I got a crazy random tropical disease and I ALMOST DIED!!!!
11:49 AM, Wednesday, 28 March, 2007
Well, not really.
The almost died, that is.
And maybe not the crazy random tropical disease, either.
But I did have something that caused me to be admitted into hospital in Brisbane on Sunday (the day I was supposed to be flying to Melbourne!) with a 41 degree fever. And aches, and nausea, and headaches, and sore throats, and dying (kinda). They poked me lots and sucked out lots of blood, and Yehia sat beside me looking worried, and they decided that they just couldn't figure out what was wrong. My temperature had settled down enough yesterday for them to let me out. The doctor's parting words were:
"If it comes back, and the doctors in Melbourne can figure out what it is, can you tell us? Coz it's kind of weird, and kind of interesting, and we want to know..."
Filed under EEEEeeekk!!!
Mangroving
11:51 AM, Thursday, 22 March, 2007
It is a well-known fact that mangroves are very important for giving us fishies and crabs to eat. They provide a lovely safe place for the small fishies and crabs to grow up in, as well as convenient places in which to catch larger and more edible fishies and crabs. So that we can eat them.
With this in mind, I attended the Save PNG World Forestry Day mangroving expedition at Taurama beach, about 20 minutes out of Port Moresby.
It was a beautiful day, with plenty of volunteers to put the hundreds of mangrove seeds into biodegradable tapioca bags, and then put them in cages and rock walls and such so that they don't float away.
We ate watermelons, ran along the beach, saved the world and gasped at how there is no such thing as an ugly Papua New Guinean child. They're all so lovely, even when their pants are on inside-out.
We got back to Port Moresby exhausted and sunburned, and very soon an enormous storm broke with thunder and lightening and torrential rain, giving us a lovely fireworks show. The only thing we could do was jump in the pool.
Filed under Super Dooper, WOW
Last Days
4:48 PM, Monday, 19 March, 2007
I have three sleeps left in Port Moresby (excluding naps). Other things that I must do are as follows:
- Eat goodness
- Drink
- Pack
- Eat more
- Drink
- Nap
- Panic
- Drink
- Relax
- Nap
- Unpack
- Repack
- Nap
- Panic
- Unpack
- Drink
- Nap
- Drink
- Eat
- Nap
- Repack
- Panic
- Panic
- Panic
- Drink
- Drink
- Drink
- Drink
- Get on plane
- Panic
- Pass out.
There will also be some mangroving, chatting, hugging, drinking, buying pretty things, napping, eating, drinking, chatting, napping, hugging and panicking. In no particular order. Eek.
Filed under Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, Heeheehee...
Ladygardening
3:20 PM, Friday, 16 March, 2007
I was in hysterics as the Ladygardener told me all the Ladygardening (and a few Mangardening) stories - particularly the one involving another Ladygardening venue in which a trim was undertaken too bloody enthusiastically.
I laughed and I laughed. But then she started yanking my Ladygarden. No more did I laugh.
Filed under EEEEeeekk!!!, Heeheehee...
Propositions
2:51 PM, Thursday, 15 March, 2007
When I'm not being horrified by ghastly racist expats, I'm talking about sex. To young people, at a university, all the time. For example:
- Student walks into Carolyn's office -
"I'm interested in sex."
"Ok."
"I'm interested in all sorts of sex."
"Great. Use a condom."
"I just want to know: what is anal sex?"
- Carolyn explains -
"Oooh... I like that idea."
"That's fine, just use a condom."
"So you can do it with a man and a meri?"
"Man, meri, either one. Just use a condom."
"I like that idea!"
"Great. Just use a condom, and plenty of lubricant."
"So... How do you find someone to have sex with?"
"Well, it all depends on lots of things, really."
"Do... you like having anal sex?"
"That's not something I talk about with students."
"Oh. Well, if you want to, let me know. Bye!"
- Student leaves Carolyn's office -
Filed under So they said...
We're Independent and we're Free, Papua New Guinea
11:29 AM, Monday, 12 March, 2007
On Saturday night I went out for dinner. Unfortunately I was late and had to sit near some people I don’t know so well, while my friends were up at the other end of the table. Despite not particularly liking these people, I determined not to be precocious this time, but to be as polite and as amiable as possible.
It was a disaster.
