Online Journalism Week One

The debate surrounding swimming's once golden girl Leisel Jones, and her fitness to compete in The Olympics set the Australian media on fire this week.

The photos that sparked the debate depicted the 26-year-old swimmer poolside, in nothing but her green and gold swimsuit.

Soon after these photos emerged, headlines placing doubt on her ability to swim began to circulate.

We had them on every news site and every paper, all newsworthy because of one really unflattering photo that was taken while she was bending over.

Myself, I would like to see someone who would look good from that angle, but anyway.

Is she fit enough? Is she too fat? Can she perform? Are just a few examples of articles I saw floating around online in the days preceding.

All articles contained more photos than text, and more judgement than analysis.

Pretty horrible for poor Leisel, who arguably already had the expectations of the nation on her shoulders; these headlines just perpetuated more doubt for the swimmer in her fourth games.

The problems I saw with the reporting of this saga were twofold.

Firstly, for as long as I can remember, The Olympics is largely based on time trials.

In fact, the swimming is solely based on this.

By that reasoning, Leisel was obviously fit enough to compete, else she never would have made it to the games... FOUR consecutive times.

Secondly, I was utterly appalled at the message the media, mainstream Australian media (we're not taking catwalk models in Vouge) happily sent to Australian women and girls regarding body image.

The subtext under every story produced by every media outlet making comment on Liesel's alleged fat roll, made an example of a woman who is idol to many and labeled her inadequate.

It seemed like most organizations didn't have a care for how this would impact the women who work on their bodies tirelessly just to look even half as good as Leisel does.

Later in the week, the Sydney Morning Herald seemed to try and retract the criticism they had made earlier by providing us with an opinion piece reminding us how image driven any career path is and "if you don't look like you can deliver the goods, you need people around you who can vouch for your commitment, credibility and performance".

Really? Or should people believe in us regardless of what we look like?

Statistics on the Butterfly Foundation website tell us disordered eating is emerging as a norm in Australian society with 90% of 12-17 year old girls and 68% of 12 – 17 year old boys having been on a diet of some type.

Putting these statistics into context with the judgements the media made on our on a sporting elite this week, it presents an ethical dilemma for media professionals and one which was largely overlooked.

That is, it is our responsibility to think about how a story may effect those vulnerable in our society.

As journalists we should ask ourselves whether something is for the greater good, before simply writing a hook to get more hits on juicy photo?

Or is this what online journalism is about?

Getting those readers in with something that nobody else has.

I suppose I'll find out as I go along with this course.

Al Xx

Online Journalism

For those of you who follow my blog (yes, all eight of you), the next ten weeks will see my blog taking a bit of a different turn as I'll be using it as part of my assessment for the subject Online Journalism, which I am studying as part of my Journalism degree at QUT.

The assessment asks us to use a blog to comment on online journalism/news media/reporting. I have to update it at least once a week. This is going to be the challenge for me because, as you know, I'm terrible at keeping this thing up to date.

The only thing I really have to do is refer to specific current examples of the craft and at least three of my blog posts must directly refer to/build on/quote specific issues or thoughts raised the lectures (those that I manage to wake up in time to attend).

I can comparing how different outlets covered a story, comment on really good or really bad examples of online journalism at work, explore or review apps for online journalists, or do whatever else I choose.

The brief is pretty broad, so it's going to be really fun.

I can also use text, video, audio or any combination. 

The most important thing really is to involve myself in online journalism and think about how it will apply to me. So, on that note, I'd better get started.  

Xx Al

Sometimes you need a bit of a reminder...

That you can do whatever you want to.

I've loved this book since I was a child and I wanted to share Dr Seuss' wonderful words with you.

Oh, The Places You'll Go
By Dr Seuss

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find any
you'll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll head straight out of town.

It's opener there
in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.

And then things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.

OH!
THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You'll be on y our way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don't.
Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
that Bang-ups
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.

You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.

You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.

And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.
A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles cross weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. There are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You'll be as famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don't
Because, sometimes they won't.

I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though your enemies prowl.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike,
And I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never foget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
You're off the Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!

Judith Lucy

Above is a very poorly taken screen shot of a little piece I wrote to promote Judith Lucy's show Nothing Fancy when it rolled into Brisbane Town last month.

After seeing her absolutely hilarious sold-out show, I thought it might be fitting to write a little review of what I thought of it. Keep in mind, I don't usually do this, so go easy on me!

As Judith told me on the phone, the show was 'just gags and no dancing'. But never fear, the lack of physical comedy does nothing to lessen the shows appeal. The show itself was appropriately low key. Judith, herself was dressed very casually for the event and entered the stage to a rockin' pop anthem I am probably too young to know the name of - but the entrance was all very exciting.

As I sat watching the show, thankful I was too far away for any form of audience participation,  I was hooked on every word and had a hearty chuckle at most things.

Personally, I am a fan of crude comedy but, if you turn sour at the thought of someone turning a phrase about female ejaculation, I'd say the show probably isn't for you.

Judith told jokes about singledom, housemates and getting older and plenty about her own inadequacies. While I had a full bellied laugh at her expense, I couldn't help but feel slightly melancholy about Judith's constant ability to play herself, her luck with men and her successes down. While I know much of her comedy comes from her own short comings (see her previous tour I Failed), and much of it is likely to be embellished, I still wanted, even if just for a moment, for Judith to acknowledge how well she has done.

