To be Strong

I attended the monthly poetry slam at UNSW today: poets vs comedians. Not your regular poetry slam, but poets battling against comedians. Even though they use different tactics, voices, emotions and perspectives, both comedians and poets are actually just trying to do the same thing: tell a story, and make you feel something.

It still fascinates me how people dare to open up in front of a crowd. We laugh at the comedians because we know that's what they're trying to do. Even a sad story will make us giggle in some way, perhaps because we know how silly we human beings can be sometimes. When a disabled person is on stage, telling about the benefits of being disabled, laughing at himself and prompting the audience to laugh, you start to realise how important it is to take yourself less seriously.

However, laughter should not serve as a substitute for sadness. It should not be created to occupy your body with an emotion, just so you won't feel the sadness. The laughter has to be genuine, stemming forth from acknowledgement and acceptance. Because too many times I catch myself laughing at my emotions, dismissing them, being sarcastic about them, hoping to degrade them and feel less of it. That's not healing, or being strong, that's being ignorant. 

And this is something I've thought about a lot: what constitutes emotional strength? My mother has always assured me that my other half needs to be strong because I'm emotionally fragile. And I know that many people cringe at the idea of a crying man. Connecting the two: is this what being strong means? Being able to contain your emotions? I personally do not mind a man that cries if necessary. Because why is it that we want a strong man in our life? To me, it is because my most important aspect of a relationship is feeling safe. But I can't feel safe with a man who I can't read. I can't feel safe if he doesn't want to share with me, because then I will be less inclined to share with him. It's risky to bare your soul to a fully armoured soul. 

This is why I've always valued public speakers, of any form, for having a voice, pouring their emotions and opinions out. That's what being strong means to me. Daring to be vulnerable, acknowledging your weaknesses and doing something about them. We are human beings, and we will always need someone else at one point or another. As cheesy as it sounds, the Chinese sometimes say that one chopstick is easily broken, but if you put many chopsticks together it's less likely to break. If you're too stubborn or proud or ignorant or afraid to let someone in, you'll never experience the benefits of putting many different hands and brains together. 

Communication is a way of getting together, and I feel like it's time to feel less ashamed of 'not being strong'. Because in some way, I think everyone has felt insecure about something, even if it's just once in their lives. Perhaps they bit through it on their own, and they're fine, but what if it's happening over and over again? How long can you bite your tongue until it bleeds? As a baby we needed hands to keep us standing, to teach us to walk. As we grow older, we stumble, bruise our knees, or twist our ankles. Each human being has a pair of hands. There must be one hand that's willing to help you walk again. 

Chocolate and Kites

Festival of the Winds at Bondi Beach

Say hello to Bondi beach again. :) Today there was the festival of the winds, and quite some nice weather too. Here I was all prepared in my leather boots, wine red thighs and leather jacket. Feeling all hot for once because that's just the way my boots make me feel (I take my leather boots very seriously, despite always forgetting to polish them). I think I was too hot for the weather today, because it tried to compete with me by suddenly being more than 20 degrees while it's just the beginning of Spring.

Okay, what am I saying. This confidence-thing doesn't sit well with me, I feel sick acting like it.

But that's why we have chocolate, to tempt us so much until we forget what other sickness feels like. Because before I went to the beach, I went to chocolate paradise: The Smooth Festival of Chocolate at The Rocks. The morning started with some free TimTams. As was the case with Vegimite, I never heard of TimTams before I came to Australia. Apparently, it's the Australian thing, alongside barbeques, kangaroos and koalas. I didn't have such a great experience with Vegimite, I mean, it's sour and black stuff which you're supposed to put on your bread ... TimTams, however, had a better first-date experience with me:

Red Velvet TimTams are delish. Okay, there I tried to use some trendy wording, but it makes me puke again.
I'll say it differently: Red Velvet Timtams are delicious. Yes, I love English. 

Much like the Aroma Festival (Coffee Festival) I went to during the second week of being Australia, there were many stalls according to the theme during today's festival. Chocolate was done justice. I also love this trend of authenticity that's going on throughout the world. Back to old school-turned-new school packaging. Much cardboard-colour. Simplicity, and supposedly trying to get us back into the woods:

That looks like some way-too-expensive chocolate I'd ship right to the Netherlands.

