Figure 1. Map of Haiti (USGS, 2010)

Tuesday, 12th of January 2010, at 09:53:10 p.m. GMT: while the world were still enjoying the new decade, Haiti was celebrating its complete annihilation when it experienced an earthquake of magnitude 7.0 Mw on the MMS scale followed by aftershocks of magnitudes ranging from 5.0 M¬w to 5.9 Mw (USGS, 2010). While the total effects of the earthquake, becoming clearer with the days passing (The Economist, 2010), are still being evaluated, one thing is certain: nothing is going to be the same again. The most affected regions remain the capital, Port-au-Prince and its surroundings, south-west of which the epicenter of the earthquake is found (USGS, 2010); most of the infrastructure in the city have been “flattened” (The Economist, 2010) along with landmark buildings such as the Presidential Palace and the National Assembly building, but more importantly, thousands of lives have already been lost and new bodies are being still being discovered.

Figure 2. Damage experience by Haiti (UNAVCO, 2010)

The earthquake, a result of the motion of the Caribbean and North American plates, occurred in the plates’ boundary region, more specifically, in the Enriquillo-Plantain Garden fault zone (EPGFZ) located in southern Haiti (USGS, 2010), which accommodates nearly half of the motion of the above mentioned plates. The EPGFZ is believed to be the likely source of several violent earthquakes that have taken place in the past, however, such a high magnitude one had not been felt in the region since the 8.1 Mw¬ earthquake of 1946 which had been accompanied by destructive tsunamis as well (WHOI, 2005). Fortunately, this one had been far too inland to trigger any tsunamis (BBC, 2010) in the Caribbean region. Nevertheless, the tremors felt were powerful enough to be sensed “throughout Haiti and the Dominican Republic, in Turks and Caicos Islands, southeastern Cuba, eastern Jamaica, in parts of Puerto Rico and the Bahamas, and as far as Tampa, Florida and Caracas, Venezuela” (USGS, 2010, n/p).

Figure 3. Earthquake Location. Major Tectonic Boundaries: Subduction Zones -purple, Ridges -red and Transform Faults -green (USGS, 2010)

Haiti, branded as a failed state by the Economist (2009), was in no means prepared for this catastrophic event, though seismologists had ‘mentioned’ that the EPGFZ made the area vulnerable to earthquakes of low frequencies but of high magnitudes (Economist, 2010). The country, cursed by both its geographical and historical fate, is always being ravaged by tropical storms with the 2008 ones having left the country in a pitiful state and from which it was still recovering (Economist, 2010), had perhaps no other option than to wait for the countdown to reach zero. Haiti, a former French colony, has undergone very little progress since the wars in the early 19th century to drive the French away. It has remained an agrarian based economy which, in our ‘globalised’ world today, is found at the very bottom of the hierarchy. In addition, its political instability and the increasing crime rates have also help to lead the country towards self-destruction (BBC, 2009).

More than ever, Haiti seeks for international help. There is no definite death count yet, but “Prime Minister Jean-Max Bellerive said 100,000 would seem a minimum” (BBC, 2010, n/p). Still, saving lives remains the priority and the ‘disorder’ caused by the prisoners, escaped from the main prison now destroyed, is not helping. UN troops have been sent in to maintain law and order in the country and so have the Médecins Sans Frontières for the medical assistance needed. Other foundations and organizations are donating millions of dollars to come to the aid of Haitians who desperately need it (Economist, 2010). However, as a clearer picture of the aftermath of the earthquake can now be seen, it would seem that it is not over yet. Today the 20th of January 2010 at 11:03:44 a.m. GMT, a mere eight days after the major disaster, the country experienced an aftershock of 5.9 Mw (USGS, 2010). The effects of this aftershock are yet to be known.

Ingredients:
370g canned tuna
1 kg potatoes
75g grated cheese
50g butter
100ml milk
1 chopped onion
2 eggs
Salt, pepper, oil, spring onions, as per taste.

