"Could I get a skinny soy decaf chai latte with not too much milk? Oh, and make it 64 degrees, I don't want to burn myself."
"I SAID NOT TOO MUCH MILK! How am I supposed to drink this?!"
Sitting on my high horse in the western world, I am as guilty of focusing on minuscule and meaningless problems as the next person. Only last week, I found myself laying a complaint with a hotel about the noise created by night roadworks while away for a work trip. "What do you mean, they're working all night?! That's a disgrace!"
First world problems affect us momentarily. Flight delays ("you mean I'm obligated to sit in the airport and drink another beer?!"), ATM fees ("$2.50! Who's got that kind of money?"), poor service ("I can't believe she didn't even ask me how my day was, she should lose her job!"), the list is endless and I daren't even get started on low cost airlines...
But first world problems are not problems. They are excuses for people to one-up each other. The next-door neighbour may have had Chinese-made parts fitted onto their Holden by a slipshod mechanic, but my health insurance company refused to cover the major dental costs incurred by that whitening procedure..."Outrageous!"
Why settle for a perfectly privileged existence when you can get on Today Tonight and whine about electricity prices? Current affairs programmes abound in first world problems and make for some of the most depressing television possible. If it's not the electricity, it's the fuel. If it's not the fuel, it's Coles and Safeway ripping us off 34 cents for every loaf of bread we buy. Each segment requires the bad guy who refuses to speak to the camera, the finger-waggling local who has been ripped off and is NOT HAPPY, and the reporter asking cutting-edge questions like: "when are ya gunna pay them back?"
The only way to understand first world problems is to get a first-hand view of some third world ones. My sum total of this experience to date involved a tropical-strength case of pink-eye contracted by swimming in contaminated water in Indonesia. An acquaintance of mine went one step further on a recent trip to India. Suffering from a vicious attack of Delhi-Belly, he leant over an airport rubbish bin to be sick and simultaneously shat himself. That is not a first world problem!
Spending time with those who have little is a stark reminder that human beings do not require every last luxury to be happy. Some of the biggest smiles come from those whose only valuable possessions are each other. One of my lasting memories is the image of an Ethiopian toddler living in a refugee camp. He walked through thick mud, pulling an empty milk bottle on a string. Someone had attached disks on sticks to the bottom of the bottle, effectively making a 'car'. The young boy sported an enormous grin, proud of his toy. This image was presented at the media photography awards, an event I can recommend for a thoroughly eye-opening experience.
Not too dissimilar to this one - Fisher
Price, eat your heart out!
Nobody has ever told that boy that he lives in extreme poverty. Nobody has told him of the overcrowding, lack of sustenance, prevalence of disease or the struggles he will face in the future. These are legitimate problems, with a lasting effect on lives and communities. Toughen up princess, nobody cares if your entree is lukewarm...
Blue skies,
-E
These days, insurance is available for just about everything. Houses, cars, lives, travel, pets and apparently even alien abduction. Insurance deals in financial reimbursement for misfortune (or not as the case may usually be - they have a plethora of excuses as to why the floodwaters seeping into your shag pile are an exception to the insurance terms and in violation of clause 18, paragraph 33 (in size 6 font of course)).
But what are we risking? The most dangerous Monday-Friday activity is driving to work and back, or carrying two extra-hot cappuccinos down the stairs at the office. And how do they decide what the value of a life or limb is? We rely on insurance for our financial wellbeing in a situation we didn't foresee, however you only have to talk to a resident of East Christchurch to realise how optimistic we are in thinking that everything will be fine as long as we pay our premiums.
The word 'risk' always reminds me of the strategic board game of the same name, and a work trip I made to Perth last year. I had a couple of friends living there who invited me for dinner one night; another pal of theirs were also in town and had brought a board game that day that he was keen to try out on us.
I still have nightmares about Axis and Allies. Based heavily on the rules of Risk, the instruction book alone gives War & Peace a run for its money. None of us had ever played the game before (or since), so we drank a few glasses of wine and set about preparing the board.
Every bit as confusing as it looks, and more. There is overwhelming scientific evidence to support the negative correlation between the level of understanding of the rules of Axis & Allies, and the annual number of times you get laid...
