rely on my instinct. I’ve come to realize that I have no instinct for Armenian museums or embassies. Again I walked in the wrong direction, ending up on Mashtots Ave. Another few friendly locals later, I arrived at the museum but ALAS, it was closed. Cie la vie! At least I saw some interesting sites, including a sleeping monkey in a cage on the side of a busy road. WTF?!
I decided I had enough of being lost and walked decisively towards my favourite kebab place. Kebabs are actually skewers of lamb wrapped in lavash and veggies. What I normally call a kebab is actually called shawerma. I know the routine there and can confidently use my body language to indicate that I want the works and take away. Lots of pointing action involved.
After the feed it was time to go home……another unproductive day!
--
28 September 2003
It’s interesting how easily we take things for granted. Today the electricity came back on. I was so happy not to have to bath, pee and cook in candlelight again. Though I was discussing with Bruno that if I had to choose between electricity and water, I would chose to lose electricity. To prove my point, we didn’t have water for a few hours the next day.
I was told that it was only recently that water was provided 24h. Prior to that it was only available for a few hours in the morning. For that reason, the bathtub is always filled with water.
I will never take such services for granted again. Here, when people look for an apartment they ask for 24h water and hot water. Living without such amenities was an impossibility for me. In fact, this is how many people live. If you had to choose between food, power and 24h water it is clear which one takes the highest priority.
I was told that during Soviet times, all amenities were present. There was even central heating but after the collapse, everything stopped working. Marianna told me that she remembers studying by candlelight for an exam and sleeping in all her clothes because of the cold. Such experiences are so far from my own and I really admire the tenacity of the Armenians.
--
13 September 2003, Yerevan, ARMENIA
I was woken up by Bruno at 10am as he busily prepared for his camping trip to Lake Sevan. I had brunch with Marianna at a nearby café. I realized that the Armenians love al fresco dining. There are numerous cafes doted along the streets in the city center where one can have a Turkish coffee, listen to music and watch the mad marshutkas. These marshutkas have no set drop-off points and can randomly stop to either pick up a passenger or drop one off.
As Marianna had a meeting today, she left me to look around at Vernissage markets. This is the only ‘touristic’ type of market as there were rows of Armenian artifacts, rugs, wooden carvings of churches, with most prices quoted in USD. It was a place to spend money – but I had none of that and I was afraid of getting ripped off.
Marianna met up with me after her meeting and we went to the Cascade Monument – a giant flight of concrete stairs separated by colourful beds, leading up to a tall pillar with a gold leaf. This monument was originally built in 1970 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Soviet power in Armenia. Thankfully the escalators were working and we took these up to the top. After the Soviet Union collapse, this monument was left in disrepair. It was only recently that a private investor, an American-Armenian provided funds for the maintenance of this complex. There are plans to build a cinema and shopping complex in the now empty building. I learnt that most (if not all) of the public infrastructure improvements, including the roads which are constantly being repaired, are being funded by the Armenian Diaspora. One famous philanthropist is an American – Armenian who is the director of MGM Studios. Although some of the money seems to be a waste as in the case of a $USD 1 million statue of a cat in front of the cascade.
One way to spot an Armenian is to see if their surname ends in ‘ian’ or ‘yan’. In Armenian ‘yan’ means ‘tribe’. If I was Armenian, my surname would be ‘Ho-yan’
--
12 September 2003, Yerevan, ARMENIA
Here I am in Yerevan. A place I’d only recently learnt about. I was full of trepidation as the plane flew over the dim lights of the city. There were so many question marks hanging over this destination. What do the people look like? What do they eat? Is there any violence? Will I get a job? How long will I be here?
Of course I had done some research before leaving home, but I still had to see for myself. I also had my Lonely Planet guide with me, which I’ve subsequently found to contain many untruths (the tap water is not only drinkable but tasty).
There was a long queue at the boarding gates and I was curious to learn about my fellow passengers. Some were speaking in an unfamiliar language which I presumed to be Armenian and others in English (mostly with a North American accent). They were obviously part of some mature age tour group or contingent as they all seemed to be familiar with each other. I was the ONLY asian looking person on the plane. It was a first-time experience for me. I find it interesting that while we try to be different we are always looking for something familiar. (When I say ‘we’, I actually mean ‘me’)
I had a window seat next to a very friendly Canadian-Armenian. She was as curious about me as I was about Armenia. I learnt from her that everyone on the plane was a citizen of another country but of Armenian origin. They were all heading to Armenia for a diaspora school reunion. I had read about the Armenian Diaspora, a legacy of Armenia’s tragic past. Mass migrations of people migrated during the Turkish Regime and also during the Soviet collapse. Whilst there are about 3.5 million Armenians living in Armenia, there are about 10 million living abroad. Armenians are spread out all over the globe, from Europe to South America and Australia. The largest Armenia Diaspora community is in LA where some streets are in Armenian. I’ve also read that there are some 30,000 Armenians in NSW (although I have not met any until very recently).
