Tēnā koe
A long time since I've posted and I'm a long way from London.
That's right, I am back in the Land of the Long Wh....actually I'll spare you all the cheesiness.
But after two and a half years away and almost five years living overseas, I have been drinking in all of the changes and, most of all, the familiarities.
TOP TEN THINGS I FORGOT ABOUT WELLINGTON (and NZ in general)
How people always say 'thank you' to the driver when they get off the bus
The constant sound of birds chirping
Effortlessly stylish - but almost always black - Wellington fashion
Bicycle couriers
How stunning the harbour is when the sun is out
Its acceptable for men up to the age of 60 to wear jandals and hoodies
Constantly talking about the weather in minute detail ("South Westerley expected tomorrow around 11.30am")
Complimentary milo in the staff kitchen
Asking everyone you meet what school they went to
Your latte always served with a side glass of water for the true coffee connoisseur
Ka kite ano
Kelly
Monday, September 01, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Death and decay in a day
(Something I wrote last year)
The glass doors open and the searing heat and traffic noise of busy Bangkok is replaced with stagnant air, dim light and relative silence, interrupted only by the squeak of nurses’ shoes and trolley wheels on the linoleum floor. Gazing around, the scene is like a (slightly more animate) morgue. The corridors are lined with Thai men and women, hooked to drips and woefully contemplating their surroundings.
After hopefully scanning the Thai promotional leaflet and map for the seventh time, realisation sinks in that it is in fact necessary to walk through the outpatients’ clinic to reach my final destination. Holding my breath I make my way there, and 40 baht, paid to a pleasant yet clearly bored medical student, gains entrance. The thought of what is to come leaves me with a funny taste in the back of my throat as I step through the doors and out of my comfort zone.
This is Siriraj Hospital at Mahidol University. Founded by King Chulalongkorn in 1888, it treats over a million patients a year and is Thailand’s oldest and largest hospital and medical school.
For the lucky traveller, the local health system is not often on the ‘things I saw’ list, but at Siriraj, medicine is intrinsically linked with tourism. It is home to the Forensic Medicine Museum; an establishment that the Lonely Planet has promised is “designed to educate rather than nauseate”.
The morbid journey begins with an informative exhibition, which aims to reveal the true story behind how tsunami victims were saved and, disturbingly, how people were identified by using forensic evidence and DNA technology. Suddenly the educational and non-confrontational storyboards end and around the corner is a life-size scene of the Boxing Day aftermath, complete with surgeons in green scrubs working on a badly injured woman, surrounded by bloated bodies in half-opened bags.
I rush to the next room where half-formed babies in bottles greet me. Shelves running along the cream walls hold embalmed examples of births gone wrong; including co-joined twins. This dreadful sight is humanised by the small toys, flowers and tokens that locals have left in front of each glass case as a sign of respect that these were loved lives lost, but donated for research. It is hard not to be captivated.
But the truly gruesome and most macabre is yet to come. Siriraj‘s Forensic Medicine Museum houses a collection of the preserved bodies of Thailand’s most celebrated murderers, illustrated with pictures of their victims and murder weapons. Again absorption takes hold and my pace slows to read the basic English translations and astonish at the discovery of each fascinating exhibit. A tidily hand-written sign below the cadaver of famous 1950s cannibal Si Ouey explains simply “because he loves to eat human’s organ, not because of starving”. Sentenced to death after allegedly murdering between five to eight young boys, he stands in a glass case; brown and shrivelled, with waxy deposits collecting in a tray beneath him. Hushed whispers are all that can be heard as visitors wander around the grisly exhibitions in grotesque-fuelled amazement. Various medical curiosities are also displayed; including an enormous scrotum with a 75 centimetre diameter, dissected from a victim of elephantitis. Crime-scenes on the wall have simple yet self-explanatory signs such as “Man decapitated by train”.
Although dusty and faded, the museum is perfect for those who have seen the temples and palaces and are looking to explore Bangkok’s darker side. Many of the displays teach visitors about the inner workings of the body and have assisted Thai medical students in their research for years. And it appeals to that little something in each of us that tempts us to slow down and take a peep when passing a car accident.
The nauseous feeling still lingering, I stumble out to the bright, bustling street to flag down a friendly tuk-tuk driver amongst the traffic chaos. Now I can appreciate the taste; it is borne from that uncomfortable and unsettling sensation felt when two cultures clash and an unforgettable travel experience is had.
The glass doors open and the searing heat and traffic noise of busy Bangkok is replaced with stagnant air, dim light and relative silence, interrupted only by the squeak of nurses’ shoes and trolley wheels on the linoleum floor. Gazing around, the scene is like a (slightly more animate) morgue. The corridors are lined with Thai men and women, hooked to drips and woefully contemplating their surroundings.
After hopefully scanning the Thai promotional leaflet and map for the seventh time, realisation sinks in that it is in fact necessary to walk through the outpatients’ clinic to reach my final destination. Holding my breath I make my way there, and 40 baht, paid to a pleasant yet clearly bored medical student, gains entrance. The thought of what is to come leaves me with a funny taste in the back of my throat as I step through the doors and out of my comfort zone.
