Intergenerational blindness

I am somebody who gets stressed thinking about money. I'm a bit like the shoemaker in the children's book about the rich man, the shoemaker and the bag of money. Basically, the rich man gives the shoemaker a bag of money in order to get him to stop singing while he works. Apparently the happy singing was annoying to the rich man. The burden the money bag creates stresses the shoemaker out so much that he ends up giving it back. The moral I took from the story was that happiness is worth more than money.

But, anyway, back to me. I have my own small bag of money, so to speak, and it worries me that I'm probably not investing it as wisely or ethically as I could be. So, the other day I met with a financial consultant. Somebody had recommended him as being independent and ethical, which were my two criteria. Alas, it was quickly evident that we had fairly different definitions of "ethical". I explained that I was concerned with the future of the planet and the treatment of people and wanted to invest money in enterprises that were not damaging in those areas. He talked more of "tithing" and being compassionate with people as they sorted out their wills.

I think he may have used the word "idealistic" about a hundred times in our conversation, in relation to me. He cited an example of an ethical enterprise that went belly up as reason to not even try. He was also very concerned about economic growth, and the fact that my generation was likely to live longer than his, and thus would need greater superannuation resources to draw upon. Basically my choices were, as he saw it, to either continue being a naive idealist and waste my money investing in stupid fluffy idealistic notions, ending up as a burden on society....or I could do the sensible thing and sign up with a balanced fund that his company managed for a fee of ~2%pa. Sigh.

Around the same time our esteemed Federal Treasurer released his Inter-generational Report, which predicts the future context for our economy. It too, was full of concern for a projected increase in life expectancy and the burden that our aging population would place on society by 2050. There was no mention of climate change, the growing gap between rich and poor, or increasing worldwide militarism and violence.

I actually think that if the definition of idealism is having one's head in the sand and pursuing a particular ideology regardless of the facts, then our treasurer and his colleagues are the naive idealists. Do they think, as the First Dog on the Moon Cartoon in the Guardian depicts below, that we will be contentedly serving out our retirement in bubbles floating above earth because we ignored climate change, or will those who survived the nuclear winter in their underground bunkers be grateful that we made a good return when we invested in all those armaments?

First Dog on the Moon, in the Guardian

So, I have given up the idea of finding an "independant and ethical" financial advisor. Instead, a friend who is very good at understanding complex concepts cos she's a scientist, and also shares my ethical position, has offered to share with me the findings of her research into the matter. I am now confident that I can invest my little bag of dosh in a fund that is ethical, reliable and which will set me up as not too much of a burden on society when I'm like a million years old. And, if Joe Hockey's prediction is true and I do live to a ridiculous age, I reckon it will be BECAUSE enough of us invested in future oriented enterprises now. I, for one, don't want to destroy the only planet we've got to grow old on.

Booked in

One of my end of year resolutions, if you like, was to solve the reading while travelling dilemma. Since I have been known to take month long trips to the Solomon Islands for work, with my suitcase half full of books, I had begun to feel that a 'kindley-type-thing' might be more practical than taking half my bookshelf with me each time. I also thought it might be more environmentally friendly in the long term.

The trouble is that I don't like doing what I call 'shopping research'. I just find it time consuming and I'm not that good at making decisions. Plus, all the options and permutations stress me out. I can happily go down one research path almost ready to commit, only to discover that it doesn't have a USB drive, or it only works in the northern hemisphere, and I have to start all over again. So, in a stroke of brilliance I decided to outsource the problem and happily put 'research the best kindley-type-thing for me to take overseas when travelling' on my santa list, and then put the matter out of my mind. I had vaguely thought that if my brother was my secret santa this year he might really enjoy doing this for me.

Best gift ever - the research done, AND beautifully presented!

Imagine my surprise and delight on Christmas day when I discovered that my secret santa (or kk as we call it in our family), who was the one family member with  "technologically challenged" as part of her email address, had completed the task with first class honours. Lovingly seeking the help of a technologically endowed librarian, my Kris Kringle had presented me with the alternatives, the ethical considerations, and a final recommendation, all presented nicely on blue card.

