Monday, October 19, 2015

OZ9/7: Alice Springs, the Most Dangerous City in Australia

In the morning I wanted to pick up some more garbage at this place because the comments on WikiCamps said it was pretty littered, but when I went out to get more wood for the fire, I saw just how bad it was and knew that I couldn’t do enough and I felt discouraged.

Because it had been so cold, we were slow to start, but Jojje was cranky.  He was a little rude to Marco, who had a habit of being the last person ready to go.  As it turned out, he was cranky because he and Gwen were going climbing that morning and they physiologically NEEDED TO TOUCH ROCK, OMG.  We were not invited, but instead were dropped at the center of town.

The irritation lingers, even though the PMS came and went, because in that moment I experienced it with those accompanying emotions.  All I can do is apologize for sounding so negative and cynical.  I can be a bitch.

So Marco, Joe and I sat on a bench near the community center, watching a small crowd of Aboriginals sit in the lawn near the grey and pink cockatoos, who were grazing peacefully.  Isn’t that funny that birds graze like cows?
Cockatoos, grazing peacefully
We found the library, where we got charged up and used the internet.  Part way through our time at the library, I suddenly could smell us all.  It had been a while since we had showered and between squatting to pee and sleeping, eating, and playing in the same clothes, we all smelled a bit ripe!  We were looking forward to a night in a hostel that night.

Joe did some research on Alice Springs, which he found out was the city in Australia with the highest crime rate, most of which was attributed to Aboriginals, and a big portion of it was linked with alcohol.  I remember back in the USA when Breena came home from Australia and she made a comment about how the Aboriginals were hugely alcoholic and thinking, wow, she has turned into a racist.  Sadly now that I have seen it myself, I see where the statistics come from.

Australia is weird for this.  On one hand, the white people seem to have a rather racist outlook and still use language like “blackfella.”  On the other hand, there really does seem to be a major problem running rampant.  You take a race that is one of the oldest in the world, you rip them out of their cultural context and throw them into a “white man’s world” that is entirely different from their way of life for thousands of years, and the white man somehow still expects them to behave in a way that the white man behaves—valuing money, consumables, and status over community, stories, and connection to the earth.  Even I have a hard time understanding it sometimes.

I honestly don’t even know how to express my regret for being part of the race (or at least the Western world) that expected sudden assimilation to something so entirely different.  And I don’t know how to express or prove or in any way stand behind the theory that Aboriginals are more vulnerable to the negative outcomes of alcohol.  Walking around the streets of Alice Springs I would see old Aboriginal men walking around barefoot yelling obscenities at no one and think to myself that in my culture, a good way for someone to climb out of the pit of mental illness is to go to a counselor, get some therapy, and start afresh.  Sadly this treatment makes no sense in the context of Aboriginal society because mental illness makes little to no sense.

Bah.  I don’t think I can say anything more because I can’t find a solution myself or even a right way to express it.  I think I will just leave it and remain sad for what has been done to a culture, a people, and a way of life.

Anyway, those are just some thoughts for you on the subject.  :)

Eventually the two came back for us (though I would not have minded some more time to zone out in the library without them).  We found our hostel, got checked in, and started the showering process, one-by-one.  As soon as Jojje showered, he mumbled something about needing to get some errands done and took off.  Joe sat out on the porch and listened to some music.  Marco was taking a nap and Gwen a shower.

I don’t remember why I broke down, but I did.  I remember feeling itty-bitty about something, as if I were the smallest person in the whole world.  Joe comforted me and we gathered up wallets and purses and went out for a walk, hoping it would end in a place to eat.  I felt a bit better.  It was nice to feel connected to Joe again.  Dinner was surprisingly expensive.

We bought some wine on the way back and found everybody back in the dorm we were sharing with a couple of other dudes and we all had drinks together.  Joe and I were tipsy, but I think Jojje was modestly drunk, since he got really into this dancing game Joe made up.  He was rhythmically stepping on the places where the tiles meet and Jojje was dancing along wishing he knew the rules to this dancing game.  It was pretty funny.

We eyed this British boy who was in the top bunk above Gwen.  He was very obviously into her and they murmured well into the night and she was softly giggling and turning on the feminine charm.  I think had she been in a room that was NOT filled with the four mates she was traveling with, there would have been something going on.

We were all glad to be sleeping inside for the night, especially since the night before was so cold.  Marco especially had been too cold to sleep for a decent amount of time every night.  He was looking forward to sleeping with the heater running all night.

Unfortunately, Joe had the top bunk in the corner by the heater and didn’t really think about the fact that Marco was so desperate for a warm night, so part way through the night, he turned the heater off.  Poor Marco woke up cold.  Joe felt so guilty.

In the morning we ran some errands: grocery shopping, post cards, lunch, and a memory card for Marco (that we spent a lot of time chasing down).  We got out of town by early afternoon, and after getting lost a couple of times, we found the alley road down behind the sign that said “Welcome to Alice Springs” and parked at the end of it, right next to the dry river.  I think the rivers in the center of Australia ONLY run during particularly intense times of the wet season.

We got out of the car and started to hike towards the place where we would be rock-climbing (yes, they decided we were allowed to join them this time, so very gracious).  The flies were terrible.  Have I told you about the flies in the Red Center?  It’s not that there are tons of them.  Compared to summer in Idaho or something, the quantity is about the same.  It’s just that in the Red Center, they go right for your eyes.  They’re sticky, meaning that unlike normal flies that will be scared off by a wave of the hand before beginning the attack again, the ones in the middle of Australia land on your lips and nose and eyelids and just crawl around and stay there.  They don’t really shoe away.  It is surprisingly disturbing.

So the flies were unpleasant as we walked.  Gwen had bought this rosemary stuff because when everyone warned us about the flies in the Center, they told us to use this rosemary cream stuff.  It seemed to help, but for only ten or twenty minutes.  Even waving branches and grass constantly around your body was not fully effective.  As a neurotic human being, there were times where I had to bury my head in my arms, breathe deep, and calm down.  I’m totally normal.

The climbing was pretty good.  Marco went first of the three of us “non-climbers” (because apparently you have to breathe climbing in order to be part of the elite club) and actually did really well.  He didn’t have great technique, but he made it up the rock anyway by just powering through it.  He is built well.

Joe and I sadly did not make it up the rock.  It was a little disappointing, especially since Marco had made it up just fine.  I may have gotten smug when Jojje seemed surprised that I had good technique for a “non-climber.”
Reeeeeeeach
We packed it up after not too long, out of over-heating and distress by flies.  We packed up and got on the road.

No comments: