This is my friend Jordan sleeping at the train station. It's his favourite past time.

...train stations, airports, parks, centres, beaches and the list goes on...

right now he's in North Carolina attending Bible School.

On the subject of transport, it is very good here. The trains and buses are always on time, and sometimes early for my liking.

It makes me not want to buy a car, but unfortunately most of the bus services stop at 7pm and the nearest train station is not what we would call walkable distance.

So what's a good model?

Lunar and Highett

There are many interesting things that happen at festivals; you can meet people, spend lots of money on items that you really don't need and taste interesting home-made food served on tissue paper. But you can also encounter things which you weren't at all prepared for.

Today as I was roaming around the large Springvale carpark which was turned into a mini carnival with a stage that showcasted strange and eccentric talent, I pass a man who started screaming at a little kid. I turned around and in that unexpected moment, he shoved the little boy to the ground, then started kicking him. This was in the middle of a large walkway where people were going to and fro. He didn't stop there either; he picked the child up, who was teary and hurt, and slammed him against the rubbishbin and started screaming at him, occasionally whacking him on the head.

I wondered why no one was intervening. There were some shocked onlookers...

His eyes were completely bloodshot and wasn't sure whether he was drunk or not...

But I had to do something...

And it was in that doing something that I felt a strong urge to bring up a particular topic of which I had strongly opposed: the power of a parent. It's not that I'm being disrespectful in saying so; It's actually good for the parent to have some power as they are responsible for our well-being and as I have experienced, know better. But it's when the parents abuse that power that it is quick saddening.

I went up to the man and told him that he should stop, and he started screaming to me in a language that I had no understanding of... And the woman that was standing close by him came up to me, and told me to go away and mind my own business. The man started looking at me venomously ushering me away, and I had no choice but to back off.

A woman informed me that she was contacting someone to help, so I had to let to go...

The man started pacing by the rubbishbin as if trying to fend people from getting in his way...

Article 19: Children must be protected from “… injury or abuse … including sexual abuse, while in the care of parents … or any other person…"


The horrid thing about this ordeal is that, in the most case, nothing will happen, as it will be argued that being in the parents care is of the child's best interest and that parents are entitled to discipline :(

oh woe!

but there is something that we could do about this, maybe not this particular case, but speaking out against it will make a difference.

There's one place that you can look at to obtain more information of what you can do, and of the issues...

http://www.unicef.org/crc/

Strange little Keysborough

The most exciting thing about living out in Keysborough is that getting lost is an excellent exciting adventure. There's always something new to discover. It's like living in a little fairytale book. There are many things that happen that it's just very hard to document them all but here's one story still fresh in my mind.

Today as I was pushing my little niece around, I stumbled upon a road signposted: "Turramurra," and decided to walk down to see where it led to. I kept on walking until I came to Corrigan Rd, and walked down that until I came to a little milk bar, of which judging from the lack of cars and the door being shut, I thought it was an abandoned old building with the posters still stuck to the windows. But as I went closer, having to pass it to get to the end of the road, I saw that it had an "I'm open" sign, minus the "I'm" bit. It looked condemned, but because I have a very inquisitive mind, I had to see what was inside and whether it was really "open" or not. I parked Shirlene's pram outside of the milk bar and pushed open the door, which to my surprise, opened without any scary side effects, of which I had exercise in my mind before hand.

And there is was... A beautiful milk bar, filled with all our daily essentials, completed spotless from ceiling to floor and everything was nicely arranged. I went over to the ice-cream box and Shirlene was scrummaging around the Lolly/chocolate area picking out something of her desire. There was no one behind the counter at this point but soon this lady, who had a very serious and stern look on her face was staring at us from behind the counter, possibly watching our every movement. She was this medium height Asian women, probably in her mid-thirties but her face appeared to be severely weathered. She didn't seem very happy at all, and it was as if she was keen on getting us out of the milk bar. She was in the same pose every time I sneaked a glance at her.

Finally I came to the counter with my two icecream selections, and she gave me the total straight away including what Shirlene had picked out. However Shirlene changed her order after I had paid and opted for something else instead and not knowing what she got at first, I asked the woman if I could change the order, but she said that it's okay, she can take it.

THEN! she came out from behind the counter and ask Shirlene how old she was. I answered almost two. She replied back saying that she thought I am very young... After having realised what she was suggesting, I frantically protested and said that it was my sisters and that I'm only 19, out of university and nowhere near having children. Then I saw her smile. She was probably amused at the fact that she thought Shirlene was my daughter. Afterwards we talked for awhile and she didn't seem scary at all. She was quite friendly.

I didn't dare make comments on the outward appearance of her milk bar though, but maybe another day. I suppose having people wonder whether or not you are too young to have a kid breaks the ice. :)

the yarra river

If you get the opportunity to walk along the Yarra River, or any river for that matter, it's probably advisable not to remove your shoes, and place them right beside you, while you are dipping your feet in the water. This is because when you stand up, you are bound to accidently bump it off the concrete bank and send it floating down the river.

This is also not a good idea, especially in summer when the temperature rises above 40degreesC. This is because you either have the choice of walking on the prickly grass or on the unbearably hot concrete. :)

Moral of the story is: don't lose your shoes when it's above 40degrees along the yarra river, or bring spare ones.

ALSO! it is wise not to use the word "jandals" around 12 year old Australians. The proper term, as advised by this very angry little girl is "Thongs"

lost in lingo

You would think that moving to an English-speaking country that you'll be safe from having communication breakdowns. That is what I thought until I was shopping and ordered a combo from Mcdonalds.

We had a complete communication breakdown as he had no idea what it was suppose to mean. He kept asking me if I wanted chips and drink with that and at first, I thought that he was teasing, because his friends were laughing... but I kept protesting and saying: "Well, I did order a combo and that is what comes with a combo"...and it turns out that they use the word: "Meal" instead of combo. My mum told me the next day. Oh woe!

A cage filled with...

CAMBODIANS!

I am officially in the year 2006 and melting in the hot Melbourne air. Earlier I was at the Cambodian temple, where, quite literally, hundreds of Cambodians from the Victorian community came to celebrate the New Year over a course of three days. It was quite a sight. There were food lined up under the hall's balcony and a swamp of Cambodians on the field in between the hall and these other Khmer monuments.

A small stage was set up infront of this field of swarming people, where musicians and singers played their part in entertaining us and providing dance music. A close family friend dragged me in to dance in the small space set apart for traditional dancing. I got addicted and danced for almost two hours, running in and out between songs. The thought that I was being watched by hundreds of Cambodians and probably a few other cultures, who were goggling with utmost interest at the scene, didn't seem to worry me. I guess when you're dancing around a table with a bunch of life-loving crazy friends, who express themselves with relentless excitement, that feeling rubs away.

It was lots of fun!

It is quite a large temple and they were making a new one by the looks of the near-by construction.

There were a few friendly fights but they were stopped before anything major could happen.