Lire la traduction française
The gnome with the very big nose is leading the girl in this filthy, muddy bog. The thick murky brown waters fart to release a foul stench, which makes the journey to save the baby really difficult…
Do you follow me?
The Bog of Eternal Stench is not a product of my imagination; it exists in Labyrinth, the Jim Henson’s movie starring David Bowie in creepy pastel tights. Well, now you’ll wonder where I am going with this.
In the rainforest, the waters are crystal-clear and often travel in grand cascades down the cliffs of the mountains. The latter are like sparkling fields of emeralds, their faraway heads crowned by thin, milky clouds. There is definitely no farting bog and I haven’t caught a glimpse of the gnomes, even though I met a lot of their beautiful fellow magical creatures such as metallic blue butterflies and shiny purple and orange kingfishers. But after 4 days of living outside in Paradise, in the almighty rainy season, I felt a bit like someone must have felt trying to survive the Bog of Eternal Stench.
Every one of the few belongings I kept outside, the plants, the dog, my hair, my shoes, Marc’s hat and my entire being started to grow moldy. You see, it pours down every day, all day. Moreover, you surely smell the mold but it’s only when you leave the dense canopy that you actually see the nice velvety blue covering your cooler, shorts, socks and underwear. The rainforest is so thick that you spend much of your time in a light that mimics the shades of colors dusk paints on the sky. I could hardly believe it, but even my Patagonia state-of-the-art raincoat was moldy, and I had to soak it in vinegar.
Nevertheless, the RAINforest takes on a glowing, breathtaking magnificence under the thousands of shiny raindrops that nourish the soil a couple months of the year. Every leaf, from small like a birch’s up to the giant palm tree “fans”, sparkles like fireworks on a misty lake.
When you live and WWOOF at the Platypus Bush Camp, you come to envy your duck billed friends in the river for they have a very good protection against humidity… And it makes you appreciate the simplest of comfort: something called “indoors”. Since we began our Australian journey, Marc and I have lived in the car for about one month, and then in a small tent for 2 months. With this jungle adventure just ending, I realize once more how beautiful it is to CHOOSE willfully to reduce our level of comfort. It really does make you appreciate the smallest of details so much more. I become ecstatic at the smell of clean clothes, at the feeling of clean sheets on my skin, at the idea of a bed, and at the scent of a good tea. I cannot even describe how good I feel when I find a cozy couch to lay on…
I always believed happiness was weaved of the little things in life. Of course I would add on the grandeur of the loved ones, who would be the pearls embedded in the fabric, making it eternal, as pearls never vanish with time. Plus, they bring a range of changing colours to support our changing moods and hopes…
Thanks for being there!
See HIS view
See His and Hers Pictures
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Armpit Tattoos
Lire l'original en Français
We have invented almost everything to “embellish” ourselves. We modify our hair, tan our skin; unfortunately, we add or take away parts of our bodies and pierce or draw art galleries on the walls of our skin. We choose fabrics, coloured, veiled, embroidered and sometimes as bright as a star filled sky. And I find us beautiful in our endless variety. I have to admit, sometimes, I can only fill myself with the greatest humility facing Mother Nature’s creation.
Oh well, I know some of us were lucky enough to have their armpits “ectrolysized” or “laserized” (it almost sounds like torture…!). So it makes sense that we want to make the most forgotten alcoves of our bodies more attractive. But I believe some inhabitants of Gaia’ depths steal the show. Who has ever thought of tattooing their armpits? I’m sure someone has already done it, but I wouldn’t say it’s a norm. However, it’s surely a norm for parrot fishes, my favourite fishes. Many times I have meditated facing these unbelievable beauties, and still every time I’m with them, I feel so small, even though I’m much bigger than they are with my diving suit, my gigantic mask and my oxygen bottle, which looks like a bomb! They are “celestially” beautiful. I’m sure all the Gods of all the world’s religions must have entered a partnership in which they had to try and use the entire terrestrial colour palette on one living creature. And not only did they succeed, but they also managed to combine a great part of already existing patterns!
