tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91386180563345180162024-03-13T02:31:48.005-07:00PonderaliAli Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-42748287417539950062021-06-09T04:11:00.000-07:002021-06-09T04:11:16.716-07:00The One Where I Finally Finish a Blog Post<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Last week was crazy. And I am saying that in the context of a sequence of weeks over (being honest) the last 2 years which have each outdone the last in their level of intensity. Every single time I think that a week cannot get more stressful or fast paced or mentally challenging it just does. At this point I am forced to actually appreciate the week I am in, however batshit, because the likelihood is it will ramp up a further (inconceivable) notch the following week.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am looking back at things I wrote this time last year or the year before and laughing hard at what I considered to be challenging back then. Because right now I would take those weeks in a heartbeat over the levels of unrelenting chaos we now find ourselves in.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Last week I read a <a href="https://timklapdor.wordpress.com/2021/06/01/wanting-to-write-and-not-finding-the-words/" target="_blank">blog post</a> by one of my colleagues (and friends) which summed up well the level of disparity between what normal used to look and feel like and what normal (genuinely) is right now. He spoke (so eloquently) of blog posts started and abandoned, an intent to write as a release being repeatedly thwarted by exhaustion and distraction and reflections on what a standard workday looks like - and man did I relate.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The sad and difficult element in all of this for me - a person who writes specifically to <i>enable</i> release - is that I cannot, at this juncture, write openly about the situation and set of circumstances that have brought us to this period at work where the whole of our time (predominantly mine and that of my management team) is taken up with incomprehensible drama and our attempts to navigate said drama. I am certain that day will come, and I will be able to look back on this period and draw a breath and reflect without it feeling like a gargantuan task of biblical proportions. I will have learned things, I am sure, that will carry me through future periods of disruption and provide me with the reassuring safety net of knowing I have the resilience to power through it. One day. But not now. Right now we must just keep on fighting the good fight and dragging ourselves through each week and remembering to keep making each other laugh while we do it for the sake of all of our sanities.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is not just me feeling this stress either - everyone across our University (and our sector) is in a holding pattern of coping and doing more with less resource thanks to the pandemic and the economic impact on higher education. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There has been a lot going on personally in the last 12 months too, and right now I am also trying to just breathe through a grief trigger which I know is just around the corner, that being the first anniversary of the loss of a good friend, which is made all the harder by not actually knowing what the actual (or at least what the Coroner's verdict on) date of death was. But I do know the date he was found and that I took that fateful phone call, and that is all I can mark it by for now. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I miss Gilo - his daft and sometimes poignant comments on my Facebook posts (which regularly come up in Memories), his messages asking my opinion on things or offering his, just knowing he would be there and reliable as ever when I next went home. At our old house his photo hung in the hallway over my candle shelves, I nodded to him each day as I left the house and it helped somewhat, at our new house he is opposite the open plan kitchen and I often glance up and see him and smile, he was into cooking and our conversations were often about methods or tips or ingredients one of us was trying and so it feels apt. It still helps.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo7BbGu5N9abc19r8dgqoCcms70uFAuy8AuZkDT0C3Ec6YfCW-IwicxUQbLRXkoL3z_mFPAlOAeuxMZugTfgWWb5q9nQdS_iqrWU4nJqaQjSJTWDNE-q1J9cahKnaLgt0eVHBR_1Q82A/s2048/gilo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDo7BbGu5N9abc19r8dgqoCcms70uFAuy8AuZkDT0C3Ec6YfCW-IwicxUQbLRXkoL3z_mFPAlOAeuxMZugTfgWWb5q9nQdS_iqrWU4nJqaQjSJTWDNE-q1J9cahKnaLgt0eVHBR_1Q82A/s320/gilo.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gilo watching me from his spot at the new house</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And yes - we have also moved house, around 6 weeks ago, and it was the usual levels of stress, chaos and (because of the wretched and Landlord skewed rental market in Australia) financially challenging activity that you would expect. The awesome thing was that we were MASSIVELY lucky in securing pretty much the perfect property for us in the location we wanted in a completely insane rental market right now (the new house was only viewed by 6 people, all of whom had <i>already applied and been shortlisted</i>) and also that my ever generous parents in the UK helped us out financially with juggling two leases for around a month and also with insisting on paying for removals on the day of the move (OMG what a game changer that was!).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So now we are moved, the lease on the other house is all paid off and the stress of getting the deposit back was successfully navigated - no mean feat in Australia. Things are starting to calm down and we couldn't be happier with the new house which has all the mod cons our last place didn't have (heating and cooling! a very good shower! a modern and functional kitchen with a dishwasher!) with the trade off being that we are no longer 20 metres from the esplanade - we are all of 250m away instead, which is a very manageable compromise.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Sunday I finally watched the Friends Reunion (hence the title of this post) and my goodness I had forgotten how connected I was (am) to that show and the dynamic of those six characters, and yes, hindsight is 20/20 and I realise looking back that there were some problematic themes in that show and the cast is hideously non-diverse - but it was a show I leaned on for so many of my formative years through late teens and early twenties. It has underpinned and influenced so many references and weaved it's way into my conscience in such an innate way and it still a show that soothes my soul when I am tired, low or stressed - in fact reading back through the earlier parts of this post, maybe I should prescribe myself some downtime and Friends sessions in a bid to escape the pace of work and amount of general noise right now. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWJJrtNVQdyYAmFC3Z7lkr4v0zApqc2dTsBPLLpGlx6ZFQDKxewkq5vtYrqgJL4XdySjHTxXWAcmZFFFL_OwoXQKEkCu39utO1lLJvb0CVWyUQaWr0OoOk0mj6mtE9ZY8bPFUHpjtHGo/s681/Friends-The-Reunion.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="681" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWJJrtNVQdyYAmFC3Z7lkr4v0zApqc2dTsBPLLpGlx6ZFQDKxewkq5vtYrqgJL4XdySjHTxXWAcmZFFFL_OwoXQKEkCu39utO1lLJvb0CVWyUQaWr0OoOk0mj6mtE9ZY8bPFUHpjtHGo/s320/Friends-The-Reunion.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I genuinely want to take moments out to appreciate the good things, the people who make it all worthwhile, my wonderful boys who keep me sane and make me laugh at home and the opportunities I get to decompress with them, but it is so hard to have the energy to do anything except collapse and rest in the moments outside of work right now. I know this is on me, that self care is in my control and that running a business (yes, I also set up an <a href="https://www.etsy.com/au/shop/altcandleco" target="_blank">online business</a> in the last 12 months!) is a difficult thing to do whilst working full time but it <i>is</i> a choice that I made. At the moment the creative release that I get from my candle based endeavours and the satisfaction of the odd sale replenishes my soul enough to make it completely worthwhile but at some point I might have to revisit that.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgre33UdNLgkG6W8iWPl-RxlYKBxZzEdmMnxuIZNxoBqq67Gi8alCbNFHOoAsNZSTF-EC18Zgj37p3hPiXrfhXCMLyQiUCTaj8-k7S59rmM7WCVUqRLqU7nXuiZFzUrvMmRFMGXWWD-Fdc/s4032/cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2640" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgre33UdNLgkG6W8iWPl-RxlYKBxZzEdmMnxuIZNxoBqq67Gi8alCbNFHOoAsNZSTF-EC18Zgj37p3hPiXrfhXCMLyQiUCTaj8-k7S59rmM7WCVUqRLqU7nXuiZFzUrvMmRFMGXWWD-Fdc/s320/cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span> A range of my candles and wax melts</span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Alternative Candle Company</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I feel like things might never go back to 'normal' in the work space - or at least not in the near future, and I am asking myself big questions about what that might mean for me and the remaining years of my career. I still love working in a University and especially on a vibrant campus, I know that Partnership working is where I thrive - and that inter-University partnerships give me the greatest joy. I know that leading creative teams is a skill set I bring and that I don't want to move too far from using it. A Director role will likely be what I go for next, but I don't want to run a team so large that I cease to have an authentic connection with each individual member. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">People matter to me, and I have reached an age where I don't flinch at all from being the 'warrior' leader - running straight into confronting situations to protect the team I have as best I can from strategic noise and high level stress. That behaviour pattern <i>is </i>exhausting though and I am physically and mentally tired from the amount of noise right now but I hope that my team know I will never stop fighting for them while I am able. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">God, I miss my family in the UK so much and have done so since the international borders shut in March 2020 and visiting them was removed as an option. My Covid jabs (Pfizer) are booked in for a couple of weeks time and I finally feel like I am able to do my bit to combat this bloody virus and take an active step back towards a time and a situation where I can board a plane and head off to see them all. I have a feeling there will be tears of appreciation on reuniting now that we have all spent some time without the convenience and freedom of international travel. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCUGmNvGu5J-lGIsIbFLYhF2wuJlE6-bK7kybFL8prvF_6WTqbYTEXntAKDQx90Wzq9f3VxeC2Kq0zZUP2BLQArRO8bJjvsRXSf7wYxv7suCUqZUTIvmmFzZTN5MSsm0pi5pchM6H4AQ/s892/siblings.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="892" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCUGmNvGu5J-lGIsIbFLYhF2wuJlE6-bK7kybFL8prvF_6WTqbYTEXntAKDQx90Wzq9f3VxeC2Kq0zZUP2BLQArRO8bJjvsRXSf7wYxv7suCUqZUTIvmmFzZTN5MSsm0pi5pchM6H4AQ/s320/siblings.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Siblings</span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is the longest period I have ever gone without a Mom hug and that alone is horrid. I want to meet my newest niece and congratulate my brother on his recent marriage and have a beer and a chinwag with my Dad and I want to banter with all my siblings and sibling in-laws in the way that only we can and I want to spend time with my precious UK friends who I have always treasured but who I perhaps now treasure with a newfound understanding of loss. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And I need to grieve for Gilo in the place where we grew up and celebrate his life together with friends in a way that we have been prevented from doing so to date by covid and distance.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If nothing else the craziness of the last 18 months or so has absolutely made me appreciate the wealth of amazing people I have the privilege to know and that I will never take for granted ever again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In a few weeks we will (hopefully, state borders permitting) fly up to Brisbane for Christmas in July with some of our Aussie family and that will sustain me through the next few weeks - all we can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and breathing and try to leave work on time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So there you are, a snapshot of my life right now, a blog post I finally finished and a cathartic release achieved. I really do need to make more time to do reflective writing - it helps so much.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-52362742832603829932021-01-08T19:30:00.001-08:002021-01-08T19:30:23.141-08:00Juice WRLD - Wishing Well<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5yu0mfr_c-HYsXKjY86Xi8MbSq1sN8NTR_R9iVzciina5-nGKZ6edEo33QQff0Da_6rppeeP7ax7e-rzdR_KjfBMpQKWwu81wwycrqxORbcNL7HhN9i2XB62vLXMxTlYa3o6gT2yFus/s600/legends+never+die_juice+wrld.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5yu0mfr_c-HYsXKjY86Xi8MbSq1sN8NTR_R9iVzciina5-nGKZ6edEo33QQff0Da_6rppeeP7ax7e-rzdR_KjfBMpQKWwu81wwycrqxORbcNL7HhN9i2XB62vLXMxTlYa3o6gT2yFus/s320/legends+never+die_juice+wrld.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am being stalked through every moment by </span><a href="Juice WRLD - Wishing Well (Official Music Video) - YouTube" style="font-family: verdana;">this song</a><span style="font-family: verdana;">. It happens from time to time, a song just gets absolutely stuck deep down in my brain, more intense than an 'ear worm' and harder to shake. My mind latches on to certain tunes and lyrics and just will not let go.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have other blog posts that I could/should be finishing right now including a painful/cathartic review of 2020, but on a tram a few nights back, in the Gold Coast, alone but surrounded by holidaymakers, travelling back to our hotel after a night with friends, this tune played again (whilst shuffling my most played songs from the last year) and sometimes listening on headphones alone when you can really concentrate on a song it just <i style="font-weight: bold;">gets you. </i>So I started to write this, while it feels so vivid.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The words are heartbreaking, especially in context of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Killing_of_George_Floyd">George Floyd's death</a> in March last year, the haunting refrain (and the opening line) 'I can't breathe....I'm waiting for the exhale" made even more pertinent when you learn that Jarad Anthony Higgins, otherwise known as talented rapper, singer/songwriter Juice WRLD, also passed in a traumatic and untimely way (from a drug induced seizure) at the age of 21 late in 2019. He had so much more to give but had battled addiction, anxiety and depression for a big chunk of his short life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Last year, mid way through 2020, Triple J featured the posthumous album <i>Legends Never Die </i>as an album of the week and I was mesmerised by it - I distinctly remember hearing this particular track for the first time, I was driving to work and this started playing as I parked in the multi-storey car park. There was no way I was leaving the car until the song finished, at which point I searched it out on Spotify and put it on repeat as I walked into work. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The raw and vivid lyrics in this song seem to come straight from the heart and given what happened to Higgins, how he died, what his life had been like, what his demons were, lines like:</span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;">Sometimes I don't know how to feel</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;">Let's be for real</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;">If it wasn't for the pills, I wouldn't be here</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14px;">But if I keep taking these pills, I won't be here, yeah</span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">...seem especially pertinent. To be so talented and so young and to not be able to win the battle against substances and mental heath issues is tragic but sadly not uncommon, especially in non-white (massively underserved) communities.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">To me, Wishing Well is the stand out track on this album and absolutely sounds like a horridly portentous snapshot of a troubled and self aware young mind pondering on where his current demons and lack of help might lead. I wonder how much more music he had created before his death which may see the light of day posthumously, what a shame he didn't get to see the fruits of his labour with this album, which performed exceptionally well on the Billboard charts.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Higgins was particularly interesting as an artist to me because he refused to be categorised as one genre, he was a massive fan of emo, rock and guitar based music as well as rap, hip-hop and soul, he was a massive fan of the Beatles (John Lennon is referenced often in his songs) and was basically, at the heart of it, just a complete <i>music</i> addict - and I can totally relate to that. </span> </p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have voted for this track as my favourite in this year's Hottest 100, I will be interested to see how it fares and if you have never heard it, please, give it a listen, it is one hell of a track.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-2915462015154507532020-06-22T18:41:00.000-07:002020-06-22T18:41:09.235-07:00For You<p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_-VTu5pjfT4zGvgrt8GdIKL1ic-E5u8LKtbaWQjyWKGoPokqfs8nlahSThjdL3jjGiYMzQ1tfizTMGvbVnuXCsYudzFKr5LQU5wmrBGqSZuA39PhHV_ajmUQ0kuWem4_zRCvWWQbHe4/s720/gilo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_-VTu5pjfT4zGvgrt8GdIKL1ic-E5u8LKtbaWQjyWKGoPokqfs8nlahSThjdL3jjGiYMzQ1tfizTMGvbVnuXCsYudzFKr5LQU5wmrBGqSZuA39PhHV_ajmUQ0kuWem4_zRCvWWQbHe4/s320/gilo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><font face="verdana"><br /></font><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">This morning was starting like any other Monday when the ground fell out from beneath me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">An old friend was calling me, here in Adelaide, from our home town in the UK. I assumed it was an accidental call, they often are because my name begins with A and is at the top of many contact lists. I declined it and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, getting ready to get out of bed. What time was it in the UK anyway? 11pm? Must be around 11pm. But they called again and slowly my brain registered that there is no good reason for a persistent call like this, there is never a good reason for a late night/early morning unexpected call with this kind of perseverance. Sadly I have known this feeling previously in the last 12 months. It is a distinctly unnerving and baffling and sickening realisation that something is dreadfully wrong, and whilst you do not want to answer this call and surrender to the pain it likely contains, you absolutely must.</font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">I answered it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">Gilo. John. Stretch. The names you go by. I cannot bring myself to say ‘went’. Not yet.</font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">I know I am in shock. I had to drive 5 minutes down the road this morning, directly after receiving the news, I cannot remember getting in the car, let alone the journey. I can’t keep my mind on anything, you were 41 and you deserved so much better than this. I am forever thankful to our mutual friend in the UK who diligently called those that you were close to and broke the hideous news first hand and listened to me make guttural noises of horror and said comforting things while he was also in shock, having found you, having had to process a scene none of us should have to see. Then I had to break the news to my oldest, bestest friend who is also here in Australia and see the shock and horror register with her too.</font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">I am writing because it is the only way I know to process shock and pain and you understand that, I know you do, because you have a keen appreciation for the written word. You have often talked to me about my blog, my writing, and you took my entire library of classic literature, acquired over many years, off my hands when I moved to Australia, determined to give them a good home - you were delighted to take ownership of a curated and treasured collection and I was equally happy to entrust them to your care. I wonder how many you had read.</font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">It is fair to say I am angry. Angry at the world because the COVID situation right now allowed you to slip away unnoticed for days, angry at you because you clearly were not looking after yourself and so many of us saw that you needed to and tried to encourage that, and failed (which makes me angry at myself). Angry that for the second time in a month the physical distance and global fucking pandemic will prevent me saying a proper goodbye to someone who mattered and had influence on my life. You mattered very much, and I wish I had told you that more often.</font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">I met you when I was a rambunctious teenager, around 1997. You were part of the group I fell in with during sixth form college and you were memorable from the start. Mainly because you are so much taller than me, at least a foot and a half. That is why there is a whole raft of people who know you as Stretch. I have always known you as Gilo, a name you allegedly acquired due to a jacket you wore in primary school which somehow spawned a completely random nickname that stuck, in the way that random childhood nicknames often do with your school friends. I have never called you John.</font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">There was a moment, cemented in the early history of our friendship, which we often laughed about as adults and could never quite forget. I have no idea now what nonsense led to it, but you are literally the only person in my life who has (quasi-accidentally) knocked me clean out with a perfect six inch punch to the jaw. And you were horrified about it, absolutely mortified, though I thought it was hilarious - and I never missed an opportunity to rib you about it in the many years since. It is ironic as you are, in fact, one of the most pacifistic and gentle people I have ever known, a genuine gentle giant. You care far too much about everyone around you and gave tirelessly to coaching kids (who clearly adored you) in trampolining, in your free time, for years. You gave your time and energy willingly and without a second thought to all of your friends. You helped me move house on more than one occasion and have been a shoulder to cry on through all kinds of drama over the years. I know that whatever I asked of you, you would have given - and there are many people in my life and in my various circles for whom I cannot say that with any certainty.</font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">Social media has helped me today to look at photos from across the 23 years that you have been in my life; of parties, weddings, New Years Eve and Christmases, multiple occasions where we have drunk and danced and reminisced and laughed. You never think it will be the last time you say goodbye to someone important until it already was. I am so incredibly thankful that I saw you in February, when you met me for a drink despite the fact you had had two major bereavements in the space of a week, that I got to hug and comfort <b>you</b> for a change. In recent years you had remained part of an increasingly smaller circle of people that we always catch up with when back in the UK and I hope you know that is because you mattered.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">It meant so very much to Stu and I that you attended his Dad, your work colleague’s, funeral in late 2016. On a personal note, your quiet strength and the calm that you brought were incredibly welcome on such a difficult day and it resonated with us that you made the effort, not just to support us but to pay your own respects. I remember you holding me up, physically and emotionally, at the wake, when the gravity of the situation became too much - stepping in without being asked, to provide comfort and reassurance, because that’s what you do. It is simply second nature for you to catch people when they fall and I am so sorry that nobody was there to catch you when you really, really needed it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">Grief is a heartless and relentless master and one with whom we all dance increasingly often as we get older. I am not sure any of us get better at dealing with it, we just become more resolved to the fact it is unavoidable. I know you were dancing your own tango with her when you left, and if I can take any comfort whatsoever from this deeply sad situation it is that you are released from it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><font face="verdana">Know that you mattered and will never be forgotten, know that people are reeling at your loss and treasuring their memories of you and who you were and all you gave to your friends and family. That in a year of absolutely dreadful events and sustained heartache, globally, you leaving is equally significant and still sending ripples across the fabric of those who loved you, such was the depth of your influence. May you truly rest in the peace you deserve, my friend.