Life in the underground

Singapore is land-scarce country. I love this kind of expressions. In Nepal I heard many people, even if otherwise their command in English was very poor, say with confidence "Nepal is a land-locked country". As for Estonia, I know that in 2009 at least, our official national slogan was "Positively transforming". In contrast though, compared to 2006, by 2011 there were ten percentage points less Estonians  who considered themselves happy living in Estonia.

Anyhow, back to lack of land in Singapore. It is a tiny 710km2, still bigger than Malta or Andorra. I have been trying to find a good comparison in the context of Estonia, but any island we have, that is of decent size (Saaremaa & Hiiumaa), is still way bigger than Singapore. Pihkva lake in fact is the same size as Singapore. Sticking with Hiiumaa, my Estonian friends can imagine 7 miljon people living on the island. If the whole Estonia would have the density of Singapore population, we would have 318milj people, about the same as USA.

People are spread vertically between 40m underground and 200m above ground which makes walking on the streets so easy. You share the streets with almost no-one. Gone are days where you need to fight for some space on the sidewalk like in Kuta, Ubud or Kathmandu.

First time I ventured to the city from the red light district that's my home, I was up for an unprecedented challenge. In the hostel they gave me suggestions on the MRT station (this is Singapore metro, short of Mass Rapid Transit) to exit and where to walk to and so on. Fair enough, but when I got out on the street, there was like...nobody. Station name was "Esplanade", so I was deeply confused. There was just 2 cafes with few suits having lunch. Each direction I looked, there was either a hotel, office building or shopping center. Nothing esplanade-like. All the streets seemed to lead to the parking lots of those three options. Where was I supposed to go? I tried couple of parking lots, but this was a dead end, then I ventured into a shopping mall. And I saw not only more people, but also road signs inside the mall. So this is it! Through the malls, across some roof-walks, down through underground and another mall and I made it to the Marina. And there were people there! And the architecture around made my jaw drop.

So now I know: if there are no people on the ground, they are walking below you. From each MRT station there is a web of tunnels, malls and parking lots spreading in each direction. 9AM the other day I was in one of the busiest MRT stations in Singapore, Raffles. This was indeed an ocean of suits, dresses and high heals, for it is located just below the financial district. Obviously you do not want to sweat in your suit in the 30 degrees outside, so you can go anywhere underground. There is a huge billboard listing seemingly all the buildings and streets in the area and an appropriate exit to take to reach them, 10 exits in total. When I got on the ground I had 10 metres to walk to enter the building I was heading for. No sweat!

Also, you better not sweat and get thirsty, because in the MRT station no eating, drinking or bubblegum chewing is allowed. Rapid Transit Systems Regulations foresees 500$  for breaking those rules. Luckily I got away with just a warning! On the other hand, you can walk around on the streets and enjoy sightseeing with as how many beers in your hand as you wish. Just don't litter! You can even chew a gum provided you had purchased it presenting your passport in one of the pharmacies. At least this is what I have heard about how to get a bubblegum, I should check it out!

Healing session with Pak Man

In Tibetan Medical Center in Nepal, a doctor diagnosed me after feeling my heart rate on different spots on my arms. I was stunned by the accuracy of his conclusions. He administrated a set of herbal medicines I should take each morning, lunch and evening with a glass of hot water throughout next two months and gave some general dietary advice. Surely enough after one month I had the desired effect!

I have grown gradually more interested in traditional healing practices and ancient wisdom behind it. In Bali's culture traditional healers - balians - play a very important role and their number is far greater than of regular doctors. Due to the book "Eat, Pray, Love", visit to the balians has become a tourist attraction, so fake "healers" have apparently popped up, so I was a bit concerned how I will find a real one. For that reason I decided not to use Google in my search, but rather wait and see. I thought if my mind is set to finding a healer, the opportunity will come.

And it did. I got a phone number of Pak Man, made an appointment, rented a scooter and went there. All I knew is that he smokes cigarettes, blows the smoke at you and then sees hat's going on inside you. He has an Australian wife, who acts as a translator.

