tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9123545191964975672024-03-19T12:03:07.139-07:00Jamaica vibesA collection of anecdotes and tales from Jamaica!Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-32686427848347117832008-04-08T18:00:00.000-07:002008-04-08T18:01:45.740-07:00Hearing Impaired Women Speak Out About Sexual Abuse in JamaicaBy Dawn Marie Roper<br />November 22nd, 2007<br /><br />Kingston, September 28, 2006 (Panos) Life for deaf women is far from peaceful. In fact, deaf women have been identified as being extremely vulnerable to sexual abuse and violence.For deaf women like 43 year old Florence Bailey, vulnerability is a daily part of her life.“Yesterday, I went out to walk. A man called me. He lives near me, so I went into his car. He was driving away with me so I asked him where he is going,” she said while explaining that he knew that she was deaf. “He said he wants to have sex with me. He wanted me to touch his penis while he drove but I told him no, because I am married. He said he heard I had no children and he would give me a baby.”Florence also spoke about her 34 year old deaf friend who she said, was abducted by a route taxi driver in November 2005. Florence said after everybody else got out of the taxi, her friend tried to get out. The driver held on to her bag, locked the door and drove away with her. He took her far away and raped her.“He didn’t want her to look into his face so he turned her around and had rough sex with her,” Florence said. She said her friend went to the doctor and reported it to the police and the man was arrested. But the doctor told her she caught something, but she could not understand what the doctor wrote on the paper he gave her.A similar story is told by thirty-two year old Christine Prince. The mother of three said that when she was about 12 or 13 years old, a bus driver and conductor tried to rape her. They refused to let her off the bus after everybody else had left and drove her near to some train tracks and attacked her. She said she escaped into some bushes and hid until night. She was taken home by a woman who found her wandering in the road. Her mother (who is not deaf) took her to the hospital.A study carried out by the Jamaica Council for Persons with Disabilities (JCPD) recently, revealed that hearing impaired women and girls are exposed to high levels of rape, battery, incest and carnal abuse. They are unable to adequately communicate the abuse that they have suffered, and so become vulnerable to contracting HIV/AIDS. As a result the JCPD recently announced plans for an HIV/AIDS Prevention Programme for Deaf Women.“Many deaf women are raped five, six times and sometimes they are gang-raped,” says Valerie Spence, Administrator of JCPD. She pointed out that deaf women are at the mercy of hearing men who take advantage of them because of their disability, their lack of education and lack of employment. She pointed also out that sexual abuse is also rampant within the deaf community itself.“Deaf culture facilitates serial, multiple and shared relationships. The deaf have relationships across age groups, so a deaf man will have sex with a young girl and age is not an issue. Some deaf adults have sexual relationships with younger persons and children.”This makes them more vulnerable to contracting sexually transmitted diseases. She said HIV among the deaf is a serious concern because they receive little information about it. While information about the disease is easily available to the hearing public, HIV prevention information does not reach the deaf community because it is packaged for the hearing and literate. Many deaf persons are disadvantaged because they received little or no education as children. Many parents of deaf children think it is a waste of money to educate them. The school system also shuts them out as it cannot accommodate the deaf as it does the blind. Many deaf people therefore cannot read printed information about HIV. Ms. Spence pointed out that even when the deaf are aware of HIV, they have misconceptions about it. This makes the problem worse.“So many do not hear about HIV,” Ms. Spence said. “They have not been speaking to people living with HIV and heard their stories. Many deaf persons still see HIV as a hearing person’s disease so they will tell you that only hearing person can get HIV.”While there is no data about HIV among deaf women, Ms. Spence thinks the numbers are high.“Deaf do not like to use condoms. The community is small so it’s easy for disease to spread. Because of the frequency with which they change partners, children born to deaf women are sometimes neglected as paternity is not determined,” she said. “So there may be children who are infected. Not many persons within the deaf community have been tested. They will tell you they don’t have it because they cannot catch it.”Ms. Spence pointed out that the deaf do not trust outsiders and they will not readily discuss their problems with hearing people. Deaf women who are sexually abused by a deaf man will not report the abuser because he is one of them.<br /><br />The deaf women added that they do not report abuse because the police laugh at them when they turn up to report a sexual assault.“They ask us how we know it is rape,” Prince complained. She said the police and hospital workers do not understand sign language so it is hard to talk to them. Ms. Spence explained that the JCPD had made recommendations to policymakers and met with high ranking Police officials in the past to address the problem of police insensitivity to the deaf. These efforts have not resulted in any change in police behaviour or the public at large.The alternative, according to her, is to empower the deaf women by providing them with the information they need to survive and protect themselves. This is the long term goal of the HIV/AIDS Prevention Programme. The programme will involve a series of workshops and skills building sessions, to teach these women survival skills, self-defense strategies and economic skills to make them less vulnerable to sexual abuse and violence. The programme is funded by The Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS).It started off last week (September 12) with about 35 deaf women and girls, mostly from Kingston and Portmore being trained. Most of them were students from the Lister Mair Gilby School for the Deaf and the Caribbean Christian Centre for the Deaf. The deaf women participated in a self-defence class led by Cherry Natural, Poet and Martial Arts Instructor. An HIV positive woman also shared her experience with them. The seminars will continue in May Pen, Mandeville, Montego Bay and Ocho Rios.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-35865059776885153072008-03-21T13:38:00.000-07:002008-03-21T14:15:19.985-07:00A rainy day in Kingston<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">One weekend a while ago, it rained heavily nonstop all day. This is a video that I took of outside my apartment.</span></p><p><object class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-UPLOADING" height="266" width="320" contentid="UPLOADING"></object></p>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-71330694293083182012008-03-21T13:23:00.001-07:002008-03-21T13:34:32.824-07:00Lister Mair Gilby Sports Day<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On Tuesday 18th, Lister Mair Gilby High School for the Deaf hosted a sports day. I spent the day in between working at Fast Track and watching the races. It was most enjoyed by all in attendance and a very hot day!</span> <div><div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180293695075362802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYUwa3cIcrH-bbs8GlKsJt4hz58aprvkDT8s9dCIwJoPjdGgXSabRw7C7ZvPxrpFZqOnf1uBqCNKaY-iMoOWbbkfjZydxYHPuSgPctXvZDe7JG36x0jPTfAA3VCYtENEqCbd2b6iUHNU/s320/LMG+sports+day+001.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">LMG has three sports houses, yellow, blue and red. The sports day was won by the yellow house.<br /></span><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180293875463989250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_DM3ZUgC9Am38KC6iDlQd5grEX4nJV6KVAJYih6_eGa4qER7BHcN2XFXyCKOA4x_PsAF8o0XyLE-80HBnoyinPgCq98-N50-6u5fFYy5jxvtjeSNz5nIt6jB2HHHO0YdScCDuljVhdLk/s320/LMG+sports+day+003.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180294270600980498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11gmWqULJgO3OJg7LD2szsIHj2ZM6_397XGGF0sJRyXXBSJlDCtkHKGRm3xJD1FIPIN0tkxbuXyAEEvpABRDjbFe14ali-KVLY-ENhds6n53LtVMa3fyYIVKuxICVYuEQewwW6BTXf5I/s320/LMG+sports+day+040.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">LMG Principal, Vendeta Souza-McKenzie presenting the best male athlete award.</span> </p><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180294859011500066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUGZXdCQ6lrao0tCb-QQ5FTViJbMAl6CWST-P9o8pXII8BhFN1fXDT27fOHdwBd57oNOQJLMLVtZ7ZnxgAB34V3YHKiizVRRlgQvhvBnASAh6IvKr8TqJf9ZNtLNeDoqAtraXPB2ZsXg/s320/LMG+sports+day+042.jpg" border="0" /></p></div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180295155364243506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXkjq-5yi91Cu3RIi9keQ_TI_mkwl0Qqz2vS8HhAeqY92S9jT0gMplk4VzYxnCMsWnbSgyr-a_DJTO08yBS-FAob7Wr_DuU2-u3JBki9oZgZJASpdgFUa7XC9cuD77PUMAwY2SNLk_n9A/s320/LMG+sports+day+043.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180295361522673730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCmGYtpH2uFXjnhLIZ9Y8MN-c3odB_r82ke-pkPy-ZMIAc1GIwdlckX1XeiDyFO4P-JDhNOBplENMKspRM0Ks0qehl3joTberUxBsG9Lb3yFoetQgPh-Ggor-KaXa_F1ZZnlkCeW4BhmU/s320/LMG+sports+day+035.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">LMG has a total of 78 Deaf students, it is one of the largest schools for the Deaf in Jamaica.</span></p>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-65387525957559362562008-03-21T13:16:00.000-07:002008-03-21T13:21:16.536-07:00Visit from Gallaudet students<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Last friday eight students from Gallaudet Uni visited Jamaica for a week's holiday. Some DCFs and I met up with them for dinner at Cuddy'z, a Jamaican restaurant. On that night nobody was able to stay still for photos!</span><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180292393700272098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOR8Q0-HtAOWCF9j7kIqSvR6ziUbX41vVmZAXb-0rqDvSXwijSKkLgPqXI0mG3M-duuqINq01uhqpXkVZhNVk0uf35UAZ6_D2KL-jhvcuohAwqKh8JowQJE9u3irDQ14iak2AUpJUDxw/s320/Gallaudet+visit+Cunny%27z+006.jpg" border="0" />Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-52897309029971040662008-03-05T20:10:00.000-08:002008-03-05T20:21:41.189-08:00Going Home To Teach- A Story<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Going Home to Teach- By Anthony C. Winkler</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In Jamaica, nothing technical was every simple. There was a labyrinthine complexity to virtually every chore. One trail led to another. You started here and ended up there. Sometimes you wondered how you came here when all you had set out to do was to go there and get your radio fixed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I began to glimpse with Oriental clarity that at the core of my native land, at its very heart, was not parliament, not the governor general, not a pale, dewlapped English Queen, not even the prime minister and his incessant homilies: but one indispensable little man planted by a mischievous providence in a farflung place and endowed with exactly the missing part you desperately needed. No matter where you started from or on what technical errand, sooner or later its successful outcome brought you pleading at the feet of this unlikely goblin.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You wanted your car fixed. It blew its horn every time you turned the steering wheel, and since you customarily travelled on serpentine roads, you were quickly becoming a laughing stock and neighbourhood nuisance. So you drove to Kingston and took the car to a shop. After keeping you waiting in the hot sun for a tiresome interval, the shop mechanic finally poked under its hood and reported that the car needed a certain part which was very scarce. But he knew where one could be had “down de road” and if you wanted to run and fetch it he could fix the problem in a minute.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In your innocence you are gulled by this story, so you get directions and set out “down de road” to find the shop that has the necessary part. Fifteen minutes later “down de road”, you learn from a clerk that the shop indeed has the part, but it is kept in a locked safe, and only the manager has the key. But he’s down de road at a bar having a drink, and if you’d only drive there and tell him what you want, he’d come and get it for you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So you drive down de blasted road again and find the bar and poke your head through the smoky doorway of a dingy rum hole, where the barmaid points out the man you want sitting on a stool and drinking in a dirty corner.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He did have the part you needed, but unhappily he didn’t have on him the key to the room where the parts were stored, for he’s given his key ring to a boy and sent him down de road to fetch him a clean shirt from his closet- this morning he’d had a accident that made his clothes smell like an old oil drum. He didn’t know why the boy hadn’t gotten back yet, but if I was in a hurry, I could drive down de road to de house and tell the maid there to send the boy back with the key and I’d get the part I needed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You set out for the house. But it turns out not to be just “down de road”, but up on the edge of a vertiginous cliff tethered to the earth by a winding and perilous marl trail which requires you to use first gear and hug the hillside as you crawl at a snail’s pace. To your left, the abyss yawns hungrily for you as you inch your way up the mountain; to your right, pulpy outcropping spurs of the cliff threaten to claw the paint off your car. You begin to wonder how you got here, what had started this whole quest, then you remember as you negotiate a torturous curve and your horn blares.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The maid appears in the doorway, looking dishevelled and breathless, and you glimpse the miscreant boy timidly peeping over her shoulder as you explain why you are here. A few minutes later the boy shyly appears on the veranda with his fly half-open and babbling nervously that he doesn’t have the key on him because he lent it to a man who lived “down de road” and who needed the pocket-knife attached to the keyring to take a nail out of the foot of a donkey. Rather than pry the knife off the ring and lend it to the man, the boy had given him the whole set of keys. But the man would be back in a moment, or if you were in a hurry, you could drive down de road and tell him to give you the keys and keep the pocket knife.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />All right, then, where’s the man?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Down de road. About two chains down de road. Follow de road to the fork, go left, until you came to a house on de side of de road. The man was there. His name was Massah Ezekiah.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Come wid me, you tell the boy, but the maid appears menacingly on the veranda to say tartly dat de boy had unfinished work to do and couldn’t be gallivanting all over de place just now. She has fire in her eye and glares from you to the boy, who is quailing behind her in the doorway.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />All right. You’ll go down de road again, even though by now you understand that down de road is never down de road but is either down de gully or up de mountain or through de swamp or around de bog but it is never, ever just down de road and finally this is beginning to dawn feverishly on you as your car lurches and sways and rattles down a rutted and stumpy goat path that could be called a road only in a moment of malarial delirium.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But you soon come to the only house by the side of de road, and its appearance is so exact and expected that your spirits soar and you finally feel that you’re getting someplace. A bad dog comes out to greet you, baring its teeth wickedly and snarling, so you remain in the car until a toothless woman comes clopping out of the house wearing ill-fitted slippers.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yes, Massah Ezekiah was just here, but he has gone into de bush for a minute to do a thing. If you just followed dat footpath over dere, you’d soon find him down de road in a clearing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Would you please hold de dog while I get Massah Ezekiah, you beg the woman, who exposes her naked gums in a ghastly smile and assures you that the dog won’t bite, him just love to show stranger him pretty teeth.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Nevertheless, you get a little fussy about it and insist and she reluctantly grabs de dog by the scruff of the neck and holds him while you clamber out of the car and set out to follow the trail into the bush.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So you follow de trail and it leads through a tropical jungle where the thicket snags you as you pass, macca bush pricks at your shoes and socks, and an occasional mongoose scurries across the path and burrows into the undergrowth.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Massah Ezekiah! You bawl forlornly, looking often over your shoulder to be sure that the Hound of the Baskervilles isn’t hurtling murderously after you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Massah Ezekiah, sah!<br />Who dat call me?<br />Thank God! A voice.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Massah Ezekiah, sah!<br />Who dat?<br />Is me, sah, Massah Winkler. Missah Brown send me for him boy who have him key. But de boy say him lend you de key chain because it have a pocket-knife.<br />Oh you need de key?<br />Yes, sah. We need de key to buy a part to carry to me mechanic to fix me car so de horn won’t blow when me turn a corner.<br />Oh, is so it go? I see. Well, I soon done wid de donkey. Me just have to take this macca outta me donkey foot. See how de macca stick him inna de hoof. Me trying de dig it out wid de knife. Hold up, dere, Rupert! Stand still!<br />Oh, you donkey name Rupert?<br />Yes, sah. Him name dat ever de day him born. Me name all me animal dem. Just like Adam and Eve do inna de bible. Me soon done. Sit down in de shade and catch you breath, den we go back to de house.<br />Lawd, sah, me glad find you, for me ‘fraid of you bad dog.<br />Him bad for true. Him bite a man last month and nearly eat off him foot.<br />True, sah? But how come de woman say him don’t bite?<br />She just jealous cause him have teeth and she don’t have none. You never notice dat when a woman only have gum in her mouth she always love to keep dog dat have plenty teeth?<br />No, sah, me never notice dat.<br />But so it go, me son.<br />I see, sah.<br /><br />You laugh, but this is no joke. So you sit in de shade near the man with de donkey in the bush, the one on whom all technical mercies in Jamaica depends, the indispensable one for whom all roads eventually lead, and you wait while he works at digging a macca stick out of Rupert’s hoof with the pocket-knife that is fastened to the bunch of keys that you need to get the part the mechanic wants to fix your horn so it won’t blow when you take a corner.