This woman’s family migrated to Egypt after the Genocide. She studied at an Armenian school in Egypt and migrated to Canada upon graduation. It was also her first time to Armenia but she was already familiar with the culture and had many Armenian contacts.
She was more than happy to provide me some tips about Armenia and the culture. Although some of the advice was correct, some of it was also incorrect. For example, she told me that visa office at the airport would only be open at 9am. As our flight was to arrive in Yerevan at 4am, it would mean waiting in the airport for 5 hours. Of course, this was not the case as all flights flying into Yerevan arrived at this time. Though she was correct in saying that the airport would be chaos. She also told me to never drink from the tap, and to be aware of the mafia. I enjoy the tap water here and as for the mafia….a lot of the guys look shady to me but I generally keep a low profile.
We arrived in Yerevan and were led to the main hall where the officials sat in makeshift boxes. The boxes were randomly labeled “Visa application”, “Currency exchange”, “Immigration”. The infrastructure of the airport was in poor shape and it hit me that I was in Armenia. After the administration I was glad to see a girl holding a sign in the arrival hall. Marianna and Lilit were here to greet me. They helped me with my luggage and took me to a taxi across the road. Everything felt so surreal. Who were these girls? Where am I going? Why does everything look so strange? In fact it was dark everywhere and there was really not much to see.
We got into a very beaten-up car but not before waking up the taxi driver. He struggled with my suitcase and we were off to the apartment. On the way Marianna told me about the WB situation and what the plans were. I was surprised that her English was excellent. She was also surprised that she could understand me (apparently I have not been inflicted with the ocker accent).
We stopped about 15 minutes later at a block of apartments. From the ground I could see a dimly lit window displaying a faint Brazilian flag. This was obviously Bruno’s – the trainee from Brazil. I was looking for some light to indicate an entrance when Marianna walked into a mouth of darkness. Only using my hearing, we struggled with my oversize suitcase, up some invisible steps when I heard a key unlock a door. A dim light emanated from the door and we were at the apartment. Marianna lead me to a room to the right. “This is your room, do you like it”, she said. My eyes were still adjusting to the light and all I could see was some yellowing wallpaper and a couch…. “it’s ok” was all I could manage. Marianna must have been disappointed because she said “it’s not fancy but we live in a poor country”. Yes, I’m in Armenia – I kept having to remind myself.
I was then introduced to Bruno – a big curly-haired Brazilian who had just woken up and was still in his Scooby-doo boxers. “Welcome to Armenia”, he said in a latin-american accent. I could only manage a polite ‘thank you’ as I was still in a daze after very little sleep and concern about the job situation. Meanwhile Lilit proceeded to prepare breakfast while we exchanged pleasantries. Breakfast was ready and the nice china was laid out. I had read that the Armenians are extremely hospitable and I realized that I was given the royal treatment. Dishes of different types of bread – lavash, round bread, flat bread, as well as some yoghurt thing and a plate of peas and eggs. I was told that bread to the Armenians is like rice to the Chinese. The Armenians love their bread. Unfortunately I didn’t feel like eating as it was 6am and I was still full from the previous meal. As I was not exhausted we decided to walk Lilit to work.
The day had just started and the street peddlers were setting up their stalls. It reminded me of China – the street stalls, the broken roads and feeling of disorderliness. Other than the feeling, there was nothing familiar. The signs were in some weird squiggly characters. The people looked hostile and spoke in a very strange language. These were my initial reactions.
We took the metro to the next stop. The escalator down to the metro was a long ride into a cool and almost empty platform with marble columns. Everything was dark and I could imagine that in better times the station would have been quite grand. We walked along the embassy street (as most of the foreign embassies are located here) and also the site of the President’s office (a huge imposing building in an expansive unkept garden).
