Brisbane

Brisbane skyline

I've spent the last two weeks in Brisbane, mainly preparing for my last leg of the Watson year: China. While most of my time has been focused on getting prepared with books and visa and all my travel arrangements, I've enjoyed exploring this Gold Coast city. It's a great city for walking or biking, and I really enjoyed wandering through the street markets in the West End and in Fortitude Valley, riding the free City Hopper ferry on the iconic Brisbane River, and meandering the city's many gardens.

I got to attend a couple poetry events as well: one reading in which I got to perform, and one excellent performance celebrating the centenary of Judith Wright's birthday. She was one of Australia's best poets, and an avid advocate for environmental protection and Aboriginal rights. Certainly a woman to emulate.

I plan to do more exploring of poetry and gardens (and much more) in Suzhou and other parts of China. Because google products are sometimes difficult to access while in China, I may not be able to post on the ol' blog until I return to the States in August. Still, I look forward to telling you all about the coming weeks in the near future!

Sending love,
Carrie

bearded dragon under the Story Bridge

sculpture on Ann St

white ibis in abstract sculpture

Botanical Gardens lily ponds

Talofa Tuvalu!

approaching Funafuti by air, one skinny green strip in a vast blue

Talofa! Hello!

Welcome to Tuvalu (Tu-VAH-loo)! Although I didn't initially plan to come to this country when I designed my Watson proposal last year, the evolution of my project made it possible and worthwhile to give Tuvalu a try.

But why Tuvalu? What am I doing here? Where the heck is it?

the government building, with new solar power installation

Tuvalu is a series of atolls and islands in the South Pacific Ocean. The nine clusters of land total about 26 square kilometers sprinkled amid nearly one million square kilometers of open ocean. Tuvalu is the fourth smallest country by population (about 12,000 people), and the second lowest by elevation. The highest point is about four meters above sea level.

downtown Funafuti

Land is precious, and Tuvalu's very existence faces dire threats. Sea level rise, salt water intrusion in the groundwater, coastal erosion, overcrowding, rubbish, cyclones, pressure on fish stocks, lack of nutritious food, lack of economic opportunity...The list goes on.

There are a lot of reasons why life isn’t easy here. But man is it laid back. There’s a beautiful energy. People are kind. They look out for each other, even for the odd visiting pelangi (pah-LUNG-ee=white person) who needs help finding her rented bicycle that some little kid ‘borrowed.’

So, I’m here doing what I’ve been doing all year: trying to learn about how nature conservation and creative writing relate to each other and fit into daily life. The imminent threats to this country make this a particularly fascinating place to study these relationships.

arriving at Funafala islet during storm damage
assessment with PM and MPs

Every atoll/island has a town council, called the Kaupule, that delineates a conservation area where hunting, fishing, collecting, and visitation are restricted. Only Funafuti, the capital, has a conservation area with legally protected status. Other activities play important roles in the workings of conservation here. Some of these include tree plantations of coconut, banana, breadfruit (all important foods), climate change adaptation initiatives, and studies of the surrounding reefs and fish.

traditional dancers at Funafuti's Nukulaelae community
maneapa (meeting hall) performing to
celebrate 150 years of Christianity on Tuvalu

There isn’t a big history of writing here. I only met one poet. I'm pleased to say I helped Tongi enter an international writing competition themed around the role of tuna in the South Pacific. While creative writing by Tuvaluans seems scarce, there is an abundance of literature on Tuvaluan history and past scientific studies in the jam-packed National Library and Archives and in the University of the South Pacific library. One of the most interesting was a fragile copy of Funafuti or Three Months on a Coral Atoll: An Unscientific Account of a Scientific Expedition from 1899, in which Mrs. Edgeworth David chronicles her life on the island while her husband and team drilled hundreds of feet down into the coral bedrock to prove Darwin's theory of how atolls form. I paid a visit to the remnants of the rusting drill on Fongafale's northern end.

