If you live so far away...

.... you're doomed to a life of goodbyes. Goodbye to your hubby when you leave home to fly to your old home. Goodbye to your friends and dad when you're leaving old home to go back to new home.
8 flights in just over 2 weeks, 4 nights in hotels and many many MANY hours sitting in an incredibly small seat in a flying tin box.
I've got to laugh when I think about my doc telling me not to stress and above all not to exhaust myself by lifting heavy weighs or not resting enough. ahahaha... he should see me now, with 1 trolley, 1 huge backpack and 1 disappointingly big purse (so big that the hostess at the check in was actually considering if I could take it with me or not).
No wonder my heart is struggling, a tear every time I leave.
But then again, it was my choice.
So I will stop whinging now and start b!tch!ng.
Yes, cause I think it's unbelievable that in the year 2011, that is 5 years after they introduced the rules forbidding to take liquids such as bottles of water in the plane, there's still people who feigns not knowing that and they try and smuggle in bottles of wine, olive oil, water, I've even seen a fabric softener...!!!!!! What on earth do they need fabric softener for??? In an airplane??? Do they want to wash up some clothes between a movie and a snooze??? No, seriously, don't they have fabric softener in their countries? It is so weird that I really start thinking they have explosives in there!
Anyway, the apparently soft but ultimately very strict surveillance at the gate finds the bottles, confiscates them and try and avoid an argument with the above mentioned family feigning ignorance.
And the rest of the airport waits for them. Patiently... some... yelling... some others.
I'm not yelling but I am starting to mumble loudly.
You cannot take a full bottle of fabric softener with you on the plane mate!!! Get over it!!!!!!!!!
They finally cave with everyone's relief and the queue starts moving again.
But we're all jittery now, will there be other einsteins before we can finally go through the gates and dedicate ourselves to our most beloved activity, window shopping?
Luckily there's only average joe bloggs in front of me and in 10 minutes I'm already sitting at the bar and sipping an orange juice, waiting for boarding to begin.
No window shopping this time, too many heavy bags to drag around.
Well, maybe i could just pop in that shop over there, it's not too far ;-) 

Laugh and the world will laugh with you, cry and you'll cry alone

It's a quote from a movie, well I've heard it the first time in a movie (Oldboy, korean movie from the year 2003).
The main character is kidnapped for no apparent reason and kept prisoner in a room with 3 meals per day and a tv and a picture on a wall for many years.
The picture on the wall had this quote on it.
When I saw it the first time I thought it was very deep, yes, people do tend to stick to those of us who they think will bring only laughter in their lives and they also tend to keep off the ones with problems.
People in general, not friends, not family, at least that's the way it should be, I thought when I saw the movie for the first time.
Then years went by and I had both time and occasions to change my mind on the veracity of this quote time and time gain.
Italians tend to be sympathetic, we open our hearts and ears and offer our support and love to those in need.
Sometimes we even go too far, there's no denying that. I mean, compared to the rest of the world we're deemed emotional and the result is that our sympathy is sometimes perceived as invasive, inappropriate.
I agree, especially because I come from the north, where we tend to be more private and even secretive about our own problems, there's a lot of sayings in my region all bringing to the conclusion that it's better to smile even when you're crying inside.
Now, that presents a problem sometimes, since we also tend to not ask for help, but we do expect our loved ones to understand when it's time to give us their love.
Once I tried to explain all that to my australian husband and I realised immediately how abstruse this is.
Why not speaking up and asking directly for what we need? How can we pretend that friends and family understand we need their comfort if all we say is that we're fine and we keep on smiling.
I agree, don't get me wrong, simplicity is always the best thing.
But there is oh so much that I miss about my culture.
Going to a friend's place and communicating your deepest sorrows with a look and being understood and cared for without words.
How ironic, I speak a few languages but sometimes I really detest having to use words.
How can you be expected to explain the sense of loss you're feeling in front of all your worries, from health problems to financial problems to well, everything else.
I miss being able to communicate with gestures.
Telling a friend that I'm really sorry for her loss by squeezing her arm, listening to another friend's doubts about the future and expressing participation by frowning and looking at her intently.
Not having to justify being stressed simply because your friends might not completely know what's going on but they sure know that if they see you like that it means you are not well and you need them.
We will all think of a solution and act on it, we're all responsible adults and behave accordingly without complaining cause that's what our parents told us to do, "get over it and pick yourself up", maybe that's the reason why we do not vocalise our worries, we do not cry in public, we don't proclaim to the world that we 're in trouble, but that doesn't mean we don't need affection like everyone else.
I'm not discussing whether it's right or wrong, I'm just saying it's different.