In the beginning we had a long discussion as my worries were more of spiritual kind rather than a concrete physical ailment. This all took place outside on a porch over a glass of water and cigarette smoke in my face. He had such a presence to him, hard to describe with words. Sense of peace, kindness, empathy and wisdom. And the cigarettes he had smelled absolutely wonderful, I could not get over my bewilderment. So I took another breath-full and explained my worries and fears. A hard thing to do, but no real point to keep them inside, as he would be able too see them anyway.

What followed was the treatment part. He had concluded that most of my energy blockages are related to liver and spleen. Everything that you have experienced in your life leaves a mark. Stress, negative emotions, sadness, bigger or smaller tragedies, you name it, they all affect the body directly, creating blockages in different places. His healing method for me was to use medicinal oil and do kind of acupuncture to work on the liver and spleen spots all over the body. I knew it's gonna hurt, but man, did it hurt! In some spots I had to wince and scream and the pain made me sweat. Seriously. But I could feel the progress as he was working on a specific spot - after a while it hurt less and even less, until it was almost just a strong stroke. A moment to gather yourself before the next spot.

When feet and legs where done, it was time to move over to the belly. That's a whole new level of pain, plus something I am not used to at all. Aren't we all more used to someone poking around your back or even legs and feet, but belly is something you usually keep to yourself. I consciously tried to breath calmly and remain as silent as possible, but it was not possible. On one spot though, even though the level of pain was probably the same as before, I could not take it, tears started to run down my cheeks. Finally he was done with that spot and I could gather myself. He had a box of tissues nearby, so I felt relieved, that apparently I'm not the first weak one.

Then it was time for back and neck. At one moment I was just sitting with my legs crossed and neck bent ahead, really relaxed. Then suddenly before I could understand whats happening, he crabbed my head by my hair and shook it really wildly. My neck crackled in about ten different places. Later he crackled my spine as well. Scary stuff.

After the head, chest and arms as well, the healing session was over. Time to sit on the porch again and talk about what he had found and for some final advice. The point that I had started crying, he explained, was a place where my previous sorrows had huddled together, so he released them. Doing so I party had to relive those emotions, hence the tears. I could easily draw a parallel with a dear person for me, who explained her experiences with ayurvedic massage.

We had some tea, I relaxed in the best smelling smoke in the world and left on my motorbike looking ahead.

Sunsoaking on Gilis and sweating on Rinjani

Boeing 717 got me from Cairns to Darwin. A new camera, shirt and bikini pants later Airbus Industrie A320-100/200 got me to Singapore. Then passed through the airport customs with the chewing gum in my purse and boarded on  Airbus A320 which took me to Bali.

First thing I did in Bali was to get ripped off by a taxi driver. This is not so cool after all my experience in Asia, but it was past midnight, I was tired and my backpack was heavy (mysteriously my bag keeps expanding, perhaps in attempt to keep up with me). So I got a double price taxi to bring me around various guesthouses until we found one with a vacancy. I unloaded my stuff in the only guesthouse with an Estonian name - "Mustika" ("Blueberry") and I was home again. My very own bed and cold shower.

Next day Astrid and Ed arrived from Belgium and our holiday could begin. None of us had done much of planning, but each one had certain "Must Dos" in mind. Mine was climbing Rinjani vulcano on Lombok island. Astrid and Ed were not keen on the idea, which came as a surprise to my adventure soaked, altitude loving mind . "Who wouldn't want to climb an amazing vulcano??"  Answer in fact is quite obvious, isn't it. Most people. 

Nevertheless, first off, went to Gili Islands. Gilis are non-motorised little paradise islands with turquoise waters and no police. Prices where pretty shocking. First place we checked - 50 EUR. Second place 36 EUR. Jesus, its triple what the guidebook, published last year, says. But the place is packed with tourists. It's hyperpopular with at least 7 big fast boats arriving each day with the new load.

On the opposite side of the island we were able to find a nice bungalow with an affordable price. Leisurely days could begin. However, considering that each day was filled with constant threat of sunburn, sandburn, sun blinding your eyes not only directly, but also reflecting from the perfectly blue sea, Astrid and I thought the time on Gili Island was something of a survival camp.

Meanwhile I had not given up on the idea of standing on top of Rinjani. Guy who sold us the snorkelling trip (I saw turtles!!!), also had contacts for the Rinjani trekking so there was an opportunity. On the other hand Ed and Astrid were contemplating doing their open waters diving course. I was not interested in the latter, so I separated from them for 5 days. 

