Today, I woke up feeling a bit off, as if I'd absorbed the word "blah" from the universe. It's one of those days when I can't help but utter "yuck" in response to the world around me. I arrived in this desert land just yesterday, and everything here feels decidedly different. The air conditioner decided to take a break last night, leaving me with a sweltering room and a night of restless sleep. To add to my discomfort, the bed wasn't exactly the pinnacle of comfort, and the pillows were so full that my head seemed to be at a perpetual 90-degree angle. I awoke feeling achy, groggy, and utterly unwilling to greet the day. In an attempt to shake off the morning blues, I decided to take it slow. I indulged in an excessive amount of TV-watching before venturing out to explore the tiny city of Alice Springs. Truth be told, there isn't much to write home about. It's a small town with a sparse population and a noticeable homelessness issue. Walking its dusty streets, it's almost as though I've stepped into a black-and-white cowboy movie from the 1950s, where tumbleweeds could easily make an appearance. Alice Springs carries an unmistakable weight, with its heavy atmosphere and desert-dry humidity. As you navigate its streets, you can't help but notice the presence of the Aboriginal people. Their demeanor often appears marked by a deep sadness and disarray. Some are without homes, while others wander aimlessly. It's not a distinction drawn by the color of their skin, but rather by the stark contrast in body language and energy levels between them and the white inhabitants. Before embarking on my journey to Australia, I watched a documentary titled "Bringing Them Home," which left an indelible mark on my consciousness. The documentary sheds light on the Stolen Generation, a dark chapter in Australia's history, where the government forcibly removed Aboriginal children from their families in an attempt to assimilate them into white society. These innocent souls were torn from their roots at a tender age, never fully accepted into white society, and deprived of their true identities and family ties. This horrific practice allegedly ceased in 1969 or the early '70s. I can't help but wonder if the heavy, unsettling feeling that hangs in the air here in Alice Springs is somehow connected to this painful history. The weight of that past seems to linger, and it's hard not to think that it might be contributing to the somber atmosphere I'm experiencing.
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