Luzader Travels 2006

NEW BLOG ADDRESS

2006-12-29T22:46:00.000-08:00

We have a NEW BLOG ADDRESS
to see it go to:

www.luzadertravels.blogspot.com

for the lastest from Africa

This blog still has all the photos, stories and work done in

INDIA
VIETNAM
NEW ZEALAND
AUSTRALIA
THAILAND

Thanks for Giving

2006-11-21T02:27:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving
Life on the road has required an incredible amount of learning, and adapting. We would like to thank all our friends and family at home for their moral support and encouragement along the way. Thanks also to our newest friends for their guidance and companionship through some of the loneliest and difficult times.
This challenging lifestyle has taught us to be gracious and ever thankful for the birthright that has given us the opportunity to choose our own fate. We have never felt more grateful, for being from a developed county and even feeling a bit more patriotic this week.
The last few months have taught us to appreciate every little thing that comes our way. We are especially thankful for flushing potty's, random electricity, affordable public transportation and fertile land to grow food. We are thankful for our health and energy to endure the task we have chosen. But all the practical things aside, we really appreciate You We hang onto every word of your love and friendship. Your support keeps us propped up.

From the men, women and children who have benefited from your generosity, we extend a Big "THANK YOU"

Thank you Project Financers 2006:
Brenda & Brian Luzader- Portland, Oregon
Dale/Bloome Family & www.bungee.com staff -Portland Oregon
Nancy Stone & Wayde Spielberg- Portland, Oregon
Norma Soshea (& recently passed Bob Soshea) - Camarillo, California
Nannette Miller- Beavercreek, Oregon
Molly McCall & Dan Hanches - Scappoose, Oregon
Francine and Mark- Southern California
Mike Tangeman- Seattle, Washington
Kaysoon Brown- Mumbai, India
Craig Martin and Craig's friends & relatives- Cairns, Australia
The Travelling Holland Girls- Holland
Fourth of July & anonymous donors- Oregon/Washington

VIETNAM

Government Orphanange

Project:Nutrition Supplements/School Uniforms ($135usd)

Caregiving Books/Magazines/Food ($54usd)

Handicapped Children of Government Orphanage

Project: Funding for Physiotherapists/ Nutritional Supplements ($900usd)

Cahors Street Children Orphanage

Project: Clothes/ Books/ Food/Outings ($150usd)

INDIA

Projects: BGM Sewing Machines ($150usd)

Food Contribution/After School Tuition

BGM Cow & Goat Distribution (ongoing project $650 AUD)

Mitraniketan Goat Distribution ($85 usd)

BGM Well Construction ($225usd)

AFRICA Project (to start): Build School-Amani Education Project($1500 usd)

Project: Goat Distribution for Maweni Village ($345AUD)

Project: Shoes for the children ($150 usd)

In case you didn't know..About B&B Relief:
B&B Relief was established by the friends and family of Brian and Brenda Luzader after the 2004 Tsunami. In order to get relief to victims quickly and eliminate the administrative costs, Brian and Brenda volunteered to take the donations directly to the survivors. The projects and people who received funding or assistance were photographed, documented and recorded. In this way, each donor was able to see who benefited from their contribution and stay in contact if they chose. This idea has grown into a small relief organization that has spread around the world.

Brian and Brenda do not accept donations for their travel or living expenses and all administrative, transportation and distribution work, is done voluntarily. It has become their volunteer job to find deserving people and projects to assist with, while they are travelling around the world. Projects are evaluated and then accepted, based on assessed needs and the contributors wishes.
Donations are accepted from all counties. Bi-annual reports are made for the contributors. Receipts are kept on record for inspection. All funding and distribution of currency, is considered public record and available upon request. B&B Relief is not a registered charity; it is just two people who have the energy and means to deliver support directly to the most disadvantaged people in the world. 100% of donations go to the recipients.
If you would like to participate in a project or have comments to share, please contact Brian and Brenda.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Living on the Thin Line

2006-11-17T22:49:00.000-08:00

The thin line between love and hate

In a relatively short period of time, what seems so abnormal becomes normal to our physical senses. Sight, smell, and sound become immune to dissimilarities of our sensual being. After this time when our primary senses have been on overload, our physiological senses become acutely aware of the new chaos that has become our surroundings. Where I’m going with this? I’m not quite sure. But I have a feeling it has something to do with trying to operate a cell phone in India. Well, that's what started my rant anyway. Then again, it could be something much more than a nation wide dysfunctional cell phone system.

It could have started at the airport where we waited 5 hours at the Air India gate for our flight to Bombay.
After multiple excuses about our failed departure, they finally confessed that the plane was broken and would attempt a flight sometime the next day.

More frustration comes when landing on the ground, with hazardous driving through out the country. Vehicles act as if pedestrians were gate poles, on some giant slalom race course. The crowded bus, overloaded truck, and motorbike are the racers. They don't want to be slowed up, so they just brush by those pedestrian poles, bending them without taking them out completely. Then again, I don't know if it is safer to be on the street or in /on one of these population reducing vehicles.

It's a dangerous, but common occurrence to see a family of 5 (or six if there is an infant) balancing without helmets on a single motorbike. A hard sight to witness, but we've seen too many busses slam into a motorbike, then slow down enough to see if the sprawling person moves on the ground. After movement is observed the bus speeds away, trying to keep on schedule.

When inside a rolling mosh-pit bus, you can find yourself literally cheek to cheek with a garbage picker. A modest and elegantly dressed woman wrapped in a silk sarree, has to hold herself upright by clinging her bum cheeks to your hip as the bus makes scary tipping turns. If you are awarded a seat you still have to shield your face, as there is no glass to protect you from trees and signs that the bus will graze into. But then again where else can you get so close and personal except, in sharing a life threatening experience. We met many of our new local friends on our commutes to the city.

With so many new friends to teach us the culture differences, we started with trying to understand this thing they do with their heads. It's kind of like a wagging from the neck up similar to a dog's tail when you ask him if he's been in the garbage or wants to go for a walk? Completely non-communicating to us, it replaces the Indian words for yes, no or sure. We are left to interpret each 'wag' as we see fit. It can be very confusing as this side to side motion, is recognised in most languages as a definite 'no.'
This is especially frustrating when standing on a train platform in the middle of the night trying to get a simple yes or no answer. When asking the conductor if the train in front of us is bound for our destination, all we get a 'wag.' "Is this train is going to Goa?"- Wag! "Get on train?" -Wag! "No?"- Wag! "Yes?"- Wag! You have 1-2 minutes to make a decision and push through a crowd to leap on the moving train while weighted awkwardly with your luggage. The train goes somewhere, and anywhere is better than being stuck in a dodgy train station.

The train themselves are quite cheap and luxurious compared to other modes of commuting. Even if it's a dirty second-class non-air condition carriage, there is usually a place to rest your weary body. Sometimes you have to kick a nice poor family out of your pre-paid seat, but remember... Even a lion, must run faster than the slowest dear to survive in India.

Travelling on a train, is our favorite and a relaxing way to see India. It's like having a big screen travel channel in front of you with Sally Struthers, "Save the Children" infomercials going by. Except, playing a part of this reality show, is where the overload of primary senses begins to take over.

The travel channel doesn't show you the real squaller that people live in either. This screen comes full-color, with high-definition smells of the garbage pits as children pick through looking for their next meal. Out of necessity, the rails are used as open toilets for the slums and this is when you'd like to have a remote to change the 'Chanel Eau De Toilette.'

There's more to the Reality Train, than Survivor episodes. There are also stunning sights to behold as the train rolls through varying landscapes with plunging waterfalls, green rice paddies, palm lined beaches and quaint family farms. But ultimately, we always arrive at another destination city, full of poverty and despair.

Get ready for a full indulgence of the senses, when pushed off the train and immersed in the city streets.

The fragrance that follows your nose is distinctively Indian. Large markets sell incense, spices, jasmine, curries, sandalwood and coconut oils. Within a few steps you can be emerged in the good, the bad, and the smelly. The nicest restaurant will invite you in with fresh chai and masala, but once inside you'll find the sound of patrons snorting and hocking their mucus up, while at the dining table.
Some things we never grew accustomed to

Step out, but proceed with caution through the lanes of spewing toxic unfiltered carbon monoxide that burns your nostrils and smothers your lungs. There is no such thing as a Department of Environmental Quality, but this country of over a billion commuters has its own DEQ. The Devour Energy Quickly policy is coating the cities with unchecked pollution and congestion.

The noise pollution department also has a DEQ-Don't Exist Quietly plan. Every truck, bus and motor rickshaw have the words 'Sound Horn' painted on the rear end. The horn is the most important accessory on a vehicle, as it's used twenty times more often than the brakes. Sounding the horn can mean, "I'm coming, hello, I see you, bring me bread, or get out of the way."

There is no escape from the perpetual noise. Even in the most remote parts of the country, people have tied huge speakers atop the car, so they can drive around pitching their propaganda. You can expect to be awaken in a crowed city by roosters, holy cows or the blood curdling scream of a baby goat.

Before sunrise, miles of penetrating amplifiers reverberate mosque chants or church hymns in any of India's fifty or so languages. Try if you will, figuring out why in a Hindu temple, they would light an M80 bomb every 45 seconds? The different decibels of tones become so deafening normal that you don't even notice them anymore.

Except the few I do remember well, like the sound of a school yard, bursting in chorus. You can rely on a shopkeepers hymns, to put a smile on your face as you pass through the morning markets. There's also the soothing sound of a woman's song as she does her chores. Her cheery voice softens even the roughest days.

As a spoiled 'first-world-er' there are so many cultural adversities to overcome. I'm humbled by the people who can survive in this ancient, over populated, partially polluted, unjustly caste, democratic society. The friends that we have made will be in our hearts until the end of times. We thank them for showing us how to endure so many strange obstacles.

And amidst the chaos, learn to love it all!

"Pardon me, but since my primary senses went on overloaded, my physiological senses may have over analyzed the fact that my overpriced cell phone is under repair again. But thanks for listening anyway. "
-Brian

INDIA ALIVE

2006-11-02T04:51:00.000-08:00

A Living, Breathing
Pulsing, Pounding Country

Mitraniketan - Home of Friends

2006-10-25T00:49:00.000-07:00

'Mi-tran-i-ketan'

translated: 'Home of Friends'

Where are Brian and Brenda Luzader now?
Dangling from the ceiling of a local bus and pressed tightly into a crowd of sweating bodies we looked at each other with despair, wondering why we ever left the comforts of home for this? Surrendering to gravity, we fell against strangers, as the rusty bus carved us deeper into the hills of Kerala. When at last it reached its destination we were pushed out and deposited in a dirt field. Feeling further away from home and even more removed from friends and family we loaded ourselves into a rickshaw and headed to our new home for a good part of the next few months.

I remember on that day, tears that burst from a tired traveller's eyes. Seven months away, had made me feel completely displaced, and I longed for everyone and everything familiar at home. I stared vacantly at a dirty brick room with a flickering bulb, and an unsolicited family of cockroaches for room mates. Dropping my backpack to the floor in exasperation, I fell to a hard musty bed crying out to go home.

I didn't know it then, but later realized that my appeal was answered. Mitraniketan had brought instead, a sense of home to us. We had arrived at a rural education campus that supported the needs of 400 poor, tribal, lower caste and women students. Over the next two months we came to find our place among this new family. It was our job to understand the needs of these students, the goals of the organisation and the struggles of the staff. We all came to know our roles and responsibilities to each other while living as a community in rural India.

Brian and I were put to the task of designing, and writing a book about the institution and its activities. The pupose of this book was to educate, share unique teachings and bring international support to the organisation. We studied their culture, beliefs and educational methods. Then photographed, interviewed and compiled a 20 page booklet about the importance of holistic development in an educational institution. We lived with, worked, played, and befriended hundreds of students and staff who all made this part of India feel like our home as well.

What is Mitraniketan and what makes it special?
Mitraniketan is a residential campus that teaches 'education for life.' It is supported by volunteers and well wishers from India and abroad. The target group for the school/college is rural children and youth from the poorest sectors and lowest castes of society. In effort to reverse the ill effects that culture has had on females, women applicants are given priority. Those that have the opportunity to attend Mitraniketan are then housed, fed, clothed and educated throughout the year. It is their goal to develop students who can find/make work for themselves in rural areas without having to migrate to the cities.

What makes this school different, is that the teaching methods are non-formal. Based on ideas from the Danish Folk High Schools, the teaching is meant to be transparent, in discussion and on equal footing with students. At the 'People's College' their are no tests, instead students are given evaluations and opportunities to question the subject and its validity to their future.

More importantly Mitraniketan works to motivate and equip rural youth to become an active and creative factor in their family, and community. This approach seeks not merely to route students into the work force, rather strives to provide students with a chance to realize their full potential as individuals and to gain a sense of their connection and responsibility to others. The idea behind this form of education is that learning only becomes a significant part of our lives if we are actively involved and share responsibility for it.

What's it like on the Mitraniketan campus?
The facility is located on sixty acres of tropical forest donated by the founder himself. Students wake early to do yoga and sports, then each school day starts with a song at morning assembly. An open stadium fills with a chorus of voices inspiring one other to work hard and believe in a better future. Like an open forum, opportunity is given to discuss news, give recognition to students or bring up concerns in the community.

After a closing song, students disperse to outdoor classrooms where they gather to learn about practical knowledge focusing on need-based skills. While the primary and high schools work on basic education, the college students are offered carpentry, food processing, tailoring, computers, agriculture and various other livelihood skills.

The campus bustles daily with activities in education, farming, artisan trades, culture, dance, sport, and homemaking. Students help to prepare food, clean and participate in the maintenance of the grounds. Dignity of labor is enforced so that each student will emerge respecting all castes and occupations in society. Evenings close with a quiet humm of study time in the library, club meetings, news reviews, or occasional dance performances.

What did we learn from our stay at Mitraniketan?
Many people come to India just to be enlightened, inspired or re-directed in life. We gained the same by simply sitting across a dinner table from the director of Mitraniketan each day. This man has shared with us his strength and wisdom. He has inspired us to believe in individuals bringing about change starting with the community and extending across the world. For fifty years he has led by example, struggling to provide equal opportunity, empowering women, strengthening rural areas, educating and offering humanity and compassion to the poorest and lower caste sectors. Living with this community has restored our faith in India and its role in a developing world.
To the man who has created for us and many more, a real 'Home of Friends' we respect and admire his great works.
“In today’s world of transition, we must examine how we approach the concept of development and re-orient our approach and methods in such a way as to put humaneness back into the equation.
Our primary task in this re-orientation is the enablement of people; development will come about only when individuals as a part of family and community are reminded of their own power in determining the circumstances of their own lives.”
Founder of Mitraniketan -K Viswanathan

You can learn more about Mitraniketan at
www.mitraniketan.org.in (if site is not up already, it's coming soon)

The Village People Project

2006-09-23T03:25:00.000-07:00

The Village People Project
A day in the life of…Brian and Brenda

6:00am - Mornings
Wake suddenly to a strange sound in the jungle. (something like a hippo giving birth or a lions roar)
Noise replaced with loud, sick sounding goats and roosters crowing in the rubber plantation behind us.
Step in bathroom and precede to empty buckets of cold water over head.
Head out to porch to read. Sun takes its time to rise over the mountain and reflect its warmth on the lake in front of us.

8:00am
Fumble through the kitchen trying to help the family cook Indian curry and coconut rice ball breakfast. (However, I’m a helpless nuisance in primitive conditions) Enjoy cup of chai tea instead and relish in the beauty of the lake front landscape.