Method:
• Boil the potatoes, adding salt.
• Meanwhile, melt butter in a saucepan and sauté until golden.
• Add tuna, milk, salt and pepper, and stir until all the milk has been reduced to ¼ of amount added.
• Mash the potatoes and add it to the tuna, mixing them well until thick.
• Add spring onions and leave to cool.
• Then add the grated cheese to the mixture.
• Shape the mixture into 10 – 15 cakes of the same size.
• Beat the eggs, and sit the cakes one by one in the egg and then in the breadcrumbs so that they are fully coated.
• Fry in oil until crisp and golden.
Serve with garlic bread, salad, and any sauce such as white sauce or mustard mayonnaise.

I have been cooking a lot these days, I even made dinner for the 31st of December, which included the roast chicken, baked potato croquettes, boiled carrots, stir-fried mushrooms and finally, salad. And, it wasn’t bad, even if I was stressed as hell because I was alone at home with the kids and I had to babysit them as well as take care of the whole house for the day and do all the stuffs and I’m stressing again.

*takes a deep breath*

So yeah, 2010. new year, new decade, new calendar, new everything, where people want to start over again or just continue normally. As for me, I fall in the second category; I have already had my taste in changes during the final quarter of last year. So for me, no new year resolutions. I wouldn’t have gone along with them anyway, I never do.

And what’s happening to the blog. Hmmm, I’ll probably be around some days, though not as often as before. Blogging has no more been a priority for some months now. Good thing, probably. Anyway, I do have a few ideas which I’ll try to implement soon, not promising anything.

For now, enjoy the rest of January. It’s going to be a cold one for me. Let’s just hope it snows tomorrow.

First stop, the library. Yeah, I know, I’m a bore but what to say, I love libraries, especially Maughan. Well, not when I’m getting lost in the whole labyrinth of the building or when I’m trying to get the photocopies which are supposedly user-friendly to work, which I haven’t yet managed to, but overall I love it. Though I have been spending more time at LSE’s library than Maughan. Turning towards the enemy; it’s the call of knowledge attracting me there… and their photocopiers. Okay, maybe it’s more the archives than the photocopiers but today, the latter were actually the reason why I went there.

Carrying about 10 kg of books, I went back to King’s for the lectures, finding some 20 minutes to force my sandwich down my throat. Somehow I do seem to have been eating in a rush today, but that’s just another story about shared bathrooms (don’t ask). Yes, the lecture. Somehow, in the middle, I started hearing about the World Cup and the Olympics which woke me; I have to admit there were times I have to switch off my brain for some minutes to cool it off… I wonder if that’s even an excuse.

Time for some birthday gift shopping for a 7 going on 8 little girl. After being abandoned half way, I tried to find my way to the stores. Wait, I just passed this station or is it another one? They all look the same. It’s actually my memory which is not that good. But then I remembered where I was stalked by a taxi and the not-so-famous Russell hotel, I bet you don’t know about it. About waiting in the queue and explaining why I don’t want to get a New Look card (again), I made my way to the bus stop (where coincidentally, I missed a bus) to go to the library again, which is where it all starts going wrong.

I told myself I’d get off at Holborn Station, which is about some minutes walk from the library… supposedly. But of course, the dumb future geographer who can’t read a map yet goes in the opposite direction and finds herself ‘lost’. Yeah, I kinda got lost again, and ironically, during that time, I somehow turned into a guide, giving people information about where is where. I wonder if there was something which was attracting them to me… magnet? Anyway, it doesn’t matter, one of them was freakin’ hot.

Shortcutting through LSE’s campus down to the Royal Courts of Justine to go to Maughan to drop the book, which meant that my bag was supposed to be lighter (it wasn’t), I took the bus again, this time to Trafalguar Square to go to China Town. Of course, it wasn’t so easy. I suddenly realized that all the roads blocked because of some movie premiere at Odeon. I probably would have found it exciting if it weren’t for the fact that I had to go back again and take another road. But I did get amazed by the carousels. I simply love them and would probably go there soon. Yeah, I’m a kid.

Finally, China Town. After getting some Wan Tan stocks from Oriental Delights, I made my way to Leicester Square station to come back home. It was crowded, as always but anyway, I was going home. My arms and back hurt but I have to say, it was a most interesting day.

Perfect stance, fragile beauty, plastered smile,
She puts on her show with emotions set aside.
From passion to duty, from duty to slavery,
She performs, dancing to the tunes of music.