In the afternoon 5 days later when we met again in Ubud, I could hardly walk. I mean, I could walk uphill, even horizontally, but going downhill or stepping down the gutter was a pain. Staircases needed to be tackled one step at the time. I could never imagine a town and its surroundings so full of staircases!

This happens when after no training, but with the attitude "I'm a natural born trekker", you join the 3 days/2 nights Rinjani trek. First day was fine actually. Steady uphill from 800m to 2641m. And the view was so worth it. 

Second day had a moment of "I can not take another step right now!". It was cured by two Frenchies, who were equipped with Indonesian power-powder. It comes in small sachets. You pour a little bit of the powder to your moth and then drink water. This makes the powder explode in your mouth and also out of your mouth for the joy of onlookers if the quantity was too big. Pretty cool stuff!

Then came the third day. No, let me correct. Night. Wake-up call at 2AM. Tea and biscuits and off we are 2.30AM under the light of stars and head-torches. The first hour all the poor souls are tackling the soft soil/sand steep uphill in each others steps. Dust covered my glasses and filled my lungs.

Then comes one hour of rather easy walk. Most of it I did together with Swiss and Austrian girls from my group, but as the inclination rose, their Alps accustomed legs carried them away from me. 

The last hour and half it was me and the mountain. And what a mountain it was. Loose gravel on 45 degrees angle.  Each step was halved by sliding down. There were moments when I thought it's humanly not possible to climb up any slower than this. Sometimes its so steep you don't even need to bend down much to quite pathetically climb on all fours. I had to put on the willpower mode as it started to get light in the horizon and there was no way I would give up. 10 minutes before the sunrise I made it to the freezing top, 3726m. Truly wonderful feeling. Natural beauty mixed with sense of achievement is just something that I love. 

The way down was cool. Because all the loose gravel, you just kinda glided down. One step becomes three. Me and Charlotte gravel-skated down together and shared the memories of uphill challenge.

Now, the reason why I was partially immobilised for the next days still laid ahead. It was the 5 hours of downhill after the basecamp. By 4PM I was so done. You know, like sometimes after heavy training your muscles are sore the next day? Not this time. Next day was already there! At least we were all in this together. Seriously, there was no one (excluding porters/guides, but they are half human), who did the summit, that wasn't in pain. 1km up and 3 km down does that. 

After a bumpy ride back to the starting point village it was time to say goodbye to the others. Each couple went in different direction and I stayed one more there in Senaru, in the guesthouse where our trekking guide was living. It was really basic accommodation, but omg how good it was to have the (cold) shower! I was so dirty, literally dirty, that I had to wash myself twice. But clean I got. It's funny how quite an elementary thing like this can feel amazing if you have been deprived of it for 3 days.

In the evening I enjoyed scaring the freshmen and -women starting the trek the next day. My words were magnified by the the manner of my limping about the guesthouse. Gotta love little joys like that. And it got even better when my trek guide pulled out a bottle of locally brewed rice wine and we were working on it until the early hours of the next day talking about the life on Lombok vs in Europe.

Next morning when I opened my eyes, I had to think "How on earth can I get out of this bed?" No, I was not hangover. The rice wine acid had absolutely no power compared to the lactic acid that was soaking my quadriceps. After some contemplation I rolled myself out of the bed, slowly got on my feet and made it to the bathroom. It dawned on me that challenges of the day were only beginning. I was horrified by the sight of the looming squat toilet! How? How can I squat down? Will my muscles not just tear apart??

 I can tell you, it was very long day of commuting to Ubud, Bali, but I made it.

East Coast in a nutshell

Considerable amount of time has passed, but no worries, I'm just at the moment drinking blueberry juice and blueberry is supposed to be great for your memory. As an extra bonus, it will help with my current hangover. But that's another topic.

Australian East Coast journey was from 26 July til 15 August. So many places, people, situations, experiences to think back at, but these were the highlights:

# Myall Lakes National park. We got there on our very first day in absolutely unplanned manner. I had asked Lisa, our Tom Tom, to get us to Port Stephens and we followed her advice until realised we were 80km passed the port. Anyhow then we got to go to "Dark Point" in the national park close by. It has been important for Worimi people for at least 4000 years and for sand surfers and 4x4 drivers for couple of decades. The vast and massive sand dunes there were truly impressive.