9:00am - Meet George, BGM Project
Go on short hike around the lake to George’s house. George is a poor village guy with bad health conditions and an unfortunate hard-life story. BGM is a small grass-roots organization that we are assisting this month. (Small, meaning one extremely compassionate and motivated man and his dedicated wife.) This couple founded BGM while helping neighbors the past 15 years in their native village. They have been providing food, education, artisan classes, farm animals, wells, latrines, women’s support groups, tsunami relief and more.
9:15am - Project “Poo Pit”
We’re sent here today, to dig a 3x4x8ft hole to use as a septic system for an outhouse. (George’s house is a one room, bamboo stick lean-to, built into the side of a hill. There is no electricity, no water and no toilet facility.)
Tools provided: Chisel, hammer, spade, pan, coconut, pick and stick.
Weather: Occasional monsoon showers
Number of chickens pecking at my feet: Nine
Number of feet to dig: Eight
Number of helpers: One (ailing man), Number of spectators: Ten (beginning to feel like a city job)
Proceed to whack, hack, heave, chisel and hoist rock and dirt out of a 3 ft hole. (While neighbors hover above, perplexed at the sighting of white people in the village.)
9:30am
Carry countless pans of dirt up the slippery hill, while the other two steadily fill them up. (Never thought a ‘wheel barrow’ would be a luxury item.)
10:00am
Propose a better location to dispose of heavy dirt and rock, so that I don’t have to walk up the hill anymore. (really out of shape after 8 months of traveling)

10:15am
Another monsoon downpour. Join Geetha (Georges wife) inside for a nice refreshing cup of hot boiled, smoky water and rest on the dirt floor in her stick shack house. (Ah, I see there’s no point in taking off muddy shoes.) Notice that there is a goat lying on her bamboo bed? (note to self: Don’t complain anymore about ants and cockroaches in my bed.)
10:30am - Fauna
Watch the fish jump in the lake while listening (‘charades style’) to stories about neighbors who were attacked and/or killed by crocodiles on the shores of this lake. A series of loud roars (or birthing hippos)
echo over the water again. George pantomimes a prowling Lion. We think he’s saying there’s nine Lions that live on the other side of the lake from us? (Suddenly trying to remember correctly… Is it, “Never turn your back to a crocodile,” and “Run from, or stare down a Lion?”) Finally we catch something about “pay, ticket” and figure it’s a National Wildlife Sanctuary. (Wildlife sanctuary’s usually have fences, right?)
No more stories today please.
10:30 - Sister Stella & Brother John
Begin bailing rain water out of hole and back to grueling, ‘gravel making’ job. Geetha decides to rename us ‘Stella and John’ for the remainder of our friendship. (I think she has some biblical reason, but I’m remembering the song , “Ol’ John Henry, A steel driving man,” and our favorite beer in Egypt called ‘Stella Lager.’)
Continue to pick rock out of the hole (and out of ears, eyes, nose and mouth.) Scrape dirt into pans with a coconut cup. Occasionally check the width and depth with our stick measure. (remembering days of old …electric power tools, tape measures and modern shovels.)
11:00am
Hit solid bedrock, and work slows to the pace of a six inch chisel. Inch, by inch continue to make gravel and sand and remove from hole. Very slow, exhausting and unrewarding work.
12:00
Sister Stella and Brother John take a group break with George to enjoy another refreshing cup of boiled smoked water. Geetha proudly shows us her cooking fire and pot of boiled water. Note to self: Be grateful for boiled water as we would be sick and running for a toilet without it. (which I remember they don‘t have)
12:15 - Meet Geetha
Graciously take in a power snack, of sliced roots dipped in salt and watch Geetha go about her daily chores. BGM has recently purchased a goat and some chickens to help George and Geetha survive in this rural area. The goat will produce milk and the hens will lay eggs, and after selling these at the market, Geetha and George will have enough food for another day.
Geetha sings to her goat as she gives it a bath in the lake. She calls it her baby, as she cleans and kisses its long black ears. (She really loves her new goat.) Then she ‘mother hens’ her chicks around the hill lifting and kissing their little beaks. When she’s not tending to her new farm, she is foresting small branches, and chopping them into fire-sized logs. What she doesn’t use for cooking, she bundles up and takes to the market and sells for 2 rupes a bundle. (that’s only a few cents) A big job for a tiny woman, but we can see by her right hand swing, that she’s well qualified for this profession. (note to self: Lucky to be born in America.)

12:30pm - Back to work
Succeed in painfully passing some stones and a steady work pace resumes.
12:35pm
Hit bedrock again. Now, we have decided to re-name ourselves, “Jack” and “Hammer.”
1:00pm -Savior
‘Angel messenger’ comes to tell us that our lunch is ready and we have to quit for the day. Say good-bye to Geetha and George. Sister Stella and Brother John vow to meet them in the morning and work full days, until the poo pit is finished.

1:15
Grab soap and head down to the lake to wash with the rest of the village. (note to self: Thought bathing my body was a more private thing.) With a billion people in the country, nothing is private. Enjoy beautiful scenery and natural wildlife until an amphibious serpent slides by my side.

1:30pm - Lunch
Enjoy delicious curries, fish and rice on fresh banana leaf plate. Dig into gooey foods with blistered fingers, as utensils are not used in most of India. (You’d think a civilization that can operate automobiles, could manage a fork?)
2:00pm
Meet up with Nija and friend and take mile long ‘shortcut’ through banana plantation into town.
Take unmarked bus, to unmarked village on unmarked roads, to unmarked trails to meet unmarked people.
2:30pm - BGM Community
Hike along a river to visit small family with a new BGM Well…Invited inside for tea-declined. Hike up the hill to visit old lady with a BGM Latrine and BGM Goat…Given bouquet of flowers-accepted. Hike down the mountain to visit young woman with a BGM Well and BGM chickens …Offered dessert-accepted etc. Continued to visit numerous more BGM projects throughout the village.
3:00pm
Stop at tea stand to rest blistering feet and suck down several cups of chai.. Arrgh, Monsoon rain begins again.

3:15 - Banana Entrepreneurs
Hike over mountain to join women’s group meeting about banana chip business. BGM has trained a group of 20 women to make banana chips to sell in the city. Watch meeting as they make predictions, collect money to buy new bananas and discussed the marketing of their product. (note to self: pay attention, I will need a job when returning from this trip.)
4:00pm - Woman Empowerment
Hike back into village to join a women’s support group. (Nice, have been missing my friends.) This is, one of many groups organized by BGM to empower and educate women. Because of social castes, women and girls are still regarded and treated as second class beings. They come for personal support, education and talk about family and community issues (and maybe a little gossip too.) The women gather together sitting in a circle on the ground, each with their pad of paper, taking notes. One of the lessons taught is ‘personal finance.’ A leader collects 10 rupes from each woman which goes into the groups savings. After a certain amount of time, they are allowed to borrow against the group money. Women take out loans for things like a sewing machine to learn tailoring, or a farm animal to produce market goods. Today, the topic for group discussion is: “Plastic good vrs. bad.” (I’m so glad they brought it up.) I happen to have an enormous problem with a billion people throwing their trash on the ground. We discuss the recycling programs in the US and they look confused by my passion to clean up India.
5:00pm - After School Program
Hike to after school “Tuition Class” which is free for all local children and funded by BGM. Public education is just a couple of hours each day and not sufficient, even for rural village children. These private classes give children a better chance to succeed. Children of various ages, assemble at a neighbors house and sit on the ground under a plastic tarp. (And we complained, when they took pencil sharpeners out of the classroom.) A cow munches on hay behind us and chickens waddle through the class, but no one seems to be distracted. Today the students are learning where the USA is located and particularly the climate of Portland Oregon. Afterwards we play a counting game, followed by playing Hangman, then sing and write the words to “You are my sunshine.” (A good song for the rainy season I thought.) Class finishes with culture dance, theatre and song. We are the highlight of their school day, as they beg for us to return tomorrow.
6:00pm
Monsoon rain returns as we wait for bus back to house. Hope to catch the end of a sewing class for local women in our village. Bus runs late as usual. (Stand in pouring rain dreaming of hot bath and nice glass of red wine.) Wake to a truck horn and a gush of cold brown water, soaring in the air towards me.
6:30pm Candle-lit nights
Arrive home after a long exhausting day and discover it will be another night without electricity. Attempt to help with dinner (unsuccessfully). Instead stand in the shadows trying to learn how to cook Indian flatbread and curry by fire light. (Relieved also, that I can’t see the things that scuttle around the kitchen in the dark) Have another candle-lit dinner squishing foods through my fingers. Enjoy stories and share in the unique culture, living with a rural family in India.
8:00pm
Have meeting to discuss the needs of BGM with its founders Wilson and Annie.
10:30pm - All in a days work
Throw bucket of cold, dirty water over head, and call it a night.
At the days end, we fall onto another unfamiliar bed, in another unfamiliar place. It has been another exciting and fulfilling day. We remember a time not so long ago when we asked for, “More out of life.” It has responded, and given us sometimes more than we can handle. We don’t finish our days asking, “What is the meaning of life? We are living it…Every exhausting and rewarding moment.

About our work- B&B Relief:
We can see that BGM is doing amazing things with limited resources. The projects they have completed are the result of generous contributors in India and abroad. Their biggest struggle is a flow of consistent funding, so that programs can remain active throughout the year. Many months pass without computer, sewing or after school programs, due to lack of funding to pay the teachers. Volunteers like ourselves are rare, as they are a small organization without a promotion/marketing budget. What they need to continue their work is sponsorship and donations.
The supporters of B&B Relief have funded a new well for a local family here in Neyyardam, Kerala. Construction will begin this week. This is one family who will no longer need to hike down the mountain to retrieve daily water. Simple sanitation and hygiene will now be available to them and their neighbors. Photos of the well will follow as it progresses. We have also purchased a goat and chickens to help a few more families learn about self sustaining investments.
If you have an interest in:
-Basic Education for Rural Children -Women’s Rights Movements in India
-Environmental Awareness -Meeting the Basic Needs of the Poor
-Children’s Health and Nutrition -Promoting Sanitation and Hygiene
-Computer and Business Training -Well or Latrine Construction
-Distribution of Chicks/Goats/Cows -Teenage counseling and Adult Education
Then you can help!
If you would like to do volunteer work around the world; Contact: Ann, at http://www.ngoabroad.com/
She will help connect your skills, to the volunteer groups who need you the most. There are opportunities almost everywhere in the world. Get out there and experience something incredible!
If your not the intrepid traveler type, then you can help by sponsoring or donating to projects abroad.
If you would like to see your donation at work, we will be here in Kerala, India for one more month. (We can photograph those who receive your contribution and relay their thanks through photos and contact.)
This is what BGM needs:

Project Aprox./ cost USD
15 Chickens/ $20
1 Goat/ $90
After School Center/ $50 per month
(25 students, teacher salary and supplies)
Computer Training/ $100 per month
(15 students, teacher salary and supplies)
Latrine Construction/ $250
Well Construction/ $400
Tailoring Program/ $600 6 months
(20 women- 6 months)
You can also visit their website at: http://www.bgm.org.in/

If you would like to contribute to any of the above projects, email us and we will give you instructions on How to donate to B&B Relief (100% of donations go directly to recipients)

People like Geetha and George as well as a few more families in rural Neyyardam, Kerala Thank B&B Relief Contributors for their compassion and generosity. You make a difference to these people!

To Feel India, The fervor of its People

2006-08-30T04:24:00.000-07:00

To Feel India - Part One

Its People
“They say a deer wakes each morning knowing it has to run faster than a tiger to survive this day, and a tiger wakes each morning knowing it has to outrun the slowest deer to survive this day.” Wheather you are the deer or tiger, an Indian or a Traveler, you must wake each day ready and running,.. to have, or be had.

Much of the city landscape is plain brown dirt, but look beyond the dust and you will observe much more. Look for the layers of color, take in the odors, hear the sounds of work and play, feel the fervor of it’s people. It reaches out and grabs you, it shakes you, it caress you, it excites you, it draws you in and then throws you out. You wake one day to wonder and amazement and the next to frustration and disgust. It’s becomes a test of strength, a driving force to understand, to conquer, to know and feel the beauty of India. But to know India, you must first feel India on the streets, in the markets, down the back alleys, in the temple, on the local bus and in the home. Wheather you like it or not, you will surrender yourself to India, searching for a way to exist in an extraordinary world created by and for it’s people.

The intensity of dealing with people in India, doubled with the harsh surroundings can only be softened with having an open mind and a new set of eyes that filter out the rough exterior and focus on the softer human side.

The Elegance of Women
All women are alike yet the women in India are unique, adding an exceptional fresh element, to a well worm culture. They paint the countryside in rainbows of color, and harmonize the streets with the jingle of their bangles Even the most fashionable foreign clothing will look shoddy next to the elegant flowing sari that drapes across their rich chocolate skin. A hot sun glistens on exotic faces working the fields with high cheeks, slender nose and raven dark hair pulled in a neatly oiled braid. The gold pierced nose stud and scarlet red blessing on the forehead, make their features unmistakably Indian. A pair of intense brown eyes can welcome your presence or sear a dagger of grief through your heart. Life in India takes it toll on the body, but their femininity remains in the sway of a woman’s walk, gracefully balancing a jug of water atop the head and a babe nestled in the curve of her waist. You’ll find women working the market, the fields, and even on the constructions site, but the responsibly of the family lies also, in a woman’s resolve to the home, her husband and children.

The Innocence of Children

Children grow up early in India and are entertained by a marble, bottle cap, or a smile and wave. You can hear fading ‘hellos’ as you ride by their shanty homes and see little waving hands and faces in the shadows. When you stop and walk with them, they will grab your hand and skip alongside, giggling a few sentences they’ve learned in English, and then run off laughing hysterically at themselves. Like all children, but especially in India, the mere existence of their smiles and laughter will lighten your heart and temporarily dismiss your hardships. But after long days of constant haggling with street children over postcards and jewelry, followed by relentless begging for your coins, candy or pens, the innocence you first felt for them becomes lost in exhausted defeat at the days end. Luckily a new morning will re-establish the purity that remains in the young, and can not be disguised by their disheveled appearance or basic need for survival.

The Dignity of Men
The family is highly regarded in India and men will win over the love of their family within the home. But step outside and you’re hard pressed to see the softer side. With nearly a billion people in this country, there is enormous amount of competition in the business workplace, and men wrestle their way to the top in order to keep a position in society. Or perhaps it’s the lungi (sarong skirt) that many men wear, that make them feel the need to demonstrate their masculinity but agreeably so, Indian men are stereotyped as being aggressive and macho.

As a woman, I get disgusted at how they’ll physically push me aside, and force themselves to the front of a line. If I’m not being ignored, the opposite will occur. Even dressed in long discreet clothing, I begin to feel like prey in a jungle of hungry men. Additionally, the dignity displayed amongst the males makes them unapproachable, but in time they will yield a commonplace respect, that still has to be earned. After being sized up and accepted, join a group of men for tea and follow if you can, their self proclaimed accomplishments in the amusing bubble tone of their accent, and sideways bobble of their heads.

Compassion for the People
I have much to learn about the Indian people, and at times I’m sure I misinterpret their motivations. My impressions are weighed on the triumph or failures that make up my day. Many days are maddening, so at times I place this judgment on the people instead of my own inability to deal with circumstances. It is true, the energy of the streets will weigh on your days like a home of fighting or negativity will wear down its family. The constant haggling, aggression, strife, and desperation of its people leave you full of the same emotions. It becomes a process to cleanse yourself of the destructive energy to give way to compassion and understanding. You have to look beyond the behavior, and find the cause. The frustration I feel on the streets of India is caused by the necessity to run faster than a tiger, or outrun the slowest deer.

To have or… To be had.

New Zealand Photo Essay

2006-08-24T04:33:00.000-07:00

New Zealand's Mystic Beauty.

Damaged Seeds in a Tainted Garden

2006-08-15T00:53:00.000-07:00

Damaged seeds, in a tainted garden

“Those who can not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

A seven year old girl lies on her back above a bamboo mat, atop a steel grate bed. Her dark eyes follow every movement in the crowded room. The quickened flutter of her long eyelashes is the only communication she has with the world. If she could even hold the weight of her own head, she might lift it off the dirty pillow, turn to me and ask, ‘Why am I like this?’ But she can’t. She’s trapped in a paralyzed body and can’t even speak. But I can and wonder, why is she like this?

HongNhi is one of the many children in Vietnam born with hydrocephalus, only she was not given the operation that allows a shunt to drain fluid from her brain. She is no longer considered a candidate for surgery and there is no hope she will grow up like other children. It’s unlikely HongNhi will even survive. Day after day she just lies there, unable to move or make a sound. She is living her shortened life verdict, in a prison without parole. As I pick up her 35lbs. body with ease, carefully supporting her head from falling, her eyes make contact and lock with mine. Her lashes flutter and she gives me a Mona Lisa smile that is reminiscent of another time.

I flash back 31 years ago, holding a young Vietnamese girl on the narrow strip of a ship gangway. I haven’t slept since I arrived on the pacific island of Guam. It’s four days after my 20th Birthday on which my Navy SeaBee detachment, unexpectedly was mounted out of Japan to assist with the sudden evacuation of Saigon. The north Vietnamese army is advancing on the south to take control of the city and more than 60 thousand people are fleeing the county. They’re boarding planes and ships faster than we can unload them, leaving everything they own behind, trying to escape the Vietcong Army. Today I am unloading children off a boat and ushering them into a crowded tent city of pandemonium. These little ones have just made the four day passage in the hull of a giant ship, and I’m trying to bring comfort to the end of their emotional journey. Loud speakers roar out in a language they don’t understand, and their eyes are huge with fear of the unknown. Looking down at this little girl in my arms, I see her face filled with fright and I realize all I have to offer is a smile. When she looked up at me, she gave a small, almost forced Mona Lisa smile and then relaxed in the safety of my arms. I thought to myself, ‘What a terrible thing war does to innocent children, who are born in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
…And thirty one years later, still seem to be...

The Orphanage
Brenda and I passed through the ancient coastal town of Hoi An, five years ago. We were charmed with its quaint French flair situated over a lazy river leading to the bay of Tonkin in central Vietnam. On this visit we spent several days at the local government run orphanage and vowed to return to the children and town that we loved so much. Now that we have the time to give, we put Hoi An at the top of our itinerary and first stop on our personal crusade for humanity.