Singing fills the writing niche. I’ve met a couple songwriters and listened to several choirs. People have told me about the symbolism in the songs, and how the lines imply entire backstories beyond the repetitive lyrics. For example, one song about “the paddles of the men, the paddles of the gods” tells a whole tale of fishermen battling powerful spirits at sea mainly just by singing about their paddles.

me performing my poetry at Tefota, in Funafuti

I’ve been trying to branch out in my own writing as well, and try some multimedia things, and I think I'm growing as an artist. That feels good. I even got to perform a 30 minute poetry reading at the local live music bar: Tefota. I'm not sure how well I was received by the increasingly drunken and inattentive crowd, but I had a helluva time, and am growing to love being behind the microphone. My artistic impulses have kept me relatively sane while I've navigated the challenges of island life.

Challenges, eh? Since so few tourists come to Tuvalu (we're talking double digits most years), and most pelungi are here representing foreign aid, I was met with a lot of confused looks when I tried to explain myself and my goals as a Watson Fellow. I seemed like an especially odd duck--too unofficial to team up with the Department of Environment or Fisheries, yet too unusual to be completely dismissed. Whether at the libraries or the conservation workers I talked to in the government or the Kaupule, nobody seemed to really know what to do with me. So--I decided to embrace being unofficially affiliated.

Most of my successes connecting with people here in Tuvalu happened over dinner. Luckily, it isn't hard to meet anyone as there are only four restaurants in town. I learned that just turning up at somebody's office, dinner table, or even by flagging them down when they zip by on their motorbike, opens a lot of subsequent opportunities.

the Nivaga II that brought me to Vaitupu,
my first voyage on the high seas

Just a smattering of these happy chance-adventures:

I got to join the former prime minister and climate change activist/researcher Bikenibeu Paeniu and UN researcher Andrea Milan on a climate change and migration survey on the outer island of Vaitupu.
I joined the current prime minister and several MPs for an assessment of the storm damage of Cyclone Pam on the outer islets of Funafuti, including an afternoon banquet on Funafala islet.

Through the Kaupule, I visited the Funafuti Conservation Area, and explored the islet forests and reefs on the western end of the lagoon. We motored back across the lagoon in driving rain, which blocked out all visuals of the low-lying lands and brought on the only real sense of cold during my time in Tuvalu. 

Bikeni, me, Minister of Cultural Affairs

I met a marine biologist, fisheries experts, school teachers, singers, dancers, fishermen, a theologian, pastors, chiefs and island elders. 

And, since it seems fair to mention these encounters too, I've watched many a gecko gobble up ants while upside down, swum in the midst of schooling baitfish, drunk the slightly fizzy water of freshly harvested coconut, and eaten more raw fish than I ever before dared. I know most of those examples are food related, but food is a big part of any given day here.

I'm certain I will miss this place, and I wonder if I will ever return. Soon, no one may live here if the coming decades bring the predicted effects of climate change on the rising sea level, increased erosion, and further lack of freshwater to the islands.

The world is changing. So am I. So are you.


With love,
Carrie

traditional foods at banquet in Funafala:
clams, raw fish, laulu, breadfruit, coconut apple

the forest of Fualopa islet

broken corals, shells, and bits of sand on the beaches of Vaitupu

me with traditional garlands (fous) on Funafala

catamaran at sunset off the jetty of Fongafale

The Red Centre

Tomorrow I leave Australia (for now)! I spent the last few weeks in the continent's red center in Alice Springs and some of the surrounding national parks. Because I'm a procrastinator and still need to finish packing for the next leg of the journey (Tuvalu!), this post may be less thorough than it oughta be. Hopefully, we can recount these stories another time in person under some equally von blue days and starry nights.

sunset from Anzac Hill in Alice Springs

Alice was a pleasant town. It shuts down early in the evening, but that suited me just fine. My hostel, the Alice Lodge Backpacker's, was a friendly, comfortable place. I spent a day at the Reptile Centre, where the excellent staff taught me all about geckos, bearded dragons, and pythons, among others. I even got to hold a two-meter olive python called Jack! It feels weird to be indoors when in Alice, because the desert scenery around it is so encompassing. The sunset view from Anzac Hill is a must, especially if you are feeling sad about being so far from home and the faithful communal voices of the open-air Catholic mass make you seem more of a loner.

