Sydney Eyes

Victoria Redman. Sydneysider. Sufferer of travel bug. Always with the next trip planned.

[sydney-eyes]

“Every meal is an opportunity to nourish ourselves”

Part Two: A weekend retreat with My Life Delicious

“Every meal is an opportunity to nourish ourselves”. That message was at the heart of what the retreat was all about.

And Joanna Rushton was the lady with the nutritional know-how. 

Sharing a bit about herself at the start of the weekend, it was a combo of professional and personal experience that drove her to focus on proper nutrition - both for herself and her clients.

What that experience looks like is 12 years of being a chef under her belt, along with the total transformation of training as a female bodybuilder a few years back. Yes, she was a full-blown self-tannerer and protein-shakerer. 

Looking at her now it’s hard to imagine. 

Jo shared with us the impact that bodybuilding had on her body. It was pushed to the extreme, run-down and a bit broken. The need to recover from that time was pivotal in shifting her focus to the importance of nutrition.

Her message for us was about open-minded nutrition. About being open to listening to and learning from different perspectives on how to better nourish ourselves. 

We talked a lot about the gut. About bone broth. About intolerances. About gluten, dairy, fermentation and organic produce. About listening to our own body and how it responds to certain foods. About well mineralised water (not just any old tap water or filtered water I’ll have you know). About what veg is good for what body parts. About Himalayan rock salt. And, the priority according to Jo, we talked a lot about the importance of good soil. Without that, we don’t get the nutrients and minerals into our fruit and veggies at all. 

Openly, we each shared our own personal challenges and foodie questions, whether it was weekly menu planning, stodgy breakfast rituals, a coffee addiction, sugar cravings and the devouring of tubs of ice-cream, how many bananas is too many or what microwaves really do to food.

With a couple of cooking demos, a Q&A in-front of a roaring fire, and a roundtable reflection of our own relationship with food and nutrition, we each took away more than a handful of key changes for how we want to better nourish ourselves.

To give you a glimpse into the weekend’s discussions, here is a selection of some of the nourishment know-how that was shared with us: 

ON REALLY LISTENING...

“Listen to your body. Be present before, during and after eating. Know how your body responds to certain foods”.

ON THE POWER ZONE...

“There’s a power zone and that’s what you want. You want more energy, more clarity of mind”.

“If you have inconsistencies of energy levels throughout the day it’s your blood sugar. You need to focus on maintaining that”.

“Is it really ‘you' that you’re feeding? If you’ve got a sugar craving, maybe you’re fulfilling the craving of some fungus… get a stool test and see if you have a fungal infection”.

ON FEELING FULL...

“Saturated fats are not the villain. Every cell in your body is made up of about 50% saturated fats. They protect the nucleus of the cell to ward off free-radicals and toxins”.

“Fat is a vital part of a meal for us to feel full. The body requires fat to metabolise protein. If you’ve not had enough fat in your meal you can feel edgy and anxious. If you’ve had too much then you can feel like you need a nap…you can feel comatose”.

ON NUTRIENTS, NUTRIENTS, NUTRIENTS...

“As above, so below”. Every single mineral and hormone that is found in the soil is also found in us. How we manage our soils and how we’re farming is really important for our own health”.

“Digestion needs energy and nutrients. If your food is deficient in nutrients - if it doesn’t have enough nutrients - then your body pulls that nutrient from your body. Deficient food takes the energy and life force out of you”.

“If you’re not assessing, you’re guessing. Get tested if you think you're deficient. We all have a unique biochemistry so why do we assume that with the same input we will have the same output? Every amount of vitamins and minerals we each need is different”.

“You are what you eat… but you are also what you don’t eliminate. Your breath accounts for 80% of your detoxification. Sweating accounts for 20%, defacation for 7% and urine for 3%. That’s why diaphragmatic breathing is so important”.

ON KEEPING IT SIMPLE...

“It’s really hard to mess up a meal in slow cooker. Some people put a bit too much water in there, but otherwise you’re all good”.

“An egg is a complete protein. It has all 22 amino acids that the body knows how to process”.

ON WHAT NOURISHING OURSELVES IS ALL ABOUT...

“You should thrive, not just survive”.

I returned from the weekend fired up and inspired. Kale, fresh herbs, organic eggs and organic beans all made it into my shopping basket on Monday night and into a homemade mish-mash veggie stew (the results of which you can see above...not too shabby!)

I think the proof of the weekend is in the (sugar-free and gluten-free) pudding. Well, in the crockpot at least. 

Check out My Life Delicious at www.mylifedelicious.com.au or on Facebook. 

Their next retreats are coming up in October (Nourish Me), November (Nurture Me), and December (Nourish Me).   

[sydney-eyes]

No talking after night-time meditation. Hm...how’s that going to go?

Part One: A weekend with My Life Delicious

Last Sunday I was on the train heading home after the yoga and nutrition retreat, curled up in the seat and texting a friend. Without much phone signal over the weekend it had been rather unusually and beautifully technology-free. 

I pressed send. 

Then I re-read what I’d written in the text and realised it made very little sense at all. It was complete gobbledygook. Evidently, the connection between my brain and my fingers wasn't working quite as it normally would.

That’s how relaxed I had become. Zombiefied.

And that’s what two nights of sound sleep, six hours of yoga, one afternoon nap in the sun, three chapters of my book read in-front of an open fire, lots of laughter over lunches, and more or less 150 minutes of meditation does to you. 

Oh and throw in the idea of no talking after evening meditation through to after the morning practice and you’ve got yourself a fully-fledged, totally-relaxed zombie.

It was a heavenly, blissful, indulgent couple of days at Awaba retreat with the My Life Delicious team. 

The whole weekend was about being nourished in the food department, nudged into the right postures with the yoga sessions, and nurtured through my mind wandering off in every which way during meditation.

And it worked.

