silence

Today has been a very long day.

And I achieved nothing.

I miss silence.

I live in a room with two other girls, who are amazing, and I get on really well with them, but they are here all day so there's never quiet.

So I tried the library, but to no avail. People here are really friendly, but they wont leave me alone, there's always somebody who wants to speak to me.

So I tried the roof, but despite the heat, it seems to be busier than ever with committed sun worshippers making the most of the rays.

I love people, and I love being around people. And I love talking with people, but sometimes you just need some time out. Especially when you have work to do.

This evening, however, a friend decided to cook and invited me for some Swazi food. Man it was good. Proper, wholesome, no oil involved food. Then for desert another friend (from Estonia) made some food from Mozambique (I think).

It was a very welcome end to the evening.

not again

What is it about the bus home on a Sunday night?

Does a sign mysteriously post itself on my forehead saying 'weird people please talk to me'?

Maybe it's the half-glaekit*, I-want-sleep look that I'm generally sporting at that time?

Seriously, it's like wasps to melted icicle. And I don't like wasps.

Tonight I was minding my own business, trying particularly hard to stay awake and be ignored, (I even had on headphones this time for added leave-me-alone emphasis. But no. It wasn't to be.

The girl sitting next to me started talking to me asking questions, which was fine.

But she was with a larger group and when she left with the girls, I was left with the overly friendly, incessantly pestering guys, who spent the whole of the rest of their time on the bus persistently trying to give me their phone numbers and persuade my as to why dating them would be a good idea.

And (a little too familiarly) asking repeatedly why I'm not married yet.

What is going on?

The only conclusion I can come to is that there is a mass Sunday night 'pester Becky' conspiracy that I have yet to get to the bottom of.

It's the only logical explanation.

And if that's the case, I'm not amused.

* (glaikit or glaekit = stupid, having a glazed expression)

now you can panic

I'm being held hostage!

It's a travesty!

I got up, had a shower, called a friend, then headed about two steps down the hall before I was stopped by men in masks.

Then a voice from overhead (through the intercom type thing) decided to warn us that (starting on my floor) they were going to be doing a mosquito spray.

We're not allowed to leave for two hours!

There's only only fifteen minutes left, but it might just be the longest fifteen minutes of my life.

The cruel irony of it all. My appetite just came back this week and now I'm stuck in my room dreaming of lunch, mourning for the loss of breakfast (incidentally my favourite meal of the day.)

One part of me is saying 'go scary men in masks – kill the beasts!' but the other part is saying 'boo to the scary men in masks – I'm hungry!'

I'm torn.

Friday25thMay07

Yesterday (according to the American high diver on the moped) was the hottest day in May in recorded history.

I'm not so sure, cos from what I could see, today was hotter still. This morning it was 38oC.

Thankfully, when the sun went down it cooled to 30oC.

Note to the wise, if you're going to spend most of the day outside in this heat, it's probably best not to chose that as the day to forget sun cream. (I'm starting to bear a remarkable resemblance to a patchwork quilt.)

Visa update: I'm going to Singapore and then Malaysia for a week to spend time with some family. It might not have been exactly how I'd have planned it, but I'm really looking forward to it.

Darn it, I have to go visit another country. I'm sure I'll cope.. somehow...

Oops...

Today I came to one very important conclusion: I may just be one of the silliest people ever.

Oh, yeah, and people at airports lie.

So, I went to pick up my passport from the uni office today where I had left it to get my Visa extended to cover the remainder of my stay. When I got there they said that there had been a problem.

Because I went to Bali a few weeks back, my visa was now used up and the airport guy had given me an extra 30days (which almost everyone gets when they arrive here) instead of reinstating my visa, which, was what he told me he had done. He said it wouldn't have any effect on my extension. Alas, it did.

I should have known better than to leave a country without checking what kind of visa I had in the first place (that was pretty stupid) and i also should have checked if the guy really had sorted it out (also pretty stupid.) But when the scary guy in the booth speaks, you tend to take him at his word rather than challenge him.

Anyway, long story short I have to leave the country and re-enter before 7thJune. Not exactly on my list of things to do, but you never know, might be kinda fun.

Certainly wont be taking any visa related stuff for granted again any time soon anyway.

Wednesday23rdMay07

Today I went to my Mandarin class (picked up about a quarter of what was being said) then went to Taipei with my roommate. She disappeared for a month and now she's back, and it's fantastic. I really missed her and her blunt, to the point (and sometimes downright scary) Russianess.

We spent most of our time wandering around Peace Park, watching the variety of people it attracts (and spending far too much time in awe of the fish.) Then we did the touristy must and headed to Taipei 101. Turned out she'd never been there and we certainly picked a good day to go.

The last couple of times I went it was pretty cool to see, but visibility was not amazing. Today you could see all the surrounding mountains and horizons, made even more stunning by the fiery glow from the setting sun.

Later we met met up with another friend and went out to a fairly chilled bar for the evening. Played a few games and chilled out with friends, nice way to spend the evening.

i hate mosquitoes!

I hate mosquitoes.

I really do.