Ellery Creek Big Hole, after a lovely swim

How to cure the worst homesickness I've ever felt? Confide in the desert. (Also have a few good cries.) Melbourne-friend-cartoonist-poet Brent flew up to meet me for a road-trip to Uluru. We first headed west, out along the MacDonnell Ranges, camping at Ellery Creek Big Hole. We didn't investigate the Big Hole until the morning, assuming it was maybe a crater or sinkhole or other small depression in the dry but surprisingly biodiverse landscape. Fools, we are! It was an oasis of the highest caliber. I didn't expect for a second that this trip would indulge my Piscean character, and the long morning swim in that frigid canyon pool was the first of many sacred encounters in the land of primary colors.

It's a looong drive to Uluru. We camped for free at Curtin Springs--a million acre cattle station also famous for making homemade paper. Neat. I made the mistake of tethering Sugar Mama (my tent) to some trees because the ground was too hard to hammer my stakes. The ants who lived in these trees didn't like this! I worry I will have to live ten million ant lives in order to pay my karmic debts for all those I smooshed packing up that morning.

Long drives in the Outback are good for deep conversation, sing-along music, and admiring the landscape. I still can't get over how actually really Red it is. The color comes from iron in the soil, rocks, dust oxidizing over the last many million years. But it isn't really rust colored. It's RED. Not--cherry red, or fire-engine red, or whatever other types of red there are. This is original red. Bah--the poet in me can't get a grip.

sunrise at Uluru

How to describe Uluru when you see it? The pictures don't do it justice. It is sacred. It holds stories I'm not privy to. I saw it and just looking made me feel like I was learning a secret. We did some hikes around the base, learning from rangers and guides about some of the elements of the Dreamtime and the ancestral Mala beings who made the country, lived on country, are the country, tell the stories of country. Do come here. Don't climb the rock.

Kata Tjuta Valley of the Winds trail

I enjoyed hiking at Kata Tjuta more than at Uluru. Kata Tjuta (the Olga Mountains) are 36 domes, made of conglomerate sandstone rather than the arkose sandstone of Uluru. To those of you back in Deerfield-- Mt. Sugarloaf is also made of arkose! Whaaat! Our little lump a sugar has some crazy cousins over here. The traditional owners of Kata Tjuta do not share any stories of this sacred men's place as a means to protect the land and the stories. I was slow to understand this, but I think it is an effective means of conservation.

King's Canyon from afar

On the return to Alice Springs, Brent and I visited King's Canyon in Watarrka National Park. The weather was heating back up to 43 degrees Celsius (about 109 F), but we explored the shady sanctuary of King's Creek. It was a good place for writing.

The 'mighty' Todd River, Alice Springs (usually dry)

As we made the long haul back to the town (about a 5-6 hour drive from King's Canyon), the first clouds I'd seen since arriving in Alice rolled up from the south. The sunset that night was no longer the simple gradient of navy to tangerine; splashes of gold and purple and silver joined in around the clouds. They say if you see the Mighty Todd River flow three times, you'll never leave Alice Springs. I liked this place, but I wasn't ready to stay, and I flew out before the clouds could gather thick enough to bring rain to that parched riverbed.

The storms caught up to me here in Brisbane. Hopefully they'll take it easy when I get to Tuvalu. That place has seen enough storm for a while.

I will have extremely limited internet access in the next two months. Send your good vibes out to sea. I'll collect them twice daily on the tide.

Love always,
Carrie

OH MAN THE FLIES (this is an unintentional Australian salute picture)

Kata Tjuta Valley of the Winds trail

feathery flowers

waterhole at the base of Uluru, along Mala trail

me and Jack, the olive python at the Alice Springs Reptile Centre

Australia's Top End

Darwin harbor and city

Sometimes, the generosity of strangers blows me away. Rarely has this been truer for me than here in Australia's Top End. I lived just outside Darwin with nature writer Kaye Aldenhoven, meeting many artists and landscapes with her help. It’s hot here! And rainy! Darwin is the lightning capital of the world. So far I’ve survived a cyclone (it passed mostly to the east of us) and near-daily thunderstorms. They are welcome in my mind since they break the humidity and tropical heat, keeping the world green and lush for the Wet.

