i find myself hungry for the written word, lapping up new experiences as yet unexperienced; experiences gleaned from the internet, from numerous travelogues, the nytimes, women writing in blogs about babies, interior designs, art and their social life, facebook photo albums, anything.


Air bubbles trapped inside frozen Lake Druzhby, a freshwater lake.

sometimes when i feel particularly unmotivated by my indoor surroundings and the company that i keep, i try to lose myself in the outside world, the real world. momentarily, Davis' new LQ turns into a minimum-security prison and i become an inmate, starving for news and stories from the out there. not just any  old news or story, however; my current passion lies in travel accounts.


Two LIDAR operators, a chef, an engineer and a marine biologist visited Watt's Hut and was rewarded for their efforst with an auroral display.

i can't get enough. i read and read and read any books i can find in the Davis library that is even remotely related to travel. thus far, i've found myself whisked away to the overland trails spanning Iran to the oriental far-east: Marrakesh, Delhi, Benares, Tehran, Lahore, Bangkok, Ho Chi Minh City, Luang Prabang, Hong Kong, Taramarang, Kathmandu, Vientiane, Hyderabad, Denpasar, Kabul, Siliguri (hehe, i giggle each time i read the word Siliguri)...the list is endless and still growing. i greedily absorb each writer's joy, anticipation, anxiety borne of travelling to new places, disappointment, harassment by locals, disillusionment, and the rediscovery within themselves of why they chose to place themselves in situations where they have no control over in the first place.


Ginormous blizz tails formed all around station after a huge blizzard, blocking entrances and stairways.

photo albums from close friends on facebook is a close second-favourite. a picture says a thousand words, and that saying doesn't get any truer than when i'm clicking through photo after photo of a holiday/travel album. paris, japan, mornington peninsula, redang, hong kong, the grand canyon. anywhere looks better than here, everywhere the grass is greener.


Crosses on Anchorage Island.

i guess you can say that i am living vicariously through them, that this new hunger in me has become my form of escapism from the world i live in right now. i want to see things, and feel things, and learn things, and know things, and touch and smell and revel in all that is alien, exotic and new.


A group of 7 Emperor penguins decided to drop in to station one Monday morning.

it is such a paradox, really. here i am, already seeing, feeling, learning, touching, smelling and knowing things at the end of the world, a place where people will readily fork out tens of thousands of dollars for a 10-day round-trip, and still, i am dissatisfied. actually, i am not dissatisfied, i am just...


An iceberg along Crooked Fjord and the Sorsdal Glacier a few of you might recognise/be familiar with.

i love being here and this is not me trying to convince myself or anyone otherwise. i really do love it here. i love the starkness, the whiteness and the way beauty exists here in harsh strokes and lines, all corners and jagged edges of icebergs and snow tails. i love hearing the call of the elusive Emperor penguin, and whenever they arrive, all 21 hands on station rush out to capture that moment on camera. i love it when a blizzard blows through, because it is then and only then that you feel the awesome power of this land, that the only one in control here is nature; not the people who wantonly erect buildings made of fibre-glass and pump fuel through a giant fuel-eating machine to ensure that electricity is provided all year-round. these people who think they are taming this land, they have no idea.


Traversing Crooked Fjord was like taking a ride across an icescape.

still, for all this wintery wonder that i am surrounded in, i just can't wait to get out of here and start my own new adventures. i know i am stricken with some sort of wanderlust that isn't going anywhere any time soon.

currently, there is a surplus of sunlight in my life. there is so much sunlight around, i really don't know what to do with it. i've been moving from chair to chair to sofa, trying to hide behind pillars and wooden beams, seeking out the cool and comfort of shadows from which to pass my day. i squint and squint trying to look at the screen of my laptop, holding my hands up against my eyes to make some sense of the typeface spread across the surface. the skin on my face feels the sun; actually, 'feels' may be an understatement - it is being singed ever so slowly but surely.



am i complaining about the sun? is that crazy?



the only upside of all this solar output is that the days are getting longer. and with longer days comes our increased ability to re-explore this land. with the return of the sun, i've been able to go out and see more things and do more things and experience more things. although inducing half-degree burns on my tender skin, it does provide a nice tingly warmth while i'm laying on the snow flat-out on my back.



it makes me feel a little uneasy, how uncomfortable i am around the sun (sometimes). i keep asking myself, "HOW TO SURVIVE AH??" but i guess that's an answer i will have to come to terms with when i'm actually back in the real world.