Our mission in this orphanage, is to help the staff serving the needs of 64 children, almost half of which suffer from disabilities. Hoi An is a small town, yet the orphanage is filled to capacity. In addition to the regular orphans there are 26 disabled children needing extensive care. A few days into assessing the routines of the orphanage, we committed ourselves to this group of handicapped children who’s needs were the most demanding. Their conditions vary from cerebral palsy, epilepsy, hydrocephalus, spinal bifida, down’s syndrome, paralysis, mental slowing, and severe deformity. Many can not walk or sit on their own. A good part of our day is spent, spoon feeding children that can’t even swallow normally. Properly feeding one child can take up to an hour. The remainder of our day consists in exercising their immobile joints, and simply moving them off their steel grate beds, into the comfort of loving arms. We swing and sing, talk and rock their stiff shrunken bodies. It’s the most rewarding time of our day.

The Education
After spending every day with the children we learn and enjoy each one of their unique personalities. Wanting to make our time with them more effective, we set out to learn about each child and their disability. Brenda acquires books dealing with Cerebral Palsy, and I look at helpless little HongNhi and decide to try my luck at the internet, starting with hydrocephalus. The www brings me to thousands of websites and a wealth of information. Skimming the sites, an opening statement catches my eye. There are references to US Vietnam veterans whose offspring suffer from hydrocephalus. I’m intrigued to find out more. Linking to another site, I find that the Red Cross has done a study showing 150 Thousand Vietnamese children with birth defects like hydrocephalus from parents who were exposed to a chemical called TCDD (Dioxin) during the Vietnam war. Could chemical poisoning have caused HongNhi’s condition? I follow the corresponding link showing TCDD Dioxin poisoning being a cause of not just hydrocephalus, but of the multiple birth defects we see in the children from the orphanage.

The Questions
It made me think. Is it possible that children born two generations from the Vietnam war could be effected by this Dioxin? Could it have passed through genes, and how did they come in contact with this poison? I return the following day to our group of 26 disabled children and reach in my pocket for the list of TCDD related defects and scan the room for confirmation. Almost every child’s primary or secondary disability is listed on the piece of paper. Is there a viable connection? I look around a room full of children suffering from birth defects, seeing enlarged heads, curved spines, and twisted bodies. My eyes stop at several pair of tiny deformed hands and feet, and as I gaze down on my crippled toes, I recall my own misfortune. I was diagnosed at an unusual early age of 26 with rheumatoid-psoriatic arthritis just six years after serving during the Vietnam war. After changing my lifestyle to accommodate severe chronic pain, treatments of chemo drugs and steroids to curb a skin condition, I found no relief. I was faced with the decision to remove the joints and bones from my receding toes. The disorder had advanced to a critical state and I had to choose to walk on crippled feet, or not walk at all.

I flash back to 1975 on active duty at a naval air base in Japan. In a dark empty warehouse on the Atsugi airfield, I crawl on my hands and knees rebuilding small machines in this make-shift shop. The place is huge but vacant besides myself, one other mate and a few machines that need fixing. I look over to my coworker and ask, ‘What is this warehouse supposed to be used for?’ I shrug off his explanation that this warehouse was stocked full, storing steel drums painted black with orange stripes. They contained the defoliant known as agent orange. It was loaded from here onto planes and used around the war zones in Vietnam. Most military installations, forests, and mangroves in the DMZ, south and central Vietnam were sprayed with the chemical to kill all foliage that could hide approaching enemy movement. From 1962 to 1971 the military destroyed 14% of the south Vietnamese forest in a mission called ‘Operation Ranch Hand.’ I continue to lye on the warehouse floor and scoot underneath the next engine completely uninterested.

The Findings
In my recollection following these days, I remember hearing of TCDD (Dioxin) being a compound found in agent orange. The Dioxin was claimed to cause health problems like cancer, liver/blood and skin diseases in US Vietnam veterans, some leading to death. Now in my quest for answers, I discovered that Hoi An had several US military bases in and around the town. My new acquired Vietnamese friend, who lived here during the war, took me out to the sites. Showing me three of the US military compounds that remain, he told me the surrounding area was originally covered in jungle but that the forest was cleared with a chemical. With little concern, he remembered it to be the chemical we call agent orange. I looked around the sites and observed in one direction, desert like soil, and miles of grave sites. Then turning the other direction, I saw a prosperous community that has sprung up on the once vacant land. This growing popular tourist destination has increased the towns population and people have built their homes and gardens on the same property once doused in agent orange. Peddling my bike back into town, I stop at the internet with more questions. The www tells me that the deadly poison TCDD found in agent orange does not dissipate in soil, and has to be physically removed from the site. I was literally stunned as I continued to unravel more findings. Dr Schector, a leading expert on dioxide contamination did a soil sample from a former US military base at BeinHoa Vietnam, where agent orange was stored. He found the TCDD levels were 180 MILLION times the safe levels set by the US environmental protection agency. Still completely shocked, I kept repeating to myself, ‘one hundred and eighty MILLION times. The soil sample was one hundred and eighty MILLION times above safe levels. How is this acceptable? I race back to find Brenda at our favorite corner lunch stall. She’s chomping on a leafy green salad and I instantly become ill thinking of all the people who had, have been and are continuing to eat plants and animals cultivated on this contaminated land. Has the food chain carried these toxins through generations of plants and animals into humans and…the side effects? I search again for the answers, finding that years of monsoon rains can help dilute the toxins but tests in 2003 found 6 of 16 food samples from the BeinHoa airbase had the same levels of Dioxin as those found during the Vietnam war. The study showed contaminated ducks, chicken, frogs and bottom fish, all which are ground dwelling animals. Thirty years of monsoon rains can help wash away poison from the earth, but can they cleanse the body?

The Responsibility?
Disturbed with my findings, I sadly approach the children at the orphanage with a weighed sense of responsibility. It was the leaders of my country that chose to blanket this area with 20 million gallons of a deadly chemical that is likely the source of their despair. Now for my own closure, I have to know what has been done to resolve this mistake, and how much did they know about this poison before literally covering a country with it? I was pleased to read on, that as relations were neutralizing between Vietnam and the US, in 2002 our government committed to a study in cooperation with the Vietnamese government. The aim was to measure the effects of agent orange in the Vietnamese people. The National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences (NIEHS) headed by Dr. Ann Sassaman came to Vietnam to take blood samples from the citizens who could be effected by agent orange poisoning. The NIEHS also wanted to remove lab samples of soil, flora and fauna to be studied further in the US. The Vietnamese government denied the request for the US to remove samples from Vietnam. In response to the denied request, in January 2005, Dr. Saussaman pulled the plug on the entire study stating, “The US will never do any kind of research on agent orange in Vietnam again.” Subsequently, our government broke their agreement with Vietnam stating they were, “Failing to receive necessary cooperation from the Vietnamese government.” End of study! No official findings made, no responsibility taken! The US just walked out on the study and retreated back to Washington. My initial response is, don’t we at least owe these people scientific answers? Don’t we owe more to their children, and their future generations? I now look around our room at the Hoi An orphanage, seeing recent victims of a war that ended thirty years ago.

Being the logical guy I am, I understand why the US government would be happy to take a back door out of the study. Ending the program meant they didn’t have the statistics needed to take responsibility for the use of agent orange in Vietnam. But why was the Vietnamese government reluctant to have the evidence removed and out of their control? Were they afraid the US government would make different findings once on US soil? Were they afraid the US would uncover something else? Were they afraid of publicity? Is the Vietnamese government keeping information from its citizens? I’ve spoke to several Vietnamese veterans about the use of agent orange, and they’re all completely unaware of the side effects. Perhaps the government doesn’t want the world to know of the elevated toxins found on its soil? This rapid growing country economically relies on tourism and the export of its goods and foods all over the world. Would a government sacrifice its people for economic reasons?

Concluding my research, I looked for early testing done on TCDD. I found the chemical gaining the most publicity in the 60‘s. Scientists from all over the states were calling for a halt to Operation Ranch Hand, calling it “barbarous.” Varied organizations joined forces with the scientists in 1969 when they discovered agent orange to cause birth defects in lab animals. Again there was a cry from the scientists to stop using TCDD insisting it had, “a clear and present danger to human health.” With the findings unmistakably clear, why would my government turn a blind eye to the use of TCDD, knowing it was the cause of serious health concerns? With the information presented before them, wouldn’t the use of agent orange on the Vietnamese people be considered Chemical Warfare, which goes against the Geneva convention? Not only did the government know it was poisonous, they continued to poison our own service men, and like civilians with this deadly chemical agent. When Operation Ranch Hand was complete it was called, “The largest contamination of chemicals in the world.” Twenty years later 2.6 Million US Vietnam veterans became ill with ailments caused by TCDD (Dioxin). When asked to comment on the inhumane use of agent orange in Vietnam, a military spokesman coldly replied, “This is war.” Washington seems to have no problem removing itself from the situation, but I’m here in central Vietnam, holding one of its innocent victims. Could one of the men responsible for the use of agent orange in Vietnam stand in this room, full of helpless disabled children agreeing that, “All is fair, in love and war?”

The more I uncover, the more heartbreaking it becomes. The denied moral and legal responsibility to the innocent people affected by TCDD is inexcusable. HongNhi and disabled descendants of war have no idea of the unjust world they have been brought into. They don’t know why their quality of life has been reduced and their existence shortened. But all information points to an obvious explanation. All I can do when leaving the children at the Hoi An orphanage is what our government wont. I lean down close to her fluttering lashes, kiss her cheek and apologize. I’m sorry that your life will end before you have the chance to run, play and grow up like other children. I’m so sorry you are ‘A damaged seed, in a tainted garden.’

Thirty one years later I think, “What a terrible thing, the affect war has, on the innocent children, being born even today.”

The Facts
‘Has agent orange crippled the children at the Hoi An orphanage, and who is responsible?’
-Six million acres in central/south Vietnam were sprayed with 20 million gallons of agent orange.
-The VAVA estimates 3 million Vietnamese were exposed to AO during the war. One million suffer serious health problems.
-An estimated 650, 000 victims are suffering from chronic illness due to AO exposure in Vietnam alone, another 500,000 have already died.
-Serious birth defects are a result of chemical herbicides. The effects are repeating in third generations of grandchildren.
-5% of children fathered by Vietnamese men exposed to AO have birth defects
-BeinHoa, Vietnam reports a leak of 5000 gallons of agent orange, dioxin levels were found in 95% of selected residents in this area.
-Elevated TCDD was found in children who were born around the effected areas even after the war. Documentation shows immigrants having elevated TCDD due to recent exposure to the effected area.
-Elevated TCDD is currently found in the fish and foul around south/central Vietnam.
-High accounts of Endometriosis are found in women in Vietnam.
-Studies are being done on Endometriosis linking cervical cancer to herbicide exposure.
-Monsanto Corporation, Dow Chemical Corp. and eight other companies manufactured Agent Orange containing one of the most virulent poisons know to man. Jan 2004, a law suit was brought up against these companies by three disabled Vietnamese citizens. The case was recently dismissed from the courts.
-The US compensates US Vietnam veterans for disabilities caused from AO, but continues to deny responsibility to the Vietnamese people effected .

References: Google search ‘agent orange Vietnam.’
Or within the following website search ‘agent orange’
http://www.cbsnews.com/, www.politicalaffairs.net/articleview , http://www.news.bbc.co.uk/, www.motherjones.com/news/feature http://www.newscientist.com/, http://www.envirosagainstwar.org/, www.uthouston.edu/distinctions/2003/oct/agent_orange.html, www.ipsnews.net/north.asp
www.vietnam_dioxin.org/actualite_en.php http://www.usvetdsp.com/agentorange.htm

Our Biggest Little Hero's

2006-08-01T01:06:00.000-07:00

Our Biggest Little Hero's

“We thank the heroic children at the Hoi An orphanage as they have given us more than we could ever offer them.”
I compare my first week to our last and humbly revoke my first impressions. I believed we were making their life better by sharing our time, our smiles and compassion. Yet we are the ones, who have gained the most from our four weeks in their company.

As the weeks flew by, varied travelers paraded through their room, offering toys, food, company, smiles and compassion. Then, half an hour later the tour bus left and the children went back to their habits seemingly unaffected. We hope that our daily tasks of feeding, changing, playing, and exercise were helpful to the drained staff and meaningful to the neglected children, but we understand now they need more.

What is an orphan? A parentless child, a stray? (You would be appalled to find a thesaurus associating the word ‘orphan’ with urchin, imp, rascal, waif, brat, scamp, and thing.)
The majority of children we work with are handicapped, bodies severely distorted and have no hope of adoption, as they have been discarded from this society. Their home is this orphanage until the age of 18, and thereafter displaced to a grim future.

So, I ask myself again, what can we offer in a months time, and what does an orphan need?
Like any human, these children need to know they are loved. They need to know a love that doesn’t come wrapped in plastic, or in a passing smile that’s never seen again. They need constant nurturing and the assurance that someone will be there for them everyday of their life, not just a month of their life.

Their immediate needs were easier to fill, but we leave them feeling like we have given them a false sense of love and security. We were a valid part of their lives every day for a short time, but leave them with only one month of love and nurturing. Their real family are those that stay to support them for a lifetime.

These children opened their hearts to us, trusting our care, and gave back immeasurable joy. They showed us their strengths and weaknesses. We praised their achievements, kisses their wounds, dried their tears, sung, danced, cried and laughed together. We had our bad moments and exceptional days. We were a family with the dynamics that make it unique but maintained a constant order that we all became familiar with.

We spent our last week together, knowing that we will continue on a fantastic journey, but these children remain in a world offering so little. After an unbearable parting, we would like to thank these extraordinary children for their part in significantly changing our lives and our perception of compassion and humanity. They are the biggest, strongest, littlest people we have ever known. The have been our hero’s!

We thank them for the amazing progress they worked so hard to achieve and the fortune to witness it all. In the month with them they trained daily to sit up, feed themselves, reach for our arms, stand and then walk on their own crooked little feet. Their eagerness for success and endurance to triumph, leaves us with an example to follow. We especially thank the physiotherapists and caregivers for their grueling humble work in very difficult circumstances.

To the children… "We thank you for all the love pats, and butterfly kisses, the morning hugs and lasting loves. Your beautiful smiles and hearty laughs resonate in our hearts forever. "

We leave the Hoi An orphanage with hopes of returning next year. In the meantime, if you would like to learn more about what is being done or contribute to the future of these children, you do so by visiting the web sites of two small, non government organizations who are now working daily at the orphanage:
http://www.kianhfoundation.uk/ or, their US partner http://www.hoianfoundation.org/

Baby Steps

2006-07-31T06:49:00.000-07:00

The things that make our day are not 'giant steps for all mankind,' but they are enormous leaps in our little universe. Success is measured in this room by the stages that lead up to, baby steps.

It’s difficult to explain the joy we share over a child recognizing their own fingers, learning how to roll over, or hold their head up. These children have to rely on someone else for their survival, so the act of sitting or standing on their own is a huge celebration of freedom and hope for their future. To witness or play a part in any phase of their progress is a reward of it’s own.
KhoaNhi-5yr
Little KhoaNhi lies almost motionless in her bed. She doesn’t respond to much, but everyday I work to move her limbs and calm her trembling fits. The day her blank face turned up a smile to me, brought tears to my eyes.

Mai-
Mai will fight the constraints of his own CP body to make it across the room to be the first into Brian’s arms. He breaks a sweat forcing his arms and legs to work and we cheer his success. The two of them are inseparable and they draw from each others strength.
Gai-18 yr
Gai is an 18 year veteran to this orphanage and lives in the most severely contorted body. I hurt to see her limbs so twisted and malformed. Sometimes she cries out and I think her pain must be unbearable. Often silent tears roll down her face and I find her pillow soaked in suffering. I massage her joints daily and with some coaxing, love and kisses her tears dry up and a beautiful hearty laugh will emerge. It is the sound of her laugh that resonates in me until the days end.

KLe (Snowy)-13yr
When I arrive each morning and afternoon, I greet each of the children with a kiss on the cheek. KLe (Snowy) now lifts her head, rolls to one side and can perch herself up on an elbow. She takes her good hand and reaches out touching my face and I lift her into my arms to swing and sing together.

Van-
Van habitually cries and squirms in the corner of the room and can’t be comforted. She doesn’t like to be touched, fed, or changed. After hours of screaming, one day Brian took her outside to quiet the stressful room. Instantly Van settled into his arms and sat quietly in his lap. Within minutes her tears were replaced with content smiles, and we all breathed in the peaceful sound of her silence.

Hai-7yr
A day at the beach was our favorite with the children. They squirmed with excitement to ride in a car and clapped at the first sight of the shore. Hai was under my care and he squealed with joy as soon as we hit the water. His rigid body balanced atop an inner tube, until the water relaxed his tight muscles. We rode the swells, surfed the waves and played in the warm sand until he was blissfully exhausted. On the way home, Hai smiled himself to sleep in my arms. It was the face of a perfect, happy child. His beautiful face is recorded in my mind forever.

Hahn(Penny) walking every day

Hai playing in a puddle

They may seem like baby steps with small rewards, but they represent huge strides of hope for these children.