do the banks know the money belongs to us?????

As a catholic born and raised I tend to feel guilty for whatever reason.
Being a traveller with a fairly open mind I try to question everything they tell me.
Being exhausted by the recent events and by this heart condition I speak up when I see an abuse.
Do the banks know that they do NOT own our money????
I tried to make a transfer to an overseas account and I was told by a very lazy clerk that it would have been very difficult.
No other explanation was offered, and since she thought that what she said would have made me change my mind she turned back to the extremely productive job of filing her nails.
Now, don't try me when I'm tired and cranky cause I can swear in 10 languages!
It's my money, not yours and if I want to give it all to charity I can! Heck I can even chuck it down the drain if I want, wouldn't be a pretty sight, but it would certainly make a point!
Since I don't move and I stare at her nails showing that I have all the time in the world, she finally raises her head again and looks at me with a quizzical expression.
I repeat my request, this time without a question mark at the end.
She rolls her eyes and turns to her colleague, also very busy.
After a short exchange of opinions they inform me that there's this new law that says that for certain transfers you need the permission of the bank supervisor (or something like that), and this guy is obviously on holidays.
oh boy am I getting pissed!
1. I ask for the written info of this new law
2. I demand to see the supervisor's supervisor
3. I make clear that I won't leave without my money
Silence, they realise that my eyes have gone a bright red and they emanate laser beams.
To cut a long story short I did get what I wanted, but once again I had to get unpleasant and I really do not like that.
I wonder what's got into them to think they can just withhold your money like that!!

"There's an angel...

... 'cos I've been told that salvation lets their wings unfold".
I believe that there's an angel protecting each one of us, I'm not a religious person but I think of angels as of beings, sometimes human and alive among us, sometimes our beloved ones that are not there anymore.
I believe that love does not die with us and its form still lingers on around us and does its best to protect us from harm.
Granted, my angel sometimes needs a wake up call! Drriiiiiiing! Angeeeel? Are you there???? 'cos I need some help right now you know!
I don't usually ask for help to people, but I'm not ashamed of asking for help to my angel.
I believe they're to be found in that advise from a stranger that suddenly showed me the right way or the loving words of a friend that lifted up my spirits, or that ray of light that brought back hope.
I believe that behind every selfless act of love and care there's an angel looking out for us.
I ask myself where I would be if I hadn't received that extra, completely unexpected help I could count on in many difficult situation I've been through.
I kid myself thinking that I've made it all thanks to my own strength and determination, the truth is we're all lost sometimes and we need comfort.
I like to think that my mum is somewhere up there looking at me and wondering "How can I help her this time?", although it might sound like a romantic idea at best or even a childish one, there's no limit to what you can do when you feel sheltered.
Many cultures affirm the existence of angels even though they might call them in different ways, I'm keen to recognise bodhisatvas as "human" angels for example. Their only goal on earth is to help us out, who can say that they do not exist? Who can honestly say they've never been helped by a kind stranger? And in a totally unexpected way that was just what they needed right then. No hidden agenda, no asking for something back, what can this be if not pure love? And I'm not talking "being nice to me at the office" acts of love, I'm talking "saving my life" acts of love or said in a more sophisticated way, acts that changed the course of events in such a way that we avoided a tragic outcome.
Anyway, I don't know if there's many of us believers around, what I do know is that mine is here with me and it's doing double shifts trying to protect me!