As we were tucking into the second course of breakfast (yes seriously, there were two courses of deliciousness), I took myself off for a little quiet time on my own. I wanted to get into the sunshine - to bask in the warmth and glow of those mornings you only truly appreciate after a few days of non-stop Sydney rainfall.

My feet were toasty, tucked up in their sheepskin boots and sitting cross-legged on a squidgy lounger on the veranda.

With my eyes closed, I focused in on listening to the little bell birds pinging their chirps across the valley. I could hear faint laughter and hilarity from around the breakfast table.

Jogging my memory, I brought myself back to my breath. For the first time in quite a while now I managed to flick away a disproportionate amount of my crazy thoughts that constantly drop-in to interrupt me. For a blissful, sunshine-soaked, toasty-warm and glowing 25 minutes I zoned out. 

And I didn’t even get all pins and needly.

The meditation practice might have been going in the right direction, but we needed a bit more practice at the keeping-schtum-until-after-the-morning-meditation bit.

Because on Sunday morning, after being woken by the little tinkling bell that softly raised us from our blissfully deep slumber, my roomie sleepily asked “Is that the bell?” 

“Yes, good morning!” I responded. 

To which she remembered, “Oh shit. We forgot the no talking thing!”

Yes, oops - we’re going to need to give that a bit more work... 

Read more about the nutritional half of the retreat and how every meal is an opportunity to nourish ourselves.

Check out My Life Delicious at www.mylifedelicious.com.au or on Facebook.

Their next retreats are coming up in October (Nourish Me), November (Nurture Me), and December (Nourish Me).   

[sydney-eyes]

A wander through Old Delhi, India

My tuk tuk swerves to avoid another cow which has parked itself in the middle of the road.

Two donkeys on the opposite side of the road are being piled up with bricks. A couple of goats nibble green leaves that are growing over a wall, and there are three scruffy-haired grey pigs sniffing their way through a pile of rubbish on the side of the road. A dog lies asleep in the sun.

This scene is not unusual as I’ve discovered in my travels through India so far.

Cows wander the streets at their own pace, forcing buses, taxis, cyclists and tuk tuks to drive around them. They are sacred, so if you kill a cow you can apparently face up to three years in prison!

I’m told that, along with cricket, the one thing that unites India is its lack of road rules. There are none - except perhaps to avoid the cows. There are no lanes. Well, to be more specific, there are lanes painted on the road but no-one adheres to them. That’s what the horn honking is for.

The whole population of Australia would fit in just one city in India. So the scale of everything here is incredible - the number of people, cows, stray dogs, horns being honked and, most beautifully, the different sari designs. I doubt you would ever see the same pattern on a woman twice.

Similarly to how quickly I’ve become accustomed to seeing all this animal life roaming the streets, it’s amazing how quickly you become rather immune to the piles of litter on the sides of every road.

Back in Sydney, George Street’s pot holes, traffic jams, cigarette butts and pigeons just won’t compare.

[sydney-eyes]

The 12 best Al Gore quotes from the Climate Reality Program in Delhi

I've just wrapped up three full-on days at the Climate Reality Leadership Program in Delhi, India. Run by Al Gore, former Vice President of the United States and co-recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize in 2007, the program is put on three times a year in different countries around the world and will have trained up more than 10,000 Climate Reality Leaders by the end of 2015.

Al Gore and his team spent the three days equipping 450 of us in the very latest climate science and solutions, and how we can share this with our networks, organisations and communities especially in the run-up to COP21 in Paris at the end of year.

Hearing directly from the climate change evangelist on the topic he now devotes his life to, was as hairs-on-the-back-of-your-neck-raising as you'd expect.

Here are the most memorable quotes from the man himself:

ON THE URGENCY

1."We will choose the future of the planet and humanity in the remaining few months of this year."

2. "We’re at a fork in the road for where we stand as a species."

ON CHANGE

3. "Change can happen if we all live like we’d like the change."

4. "As the quote goes, 'After the last no, comes a yes. On that yes, the future of the world depends'. We need to get to the ‘yes’ on solving the climate crisis."

5. "When politics is too slow, change has to come from culture."

ON BEING OPTIMISTIC

6. "I’m convinced that we’ll solve the climate crisis, but the longer we take, the more grave the risks we're taking with humankind."

7. "You've heard the saying that 'Things take longer than you think they will, then happen faster than you thought they could'. This is what we’re starting to see with the adoption of solar energy. I’m very optimistic."

ON THE WHY

8. "Our atmosphere is like the story of Goldilocks. It’s not too thick, it’s not too thin, it’s just right. And we need to keep it like that."

9. "We need to remember the sense of awe that nature has given humanity. It’s something that should be preserved."

10. "What value does blue sky have? Or to see the stars at night? Some things don’t have price tags. If you put a price on everything, you know the value of nothing."

11. "If we do not act now, future generations will look around and back at us and say, 'You knew this - you knew what was going to happen to the planet and you decided to ignore it?'."

ON DETERMINATION AND HOW TO WIN AN ARGUMENT (WELL, FOR THE FORMER VICE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES ANYWAY!) 

12. "Ten years ago I wanted to send a satellite into space to take continuous photos of Earth. One of my political competitors said it wasn’t worth it - that it would be like watching grass grow. So I asked my staff to find out how much Americans spend on their lawns. It was $35 billion. So I told him that Americans like watching grass grow!”

Some things you might like to explore:

Find out what COP21 and the Road to Paris is all about

Apply to become a Climate Reality Leader. The next training is in Iowa in May

Watch Al Gore's TED Talk (which was what, when I watched it again earlier this year, inspired me to apply for the Climate Reality Program)

Discover more about Al Gore's DSCOVER satellite which launched into space in February 2015

Check out American Lawns if you are an American looking to watch some grass grow...

* This post was originally published by me on LinkedIn. Photo credits to Charu Gulati @TeachGulati who was closer to the stage than I was! 

[sydney-eyes]

Welcome to Delhi

I took a deep breath. There was no other choice. I was going to have to take a taxi.