My new travel reading companion

Thus, I found myself purchasing a kobo (because my KK had explained to me the ethical fallbacks of going with Kindle/Amazon), joining my local library (because kobo is connected to the library network and I can borrow e-books), starting a bookclub and downloading my first books. It's all incredibly exciting. Now the only issue left is resisting the joy of browsing second hand bookshops. But buying the odd  "real" book is still ok, isn't it? I do still need something to read in bed when I'm not on the road!!

The bedside bookshelf remains

Big foot

It turns out that I might be ....the weakest link in my household. We were taking a bit of an audit of electricity usage and as it happens, my heater uses *a lot* of our household electricity. I was a bit confronted by this information, as I think of myself as having a relatively light ecological footprint. I am a vegetarian, for crying out loud! I compost, grow stuff, refuse plastic bags, use public transport where possible and never use a clothes dryer. (Please don't get me started on people who use dryers!!). Surely all that counts for something?

But this situation I find myself in has caused me to reflect on how easy it is to become holier than thou on one aspect of our ecological footprint while ignoring other less comfortable areas.I also wonder whether I am perhaps focusing too much on low impact lifestyle changes and too little on the areas of greatest impact. So I decided to find out for myself which lifestyle choices can make the biggest difference to the environment. Thanks to the World Wildlife Fund online calculator, I have been informed that I am indeed a big foot - I'm using the equivalent of 1.7 planets or almost double my share. The average Australian uses the equivalent of 3 planets.

My ecological footprint results

So, what else did I discover? One of my biggest areas of impact is food. Initially I was surprised. A UN study entitled "Livestock's Long Shadow", indicates that eating meat is the number one consumer cause of global warming, above all types of transport combined. And according to the "What if" section below, if every Australian reduced the amount of animal products they consumed, we could reduce our ecological footprint by 18 million hectares! Yet, food is one of my biggest percentage items. I guess even a vegetarian diet takes a lot of agricultural land. Apart from going vegan or just eating less, which is probably not a bad idea, I can reduce the amount of packaged and imported foods that I consume. If Australians were to reduce the amount of packaging they use, we could reduce our footprint by 14 million global hectares!

My other big area was services. It seems that I am at the same time good (high use of public transport and recycling services), bad (high use of waste services, packaging, and possibly transport related to imported food) and confused (high electricity usage - but if it's renewable is it okay to use more?) which makes it hard to assess whether having a high percentage on the services slice of the pie is a good thing or not. However, given that the amount of land I use for energy is so high, that is one area I can definitely improve upon. If more Australians reduced their electricity usage through more efficient appliances, we could reduce our footprint by 2 million global hectares. If more Australians had solar panels (thereby reducing their *bad* electricity usage down to zero) we could reduce our footprint by 9 million global hectares.

Interestingly, although I travel by plane a lot for work, mobility was not my worst area. The fact that I mainly travel in Sydney by foot, bike, and bus apparently compensates for all the flying I do. Apparently if the average Australian reduced their car usage and increased their use of public transport, we could reduce our footprint by 9 million global hectares. Flights do contribute to 1 million of Australia's global hectares, however, so it's something I need to think seriously about.

Shelter was my smallest slice of the pie, possibly due to the fact that I live in a modest sized house with four others. We can share things that take up a lot of energy like a fridge and also be part of a food co-op. Interestingly, there were not any questions about how many children I have and whether the people I lived with were the result of my own procreation or somebody else's. I felt that should have been asked. An article entitled "The 5 most important things you can do for the environment" lists having fewer or no children as the number one thing we can do. While I take off my hat to those who choose not to have children for the sake of the environment, it's nice to know that my situation (childless, as one friend so delicately put it) lightens my impact somewhat. I'd like to know how many global hectares I'm saving through this sacrifice on everyone else's behalf!!