The Brisbane audiences reaction to the show was overwhelmingly positive and Judith stole the night, reaffirming she is Australia's queen of comedy and the darling of one night stands. She was witty, funny, and a little bit crass and even if most of the gags were at her own expense, it sure seemed to work in her favor. Nothing Fancy may not have been a show with all the bells and whistles of Judith's previous tours, but it definitely had something for everyone and got a standing ovation from me.

There are no mistakes

I've always wanted things to happen quickly. Ever since the word go. I was born three months early, I guess I just couldn't wait to get out into the world and start getting things done.

Consequently, I constantly take things and run with them. An idea, a relationship, a job anything. Not in an obsessive way, but in a completely idealistic way.

An idea tends to grow in my mind so rapidly that before I know it I've planned my entire life around something I know nothing about. The thing is, I never plan things completely though, they're always in the abstract. And actually, I love doing that. I love imagining the future and what it could be like, rather than what it should be like. Sometimes practicality just kills me -- more recently far more than ever.

As I'm getting older I'm starting to get to know my personality much better than I ever did before. I can predict the way I'll react to a lot of situations in a way I never could only a few years ago. Appropriately, I am learning how to avoid situations that would make me react negatively.

However, the point of this post I guess is to illustrate how I'm feeling about life. I feel like two parts of me are competing at the moment. I'm dying to get my university degree complete (and after almost five years at it, I think I've done a pretty good job sticking to it for someone who wants things to happen quickly) and get a job and just be an adult. On the other side of things, I so desperately want to remain as care free as I feel now, or even more care free (if that's possible). Becoming a gypsy would probably be my ideal 'job' actually.

What's the answer? I'm not sure, maybe I could run away to Rome and eat carbs to my hearts delight. Only, I know that wouldn't be practical. So, I've still got to stick it out at uni, which really, isn't so bad, right?

However, I want to take the time to dedicate this post to my dear friend Renea Williams who, tomorrow, is doing what I could never do. The girl who is following her heart, regardless of any arguments of practicality I have thrown at her. She is my best friend and she is leaving me in Brisbane all alone and I really don't know what I'm going to do without her to listen to my shit on repeat, get drunk with me and eat pies in the street, or criticize women for wearing too little on cold nights. Never mind, she's got bigger fish to fry and better things ahead of her and the world at her feet. So, it is with love I write this as I look forward to seeing what the future holds for her. It couldn't be brighter, girl.

Xx

Do you ever obsess over nothing?

Lately, I've been doing that a lot. So, before I go to bed (which I've made a habit of doing past 1am lately), I'm going to take this opportunity to address the interwebs and make a pact to stop doing it.

Done.

I'm interning at The Courier Mail this week. Today was well fun, so I'll make sure I take some good notes down and collate them into a little piece for you at the end of the week.

So for now, look forward to some insight into the life of an intern in the big newsroom world.

Xx

Do you want codine with that?

Having the flu is the pits. Especially when you've still got to keep on keeping on!

When I was younger sickness was a bit of a fantasy land. I got to stay at home from school, watch DVD's (erm, I mean videos) and drink lemonade. That fantasy land is long gone. Now when I'm sick I go to work, I go to uni and I clean the house. There is no fantasy, I can't stop my life. I don't watch DVD's, instead I sit up in bed on my computer and sneeze and cough until the screen is laden with blotches of water so I don't miss deadlines. I don't drink lemonade, I drink tea, even though I don't like it, but because I can't drag myself out of bed to actually go to the shops and buy any lemonade.

So, as I write from my bed prison. I guess all I really want is a bit of sympathy, some lemonade and to go back to that fantasy land where being sick meant you got to stop your life.

Ohhh, hey

Here is a little bit of somethin' somethin' to get you in the swing of the weekend.

Now, I'm off to read the paper. And hope The Gos turns up on my doorstep with croissants.

This image is thanks to the lovely people at this website.

You're too qualified

I recently applied for a job at a company whose name will remain undisclosed.

After thousands of emails back and forth, phone calls and interviews, they finally phoned and told me; "you have too much experience for this job". Stunned at this justification for why I wasn't successful, I simply replied with "okay, that's understandable, thank you for the opportunity". As I hung up the phone, I wondered to myself why it had not occurred to them to let me know they thought I had to much experience or wasn't suited for the position sooner? It probably would have saved us both a lot of time. Moreover, if I felt that I would have been unhappy doing a job below my skill level, I am fairly sure I wouldn't have applied at all. And, if you are supposedly too qualified, how is this actually a bad thing if you're happy to do the work?

So, what do you do when an employer thinks you're too qualified for a job?

I mean, you can't exactly respond with "well, I can be less educated" or "I just wont work as hard, please hire me".

With the job market the way it is at the moment, it is getting harder and harder for us Gen Y entering the workforce to get jobs, let alone our dream job. This means that a lot of us are going for jobs that are below our skill set because well, we've got to start somewhere; especially in the media industry!

Being turned away because you are too experienced feels a bit like a catch 22. If we're too experienced for a graduate entry job and not experienced enough for any other, then what are we to do?

The other major thing that occurred to me was that I actually just wasn't the best candidate for the job, but they wanted to let me down lightly. Let me just say, that doesn't work. If any employers are reading this, let me assure you, telling a lie doesn't help applicants grow. It sure hasn't helped me grow if that is the truth. If we're not the right candidate, we're not right. That's fine, at least tell us why instead of sugar coating it to save face or feelings.