From Venice airport.. oh the humanity!

Crowded as I've never seen it! Seriously, I've been flying in and out of this airport since 1990 and in 21 I've never seen so much people dragging suitcases around walking aimlessly to look at the shops and trying to buy the very last souvenir before going home.
If they even try and say that Venice has had no tourists this year because of the GFC I'd like to invite them to take a flight today...good luck!
It must be because last week was officially the last week of holidays in europe but nonetheless I would have expected the crowds on saturday and sunday, not on a monday afternoon!
Anyway, I'm here, waiting to board, still a bit shaken by the pushing and shoving.
The security check is practically nil, well, if you think about the passport it is actually nil, since I've done the check in online, I've printed the boarding pass at the machines in the airport hall, and I've passed the electronic gate showing only the ticket, no passport.
I could have been travelling just as easily with someone else's ticket, unless they're going to do a proper check at the boarding.
The number of people shopping hard is unbelievable, where do they find the money for a 16.000 euros ring????? And I've seen them buying it, really, my word! And it wasn't even that beautiful! Full of diamonds, yes, but a bit kitsch for my taste.
Simplicity is elegance, if you want to buy something eccentric you have to remember that for that price you'll have to wear it for the rest of your life, do you really want to wear a huge flower shaped diamond ring for the rest of your life? I wouldn't.
That's why I opted for a smaller one!!! ahahahah!!!! no, I didn't buy it, but when you're in the middle of a splurging crowd you can't help but feel left out if you don't contribute at least a little bit!
Maybe that's a new marketing strategy, make people feel like they belong only if they participate to the shopping.
Anyway the ring I saw is very simple yet elegant and not at all that expensive considering that it's got 3 diamonds.... listen to me!!! What am I saying??? Geez, this place is dangerous!!!
I travel light, sleep in hostels to save some dollars and then I spend them on a ring????
Have I gone Italian again?
Next thing I know, I'll get myself a lypo and a spraytan...
Ok, let's calm down and read a bit, that will help me to level up!

Day of the Warrior, Year of the Tiger

17th of February 1974, Day of the Warrior, Year of the Tiger.
That's when I was born.
I'm here to fight my way through life, sometimes I have to remind it to myself.
Since I was a small kid I learnt that crying gets you nothing more than more crying, if I wanted something I had to deserve it, and most of the time I had to get it myself.
I've had wonderful examples to look up to in my existence, my mother first of all, never stopping the fight against cancer first and ALS later.
I've never been scared of facing the world whatever it brought me, from life saving decisions in hospitals to life changing decisions between continents, and I shouldn't be scared now only because it concerns something that I cannot control.
But since I can still fight I decided this is what I will do.
I will not take the medicines.
I know that it sounds like the exact opposite of fighting, it sounds like I'm letting it go and take the best of me, but that's not true.
My decision is based on a very important choice.
If I take the drugs my life will be forever dependent on them, I will have to go around with a note in my pocket with the name of the medicine for the anaesthetist in case I need emergency surgery, I won't be able to have a normal pregnancy, nor will I be able to nurse, not to mention the fact that I will have to live a life in constant caution and fear, always careful to what I do, always listening to my heart, is it beating ok?
Because of all this I decided not to take it.
I've had to face much worse things in life and this is not a good time to become weak, I have to go on and make things as simple as possible in order to be able to finally start living my own way with hopes and dreams.
I choose to live with the uncomfortable sensation that my heart is stopping and the hope that it will start beating again, the feeling of loneliness of having something that no one can see, of being walking along the streets among people and knowing that inside me there is something unique and so different that no one can really understand.
My heart is my soul, by rejecting the medicines I choose to accept who I am, I accept the fact that I've been born this way.
I do not expect everyone to understand that, but this is the way it is.
This is the way of the Warrior.   

