This time next week…

… I will be not sleeping a wink in a hotel in Sydney.  Because less than twelve hours later, I will be checking in at the International Departures Terminal and the only thing that makes me at all nervous about flying is missing my flight.  So although I’ll have a hotel room – and it will be quiet and comfortable and mine, all mine – I will lie awake all night worrying that something will happen and I’ll miss my flight.  I’m going to book a dozen wakeup calls.

So when I say “seven sleeps until Bangkok” what I really mean is “seven lousy nights’ sleep until Bangkok.”

New here?  Welcome!  Please read this… the explanation as to who I am and why I get to go to Bangkok next week.  And Olso after that.

via Dooce.  This is so awesome.  It’s got everything… Strictly Ballroom, Billy Elliot, Moulin Rouge, Grease, Dirty Dancing and, of course, Footloose.  Challenge you to watch this without tapping something.

We went to Sydney on the weekend – I would have logged into Foursquare and attempted to claim Mayorship status on our hotel but I didn’t want the internets to know the house was unoccupied and my precious collection of Kewpie Dolls was there for the taking.

Anyway, we went to Cockle Bay Wharf at Darling Harbour for Breakfast and had such a delicious meal that I felt compelled to photograph it and share it with you all.

Bona Fides Cafe Restaurant at Cockle Bay is on the water, and we sat on the verandah and enjoyed the sunshine.  The coffee was, in a word, superb.  And you know how hard I am to please when it comes to coffee.  PJ and I ordered two flat whites and I’m not kidding when I tell you they were on the table in about two minutes.

Ella ordered the French Style Pancakes with maple syrup:

Madeleine had the Spanish Style Breakfast (scrambled eggs topped with chorizo, bacon and a roasted tomato):

PJ had the Greek Style Breakfast (scrambled eggs topped with shaved feta, with roasted capsicum strips and sauteed mushies):

And I had a bowl of very healthy muesli with yoghurt and honey… it was so delicious.

The staff were very attentive and friendly.  The Manager, Stefan, gave me his business card and told me to come back again soon so he could give me a cup of coffee on the house.

Definitely worth the wander down the hill from our city hotel.  We’ll go there next time we’re staying in the CBD.

Brilliant.

Wicked, scary Sydney

We took the girls up to Sydney this past weekend to see the Sunday matinee performance of ‘Wicked’.  It was pretty fantastic.  The two leads – Galinda the Good Witch and Elphaba the Wicked Witch of the West – played by Lucy Durack and Jemma Rix respectively – were just incredible.  If you have the opportunity to see it, you should.  Especially if you can see it with a couple of kids.  They loved it, which always makes my enjoyment of anything that little bit more special.

The only thing scarier than the winged monkeys in The Land of Oz were the crazies on the streets of Sydney.  Our kids aren’t used to seeing slightly unhinged homeless people up close.  At breakfast we were sitting on the verandah of an outdoor cafe and a man came up to our table and asked for loose change before being moved along by the manager.  At lunch, an old woman wondered into the cafe we were in and rattled a moneybox in our faces.  At dinner, there was a man standing outside the restaurant, randomly shouting obsceneties at pedestrians and diners.  The girls didn’t know quite what to make of this; it’s true, we just don’t see many people like this in Canberra.

When I was living in Sydney I was shouted at by a man like that one.  He came right up to me and screamed something in my face.  Totally freaked me out, both because of the noise and the very aggressive invasion of my personal space.  He’s lucky I wasn’t a Black Belt, I’d have decked him without thinking twice about it.  At the very least I wouldn’t have felt so scared.  And maybe that’s why we enrolled our girls in Karate lessons; so they wouldn’t feel threatened if situations like that.  They haven’t done karate for about a year, though.  Maybe we should get them back into it.  Maybe I should do it too (there’s a threat I’ve made before).

I think it’s important for young people to be aware that there are others in our midst who are not as fortunate as some.  One day I would like to take them to a place where the differences between the haves and have-nots is stark, and we can do something practical to help (ie a ‘volunteering holiday’ in south-east Asia) but I’m happy to leave that particular lesson until a later date, when they are a bit older and have the maturity to make sense of it all without despairing at the state of the world.  At the moment, while Ella still needs the storyline of fairy tale musicals explained to her during the interval, I think I’ll just let them be kids.

I’ve just wasted the morning reading quotes on IMDB from The West Wing. Actually, it wasn’t a waste. It was an education. An education in how to write awesome dialogue. Goddam those TWW writers are awesome. Where are they working now, I wonder?