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><font face="verdana"><br /></font></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><br /></p>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-60797744600211620102020-05-24T00:48:00.000-07:002020-05-24T00:48:05.860-07:00My Life in Music<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2XeuVbOXX8LchEYHLB3WXNObrezuMeUe2Q6l36LqeXxxqZ6tjweaAa_CAqgrhZJkeROStXbe8KGw9k2dtW7A9rhyphenhyphenZN889Q5DuauPLOeq7OCwgBFOHzzKDll71IzRnHxBL42H_b2PBFw/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2XeuVbOXX8LchEYHLB3WXNObrezuMeUe2Q6l36LqeXxxqZ6tjweaAa_CAqgrhZJkeROStXbe8KGw9k2dtW7A9rhyphenhyphenZN889Q5DuauPLOeq7OCwgBFOHzzKDll71IzRnHxBL42H_b2PBFw/s320/music.jpg" /></a></div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">**warning - long read**</font></div><font face="verdana"><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div>What can I tell you about the role of music in my life that will do it sufficient justice? Not enough, no matter how much I write. It is cliched to say so, but it matters so very much that it must be in my DNA; it drives, documents and reflects my emotions on a daily basis, I simply cannot imagine not having access to it, always, and any person or event of significance in my life to date has a whole series of specific songs linked to them in my oddly configured brain. </font><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">If you have been important in my life in any way then I can guarantee we have danced together and/or gone to gigs together and if you matter enormously then at some point you can bet I will have expressed my love via a mixtape (or these days, a playlist). If I made you one and you never gave me feedback then I am probably pissed about it on some level (joking, kind of).</font><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">I grew up in a house where there was always music on and it was encouraged by my very music-oriented mother to sing, to dance, to indulge in it (thanks Mom). There were music related rituals as standard in our house, like Sunday afternoon top 40 listening sessions which would then segue into Mom listening to (and singing along with) The Carpenters or Madonna, or George Michael while she did the ironing and we had our baths. I remember being utterly fascinated by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rond%C3%B2_Veneziano" target="_blank">Rondo Veneziano </a> - whose albums were played on high rotation in our house and with whom both my parents were infatuated. It was my first exposure to any kind of orchestral music and, to this day, if I need to calm down and zone out it ticks that box perfectly.</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Returning to music that my birth parents (I also have step parents) had in common, there was a lot of Motown and Northern Soul in my childhood and it was a bond between them too, a shared appreciation that lasts for both of them to this day (while their marriage, sadly, did not!). I associate this genre of music very strongly with both my parents, who will still jump up and dance to it whenever they get the chance.</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Mom sang in a contemporary choir when we were small so she sang a lot round the house, practicing her parts - and she sings beautifully. I wish I sang as well as she can - I can hold a tune but it's nothing special. I had singing lessons for a while in my late teens and navigated them perfectly well, but it is not a gift for me like it is for her. I still sing a LOT, mainly when I am driving or cooking. I have an expensive (but well worth it) bluetooth speaker in the kitchen which is almost continually on when I am pottering around in there (another favourite pastime) and to spend an afternoon prepping food, cooking and baking with music on, sometimes singing along, is a real treat. I have been asked whether I would like to join a choir by people I know that sing in them (and enjoy it enormously) but I personally know this would ruin singing for me - I don't like the formality or confines of being told what/when/how to sing, though I do enjoy seeing other people do it well.</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">My earliest memories of singing as a small child date back to when I was in the school choir and in a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat in my final year of primary school (Year 6). I also recall singing in various Christmas carol concerts and I used to actually enjoy school assemblies for the singing (until I cottoned on to the overly religious nature of majority of the songs we were confined to). I have a weird encyclopaedic memory for lyrics and still remember the words to lots of ridiculous nonsense songs from school too (about sandwiches and worms and other random things). I can ALWAYS find lyrics that say what I mean, in every situation.</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">In 1993/94 while at high school I finally stopped obsessing over East 17 (!) and exclusively listening to chart rave (Utah Saints, early Prodigy, The Shaman) when I discovered indie music by dint of Beck's debut smash 'Loser' and Suede's single <a href="https://youtu.be/LPfhAksS28g" target="_blank">Stay Together</a>. I distinctly remember the trouble I got into at some point in that year when Mom gave me money to get a new School uniform polo shirt and instead I went straight to Our Price Records at Telford Town Centre and bought a cassette copy of Suede's eponymous debut album. It changed my life. </font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUE3Vm1GKq5mvEeoXWMzCu4hFHliAbvTScLSRTGN8qHQkkIpUXy0KLi33pIN5cFg7XI0xxrlHd9h7CaypcYaWsvNDXF_NjcPucQfudWGmwTbttcarmdGZRywSGACxPUfw7XLV1mkhXS0/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUE3Vm1GKq5mvEeoXWMzCu4hFHliAbvTScLSRTGN8qHQkkIpUXy0KLi33pIN5cFg7XI0xxrlHd9h7CaypcYaWsvNDXF_NjcPucQfudWGmwTbttcarmdGZRywSGACxPUfw7XLV1mkhXS0/" /></a></div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">To and from school everyday became my listening time (20 mins on the bus, 20 mins walking) on my beloved Sony Walkman. And I started to gravitate towards the other kids who were listening to this kind of music, swapping taped copies of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nevermind" target="_blank">Nevermind</a>, Beck's 'Mellow Gold', PWEI 'Two Fingers My Friend', Rage Against The Machine, Licence to Ill and then further into 1994 becoming quite obsessed with The Offspring (Come Out and Play was almost worn out with overuse for a while), Green Day, Weezer, Rancid, NOFX and also all the Madchester bands from the late 80s and recent early 90s - The Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets, Charlatans and so on. It was like discovering a bottomless treasure chest of amazing things and my appetite for it was quite insatiable (still is).</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">My grandad bought me my first pair of Doc Martens at age 15 for passing my GCSEs in English Literature and Language a year ahead of schedule. There was <i>technically</i> no rule against me wearing them to school - but my mom <b>hated</b> them and it caused some enormous rows about how appropriate they were for school, at one point she locked them in the boot of her car to prevent then being worn (I can laugh now, I could not at the time - and I currently, at age 41, own 3 pairs of DMs).</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Meanwhile I had grown my hair long, bleached it, and was proudly wearing long sleeve band shirts almost full time when not in actual school uniform. To my families' amusement my favourite was one I had <strike>stolen</strike> borrowed from my friend Anna (love you Tyler!) which had "IDIOT" emblazoned on it in large letters across the front - a prized piece of <a href="https://images.app.goo.gl/p31pL2EziKdgCCb1A" target="_blank">Wonder Stuff merch</a> purchased for her by one of her much older and cooler sisters. I think this was the Christmas when I used food colouring to dye my hair 50/50 red and green (festive colours right?) and provoked an absolute showdown with my poor mother (at this point just about dating my future step dad, who I am sure found the histrionics endearing....maybe).</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">My final year at School (1994/5) was also the year I started being allowed to go to gigs (albeit driven to and from by Grandad) and we (Anna and I) duly attended <a href="https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/suede/1994/civic-hall-wolverhampton-england-2bc7d862.html" target="_blank">Suede at Wolverhampton Civic Hall</a> in the November of 94. After this the gigs came thick and fast for about the next 20 years. Somewhere (probably in Mom's loft in a cardboard box marked "Ali") is a scrapbook with all gig tickets in chronological order between 1994 and around 2003. I didn't stop going in 2003, I just got lazy about maintaining the book so from there in it is sporadic and there are multiple (annoying) gaps. </font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Festivals became a major hobby/addiction/investment from 1996 onwards. I was now at college pursuing my A levels (English, Tudor History, Theatre) and revelling in the freedom to wear band merch and docs every day and hang out with all the other indie kids for whom music was not just an interest, it was a lifestyle and a religion and defined your tribe. I remember vividly the summer of 1996 when somehow I managed to attend <a href="https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C5CHFA_enAU885AU885&sxsrf=ALeKk00buNa_pVA2ckRfoJoqtgF5JhRPbg:1589097513085&source=univ&tbm=isch&q=phoenix+festival+1996&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwirmJ_G6ajpAhVNxzgGHZ7QCgUQsAR6BAgJEAE&biw=1440&bih=789" target="_blank">Phoenix Festival</a> (highlights - Cypress Hill, Bjork, Chemical Bros & Prodigy) , <a href="https://images.app.goo.gl/5zRPr7dQ7cuCZn987" target="_blank">Reading Festival</a> (highlight - RATM for my first mosh pit split lip, lowlight - The Stone Roses being completely ruined by <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/music-magazine/music-magazine-features/the-worst-gigs-of-all-time-772912.html" target="_blank">Ian Brown being out of tune</a>) and <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/music/articles/2868f61d-ea81-46b4-8c19-9fc4974ec359" target="_blank">Oasis at Knebworth</a> as well as numerous stand alone gigs. I have no idea where I found the cash for such a jaunt around the scene and country at age 17, let alone the amount of Carlsberg, vodka and <strike>other substances</strike> fun that was essential for such endeavours.</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">1996 was the summer where I grew up. I was in my first 'proper' relationship (which introduced me to heavier music; during this time I attended gigs by Korn, Limp Bizkit, Skid Row, Paradise Lost, Shelter and Pantera, among others, and fell totally in love with <a href="https://youtu.be/U8b88US-6ts" target="_blank">Faith No More</a>), I had two part time jobs, I was learning to drive and my group of mates was now defined and starting to hang in pubs with jukeboxes, which was an excellent way to learn all the cool stuff I hadn't even discovered yet. A standard Friday night was spent in the Kings Head in Wellington playing pool, drinking Archers and lemonade (?!) and feeding pound coins into the jukebox (or begging boys to give me <i>their </i>pound coins to spend - a surprisingly successful strategy when you have waist length blonde hair).</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Most weeks we were at a gig or two, some weeks had gigs most nights, and at some point in 1996 I was at a gig in Wolverhampton with my college mates when they introduced me to a couple of their friends from school, one of whom was a guy called Stuart. I did not realise the significance of this at the time. We cannot agree now on whether this fateful meeting took place at a gig by Ash or Garbage, but it was definitely a UK indie band of some sort and possibly one of those two. </font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Between 1996 and 2000 I was also a regular at a brilliant, iconic and now legendary monthly trance/drum n bass night in Birmingham called <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atomic_Jam" target="_blank">Atomic Jam</a>, which took place in the Que Club - a converted church which still had the massive stained glass windows. Seeing the sun come up through them at dawn on a Sunday, after an entire night dancing and sweating with your mates was truly the closest I have ever been to a spiritual experience and if you have seen the movie <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_Traffic" target="_blank">Human Traffic</a> then you would have a great understanding of what these nights (and their aftermaths) looked and felt like.</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVuGTxqJ7z-M0UJgFmK2qOo5eN_KxydAUXYaCeEeak13h15qOyvnshY5259uwTLA_mqLZwPU3qo4MmxxL8RCqoOdPA2vMEcOKFUSMe9rp2MAQPpgoKIi70XZmEfKTxvr_8tuMG_pdTnU/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="971" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVuGTxqJ7z-M0UJgFmK2qOo5eN_KxydAUXYaCeEeak13h15qOyvnshY5259uwTLA_mqLZwPU3qo4MmxxL8RCqoOdPA2vMEcOKFUSMe9rp2MAQPpgoKIi70XZmEfKTxvr_8tuMG_pdTnU/s320/que-club-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="verdana">The main room at Birmingham Que Club during Atomic Jam</font></div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ot-YSryis1aF8cgJZ5cGgMRVQ6B4bun3q0ZdOzd05ASXynhd-AVC4vkjqxAkmWECk768x38wchxzr9ZAwwMB8ivIQJs2yQKFfcKDvyBAeBrdvKcH6F6Kev8Fi-7068fzX6VM4DQCc4E/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="319" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ot-YSryis1aF8cgJZ5cGgMRVQ6B4bun3q0ZdOzd05ASXynhd-AVC4vkjqxAkmWECk768x38wchxzr9ZAwwMB8ivIQJs2yQKFfcKDvyBAeBrdvKcH6F6Kev8Fi-7068fzX6VM4DQCc4E/s320/human+trafffc.jpg" /></a></div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Over the years between 1997-2000, while at University, we were socialising a lot, every summer was a series of festivals (almost always Reading and V Festival) and for a while I was living in a shared house with two friends where there was usually music on, my room was adorned with posters and I owned hundreds of CDs. Most Saturdays we would head to Blast Off! - an indie night in Wolverhampton, where we would dance until the lights came on around 2am. Many a short lived relationship was sparked or died (or both) on that dancefloor for all of us and over 20 years later I still have some incredibly strong and bonded friendships with people from that group of mates. </font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">In 1999 Stu and I had made it official and were now properly together, him at Uni in London and me still in the Midlands. We made each other mixtapes and sent them in the post with actual pen-and-paper letters (remember them?!) I still have a box of them with me in Australia. I have also recreated those playlists in Spotify for nostalgia's sake (Deus - <a href="https://youtu.be/AoKB-v_GgEQ" target="_blank">Hotellounge</a>, Gene - <a href="https://youtu.be/d9enHWCo7l4" target="_blank">London Can You Wait?</a> will always take me straight back to that time).</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">My best ever non-graduate job was working for Virgin Megastores between 1999 and 2002 which indulged my love of music by providing me with access to Elvis (the store database) and a massive retail sound system for playing whatever you felt like outside of store opening times (though, as you can imagine, surrounded by passionate musos the competition to get your choice played was fierce, think High Fidelity levels of music grandstanding). Here I learned to appreciate The Beta Band, PJ Harvey, Bob Dylan, Bright Eyes and (weirdly) Eva Cassidy as well as lesser known acts like <a href="https://youtu.be/1XMznGnC7J0" target="_blank">Clem Snide</a>, <a href="https://youtu.be/qNKDmrANWVU" target="_blank">Elwood</a> and Turin Brakes. I adored that my musical knowledge was actually a massive benefit in this job and that I was surrounded by colleagues who felt the same. If I ever win the lottery I will happily open and run an independent record store, it is literally the happiest I have ever been at work by a mile.</font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Stu and I lived together in Shifnal, London, Shifnal again...until we got married in 2003 - the week before our wedding we went to see <a href="https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/eminem/2003/milton-keynes-national-bowl-milton-keynes-england-bdff94e.html" target="_blank">Eminem at Milton Keynes bowl</a>, a spectacular wedding present from our friends the McCreddins. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Wedding planning was a bit of a ball-ache but I do remember being particularly specific about our DJ needing to be able to accommodate our indie tastes and also play Motown - and our first dance was a little leftfield too, it was </span><a href="https://youtu.be/iOA697hoop8" style="font-family: verdana;" target="_blank">U2 - All I Want is You</a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> (read the lyrics) - a decision that Stu had completely agreed with, not realising it was over 6 minutes long, an excruciatingly long time for an introvert to spend swaying about on a dancefloor in full gaze of all of his family and friends (oops). One of the glitches* in our wedding day was that our DJ had a car accident and was unable to attend, thankfully our wedding planner found an emergency replacement that fitted our quite specific needs and had the all important first dance in his collection. For our 1 year wedding anniversary, Stu bought tickets to see U2 at City of Manchester Stadium, it was as amazing as it was thoughtful.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I think about the first house that we bought in the UK I immediately think of Arcade Fire's debut Album 'Funeral' and Interpol's debut 'Turn on the Bright Lights' - both excellent albums that were on high rotation around that time in 2004. I also remember a quite legendary birthday/NYE party that happened on my 26th birthday as 2004 turned into 2005 - dancing to Outkast 'Hey Ya' in our living room with our closest mates, someone having an ipod with them for the first time and controlling the music via that amazing device. The playlist that night was also heavy on The Libertines, The Kooks, The White Stripes and many other bands whose names started with 'The' (it was an early/mid noughties theme).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">In August 2006 my brother in law and good friend Graeme and I drove down to London and back in a night to see Madonna on her 'Confessions on a Dancefloor' tour - it was worth the insane amount of driving and tiredness. Graeme and I have probably been to more gigs together than I have been to with anyone else, including multiple Suede fan club gigs and I owe him for introducing me to Bowie in particular. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 2007 I went travelling with my best friend Claire and we did a road-trip in the USA, exploring route 66 but mainly staying in the west around Arizona, Nevada and California. It was the second time we had been there together having made our first trip in 1998 and this time around we drove a lot whilst playing music. I distinctly remember what felt like some kind of magical epiphany moment driving on the I-15 from LA towards Vegas, seeing that incredible mirage of a city begin to appear on the horizon at dusk with The Killers 'Hot Fuss' playing in the car. The other albums that remind me so much of that trip are Kanye West's <i>Graduation</i> and RHCP <i>Stadium Arcadium</i>.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLzAouW7J7FYfAMFNa4tdmr04pLMVXZMJn9U-wF7i2Wwy0VtbIF0bIjdsC7uxXhrCxvH-EApWNw7qTM4_OxL0i3o8x5QHXm_32kz1OyOc5laacXinyWFWIuYi8AZ1ctp0kJiDxZmMJZQo/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLzAouW7J7FYfAMFNa4tdmr04pLMVXZMJn9U-wF7i2Wwy0VtbIF0bIjdsC7uxXhrCxvH-EApWNw7qTM4_OxL0i3o8x5QHXm_32kz1OyOc5laacXinyWFWIuYi8AZ1ctp0kJiDxZmMJZQo/s320/me+claire+hollywood.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="verdana">Claire & I having breakfast in Hollywood in 2007 (note The Vines t-shirt!)</font></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><font face="verdana">The following year, she and I would do another road-trip up the east coast of Australia (my first visit) where the most disastrous thing that happened (among MANY incredible things that happened) was that I lost a cd holder containing about 48 (mostly self-burned) discs in Hervey Bay somewhere and we were left with minimal in car music for the rest of our trip. I still wonder which lucky sod found that carefully curated collection of my music library. </font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaTYmAorkceejQTxqsNVEeEK1JSVAskr6EE0TW6ITdSAtbApDB8FneG_FwxdW3DBlPoW9HSDmvuH0YHuMV3aNrC-8X1iCZwMlGe-6tsNusLupSEcKu8y39TriXrJP8iFVS4-Xxw_aBF8/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaTYmAorkceejQTxqsNVEeEK1JSVAskr6EE0TW6ITdSAtbApDB8FneG_FwxdW3DBlPoW9HSDmvuH0YHuMV3aNrC-8X1iCZwMlGe-6tsNusLupSEcKu8y39TriXrJP8iFVS4-Xxw_aBF8/s320/hervey+bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><font face="verdana">Claire & I at Hervey Bay in 2008, about 10 minutes before I realised I had lost all my CDs</font></div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">Of course, these days my entire music library is much harder to lose because it is predominantly in the cloud and driven by my phone and mainly consists of curated lists on Spotify and my (hardly used) iTunes library. The days of owning a physical collection of CDs and vinyl seem so archaic and I was personally forced to accept this fully in 2013 when we emigrated and had no choice but to severely downsize our belongings for the ten thousand mile relocation. </font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">There are a swathe of songs that will always connect me deeply with Adelaide because that first winter we were here they were my high rotation listens while we found our feet, these include Haim's debut album <i>The Bones of What you Believe, </i>and Arcade Fire's fourth album <i>Reflektor</i> and since then my music taste has been massively influenced by the Australian music scene with a whole lot of Violent Soho, Gang of Youths, Amy Shark, Hilltop Hoods, Meg Mac, Alex Lahey, Polish Club etc a frequent presence on my 'most played' list. </font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana">My taste in music is still pretty eclectic, I go through phases listening mostly to emo, or mid-90s grunge, or 80s classics and I am as likely to be listening to Fleetwood Mac as to Funeral for a Friend on a Sunday afternoon (this week it is a passing reminiscence/obsession with 90s Ibiza tunes, thanks to the excellent Netflix produced series <a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/white-lines-netflix-cast-ibiza-review_uk_5ec41159c5b6c7b429001938?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAIrE-tQQD1YwvKj2wtEyY3gYFMMf1taBk-DcIaBc5cIDK4B9gzKznWqIlkeJ4XtVzcKyVTCYss70U_6XQKEGP9P-3lLyUP2CESvZiiKBGN36vevcZxy9Jk8vPTZ0kcm9wIGouT3u5uVnW6Uu4yTitvj_X2H-flffga-h4in8u_Mw" target="_blank">White Lines</a>) - just let there always be access to music in my life, thats all I ask. </font><span style="font-family: verdana;">For me, if a person has passion for music in any form then it is usually a safe guess that they are my kind of human being. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><font face="verdana">I was inspired to write this blog when I watched <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt11615290/" target="_blank">Beastie Boys Story</a> a few weeks ago and was so incredibly overwhelmed with love for that band and their history and all the things it meant to me that it made me ponder on why music moves me so much (I still don't know the answer to this). I saw Beastie Boys live 3 times (twice at festivals and once at <a href="https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/beastie-boys/1999/nec-arena-birmingham-england-13cf3525.html" target="_blank">Birmingham NEC</a>) and feel so privileged to be able to say that about a band no longer in existence but still so relevant. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Check_Your_Head" target="_blank">Check Your Head</a> would be on my list of top 10 influential albums in my life for sure. </font></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">This week we finally got notification that the <a href="https://hellamegatour.com/" target="_blank">Hella Mega</a> tour date we had tickets for (Seattle, in July) has been postponed - not a surprise really, in 2020 COVID meltdown. I am still processing the sadness about this, because it features 3 of my favourite bands ever on the same bill. I am crossing everything that it just gets moved out by a year and we can reschedule the amazing trip we had planned around this show. These days I may not go to 2 or 3 gigs a week but the gigs we do go to are usually major events like this one. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is fair to say that music has defined and soundtracked everything in my life and will likely continue to do so. I have never wanted to go out and dance more than in the last 10 weeks or so while we have been in isolation and I can't wait for that first opportunity. Until then it's just me and my headphones having a silent disco in my kitchen or enjoying the insane bass produced by my Jeep sound system. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">As you were ;)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">*<i>other glitches at our wedding included a fistful of confetti being aggressively shoved down my top, a particularly feral relative stealing our photographer at a critical moment and then getting shitfaced before crawling around the dancefloor on all fours and a giant penis being drawn on the door of my new in-laws hotel room by mistake....</i></span></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div><div><font face="verdana"><br /></font></div></div>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-67566214343028061802020-04-12T00:23:00.001-07:002020-04-12T00:23:13.787-07:00Isolation Dedication<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is not the 2020 any of us were expecting, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Someone gave our local statue a new look.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think it's fair to say we have been somewhat hoodwinked by the planet at this point and that Mother Nature is schooling us on who is really in charge around here, having finally reached the end of her tether with humanity pissing all over her back yard. Who can blame her?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, it is only April and here I sit, isolated (physically), bewildered by the state of the world right now and trying to imagine what 'normal' life will look and feel like when this is all over, because it genuinely seems that we will never truly go back to how things were. We cannot. The game has changed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We thought 2016 was a fucker of a year, when we lost Bowie, Carrie Fisher, George Michael, Alan Rickman and my wonderful father-in-law and the <a href="https://ponderali.blogspot.com/2016/06/brexit-babble.html" target="_blank">Brexit</a> referendum shocked everyone and Trump was elected. All. In. The. Same. Year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But now it seems that 2016 was a dry run for something much, much worse. Who knew?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Watching any news channel at the moment is an ordeal. None of the news about this disease (I shan't say it's name because I think we have all heard it at least a million times too many by now and it might behave like Voldemort and draw strength from it) is easy to digest. It is terrifying, significant, weighty and simultaneously gripping because none of us alive right now have seen or experienced anything like it. This is a life defining moment for all of us, and those that survive it will never, ever forget what it did to us and how it changed our lives.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My heart goes out to people who have lost someone, or more than one person, to this virus. Especially because at the moment that will often mean having lost a loved one without having been with them when they slipped away. Grieving in isolation, tormented by the ravaging hideousness of that raw emotion without any standard support mechanisms, without human touch and comfort, without the process of closure defined by a funeral and a wake - at least not one like we are accustomed to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I reflect on losing Nana last year and how much harder that would have been if I was unable to get on a plane and head back to the UK and physically be with my family, to be comforted in their presence and hold them close and celebrate her life together. It was one of the hardest things I have ever been through, and I never thought, less than a year later I would be feeling gratitude and relief that it happened last year and not this year because of the different and highly distressing experience it would have been. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I feel guilty for this gratitude and relief. We are, of course, programmed to feel guilty when we don't have it as hard as others. Unless you are a sociopath of course. But I note, on social media, where everyone is living their "social" lives right now, there is even more anger and angst and vitriol than usual, and tragedy everywhere, and fear. And I, personally, just want some of the screens I am limited to interacting with (instead of people) right now to <i style="font-weight: bold;">not </i>be full of negativity, but to be radiating hope and finding silver linings, and celebrating how people are supporting each other. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I have had a cull and blocked or unfollowed a lot of people. They were probably people I should have removed a long time ago (some <a href="https://ponderali.blogspot.com/2016/04/happy-mchappypants.html" target="_blank">mood hoovers</a> for sure), but in some respects, this crisis is making decisions easier than they ever have been before, in the name of self preservation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have been working from home for around 3 weeks solidly at this point and my god I miss my team, our beautiful campus, I miss walking between meetings, I miss being able to wander into town at lunchtime, I miss the general freedom that we have when things are ok and there isn't a bloody pandemic raging. There are things I never knew I took for granted (all the things listed above for a start) and which I will try earnestly to not take for granted ever again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For me, I realise how incredibly privileged I have been in my career, especially over the last 4 years with University of Adelaide, where I have had many opportunities to connect with global partners and visit them and work with them, some of them (mainly in the USA) multiple times. I should have been preparing right now for a visit to UC Davis in Sacramento. Just saying those words seems like an insane notion at the moment. This is problematic for me, because I know, logically, that it is going to take a long time for business travel and the higher education sector to recover from what is going on right now, and that means a removal of one of the main sources of joy in my role for an unspecified amount of time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am so very proud of my team, who are <i>always </i>a source of joy and support and who continue to make me laugh on a daily basis. We have always, as it happens, engaged with each other fairly socially outside of work hours (on messenger and the like - we have had a team spotify playlist for a couple of years) so adapting to slack as the 'official' channel for this has been pretty smooth, it just feels like we talk 24/7 now because all that happens after business hours is we switch format from slack to messenger and carry on. And the banter is still there, thank god. The last month has been insane in terms of workload, but we are all coping admirably and trying to cut each other some slack (arf) when it is needed. if anything, I would say our productivity has gone up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I realise how many hobbies I have neglected over the years and which I am now able to dig out, resurrect and remember why I liked them in the first place. The callouses are back on my fingers from picking up the guitar, I am finding time to play PS4 (and I have awesome friends who have lent us a whole heap of games to play), I am doing zumba a few times a week as exercise (on the Wii), finding time to read and bake and cook more (though I have never stopped those things) and when I get chance there is a blanket to finish crocheting and a scarf to finish knitting. It could be so much worse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who knows what the rest of this year will look like, I am trying to rationalise that nobody can know and that we just need to count our blessings and abide by the guidance to keep isolating and thank our lucky stars for science and all the people doing the incredible research to find a vaccine and keeping the front line of health care going. They will be remembered as the heroes in all this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If nothing else, 2020 is the year when we were all forced to stop, adjust our lifestyle, remember that humans are not omniscient and all powerful, appreciate the things we have, slow the pace and try to support one another. It is not easy or enjoyable, but we will come through this at some point and look back and remember that year when we did the impossible and defeated a virus together. Imagine the afterparty. Imagine that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So stay safe and do the things that help your mental health right now, there really is a light at the end of this tunnel, even if we can't quite see it just yet. </span>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-16879278195191399142019-10-20T01:55:00.000-07:002019-10-20T01:55:27.411-07:00On Grief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nana and I (aged 1) circa 1980</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today marks the 3 month anniversary of the death of my wonderful Nana. It is fair to say it has been a very strange and eye opening period of time for me and one which has taught me so much - things that I wish nobody ever had to learn - about grief.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sure, I have lost people before. I think it would be highly unusual to reach the age of 40 without having had people in your life pass away (if you are in that position then, wow, you are lucky). I lost my Grandad when I was 16 and about to sit my GCSEs, I lost my other grandfather, who I didn’t really know, at 19. I shockingly lost a friend (he was 27) when I was in my early 20s. Other extended relations have passed through my 30s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then we lost my lovely father-in-law completely out of the blue 3 years ago. That was hideous and hard and we aren’t out of the woods (or anywhere near) with grieving that loss as a family (or individually) yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But nothing has hit me personally with anywhere near the juggernaut level of physical, mental and emotional impact that this loss has.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It has led me to dig through my (thankfully extensive) memories of her, question myself on big decisions and generally reflect on how lucky I was (we all were) to have her in our lives. People throw platitudes and cliches around in general after people die, about how nice the deceased person was, they laud them as a saint of some sort, it usually holds some grains of truth but also glosses over the flaws and imperfections that the person had. Ignores the things they did wrong, the people they angered. It’s ok, it’s one of the ways that we cope with loss. But when I say that nobody ever had a bad word or a snarky thought about my Nana I mean it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I totally acknowledge that I can only talk about her loss and my grief from the perspective of a grandchild. Her first and eldest. Maybe I have rose tinted glasses. But I actually really need to face this, to write this, to process it. Because right now I am struggling and I need an outlet. These are my thoughts on my loss. I am sat at my kitchen island with a large mug of tea, (ironically) <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casually_Dressed_%26_Deep_in_Conversation"><span class="s1">Funeral for a Friend</span></a> on in the background (‘grieving me’ reverts to Manchester indie and emo very strongly, I have learned) and I am just going to write until something gives and I can feel some release. It might be a long read.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, despite the vastness of the English language, I have found it hard to find suitable words to convey what my Nana was to us, her grandchildren. It’s actually not about suitability, its about worth. ‘Suitable’ words are ten a penny, but they are quite weightless, at the end of the day, and will never quite frame the importance of her to us, the extreme levels of love and warmth that she imparted, the huge amount of difference she made to our lives, especially when we were children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For my brother and I in particular, Nana was, for many years, the person who looked after us every single day after school until one of our parents finished work. Her and Grandad’s house really was our second home, every single school holiday we spent most days with her and it wasn’t unusual for us to then stay with them over weekends too. We loved it. She used to put sugar in our tea (she wasn’t meant to - I grew out of that but it’s a legacy my brother never did) and allowed us to raid the biscuit tin (hers was ALWAYS full) freely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I could tell you many stories about the silly tricks we played on her, the fun we had together, the fact that being sick and off school was actually a huge treat, because it meant a day at Nana’s, watching This Morning and drinking endless cups of tea. But these stories will only scratch the surface of the presence that she was in our lives, all knowing, all seeing, brimming with kindness. Ours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know that we (the first three grandkids - me, my brother and my cousin) were supremely fortunate to get two different and influential experiences with Nana, firstly as a continual caregiver when we were small, steady through our childhood, patient through tantrums, taking us on holiday with Grandad and then getting very little rest on what was, in fact, meant to be her break too, while we made memories and ran rings around them. She was a brilliant referee and peacemaker. She hated conflict of any kind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me, cousin Lianne and brother Andrew circa 1987</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then, such a valuable gift, Nana as our friend, ally and adult family member that knew us, inside out, our personalities, weaknesses, strengths and preferences, she knew it all, she loved us anyway. It was this version of Nana that I am very conscious I have lost. Someone who deeply knew me and what mattered to me, and what has made me who I am and who I could trust with absolutely anything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can say all of these things about my mom too - and it makes me freak out with anxiety on a whole new level when I realise (and type) that because I live 10,000 miles away from her and only get limited physical time with her (in the same way that I did with Nana over the last 6 years) I might be wasting precious time. I have very much battled with the urgent, visceral desire to be in the UK since Nana passed (I did manage to get back for 10 days for the funeral) and it is this angle on it all, the physical distance, that causes that. Knowing she was proud of me and the life I have carved out here, on the other side of the planet, doesn’t make me feel any easier about the distance right now. It is also really, <b><i>really,</i></b> hard being this far from my mom in her grief.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The last few times that I did physically see her, on trips back to the UK, Nana and I had some very pragmatic conversations about what would happen when she passed. She didn’t want me to ‘waste’ money coming back for her funeral, I told her (quite truthfully, and accurately, as it turns out) that there was no way I would be able to grieve if I didn’t. She still sought to reassure me that it was ok if I couldn’t for whatever reason. I am so glad we had those conversations, although at the time it was really hard and on the two occasions I specifically recall this happening I also remember that the goodbyes that followed were absolutely heartbreaking because we both knew that there was a chance it would be the last time. On the second occasion we were right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If I can advise anyone of anything relating to future grief it would be to talk about it in this way - as hard as that was at the time it has provided a highly comforting safety blanket in the aftermath and although I will always feel like I had so much more I wanted to say, to ask her, to consult with her on, I at least know we had stared this in the face together and acknowledged it so that I knew her thoughts and we had a chance to eyeball that fear and know where we both stood on it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At an outdoor production of Twelfth Night circa 2008</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The other thing that has helped me and been a source of good comfort is a podcast that was recommended to me called <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/griefcast/id1178572854"><span class="s1">The Griefcast</span></a>. I have learned so much about the wide variety of reactions, approaches and impacts of grief from this and it really does make you realise that you are not alone. I have literally had this podcast on in the car nearly every day as I drive to and from work. Far from being upsetting it is a reassuring voice that has, on some days, enabled me to see the bigger (more terrifying) picture that we will all die and that the very human process of death, dying and grief should get more airtime and be less of a taboo subject.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The thing that I never anticipated about this kind of grief is that it can affect you physically. I have slept more since Nana died than I usually do, like a LOT more (and I am already, normally, an excellent sleeper and napper). I feel supremely exhausted all the time, like I never have before. I ache in places I have never ached - some of this is a physiological reaction to stress and anxiety which is affecting my posture and making me clench without realising it. My jaw is perpetually tensed and my teeth ache from grinding. Regular massage and exercise is helping a little with this side of things but I never expected it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The anxiety and stress are partly driven by other things in my life, like work, where I hold down a fairly high pressured and fast paced job. The difference is that usually I am pretty resilient and able to cope with all of that - but at the moment I feel like I am missing a layer of skin or something, I am exposed and vulnerable and I don’t have the layer of enthusiasm and tenacity that I usually rely on to get me through. Small things, that wouldn’t normally bother me at all, have suddenly become overwhelmingly derailing, upsetting and unmanageable. That feeling is hideous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A friend and colleague signposted me to <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/Advice/comments/atvqhm/my_best_friend_just_died_what_do_i_do/"><span class="s1">this description</span></a> of grief that seems to nail the whole process very well. The waves are still coming fairly thick and fast at the moment for me, but I can see and take some comfort in the knowledge that while they will still come in the future, I will get to a place where they come less often and are possibly smaller in intensity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You really do figure out who your people are in this kind of situation and for me that has been something heartwarming to understand. Those that know me well (like she did) will know that I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve anyway - it is not hard to tell what mood I am in at the best of times. At the moment the people I spend most of my time with, my family, my team at work, my wider colleagues, are all handling this weirdly fragile version of me with a huge amount of tenderness, consideration and humour (which I need). For that I am enormously thankful and apologetic for the ongoing and erratic bursts of instability and occasional petulance that results.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If nothing else, I now have an idea of what direct, close, deep grief is like - and it really fucking sucks. But it hurts so much because they mattered and therefore we can choose to frame it as a demonstration to ourselves of quite what we have lost. It doesn’t make it hurt any less but it helps with accepting it and riding it out, instead of trying to contain or ignore it (which I am learning just exacerbates it).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And we must unfortunately accept that this will not be the only time we feel this way. In fact there will be more, different and possibly worse versions of this to come. That thought is both quite terrifying and weirdly life affirming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think this has helped somewhat. The writing it down, the getting it out of my head. I can take some comfort in believing that Nana knew she was loved very much and that she was not alone when she passed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She will always be with me in many ways, as a guiding light and an example of how to be a kind person first (always) and as a warm memory of safety from my childhood. As a smart, funny, articulate crossword solver and as a regular confidante in my adulthood. I know she was so very, very proud of me because she told me. Next year I intend to begin the PhD that I have been thinking about for the last 10 years and I know she would have been thrilled to hear that news. She thought I could do anything. I want to prove her right.</span></div>
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Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-90065311722731592842019-05-18T21:39:00.003-07:002019-05-18T21:39:31.508-07:00Blink, and you'll miss it.<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Right then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Despite best intentions, I did not manage to blog through 2018.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is now May (MAY?!) 2019 and here I sit, annoyed with myself for not having utilised blogging as much as I should have, as an outlet and a creative release. So what happened?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well. Firstly, early in 2018, I had an intriguing experience of censorship occur. It challenged my views on a number of levels, made me rather cross at the time and ultimately clarified some relationships in quite a powerful way. I can now view it as a positive experience overall but it made me slam the brakes on in my writing somewhat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What I did about it was to create a whole new place where I can write about the challenges of corporate life without the fear of censorship from any direction. Yes, it requires careful editing and a number of VPNs, but the freedom it provides is worth the effort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And accordingly, this blog will now remain a space for all other musings and any generic, non-contentious views on my working life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What else has been happening? Well, I turned 40 in Costa Rica which was memorable and pretty enjoyable. I stopped to breathe it all in and tried not to freak out about it too much. It <i>has</i> affected me in a few ways, not really an existential crisis but definitely a thought provoking and strangely liberating experience which has generated a lot of reflection and a sense of inner calm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The view from horseback in Costa Rica on my 40th</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I went for a new job which is a level higher and a pretty meaty role, I am now Associate Director Online Programs for University of Adelaide and I feel pretty damned proud every time I say it out loud. It is fair to say that I was not expecting (or expected) to get this role - but I fought hard and I got it. That in itself has been a baptism of fire. Despite being in the same organisation, in fact I think <i>because of </i>being in the same University it has been harder to get to grips with, partly because I am still carrying a lot of activity relating to my old role and partly because everyone (including senior leaders) is still processing the change and struggling to acknowledge any difference in my role. This could also be subjective and the result of some cognitive bias on my part because I am suffering somewhat with imposter syndrome (that most evil of sensations).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This year also seems to be the year of the public speaking engagement for me. I wanted to do more of this and so while it is a challenge it is a good one. I submitted papers successfully for two major conferences relating to the online/educational technology space and was successful. On top of that I was asked to be a speaker at another event and accepted - however, in some wholly unhelpful timing the three speaking engagements (all of which involve travel and time away from the office) have fallen between the end of March and this coming week - so pretty much overlapping with the start of the new role. Not ideal but it can't be helped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have realised I truly enjoy being the face and voice of my team at these events, even though they tend to be emotionally and physically exhausting -long days, continual networking and tons of prep - but it is all worthwhile when someone says at the end of your session (as they did the week before last) "That was inspiring!" or mentions how innovative what we do in this space is (yes it is!). My one wish is that I was at a point where I could truly concentrate on and engage with these events and not be continually answering emails and phone calls from the office - I think that will settle though, once we are fully up and running with the activity relating to Online Programs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, I am looking at the rest of 2019 with something approaching excitement, mixed with a huge dose of apprehension. I and my team have a lot to achieve but life is in a good spot (save for the results of the Australian election that have just come in - sigh). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In addition, Stu and I became Australian citizens this year and we have various family members planning visits we can look forward to - 2020 is already filling up with exciting things and I feel intellectually stretched and incredibly proud of where I am in my career - and I have to give a shout out to my wonderful other half for being the most supportive spouse (and excellent Dog Dad) and enabling me to do the long hours, the trips away and generally being too tired to do much at home at the moment. It will settle soon, I am sure, but I feel pretty lucky to have the support I need at home while things are intense.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I will try and blog here more than I have been of late, because it helps with the anxiety and the stress. It seems the trick is to carve time out when I am alone, but there are just so many things to think about that it's tough to prioritise this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This week I am at <a href="https://theta.edu.au/" target="_blank">THETA</a> conference in Wollongong for Monday-Weds and in the next hour, on a Sunday afternoon, I will head out and stroll down the seafront to register and attend the opening reception. The nice thing is, because it's not a week day, I can fully engage with events without checking for emails every 5 minutes. I intend to breathe deeply along that promenade and remind myself that it's ok to just be me today and enjoy these interactions that I get to have with similarly minded people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Until next time.... </span>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-25082744182213854812017-12-31T00:25:00.001-08:002018-01-31T17:16:44.421-08:00A 2017 Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />***note - edited 1/02/18</span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is once again the end of the year and my birthday (sigh, 39). I am slightly baffled as to how and why this year in particular went so fast, it literally feels like 10 minutes since the end of 2016. My blog has gone virtually untouched this year and I am determined that 2018 will not go the same way. This has been a bit of an intense year and so busy that I have not had chance to keep up. Must try harder next year as from where I am sitting right now, it does not look like it will be any less busy....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So what happened? Well, mainly, work did. By mid January it was clear that we had, {redacted} a huge, rapid incline ahead of us. I struggled with this on many levels and it is only in the last month or so - when we hit the finish line - that I was able to process and let go of the stress {redacted}.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Basically, my work-life balance was sacrificed this year - but that was not the hard part, the stress and anxiety that delivering this beast caused were awful. Asking my colleagues to commit every ounce of their strength and sanity to obtaining this goal, when we did not have clear sight of, or information on, what the product was, took a huge amount of trust and loyalty - and it is in those elements that I found solace and positive vibes that got me, personally through it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I think I should park it on the whole 'M Word' for now. I could literally fill a whole book with what this project taught me and taught us as a team. But I do not want to give it the air time. It is done. Let's move on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On a personal level, there were some achievements and opportunities that were amazing and which almost compensated for the business of most of my working days between February and December. In addition, two of my amazing ex-colleagues (from UniSA and e3) joined us in April and made everything feel like at least we could have fun<span style="background-color: white;">.</span> I will always be very thankful to both Alex and Dee for taking a punt on our project (and trusting me) and for the fact that they both brought exceptional talent and incredible teamwork skills to us when we needed them most. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of the things I am proudest of this year (and in fact in my career to date) is that I got the incredible opportunity to attend Microsoft HQ in Seattle in late February and presented to them and a number of MOOC makers from other institutes (including Harvard, Berkeley, MIT and TU Delft) about what we do and how we do it at Adelaide. I was more nervous ahead of this presentation than I have ever been before - but I did it. It also made me realise after a year in the job at Uni Adelaide that I <b>DO</b>, in fact, know what I am talking about in this field. It was that moment of clarity and reassurance that I needed. I really do intend to stifle the self doubt in 2018 (new year resolution #1) I love working in HE and I started to feel like I had found my people at this point in the year.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Following on from this, I also had a week in September which I think will stick with me for a long time - on the Monday I got the chance to stand in for my manager at lunch with the VC. In the strange world of HE, this is kind of a big deal - and I felt very honoured, as part of a group of 10 colleagues who had contributed to Innovation within the Uni to sit down to a formal lunch in his (massive) office. I even got to chat with the man himself while we ate and he seemed like a genuinely down to earth and approachable man. One downside was that the lunch was a large, fancy piece of sea bass - and anyone that knows me knows I really do not like fish. Somehow I managed to eat the it (swallowing every bite was difficult) whilst smiling and making polite chat. I am SO EFFING BRITISH.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This same week continued in a crazy vane, with Wednesday being the day that all of the colleagues from the Microsoft event (now officially a 'Consortium') arriving at Adelaide for round 2 of our assessment symposium. At some point in Seattle (over dinner, with plentiful wine) my colleague Nick and I had flamboyantly volunteered to host the next leg following an agreement that this should be a 6 monthly event. I don't think we really thought everyone would be willing to fly to Adelaide (though the invite was very much genuine). We were absolutely thrilled when the decision was made.....and then I had to organise the biggest and most esteemed event I had ever even thought about, alongside the crazy MicroMasters delivery which was in full flow at this point.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have to say, I have a whole new respect for event planners following this experience - but the 3 days went incredibly well and Nick proved an excellent co-pilot while everyone was in town. I was so shattered at the end of that week that I basically slept for 24 hours, straight through Saturday. Interestingly, I presented at the event too - but second time round, I was too preoccupied with the logistics to be nervous and now presenting to this fab group feels like a pleasure and nothing to be nervous about. For me, that personal growth is a real achievement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The relationships that are developing out of this Symposium have been so amazing and valuable and are now spawning lots of very cool collaborative projects and conversations, the world feels like a very small place these days. Oh, and in the middle of the Adelaide event I was awarded higher duties and a new job title of Partnership and Portfolio Delivery Manager - which I was very pleased with. I have wanted 'partnership' or relationship manager officially in my role for some time as it is the area of my work that I enjoy the most, and thanks to some considerable effort and positioning by my manager it came to be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have been working on another project which took me to Hong Kong for a few days in November and then I got to go to Whistler in early December for the annual EdX Global Forum which was incredible - both for the networking opportunity and the absolutely stunning and very festive scenery. The travel is still feeling like a perk at this point - and it looks like next year will be more of the same. I feel excited by that and already have a trip to California (round 3 of the Symposium) planned for March.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Hong Kong in November</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2018 has some amazing personal things going on too. Stu and I plan to apply for our Australian citizenship at some point in the new year and June 28th will be our 15 year wedding anniversary. We also both turn 40 next year so there will be some celebrations planned for that too. As far as other resolutions go, I have been toying with cutting out all meat except chicken/turkey and might well start by reducing everything else. I want to learn to cook tofu properly (so it does not taste like a soggy sponge) and I intend to improve my cake decorating skills.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And Fin. Always Fin. Through 2017 he has grown into a wonderful dog - no longer a puppy - and I am very proud of him. That we can now walk the whole length of the beach with him off the lead and know that he will stay with us and (mostly) behave has been a major achievement, he has also learned to chill out and behave in cafes and cellar doors - which for us means we can take him with us on our social events quite often, Adelaide is a pretty dog friendly place which suits us well. We already have some trips planned for 2018 which we will be doing with Fin too - he is family after all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fin looking majestic earlier this year</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Stu surprised me mid-year 2017 with a difficult to beat anniversary present which was the trip to Laos we have just returned from. How lucky am I? And so, after we got the crazy MicroMasters across the December 1st finish line I knew I had a break coming. It was just what we needed, some QT together after a year of both being flat out and heaps of seperate travel. It also needs saying that Stu has been the most awesome support while my work life has been insane this year - he has made it easy for me to do all the travel, looked after Fin alone for big chunks and still makes me laugh in the downtime we do get together. For that alone, I know I am incredibly lucky. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me in Laos last week</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so, onwards to 2018. Starting tonight, when our Glenelg gang of mates will help celebrate my birthday and see in the new year. It is a bit odd that for the first year of my entire life I have not seen my family in person over the Christmas break, but given we have lived in Australia for nearly 5 years now, it is actually pretty good going. I have missed them all of course, but social media and photos and skype have made it easier. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Enjoy your new year wherever you are and whatever you are doing, I shall raise a glass to everything 2017 was at midnight and for once be very excited about the year to come. </span>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-51141562944034184992017-04-06T00:28:00.001-07:002017-04-06T00:28:24.757-07:00Travel Diaries #1 - Vancouver Alone<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>This is part one of some travel diaries I wrote while in Canada and USA recently and didn't publish at the time...</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today has been one of those days where a poignant combination of jetlag, gratitude and awareness of privilege have rendered me particularly introspective and reflective. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Firstly, my Sunday has been 35 hours long so far and is starting to feel a tad Groundhog Day-ish. I mean Sunday is a weird old day to start with, even when it is in its usual 24 hour format. I usually treat it with a mixture of derision and passive aggression. A need to "DO SOMETHING" with the day so that I can claim to have had a weekend, tempered with an inherent desire to DO NOTHING and stick the middle finger up to the world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today, I got up at 5am Adelaide time, my amazing husband drove me to the airport, I flew to Brisbane on a Qantas flight which managed to irritate me by not providing a toastie for breakfast (I know, #firstworldproblems and all that but it is mindfuckery when the last 6 Qantas morning flights I have been on all had a toastie and this morning, the offering was FUCKING CORNFLAKES). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A very disappointing breakfast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I transferred to the International terminal at Brisbane and boarded a 13 hour flight to Vancouver, which was absolutely chock full and where I had the delightful experience of sitting in an aisle seat with a 6'5" dude in the middle seat who could not help but man-spread into my seat because he was far too tall and wide to stay within the acceptable boundaries of his own. Helpfully he fell asleep within 20 minutes of take off and therefore relaxed further into my space thus rendering any hope of snoozing myself completely untenable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I therefore did the only rational thing I could in the circumstances. I selected a wine from the trolley and started watching films. I watched (Oscar nominee) Manchester-By-The-Sea, Bridget Jones' Baby and Deepwater Horizon back to back. All three had me in tears at some point. Also, I can confirm for you right now that the best bit of Bridget Jones' Baby occurs during the opening titles when she mimes to House of Pain 'Jump Around' whilst pissed and in pyjamas and spilling wine everywhere. I experienced a strange sense of attachment to this scene. I also unconsciously found myself miming along with impressive accuracy and I am sure my nearest fellow passengers enjoyed this display of hip hop skillz before I realised and came to an abrupt halt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway, 13 hours later I was in Canada (ACTUAL CANADIA!) and ready to mingle with Mr Trudeau and his band of singing Mounties. Sadly, they were not in arrivals to meet me and I had to wrangle my suitcase on my own and other annoying shiz because of an annoying lack of amazeballs husband. Between getting off the plane and exiting the airport I checked that I had my passport at least 15 times. Such has it been drilled in to me not to lose the damn thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bizarrely, when we landed it was 7am. On the same day I had left Australia. I had actually done a Marty McFly and gone back in time. My brain could not deal. This also meant that I was VERY early for check in at my hotel. As my room was still a few hours off being ready I headed over the road to a Tim Horton's (Canadian coffee chain) and got a latte and free wifi #winning </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Vancouver city view</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Thank goodness for my kindle, I managed to while away 3 hours before heading back over to see if a room was ready. The team at my hotel had awesomely found me a room on the back of the building and let me have it super early. I was relieved that it overlooks the back because the road out front is very busy, this room is relatively quiet. I fell into bed and slept for 3 hours but managed to then drag myself out to explore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Wow. The air here is so crisp and cold and clean. Every lungful feels like it is almost burning with purity and it makes me nostalgic for the European winters I grew up with and chilly blue see-your-own-breath days. Vancouver is a pretty stunning city with proper snow capped mountains ringing the city centre. I walked along the edge of the water to a Craft beer place I had read about and just enjoyed the Sunday afternoon pace of the city, people out with their dogs and kids, all wrapped up in many layers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cool beer house in Olympic Village, Vancouver</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Beer offerings - so much choice!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There is something quite liberating and empowering about being alone in an unknown city and I am so lucky to get the chance to do this for work. Sure, I miss Stu and would love him to be here and sharing this with me, but being here alone will not stop me getting out and seeing things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Years ago I might have felt a bit intimidated by walking into a heaving, vibrant bar on my own and sitting on my own, amusing myself. These days, it actually feels like a rare privilege and opportunity to legitimately people watch and the fact that I am alone bothers me not one jot. I think one of the best things about getting older is feeling far more confident in ones own skin and giving far fewer fucks what anyone thinks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway, I passed a wonderful few hours and chatted on and off to a barman and sampled a few ales. All very civilised. Then I wandered back to my hotel and collapsed into the kind of sleep that can only happen when you have been travelling; un-moving, deep and restorative - ready for the crazy schedule I would be on for the next few days.</span>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-23827379690323133412017-01-05T16:25:00.005-08:002017-01-05T16:25:58.249-08:00Happy New Year?<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Happy new year one and all.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Wasn’t 2016 just a joy? Actually, I can logically and
rationally see that many positive things happened in 2016, including, for me
personally, the below:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The birth of my niece Lydia in January.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A new job with University of Adelaide which finally found me
happy and sufficiently challenged in my work life in Australia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An awesome visit by my aunt and uncle in May with much
reminiscing and happy time together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A new car which has finally given us security and freedom to
explore the state further.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An AMAZING trip to Africa and Mauritius in August/Sept which
took in some incredible safari experiences and concluded with the wedding of my
little brother. We met an incredible bunch of people on our G adventures tour and I know that many of them will be friends for life.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This beautiful bunch of awesome people was a highlight. Africa 2016.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Some great QT with my mom in October/Nov when she stayed
with us whilst doing a course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An exciting visit to the NT with my folks and Stu for
Christmas which included memories I will treasure for years.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">About to fly over Kakadu - utterly wonderful!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, there you go, on balance some good things really did
happen. Sadly, we also had our fair share of sadness and heartache and it felt
like the world had lost its collective shit with some of the unbelievable
political decisions and global acts of terrorism which also occurred. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have stalled in blogging about the Africa trip due to us
having an unexpected and completely shocking family bereavement which, to be honest, we are still kind of reeling from and which has prevented
me from being able to concentrate on much else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You see, my lovely father-in-law passed away suddenly in
early November and it has rocked our world on its axis in a way I never could
have predicted. I guess I should be thankful to have got to the age of 37
before experiencing a bereavement like this. Supporting a spouse through the
loss of a parent is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. It is not
something there is any guide book for and the hardest part is not being able to
heal their pain in any visible or rapid way. Add to this my closeness to my
brother and mother in-law, both fully in the grips of overwhelming loss and
shock and pain, and who I also cannot help in any real, tangible way. The
helplessness is crippling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I miss my father in law greatly and am grieving myself too,
though I can appreciate I am one level removed from the intensity of the grief
for Stu and his mum and brother. I have been part of this family for 18 years
this year and he has always been this incredibly kind and warm personality in
my life, so welcoming of a “daughter” into his family. He has left a huge hole
in our collective lives and I am still finding myself regularly shocked to
remember he will not be with us for various family plans and special days. New
Year was incredibly hard. I do not feel ready to draw any kind of metaphorical
line under last year because that feels like we are drawing a line under him
and it feels so wrong. I know it needs time but it breaks my heart on a
regular basis and I guess will continue to do so for many months yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I will pick the Africa blog posts back up soon, I just need
to get back in the mental head space to be able to do it justice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Other things on the horizon for 2017 are helping me to think
positively but I am considering some CBT for a few things (including the grief)
which I can’t seem to process at the moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, Stu has booked a weekend in Moonta for my birthday
which includes the beloved pooch and so for now I am just aiming for that,
mid-February. I refuse to feel in any way defeated by 2016 because it was just
an extreme year and one which included many things I never thought I would have