I only remember walking everywhere that day. Lots of broken roads and wide streets. After a few hours of walking, I was exhausted and we decided to go home. Marianna stopped a bus that looked like it was on the way to the scrap heap. I was duly introduced to the Armenian ‘public transport’ system. These mini-buses were called marshutkas and they were everywhere. They brought in good income for the drivers, who it appeared, were responsible for the maintenance (or lack of) of the vehicles. As this marshutka was packed, I had to sit on the area separating the driver and passenger seat. It was an amusing ride as I wondered when the bus would break down. The meters were not working and there were wires hanging out in different places. The driver was trying very hard to keep the bus going.
Back at the apartment, I was introduced to a different way of showering. An electrical rod, some buckets and lots of splashing and patience later, I felt clean and ready for bed.
In the evening, we went to a café to listen to some live jazz. The modern café came with it’s own man-made lake and I almost felt like I was in Darling Harbour. The music was fantastic and I was pleasantly surprised. I also had my first taste of Armenian beer. There were several to choose from – Kotayk, Killika and Erebuni. They were not unpleasant although I still prefer spirits over beer.
Thursday, September 25, 2003
10-11 September 2003, Vienna, AUSTRIA
9 September 2003, Innsbruck, AUSTRIA
7–8 September 2003, Salzburg, AUSTRIA
Trains are THE way to travel around Europe. Travelling is made even more convenient with luggage lockers at the station. We were in Salzburg, where Sound of Music was filmed and Mozart was born. Although most Austrians (well at least 2 that we’d spoken to) had never seen Sound of Music.
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
5-6 September 2003, Vienna, AUSTRIA
Finally arrived in Vienna after a 14 hour flight. Couldn't dig into the continental breakfast but was glad that I'd left the chaos of Asia. It was comforting to see the orderly green patches of farmland as we taxied into Vienna Airport. The airport was a lot smaller than I'd imagined and as it was still early in the morning, the immigration officials were still walking up and the customs officials were nowhere to be seen. Apparently this is a common feature in European airports, with the exception of UK (so I've heard). I walked through some sliding doors and was there in front of me was the Pike.....it was so good to see a familiar face!
We took the airport bus to Westbanhoff station, where Pike expertedly navigated his way through the Viennese public transport system and got us safely to the Hotel. It was such a relief not to have to dodge oncoming traffic or piles of rubbish. The streets in Vienna are tres clean. All the buildings look like they've been recently renovated. The weather was warm but not stifling like KL or Saigon. I was one happy chappy.
2-4 September 2003, KL Malaysia
Back to KL for a couple of days before heading off to Vienna. Everything was as before except that my sis was with me. We decided to catch the airport express into the city. A lesson about asking for information - never trust the first person you ask. The tourist counter advised us that the airport express would cost the same as the taxi. It ended up being half the price - 35 Ringitt plus a few ringitt for a taxi to the hotel. In addition, the express is only 28 minutes away from the airport compared to 40 minutes by taxi.
As soon as we got to the hotel, we made plans to get to the Petronas Towers. Impressive, huge structures rising in front of us. The metal and glass really made the building shine and I could see why this is the pride of the Malaysian people.
The next day, I decided to do a walking tour of the city. Map in hand, I circumnavigated the streets, ducked the traffic and even used the excellent metro network. There are 3 different companies operating different transport lines. This makes it a bit difficult to transfer between stations but in general the metro network is quite extensive, although the Golden Triangle (shopping and business district) is limited to only taxi or by foot.
I stopped off at the Sultan buildings where the Muslim architecture houses the High Court. However this was not open to the public so I crossed the road to Merdeka Square, where a Malaysian Flag was proudly raised. Malaysia recently celebrated Merdeka Day or Independence Day on 31 August. It was in this Square, about 50 years ago that Malaysia declared independence from Britain. That was the reason for all the Malaysian flags proudly displayed. I didn't know this and thought that Malaysians were extremely patriotic. I could hear people praying in the background as the National Mosque was about a block away. A large percentage of the Malay population are Muslim and there influence is evident in the architecture and practices (for example, all the toilets have a hose that allow people to wash so they can be clean after their business. I'm not exactly sure - but that is my theory)
Then it was off to the Menara Towers, the fourth-highest telecommunications tower in the world. The buildings and the muslim, eastern and western architecture can be seen from these towers. I had a nice hike through the national park before getting to the Menara Towers. From here you can also get a good view of the Petronas Towers as the binoculars are free to use. KL is really tourist-friendly!