Like a fresh water fish in the Ocean

That's how I feel when I go to Italy.
A bit confused in how I got there, and starting to realise this is not my place.
I guess I've been away for so long that I simply missed the way my fellow citizens look at life and everything that goes with it.
In August Italians are beautiful, skinny, tanned, driving expensive new cars, wearing expensive designer clothes and drowning in debt.
Since I'm none of that I can't help but feel intimidated by my own country.
I don't dislike it, I'm actually enjoying seeing my friends but I'm sure they look at me and they see an alien.
I've never looked specifically italian, but at least when I was a blonde fair skinned teen ager I wasn't the only one.
Anyway, I'm grateful to be here since the doctor I've seen yesterday finally gave me a diagnosis for my heart problem.
And I think in a couple of days I might even feel more at ease to be looked at by everyone when I walk down the street.
I seem to recall that that's the way it is here and that it didn't bother me as much years ago, now if I notice someone looking at me I just think that I might have something wrong, maybe the label of my t-shirt is sticking out! No, they're just looking, scrutinising my clothes because they're obviously not from around here and if they like them they most certainly want to know where I got them.
Man simply look at women for appreciation, women look at women for confrontation.
I wonder if this is the basis for my own form of voyeurism, photography, after all my favourite form of photography is portrait and whenever I go to Asia I come back with hundreds of photos of strangers caught in their daily routines.
Sometimes it's awkward though like this guy who invited me out for drinks yesterday at the bus stop, even though I mentioned Steve like a gazillion times ("Yeah I live in Australia with my husband Steve...". "My husband Steve has run the marathon last week end...", "We travel a lot Steve and I..."), he did not desist and asked me for my number, at that point I had to be plainly rude and told him I do not want to go out with him. How could he even think I was going to say yes, are there women in Italy giving out their numbers to strangers at the bus stop?
Maybe I'm exaggerating or maybe I just miss Steve and my kitties.
It's hot here, yesterday according to my dad it was 37 degrees. Of course after a couple of years in Australia this feels like a pleasant warm end of spring to me and I look puzzled at my complaining friends sweating and feeling exhausted from the heat.
When I went to the pharmacy to purchase the beta blockers I noticed that the at the check out instead of all the usual traps for impulse buy they normally display (like candies for kids f.e.), they put a complete range of products against dehydration and heat stroke and a woman was buying 300 euros worth of stuff with a painful look on her face.
I wonder if I took this woman and put her cold turkey into the australian 45 degrees 90% humidity summer what would she do?
Oh well, everyone likes to complain about the weather, as a matter of fact I think weather comes second after the government and before the boss at work.
I don't complain about the weather here, but I do complain about the bl**dy mozzies!
We don't have tiger mosquitoes anymore, but your average joe blogg mozzie will do just as much damage to my ankles, why didn't I bring the deet!!

From Dubai Airport (and the slowest internet connection in the world)