Interesting to note which areas can have the biggest impact

So while I'm still the weakest link, I probably won't be voted out of the house. They are a very reasonable bunch! But there's plenty of room for improvement. One day I might just have a job where I travel less, reduce my waste and packaging even more, eat vegan and local, and yes, be warm in winter because of my amazingly insulated green house that is heated using passive solar and boosted by as much solar energy to power that heater as I care to use! Ahhh! But until then, I plan to rug up, or take the advice of the student residence in Switzerland when the heating system broke down - go hug a flatmate! 

A tale of two share houses

some of the plants

Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a small room in a large house in the heart of town. She came with a rather large collection of miniature elephants, her eclectic library of books, her edible plants, a worm farm and photos from travels around the world. The girl liked when the sun came streaming into the lounge room and spent her at-home time pottering in the garden, reading in the sun or watching her favourite shows with any willing flatmates. The house was an easy bus ride to work. Life was pretty good. Not perfect, but pretty good.

But then one day, almost out of nowhere, a cloud descended over the house. It was a cloud of mistrust, miscommunication and misunderstanding. Some people were not talking to others and there was resentment about borrowing of cars and parties and loud early morning blending. Soon there was so much unhappiness that the girl spent all of her time in her room or away from the house completely. Soon enough she started to think about what she really wanted in a home and realised it wasn't all this bitterness and bother, so she set off in search of a new home. It would be a homely place, she thought, somewhere that her quirks were accepted and her values shared. She dreamed of a place that welcomed her elephants and worms, where others shared her concern for treading lightly on the earth and where the atmosphere was welcoming to friends and family who might drop by. If it happened to have a bath, that would also be a good thing. 

The good luck elephant

As she pursued her search, the elephants stood by, with their trunks up in hopeful anticipation. Kind people offered her suggestions of households that they'd heard about, and she dutifully checked them all out.  But none was quite right. Some were too far away. Others didn't have the right "vibe" and some didn't feel that the girl would be a good fit for them. She started to feel a little despondent.

Then, when she was least expecting it, and thinking about something completely different, a new acquaintance mentioned she was looking for a person to complete a new household. They were mostly vegetarian, had a beautiful garden, liked to welcome friends to the house and best of all - they not only had a bath, but a spa bath with a duck's head for a spout and peacocks strutting all over the bathroom tiles! So the girl moved in, and they all lived happily ever after!

Old stuff

I recently, and luckily only briefly, lost the Nokia mobile phone that I was given in Kenya six years ago. I was devastated, not just because of the sentimental value, but because I like my stuff to last.

The phone was held together with sticky tape, it was hard to make out the numbers on the keys, and I wouldn't describe it as "smart" in any way, shape or form. But it was functional. I could send text messages and make and receive calls. After all, isn't that what mobile phones are supposed to be about?

Now, I'll admit it. I'm the sort of person who hangs on to things, and becomes attached, whether it's to old friends, old songs, old furniture, or gifts given to me twenty years ago. Which is why I get so upset when people try to convince me to upgrade my phone, get a new bike, or suggest to me that my beloved and reliable car won't pass rego this year.

I find this attitude challenging on a couple of fronts. Firstly, I'm offended on behalf of my "old stuff". My 21 year old car, treated with care by me and my mechanic, continues year after year to serve me well for getting from A to B, and almost never breaks down in public. And my bicycle doesn't just have the vintage look that's so hip these days. It actually is vintage. A friend gave it to me a few years back after it had been sitting in her yard for decades un-used. With the help of friends at Bicycle Garden in Marrickville, I installed a new set of brakes and put a bit of grease on the chain. Now it's as good as new. But I also get offended because I oppose the throw-away society. As soon as something doesn't work anymore we upgrade, whereas in my grandfather's day, people simply fixed stuff and kept using it. The cost to the environment of manufacturing and shipping new cars is believed to be greater than the benefits of the fuel efficiency that is often used as the excuse.


While I have a soft spot for my "old stuff", I do realise that eventually, I will have to reluctantly upgrade. I've already been given a smart phone, and have begun using it to check facebook or map out a journey on the run. And, using mobile "check-in" while still anxiously waiting for the airport train might have been the difference between catching and missing a flight.And I'm told it's more energy efficient to just use a small mobile devise as opposed to turning my entire computer on. One day it might be good to get a slightly newer bike that's a bit lighter to lug around and easier to ride and eventually the car will die and I will have to look at alternative options. But until then, this luddite will persistently continue using the old stuff that still works.