I’m just going to post a few quotes now and then, just to raise the standard of witty discourse around here. Don’t mind me.

“The West Wing: A Proportional Response (#1.3)” (1999)
Josh Lyman: You know what, C.J.? I really think I’m the best judge of what I mean, you paranoid Berkeley shiksa feminista… Wow, that was way too far.
C.J. Cregg: No, no. Well, I’ve got a staff meeting to go to and so do you, you elitist, Harvard, fascist, missed-the-dean’s-list-two-semesters-in-a-row Yankee jackass.
Josh Lyman: Feel better getting that off your chest there, C.J.?
C.J. Cregg: I’m a whole new woman.

First, the hilarious Human Salmon Icelandic Soccer Goal Celebration:

Then… I’m not going to tell you what happens, other than to say I came dangerously close to wetting myself when I saw this.

I have to ask one thing though… the two guys doing the piggy-back? Why didn’t the obviously heavier bloke carry the obviously much lighter bloke?

I don’t know if you know this about me, but the day after my last exam of my last year University I jumped on a plane to New York City.  I had exactly 100 days to kill before I was expected back in Canberra, and so before I went I made a list of all the places I wanted to go.  At the time, I was an employee of the Hyatt hotel chain, and as such was entitled to a certain number of ‘comp nights’ in Hyatt hotels all over the world.  My travelling companion, my girlfriend Karen, was also an employee of the Hyatt in Canberra, and between us we could claim about a dozen nights of free accommodation.  But we got a few more than that, on account of the fact that I was doing an internship-type thing in the Personnel Department during my final year of study and guess which Department is in charge of approving requests for comp nights?  In all, we spent 30 of our 100 nights in America shacked up in four and five star hotels.  Not a bad way to backpack your way around the USA, huh?

The only drawback with this plan was that we had to book the accommodation in advance, so we had to set our itinerary long before we embarked on our epic adventure.  It just meant we couldn’t make it up as we went along.  One day I’d like to go back to America with 100 days to kill and no plan whatsoever, and see where I end up.  Actually, scratch that.  I’ll let one of my kids do it and I can experience it vicariously.  I’m a planner.  Always have been, always will be.

So, the itinerary for the USA was basically determined according to where we could find a Hyatt Hotel.  The rest of the time we were welcomed with open arms into the homes or college dorm rooms of friends, and sometimes at Youth Hostels or cheap motels.  Of the following destinations, those in BOLD are the ones where we stayed at the Hyatt for nothin’, sometimes for three or four nights.

New York CityPhiladelphia - Arlington - Washington DC – [side trip to Niagara Falls, Montreal and Quebec = youth hostels and friend's college dorm room floors] – Amherst Massachusetts (another dorm room) – Martha’s Vineyard (stayed with friend’s boyfriend’s parents) – Boston - New York City for Christmas – Baltimore - Columbia, South Carolina (stayed with friends) – Atlanta, Georgia (stayed with friends) – Orlando, FloridaNew Orleans – Jackson, Mississippi (cheap motel) – Memphis, Tennessee (cheap motel) – Chicago - Bozeman MT (stayed with my uncle for three weeks, and drove in his Winnebago through Utah, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico) – San FranciscoLos Angeles - Honolulu - Home!

This week I have been planning my itinerary for my Thailand/Norway trip.  I’m booking hotels and a couple of sight-seeing tours, so I’m locked into a bit of a schedule (“it’s Wednesday, this must be Aurlandsfjord”) but I’m trying not to commit to too many specifics. I’ve got a list of must-see museums and parks and galleries but I don’t know exactly when I’ll get to them.  And that’s fine.

One thing I have committed to (and paid for) is a tour of the fjords in Norway.  I’ll be taking a train from Oslo to the town of Myrdal before switching to the scenic Flam Railway which will take me to the town of Flam.  While I’m in Flam I’ll be doing either a boat/hiking tour of the fjords, or a boat tour of the fjords plus a visit to a small town with a population of 85 humans and 500 goats that is known, not surprisingly, for its magnificient goats cheese.  The next day I’ll be boarding a boat to the town of Gudvangen, then catching a bus to the town of Voss, then back onto a train to the city of Bergen.  I’ll stay overnight in Bergen, then catch a train back to Oslo in the mid-morning.  This tour is called the ‘Norway in a Nutshell’ tour and it’s THE thing to do if you want to get out of Oslo and see the fjords and the countryside.  I’m a little bit excited about it, actually.