Vietnam- A one week transformation

2006-07-12T00:05:00.000-07:00

“How can I make their world a better place,
when the place I envision doesn’t exist?”

It’s amazing how my world can change in a travel span of 48 hours. We left Thailand’s easy living to arrive in Hanoi Vietnam, traveling on to the ancient town of Hoi An. It had been 5 years since we last visited and found the changes stunning. The country as a whole is an amazing progressive, resilient, beautiful place in the world, but the highlights of this trip are a different kind of story. As many of you know our focus in Vietnam, is to work with the children that have been discarded from this society. This country and this society is struggling to recover from the scars that 80 years of violent war, leave on the generations to follow.

Standing on my balcony tonight, I searched for a way to connect you with the disabled children living in the Hoi An Orphanage. I read through my first journal page, seeking a ‘soft way’ to share their stories but instead found myself crying for the fate of these children. Translating words of horrific scenes, sickening smells and heartbreaking details of their mangled bodies, and previous neglect is only disturbing. Then I noticed when I think of these children, I envision their little faces and am filled with a love and compassion that fills my days with joy. They are my inspiration and it is these stories of progress that I will share with you.

When light breaks through the window of our room, I welcome the morning knowing soon I will receive the pure sunshine that beams from the faces of our morning group. We peddle our bikes off to the orphanage and arrive to the skip and wave of Howdy* a 6 year downs syndrome boy. (*Their real names have been replaced by my nick names in effort to follow government restrictions.) A big hug is always appreciated in the morning and he gives one of the best. We greet the staff and check in with the group of 26 disabled children. We try to see most of them, but focus on those that are regarded as the most unsightly. Many have distorted legs and arms combined with autism and mental slowing. Many are trapped in contorted bodies suffering from Cerebral Palsy, others have Downs Syndrome, Hydrocephalous, enlarged malformed heads, empty eye sockets, lesions and abscesses growing from their bodies. Remembering the difficulty of enduring our first days, I recall the entire scene making me nauseous. Their eyes seemed vacant, their bodies lifeless and often we retired back to our room full of sleepless despair. Now, entering the room I feel a warm welcome from their smiles and familiarity that inspires my day and gives me strength to continue.

Jimbo is blind and where his eyes should be, there are only empty sockets and dark scars. He also suffers from cerebral palsy, autism, deformity and habitually bangs his forehead on the grass mat of his bed. When I come to greet him, he recognizes my voice, lifts his head and reaches for my hand. He loves to have his head rubbed as the lice in his hair drives him crazy. He can barely stand on his own and repeatedly makes attempts to get up, remembering that I will lift him from his bed. He backs up to me, reaches for my hands and wraps my arms around his chest. We practice jumping like a frog and his face bounds with joy, until he wears me out and I have to return him to his bed. He immediately goes back to banging his forehead on the grass mat.

Penny scowls from the back of the room. She has CP, is mentally challenged and physically disabled but a strong, able 14 year girl. Every day I sit with her trying to form a smile on her face. She is angry and for a good cause as she is shackled to her bed. All day she watches the other children being held and hugged but no one pays her attention. I think others steer clear of her as she looks intimidating and large compared to the other fragile bodies. The staff keep one or two limbs tied to her bed at all times. I have to be careful not overstep my boundaries but yesterday, I found her untied and lying on the ground. With help she can stand and now we walk around the building every day. Her progress has been incredible to watch. Today before I left, she smiled, looked to the window, pointed at her tied up arm, shook it lividly and then bowed her head. With permission, I can untie Penny and let her enjoy the outdoors and a taste of freedom. I hope to see a smile someday.

Lenny sits in a baby car seat with one leg near his head and the other twisted around his waist. His neck is immobile but he follows the room with watchful eyes surveying the fate of his roommates. As Brian passed by he spoke in perfect English, “Hello, what’s your name?” Lenny is 17 years and is trapped in a tiny body fighting his cerebral palsy but his brain is that of a normal teenager. It saddened us to see him penned up in this room with severely incapable children while his intellect is that of a normal young man. With some time, Brian shared stories and argued over which vegetables he refused to eat. We look forward to practicing English with him each day.

The morning shift ends and it’s difficult to pull ourselves away, but we know that a mental break is needed to continue this work. We head for lunch and discuss the progress, highlights and heartbreaks of the morning. In the heat of the day, we make our way back to the orphanage bringing educational support books for the staff in hopes of winning their respect. In the afternoons, we work on mobility and feed the crippled children. The temperature has risen to a hundred degrees each day and the humidity level leaves us all damp with sweat. The room we work in has windows and a few fans to keep some air moving but the children still lye motionless in their beds with their shirts sticking to their shrunken bodies.

I’m lucky to be able to spend time with Nicky most days. He also suffers from CP, but a small non government organization has donated the funds to bring physiotherapists in to teach him and a few others how to control their flailing arms and scoot themselves around on their own. Full of joy and pride he shows me how carefully he can stack my postcards, put on sunglasses, operate my camera, drink from a water bottle and today managed to feed himself a bowl of rice. Every day we share many high fives and thumbs up for his progress. Nicky’s smile and new found dignity is enough to fill my days with satisfaction.

Poor Snowy spent the first half of her life neglected in a rural home for handicapped elders. Two years of paperwork and she finally made it to this facility for children. Her skin is white as snow, and her face has the characteristics of European decent. Her body is badly malformed as a result of residual agent orange poisoning. Her light brown eyes only fluttered the first few days I worked with her, and she struggled to balance her head when we practiced sitting. Snowy shares a bed with two other motionless children and she mistakenly was ignored along with them. With the permission of the physiotherapist, she now gets her own chair every time I come to visit. She manages holding her entire body up by herself and likes to be talked to. Her eyes sparkle and a dimple forms on each cloudy white cheek when we are able to share time with her. The rewards of those dimples are priceless.

Evening sets in and we retire to our room to clean up for our night shift at a different center across town. Nightly from 7-9 we volunteer at the Cahors Center for street/disadvantaged children. This is a fantastic group of teens that we visit, study English, and work on basic life skills together. I must admit, they are more therapy for us than we are for them. At the end of our exhausting days they give us inspiration, believing that this country will rise to meet the needs of it’s fallen. Their stories and progress is truly astounding.

Only one week into the project, but a transformation that will live with us for a lifetime.

A special Thank You to contributors of B&B Relief as your donation will employ a physiotherapist for one more year and train the current staff to help the children advance out of their beds. Your donation will also supplement their basic rice diet with meat, vegetables and egg increasing their chance of survival and giving them the strength to make a better life for themselves.
Note: Much appreciation to The KIANH Foundation for recognising the needs of the children and working with the Hoi An Orphanage renovating its facilities, introducing special needs therapists, and bringing a light of hope for the disabled children of Hoi An. You can learn more about this UK registered charity at: http://www.kianh.org.uk/
or their USA partner at www.hoianfoundation.org

The Underworld

2006-07-01T20:13:00.000-07:00

Spelunking in New Zealand
Don’t be deceived by the rolling grassy hills of New Zealand, as this green floor disguises another place hidden away from all mankind. Deep under the earths crust is a sunless, lifeless world of dark drippy caverns, sharp cutting rocks and cold rushing rivers. This world is not on the typical vacation itinerary, but if you dare to plummet yourself into the void, you may be surprised at what is going on, in the underworld just beneath your feet.

Running out of things to do on a rainy day? If you’re going to be wet, than why not just take the plunge? This plunge, however is more like pitching yourself off a cliff into a dark void. Welcome to the world of spelunking. Yes, it had been raining over a week, but for the most part we were looking for a thrill. Enticed by photos of men dangling over a 300 ft cliff, eagerly we searched for the best adventure spelunking available in the town of Waitamo, on the north island of New Zealand. With a few recommendations from locals, we found Kieran who has recently discovered one of the newest caves in the area. To ‘go where no man has ever gone before’ is a excitement of it’s own, even if a just a few others have beat us to it. This new cave claims to be one of the most beautiful in all New Zealand and the most technical to maneuver. Sounds like our kind of adventure.

Where few men have gone before

Geared in three sets of thermals, one fleece, a rain coat, overalls and a harness, we traversed up the hill, arriving at a small river pouring around a boulder. Climbing into the opening, we left daylight behind and entered ‘the underworld.’ A steep rock face was the first to conquer and we spidered up the side with ease.

Each dark corner revealed spacious grottos or tiny jagged gaps to crawl through. Using ropes, clamps and belays (repelling devises) we crossed deep crevasses and climbed slippery marbled walls. The ceiling glistened with white crystals and creamy stalactite daggers hung above our heads. Kieran followed behind to answer questions about the formations but left us to maneuver the climbs and crossings our self, so that we felt as if we were the second humans to explore this cave. (The first guy, would be the one who attached all the rope holds for us.) It wasn’t until we came to a dead end with only a small dark opening below, that we decided some advise would be necessary. I could hear rushing water below, but could see no end to this black hole.

The Dark Abyss
An endless dark abyss was our first of two abseils (rope rappels) to conquer. I clamped on a belay, cinched up the harness, said good bye to my two companions, then took a deep breath and lowered myself into the black hole. Dangling from a string 30 feet into the darkness feels strangely alone, yet adrenaline and the will to be at the bottom surges you deeper underground. Sliding down the rope, the cool air became wet and stale. My head lamp searched for the bottom, but found instead sharp limestone ledges to steer clear of. The space opened to a large cavern with glossy walls and delicate flowing formations. Careful not to disturb the million years of artwork, I inched past the hanging pillars still dripping downward. The sound of rushing water below, lured me further until I landed with a splash on the rock floor. Safely at the bottom of my rope, I called out to the top, “That was fantastic. Lets do it again?” The guys followed me down and we set out, into the next dimension.

Black Water Rafting

A little mud goes with the sport, but I hadn’t expected to be swimming underground through a dark muddy river. This element of the trip is called black water rafting, tubing or swimming and it is especially eerie. You can take your pick of floatation, or wade through the black river for the full, bone chilling effect. As we sloshed through the river, first our rubber boots filled with the cold muddy liquid then our legs, until we were chest high in a moving black river. One wonders where this underground water came from and what was floating among us? This time, blind ignorance is bliss. Roaring down the canyon, the echo of pounding water thundered on the walls around us as we fought slow and heavy steps against it. Icy water dripped and oozed from the walls and trickled down the back of our neck as we made our way through the swirling pools to the final endurance climb.

Facing the Fall
The roaring became deafening intense as the walls closed in and pinched our path out of the mountain. Black water gushed through and fell from a wedge above our heads and I questioned if this was the only way out? Kieran offered a knee up and I hoisted myself up into the face of the waterfall clinging to the walls, awaiting precise instructions for my next move. The next level of the fall was impossible to climb as the pool below was steep and too deep to stand. Luckily I wasn’t really the first to explore this cave, and found a foot rope dangling in the cascading water. With one foot in the loop, I grasped the rope and pushed off, swinging across and under the spill of the water. Switching to another hold, I lost my footing and dangled above the deep pool until Kieran tossed another rope my way. Icy water tumbled over my shoulders as I fumbled to finish the crossing and then squeeze through the mouth of the fall. One last pull and I made my way safely over the top.

Surfacing
When surfacing from the underground, the smallest of life becomes exaggerated to your senses. New Zealand is known for its abundance of glow worms and they are an awesome sight to behold. These neon worms cling to the side of cliffs and cave walls and appear only in the dark. Thousands of tiny bugs form a dazzling new galaxy in the underworld. The arrival of huge spiders indicate an opening to a different kind of world then we had been absorbed in, these last hours. Finally guided to the surface by the stench and squeal of fluttering bats overhead, the first beam of light showed itself. Like zombies coming from the other side, we had to squint and shade ourselves against the light of day. Standing on the surface, it felt like the world took on a reincarnation of texture and color while were away. Mossy grass covered the hills, rain drops glimmered on silvery fern trees and the sun broke through the clouds to leave a brilliant rainbow coloring the sky.

The contrast of two completely different environments is fascinating. You can be captivated in a world where it seems time stands still, and then surface to one where time is measured by what’s accomplished in a day. If you think of time evolving over thousands and millions of years, you will find that the underground is not a lifeless world after all, its just moving at a different speed. It’s a rare opportunity to see an untouched world where beauty can only be achieved over billions of years.

Leaving Australia

2006-06-15T02:31:00.000-07:00

Leaving Australia we recount numerous memories, some worth repeating and others wishing to forget. Visiting 5 of the 7 states, driving over 10, 0000 kilometers, hanging with locals on the inside and a few left in the outback, skimming the surface and diving below, we realize that Australia is just too big even with three months to travel. We made a good effort driving, hiking, and biking as much of the country that time would allow, but ended up exhausted with travel and concede that we needed more time.
Nonetheless, we rate ‘Australia on wheels’ a five star experience, giving us the skills needed to feel confident moving on with our long term diverse travel. We have learned a great deal about ourselves and our limitations, however attribute much to those whom we have met along the way.

Their ancestors may have been a bunch of convicts, but the Australian people are extraordinarily kind and helpful. We always felt safe and were taken care of by a host of friends and complete strangers alike.

If you come for no other reason, the array of rare, exotic and intriguing animals is an attraction of its own. Unlike anywhere else, the abundant presence of wildlife just outside the city center and at times within, is really an unexpected appeal .

A country for all kinds, the climate is diverse and unpredictable. You can take your pick of untouched beaches, forests and ski mountains, moist warm tropics, or dry painted deserts.
Take your pick but then, Take Your Time.

We’re saving some of the best stories to share, when we’re joined around the patio fire, in your company. For now we’ve compiled a few of our personal highs and lows.
Not every day is picture perfect and some days are beautiful beyond words.

A collection of some the Best and Worst of our travels
according to Brian and,,, according to Brenda

My FAVORITE Day?
BRIAN- Diving the Great Barrier Reef
“It’s been a long time aspiration to dive into this amazing world under the sea with countless new coral and hidden sea life.”
BRENDA- Surfing on the sunshine coast
"My ideal travel dream, including well tanned shoulders, warm sand and good surf. Beach bumming at it’s best."

Most DIFFICULT moments to overcome?
BRIAN- First day learning left side driving, in the middle of a new city
“Twenty minutes in a new car, in a new city in a new country, we accidentally got lost in Melbourne Central during rush hour. Never felt so awkward, dangerous and flustered beyond belief.”
BRENDA- A rodent phobia mental meltdown
“After pretending to be brave for three months, the built up hysteria finally let loose.”

My FAVORITE Wildlife?
BRIAN-The unique Kangaroos and Wallaby’s
“Because we were camping most of the time, I was able to experience wildlife close up observing boxing wallaby’s, mating kangaroos, and baby Joey’s coming out of their pouch.”
BRENDA- The display of colorful parrots
“The skies are a rainbow of color as these laughing, chirping, singing and squawking birds fill the trees everywhere we go.”

My LEAST FAVORITE Wildlife?
BRIAN - The huge amount of annoying and biting insects on the beaches
“We spent too many nights scratching itchy welts from the sandflies, midgies, mozzy’s, and giant blowflies.”
BRENDA- All the screaming, hissing, growling, hopping animals that shriek at me when I go pee at night.
“Because I’m afraid of the dark and afraid of things screeching in the dark, I’m not keen on possums, kangaroo rats, betongs, bandicoots, and devil marsupials lurking anywhere near my bum.” And…(Yes, still complaining) “All the rest of the small marsupials and rodents that have long pointy tails and scatter, run or hop anywhere near me including those rare, protected, endangered, and otherwise. They hang out near my pillow, climb in the car with me, run over my feet, hiss at my bare bum, follow me to the kitchen, pop up under pans and have subsequently turned me into a lunatic.
To all rodent looking things, I give a Unforgiving, Merciless, “FAREWELL.”

The BEST of living in a Van?
BRIAN-The freedom and ease of pulling up anywhere and calling it home.
“Home is a blue lagoon one day and a tropical rainforest the next.”
BRENDA- The art of simplified living
“I’m learning how to make the smallest imprint by needing less and using the least amount of resources.”

The WORST of living in a Van?
BRIAN- Having to live inside the van when the weather is bad
“I can’t sit up in bed, stand to change clothes, and there’s no place to prepare food when it’s windy and rainy.”
BRENDA- The feeling of living in a coffin
“At night, I stare at a ceiling just a foot above my head and then spend another 12 hours driving under the same roof.”

Most EXCITING moments?
BRIAN- Fishing the Great Barrier and getting a huge mackerel on the line. “The biggest fish that ever got away from me. A fair fight I lost, but may the best one win.”
BRENDA- Stranded on an island, camping under a forest fire
"Waking at 2am to a ranger shouting, “Grab your valuables and go now. There is a massive forest fire behind you.” With no where to go, 500 campers staggered around all night with their valuables in hand (which for the younger ones, meant their beer and boom boxes.) An all night party broke out under a red glowing night sky, awaiting daybreak to retrieve our belongings and take the first ferry off the island."