I'd heard the warnings about the danger of Delhi cabs. About the chances of getting raped, of being driven off into unknown parts of the city, of having everything stolen. About Delhi being the most dangerous of all Indian cities for a female to take a taxi on her own.  

So I did a final triple check of all the signs the men were holding up at Arrivals, but no luck. After my flight had been delayed nearly seven hours, my pre-arranged hotel pick-up was not, unsurprisingly, still waiting for me at the terminal at 3am in the morning holding up a sign with my name on it. I had called the female-only taxi company, Sakha, from Dubai airport to be told they only work 9am to 9pm.

So I had no choice. I was going to have to take a taxi.

The man behind the pre-paid taxi desk seemed to quickly understand where I wanted to go. Is that a good thing or a bad thing, I wondered to myself as I started questioning everything. I handed over my 800 rupees and he directed me to the front of the airport.

Outside the terminal it was a melee of taxis and men milling around. Apparently I should just choose a taxi. I should just voluntarily get in a car with a strange man in which I'm told that the chances of something dreadful happening are extremely high. The news articles I'd been sent and the warnings I'd been given were going round and round in my head. 

"Taxi madam" said a few men who came up to me. I walked straight by, not looking at them, trying to seem like I knew exactly where I was going. More men came up trying to get business. My heart was beating fast, hoping that after dealing with many similar scenarios in other airports, ferry and bus terminals around the world that I would get lucky one more time.

Then I spotted a shy man, hanging back from the others. He glanced my way but didn't come up to me or even signal. He seemed a bit sweeter somehow. And, most importantly, he seemed smaller than the others. I thought to myself: "If things get nasty, I could definitely take him!".

I trusted my instincts. He was my choice. So off we went. 

With all my senses on alert and some adrenalin pumping round my body, I kept my bag over my shoulders so if I needed to leg it I could at least take my valuables with me, if not the big trusty khaki backpack (which, miraculously, had turned up on the conveyor belt after flight delays and missed connections).

I put my scarf up over my head and really hoped, so very hard, that I'd made a good decision. 

The smog hit me in the throat. We wove in and out of the cars and lorries on the road, driving across the middle of two lanes for some unknown reason, and I started to get an idea of the incessant horn-honking I'd heard about. 

We passed a buffalo pulling along a cart and its small family, dogs at the side of the main road with their paws out only a few centimetres from passing tyres, and a few homeless people lying alone and completely covered head to toe by a blanket. Market stalls were starting to be set up for the morning, with men arriving in rickshaws and hauling out bunches of vegetables. 

A car blocked the road in-front of us, having somehow turned 90 degrees with no clear reason as to why. Oncoming traffic piled up around it and no-one batted an eyelid. 

Mr 'I-could-definitely-take-him' Taxi Driver, who's name I've unfortunately since forgotten, started asking me where I was from, if I liked Delhi so far, and pointed out a few sights along the way. I was right - he was sweet, and polite. Once we got to Karkardooma Court, he stopped a couple of times to clarify the directions with locals who were also out and about at 5am in the morning. 

We both finally spotted the hotel in the distance and had a little laugh together that we had made it. We were both probably laughing in relief - me at arriving safely and him at finding the destination.

I was relieved not to be another statistic, but also more relieved to have had this much better first impression of Delhi from him. And to be reminded that, of course, most people are good.

I got lucky. I thanked my instincts.

Welcome to Delhi. 

[sydney-eyes]

Will India be the straw that breaks the backpack's back?

I’ve started piling up a few things in the corner of the bedroom, ready to be packed into my khaki-coloured, well-worn, well-travelled and well-loved backpack.

I’ve just realised that this backpack is the only constant throughout my many travelling adventures, since I first caught the travel bug when I was 18. Travel companions, head-torches, money pouches and cameras have come and gone. But the trusty backpack has always been there.

It’s been misplaced on two flights, been dropped off at a Greyhound stop several hours before me (with 14 rolls of film in it!), been my bed buddy on many a sleeper train, a footstool on a tuk tuk, and nearly gone overboard on a vomit-inducing longboat ride. It’s been hiked to a home-stay and submitted to snobby stares at a 5-star hotel. It’s so scruffy that thus far no-one has ever wanted to pinch it (touch wood). The zipper is starting to wear away now but I hope it can take the brunt of making a few more memories. And especially on this next trip - but I have a feeling this adventure might be one of its most challenging yet.

I’m heading to India for three weeks and I think I’m right in saying that India is going to be a different beast to anywhere I’ve gone before. I have no idea what to expect or if I my imagination will even let me conjure up what it might be like.

Everyone I speak to who has been to India has a different – and rather extreme – story to tell.

What I deduce so far is that it’s going to attack my senses. The spices will have me sweating. The colours will be a feast for the camera. The unbelievable number of people will be overwhelming. The dust will invade every possible bodily orifice and turn anything white into a shade of brown. And the non-stop noise will have me putting in earplugs - so much so that if there’s ever an appropriate occasion to use the word ‘cacophony’ I think India will be it.

I’ve been warned that even boiling the kettle and a Steripen won’t be enough to burn through all the nasties in the water. I’ve been told to expect to get groped on a bus or train at some point on the trip. And I’ve been advised not to trust anyone - that I’ll likely get robbed or conned somewhere along the journey. Of course, I’ve heard similar warnings before heading off on other adventures, and they’re always really hard things to hear when you’re getting excited about exploring a new country. But a little part of me wonders if there might be more truth to them this time around. I will just have to wait and see.

I am as prepared as I can be. I’ve had the vaccinations (well, I've checked an old doctor's note from three years ago and I seem to be covered for everything I should be..), I’ve got the Delhi Belly rehydration salts ready to go, and I’ve purchased a camera bag that doesn’t look like a camera bag. But most importantly I am prepared for an intense moshpit of flavours, smells, colours, noises, tastes, emotions, beauty, challenges, extreme poverty and everything in between. I am prepared to expect the unexpected.