Soooo sloooow I'm not sure I'm going to be able to post this.
Just flew into Dubai from Bangkok on an Emirates flight.
I have to say the first experience I had with Emirates 2 years ago wasn't good. The staff was rude, the flight was late, the suitcase was ruined when it arrived, the food was terrible and the in-flight entertainment was not working properly.
The only reason I chose to fly with Emirates again is that it was the cheapest flight from Bangkok to Venice and also because on paper it doesn't look bad, Dubai is in fact exactly half way between Bangkok and Venice. 6 hours flight to Dubai and then another 6 hours to Venice with a layover of 4 hours to stretch my legs, certainly more appealing than 11 hours flight to Moscow and a short layover and then another 5 hours flight to Venice, or even the other alternative that would have seen me flying to Istanbul in the morning an d fly out in the evening.
A few days before the flight to Bangkok I received an invitation from Emirates to upgrade my economy seat to a business one for a few dollars. I jumped and upgraded immediately cause I knew that even thought the upgrade was only from the Dubai Venice leg it would have meant having the possibility to rest at the Business Lounge between the 2 flights and since the flight to Bangkok was exhausting for my heart, I stand by my decision.
Once in Bangkok and checking in I was upgraded to Business also for the leg Bangkok to Sydney, therefore I had the opportunity to check what it means to fly Business with this airline.
The seats are almost 180 degrees reclinable and the cabin is really cool with the ceiling that illuminates with the stars constellations when the lights are dimmed.
The screen was almost as big as my computer's at home and the choice of programmes was good.
Food was disappointing, but who cares, I got to sleep and that's what I needed most!
I'm now in the Business Lounge and my neck is still very stiff (I think it's psychological, every time I fly to Europe it becomes bad).
But yesterday I had a great day!
After I finished the beer at the Cool Corner Pub I ventured towards the river, the Chao Praya with the idea of taking some photos from the banks.
While I was walking there I was approached by a guy who asked me all sorts of questions about my camera and when I told him I was thinking about taking photos from the river banks he suggested I took a river cruise.
I did that a few years ago so I wasn't interested but when I arrived at the river I saw that there was a company proposing a special cruise not along the Chao Praya but in the inner canals where the boat houses where.
I've never done that so I bought a ticket, excited by the fact that the monsoon was clearly approaching.
After many times of travelling in South-East Asia I know what that means: play time!
Every kid stops working and they start jumping into the river like mad, great opportunities for photos!
And so it was!
As soon as the monsoon started not only did I get some shots of kids diving into the water but I also got a shot of a monk feeding the fishes and of a huge ( and I mean huge) lizard climbing out of the water to the steps of one of the boat houses.
Ok, I know it was technically not a lizard, but do I dare say Varano? Now, see, Varano is the italian word, and right now the english one just escapes me.
Anyway it was similar to an australian goanna.
Except that it was huge, scary and swimming like a champ.
Now, that was the good part.
The bad part was that the rain didn't stop, it went on and on and on and in the end of the cruise it was still raining buckets so that I just took a taxi to the train station and the train to go back to the hotel.
My mistake was to think that by getting off close to the hotel it wouldn't have taken long to get back.
Wrong! Since it was raining the traffic was it its worst and everyone seemed completely nuts, honking and swearing and accelerating and the stopping all of a sudden.
Out of the train station I crossed a bridge (mind you at this time I was already soaked) to get a taxi in the main street. I had to wait a while and I couldn't belive my luck when finally one free taxi pulled over and let me in.
Now, since it was raining I didn't really notice something extremely odd about the taxi.
As soon as I was inside I started noticing that there were Hello Kitty gadgets everywhere.
Everywhere means: the seat belts, the rearview mirror, the windows, the head rests, not to talk about the how the guy was dressed: one white shirt with Hello Kitty sleeves, pink... yeah, pink!
I had enough time to take it all in cause the guy was very sweet but he got the wrong way a couple of times and to do 3 km it took us more than one hour.
Granted, the traffic was bad, but when for the second time I saw the now familiar sign of the train station I started panicking.
What if he doesn't know where he's going?
Aren't we all a little bit scared of taxi drivers?
I mean how many horror movies have they made with a murderer disguised as a taxi driver? Well, I can think of at least one, the Bone Collector!
But this one wasn't or if he was he was on his day off, since at the end we arrived at destination.
I wanted to ask him if he liked Hello Kitty, but the question would have sounded redundant besides I was really happy to be finally at the hotel and I was still drenched and in need of a hot shower!