to see or deal with at the age of 37. It taught me a lot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The sun is out here in Adelaide, our dog is a constant source of joy and the best therapy is walking him on the beach with the sand between my toes. A book I received for my birthday is called "May you live a life you love" and I intend to do just that this year, more of the good stuff and less of the crappy stuff I feel obliged to do. That, I think, is the extent of my "resolutions" for 2017. </span></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-73577030549860298932016-10-25T23:01:00.000-07:002016-11-04T01:30:55.479-07:00It's A Family Affair<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Families. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">That one word holds so much meaning and emotion for people that it is hardly surprising to find that family units are rarely simple or perfect or describable things. If you know someone who claims to have a ‘perfect’ or ‘simple’ family then you know a liar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">It is often a ‘loaded’ word. One which infers what you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should </i>do, how you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> behave. I do not like being told what I should do or how I should behave. I like to take the word "family" and fit it around what it means to my life and the people I love. I do not believe in the tribal, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitchell_family"><span style="color: purple;">Mitchell-esque</span></a>, loyal-to-the-day-that-I-die and ostracised if I am not, model one iota. I would like to think I am intelligent enough to judge for myself what family means to me and I absolutely will not be made to feel guilty for that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Platitudes Ahoy</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">My family is absolutely, 100% dysfunctional. And I bloody love them for it because, guess what folks? It makes them human. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">My central family group could be defined as the people who will invariably sit round my mothers table for a Sunday lunch and treat the place like Picadilly Circus, swanning in and out, pillaging for food and tea and begging for trousers to be turned up (or is that just me?) and it consists of my mom, my step-dad, my brother and sister in law, two step sisters plus their partners, my Nana, my step-nan, my nephew and my niece. Oh, and my husband of course, who manages to cope with the eccentricities of us all, so different to his own, quieter and much smaller brood.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Only four of these people are blood related to me but it matters not a jot, I love the bones of all of them. However, I remember when my (then) 7 year old nephew asked me whether I was blood related to one of my step-sisters and it suddenly became a bit tangled. He was at that age where he was seeking to figure out how it all fits together. I didn’t blame him for being confused; our tribe is a bit of an unorthodox jumble to say the least.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">It is the one social grouping in life which we do not choose, but inherit. A very close friend of mine always says ‘friends are the family we choose for ourselves’ and I think this is bang on the money. I have written extensively about friendships and how I think they should work in an <a href="http://observationsofali.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-to-lose-friends.html"><span style="color: purple;">earlier post</span></a> and to my mind my friends are indeed the family I choose. Many of them know me much better than the majority of people I share actual DNA with and I value them as highly as members of my family. I would also add that depending on your workplace, colleagues are an additional ‘familial’ group in your life. My team at work spend more time with me than anyone else does and invariably some of them know my day to day life very well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">This applies even more so now that Stu and I live 10,000 miles away from where we grew up. Our Adelaide (and Australia in general) friends have become a massive safety net, a reliable infrastructure and a source of untold support and pleasure since we moved here nearly 4 years ago. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">With our blood relations it stands to reason (as we have no choice in the family group we are born into) that some of these people you would never naturally cross paths with or choose to spend time with. This is normal. Obligations to stay in touch only mean something and work if you actually happen, purely by luck, to genuinely like the person anyway - but this is not a given. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">We understand this dilemma even more now that we live so far away, on two levels; firstly, maintaining relationships is much harder and we sacrifice many hours a week to keeping in touch with people in the UK via Skype. Also, whenever we visit the UK we spend all of our time visiting people and catching up and it feels NOTHING like a holiday (it pisses me off enormously when people suggest that is what a UK trip is). It's brutally honest to say this, but intense catching up in this way often means repeating the same thing over and over again (for us) and as time goes by some friendships just don't weather the distance. Increasingly, our lives are so different and so hard to relate to that conversations can be reduced to platitudes and small talk unless you (and they) make a huge effort. It really does sort the wheat from the chaff whether you want it to or not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Going back to central family groups though, the ones you are deeply embedded in and (unconditionally?) love - essentially your parents and siblings. You may be given a place within this for free as a child but as an adult, I believe that you <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">earn</b> your place in a family. In the same manner you can also <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">lose </b>it. To keep it healthy you have to nurture it, like any relationship. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">This means that when you screw up or let go or lose contact there is generally always a way back, but it takes work on both sides, forgiveness and the ability to move on and stop raking up what happened in the past. Unfortunately some people are simply not equipped to do this. In fact, some people believe holding a grudge is an Olympic sport.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">What matters to me is the well-being of my central group. After that I have a lot of time and love for other members of my family and would always do what I can for them if they needed me, although I may not see them or speak to them on a frequent basis. Then there are the members I do not really know but have nothing against and will happily be civil to. Finally there are those that I literally, teeth grittingly tolerate at events where I cannot escape. Now, be honest, you just read that and mentally identified which members of your family fitted which group. That’s fine! That’s normal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Unless you live in cloud cuckoo land of course where <a href="https://youtu.be/9cQgQIMlwWw" target="_blank">everything is awesome</a> and everybody loves each other and lashings of ginger beer flow freely and people really say ‘golly gosh’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Anyway, blood means nothing unless you are lucky and I cannot tell you how lucky I feel to have my step dad in my life. To say he is ‘like a father to me’ is wrong. I already have a dad and he is ace and I love him loads. My step dad gives me a ‘bonus parent’ role, one which is brilliant because you get the best bits from both a best friend and someone you are allowed to ask to fix your car and know they will do it because they love you. My parents divorcing was a blessing, both are now in happy, healthy relationships and I have two ‘bonus’ parent roles, both of whom I love. I was lucky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">My mom is an amazing person in so many ways. She is an amazing role model to me as a woman and the person I always want to run things by in my life. We can quite happily spend hours on skype talking about anything and everything. As I get older I value this more and more. As she gets older I find myself adopting the parent role with her more and more (“you really should stop smoking/go to the doctors about that/stop reading the Daily Mail”), I can amusingly see she does the same with her mother, my beloved Nana. The three of us would often sit and chew the fat when I lived in the UK and I am glad I got to do this. I miss it, living this far from home. This mother-daughter-grand daughter relationship is precious to me but not <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">because</b> we are blood related – that is incidental, but it gives us the basis of a bond which we choose to embrace and enjoy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Sadly, human nature means that people are not naturally inclined to just get on. Life was not meant to be simple and the <place w:st="on">Middle East</place> would be a <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/aug/08/gaza-first-five-star-hotel"><span style="color: purple;">fantastic holiday destination</span></a> if everybody would just chill the fuck out. Really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">So…..there was a period, a few years ago now, which was difficult in our family for various reasons, mainly due to the aforementioned human nature issue. I spent the whole of 2009 and 2010 feeling like a cornered tiger protecting it’s young in relation to my parents, defending them and trying to repair damage and hurt. I had many difficult conversations with members of the family and it was a tough road for a long time, but we got through it. On the plus side I think we could probably field a family team at the next Olympics for the Holding-a-Grudge relay. <a href="http://stress.about.com/od/relationships/qt/unresolved.htm"><span style="color: purple;">This guide</span></a> suggests sensible solutions to unresolved family conflicts – unfortunately it takes both sides to make a resolution happen and I am thankful that we got there in the end on the headline issue at least. Other issues continue to rumble on which assures me that we are indeed normal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">No human being is perfect. All of us make mistakes, say things we don’t mean, can be downright hurtful to the people we love and occasionally behave like complete and utter imbeciles. I know I have in the past and I am sure I will again at some point. Admitting it is easy when you put it in context, apologising, picking up the pieces, moving on and drawing a line under it is harder. And far more painful. And sometimes needs time. But it is never really a closed door until you make it so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">And I guess this is my point. Families come in many shapes and sizes. Some are pretty conventional, some are not. All will at some point and on some level go through crises. It is highly normal for Auntie X to not be speaking to Cousin Y or some kind of variation of this. You get arseholes, idiots, absolute gems, comedians, good eggs, bad apples, princesses, petty thieves, dictators, diplomats and the perpetually vacant. It is sort of like the most recent (UK) coalition government but closer to home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">How you make it work is entirely down to you. Stressing about it will get you nowhere. Black and white thinking will not help one jot. Holding a grudge is the greatest symptom of the narrow minded and should be avoided. And sharing blood does not determine ranks of importance within your life, nor should it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">Tell the people you love that you love them as often as you can, spend as much time with the people that matter as possible whether they are blood related or not. Tolerate those you have to and avoid the ones that cannot be tolerated and take no regrets to the grave because seriously, people, life is too short.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-79013797463658150292016-10-23T04:00:00.000-07:002016-10-23T04:00:02.676-07:00Africa – Part 4 – Kruger National Park<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After two nights at Shalati we were back on the road with
another fairly early start that involved taking breakfast with us in paper bags
(how exciting!). Stu and I shared the back seat with Vlad on this first day in
Kruger and it was a great opportunity to learn about he and Michaela’s lives in
New York and their history as a couple. Stu and I came to have a great affection for
this pair with whom we had a lot in common despite leading very different
lives. I loved listening to them chat to each other half in English and half in
Russian with seemingly no logic to the changeover points (though there clearly
was to them!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway, we were only about an hour from the gate of the
Kruger that we were going to enter through and so we barely had time to gauge
what was in the paper bags (boiled egg in a confined space anyone?) before we
were in the Kruger proper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This was a slightly strange day as we had been on two game
drives in game drive vehicles over the preceding days and so now, travelling
through another reserve, but in a vehicle that wasn’t really designed for the
purpose, the experience felt a little restrictive. For the keen photographers
(this would be Vlad, Stu, Daryl and Tony who between them must possess every
size lens known to man) it was difficult to get the good shots with both
reflection from windows and the cramped conditions to take into consideration. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On this day I pretty much decided I was just going to be “in
the moment” and stop worrying about photos – partly for the logistical reasons
described above and partly because I was trying to make a conscious effort to
engage with life around me without a screen of any kind as a filter. I am aware
that I spend far too much time looking at my phone/ipad than I do actually
soaking up events around me and sometimes, especially on this kind of
trip-of-a-lifetime, it feels empowering and liberating to choose to create
memories first hand instead of capturing them on a device of some kind for
later reflection. For that reason I have used Stu's (very impressive!) photos throughout this post.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We entered the Kruger and stopped for coffee and bathroom
breaks at a little lodge just inside, there were monkeys in the trees all around
and the coffee was actually pretty good for a roadside stop. While we were
stood drinking our delightful beverages a family of warthogs crossed the road
in front of us, we were definitely not in Kansas anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Pumba (Warthog) in Kruger</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so, we made our way through Kruger park, delighting in
the amount of zebra, giraffes and elephants we saw, which were in abundance.
There were heaps of birds too, but I have to admit I find it very difficult to
get excited about birds and kinda zoned out while people snapped various eagles
and vultur<b>e</b>s and tried to identify
the varieties against the Kruger guidebook pictures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For me, the highlight of this day will always be Oliphants
River where we stopped on the bridge and were able to get out and enjoy the
extraordinary view on both sides across the water. In one single sweep of the
eyes it was possible to see a herd of elephants, a couple of rhinos, a group of
hyena picking the bones of a kill, baboons, zebra, giraffe and various boks. It
was truly incredible to see all of this wildlife just right in front of you,
seemingly oblivious to the tourists on the bridge above, pointing hundreds of
lenses at them and gasping in awe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Tegan and I watching the elephants in Oliphants</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Elephants crossing the bridge</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">How many animals can you spot here?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After a good half an hour watching the world of African
wildlife go by below us, we made our way to <a href="http://www.letabarestcamp.com/">Letaba Rest Camp</a> which was to be our
base for the evening. We arrived around 1.30pm and were pretty hungry but due
to go out on a game drive at 4pm. Surely this was sufficient time to order and
eat lunch in the branch of Mugg & Bean they had on site, right? Well, we
cut it pretty close actually. By the time we had checked in, got changed and
headed to the restaurant it was gone 2pm – but we still figured we had time and
ordered a couple of flatbreads and a couple of beers. It was a beautiful spot
as the deck overlooked another section of Oliphant’s river delta and far below
us we watched some hippos swimming dangerously close to a large croc on the
river bank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our traditional hut at Letaba</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Beers arrived, other members of our group turned up and
ordered food, Sam took this great shot of Stu and I – one of few of us together
on the holiday, as it happens. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCm3bUeih9WqrvThJloptxONQv0JmACNi09_mD1OV8kXkA29pwgzS2G5DDXaRyInsbS80o6z8oDe9IhuulGo7cJilRLTY7Du29tZtlXKiXlBTuNStH11NKZtgo_aDc5NV6eLSy5v3hJA/s1600/IMG_3363.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCm3bUeih9WqrvThJloptxONQv0JmACNi09_mD1OV8kXkA29pwgzS2G5DDXaRyInsbS80o6z8oDe9IhuulGo7cJilRLTY7Du29tZtlXKiXlBTuNStH11NKZtgo_aDc5NV6eLSy5v3hJA/s320/IMG_3363.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Other people’s food started arriving, I chased
up our flatbreads and was told they were on their way. Stu realised he should
probably go stock up on water etc for our room as it was now 3pm and we might
not get time before heading out on the drive. The rest of our group were now
starting to head off to prepare for the drive. At 3.30pm our flatbreads
arrived. It was a TIA moment I believe. I did wonder if they baked the
flatbread from scratch, hence the delay. Oh well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, we jumped in the game drive truck and headed out into
the Kruger once again. This game drive was interesting in the fact that the
first hour and a half we thought we were pretty jinxed and we saw next to
nothing. Elephants from a distance, the ubiquitous impala of course, a couple
of antelope…nothing we had not yet seen before. And then, crawling along a
track, just as the sun was setting, we saw it. Two leopards in a tree with a
fresh kill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDWuXrtNGa4aNpYq61VG5Hh-ph7r7d5LNpw-bB1zwtLI7tZZdGXRp7Eyo1UL3RNOMiTYT154O6V_eV_YA6zMPaoQoM_95a7fLBxyrOJvJ__jS0N0GJGoP_ZDlE-nl4vg8jCvqDAi5Kl8/s1600/leopards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDWuXrtNGa4aNpYq61VG5Hh-ph7r7d5LNpw-bB1zwtLI7tZZdGXRp7Eyo1UL3RNOMiTYT154O6V_eV_YA6zMPaoQoM_95a7fLBxyrOJvJ__jS0N0GJGoP_ZDlE-nl4vg8jCvqDAi5Kl8/s320/leopards.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Tony lost his mind. It was the funniest, sweetest thing in
the world to hear him swearing his head off in shock and excitement at seeing
the last (and most magnificent) of the big 5, at sunset, with a kill. Not just
one leopard either, but a pair of them. Our driver went to turn the vehicle around
and by the time we came back to the tree, one of the leopards was lying in the middle
of the road, soaking up the heat from the tarmac. It was utterly magical to see
these incredible beasts and they did not seem too bothered by the proximity of
the vehicle, we stayed and watched them for a good 20 minutes before starting
to head back towards the lodge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And then, ten minutes later, Stu spotted two hyenas on the
side of the road and shouted to the driver and we stopped. This was the first time
we had been up close and personal with hyenas and they padded over to our
vehicle and checked us out like potential prey which was intimidating and made
the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My goodness they are bigger than you
think and look like they are built of pure muscle. They had a good old sniff of
our vehicle and eyeballed the occupants for a good few minutes before
continuing on their way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Being eyeballed by this guy...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It goes to show how the game drive experience can turn on a
sixpence and you can swing from feeling resolved to seeing next to nothing to
utterly on the ceiling with excitement in the space of five minutes. It also
highlights the enormous role that sheer luck plays in each one – and it was for
this reason that Stu and I decided you have to be in it to win it and went on
literally every game drive option which we could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Back at Letaba, Hardy was already seated at a long table with
our driver Jan and a couple of our group who hadn’t done the drive, waiting to
order food. The buzz in the room as we came back was incredible, everyone was
so excited from what we had seen in our vehicle and everyone talking at once, I
was desperate to hear what Sam and Merri might have seen from the other vehicle
and it turned out they had seen a snake in a tree fairly close up so had also
had a great night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dinner was another hugely TIA affair, which did not surprise
Stu and I, given our experience at lunch. It took at least an hour to collate
orders for everyone for both food and drink and then food came out
sporadically, in a seemingly random order, over the next hour and a half. Stu
and I had actually forgotten we had ordered a side of wedges to share and had
both finished out mains when it arrived 20 minutes later. Oh the lols. Stu had
actually been back to the lodge and had a shower between ordering and food
coming out, such was his belief that there would be time, and he was right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I decided, after finishing dinner, that I desperately needed
a shower too and headed back, leaving Stu to pay for the bill. It will come as
no surprise to hear that splitting the table’s bills to individuals (even
though we all ordered on separate tabs) took an hour. I was starting to wonder
whether Stu had gone for drinks with Hardy by the time he reappeared. I was sat
outside our lodge with a bottle of wine, in my pyjamas, reading my kindle, when
he finally came back looking bemused. A TIA end to a truly staggering day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Next day we would be heading out of Kruger and up towards
the Zimbabwe border, with one final stop at Mashovhela before we crossed the
border out of South Africa. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-66533723404346466652016-09-29T22:26:00.000-07:002016-09-29T22:34:49.402-07:00Africa - Part 3 – Panorama Route and Manyaleti <div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Day 3 of our tour saw us getting up rather early again and
embarking on pretty much a whole day in the minibus to get to our evening
accommodation at <a href="http://www.shalati.co.za/">Shalati Adventure Lodge</a>. Shalati is right on the edge of Manyaleti Game Reserve, a private reserve
bordering Kruger, which we would get the chance to explore on two game drives
the following day. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Luckily, our plan was to take in the beautiful “Panorama
Route” which meant lots of stopping to take photos of incredible scenery and a
more manageable journey, with frequent breaks and opportunities to stretch our
legs. This was lucky, as on this first long bus stint Stu and I had scored the
“sitting over the wheel arch with no leg room” seats. Lol indeed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of the first stops of the day was actually at a motorway
services which bizarrely had a game reserve type area out the back. We could
see zebra and ostrich from the terrace section and the view from the bathrooms
was incredible – in fact I would go as far as to say they were the most
enjoyable service station toilets I have ever encountered(!), if also being the
weirdest. We bought snacks and water and carried on our way, soon reaching the
more rural section of our route and some amazing views of rolling hills and
greenery.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of the viewpoints along the Panorama Route</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For lunch we stopped at a little town and Stu and I indulged
in a Wimpy which was almost exciting in a childhood-nostalgia kind of way. In
the UK Wimpy is a deceased brand of fast food from the 80s, in South
Africa it is still a chain of successful restaurants (go figure!?) What was
most interesting was that inside there was a contained smoking area (quite
busy) – which would of course be illegal in the UK (and Australia) as it was
inside a public building. I had a fairly unremarkable burger and felt smug because
there was free wifi (#winning). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A few hours later we passed through a strange little village
called Pilgrims Rest which is now almost a ghost town but is a quaint nod to
the mining glories of the past when this was a thriving community. I haggled
with a local market stall holder to buy a (quite frankly) ridiculous hat as I
was becoming conscious that I really should be protecting my head and face from
the sun (which was stronger and more continuous than I had imagined for the
time of year). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the afternoon we passed by Bourke’s Luck Potholes and the
Roundavales – both of these are recommended stop points on the Panorama route
and offer impressive views as well as a chance to get your feet wet at the
potholes and some great gorge/waterfall photo opportunities. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me at the Potholes</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uFSNy-HAbvuRdcYaCrsf2gqTStFjJcv7OC67ToQju1YNM6tQ34eN3xvdCM4E0tPEjblqO4J2yHFZSnOEX-jiWehdhfu7enRzEj6LQLnYFJhShHH8pjHd0f8uG3h-bP6boW6iIiZbMg0/s1600/potholes2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uFSNy-HAbvuRdcYaCrsf2gqTStFjJcv7OC67ToQju1YNM6tQ34eN3xvdCM4E0tPEjblqO4J2yHFZSnOEX-jiWehdhfu7enRzEj6LQLnYFJhShHH8pjHd0f8uG3h-bP6boW6iIiZbMg0/s320/potholes2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvv2oI6AVG9vB3UCOlOlZxq4Q3v1A4Aarg8eo12xHNmoKJGR4JpbcOhDzrMZjXPzFaga11CTEq0TuqZov9ny00Tp7T1dzE_VIqDOB4lVtzemYvkag-hBNZ3uxlX0GIHrY-4Cf9yLIiCM/s1600/potholes3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvv2oI6AVG9vB3UCOlOlZxq4Q3v1A4Aarg8eo12xHNmoKJGR4JpbcOhDzrMZjXPzFaga11CTEq0TuqZov9ny00Tp7T1dzE_VIqDOB4lVtzemYvkag-hBNZ3uxlX0GIHrY-4Cf9yLIiCM/s320/potholes3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivccpvy_ivEicubYAIomtkidqXjF4x3X1GJyYpOcJ1a1F7_pKR1S4pieAkIj7eaAFxenNJ7sbB5IJ2UzoBoKV0bNtkWELgH4obeNzrx1JVAwaTZpQRuRa5ivuczzX9EI_5KPlq_7JQq_w/s1600/potholes4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivccpvy_ivEicubYAIomtkidqXjF4x3X1GJyYpOcJ1a1F7_pKR1S4pieAkIj7eaAFxenNJ7sbB5IJ2UzoBoKV0bNtkWELgH4obeNzrx1JVAwaTZpQRuRa5ivuczzX9EI_5KPlq_7JQq_w/s320/potholes4.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bourke's Luck Potholes</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Nvq3BX2bM6MbR8omdKt3L6ewbBLRYbyU7ehvNSzmDIagLVWGYahqcR1BngOfNWdNRtCgpdmo36_GjMhqhM2qLBPgXAzC_RS76RyUO2GATkvStYIdUq1cc7_t3R4PWT1MjC3r43-EkOA/s1600/roundaveles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Nvq3BX2bM6MbR8omdKt3L6ewbBLRYbyU7ehvNSzmDIagLVWGYahqcR1BngOfNWdNRtCgpdmo36_GjMhqhM2qLBPgXAzC_RS76RyUO2GATkvStYIdUq1cc7_t3R4PWT1MjC3r43-EkOA/s320/roundaveles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Roundavales (Stu's photo)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At the potholes,