</span>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-24781089766448184402008-02-23T18:15:00.000-08:002008-02-23T18:41:02.794-08:00The story of May Pen<div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> I've been travelling a fair bit around the Island for the last month for work. Most towns I visit, the devastation from hurricanes are visible, I don't even need to ask someone about what had happened I just automatically know from the appearance of the devastation.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /> </div></span><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Two weeks ago when I visited May Pen, I discovered an intriguing story. May Pen is of a moderate sized town about two hours north west of Kingston. This story centrals on May Pen School for the Deaf which was the purpose of my visit to the town. Last October, a hurricane came around, everyone scattered, the school had survived the impact but the May Pen town was badly hit. The school consisted of three buildings, one of the building had it's electricity cut off by the hurricane. After the hurricane had gone, some people from the May Pen community took it upon themselves to break inside the unpowered building forcing the security guard to resign out of safety concerns. They looted the building, took away resources meant for educating Deaf children.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /> </div></span><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </div></span><div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There's reportedly some people still hiding in the building, the Principal refuses to send anyone inside. They are too scared, the building is now off limits to teachers and students. To solve the problem of providing a classroom for students, the principal moved them into the first and second buildings and thus, students are learning in an inadequate and overcrowded environment.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170370111923493810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEgV-NbTww_OPIb1ajoDtDpeFbn5uUIQPS5YCVhHqDSTC3vi-LDiWAq-kBSTytgy5042ivfOKdAKz_FG0UkFTnICnOCH4FcGxjbzx_A7FiZd48ekzflRC8iQZorB9lBVF3hTfbhQVl9A4/s320/Anancy+RAP+Time+001.jpg" border="0" /></span> <p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With some Deaf Teacher Assistants at May Pen</span></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As seeing that May Pen is a school owned by Jamaica Association for the Deaf, they are currently trying to solve the situation and the first step is getting the electricity back. The costs run well into the JA$24 million which no one seems to have.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The hurricane season is from May to November, Jamaica often gets hit around October. It is now almost March, five months to the last devastating hurricane and the school still has not been fixed. I can imagine the Jamaicans getting tired of having to re do and fix damages caused by hurricanes year after year. I wonder what this year's season will bring?</span>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-5022804548673461092008-02-07T20:19:00.000-08:002008-02-07T20:31:06.252-08:00New Menu for KFC?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBllMbA1i7VY-bIbH_XZwBP5mlrSzFqlBis98EVkC1V8MCw9Ev8qbEU2_PvRhcskjEFzNrJDoQwKU7zvHFw8tQU6TcLb9hQbIHy6ObaSmYI7rx9cHMwHMqNmQMal405SFY1HsZx0a-0Xo/s1600-h/Jamaica+033.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164461658951337890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBllMbA1i7VY-bIbH_XZwBP5mlrSzFqlBis98EVkC1V8MCw9Ev8qbEU2_PvRhcskjEFzNrJDoQwKU7zvHFw8tQU6TcLb9hQbIHy6ObaSmYI7rx9cHMwHMqNmQMal405SFY1HsZx0a-0Xo/s320/Jamaica+033.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On my first night in Kingston with a host family, I was served chicken feet stew with rice and beans for dinner. Before you guys start thinking that I actually ate that, there's NO WAY that I would have attempted! Maybe KFCs here in Jamaica serve this on their menu? I will need to find out! But for the meanwhile, ENJOY!<br /></span><div> </div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Debbie xx<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">P.S. The Jamaicans have now upgraded to pig's feet, which possible global chain restaurant would you think that has pig's feet on their menu?</span></div></div>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-46238702180262676022008-02-07T19:45:00.000-08:002008-02-07T20:32:53.059-08:00Deaf Ears but Not Stupid<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ltp4CvOTONQRUK95vb5v4tXUzNJg_LZGUBNVWNErebZrUkQH5mnlDndo8AREoMFgZr7Y3YVTOji3VDbVFemW8UF70wLP0792Sn4J_EkwARmGaZpKQLO4Uf1F50P9BUbEB9W8N3pd1Rw/s1600-h/School+motto.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164457875085150082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ltp4CvOTONQRUK95vb5v4tXUzNJg_LZGUBNVWNErebZrUkQH5mnlDndo8AREoMFgZr7Y3YVTOji3VDbVFemW8UF70wLP0792Sn4J_EkwARmGaZpKQLO4Uf1F50P9BUbEB9W8N3pd1Rw/s320/School+motto.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I found the school motto of Caribbean Christian Centre for the Deaf (CCCD) Mandeville to be very funny!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Deaf Ears but Hearing Hearts"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I reckon having Deaf Ears and Deaf Hearts are good enough, it'd demonstrate that we are proud to be Deaf.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've made up my own motto:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Deaf Ears but Not Stupid"</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you happen to have transpired some tongue in the cheek motto you'd like to share, leave a comment!!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Debbie xx</span>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-52271661881403139172008-02-01T16:47:00.000-08:002008-02-01T19:20:26.641-08:00So so behindI am so behind with updating my blog, the last travel entry was when we had arrived at Madrid. I'll write up a VERY short summary of where we went after that.<br /><br />We stayed in Madrid for one week and then moved onto Barcelona where we saw many amazing sights, I can officially say that Barcelona is one of my favourite places to visit. I most especially enjoyed visitng La Sagradia Familia, I spent an hour outside just staring, trying to absorp the building in but there were so many details. I remember thinking on that day, how was I able to remember every art detail of that building? Was that Gaudi's purpose, to make people forget the exact details of La Sagrada? We visited more of Gaudi's work, La Pedrera and Park Guell. We also explored a museum on Picasso's artworks. Ben and I sneaked a day to visit the Dali Theatre and Museum in Figueres, about two hours north of Madrid. Dali's artwork is pretty amazing!<br /><br />After a week in Barcelona, we went to Girona for the day before catching our flight back to London. Once I returned to London, it was back to try and set up a new life and finding a proper job. Sarah and Bugge left for Australia via Hong Kong where they texted me that they had bought a new laptop. A month later, Melissa left for Hong Kong, she sent me an email saying that she also got a new laptop!! What is it with HK and laptops?! Melissa continued her travels to Cambodia and Thailand before heading for Melbourne.<br /><br />I spent most of my time in London bludging around and trying to find a job, but was not very successful. One weekend I decided to travel to Edinburgh with Sheepy, a friend from Australia. We had a blast walking the royal mile, spending time with Paula and Simon and I ended up having a drinking competition with Deaf Scotsmen which was not a good idea! Their idea of a good drink evolves around whisky and more whiskies. The next day Sheepy and I caught a train back to London and I was so sick.<br /><br />In the duration of my stay in London, I worked various jobs but they were all 'under the table' work, I once coached the deaf netball team, worked as a babysitter, walked around from 8am till 3pm posting blasted leaflets at 1,000 houses in Leyton, spent a night's skit as a nightclub promoter for the 'Salvador and Amanda' nightclub in Leicester Square. Then I finally got more promising work as a property inventory clerk for a real estate company which I enjoyed. I also did some volunteering work for Deafplus at Deptford.<br /><br />I also did more travelling after Spain, I went to Switzerland for the Zurich European Union of the Deaf Youth General Assembly. My focus was not at the EUDY GA but to see Zurich, it's absolutely a beautiful place but so so expensive! I hired a bike and asked around if I was able to ride around Lake Zurichsee in one day, and most laughed at me, said it'd take at least two days. I calculated from the length of the lake and the speed I'd be able to ride a bike, it'd take me a good 30 hours to ride around the lake without a break. I ended up only riding on one side in the morning and then returning in the afternoon. One day, I walked onto the main street to find an eco friendly festival happening and I got wrapped up in the middle of it. To emphasis how eco friendly Switzerland is, they released green balloons and had demonstrations on how to cut emissions etc. It was fun and naturally, there were plenty of delicious aroma wafting around.<br /><br />A week after Zurich I flew to Rome to meet Luke and spent a week catching up with him in our beloved Auslan and going loose in the ancient city of Rome! We covered large distances by foot each day and at evening, we'd trudge slowly back to our hostel exhausted and complaining that we had walked too much, but then we'd do it all over again the next day because we were so excited to be in Rome. Luke and I kept a tally of numbers of when we tripped over rough and uneven footpaths, I think my tally was 7 and Luke's at a clumsy 13!