Slouch movements copying her graceful ones,
She watches as the little one yearns to be her.
Memories flooding, the scenario replaying,
She remembers holding that innocent gaze.

Child, she imagined being the queen of swans;
Even she had been mesmerized by Odette.
Now, frozen in time, the spell had worn off:
Odile’s deception was more apparent that ever.

The last notes playing, her tempo decreasing,
The curse forces her into painful submission.
Back to dreamless sleep she is compelled to go
Until another unlucky soul turns the key again.

Tiny hands flicking the key to the box of music,
Wishful eyes dream of what possibly can’t be.
A light hearted melody, an enchanting power,
The little porcelain doll is once more freed.

Many, many moons ago, I was in the middle of tearing my hair out before a major geography exam. Despite desperately seeking to gain the best grade possible, I was spending way too much time online; on that night, anything could distract me away from conservation strategies in the Galapagos Islands, which despite being a fascinating subject, loses its appeal very quickly when you have to write about it under exam conditions. One of the messages posted on the Internet that night was a wish of good luck from a friend to a classmate and me ahead of the test the next day; a message that would lead to a new friendship being built with someone from across the globe.

After several hours of writing my heart out in a series of unending essays, I was feeling over the Moon, enjoying that feeling of raw happiness one gets after finishing a complex piece of work. Checking back over the Internet that evening, I was charmed to discover that someone else had also joined my friend on the topic of wishing us well, and upon investigating this person’s profile, was amazed to discover that they were from Mauritius, just over six thousand miles away. The sheer scale and size of the Internet is revealed through such moments, and I can remember taking a few minutes just to visualise that extent of that distance.

Thanking this charming young person for her kind wishes, we quickly got into a conversation on the merits of geography as a subject and became friends on Plurk that evening, with one of our first conversations being on that fact that I am not a woman. The months have flown by so quickly since those winter days and looking back, I can’t believe that we will soon have been friends for a year. Talking on Plurk soon spread over to Facebook, MSN and Skype; every single conversation left me smiling so much as we went through various anecdotes and experiences that we had been through. Nussaïbah is a truly incredible person, and one who I am so honoured to be friends with. I was delighted to learn that Nus was planning on moving over to London to study Geography at university, and elated when she was accepted into King’s College. After many months of battling away time zones, the day of Nus’ arrival to the UK finally arrived; the group of us from our school who had all befriended her were delighted to see how quickly Nus settled into to life within the University. Soon enough, we had already planned out our first meeting. Going to bed on the night before the appointed day, I looked back to those opening conversations all those months ago, and smiled at how the day when we would finally meet, a day which had seemed permanently placed within the distant future had now arrived.

Suffering from an irrational fear that I would completely oversleep and wake up the following evening, I quite literally went around my bedroom and set every single alarm clock I could find to go off simultaneously. The trick worked out perfectly. After quickly zapping through breakfast and spending several fruitless moments trying to make my hair look relatively human, the time to leave arrived. Unaware that my mother was working that day, I walked across town to the train station, feeling a slight sense of nostalgia in seeing the falling leaves scattered across the park, a symbol of just how quickly time had passed by this year since the snowy months of last winter. I was also carrying a slight sense of anxiety at whether the day would all work out okay, and more jovially, whether Nus was really a young woman from Mauritius or actually an old man having a bit of fun. I reasoned that even if it was the latter, he did have a rather awesome personality.

Nearly an hour after setting off on an extremely slow-moving train (and learning a considerable amount of information about a total stranger’s life as she spoke loudly on a never-ending phone conversation) we finally pulled into London’s Euston station. A few underground stops later and I walked out under the gray sky over Trafalgar Square, our designated meeting place. The Square seemed a little less lively then it usually is; the huge crowds of summer tourists had left and the miniature random events of the August festival were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the biggest change for me was seeing the Fourth Plinth empty once more following the completion of Antony Gormley’s One and Other project. Even though it was far quieter then before, there still remained a feeling of vibrancy amongst its many monuments and statues. With a little time to spare, I quickly walked down Whitehall to the Houses of Parliament, its stunning architecture never ceasing to take my soul to a higher place.