WORST Camping?
BRIAN- The concept of camping Easter weekend anywhere in Australia
“Every family in Australia actually pays a lot of money to stake 10ft of ground near a beach or forest even when it’s overlapping 600 other campers. It’s a huge country, can’t they spread out?”
BRENDA- Arriving late to a parking lot and preparing dinner and washing up in a fish cleaning station.
“So tired of camping and tired of living in sub-standard situations, at some point I throw my hands up in futile appeal.” (Brian on the other hand proceeded to take his am shower in the smelly, scaly mess.)

BEST Camping?
BRIAN-Pebble beach campground in New South Wales
“We settled in with troops of kangaroo lounging beside us at the beach with fluorescent birds surrounding the camp. There’s a walking track, virtually empty beach, turquoise waters and then cooking over the campfire make a perfect camping experience for me.”
BRENDA- Luxury camping in the high plains of Dargo
“OK, it wasn’t really camping, but we did cook our meals over the fire. Besides, I've never liked camping anyway.”

Biggest DISSAPOINTMENT?
BRIAN - Entrance Fees to see so many of the naturally made landscapes
“We are on a travelers budget, not a tourist budget.”
BRENDA- The lack of Aboriginal culture in most of Australia
“It is clear that the settlers and the natives have a long way to go to successfully blend their cultures.”

Most IMPRESSIVE thing about Australia?
BRIAN- The use of government spending to improve quality of life
“Think for a moment. The country of Australia has about the same amount of tax paying citizens as the state of New York. For a huge country, they have used the average tax dollar to enhance the quality of life for it’s citizens. America spends it's highest percentage of tax dollars on a massive military force, but can’t educate it’s children. Australia has provided social medicine, higher education opportunities for all, similiar social services, retirement plans, and still the promotion of the family itself is prioritised in all of Australia.
BRENDA- The friendly Welcome
“We all can learn from this culture to be more helpful and considerate to foreigners who are lost in the city or lost in translation. The helping hand and comforting reception makes even the difficult days easier.”

A special Thank You to all our Friends

"Thank you for making Australia feel like home."

To: Jo & Richie, Bruce & Janice, JB, Greg, Craig, Vic & Lorainne...

We appreciate your exceptional hospitality. Thank you for giving us a roof and space to stretch out of the van. We expect and look forward to returning the favor when we're home.

To: All the above... and Simon & Amanda, Pat, Mary, Naomi & friends, Cole, Mel & Joey, Jamie, Jill & Tim, for sharing your world, your homes, your time and your love with us.

Thank you for the barbies, camping, bowling, water skiing, hiking, biking, fishing, innertubing, pubbing, home cooked meals and emotional support.

You all have made our trip unbelievably perfect! Thank You

Australia on Wheels

2006-06-14T18:27:00.000-07:00

Driving Miss Daisy -
As I ascend into the beautiful morning sky, with a lump in my throat and another in my pocket, I gaze through the oval window of the airplane and see Daisy below. She looks fantastic in her new red coat, but lonesome without me. Glancing once more, sadly I realize that I will probably never see her again.

When I first envisioned a trip to the land of Oz, I pictured us touring the outback in a state of the art motor home, designed by humvee We’d have all the comforts of home and still be able to forge rivers only Crocodile Dundee would attempt. So, back to reality and an old Volkswagen budget, traveling these highways and byways of Australia would take more logistic planning. Our research showed our transportation choices to be:
A.) Flying (too expensive and you miss everything in between)
B.) Trains (Strangely twice as expensive as flying)
C.) Buses (Too rigid a schedule and on the same tourist trail we try hard to avoid)
and finally D.) Renting a campervan (An option we’d consider)

Australia has a multitude of motor home and campervan rental agencies to choose from. Within our budget most popular, is called Wicked Vans. These are older tradesman vans that have been converted to campervans with a bed and some old camping gear thrown in. These vans are unique because each one has a different wild paint job. Some are painted with rock band or cartoon graphics, others remind me of the 60’s when LSD influenced many of the van paint jobs. Since Brenda wouldn’t be seen in many of these outlandish vehicles, (especially the ones that have a distorted Avis to Anus “We like it harder” company logo on the back) we decided that buying a van, would be cheaper than renting and our most economic option. We’d use it as our home and transportation, then sell it at the end of our Aussie travels.

A perfect plan!

I’ve bought and sold many vehicles at home so this should be a piece of cake. With our Aussie friends’ advise and the use of his car to explore Melbourne’s many suburbs, we were on a quest to find the perfect van. But, there are all kinds of new Aussie rules to contend with, in the used car market. An exhausting week later we were still struggling with insurance, inspections and interpreting thick Aussie accents saying things like, “No worries mate, you’ll get used to that” when third gear popped out at 40mph, or vans with smells that your dog would stray from. We were getting kind of worried until our luck finally changed from lemons to roses.

There she was, a rose in a bed of thorns. A fine vintage 88 Mitsubishi express van, flawless creamy white exterior with windows all around. Fresh and clean inside and completely empty except two front seats. She probably lived a plush city life as a delivery truck, and there were some dried up flower petals under the seat, we’ll assume she delivered flowers and call her Daisy. Daisy has a 5speed tranny bolted to a 4 cylinder petrol burning engine that turns almost fully treaded tires. Every light, button, knob, and switch works perfectly plus her past partner kept a diary of immaculate service records. She’s love at first sight and the price is right. But I still had to see if I could rev her up and make her purr? Unlike the aggressive salesmen in the states, we had to seek out a lazy lot attendant to take Daisy for a ride. He simply handed me the key, and we were on our first date. It’s my luck that our Aussie mate had a certified Mitsubishi doctor friend, just a few blocks away. While on our test date, we pulled in his shop and he examined all her parts. He confirmed, “She’s in great shape for an old gal who’s been around the block.” The only thing she could have a problem with at her age, is a timing belt, (and I was thinking we all could use a new belt at this age.) He could re-belt her tomorrow, and I said, “Lets do it.” A short ride back to the dealer to do the paper work, and our three month affair began.

With some retrofitting, Daisy became our home on the road. With a trip to Bunnings warehouse (Aussie's Home Depot) we bought the materials to make a bed, kitchenette, storage areas and mounted additioanl water tanks on the front. Next we began to gather tools, camping supplies, bedding, ect. from Melbourne’s Opp Shops (Oz version of thrift stores) and soon we were ready to start our new life together. Three months with Daisy went too fast as all our travels seem to do. I gladly lubricated her moving parts and in return she kept us protected from the elements, warm at night and delivered us safely to each destination along our 10,000 km journey together. As we spent all our mornings, days and nights together, Daisy took on the characteristics and comforts that make up a home, making it difficult to think of ending our relationship.

Now at our final destination, and plane ticket in hand, reluctantly I understand she has to go. It’s time to sell out.
However it’s not as easy as we think. The cold winds of winter that followed us up the coast, have pushed many other self propelled tourists to the same warm, backpacker mecca of Cairns. It is now a buyers market, with many desperate plane ticketed travelers all needing to sell their beloved Aussie exploring vehicles. Every hostel and public notice board in town, is weighted with flyers posting, “Must sell my exceptional campervan NOW,” and prices slashed well below market value. I learn from locals, that after weeks of disappointment, other despairing travelers were abandoning their vehicles at the airport. Of course, it was a dream to profit from my beloved Daisy, in order to finance our next adventure, but my dream is over. Now, it’s time to get serious and try to recover something, rather than loose it all.

The strategy is in place. Bren, makes really nice flyers to accompany all the other nice flyers and we spend days posting all the bulletin boards in town. The internet classifieds are covered, and finally we get Daisy all dolled up, accessorize her windows with colorful For Sale signs and place her in town where the backpackers hang out. On the third day, my hand phone rings. No one ever calls me here in Oz, so it must be for Daisy. I answer, “Hello” Her suitor questions, “Is this the owner of the van for sale?” I confirm a bit too excited, “Yes it is!” With authority he informs, “This is constable Lester and you are breaking the town council law of selling a vehicle on public land. You will have to remedy this situation now.” Frustrated, I concur “Yes sir!” Holy crap, the days progressively are getting harder.

Our next plan is forming and early in the morning we take Daisy looking her ‘Sunday best’ out to the old drive in. All the other hopefuls in town have their shiny and new vehicles lined up for the Cairns Sunday Car Market. Sometimes it feels good to be in the same boat with other people. This time it feels like the Titanic. There are plenty of people trying to sell their campervans, but nobody in town is buying campervans. After a long day, it turns out to be a good party anyway. We meet nice people from all over the world agreeing that misery does indeed, enjoy company. Driving away discouraged, I have a vision looking down from an airplane window. Parked in front of the airport with keys dangling from her ignition, and my finances dangling close to extinction, Daisy appears to be a very expensive date. I call the airlines and add another week to our ticket. We’re not quitters. We will find the right match. Sure we will. Positive thoughts will create positive things.

With the advertisement in the weekend paper showing no results, the car market a failure, the internet full of spam and the bulletins boards filled up, we take a day off and make a trip up the mountain with our friend. Dutifully leaving Daisy near the highway, but far enough from the town center, we feel confident of good exposure without pestering constables walking by.
Half way up the mountain, my hand phone rings. I answer more apprehensively this time, “Umm, Hello.” A stern voice asks, “Is this the owner of the van for sale ?” Gulping I say, “Umm, Yes.” He introduces himself, “My name is Peter and I’m looking at your van on the side of the road. Did you know that the council has taped a warning to the wind shield? Besides that, it looks nice and clean. Would you be willing to take $4000 dollars cash for it, and sell it today?” I can’t believe it, but answer, “Ya, I guess so.” If this Peter guy is real, than we will get the same price we paid for Daisy, a much needed surprise. Making arrangements to meet later, I hang up the phone and begin thinking ahead. I realize without Daisy, I won’t have a bed or a home this coming week. Suddenly the pain of parting with her is becoming a reality.

Wait, my hand phone rings again. It must be Peter changing his mind. “Hello“ I answer. It’s a new suitor on the line and he asks, “Is this the owner of the Mitsubishi van for sale?” Not sure how to answer the question, I reply, “Kind of.” He tells me, “I saw it in town the other day and it looks perfect. Would you be willing to take, $4000 for it?” When it rains, it pours, and when it blossoms, it flourishes. This new, knight in shinning armor, wins over Daisy. We negotiate a delay in sale, so that we won’t be homeless while waiting for our flight. I am completely convinced that, positive thoughts do create positive things.

So with the relief of a job well done, and no worries, we get to enjoy a week doing all the things other carefree backpackers do. We bike, hike, swim, fish, have pies, and go for dives. Then, the day comes when we have to take Daisy to her new guy. He has arranged a fresh new makeover for her, and I’m proud that she will have an easy retirement, living at the Cairns International Airport as a service van. A week later as I watch her disappear, I notice that she’s already lost her girlish look. Daisy has taken on a distinguished appearance as she’s been re-coated in bright red with a sleek jet plane logo on her side. Even though I still catch myself looking at other cute, little Mitsubishi’s, my heart remains loyal to Lil’ Miss Daisy.
The one who was simple but stylish, small but strong, always dependable and against all odds, stuck to her values.

We found Nemo at the Great Barrier Reef

2006-06-10T20:52:00.000-07:00

The largest living and growing structure on Earth

The Great Barrier Reef

Fishing on The Reef with Friends

Enough fish fillets to feed a few families eh?

About 60lbs of fish, and most of it caught on hand lines.

Life on the road

2006-05-14T23:31:00.000-07:00

Life on the road

Magical waterfalls tumble over the cliffs after record rain in Cairns

A Troop of Kangaroos- This troop prefers the sandy beach to the rugged outback. Can’t say I blame them.

N. Stradbroke Island- Impeccable beaches meet tropical rain forests and harmonize beauty at it’s best

A day in Sydney- A very cosmopolitan city compared to much of Australia

Rainbow Lorikeets color the skies and brighten the dullest days

Beach Boardwalks take you to crystal clear waters

The Blue Mountains- Just behind Sydney these mountains of blue gum trees produce an oil that shimmers a blue haze across the region.

The simple life- Everything we need in one tin box

Beach Boulders- The coast line changes from rugged cliffs to pristine white sand beaches

The Wombat- Solid at a bowling ball and growls at you like a grumpy little bear.

Sky Trolley- A popular tourist ride supended over the blue mountains

Sydney Opera House- Famed especially after the Olympics, thousand tiles and curving architecture make it a stunning masterpiece

The Laughing Kookaburra, is the only good company Brian can count on in the morning Morning Swim- Brian takes advantage of one of the free beach lagoon pools for his am workout

Career Campers- Finding great places to call home for the night.

Safe Zone- This lazy bunch won’t be tonight’s road kill as they know where to hang out

Brenda's 37th Birthday- There are many things I haven’t done in my lifetime, now learning to surf isn't one of them. No better time than the present.

Brian just turned 51- And still remembering how to surf

Life of a Vagabond- Sometimes exhausting making a life out of a van, but rewards are revitalizing

Layers of definition- The rocks and cliffs texture the country side

Beach Lagoons- Many coastal cities have artificial sandy beach lagoons in the downtown city center. You can take off your tie and take a dip surrounded by bathing bikinis on your lunch hour.

Lawn Bowls-And you thought we only jumped bridges and planes for fun.

Mama Roos Playgroup- Three of these Roos have babes in pouch and they’re heads or feet pop out on occasion.

Biking Brisbane- Jump off a river taxi with the bike and see the city at a leisure speed

Forest Fires- Evacuated from an island, detoured around mountains, these fires seem to be a common occurrence around Australia.

Bottle Baobab trees grow like carrots in the red soil

Cane Carts roll through the miles of cane fields as far as the eye can see.
Jelly Fish Nets- A safe swim never hurt anyone

Cyclone Larry- The damage is shocking, but the townships show amazing recovery

River Tubing through the jungle

Mangroves line the ocean and river shores around nothern Queensland

Upside Down English- Round 2

2006-05-13T04:25:00.000-07:00

Calling all Ozzy trivia buffs for the second half of:
Upside Down English - Ozzy Rules

from North Queensland - Round 2

Contestants, try your luck again, same rules apply.
Answer 5 or more correctly to claim your postcard
(1-3) You’re still a tourist (4-6) Fumbling, but improving
(7-9) You can now communicate (10-15) It’s time to buy your ticket

1.) True or False: A Pastie is, a small round sticky object sometimes decorated with a tassel?
2.) A Bottle Shop is: A.) a place to buy baby formula B.) a welders supply shop
C.) a drive-through alcohol shop D.) where Gennie shops for a home
3.) If you’re tired of something, will you need to take a Breakky?
4.) When the clerk says, “thanks. Bye, Ta.” to you, what is she asking or indicating?
5.) A Singlet is: A.) a single dwelling unit B.) a tank top
C.) a solo song D.) a popular candy
6.) Would you get preferred upfront parking if you had a Pram?
7.) True or False: The Veggiemite is an insect that preys on the farmers fields
8.) If you followed the sign for a Refuge Island,

would it lead you into the middle of a highway?
9.) You would find Bitumen where? A.) on the footy field B.) in the bar
C.) on the highway D.) in the rainforest
10.) Would you Pash someone if you were really angry with them?
11.) True or False: You can rent a car and request that it include a large Boot
12.) If someone asked where to buy Smalls, they are shopping for:
A.) jelly beans B.) buttons C.) trial size objects D.) underwear
13.) True or False: A miniature bridge over a major highway would be built
exclusively for safe possum travel?
14.) If you are invited to a party in a Fortnight, when should you arrive?

A.) tomorrow night B.) when the moon is full

C.) in two weeks D.) fourth day of the month
15.) If you’re peckish can you grab some tucker in an Esky

and head to the drink, disafta. Hey?

ANSWERS
1.) False: A pastie is a vegetarian meat pie (if this is possible)

or known in the states as a pot pie
2.) C: They don’t have drive through coffee, cigarettes, banks or chapels,
but you can buy your spirits from the window of your car.
3.) No: but when you’re done with breakfast you might want a nappy
4.) I still don’t know, but I take it something like, ‘thanks bye ok’ and just smile and nod
(a formula that seems to work for most of the world)
5.) B: The dress code into a nice bar, prohibits wearing one of these sleeveless shirts
6.) YES: Both the handicapped and mothers with prams (strollers) get reserved parking
7.) False: Veggiemite is a yukky, salty, yeasty snackable spread favored in all of Australia
8.) YES: A refuge island is a safe place in the middle of the road to wait for traffic to pass
9.) C: Taking the bitumen road will put you on an asphalt highway
10.) NO: When you are ready to get intimate, you will pash your date (make out)
11.) True: You won’t wear it or kick with it, but you can store you luggage in this large trunk
12.) D: The smalls (underwear) hanging from clotheslines everywhere,

aren’t always so small either
13.) True: A Fauna Crossing bridge is meant to prohibit on the road kill of small animals
14.) C: Most Americans can’t get this one right, but you should arrive

14 nights from the invitation.
15.) YES: (translantion) If you feel like a snack, you can grab some dinner in a cooler
and head to the water, this afternoon. Yeah?