This is Siriraj Hospital at Mahidol University. Founded by King Chulalongkorn in 1888, it treats over a million patients a year and is Thailand’s oldest and largest hospital and medical school.
For the lucky traveller, the local health system is not often on the ‘things I saw’ list, but at Siriraj, medicine is intrinsically linked with tourism. It is home to the Forensic Medicine Museum; an establishment that the Lonely Planet has promised is “designed to educate rather than nauseate”.
The morbid journey begins with an informative exhibition, which aims to reveal the true story behind how tsunami victims were saved and, disturbingly, how people were identified by using forensic evidence and DNA technology. Suddenly the educational and non-confrontational storyboards end and around the corner is a life-size scene of the Boxing Day aftermath, complete with surgeons in green scrubs working on a badly injured woman, surrounded by bloated bodies in half-opened bags.
I rush to the next room where half-formed babies in bottles greet me. Shelves running along the cream walls hold embalmed examples of births gone wrong; including co-joined twins. This dreadful sight is humanised by the small toys, flowers and tokens that locals have left in front of each glass case as a sign of respect that these were loved lives lost, but donated for research. It is hard not to be captivated.
But the truly gruesome and most macabre is yet to come. Siriraj‘s Forensic Medicine Museum houses a collection of the preserved bodies of Thailand’s most celebrated murderers, illustrated with pictures of their victims and murder weapons. Again absorption takes hold and my pace slows to read the basic English translations and astonish at the discovery of each fascinating exhibit. A tidily hand-written sign below the cadaver of famous 1950s cannibal Si Ouey explains simply “because he loves to eat human’s organ, not because of starving”. Sentenced to death after allegedly murdering between five to eight young boys, he stands in a glass case; brown and shrivelled, with waxy deposits collecting in a tray beneath him. Hushed whispers are all that can be heard as visitors wander around the grisly exhibitions in grotesque-fuelled amazement. Various medical curiosities are also displayed; including an enormous scrotum with a 75 centimetre diameter, dissected from a victim of elephantitis. Crime-scenes on the wall have simple yet self-explanatory signs such as “Man decapitated by train”.
Although dusty and faded, the museum is perfect for those who have seen the temples and palaces and are looking to explore Bangkok’s darker side. Many of the displays teach visitors about the inner workings of the body and have assisted Thai medical students in their research for years. And it appeals to that little something in each of us that tempts us to slow down and take a peep when passing a car accident.
The nauseous feeling still lingering, I stumble out to the bright, bustling street to flag down a friendly tuk-tuk driver amongst the traffic chaos. Now I can appreciate the taste; it is borne from that uncomfortable and unsettling sensation felt when two cultures clash and an unforgettable travel experience is had.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Cardiff - "Black Saturday"?
I woke up this morning with a hollow feeling in my stomach - was it just a nightmare or did we really just lose to the French in the quarter finals last night?
The mood was tense on the bus to Cardiff, particularly as news of Australia's lost to England (never welcome when you live and work WITH the English) filtered through to passengers via text updates. Chris, as the only Aussie, copped plenty of banter from the 40 odd New Zealand supporters on board, handing him tissues and faux sympathies galore.
Cardiff statium impressed and I felt shivers down my spine during the fierce haka. But we were to endure a rollercoaster of emotions throughout the game (Tich WAS going for NZ by the way) and we were surrounded by some very vocal Frogs.
We all know the result, so I won't go into it. Particularly because the best thing about not being at home at times like this is that you miss the post-mortem of why we lost as well as the usual bad ref decision/bad coaching etc conversations.
Needless to say, I was pretty emotional at full-time and there were quite a few people in the stadium that were inconsolable. The bus ride home was comparatively quiet, and some people hit the bottles of spirits pretty hard to raise their own (or numb the pain).
Amazing to be there though and - despite our disappointment - a historic game of rugby!
I've just watched TNVZ footage of some Kiwis burning the flag on the street - disgusting. All I can hope is that we retain some perspective and realise this is not the end of the world by any stretch of the imagination. Bring on RWC 2011 when we can do it in front of a home crowd!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Carnivale
All I can say is sorry to all of you that are complaining at my lack of posting (all three of you). *Bashful*
Life in London is ticking along and we are slowly starting to feel more settled. My life revolves around the thriving metropolis that is Hammersmith as I walk the well-worn (4 minute) path from home to work in the morning and back again in the evening. Upheaval is nigh though, as my office is moving into Covent Garden - which is great news for the city's bars, restaurants and retailers - but no so good for my bank account.
Oh, and in case you haven't heard, Chris did get sponsored and can now live in the United Kingdom for five whole years should he not get sick of the weather in that time!! At least we can now say we have survived a consular emergency...its not quite as exciting as being airlifted from an embassy in Rwanda, but it was stressful enough.
Weekends have been filled with exploring. The last one just gone was a Bank Holiday and I wondered down to the Notting Hill Carnival with my housemate Yoland and was met by an explosion of loud reggae beats, colourful costumes and the smoky smell of jerk chicken. Over 2,000,000 Londoners went to the carnival over two days (that's half of New Zealand people).