At the "Cool Corner" Pub in Bangkok

Ok, so this morning after noticing that the local market was still closed I decided to go to the city centre.
I tried to take a taxi but found out pretty soon that taxis from the area do not go to the city, it's too far, too much traffic and once they get there there will be no one that wants to come back here.
Fair enough, I walk to the nearest train station, take a train to Phaya Thai and then a bus to Kao San.
Sved myseld 400 TB.
As soon as I hit Kao San I realise that the main language is Dutch.
There's so many dutch tourist that in many places they've learnt a bit of dutch in order to be able to negotiate the prices.
Not that there's a lot of negotiation around.
Many of the stalls, especially the ones selling clothes, display a notice that saiys that the prices are fixed.
Of course that doesn't really mean anything.
I still scored a 50% discount on a couple of shirts, but the passion with which I had seen vendors defend their goods in the past is gone.
Maybe because it's the middle of august and it's way too hot and humid to be passionate about anything.
My hair has quickly switched to my South-East Asia mode: big and curly.
Fine by me, the 80's are back aren't they?
I order a large Singha Beer at the Cool Corner Pub.
There's a lot of Italians as well.
You can spot them immediately.
Actually you can even tell how long they've been to Thailand by the way they dress.
The ones who just arrived are still very well dressed, medium to high heels, or those 300euros gucci sandals that hurt your feet but they are so glamorous. Men wear a polo, usually Lacoste or Ralph Lauren.
Women go around with designer leather bag and they flaunt it, where else would they be able to do that if not on holidays?
The ones that have been here a while are showing a very interesting phenomenon of assimilation and disguise.
They're all wearing the famous thai half trousers half skirts, even the men.
Many of them might have super serious jobs with suits and ties and meetings and church on sunday mornings, except in summer when of course churches are deserted because everyone is at the beach, tanning.
You've got to set priorities in life!
When they come here, they ditch the tie to put on a rainbow coloured cotton head band.
They leave the gucci leather bags at the hotel (because they realise that here they can find cheap knock offs for 1/100 the price they paid for the originals, and they look exactly the same, no matter what they tell you), and they sport multi colours linen shoulder bags and flip flops instead of heels.
In a few words... they've gone ethnic!
With style though, they're still Italian after all!
I can't help observing people, and I'm sure someone is doing exactly the same to me right now.
Single lady with a wedding ring but no sign of the husband, big heavy professional camera sipping a large beer. What's her story?
Ask me when I'm back in a couple of weeks! 

In Bangkok...yep, again!

Ok, the flight was veery bumpy! But I have to say the in flight entertainment is definitely much better than the last time I flew with BA and the food wasn't as revolting.
One down, 7 more to go before arriving back home.
It's a long way to Tipperary.
We were early so I had time to walk in the arrival hall at the airport before the representative from the hotel I'm staying in arrived to pick me up.
Remembering how much Steve was struggling with the tipping system at the beginning of our trip to Nepal and India I immediately looked for an ATM in order to collect some Thai Baths.
The problem is that they always give you large notes, like 30$ a piece and you can't possibly tip that, it's the price of the hotel room!
So I went to a small grocery store and bought some water (remembering also that the taste of the free water at the hotel was a bit odd) to get my change.
Now I'm good to go.
Right on time, as soon as I got back I found the guy from the hotel waiting for me.
5 minutes ride and I'm in my room now, stripped down to singlet and shorts since the temperature here is obviously much higher than back in Sydney, although it's raining outside.
I've already arranged for a drop off at the airport tomorrow night so that I will have some time to explore the area in the afternoon.
It should be interesting as there's always some market full of amazing food and countless possibilities for photos.
Although I'm still very sad to be away from home, I'm trying not to get whiny and make the most of this.
South-East Asia is possibly one of my favourite regions in the world!
The colours, the smells, the hassle of the markets, the architecture, the monks wearing saffron coloured robes, the motorbikes swinging in the traffic with 3 kids and 1 adult on board, the pink tuk tuks, the gold everywhere.
All these little things contribute to render the atmosphere of a warm country, green and luscious  with vegetation constellated with chalk white temples with wonderful red roofs and orange steps with the majestic Nagas at their sides, the regal snakes protecting the sanctity of the place.
The first time I was here it was the time I met Steve and I will always think of Bangkok with fondness for that.
We were both impressed by the richness of details that could be found anywhere in the Royal Palace.
We gaped in awe at the Reclining Buddha and bowed with respect at the Jade Buddha.
We savoured the green curry rice and tried the gorgeous Pad Thai.... jeez, I'm getting hungry now!
Anyway, time to go to sleep, it is past 3.30 AM for me and last night I couldn't sleep at all so I better get some rest.