With better odds, more multiple choice and the addition of photos, any improvement?

Are you ready to give Australian English a try?

Outward Bound

2006-05-03T17:34:00.000-07:00

Think of, “The Outback.”
My picture would have painted a huge sky with a red sun, setting in the desert. There would be the figure of a lonesome cowboy, sitting on a log under a star filled sky, keeping company with a small flicker of a fire. Maybe I should throw in some cattle, a bottle of spirits and a few buzzing mosquito’s and the portrait becomes complete. My true interpretation wouldn’t be far off, only I failed to add the hundreds of marsupials and a few townships along the way that were so dull, they added another layer to my canvas.

It’s true, we didn’t get far out with only four days to make the trip, and we were more like in the “Out Backyard” of Brisbane, but I get the feeling that you don’t have to go far to experience life in a desolate place or to find the outback inside the country towns along the way. Simply step into a retired ranchers Pub for lunch, pick up one of Gerties homemade cakes while re-fuelling, or stop at a Homestead Bush festival to find one of the last crocheted appliance cozy’s, dutifully made by the ladies in the grange hall. In about a 700mile loop, we were still able to feel like the city was left to it’s commerce, and we were on the other side of it. The towering wall of mountains we crossed and left behind created the “Great Dividing Range” that separate Us from Them. Us, is the camping trio, Brian, Brenda and Greg (Greg is a mate we met while sailing [rather sinking] on the Nile in Egypt.) Them, are those who are left in the city with power, running water, restaurants, a roof, and bed to sleep in tonight.

The lush, green, tropical city of Brisbane was replaced with dry, brown, mouthfuls of dust and a straight open road leading to no where. However we have a destination today and it is a gorge cut into the desert floor. Isla gorge, located in the central part of Queensland and has deep valleys colored with resilient trees and hardy cactus. This desert floor is carpeted with fields of snake filled green grass indicating a natural spring deep below our feet. Jagged rock walls edge the gorge rim and make for a rock climbers paradise. We scale down the face and find hidden caves that bore through the mountain and others that are large enough to make camp. Searching for hieroglyphics left from the aboriginals, we were sure that this would have been their prime region to inhabit. No relics, or native hand prints were in sight but we must have spooked a troop of wallaby’s, for the hillside bounced upwards with a leaping agility we wished to harness in order to make the next climb up the steep face.

Tired hikers relax to a warm red sunset and nestle upon a log staring into a flickering fire listening for the sounds of nightfall. Even though we are camping alone in the gorge, this entire area feels strangely vacant. There isn’t a sound moving the trees, there isn’t a rustle in the brush, there isn’t a bat above, there isn’t even a mosquito buzzing. My outback experience is missing something. A night stroll searching for the missing wildlife leads us strait into a Blair Witch camp with stones and sticks tied together, pebbles aligned in strange patterns, and a burned crucifix the fire pit. I will assume the woven miniature twig hut and sacrificial bird feathers are left from previous campers playing pranks, but it seems to have done the trick running all other living things out of the area. Scampering back to my camp, I check carefully for snakes and spiders before lying on the open ground hoping for sweet dreams to get me through our first night ‘out under the stars.’ There is indeed life in this camp and it returns just before daybreak, in the form of a magpie screeching above my head and depositing poo on my pillow. I think this is supposed to bring good luck they say?

A trip into town for ice took us back to the 19th century. We settled into an outback saloon where the only lunch is served up at the Hotel/Pub and for a mere $6 you can get your fill of fish and chips and chase it with a 4x bitter beer. Pubs in the outback claim to have Bundeburg rum on tap and by the looks of the afternoon crowd, they wouldn’t need much of it, to take the stress out of these uneventful days. Balancing a stool that could have their name on it, the old timers set against a wall decorated with cattle gear and public notice boards and occasionally spring for a game of pool. Except for a younger couple chatting in monotone drinking sarsaparilla beer, the town of Miles seems to be full of retired men in old jeans and hats, sipping pints, schooners, jugs, pots, and pony’s of icy cool draft. The young bar maid serves up a smiling good bye as she retrieves a parting patrons’ bag of groceries from the back room. He staggers home in the heat of the day, but then again the town only has three streets for him to negotiate. Life is a little bit too slow and monotonous for my liking, but intriguing just the same. I wonder, why people live here?

Back on the road again, Daisy Van rattles us across the outback. Hot air blows through the windows offering little refreshment to a long dry day. Small watering holes spring from the ground and the cattle look cool and content, but the lake that we’re headed to is another four hours away. Most would get real bored with the repetition of this drive except that so much of the landscape is new to me. I don’t mind the open and desolate roadside picture show as it will change on occasion. In the distance you can see the approach of Baobab trees that stand like a giant carrots in the red soil. The aboriginals used to bore into these trees to find water during the driest seasons. Then there’s the rumble of coal carts clamoring alongside the road and the fields bursting with white puffy balls of cotton. I look for ranchers in the stockyards and watch for echidnas and wallaby’s along the road. With dusk coming upon quickly, we navigate from the main road swerving to miss kangaroo that are becoming active.

It’s time to find a camp site and get dinner on the fire. Tonight we have been warned of the betongs as they are abundant and can invade camps. What is a betong you ask? Me too. Betongs are small marsupials that resemble a rat and their homebase camp happens to be the ravine we are sleeping just above. My camping duo companions insist they are harmless and adorable simply because they hop, but I beg to differ. Yes, call me a freak because I’m mental over a rodent phobia, but I don’t get any warm fuzzy feelings for these things as they join us camp side for dinner along with their possum friend who acts as if he’d like to sit on Brian‘s shoulder. As my sleeping bag hits the open ground, terror rivets my body. With head buried deep into bag, and eyes forced shut, I still can hear Greg a few inches away, hissing back at one sniffing around our pillows. I imagine one chewing my ear and another jumping on my legs and lye frozen awake most the night. Pleading for light to end my nightmare, I celebrate the noisy parrots swooping our heads at daybreak. Everyday in this big wide world is therapy for Brenda.

Heading back onto the one lane and sometimes dirt highway, our curiosity peaks at the sight of hundreds of campers and cars lined up in fields near a historical homestead site. It seems to be a party of some sort and this we can’t miss. A trembling cackling voice carries across the field and a banjo fills in the missed notes. Scores of folks have fold up chairs lined under a canopy, enthralled by the worst musical presentation I’ve ever heard. The Homestead Bush Festival is a fund raising event benefiting the protection of the historical site. You can tour the homestead, look up old photos and recipes, and update your art collection with a masterpiece made by the local townsfolk. If you hurry you can enter the raffle to win a homemade pudding pie. If you miss the raffle, there are other tasty treats available from kangaroo stew to corned beef and pickle/relish sandwiches. Lean against the old wooden fence with a frosty one and take in the sea of kangaroo hats, boots, wrangler jeans and silk western blouses. The kids run barefoot in the dirt excited to be a part of the big town festival. Besides the continuous yodeling, bush poets and other guest appearances, there is the electric fence vendor who can show you 300 antique varieties of fence chargers. Several women have stalls peddling crochet Barbie TP covers, and casserole carriers in 3 different fabrics. A few homemade marmalade stands look worthy of purchase, and I resist the temptation to send our grandson Boulder a t-shirt lined in lace proclaiming his love for us stitched in shaky needlepoint. Back on stage, a captivating audience sways to the popular young gal singing her heart out, “Ple-ease, don’t let the bush ballads di-ie” (again I beg to differ.) We meander back to the car as the afternoon begins to swell in enthusiasm when the renowned bush poet takes the stage pleading in song not to be buried “Where the ding-go’s, and the cro-ow’s, won’t molest me.” “Did I hear that right,” I ask? Better planning next year and we might try to fit in the three day camping pass to include the Friday and Saturday night swinging, stomping, bush bash, hoedown showdown plus all night kangaroo feed…Or not. Some things are meant to remain, way-out-back. On the list of things to do before you die, rate this one at number 101, for pure entertainment and culture significance.

Out rattled, out cattled, out dried, out fried, run out of beer, and run out by marsupials, a few days later we cross the great dividing range welcoming the city back into sight.
The outback remains for those who wish to… “Sleep in the desert tonight, with billion stars (and hopping rats) …all around.”

Tasmania

2006-04-18T04:12:00.000-07:00

Tasmania-

Combine all the eucalyptus trees in California, mix with pines, ferns, and age with giant myrtles. Add some of the Rocky Mountains and the wild Oregon coast line. Blend in a couple Kentucky coal mines and a few of Hawaii’s turquoise white sand beaches. Fold in some eastern Washington plains dotted with Jersey cattle, and finally sprinkle a large amount of marsupials to cover the entire surface. Separate from the continent of Australia and wait a couple of hundred thousands of years. Sift in ship loads of alleged convicts, rise a mini San Francisco on the hill…then Enjoy this magnificent Island of Tasmania.
Wow! What a ‘must see’ if you ever make it down under.

Brenda and I drove ‘lil Daisy’ (that’s what we named our cool little Mitsubishi van) into the enormous hull of the ‘Spirit of Tasmania’ ferry ship for an eleven hour overnight cruise across the Bass strait. We planned a week long excursion to Tasmania, but after a few days into the trip, we realized we needed more time to explore this amazing environment and extended our stay another week to get a better feel for the island. Which still isn’t giving the place enough time, but given the fact that winter is coming on and we are camping with summer clothes, the cold nights and Antarctic winds made a departure plan a bit easier.

Tasmania (or Taz as the locals call it) seems to be the vacation spot the Australians keep to themselves. I didn’t know much about Taz except that it’s the home of the Tasmanian Devil and the last place you could have found the Tasmanian Tiger before it’s extinction some time in the late 1930’s. I was instantly amazed by this outdoor playground we just found with plenty of diversity to keep us entertained . The island has so many different regions to explore, each one unique from the other. In places, it felt I was in Oregon, with farm lands and pine forests set next to the coastal range and small beach towns that made me feel close to home. There is also an abundance of rivers, streams and lakes and according to the locals, some famed by the wild trout fishing . But with no fishing equipment to try my luck, we bought fresh seafood off the docks and enjoyed nights of succulent smoked oysters, and crayfish cooked over the camp fire.

Being the smallest and one of the least populated states of Australia, Tasmania has an abundance of vacant roads splintered across the island that have little to no traffic to contend with. (Which is a welcome design when you are left side driving with a right side brain.) During the autumn season Taz appears to be visited only by retired mainlanders, but I could imagine the summer months of Oct-March invaded by youngsters and families pulling their caravans (Australian for trailer) to the various caravan parks. Parks range in facilities from fancy camp kitchens, fireplaces, and hot showers, to a sandy beach plot with a simple outhouse. Finding places to park our little van/converted campervan was a cinch with all the best spots to choose from. We could make a home in a park, on a grassy knoll, on the beach, alone in the woods or opt for hot showers and a little company at a state park.

National Parks fill the state and when you purchase a pass, you can trek over cradled mountains, down into ball room forests, up elevated boardwalks, through dismal swamps, and tip toe through temperate rain forests that open to fields of scattered wildflowers. We were happy to contribute our camp fees, helping to protect the beauty of the island which is clearly enhanced by the park revenues collected from the hikers. Not all of the parks are filled with luscious green trees, as a matter of fact a place called Queenstown seems hardly ‘fit for a queen.’ This area has been strip mined since the 1800’s and suffered the loss of it’s vegetation from the deadly gasses that poured from the earth core. The mining marks, dramatically texture the hills with black, red, gray and yellow stains. It is a rare attraction unique to it’s own history. To find the beauty of this town, we had to look past the forsaken hills and begin to talk to the locals who love to share stories of their ancestors who survived the pollution of these waterways followed by the tragic fire that this region has never recovered from. Once we began to dig a little deeper under the surface, we found natural caves that have been forming for millions of years just below our feet. Solomon’s cave was named for the columns that have grown into grand towers and sheer glistening veils that flow down the cave walls.

Don’t be fooled by this island’s rugged interior and exterior, it does have a cosmopolitan feel in the large city of Hobart. We explored the hilly neighborhoods and walked the wharf bustling with fishing fleets, charter services and fine seafood restaurants. The CBD (Australian for Central Business District) has it fair share of suits, but what is most noticeable is the fact that the main streets in town aren’t lined with Nordstrom or Saks but instead with expensive outdoor stores camping and equipment retailers.

To fully enjoy our camping experience, (and because we’re on a tight budget) we had to gear up and shop wisely for our limited utensils we scavenged from local Opp shops (Australian for thrift stores.) Learning to live in a van and cook all our meals over a single fire makes life, simply centered around keeping fresh food in the cooler and finding a perfect site to create a dining experience. My favorite, is a quiet wooded place, where I can forage my own wood and have an open fire using my new Aussei Oven, (a large cast iron pot with a lid designed to hold hot coals on top, creating an even temperature on all sides.) With our Aussie oven, we tried all the conventional stews, soups, noodle goulash, and finally bore ourselves of lentil bean combinations until in a brief moment of revelation, we finally achieved a perfect apple cobbler.
Of course, everything is not perfect when your traveling in a constant changing environment and we’re still modifying as we learn to adjust in this new camping life style. There were cold nights with half roasted chicken dinners in the rain, wind blown dirt salads, half boiled noodles and a few cans of tuna and baked beans.

The one thing we never could adjusted to, was the amount of road kill encountered about every kilometer of the island. It’s remarkable how dominant the wildlife is on Tasmania, but we’re left wondering if the growing human impact isn’t just a recipe for extinction. We’ve seen enough rolled wombats and tenderized kangaroos, tossed wallaby’s and flattened possums, baked magpies and skewered crows to wonder how the Tasmanian Tiger met it’s fate?
All remaining marsupials… Watch out!
Headed on, to Brisbane. G’day Mates

Melbourne and Around

2006-04-11T21:52:00.000-07:00

CAPTIONS

1.) “G’Day Mate“- Says the Koala in the tree
2.) City by Night- Melbourne has reproduced it’s own most celebrated monument. Why go anywhere else?
3.) Royalty Only- Commonwealth States have their own private “Queen Club Member Only” Olympic games.
4.) Blue Beaches- A tranquil place to ponder the meaning of life (Or figure, what to make for dinner tonight?)
5.) The Princess Bridge- Melbourne CBD (Central Business District)
6.) Mother’s Nurturing- The young still suckle from the pouch for nourishment.
7.) Parrot Paradise- Trees are full of color with rainbow parrots that often will call on you for a visit.
8.) Bursting Grapes-The next 2006 Chardonnay at your table.
9.) Kite Surfing at St Kilda Beach- An infamous place to set your sail to the wind.
10.) Opening Ceremony Fireworks- Explosions from buildings tops, set to a live concert, at the Common Wealth Games Kick-off.
11.) Wine Valleys- Some of the best grapes emerge from this perfect climate wine country.
12.) Bathing Boxes- For only $110,000 you can own a 15 ft box to store your sand toys on Brighton beach.
13.) Roller Coasters- St Kilda Beach/Luna Park offers levels of fun for all ages.
14.) A city that moves- Innovative trains transport the masses deep into the suburbs.
15.) The Common Wombat- Elusive as it may be, and only coming out at night it’s the most difficult to photograph.
16.) Harvesting the Vines- Awaiting the perfect, chosen day to pluck the fruit.
17.) Art Rocks- There’s a story to be told in those that endure the beating of time and tribulation.
18.) Salt water skiing- Just like riding a bike, after 10 years of abstinence, Brian is cutting it up
19.) Friendly Kangaroos- It’s true, it’s a friendly place! Camping outside of the city.
20.) Koala Chillin in the Heat- South of Melbourne. The Great Ocean Highway.
21.) Our New Home- Less square footage but takes care of our needs. “Can’t always get what you want…but if you try sometimes, you just might find… YOU GET WHAT YOU NEED.”
22.) Shark Watch- The Heli searches the coast several times a day, for silhouettes of the deadly sharks.
23.) Southern Cross- Winds of change roll through the grassy hills.
24.) On the Road Again- Take Caution and watch for Kangaroos, Imu’s , Wallaby’s and Wombats when outside the city limits.

Camping in the High Country

2006-04-02T18:13:00.000-07:00

Legends, Lies and Legitimate facts from Dargo
(A short story about camping in the high county )

Up in the hills above Melbourne lying in the bottom of the Alpine Shire, there is a little 18th century cattle town called Dargo. The place has a history like our wild west and you can listen around the campfire to hear of icy covered snowfields, tales of ‘headless horsemen’, and of the fools who died for worthless gold. Truth be told, the man from snowy river, swept up his girl and rode her through this infamous countryside.