After this rant, the only answer I have to the "you're too qualified" dilemma is... keep trying. Keep applying and keep looking because the right job is out there. I can see how this is completely idealistic because I hear so often that the dream job actually doesn't exist (bah-bum). I know better than anyone paying your dues is just a part of finding your way in your career, so if that's what you've got to do. Do it. Work for free, work for food, work for movie tickets, work until everyone knows your name. After today I'm looking at things this way, in the end a job that is the right fit for me will come along and I'll be really happy when it does. That's not to say I might not be doing night fill at Woolworths in a few years. Who knows? But for now, at least, I'm back trawling seek.com.

All my love,

Al

Xx

Marriage is so gay

Tonight marks the 34th anniversary of the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras in Sydney. So, I figure what better time to launch back into my blog and write a brief an open missive about my thoughts on marriage equality in Australia.

Now let's get something straight, I wouldn't define myself as completely straight. Settle down children, this isn't a secret. Anyone who knows me, knows this. So, if I ever become a really famous writer please don't pull a quote out of this dribble I am writing now and try and use it against me. I will probably just confirm it, give you a better quote and continue with my book tour of Europe.

In saying the above, I wouldn't consider myself gay, lesbian, bisexual or to fall within any of the previous categories because the title is irrelevant to the conversation we are about to launch into and more importantly, to the greater issue I am about to discuss. But, what I know about myself and about my heart is I wouldn't discount falling love purely because someone had the same gender as me.

As a journalism student I learn at school the importance of making clear any bias or conflicts of interest that might occur in our writing. So, take note of the previous paragraphs. I have now made you aware of a bias I may have on this issue and maybe it is going effect the way I write this post, so take a deep breath and get used to it.

So, I just told you about me. I told you who I am and what my 'title' is; straight up with a twist. However, this debate isn't about me and it's not about titles either. It's not about orientation, hell, it's not even about gender, it's about love. It's about true and unrequited love and that, in my opinion, should bear no judgement, legal or otherwise, on it's validity.

Everyone who fits broadly under the title of 'straight', let's engage in a little Friday night role playing for a few moments. Chill out, I don't mean make a porno (an issue I will discuss at a later date).

Let's all imagine meeting someone. Someone really fucking amazing. Let's imagine getting to know that amazing someone over a period of time, this might span for years or it might only take months to know they're the one. Let's imagine living with someone, buying shit at IKEA, finally making that massive step to buy an indoor plant you both can't keep alive. Imagine sitting around one afternoon on your overpriced Karlstad couch you bought at IKEA, mourning the death of the indoor fern and realizing "Holy shit, I want to spend my life with this person and I want to tell the world that".

Imagine wanting to make your love public and final, wanting a nice day with a tower of cupcakes (as is the trend at the moment) only to find that Section 5 of the Marriage Act 1961 (Cth) says sorry, you just can't do it. And for no other reason than the fact the love of your life just happens to share the same genitalia as you. Section 5 of the Act defines marriage as "The union of a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for life." And there you have it, you and your partner are struck out because here, in this one provision, we're still on page with our Federal Government members of 1961, or rather John Howard in 2004.

How do you feel straight role-players? How does it feel to be denied the opportunity to marry the person you love. To some of us it wouldn't even matter. I know to me, marriage isn't the end of the world. Hundreds of people spend their lives together unmarried. But, I know at anytime, legally I could roll down to city hall, chuck a K-Fed and Britney and be on my way to a life as MRS whoever. It would be a completely different kettle of fish if I couldn't give it a go because of a minor legislative technicality. I think that is what is so inherently wrong about this issue, others not being given the choice.

Now, I am not going to get all preachy, or talk in legal terminology about this (two things I am quite good at) because we all know that would bore you and I to tears. I am however, going to try to to nut out why I think denying anyone the chance to get married is really really gay (and you know what context I am using this word in) and I am also, like a true law student, going to try to look at this from a religious perspective (briefly because I am running out of time) and see if I can understand it.

I think I'll start with the latter, the Christian religious argument against gay marriage in Australia. I will just state again, I am looking at this on such a surface level because I'm pressed for time, so please don't think I am trying to skim over the complexity of this issue or give any kind of disrespect to religion.

The most common argument I hear from my peers is "well, the bible doesn't say it's right". The bible also says that is it okay to beat your children with rods (Proverbs 23:13-14), but I believe we have assault laws against that.

What essentially I get out of the religious argument against gay marriage is that marriage is a religious rite and not a civil right so therefore, it should be conceived in the same terms it says in the bible. A traditional western definition of this would be between a man and woman. I don't have a problem with this being taught in church or believed by anyone who is of this faith, that is an entirely personal choice which I wouldn't dare condemn, because like being gay, it's not a big deal. The way I see it however, is the issue we are facing in Australia concerning gay marriage is a legal issue, not a religious one and it is not any governments responsibility to legislate according to God's will.

In my opinion, religion should not be about exclusion, if God is who he is said to be in the bible, I doubt he is really going to care too much. I mean honestly, he must be ridiculously busy. From what I know, he loves everyone for who they are and he is even willing to serve redemption to the worst members of society. Gay marriage is not about religion. Even though the act of marriage is derived from a traditional religious ceremony, I think we can all agree many religious sacraments have moved with the times, so let's do that same with marriage.

I'm an atheist. By any bible definition, I commit sins on daily basis, but it's not illegal for me to get married. Just because I drink as apposed to date another woman, doesn't mean my sin of drinking should be any less wrong in the eyes of religion. Last time I checked there wasn't a sin scale in the bible, so why should gay marriage be looked down upon anymore than anything else the bible might advise against. I think Christianity is about going to church or following rituals or just being a good person. It's not about judgement.