Sunday afternoon was bright and sunny and we met my cousin Simon & Kellie and friends in Kew Gardens for a picnic lunch and a wander around with the white-haired Nanas. I scoffed at the entrance price (£12.50) but it was like a Garden Disney Land (particularly after a few wines) with huge greenhouses, exotic vegetables, a beach and a badger warren. Hmmmmmm.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Water, water everywhere....
It has not stopped raining for the past 258* days. OK, I didn't expect that I would have dramatically different weather here than Ireland, but it is almost August and it would be nice to have some resemblance of a summer, if possible. Only because I know how grim the winters can get over here and it would be a truly tragic thing if we went straight from this to that. Plus, I saw London in the summer last year and it was utterly MAGIC!
I had to come home this evening and have a hot shower (to warm up), then wolf down a big plate of pasta, before curling up on the couch in my PJ's with a duvet. Does this sound like a July evening to you? (SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE PEOPLE - DO NOT ANSWER THIS RHETORICAL QUESTION). Actually, on that point...anyone from NZ or Australia who complains to me about their current weather will have their email deleted or phone call terminated. I am not in the mood to hear moans from those of you who should expect such weather for this time of the year.
Rant over. Thanks for listening.
The flooding in parts of the UK this week (mainly Gloucestershire) is unbelievable and there are reports of housewives physically fighting each other over bottles of water in the supermarket. Makes the Kirk's sale seem quite tame, doesn't it Mum?
(* Not a true statistic - but it feels like it)
Monday, July 09, 2007
WANTED: UK WORK PERMIT
He's putting on a brave face as he sits in Hyde Park and clutches his Harrods bag...but he needs your help.
For just £1 a day, you can sponsor this child and make a difference...
In all seriousness, Chris flew home to Australia this morning to get his entry clearance. I hope he comes back soon!
My story about our experience at Thai Cooking School in Chiang Mai was published in the Backpacker UK & Ireland magazine!!
Here is the link: http://www.backpacker.ie/magazine/article/?id=562
Unfortunately, it doesn't give you the full effect of the huge picture of Tichy with a knife (none of me, thankfully!)and the two page spread!
Here is the link: http://www.backpacker.ie/magazine/article/?id=562
Unfortunately, it doesn't give you the full effect of the huge picture of Tichy with a knife (none of me, thankfully!)and the two page spread!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Fiddle Dee *Sob*
(NB: This was drafted a week ago when I WAS in Ireland. I am now safely in London and started work today. More later)
Start up the violins (or should that be the fiddles)…as this is my last ever blog post from Eire….
People keep commenting on how quickly they year has flown by, but to be honest it does actually feel like a year to me (but not in a bad way)!
Although I have had what could be described as an on-off relationship with Dublin, I am genuinely sad to leave.
The highlight of the past year has definitely been all our travel around Ireland and Europe, but mainly the amazing group of people we have met. Our group of Antipodean friends here (sometimes fondly referred to as the ‘Core Nine’) were a God-send when it came to jointly despairing of the Irish non-service culture and other minor hiccups one encounters on their working holiday. There have been plenty of laughs and Sunday roasts and nights out – and that unforgettable hungover walk around Galway’s waterways.
And of course – my wonderful “frolleagues”. The working day is so much more bearable when you can laugh your way through it - and I have had plenty to laugh about with all of my work-mates at the Bank of Scotland (and those now departed – like you Taff!). At the very least, I have now fine-tuned my Irish sayings and “come here to me, I’m now after talking like a local now. You know yourself”
Good woman.
We have been distracted by all the things that need to be done when one is moving. Giving notice to the landlord, arranging for mail to be forwarded, electricity bill, tax return, insurance, packing, working out how to get things to UK, giving away the other things, cleaning, planning farewell do’s.
Start up the violins (or should that be the fiddles)…as this is my last ever blog post from Eire….
People keep commenting on how quickly they year has flown by, but to be honest it does actually feel like a year to me (but not in a bad way)!
Although I have had what could be described as an on-off relationship with Dublin, I am genuinely sad to leave.
The highlight of the past year has definitely been all our travel around Ireland and Europe, but mainly the amazing group of people we have met. Our group of Antipodean friends here (sometimes fondly referred to as the ‘Core Nine’) were a God-send when it came to jointly despairing of the Irish non-service culture and other minor hiccups one encounters on their working holiday. There have been plenty of laughs and Sunday roasts and nights out – and that unforgettable hungover walk around Galway’s waterways.
And of course – my wonderful “frolleagues”. The working day is so much more bearable when you can laugh your way through it - and I have had plenty to laugh about with all of my work-mates at the Bank of Scotland (and those now departed – like you Taff!). At the very least, I have now fine-tuned my Irish sayings and “come here to me, I’m now after talking like a local now. You know yourself”
Good woman.
We have been distracted by all the things that need to be done when one is moving. Giving notice to the landlord, arranging for mail to be forwarded, electricity bill, tax return, insurance, packing, working out how to get things to UK, giving away the other things, cleaning, planning farewell do’s.
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