Let The Mess Begin

And so it goes for moving, weeks of mess, living out of suitcases and boxes, with piles for several destinations, finding a place for everything and handing the keys back to the estate agent. I'll walk out the door with a suitcase and my backpack. I'm sending about 4 boxes ahead to my daughter's place, with the few personal items, mostly souvenirs and books, artwork. It is not an easy task as I'm using many of the items up to the last week. I don't want to live like I'm camping though, so I'll hang onto a few things to the last days. I'm selling some things online through gumtree (like kijiji back home) and planning an apartment sale for a few Saturdays in April. Even though I've done this several times before, it doesn't make it any less daunting. It is acheivable, but exhausting. Pack, sort, sell, give away, throw out, send by sea, and so on. I'm not just moving onto a new town, I'm repatriating back to my home country after an absence of just over 4 years. I  couldn't be happier. So I'll take the mess, the chaos, the hard work, and all those bits and pieces (an Aussie term) as I bid a fond farewell to my home of 4 years. Australia, it has indeed been a slice, and then some. But I'll save that for another post closer to departure time. 

Dundee enjoys the mess of moving, as would most cats - boxes, paper, plastic, new smells, old smells, a changing environment. I'm going to miss that little bugger. Again, I'll leave that for another post. The back to work plan is being reevaluated, so in the meantime, I'm distracting myself with making the mess, as well as researching tiny houses and bus conversions. There is a lot of information out there, and doing my conversion over the coming months with the goal of being in by Christmas, I'll be living out of suitcases, boxes, bags, and surrounded by mess for the months to come. I'll have to find ways to minimize and organize the mess as it will surely drive me crazy otherwise. And then with any luck, it will be my final unpacking for the forseeable future. The bus conversion/tiny house is part of my longterm goal of freedom and independence to follow my own paths. I've missed having a home of my own to customize - loved my house in Newfoundland for that reason - I designed it for us. 

I'm tiring of changing my living environment so frequently as I find it exhausting both physically and mentally. I just want a place to call home that I can move to be wherever I want to be and still have an affordable and comfortable home. I had thought I could do this in my VW Camper, aka the Karma bus, however it was too small for my needs and not having a toilet/shower meant I had to depend on a serviced site for those services. I prefer to be off the grid as much as possible, using solar and potentially wind power to charge the batteries. I am looking at using propane for cooking, on-demand hot water, and heating, with a woodstove to supplement heating. I also want to source the most efficient way to supply air conditioning off the grid as well. Part of the long term goal is spending only 6 months per year in Canada, and the other 6 somewhere south of WINTER. This is why I need the mobility. With being able to function off the grid as much as possible, I can keep my costs down to the bare minimum, making it possible to work for 6 months of the year in Canada, and then travel/live somewhere down south during the winters, escaping snowdom. I'll have to suffer through the next winter as I can't possibly have it completed in time, and want to spend one full year at least with my girl in Edmonton. Hence the wood stove. All I need to move in is the bathroom and the woodstove. The  rest can be completed over the winter. I've still got the VW Karma van to travel around for music and camping while the conversion is in progress. 

The choice for a school bus style conversion came after doing a bit of research. The typical Canadian school bus from a rural setting is what I'm seeking. They tend to have strong body, good suspension and able to handle the rugged terrain of country roads. The squared off buses ride too close to the ground to be able to handle the bumpy roads I plan to travel on at some point, particularily south of the US border. A stripped school bus can potentially give me 35' x 7'5" x 6'5" interior. It's a low ceiling, but I'm short, so there is plenty of clearance for me. I'm not planning on standing up all day. School buses are constructed to be much stronger than the average manufactured RV, which have been referred to as tin cans. I'm ok with the shape of the bus. A low ceiling means cheap to heat. Those tall ceilings of the loft tiny houses meant an upstairs bed - hot as hell, and heat loss from the main floor where I would spend most of the time. The bus can also be longer than a typical tiny house, at 35'. That gives me enough downstairs room to enclose a sleeping chamber for myself. I don't need a full bedroom. Just a bed I don't have to navigate stairs or ladders to get to. And a short distance to the toilet. Funny what things become more important when designing a living space as one ages. I had initially thought about a slide away bed but then realized I don't want to have to move stuff to go to bed, or to put the bed away. I want it just to be THERE. I can build a ton of storage beneath it, and I don't need a full ceiling above my bed, so will utilize what space I can based on the quirky spaces that are available around the wheel wells and other stuff I'll be trying to hide in the cabinets - batteries, inverter, power controls, pipes, wires and so on. 