Even the vegans

I visited the Vegan Expo last Sunday, and I have to say I was a little disappointed. I had expected that a vegan expo would be a shining example of ethical living on all fronts. Yet, I managed to walk away eating a meal served on a styrofoam plate with a plastic fork, and clutching a vegan cookbook that isn't made from recycled paper, and having heard no mention of locally grown produce.

Maybe I am being completely unfair, but I just assumed that people who chose one sort of ethical lifestyle would also have chosen an ethical approach to other areas of their lives. But it doesn't always happen that way. I remember getting frustrated with the socialists who shared my opposition to war, but thought nothing of contributing to un-necessary logging by printing out thousands of flyers for their cause. There are also those who care passionately about the plight of people in developing countries, but don't worry too much about the carbon cost of flying all around the world in a bid to help. And don't get me started on those vegetarians who happily eat tofu without a care for the impact of soy bean cash crops on local farmers.

But I shouldn't be so harsh. As you can imagine, I have been on the receiving end of all the same criticisms. It's always the smug, meat-eating, petrol guzzling, new wardrobe every season types who question why I might call myself a vegetarian but wear leather shoes, or claim to care about the environment but fly across the world or care about the conditions of factory workers but still buy the occasional garment made in China. Surely doing something we believe in is better than doing nothing at all? So, rather than disappointed, I have decided I am comforted by the fact that even the vegans are not perfect - maybe there is hope for me yet.

A public transport dream

I read an interesting article in the SMH the other day about public transport. Ken Livingstone, former Mayor of London, was in Sydney to give a public address on how to fix our public transport system. What interested me was not so much the congestion charge that he was famous for introducing in London, but the fact that he managed to change public perception from the "Thatcherian" view that anyone who catches the bus beyond the age of 26 is a failure, to one where so-called "failures" with Oxbridge accents were regularly found on buses and the tube.

In Australia, there is a real car culture that needs to be changed. People not only commute to work by car, but use their cars to drive to the gym and even to take their bicycles to the park. We take pride in the size, make and newness of our cars. Certainly we can learn from the examples of other, less petrol-guzzling countries.

In addition to London, there are many European cities that are shining examples of public transport success. In Geneva, high profile diplomats and dignatories are frequently found on the trams, bicycles and trains. In Amsterdam everybody gets around by bicycle and in Belgium's city of Hasselt use of public transport has increased expinentially since it became free in 1996.

So, while I am constantly reminded that I can't change other people, I would like to challenge norms in Sydney such as commuting by car to work, and the notion of car as status symbol. You see, I have a dream. I'd love to live in a city where a person is judged not by the make of their car, but by the strength of their commitment to public transport.

Getting totally sustainable, man

This weekend was pretty inspiring for me. Sunday was sustainable house day all around Australia. A whole bunch of houses that had either been retrofitted with sustainable design or designed from scratch were open to the public. We managed to slot in to our busy schedule two inner west houses and it was pretty awesome to see what they had achieved. One had built an entirely new living structure out of recycled timbers factoring in north facing windows with deciduous trees to provide shade in summer and allow direct sun in winter. The other had actually added windows to a north facing wall that had no windows previously to increase light and warmth. It's quite surprising that passive solar design has only recently become a focus in a land of so much sun.

This outing confirmed for me just how important it is to choose or design a dwelling with warm, sun-lit living areas. Of course, if you're renting as we are, then there's a limited amount of changes you can make to your abode. But, don't give up, as I'm learning that there is still an aweful lot you can do. For example, we hardly need the lights on because of the natural light coming in to our apartment. We also manage to "bucket" that first 30 seconds of cold water before the shower heats up, and that's enough to feed our small balcony garden, which incidently does provide us with a few vegies and herbs. We do wonder whether our climbing peas and beans will one day meet with the disapproval of the body corporate, but it's our small rebellion against the "not items hanging on the balcony" rule.