Crocodile Dreaming painting at Territory Wildlife Park

Together, Kaye and I attended the Emerald Springs Writers’ Retreat. I held a workshop for the class of 14 writers (most of whom are well-established professional writers) on nature writing. We talked about methods for focusing the work on the natural world, and not the direct human experience of it, but never could quite agree on how to do this.

cheeky Sulfur Crested Cockatoo

But, the more pressing question is, is it worthwhile? I hold that it is. For practice, we did a few exercises using objects from indoors and outdoors as prompts, graphed concepts of different spectrums in the environment (i.e. temperature, color, light, size), and plunked ourselves in the buggy, sticky, sweaty outside to Write in Place. Overall, the workshop was a great experience!

Katherine River Gorge

Some of the writers at the workshop were from Katherine. Sharon, a writer/ex-park-ranger drove me the few-hundred-kms south to spend a few days in her town. Katherine was my first real taste of The Outback. Sharon filled the drive with tales all about the sandstone escarpment of Arnhem Land and Katherine Gorge, the black soils around the low-oxygen freshwater sulfur springs, and the last remaining stand of cycads in the region (unusual plants that shared the world with dinosaurs, back when Australia was part of Gondwanaland).

I stayed with Toni Tapp-Coutts, a friendly and vibrant writer whose upcoming memoir shares her story growing up on one of Australia’s most famous cattle stations. Much birding, bicycling, swimming, and hiking was accomplished! And a bit of writing too.

on the Arnhem Highway to Kakadu!

Back up north in Palmerston and Darwin, I joined Kaye on “writing dates” with other writers around town. We took turns suggesting prompts, and wrote whatever came to mind for 10-15 minutes, then share. It’s a strategy I’ll definitely continue. Having the company and dedication and intimacy are great motivators. I also performed at a show called Wild Words, sharing a few of my recent poems.

view from Ubirr

Most recently, I took myself camping in Kakadu National Park. I’ve been dreaming of seeing this UNESCO World Heritage site for a long time. I was one of the few visitors to come in the Wet. Much of the park is inaccessable at this time. The roads literally go meters underwater, linking the many billabongs throughout the wetlands. Some sites remain open. I stayed at Anbinik, a fantastic camp/caravan park in Jabiru. Jabiru is a small town inside the park, very near to the Ranger Uranium Mine. It’s the hub of the many outstations where many Aboriginal people live, consisting of a few small neighborhoods, a gas station, library, school, grocery store, bakery, Kakadu Lodge, crocodile-shaped Crocodile Hotel and that’s it. The next town is about 200km away. I was delighted to be so remote.

I loosed Sugar Mama from her overlong storage in the tent stuff-sack and lived fairly dryly throughout the daily storms. Kaye lent me her car, making transport very easy. And luckily, the one CD left in the car was the perfect soundtrack! (No radio stations.)

Mimi Spirits rock art at Nangawulurr

I spent most of my time in Kakadu around Nourlangie and Ubirr. I took a tour with Guluyambi Tours to see Ubirr. Self-drive access to Ubirr is completely flooded out this time of year. Roman steered our group through the Marenga creek wetland and billabong. He taught us the many uses of paperbark trees, the crunchy-sweet taste of water lily stalks, the dangers of crocodiles, and the incredible hunting capabilities of sea-eagles. Doug guided us through the rock art galleries at Ubirr, though he did so with annoying condescension: “the paintings depict lessons--they didn’t really happen.” I didn't like the condescension.

Barramundi fish rock art at Nangawulurr

The rock art was incredible, and a wealth of stories. It was magical to imagine the painters of 20,000+ years ago reaching the vaulted overhanging ceilings of the rock galleries. It might've been sorcery? Some paintings are said to be living Mimi spirits, who upon teaching the first painters, leapt onto the rock surface themselves to become art.

Despite my disappointment in our very blokey guide, the sites were a feast for the artist and scientist and story-lover in me. Especially at Nourlangie, I struggled to spend enough time gazing at the rock art or the three hundred sixty degree views of the Dreaming.