Someone who read a previous post (detailing a particularly traumatic ordeal with some moths,) asked if I too followed her general supposition that they are plotting to take over the world. Well I don't know about moths, but mosquitoes...

I've had enough. I go to sleep. Nothing untoward. I wake up. I'm covered in itchy remnants of a sneak attack. Today, one of them must have found my hand particularly tasty cos it had swollen up so much I lost some feeling in my pinky. (apologies for the gross pic)

I wouldn't mind, but they seem to be making it personal.

When I went to Bali, I came back with one bite, whereas my Taiwanese friends came back with an average of twenty each. But here, it's the total opposite. My roommates are bite-free!

Later I headed to some classes. In the second one we were given five minutes in which to write a narrative lead for a theoretical feature story, in which we were reporting on our experience of visiting the tents that had been set up at the scene of a plane crash in Indonesia. So I did it.

A few of us were asked to write our leads on the board so we could go over pros and cons.

After the teacher read mine he turned to me and asked, 'do you want to be a journalist, or a movie writer.' To which one of my friends replied, 'it's okay, she's just high.' And then another friend called to me, 'don't worry, we don't need to be journalists, we can join forces and write horror novels.'

Not exactly the response I had expected. (But with the benefit of hindsight, I guess I can get a little over dramatic at times.)

Here is the offending article:

“A young boy sits by the entrance. Glazed. Staring intently into nothingness. Blood on his once white shirt barely distinguishable through the smoke stains and dirt.

Time seems to stand still.

Somewhere in the distance; blood curdling screams from a heart being broken by the loss of a loved one.

Somewhere close; weeping, screaming and deafening silence from injured parties.

The smell of smoke lingers in the air, mingled with blood and intensified by the humidity.

Time seems to stand still as your head catches up with your senses.

Then suddenly, the reality of the crash hits you.

Everything speeds up.”

In my defence, if someone doesn't want you to use your imagination, they shouldn't ask you to. I don't often get the chance and figured I might as well go for it. What was the worst that could happen?

Maybe, being accused of being high...

Monday21stMay07

Today, while getting some dinner from the school restaurant (I was in a risk taking mood) a girl kept staring at me. It was a little disconcerting but I'm getting used to stares, so just ignored it. But then on the way out she started walking slowly towards me. I had almost passed her when she said hello.

It totally took me by surprise.

Turned out she had to interview and English speaking person for an assignment and so asked me if I'd help. Of course I said yes. Apparently she had been trying to pluck up the courage to ask me for the last five days. She was so shy, and scared of offending me, but by the end of the interview (when she realised I'm just a normal person) she was fine.

No matter how many people I meet, it never fails to impress me how friendly people are here. And what a difference being nice to people (especially the ones you're scared of) makes.

You gotta love this country.

Sunday20thMay07

Today, I was minding my own business on the bus on the way home from Taipei when a couple came and sat next to me. The guy turned around and started talking to me (in English,) grilling me about why I was here, how long etc, etc. I didn't mind (although was pretty tired and just wanted to space out for a while) until he asked if I was single. For one thing, I didn't really see how that was any of his business, but for the sake of hopefully ending the conversation I answered. He waited a few seconds and then said, 'but why are you not married, you're twenty one already, that's not young, you must hurry up.'

I couldn't believe it. I think it's the first time I've felt insulted here. (although he wasn't Taiwanese so it might not count.)

After taking a few seconds to register what he had just said, I decided not to argue with him. I don't need validation about my life choices from strangers on the bus. I certainly wasn't about to let his bizarre view that twenty one is almost over the hill make me run off in search of a husband. Admittedly, it took a lot of effort not to ask him what century he thought it was.

Saturday19thMay07

Today, a friend invited me to an exhibition in Taipei. She's an amazing singer in a band that was the inspiration for work by one of the exhibiting artists. So I headed on down with a few friends to the old abandoned brewery it was being held in.

The venue was kinda cool (and I found a hairy tree down the side of one of the buildings) but the work wasn't amazing. It was good, it just didn't really do anything for me though. The most impressive thing for me was some of the artists' take-away postcards. There were some pretty smart ones, but I found myself more impressed with them than the work. It was a commercial design exhibition though so maybe it would have been better if I knew more about design (or could read Chinese.) That being said, it was still fun. People here really show support for exhibitions so there was a great turnout.

Later, we went off to sample a little more of Taipei's night life. It's so funny.

People seem to get dressed up more casually to go to clubs than they do to walk down the street through the day. It was fascinating people watching at the bar. It was like watching a watering hole. You could totally pick out the predators. And I'm sorry to say, but the worst offenders were the over aged white guys.

Nonetheless it was a good night. Taiwan has to be one of the safest places I've ever been so it was far more relaxed than most bars I've been in. (Despite the mental music.)

Friday18thMay07

Today, I slept. A lot.
Watched a movie.
Partook in some mindless violence courtesy of a computer game.
Spent a little time with friends.
Then slept some more.

Potentially the laziest day I've had so far this year.

And I passed my assessment.

I think I only left the dorm to get breakfast.

Man that's lazy.