Talking of our own vegies, on Saturday morning Pete and I went to a free No Dig Gardening workshop and learnt all about the correct way to prepare a vegie garden bed, and about getting the right balance of carbon and nitrogen in the soil. At the end of the workshop everyone got to take home a new little garden with its own seedlings. We are now the proud owners of a bucket containing silverbeet and asian greens. We got so inspired that we retrofitted an existing pot with a new summer crop based upon no dig principles. The purple flower, which my mum gave me for colour, isn't coping with the wind in this photo, or perhaps it is just dancing with joy!

A winter growth spurt

Adolescence can be a painful time. While everyone else's voices go down an octive practically overnight, the late developers are still singing boy soprano. Well, that's what it's been like for my broccoli.

I was visiting a friend's house the other day when reality hit. There it was in her garden - an early flowering broccoli plant - sitting there mocking me. "Oh, that" my friend said casually, "it's been like that for weeks". It's not fair. For 4 months I had been patiently watching and watering my plants with no results.

I am sure that for the parent of any slow-developing teenager, there is the temptation to imagine the worst. I began to despair that they would ever reach maturity. I wondered whether I had deprived them of sun, or whether my natural worm wee fertiliser was not enough. What had we done to deserve this?

Then, one day when I had almost given up all hope, my broccoli plants began to flower - all of their own accord. Of course, they still have a bit more growing to do, but I'm pleased to say that my gardening confidence has had it's own little growth spurt too. After all, there's nothing wrong with being a late bloomer, is there?

Creating your own worm community

One of the things I decided to do while Pete was away was to build my own worm farm, or rather - my own worm community. While I am very grateful that there are two large compost bins and two worm farms within our unit block, I had become weary of carrying my compost downstairs every week or so, and then making an additional trip downstairs to my neighbour's worm farm to collect the all-important worm wee for my garden. It was time to get my own worms.
Not satisfied with buying a plastic box complete with its own worms, I had decided to put two of my white styrofoam boxes to good use and make my own. Having helped my brother set up his worm farm not long ago, I felt that this was a project I could manage. There's lots of information on the web about worm farms, but if you're interested, here's how I did it:

Step 1: Doing the research. I enrolled in a free evening course on worm farming through my local council (The Watershed in Newtown). This was completely unexpected, as while I was googling instructions I happened to find out about this course on the same day, and it was really informative. They tell you what worms eat and don't eat, how to care for them, and how long before you can expect to be harvesting worm wee. Then you all crowd around a worm farm and see how it workds. This was when I began to see the worms as real animals, rather than slightly squirmy things.

Step 2: Collecting all the materials. I already had two styrofoam boxes (which we picked up free from the supermarket), and I also collected a milk crate to stand it on (a few bricks will do the trick) a tap (constructed from a small bottle with a long narrow neck), some newspaper, soil, worker's tape, a skewer (or anything to pierce small holes) and some worms (I took my worms from the neighbour's worm farm, but ideally you need about 1,000 of them which you can buy online or from the Watershed).


Step 3: Construction begins. I chose one box to be the ground floor box and the other to be the first floor box. The ground floor box is where the worm wee will collect. The first floor box is their playground. I punched small 1mm holes about 1cm apart in the bottom and in the lid of the first floor box for ventilation, then one larger hole (about the size of the bottle neck) in the ground floor box for the tap and tape the tap in securely so that no water can escape. I then wrote "Aletia's Worm Community" in bright colours on the box, because I wanted it to be a happy place where the worms were valued and comfortable.

Step 4: Preparing the bed. I lined the first floor box with shredded wet newspaper, followed by soil up to a height of about 10cm (or a third of the box). Then I placed the worms on this bedding. When they were ready for bed, I tucked them in. (No, seriously, you have to put about 5-10 layers of wet newspaper as a blanket over the whole bed, as worms don't like sunlight.) It was suggested to me that I wait 2 days before giving them any food, as the newspaper provides them with nutrients while they settle in, but I gave them a few bits of food and then increased it a few days later.