I learned this week that I will be doing something particularly awesome in Bangkok – something related to Thai cuisine.  I’m not going to tell you what it is, you’ll have to wait to read about it on Thai Airways’ website.  But let’s just say the Universe answered my call to ‘do something foodie’ with an opportunity that I never would have dreamed up in a million years.  That crazy Universe.

My husband once sat patiently with a box of tissues and a bottle of wine at the ready while I cried and talked and vented for two solid hours in the middle of the night.  I had just watched The Bridges of Madison County for the hundredth time, but for some reason, on that occasion,  the story completely knocked me for six.  More than ever before in my life I could identify with Meryl Streep’s character, Francesca, and how it suddenly dawned on her that, despite being happily married and with two beautiful children, she really imagined her life would have ended up differently, rather than on a farm in Iowa, and that Clint Eastwood might be the answer.

PJ listened, without judgement, without even commenting, whilst I purged myself of all the things I needed to say.  It didn’t even freak him out that my meltdown had been inspired by a movie about a woman who falls in love with somebody else and briefly considers walking out on her family.  He knew what I was saying – that I wanted more from life, that whilst I was grateful for everything we had, it just wasn’t enough – or, more accurately, it was not quite the thing I needed.

I think it is a testament to the strength of our marriage that I could tell my husband that I was, essentially, feeling like I was on the very edge of my sanity and nothing short of a complete life change would ensure my continued survival.  Most blokes would freak out at such a declaration.  But PJ said okay, what do we need to do to make you happy?

A hundred things have happened in the years since that little meltdown.  Some things can be measured in time and money and hard work, but I would have to say that the single most valuable commodity I have been fortunate to have at my disposal is the unconditional support of my husband.  None of this would have been possible if he hadn’t been on board right from the start.  And not only on board, but actively encouraging and cajoling and reassuring and inspiring.  And for me, that’s the very definition of a marriage, and the definition of our marriage:  we are two people who, over the past fourteen years, have asked tough questions of each other and of ourselves, and each time we have committed to help one another find the answers.  There’s nothing selfish or selfless about it, it’s just what you do when you know you married the right one and you can’t imagine life without them.

By way of explanation v2.0

OK, I’m going to post the 1500-word version but first I want you to go and read THIS article.  It expands, very eloquently, on part of what I was trying to articulate, which is the idea that you should not have to spend lots of money or travel to the other side of the world in order to achieve Inner Peace.  It talks about the ‘priv-lit’ genre (“privilege literature”) that perpetuates this notion that it takes a big investment of funds to embark on a successful journey of self-discovery, and so that journey is really only open to rich chicks…

For decades, self-help literature and an obsession with wellness have captivated the imaginations of countless liberal Americans. Even now, as some of the hardest economic times in decades pinch our budgets, our spirits, we’re told, can still be rich. Books, blogs, and articles saturated with fantastical wellness schemes for women seem to have multiplied, in fact, featuring journeys (existential or geographical) that offer the sacred for a hefty investment of time, money, or both. There’s no end to the luxurious options a woman has these days—if she’s willing to risk everything for enlightenment. And from Oprah Winfrey and Elizabeth Gilbert to everyday women siphoning their savings to downward dog in Bali, the enlightenment industry has taken on a decidedly feminine sheen.

OK, here’s my 1500 words (actually, it’s 1019).  Remember, I didn’t post this in the end because I wasn’t happy with it.  It’s unpolished, partially formed, not particularly well written.

There are a zillion books on how to find your true authentic self, how to search for inner peace, how to be the person you wanted to be, how to forgive yourself and forgive your mother and forgive your dirty rotten ex-husband… there are a zillion books that aim to help you to help yourself when you reach that point in your life when you start screaming at the bathroom mirror at three o’clock in the morning, asking WHY, WHY, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?  And maybe WHO ARE YOU?  And SHOW ME THE MONEY!

So why is it that some books are more successful than others?  Why is it, for example, that Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, “Eat Pray Love” walked off the shelves by the millions all around the world and inspired a movie starring Julia Roberts?  What’s so special about Elizabeth Gilbert’s story?

Here’s what I think.  You’ve got the quintessential Heroine (Liz), being called to action (messy divorce, unhappy rebound relationship, and a publisher who needs her to write another book), hatching a plan (“I know! I’ll go to Italy and India and Indonesia!”), embarking on a quest (“I’m going to eat and pray until I achieve Inner Harmony…”), meeting various Wise Men and Women who give her advice and guidance on her journey (the Texan at the ashram in India, the medicine man in Bali, and finally Felipe), all the while overcoming her demons (“Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Ex. Husband.”) and achieving personal and spiritual goals along the way.  It’s a story that’s got everything… drama, sex, good food, exotic locations and even more exotic men. It’s a cracking good story.