# Byron Bay. This little coastal town was a manifestation of my imagination of a typical Australian surf town. It's cosy, it's cool, people wear surfer clothes 24/7 (even when it's a chilly winter evening and I wouldn't have minded to have my wintercoat...but that's not cool. Think surf. Think warm.) And Byron Bay is located, yes, in a bay and as far as your eyesight goes, it's light yellow sand beach. And then you walk to the tip of the bay and you see the sand continues endlessly. Ocean is so blue you might turn into a poet and if not before, then at least when you see the whales passing by on their way to warmer tropical waters of the Pacific to breed.

# Hand-gliding. This also happened in Byron Bay. Berna and I stumbled upon some guys preparing for their jump of the cliff. I had never seen that from up close, so I asked if we could wait and watch. Thing with watching stuff like this is, that after a while you don't want to remain solely an onlooker.

First guy went on his way and it was so smooth - no falling, he caught the wind immediately and rose higher and higher circling around. Next one was some young fella, who's mother was standing there gradually getting paler and paler. Was the first time for her to see her son jump. Was the 4th time for him to jump. He went for it, his mom shivering. He really plunged and disappeared for 2 seconds. Wow, we were all holding our breath. Then he reemerged and her mum regained ability to talk. It was pretty funny actually.

So I wanted to try as well. What the hell, opportunity is here, gotta grab it. Third guy there conveniently was a hand gliding instructor and happy to make some business. 3 minute training about the take off and we were ready. When I asked how about the landing, he said its basically the same, just run, and anyway, I will explain you in the air. Fair enough. I was ready in this special suit, kind of like sleeping bag, but you can put your feet out. He counted to three, run to the jump-off point and we flew! It was so smooth!! I had been afraid, but it was not scary at all. It was so cool. Soon enough he taught me the basics of steering the glide and how to speed up and slow down. Yeah, my first pilot experience :) My smile was until the ears anyway, but then it got even better. First off, he spotted some whales on the bay to the left side, so we left the usual hillside, glided over to the other side to watch the wales jumping in distance.

Back to the first side of the hill, we saw a fish. Little fishy fish - about two meter long shark! Gosh and it was so close to the shore and more importantly, even closer to two surfers!!! I was like "Can't you do something??? Isn't there a code or anything??? I mean, the shark is just next to the innocently floating surfers!!!" He said there is really nothing he can do, the voice does not carry that far down. Alrighty then... I just looked from safe distance how the shark was zig-zagging about and wished that its stomach was full and that the surfers don't have any bleeding wounds.

After safe landing I had to tell Berna in one breath all of the above. She went to jump as well and on her return, she reported that there was no shark, but one surfer only.

# Driving a four-wheel drive on Fraser Island. Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world and World Heritage listed and hyper popular among backpackers.  The easiest way to go and see it, is to take one of the tag-along tours. It means there is one experienced guide driving the leader jeep and towing the carriage with all the food and even bigger quantities of alcohol and then max 4 jeeps packed with and driven by backpackers (8 fit in one). Everyone paid 10 bucks for insurance, so there are no worries about the financial side for rookies to have a first go on those machines. And so I gave it a go as well.  Wow, what a feeling driving this beast calmly on the ocean shore. Mind you, the sand beach is 123 kilometers long :)

After some easy cruise, the leader car stopped and our guide came over to explain  that now it's gonna get more interesting. We will make a turn inland, it's gonna be uphill at first, so first gear only and make sure its at least 3000RPM, so you wouldn't get stuck. Let's go for it! That was really fun. Road seemed so narrow though, but I managed :) Then came second, way bigger hill. One car was already stuck and people trying to dig it out... I asked the whole team to support me, pressed the gas pedal to speed up and go. Ah, not enough speed, at some point there was no power to get further. My team suggested me to reverse back and try again. Ok then. Reversed. Ordered everyone to hold on and really gave it a good acceleration. Wow, that was something. Steep hill, curvy road and deep soft sand. But I made it on the second try. Was so happy and excited. Cool to have a chance to give it a real try with such powerful cars! Driving Frangelico after that was like a piece of cake.