Thursday17thMay07

Today was one of those days when your brain switches off and there's nothing you can do about it.
I missed the first hour of my favourite class and then when I went to go I realised I had lost the folder containing all my work for it.
Then I was an hour late for meeting a friend on the way back from another errand.
I have an assessment for back in Scotland tomorrow so all should be back to normal after that.

Wednesday16thMay07

Today I had to give a presentation in my Etiquette class.

On kilts.

Being a keen advocate of the garment (for heritage reasons of course) it should have been easy.

However, I hadn't done a presentation like this in years, and don't have the best of track records when it comes to class talks.

When I was around twelve or thirteen, my class was given an assignment to give individual talks about a recent vacation. I had just been to Florida so the timing was perfect. I had so much to say about what I'd seen. But, not wanting to end up with something similar to everyone else ('I went to the park, and then to the pool, etc etc') I decided to try and find an angle, something to set mine apart. And I did.

I realised that I had seen loads of funky new animals there so decided that my talk should be about the animals I had seen. I even included a run down of a night when I was so convinced there was a panther in my room (then later, an alligator) that I slowly and carefully, so as not to alert it to my presence, threw the entire contents of my luggage at my little brother till he woke up, making him go switch on the light. (I was lucky to live to tell the tale.) But that wasn't the worst part. The real icing on the cake was that I decided (goodness knows why) that to really get across the tension and excitement of all these amazing sights, I should perform the whole thing in the style of David Attenborough. I mean, the voice, the movements, everything.

To this day, I have no idea what came over me, but I was so convinced that my genius plan was foolproof that I followed it right the way through. It wasn't until afterwards when I turned to see my teacher looking incredulously at me, eyes wide, mouth agape, that i realised I'd maybe gone wrong somewhere. Turns out it was supposed to be a personal talk about the feeling of being on holiday. Needless to say I failed spectacularly. (Although given that my grades had been great till then, I didn't let it go without a fight. Which I lost.)

This ordeal is always in my mind when doing presentations. For some reason, the part of my mind that regulates good ideas from stupidity switches off when it comes to giving talks. And although I've learned never to go that far, I still managed to get a look of shock from the teacher when we got onto the slide debating the question of the 'true Scotsman.' I didn't fail and it didn't go too badly, (till that point) but I'm afraid I may never learn when it comes to giving talks.

The moral of the story: don't ask me to give a talk. (especially if i might enjoy it)

a tale not for the lighthearted

It was early evening when she was suddenly overcome by a sense of triumph. (Possibly stemming from the fact she had eaten the first thing that hadn't been rejected by her stomach that very afternoon.) Feeling particularly optimistic, she decided to take a trip to the local store to start back on the track to solid food.

She took the elevator six flights and was hit by the familiar, strangely breathtaking sensation that happens when you cross from air-conditioned rooms to the humidity of outdoors.

Looking down at her flip-flops she smiled, she was suddenly reminded of an email detailing hailstone storms in her home town.

The usual symphony of grasshoppers welcomed her as she walked, apparently harmonising with the spirited sounds culminating from the playing field.

Turning the corner she stopped.

Perhaps she had lost her mind. Things she had read were becoming reality? Perhaps the earthquake (however small) had somehow conjoined the part of her mind that visualises what she reads, with the part that visualises what she sees. She wasn't sure. It took her head a few seconds to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. Surely it couldn't be... snowing. And 'Truman Show' style at that, all in one small concentrated area.

Then she realised. Moths.

She hated moths, and lots of white ones, bigger than thumbnails, flying in a cloud, were not her idea of fun.

They stood between her and the convenience store. With only one way through she was not about to let these little flying devils get in her way. Summoning all the bravery collect vicariously through Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies, (she new they'd come in handy someday,) she closed her eyes, leaving just enough space to see, and ploughed through.

She made it.

Got to her goal, and made it back again.

But then horror struck.

While innocently washing her chopsticks, she caught a glimpse of something in the mirror out of the corner of her eye.

The worst thing possible had happened. One of the fluttery little blighters had managed to crawl down her t-shirt. There's only so much bravery one girl can handle in a day, and this was too much (even for Star Wars.)

She was outdone. It's said that you could hear the blood curdling screams all the way down to he bottom floor of the building. And she was never seen again.

(well at least not till the moths go away)

really?

Can it be true? Surely not. Has she really eventually managed to get up to date?

Yes.

Another solid day at the computer and I'm back up to date. I don't think I've worn my glasses for such long periods of time since I got them.
So what did I do to celebrate this amazing turn of events?
Donned a pair of rubber gloves and cleaned the bathroom.
I believe it may be the early stages of cabin fever (or delirium from dreaming about food.)
However I fully intend on chilling out, watching Harry Potter later this evening.

Sunday13thMay07

Today (despite the fact I didn't get to bed till the wee hours) I got up early and ploughed through a tonne of work. As of tomorrow I should be completely up to date with the blog and maybe even finished the half way point of my photos being marked by the assessments for back home this week.

I did take a break for a jog this evening (would have taken more but my stomach has been waging war against food all week so I'm on a green and energy drink diet) and didn't do too badly but my head wasn't in it, I couldn't clear.