Lightning Dreaming view in Kakadu National Park

The Stone Country filled the horizon. It is home of Dreaming figures like Namarrgon, the Lightning Man. This land is full of dangerous places and figures whose disturbance could bring calamity. In the middle distance, encompassing the view are the monsoon forests and billabongs, blending water and land. In the foreground: probably flies. You get used to them crawling all over you and learn the futility of swatting them away. All things combined to make you appreciate your smallness.

Wishing you many small moments of wonder,

Carrie


P.S. More soon from Alice Springs!

P.P.S. More photos below:

swimming hole at Matarenka Springs

Green Tree Frog sexy time

mudracing outside Darwin, a great friday night activity

Gong xi fa cai! Chinese New Year in Darwin.

freshwater Whipray feeding at Territory Wildlife Park 

rock art at Burrunggui, Anbangbang gallery

rock art at Burrunggui, Anbangbang gallery

zoom in on Lightning Dreaming site in Kakadu National Park 

weathered Rainbow Serpent rock art at Ubirr

Sea Eagle in Kakadu National Park

Darwin wharf by night

Melbourne

Melbourne CBD

The first days back on my own in Melbourne were hard. I stayed in a mediocre hostel, and realized that the giant, impersonal, come-and-go atmosphere of the place were bogging me down. I wandered the city for hours, ate many helpings of dumplings in Chinatown, and spent a lot of time browsing the shelves of the State Library of Victoria’s beautiful La Trobe Reading Room.

reading poetry at The Dan

One of the highlights of those first few days reestablishing my bearings in an urban setting was the Saturday afternoon open mic poetry readings with the Melbourne Spoken Word group at The Dan O’Connell Hotel. The eclectic but talented group of regular readers welcomed me to perform, and I’m so glad I did. I definitely need more practice behind the microphone, but I was encouraged to return the next week, and I did!

By that time, I had wised up and changed hostels, moving out of the CBD (central business district) into the neighborhood of Fitzroy to stay at the charming Nunnery Hostel and Guesthouse. I totally recommend this place. It is right across from the Melbourne Museum and the Carlton Gardens, and only a few minutes from the entirely free tram network around CBD. I spent a whole day in the Melbourne Museum--it’s got great exhibits on evolution, an outdoor forest gallery, a whole room on bugs (many alive and on the move!), and Bunjilyaka, an impressive storytelling/art display on Aboriginal life in the area historically and presently.

I was able to connect with the director of the Australian Poetry Journal, who invited me to attend the Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards ceremony. I got to drink and schmooz with the literary elite of Melbourne at this hilarious presentation of awards to five of the twenty-one shortlisted authors on the back gardens of Parliament. Upon arrival and halfway through, I found myself needing to wander away from the crowd to have a laugh at how awesome these surprising opportunities feel. (I had the same reaction to discovering my room at a guesthouse in Botswana had a bathtub---a particularly special luxury after camping at the rhino sanctuary for weeks.)

Poets and friends: John McKelvie, me, Brent Harpur
photo by Jenny Hodge

Neat-o events like the Premier’s Awards aside, I really owe the folks at The Dan for making me love Melbourne. After my second time performing, I got to talking with some of the other poets, particularly Brent Harpur and John McKelvie. I became instant friends with Brent, a skilled poet more known for his cartoons and his recent documentary. I spent nearly every day with Brent in my final week in this UNESCO City of Literature.

He introduced me to several of his artist friends, showed me some great hole-in-the-wall restaurants, pointed out much of Melbourne’s amazing street art (Brent’s knack for noticing great art--on the walls of buildings, in sculpture gardens, in random sidewalk sunflowers--is extra impressive given the fact that he is legally blind.)

One of our best ventures was to the William Rickett’s Sanctuary in the Dandenongs, outside Melbourne. Hundreds of miniature-to-lifesize clay sculptures of the artist, Australian wildlife, and Aboriginal people fill several acres of the eucalypt forest. Some have criticized the artwork because Ricketts depicted the desert people he lived with for many years in this forest setting, but I was deeply moved by the fusion of human, natural, and artistic forces in the sanctuary.

sculpture in William Ricketts Sanctuary

sculpture in William Ricketts Sanctuary

I left Melbourne February 10th and flew to Darwin, the capital city of the Northern Territory. More on my adventures here in the Top End and the Territory in future posts!

Love,
Carrie