And I am also prepared that that this might be the last adventure for my scruffy, khaki backpack. Will it survive this most extreme of places? Or will India be the straw that breaks the backpack’s back?

[sydney-eyes]

Wanderings to Wineglass Bay

I was supposed to come to Wineglass Bay about five years ago. In fact, I was supposed to come camping to Honeymoon Bay which is just around the corner and right on the ocean. With that name and location, it doesn't get much more romantic than that, does it? 

Despite the love‐filled plans, a break‐up with my tent partner at the time put an end to that trip.

And I've not managed to make it here since. Until now. 

Well, it was worth the wait. 

It was an 11km winding walk to finally make it to Wineglass Bay.

Through forests, past lookouts, under overhanging rocks, alongside huge cliffs, avoiding boulders and tree roots, and taking the every‐so‐often break on conveniently placed benches.  

We were kept company by little kangaroos (or are they wallabies?) along the way.

And when we made it there, it sure didn't disappoint. 

Whilst it is actually shaped rather like a wineglass, the Bay is apparently named after the ocean turning red during whaling times. 

These days, the whales and dolphins are safe and put on a good show for us. 

Dad making friends with a little roo

We made it back to the car just before the sun went down.

What a treat of a day. I think my thighs will be aching tomorrow. 

[sydney-eyes]

Manymak.

Manymak. A big manymak - thank you - to the Jawun program, North East Arnhem Land, Miwatj Health, everyone I interviewed, our lovely coordinator Louise, my fellow Jawunites and donga life, CommBank for supporting this program, and even The Arno pub, for one of the bestest adventures possible. 

I've been thinking through my top 10 most memorable moments from the past 6 weeks. Then I came up with 11, then 12, then 20, and now 25 best moments.

I thought I should probably stop there. So here they are. 

#1: A day at Ngalkanbuy clinic at Galiwin’ku community on Elcho Island. I met and interviewed the ladies at the Baby Hub, Joan who leads the mental health clinic, and the first ladies to qualify as Aboriginal health workers in Darwin in 1964. Plus stroked the 'magic' cockatoo. A big eye‐opening day spent with the most open and determined of people. 

#2: Insane 4x4 sand speed driving to Cape Arnhem with Rachel as my driving buddy. So. Much. Fun. Getting bogged and two flat tyres just made the memories all the more fun. Really, it did. 

#3: Watching Thomas Guyual from Gapuwiyak shooting hoops. I was interviewing him about captaining one of the Grand Final basketball teams and the Miwatj Healthy Lifestyles program. He blew me away; such a pro. How open, calm and genuine he came across has really stuck with me. (As a side note, he also has the best teeth). 

#4: East Woody Beach. To me, this place has something special. Some vibe. Just a feeling. I don't know if it's because it’s possible to see the sunrise and sunset from the one beach, or because one night I saw a moonrise through the trees that was so orange I was convinced it was a bonfire. Or that one morning I spotted a shark just a metre off shore. Or that when the tide’s out, I could cross the sand bar and do yoga on the rock mount looking out to sea. Whatever it is, it's magical and I'm seriously going to miss it. 

#5: Starting to scratch the surface of 'gurrutu', or kinship. Being able to say 'Ngarra Dhuwa' and 'Ngarra malk Wamutjan' helped me connect much better with the various Yolgnu people I interviewed or met. Being able to understand what it means when someone gives an elbow tap to their ‘poison cousin’ also proved rather invaluable. 

When I met Maymuna Yunupingu, she became so much more open, more comfortable with me once we shared how we fit into the gurrutu system. One of the things she talked to me about was how she wants Yolgnu medicine and Balanda ('white folk') medicine to work together. She gave me the example of the Emu plant: it can have the skin taken off, be crushed up and put in the fridge. When it's put on a boil, it will burst overnight. 

#6: Hearing the yidaki - the didgeridoo - played at Dr Yunupingu's memorial. It gave me a whole new perspective of not just the instrument itself, but actually of music. It was mesmorising. Almost hypnotic.  

#6: First day at Miwatj Health. Prue, the CEO’s PA, drove Rhys, Kathryn and I around to the three nearby health clinics and gave us an insight into the who's who of the town. On that first day, I didn't really know what the phrase 'primary health care' meant; by the end of the secondment I had put together a proposal for the Department of Health about funding for a dialysis unit in town. How much I could learn, take in and absorb in just 6 weeks was a reminder, a life lesson, to never stop learning. That day finished with us attending Dr Yunupingu's first memorial since his death. He was the first Indigenous Australian to be appointed a school principal, an activist for bilingual schools, Australian of the Year and a member of the Yothu Yindi band. Quite the privilege.

#7: Interviewing Gurruwun Yunupingu, Dr Yunupingu's wife, in my last week. For me, meeting her was as though my secondment had come full circle. We had our meeting on the beach (yes, the beach), and spoke cross-legged for about an hour and half. I asked her about her vision for the Yirrkala community, health education, the building of the dialysis unit in town, and what's driven her during her life of activism: “I believe that our children can achieve anything. That has driven me and the work I do".

#8: Camping under the stars. Without the outer shell on my tent I could look up and see the Milky Way looking this good. This view is the best way to keep an ego in check I reckon; feeling small yet?  

#9: Leaving a voicemail for the Prime Minister’s office on day 2 at work. That made me realise the significance of the organisation I was working with, its impact on the communities, plus the impact of Government policy on the ground in the region. 

#10: A ‘moment’ I had when I was coming home from Miwatj Health during our first power cut. It was a lightbulb moment of realisation and understanding about why people work in the health profession, or for NGOs. I got it. Crystal clear. Working in health you are at the frontline of people’s lives. It can be life or death. As a Marketer, realising that my skills could build awareness and education in an industry like that was a Big Moment.

#11: Hammering oysters off the rocks at Cape Arnhem. Doesn't get fresher than that.  