Syphoning through photo files is fairly dry work so I decided to investigate some old music files and rediscovered Sage Francis (the guy may be a lyrical genius) and some old Atmosphere albums to keep me going. So it got me thinking about sages. What is the best advice I've ever been given?

The one that sticks with me always was from a good friend who said 'it doesn't matter how far you fall, it's how quickly you get backup again that counts.' Strange as it may be, that line has stopped me from doing a lot of stupid things. But that's not the one that's been stuck in my head all day.

A few years ago I was at a big festival. Some friends were doing the sound for the bands and one friend was in charge of one of the live feed cameras. She came up to me one afternoon and asked if I could take over that night, I obviously said yes and asked her to show me round the camera to which she said, 'no, I'm leaving now, just do it.' I think my heart may have stopped at that point. I was bricking it (for lack of a better phrase) I had never done anything like that before. So after grilling the film guys for help (they were very kind given that I'm sure they were a little shocked) I still had no idea how I was gona pull this off without some serious camera shake. But about five minutes before the gig started my mum came up to and said something perfect, (pretty paraphrased) 'you know you can do this. If you're scared, you'll do an average job and that's okay, but if you take a risk and just go for it you could do somethin pretty creative.' She was right. I took the risk and tuned out it paid off. I totally calmed, pushed the nervousness out of the way, and just went for it. Turned out the guy at the back liked what I did and my camera was one of the main feeds the whole night, and the next morning I was asked to do it again till my friend got back.

It's not easy to do though. It's like going white water rafting, you need to switch off the part of your brain that tells you to run in the opposite direction. I have been outputting average for too long now, I think it's about time some risks were taken. I just need to figure out how.

Saturday12thMay07

Today I went to the main contemporary art gallery in Taipei. I love art galleries and tend to get a little carried away in them. Generally speaking, there's always a heap of stuff that's okay, and a heap of stuff that's really good, but its the stuff that really grabs your attention that I love. It doesn't have to be big or showy, there's just something about the piece that you're looking at that has you intrigued and for some inexplicable reason, you can't stop thinking about it.

But this art gallery didn't really do much for me. There was an exhibition from some guy that looked like and expressionist version of Escher which was interesting, but it wasn't particularly outstanding. It was all very safe. Even the work that was 'controversial' was still safe. Almost everything could fit very neatly into specific genres and could be read without much thought. It was good, it just felt a bit constipated. They did have a lovely little park at the back though.

It was a really good day though and when I got back to the dorms it was punctuated very nicely with a glass of actual, proper, not made from syrup, actually contains alcohol, white wine from an Estonian girl who lives a few doors up from me. She had managed to find it at a special shop somewhere. I miss wine. 'twas good.

Friday11thMay07

Friday's are my day off from uni so I spent it accordingly. Catching up on work through the day, then playing at night.

I've only been out in Taipei once since I've been here and that was by accident, so have been desperate for a proper night out. To let off some steam. So I did.

I met up with a friend and we headed to this punk rock show headlined by a band called Consider the Meek. They were seriously decent, and the bands on before them weren't too bad either. It was weird though, I haven't seen so many white guys in one place in a long time, and it felt a bit like a dinner show at times due to the high tables and chairs. The venue itself was cool though, you went down a stairs into a hall of record shops and a bar then through to the main bar and stage area. It was pretty DIYesk but it worked. I also haven't seen so much black in one place in a long time, the colour isn't exactly the best for the heat here. The thing I found the strangest was the amount of photographers with seriously nice cameras. This was obviously a slightly underground kind of place, but there were at least three photographers. And I wasn't one of them (which felt even more weird). Weirder still was that one of them turned out to be my sociology professor (who I have a new found respect for) who turns out to be part owner of the company representing the main band (or something like that.)

There is heaps to do in Taipei, right the way through the night, stuff doesn't stop at two am like in Scotland. And it's really safe. Even the drunk guys are safe. It's very cool. So after the gig we headed to this place where you hire your own little cinema. You pick whatever film you want, order some drinks or whatever you fancy, then lounge on big squishy sofas watching your own private movie. I had a lot of fun. It was the first time in a long time I've been out past two and I was loving it.

Especially not having to conform to the eleven o'clock curfew.

Thusday10thMay07

Today I had an essay to write so decided to take it up to the roof since it was a nice day. Not my brightest of ideas ever. My back got fried adding to the patchwork quilt effect I seem to have going on just now.

Later on a stumbled across a book I've been meaning to read for ages, turns out it's pretty good. It's about the philosophy of photography and uses some fascinating metaphors to get it's ideas across. Likening the written word to “the linear world of history” and images to “none other than the world of magic.” It's fascinating, and despite the occasional 'what the heck are you talking about,' moment, the guy gets his point across fairly clearly.

I'm just not entirely sure what that is yet, given I only read the first few pages, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

Wednesday9thMay07

Today it was right back to work. Mandarin class, class meeting and then Etiquette. I was shattered. By the time it came to face the music and write up the blog entries I'd missed, I was literally falling asleep at my computer. (You know, when you don't realise that your eyes are closed until your head falls, jerking you back into reality.) There was only one option. Time for a jog.

To say I had to drag myself out would be an understatement. I did not want to go, but there was no way I was gona let a few flights and classes get in the way, sleep was not an option.

