Melbourne Calling

So, tomorrow I am moving to Australia.

This is, first of all, not something I expected to be doing with my life. All St Bees students were aware of the idea of doing a gap year in Australia but it never even occurred to me that I would want to go there. I didn't know anything about it and there were too many places I did know about that I knew I wanted to visit for it to feature highly on my priority-visit list. The reason for the change in circumstances is a certain ginger from Melbourne, but that's another story. And the current chapter is this - me moving to Australia.

There has been a lot of organisation involved in this move which is possibly my favourite part but also the part I am sometimes shockingly bad at. For example until a few hours ago I was labouring under the belief that my flight was at 7.20pm tomorrow when in fact it is 9.15pm and always has been. Fortunately not a particularly dangerous mistake. Finding a visa has been my biggest headache so far. Currently, I am entering the country under visa subclass 417 - Working Holiday, which entitles me to work no longer than six months under any one employer, nor study for more than four months. This does limit my options somewhat. I am going to be applying for a Partner Visa, but since Lachy and I are not currently married nor will we be in the next nine months (very suspicious specification, Australian Immigration) we have to prove that we are in a de facto relationship, which really isn't as easy as explaining the whole 136/Laurelbank/Lion in Winter backstory (unfortunately). So that won't be going through until we have some official 'proof'.

Another minor/major headache has been searching for a job from a different hemisphere. Carefully selected search engine keywords and Google Maps can only get you so far when you don't know a city very well. I've applied for a handful of things that have taken my interest and I'm hoping that once I'm actually there with a bag full of CVs the process will become easier. At least I'll be able to start finding the sort of job that's advertised with a STAFF WANTED sign and that might be able to make me some money in the short term. On that note, I've also got to set up a bank account once I arrive, get a Tax File number, apply for a Medicare card, and move into a new flat with my fiancé.

Moving into my first flat! In a city! Actually I lived in a flat in London when I was a baby but that's like when a random family friend claims to know you because they met you when you were a toddler. As far as I'm concerned, it never happened. I don't know what the flat looks like yet but I already bought a coaster and a metre of fabric. In other words I'm totally prepared?

I have also been spending a lot of time on Pinterest, which is both a wonderful place and a dangerous one. I have been looking at chalkboard paint and having ideas.

Currently I am mid-Coke because last night I stayed up until 2am (not an achievement by the standards of my night-owl friends, but it is for me!) and slept until noon, with a brief interlude where I said bye to my parents, who have abandoned me in London with my cousins. I am feeling very fatigued but also like it is about 2pm. I don't know whether this is really going to help or not but tonight I aim to stay up until 3 or 4am and sleep most of the day, until my aunt comes to collect me for some last-minute sightseeing. Then I will very cleverly stay awake until it is an appropriate time to go to sleep in Australia and avoid jetlag all together. Yeah, right.

So. I'm going. For real. And it suddenly doesn't seem very important at all that I have no idea what I want to do as a career (or rather, too many ideas), which, for an unemployed graduate, is very refreshing. I'm going on an adventure!

Summer in the City: WWI Centenary

Yesterday was an important day for the UK as it marked 100 years since the government declared war on Germany. Once again, oddly enough, I found myself in the right place at the right time, in the capital on the 4th of August. Yet my first stop was to visit a group of women who were not commemorating the onset of war.

The Women's International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF) held a rally opposite Holborn tube station, near the site of Kingsway Hall (no longer in existence), recreating a rally held exactly 100 years before, in which suffragists petitioned the government not to enter the war. Though their petitions were ignored then, the WILPF, founded by several of the women who organised the rally, now works with the UN on women's issues.

The women made the most of the opportunity to draw parallels with modern wars, urging the government to cease selling arms and pursue negotiation instead. It was an interesting way to begin the day - a reminder, while we are remembering the sacrifice that so many people made, that the best way to honour the deaths of millions is to ensure that no more have to die as they did.

My next stop was St James' Park, where an extraordinary exhibition by photojournalist Michael St Maur Sheil displayed photos of WWI battlefields as they are today - beautiful, quiet places. Well worth a visit and the exhibition is open until the 11th of November (Remembrance Day).

On the Mall next to the park I stumbled upon the parade which had taken place earlier that morning, made up of Chelsea Pensioners and cars that would have been on the roads at the time that war was declared, parked up by the side of the road. Talking to a kid, one pensioner patted his red coat and called himself Father Christmas. "Thirty-eight years in the army. This is what I've got."