So that's the latest on the project, ha ha. Stay tuned for updates about the Nomad Project at my new blog, judesnomadproject.blogspot.com. I'll be closing this one down after I depart the land down under on May 1st. The posts will remain, but I won't be adding any new posts. Thanks for reading these past years. I have a few posts in me yet for Australia, so keep on reading. 

Australian Retrospective

This was me in April of 2011, just a couple of weeks after arrival on one of many bush trips to the outback. It seems like a lifetime ago. I was an investigator at the time, working on a team with Northern Territory Police, so most of our bush trips were in police vehicles, but we had something much more comfy than this Toyota Hilux. We usually had a Toyota Prado, which is a much nicer ride. Oh the sights we saw on those bush trips...dust storms, whirly whirls, bushfires, camels, kangaroos, lizards, snakes, emu, dingoes, wild donkeys, wild horses, abandoned homesteads, and so much more. It was an experience of a lifetime...

Settling into Australia was rough at first - I was homesick, I couldn't find the foods I liked, I didn't have my kitty, I was learning a whole new child protection system, and was broke as shit after travelling for a year and the NT Gov took their time paying me my salary and my settling in money. It wasn't long before I met who was to be my closest friend here in Oz. She started the same week I did and we sort of fell in together and discovered we were "old souls" and kindred spirits. Now when I think about the adventures we went on together...crazy! This photo is of us on our way to Palm Valley which was at the end of a very tough 4WD track. We got bogged twice in sand, but only needed a tow once. We also hit some ricks on the left side (aka my Canadian side) but otherwise, survived our first bush camping trip off the beaten path. 

F. and I camped all over the Territory, and during my first year here, we struck out for Cambodia, stopping in Bali and Kuala Lumpur, having one of the most epic adventures I've had. We laughed and cried together, shared our work and personal life stresses, drank the nights away in our courtyards, discussing everything under the sun, from our teen pregnancies and our resulting daughters, to comparing life in Canada to Australia. I hope she comes to Canada to visit me someday, as I would love to show her my country. 

Those initial months in Alice Springs opened my eyes to a whole other world. The Aboriginals of Central Australia were so very different from Aboriginal people of Canada that I was so familiar with. English was not their first language, and usually not their second or third, however the most striking difference was the living conditions. For the most part, the families I had worked with back in Canada were usually quite clean, with minimal rubbish and state of disrepair. Here in Central Australia, the homes were by far the filthiest and most disgusting I had ever come across. From piles of rubbish strewn about the yards and within the home, to the feral flea infested dogs, to the feces smeared on the house walls, both inside and out, to the cockroaches crawling EVERYWHERE, to the unimaginable stench of the unwashed bodies. And by unwashed I don't mean a bit of body odor from perspiration, I mean clothing that has not been washed in months, and bodies that have not been washed in weeks or months as well. Someone explained that they excrete goanna oil which adds to the pungent stench, but for the most part, it was simple filth. I could never understand why things were the way they were. For the most part, most parents did not work in paid employment, and were on Centrelink Benefits (like welfare) aka "sit down money". And sit down they did, playing cards, sleeping, drinking, chewing the fat. 

Some of the highlights from those experiences were quite memorable - my first home visit in the bush - we did not enter the house most of the time as it was not culturally appropriate, not to mention there was usually no furniture in there to sit on anyway. So we squatted in the dirt under the shade of a gum tree and talked about the concerns. Neighbors and family members wandered over and left again, and we were very popular with the feral dogs. And by feral, I mean flea bitten, half-starved with ribs showing, covered in tumors and infection, riddled with mange and who knows what else. On one trip, I was chased by a pack of dogs and the police I was with had to throw things at them to keep them from attacking me. On anotther home visit, one bit me on the calf of my leg. Then there was the dog in Ntaria aka Hermannsburg. We had pulled up to a house to check on a family and noticed a dog laying in the dirt next to the front step. Usually the jumped right up and surrounded our cars, hoping for food, or picking the dead birds out of our front grills. This one didn't. So I nudged it with my shoe...it was dead as a doornail...oops..then the family came home, I told them about the dog...the father went to the rubbish bin. looked inside, and proclaimed - he'll fit in there...and got back in his car and drove off...

I remember another bush trip where we were caught inbetween burnt out grounds and a whirlywhirl that scooped up the soot into a black tornadolike whirl. (They are something like a dust devil). We sat in the car while it passed over us, and I filmed it. There was another bush trip where we stopped in a riverbed for lunch and happened across a trail of caterpillars - it strung across the entire road, thousands of caterpillars. 