Turns out that the half dazed crazed effect is a good thing when you're jogging. I added another jogged lap to my personal best, and upped the speed for the last two. I think it's the only thing driving me to keep going – I totally gona kick your ass, last weeks self. I'm starting to scare myself.

Nevertheless, it was worth it, my plan worked, I got a few more hours out before I gave in and went to bed. Awesome.

Tuesday8thMay07

Day Five:

Today I spent most of the day on airplanes. It was time to leave, albeit reluctantly. After breakfast, that was it, Jakarta then Taiwan.

I do not want to go back to Jakarta. It's just dirty and smelly and hot. The airport was full of dust and incense and sweaty people. I must admit, I'm glad I've seen it,it was very interesting, but you'd probably have to pay me to go back for anything other than a connecting flight.

Other than a rather scary moment when I realised there was a possibility I might not get back into the country cos of a problem with my visa, (which was resolved) it was a fairly uneventful journey home. Just airplane movies and food (which I successfully managed to keep off my clothes this time.)

Monday 7th May 07

Day Four:

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love water!

I do. I love being in it, next to it, drinking it, playing with it, watching it, anything. Today, we started off the day at Water Bomb, a water park in Bali. It was great. Terrifying water, lazy rivers, palm trees, kids pools, adults pools and lot of sun. I could have spent all day there but we only had a couple of hours.

The next stop, however, turned out to be even better than the first. We spent three hours at a gorgeous spa. Two hours were for a full body massage (they place hot stones on you too which was just weird) and the last hour was for some special hair treatment and massage. Oh it was good. We were each assigned a masseuse who lead us to secluded little glass rooms, two to a room. Soft music plays as you breathe in relaxing aromatherapy oils. The only thing stopping me from falling asleep was that the sweet young Indonesian girl was systematically beating my muscles into remission, (and the hot stones were hot!) But man it felt good afterwards, kinda like walking on a cloud. (Maybe those weren't aromatherapy oil fumes...)

Spending three hours at a spa doesn't exactly induce the want to do anything afterwards. Nonetheless we went to a place that produces coffee beans (although they weren't very good), a wood carving place, art gallery and batik place before heading to dinner for an Indonesian royal show. The highlight by far was the fruit. I have no clue what most of them were, but they were fantastic.

We got back to the hotel with a nit of extra time (somehow) so spent it wandering around checking things out. I met some guy who, when he found out I was from Scotland, kept spouting names of football players and managers (I'm pretty sure most of them were English.) You'd think that by travelling half way round the world you could escape football, but apparently not. I don't do football.

wow

I know this is completely out of synch (and its pretty late) but the coolest thing ever just happened!

It's been a secret hope of mine that this might happen since before I came here (stupid as that may seem) and it did! There was just an earthquake!

How cool is that! One more thing to tick off the old 'list of things to do before you die' list.

That was awesome.

I totally jumped out my seat thinking that someone was behind me rocking it, but then realised the rest of the room was moving with it. Weirdest feeling ever.

It was only little, but man am I chuffed!

You can't plan experiences like that. I guess I'm just lucky that way.

Sunday6thMay07

Day three

Today I got to see what this place looks like in the day time. I was not disappointed. As soon as I saw it I was making plans to pack up and move here. It has to be one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. It's so green and sunny and friendly.

And then I saw a bit of the coastline and that was it. I was in love.

We went there to visit a sea temple which (as the name suggests) is an old temple situated slightly out to sea. To get there we walked through a market and then through the big stone entrance way. These entrances are two big stone pillar type things, generally with a dragon-dog (or something) in front of either one. The animals represent yin and yang and by walking through these you leave all the evil spirits that have been following you behind (or that's the idea.) These 'gateways' are everywhere. They're pretty big on protecting against spirits here.

So anyway, as soon as we neared the gate a slight smell of the sea reached me. I love that smell. I didn't realise how much I did until now. I grew up next to the sea and spent a lot of my childhood playing on rock pools or golden sand in the summer. It has to be the best setting ever for a kid to grow up. In the summer toys were generally ignored so as to go search for buried treasure, dig to China or make a pizza shop out of the rocks (using limpets for toppings). I guess that's one of the main reasons I love it now. Although I'm scared of fish and dark water (I'm always convinced there's a basking shark waiting to suck off my leg or something) so generally don't go in that far. But I love spending time in and around the sea. It's so awesome. I could spend hours looking out to the horizon imaging how much water is out there, or how many adventures have been had, or how many people there are beyond my field of vision that I've never met. Its crazy.

And this sea was no different. (Although a fair sight warmer than the north sea.) It was stunning. So blue and dotted with little people on surf boards. The coast at the area we were at was mostly breathtaking cliffs and tropical foliage. It was beautiful. But unfortunately we couldn't spend all day there.

First we went off to eat and drink from some fresh coconuts, the big green kind juicy kind, not the wrinkly brown ones we get. Either way, it was still disgusting.