Fraser Island adventure was more than just a driving though. We visited many beautiful places, the crowd was cool and evenings where spent by a bonfire. First night me and Berna sneaked to our tent without saying good night, because the rest were only starting to party. Second night though, we were determined to make it past midnight lol and switched over to our 4L goon (box wine). By no doubt we exceeded the goal of midnight. At some point, having freshly graduated from the introduction to massage course, I started to give head massage to a girl in front of me (I did ask of course beforehand lol) and quickly people were queuing up. It was a good for socializing (that's how people remembered me the next day) and deserved break from that "glorious" wine. The night continued in a bamboo discotheque and we danced until we couldn't no more. It was a memorable 200 meters with Berna to our tent.

Next day we went to one of the one hundred lakes on the island. You had to walk about 1km in the, uhm, sand and it seemed an endless journey. But when we made it to the lake and into the lake, oh, how good it felt. The best you could wish for on a day after a box of goon. Revitalised, it was soon time to leave that beach and the whole island.

While talking about Fraser, I also need to mention the dingoes. It is not recommended to walk alone and you should always carry a stick with you. On one morning walk with Berna, one dingo did not let us in peace, it followed us exactly at the distance of our stick. One of the locals saw us struggling and came to explain that in the direction we are going there is the mother dingo with it's cubs. It made sense not to pursue further. Sure enough, the dingo just watched us leave and didn't bother no more.

Other backpackers reported dingos coming to their tents and licking their feet and stuff...Our guide said it was probably the goon that had dropped on your toes while drinking and that smelled good for the dingos (we were not allowed to take any food to the tent for that reason).

# Sailing around Whitsundays.  This was the next bigger stop after Fraser Island. That meant we had to make it 1000km north in a course of two days. First night we stayed close to 1770. James Cook landed there on that year, hence the name. And this place is really famous and so many tourists travel trough, but only 65 people live there. If only Estonia would had been discovered in some spectacular way...

Next day it was really time to put your butt through an endurance test. I drove the first 5 and Berna the other 5 hours. We maybe made 4 stops altogether to refuel the car, go to the restroom, eat mandarins and ice-cream and then press on. And we made it.

Whitsundays sailing tours are also massively popular. You can choose between different sailing boats or catamarans and different type of activities. Some focus on beach time, some are "action" boats, where you  can learn some stuff to be done while sailing, some are for a party crowd and then some for couples with need for a private room. Our mutual and easily reached decision was to go for the action boat "British Defender". She is a beautiful yacht that raced around the world in 1990.

The crew on the boat was truly amazing. All Kiwis. The skipper had such a great humour, I took an instant liking to all of them and it set things off for a good start. It only got better when one hour into the sailing I could take over the boat and steer it myself for about 45 minutes. Yay. I mean, it was really not that tricky, as the sea was calm, but still, you know, he left me steering and went to do his own stuff for a while :D

Next day was my first experience in diving! The water was so cold! Luckily, you are dismissive of that during the actual dive, because there is so much going on. Fishes. Big, small, 2D (flat ones), 3D (rounder ones), corals dead and alive and, in my case, constant flow of water into my mask.

Best part of the dive was noticing a huge Napoleon fish approaching from behind and then just overtaking me. Look here for a random example from internet, but it shows a similar experience: http://www.pbs.org/odyssey/images/20030314_daily_b.jpg

Napoleon is not the most beautiful fish, kind of odd looking, seemingly slow creature. Could easily fit as wise, but weird character in a Disney cartoon. Napoleons are something like Ents in Lord of the Rings I reckon.

After diving it was time for some real sailing as the wind was pretty strong. Dressed up with warm clothes, we were herded on  one side of the boat. Soon enough it was clear why - the deck turned onto a 60 degrees angle at least ie railings of the other side of the boat were often completely in water and you sit there really high up looking down directly into the water. I was surprised that no-one got afraid. Theoretically you could quite easily fall the 8m down... Said that, it was not a struggle to keep a balance, so you could pretty much just relax, watch the ocean below and around and liste to the excellent playlist from our skipper.

Next day was even more windy and we were all wearing rain jackets to dodge splashes of water bound to come our way.  Loved it.