And… it’s got a woman who makes a decision one day to COMPLETELY rethink the direction of her life.  She leaves her home town, leaving a trail of broken-hearted men, and heads off on an adventure that the rest of us can only dream about or experience vicariously through her.  Lucky cow, we all say.

But then we think ‘hang on a minute.’  Here’s a woman whose journey was sparked because of the unhappy and bitter and painful end of a relationship, was possible because she didn’t have children, and was funded by the publishing company that was hoping she’d come out at the end with a best-selling ripping yarn to tell.  She was unattached, unencumbered and fully funded.  She had the motive, and the means.

The only criticism I’ve heard – and I have heard it from a few different people – of Elizabeth Gilbert’s book is that she was selfish and a bit whiny.  Personally, I didn’t find her selfish, but I can see how some readers might be put off by her attitude.  Women especially are encouraged not to be selfish, but to be utterly UNselfish.  Give, give, give.  Nurture, feed, clothe, wash, care for…  Do unto others as you would have others do unto you if you could afford to hire some good help.  The idea that a woman would rack off overseas in search of Inner Peace seemed, to some readers, a very selfish act.  Well, maybe it could be considered selfish, if she had left behind a husband or children or an ailing, elderly parent.  But again, Elizabeth Gilbert was beholden to noone.  Say it with me, ladies: “lucky cow.”

I think you can embark on a journey of self-discovery without buying a round-the-world ticket.  Or leaving your husband and kids.  You don’t have to completely ruin the life you already have or, more importantly perhaps, ruin the lives of your family and friends, because you’re having a crisis of identity.  Some people do; hands up those of you who knows of a man who decided he didn’t want to have a family anymore so walked out on his wife and three young children in the middle of the night without saying goodbye and moved 6000kms away where he shacked up with a trollop called Leah and her two children (who are almost certainly called Chardonnay and Tallon) and updated his facebook Religious Views to read “Do whatever you have to do to be happy!” ?

Sorry.  Bitter tangent.

The point is, I don’t think you need to be in a crisis or depressed or divorced or anything like that to stop for a moment and take stock of your life.  Everyone deserves the chance to gaze deeply into their navels and make a few changes in their life, and that part isn’t at all selfish.  The dictionary definition of selfish states that you do something for yourself at the expense of somebody else.

So what word can we use instead of selfish, to describe the act of doing something for yourself that also benefits somebody else?  What’s the word for mutually beneficial selfishness?

Sorry, that was two points: a) don’t wait for a crisis to reassess your life and b) don’t cause another crisis by doing so.

Eat Pray Love changed my life… because…

… because if you ignore for a moment the nasty divorce and the book advance and the lack of dependents she was, in the end, just a regular person on a journey.  And she allowed herself to be guided by – what I like to call – ‘the Universe’.  She followed her instincts and didn’t question them, and ended up with a wonderful new life.

Whether or not your journey has been inspired by some kind of disaster, and no matter how far you travel, the thing that seems to be important in a journey of this kind is that you go with the flow, have faith in yourself, be optimistic and be open to whatever comes along.  Since reading this book I have quit my day job and started a portrait photography business and have been recruited by an international airline to write travel tales for their website.  Neither of these things would have happened to me if I doubted myself, or doubted that I somehow deserved it.  None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been just a little bit selfish and asked the Universe for it in the first place.

I wanted to say, in my original post, that I’m just an ordinary person who decided to do something to change the direction my life was taking and that if I could do it, you could do it too.  Elizabeth Gilbert wasn’t ordinary: she had no dependents and a big book advance.  She is the quintessential privileged woman on a journey.  Well. I guess you could argue that I’m a bit like that too: I’ve got the opportunity and the means to travel.  But here’s the thing… this journey of mine started well before I quit my job and got that phone call from Thai Airways.  This journey of mine hasn’t always required massive investment of cash or nicking off to a Silence Retreat or even signing up for a regular yoga class.  It started with the slow realisation that I wasn’t quite following the path I thought I should be on.  It’s like acknowledging the problem is half the journey.  Once I did that, once I said out loud that I wanted things to be different, THAT’S when the opportunities started to flow.  And that’s the point I was trying to make.

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