Aside from words like idiotic, bullshit etc that come to mind when I think of the reason the Australian Government refused to change the definition in The Marriage Act. There is one word I just can't get out of my head and that is why. More specifically, why not.

It saddens me so so much to know that people in our society are being disenfranchised because they want to show the person they love they are committed to them. It hurts more to know that an amendment to legislation would relatively simple.

Being gay or straight or whatever you want to call yourself is not all that you are and that is what is so disconcerting about this whole issue. There should be no reason why anyone in Australian society today should be made to feel inferior because of a small part of who they are and it needn't be turned into the only part of them that is seen by society.

The issue of gay marriage is so much of a non-issue for many Australians today. With so many people in support of amending legislation, I feel we really need to just get on with it and put all this misery to an end.

I know a lot of my Gen Y (I hate that term) peers are just getting are sick and tired of hearing about this issue and really want some action.

Seriously, put aside all the legal stuff about family tax benefits and child care and defacto income if that is what gets you down about this issue and look at it from a human perspective. Love is love and all love should be treated the same. Right now in Australia, it isn't and that is a pretty heavy burden to bare.

To end, I just want to say I think the greatest thing we can ever learn in this life is to love and accept one another for who they are.

So, can we just start doing that and give all love the validity it deserves.

If you really feel inspired I would urge you to write to your local, state or federal Member of Parliament and let them know how you feel. Don't think that voices don't count, because I can assure you they do.

Yours,

Alexandria Utting.

I'm back!

And, I'm sorry I've been gone so long.

It will be a few days until I write something decent on here, but in the mean time...

Enjoy this youtube clip!

Of drivers, forts and celling wax

Good evening friends of the Intersquid,

How are you? (Really, how are you? Please leave comments!)

Soz (as my one of my smoothie making accomplices Anna Campbell would say) this post is rather delayed, I don't even know where to start!

I think we left off after my arrival in Udaipur?

Well I can tell you, everything about Udaipur was lovely. The hotel (or haveli) was lovely; (hot water + clean sheets = happy Alex). The town was lovely and so were the people, oh and the food? You guessed it, lovely too. It was generally a very relaxing week and Tom got a suit made which to say he is over-joyed about would be a massive understatement.
"This suit is tailored, Alex! Do you understand? TAI-lored".

After being there a week we made lots of new friends, taught a keen little boy how to play "jingle bell" on guitar and Tom hit one on the motor bike ride count. We even managed to hire a car with our very own driver to take us around for the rest of our time in Rajasthan (it ended up costing just a bit more than taking trains and is so much less of a hassle, well it should have been).

So after Udaipur, we were off with our new driver Yunus Khan on the road to Jodhpur with a stop off at a magical fort hidden high on a rocky cliff like something out of 'The Lord of The Rings'. Unfortunately, not long after our car pulled away from Udaipur my memories of the white city began to fade away and their places were filled with new ones involving bed bugs, vomiting and the usual supicious smell of urine.

The car trip to Jodhpur is a bit of a blur, all I can really remember is taking a quick look at the fort, having a spew and stopping at a restaurant where they appeared to place a pot of chicken curry on a hot plate when some foreigners rocked up, only to pull it back off the flame and sit it in a dusty corner when they politely declined and opted for a Seven-Up.

Salmonella anyone?

What I do recall though, was some really interesting village life where gorgeous dirty children waved to us with big white smiles and colourful saris as we hurdled through the countryside like a moving fish bowl.

The drive itself was less white knucked than my previous account and things with Mr Khan seemed to be going okay and even though he spoke much less English than first thought, we exchanged quite a few smiles and nods and he even opened the door when I got out of the car.

When we arrived in Jodhpur we saw yet another impressive fort, this one is set imposingly on a huge red rock (for lack of a better word) over the town. After visiting the sights of Jodhpur we ate some pretty weird noodles at an Indian fast food joint but other than that, the town does not bear too much of a mention.

Feeling pretty forted out we asked Mr Khan to take us to Bikaner so we could experience a bit of Indian desert magic. Unfortunately (haha pun anyone?), Bikaner was where things took a turn for the worst. Yunus began to get lazy... There was no more door opening, a lot more commission talk and he began to fart more regularly.

Mental downgrading of Yunus's tip had begun. He had moved from 2000 INR to 1500 INR.
The most annoying thing was when he started telling us the car could not go to the places we asked, that we probably didn't want to go at all and it became really difficult to get him to even drop us at our guesthouse.Obviously our denial of any of his commission happy stores was starting to take a toll on our relationship.

Tip downgraded to 1000 INR.

Bikaner is a desert town, so most tourists come here to leave on a camel safari. I however, was already aware of the ball-crushing (well, not personally) and bodily pain (yes, personally) that follows only half a day on a camel so we opted just to see the sights of the desert out-post, investigate the town and go to the camel research center instead.

Bikaner has a really strange feeling, it is typically dirty, busy, polluted and filled with people and stray dogs like most Indian towns, but it has a really ominous feeling about it too, at least that's what I felt. The town seemed part forgotten, part behind the times, but also a bit like the government is going to start turning off the power soon, sending people away and use the land for missile research or something.