“Are we there yet?” I call out feeling anxious after four and a half hours, winding through hills and countryside dodging wallaby’s, and roo road kill. Brian and I are headed out camping with our ol‘ friend Richie, his new wife Jo and her best friend Mary, in what they call ‘the Alps,’ (which seem more like hills to me.) Melbourne city has been fantastic fun with the common wealth games setting the busy sporty pace, but we’re all looking forward to some peace and quiet only rugged outdoor camping can bring. Josephine clasps her hands from the front seat and exclaims, “I’m getting excited, we’re almost there.”
Feeling unprepared for this adventure but still geared up for sleeping in hammocks, hiking mountains, and cooking meals over the campfire, we pull up to the Quagmungee walnut farm, where our friend Richie spent a great deal of his childhood. Like excited children released from the car, we run off to explore, stunned and amazed at what we have found. Dangling from thick cables and wooden planks, a spectacular suspension, walking bridge expands across the Dargo river, leading to our private camping paradise. We grab the coolers and bags and run up the bridge playfully swinging, trying to topple each other. Then rest half way to take in the specking evening light playing through the canopy of trees and dappling the river below. “Isn’t it just lovely,” Mary takes in a deep gulp of air and releases a weighed and exhilarating breath.

Where Families Retreat
To the right an old wooden cabin with a generous covered porch sets under shaded trees, with grape vines rising up to the windows. Inside, a massive stone fireplace commands the center of the room and an old log table is surrounded by sets of bunk beds. The front yard is a playground for rabbits pecking at the landscaped flower gardens and nibbling the fruits dropped from the surrounding trees, (which I’ve just noticed will accommodate our hammocks beautifully.) To the left and highlighted by the setting sun are rows of voluptuous walnut trees, with leaves waving hello and chunky nuts ready to burst from their limbs.
Strait ahead, our rugged camping experience turns luxurious as we set our sights on a long home facing the babbling river, accommodating private rooms, fluffy beds and picture window views of the impeccably kept farm. A long wooden table fit for a crowd leads to a giant family style kitchen with an old wood stove, stocked and ready to be lit for the next meal. Low couches encircle a hefty fireplace, inviting a cozy fireside night. The house is stylishly decorated to theme with thick candle lanterns, harvest fruits and Australian motif. Photos on the wall, bring us closer to the three families that have brilliantly created this private club house. Studying the generations of collaged photos we become a part of their vacations, holidays, and harvest seasons, making us feel honored to be on the ‘invitation only’ guest list to this family resort. What makes Quagmungee extraordinary, is that it’s all powered by the sun and watered by collection. Everything is skillfully engineered, so that we have hot water showers, cold refrigerators, electricity and camp stoves. (Oh, and did I mention a pool table, darts and a golf course on rolling hills?)

Childs Play
Yipee, Woohoo we all cry out darting from place to place, wound up and undecided , for there is so much to do and only a few days to get it all done. We gather to make a game plan, and settle on an evening stroll to highlight the walnut harvesting season, and then hang our hammocks by the river. Richie will cook a steak dinner over the fire, accompanied by a fine red wine. Tomorrow we’ll pan for gold, hammock, play a round of golf, hike the mountain, hammock again, swing from the bridge, go for a swim, play more golf and bocchi,, hammock, ride the tractors, gather wood, hammock, and settle into the evening with campfires and a nocturnal hike.
Tomorrow comes too soon, and we’re not hiking, playing, panning, swimming or gathering, as we’ve lounged around drinking coffee, reading and enjoying the music of morning. Green and red parrots sing in the trees over my hammock and shimmer their fluorescent colors highlighted by the sun as they take flight to the apple trees. The kookaburra bird cackles a hearty infectious laugh , until we’ve all joined their round of giggling bliss. A cool breeze whistles through the trees and you can feel the end of summer beginning to turn the leaves golden. Everything feels perfectly golden at the Quagmungee Farm. Perhaps the gold fever still hovers lightly in this air.
A motivated moment prompts my ‘first ever’ golf game, and we traipse through the walnut trees, smacking balls into the river, over the hills, under the brush and into the wombat holes. Not too embarrassing for my first time, but I polish my technique hitting & dodging fallen walnuts at the others. A game of bocchi follows, which becomes unappealing when the rumble of an old Massey Ferguson tractor emerges from the barn and takes us four wheeling , into the valleys, over the hills and along the horse pasture. It simply couldn’t be better. That is, until we realize the second tee off along the river, has a nice swim hole just below. Now, the afternoon round of golf includes a quick dip in the cool stream, drying in the warm sun on the way to the next green. Mary and Jo caddie the tractor along providing new balls, clubs, laughter, and cool beer at each hole, until we all resolve to retire “back to the club house.”

Lime Light of the Fire
No rugged camping experience would be complete without campfires and stories. This is where Richie’s acting and singing career takes the lime light of the glowing stage. We listen intently to stories that have been passed down generations, and left to the children who were raised on this farm. Unsolved mysteries of decapitated horsemen found on nearby settlements leave a chill, quivering down my spine. Tales of lost Chinese gold miners who spent a hundred years digging crevasses with small pick axes, only to live, work and die, never realizing bad directions sent them to the wrong mountain. And yes it is true “The man from Snowy River,” movie was based on the life of Jack Treasure who settled these high plains, and much of the film is done here in Dargo. The night takes on a musical note as the guitar surfaces, and are serenaded to the new released songbook of tunes, written by Richie this weekend. The music trails on and the giant fire pit becomes a stage and the fire itself, a living, breathing, growing sculpture. Sinking deeper into the flames and burning cinders, Josephine makes out figures in the radiating coals, like I do with clouds in the sky. Her little girl with a lollypop changes into a a scary alien, so she heads strait off to bed.

Bush Bashing, Literally
I wake from a dream; Kangaroos are hopping through the orchard and into my room. Opening my eyes, I look to see if they are on my veranda? No, I’ve overslept, and they’ve bound back up to the hills earlier in the morning. Suddenly remembering, we’re all hiking to the top of the mountain today, I leap from bed (no that’s a lie, I never ‘leap’ anywhere in the morning hours,) but I do meander out to find that there are already two drop-outs for this hike It’s a quick hustle to commence a bush walking tour, before we all realize it’s getting too hot and settle into hammocks instead. The hike up is dusty, dry and tiring, but the views of the layered blue hazy mountains descending below, are impressive. The large farm is now just a little green square in a vast alpine range. Feeling weary and hungry we descend the first mountain lowering into a valley of chunky foliage, turning to thick underbrush , turning to solid impassible bush. We have taken a wrong turn and become separated, each searching for a way out of the prickly, slicing scrub and end up crawling on all fours down the mountain. “Where are you Mary?” I call out. I can hear crackling from up above and look to see if the brush is moving. “Can you stand up?” I can see the low trees moving below and call out to Brian. “Can you see the sky?” A bit of cursing comes from below, so I continue on the new wombat trail I’ve just found. Granted , a wombat is only 2 feet tall and I hope he doesn’t join this trek, but I’m grateful for his miniature cave, carved under the dense sharp, juniper-like hill side. Mary and I join trails and continue crawling down the hill laughing, as we have the rare opportunity to “See the bush through a wombat’s eyes.”
Finding a clearing, we see that Brian has simply used his face and arms as tools for bashing his way out of the bush as he’s covered in stickers, blood dripping and sliced all over his exposed body . With twig and moss tangled hair, spiders crawling down our pants, wombat poo covered knees and dirty sweat dripping our brow, we stagger into ‘camp paradise’ wondering why we ever left? On our final approach the kookaburra cackles a mocking laugh which, “We don’t think is very funny!” The river calls, and we limp down the banks with our chairs to ice our swollen, blistered feet in the cool river. Food, beer and laughter curb the pain, until we realize we’ll be running out of it all. Time to head to town for supplies.

The Dargo Pub
Blink and you might miss the town of Dargo. It’s a place where they reckon “Ya aren’t from around these parts, hey?” before you even get out of the car. Friendly enough, we’re greeted by all ten of them, all commenting on the weather. The woman in the kitchen comes out to see the newbies in town. The guy ‘drinkin a jug’ on the porch, seems delighted to see a girl of any kind, and the lady at the general store wants to know “What brings you up here?
Take away beer, is only available at the public drinking room, which happens to be, the famous Dargo Pub. Step inside this time machine and you’re in for a history lesson of a ‘raising a town.’ The place is full of dusty relics and photos of it’s glory days, with infamous ranchers like Jack Treasure keeping bar stools warm in the winter snow. Today a nicely dressed man sits at the bar enjoying his meaty meal and the pungent smell of kangaroo steak hangs heavily in the wooden pub. It’s the kind of place where you will feel at home as everyone and every thing, is invited into the Dargo Pub. It commemorates and boasts the tallest bar around, so that you can still ride your horse inside for a drink. Because they say, “A man should never have to get off his horse, for a beer.” …and that’s the town of Dargo in a walnut shell.

Leaving Legends Alive
The day’s get hotter and more relaxing as we melt into a schedule of tranquility, which is difficult to sever. But, as another day breaks, it brings us to the conclusion of our perfect camping paradise. Yes, all good things must end to make way for new beginnings. We’ve eaten most the food, finished the best of beer, played hard, rested light, and created countless treasured memories that will be etched in our lives forever. The Legend of Sleepy Dargo will live on, and we leave with it… A new trail down the mountain, Mary’s hole in 2, Jo’s infectious laugh, Brenda’s one and only perfect Parr 3, “The world according to Richie,” Brian’s power stroke, a few balls left in wombat holes, and a wall of new photos.

-A special tribute to the Young Family and friends for sharing their sanctuary with us.

Up side Down English - Ozzy Rules

2006-03-19T14:57:00.000-08:00

I'm no wizzard of Oz

I suppose we could expect things to look and feel a bit different from the land Down Under the equator, as there is no big dipper in the sky, and the moon looks down on us with a sideways smile. Certainly he has plenty to smirk at, as we fumble through a new country. Perhaps I can blame, the change in gravity for confusing and turning me around. The water circles left as it makes it way down a drain, they drive on the wrong side of the road and you turn a light off, by flipping the switch up? I thought it would be easier merging with this English speaking culture, but I find myself lost in casual conversation, always searching, for a correct interpretation. Am I laughing at the wrong time? Do I nod or shake my head in agreement or disbelief ? Wouldn’t something bloody be bad , why is everything ‘f-in right’ when It‘s all left to me, and how did I know that a Bonza night would lead to a rippah hangover?
I’m sure that I’m still speaking English...But what the heck are they saying anyway?

You think you know English? Play, This weeks word game, and tell me how you would get along the first day in Australia? Contestants with a score of 5 or more, win a postcard from the land down under.

Play… “Up Side Down English…Ozzy Rules”

1.) Can a toilet get engaged?
2.) Is a guy unlucky to marry a, fair dinkum shela?
3.) True or False: A Barbie is a ridiculously thin and voluptuous doll?
4.) A milk bar is: a.) ice cream bar b.) convenience store c.) Dairy factory d.) Breast feeding
5.) Would a little’ rippa be expensive at an op shop?
6.) True or False: A bloody oath is a promise sealed in blood?
7.) If the country is obsessed with footy will they need more socks?
8.) Asking for a stubbie will get you: a.) cigar b.) beer c.) tv remote d.) limbless person
9.) True or False: You would find a child insistent on a thunder box when he has ran out of video games?
10.) If your driving on the left side of the road, steering from the right side of the car with the stick shift on your left and making a right hand turn, do you veer into the right or left of the lane before executing the right hand turn?

The correct answer is:
1.) YES - Turn the dial to green for Vacant or red for Engaged
2.) NO - A “fair dinkum She-La” is a really good catch of a lady
3.) FALSE- But you can show up with a thin and voluptuous date as long as you remember to bring some sausages for the grill.
4.) B - You can't even buy a beer in this bar
5.) NO - You’ve just found a real deal at Thrift Store
6.) FALSE- Simply add “Bloody” to any word for emphasis or agreement.
7.) YES - As a matter of fact, the sport of Ozzy football calls for extremely comfortable feet
8.) B - Grab me a stubbie would be asking for a bottle of beer
9.) FALSE- You would find a child insisting a thunder box if he’s outback needing a bathroom.
10.) Veer LEFT and wait your turn to execute a “Hook Turn” to the right. And boys and girls, don’t try this at home or anywhere outside the Australian continent.

How many did you answer right?
(1-3) You’re an obvious tourist (4-6) You’re still fumbling
(7-9)You’re now a local (perfect 10) You’re a cheater

Disclaimer: Odds of winning this game are one in a million unless you’ve been hanging out with Richie. Contestants must be 2 years of age to play, and not a Wiggles groupie. If you are from or have relatives from Australia you are not eligible to play. Ok you can play but you can’t win.

Tune in next week for More from Melbourne…

(Having a wicked time here in Australia. Will post again soon but for now we're headed out camping with the newlyweds) Toodle- Loo

Home...Made Easy

2006-03-15T00:01:00.000-08:00

Home, Where we long to be.

There is something special about Thailand; a persistent yearning that calls us back. Bangkok City, is one that will both captivate and infuriate you within seconds of arrival. There is nothing comforting about the place, oddly, it has a “Homecoming” feel, each time we return.

You can be on a street corner, lost in a city of millions,

and not feel misplaced amongst them.
The larger cities around Thailand are like most cities in the world with large buildings, pollution and congestion, but what makes it different is the way they/we exist together. Everyone seems to have an equal place, whether it be in a shiny Mercedes, or pushing a dilapidated cart. Somehow there is room in the swarming streets for the whole mix of society. The people smile and make way for the old woman pushing her noodle stand and the legless panhandler dropped on the swarming sidewalk. The roving handicapped musician and the displaced elephant, pound the pavement working for their next meal. We all manage to live in harmony in the heat, in the crowds and in the diversity of an overcrowded city but at the same time, long to escape it.

Time for family
As you find your way out of the grips of shopping, night life and growing commerce, you will find a world that cultivates relationships and family. With the concrete left behind, the highway out of town becomes dotted with small huts and homes on spacious plots of land. School children skip over dirt mounds in their pressed white and blue uniforms on their way home, to ramshackle sheds with tin roofs and chicken coops. You won’t find the internet or electronic games in these homes. The realm for a child’s play extends into fields and over canals, dangling fishing rods, and herding cows.

The warm climate brings the family together outdoors, helping with the wash, walking to the market or hammocking in the shade. Evenings cool down and grandparents join, for meals cooked on fires and served over the dirt floor. Content around an old rickety table, eating chicken and rice in fresh palm leaves, there is nothing but conversation to fill the time.
We call it camping, when we have a chance to slow down the every day tasks and spend time with our family and friends. Without over stimulation , there is time to keep account of everyday life in a family.
I compare their simple existence and think about rewinding my life to take in the ordinary, average, everyday life that I struggled to escape at home in Portland. There is much to learn from this culture and I watch intently.

A few days hanging out with locals, and you become a guest in a Thai family’s home,
as friends are easily made, and life long relationships built in hours. Seated awkwardly on the floor in a wooden hut passing sticky rice, dried fish and bowls of soup is far from a traditional dinner party, but it’s easy to become candid and casual in this relaxed atmosphere. Trust quickly becomes second nature and we find ourselves becoming part of a self sustaining family unit with people we‘ve only just met. This is true all over Thailand witnessed in the way people take care of each other, as coins are dropped into the mangled hands of the handicap and the humbled poor share their food on the bus with the needy. These proud people have a common goal to survive and have learned to exist without government assistance or free hand outs. Supporting one another is common and it’s hard to see discrimination or segregation for the poor, rich, political, powerful, gay or strait and the average person pays little attention to racial background.
It’s a society that supports the people by encouraging talents and embracing differences while overlooking shortcomings.

Finally, it’s the beautiful beaches and tropical jungles that initially draw most travelers from all over the world to Thailand. They come to swim in a warm seas with colorful ocean life and trek the lush rain forests in search of monkeys and cascading waterfalls. Our destination always leads us back to a turquoise bay lined with hills providing hiking, snorkeling, fishing or simply sinking into the lapping surf . The busy person can do everything as the activity is all here,

yet we get nothing done.

The true beauty of this country is not the landscape, or activities as there are places all over the world with great tourist attractions.
The reason we return is the leisure of daily life. No one is in a rush, there is always time for you, and it’s easy to exist, completely effortlessly in this county.
Thailand has the best aspects of
"All that we long for at home... "
but “Home, made easy.“

As the Thai's would say, "Mai pen Rai" .... "Don't worry about it"

The Speed of a Hammock

2006-03-07T16:42:00.000-08:00

Weeks of leisure have calmed the racing mind, rested the aching body and left time for the extraordinary. Not the extraordinary exciting adventure you’re used to reading about, but the kind, only the extremely lazy breed, can fully indulge in. Plagued by unseasonable monsoon rains for over a week, I lounged around observing everyday occurrences, but found instead the simplistic beauty of the beach that we sometimes miss in the race for a tan, a new friend, a party, a book, a swim, a drink, a nap; all the things that represent a vacation.

But it’s remarkable how much you can observe when you “slow” life, to the speed of a hammock.

From my hammock…

Did you know,
When the beach is void of bathing beauties and frisbee enthusiasts, the sand crabs claim their domain?
Astounding little creatures line the shore, scuttling sideways out of their hole, cleaning the algae off each granule of sand until the smooth shore looks like a modern art exhibit. And it is! Walk slowly to appreciate the tiny spheres of sand these crabs leave in random patterns all over the abandoned beach. Sand crab galleries are open every day to the public, free of charge.