Sam got mobbed by school children who seriously took him to their hearts and
demanded heaps of photographs, the funniest thing was that we then ran into the
same group at the next few viewpoints and each time they greeted him like a
celebrity and I have to say he handled it with wonderful grace and warmth,
qualities which sum up this lovely man so well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Eventually, after quite a long day, we made it to Shalati
and our very cool (in every way) safari tent/cabins which were essentially a
tent on a wooden platform with an outside bathroom attached at the back. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWzVxmrtAFoyX1OR0mK7xM7ctd7tDtnvwT0Fs9op9yflP9d6siZ1FO5r-Kqmc5gqcGQaujMoBFnDFqof9V3RChmdTFYeToWSbLUnU1kW2fEPDFbD_Dw6AlhrffuAuGa29h6kKbvb8lW6A/s1600/shalati.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWzVxmrtAFoyX1OR0mK7xM7ctd7tDtnvwT0Fs9op9yflP9d6siZ1FO5r-Kqmc5gqcGQaujMoBFnDFqof9V3RChmdTFYeToWSbLUnU1kW2fEPDFbD_Dw6AlhrffuAuGa29h6kKbvb8lW6A/s320/shalati.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our safari tent at Shalati </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We had
a great evening meal of buffet style cooked meats and salads and potatoes
around a fire pit under the stars. It started to get rather chilly as the night
descended and we donned jackets and moved our chairs closer to the fire. “Shorty”,
on the bar, did a fabulous job of keeping track of a number of mobile devices
and cameras that she was charging behind the bar for people, and of keeping us
all in wine and beer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Due to the fact we were going on our first game drive at 6am
the next morning, people turned in fairly early. I went to bed in pyjamas, a
hoodie and socks and slept under a massive duvet and a fleecy blanket – fully
expecting to wake up boiling hot within the hour. I did not. I was, in fact,
wearing just the right amount of clothing for a night in South Africa in
winter. It is unbelievable how cold it gets when it has been so very warm
during the day. Getting out of bed at 5.30am was a bit of an ordeal and I could
see my breath as I got changed into lots of layers. I think Niki won the award
for most layers, donning 9 for the morning safari drive!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so….we split into two groups (led by Peter and Rex) and
headed out for our first ever safari game drive in Manyaleti. This is a private
game reserve which directly borders Kruger – however, there are no fences so
whatever wildlife is in Kruger can wander in and out of the Manyaleti area as
it pleases. At the moment the whole Kruger area is so very dry and in serious
drought which means that there is no layer of grass on the ground – whilst
being dreadful for the animals, this makes it very easy to spot wildlife and
also means the remaining watering holes are a safe bet for sightings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Within the first five minutes we encountered this guy, just
sprawled having a nap at the side of the road….</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGyWPBEDM5Oq4szx12kCoEbKnKvcSRivjuSdJa_d8BIlWnOUXiBaKm3y05LklQ5hQK-ZmXrbZN-e7w3N2fOJKLUZgu9TBUUHnrNZYk4XU0H8jMKGkEVrWIUKJrY3K8HDgDn79778teyg/s1600/lion.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGyWPBEDM5Oq4szx12kCoEbKnKvcSRivjuSdJa_d8BIlWnOUXiBaKm3y05LklQ5hQK-ZmXrbZN-e7w3N2fOJKLUZgu9TBUUHnrNZYk4XU0H8jMKGkEVrWIUKJrY3K8HDgDn79778teyg/s320/lion.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSFBIpIAV17mG6SI1atrE5sjbbq_bsPrOryKhbzD3U92h96pqt_ojWWs9yj5F0_KNuKpsQGnuNy1qsAOboFSPHmQL5SqtYLkqLrsgqH53lOy1rXl8TAbpIKFnZlW0RyqLPpl97a-QT1Y/s1600/lion2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSFBIpIAV17mG6SI1atrE5sjbbq_bsPrOryKhbzD3U92h96pqt_ojWWs9yj5F0_KNuKpsQGnuNy1qsAOboFSPHmQL5SqtYLkqLrsgqH53lOy1rXl8TAbpIKFnZlW0RyqLPpl97a-QT1Y/s320/lion2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/6EsC2HPsu3w/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6EsC2HPsu3w?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I can’t tell you the emotions
that went through me as we watched him eye us up, stretch and slowly decide we
were nothing of interest. I had my burst of lion king music ready but did not,
as it turned out, have the balls to play it when we saw this incredible beast –
it did raise some laughs at breakfast a few hours later though….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/F4efZIHtiQQ/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/F4efZIHtiQQ?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The first 20 seconds of this is what I had primed for our first cat sighting...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The 3 hours passed in what felt like 10 minutes as we
followed buffalo, spotted zebra, rhino and boks aplenty, got totally bored of
impala and then had a magical encounter with this large bull elephant. My mind
was well and truly blown. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUMTFO1OIHbuRu01ynCrK8XE1KkZpGux4FgYRhyphenhyphenksqSCDN9CmVF1kWVbpnOPT1ly58Lv1ZQQqpIm0IfjPjyqSVn_KeOAGX1GymdgnjDcNMlRG7ju9ATShVrZdlM9pKxo4rnhvZ1-u9g8/s1600/meele.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUMTFO1OIHbuRu01ynCrK8XE1KkZpGux4FgYRhyphenhyphenksqSCDN9CmVF1kWVbpnOPT1ly58Lv1ZQQqpIm0IfjPjyqSVn_KeOAGX1GymdgnjDcNMlRG7ju9ATShVrZdlM9pKxo4rnhvZ1-u9g8/s320/meele.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We were back at our lodge for a late breakfast and it is
fair to say conversation was pretty much entirely about the experience we had
just had, everybody was completely psyched and looking forward to round two in
the afternoon. The nice thing was returning from the morning game drive around
9am meant there was a solid few hours in which to sleep, eat, shower and rest
before the 4pm drive started. That is pretty much what we did before
reconvening and heading back out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our evening game drive took us up on to an abandoned hilltop
farm to watch the sunset and enjoy a drink. It was slightly surreal being able
to get out of the vehicle and see 360 degree views of the reserve, spotting
giraffe, zebra and elephant through the trees and knowing quite how much
wildlife was all around us. Again, on this game drive, we saw rhinos and then
on the way back to the lodge we saw a massive maternal herd of elephants, it
was pretty special. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The second night was a bit of a TIA kerfuffle back at the
lodge.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTeNgGvMT0Ky80BuxzGHzQMULibnDzMtmzJ9Tmn5mE0FxFYVu5OVW4-jJXN9vPu-yR8P0DHhahP_TlckMUvmda3C3fFaxMfMOPppDAF5Dnw1D3bqTbl0MeEL8_dun8AoBDCnfWXB8Wu2I/s1600/TIA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTeNgGvMT0Ky80BuxzGHzQMULibnDzMtmzJ9Tmn5mE0FxFYVu5OVW4-jJXN9vPu-yR8P0DHhahP_TlckMUvmda3C3fFaxMfMOPppDAF5Dnw1D3bqTbl0MeEL8_dun8AoBDCnfWXB8Wu2I/s1600/TIA.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Basically, everyone needed to settle their bills (game drives and
drinks) before going to bed as we would be leaving very early the next morning.
There was also scheduled to be African singing/dancing going on round the campfire
during dinner – but the dancers had had some logistical issues and arrived
late, just as most of our group headed off to the office to pay bills. The
dancers duly hung around waiting for people to come back but it seemed the paying
was taking an inordinate amount of time…those of us sitting round the fire were
starting to feel very sorry for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One by one, members of the group started arriving back and
recounting the hilarity of paying bills, Africa style, which involved separate queues
for separate elements of the bill (?) and a card machine which only worked once
every 3 transactions. I decided, therefore, to wait until everyone was back
before I braved it to go and pay ours. Sadly, I misjudged this and when I
headed over they had locked up the office and switched everything off. You can
imagine how overjoyed they were to have to switch it all back on again for me to
pay my bill. Seemingly they had not noticed one invoice was outstanding and I
do wonder if we might have got away without paying if I had not been so honest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I got back to the campfire, Sherry and Al were donning
some traditional costumes to join in with the dancing, this was highly amusing
and the perfect end to a fabulous experience at Shalati. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Aml79V1WfGM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Aml79V1WfGM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sherry and Al pulling some shapes....</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After roundly
applauding the entertainment we headed off to bed, conscious that the next day
we would be entering the Kruger proper and spending the day within it's boundaries as we travelled up towards Letaba Rest Lodge, beyond Oliphant’s River, and towards a truly magical encounter with some leopards. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-57899895458261800622016-09-19T22:03:00.000-07:002016-09-19T22:03:42.903-07:00Africa - Part 2 - Cape Town and Johannesburg<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On arrival in Cape Town, the weather was not doing us any
favours and was almost identical to the rough winter we had left behind in
Adelaide. This is not entirely surprising given that Cape Town and Adelaide are
on almost the exact same latitude. We managed to console ourselves about the
torrential rain, leaden skies and gale force winds by repatriating to a Belgian
beer place called <a href="http://www.denanker.co.za/">Den Anker</a> on the
V&A Wharf and proceeding to watch the carnage of people battling not to lose their
umbrellas while we sat in a warm and dry place with good tapas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The V&A Wharf, Cape Town, with Table Mountain behind</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The V&A Wharf is a pretty swanky and clearly touristy
area of Cape Town which was about a 30 minute walk away from our hostel. Aside
from doing Table Mountain and Robben Island, it is one of the main areas you
will visit on a trip to Cape Town. I found Cape Town a very manageable city, it is not too big and
sprawling and it felt pretty safe to us. We were staying at <a href="http://onceincapetown.co.za/">Once in Cape Town</a> which is an
interesting choice for G Adventures to start a Classic tour from due to its
predominantly #YOLO demographic of guests…we had arrived at around 9am in the
morning but of course our room was not ready until 2pm which was why we had
ventured out into the city despite the atrocious weather.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On checking in much later, I asked for the wifi password and
had a highly frustrating exchange with the front desk man whilst I tried to
figure out what was being said, I think this was just a combination of jetlag
and unfamiliar accents because I kid you not it went like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Him: The password is paraglide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Boramide?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Him: No, paraglide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Parrot hide?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Him: PARAGLIDE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: Barramundi? Patagonia? Paragon? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so on. Until at some point he gave up and wrote it on a
piece of paper and I shuffled away feeling highly stupid and hoping I did not
come across as in any way racist. It was a slightly clumsy start.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next day (after 13 straight hours of sleep I might add - #winning) Stu and I had booked a day long tour to Cape Point and this truly was
an eye opener into the beauty of South Africa in a very vivid way. Much to my
surprise we saw our first wildlife down on the Cape – zebras, ostrich, baboon
and various boks were spotted and many variety of birds. The road down through
Simon’s Town is absolutely stunning and put me in mind of the Great Ocean Road
in Australia or the Pacific Coast Highway in California which are similarly
stunning and coastal. We also went to Kirstenbosch gardens which are impressive
and offered great vistas back over the city, here are some photos from our
first full day in SA….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The tour officially started on that second evening after we
returned from our tour of the Cape, and we duly sat in the bar downstairs for
an hour or two awaiting start time and any sign of our guide or other group
members. Around half an hour before kick off a group of folks entered YOLO
Central (the bar – actually called ‘Yours Truly’) and I called it immediately
that they were part of our group. They were indeed – this was Sam, Merri,
Harriet and Tegan. It is strange looking back on our first impressions of four
strangers who within two weeks would come to feel like family (they were good
first impressions!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At 6pm we gravitated to the fire pit area out the back and
the tables started filling – this would be our ‘Africa Family’ for the next few
weeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What can I tell you about this motley group of folk? That
humanity never ceases to amaze me, would be the primary take away. Also, that
Stu and I found huge inspiration from the older contingent in particular and
hope we have figured out the older us that we want to be. A common element when
looking at both of our G Adventures groups seems to be that the people who take
these kind of tours are broadly similar in a few critical ways – generally
educated, well-travelled and sociable people. This seems to enable quick
bonding, a sense of team and an ability to see humour in all situations – and
these are major assets on an organised tour such as this. Basically, the
ability to not be a dick is hugely beneficial when you are in close quarters
with the same set of folk, day in, day out in a foreign environment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Throughout our tour I was proud of the sense of altruism
shown by all – sharing resources, carrying bags, making sure we all took turns
in the most shonky seats in the minibus, general camaraderie which added a
warmth to every scenario. I would gladly welcome any of them into my house any
day of the week. Our tour guide Hardy was also an absolute gem – incredibly knowledgeable
and easy going, funny and able to deal with the frequent TIA moments with aplomb,
the tour would not have been the same without him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />After our welcome meeting we headed over the road to <a href="http://www.arnolds.co.za/">Arnold’s</a> restaurant for our first group
meal – I had a very tasty Ostrich steak – and to acquaint ourselves. Stu and I
were sat with Kass from Germany, Niki from the UK/USA and Al and Heather, a
couple the same age as us from the UK. First impressions were great and the
conversation (and the wine) flowed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next day was a free day in Cape Town and Stu and I climbed
the awesome Table Mountain – by chance, we ran into Kass and Niki at the top - surely
a good omen! The views from up there are incredible, and we were very lucky to
do it on a very clear day. Despite not being a great fan of heights I actually
enjoyed the cable car ride up there and the café at the top does remarkably
good coffee (#winning again!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me on top of Table Mountain</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That evening we headed out on our first group activity which
was to head to a local township for dinner with a family. I was absolutely
floored by the effort that our amazing hosts (Sheila and Stephen) had put into
the meal which was (Mandela’s favourite) of Sweet Chicken, pap (maize porridge),
various vegetables and homemade ginger beer. It was delicious and so awesome to
be invited into their home, the dining table they had set up for our group of
18 literally took up the whole length of their living room. After dinner
Stephen played the trombone for us – he is a critically acclaimed South African
musician and this was a real treat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sweet chicken, pap and veg</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After dinner entertainment!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next day we were getting up super early to fly to
Johannesburg for the next leg of our tour, I was pleasantly surprised that
everyone was ready on time – this is no mean feat in a group of 18 but it set the
scene for the rest of the tour, on some occasions Hardy was pretty surprised to
find the whole group assembled and ready to go some 20 minutes or so before the
designated time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Man, we were an impressively punctual group. So, we headed to
the airport where on check in I discovered that although they had spelt Stu’s
name correctly, my surname was spelt Olilivie. This proved a continuous theme
with every place we checked in and every flight we took having an incorrect variation
on “Ogilvie” but only for me. I almost wondered if my travel agent husband had
set this up deliberately….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Despite the fact my boarding pass did not match my passport,
I was able to board the flight to Joburg along with the rest of the group.
Little did I know the TIA mindfuck that was awaiting me in the hellhole that is
O R Tambo International Airport.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The thing is, you see, I had not bought any physical US
dollars with me for the Zimbabwe leg of our tour which was some 5 days away at
this point. I had figured I would get some rand exchanged at some point before
entering Zimbabwe as I really did not want to be carrying wads of cash in a
country renowned for petty crime and muggings. Hardy told us as we got to Joburg
that in fact this would probably be our last chance to get hold of US$ before
the border so a handful of us duly went to the American Express bureau de
change to get our cash sorted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The very helpful and highly positive (not) clerk at the cash
desk told me to go away because I did not have an “onward ticket” to show I was
leaving South Africa. Baffled, I explained that I was not leaving SA until 4/5
days later. “Oh”, she said, “then you can’t have any dollars.” I trotted off to
get Hardy and came back with him and watched him TEAR A STRIP OFF the lady
behind the desk. It turned out this was a brand new rule and reflected the SA
government concern over the value of the Rand. Basically, as of now, you cannot
buy other currencies without showing you are about to leave SA.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thanks to Hardy being very ‘assertive’ they finally agreed
to sell me the dollars but only after they had photocopied all my travel
documents, Hardy’s entire itinerary folder for the tour (!) and after I had
done an interpretative dance to Hakuna Matata (I jest – but it felt like that might
plausibly be on their batshit list of requirements) I had my cash in hand. This had taken around 90 minutes while the rest of the tour group waited patiently in arrivals.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">TIA in action.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once everyone who needed them had their dollars secured, we met our driver for the next week or so, Jan, and were introduced to the minivan we would be spending a LOT of time in. Jan drove us to Soweto for a tour of the Township - some of the group did this on bikes, though I bailed because, well, have you SEEN me on a bike?! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me, on a bike, in Adelaide (not Soweto)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I knew I had made the right decision on this when around an hour later the cycling group met us at Mandela's House with tales of no brakes, crazy gears and pedals/seats falling off. I have enough trouble on a bike with none of these issues....anyway. A very cool experience for those that chose to do it, but not for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mandela's House was very interesting and full of pieces of historical significance, if you are ever in Joburg, do make the effort to visit. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For dinner, we were taken to <a href="http://www.peermont.com/casinos/gauteng/emperors-palace" target="_blank">Emperors Palace Casino</a> which had clearly been based on Ceasar's Palace in Las Vegas. This was a great idea as it felt relatively safe and had a huge selection of restaurants to choose from. Weeks later I would learn that actually, it had been <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5aNm_JGqCw" target="_blank">stormed by armed robbers</a> on a number of occasions but by Joburg standards was indeed considered "safe". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had a very good Indian buffet meal at the Casino and broke bread with Heather and Al, learning that we had quite a bit in common with regards to travel and lifestyle. Coming from Australia, where good Indian food can be hard to find, we were very pleased to have had a very good one on this trip. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That night we stayed at <a href="http://www.airport-game-lodge.co.za/" target="_blank">Airport Game Lodge</a> which was lovely - free wifi, good showers and comfy beds so no complaints from us. A good night's kip was definitely in order as the next morning we would be setting off on our journey up towards Kruger and safari shenanigans aplenty....</span></div>
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Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-75911330788990122016-09-13T22:40:00.000-07:002016-09-13T22:40:48.107-07:00Africa - Part 1 - The Journey<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is time again for me to recount, record and reflect on a
wondrous adventure. Those of you who read the <a href="http://ponderali.blogspot.com.au/2015/05/incredible-india-part-1-delhi-and-jaipur.html" target="_blank">blog version of our India trip</a>
last year may be curious as to how I coped with another trip into a third world
country on an organised tour – but please, be assured, this time was equally as
overwhelming but without the sickness and for different reasons. Africa and
India are both absolute gems which must be seen (in my opinion) but their
approaches, their colours, their attitudes vary and it would be like comparing
apples with pears if I was to try and rank them in any way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir6dgM1d9H4w7o_us2kQf_2lEj4KkrrZ0jJItJ9U28QGywVnrz3BZC7FwYvvmYQ0itZQ2EjEajrVbqpl8Satc_YRZyqL4wsdbEdCHugAoEE1kVYhKy_immeSXlQh_1YS-iyG0VdmggJrA/s1600/tour.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir6dgM1d9H4w7o_us2kQf_2lEj4KkrrZ0jJItJ9U28QGywVnrz3BZC7FwYvvmYQ0itZQ2EjEajrVbqpl8Satc_YRZyqL4wsdbEdCHugAoEE1kVYhKy_immeSXlQh_1YS-iyG0VdmggJrA/s320/tour.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The route we took on our G Adventures tour</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I won’t try to figure out ‘which is better’ on any kind
of level. But I can tell you that a similarity which is fairly significant is
that after visiting I am sitting here completely emotionally and mentally exhausted and trying
to process the experiences we had. I am SO bloody lucky, in this limited time that
we get on the planet, to explore these places and I realise that and try to appreciate
it every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I admit, I was actually highly anxious about this trip in
the weeks leading up to our departure, for a number of reasons, including the
political situation in Zimbabwe, the fear of being mugged in South Africa,
massive fear of being sick for the entire trip (akin to the India experience),
anxieties about the size of the group (18 compared to a very lucky and awesome
9 in India), worries about being away from my beloved pup for this length of
time and ongoing general concerns about leaving my new job at a critical point
for one of my key projects. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Amidst all that, I was also hugely excited. This trip
represented the attainment of a lifelong dream to go on safari. I remember as a
little girl being entirely blown away by my Nana and Grandad’s holiday photos
from Kenya – they went in the mid-80s which was a fairly unusual trip to do at
the time. My grandad, bless his heart, had a video camera, a very early
version, which must have weighed around 4 kilos but which he shouldered
valiantly to document hours (and hours, and hours) of footage of the African
plains from various game drive vehicles. We watched every minute intently,
waiting for glimpses of the incredible animals….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, many (30!) years on, it was our turn. We worked this
trip around a need to be in Mauritius for my brother’s wedding in early
September. An African safari holiday was always on our list and we would have
got to it at some point, but this gave us the reason and the approximate dates.