Rant bitch Rant!

Perhaps August will be known as the Crazy Month. Lately I've been feeling highly irritable with anyone who, in my eyes, cocks up or is being an unreasonable prick. I'm generally quite easy-going on station and have been following the rather successful mantra 'I stay away from Drama, Drama stay away from me'. But, oh, I don't know, I've just been so quick to take offense with anyone or to feel rage building from 0 to atmospheric in sub-6 seconds. Over the littlest things, the littlest things!

There are days when I'm just so sick of being here and seeing the same 20 faces again and again and again and again. Even Adam seems to be copping a small proportion of my temper flares - and can I stress that so far I have been unconditionally (UNCONDITIONALLY! I'm usually very nasty to people I love) nice to him I feel like such a wimp sometimes - and in all fairness, he is flabbergasted. I am flabbergasted. Anyone who inevitably, subconsciously or unknowingly come into my path, says something wrong that pisses me off and thus gets a variation of the following words Get, Fuck(ed), You and Off is flabbergasted.

"Gee whiz you are such a potty mouth, what happened to the NIIIIICE (and here, everyone has a tendency to drag out the word 'Nice', what the hell is up with that??) Mel???"

#1: I've always been a potty mouth; ask my parents and friends.
#2: I am not nice.
and
#3: Your perception of me being nice is just my interpretation of being nice so that life can go on.

Le sigh (Ok la, I'm actually a very nice person please do not give me weird looks when I see you again).

Perhaps it is the lack of stimulation. Everything is the same. Same couch, same clothes (there are days when I feel like I'm in school because everyone is wearing the same AAD-issued clothing and it lends a very Uniform-y feel to the air), same alcoholic drinks, same meals, same people, same chocolate bars, same music playing on the radio.

Maybe this is why I'm throwing myself voraciously at knitting - kinda like a Slut in a Bachelor's Party or a Fat Kid in Krispy Kreme (Ok omg this sounds so bad and I'm hitting all the wrong/right (??) stereotypes - this is me being remorseful, I didn't mean it) (I completely meant every word of that sentence). Knitting allows me to make new things, new things which are scarce to come by in a station of only 21 people, in Antarctica. Since the winter started I've knitted a scarf, a neck-warmer thingy, two tops, a vest, a pair of wrist-warmers, and I'm sure there's something else but I've just forgotten about it - oh yes, a FAIL beanie which will have to be ripped up soon. Not to mention a third tank top that I'm knitting at the moment, at the rate I'm going I'll be able to open my own knitwear store soon.

Maybe this is also why I've been watching movies like the world is about to end. Even crappy ones, I sit through duly and dilligently because (WHY?) there is nothing else to do and my senses crave for something new. The only requirement to movie-watching is that they have to be movies I have never seen before. I'm not gonna waste my time watching reruns (Ok la unless they are super duper good like The Motorcycle Diaries, The Darjeeling Limited, 500 Days of Summer or Bring It On wtf ok now you know my secret) and (also) the rate I'm going, I'll be able to finish the 3TBs-worth of movies on station (not really la, there are movies that are SO CRAP that even my new-sensation-starved senses will look down at with scorn (Mission Impossible 1, 2 and the other bajillion associated sequels) ahem.

Here's to hoping that the crazy month will pass soon. And don't worry, I'm ok. I have my knitting and movies to keep me occupied.