At 10pm lights went out across London. Though it wasn't a total blackout for safety's sake, it was still an impressive sight when the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben and Tower Bridge were plunged into darkness.

Skyros 2014: Flying Visit

In September 2013 I started fundraising in earnest for my favourite pony conservation project, Skyros Island Horse Trust. Over the academic year there was a bop (my university's name for... a disco? Okay, there's no other name for it) which wouldn't have been possible without the help of many supportive friends, a fantastic amount was crowdfunded through Indiegogo, and the sales of a children's book I had written called The Orfead added a few pounds too. The object? To buy vital supplies to deliver to the remote island by car, with a week's stay on the island as a reward for the hard-working drivers.

Except a few months before the trip was due to head off, many volunteers had arisen, and many had dropped away into the void again. Finally two girls from STAAG (St Andrews Adventure Group), Emily and Casey, took on the challenge, put in the hours at university ball cloakrooms to raise enough money for petrol, and drove my car across Europe with a boot full of horse feed and muck scoops. 

In the midst of the driver-no-driver crisis I resolved that I would go to Skyros myself in June, with suitcases crammed full of supplies if need be. When it became clear that this would not be necessary (thank goodness) the flights were already booked and - poor me - I had to go to the Greek island anyway.

Here are some snippets from my diary from the trip.

4th June

Set off at 11am, reached Manchester 5pm, flew at 10.15pm, arrived Athens 4.30am. Tried to sleep in various public places, used all my internet allowance, sent many texts, read two books, made many lists. Possibly going crazy. Hoping no one weighs my hand luggage. 

Later - arrived in Skyros. Three other volunteers - Ilya, Corey, Anna, all lovely. We have music and fairy lights. [Their names are actually Elia, Corie and Anna!]

5th June

Long chats with Amanda, lots of memories of Dimos coming back. Asking him if leggy beasts [hornets] could sting - he said "I wouldn't want to find out". He & Karen telling each other riddles. Not wanting to hug when I left because he was sweaty. Up late drinking wine and chatting.

6th June

Practised festival parades with mares and stallions. [Preparing for the first Skyros Horse Festival]. Trying very hard not to scratch my mosquito bites.

Poster for the festival (I am on the left!)

8th June

Raining in the morning so we slept for two hours after the muckout. I began training Klio to lie down for the festival and then we went to Takos [the farmer next door]. He gave us each two beers, bread and cheese. 

9th June

Went to Takos' at 9.30pm for dinner. It was served at 11.30. All the Greek men kept refilling our glasses. [Including the mayor!] We drank until 3am. Takos made us all bracelets. Mine says AΓOGO which means horse. Takos said I look like a Skyrian girl! Elia and Anna slept outside. 

10th June

Went to Skyros town in the afternoon, had souvlaki, sent cards for Dad's birthday and did some shopping. Worked the horses until it was dark and the moon was huge. Klio lay down five times this evening.

11th June

Shepherd's pie for lunch!

12th June

In the evening we ran through the outline of the festival performance twice and Amanda was over the moon. We ate crisps and drank beer on the roof of the house under the full moon. [One year before, in the June full moon of 2013, Karen, Julietta, Amanda and I lay in the fields with the horses under the stars.]

13th June

Said goodbye to Skyros.

Though this was my most brief trip to Greece so far, it was perhaps the greatest. The sense of community with four teenage to early twenties volunteers crammed into one room was so lovely, and when you're working hard side by side each day you bond basically at once (how can I forget Corie crying at the story of how I got engaged, about forty-five minutes after I'd met her?). I didn't take a day off throughout but I didn't need to since every day I was so grateful just to be there and spend time with Amanda and my new friends. I have promised Stathis, too, that when I return to Skyros I will be able to chat to him in Greek!

Elia, Amanda, Anna, me, and Corie

Before heading back to Scotland for a week in the Perthshire woods I had a day and a night to kill in Athens. It goes to show how much I've changed over the past few years that after finally travelling to Greece solo - without even a friend at my side - I ended up befriending other travellers at the Athens Backpackers (whose Sky Bar has an unbeatable view of the Acropolis at sunset). I had dinner with a girl from South Korea and ended the night drinking with a whole host of Aussies who were travelling with toothpaste tubes of Vegemite (great respect). In the morning I handed over a few euros for a comprehensive walking tour of the city I have now visited three times but never explored for more than a few hours; I am really growing to love Athens. It was a fittingly fantastic end to my trip.

And that leads on to the next big adventure, really. Melbourne, August 2014 - ?

Summer in the City: YALC

[I'd better start with a disclaimer that this is NOT strictly travel unless travelling back to your birth city (hooray... Croydon) and staying with your relatives there almost indefinitely and for no purpose, allowing them to cook your meals and 'looking for a job' while walking out of unpromising job interviews can be considered adventurous.]

Last Thursday I stumbled upon something amazing. @carlybennett had tweeted about her excitement for @yalc_uk. Intriguing. I clicked the mysterious link. And I discovered the UK's first Young Adult Literature Convention was taking place that very weekend, within London's star-studded Film and Comic Con. Alas! Tickets were sold out. But lo! Tickets were to be sold on the door.

Excuse poor photography

Startled to find myself inexplicably in the right place at the right time(!) I rocked up to Earls Court Two at 7.45am and discovered that I was very, very far behind my forward-thinking peers. But once the longest queue I have ever stood in got moving, I was in the door within half an hour, and snapping up tickets to the panels I wanted to attend at the YALC counter.

Over the weekend I attended panels featuring all sorts of literary stars - Patrick Ness, Marcus Sedgwick, Sally Green, Meg Rosoff - but my favourite among them all was 'I'm too sexy for this book', chaired by James Dawson (all hail the Queen of Teen), featuring Cat Clarke, Non Pratt and Beth Reekles. Very innuendo, so laughter. My good friend Jess of the Copenhagen adventure had the time of her life. So did I.

I also entered the ballot for many workshops, of which Lucy Christopher's 'Writing Wild Settings' and Catherine Johnson's 'Writing Historical Fiction' were outstanding. Almost as outstanding as my moment of eye contact with Anthony Head:

Other stars spotted included Lena Headey, Summer Glau and Jason Mewes. I also stood in close proximity to David Wenham while he signed his soul over to Jess. And Karen of the Skyrian adventures was there but we hadn't told each other we were going and it was a very bittersweet and heartbreaking near-miss when I found out later she had been there.

A pretty amazing weekend to start off an unexpected summer in London.

My Second Skyrian Summer - Photo Journal

I decided to articulate this post mainly through photographs, because this wasn't a day trip to Prague but an entire month of my life, and I think in this case fewer words and more pictures will say it better.

At the end of May last year, pretty much as soon as my exams were done, I took a plane to Athens to meet my best buddy Karen.

The two of us stayed the night in a hostel, had a good old fashioned Greek kebab, took a look around the Acropolis and then hopped on a bus to Kymi, and a ferry to Skyros.

You may remember that I had visited Skyros Island Horse Trust the previous year for a couple of weeks. Now I was returning for a month, and bringing horse-crazy Karen with me.

We bought the most delicious, succulent cherries I have ever eaten at the port, and ate them on the journey as the sun set over the Aegean. 

This time there were new characters at the farm: Hara (above), a rescued dog, and Heidi (below) - a goat.

Some animals had been lost, too. Roughly sixteen cats come to the farm to be fed by morning and night, but they weren't exactly the same cats I had met the year before. Leon, the friendly dog, had also died. Hara looks very similar to him and was found abandoned on a beach; it's possible she is his pup.

We settled into the routine quickly enough. Mucking out, feeding, watering, three times a day (for almost 40 horses - no mean feat), and various other jobs as and when, including building a fence, clearing out the stables, and moving horses from field to field.

Taking Ifestos and Nefeli out for a bite of grass among the neighbour's grapevines became one of the highlights of our day.

As were our evening training sessions and lessons in horsemanship with Amanda.

It wasn't horses 24-7, however (well, not quite). One day we collected as many plums as we could from the orchard, boiled them up and made an exquisite crumble for dessert. In my day to day life, crumble is an unremarkable thing. In Skyros, where I can't afford to be picky with my food and snack all day and every meal is the best and most satisfying thing I've ever eaten, that crumble was heaven.

Our days and evenings off in the village were some of the best. Above is a rally against the construction of a huge wind farm on the island (see my article) for which the village turned out in full force. Karen and I ate chicken souvlaki that evening (and never looked back).

Over the month I made real progress with Orfeas, the pony I have adopted. On the final evening I led him out of the paddock where he has lived since he was weaned (again, no mean feat, and with the help of Stathis!) and walked him around in the field. I hardly recognised the pony who used to flinch from being touched when I met him in 2012.