Now they're on a full diet, and I have even noticed baby worms appearing. It is such a delight! I just hope I don't smother them too much - I must let them grow up without interferring in their development.

On ya bike

The bicycle may have been around for centuries, but as a popular means of transport it is starting to stand on its own two, um, wheels. As petrol prices sky-rocket and commuters are increasingly finding themselves in frustrating traffic jams, it seems that in the battle for survival of the fittest, cyclists are finding themselves streets ahead. So I have decided to take the path less travelled and find out why bikes are so great.

As I strap on my helmet and unhook my bicycle lock, I notice one of my neighbours across the courtyard. He is also preparing his “vehicle” for the daily commute. We exchange pleasantries. His bike is a true relic from the 1970s. He tells me with confidence that a dodgy looking bike is far less likely to be stolen. That is a truism I now know from bitter experience. When I bought my second bike (may the first one rest in peace) I was thrilled when it was labelled “un-steal-able”. With clunky gears, an uncool frame and the “wrong” kind of handlebars, the two of us were a match made in heaven. Just to make absolutely sure, I have dressed it with embarrassingly alternative bumper stickers that will hopefully cause any self-respecting thief to think twice.

Once I have my pants tucked into my socks in a truly stylish manner I wobble as I wave to my neighbour and away I go. The first hurdle is the intersection at the corner shops where one must cycle uphill before passing the bus stop. Huffing and puffing is definitely not cool, as there is invariably an audience of bus commuters politely lining up. For the sake of the cycling movement, I must pass this point with grace and ease, ideally leaving the bus commuters with the distinct impression that cycling is fun, safe and speedy.

Having gotten a head start on the bus, I cruise confidently through the backstreets of Glebe. It’s around this time that my neighbour sails past me – a reminder that “speedy” is relative. But hey, I wave, wobble and keep peddling away. Usually the bus with its commuter cargo catches me up around the intersection of Parramatta road and I smile smugly to myself as its occupants again have a chance to admire the brilliance of the bicycle as a superior means of transport.

While I have noticed an increase in cyclists around town, Sydney has been slow on the whole to take up the bicycle path. Amsterdam, well known for its bicycle lined streets, is where I was advised that the best option is to have a really cheap bike with a really solid lock. In Geneva, where diplomats can be seen arriving for United Nations meetings by bicycle with their trouser pants tucked into their socks and women carry their baguette home in the basket on front, I realised that cycling can be part of everyday life. In Kakamega town in western Kenya, where bicycle taxis are in abundance, I learnt how to hop smoothly onto the back of a bike without looking too awkward.

As I leave the commuters behind and head for the park, I am reminded of how good bicycles are for mental and physical wellbeing. As the pressures of high powered jobs take their toll on us all, we are becoming more sedentary, more stressed and less happy. There are higher incidents of people with heart conditions, mental health concerns and vitamin D deficiency. Regular exercise and sunlight are an excellent remedy. Riding to work seems to me the perfect solution. With bicycles, the ironic habit of driving to the gym will become a thing of the past. When I cycle to work and back, I get my exercise while I commute – an excellent use of time in a time-poor society.

There’s nothing better than gliding down that final hill at full speed while other pedestrians fade into the horizon behind. When larger vehicles are caught in a nasty traffic jam and their drivers are wondering if they will make it to work on time, we cyclists are calmly weaving between the other cars, or simply cutting across a park nearby. As I approach the gate of my workplace, I see a resident departing. He is taking is son to playgroup on the back of his bike. The two-year old, who is completely at ease in his little bicycle high chair, gets very excited when he sees me. “Bike”, he declares happily and I am satisfied. With just one word, he has confirmed for me that two wheels, not four, are the choice of the next generation and the way of the future.

Sensible Shoes

Today I reached a significant milestone. I bought my first truly sensible Quakerly pair of shoes. The large buckles are remarkably reminiscent of those on my first ever pair of sandals, but on the plus side they are comfy and close to the ground and I am sure I will be able to ride a bike or walk for hours in them.