The camel research center turned out to be a bit of a let down (basically because we didn't get to feed baby camels like it said in the brochure and camel dairy products didn't exactly entice me in for a lassi) but most of all it was a let down because Mr Yunus Khan started to get real, cornering us in the car and demanding 300INR a day for his services, telling us we had paid for the car and not the driver. He proceeded to spin a woeful yarn about how married life is very difficult for him as he is unloved and has to pay for his children - something we wouldn't understand because we don't have children, apparently. I found this particularly annoying and ungrateful because we had been really good to him, only using the car for a few hours a day, letting him off early and the fact he is on a salary from the hotel and spends most of his day waiting for tourists in a car is a whole lot better than most people in India have it.

45 minutes later he was pushing it for 500 INR.

Khan also put Tom in a bad mood for the following days where he started getting really cranky even asking me if "we needed to have a round table discussion" about where I wanted to go for lunch and demonstrating the angry face he would show Khan if he asked for any more money. Anyone who knows Tom would find this hilarious because it is so completely out of character and suffice to say, he apologized almost 2 seconds after the lunch comment.

Another downer of Bikaner was the fact our bed had bed bugs (which I always thought were microscopic, I thought wrong! They look like mini blood thirsty leeches! *insert girl scream here*) but, we did meet some pretty cool people at our guesthouse which lessened the itch.

We have been in Ajmer for the past couple of days which has been quite different to anywhere else we have been.There is not a whole lot to see here (unless a toxic green coloured lake is your interest) but the people, despite speaking very little English, have been so nice and helpful.In fact, we just finished a 15 minute game of charades with 6 men and rickshaw driver (and a bull looking on) regarding our hotel.

"Ohhh Hotel hav-el-ii not hav-ar-li," they laughed in unison when they finally realized what we were talking about.

Stupid Australians.

We also bought two pairs of strange sunglasses from a cranky old man today.They are pretty amazing, clearly circa 1950's and I think one pair has a mild prescription lens but at great price ($3AUD) we both feel like we've just left press conference with Bob Dylan when we step onto the street.

Another interesting thing to note is that Ghandi stayed at the guesthouse we are staying at tonight. I think that is something pretty special and our room is quite basic which makes me think of him wandering around one of the rooms not minding it's simplicity at all.

We are off to Pushkar tomorrow to stay in what is Lonely Planets hotel pick over Christmas, so we are both looking forward to it.

Then we head to Mumbai by train have just booked flights to Goa.

So, here's to some fun times ahead as the last week has been a bit of a downer.

Have a great Christmas and please look after yourselves on the roads and on the turps over the break.

All my love,

Alex.

Ps. Please enjoy all the summer stone fruit and pavlova for me!

Xx

To the graduates

Hello there,

I just wanted to take the time to write a quick note to anyone reading this who has received their HSC results and is feeling a little dissapointed by them.

Let me tell you, it's not the end of the world.

I didn't fail my HSC or anything like that, so I cannot relate in that sense, but I would not have gotten high enough marks to go to the uni I do now if I had applied during year 12.

When I was in year 12, all I wanted to do was own a Kombi and live in a shack near Wategoes.

Now I own a Subaru, live in Brisbane and thankfully, I have given up on the surfer girl dream.

In my family there was never question as to whether you would go to university or not, you just did - please don't get me wrong, this was great, I am so blessed to have had the opportunities I have.

In 2007, I was offered early acceptance to Southern Cross University to study education and because I was too disorganized (nothing has changed) to put in any preferences for universities outside of NSW I missed the cut off date and opportunity to go to another uni.

Disheartened by the fact I had no prospect of leaving Lismore to go to a big sandstone institution, I blindly applied for Arts/Law at Southern Cross as my third preference.

When my HSC marks came out, I was surprised to find SCU had offered me Arts/Law as well.

However, not pinning all my HSC hopes on a uni far away gave me time to realize I didn't want to be a teacher at all and as I watched my friends move to big cities to do degrees they had worked their entire schooling life for, I was left in my hometown knowing all my big city peers were feeling sorry for me.

But you know what?

Arts\Law at SCU turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I was given a scholarship by the uni and had an incredibly stress free, low key first year of uni where I got to sit around with some really cool people on a lovely green campus instead of freezing to death in an air-conditioned lecture theater.

I was able to get into the swing of uni with classes more than 20 times smaller than the ones I attend at QUT.

I realized what it was like to be away from school and how different the real world was and how different I was from the girl filling out the QTAC form online in my school uniform.

Not getting my shit together during the HSC allowed me to make some of the best friends at SCU.

I haven't even come close to finding anyone like that in almost 3 years at QUT.

Even though I don't go to SCU now and I feel so lucky to attend QUT - a university that has given me such a positive outlook on the world, it hasn't mattered for a second that I didn't get where I am because of my UAI.

If I had been organized enough to apply for QUT right out of school, I would probably be due for a mid-life crisis and have a teaching degree in hand rather than be on my way to becoming a journalist or a lawyer - which although is taking longer, will be worth it in the end!

So, I want to tell anyone who just got their results; it doesn't matter what they are, if you really want to do something you will find a way of doing it, trust me.

Don't listen to anyone, the HSC (or equivalent) doesn't matter.

Not once since I left school have I been asked what my UAI, QTAR, or whatever it is now was.

Not by my lecturers, not by my peers and I doubt any future employers will care either.

So chin up if you have to stay in your hometown for a year until you get the marks to go to another uni - it sure was great not having any bills for that year I stayed behind.

Love and best wishes to all you graduates,

Al

Xx

Indian Railways

Good afternoon friends,

I am writing this update from the most relaxing and beautiful city we have visited, Udaipur.

The journey to get here, however, was probably the most grueling yet!

