Defender Day

I remember how ecstatic we were, the announcement of our Independence.  My brother and I jumping for joy and my parents smiling so wide.  Then the tanks began rolling in...

The constant phone calls to our family, the non-stop watching of news.  The weekends we would spend traveling to and from Canberra, Sydney and beyond, marching for awareness, action and respect.

The day my fathers selo evaporated of its inhabitants, sent off to holiday accommodation that had been converted to refugee hostels and homes.  Take only what you need...

I remember always being told I was not Croatian by the white people who surrounded our burbs.  They would ask what funny language we spoke, why my lunchbox smelt so funny, why we looked different and I would reply proudly, I am Croatian.  They would say, no you're not.  You're Yugoslavian.  The tiny heart of mine would break however, I always remained defiant and proud of my heritage.  Yes I am, I would say proudly.  Knowing full well, even at the youngest of ages how hard my ancestors had persevered to retain our heritage, to fly our flag even though it was illegal for so long.

There were many Croats who succumbed to the acceptance of Yugoslavian rule.  They flew the Yugo flag and learnt to kneel.  Neither sides of my bloodline did so and my family ensured we understood that standing in your truth AT ANY COST was the only way.

I think back on my younger years and am still hurt to this day by the racism and violence I experienced for being a proud sister of Croatian heritage.  They would call me a dirty wog, a pig, a Serb killer with no understanding of where our country was, no actual understanding of why we were fighting for our Independence and freedom to simply be Croatians.

The anger we felt when we were not able to have our family members come to Australia - the government had declined their attempts to migrate as refugees.  Knowing that they had to sit through the war and wait propelled our hearts into a deep and dark despair.  The men of our family on the front line fighting.  With their pregnant wives waiting, their families hanging on any type of news from them.

How ashamed I always felt to be referred to as Australian as a direct result of experiencing such trauma from these white people around me.  To this day I feel shame to call myself Australian, that it is printed on my Passport and Birth Certificate.

I will always be forever grateful for my ancestors, my blood and all of the men and women who fought for us.  I promise to continue to teach my child language from home, our traditions and ways.  Our beliefs and our history.

I dream longingly of being able to return home once again with my boy.  I'd say look Z, this is ours and he will reply, I know mama. x

The art of war

there is a fragility to the east concerning the art of war... and here in the centre
it lay motionless and void

her tooth points towards her out breath
and the cries of her neighbours laughs are heard all the way down the street
dogs barking in the distance makes her feel like she is on the out skirts of town
and she is

dust in eyes
wiping
blowing her nose the handkerchief turns black and her shoulders becomes heavy with the realisation that she is nowhere

a pounding heart felt within the casing of her thyroid's house
nestled in the thick of neck
veins thump the life force of its home
ga-doom - doom - doom
ga-doom - doom - doom
beats the walls in a rhythmic trance
while she clips her heels in walking dance

moving
managing to exist between realities of need and desire prove difficult for her and you can see the strain it causes from her number eleven crease between her eyebrows
she wants to manage a conversation with you about your feelings regarding the Abbott government, though she has no means of explaining
all of the words together like a jumble pie
they are smashing the roof of her mouth

she is unable to form a sentence so she chooses to refrain instead

her limbs are long painted objects that move freely
the heart has been constructed with multi coloured pipe cleaners and an old toilet roll
a smile has been scribbled on with a not so new and fading sharpie
she is put together clearly with the offcuts of a scrap-booking circle, with pieces that just didn't quite cut it

her sunburnt skin are roadmaps of new possibilities which she is constantly attempting to smoothen out using her non-scented vegan moisturising cream

Giving up the Durries

Emotional
like a cat in a cage with a workers boot planted firmly upon my neck
oesophagus screaming for air
screaming words internally
internal words are screaming in bold and arial

they go downwards and pollute my plexus
giving birth to butterflies within my belly

shaking hands shaking
not for the want of it in my mouth
nor in between the tippy tops of my fingertips
but that warmth of reassurance flooding down my throat pipelines

toxic fumes
gases
they envelope and entwine
burning friendly hairs so promptly placed
within the lining of my existence

big wheels keep on turning
moving
masking
outlining the withdrawal of that pesky little drug
that little drug that kills more than heroin, road accidents, etcetera, etcetera...

