I am one of the many German students studying abroad. I am one of the people who love travelling. I can't sit still, I always have to do stuff. I am curious, always chasing for stories. Stay here for a while and be part of my respaced world

Friday, April 15, 2011

A bit of uni-toilet philosophy

Due to the fact that I, according to my sister, already became a bit 'philosophical' in my last posting, this week's friday thoughts will be presented in pictures. The pictures were taken at UTS, female bathroom on the first floor. You can see an "experiment" of a communication - student.

Yesterday, a journalist told me:
"Don't go into media. You are still young. Working in media will not bring you any success or good life. Find another job you are good at or marry a rich guy."

Thursday, April 14, 2011

The storyteller

Yesterday I went to the outskirts of Sydney. The so called 'Mount Druitt' area is also sometimes referred to a 'shithole', which is meant to express that a lot of migrants and socially weak situated people live there and a lot of crime, which involves drug and alcohol, takes place. The Mount Druitt area is also Aboriginal territory. The city of Blacktown in the Mount Druitt area is home to the largest Aboriginal population of any suburb in New South Wales (NSW is the state Sydney belongs to). My classmate confessed that if you want to meet an aborigine, you usually have to drive outside to the suburbs.

Me and my group meant to talk to some inhabitants of the Mount Druitt area and I got very lucky, because I met a guy who was part of the Aboriginal Housing Advisory Board who said
"I am a storyteller"

Instead of telling us about public housing in NSW he looked at me, threw a tiny plastic bag which included a pair of earrings on the table, and said 'Do you want them? I made them. It's kindney. You can have them'.

Of course I didn't say no. He went on with his speech and told us about aboriginal culture and the stories of the dreaming. The stories of the dreaming explain the history of the land and how to live. Storytelling is an integral part of life for Indigenous Australians, thus the storyteller has an important role in the aboriginal society. He explained that there was a time when TV and media weren't needed at all because the storyteller fullfilled this position. But now, people didn't know how to behave anymore, because there were no rules - he didn't consider the rules of law as effective.

Ok, the guy was a bit confusing to talk to, he had almost no teeth and I could hardly understand his dialect. However, what I kept in mind was that he mentioned another value of aboriginal storytelling:

'In order to find your way you have to know where you came from. Without knowing about your own history you don't know where to go.'

It made me think about myself… I want to be a storyteller, I want to be a journalist, I wanna tell people's stories. But do I know my story?

When I travel people often ask me about Germany. I often don't know what to answer to their questions. Sometimes I think I know more about other countries than about Germany and about my family background. I never considered it to be important. But this encounter with the storyteller kinda moved me. I think he's right, especially in the last two years I got to know how much it matters how and where you were raised.

My goal for 2012 : "Getting to know my story"

Tell me: Do you know your story?

The storyteller

Monday, April 11, 2011

Not giving up

Today I learned that sometimes it's really worth it not giving up too fast.

For about 4 weeks I've been participating the weekly boxing class at my gym.
I have a love and hate relationship with this class. I mean, I always have to force myself to go there because it is humiliating. I have a really bad coordination and my ability to keep moves in mind is horrible. You need both of these talents for boxing. I make a fool of myself.

So why do I love boxing? It's simple: I just love punching.

However, last week's class was horrible. My partner got really frustrated with me, I couldn't concentrate at all and she got really upset.

After class I felt more stupid and retarded than usual. But I was too proud of giving up this class immediately; otherwise my stupid partner would think I had given up because of her yelling.
Pah. I would just force myself to go to ONE last class and then I wouldn't force myself to go there anymore. I could just go to another gym class. Maybe some relaxing sports class without yelling, maybe yoga?

Fighting with myself the whole day "I have to go" - "no I don't have to, I can do what I want' - I finally went to boxing class.
My partner wasn't there.
Haha. Poor her. Had she given up boxing class just because of me?

Well, I was kinda happy not seeing her, but on the other side I was without a partner - so I had to exercise with the teacher….
But actually it was pretty cool. My teacher told me to relax and not to worry to much. And I got better. And theeeen it got even better because she addressed me another partner who was new in class.

It was so much fun with my new partner. He is new to boxing too, he is friendly and nice aaaand he is good looking. Boxing class turned out to be so great!

Today's lesson: It's worth not giving up too fast.
Can't wait for next week's class!

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