I haven't updated you on Jaipur because we didn't really do anything there as we were both feeling a bit under the weather and poor Tom was horribly sick - probably as a product of my burning desire to buy food off the street or from the suspicious warm lassi's consumed at our hotel on the first evening.

So, to cut a long and disgusting story short, Tom spent Jaipur vomiting and in a sweat.

On our final day in Jaipur, disappointment struck when we realized we had only seen the inside of our dark hotel room and none of the delights of the pink city.

So, we decided to muster up enough strength to go and see Amer Fort.

Unfortunately, even the majestic fort couldn't will us out of illness.

Half way up the stairs to the amazing fort, which stands on a huge hill above Jaipur, we were both feeling a bit dizzy and Tom needed to find a toilet ASAP.

Stumbling down the hill in search of our slick and chatty rickshaw driver Mohammad, we were both ready to go home an prepare for our train journey to Udaipur.

As we made it back to the shady tree where Mohammad had told us to wait for him (this seems rather biblical when I write it now), he was nowhere to be found.

In typical Indian style, five other rickshaw drivers became involved in our search for him, shouting to each other in Hindi before confirming Mohammad had gone to pray (as it was friday) and would be back soon...

One hour, five relentless beggars and two cups of chai later there was no sign of Mohammad.

We even ran into Lala - a rickshaw driver who recognized me (by my teeth apparently) from last time I was in Jaipur.

I have no recollection of Lala and he turned out to be a bit creepy.

At this point, we weren't too concerned by Mohammads tardiness as it was only 3pm and the train wasn't until 10 - plenty of time!

As I casually perused our train ticket, panic struck:

"Tom, doesn't 16:00 mean 4pm?"

Oh no!

When Mohammad returned, he was faced with two babbling westerners and at lightening speed he got us back to the hotel where we threw all our clothes into our bags in what looked like a Looney Tunes fight scene and headed for train station.

As usual, no one could tell us which platform the train was leaving from, where the platform was, or even if the train was on time.

The general answer from the guards or passers-by when I showed them our ticket was "yes madame, 16:00, umm (counts on fingers) 4pm, you are late miss!"

Yes, I can read 24-hour time, but I can't read Hindi or work out which platform I am supposed to be on.

We exchanged a few smiles and nods and with more than four different possibilities of where the train could be leaving from we took a stab at platform two and thankfully we were in the right place with five minutes to spare.

After humming the tune to Indiana Jones and counting how many hours until we would be Udaipur, we were ready to roll.

As usual, Indian Railways had other plans for us.

At 5pm the train still had not arrived, a minor delay, no big deal.

We wandered around for a bit, bought some biscuits, waved to onlookers and told about ten people Ricky Ponting was ALSO our favorite player.

From 6 until 8 we sang Coldplay's entire back catalogue and did star jumps when the cold set in.

The highlight of my evening was finally getting to touch an animal in India.

In case you don't know, there are stray dogs and cats EVERYWHERE in India and anyone who knows me could imagine how difficult it is for me to fight of my urges to pat the street animals in the persuit of not getting rabies.

Anyway, there was a very healthy looking bomb detector dog at the station that apparently, could be patted - here was my chance!

Gregin, the bomb detecting, bindi wearing Labrador enjoyed a good roughing up from me and did various tricks before continuing on his way to detect bombs at the railway station.

I am not sure how effective Gregin actually is at detecting bombs, I think after last night he will be confusing his job of detecting with want for affection or food from foreigners just like me.

Time at Jaipur station continued to pass at snails pace and after the delights of Gregin were long passed and the train had missed its second deadline, 930pm, we were becoming delirious.

It was at this point, when the cricket chat was getting a bit old, we decided the only logical progression to pass the time would be to pretend we were famous actors.

"You haven't heard of Neighbors?"

"Yes, you can have my autograph"

"Indie films, you know? Low budget?"

"We are making a documentary in Udaipur, for the BBC"

"Yes, I know Sachin Kahn, we are going to Mumbai in a few weeks, i'll say hello for you"

A few hours later, we had a ring of passengers around us and apparently quite an extensive film career behind us.

At 10:30 it was time to quit show business, that scene can really age you (ha ha).

At 11, I finally made the commitment to sleep on the floor with the rats and other Indians who had bought blankets and pillows for the wait - they knew Indian Railways are never on time!

The train finally arrived at 2:30AM the next day, only 10 hours late!

Thankfully, Udaipur has been a lovely place to relax after the train ordeal and we have spent our days here wandering the streets and doing some shopping (yay!).

Udaipur has a beautiful lake with a giant Taj hotel right in the middle of it which is very picturesque.

There are lots of forts and other things to see which we will be going to tomorrow with a driver!

Yesterday I bought a nice leather bag and the man at the store even stamped my name into it for me - he nearly died when I joked he had spelt it wrong.

I must dash, I think Tom is getting incredibly bored watching me type this.

Love,

as always,

Al

Xx

Tickled pink on the road to Jaipur

Hello lovelies,

I am writing to you after a 7 hour car journey (we couldn't get a train ticket) from New Delhi to the dusty city of Jaipur, also known as the pink city!

Although we were interrogated by our driver, Mr Sing, for the first portion of the journey as to why we didn't want a son, why I don't HAVE a son, and why I am still at university - the rest of the drive was rather relaxing in comparison to yesterdays drive to Agra.

Yesterday, I thought I was going to die.

I thought I was going to die a long painful death on the side of an Indian highway, possibly being eaten by rats or crows, unable to call covermore's international help number.