After this short detour, the time for our meeting finally descended. Standing against one of the fountain walls, I scanned out across the crowds meandering through the square for any sight of the Nus. Suddenly, I felt my phone burst into life as an incoming call came through, though it was never answered; spying me from a distance, Nus had seen me take out the phone to answer and realised that the timing was probably a little too coincidental for it to be anybody else.

Something that I think will always engraved on both of our minds from that very first meeting is my reaction to hearing Nus speak for the first time; every part of my mental image proved to be accurate, aside from the voice. I had always imagined Nus to have a somewhat deep voice, with a slightly Russian-esque accent (seriously, don’t ask). As we hugged and exchanged greetings, I could hardly believe that this moment had actually arrived; writing a few notes on the journey back, I described my feelings during those precious moments with the very simple description ‘Wow’

After introducing ourselves for the first time in the real world, we decided to take a wonder through the National Gallery, one of my favourite places in the capital. With a labyrinthine system of rooms, one could easily spend days in there, going through hundreds of years of European art. We started out in the 16^th Century rooms and slowly began a trail through the building that largely followed a chronological path. Amidst several parties of school-children slinking across the Gallery, we saw some truly beautiful paintings, and for the first time ever, I really began to appreciate getting in close and analysing the different painting techniques used and how they had been developed over time.

One other thing that we both picked up on were the highly literal titles many paintings had, with artists in the past nowhere near the abstract descriptions demanded of more modern artists. ‘Still life painting of a vase of flowers with several other objects alongside it’ doesn’t exactly leave much imaginative scope to the viewer. Maybe the painters of the past could have challenged the system by presenting such images with wild descriptions best found in the Tate Modern, but alas, their work is frozen in time now. After butchering the Dutch language between us and spying a strange 3D box containing a miniature interior of a 17^th century house, we slowly made our way back out towards Trafalgar Square, stopping by my beloved portrait of a very sinister looking Salome by da Sesto.

Following a quick return to the present day (skilfully aided by bounty bars), we began the next stage of the day, a gentle meander eastward through the city. We walked up to Leicester Square and then to Chinatown, discussing a whole range of topics, from life in Mauritius to the differences between cultures. Eventually we began to turn towards King’s College, and despite several moments of doubt and several reachings for my highly antiquated map of London (a map so old, it probably predates much of the East End), we eventually found our way into the area surrounding the College, and with a sigh of relief, Nus took over the navigation of our journey, her real knowledge being a far more reliable tool then my faded intuition.

Walking through Covent Garden and reaching the Strand, we entered the amazing King’s College. Having only passed through along the roads surrounding it, I had never actually managed to properly locate it before and was quite surprised upon entering. I had imagined a highly traditional university and wouldn’t have been surprised to see everyone walking around in uniform. This image could not really be further from the truth; King’s has a highly cosmopolitan air to it and feels very modern in character. Following a brief tour of King’s many corridors and classrooms, we made our way up to the Waterfront Café. As the name implies, the café carries stunning views of the Southbank and all the buildings centred on the Thames.

After getting what can only be described as a gigantic platter of cheese coated chips, we relaxed and chatted the afternoon away, even issuing joint Plurks on our activities and struggling to out-wit our fellow Internet friends (despite ‘tuning in’ to the inspirational frequencies of King’s College). We discussed just how quickly the time had seemed to pass since those first conversations all those months ago, and how amazing it was that after being some 6,071 miles apart, there was only a single foot between us in that place. Afterwards, we made a brief visit down to the beautiful chapel of the College, but didn’t really want to interrupt a full practice session of the awesome choir. Leaving behind the enveloping warmth of the College, we headed back outside towards the Southbank.

Walking across the Waterloo Bridge, we could see landmarks stretching all the way from the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf down to the Houses of Parliament. Awaiting me though at the end of the bridge was a terrible shock: the gigantic plastic lawn outside the National Theatre had been removed much to my horror. Despite Nus warning me of their removal, a part of me still refused to believe it was true, even as we walked on down to the vast empty area were once the disproportionately sized chairs were found. Turning west again, we walked alongside the river’s sde towards the London Eye, meeting several living statues along the way (and quite naturally, posing for many photographs with them). Walking down until we were nearly straight opposite Parliament, we then saw something which both caught our eye, a children’s playground. Being mature young adults, there was absolutely no way we could refuse a trip onto the swings.