Then we spent the rest of the afternoon milling around markets trying out the best of our haggling skills. It's a lot harder than it sounds. Everywhere you go, somebody's trying to rip you off. They give you a price and your offer has to start at 10% of their offer. Apparently if you pay more than 30% you're being ripped off. But I'm not exactly the best at the whole hard bargaining thing, me and my friend went round together and were rubbish. We came to the conclusion that we smile too much so tried to look mean but it was just too hard. We did get some bargains but I think it had more to do with the exchange rate than our bargaining skills.

In the evening we ended up at a fish restaurant (big shock). It looked great if you like fish but given that crab is about the one food that makes me want to hurl, and it was sitting alongside lobster and whole fish, my appetite mysteriously disappeared.

Talking about hurling, I think there's something up with me, everyone who shares a room with me gets sick. My roommate here just got really sick today. I mean, you expect a bit of an upset stomach when you go to a new country but this is like, sick sick. Thankfully I don't think it's contagious. I'm rubbish with sick people, I tend to just sit and try to distract them (generally at my expense.) Guess I'm in for a fun night.

a little extra bit

This is a little insert (from today) before I go any further.

Nobody ever said this would be easy, but sometimes you forget how much time things actually take. Take for example, the trip to Bali. I thought, oh it's only five days and it'll be worth it, I'll catch up with stuff when I get back. Yes it was worth it [a friend and I have already made (very realistic) plans to create a new strain of betelnut (diet betelnut, betelnut viagra...) make our own little crime syndicate to use the selling of the wonder-nuts as a cover for, make a fortune, move to Bali, learn to surf and live there as beach bums – possibly best plan ever], but man it takes time to catch up. I forgot how long it takes to type up these things. I love doing it, but it takes time.

So please bare with me while i get it all together.

Saturday5thMay07

Day Two

Another early morning (6:20) and a very nice breakfast.

I've totally lost my appetite for the last few weeks. (A mixture of heat and being fed up with the food.) But then I saw breakfast (my favourite meal of the day) and for the first time in weeks, wanted to eat. There was proper bread, pancakes, fresh jam and fruit, loads of hot food too (but who needs that when you have bread and fruit?!) The thing that really made it for me though was the coffee. By far the best mug of coffee I've had in months. No creamer and no sweetener.

Today we took a quick tour of the city, popped in by a museum, then headed to the airport for the part I had been looking forward to the most. Bali. I was not disappointed.

The plane landing was the sort that makes you cling to your seat and pray. I counted barely two seconds between seeing land and feeling the wheels touch down on it. The sun had gone down by the time we got out of the airport so I have no idea what the island looks like so far. The guide told us there is a law to prevent buildings from being built higher than the coconut tree to help preserve the cultural experience. There are a few interesting things I did see though. When we got out of the airport we were greeted with necklaces of egg flowers by a young girl dressed in traditional clothing which was a bit surreal. Even more surreal though was what looks like a monument of a muscular half naked man in a makeshift tartan kilt wrestling a dragon in the middle of the main roundabout.

For dinner we went to a Japanese buffet place with Mongolian barbecue which was pretty interesting. Everywhere we go, almost everything has fish in it so tonight I gave in and tried my first (and last) sashimi. I was told not to breathe through my nose, only my mouth or it wouldn't taste good, but goodness knows how you're supposed to accomplish that without activating your gag reflex when your mouth's stuffed full of green spicy gunk, seaweed and sticky rice, not to mention the fish. Pleuch.

Then the defining moment came.

We arrived at our villas.

At reception we were given fresh tropical fruit juice and then were lead down beautiful low lit alleys surrounded in plants, splitting off to lead to carved wooden doors flanked by big green plants at our appropriate villas. Through the doors a path runs through the middle alongside a private lit pool, ending at an outdoor dinning room, lounge and kitchen. It was all so fresh and clean and homey looking but at the same time, beautiful. There are three rooms (and we won the master bedroom) but they look more like villas in their own right. Each are separate little houses with high roofs made from traditional Bali style grasses. Our room is mental. The walls around the bedroom all have big glass french doors, each with a perfect view. You walk behind the massive headboard of the bed (that I'm sure could sleep four people) and there are another set of doors leading into the bathroom. This in itself is amazing, separated into four sections: the toilet to the left, shower room to the right, two sinks with dresser area, one on either side of the entrance to the four centre section containing a glass room with a free-standing old Victorian style bath. It's stunning.

We all had the same reaction. At first, lots of oo's and ah's, then a lot of running around checking out everything with a mixture of shock and disbelief. It's the sort of place you should come on your honeymoon, not a class trip. Like my roommate said, it's like a fantasy place, it's just beautiful.

Friday4thMay07

Day One

Got up at some unearthly hour to catch the bus to take us to the airport.

(NB: 'us' = 25ish Taiwanese and me.)

I was surprised at how much goes on in the streets of Taoyuan at 6:30 in the morning.

Old people doing Tai-Chi in the park, kids walking to school in matching shell suit style uniforms, and the mandatory reality check on health and safety as a local baker loads up his modestly dingy delivery van with open top trays of assorted breads, cigarette perched precariously in mouth.

It was (I think) a five hour flight to Jakarta (during which I, somehow, managed to turn my spoon into a projectile weapon, firing sticky fruit juice all down my t-shirt) we arrived around 1pm (I think.)