Two hours later, we sat around a table littered with plastic battleships; no closer to even starting the game. According to the box, one game took upward of 4 hours so it was going to be a long night. As well as military transportation, the game abounds in tokens and credits that we could make neither head nor tail of. After skimming the instruction novel and realising that despite our best efforts none of us even knew how to start the game, we gave up and played Pictionary instead. My conclusion from the evening was that it is probably easier to actually start a world war, than to simulate one using cardboard tokens and figurines of cannons.
On a completely unrelated and very sombre note:
Last night, I was procrastinating going to sleep (a common occurrence when I am home alone as I have no respect for my body clock or my rest requirements; it's currently 12.22 am) and reading my favourite New Zealand news site (www.stuff.co.nz). Prominently displayed in the headlines was an article about a daycare centre in the North Island that had expelled a four-year-old boy who was HIV positive (http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/education/6891611/Boy-with-HIV-expelled-from-childcare.) The poor kid contracted HIV from his mother during birth, but is thankfully on treatments that will certainly not cure his illness but lower the levels of infection in his blood to the point where it is barely detectable.
The decision received an outraged backlash from a significant percentage of the community, including myself. However, I trawled through the comments section of the article and was appalled to see how many people agreed with the decision to ban the child from the care facility. Worse still, a proportion of those commenting also said that they would remove their own child from the daycare if they found out another attendee was HIV-positive. Many people displayed complete ignorance about the transmission of HIV, while others took the coward's approach of "I feel sorry for him, BUT..."
I have read hundreds, and probably thousands of emotive articles, however I don't remember ever being as disgusted with the attitudes of humans toward each other as I was reading the comments of this piece. The word discrimination does not even come close to what this little boy has been subjected to at an age far too young to be dealing with such a concept.
As part of a much wider plan to get out and see a bit more of this big wide world, my fella and I have been looking into options to volunteer in parts of South America, Africa or Asia. There are literally millions of people that could use a hand and between us we have four spare. The article I read last night really affected my mindset, and has given me determination not to be the kind of person who discriminates against those less fortunate, even in the name of being a 'good mother' (oh yes, there were plenty of commenters standing by the excuse of being a 'responsible parent' - never mind the fact that you're simultaneously teaching your offspring how to be an egotistical bigot). There is a lot of assistance we can provide in areas of the world where a big problem is not that you've been waiting 7 minutes in a supermarket queue. I want to be able to tell kids with HIV through no fault of their own, that they are real people with real voices and as much chance at a normal life as you or I. Let's stop this madness.
Blue skies,
-E
Over a month since you've heard from me. I would apologise, but I'm not sorry in the slightest because I've been out gathering fun stuff to talk about!
My beloved and I decided to take a break from Melbourne's increasingly chilly weather and head north to Australia's tropical North Queensland. I'd heard a lot about the area: big snakes, venomous spiders, treacherous waterways teaming with crocodiles, deadly jellyfish and maybe even the odd drop bear thrown in for good measure. All the good stuff that is the hallmark of the Australia we know and love.
Our trip started with a bang, exactly one hour later than it should have. Thanks to a mixture of daylight saving time difference and pure idiocy, we left for the airport 10 minutes before check-in closed.
Our taxi driver drove like he had rockets fixed to his tires and the police, the FBI, the paparazzi and the Spanish Armada on his tail, but to no avail. JetStar's finest gleefully informed us that we were in fact 7 minutes too late to check our luggage and ourselves onto a plane. A lot of hasty talking and $120 later and we were checked onto an 11am flight to Cairns. Only 5 hours to wait - the Qantas Club buffet was going to take a beating.
Five coffees and numerous pancakes later, an incoming message from the airline left us reeling. Our 11am flight had been rescheduled to 2.30pm and we were now set to miss the entire first day of our holiday. We had used every amenity the club lounge had to offer - food, beverages, magazines and even a shower were no comfort as we were faced with a 9 hour drive to Airlie Beach, now to be completed in a single day.
After 12 gruelling hours in the airport, a call to our camper rental company to inform them we were missing a day, three hours on the plane and some amazing generosity from some friends in Cairns, we had found some company and a couch for the night. Arriving at dinner time, we were fed fantastic Chinese food and managed to recover some zen before collapsing under a fan to prepare for the following day's slog.
Wicked Campers are an amazing campervan rental company. Their staff are friendly, their vans are mechanically sound and their prices are suited to the thrifty traveller. However, cruising the east coast of Australia with "The best thing about oral sex is 5 minutes of silence" plastered across the back of the van takes a thick hide and a good sense of humour! Our van was covered in sexual inuendo, including one jibe about sheep-shagging Kiwi farmers (thanks guys!).