First of all they were boring and old and had absolutely nothing in common with me - conversation revolved around the last time they were in Australia and what they bought, and what they were planning on buying next time they went down. But things really started going downhill when somebody mentioned, “Have you ever noticed how bad the money smells in Papua New Guinea?”
My mouth literally hung open as the six people surrounding me started discussing how on pay day Papua New Guineans (who of course don’t have wallets) stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home.
That’s right – these people were having a conversation about how Papua New Guineans stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home. Laughing and smiling at these silly people, and why their money is smelly. Because, you see, Papua New Guineans stick their money in their buttcracks to take it home.
I was dumbfounded for about sixty seconds, until I started arguing with them. “That’s simply absurd”, I said; “I just don’t believe it” and “Don’t be ridiculous”. “Have you ever seen anyone actually do that?” I asked, and I told them “I’m afraid that this is just too preposterous”. To which they replied “Oh Carolyn, you’ve only been here for a year, you don’t really know Papua New Guineans”.
This coming from people who have lived here for most, if not a good part of, their lives. Well-educated people, in their twenties and thirties. People working for high-powered law firms, aid agencies and businesses. People whose only association with Papua New Guineans is with their Haus Meri, or their waiter, or their colleague (of whom they ask “So how did you actually get this job?”, as if a Papua New Guinean wouldn’t/couldn’t have a qualification, let alone work experience).
I was simply horrified, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to throw my shoe at them, to scream at them, to shame them. I wanted to tell them that if they can’t respect the citizens they should get the hell out of this country. Instead I tried to reason and speak with them. All of the protestations and arguments I made were literally laughed at, and I rapidly got to the point where I simply couldn’t engage with these people any more. I was so angry. I felt myself curl up as I refused to make eye contact, and answered everything with monosyllables. I backed away from all conversations and sat there in my shocked silence, while they just presumed I was being a wet blanket. Because of course Papua New Guineans carry their money around in their buttcracks, why wouldn’t you believe this?
As if I’d want to be any kind of blanket around these people. I felt so ashamed to be associated with them – ashamed to be sitting with them, to be holding the same passport as them, to be in any way identifiable as one of “them”. They continued on with their conversation, just presuming that because of my skin colour I’d be in agreement with them. Deeply shamed and offended, I left the restaurant as soon as I could, but I still haven’t been able to leave behind the feelings of revulsion and disgust.
Filed under Crapola, So they said...
So THAT'S how you educate a nation!
1:52 PM, Friday, 9 March, 2007
I, along with most of the population of Papua New Guinea, have a love for SP beer. At the moment I'm feeling a little compromised, though, due to their current competition:
That's right, K250,000 worth of school fees to be won if you just drink more beer. UNICEF and AusAID with their hifalutin ideas of free primary education have a lot to learn from SP, as this is surely the way to increase the current 57% adult literacy rate and educate the next generation.
I think I need to stick with vodka.
Filed under Crapola, EEEEeeekk!!!, So they said...
New People arrive in Port Moresby, and Carolyn doesn't make a good impression...
3:11 PM, Thursday, 8 March, 2007
New People often come to Port Moresby to do work, and stuff. Sometimes I am introduced to them. Sometimes I shouldn't be. Sunday night, I shouldn't have been:
"So Carolyn, how do you like Port Moresby?"
"I like it. The cucumbers are great."
"Ok... So, what are some of the challenges living here?"
"Well, the men stink. They'd hit on a pole if it had boobs."
"Right... Surely that's a gross generalisation regarding PNG men?"
"Oh, I'm not talking about PNG men. Just most men in Port Moresby. Except my friends, who are lovely. Not them, the other men."
"Hmm. So what do you do on the weekends? Do you go to the Yacht Club? I heard it's fun there!"
"The Yacht Club is full of expat twats, I'd never be caught dead there."
"You do realise you're an expat, don't you?"
"Yeah, but I'm not a twat." (looks suspiciously at New Person) "Twats like going to the Yacht Club and playing with their boats."
"Oh. I like boats."
"Well, I don't. So don't go there."
(shifts chair away a bit) "So what do you do on the weekends then?"
"Secondhandclothesshopping is great! I eat cucumbers a lot. Sometimes I lie on the couch and get bitten by mosquitoes. Sometimes I lie by the pool and get bitten by mosquitoes. Sometimes I sit on the balcony and get bitten by mosquitoes. Often I will involve alcohol in these pursuits. And cucumbers."
(looks desparately at person who introduced us) "Ok..."