Looking back over that day afterwards, we both chose the hour we spent talking on those swings as the highlight of the meeting. As we flew through the air, discussing more solemn issues and our own pasts, time quite literally seemed to fly straight by us; the light greys of the evening sky turned gently to pure darkness as we spoke. There is something truly therapeutic about going on swings; somehow the whole world seems to be a happier place when you step out of the rhythm of the present and back into a younger state. I realised at that moment just how happy I felt and also how I felt much younger then at any other point in the past few years. Finally meeting such an amazing friend after months thousands of miles apart, I felt truly blessed.

With time no longer on our side, we slowly wandered back to King’s, but not before visiting a lovely little bookshop along the way. Walking across the Waterloo Bridge once more, and stopping to admire the beautiful night-time skyline, I felt a true sadness that this amazing day was about to draw fully to a close, and wished that if there was ever to be a random blip in the space-time continuum, it would happen at that moment. Sadly though, science was not forthcoming in this regard and regretfully, the time for us to split and go our separate ways finally arrived. Nus remarked that in the eight hours we had been together, we had hardly stopped speaking as we had circled Central London – to get me to speak at length to someone I have never met before is a truly remarkable feat, but to continue for such time is a true miracle and a sign that I had found a true friend. Bidding each other farewell, one of the most amazing days of my life drew to a close.

—

The train carriage was almost completely empty save for a sleeping German family and a few students. Against the gentle beats of the rail tracks as the carriages zoomed north, I reflected on the day’s events, and found myself already deeply nostalgic to begin the day again and to go through those awesome times once more. I had always wondered how the day I would finally meet Nussaïbah would go, in the end, none of my ideas were anywhere close to the fun and happiness I felt on that day; I could not have asked for a more amazing day with such an amazing person. As the distant lights of home flickered on the horizon, I smiled once more, casting my mind out to all the adventures in life still to come.

Climate Change: The theme for this year’s Blog Action Day, barely a surprise since this issue has been gracing the headlines for, god knows, how much time now, hooting warnings about the ‘mere’ two degrees that can change our lives forever and that most of us don’t even care about. To tell you the truth, it is hard to care, with the recession hitting and your money being more important that your planet. Humans have this tendency to care more about materialistic matters rather than devoting themselves to a cause they can barely understand.

Climate Change, the hot topic selling the newspapers, the main focus of scientists and one of the issues we manage to hide deep in the back of our mind. True enough, who can say that he thinks about climate change or any other environmental issue everyday, trying to find a solution to this global problem. Even I can’t say that, though sometimes I do feel like an environmental freak. Why, though? It’s because we feel that we, by ourselves, do not have the power to change the whole world. Of course, we don’t. What can one single person, among the 6.791 billion ones forming the world’s whole population, do.

Sure enough, it does sound that we are doomed, that we can’t do anything. But all I can say is that it’s starts with you, and nobody else. If one person, today, takes the initiative to start something for the noble cause of reducing the CO₂ in out atmosphere, tomorrow, every single one of us will be part of that big project aiming to save the planet. Of course, scientists, NGOs, environmentalists and lord knows who else, are here to do their ‘thing’, because obviously, that’s what they are here for.

Copenhagen 2009, hydrogen fuel cells, ocean fertilisation: my head has been crammed with all the readings I did today (and which are not over yet) and somehow, in the middle of all that, all this data intake got me thinking that we can actually do something, however little it is, for the link between all those articles was one sole thing: the reduction of CO₂ emission in our atmosphere. It is actually easy to go down with that electricity bill, cutting down the use of appliances we obviously can leave without. Of course, you might die if you switch off the television when you’re not watching but trust me, it won’t kill you.

In the end, it’s just about what matters to you or not, and nothing else.

Okay, I have to admit it though, I have met so many people whose faces or names are just a blur in my mind. And some who surely I do remember but just feel weird about going to talk to them. And of course there are others who I want to meet again and meeting we are. But it doesn’t that if I’m loving everything about ‘my new home’ that I’ve already forgotten about home. Because the truth is, I’m somehow missing it, its familiarity and warmth for swimming in unknown waters can be quite scary sometimes.