My favourite night on the farm does require some words to articulate, because it was dark. I snapped this photo of the full moon coming up. That night, plans for a dinner on the rooftop terrace went awry, and we were all feeling fairly grumpy. But Julietta made us each a plate for dinner: olives, bread with rosemary oil, tomatoes, cheese. It was the most wonderful, simple meal I've eaten. The four of us - Karen, Amanda, Julietta, and me - talked and drank wine (except for Julietta, of course), and Amanda began telling us how amazing it is to be with horses in the dark when everything is so still and quiet. So we went out into the fields and sat down with the horses and even lay down beside some as they dozed. They came over and snuffed at us, pawed at us, eventually just chilled out with us as though we were part of the herd. It was the most extraordinary evening.

A few days before we left, a ferry tour group came to visit the farm. Karen and I put the skills we had learned to use, along with Julietta, and demonstrated natural horsemanship for the audience. It was the culmination of everything we'd learned, and a fitting end to our time at the farm. That night, I lay out in the stallions' field under the stars until about 2 o'clock while the horses chewed above me and dropped hay on my head, and knew that I would be coming back to Skyros for the rest of my life. 

I would like to dedicate this post to Dimos Kypraios, a true friend and a wonderful man, who died later that summer saving Julietta's life.

For more information about Skyros Island Horse Trust, visit www.skyrosislandhorsetrust.com.

The Kimberley with the Australian Wildlife Conservancy

In my second summer of 2013 (that is, the southern hemisphere summer - and the first dual-summer year of my life!) I was lucky enough to get the chance to visit Mornington Widlife Conservancy, where the privately funded conservation charity, the Australian Wildlife Conservancy, is working to preserve Australia's unique wildlife. I was particularly lucky in getting the opportunity to see a side of the operations that many tourists wouldn't usually be able to see.

Before this Christmas the longest flight I'd ever been on was the four-hour flight from Edinburgh to Athens. Now, having flown around the globe to reach Australia, the four hours from Melbourne to Broome seemed like nothing. Barely time to open your book!

Once we'd landed in Broome it was necessary for us to take a chartered plane to the remote Mornington Conservancy, where the roads and runway are red earth, and colossal termite hills the size of cows rise up above the grass in all directions. I'd never seen anything like it.

Zoom in. That thing that looks like a hut? It's a termite mound

On the runway I met the head researcher, Dr Sarah Legge, and the head of operations, Swanie. Then, over the next hours and days, I met a stream of incredible, dedicated scientists, ops and admin staff. Hours' travel from a town, living in flood-territory huts on stilts where a door left open may well mean a python sharing your bed, these extraordinary people are conducting research, making pizzas and raising children.

It was the oppressive 40 degree heat making my heart race, but I'd fallen in love with Mornington.

Bustards, spotted on day one. Australia's second-largest flightless bird

On our first afternoon we swam in Fitzroy Gorge, where the answer to 'are there crocs here?' was 'we've never seen them here'. A few of us swam to the far shore (I took a rubber ring... I've never been a strong swimmer) where we climbed up onto the rocks and saw Aboriginal rock art on the overhang. Despite being thousands of years old, the handprints were still vivid. I know I'm employing a fair bit of hyperbole here but the sunset was spectacular.

My photography skills can't do it justice at all

When I mentioned my interest in working in conservation Sarah was more than happy to invite everyone to take a closer look at the work they're doing. First, we were invited on a 'cat chase'. Exactly what it sounds.

Feral cats are causing huge problems for native mammals in Australia, each cat consuming roughly five of them per day. That adds up to a lot of mammals. At Mornington, Hugh McGregor is conducting his PhD research on the cats, and has tagged a number of them to track their movements. He needed to re-catch one of them to replace its tracker, and we were invited along for the ride. 

When we set off it was about five o'clock and still by no means cool; on the first day I'd had something of a panic attack about my body's ability to cope with the heat, but I'd adjusted to an extent when we set off walking at a fast pace into the bush.

Pretty soon we were fighting our way through some tall and (really, bloody) sharp spinifex. And we were getting no closer to the cat. After about twenty minutes we had to stop; one of the dogs, a Spaniel not quite made for the heat, had over-exhausted herself by running full pelt and covering about five times as much ground as we had. She lay down and stayed down while water was dribbled into her mouth. Our party had to split in two: those who would go after the cat - at a run - and those who'd stay with Sarah and Sally. 

I ran for about a hundred yards before I realised I was making the wrong decision. I was barely coping with the heat at a fast walk; I knew my limits. Lachy and I turned back and found Sarah. Once Sally had almost recovered, Sarah picked her up and strode through the spinifex carrying her while me and Lachy struggled along in her wake. 