<br /><br />In Rome, on our first day, we made a beeline for the Vatican museum and was gobsmacked at how huge and the precise painting was inside the Sistine Chapel! On my map of the museum, it said that there were a collection of church based library books, it was very easy to persuade Luke that we should visit the library but to our disappointed, the books was lined up in locked shelves in the hallway leading to Sistine Chapel. Where's the fun of looking through mysterious and ancient theological books that might hold sacred secrets. I know! I shouldn't believe too much in The Da Vinci Code! We spent the whole afternoon in Vatican itself and climbed up St. Peter's Basilica and then going underground to visit the Popes tombs. John Paul's (the recent one) tomb was the only one new and shiny compared with the other tombs. In the coming days after visiting Vatican City, Luke and I trawled the whole of Rome, popping in almost every church because in our guide book the church was said to possess some art work of Bernini's or Michelangelo's! We also visited well known squares, my favourite square is where the Pantheon is. We also visited the Colosseum, I tried to imagine Gladiators, to be more specific, Russell Crowe fighting on the stage, but it was difficult because there weren't much of the stadium left. Luke and I also visited the Trevi fountain, and wished that we'll visit Rome again!<br /><br />At the end of the week, Luke moved onto Florence to continue his Italian escapade, I returned to London. I went back to Scotland again for the weekend, but this time with Melissa C and Marlene. I went down the same path with the girls and discovered some more of Edinburgh that I had missed on the previous visit. It is a beautiful and old old city! Sometime early November, I participated in the Deaf netball tournament in Camden Town, I played with the London Deaf Team and we had a lot of fun, unfortunately we did not win.<br /><br />I applied for a job in Jamaica to work with Deaf adults and was successful in getting the post. I hastingly left London, the actual story is.... I had waited until Monday to find out the next available flight back to Australia, so I could recover from the cold British weather, eat 'normal' meals, catch up with my family before I moved onto another foreign country. The man at China Eastern Airlines told me that the next available flight was either tonight (in 5 hours time) or on 29th December and I had been hoping to be able to start working in Jamaica in mid December. I had no choice but to opt for the 'tonight' flight. I rushed home, threw in all my meagre possessions in bags and then organised everything at a speed so dizzingly that my last minutes in London was a blur. I made the flight in time and was able to finally relax on the long flight to Shanghai and then changed for Melbourne.<br /><br />I was only in Melbourne under a week, but it was bliss! It felt so comfortable and natural to be back home. Dad cooked a celebratory barbeque for me, it never had tasted so good! I had to book tickets to Kingston, Jamaica at the last minute, actually, I booked two days before I left Melbourne and arrived in Kingston on 12th December.<br /><br />And so here I am! In Kingston, Jamaica. I've been here nearly two months now but it has been a very interesting experience! I'll write a post about Jamaica sometime soon!Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-64546689994673174672008-02-01T07:52:00.000-08:002008-02-01T08:02:02.381-08:00I swallowed a fly....Last night when I was walking home, I choked upon swallowing a poor fly. After my choking subsided and attemption to spit the fly out failed miserably, I started to think about the new experiences the fly will encounter in my acidic stomach. I suddenly had a new perspective on life! My previous blog was too dark and the text was too small, I decided to change the format and I hope it will help cheer you up to some level unlike the poor fate of the fly.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-42531935099871434752008-01-20T20:42:00.000-08:002008-02-01T19:15:17.766-08:00Midas<p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Today is Sunday and I have just buried Midas.<br /><br />Midas is not my cat; it’s the apartment’s cat. I do not know how old Midas was, when I first saw her she was tiny like a few months old kitten, but she was also very underweight. Over the period of knowing Midas, I knew that she was not a kitten; she was too mature to be one. She was already an ‘apartment cat’ when I moved in. Becca, the previous resident fed her dry biscuits and Midas would spend hours sitting outside the front door watching inside.<br /><br />At the moment I have a mixture of feelings, a part of me is glad that she’s gone. She was disease addled and dirty, a high hygienic alert. I noticed that she had become blind and deaf within last couple of weeks. The other half of me is sad; my homeless companion won’t be there for me to be concerned of. Sometimes she’d come to the apartment with a bloodied or muddy nose and always looking scraggly and filthy. I gave her a bath two weeks ago and she sulked away for the night but came back the next afternoon and stuck by my side ever since and I had grown accustomed and possibly attached to her. I was attached even though I rarely touched her for the fear of contracting some sort of disease from her. The time I gave her a bath was the longest time I had spent touching her. She felt very underweight and bony and I felt sick in the stomach when I bathed her.<br /><br />Last night I was working very late on a Fast Track project and walked to my room for a break and I found Midas curling up on the floor, she wasn’t supposed to come inside the apartment and she knew that. In the short time I’ve lived here, the only farthest she’d ever ventured into the apartment was to the kitchen area where naturally there was food. Every time she crawled silently into the apartment, hoping that I wouldn’t notice, I’d find her and then shoo her out with a broom and then later on it became a developed cue for her when I went to get the broom, she’d scoot right out. I continued with what Becca had allowed her, a small area in front of the door where I left dry biscuits and water for her. Last week for the first time, I went and bought a packet of wet food for her and gave her a small portion, she gobbled it up eagerly and I was surprised. The next night I gave her the whole leftover and she enjoyed it and wanted more but I had none left.<br /><br />I had been planning on going to Liguanea today to buy the same packet but this time, not just only one, but about a dozen so I can start trying to bring her weight back to a healthy one. But unfortunately, she died before I could do that.<br /><br />I went to bed around 2.30am this morning and I had to push Midas out with the broomstick, she either refused to budge or she couldn’t move. I remember one night last week I was so concerned about her hind legs, she wasn’t able to make much use of them. I had assumed that she was really dehydrated and didn’t have enough energy in her to move around. It was at that time when I had bought the wet packet for her as a nutrient supplement. I brushed Midas outside the front security door, where she knows to be every night before I went to bed. She only was able to move her head to look up; I tried to look closely into her eyes but couldn’t see much. I gave her a quick neck massage before going inside to wash my hands. After washing, I went back to the front door, she still hadn’t moved. I closed the doors and went to bed.<br />About two or three hours later I woke up to a funny smell, I couldn’t figure where it came from and I wanted to know what it was. I got out of bed and walked around in the dark and followed the smell to the front door, I edged my nose near the lower part of the front door where the odour was the strongest. It was of a foul smell, of when someone is seeping bodily fluids. I knew that it must come from the cat but I did not want to open the door. I’d find out at daylight.<br /><br />When I woke up, I did not go straight to the front door. An hour later I had remembered to check on Midas so I went to open the door and saw her in the same position as I had left her last night. She was lying on her side, facing over the balcony towards the Kingston area. I immediately knew that she had died but wanted to confirm it, so I unlocked the security door and touched her with the tip of my thongs, in a normal situation when I touched her she’d get up and walk around. But this time, her whole body moved stiffly to the direction where I had nudged her.<br /><br />She was dead.<br /><br />I pondered about how I was going to bury her, I wrote a note and went downstairs to the apartment on the first floor where I knew that Midas often sat outside of when I wasn’t at home. There is a little boy who lived at that apartment that Midas might have been fond of. In the note I wrote that the cat was dead and I needed help on burying her as I didn’t have a shovel.<br /><br />When I approached the boy’s mother, she was sitting on an oversized couch inside her apartment; I gave her the note through the security door to read. She stood up and I saw that she had hitched her t-shirt up to her neck and her breasts were exposed. Out of respect, I tried to look away but she walked over to me and started talking at the same time trying to pull down her t-shirt.