All thanks to Mishra, our driver from yesterday and certified mad man.

Mishra was a certified mad man, even by my tolerance to the standards of Indian driving (which is fairly high).

Mishra didn't wait for anyone or anything on the road to Agra, but he was no king of the road.

Pushing, beeping, shoving and overtaking on bends all at 140km per hour was just an average day for Mishra after smoking some hash at the rest stop he forced us to drink tea at.

To my surprise, at one point on the way back to Delhi I actually dozed off.

I think this may have been a defence mechanism where my body assumed my impending death would less painful if I went to sleep (check Bear Gryllis for factual reference).

Sadly, the nap was short lived, I woke up with a shock to a screeching of breaks and our car on the wrong side of the road, being bared down on by India's version of a semi-trailer.

Thankfully, the Taj Mahal was worth the risk with Mishra, what an architectural feat... and I got some good tourist snappies too.

So, by comparison, todays conversation about my want for offspring was a minor annoyance.

New Delhi, by contrast, was very clean compared to Kolkata and Varanasi and as the countries capital it seems like it is on the way to becoming quite a modern city in the wealthier areas.

As a result, there seemed to be a lot of construction going on everywhere which made the streets a bit of a mine field at times for fear of a falling brick or angle grinder(is this the right tool?) spark in the eye.

We went to a few sights of Delhi with a rickshaw driver, Sanjay, who took us around all day for only $4AUD and even though he seemed to have some kind of conjunctive itis that altered his view, he was a pretty good driver.

We went to the Jama Masjid which is the largest Mosque in India.

It can hold up to 25, 000 people.

To enter, I had to wear what seemed like a typical Australian grandmas shift dress/mumu even though I had made an effort to cover every single part of my skin on a stinking hot day.

I think the yellow night gown ended up just being a means to fleece some more money out of me.

Nevertheless, the mosque was beautiful and I took some photos of some very studious children reading prayers inside.

We also went to various other temples before calling it a day after Sanjay's eye wiping got a bit intense and contagious-looking.

Our hotel in Delhi was amazing, but I won't bore you with the details of the 5 headed shower and anyway, it will make me depressed about my cold bath out of a bucket tonight.

One thing I found really interesting in Delhi was the advertisements for and presence of gated communities.

These suburban cities within the city are targeted of families who want to get away from the "hustle and bustle of New Delhi".

Tucked away from poverty and pollution, they come complete with a locked gate, security guards and names that sound like toilet cleaners, ie "forest glade".

I wonder why Delhi doesn't try harder to clean up the environment, help the homeless people or even make it safer instead of just locking new developments away?

Eep! I have to dash, I have just remembered I locked Tom in the room while I searched for wifi.

He passed out from the headache drugs I gave him and is probably scratching at the door by now!

Will update about Jaipur soon.

Lots of love,

as always,

Al

Xx

Sorry it has been so long!

Hello lovely ladies and gents of the blogosphere,

I must begin by apologizing for my delay in posting, it is not because I don't love you dearly!

After already passing through four of my travel destinations in India I am already behind in my updates - but I finally have the chance to sit down and write to you with an internet connection fast enough to load this page.

In fact, I am writing from the most luxurious hotel yet, it even has wifi.

So, I hope you're all doing as well as I am and are ready for a long winded recount of my journey thus far, I hope it is legible enough as I am writing this from my phone so I might break it up into a couple of posts.

GOLD COAST - The golden strip of armed hold-ups.

My trip to India began with an early morning Air Asia flight from the Gold Coast, where we stayed the night before.

Thankfully, we woke up for the 7am flight after an unfortunate glitch where none our three alarms set went off.

I kid you not, it was exactly like the Seinfeld episode where the olympic runner misses the race because he didn't set the hotel alarm properly.

"It was the AM, PM..."

Yes, yes, it was and also some bad luck!

After a mad rush to the airport, the flight seemed like a walk in the park and in 8 short hours we arrived in hot, humid, sticky Kuala Lumpur.

With Tom practicing his "tareee-maharree kas-say" (thank you in Malaysian) over and over in the taxi, we were off to our airport hotel for the evening, in what was to be the first of many hair-raising car journeys.

After a restful night sleep and a breakfast at a buffet more than 8 times the size of our apartment, we were all smiles, tareema kassey and tips for the waiters - little did we know the hotel would end up charging us twice for the room and I would leave half my toiletries behind - say hello to two months without a nail brush, soap and shampoo that actually washes western curly hair!

So, filled with breakfast delights, our coats were shiny, our socks were clean and we were on our way to Kolkata.

KOLKATA - A city of extremes.

To say I didn't arrive, I landed in Kolkata would an understatement.

My introduction to what is renowned as one of India's poorest cities was typically Indian and the car trip from the airport was typically heart breaking.

After a delayed flight from KL, the sight of Kokata's city lights below the plane was a sight for sore eyes, but in a heart stopping diversion at what seemed like five meters before we hit the runway, the plane jolted back up into the sky.

We were forced to wait for what seemed like the longest 10 minuets of my life, to find out whether we had lost an engine on dissent, (which the seat safety guide reassuringly notes, is not a big deal) the captain came over a crackly speaker "um, ah, ello lady and gentle, we have been forced to reject our landing due to animal blocking the runway".

Welcome to Kolkata.

After circling the airport for half an hour we went in for our second dive and as we touched down I prayed to Ganesha I didn't see a cow flying past my window.

Thankfully, no casualties.

I don't think Kolkata airport has had a redecoration since about 1978.