# Final days of chilling. From Airlie Beach to Cairns, its a mere 620km. Basically just down the road. And we had 4 days before my departure date. Heaps of time. So now we could decide after breakfast not to leave immediately and just chill on the beach for hours. Or stop somewhere earlier etc We were on couple of camping grounds just on the beach. It's great to open the door of Frangelico in the morning and just listen to the waves for a little while. Even made hour our campfire one evening. That was on a camping ground, where there were no other little campervans like ours. There were proper campers and camper-buses. Seriously, one camper-bus was so high tech it had a little courtyard and a tv screen on the outside of the bus! They also seemed to stay rather long time there. In the morning one guy mowed the lawn in the courtyard of his camper lol. Oh and then there was a roof top tent, the concept of which was unknown for me until that time (http://www.jeepz.com/forum/attachments/general-chat/7618d1299173228-roof-top-tents-_thumb_jeepka3.jpg)

Final days of chilling had a different taste to it also because after much exhausting battles in my mind, I had reached a decision not to go home after Bali, but to quit my job and continue travelling some more and really force myself to make a new start.

Campervan Frangelico

We must have been one of the most organised campervan travellers on the east coast. Our 22 year old fellow traveller Luka, former collegue of Berna, was utterly impressed. When he was with his mates on the road trip, the car was packed with chips and goon (goon is Australian packpacker wine in 2.2L carton boxes that u can get for 12$, instead of a normal glass bottle that costs min 16$) and they mostly ate pasta. With tomato sauce on better days. We however, and mind you, I was travelling with a German, had everything prepared and ready, neatly ducked away in designated boxes. After 3 days of practice, Berna would know exactly where anything and everything is and there where a lot of things. Daily box, veggie box, dry box, kitchen, bar, cable bag, green bag, black bag, eski and refrigerator. And then also the towel bag, tool box, laundry, medical kit, book bag and many more. All this was too much to take in for Luka, so any time we were packing the car or taking stuff out for a brekkie or anything like that, he was too bewildered and just had to stand aside and watch.

Camper-van aka Frangelico was of course equipped with a gas stove, so we could cook wherever. There was also a solar shower (fancy name for a bag that you can put on the railings on top of the car so the sun heats up the water), so u could shower wherever.

With all this organisation I was still always searching for something. Where are my socks? Why do I have 3 single socks after 5 days on a road trip? My phone cable is not in the cable bag, where is it? Where is Lisa (our Tom Tom guide, who got us sometimes to totally random places like on the other side of the bay we wanted to go or suggested to go offroad)? Or most important question, which I was even too afraid to say out loud - where are my set of car keys??? One morning though, on the last day of the roadtrip actually, I could no longer search discreetly in silence.It sucks to loose other people's stuff and I had already lost plenty of Berna's and burned some stuff as well ... nevertheless, Berna took the news as a real trooper and we searched every corner of Frangelico and the campground. No keys. Not the best beginning of the last day. But after much recounting the events of the previous evening, we drove back to where we had a little stop and actually found them back. Oh joy. The day could start properly - one mint for each, Ben Howard Every Kingdom CD playing and the road wide open.

Declaring myself Australian resident

Originally my outbound flight from Australia was set 163days after the inbound flight. Why I know this is because when I started working I looked into the Australian tax legislation in detail in order to minimize tax burden.

Solution is pretty evident. All you need, is either to be a Kiwi (they can come over to work in AU with no trouble and loads of them do so as the pay is much higher) or be an Australian resident for taxation purposes. So I declared myself a resident. That's pretty much how it works. When you start working, you need to fill in some paperwork and part of it is where you tell your employer in which tax category you fall in. And they they withhold the tax accordingly. Tricky part is that you have no way of being certain if the tax authority will later on share your point of view about your status.

Anyhow, after some hesitation I declared myself a resident. After all I met at least most of the criteria to do so. Only couple of months later, when I took a fresh look into the legislation it dawned on me, that I am 2 days short of the minimum 165 days of stay in Australia required to be regarded as resident.

Although 2 days is pretty stupid and I thought most likely there is no real check about it anyway, I decided to be on the safe side. We are after all talking about either having to pay another 2000$ extra for tax or receiving tax return of 3000$. Changing my flight ticket was relatively cheap comparing those numbers, so there we go, I decided to stay an extra week. This worked out perfectly as it was much needed for the amazing roadtrip to come from Sydney to Cairns.