Once I left my government job and went to work for NPY Women's Council as a domestic violence worker. With that job came even more bush travel, which was just awesome. Most of my bush trips took me to South Australia, but I also spent some time in Western Australia, and southern NT close to Uluru. Bush travel for NPY was usually all week, so meant overnights. That was when I became acquainted more closely with a swag - which is a bedroll that is quite popular in Australia. The padding was quite thin, so I usually carried another foamie with me to pad it more. Usually we had housing to stay in, but not always, so we sometimes slept outside under the stars. I remember one trip when I was taking 3 of the ladies to the AGM nearly 900kms of bushroad away. We couldn't make it all in one day as the ladies were very nervous if I drove over 45kms/hr...so it was a LONG drive. Without any booked accommodation, we slung our swags out in someone's front yard. The tenants offered me a bedframe to put mine on so I wouldn't be down on the ground, which suited me just fine! I did however wake up to two kitties sleeping on my bed. The ladies treated us to somethings wonderful along the journey - they sang inma as we passed their traditional homelands - inma is songs in their native languages. They also sang a variety of hymns in their language. It was quite special, I have to say. We were treated to even more at the AGM. (Annual General Meeting) which was a gathering of ladies from all three states, known as APY Lands. The groups of ladies would just bust out in inma here and there and at night, we gathered by a giant fire and danced traditionally and sang in the moonlight around the fire. It was part of the reason I came to Australia - to experience the culture first hand. It was in those moments that I forgot about the smells, the filth, and the piles of rubbish. In spite of the horrid living conditions, these people had such vibrant spirits and personalities that were a delight to get to know. I learned some of the language, and a great deal more about the culture.

I remember another bush trip where we had two flat tires on our 4WD and the right sized jack didn't work...so we macgyvered a solution - we found a big square rock and put it under the small jack and continued on. And then there was the bush trip that came with significant rains, filling the many floodways, and creating the hugest of puddles, some as long as 3 football fields. I was initially apprehensive at driving through them, particularly as I was on my own for most of the trip, but before long, I was smashing my way through and loving it. There was a road train stuck in one of the bigger puddles, blocking the entire road. Not to worry, an Aboriginal family waiting ahead of me suggested making our own damn road, so that's just what we did. They were driving a Holden Commodore, which is NOT a 4WD, but it didn't matter. I created the road up over the dirtbank at the edge of the road, and he shot up over the bank in his car, and I followed right behind. We broke our own ground through the bush for about a kilometre around the bogged truck and the many vehicles trying to get him out, and then popped back down on the bush road again. No worries!

I've seen a great deal of Australia, both by air and by road. We often took the police plane to remote communities when we could, and the plane would wait for us while we completed our investigations. On one trip the police escorted 5 prisoners back on the plane - they had been remanded at the local circuit court earlier that day. I got to sit in the front, so was able to take some amazing photos while sitting in the co-pilot seat. We even flew over the space base aka Pine Gap. The Americans have a military base there and non-military folks are not permitted anywhere near it. There are several radars and satellite dishes as it is the only place in the southern hemisphere in this neck of the world where they have a base. I've driven on thousands of kms of bush road, some in my own vehicle. On one bush trip with my sister, we drove the Great Central Highway, 1100 kms of desolate bush road through the centre of Australia into Western Australia. It was amazing. I've driven the Great Ocean Road, the Stuart Highway, and so many more. I've been to every state except for Tasmania, and each one has it's own beauty. The red dirt, the bright blue skies, the surprising green of the desert, the abundant wildlife - it will be sorely missed. The weather here is what I will be thinking about as I freeze my ass off in Canada next winter...but I won't miss the sizzling heat of Central Australia.

Patience is a Virtue...and Sometimes Very Hard

So I've been off work for the past several weeks due to trauma/stress at work as I wrote in my last post. I've been seeing my psychologist weekly and working through the issues, however it has not been an easy ride. For anyone who has ever been diagnosed with a mental illness, you will understand that recovery is not on any timetable. I know this but yet I struggle. Up until yesterday, I had not had a panic attack or any anxiety symptoms for two weeks, so went back to my doc and told her I was ready to return to work. We then hammered out a return to work plan that would gradually see me back at full-time work. Management decided that it didn't make sense to reallocate my cases back to me given I would not be full time until early March and I am finishing up in April. Initially I was a bit miffed about this, feeling like it was a punishment for being unwell, however I understand the reasoning, and once I had time to think about it, I don't mind as much. Let someone else deal with the verbal abuse from clients, and deal with the red tape. So instead I will be finishing up my own paperwork, notes, and filing and then supporting my team with their paperwork. If you 've ever worked in government, you know just how much paperwork there is. We kill trees daily.