We booked it around a year ago, once we had the framework in place and it has
felt like a long time coming. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I handled the delivering of our beloved pooch to his awesome
adopted family pretty well, considering, (which means I avoided it completely
and wept into my coffee at work while Stu did the actual drop off) and in the
few days leading up to the trip I managed to feel like work was under control
so I could legitimately stop the anxieties relating to that side too. I was
actually pretty relaxed and happy and everything was under control as we set
off for the airport on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I even had an ‘Africa’
playlist set up so I could provide suitable soundtrack at any given moment
(Lion King, Toto, Shakira etc).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I should, of course, have realised that things were going <i>far too smoothly</i> and that this surely
meant a shitstorm of some sort was around the corner. Hmmm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At Adelaide airport, we treated ourselves to a platter and a
glass of wine or two each and as the minutes ticked by we relaxed and got into
holiday mode. We had arranged (because we had around 9 hours to kill in Perth)
to meet up with some of our buddies from our previous G Adventures holiday and
were stoked to be seeing them again to catch up, have dinner, see their new
house etc. We were so looking forward to it we bought some sparkling wine and
Adelaide treats (Haighs) to take with us on this first leg – we could get away
with it because it was a domestic flight so the wine was not a problem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We sauntered to the gate in time and raised an eyebrow at
how quiet it was. Stu noticed after a few minutes that our flight was no longer
listed at the gate, despite being less than an hour away. He walked over to the
desk and asked and then he turned to me and waved me over and I could see, by
the look on his face, that something had clearly gone awry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For reasons we were never actually told, with less than an
hour to take off, our Virgin Australia flight from Adelaide to Perth had been
cancelled. All of the staff at the gate claimed they had not been told why. Our
luggage was checked straight through to Johannesburg and we were now being told
we would be routed to Melbourne first (in an hour or two’s time) then back to
Perth and then on to Jo’burg. This caused us a number of problems, not least of
all (and most disappointingly) we had to cancel our plans in Perth and also go
and get refunds on the gifts we had bought for our friends. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was incredibly frustrating to turn what should have been
a relaxed and enjoyable 9 hour layover into a staggered series of sitting-in-airport-twiddling-thumbs
events. But hey-ho, we did at least make our connection at Perth and headed to
OR Tambo International Airport, Johannesburg - a name which would very quickly
come to represent airport hell on a whole new level (and if you ever read my
piece on <a href="http://ponderali.blogspot.com.au/2016/01/heathwoe.html" target="_blank">Heathrow</a> you will know this is a huge attainment in my world). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For some reason, our flight from Perth had taken off around
half an hour late and we then faced headwinds which meant the time was not made
back up. We landed at Tambo to be met by a very long immigration queue and the
news that we had to go and collect our luggage and check it back in for the
next flight to Cape Town. Unfortunately, that flight was leaving in around an
hour and 20 minutes and so we basically had to sprint from immigration to
baggage, then from baggage to check in, where a completely disinterested member
of staff who clearly hates their job informed us that our next flight had
closed. We wilted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At this point I had been awake for around 24 hours <i>and</i> it was 6am <i>and</i> I had just run across an airport to make it this far. Stu said
some things (I cannot remember what but it had an impact) and somehow the guy
agreed to check our luggage but told us unless we sprinted to the gate (on a
different level, in the other terminal) we would not make the flight. Cue
further sprinting, now with a fellow passenger from the same flight in tow. I
am not in a good mood at this point, it is fair to say, but somehow I found the
energy to follow Stu and get to the gate and by the skin of our teeth, we made
the flight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so, we made it to Cape Town and the start of our
adventure…part 2 will look at our time in Cape Town and Johannesburg and the
start of our G Adventures tour. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-18736218387270252522016-06-13T19:29:00.001-07:002016-06-13T23:31:01.944-07:00Brexit Babble<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHv27C3-JUAbYGHSZeMTIbObWTXQWnP5vfTSYMx_zfriX-EDH2zeyBm3NGflkOsgOFQU8R8r1QZlS7mOPZFfgRmSOPSErzQly9q2Do8Q57UL611Ctk2LiLhbScu2tFY44A7_iZvbn4mx8/s1600/brexit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHv27C3-JUAbYGHSZeMTIbObWTXQWnP5vfTSYMx_zfriX-EDH2zeyBm3NGflkOsgOFQU8R8r1QZlS7mOPZFfgRmSOPSErzQly9q2Do8Q57UL611Ctk2LiLhbScu2tFY44A7_iZvbn4mx8/s320/brexit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So in the next few weeks the UK will decide whether or not
it remains in the EU. Personally I tend to agree with <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/may/29/eu-referendum-parliament-leaders-david-cameron-david-mitchell">David
Mitchell</a> on the referendum because it is SUCH an important decision that I
believe it should be made by the people we voted in to LEAD our country. There
is also the worrying undercurrent with this particular subject that many people
will vote to leave on one small matter (<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/jun/13/brexit-supporters-leave-vote-right" target="_blank">to stem immigration</a>) when there are SO
MANY other issues that will be massively affected by a Brexit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I worked for 7 years in a role which engaged with and
managed projects which could only operate due to being part (or in some cases
fully) funded by the EU. These funds were apportioned to those areas of the UK
most in need, those with high levels of unemployment, poverty and depravation.
We were made to record the postcodes of businesses and individuals we helped so
that the EU could monitor that the funds were really getting to the areas they
were intended for – yes, EU funding administration is bureaucratic but it has
to be that way to ensure the money is spent how and where it should be. Having
also worked with non-EU government funds, it will probably come as no surprise
to find out that they are far less stringent with their evidence of eligibility
in spend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have heard NOTHING from the government to suggest that
these vital sources of funding will be bridged by them if the UK leaves the EU.
In the current economy do you really believe that the current, swingeing, Tory
government will step in to fund these schemes? No, me either. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">During my time working with these projects I saw many (as in
HUNDREDS) of businesses get a real, tangible boost from their engagement with
them. I saw EU funds support and engage with struggling SMEs (who could not
access assistance anywhere else). Part of my job was to collate evidence of
created and safeguarded sales that the EU funds had created – it was standard
to get an 8:1 return on investment from these projects, an impressive success
by any measure. This is worth bearing in mind when you go on like a broken
record about how much the EU costs us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I also worked first hand on a project which used EU funds to
get graduates into SME jobs. Without the subsidy provided by this funding the
companies would never be able to afford a graduate in such a role, the graduate
would also struggle to find work – this project solved two major economic
issues with deft use of the available funds. This was no mean feat. The admin
required to pull this off was huge but it was SO worth it when we could clearly
see (and report on) the jobs created, the graduates who were being assisted
into these roles, the long term impact this had both on the companies and on
the graduates was nothing short of stellar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The UK benefits greatly from these tranches of funding which
are ploughed into supporting our SMEs and graduates and there is nothing to
replace it if the plug is pulled by an exit from the EU. I have tried to
understand the viewpoint around leaving but struggle massively to see anything
within the literature I have scoured which, at its heart, is anything other than
racism disguised as politics. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is sadly the case that a lot of people will vote in this
referendum without reading up on the facts, they will vote with their heart,
not their head and they will be swayed by sensationalist headlines about people
from Romania invading our shores and milking our benefits (even though the
facts very easily refute this nonsense). It is also quite telling that the
amount of misguided rants about immigration and how this negatively impacts
upon the UK economy are, without exception, by people who want to leave Europe.
Coincidence? I think not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have seen a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/brexitvoteleave/posts/864214510376559">number of
interesting posts</a> (again, designed to stir up sentiment and resentment
against the EU without considering any objective elements or impact) about how
so many UK industries and businesses have moved their operations outside of the
UK “because of the EU”. This is stunningly blinkered and a great example of
positioning irrelevant information to foster an emotional (and therefore angry)
response. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Whether we were in the EU or not, it is highly likely that
many of our manufacturing giants (Mini – which is owned by German BMW anyway –
Ford Transit, Cadbury) would have shipped out of UK based production anyway
because in the current GLOBAL market it makes more sense to run your production
plants in an economy where the minimum wage is lower and the profit margins
higher. Ironically, that is just as likely (if not more likely) to mean India,
China, Malaysia or any of the South East Asia region. And they would have done
it regardless of EU loans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Like it or not, the UK is not a manufacturing dependent country
anymore and it never will be again. Our strengths lie in technology,
high-skilled workers and service industries (a great article on this can be
found <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/economics/11891837/The-UK-may-not-be-a-manufacturing-powerhouse-anymore-but-heres-why-our-economy-can-still-thrive.html">here</a>). </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I also fear for UK farmers who may well be <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2016/apr/05/brexit-will-leave-uk-farmers-up-to-34000-worse-off-study-finds">financially
crippled</a> again if the UK votes to leave. Do you fancy an increase in tax to
replace the subsidies they currently rely on? Has the government outlined a
plan to cover it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I do not believe the EU is perfect, I understand that it has
its faults, but I fully believe in 2016 the UK would be both short sighted and
bloody minded to step away from the benefits, protection and opportunities that
being a member affords us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yes, I choose to live in Australia at the moment and will
likely become an Australian citizen in the next few years. However, I will
retain my UK citizenship and hold both simultaneously so yes, I do believe I
have a right to a say in all this and I have cast my postal vote to remain accordingly.
I feel obliged to say this because I have been the recipient of a few barbed
remarks about my views on the Brexit over recent weeks. I am certain that more
will be aimed at me after this blog post is published. Oh well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of the delights of modern life is freedom of speech. I
respect everyone’s right to their opinion and if the UK votes leave then I will
sigh, roll my eyes and watch the fall out (just like I did when the UK
inexplicably voted in a Tory government at the last election). On the Brexit
debate, I find myself agreeing with Dishface for the first time ever. I guess
the fact that it has come to that underlines the weight of the risks involved
with a Leave vote for me (hence the blog).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Cast your vote and have your say. Just ensure you have truly
read around both sides of the argument first and don't base your vote on scaremongering immigration rants alone. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-32243476632626020972016-05-29T18:07:00.001-07:002016-05-29T18:07:21.618-07:0010 years - Part 2 - 50 Shades of Cray Cray<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXBwmnvU-vLLnwQ8JCChif0qAXykHJd6RJfVNtyLxkE9Na3l9PlzyBtNLGFdLmtgXlKh-yHcDFLS11hWZfy96fw5OQ8u5wBOOObXm_fdUFSR7PrNMQFwtXV1ttni6cDKuyP2iD6uPt95I/s1600/craycray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXBwmnvU-vLLnwQ8JCChif0qAXykHJd6RJfVNtyLxkE9Na3l9PlzyBtNLGFdLmtgXlKh-yHcDFLS11hWZfy96fw5OQ8u5wBOOObXm_fdUFSR7PrNMQFwtXV1ttni6cDKuyP2iD6uPt95I/s320/craycray.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the immediate aftermath of Claims Direct announcing it
was in Administrative Receivership, a few things became clear very quickly.
Firstly, those that could escape quickly, ran. This was true from the very top
with senior managers abandoning ship within hours of the announcement
(including my boss). Everyone else seemed stunned into a spooky calm, waiting
for instruction. I have to admit that Deloitte moved very quickly to try and calm
the unease, though they could do little in reality for most of the staff who
knew the axe would be falling sooner rather than later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I remember finding out that not only was the recent
conference invoice in a pile of “creditors” there were some pretty huge unpaid
invoices from the previous few years which reflected the devil-may-care
attitude of the company and the champagne lifestyle that they had enjoyed even when
doubts must have been creeping in about how long the gravy train would be in
motion. A particularly notable example was for a conference they held <i>in Las Vegas</i>. I mean, really? A
conference in Las Vegas?! It was a thing of legend within the office, most of
the managers had gone and a decent amount of everyday employees too. No expense
was spared. This gives you a little indication of the sheer arrogance and
attitude towards image that this company had in its prime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But now the vultures were circling. The media had a field
day and, in light of the ominous stories that had been run in previous weeks,
felt vindicated and a little smug. The Sun had been running a particularly high
profile campaign branding the firm “Shames Direct” and printing many case
studies featuring ‘victims’ of the system who had won their claims but not won
any money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let’s rewind to clarify what the nature of the disease
within the midst of the Claims Direct model was. I actually wrote a paper on
this exact issue as part of my MBA (it scored me an A grade for my Operations
Management module as it happens). The rot had been caused by a backlash from the
insurance industry which had taken a few years to form itself into a united and
coherent group against the likes of the ‘ambulance chasing’ PI firms. Claims
Direct was simply the biggest, most long standing and well known target and so
became the natural focus of their ire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Basically, Claims Direct forced their clients to take out an
insurance premium to cover them in case their claim was unsuccessful (hence the
‘no win no fee’ tagline). The cost of this premium was around the £1,250 mark.
The average demographic for people trying to make a claim meant that paying out
for an insurance premium up front was beyond them, therefore the cost of this
premium was covered by a loan that was built into the claim and if the case was
successful it would be covered by the settlement. This model relied on Claims
Direct only taking on cases it was certain would win. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The problem was that often a case took 2-3 years to settle
and for that entire time the loan for the insurance premium would be accruing
interest. By the time settlement came there was often £2,500-3k owing on the
loan which would be deducted from any amount due to the client. With many cases
being for minor whiplash injuries it was not unusual for settlement to barely
cover the amount owing and in some cases the claimant would actually end up in
debt with no settlement to show. These were the cases that The Sun
sensationalised and which shone a very bright light on to the practices of the
company and which, in turn, fed the negative publicity machine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The insurance industry ended up in a test case against
Claims Direct, stating that the cost of the insurance premium should not be
recoverable in a personal injury claim. After an elongated battle which went
right up to the High Court, the final decision was that only half of the cost
of the premium (and none of the interest for any associated loan) was
recoverable. This amount was capped at £613.50. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, Claims Direct was vilified in the press, detested by our
clients and staffed by 25 remaining people who now had the task of running the
remaining claims in the system (around 100k) to conclusion. It was this volume
of claims which explains the 3 years it took to wind the company down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Deloitte’s main problem was how to keep the remaining staff
engaged when they were being yelled at quite continuously by pissed off clients
who, now the cat was out of the bag about the receivership, felt validated in
aiming their anger at anyone associated with the company. On top of this, the
news that we would all, at some point, be losing our jobs was a tad unsettling
(though less so for me who had been on a short term contract to begin with). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In hindsight, I understand why some of the utterly crazy
behaviour that ensued happened – it was a coping mechanism for the situation we
were in. As the original group of remaining staff dwindled down to 12 of us,
the office stopped resembling a place of work with professional values and
started resembling a dysfunctional family trying to simply co-exist without
imploding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Of the final 12, only 3 of us were female. The dynamic in
the remaining group since the day the original axe fell had been predominantly male
(around 8/20 females), but for the final few years, as a much smaller team, the
imbalance was far more noticeable and at times problematic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I distinctly remember falling out big style with one of the
guys (who incidentally became a very good friend) due to being hit in the head
by a football while I was on the phone with a client. Playing sport in the
office was entirely normal and in no way discouraged by our (wonderful)
Deloitte rep on his weekly visits. Unfortunately, kicking a football round –
not just passing but HOOFING the ball violently against walls and people – made
for a bit of a toxic atmosphere for those not enjoying this physical release. I
can understand how funny this was for the lads at the time but it was severely
frustrating for me. I had to learn to care less about the job and just think
about the pay cheques.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And, talking of pay cheques, they were the main way that
they kept us on board for as long as they did - quarterly bonus cheques to be
exact. It literally came as a cheque separate to salary and was a great little
sweetener. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The culture of the team became very laddish. This was not
always a bad thing, it certainly made for a gang mentality which, when things
were going well, was pretty fun. The problem was that people were not always
going to co-exist convivially in this kind of environment and even though we
officially had a senior manager in charge (female) and an appointed Deloitte
overseer, it generally felt like a free for all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />At times, things were actually borderline crazy and many a
“can you believe it?” discussion was had between us three girls, who were
generally not involved in but witness to the most shocking of events. A debrief
following nights out as a team was not uncommon and because Deloitte were
determined to keep us as engaged as possible, the (part funded) nights out were
pretty regular. On occasion I think we all wished there was some kind of HR mechanism
to address matters but all we had was a contact at Deloitte offering advice by
proxy and disciplinary matters were generally left for us to sort out in house.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A number of incidents require a mammoth leap of imagination
to believe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There were physical altercations between members of staff.
On one memorable occasion our IT guy ran over (literally) another member of
staff. The other staff member was on the bonnet of his car and for the life of
me I cannot remember what they even fell out about now, but let’s just say that
large quantities of alcohol were involved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Human excrement was a feature of a number of “practical
jokes” and notably somebody did actually find a specimen on their desk at one
point. I am not even joking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Early in the receivership, there was a
very large pile of files in one corner of the office space. By fairly large I
mean you could have hidden a couple of small hatchbacks in it without knowing.
It was nearly to the ceiling and probably a MAJOR fire hazard. I think, from
memory, these were archived paper files which needed securely disposing of
because they contained personal information including addresses and medical
records of clients. The pile just grew and grew over a number of weeks while we waited for secure shredding bins to arrive, and on a
number of occasions various employees would run the length of the office and
dive into it, causing papers to slide everywhere and the mess to increase. It
was marginally amusing to watch though. For the first 5 times at least. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We watched the whole of the memorable Ashes 2005 series in
the office, with a TV running all day to allow us to keep up with the action
which was definitely a perk. Likewise we had the TV running when the 7/7
bombings happened, which was far more upsetting and weird. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was not uncommon for pub lunches to drag on into the
afternoon and one of our team used to regularly sleep, in his chair, at his
desk, during his lunch break. I admired his ability to kick back and doze off.
I also saw him startled awake on a number of occasions by his rambunctious
colleagues which was often very amusing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Office furniture started to be divided up and shared out towards
the end as the </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Receivers had no use for such low value assets and we knew the
offices would be stripped and everything thrown away after we closed the doors
for the final time. It was a strange feeling of realisation as the amount of
empty space in the office around us grew. This did, of course, make for easier
games of cricket.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To be continued…</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-23279523879638717942016-05-02T22:42:00.000-07:002016-05-02T22:42:54.218-07:0010 years<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTt4N7TrH-aH4tDT6dGngn4xi_h6-NGl_6ENPD7ZBb3YwVMCGDsizWrASpgNT1XVfML_YVAshSrns6MXAgCTOrIPH53dvAmeN8gwGx8MhJFHzVljQ1nxzC1Ixp0urOzmPaqYFQISbc-KA/s1600/nowinnofee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTt4N7TrH-aH4tDT6dGngn4xi_h6-NGl_6ENPD7ZBb3YwVMCGDsizWrASpgNT1XVfML_YVAshSrns6MXAgCTOrIPH53dvAmeN8gwGx8MhJFHzVljQ1nxzC1Ixp0urOzmPaqYFQISbc-KA/s1600/nowinnofee.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span id="goog_2073936657"></span><span id="goog_2073936658"></span><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It has taken me 10 whole years to be capable of writing this
blog post. Ten years of fairly regular remembrance of a time and place that now
seems even more unbelievable than it did while it was occurring. For 3 and a
half years, between May 2002 and December 2005 I worked for Claims Direct.