It was time for some genuine Malaysian cuisine - Nasi-Lemak!
After that, I had to work it off by participating in the national past-time - shopping. KL is a shopper's haven. There is every type of good available and the shopping malls are massive. Eventhough I did not even go to the major ones at Mega Valley (I think). It was easy to spend every cent in KL. Everything was at least 30% cheaper than home, this ranged from electronics, clothing, footwear....the list goes one.
In the evening I met up with some friends for dinner. As they lived away from the city, I caught a cab. It was unfortunately a private cab and the driver, although convincingly, took a few wrong turns and in the end charged me double. A warning to future travellers to KL! Get a vouchered cab, even if the service is crap - at least you know what you are paying for. Actually we had already agreed on the price but in the end the cab driver said that he had no change, and as I was running late, I let it go.
The next day was another shopping excursion. Although I had about 12 hours to shop, I still ran out of time. I almost missed my flight, having just checked in 35 minutes before boarding! Off to Vienna.....I was glad that I had a window seat where I could see the "City of Light" (which KL is also known).
29 – 30 August, 1 September
Saigon, Ho Chi Minh City
Memories of Saigon….
Chaotic, polluted, crowded, noisy, Hondas. Delicious cuisine, street food, one-tooth smiles, $1 CDs and DVDs
More photos
Tuesday, 26 – 28 August 2003, Nha Trang, Vietnam
We were awoken up early in the morning and packed into a van heading to Nha Trang, a beach resort about 10 hours away. A sore ass and atrophied muscles were rewarded with the cool sea breeze. Of course, the main beach could not compare to Bondi, but the islands were amazing! See the pictures for yourself.
My favourite memory is going parasailing at one of the resort islands. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera and couldn’t take pictures of the massive wedgy I had. But it was worth it. It was so peaceful, up above in the sky. Floating, like a bird for at least 15 minutes. I was still on a high (literally) when my parachute started falling into the sea. I pulled myself up onto a jet ski and we sped back to shore. All that for only $12! I love Vietnam.
The cruise was only $9 and included stops to various different islands, some crappy food, fruit and entertainment (by the multi-talented skipper and crew).
We stayed at a hotel about 15 minutes walk from the beach. It only cost about $25 for a triple room.
Monday, September 01, 2003
Xin Chao Vietnam!
It was about 35C and the air was thick with moisture. We were enticed by the sales which were to end in August and went on a shopping spree. After working out our credit cards, we realised that we'd only left 2 hours to get to the airport. It was too late to take the airport express and so we hopped into a taxi. Back to the airport for our flight to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.
A mere 1.5 hours after boarding the plane in the spacious and modern KL airport, we arrived at HCMC's Tan Son Nhat Airport. It was highly apparent that we'd arrived in a developing country. The airport, a functional building only, was in stark contrast to the ostentatious KL airport. There was a slight hitch at immigration as the official refused to speak to me in English. He pointed to my place of birth - Saigon - and presumed that I could speak vietnamese. I was finally allowed into the country, but not before I was made to feel like a traitor. The scanning machines were so old that we had to manually push our luggage through the conveyer belt.
We were in and out of the airport in 30 minutes...to meet my dad and his friends. It was even hotter in Saigon. Our first stop was at a nearby warcraft museum. Coming to Vietnam, it is impossible not to see the influence of war on the country.
After that we continued to District 11, where we were staying. The thing I loved about this place was that there was a hairdresser across the road. A hairwash, massage, facial, manicure and pedicure – all for $12! Ahh I was on holiday…..
Kuala Lumpar
Arrived in KL about an hour late due to turbulence in Sydney. KL International Airport of KLIA is massive. It is really modern and apparently supposed to be designed like a spaceship. It was so big that we had to get a monorail for about 3 minutes from the gates to immigration/customs.
Customs consisted of one question, ‘Are you from Sydney?’. I apparently gave the customs official the right answer because I was let through without being strip-searched. The next challenge was to get to the hotel. I had been advised to get a taxi voucher for the government cabs and not to get a private cab. Private cabs are often unmetered and unscrupulous. I totally agree after having had a bad experience (see later). Government cabs are not any better in terms of service. They also are more expensive (if the private cab charges the correct amount). To get a voucher from the airport to the city costs 99 Malaysian Ringgitt or about $50AUD.