I do believe you can tell a lot about a person by the shoes that they wear. Quakers, uncomfortable with outward expressions of wealth or extravagance, seem to have developed a reputation for their practical footwear. Apparently, the best way to find the Quaker group at any large event is to look for the people with the sensible shoes. In England, Quakers are particularly noted for their determination to wear socks and sandals throughout the year. In Australia the socks are less common, but the principle is the same.

I often take note of the shoes worn by Quakers at yearly gatherings. There are a couple of favourite brands/styles that they love, such as the Birkenstock (they last forever and are extremely comfortable - these are for the trendier Friend), orthopedic "dress" shoes (this shoe falls short ever so slightly of being "cool"and I plan to avoid it for a couple more years) and jesus sandals, thongs or bare feet for the young ones.

So, what does this mean for me? I guess I have decided to accept my Quaker roots, and embrace the dag within. I feel like these shoes were inevitable. It's the sensible shoe that we had to have.

Green thumb?

The women in my family are gardeners. My grandmother's garden was every child's heaven, with pickable fruit, little hideyholes, a mini-train track, and a table and chairs made out of a dead tree trunk. When my grandmother died, my mother took up the habit, and our backyard slowly morphed from a potential cricket ground to an oasis of calm.

With the financial market the way it is and of course being a proponent of a healthy vegetarian diet, it seems natural that I follow in the steps of my foremothers and try my hand (or rather, my thumb) at growing my own greens. Sadly, I am somewhat limited by living in a unit, but nevertheless I have set my balcony up with a few herbs and small vegetables, and excitedly check them each day. I'm sure that my ancestors are watching as I overwater the Aloe Vera, prune the mint out of existence and, most embarassing of all, fail to realise that it's normal for Basil to die over winter. I quietly hope that I inherited the green thumb, and it's just taking a while to form.

There's something so satisfying about "just ducking out for some lettuce" (or tomatoes or basil or mint or parsley or rosemary or coriandar or .... hopefully snowpeas) without leaving home. Better still is knowing that it's fresh, there's no pesticides, nobody died harvesting it, and no carbon emissions were used to transport it to me. Let's give kitchen gardening the green thumbs up!

Photos: my mother in her garden (right) and me in mine

You've got air conditioning, I've got air

There is such a great sense of achievement associated with riding a bike. I was lucky enough to upgrade recently to an adults bike, and with the addition of some lights and a basket have been finding it very useful, and exhilerating. I have been able to test myself mentally and physically over the past few weeks, and found that - yes, I can ride on the road, yes I can ride to work and yes I can get myself up that rather daunting hill.

I'm learning little tricks of the trade by watching other people and chatting with my bike riding neighbours. There's definately a growing bike community in the inner city. I'm sure that if we weren't all so intently looking out for cars or peddling like crazy, we'd wave at one another in the same way that MG drivers do.

There are numerous pluses about riding a bike - apart from it being good for my self esteem it's also good for the environment and it's great for my health. And I hardly pay anything for buses anymore! A few years ago a very talented friend of mine wrote a musical, and one of the characters was keen to learn to ride a bike. At the end of the musical, she achieves her goal, and sings the following words:

"You've got air conditioning and we've got .... air,

You've got six cylinders and we've got strong legs,

You're burning petrol, but I think we're on a winner,

You're getting fat while we burn last night's dinner"

Now I know exactly how that character felt. Next time you see somebody on a bike amongst the traffic, there's no need to feel that they're missing out - know that there are many benefits, and they're probably feeling sorry for you!

Second hand heaven

For those of you who love a second hand bargain, I tell you, I have found the ultimate charity shop! The markets in Kakamega (and many towns around Kenya) have streets and streets of stores selling second hand clothing at very reasonable prices.

When I expressed my glee at finding so many bargains, one storeholder shook his head and laughed, saying "but these clothes are from where you're from". It's true, they are. People send second hand clothes to Africa, and instead of just giving hand-outs, the whole thing has become a business venture. Each Monday when the shipments arrive, people go and pick out clothing according to their speciality. Some people sell men's shirts, some sell jeans, some focus on ladies skirts etc. Then they take their wares to their little alloted market store and make a little living.