that pesky drug that has consumed me
and i it
for 15 years of my life

i stub my dog ear out on the edge of the bin
inhaling deeply the toxicity of pollutants that strip the essential oils from my energy
i smile in sight of my freedom

seven days of anxiety almost depression is a small price to pay
for a remainder of life without addiction

i wear my undies inside out to avoid gypsie curses

eclipse the emoticons
arriving within the adorning hills
snow capped peaks they thrive
people have been abducted by bears and or aliens in these parts
alas i do not stray from the path
but i still shit my pants at the sight of my girlfriends imaginary bear following us

oh my fucking god people...
seriously...we went from 30 degree heat to a freeeeeeezing 5 degrees, snow littering the peaks of crna gora. my bargaining skills enabled us an apartment, equiped with old skool style fire place, kitchen, whole floor to ourselves and the dormitur national park outside our freakin window (5 ks away)

heading north
...or was it south...i dont know where the friggin question mark is...and i have never really been too great with my never eat soggy wheat bix

words can not describe the beauty we devoured with our eye holes. seriously, this place is off the fucking ricter ricter scale in beautifulness
two lakes, joined as one and an awesome hiking trail scattered around.

bears and wolves, deer and old people doing tours - heaven on earth...the only negative being that it rained. EVERY single day from approximately 3pm till the next morning.
that night devouring home made specialties, spoonings new definition of softness formed, falling asleep to the pitter patter of rain drops free falling from grey skies above

bike rides the next day traversing round wheels through climatic variances - wow
boarding buses to sea side beauties
boarding buses to arrive at bus stations where we would be met by mean men so in retaliation we decided to picnic next to their window
eating chicken pate with freshly baked bread and stupidly amazing tomatoes and cheese that is tooooooo good
deflecting gypsie curses with my inside out clothing
deflecting curious stares with interpretive dance

homos...montenegro is going mental...of course we arrive during an uprising admist riots about to boil over the mixing pot of backwardness...they do not recognise homos at all or show any respect to them. it has been hard trying to appear friends and not mack on in public, for fear of public bashings.
pride march 31st may in the capital podgorica. montenegrains are filming it to identify any homos they miss when they try to bash them all during this march
sometimes i wish people didnt tell me so much information...

kotor...
seaside bliss
sun goes down and the wind picks up
slightly banging your window shutters to the wall
its peaceful and lovely
save for the no displays of public affection with your girlfriend

people think we are here to find boyfriends and take them back to australia...beacause we are at that age and stuff...

i did a pee off the marina today. it was one of those impressive pees you never thought you could ever do...one of those pees only experienced outdoor pee'ers could land...i am very proud of my nailing of the sea pee and plan on capturing it on film next time so i can upload it to youtube

walked up 1500 steps this morning
an incline of OH MY GOD
married with a view of AMAZING

left my girlfriend in a montenegrain hairdressers who i think may understand how to dye hair white...and this my friends, is the beauty of traveling
the not knowing
the learning from mistakes (potentially)
the memorising laneways
learning how to barter
using your time efficiently so you can sneak a smoke without anyone knowing
the avoiding bears and wolves
the kissing passionately in alleys without getting busted by adolf hitlers apprentices

dubrovnik romance
followed by split and makarska

island hopping up the coast
renting a vehicle and then off to the family
a few days in the village
national parks explorations 2011

no more cheese or bread for a week

kiss kiss
hug hug

drugs in the water

only in monetenegro, baby...

boarding the train that was destined to get us the fuck out of the dumbest city on the face of the planet, two things happened to me. the first thing was a bit of peanut m&m getting stuck in my gum which proceeded to piss me off until i finally flossed at 9PM that night, the second was that my new favorite sandals were really starting to break my footsies in...
apart from that, everything was looking up, quite peachy you could say.
we finally checked in to roma airport and were directed down a section of the airport that seemed to be rented out to smaller airlines.
we spied a group of people who all seemed rather chilled, getting along like a house on fire in their designer clothes and expensive eye wear.
we quickly took a seat to the side of the spectacle and watched in amazement...

it turns out that none of these people knew each other...but there they were, all excited and shuzzed up to the nines waiting to board the plane together (in stitches and in armani, mind you)...
we witnessed peeps picking up complete strangers, singing and dancing...random bff chats and comfortable reclining for all...what kind of a place is/was this montenegro, is it THAT fantastic that it makes people do small wee's of excitement in their pants before they even get there.