Everything is planned out and paid in advance for us, even down to our meals, so this is a 'no thinking required' trip which is great cos we get more done. Unfortunately it means we get more done.

We barely left the airport when we headed on a bus which bypassed the hotel to take us straight to the local theme park (I had not vouched on this so had no spare t-shirt and was wearing black trousers in serious heat.)

Jakarta is a fascinating place, not at all what I imagined it to be. It's very rural around the airport. We passed heaps of water fields sectioned off by rickety little walkways leading to wooden shack type cottages on stilts. As we got closer to the city the housing got more dense, but still had a very makeshift feel about it. We passed an almost slum-like mass of housing that was made completely of paper and the quality of living didn't get much better (other than the hotels) from then on in. Abandoned or run down buildings, muddy rivers, and bustling traffic interjected with people selling random pieces of junk between the cars.

The first thing we came to that seemed safe to live in was the theme park.

It was Indonesia's version of Alton Towers or Disney Land but smaller. It was great fun though.

I am a major sucker for roller coasters. The bigger and faster, the better. I was loving it.

Every ride we came to was more exciting than the last. I love the fact that regardless of the fact that I've been to more theme parks and on more roller coasters than I can count, they still reduce me to acting like a five year old that has just discovered ice cream. They never get old. You know what's coming; the slow start: lulling you into a false sense of security; the build up: dropping a large ball of dread into the pit of your stomach; the climax: a mixture of sheer fear, excitement and shock causing your stomach and voice to be left behind for a few seconds before they eventually catch up and leave you in disbelief. And then you get off, unsure as to what you were thinking. And then a split second later you realise it was phenomenal and you want to go right back and do it again. Add to that a group of almost thirty classmates and you have a recipe for a really fun day. I loved it.

We left at 7 to head to restaurant for a show. I felt really uncomfortable there.

It had nothing to do with the fact that it was a really good restaurant with live singing and waiters looking after your every need. (Although that was a bit strange.) Nope. It had a lot to do with that fact that just a before the sun went down I had gone on a river rapids ride and still had seriously soggy trousers and underpants on. I felt like I had had a rather unfortunate accident and was leaving wet patches all over the place so was reluctant to leave my seat for most of the time. When I eventually had to, one of the waiters walked up to me. (I was sure he was going to ask me to explain the sizeable puddle on the seat, and to make things worse, I noticed a small group of them watching me.) Turned out he wanted to know where I was from and how long I'd been in Indonesia. I was a bit taken aback which was made worse when he went back to the group to relay the information and they called over that they loved me. I tried to pretend I hadn't heard them and hid amongst a group of friends, hoping we would leave soon. Next thing I knew the waiter was back again, this time with his name and phone number written on a piece of paper, and a request that I call him. I was mortified. I mean really, when does that ever happen. Our tour guide type person (and everyone else) thought this was fantastic and kept saying how I should be flattered, but needless to say, never call him. I don't think I could get past the embarrassment though. It's a far stretch from the (generally speaking) emotionally constipated guys I'm used to.

Eventually we got to our hotel. All our hotels are five star so are very comfortable and will be much appreciated after such a long day. But I can't help but feel weird living in such a lovely room when the view out the window shows run down shacks right to the horizon.

i forgot to mention...

Today has been a bit hectic. I'm going to Jakarta and then Bali for five days on a class trip. I leave tomorrow morning.

My head was swimming with stuff; did I remember to buy aftersun?; is my bag too heavy?; will my roommate be okay? (she ended up in the emergency room again last night); does going even closer to the equator make me a masochist?; what do i need to finish for assessments?; is this the worst timed trip ever?; which cameras should I take?; what day is it?

I needed some time out.

I'd been running around like a headless chicken all day and the one thing that was on the top of my list to do was not done. I headed to one of the campus restaurants with a pile of contact sheets of photos and got to work. It was lovely.

There was nobody there to bother me (everyone is studying right now so the place is dead) and (most importantly) they have air conditioning.

I still haven't finished but at least I got a good space to evaluate the current situation and figure out what still needs done.

So I'll be out of touch for the next few days but will be sure to update on the goings on when I get back.

drama drama drama

So I head on the bus home and it breaks down in the middle of the motorway. (which actually kinda appealed to my sense of humour so wasn't necessarily a bad thing)
But then I eventually get to the dorms (after changing buses) to find my roommate is in bed with with a fever. I sit down to eat some lunch when I hear a wee noise behind me so turn to find out my roommate had collapsed and was really not well (she was whiter than me). She couldn't walk and had a temperature of over 40oc (which I guess is bad) so she was taken off to hospital for tests.
Mental.
But don't worry, she just got back and seems to be a fair bit better. We don't look so alike anymore.