#12: My laksa going down a treat with my seven fellow Jawunites in the donga. For someone who doesn’t often get creative in the kitchen, this was quite the achievement. 

#13: The Toilet Team at the cattle farm campsite. With all of the laughs we had while cleaning some of the dirtiest toilets I’ve ever seen, I knew it was going to be a fun bunch of people to live with for 6 weeks.

#14: Branding cows. After initially saying a "no, thank you" to giving it a go, taking a hot poker to a cow’s skin was quite an experience for a former vegetarian. Based on the cow's reaction, saying that I enjoyed it would be going far too far. But I had a second go. 

#15: Going hunting and gathering at Bawaka homeland. Waka expertly speared a stingray, the Jawun boys put their testosterone to good use and returned with hands full of mudcrabs, and little Grace cooked up hermit crabs for us on the beach bonfire.  

#16: Buying a painting from Dorothy Yunupingu. Artists from the nearby communities would pop by the Miwatj Health office with their paintings, message sticks and yidakis for sale. Dorothy's painting is on a bark, carefully cut from the trees, flattened with big rocks and burned on the bonfire to harden it. She shared with me the story of the bandicoots in the painting and what the various patterns mean. Having seen perfectly rectangular sections cut from a few tree trunks around and about, being familiar with her name, and having the chance to hear the stories directly from the artist herself, means rather a lot.  

#17: A talk by Will Stubbs at the Yirrkala Arts Centre in our first week. That day we had heard about some 'sorry business’ ‐ that of the death of a young girl in one of the homelands and, naturally, a very traumatic experience for the whole community. That afternoon, Will gave us a moving talk about the power of the community but the challenges it faces. Those words set the scene for the daily, sometimes hourly, flitting between moments of hope, optimism and progress through to seriously questioning how the community would ever overcome some serious challenges. 

#18: Learning how to change a 4x4 tyre in under 7 minutes. Done. 

#19: Rescuing this little frog from the toilet in the donga.

#20: Seeing a buffalo on the beach while I was taking photos at night. Unfortunately I ran back to the car far too fast to get an actual photo of it so below are buffalo I saw that weren't as potentially life threatening.

#21: Painting the kids' clinic (in ochre, or ocker...same thing) with Will, Oli, Kathryn, Rhys and Jo. Some spectacular team work (and singing to accompany our paintbrushing efforts) meant that when we peeled off the magical masking tape it looked oh-so-awesome.  

#22: My forever‐backpack turning up at Gove airport after being lost in transit. Though the Qantas replacement t‐shirt and shorts are rather fetching.

#23: Singing at the hogshed, playing drums on stage to 'my song' (Counting Crows' Mr Jones), and doing karaoke. Brian, who lives next door to us, and I did Lionel Richie’s All Night Long. Whilst I sang the 'Oh, jambali tam bo li de say de moi ya’ bit (you know the bit I mean), Brian did his own rather magnificent rapping. I loved it.

As a side note, Brian's adorable 6 year old son Little Brian, called me Bictoria, which melted my heart a little bit each time. Just like it's hard for those of us with English as our first language to make the 'ng' sound of words like Yolngu, it's tricky for Yolngu people to pronouce 'v' as it's not a part of their language. So Bictoria it is. 

#24: Committing to - and actually sticking to - doing my own yoga sessions throughout the 6 weeks. Without sounding like a complete yogarina, it was an important way just to have some time out from an otherwise rather intense experience. And enjoy this view...

#25: Last, but definitely not least, my fellow Jawunites. We shared our stories, discussed our days, laughed a lot, and tried to solve the world's problems over a blackened barra and Corona or two at the Yacht club, during group dinner prep at our corrugated metal donga, or on our 4x4 commutes into work.   

Manymak.

[sydney-eyes]

Elcho Island: small plane, big experience

The plane had just seven seats, there was duct tape holding the window together, and the pilot needed to push the plane backwards to reverse it. This was going to be an interesting ride. 

We were off to Ngalkanbuy clinic in Galiwin’ku on Elcho Island ‐ a 45 minute charter flight from Nhulunbuy. On this trip I discovered that Northern Territory Time, aka NT Time, is official. We were late for our departure time by 20 minutes and no one batted an eyelid.

It was a bit of a bumpy flight and, to be totally honest, I came this close (imagine about a millimetre’s width) to not keeping my breakfast down. But we made it in one piece, having flown over our donga, Nhulunbuy town, the mine, big rivers, potential crocodile tracks in the sand, incredible rock formations, small islands, and either sea or forest going on and on in all directions.   

Through Miwatj Health Aboriginal Corporation, the organisation I'm working with on my Jawun secondment, I was heading over to Elcho Island to speak with some of the Yolngu employees about the work they do and regionalisation. 

Yolngu are Indigenous Australians from North East Arnhem Land, and regionalisation is the process of incrementally transitioning select Northern Territory Government health clinics to Aboriginal community control, through Miwatj Health.

I took Dan Wesolowski with me to be photographer for the day. He's a fellow Jawun secondee and also from Commonwealth Bank. These beautiful photos are courtesy of Dan and on behalf of Miwatj Health.  

First off was a visit to the Baby Hub (above). Sitting cross legged on a beautiful woven mat, I chatted with four women who are running the unit. They described how they welcome new mums from the community into the Baby Hub. They might bring their babies who are losing weight or who have scabies or who need much more iron in their diet. 

They welcome mums who might be burdened at home, to relax away from any problems, have a sleep, do some washing, take a shower, learn about nutrition, store their baby food, eat a nutritious meal, have a banana from the veggie patch, learn how to wrap their babies, sing, have fun, be safe.

It’s a haven. The mums come here like family. They can be looked after.

“Come, come, share with us, we can help you, with a Yolngu heart”.

Over about an hour of chatting, they relaxed and opened up in our company, talking animatedly. They were really pleased with what they had achieved in the community but had so many more plans and wishes and ideas.  