turns out, it IS that kinda awesome place that makes people smile................when they are coming here for the weekend to take part in illegal gambling.

i admit to pinching myself upon landing. a sunset was nestling itself in between mountains and mountains and mountains of love. all the while the aqua of the fresh running water piercing your eyes......and your senses....wow, heaven indeed.

anyhoo, after being completely ripped off by our taxi driver we arrived at our hostel. nestled in the hilly inclines of crna gora, this place....in all of its majestic wonderful beautiful-ness...it is just breath taking.
greeted by the handsome and dashing nicola, we were then fed and entertained by him in a section of the hostel that had much of a switzerland inspired changing rooms theme.

today we made the journey out to ostrog monastery - a VERY holy place. litterally built into the top of the mountain, it took us almost an hour to climb the steep one way road in our little taxi...round and round and round and round and more round turns a.......nd........

finally reaching the peak, we bid farewell to mr taxi man and were greeted by a sign in the archway that read no shorts, skirts, etc........looking down ourselves we noticed that we were soooooooooooo not appropriate for ostrog monastery...not just that - all of the locals up there realised that too.
now, i reckon it's great to understand what people are saying in another language...not so much when they are slagging you and saying very bad things about you, your apearance and attire.

it is pretty funny all the same. it's just so odd that in the next town it is socially acceptable to wear skirts, hot pants but one town over you pretty much have to wear a hajib.

anyway, i love montenegro, so far so good, sooooo good on the eyes!
and now we are off to a coastal town for some chill out time and exploring of the mountains

there are still bears in these parts so if you don't see a new blog in a little while i am probably dead.\xo

what is your problem, Italy?

now i am not going to sit here, on this little blue swivel chair and dictate how i think people should behave in the wide world of customer service and tourism, hospitality...however...i do know a little bit about the subject.

upon arrival into rome we were greeted by stupid stares, taxi drivers that wanted to rip us off and people who would have rather have lost a limb instead of assisting us with things like: directions; coffee; fruit; toilet paper; change...etc

now, one could say that it is my hospitality karma coming straight back at me, or, one could also say that it is just because Italians have been raped for too long and too hard in the tourism and hospitality sector that their hyperthetical arses are aching and they just cant stand another freakin poke!

i attempted to buy a pair of sandals yesterday and was yelled at for accidentally walking down a flight of stairs which was obviously private and obviously contained some kind of illegal italian pasta making ring, then i was publically humiliated for not understanding the small sign which was written in italian saying please do not go down the stairs
then...i was yelled at for not asking the permission of the smoke selling guy to touch his playing cards that were encased in a glass window which was open mind you...he then proceeded to again, publicly humilate me, though worse than the prior. he proceeded to say that i had no brains, and as if i would go into a shop in my own country, open the counter and go through it...in shock i had no response. seriously...what on earth could you say in response to such a cock sucker?

then we were yelled at in an art exhibition, ignored in an archeology museum and knocked about on the metro.

basically i am ashamed of having given any of my freakin euros to this cunt of a city.
its people - bar the amazingly wonderful susanna are horrible, staring, dumb dumbs and they can kiss my increasingly smaller and smaller in size arse.

eff you italy

off to croatia tomorrow and maybe straight to montenagro to chill in a beach side shack for a week.

tonight we will celebrate leaving this god foresaken place, and i pray that i will never, ever have to return here, ever ever again.

upon leaving the cameron highlands

so glad to get the hell out of malaysia and into france! we just finished up a few days and nights walking our sweet little arses off all over paris.
i was in heaven, i mean, baguettes everyday, crepes and triple shot scotches!!!!!! we really scored the best deal ever. scoring an apartment foc for almost the whole time we were in town, this enabled us to focus our attention on other things, namely: mastering the metro, filming interpretive dances in public places, making out in lane ways and of course...keeping our fitness regime up.
if i could guess, i rection we had walked one hundred million kms around paris, which would explain why we have lost weight even after such ludicrious amounts of baguete/crepe consumption.
allow me to highlight the highlights since the previous post for you, in bulletpoint form:

• overcoming the evil he/she woman at the reggae bar in malaysia who wanted to kill me for not reading her specials sign properly - um, sorry but maybe if you spent more money on the correct spelling ON your menus instead of IN your bust, we might be able to talk business here...