Upon exiting the automatic doors I was greeted with the thick, hot air. Selamat dating Malaysia! With my taxi voucher around, I was pointed toward a fleet of cars, all unoccupied as all the drivers were hanging around chatting and smoking. A Malay driver emerged after some confusion and I was on my way to Hotel Federal. The trip was a silent one, as the driver seemed reluctant to make conversation. With only the streetlights to keep me entertained, I quickly dozed off. Some 45 minutes later, I awoke to some bright lights….I had arrived in KL City. My hotel was on Jalan Binkit Bintang, the shopping street. Unfortunately my luggage did not make it and was only standing on its hind legs.
Caught up with my sister, whom I hadn’t seen in 6 months and then dozed off.
OH JOY. I finally found an internet place with a reasonable connection speed. It's worth sitting through the loud pop Vietnamese music.....
I wrote this on the plane on the 24th August on the way from Sydney to KL.
It's 10pm, we've been flying for about 3.5 hours and only just left the north of Australia, having just flown over the deliciously named Rum Jungle (in NT).
It wasn't apparent at the beginning of the flight whether we were going to get off the air at all. The plane was on the ground for about an hour due to the strong windy conditions. We could only watch out the window at the trees swaying about as if having an epileptic fit and the foam on the water resembling reemerging flocks of snow white pigeons.
Whilst the windy conditions persisted outside, drama was unfolding at Row 27 regarding the allocation of a window seat. For once I was glad that I had forgotten to request a window seat at the check-in. A middle- aged lady was disputing the allocation on her boardng pass. It appeared that she had previously reserved the window seat and was now extremely unimpressed that a long-haired middle-aged tattoed man was sitting in her seat. Two cabin crew members were trying to understand the situation (German is the preferred language on Lauda Air). Whilst this ruckus was going on, I sat innocently in the aisle seat trying to put my trendy knee-high stockings on. I must have looked like a clown with one sock halfway up my leg with my back bent as my enraged fellow passenger hurled complaints at the cabin crew. I was caught between a exasperated flight attendant and a drama queen, with my socks waiting anxiously to be pulled into their rightful position. The crisis was soon resolved when the flight attendant realised that the woman wanted a window seat (it was pretty obvious to me but perhaps they were waiting for her to communicate in German).
Flying Lauda for the first time, it doesn't surprise me that the founder, Nikki Lauda, used to be a formula one world champion. Though I've never been in a racing car before, I can imagine sitting in the passenger's seat right now. Cramped, all controls right in front of me. The trays, for example, only extend half way to your lap (so that you have to carry your plate in your hand or risk bumping into the TV screen when you bring your head down to eat). The footrests are far too high off the ground giving you LESS leg room!
The rest of the flight proceeded without drama and we finally touched down in KL just past midnight.
Sunday, August 03, 2003
Piglet's Big Adventure
I'm heading off for another adventure soon. This time to Yerevan, Armenia. What the ?! Yeah, I can't say that Armenia was always on my to-do list. I only recently discovered that it is a landlocked country between Turkey, Iran, Georgia and Azjerbaijin (I can't say this without moving ALL my facial muscles). My friends and family aren't exactly thrilled and I don't think they'll be stopping by during their holidays. Am I afraid? Very much so. I don't know much about the country (the Sydney Morning Herald should really look into this place). Am I crazy? If you asked my friends and family, they would give a resounding yes in reply. I'm not prone to doing (many) crazy things but I figure that you only live once. The only thing I have to lose is my own fear and preconceptions. I am going there to work on a trade development project. Hopefully it will be the start of a meaningful and satisfying career.
Facts about Armenia
- population 3.4 million with 70% living in urban areas
- gained independence from the Soviet Union on 21 September 1991
- geographically it is surrounded by mountains with the Greater Caucasus Range bordering the south
- it has one of the largest freshwater lakes in the world, Lake Sevan
- Mount Ararat, a sacred mountain now located in Turkey, is mentioned in the Bible in the book of Genesis as the place where Noah's Ark came to rest.
- About 94% of the population are members of the Armenian Apostolic Church
- Armenia has had a tragic past, with various hostile neighbours seeking to invade this strategically located country (it lies on the trade route between the Mediterranean and Asia). There's a large Armenian diaspora around the world due to the genocide around 1915 in which Young Turks of the Ottoman Empire killed approximately 1.5 million Armenians in what is now Turkey.
- Large armenian communities live in Lebanon, France and the USA.
That's all I know at the moment. I'm sure I will find out more when I get there.