i had an idea

Last night I had a break through. There is, in my opinion, another side to the 'photography to prove existence' theory. (NB this is not the breakthrough, but hold on, it's coming.) This is the kind which I tend to adhere to. The proving of existence by recording your surroundings. Collecting images that make up your perception of the world in which you live. It never really occurred to me until I saw an exhibition by this Japanese photographer, Rinko Kawauchi. It was made up of lots of square photographs of incidental things. But they weren't incidental because they made up her world; the exploration and appreciation of life; the inevitability of death; and the awesomeness of new life. It was as if I had walked into my world. The way she saw things and appreciated things, it was so similar to the world that I see. Looking at her pictures was a similar feeling to what I'd image it would be like looking at some random portrait in a gallery and realising that the person looking back at you bares a strikingly creepy resemblance to you. So would it be fair to say that this sort of photography (whereby you collect bits and pieces that interest you, or make sense to you from the world around you) is actually like a self portrait? I think that in a way it is. If you make sense of who you are in relation to the things around you (ie i have to look up to speak to people, therefore i must be short) then surely it is a kind of self portrait. A proof of the world that you live in. So, last night, I was sitting in the coffee-shop-which-shall-not-be-named looking over some of the questions i was planning to use for the betelnut girls, but something kept niggling at me. It had been niggling for a while, I just wasn't quite comfortable with them somehow. I kept thinking about the piece this South African guy did about them and how it made me feel. It was predominantly about the business but also portrayed the girls in a strange way. Maybe it was just me, but I felt like they were just a tool that happened to make the pictures a bit prettier. I kept thinking about exploitation and the potentially predatory nature of photography and the thing is that I hadn't really done much to avoid it. I was following what I thought was the best course of action, take some photos, record some interviews, but the only thing separating me from the previous guy, was the fact that he was a guy. That inevitably adds a different dimension to working with the girls, but it still wasn't satisfying what i had hope to get out of this. I wanted to know who they are, what they see. I would be the one holding the power over what was seen of them, especially due to the language barrier, which isn't what I wanted. And then I realised what I had to do. It was risky, but the only way to get anything other than what the last guy had gotten. I had to give them the ownership of the project. They would be the ones calling the shots, showing only what they wanted to. So this was my new plan: introduce myself, ask a few non intrusive questions, and then leave them with a disposable camera for a week to take photos of whatever they wanted. Their own self portrait. The chips could fall either way, I may well end up with nothing at the end, but I think the risk is worth it. So this morning, I headed out with my friend to speak to the first girl. Unfortunately I had overlooked one glaringly obvious potential problem. The friend I had taken with me to help translate was both white, and a guy. Not the wisest of things to do, it added this whole awkward feel to the thing and caused the girl to close up a little. So then he called a friend, a Taiwanese girl who wasn't far away. She was great. She could understand me (although I don't think she understood what I was doing) and the atmosphere was far clearer when we went for girl number two. She was a really pretty girl, really friendly and seemed to up for helping out when I handed her the camera. It was what I had hoped for, but wasn't sure of the possibility of it happening. And although I may only have one so far, I'm pretty happy with that one. Great start to the day.

Tuesday1stMay07

With the ever looming inevitability that someone someday is going to ask the question; why do you take photographs? and the routine answer containing something about loving it, will not be good enough, has got me thinking;

What is it that drives people to take photographs?

One possibility that I have been particularly dwelling on, is that of photography as a tool to prove existence. Is it even viable?

People here are obsessed with taking photos, even more-so than myself. But these are a different kind of photo. Almost as a rule, they aim to capture themselves, or their accompanying friends within the frame. Even if that means sacrificing the thing that has brought them to this place, and only a smidgen is visible, it doesn't matter. I have even seen a few friends determined not to waste the time waiting on a bus staring into space as is generally customary, but instead perfecting their poses. Taken from slightly above eye level so that they are looking up with a slightly doe-eyed look, the pout, the lightly cocked head. It all had to be perfect.

But surely by so prolifically 'proving' you were there, you lose the essence of the true you in the photo. The 'you' that is captured is practised and fake, not the 'you' that people see every day.

I do not like to be in front of the camera, and being around this sort of behaviour has made me like it even less. Which unfortunately means that there is little, to no evidence to back up my word that I am actually here.

However, this kind of proof is surely far from trustworthy. The common truism that the camera never lies was, in my opinion, a misconception from the start. Even more so nowadays with the regular use of photoshop. But the illusion starts way before the image reaches the darkroom, be it traditional or electronic, no, the camera itself is the guilty party. It adds it's own perspective to the world, manipulated by its user to show what he or she sees. What results is the camera's perception of the world with a dash of the photographer thrown in for good measure.

In Gustav Janouch's 'Conversations with Kafka,' Kafka makes a very interesting point:

“Photography concentrates one's eye on the superficial. For that reason it obscures the hidden life which glimmers through the outlines of things like a play of light and shade. One can't catch that even with the sharpest lens. One has to grope for it by feeling... This automatic camera doesn't multiply men's eyes but only gives a fantastically simplified fly eye's view.”

This in effect, is part of my problem; the camera shows only an illusion, a representation of something that is there (all be it a fascinating one.) It can never replace the experience of actually living in our world, in which there are so many treasures to be found if we only take the time to look.

So does photography that 'proves existence' actually do the opposite? Proving that yes you were there, but you ever actually experienced that moment because you were too busy trying to capture it. And however special a thing that might be, can it ever match up to the magic of just experiencing because you can? Those hidden moments you share with the world that don't have to be held accountable to anything or anyone.