From the Celtic labyrinth on top of the tiny cranium, to the colourful triangles on the fins, to the lunar rainbow on the tail, and to the scales reminiscing of the Flower of life, the parrotfish is a millennial archive containing a global list of arts. I believe if they could read, they would be touched! And they even look different when the Sun is shining; they glitter like an opal and we can see a cascade of shooting stars on their head.
I couldn’t cry because I hate to have water in my mask, but I believe I could have added a little water to the Pacific Ocean as I was so pleased to join the old friends I hadn’t seen since Hawai’i. It was so good to be back in the land of bubbles, with ever changing landscapes! I floated from the land of gigantic scoops of ice cream to the district of violet and metallic turquoise mouths opening and shutting as if they wanted to share, in an instant, all the might of their country with me. And through all of it, I held your hand so you could travel with me and witness submarine flowers oscillating in the currents with grace.
See HIS view
See His and Hers Pictures
We have invented almost everything to “embellish” ourselves. We modify our hair, tan our skin; unfortunately, we add or take away parts of our bodies and pierce or draw art galleries on the walls of our skin. We choose fabrics, coloured, veiled, embroidered and sometimes as bright as a star filled sky. And I find us beautiful in our endless variety. I have to admit, sometimes, I can only fill myself with the greatest humility facing Mother Nature’s creation.
Oh well, I know some of us were lucky enough to have their armpits “ectrolysized” or “laserized” (it almost sounds like torture…!). So it makes sense that we want to make the most forgotten alcoves of our bodies more attractive. But I believe some inhabitants of Gaia’ depths steal the show. Who has ever thought of tattooing their armpits? I’m sure someone has already done it, but I wouldn’t say it’s a norm. However, it’s surely a norm for parrot fishes, my favourite fishes. Many times I have meditated facing these unbelievable beauties, and still every time I’m with them, I feel so small, even though I’m much bigger than they are with my diving suit, my gigantic mask and my oxygen bottle, which looks like a bomb! They are “celestially” beautiful. I’m sure all the Gods of all the world’s religions must have entered a partnership in which they had to try and use the entire terrestrial colour palette on one living creature. And not only did they succeed, but they also managed to combine a great part of already existing patterns!
From the Celtic labyrinth on top of the tiny cranium, to the colourful triangles on the fins, to the lunar rainbow on the tail, and to the scales reminiscing of the Flower of life, the parrotfish is a millennial archive containing a global list of arts. I believe if they could read, they would be touched! And they even look different when the Sun is shining; they glitter like an opal and we can see a cascade of shooting stars on their head.
I couldn’t cry because I hate to have water in my mask, but I believe I could have added a little water to the Pacific Ocean as I was so pleased to join the old friends I hadn’t seen since Hawai’i. It was so good to be back in the land of bubbles, with ever changing landscapes! I floated from the land of gigantic scoops of ice cream to the district of violet and metallic turquoise mouths opening and shutting as if they wanted to share, in an instant, all the might of their country with me. And through all of it, I held your hand so you could travel with me and witness submarine flowers oscillating in the currents with grace.
See HIS view
See His and Hers Pictures
Monday, February 8, 2010
I am Eddy Murphy…not anymore
Read the French translation
Do you remember the Nutty Professor? That movie in which a fat teacher becomes skinny and “good looking” to get a girl, and then becomes fat again? Well…that was me…or more precisely my foot, and just the “becoming fat” part. He (Eddy Murphy) was looking as his feet that were swelling instantly, like if someone was blowing them up like balloons. Well, Wednesday, January 13, some invisible force decided that would be the fate of my right foot. Something called blood rushed to my ankle like it`d called 911 and established a state of emergency. While my eyes were shiny with tears, the agile staff of my body`s disaster crew had blown my foot up so big, it did not even look like a foot anymore.
A very heavy metal frame had fallen on my ankle, at precisely 5 o`clock, when I was closing the doors of the bakery. And to my great disappointment, there was the end of my bakery career. I got the crutches, two sets of X-Rays (you have to drive 1.5 hours both ways to get them), physio and a very good service from Work Cover, the Bakery and the 4 doctors I saw. Nothing is broken. Just heavily hurt. In about 3 weeks I will be able to walk normally!