Our visit to the Baby Hub finished with the infamous cockatoo that appeared just outside the door. She hopped onto one of the lady’s hands, came into the unit, then proceeded to lie down, stick her claw up to scratch her head and wanted to be tickled all over. Just like a cat. It was the most curious thing.

Apparently she doesn’t like children (demonstrated by poking the only child in the room), takes money from gambling men, and likes to meet visitors to the community, including Balanda ('white folk').

Quite magical. 

Next up, I sat down with Joan. Joan started working in Galiwin’ku in 1981 when there was no doctor, no airport lights, and just routine medical visits every two weeks. She has been leading the Mental Health unit for the past seven years, along with Charlie, a counsellor, and two others. 

Each month, their team sees about 80 people from the community of 1000. It might be domestic abuse, suicide attempt, addiction, or any number of situations. 

“My job doesn’t stop with mental health. I’m still a registered health practitioner so if I see something medical when I am out, I’ll always help. When there’s a death in the community, people come to ask me about what is the right way to announce it, who to talk to."

“And our work doesn’t finish at 4:30. It continues into the night. My house is a drop−in centre. People with mental health issues might come round, it’s a safe place, they can do some washing, have something to eat. Someone is also on call 24/7”

  She generously gave us her time, as everyone did, sharing her stories, experiences, wishes and dreams. 

Joan's last words for us were about looking to the next generation and the future of the community: “When I started out, the doctor would let me do the stitches, take blood, or diagnose someone so I learnt quickly. Now I pass on my knowledge.”

That kind of knowledge is passing to people like Sarah who I had a cross‐legged and under‐the‐tree chat with.

Sarah’s on the clinic leadership team, managing the team of Aboriginal Health Workers.

“My mum used to be a health worker here at Ngalkanbuy Clinic. She told me I have to go to school every day so that I can learn and get a good job. So I went to school each day. Now people often comment because I go to work every day on time, and not many people here do that. I just love my job. I love helping my patients and our community”.   

From family experiences, she knew first hand the impact of Hepatitis B and it leading to renal disease, one of the most prevalent chronic diseases in the communities in this region. Wanting to change things, she’s been involved in a project to develop an iPad app, with both Yolngu matha and English, to make it easier to talk to patients about Hepatitis B, its symptoms and treatment.

This hasn’t been done anywhere in the Northern Territory or, by the sounds of it, across Australia. Her app is being launched in July. She is one committed, calm, smart woman; I’d love to hear what impact she has in the community in the future. 

After our conversation, Sarah introduced us to her team. This included two ladies who, as far as I understand, in 1964 in Darwin, during the mission times of Galiwin'ku, were the first Yolgnu women to earn their health practitioner qualifications. They shared with us their nomination, and win, for the Miwatj Health CEO Award for all their incredible dedication and commitment to the community over all those years. 

After we left them, the ladies were all chattering away, getting rather excited about the basketball game they were going to play after work!

Kathy, the Clinic Manager who showed us around today, is heading back to Melbourne next week after living on Elcho Island for seven years. I’ve been on Elcho just for one day and I can already see how captivating, all encompassing and consuming this place would be.

I am starting to see how it's going to be quite the shock going back to Sydney after six weeks up here.

However, getting on a big plane with sealed windows and sick bags might be a bit of a relief. 

These beautiful photos are courtesy of Dan Wesolowski, fellow Jawun secondee from Commonwealth Bank, on behalf of Miwatj Health. 

Want to read more about Elcho Island? This The Australian article, Magic Island, brings it life some more…

[sydney-eyes]

Territory Day in Arnhem Land

Today was Territory Day: the only day you can buy fireworks in the Northern Territory. In fact I think it's the only day you can buy fireworks in the whole of Australia! 

Today celebrates the anniversary of self governance being handed down to the Territory by the Commonwealth Government. And that's a damn fine excuse to let off fireworks randomly every which way. And light sparklers. Love sparklers. 

So after work us Jawun‐ites headed to East Woody Beach ‐ as if an excuse was needed ‐ for some amateur firework displays and hoped they all avoided directing themselves straight at us. 

Amazingly we all survived with our eyes and bodily parts intact. 

Then we headed to our last $10 pasta and trivia night with Merv (along with some very questionable dance moves) at The Arno...   

[sydney-eyes]

"Njara Dhuwa"

We were welcomed to Bawaka with a smoking ceremony and the invitation to feel like it was our home, our land, our country for the two days we were staying there. 

Bawaka is a Homeland about two hours from where we're living in the Gunyungara community.

We went out to Bawaka with Lirrwi, one of the Aboriginal Corporations that two of us Jawun secondees are working with here. At Bawaka we were to learn more about Yolngu culture from Timmy, Waka and Arian for who Bawaka is their Homeland.

After four weeks up here I am starting to ever‐so‐slightly scratch the surface of an extremely complex and rich culture. This trip was good timing to understand a little more. 

Though at the same time I think it might have confused me even more, too. 

Our classroom for the weekend was on a platform next to the beach. Which was next to the sea. Which had a big crocodile swimming around in it. That's a first for me.  

At the start of our trip, Timmy gave us a glimpse into the two very significant Yolngu church panels at the Yirrkala Arts Centre. These panels are the Yolngu Constitution, full of layers and layers, decades and centuries of stories.

That was our starting point for learning a snippet about the kinship system, Gurrutu. We discovered our moiety and skin name. These define family, connections, responsibilities and how each of us is related to others in a way far beyond what us 'Balanda' ('white folk') regard as family. We learnt how to introduce ourselves with these.  

"Ngara yaku Victoria, ngara maku Wamutdjan, ngara Dhuwa"

Each of us and the land and animals is either Yirritja or Dhuwa. For me, "you now identify as a Dhuwa. You cannot change; it is that way now".

After we each worked out our moiety and skin names, we figured out our connections to each other. Of the other Jawun secondees, Rachel is my wife, Wendy is my mum, her husband is my brother and I can't talk to Will. 