But quite an experience when you’re trying to blending in and there are hundreds of others in the same situation as you. Curious questions become just mere politeness as you’re trying to make a conversation and leaving someone in the middle of that same conversation is not considered as rude when there are ‘potential candidates’ waiting around to become your new best friend. But it’s a fact that among all these anxious faces, you do find some who are bound to become very good friends or even more.

Fresher’s week is finally over and the craziness just feels like a tiny memory at the back of my head. But I do start feeling dizzy as I start thinking of the 2+ hours of walking around in Hampstead Heath, trying to find all the points and then, the way to our meeting place using a scary map which I managed to read, to some extent. I think that the Department of Geography was trying to get rid of us on the very first day, tsk tsk. Though it would really have been funny to see the search parties coming to look for us geographers. And damned embarrassing.

THE Map

What’s even more embarrassing is that I actually missed my own country at Fresher’s Fair today. Okay, I didn’t miss them because no one from the Mauritian Society was actually there, but I didn’t know that it even existed until I actually got round to reading the plan. Instead, I joined the Japan, Creative Writing and Environment & Wildlife Conservation societies and many others which I don’t even remember. It’s like you want to join everything and obviously can’t. Oh, and there was the Thai Boxing stuff because the guy kept talking and wouldn’t let us go. Well, he’s excused, because he was so hot.

I think, in brief, all I want to say is that I’m okay. I’m not even missing the weather, it was real sunny today. Oh and by the way, Blog Action Day 2009 is near. The theme this year is climate change, any of you bloggers interested?

Or that I wouldn’t be tutoring my little cousin anymore, I wouldn’t be yelling at the older ones because they left everything for the last minute (as I usually did) and we’d have to stay up late to complete everything. I wouldn’t have my aunt check on me when I would be alone at home, or I wouldn’t have my mother call me on my cellphone because I couldn’t hear her from downstairs.

It’s just today that I realised how lucky I had been to be surrounded by so many people, given that I was an only child. I was the little princess, whom everybody would take care of, spoiled and pampered, but not too much. My huge family had very subtle ways and of course not so subtle ones, to make its presence felt and somehow, I fear I’m going to miss all that.

But if there’s something I fear the most right now, it’s the thought of hugging my father one last time tomorrow. I’ve been trying to hold the tears all day today, showing off my smile to everyone who came by but trying to not cry in front of him is already a lost case, I believe. But I’ll still be trying to hold them in, for I would not want to ruin my make-up. *smirks*

And for those who think I’ve only be ranting about my family and have already forgotten about them, trust me, I have not. I’ll be missing you as well, girls… and non-girls. Even if I don’t say it often, you make my gloomy life livelier. And yeah, I know, I have no life. We haven’t had the chance to meet properly and say goodbye, but I wouldn’t have wanted that. Just the thought of not doing the usual crazy stuffs together makes me feel that my life is going to be so dull. But Skype will be here, though I don’t really like talking to people. (you know it)

Well, in brief, all that’s left is to take that plane tomorrow. My suitcases are packed, and yeah, I somehow have excess baggage and right now, it’s the least of my worries, not that I have many.

Let’s just hope the triple nines are as lucky as the double fours, if anyone knows what I’m talking about.

I’m moving to London in less than three weeks and I can’t say I’m not thrilled. I really can’t wait for August to be over and for September to bring it full on. But somehow, there’s this part of me who wants to turn back the clock where there was this familiar but boring routine that kept me going. I wished I could turn back the clock so that I could spend some more time with my family and friends. (I really should go get that nuclear-powered DeLorean xD)

I’ve started putting away the things that I’m not going to bring with me this morning, and suddenly my room doesn’t look like mine anymore. It wouldn’t even have looked as if someone has lived in here if not for the pictures and stuffed animals that I couldn’t put away and the pets which are to be moved downstairs soon so that my father could take care of them.

However, going through everything and sorting the stuff out was quite an experience. It felt as if I just watched my life pass by me, each objects joining the dots to make a full picture. I even found the “Clown in the Box” my father got me, like years ago. I remember how I freaked out the first he gave it to me. He just told me:”Got you a gift, open it.” Ahhh, I should have known, given how he likes to play pranks on people.

Clown in the Box

Oh well, the ignition has just been turned on. All is left is to relax and enjoy the ride, no matter what the destination is.