You can imagine what it was like walking with my crutches in the hostel every day. I could not go anywhere so I was always in the common area, where tons of new backpacker faces would ask me repeatedly “How did you hurt your foot?”. And that would be immediately followed by the corners of their mouths going down; “What a shame, hurting yourself when travelling!”. And then I would tell them there are way worst things in life and that my existence was still magical every day. They seemed surprised by my positive thinking. One day I got to give them a very good example of “worst things”. There was a new guest at the hostel, an Israeli speaking perfect English and having a great sense of sharing. Unfortunately, his face and body were not as great as his intellect though. He was heavily handicapped, with his limbs and facial features twisted like the eucalyptus avoiding the storm. He was moving around, almost dancing, with two crutches that looked like they had grown to be part of him. He played ping-pong with his good hand and took his t-shirt off to swim laps in the pool and chat with fellow travellers. And he asked me what happened to my foot, genuinely caring about me. Wow!
After two and a half weeks, my foot got a little better; enough to stand up to watch the toad race for Australia Day. Standing proud in green and gold (Oz`s colours), I also gave water to save the life of a food contest participant (Marc participated as well) and played with the dogs and their Australian flags.
Finally, we thought my nutty foot was good looking enough to leave Agnes after two months. We left after 2 days of flood, crossing rivers with our epic Shocker. It was time to go: only ten minutes after packing our camp in the heavy rain, a river created itself and started rushing down the field exactly where our heads used to dream every night. It is just wonderful how the landscape modifies itself to reinvent the world. Just like a pregnant woman. I wish I could view global warming just like that…
See HIS view
See His and Hers Pictures
See His and Hers Video
Do you remember the Nutty Professor? That movie in which a fat teacher becomes skinny and “good looking” to get a girl, and then becomes fat again? Well…that was me…or more precisely my foot, and just the “becoming fat” part. He (Eddy Murphy) was looking as his feet that were swelling instantly, like if someone was blowing them up like balloons. Well, Wednesday, January 13, some invisible force decided that would be the fate of my right foot. Something called blood rushed to my ankle like it`d called 911 and established a state of emergency. While my eyes were shiny with tears, the agile staff of my body`s disaster crew had blown my foot up so big, it did not even look like a foot anymore.
A very heavy metal frame had fallen on my ankle, at precisely 5 o`clock, when I was closing the doors of the bakery. And to my great disappointment, there was the end of my bakery career. I got the crutches, two sets of X-Rays (you have to drive 1.5 hours both ways to get them), physio and a very good service from Work Cover, the Bakery and the 4 doctors I saw. Nothing is broken. Just heavily hurt. In about 3 weeks I will be able to walk normally!
You can imagine what it was like walking with my crutches in the hostel every day. I could not go anywhere so I was always in the common area, where tons of new backpacker faces would ask me repeatedly “How did you hurt your foot?”. And that would be immediately followed by the corners of their mouths going down; “What a shame, hurting yourself when travelling!”. And then I would tell them there are way worst things in life and that my existence was still magical every day. They seemed surprised by my positive thinking. One day I got to give them a very good example of “worst things”. There was a new guest at the hostel, an Israeli speaking perfect English and having a great sense of sharing. Unfortunately, his face and body were not as great as his intellect though. He was heavily handicapped, with his limbs and facial features twisted like the eucalyptus avoiding the storm. He was moving around, almost dancing, with two crutches that looked like they had grown to be part of him. He played ping-pong with his good hand and took his t-shirt off to swim laps in the pool and chat with fellow travellers. And he asked me what happened to my foot, genuinely caring about me. Wow!
After two and a half weeks, my foot got a little better; enough to stand up to watch the toad race for Australia Day. Standing proud in green and gold (Oz`s colours), I also gave water to save the life of a food contest participant (Marc participated as well) and played with the dogs and their Australian flags.
Finally, we thought my nutty foot was good looking enough to leave Agnes after two months. We left after 2 days of flood, crossing rivers with our epic Shocker. It was time to go: only ten minutes after packing our camp in the heavy rain, a river created itself and started rushing down the field exactly where our heads used to dream every night. It is just wonderful how the landscape modifies itself to reinvent the world. Just like a pregnant woman. I wish I could view global warming just like that…
See HIS view
See His and Hers Pictures
See His and Hers Video
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
