Going Tropo...

This Blog is as requested by Kirsa and clarification for Sarah A.

Now I'm not sure if you can 'go tropo' outside of Australian and if not then I may well be the first recorded case of it. If people aren't aware of this particular aussie expression the definition is as follows;

'Going Troppo' is an exclusively Australian slang term for 'going crazy'. The popular understanding about it's origin is that it comes from stories of the tropical heat in the northern parts of Australia driving people crazy.'


It isn't really that hot so I'm not sure what can explain my current behaviour and mood. It may well all have begun when I went to see the circus at Battambang run by a french NGO originating from the Thai refugee camps, teaching circus skills to traumatised young people post Pol Pot. If you wanted to see the perfection of the male form it isn't a bad place to start. 


Or maybe it was the next evening at dinner when Katie and I had a 30 minute conversation about the arms of our waiter.


Perhaps it was exacerbated by the cross sector meeting when the only skills the rest of the volunteers wanted from Gary & I was first aid training - I had to gently break it to them I can't even put on a high arm sling or finger dressing (Ex-work colleagues will attest to this!). The best part of this was the minutes of the meeting recording that all Gary and I had to offer the rest of the group was ;-)


Then the north west meeting of health volunteers revealed that I am in fact funded by the empire & regularly go to visit the death star. It was a fabulous welcome and I must remember that particular technique for the next new intake of volunteers.


Lou & I stayed at Pete's house in Preah Net Preah for the meeting and it is possible the Raid frenzy on the female rain insects he executed and my subsequent Raid induced 24 hour sore throat and headache may well have contributed to the tropo going-ness.


It may well have been ill advised to skip an evening meal the following day in favour of sitting on Lou's balcony drinking beer/gin/rice-wine-cough-medicine-type-thing whilst watching a distant epic tropical storm.


The next mornings bed bound state due to alcohol/dehydration related vertigo spent watching Mad Men which induced nausea with its smoking in every scene surely hasn't helped.


Getting caught in a tropical storm whilst pillion on Lou's bike has to have contributed to going tropo. After all being painfully lashed by a huge drops of warm stinging rain from dark culumonimbus clouds, lightening striking all around, wet through to the bone and strong gusts of wind threatening to wipe us out - well that is tropical.


Then the back to back viewing of the Bourne Trilogy which Lou and I undertook on Saturday night really wasn't healthy, but it has left us both with a healthy appreciation of Matt Damon's shoulders. 


The Dopamine training meeting I attended on Monday at Angkor Children's Hospital sent me reeling into tropo-ness. My use of words will fail to describe how a meeting in which you are the only Barang makes one feel, but the swings are long and deep. There is genuine warmth and kindness from the Cambodians who work for my partner NGO but this is dove-tailed with unintentional exclusion, my utter incomprehension of khmer and sometimes just their plain ignoring of me, I haven't quite got it all fathomed. So I went walking in another tropical thunder storm in an attempt to post Lou's VA job adverts around Siem Reap and to see if I could make my mood swings any worse. I succeeded!


The last two days I've been in a CME workshop in Siem Reap and have had the highs of wearing headphones with realtime translation feeling like a UN delegate, moments of real hope, bizarre conversations of a most personal nature, my name called out in the street (The second time this has happened since arriving, both times URC staff - they get around and are friendly - the unexpectedness of being recognized and greeted in a foreign land lifts my spirits every-time and takes me right back to a boat trip in Sri Lanka), impenetrable surgical doctors calling me by first name and smiling at me, meeting experienced (and quite good looking) health development workers who have words of encouragement and wisdom, and as with all URC events great snacks.


Then without warning tears of frustration will well up and an overwhelming sense of "What the...." hits me. It is one thing knowing what you think you can do and another to actually do it, let alone for it to then be effective and sustainable.


During a lapse in translation and a lack of french or english power point slides I entertained myself by doing a participatory exercise in which I was the only participant. I sat and brain stormed, thought showered, whatever, a list that answered the question "Good Medical Practice is supported by what?"


Do it yourself - I got 2 sides of A4 ranging from GMC licensing and revalidation to protected study time and budget, as big as DoH policies, targets and guidelines to as small as internet in the workplace and one to one shop floor teaching and supervision. And the real downer is here in Cambodia they don't have even one of the things I (and no doubt you) listed. 
So when I'm starting to get frustrated I shall remind myself that my work ethic and professional culture come with a whole array of props that until this point I had totally taken for granted.

I don't want to go troppo but I also don't want to lose the ability to get impassioned and animated about the things that I believe matter. Its a fine balance but 3 showers a day and an air fan are helping....and Matt Damon's shoulders of course!