"I eat at least one cucumber a day."
"I think I need to go home now... Nice to meet you..."
"Bye! Don't forget to eat some cucumbers!"
Filed under So they said...
They're trying to eat me...
12:10 PM, Tuesday, 6 March, 2007
Port Moresby has been awash (afly?) with mosquitoes lately. On Saturday morning I was laying on the couch at Kym's house, as I am wont to do somewhat regularly, and my legs were burning from all of the biting that was happening. There's still one bite on my upper thigh that hurts somewhat like a bruise, and just won't go away. Ew.
Yesterday I was working very hard, and an Evil Wasp came flying into my office. It buzzed around the light for awhile, being buzzy and bumpy and annoying:
But then it took a liking to ME, and it started attacking me. It would fly around and around me, and then land very gently on me. I wouldn't noticed that it had landed on me until I looked at my arm or my hand or whatever and, "EeeeeeEEEEE There's an EVIL WASP on me!"
I would shake, and freak out, and then it would fly away to the light and continue its buzzing, then its attacking. It literally chased me in circles around and around my office, at which point somebody saw me running around and around my office and stopped to laugh at me. Unfortunately that somebody was The Warden of Women (for ease let's call her The WOW) who thinks I'm nuts at the best of times. When The WOW saw what was chasing me she refused to come in and save me, despite my pleas that I'm a woman and henceforthwith her ward. The WOW gave me lots of encouragement as I shrieked and valiantly drove it out with a newspaper. Then she locked herself into her own office so the Evil Wasp wouldn't come in and eat her.
I am now patrolling the corridors with a newspaper, and a girly "Eek" on the tip of my tongue, just in case.
The Face of Evil: Observe the beady, calculating little eyes; the nasty grin on its face; the deadly intent...
Filed under EEEEeeekk!!!
Bilum
2:40 PM, Monday, 5 March, 2007
Having made several references to bilums, and having had several "what's a bilum?" type questions, and having been to lazy to facilitate a picture of me modelling one of my hundreds of bilums, here's a photo of a baby in a baby bilum hanging in a mango tree, with some people selling buai sitting on the ground. Don't worry, it (the bilum, not the baby) is tied up there tightly and the baby is very happy. So are the people (happy, not tied up tightly).
Filed under Super Dooper
I'm not hungover, I'm really sick!
9:46 AM, Monday, 5 March, 2007
Birthday Shenanigans went very well, and the Birthday Gods looked after me and saved me from a hangover, which is more than I can say for some other people who attended the fun and games, and who even started later than me and even went home earlier than me. So there. I told you I'm still young.
But those Birthday Gods didn't save me from sore-throat-snotty-nose-slight-fever-achy-body-badness. I was laughed at a little bit on the weekend when I said I was sick, and people said "No silly, you're just hungover, that's what happens when you turn 25!" but I TOLD YOU SO I'M SICK!!!! Look at the snot! Hear my voice! Feel my slightly feverish forehead! Sick I am!!!!
I can't go home and lie on the couch, because soon our New Haus Meri will be there to do cleaning, and I don't want to be cleaned. Bleach just dries my skin out. I just want to wallow. So here at work I will sit, with a pathetic look on my face and a box of tissues by my side, pretending to Do Important Things.
In other more amusing and less gross news, did you know that Elvis Presley and Tom Jones are actually Papua New Guinean? So are the King and the Queen (I don't know of which country - does it really matter?). They're all on the electoral roll in the Highlands, and I'm really glad to see well-known celebrities enrolling in time for this year's elections. I just hope they turn up to vote.
Filed under Crapola, So they said...
Quarter of a Century
9:55 AM, Thursday, 1 March, 2007
Hooray!
At last!
Pour the drinks,
Prepare the snacks,
Yay, it's all about me!
But hang on, I'm old now!
I always thought I was young...
Really,
This is too much for me.
How am I supposed to cope?
Do I still get to do fun things?
Are my boobs going to sag?
Yikes!
Terrifying and scary!
Oh, why me?
My oldness, alas,
Equals acrostics. Eek!
Today a new demographic
"Old!", they will call me,
"Delinquents!" I will shriek
As I hobble away.
Yes, it is scary.
I'll be wrinkly soon,
And talking about gallbladders...
Melodrama will fix it:
2 the bottle of vodka I go,
5 years until I'm 30...
Filed under EEEEeeekk!!!