Red velvet and wooden framed mirrors galore.

Also, apparently, there is no need to security check anything at Kolkata airport - bags, people, cows?

Just come on through.

And, on average, 6 people are required to do one job.

As we walked through the exit, we were accosted by very few people, which I was very surprised by.

I had expected to see a sea of hungry children and taxi drivers.

However, I was still pretty happy to see someone holding a piece of paper with "Mr Utting" on it.

We piled into the back of an old navy blue Ambassador and drove to our hotel, turing off the motor to conserve fuel at even the slightest hint of a traffic jam.

That is what I will remember most from Kolkata, the squeal and shudder of all the Ambassador taxis turning on one-by-one as the traffic light changed to green.

Hotel Broadway was like an old colonial boarding house with big hallways and high cellings, it felt like a haven from some kind of impending war, or maybe a really high-class brothel where naked women would be packing heroin.

It also had the feeing of a place where revolutionaries planned their next move, or where poets wrote emotive literature.

For us, ex-brothel or not, it was an $8 per night place to sleep, with a clean bathroom and running water.

I can describe Kolkata in a few words; chaotic, organized, relentless and *beep* LOUD!

My god, was it loud, they say New York is the city that never sleeps, but I think Kolkata comes pretty close.

The traffic seemed to stop only between 3 and 4 every morning and then resumed almost like clockwork at 4:01 with an almighty choir of beeps and screeches

The city itself did not seem threating to me at all.

The more pressing issue was crossing the roads.

Unlike other cities i've visited, Kolkata traffic is an unforgiving a wall of yellow cabs, peppered with pushbikes, rickshaws and motorcycles that waits for no one.

And, because Tom was unwell for the first few days, it was a day to day challenge I had to face, alone.

With some advanced frogger skills and sly trailing of local men, I was crossing roads ... like a boss.

However, having no sense of direction (at all) I found Kolkata VERY confusing and was faced with impending death from road crossing probably more than necessary

The first few days in India were spent trying to organize a mobile phone (which every person who sees my 'le phone' laughs snidely because it is such a cheap piece of shit) and eating at the hotel restaurant because it seemed almost impossible to find anywhere else to eat.

Our daily meals were quite a comical affair as the hotel restaurant seemed to double as the hottest bar in Kolkata by night.

Being one of the only women, let alone western woman I had seen after a week in Kolkata, it was quite the show for the locals when I went down for quiet ale and dahl.

I have found the stares from Indian men really quite funny, because their interest is so obvious.

I have not felt uneasy about the attention at all (maybe because I this is my second time in India), in fact, for the most part, I understand it is purely interest in the different, rather anything sinister or sexual.

After a week in Kolkata, it was time to move on (i'll give you Kolkata-Varanasi train journey post later).

My experience of Kolkata was that of a city that seems to ring you out with its relentless nature, but at the same time makes you want to come back.

It was so difficult to do anything and even the smallest thing took hours, but at the same time, the city has really special quality of old India that I wont forget.

What was so clear to me, was the clash of this old India wrestling with the new.

The new wrestles for signage space, car space, store space, any space to develop a modern Kolkata.

The city is expanding, but it is clear the gap between the middle class and the poor working class is still very large, like elsewhere in India.

There are children being forced into prostitution in Kolkata's red light district, while wealthy Indians order paneer tika masala bugers for breakfast at Park Street Macdonalds in the center of the city.

The psychology of the city seems like it is still 30 years behind the rest of the world, but as the old colonial buildings make room for the neon KFC sign out the front, I hope Kolkata will not leave behind too many casualties as it is thrust into the 21st century.

That's all from Kolkata.

I will post more, tomorrow.

I'm getting sleepy and I need to enjoy my clean sheets before my train journey to Jaipur tomorrow.

Love, as always,

over and out,

Al

Xx

If only the men I knew could dance like this.

"I went on a holiday and I took..."

Way too much!

In a few short days I will be on my way to the land of sensory overload, India.

Unfortunately, I seem to have packed more than the one set of clothes I originally imagined myself carrying when I booked my tickets at 2am one morning after a couple of ales.

This trip has been in the works for more than half a year, 8 units of my degree and a trillion hours of juice making but days before, it feels completely surreal and baggage heavy.

I write to you surrounded by thermal underwear and boxes of gastro stop and honestly, I'm not exactly sure how to use either.

I’ve had texts and calls from friends telling me to bring them home this and that, but right now I don’t think I’ve even got room for my toothbrush.

Not a good start.

Traveling to a country completely unlike home can be a bit problematic because there are so many 'just in case' items one needs to take.

There are also so many people who have advice on what you need to bring and the ways in which you should fold it.

So today, I have decided to go with my instincts and pack my two t-shirts, one pair of pants and my hideous-but-warm op-shop jumper.

Life is meant to be lived.

And that is what I am going to India to do.

Live.

If I’m cold, I’ll buy another jumper.

If I get bitten by a dog, I’ve had a shot.

I’m going to get sick, but it will be alright.

So wish me luck with the thinning out and I think I will take the gastro stop, just in case.

All my love.

Over and out,

Al Xx

Hey baby.

Welcome to the very first series of words for little red boat!

My goal for this blog is to provide the world wide interwebs (that means you!) with a collection of my observations, travel stories, reviews, crafty tips and general good times.

I also hope we can have some meaningful conversations about day-to-day joys and grievances.

So, sit back, relax and don't mind the cynicism.

Whisk on high and enjoy with tea or gin.

Xx