• bumping into members of our awesome group from TN in random locations en route to tea heaven highland fields......


• the really really REALLY scary strawberry paradise which had strawberry machine men dancing extremely slowly, which we over came by interpretive dancing throughout the strawberry fun park......yes, that's right... A STRAWBERRY FUN PARK


• meeting the equivalent of the dude from silence of the lambs who sews human flesh together from the victims hides he murders....this particular man was in charge of showing us around his home made butterfly museum, he even went so far as to nail a lot of dead insects into walls in butterfly patterns, encorporating lego castles into his mueseum for a greater effect


• doing a poo in a squat toilet

then we jumped on a 12hr flight to paris and into the wonderful, loving, staring arms of france!

i think the biggest highlight for me, personally, in paris was when i got my rags. i walked into a chemist to ask for tampons and was asked if i wanted perfume or non perfume.......non perfume, i replied.....derrr...........the lady proceeded to pick up different bottles of facial cream for me, pouting an adriana xenedies pose with each and every bottle....nonono! i cried...TAM PONS!!! all the while doing the shove upwards motions in her direction, slightly squatting for the full affect........

other moments of excitement included:

• doing a poo in my pants trying to climb the effiel tower.....having small children and babies point and laugh at me for being too scared of heights...


• falling in love with france, but certainly not with their coffee - wtf? i thought this was where you got THE BEST COFFEE FROM? it tastes like watered down dish water.....


• consuming stupid amounts of baguettes for lunch, crepes for dinner, baguettes for breakfast on the lovely little balcony overlooking the city, crepes for lunch....


• hostel nervousness ... getting to know your fellow co-habs in awkward places, like: the toilet before/after you/them have done a poo, in the shower area which is VERY small and you are both pretty much naked and he has half a wallaby, in the comon room when there are only two of you and the dude that does the dishes is staring at both of you expectantly, waiting for you to entertain him...


• booking a train to rome via the internet - possibly one of the hardest things i have ever done in my whole entire life


• meeting american soliders who did not believe we were australian, who INSISTED we were british and who have a penchant for 17yr old girls.


• having an american solider almost break down the door when i was mid-pee because he needed to pee and he had no manners so he decided to be a complete arse and scare the crap out of me soo much that i peed on my leg...arsehole


• freezing our arses off by the river sienne, but thoroughly enjoying getting phuenomia, because we were taken under the wings by the most awesome french kids ever.


• going french bar hopping and avoiding drink spiking


• having a number of anxiety attacks on public transport and almost being crushed to death by metro rush hour foot traffic.

so, as you can see we have been having a great time. we just arrived in rome and have spent the last 1.5 hrs searching desperatley for a laundry to wash our clothes because france didn't seem to have any laundry mats.
no one speaks english here ------NO ONE! its kinda awesome because it makes you want to learn how to speak italian....but also, it is kinda crap because i have realised that the world we have landed ourselves in now is this gigantic karmic land for me...after saying out loud too many times, that people should at least learn english before holidaying in australia, i have experienced in the short time i have been here much hostility in return for only knowing bonjourno principessa!

it has been quite interesting being here though. everyone just kinda stares at us. not just a normal stare...but like a omg stare, you know? its kinda annoying.

anyhoo, i scored a really cheap awesome b and b over the net. we are staying with this wonderful lady, susanna. i think that perhaps susanna used to be a performer, very popular with the men, has scammed one or two and now takes the easy road in life because she can and because she deserves to. her eyebrows are painted black and arched high, whilst her smile is a shocking red, but cheeks are soothing pink.

i have decided to adopt her as my second mother.

the train ride from france to italy was amaaaaaazing. we landed this carriage with three guys and some asian bird who ate TOO LOUDLY. no one in our compartment knew how to smile or even pretended to want to smile. we quickly got the fark out of there, made new friends down the carriage, but were then interupted by an abrupt stop.

there was a train with bombs and explosives that was stopped because the bombs and explosives were not packed properly...this enabled us to make friends with the dudes that worked on the train, we got a little drunk with them and they ended up giving us our own carriage.

so anyhoo, the plans for tonight are to book some tours, eat some pizza and try get some tickets for the ballet.

oh, and to try not to get mugged.

peace