While wandering around, I would've loved to try the infamous Tella Ball or this oreo-decorated milkshake which I've read many fairytales about. However, the waiting line was horrific and I didn't have much cash with me. By the time I was done queuing at the ATM, I got distracted and suddenly found myself with this in my hands:

It's a brownie in a jar, covered with whipped cream and caramel.

I actually wanted to take the Chocolate Mousse, because it's what I do, I always take Chocolate Mousse. I don't know when it started that I'd deliberately choose something I'd rarely eat, just to try new things I guess. After the first bite I kind of regretted because brownies are so, so filling. I couldn't eat any chocolate after clearing the whole jar.

By the way, about the jar, I don't know why but Australians like to stuff things in things that are not made for those things. Canned kangaroos and koalas (no real ones, no worries); jarred desserts. I actually was more tempted to buy this dessert just because it was put into a jar. Now it sits clean and nice on my bookshelf, wondering what I'll fill it with.

According to the planning I eagerly made a few days ago, 12 o'clock was the magical time for me to hop onto a bus towards Bondi beach. It was time to educate myself with some traditional, Indonesian dance. Not before rushing past some beautiful graffiti, though:

I apologize for the awful picture. My phone only had 2% left and I couldn't see a thing on my screen.

Reach out and touch faith art. ~Depeche Mode

Who let the dogs out? Woof, woof, woof woof.

Your dad let the dog out. Woof, woof, woof woof.

Does anyone want to be saved by a beach boy today?

When I arrived at what I thought was the so-called 'Festival-stage', what I found was far from Indonesian:

Some folk-dance, even though entertaining, not the kind of culture I was looking forward to.

By the time I got to the correct place, the Suara Indonesian Dance group had already made place for Chinese Dancers.

I stayed there for quite a while, because I still enjoy the richness of Chinese culture, even though a century of agony is behind each history of beauty. Same concept goes for the Indian dancers that performed after the Chinese ones. They were truly magnificent, in their coloured costumes against dark skin; their elegant and balanced steps; their controlled wavy movements. This performance certainly made up for the Indonesian dance I missed. Quite sadly I couldn't take a picture of it because my battery had died.

The rest of the day consisted of staring at some giant animals in the air like in the beginning:

Manta rays, whale and turtle. Some of my favourite sea creatures exploring the sky.

Once I had enough of those bloated animals, I went to look for some nice rock, as I had planned during my Bondi to Coogee coastal walk. Just me, the ocean and the novel 'Gone Girl' by Gillian Flynn. No, not really. Also a lot of people doing the coastal walk. One of them shot a picture of me with their fancy Canon while I was just siting there with my backpack still on, staring at the waves. I guess it had some artistic vibe, because when I was reading my book a few moments later, some random woman actually asked me if she could take a picture of the rocks, but that I could keep sitting there, because it looked nice.

It was rather awkward to pretend I was still fully concentrated on the book while in the corner of my eyes I saw a few flashlights. Then again, I admire the woman for asking me before taking the picture. If it was me, I'd probably try to do it sneakily like the first woman. Although I think the first woman probably took a better picture because I was still nonchalant before I noticed her shutter sound. Anyways, the latter encounter made me smile. I swear it's the boots.

I think I'll do that more often. No, not to become an iconic girl-who-sits-on-a-rock-and-reads-books. It was cooling there and I enjoyed the sound and smell of the sea while reading. If I had a Macbook with its seemingly infinite battery life, I probably would've done my homework or writing there. I wish the place wasn't so far away from where I live.

Because when I tried to go back to the trainstation by bus, I actually watched about 10 buses drive past me and a whole row of people within 45 minutes. Too full, probably as a courtesy of the festival. At one point I just decided to walk to the station. Whenever I need to find my way I usually keep looking for busstops or buses passing by, just to know where I'm heading. Along with truly catching the train and bus back home, it took me about 3 hours.

So here I am, almost falling asleep, but forcing myself to mark this down because even though I didn't eat that much chocolate, it was a nice day full of surprises.

Are you okay?

Dear Reader,

It's Saturday evening here, and where you're from, it's probably not as late. Perhaps you just woke up, or maybe you've started the day with quite an amount of stress already. Either way, I'd like to ask you:

'A conversation could change a life.'