<br /><br />The woman went to another apartment and talked to a man, he could sign and he gave me a shovel and got plastic bags, he followed me to where Midas’ body was and put the plastic bags over his hands, picked her up and carried her to a place that we had chosen on a secluded cliffside just beyond the fenced boundary of the property we lived on. When I saw that the man had taken the caution of covering his hands with plastic bags, it hit home that I wasn’t the only resident in the building to have been careful around the cat; there were others who knew the consequences of touching her.<br /><br />I followed the man on the steep cliffside carrying the shovel, sometimes we would slip around in the dirt but we never fell and he never dropped Midas. We agreed on a spot to bury her, the man started digging and stopped when we thought it was deep enough. We then buried Midas. I had seen bodily fluids leaking from Midas’ mouth when the man lowered her into the grave hole. While the man had been digging the hole, I had thought that maybe Midas wasn’t dead and that we should check her pulse, she might have become comatose but once I saw the condition Midas was in when she was being lowered, I knew she was definitely dead.</span></p>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-16009423606393964812007-09-12T18:06:00.000-07:002008-02-01T19:07:52.532-08:00Madrid for the World Federation of Deaf CongressWe caught a bus to Madrid from Malaga, it was a 6 hours bus ride and we arrived at Madrid around dinner time. We checked into Cats Hostel where other deaf people were also staying, caught up with old friends, met new friends.<br /><div align="left"><br />Our stay in Madrid was enjoyable but it was not very touristic, we walked around the Sol shopping district and went to the pub every night with other deaf people and chatted the night away. I only went inside the congress once to see what it was like but we had to pay to go inside to chat to our friends, that was a ripper.<br /></div><div align="left">We visited the Palace de Real, the Royal Palace, I wouldn't say that it's beautiful on the exterior but where it is situated is breathtaking, you can see the hills and the houses from the courts of the palace. We went inside and saw different themed rooms from each ruler and read a bit of the history about Madrid and the palace.</div><div align="left"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109491445822149986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QOzC1u6i_iAlidnOtXDnBP17M1uxodl3d-WFNVYVkgXxne5bix70hmRa1mGblQaNnsvOFn0GjsG5_35Yb5orl1tD5iZ9YjZORhS-xygiqMDygVS431yjIK_OgdZSLoW6IZ8NXV1QNRs/s320/IMG_2542.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Palace de Real</p><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109491596146005362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyscQ4CScscQCSl7XQwx__BG_E42uI2zgOEn2YOvSZYk1qOVT035hjydCBXZH8UrC4afPVZ3JcKvm8Y2IVVK04rRAGKQrCQcCI_6k4XMacYpym0JVRLFm6tqiCDJfKI5aANLMZb8LD_Jo/s320/IMG_2541.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Overlooking the hills from the courtyard</p>One day we went to Toledo, it was a very nice small town. If I am correct, it was actually the first capital city of Spain before it was moved to Madrid. I went with friends and we mucked about, walking all over the town and catching a buggy ride to the outer skirts where you can see into Toledo and it was fun.<br /><br />The only mar in Madrid was that there were so much thefts happening, even to our close friends which was hard on us. Passports, wallets and even a backpack got stolen, it pays to be extra careful but to enjoy your stay you shouldn't have to need worry about your things getting pinched.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109492133016917378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKPrmlU6lZmwquDM2gqGGIawvqtucIaTj4hweGON2aZbSdvkTa4gVsNB3osIgWPfOSPpfzZ2Ry8CLpoeXTAdEEPCNgYNbf59kNJiGJOpQlRBWdiAJmwx8Sd-7VJw61VUvQgDT8YVK-08/s320/IMG_2551.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Our travelling group</p>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-52211403770313979392007-09-12T17:48:00.000-07:002008-02-01T19:18:15.079-08:00Onto Spanish soilWe caught the ferry from Tangier to Tarifa in Spain. We had intended to go to Algeciras but somehow we had tickets for a different city! But neverthless we made our way to Malaga and got to see how beautiful Tarifa is. I would describe it as a small surfing town, everything is so white and the streets were tiny! Bugge stopped by at a lolly shop and bought a variety of lollies and we immediately loved them, I never knew what they were called but everytime we'd see them in Spain we'd get enough to share amongst us, but then by the ending stage of our Spanish trip we were sick of them.<br /><br /><div align="center"></div>When we arrived at the seaport in Tarifa, we walked to the city centre and waited a while for the bus to Algeciras where we changed for another bus to Malaga, this process took pretty much all day but we got to see a lot of the Spanish land this way.<br /><br /><div align="left">We stayed in Malaga for two nights, spent our days walking around the city, seeing places and just enjoying the atmosphere. Swimming at the beach was an experience we'll never forget. There were hundreds if not a thousand people sunning on the beach but about 5 or 10 brave souls swimming in the sea.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109487314063611202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oB164U30a_XZtEYdDQ_YCjTRn_Nu6OtrrZAYQFT3Fpa4E_OhynexAKFDjxgEJwmxOTBUV1MUkEE3atsz1TmUpUOkrJtTkK9BQxNaeww8QBVXhmwaLF1WjrUK9xERaA9bxV9qBEKpQfU/s320/IMG_2522.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Beach at Malaga</p><p align="center"><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109487631891191122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqsKvtNWeAZ6eVUXkZN9DrLMSDAR1OTYGeier1fC44z8xB9DVRXVtThIs90kl9Fb_e5k_8Yc11hJDgpdoMxQ_2fpDv2gd-ZBGHD3TvvywxvWlFO3RBIqwxiWNmUDGuMN98nl_ADiOHTg/s320/IMG_2525.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Men cooking fishes on a boat and then selling them at the beach<br /></p>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-19876272980024995572007-09-12T17:26:00.000-07:002008-02-01T19:17:18.963-08:00On the train to Fes and Tangier<div align="left">We caught a ride with Marie, the French owner of Dar Atif to Marrakech and we see a posher and more developed side of the city we hadn't seen yesterday. We caught the train to Rabat but we decided to continue onto Fes so we could stay there for 2 nights instead of 1. Train touts came to us, sat down in our compartment and started chatting about how they're educated, teaching at universities, married with a kid, then they would ask us where we're headed for and say 'oh I've got a cousin/uncle who owns a hotel in Fes' or 'my uncle's cousin is a tour guide and can show you around for a reasonable price'. We just brushed them off, we had agreed on a couple of pretty cheap hotels that we were going to try and get beds with but once we got to Fes, we were very hot (it was over 40c) and felt too buggered to walk around looking for beds with our backpacks so we just stopped by the first hotel we saw which was very nice and had a 'piscine' (swimming pool).</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">We had a look around Fes for a couple of days, saw the mosque, walked around the city centre, went shopping in the markets where we bought a couple of stuff, but our stay in Fes pretty much consisted of swimming and relaxing in the sun.<br /></div><div align="left">Then we caught another train to Tangier, the port of Morocco from Spain. The air conditioner didn't work on the train and so we were stuck in the sweltering heat for more than two hours. We would walk from our compartment to the middle carriage and pry the doors open and hot air blasted inside and it was much better than sitting down in stuffy air with 5 other people's stinky hot breath!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109482666908996882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8SAElI6JpWMGBeNZtG4N85cU_a5dLsKgMXRzbU2tbbbwXRVXe3bhFk5n60CI_ysmFOm-2Hj1ulTaS4tALSwxJvt8Sql3KP-LLCzQMNHZ2R0cSXFKqwgRyobhTuay4q5ke9PRYbZvvC8/s320/P1000649.JPG" border="0" /></div><p align="center">Tangier, Morocco</p><p align="left">Tangier turned out to be a beautiful beachside city, it's very modern compared with Marrakech. We spent the only night there exploring the beachside shops, markets and people were selling things on footpaths. Melissa had a henna done on her foot, (the henna lasted for two weeks!).<br /></p><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109483049161086242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMf014x287gve-Ndf2uuoB5V5u2aDSt6-gnFHOsfTtGPFbbONZElot9mTvXSfskTIY7kTlWfJtEPVPSkpNt4bZFXiyRVYXVv2dAdLaTsClyXS6D0tNFFI9teBZueYRuyls5CsLYlnS9kQ/s320/IMG_2487.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Melissa's henna</p><p align="left">After a week of travelling, our time in Morocco was over and it was time to move onto Spain.</p>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-36971457891432383912007-08-03T13:13:00.000-07:002008-02-01T19:13:59.260-08:00Marrakech, Morocco<div align="left">9th July</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">Arrived at Marrakech at 9am onboard Ryanair. The weather was hot but tolerable. We all didn't have enough sleep the previous night because we had to get up super early to catch our plane from London Luton so we were pretty tired on arrival at Marrakech. And to make our tireness worse, we had to haggle with taxi drivers for a price just to get to our hotel 33kms outside of Marrakech. The driver was scary, reckless with driving and kept on checking out Melissa who was sitting in the front, more than we could count.