Did you know,
…A butterfly will pass your hammock 17 times in a half an hour?
The crimson and metallic blue butterfly is artwork gracing your presence like royalty, taking a bow, then drifting out of sight, leaving you to feel like you’ve been touched with luck. Follow an orange and brown spotted beauty, and it glides in perfect rhythm through the air, but recoils when landing. The white wing butterfly flutters quickly and erratically like an angel attempting it’s ascend to the heavens, rising steadily but suddenly falling as each failed attempt.

Did you know,
…The underside of a tiny leaf, looks like the tree itself? A single tender leaf on a enormous tree, shows it’s strength in the veins that act like strong limbs holding its own canopy of shade. Nurtured from it’s base, the stem becomes remarkably strong and difficult to sever.

Did you know,
…The sound of rain on a tin roof is an orchestra from the sky?
Like the soft approach of a beautiful tune, the rain falls, PLUNK (pause, pause) PLUNK, PLUNK, PLUNK (pause, pause) PLUNK (pause) PLUNK, PLUNK. The intensity builds into a full clamor of joined composition. The symphony of rain reaches its peak and then softens to a melody played out in the final drops. PLINK (pause, pause, pause) PLINK, PLUNK!!

Did you know,
…The name for the Gecko lizard comes from the sound it makes?
A perfect “Gech-Ko” rings out from my bathroom where our newest 2 foot pet lives. The sound can be made when, mating (if it’s a male) or as a warning (if it’s a female.) They are most active in my bungalow when we are, either rising early in the morning, or retiring for the night. Humm, interesting observation?

Did you know,
…You can actually watch the grass grow?
When living in the tropics the flowers and tiny blades of grass will grow before your eyes. Pay attention as the strength of a stalk, rises a little each time the sun returns after a heavy rain. Even when it appears the heavy hand of torrent, falls harsh on the fragile, the warmth and nurturing of the sun, springs life back into a flattened, fallen flower.

I could ramble on forever, but the point is made.
There is hidden beauty in every missed opportunity, every rainy day, every boring event, and every cherished moment …when you slow life to the speed of a hammock.

Spring will be arriving soon in Portland and I wish you all to make the time to, “Stop and smell the roses.”

More to come from Thailand, but for now the sun returns to rejuvenate these lazy and lethargic travelers.

All our best to, “Our Best.”
Brian and Brenda

It's a bumpy road to paradise

2006-02-13T22:07:00.000-08:00

The Bumpy Road to Paradise.

The road to Paradise, is not paved with good innovation, in fact it’s not paved at all.

Sealed , canned and pressurized in flight for 20 hours, then staggering 3am into the restless streets of Bangkok pushing on, in pursuit of a bed. Paradise awaits these weary travelers and lures the second day of sleepless travel with a second class train ticket awaiting the next 12 hour rock, rattle and roll through the shanty country side. A glimpse of the sea urges us on, the perilously overloaded ferryboat lurching side to side through a tropical storm, then tumbled into the back of a pick-up truck for the final transfer to our destination. The washed out riverbed to paradise follows the hills and valleys deep into the northern parts of the island before the perfect turquoise palm lined bay emerges from the jungle. Three days of wearisome travel are forgotten as I sink my feet into the warm sand and sea, hang my hammock near the surf and fall into my first, deep, painless, soundless sleep.

The Plane- A guide to surviving 20 hours in a plane.
It is essential to pack the correct tools to make this journey, beginning with a 15 hour flight from the U.S to the orient. Fifteen hours is like two consecutive work days, only more dreadful when you‘re an insomniac. First you must create your own private world within the confines of a two foot seat forgetting that you are surrounded by crying babies, coughing businessmen and 800 stinking feet. Familiar with this grueling 15 hour flight I set up, my make believe bubble with earphones to drown out the Chatty Cathy’s, books to keep time from standing still, slip on shoes for puffy swollen feet, vitamins to ward off the airborne germs recycled through 400 bodies, pain relievers for my folded hip joints, and eye mask to pretend I’m sleeping when people are bothering me. Boredom sets in and you find yourself obsessed with fighting for your right to that one inch of available armrest which you’re sharing with the bad breath guy sitting next to you. Exercise is recommended by many, but appreciated by no one who has to be climbed over every time ‘Crazed Rain Man’ goes walking again. Any attempt at exercise is quickly stymied anyway. First by the captain’s seat belt sign that never gets turned off, the stewardess who shoots irritated glances when you move out of your bubble, followed then by their recourse; running service carts over any toe or elbow daring to stretch into their sacred catwalk. Ten hours into the flight, Asiana Air provides a seat aerobic video with a stewardess leading the neck roll and ankle rotations. Planning a, ‘as good as it gets’ flight requires good scheduling, taking note of in-flight movies, meals and sleeping times. China air has on-demand movies and I’ve found it possible in one flight, to watch 6 movies, 2 programs and still have time for the, dry rice and shriveled beef dinner. Of course the best advise to endure this type of flight is rest, plenty of water and vitamins. Instead I succumb to endless fidgeting, channel surfing, plenty of free wine and, tranquilizers.

The third and final flight comes to a end and we find ourselves elated to be walking, even if it’s more of a stagger through the streets of Bangkok, ‘the city that never sleeps.’ Where else would a person want to be when it’s 3am and we didn’t plan a room reservation? My bloodshot eyes look up at this clamoring city like baby bird in Dr. Suess book asking, “Are you my Paradise?” Within the looming buildings, surrounded by screeching taxis, and exhaling the dirty air, she answers, “No, I am not your paradise.” And we continue on…

The Train- Rolling the railways
For about eighteen dollars, you can obtain a seat on an overnight sleeper train, leaving Bangkok city behind in a cloud of dazzling pollution. If you’re the ‘first class’ sort you can pay a bit more for air conditioning or private room. We tend to hang with the budget conscious and settle into our seat on car number one equipped with sushi, beer and a good book. The horn blows and the train lurches out of the station. Thick, hot and unfiltered, Bangkok’s polluted air blows through the windows turning the car into a wet, dirty sauna. Teenage vendors walk the isles laughing with the travelers in attempt to sell a cold beer, soda or cigarette. The ride is quite comfortable with wide seats and plenty of leg room. I stretch, stand and hang out the window to watch the city craze disappear and the small shanty towns light up. The children play ball games and chase each other, dangerously close to the moving train. Young lovers walk hand in hand balancing the track, or chat on cel phones while the older men sit on the opposing line, taking in a cigarette in the cool of the evening.

Peddlers walk along the tracks balancing baskets on the ends of a pole draped across their back, as the trains lurches again to a stop. Window shopping is made easy with everything you could, or could not imagine, at your fingertips. Choose a dinner of crunchy roasted crickets, mango sticky rice, or dried fish carcasses if you like. One doesn’t want to drink or eat too much on these trains as you’ll find the bathroom just a toilet bowl opening to the moving tracks below. A dinner attendant can set up a meal for you, but it’s a far cry from fine dining when the linens are presented as a roll of toilet paper on the table.
Food is still unpalatable for me, as the air becomes tainted with stench of urine, dead animals and rotting swamp canals. A rattling, dusty fan above, keeps the hot air moving through and out the car. As evening sets in, the tracks become dotted with small trash fires and white fluorescent lights illuminating the dark tins shacks. One wonders if this track could possibly lead to paradise? Night falls, and an attendant comes to click, snap, and slide the seats into converted, cozy bunk beds. A sleepy sway, rocks the car side to side until finally drifting into a cradled light slumber.

The Ferry-Crossing at dangerous lengths
A five o’clock awakening exalts the final day of this 3 day journey to paradise. The plank ahead will lead us to our destination island in 4 short hours at sea. The Songserm ferry system is an old and outdated fleet, but the addition of 50 life jackets is an appreciated improvement from zero, the previous years. This ferry is rated for about 150 passengers but equipped with a third of the life jackets necessary in the case of disaster. The boat continues to sag under the increasing weight, and brief panic sets in, as I remember the Egyptian ferry accident last week, which left over a thousand dead . Boarding first in line, will award you one of the seats, but don’t hesitate or you’ll be standing for the duration of the trip. We score a spacious outdoor seat on a bench hidden behind the 7x12 ft mountain of backpacks. The inside hull continues to fill with passengers spilling into the isles and on the stairs. Now over capacity, they pour out the door, scrambling for a piece of the deck. Yet, crowds continue to pile aboard until the crew makes a final cry, to raise the plank and set course. We’re estimating about 250 people are crammed on the confines of the small boat and they’re squeezed in like a mosh-pit falling against each other in a rolling sea. I’ve seen how this ocean can turn brutal in a tropical storm, tossing ferry’s like toys over the waves, and I wish for a calm sea today. With no room to move about, travelers seek escape from the crowded hull for fresh air or a smoke, but the deck is full beyond it’s limits. Dark skies circle above and dismay forms on the faces of those who have no where to retreat. We hide behind the mountain of packs and curse the storm from under a poncho. This is not the look of paradise. Wind and rain pelt from all directions and the sea begins to churn. If misery enjoys company than it’s a heck of a pity party on deck of the songserm ferry boat… bound for paradise?

The Truck-Transformation
At last our sea legs have hit solid ground and we have arrived to ko Phan Ngan. An organized scramble to find a single backpack in a pile of 300 is accomplished with exceptional ease, and we set out to catch a ride to our favorite beach. In no time we find some old friends to make us feel at home, then pile into the back of a pick up truck for an hour and a half ride, in and out of the jungle. I hum to myself, ‘county roads, take me home, to the place, I belong…” There is a road, but it resembles more of a widened dirt track with hills, holes and puddles that even a four wheel drive truck struggles to conquer. Boulders the size of homes lurch precariously over the road clinging to the last dirt of the hill side. The road narrows and cuts into dense foliage whipping vines across our backs and dodging under overgrown trees. At this point I am numb from three painful days of travel but can only feel the elation of a journeys end. The crickets buzz at the tree tops, the birds guide us to the blue ocean, the locals wave a warm welcome, and suddenly the bay comes into sight over a distant mountain top. I take a deep breath of fresh clean air knowing that there is no where else I’d rather be than, On the bumpy road to paradise.

This kind of paradise belongs to those who are willing to endure the agony of travel, believing in the journey itself.

Thank You and Goodbye

2006-02-05T13:38:00.000-08:00

Thank You and Goodbye
Barely standing and completely exhausted, stretched to my limitations and critically sleep deprived I write you my first journal.
Hello everyone. We have finally left home. After planning for a year, it felt like the time would never come, yet in the last few hours, it seemed there were not enough minutes to make it happen. We send an extra THANK YOU to everyone who came through for us, the last few crunch days/hours when we needed it most. Thanks for the packing, cleaning, sorting, and moving three thousand, six hundred feet of stuff from inside the house and acre property.
As thousands of feet of beloved possessions were sold, given or packed away, the realization of what we have gained in the ‘letting go’ process became evident. We are assured that we have such valuable support group surrounding us during this emotional break from society. Each of you, left with us, a piece of yourselves that we will draw strength and support from when we need it most. You are all incredibly valuable to us in so many ways.
Already I’ve forgotten the things stored in boxes, as they are the things that shackle my life and keep me from growing. What I do remember, is the source of strength that your support gives me to do this.

Leaving Home
Portland, “Our Home Town,” place of birth and growth, our neighborhood where we raised three wonderful children & pets, built our home, ran the family business, threw big parties, and shared the lives of our friends and family within this wonderful progressive city … all disappeared in just a few moments.
Like a set of binoculars turned in reverse as we flew away, the beloved world of our things became smaller and smaller until they were unrecognizable and then gone. I let go of the attachment to physical things and keep in my heart each of you and the memories we shared together.
The other end of the binoculars now look inside these eyes. The things I focused on before are now small and I must search inside for my new purpose. If you had asked, why I’m leaving everything I have loved and worked for, I would have given you a different answer every month.
Did I cry? Only, every week of planning for a year; every time I packed away photos and keepsakes, woke up in an emptying house, as we closed the business, gave away the dog, said good bye to our children and loved ones, and then a couple hours before our flight, sat on the porch at 3am in the middle of a winter storm weeping and wondering again, why I am doing this?
The answer to this question we’ll find out in time. Just when I think I’m content , life shows me a new opportunity for challenge. Maybe the difference is, looking at a challenge and recognizing the need for ‘change’ as a need for ‘growth.’
I’m not having a mid-life crisis, I am having a mid-life growth spurt.

White Sands Monument-New Mexico

The Beginning of A New Walk - New Mexico

2006-02-05T13:31:00.000-08:00

New Mexico
Our journey begins with a few days on a ranch in New Mexico visiting dear old friends.
The chickens cluck at my feet and the sheep baaa in the distance as we rest our tired bodies from the ordeal of leaving our complicated world behind. The dust blows up and circles around the brown dried up branches of trees that haven’t seen a drop of water in months. We have just left a state that teeters on the threat of flooding with record rainfall now drowning our deep green foliage. The contrast in the two states is shocking.
Life is slowing to the rhythm of a rocking porch swing and soothing, to the cooing of doves on the fence. A quiet rural experience is like medicine to the mind. The warm sun breaks the days and a cozy fire cuts the chill and puts us to rest at night.
The colors of the sky and on the desert walls are vibrant orange, purple and blue.
We did a road -trip touring the back roads, climbed the mountains into the forest, dropped down into Harry’s favorite fishing reservoir, lunched at café rio, and watched the sun go down at White Sands Monument.
White Sand Monument has miles of white sand dunes contrasting against a changing blue sky. It could be mistaken for hills of powdery snow if we we’re barefoot ,sledding down the dunes. The white hills roll one after another into an endless baron desert where sense of direction becomes difficult. We leave our footprints in a magnificent, impeccably clean white world, and watch them disappear.

We are not walking away from you. We are taking your love with us and offering an extra set of eyes to share the world with you. One Pack on the Back, and a World In front of Us.

Luzader Photography is now CLOSED

2005-12-27T22:09:00.000-08:00

Thank you for the 58 years of support to Luzader Photography and the generations of Luzader Families. We look forward to our Return in 2008 to see you all again.

In the meantime...
Please feel free to upate us on your family's exciting or boring events that we miss during our sabbatical outside the United States. "Remember, you are more than a business or clients to us. You are our extended family."

More to come...
When we get out of Portland and on, to our journey into the unknown.
An adventure for sure, But "Oh the Places we'll go."

If you need to contact us regarding business matters, please go to www.luzaderphoto.com and write us an email.

Love to all,
Brian and Brenda

We're going to Kenya! -Concert/Benefit Nov 5th

2005-10-06T12:49:00.000-07:00

Hi Friends & Family
All is well and super busy in Luzader Land.
We wanted to connect with you and see if you can "SAVE THE DATE" Sat-NOVEMBER 5th

As some of you may know, we are planning to be in Africa this coming year, working on various building projects and social programs.We have partnered-up with another couple here in Portland to build a school/community center in a impoverished village in Kenya.

In order to make this happen, we have planned a Concert/Dance/Auction/Fundraiser on Sat. November 5th.

-The CONCERT features an Afro-Beat band called JUJUBA
-There will be a silent AUCTION with goods and services available
-Kgotso Dance Theatre will bring us an AFRICAN DANCE SHOW
-BEER and WINE will be available plus small FOODS

RE: Amani Education Project-Hope for Africa Harvest Ball
Saturday, November 5th - Multnomah Arts Center-Mult Village

I hope you all, will be there. It'll be great fun

If you can't make the event, or you want to help, there are other things you can do to be involved:
-We are collecting donations for the auction(something you painted, created, new or slightly used things of interest)
-Or maybe you know someone who owns a business that might want to donate a good, service or gift certificate.
- We could use help with promoting: Poster hanging, Distributing Invites and talking to your friends, as well as set up and clean up on Nov 5th.
-You can donate to the building fund or sponsor one of the children in the Maweni Village, proving them an opportunity at an education.
(All donations are 100% tax deductible-Amani Education Project has a non-profit status with a valid tax ID #)
We are hoping for a BIG TURNOUT and look for you to JOIN US!
Please let us know if you'd like to share your talents or networking skills to help our auction, or... just be there to take part in making this an event that, "Makes a world of difference."
Mark Your Calendar: Saturday, Nov. 5th- (7-10pm)

There are many worthwhile benefits but I'd like to tell you why we have chosen this one to support.The couple we are joining, (Wintry and Paul) have been working independently in Africa for the last 4 years, making amazing progress. Children who, when they first arrived were selling cigarettes to raise money for school,now go to school free of charge. Women who were illiterate, had never written a single word in their own language, now read and write in two languages. Men find their business doubling, after joining the adult education programs. Overall, a sense of pride has grown in the village. Women come together to cook meals for the children in school, men are spending more time in their classes and less time drinking their profits away. Everyone in the village is excited for a library to open. A new women's group is making crafts and sending them to America to be sold. When we all come together, we really can make a difference.Things are going so well for the people of MaweniVillage and we are looking forward to being able tobring more resources to them and other nearby villages.
Thank you every day for your love and support
Brian and Brenda