Grace, one of the young girls of the Bawaka family there, is my daughter. What was intriguing to me was to feel that little bit more responsibility for someone because of the Gurrutu that we had just worked through. This responsibility was perhaps my biggest revelation of the weekend; I gained a much greater understanding of the deep responsibility to protect and care for others and the land because of these connections through the kinship system.

We learnt about Yolngu culture as one of balance and cycles. We talked about 'bush universities', 'bush parliament', and Yolgnu Rom, or law. We could ask Timmy, Waka and Arian our burning questions, of which there are oh so many from the past four weeks. 

And it was a chance for us to talk about recognition and reconciliation for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders in the Australian Constitution. I'm very much learning, thinking and absorbing many perspectives from here about this. It certainly feels so much more significant to me now that I am actually an Australian citizen.

If you don't know much about the campaign then you can find out more and provide your support to Recognise if you so wish to at www.recognise.org.au. 

After blowing our minds with all the discussion and thinking of the morning, it was time for some hunting and gathering.

We fished mullet, stuffed it with big leaved herbs from the bushes around us, charcoaled it up, and cooked it right there on the fire just a few of metres from the ocean. We ate off a plate of leaves.

Hermit crabs were collected and cooked up in the coals of the bonfire. A little table platform was chopped out of a log, and the hermit crabs were crushed open on there. 

Mudcrabs and string rays were speared, unbelievably expertly by Waka. 

We left Bawaka, with its white sand, palm trees, abundant fish, croc infested waters, stunning sunsets, hammocks on the beach, and best night sky I've ever experienced, with a final word from Timmy: "Now you're accepted in the two panels. We understand and respect you". 

From my end, certainly respect and a little bit more understanding each day. 

[sydney-eyes]

Adventuring to Cape Arnhem

I was driving one of the three cars in convoy en route to Cape Arnhem.

As soon as we hit the sand, I got the madest adrenaline rush. The biggest one since going bungy jumping a while back. 

It felt like being a rally car driver. I had fellow Jawun secondee, Rachel, as the guide next to me, pumping out the obligatory cheesy 90s music and supportive comments as I fired the Hilux through trunks on either side of the track, bashing through branches, weaving in and out of bushes, putting my foot down to speed along the hard sand, changing gear faster than I’ve ever done in my life, and then at times, because of the softer sand, having zero control of the steering wheel and where it was choosing to take us. As long as we kept momentum and I didn’t stop on the sand we’d be just fine. 

It was unreal and I was absolutely *buzzing* by the time we made it to our destination.  

Which was WINDY!

Setting up camp right by the beach, we got the brunt of some seemingly gale force winds hitting the Northern Territory. It wasn’t quite the weekend of sun baking and relaxing on the beach that we might have hoped for but it was certainly An Amazing Adventure. 

One of the highlights was hammering fresh oysters off the rocks once the tide had gone out. We must have eaten about 85 between us all. We made a big bonfire, cooked up perfectly crispy jacket potatoes, mastered marshmallow toasting, and devoured brownies in the dark. We played Balderdash in the wind‐proof field behind the dunes and did a spot of yoga on the beach. I found a turtle shell on the beach, successfully avoided all crocs, and slept in what felt like a massive plastic bag. 

With the wind taking full effect, the outer sheet of my tent was going wild, flapping all over the place. Non‐stop. At 1am I had the brainwave to take off the outer shell and the rest of the night was spent sleeping, peacefully, under the mozzie net and a full moon. I slept like a baby until 7am.

In the morning, bacon, eggs and damper made us all feel more human again. A Northern Territory breaky doesn’t get much better than that. 

On our trip out of the Cape, once the tides were out, we had to go into serious survival mode. We got bogged twice, took two hours to dig ourselves out, and then needed to change two tyres. It was a work out. 

Exhausted, sandy, dirty and, amazingly all still friends and laughing our way through the Amazing Adventure, we made it back to our donga in Gunyungara. To find a power cut.

And the adventure continues…  

Thanks to Rachel Yang for capturing all the video footage with as steady hands as possible during The Crazy Driving and for the beach #bogged photo! #soscrewed

[sydney-eyes]

Not for a while crocodile.

On the way into Nhulumbuy town, we drive over a creek where crocs are often spotted sunbaking on the beach and even crossing the road. That's according to locals and the official Facebook Gove Noticeboard. (One morning on the Noticeboard they also warned of a buffalo running around the same road. Not quite the morning traffic report we're used to back home!).

All of us Jawun secondees are on the look out for crocs. We really want to see one. Not too close mind you. From about 30 metres would do just fine, thanks.

So every morning when we cross the creek we look out of our 4x4 windows hopeful of spotting two beady eyes and a big jagged tail. 

But still, nothing. Zilch. Nada.

  This morning I was quite happy I didn't see one though. I went for a soft sand stroll along Gadalathami Beach, aka Town Beach, on my lonesome. It was just me along the whole beach except for a couple of local Indigenous Australians, Yolngu, camping under the trees.

It was beautiful, hot, a little windy, so quiet. Bliss. But I can't say it was wholly relaxing because I had to be on Extreme Croc Watch the whole time, looking behind me in case one just happened to creep out of the ocean behind me.

But still nothing.  

So in the absence of any croc excitement as yet, the beach walks have been more about the little things. The things you might not normally notice because you're allowed to swim in the water and sunbathe close to shore without a care in the world. But not here. 

So here are a few of the little things I've taken a closer look at so far.

And hopefully over the next four weeks I'll spot a croc ‐ but not too close ‐ and be able to share some much more gnarly photos with you. 

As for now, these are the only crocs I've seen on the  beach...

[sydney-eyes]

"Be prepared to be wrong about everything".

That might prove to be the best advice we'll get given up here. 

That gem came from Will who runs the Yirrkala Arts Centre. He says to come to North East Arnhem Land with an open mind, listen, ask questions.