Sally was restored by plenty of water and a dip in the river, and the second group returned one cat later. They had caught the cat and done the necessary maintenance without the need for even a sedative. Exhausted, we were back to camp just in time for stone-fired pizza. 

For our second lesson in applied conservation we were up at 4 o'clock the following morning to check on quoll traps (Hugh having stayed up with the traps all night following the cat chase!). The northern quoll is one of Australia's native marsupials, and their population is monitored at Mornington through trapping nights, during which the quolls are monitored in minute detail, including being tagged and weighed. 

Quoll-weighing

With Hugh monitoring the traps overnight some quolls had already been caught and released. Luckily, when we arrived, two of the traps were occupied! We were privileged to see some of Australia's native nocturnal mammals up close, and they were promptly released afterwards, shooting off before any of us could manage to snap a picture. Hence the lack of a picture. Feel free to Google.

The days we spent at Mornington were the highlight of my Australian Christmas holiday (and that's really saying something). Our daily adventures included helicoptering in to a campfire breakfast atop Fitzroy Bluff - undoubtedly the most spectacular breakfast of my life - to rock-hopping up a dry riverbed to a billabong below a dry waterfall, where water monitors shared the pool with us and a spirit (or a strange wind) stirred up trouble around the teapot.

Your typical Aussie breakfast...

The most memorable moment of the trip, however, is undoubtedly when our al fresco dinner on top of a hill took an unusual turn.

It was the rainy season during our trip, and we watched as some unbelievable rainstorms swept across the savannah. Lightning lit up the bluffs like the Battle of Helm's Deep was taking place beyond. And then one came rolling over us...

As we prepared for dinner, our hearts were stopped as lightning struck about a hundred metres from our dinner spot. The younger members of the group were shocked into tears, while one person worried his eyes had been damaged as he'd watched the bolt strike. I saw it from the corner of my eye and it certainly made me jump.

A few minutes later, someone noticed, a hundred metres or so away:

A bush fire had started.

Realising that the wind was blowing towards us, and with the fire rapidly expanding, the staff raced down the hill shouting to us to stay where we were, breaking off tree limbs as they went. Within ten minutes they had beaten the bushfire out.

Just your standard day working in conservation in the Kimberley!

The Travels of my Summer Journal

Early in 2013 I bought a blank unlined notebook from Paperchase for a fiver with the intention of using it for a creative writing project. After realising I wasn't creative enough to pull it off, I decided to dedicate the notebook to my summer travels, and wrote the title - Summer 2013, as you see above - on the blank cover.

In June the notebook travelled with me to Skyros, where I doodled horses all over the cover, practised a bit of Greek writing, and drew a couple of cats too. Oh, and Hara the dog, as you see just below the title. One evening my great friend, 10-year-old Julietta, asked me what my favourite number was (12)  and my favourite animal (do you even have to ask?) and drew this lovely design for me.

When the journal and I visited Romania, it became my lesson-planning brain-exploding outlet for confusion and frustration with the fact that I wasn't enjoying teaching. But there were good days too. As you see.

And above all, I used it to record day-to-day happenings, at first only items of particular interest (see below - ate my first chicken kebab), but with some increasing detail as time went on.

The journal ends abruptly on the 10th of August - the day I left it on the train. We got on at Lyon, and when I stepped off at Grenoble my journal was lying hopefully under the seat I'd been sitting in.

I despaired.

I called all the lost property offices along the train line, and after a few days I was prepared to give up hope. I wasn't getting anywhere. Then I received this email, entitled 'travel book forgotten in the train'.

¡ Hi !
Last sunday with my wife we took the train Bordeaux-Vintimille in the station of Marseille, and we found a notebook forgotten on a seat. Inside there is your mail adress. Is it yours ? If it is, we can send you by the post. 
Friendly,
[anonymized, of course].

The most amazing thing about my saviours is that my email address was only on the page where I'd written down my bank details. To be safe, I changed them all at once, but they had had my notebook for a few days I believe before they found the means to contact me, and all they did was let me know they had it.

Restores your faith in humanity, doesn't it?

So they posted it to the airbnb flat we would be renting the following week in Como.

Unfortunately, it arrived the day we left for France.

Fortunately, our kind Italian landlord made regular trips to the UK, and the next time he came over, he brought my package and posted it locally. When the notebook made it to Cumbria, I'd returned to Scotland for university. At last, when I returned home for Christmas, I was reunited with my journal, which officially travelled more extensively than I did in summer 2013.