Last Thursday was natioal R U OK? Day. A day to connect; run by an Australian non-profit suicide prevention organisation each year during the second Thursday of September. Their mission is to encourage people to regularly and meaningfully ask: "are you ok?"  (see website). A gesture to make up for the lack of connection, or the lack of belonging. It is in their believe that such a little question could already make a difference for those who are struggling with mental illness, or whoever is having a tough time.

As I walked through campus, the R U OK spirit was already there. Wherever I was, yellow balloons would remind me of this question. Then I was reminded how we always ask 'How are you?' at the beginning of a conversation, almost automated:

    if( word == 'Hello' ) {
        next_word = 'How are you?';
        expected_answer = 'I'm fine';
    }

How often do we really put thought into that question before we ask them? And for those responding, how often do we automatically say 'I'm fine' before our brain could struggle back and actually say: 'Well, today I'm not okay'.

Where ever you'd go, you'd see these balloons.

At university there were stalls with the same yellow balloons floating around. People would get a balloon, a wristband, or be decorated by R U OK stickers so that they could jump right into a group of equally decorated conversationalists. After sneakily walking past a few times, I finally had the courage to walk in and ask what was going on. One girl explained to me what the day was about when I asked her whether this was an annual thing, but that was about it. I didn't get to ask anyone whether they were okay. In a way, it still felt odd to me even though the instructions I got were 'Ask are you okay. Listen without judgement.'.

I just left without making much conversation. For some reason, the yellow balloons that were supposed to cheer me up, made me sadder. I couldn't help but think how the combination of yellow with black is considered colour symbolism for suicide, at least according to my design textbook. In fact, at one point I was so upset I found myself making use of the free hugs from people in costumes. I just told myself that I really should try something awkward for once. In fact I just hoped to feel some warmth, but of course, the hug was just a quick polite hug, and the idea got wrecked because the volunteer was ending its duty by decapitating the blue owl:

When feeling blue, the owl would give you a hug.

Of course I wanted more. I had wanted to walk into the group of yellow-stickered penguins and vent it out. I would've wanted to hug the blue owl tighter. I wanted to unload my secrets. When I was alone, I felt less alone than when I've actually had some real-life human contact with these strangers. I felt much more at peace and connected wandering around campus, being curious, and reading about the confessions which people wrote on postcards:

'There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you' ~ Maya Angelou

I guess that's what trust is about, to me at least. If you trust me with your secrets, it's easier to trust you with mine. It's equivalent exchange; sharing vulnerability. I wrote something on a postcard too, and in a way it felt relieving, even though of course I wouldn't get a response from the wall. 

By any means, I do not mean to bash the volunteers who were part of this day. I am glad to see so much thought put into mental illness, making the taboo smaller. Most people feel like others don't even try to understand them, at least this day is a gesture of trying to reach out. We might not always understand, but the act of trying already tugs some heartstrings. 

So, even if you don't feel like it, try and reach out. Maybe the conversation will be worth it.

Yours sincerely,

Cin

Quest of the Garden Hose Nozzle

Today I finished school at 4 o'clock, so I thought: "let's go into the city and see if I can find myself a garden hose nozzle". Y'know, just for fun, perhaps to annoy some kangaroos with water. Nah, don't be ridiculous, there are no wild kangaroos in the city. Sadly this is just something for school. I need to design a garden hose nozzle for my CAD course, but I've got no idea how it looks like on the inside, so I'll have to buy myself one just to wreck it. It's harder than you think, I wouldn't even know where to buy a toilet brush if you asked me.

So I started my quest at Central Station. There's nothing there, just hotels/hostels or restaurants. I walked around for quite a while, wondering if I'd ever reach a place with shops. It would be odd to ask a random stranger: "Hey, do you know where to buy a garden hose nozzle?" So I just kept my mouth shut as always. I didn't mind the walking, though, because I just realised that I haven't really taken a walk around Central since being here. Since I did do that just now, I came across beauties such as these:

A cute little beauty here ...

A random nice building there ...

And suddenly I found myself passing Museum Station, this is about two train stops away from Central Station.