Today was the first day working on my secondment project. It's been like any first day at a new job...but on steroids. There has been so much to absorb, to take in, to challenge me, to make me think and question and wonder. 

I'm working with Miwatj Health Aboriginal Corporation which has four clinics across the region. Before I'd even been in the main office for 15 minutes, I was whisked off to explore the three mainland clinics of Yirrkala, Nuhulumbuy and Gunyagara. 

Everyone I met today ‐ the clinic managers, doctors, nurses and other employees ‐ gave so much of their time, warmly, to share their stories, insights, challenges and opportunities. 

In the middle of day one, I also had the privilege of attending the first year memorial service for Dr Yunupingu. He was the first Indigenous Australian to be appointed a school principal, of Yirrkala School. He was also named Australian of the Year in 1992. An extremely well respected man. 

There were at least a couple of hundred people in attendance. Kids playing and running around, older women cross‐legged in the shade of the trees, men quietly observing the day. 

The Australian, Aboriginal and Northern Territory flags were raised to start proceedings, and a couple of prominent, local Aboriginal men gave speeches to share their messages about the importance of education for the future of the community. 

A few men, women and children danced to the didgeridoo and clap sticks. With a breeze coming through the trees and the hot sun burning down on us, it felt rather mesmerising, almost meditative. 

After speeches, thanks and recognition, the band East Journey played. The lead singer is one of Dr Yunupingu's grandsons. They're about to head off on tour around Australia and it was really awesome to hear them. Here's one of their songs ‐ Song of Arnhem Land.

It didn't seem appropriate to take photos of today. I just have my memories. 

I took in so much. 

Listening. Asking questions. Remaining open. Feeling so many different things.

And being prepared to be wrong about everything. 

[sydney-eyes]

The Adventures of Camping North East Arnhem Land Style

After stocking up on food for the cattle farm camping trip, we put our feet up on the beach and did some unsuccessful (or successful, depending on your point of view) croc‐spotting. 

Then we hit the road in our four‐by‐four‐ers. 

After bouncing around through pot‐holes and river floodways for a couple of hours, we made it to the camp. Garrathiya cattle farm. 

Between us we shared out tent construction, firewood collection, sleeping bag allocation, kitchen set‐up. And toilet cleaning. 

Funnily enough, not that many people jumped up to do the toilet cleaning.

But Rachel, Will, Rhys, Denita and I, um, rather begrudgingly volunteered for this gem of a job. This was a Big Job. Imagine five pigeons stuck in a toilet block for a week and you probably have a fairly good idea of the state of these dunnies. We double‐layered our latex gloves in preparation. 

Some serious Domestos‐ing, hose‐jetting, nose‐holding‐while‐scrubbing sorted them out though. They were almost sparkling by the time we finished with them. Almost. 

Whilst I don't especially want to remember the Big Job, the rest of the camping trip was very memorable (read: rather eventful). 

The tents flooded after a downpour. One tent blew away. Shoes reached their last legs. We almost got bogged in a field. We nearly got charged by a buffalo. We reversed into a tree. Crows stole our macadamias. We got visited by green frogs, cane toads and huge crickets. 

The best bit was that we all laughed the entire time. 

(Photo above courtesy of Wendy in our group)

Despite the eventfulness, with blow‐up mattresses and some seriously good cooks in the group, we were at the glamping end of the camping‐to‐glamping spectrum. 

We ate like Kings. Scrambled egg and bacon for breaky, all‐day slow cooked stew and risotto for dinners, marshmallows on the fire, and damper with butter and maple syrup. 

The night sky was unreal. 

It doesn't get more Australian than this. 

[sydney-eyes]

I am now officially a Brand Manager

Jack Bauer, Maverick, Rubber Ducky and The Great Wall (aka Wolverine) headed out in convoy to a cattle farm on Wednesday morning. We were ready and raring to go after completing our four‐wheel drive training. 

Our destination was a cattle farm owned by the Gumatj Aboriginal Corporation. The cattle farm provides the meat sold in the new shop in Gunyangara ‐ the community where I'm living for 6 weeks.

After a night sleeping under the stars, we started early the next day to help out potential Farmer Wants A Wife contestant, Tom, with some fencing.

We fixed barbed wires and droppers to about 4km of fences. At one point we were monitored by a couple of feisty looking buffalo, speedily shooed off through the forest by Tom in his truck.  

To end Day One on the cattle farm we rounded up the cows.

I say ‘we’ as though I was lassooing them personally. But us secondees watched from the back of the trailer as the farmers and the kelpies, Jack and Jill, did all the hard work.  

Day Two on the cattle farm was taking things to the next level. 

Back in Sydney I am a Brand Manager; here in North East Arnhem Land I am expanding my branding skills to include the combination of a hot iron poker, some brute force and a cow. 

My branded cow #1

My branded cow #2

A visit out to Dhanayna Beach and a beautiful sunset wrapped up our camping trip on the cattle farm. 

[sydney-eyes]

What I'm up to for the next 6 weeks...

I arrived in Nhulumbuy last night. It's about as far north as you can get in Australia. As you expect from somewhere so remote, there was a blanket of stars from one horizon to the other. 

Day one here has been about navigating our way around the town. We've been meeting some locals, gaining an insight into the organisations we’ll be working with for six weeks, and getting a glimpse into the complexities of this place, the culture, the history, the opportunities.

We’ve been learning about this as a community and culture of sharing, compassion, no judgement.

Jawun ‐ an organisation that partners corporate volunteer secondees with local Indigenous organisations to share their expertise, skills and knowledge ‐ is very well respected here. We’ve been warmly welcomed for our curiosity and interest in the region.

Very quickly we’ve become accustomed to the red dust and the blue skies. To a slower pace. And it's only day one. What will it be like after six weeks?

Tomorrow it’s 4x4‐training and apparently we’re going extreme. Pot holing, river driving, learning to change a tyre. 

Will we spot a croc at the river crossing?