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">Sarah was unsure of what to expect in Morocco, the first thing Bugge says about Morocco is that he cannot see anything beautiful about the country. I say to Bugge that we're here to experience their culture, Sarah says that she already hates their culture. This is just one hour into Morocco... sigh...</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left">When we arrive at Dar Atif, our hotel, the driver tries to rip us off, saying that it's extra 50 dirhams for each of our backpacks, but Bugge stood his ground and say no, that we already had agreed on a price and surprisingly enough he went off without arguing more, a relief.<br /></div><div align="left">The Dar Atif Hotel is a nice place, nothing too interesting about it but we thought it was cool how they built it ontop of a hill and we had the whole floor to ourselves for a very cheap price. The owner was a French woman, we asked her many questions about Marrakech and the surroundings and she was very helpful but there were a bit of a language barrier. At that time we had not realised that understanding language would be even more harder once we stepped out of the hotel. There is nothing in English in Morocco, only French, Arabic & Berber.<br /></div><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094583940177082786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV1czWWTvXt6mVRStXzLr5NsOu-CPD1MWTel07ZtdiimK_P9cwXihP3v2YBltpf5ojfxd0Q-CLPEwEHcZ2K2PbaPGG3iDhedKLrLbchMBCBWqkp__S87hdMQL715dNDYzcXY12J5gs2VE/s320/P1000632.JPG" border="0" /> Our hotel, Dar Atif<br /></p><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094586306704062914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik36pLOSFcU30FJWjzxgJvVtPYm1CT3XJNfPdd80S2uk8Pku7QmC-NoNo4BIvkO5UyN8rsMikNS4Qoz0jep9pnpbItZNqcqf0E6oNINSohffYNdAt0q3T_Yrm6I5gdCqj5d4r1Yc7JnGA/s320/P1000639.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center">Neighbours, women washing their clothes</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094586860754844130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdkQApkK6lFYxuIFLn6KQOy5jR-ZzTo0l2XfiNekMkm_FgTPOkEPdJqLGzgQ0Xe6XMcteI2sCdGjLHxGWnWb951P1U-dWbIRAY9azDff4kVc9NormBZYQTrDvVE5yPT8nPyK2Ievkw43Y/s320/P1000629.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">The view from our room<br /></p><br />We walked to the market along very rough roads and past many men who would stare at us, call out and whistle. It took us about half an hour to walk to the market but we couldn't find anything that we needed there so we turned back, we were going to catch a taxi back to the hotel but Sarah & Bugge couldn't understand the Moroccans and they decided to give up and walk back to the hotel. By this point, Sarah was very tired, grumpy and really hated Morocco. Melissa and I tried our best to try and encourage her to no avail. Melissa and I then decided that we would go to the next village, which was approx. 20 mins walk in the opposite direction and find food & water while Sarah & Bugge would stay behind and rest. Melissa and I reached the first restaurant and our hopes are raised but then once we see their food, our hopes are crushed. They hang out their meat on sticks from the roof, and they cook outside in the heat with flies around. We asked the men there where we can get 'food' and they point us further down the road and away we went, we found another restaurant. This time the restaurant is decent and they had a menu, but alas, everything is in French. We mimed to the lovely man who was the owner and asked him what the menu said, and he goes around commanding his staff to show us which food was in French and how they were cooked. We finally chose edible food that we would eat ravenously! We ordered some more and got some 4 x 1.5 Litres of water, a bottle of coke and one of fanta and carried them back to the hotel for Sarah & Bugge. Carrying the water back was a bad idea because they warmed too quickly and we couldn't stand to drink it.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094584335314074034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37y5GG5cUjJmplFaugEEaPQnhfcTHYagLKgEOM-RfWJLfomC1pzMSil-zAIHY5JY9vJ2kC6FQg7aQLbKp2tdn-kXP2BX7gbgH3cC4A7cG14zGilndfRt7OOIvqPE-jomDUfVXvlM7Njg/s320/P1000638.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Can't remember what this is called, but it's a typical Moroccan dish</p>We retired to bed very early that night, but all of us are scared of intruders at our hotel, we didn't have locks to our room and there were a windowless hole in our room where cool air breezed through. Unfortunately for us, we had heard of many stories about Moroccan men and what they are capable of, and ontop of that our experiences today from the market. I checked our whole floor and came to the conclusion that nobody can climb the high walls to get in.<br /><br />10th July<br /><br />Breakfast at 8am consisted of what appeared to be a production of an American pancake but didn't taste like one. Marie, the Frenchwoman drives us to the next village where we catch a taxi to Marrakech city centre. It was so different to what we had seen around Dar Atif. We walked along a street, unsure where to head or what to look for, after a bit of ducking into and out of shops we decide to look for the mosque but we found it closed. A man in a nearby shop takes us into a herbal treatment shop where we saw thousands of herbs and ointments for every ailment you can think of. When we tired of walking along the souks we went to look for food but didn't find anything on this particular side of Marrakech so we decided to catch a taxi back to the village near Dar Atif and get something to eat. After eating, we bought a whole watermelon and carried it back to Dar Atif where we had some of it for dessert.<br /><br />When we walk around on this side of the country, we encountered many things, men on donkeys, carts being pulled by donkeys, women in traditional moroccan clothes (they're muslims but they dress differently to women in different Arabic countries) and children on bike who would stare at us. We also had sheep as neighbours, a lot of Moroccan families keep animals such as sheep, goats etc on the roof when they're not eating and at night time.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094587169992489458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwAiCwty9xwoA8BJ-Yk4DSgId5NyUsBS-bMxIySXN0rlNxo6v7Po4SS8loIE583ObT47_uOr_0i4wGJsYy3LCcf1aZ7AdugGdmf9oVnTFVctuz_kp2jvMU0KbhLYciEkq9w9DYX3CP5o/s320/P1000643.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Sheep!</p><p align="left">That night, we were extra scared and decided to sleep together in the same bedroom. I think I might have made the situation worse by telling Sarah and Bugge that I saw shadows of people walking past on my bedroom wall. Melissa was knocked out and didn't have a care for the world. Staying together was stifling hot because we had the door shut and the window 'door' shut and four bodies with hot air being expired.</p>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-15649228316663245082007-07-08T04:50:00.000-07:002008-02-01T19:25:56.506-08:00Stonehenge, Salisbury & Bath<span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Saturday 7th July</span><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We had booked a tour of three attractions with Golden Tour for the day. I woke up early and caught the bus from Maida Vale to Victoria station where I was to meet up with my sisters but the bus did not go all the way, it stopped at Park Lane and we all had to get off, I asked the bus driver what was happening and he said 'you have to walk to Victoria, it's about 10 mins away', and so off I went fastwalking because I only had about 10 - 15 mins left before meeting with the others. As I walked, I saw barriers being set up, police patrols and such and then I saw a banner saying 'Tour de France- Major London roads closed 6th/7th/8th July'. After a bit of walking distance, I didn't know where to turn so I asked a copper where Victoria was, and he gave me directions and said it was a good 10 minutes!</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I reckon I had walked about 20 mins before arriving at Victoria and met up with Melissa, we rushed to the bus station (Victoria is a large station, it has trains, tubes, bus and river ferry stations). Our tour bus left at 9am and headed straight for the Stonehenge, it was about 2 hours before we got off the bus, the roads were very congested. The tour guide said that because it was a Saturday and other people had the same idea as us, visiting the Stonehenge or going to the beach for the day. The group split up individually, we had information brochures and were told the time to meet back at the bus for the next attraction tour. Melissa, Sarah, Bugge & I went off on our own under the freeway and onto the other side of the road, for the Stonehenge. I had a book script with history and such of the Stonehenge which I found very interesting.</span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">There are many myths about why the Stonehenge was built, and what was it used for and nobody really knows why! However, they do know how they brought the stones there (they came from Wales) and how they built it. It was built around the same time as the pyramids in Egypt about 5,000 years ago. But the Egyptians were more clever and used papyrus to tell their story, and the English didn't have anything. The Stonehenge were already there way before the Romans invaded Britain, it's how old it is!</span><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084805539321330418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZYjK6uVl4ES6WMymI70cD3GhLBFrvCEOwnecoZd2PT8DgAGeRQGBQwBj5q6WDG2VDPikhP_MOObObCSCU9JRd2QQ5X_s6gy7me21A8qiRTy9CSXXkiu7mAu2_GuLbzwtvt0z2CrVSfw/s320/P1000523.