From Sydney Airport

Leaving seems to be getting harder each time.But today I wasn't the only sad face at the airport, as a matter of fact I don't think I've ever seen so many tears all at once, kids separating from mothers, girlfriends from boyfriends, I think I've even seen a couple of business associates welling up.
Must be something in the air, or maybe because it's a glorious day, weather wise.
Anyway, going to the gate now, after splurging (inadvertently though) on my favorite yum cha dish (Siu Mae).
I just hope the in flight entertainment will be good, I wouldn't mind watching HP7 again.
Travel on.

Census or is it a pre-carbon tax?

A few years ago I was preparing my post-grad dissertation on Population Trends and Migration Patterns in one of the biggest European metropolis.
As one of the experts in Ethnical Minorities from South-East Asia and the Indian Sub-continent, my professor was asked to deploy a certain amount of her students to review the old census forms and come up with a proposal that would have (if successful) identified more efficiently the key differences of the extremely variegated population of that city.
It was a project that took a couple of years to be completed, ironically we realised that in order to come up with a proper list of questions we would have had to test numerous "mini" censuses on our own.
We knew what the results would have shown but we had some difficulty in finding the right questions that would have brought out the most truthful results.
It was fun.
No, seriously! It was FUN!
Well, at least I had a great time, maybe because I'm curious, but I think it's fascinating to get to know so many details about the lives of so many strangers, where they come from, how they live, what their goals are etc...
That's why when I heard there was going to be a census here in Sydney I was actually excited!
I couldn't wait to read the questions and by this try and understand what this country is interested in knowing about myself.
Well, apparently this country doesn't care if I have pets, if I use the council's facilities, if I use private health care or public, if I read books or newspapers, if I have any living relative, if I use the public transport other than to go to work, if I am part of any club, society, party, circle of friends, if I do charity other than working as a volunteer, if I know how to swim, if I can read, how many hours I spend at home in a week, if I've been overseas, what my wishes for the future are.
What this country DOES care about is: my job,my job's title, my job's mansions, my job's address, my yearly income, how do I go to work, how many cars do I own.
I might be wrong but this looks more like a pre-screening for the application of the carbon-tax than an actual census.
Vital questions are completely left out and there seems to be a sort of an obsession on a citizen's taxable items.
Honestly I think we might just make a copy of our tax return forms and send that one as census!

My faves

My faves, a set on Flickr.

here's a collection of my best shots

Now I know

It took a few years but yesterday I finally had a revelation.
Subtle as all real breakthrough, it came to me without big bangs or fireworks but just in the shape of a thought I never considered but once it was formed it felt so familiar it looked it had been with me for ages.
I was in so much pain yesterday that when Steve was trying to cheer me up I couldn't even smile.
Instead I looked at him and kept my lips still and tightened, probably slightly bent downwards as well.
And then I knew.
That was the expression my mum always had when my dad and I tried to cheer her up.
So many times, everything, we really tried everything, but the smile wasn't coming and we thought that meant she was upset with us.
She was always smiling, always fighting, but in the end she wan't and she just looked at us from a distant place, her eyes non focused, her lips closed.
I always thought she was judging us for not being able to make her feel better.
Yesterday when the pain was so strong I couldn't even manage a smile for Steve I got it.
She wasn't upset, she wasn't judging, she was just in pain.
When she was shaking her head it wasn't because she had given up on us,  but because she had given up on herself.
It took 3 hours for the pain to go away yesterday and at the end the difference in my mood was appalling. When I was agonising I thought all hope had left me, pain can do that. And yesterday for me it was only for 3 hours, she was in pain for many years, it was miracle of strenght and courage she even managed to smile the times she did.
If anything good is coming out of this is that now I know.