Mai Pen Rai

So I was going to write about how great the honeymoon stage of my cultural adaptation was - how nice it was that I had air conditioning, that the climate here is only moderately warm because it's near the mountains (instead of the horribly sticky heat of Bangkok), that I can flush paper down the toilet, that I can buy nearly everything I want in Chiang Mai cheaply, that I rode a scooter with my new mattress on the back and looked very thai, that my house is great, I like asian food anyway and basically that I was having fun!




Then my freight problems began. Either Thai customs are trying to extort 7,800 baht ($260) out of me in 'import tax' just to hand over my own personal used possessions. Apparently this happens a lot to 'Farangs' because they know we're rich and will pay it so they can make a little extra. Now I've been trying to negotiate with them, but in thai culture everything has to be polite and if you seem like a pushy westerner they will simply dig their heels in worse. Instead, I am supposed to say things like 'I'm very sorry to bother you but I don't have the money, I am just here to make merit and if you help me that merit will be transferred to you' and then persistently bug them, or else I can do the thai thing and just say 'mai pen rai' which can mean 'don't worry about it' and just pay up!Now I am beginning to realise how much I have to adapt my behaviour to never seem displeased even if I am being scammed or make others lose face in public.

What I will miss...

Last night I turned up a little late to my own farewell dinner, an indian curry night hosted at Delle Delle's house. It was a group of very old friends (bar one girl I just met that night) that sat down to eat a 4 course meal that Delle had slaved over all day.
Now girls are always more mature than boys anyway, and never was it so apparent as at dinner; we started by hassling Pete for wearing a hot pink t-shirt, gave Delle instructions on how to cook pappadums when she knew perfectly well, then if you rose from your chair it might disappear under the table only to reappear at the other side, and if you looked away your beer might also disappear. The boys stabbed at each other with the blunt end of their knives, mashed pappadums in each others faces and poured beer into each other's bowls of gelato. Then we rowdily sang an impromptu ode to indian food while iain slapped a two-stringed bass like an epileptic, played chinese whispers charades where Pete completely transformed my act of a spaceman into a disco dancer (at least it matched his shirt), crazy uno where the boys kept talking during the silent plays and just accumulated huge piles of cards which they would then pass off at the first opportunity and in general they cheated at everything!!!
By the end of the night I think I may have strangled them if we played another card game, but this morning I woke up laughing thinking about how Dan had brought his own breathalyser and we all had a go. It was like having all the bratty 8 yr old cousins over at once and while they're there you just wish you weren't related, but in the years afterwards you'll reminisce over the memories...it was community, family.
It is hard to say goodbye.

congratulatory wishes...

Well, after a long and arduos process of going to embassies, to police stations, calling around Australia, I finally have my visa for thailand! However, actually this post isn't really focussing on that. I just want to highlight my father's congratulations to me. This is what it said:
"Good work girl, we will celebrate when I return to Sydney, maybe more prawn for you"

As I've stepped into the mission field, my Dad's emails have given me great joy. Take this one from the time I was in Jakarta:
" I was back home on Wednesday morning and now back to office, last night I was thinking about you knowing that you are in Bali.
Take care and have some laksa. Need food money, I will send some."
It was very heart-warming, even if I wasn't in Bali.

And lastly, this one from the time that I had just escaped from Zimbabwe and I guess Dad must have thought I was still about to face questioning or torture and needed some advice:
"You need to be careful in answering their questions. Do not be emotional about the questions, a cool head will provide a rational conversation. Try not to be away alone without any adult company."

I really enjoy how cool and calm under pressure my Dad is. Poor Daddy has had to suffer a series of emails from his little girl detailing all sorts of horrifying situations around the world. I think he handles it quite well.

aging...why isn't it happening internally?

I was online chatting to a friend yesterday and we realised our 10 yr high school reunions are coming up...but we both still feel like kids! I mean, at least in the last year I have stopped being mistaken for a 16 year old, so something must be happening physically, but mentally, adult things still awe/bore me and I still fight (and often lose) the urge to put my foot out and tap the lever to lower other people's computer chairs during meetings, hide in the bushes and jump out at friends walking past and buy myself lollies in the supermarket.
That is one great thing about my age down on paper at least - I can now buy whatever and drive myself wherever I want...

Ahoy me hearties!

So tonight, there was a farewell pirate party for the Conkeys - the founders of Create International who are moving to Thailand. With scars and a plastic sword I fit nicely into the swashbuckling mob I thought. We played some games, which included a treasure hunt that had me being pushed around on a skateboard by my 'crew' and our team won!
I'm starting to think about Thailand already, and getting pretty excited to be there...

Johanneburg News

So today I was sad because I have no idea where I have stuck my head for the last two weeks, but this morning was the first I heard about the racial violence in South Africa.
Strangely, last night before I found out I had this super strong sense to pray for Joseph Project in Johannesburg, and as I thought about the children there I actually started crying right in the middle of the Friday night service.
Then today I chatted online to a couple of my friends there and the violence is worse than I thought when I first heard about it. Some kids from the Joseph Project centre have had to take refuge in the local police station, more have been evacuated as Fox street (1 street behind the project and where many of the kids live) has had looting and the police moved in with rubber bullets. The staff are volunteering at the refuge centres.
The violence is mainly Zulus against other african immigrants and is concentrated in the townships. The government is responding like in apartheid days - sending in the tank-trucks to the townships. Armed mobs are on the streets and refugees are fleeing back to the countries they left - even Zimbabweans!
I'll end with a quote from Dylan at http://www.mr-boohiss.blogspot.com
My Zim friends made a humorous (I admire their resiliency), but incredibly sad comment. “We Zimbabweans, where can we run? Mugabe, violence and beatings at home. Racist South Africans beating, robbing, and killing us here. Hmm… I guess here is the best then. I would rather be beat on a full stomach than beat on and empty stomach.”

Indonesia!

So I find myself miles down the road from my last post, although I'm back where I was when I last wrote. I've been to Indonesia for 5 weeks, filmed 3 movies and gotten really really sick.
How do I summarise Indonesia? Let me say the work, the people and the landscapes we went through were amazing, but the spiritual warfare terribly harsh. I don't think I've ever felt more awful on any mission trip, even though I was doing what I love. But maybe that's cause the outcome of these video projects could be amazing.
Jakarta was warm, wild taxi rides to meetings all over, mega malls contrasting horrific slums and we would visit both in a day with the teams. Bandung and Ciwidey were calm rice paddies, villages of excited children, walking along the alleys of the kampoengs saying 'pagi!', sleeping in damp concrete rooms and misty hills everywhere.