Cairns to Airlie Beach is a long way. The roadsides are lined with hundreds of kilometres of sugarcane, and there are plenty of waterfalls and natural features to see on the way. There is also a roadside cafe called The Frosty Mango which sells, yup, Frosty Mangoes in an assortment of presentations.
Arriving at Shute Harbour (gateway to the Whitsunday Islands), we parked our smutty van in an empty carpark and collapsed into what can only be described as an exhaustion coma. Ten hours of driving followed by a less-than-amazing seafood dinner had taken their toll. Around 11pm we were awoken by loud banging on the side of the van. Exhaustedly peering out the window, we were reprimanded by a security guard and threatened with a $2000 fine for trespassing (a pretty harsh financial penalty considering the meagre fines associated with drug cultivation and possession nowadays). We were informed that we must find a camping ground immediately and pay the exorbitant price for a square of grass upon which to park our mobile bed.
Twenty minutes later we parked outside a suburban mansion in Airlie Beach and settled once again into sleep. Apart from one visit from a very drunk local, we were undisturbed and no worse off financially.
Five days on Hayman Island reminded us what relaxation was. We luxuriated in sunshine, bush walking to amazing coral beaches and seeing all kinds of wildlife; a great break. We snorkeled with sea turtles, saw an enormous cod and climbed all over the island. I also had a revelation whereby I discovered that it is impossible to have secrets when wearing a full-body stinger suit. This is particularly true when one has been helping oneself to buffet meals three times a day. Better swim faster!
Arriving back on the mainland, we received a sharp jolt back to reality. Good friends of ours had arrived in the Gold Coast from New Zealand and we were very keen to see them before we headed home. This left us with exactly one day to get from Airlie Beach to the Gold Coast - a whopping 1,200 km drive. We made it as far as Mackay in the growing darkness, before spending the night at a scummy truckstop with facilities that could pass on cholera and syphilis simply by breathing deeply. MORE BABY WIPES REQUIRED!
We hit the road at 6am and made brilliant time for the first 400 km of sugar cane. Then the roadworks started. Each stretch punctuated by a high-vis-wearing worker at both ends, a single lane between and lines of cars waiting their turn. The first one was fine, the second was tolerable and the third was a mild annoyance. By the time we waited at the 27th 'stop' sign, we had lost nearly two hours. Our one consolation was that "surely they must be running out of stop/go workers?!".
They were. So they switched to using traffic lights. Only one operator required and they could make us wait for longer! By the time we reached the end of the works, I had started playing 'Vanzai' - a van-specific version of the fairly unpopular Asian TV quiz show Banzai (look it up if you've never seen it - it's good for a laugh). We were still laughing and 1,600 km down we wouldn't have traded places with anyone. Something about a van and the open road is extremely relaxing regardless of the circumstances - a big relief that day.
Arriving in Maroochydore was a huge milestone, predominantly due to the fact that a very kind relative had offered us a cooked dinner and a shower! A home-style roast and a few hours of good company rejuvenated us enough to contemplate the final two hours of the slog to the Gold Coast. Shortly after 11pm we arrived, over 2,000 km from our starting point and happily exhausted.
In the tourist town of Surfer's Paradise, we spent a couple of days catching up on sleep, sightseeing and spending time with friends. We were the quintessential tourists at theme parks, we had bistro dinners at faux Irish pubs and we headed into the wilderness of Northern New South Wales. On the day we headed home, we arrived at the airport (well and truly on time) to find that our flight had been delayed - WHAT A NOVELTY! Our dismay was offset however after we met two Sydney girls who had been stuck in the hell-hole that is Coolangatta airport for a grand total of 12 hours after their morning flight had been cancelled. The airline provided no compensation and they had gone a bit stir-crazy. One of them had shopped up a storm at a souvenir stand and when we me them they were playing pick-up sticks, complete with Aussie-themed animals on the ends of each stick.
As per usual, we arrived home exhausted, unshowered, unkempt and happy. We visited a beautiful part of the world and are lucky enough to have great friends and great memories. I would love to head back to explore the rainforests and features in more detail, but we covered a huge distance and arrived with smiles on our faces. May each new chapter be more awesome than the last.
Back at home, I used iMovie for the first time in my life to create a short video edit of our trip. It's not perfect but I'm very proud of my effort. Have a look below and feel free to tell me what you think!
Blue skies,
-Ez