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Stonehenge</span> </p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">After finishing at the Stonehenge, Melissa and I went back to our bus (we had split up with Sarah and Bugge), and could not find them on the bus, the tour guide did a head count and there were some people missing. Melissa rushed out of the bus to find Sarah & Bugge, but it didn't take her long to find them and they were last on the bus and we left Stonehenge minus two tourists. The tour guide said that we couldn't wait any longer, and those two people would have to find their own way back to London. This served as a warning for Sarah & Bugge!!</span></p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It was only 15 minutes before we arrived at Salisbury, we headed into a pub for a traditional english lunch, bangers and mash. The look of it was awful and we only could eat few bites before feeling sick. We then made our way to Salisbury Abbey, it's the tallest church in England apparently. You can find the Magna Carta there, it is Latin for 'Great Charter'. It is an agreement that was issued in 1215 between King John, Pope Innocent III and King John's English barons. Before the charter, there were a lot of disagreement between the church and the monarchy about the rights of the King, the Magna Carta forced the King to renounce some rights, respect legal procedures and accept that he is to be bounded by the law. This agreement has had a great influence on our consitution law today.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084806144911719170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJsyMXhQR0KR_T08Wl8MZqV6qe3P2rlYjQlfLHm3JdaK0oQTpyfip5a65Ic1a0I9FJlCqqFlhI_yf5zXRbssmDqucbgAWtbTMqXt3N3KBuTAtudL0YusOttXdgfKr-anILMLEO7uQGVhw/s320/P1000549.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Salisbury Abbey</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We left behind 4 more people at Salisbury when we headed for Bath.</span></p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It was quite a drive to Bath, but there were some attractions along the way that we could see from the bus, I remember seeing a chalk impression on a hill of an Army hat under a sun. The tour guide said that it was in tribute to the Australian Army. The tour guide talked a bit about the traditional British thatch roof, and how expensive it is to build it because not many people are skilled in making thatched roofs. If you wanted to learn the skill, you can't go to a school, you have to find someone with the skill and learn it directly from them and thus it's so expensive and rare to find a thatcher. Also, I found another interesting thing about the Britons, back then what the man's occupation was, it is also his surname. For example, with Margaret Thatcher, we can say that her husband's forefathers made thatched roofs.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Upon arrival at Bath, we headed straight for the Roman Baths, and again the tour group split up individually so we were free to explore on our own time. Extensive history can be found about the Romans in Bath, the Roman Bath were built by the Romans over 2,000 years ago but they departed and the region was claimed by the Saxons and they built additional temples and such over the bath. Normans then invaded the region and built more over what the Saxons had built. I remember seeing something about that the town of Bath had grown 6 metres from original ground over the years with each generation building their own lives ontop of the ruins of the past.</span><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084806634537990930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkk_S39BVozZ4H_uTjyxhMF8-CB3IfUYnqEJslqAB5xoQpLpQc-1n8ipZAITP8H9b8t7NqFNvJRmUf7eA-uz5D8QAaDQqtMcyzPl3TDzhe2ykASzcMF9xVyaC9Fh3cjF_fANnSkmcYrA/s320/P1000581.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You can see how high each generation has built over past ruins here</span> </p><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084807033969949474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqf54h66jAy0XlduvlArlSWIfMkAhdjkDObPv5vgDbAoG8UNZjybaa6TlT_EdCDORUvY-EOCc1rUrEHzAIrXaObOj1PjicYQNBploK9iWedMvqkbi308iKi8PHUG07B8KLMg8S3Mq7XjA/s320/P1000614.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Relaxing by the main Roman Bath</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">After exploring the baths, we tried some holy water. I had imagined fresh cold delicious water, but instead it was warm almost hot, smelled of natural underground elements (like iron) and tasted very thick. I could only manage to have several sips but had to leave it. I most definitely won't be cured!!</span></p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The four tourists that we had left behind in Salisbury managed to catch a train to Bath and catch up with us! But then unfortunately our bus had a flat tyre and had to be fixed, and only some of us were lucky enough to catch a differen bus but with the same company back to London. We got off at Gloucester Road at 8pm, it was a long day but very good.</span>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-71137339480908599062007-07-04T15:04:00.000-07:002008-02-01T19:11:41.452-08:00First few days in London<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JqllK7UKc5hZznkoa-GMlPkPkFA7DpgfxlJdYly4BTmY-j3tiAQRZGWKqAm5N-9-kVLS7vLMY_PBTY0H2V6hsS8_jPq7Oj8OH_rPbI7n9HDT8-PiYstmLMORNyK7i6fp6uGOMnwNl3A/s1600-h/P1000504.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083472613400885906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JqllK7UKc5hZznkoa-GMlPkPkFA7DpgfxlJdYly4BTmY-j3tiAQRZGWKqAm5N-9-kVLS7vLMY_PBTY0H2V6hsS8_jPq7Oj8OH_rPbI7n9HDT8-PiYstmLMORNyK7i6fp6uGOMnwNl3A/s320/P1000504.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">It was rainy old London (as usual) when I arrived at 6.40pm on 2nd July, I had to put up with rigorous questions from the immigration office because I am going to stay in the UK for more than 6 months. They grilled me about how much I had in the bank, if I had a job lined up, if not, have I joined a job agency?, where was I going to live, who am I going to live with? and do I have relatives in the UK? Somehow, I managed to pass the 'test' and they sent me to the Immigration Doctor who they said were going to ask me few more questions before I could get my passport back but all I just had to do was hand a nurse a form and the nurse typed something on the computer and stamped my form and said I was free to go and get my passport and enter the UK. I collected my bags and then went straight to Piccadilly Circus where I met up with Melissa, Sarah, Bugge and Ben.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We then went to Melissa Connor and Mazen's flat in Maida Vale, I am going to stay with them for a week before we head off to Morocco. Another friend from Melbourne, Shel was also staying with them and we had a long catch up before retiring for the night (should I say morning instead?).</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">On 3rd July, I had something called half of both an interview and a meeting with SIGN Charity, the organisation that Melissa worked for. I met up with a manager there and he has said that I can work as a bank staff at two of their houses (they provide care for residents with mental health issues). They call casuals 'bank staff' here! This is a good thing, having something that I can work for but I am still going to look for a fulltime job to be able to live in this expensive city!</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">After the meeting, Melissa, Sarah, Bugge & I went to London Tower Bridge. I have not actually been this close to the Tower Bridge, in the past I had seen it from a distance. There were also art displays of guitars near the Thames River bank. The 'Art' were large painted guitars and signed by famous musicians, I saw one signed by Paul McCartney. We mucked around and took silly photos, I was very tired from the jetlag and Sarah was sick with the cold.</span></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083474520366365394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnoU98dacL7ycivfFvO5NgSXtzeL310L3oUiLRLhZBNBXDtfbHM8zhA_hUesjYVIUEjkaIWE_OwVsCWrRtKj9_4Air6rZYFB6XVwhGcmx3oXzHR5-ChcuJamJ8qPVZEcLU1iQdXjpzXE/s320/P1000507.JPG" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Bugge & Sarah at London Tower Bridge</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083472952703302306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8vgPOE3NhxEQVTLdLk292wkh75Zn9bN9Nm4igOJ-TmQx_0qraXpapf3zjInYPFPzH5XCEis10G1IrSyLP_PWl70SmAD4wgUZlGvnb3G0YymfkTebfDMnM16R54MUFe7SALTnJv-CPMQ/s320/P1000514.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Sarah & Melissa with a funky guitar</span></div><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083473549703756466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz1sMzusjRpVltHNp5-jSE9-jcSsc3LCAt1WP0p1sJYPePh82TWQ_CfqMXiP11EZoEyHNUgDu5i52c5ii5ny5TDeiykF3ahLc7QkcJwqpPYPgmwHuOdQbvOBcZXcM_OqvxoseoXAlc0hU/s320/P1000516.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Me!</span> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083479674327120610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5RGpWRK3vNIOtp1hYEYFHaijytpLUMuu0Sjug2M8ZqDEjABNIQF2YTUTr1M92S7p0B2gmBuqmhUDFuagCq9XkolZx4fMreydaH1lURCZ4aClQf4PHwBn81aapSoWLFAUZd4uRqFQTS0/s320/P1000517.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The four of us!