What this man didn't realise was that nowhere in the western world (that I've seen) are the second hand clothes so well organised and so extensive. You can get absolutely anything you want here, and you don't have to be lucky - there's enough of everything to go around. The fact that I'm supporting local business at the same time as re-using perfectly good designer jeans all for an agreed price of less than $3 makes the whole process very rewarding.

Of course, there is a down-side, as a friend recently pointed out to me. Often in these situations it is the middle person (the one shipping the clothes) who makes the biggest profit, and the virtually free market for western clothes reduces the market for locally made clothing and products. This is true of so many approaches to development - people mean well, but don't think about the negative impacts of their gifts. In order to make up for my sins, I also bought lots of local fabric and artifacts, and look forward to having these little memories about me when I am back home in Australia.

Getting back to nature

It was my idea to spend my final week of leave working on an organic farm in the Loire Valley in France, but in the end it was Pete who really took to the place. We spent our time learning about organic farming, playing with the dog, donkey, ducklings and goats, mowing lawns, picking berries, weeding and going to the local food markets. We stayed in an adorable caravan, and ate delicious home-grown vegetarian meals. The only problem was that it rained quite a bit and was colder than we thought. When we arrived in Paris, we both thought it seemed... rushed, and crowded. I guess that meant we had almost become farm folk.

Blood Diamond

I went and saw “Blood Diamond” the other day. Although it was a Hollywood interpretation of the horrific violence that is associated with the conflict diamond trade, it did get me thinking. At the end of the film, viewers were reminded of the Kimberly Process, enacted in 2002, which has attempted to combat the trade in conflict diamonds. Diamond buyers were encouraged to demand that their diamonds are certified as “conflict free”.

While I am sure that this certification scheme has been important in decreasing the flow of conflict diamonds, the idea of being able to buy “conflict-free” diamonds seems a bit like “guilt-free” chocolate to me. This process has raised awareness of the problem and sent a clear message to those trading in “conflict” diamonds, but has it resulted in a decrease in the violent conflict and human rights abuses that occur in such regions? And does it address the injustice that exists when some of us can afford to pay thousands for a nice ring while others (often those who live nearest to the sought-after resource) still live in poverty?

So, what to do? If you’re starting to wonder what to buy your loved one that is both ethical and longlasting, don’t worry. I’m working on a product that will be truly guilt-free, conflict-free, and chocolate-free... and reasonably priced. It is something that wouldn’t be worth killing or dying for. But sadly, I’ve been told that my “plastic is forever” idea just doesn’t have the same ring!!

Can't escape my middle class fate

Very few people here in Geneva can call themselves true Genevoise. Most of us are foreigners of some description, and many work in and around the UN. I've noticed that this international community has created its own unique class system, and I have managed, yet again, to find myself in the middle class.

The upper class consists of diplomats. Their mode of transport is car or taxi. I have one friend who is a diplomat, and my jaw dropped when I visited her apartment. My humble dwellings paled in comparison to the sheer luxury of this three bedroom villa with breathtaking views of the lake. I haven't had her over to mine yet...I really must.......but I'm a bit embarrased because she will have to sit on a plastic chair and the only view I can offer is of more apartments. My mode of transport? The tram and bus.

But everything is relative. "A view of more apartments?" cry the students and interns. "Sheer luxury. We are so poor we have no view at all! Trams? Why, we have to walk everywhere!" Most interns are not paid anything for the work they do, and need to pay their way by babysitting in the evenings. They are not afforded the luxury of a room to themselves, and must keep meals out to an absolute minimum. In the building where I live, my room is one of only four with its own bathroom and a balcony. A friend of mine who is studying a PhD cannot believe how lucky I am. She has no view at all from her apartment, cycles everywhere to avoid transport costs, and we usually meet for coffee because dinners out are out of the question.

So I've started riding my bike a bit more - in solidarity with my friends, and for the sheer fun of it!