Why Museum Station? Well I thought I found my saviour when I saw the Sydney Tower Eye in the distance, so I just tried to get close to it because I remembered there were quite some shops there. It reminded me of how I couldn't find the university when I came to Delft for the first time, but I could see the iconic red and blue building of the faculty of electerical engineering, mathematics and computer science in the distance. Except that this time, in Sydney, my plan backfired because there are too many skyscrapers here. The nearer I got, the more I lost it. Apparently I was walking towards Museum Station. From there, I actually found myself going to Darling Harbour:

Just past the flags ...

Then stop and take a look at the gate to the Chinese Gardens....

Look up at the sky and be astonished by reflective buildings ....

And there we go: Darling Harbour. :)

Darling Harbour is about 15 minutes walking from Museum Station. I didn't know how I got there, just followed some signs. Near Darling Harbour is where the Paddy Markets are, I thought that the possibility of finding a garden hose nozzle would probably be significantly higher there than at the harbour. Not to say that I didn't enjoy the sight, though:

The last time I came here it was full of boats. Today it's tranquil.

Can't remember the Ferris Wheel, though,

And of course, no touristic place would be complete without a nice cafe.
I've actually never been into any Hard Rock Cafe but I always like to look at them.

Anyways, enough sightseeing, it was time to continue my quest because it was half past six already and in my vague memory I could recall that the shops close at six. If I wasn't in such a hurry I would've just sat by the water as always, maybe witness the sunset. But I know that the garden hose nozzle was sitting somewhere on a lonely shelf waiting to be picked up. Yea, I must have thought so much about products as an Industrial Design student that I'm starting to assign human aspects to them. Don't mind me. Just go on and stare at some pictures:

Up to Paddy's Market.

Not before taking a look at this lovely water playground, though. Wish I was a child here.
I could even smell this playground as I stepped on those stones because Australia's water has a particular scent.

I swear that these birds are everywhere. At uni they terrorise whoever that has lunch in their hands.

While wandering through Sydney like this, there was something I kept noticing, besides the beautiful views and the reflections around me due to the shiny buildings. It was the smell. I remember walking on the Main Walkway at UNSW thinking: Australia smells kinda nice, just fresh and like home. At Central Station that thought soon changed like: oh, right, piss-stained pavement, Amsterdam. Then I was near the playground and the smell would vary from the scent of water to that of animals.

I'm slowly starting to find my comfort in Australia. Finally settling down, being more at ease. Just look at me, randomly exploring Sydney without planning to, despite having a deadline and exam next week. I am almost dreading the thought of returning to the Netherlands at the beginning of January and being bored and confined to my dutch room in winter. I hope I'm not getting too excited here, though, because I am slowly running out of places to go. I should do some more internet research.

But let's go back to my journey:

China Town! We're getting closer to Paddy's Market.

But first, let's take a look at this shopping mall...

Nope, no Garden Hose Nozzle here. Just frustration. I spend 6 dollars a week on one bar of this chocolate and here they dare to sell it for 2.50 dollars. It's torture. T.T I could've bought it. But ... must ... resist ... the ... temptation... e.o

Apparently, Paddy's Market is only open from Wednesdays till Sundays. This means that the last two hours were spent shutter-spamming than actually getting a garden hose nozzle. Not bad, I shouldn't complain. I truly like to roam around on my own. Being here makes me feel like I can make a good story out of my life, since I know I won't come back anytime soon. Maybe my nervousness and fear of failure is driving me to go out more often in Sydney. There is this unspoken expectation from people, and myself, to do something when you're abroad, because you're supposed to have the time of your life. Still, this garden hose nozzle was no fun and I was getting desperate. As it was nearing 6 o'clock, I asked my beloved garden hose nozzle the following:

Please ... Tell me...

As if the gods of Industrial Design heard my desperate plea, I found myself in a supermarket. There he was, in its 9 dollar splendour with seven (yes, seven!) functions. Whoohoo. Like I'd ever use such a thing:

You rip-off.

I can't believe I actually spent 9 dollars on something I'm about to wreck just to take a look at the insides. I could've bought three chocolate bars with that money. Hazelnut is hands down my favourite one. Picnic is not bad either, it is filled with peanuts, toffee and rice crisps. If you get a chance, also try Fruit&Nuts, it's almond with sultanas.

Then again I'm such a good student, trying to start her assignment three weeks beforehand. Hahaha, just kidding. Garden hose nozzles will never be the same for me anymore. It has marked its presence in my history and Blog Archive. That's quite an achievement, don't you think? That sneaky bastard.