So I was feeling pretty good about returning to work next week, and felt happy that I had finally turned a corner and the anxiety was gone. Then yesterday happened. The day started out fine - it was payday and I needed a new battery for my car. There is a auto repair shop right across the street from me, so off I went to buy my battery. They wanted to charge me $44 to jump start my car so I could bring it across the street to have them install my battery...um, no way man, I can install a battery. How hard could that be? Turns out Toyota had more in store for me. The last time I replaced a car battery, all that was required was to disconnect the leads and lift it out, replacing it with a new one. Not so with my Rav 4. There is a bracket holding it in, and the bracket is connected to an engine shield that needed to come off first. The engine shield was secured by severall little fasteners that I couldn't quite work out initially, even with the owner's manual. I finally managed to sort that out, only to discover they had sold me the wrong battery. So off across the street I went again, lugging my battery. The terminals were on the wrong side and the leads would not reach them. Back again with the leads, and put it all back together until I got to the fasteners. They wouldn't secure in - first I thought I must have broken them all but after some trial and error, profanity, and dumb luck, I figured them out and secured it all back in. The car started right up and I was happy. Until I realized that all of my electronics had to be reset - the clocks, the stereo, and my bluetooth. The clocks were easy as were the presets for the radio, but the bluetooth was an absolute bitch. After nearly 30 minutes of stuffing around with it, I could not get it to work properly. The display said it was paired but it wasn't working. That's when hell broke loose. For whatever reason, this prompted an absolute tantrum - there I sat in my car in the parking lot of my building, SCREAMING and crying, nearly hysterical and out of control. WTF? Over a stupid thing like bluetooth. I managed to finally collect myself and gave up on the stupid bluetooth and started out for the shopping centre for some groceries and other things. 

Within minutes of entering the store, my anxiety began to rise..pounding heart, struggling to breathe easy, tears welling up, shaking hands and unsteady gait. WTF again? It's a bloody grocery store - what on earth was the possible trigger this time? I tried the breathing techniques my psychologist had shown me, but it was too late - the horse was out of the barn.  I managed to speed through the rest of the shopping, and got the hell out of there and sat down in the mall. I still needed to go to the fruit and vegetable market at the mall, so tried to collect my shit once again so I could at least finish up. Several minutes later I was able to get up and enter the fruit market, whipped through my shopping there but the panic was rising again and I barely made it out to my car. Sat in the car for several minutes, sobbing like a baby, unsure what the hell was going on. Several cars stopped to wait for me to pull out, thinking I was leaving so they could take my space. I ignored them all. I finally left the parking garage and headed home, sobbing all the way. 

So that was the morning...I decided to take a valium that the doctor had given me but I hadn't felt the need to take until now, and laid down for a nap. When I woke up, the anxiety had settled some and the afternoon was uneventful, that is until I left for my psychologist appointment. He sees me at three different locations, and the one I had to go to yesterday was a bit tricky to find. My GPS on my phone kept taking me to the wrong place, so I had to call the office for additional directions. Enter hysterics...Australia is big on roundabouts, and Melbourne is big on confusing roadways. Sometimes a given roundabout can have 5 or 6 exits, with 2-3 lanes shooting off everywhere. Then there are crosswalks partway through, or right before, or right after, and divided roadways, with slipways off each side. I was in rush hour traffic, and utterly lost. I fell apart on the phone to the receptionist, like litterally fell apart - sobbing hysterically, couldn't breathe, worried I was going to smash into someone while I fumbled around trying to find the office. I had left in plenty of time but now I was going to be very late. I was hyperventilating, shaking, crying, and god only knows what I said. I finally managed to find the office with the receptionist's help, and stumbled into my session an absolute mess. I sobbed all the way through my session, choking and gasping for air while he tried to calm me, and debrief about it all. What a damn mess I was. 

All in all, it was an exhausting rough day. Just when I thought I was making progress, I relapsed big time. Now I am worried that I am going back to work too early.  I've since talked it through and reckon I need to slow down and stop trying to race through my recovery, or my life. Mindfuless is such a valuable thing, and after a cuppa this morning with a good friend, he informed me that my mind is in overdrive at the moment and I need to slow it down. He told me it was as obvious as a dog's balls...hilarious. So thhen I thought about it, and I don't know about you, but I have fallen into what could be a troubling behaviour of multitasking through my life. Such  as when I'm at home watching tv. I'm not just sitting down watching television and that is all I am focused on. In this modern age of social media and eletronics, what used to be a single activity has become only a component of how that period of time is spent. I'm also knitting something, playing a game on my iPad or checking Facebook, reading emails, chatting with someone online, texting someone on my phone, cooking and eating supper, and playing with the cat. And many nights I'm also thinking about the families I work with. I've become too efficient at living my life and it is overwhelming me. Whoa there...