</span> </div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">After that, we went to Green Park tube station to meet Donna & Mike from Australia. They are staying at Melissa's flat now (it's full over there!). But unfortunately for Donna & Mike, they got lost at Green Park and it was a very long time before we finally met up (they are safe now!). By the time, we found Donna & Mike, I had to go back to Maida Vale to go and play netball with the London Deaf Netball Team. It was my first match and their first match for the season so perfect timing. I had asked Melissa C what colour to wear to play, and she said 'any colour, it won't matter, wear tracksuit pants and a t-shirt and it should be fine'. So I picked the most comfortable and sporty clothes I had and went off to netball with Melissa C and Shel. We played our game outdoor in the rain, some players were wearing raincoats, and I had my thick jacket on. I only could tell the players apart by looking at their bib (thank god for different coloured bibs). I played defence with Melissa C, it was good to play with her again, we had played together before in Australia. We won the game 16-5!</span></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Melissa C, Shel and I were starved after the game, we decided to have souvlaki and just chill out before heading home. I came back to the flat with my pant half wet, matted hair, soaked socks and wet runners and had a very hot bath which then made me more tired than I already was!</span></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">That night we had two Japanese friends stay over with us, Yumiko and Satsuko (?), by the time they arrived before midnight, I was already tired and decided to go to bed a bit early this time! They with Shel went to Barcelona today to travel around Spain for a bit before the WFD in Madrid.</span></div>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-10026810468532827662007-07-04T14:11:00.000-07:002008-02-01T19:10:56.502-08:00China<div align="left"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After leaving Melbourne on the 8am plane to Shanghai Pudong Airport, I arrived in a very humid Chinese city just after 8pm. After walking about 5 steps outside the airport, I was sweating, my jeans felt hot and clingy. I searched the airport for the Maglev (Magnetic Elevation) Train, I had to catch the Maglev to Longyang Rd Station to meet Hua, Heath and Michelle, school friends who were also holidaying in China at the same time I arrived. After fruitless walking along corridors that linked the airport to the carpark/train station (half of the airport is under renovation), I gave up and asked for direction and a lady kindly showed me the right way and I found Maglev to be a very sophisticated train. It does not run solely on electricity but on electromagnetic force and can travel up to 581kmph, but we only managed 431kmph and I've got a photo to prove that! It only took me 7 minutes to get to Longyang (30kms) whereas by a taxi it would have taken one hour!! The Chinese do not drive fast and the highest limit on freeways were only 80kmph.</span> </div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083461777198398034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhlyrzlJU9X50kj2f7toT_lciWSqJRgwitNVGoDH6ahrUVfyH5YMcX9s4l290N-WjHRiyXUJQBrnHsvK7XshzSwfKWTOGPAKwi0oY9x3lsTlaWwWj23rcQ7TZFPPPLj3iLwTT2H0BoCU/s320/P1000501.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Maglev Train</span> </p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">After meeting Hua, Heath & Michelle at Longyang, we had a quick catch up on what one other had been doing. Heath & Michelle has travelled around some Asian countries for a month and Hua was holidaying in China for 3 weeks, visiting her family. We caught a taxi to Hua's Grandmother's house where she offered us ice blocks to help cool us down, this was by the time of 10pm and we were still sweating, I rolled up my jeans to knee length. After some discussion, we decided that we would go to the hotel where Hua and I were staying and then go to the Nanjing (shopping district) where Heath & Michelle were staying and they would give me a quick tour of Nanjing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083460269664877106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-fW2G2ygyR2OsA1n0Oq6BaUvy8_zvbVtgQr2XFuMKdJ1UPZOSau64UAF5CiM9ruUvBqb3PzXvncEysLOUZrbJaW84F5NMabi5Z_1GCN80omDT9Rmfu4bJ5-xaFSS1sZxb-A6Wqd4-wsU/s320/P1000464.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Nanjing</span></p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We had a look around in Nanjing, the shops were closed but there were still people walking around, a person would come up to us and show us photos on a paper, I don't know what they are called but they target tourists and try to entice them to come into a shop with them where they sell fake designer things. We would just brush them off but once we've brushed them off, another one would come to us! It never ended! There were also a lot of beggars, an old man with a walking stick and a rattling cup followed us for a short while but we managed to lose him by fastwalking, but then he caught up with us when we were sitting down and ordering drinks at a cafe.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">We had decided to sit down at a cafe and have a proper drink, (stiff drink for some of us!). After some deliberate thinking, we decided to drink up to welcome my arrival in China and to say farewell to Heath & Michelle, they were flying back to Hong Kong the next day. We ordered a shot each and then had tequila sunrise which was delicous but a bit difficult to drink at the end! We ended up feeling very hot with the alcohol in our bodies! It was past midnight at this point.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083461313341930050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKwO6_wgrp_JsaO7V_i8CI2hTZo_McxhbAk-Odxyj5pKWdaiDKL52F40kcY-cb-ZZupJQvW3QLG4fLmQlB4pitF6vOAZyzwxpUjrEQ4jwF8LJyMRcgWvYRcDwcRd0MiSjQ4DdrCbmmFs/s320/P1000485.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sunrise Tequilas!</span> </p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">As a courtesty staff at the cafe provided us with a large bowl of very tiny roasted nuts which was delicious, but we had to learn how to master picking up the nuts with chopsticks and I have never used a chopstick properly before! After many attempts and coaching from the staff (they were very nice!) I finally mastered the skill and were able to eat nuts! By this point we were feeling very exhausted, and went back to Heath's hotel, said our bye's and headed back to our own hotel to sleep.</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083463898912242290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="214" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ae2hFxB4Piy_oamxNxXQyk-e5T06QnJbWQxJ4oIMDn0f81S0xFY9OnqEnW1oG0BeIMW5qatgJng2dPk68clTCcmlCKtP7_1XRoBr__cZZttZY8Jrb_na8JU1Iy12dRwadzzChUa9eOs/s320/P1000486.JPG" width="161" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Finally eating a roasted nut!</span> </p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The next morning Hua's Mother came around to wake us up and take us to breakfast, but we ended up going into little shops on the way and this delayed time and I had to rush to the airport in time to catch my plane to London, I went on the Maglev again and was still amazed at how smooth and quick it is!</span>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-27964696557477908132007-06-25T06:55:00.000-07:002007-07-04T15:04:20.255-07:00Not long to go!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Only 5 more days to go... and counting!!!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I depart Melbourne on Sunday 1st July at 8am!! An early flight argh! But at least it'll take me to China earlier.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'll be staying in Shanghai for a night with lovely Hua and her family!! I hadn't planned on staying in Shanghai but my transit period between flights is a long 18 hours... and who is patient enough to spend more than a day stuck in the airport??</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After visiting Shanghai, I'll be heading straight to London to meet up with my sisters. Melissa and I have the obligatory task of showing Sarah and Bugge who have not yet been to London around the city. After that, we'll head off to Morocco and then Spain for the WFD Congress in Madrid and a taste of the Mediterranean! We'll be meeting up with Deaf friends along the way around Spain, the WFD is a huge event and Melbourne will be a very quiet place to be in during the Congress!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I will be based in the UK for as long as possible, I have a visa for up to 2 years but only am eligible to work for 12 months. I am not too sure where I will be living yet, but for the time being I'll stick by Melissa and her flatmates at Battersea (South London) until I settle in and get regular work and know what I have to do.</span>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-912354519196497567.post-67438663879241769622007-06-07T19:36:00.000-07:002007-06-07T19:36:18.448-07:00My first post!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hello!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I have set up a blog where I will be adding stories about my travel adventures whenever I have the chance!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">As most of you are aware, I am going to relocate within the UK from July, am so excited at the prospect!! I've travelled a bit in the past few years and I find it very hard to answer each email with 'where are you now?' etc cetera, so I decided to take the initiative and try set up a blog for travel purposes only :-)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I will add a post just prior to leaving Australia about where I will be and what I want to see, and hopefully by the end of July I'll be able to achieve that!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Till later!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Hugs Debbie xox</span>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15449617410301648083noreply@blogger.com1