Actually, to be more accurate, for 90% of that time they were correctly called
Claims Direct in Administrative Receivership and were under the governance of
Deloitte & Touche Receivers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">From the get go, I realised this was not a normal workplace.
My previous role was with a London law firm, based in the heart of the City
square mile, very formal, full of old school process, tradition and observed
rules. The contrast between this and the workplace I was now to experience
could not be more wildly different. You have seen The Wolf of Wall Street
right? This was the legal sector version of that. I kid you not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I should state, my employment was never meant to be anything
more than a maternity cover for 9 months to a year. I never got a hand over with
my predecessor though because by the time I had arrived from London she had
left, I cannot remember now whether this was due to early arrival of baby or
not, I just remember feeling utterly thrown in at the deep end. I had gone from
PA to two solicitors in a busy but quite mundane law firm to being PA to 1 Director
of a legal department. A fucking crazy legal department.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I spent the first few weeks literally sat on my own in an
office space that was physically on the other side of the building from the
rest of the legal department. My desk was outside the large, flamboyant office
of the ‘Head of Legal’ who was my new boss. But he was not around. He was on
some kind of large scale tour of the UK having meetings with the law firms who
were Claims Direct’s key delivery partners. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So during my ‘induction’ I read through some scant handover
notes my predecessor had left and I had a series of batshit conversations with
a woman who nobody seemed to know had been employed. She was apparently a shithot
lawyer but she was also mad as a box of frogs, wore 80s make up (like serious
blue eyeshadow, tons of it) and because nobody had any work for her to do she
spent her days with her feet up on the desk reading Danielle Steel books and
occasionally stopping to talk to me. Her office was the opposite one to my
bosses and my desk sat in between the two rooms. She had only been in post a
few weeks and I think she was just relieved to have somebody to talk to. I
NEVER established, in the craziness that followed, what it was she was employed
specifically to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Also during my first few weeks, one particularly arrogant
legal hotshot decided I should be her personal secretary and dumped a pile of
files on my desk along with a dictation tape. She wanted me to do her audio
typing seeing as I must not have much to do. I complied, it was better than
counting paper clips for another few hours, but this was a mistake as she then,
for the rest of her tenure, treated me like her own personal typist. Despite
the fact there was an ACTUAL POOL OF TYPISTS in her department who were there
to provide this specific service. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway, one random afternoon a few weeks in, I got a phone call
from my new boss. He was, as he had been on all of our conversations to date,
in his car at the time. The crux of the phone call was that he would like me to
organise a conference for 200 delegates for the beginning of July. I had about
5 weeks in which to organise it. From a standing start and with no idea who to
invite or what it was for or actually anything to go on at all. It is fair to
say I was a little panicked by this request. In later months it would seem
actually hilarious and a tad sinister that I was asked to do this because the
Directors of Claims Direct clearly knew some key pieces of information whilst I
was booking this event which rendered it utterly pointless. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I remember having a conversation about this event with one
of the Legal Case Managers. She was actually one of my saving graces during my
time here – a genuinely down to earth, awesome, funny, strong woman. She gave
me the guidance I could not get from my actual boss, some pointers for who to
invite, what needed to happen and expectations for such an event and I think
without her I would have probably quit on the spot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The conference itself happened on 1<sup>st</sup> and 2nd
July. I remember this because I remember that I had to head to the conference
venue on the Sunday afternoon which was the 30<sup>th</sup> June. It was the
first time I had had any involvement in an event on this scale. It was kind of
exciting. Most of the legal managers had also arrived on the Sunday. I remember
being excited at having my own hotel room and being catered for as a corporate
guest for the first time. In years to come I would look back on this experience
and realise how different it was from any other conference I would attend
afterwards. Like most of my experiences with Claims Direct it was formative and
unusual. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For two days the champagne literally flowed as the senior
managers and directors wined and dined this large group of Solicitors. Mostly
these were named partners of law firms from all over the country. They played
tennis and got massages and had ‘sessions’ around personal injury claims and
context so that the whole thing did not look like one big jolly. Which is very
much what it was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I remember taking a call from the venue, an expensive
retreat style hotel in the midlands, on the Friday of the same week, asking
where to direct the final bill and bantering with them about the extent of the
bar bill, which I knew must have been impressive. Little did I or the hotel
know that the following week, on Wednesday 10<sup>th</sup> July, Claims Direct
would go into Administrative Receivership. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I never saw my boss again. He had briefly appeared in the
office in the few days after the conference but was due to be back on the road
during the week when this news broke. Indeed, on the morning of the 10<sup>th</sup>
July I took 3 calls from media reps looking for comment on the revelation
before any official news was announced. I was, of course, as always, sat a
million miles away from the rest of the department as the news broke and crazy
lady and I were visited by an increasing number of panicked looking managers
who were desperately seeking my (absent) boss and some clarity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Mid-morning my phone rang and it was him. He was, as always,
in his car but he sounded far more sombre than usual. He did not mince his
words, simply stating that he would not be coming back to the office. Ever
again. He asked me to help his deputy pack up his personal affects when she
came round and wished me all the best. I had been his PA for approximately 8
weeks at this point and had seen him in the flesh a handful of times. I was
slightly shell shocked when I got off this call but at least one thing was
clear. Claims Direct was in the middle of a shitstorm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I did not expect to keep my job. There were a number of
reasons why – I was on a temp contract for maternity cover, the Director I was
PA to had walked, I had no reason to believe I would make it past the weekend.
Somehow I stayed in post for another 3 years. I watched 250 staff dwindle to
around 20 who stayed the distance. I watched people lose their minds in the
boredom, low morale and malaise that comes with running a company into the
ground, milking a cash cow for the last drops of cream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Over the next few blog posts I will tell the story of what
happened during the craziness of those 3 years as the world of Personal Injury
claims was forever changed by the outcome of one major legal case and as those
of us on the ship as it went down tried to stay sane. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-35121584951583152792016-04-21T22:42:00.001-07:002016-04-25T17:28:06.396-07:00Happy McHappypants<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Are you a mood hoover? Are you sure?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ED2V1q_AzMYfkSjUDA_SKbqCTD3-YRvMFnLx7C7nMB-eFd-f7w15JyIwfKzAzyowLqdxZ_m4uWA4D8qFXfpGS_GLAeBUH3MgwaqV1qHvOnh-VabtovTTBQ4OjKyAlkCxB7xmO5pqtyo/s1600/mood+hoover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6ED2V1q_AzMYfkSjUDA_SKbqCTD3-YRvMFnLx7C7nMB-eFd-f7w15JyIwfKzAzyowLqdxZ_m4uWA4D8qFXfpGS_GLAeBUH3MgwaqV1qHvOnh-VabtovTTBQ4OjKyAlkCxB7xmO5pqtyo/s320/mood+hoover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have begun to realise how limited my patience is with
these personalities although sadly I still have not got the balls to fully
eradicate the ones that have become part of the fabric of my everyday life. I
have, in the past, attempted to address a mood hoover (a particularly vivid
one) and it went horribly wrong and therefore I have not tried again since.
Even though a large part of my brain desperately wants to shake them by the
shoulders and tell them to stop it. Loudly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If you don’t know what a mood hoover is, maybe I should
explain. I can guarantee you know at least one and probably many more of them.
You might call them a ‘Nagative Nancy/Nigel” or just label them as pessimists
or cynics, but they are much more than just people with a less than optimistic
view on the world. These are people who suck the joy out of situations without
even knowing they are doing it. Or maybe they do know but they thrive on being
assholes. Who knows? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">These people have a problem for every solution and would
like you to know about it. You can NEVER actually help a mood hoover with his
or her problem. It seems what they actually want is someone to whine at and NOT
someone to think of ways around whatever the issue is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If you work with one of these people then they are the one
that will sit in a meeting, braced in a distinctly aggressive position (perhaps
looking like they would rather be eaten by a crocodile than actually participating)
and generally nay-saying everything anyone else suggests. About anything. It
might go something like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Rational person: So we
need to discuss what we might do about X.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">MH: No we don’t. We
need clarity on Y and Z first or there is no point.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">RP: What kind of
clarity do we need? I thought it had been decided in our last meeting that we
would do B?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">MH: Well I don’t think
anyone was clear on what B was. And in any event, I don’t think it was an
appropriate solution.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">RP: What are your
thoughts on an appropriate solution?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">MH: (Rambles/rants for
5 minutes with no clear alternative solution until someone steps in)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">RP: Ok, so what about
if we….<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">MH: (Interrupted)
There really is no point in discussing this further, it is a waste of
everyone’s time until there is a decision on Y and Z. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Rest of meeting:
…..uh….<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sometimes they have a particular pitch and tone that they
adopt when they flip into this mode. Sometimes their natural face really is
just a resting bitch face (or whatever the male version is?) and so they
perpetually come across as standoffish and awkward and downright rude even when
they might not have meant to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Although the above type of individual can be confronting
with their downright aggressive approach, even more annoying is the passive
aggressive type (in my opinion). The one that snipes and belittles and pisses
all over the crisps of the people around them without being in-your-face
abrasive. I think I dislike this kind of personality more because it doesn’t
have the backbone to actually be so downright rude but generally achieves
disruption and negativity in your day by sneaky, manipulative ways. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">By this I mean that person who has a face like a slapped
arse the whole time you are engaging with someone other than them and makes you
utterly paranoid that they are unhappy/uncomfortable/in need of something
urgently, thereby managing to distract you from actually concentrating on the
person you are meant to be engaging with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or the one who corrects everything anyone says even if it is
a tiny, inconsequential error, a factual but miniscule mistake. Usually, in my
experience, this is witnessed in marriages and long term relationships that
have arrived at a state of perpetual bickering. It is truly exhausting to watch
and runs like this ad infinitum:</span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">RP: So I bought the
more expensive one, it was $10<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">MH: No it was not, it
was $9.95<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Or <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">RP: I took the route
back via South Road and Anzac Highway<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">MH: No you did not.
You did not take South Road you took Cross Road. We were on Cross Road remember
because we went past the Uniting Church. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Neither of these corrections adds any value whatsoever to
the exchange. They achieve very little except for highlighting to the people
you are with that you have an overwhelming need to nit-pick and belittle your
partner and some strange need to prove that you are right, even if it is only
about inconsequential things. It is painful for people to observe on a
continual basis and probably makes them question the stability of your
relationship with the person you are correcting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I do realise the irony of my choosing to blog about this,
which could in itself be construed as a passive aggressive way of
communicating. But the thing is, I have been burned by trying to rationally
discuss this kind of behaviour with these kind of people and life is too short
to try that again. I hope, by putting this in a blog post instead, that it
circumnavigates the need for addressing it face to face while maybe just making
perpetrators <i>think</i> about the affect
these behaviours have on people around them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyway, I just wish everyone could be nice to each other and
not turn situations into painful and cringe-worthy experiences by their mood
hoovering. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-69954842390419494332016-02-11T17:59:00.000-08:002016-02-11T18:06:01.726-08:00Exciting Times<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBHnifTQ4jWJQMjcxAiSZ8mzlrht_5PKOTrbeQOVE5U8jB-BjuSY2w6nUWudi86CnMiQjpgcDL4CQewJXcbJNIOuUSO3PUTsk4L724T0lxpE_B_8QhrO3ohC9mvN5xP2vR7sD-qRA7Ug/s1600/IMG_1836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBHnifTQ4jWJQMjcxAiSZ8mzlrht_5PKOTrbeQOVE5U8jB-BjuSY2w6nUWudi86CnMiQjpgcDL4CQewJXcbJNIOuUSO3PUTsk4L724T0lxpE_B_8QhrO3ohC9mvN5xP2vR7sD-qRA7Ug/s320/IMG_1836.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some of my favourite UK moments</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yet again I sit here with January over and February bowling
along, finally sorting my thoughts into a coherent summary of what happened
between mid-December and last week. This seems to be a recurring feature of
living in Adelaide. I think this is because the Christmas break has become an
opportunity for catching up with family and the emotional craziness that tends
to accompany it renders me brain dead for a few weeks. I also tend to mentally
want to distance myself from events until I feel ready to hammer out the words
– it hasn’t helped that the past two Christmas/new year intervals have involved
job news as well as family stuff going on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That’s right, not content with the stress and anxiety caused
by the 2014/15 job change I have decided to manoeuvre again, albeit this one
feels instinctively more sensible than the ‘any-port-in-a-storm’ approach I
took previously. I feel very lucky in that I have managed, in what is deemed a
very hard job market, to find an opportunity that ticks all the boxes and then
successfully land the position. I am SO EXCITED that I want to make a squealing
noise. But I shall refrain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This post was advertised before the xmas break. I took the
position description with me back to the UK so I could think about the
application and formulate a plan. I had that worrying, intense, DESIRE to land
this role. I did not dare tell myself it was possible because nothing that
seemingly perfect on paper comes easy. Instead of throwing my hat into the ring
for anything and everything (which had previously been the case and led to a
stressful 4 interviews in one week scenario in late 2014) I had taken on board
some advice from a mentor and been far more selective. But then I read about
this role and I just absolutely had to go for it. Even though it was advertised
as a 0.8 FTE. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I did the math. It was a grade higher than my current role
so I knew I would not be taking too much of a hit to drop to 4 days a week. And
think of the work/life balance! I had quite settled on the idea by the time I
found out I had an interview. I went along to it with a determination to just
take it in my stride and be me. I felt like I clicked straight away with the
team and then the awful thing was that by the time I left I WANTED IT SO BADLY
because of that, so I had to try and rationalise that I might not get it and
would be sorely disappointed. And then, quite to my amazement, they called me
that night and offered me the post. Not just that, they offered it to me full
time if I wanted it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Luckily, it seems the feeling of connectedness was mutual.
They want me in their gang as much as I want to be in it. I cannot tell you how
much that matters to me as an employee – feeling that you are in the right
space with the right people. So, in a little over a weeks time I will be
leaving UniSA for University of Adelaide. Hopping back into a CBD base with a
new sense of purpose. Leaving behind the world of Research Support (I have a
whole other blog to write on what this last year has taught me about that).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, my head is spinning and I have heaps to sort out ahead
of the move. I figure, then, I should probably capture some thoughts around
Christmas in the UK before the chance is missed and life snowballs into the
next chapter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I already documented the <a href="http://ponderali.blogspot.com.au/2016/01/heathwoe.html" target="_blank">hellish arrival and escape fromHeathrow</a> in another blog post, but aside from the airport traumas the visit was
pretty darn awesome. I managed to catch up with good friends and spend some
great QT with my wonderful Nana, I refused point blank to turn the whole thing
into a whirlwind of back to back visits and that worked wonderfully, I actually
got to have some down time and some me time (mainly for clothes shopping and
sitting watching films in my pyjamas with my parents). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Highlights included:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Managing to squeeze 4 curries into my 10 nights
back and enjoying every single mouthful of every single one</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Meeting my soon to be sister in law who is
wonderful and cooked xmas dinner for 10 people without being stressed (she is
clearly some kind of supreme being)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Laughing so hard at technological woes in my
parents ridiculous gadget den that I felt like I induced a hernia</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Christmas day family craziness – you just cannot
buy that shit – with my two sisters, the three of us giggling uncontrollably at
another gadget related malfunction and the resulting exchanges it caused
between our beloved relatives</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Getting to spend some time with the older of my
two sisters who was due to give birth in January, seeing her heavily pregnant
made me feel so old but it was also joyous to see her and her lovely partner
preparing to welcome the new arrival.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Shopping like a maniac. My luggage allowance was
so close to being busted on the way home, I finally have what resembles a
decent wardrobe in Australia for both work and casual clothes. Man, I miss
Debenhams, Dorothy Perkins, River Island etc…</span></li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So there you go. This is not the blog I thought I would be
writing about xmas in the UK but it is the one I have written. <br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2016 is panning out to be a pretty exciting year with not just
my new job on the cards but some awesome looking holidays planned later in the
year. Adelaide Fringe starts tonight and we will be catching up with a lot of
friends, doing heaps of socialising and enjoying the sunshine as the city
enters Mad March, my favourite time of year here. We already have tickets for 4
different Fringe shows between now and the end of March so it will be a pretty
busy time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Once I am settled in my new role I will update and reflect
on stuff, it’s all just a bit too vivid at the moment, here is to an exciting
year ahead! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-71883855456574618342016-01-11T02:02:00.001-08:002016-01-11T02:18:47.828-08:00Heathwoe.<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0xQCXrBHoVxISITgGTakMFrOO3cN4D2nR8ueCtsSqUD2sbBaFjiTqU3oAEvJHEhpjEny2V-O_l9nbFaIKsYInN313tbr9cFDWh9znNgkuln0R7IKvjubc_IdK2g_lH_gtlRYAI06L5Qw/s1600/airport-security-meme-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0xQCXrBHoVxISITgGTakMFrOO3cN4D2nR8ueCtsSqUD2sbBaFjiTqU3oAEvJHEhpjEny2V-O_l9nbFaIKsYInN313tbr9cFDWh9znNgkuln0R7IKvjubc_IdK2g_lH_gtlRYAI06L5Qw/s320/airport-security-meme-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I am sure everyone has at least one hellish tale of a
trip through an airport; perhaps running to make a connection, maybe the stress
of a security queue much longer than you anticipated, or even the stomach
churning realisation that your luggage really has gone missing somewhere
between check in and arrival at destination. I have experienced all of the
above - the lost luggage serendipitously happening on our honeymoon when we
stood, bereft, in Mexico, in only the clothes we travelled in and learned that
our luggage had mysteriously gone to Glasgow instead of Cancun. Stressed in
airports? I could have written the book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But on the very last day of 2015 I experienced an airport
adventure which made me question what I may have done in a previous life to
insult the god of international travel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I should probably rewind a bit to state that my arrival in
the UK on 20<sup>th</sup> December was also not without incident. I forget how
spoiled we are in Adelaide to have a small, quiet, clean, efficient airport
which generally processes arriving passengers within 30 minutes (from stepping
off an international flight to walking out the front doors, luggage in hand and
immigration cleared). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On arrival into London Heathrow after an unexpectedly long flight
from Kuala Lumpur I was fairly dazed and confused anyway. That flight is
usually no longer than 12 hours maximum, but since the shooting down of MH17
and the various war zones and airspace issues since, the route has changed to
avoid flying directly over various countries, with the result being that this
leg (with Malaysia Airlines at least) is now a gruelling 14.5 hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, we landed at around 6am on a Sunday morning, I wondered,
in a moment of utter craziness, whether this might be a quieter time for
getting through immigration at Terminal 4. Ha! I had forgotten that this
airport never sleeps. There is no such thing as a quiet time. HERDS of people
were trying to queue to get into other queues in order to get through the
official UK border. Queues to get into queues….how marvellously British….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have the kind of passport that can go through the
electronic visa machine thing (I believe that is the technical name) but the
queue for the 2 working machines was longer than the queue for the old
fashioned person-in-booth deal so I went for the latter. 25 minutes later I was
finally at the luggage carousel, but my luggage was not. The belt was not even
moving, in fact the flight was not even listed yet, although the crew on board
had told us which belt we could expect to use. I switched my phone on and
settled in to wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another 20 minutes passed before the luggage belt began to
move and then another 20 minutes before my luggage appeared, I breathed a
massive sigh of relief, this was not my first rodeo with the whole ‘lost
luggage’ ordeal. In fact Malaysia Airlines have twice in 2 years lost a piece
of my parents’ luggage on the same route…but that’s a whole other story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Luggage finally obtained, I make my way through to arrivals
where my mother is doing an impression of “most excited person in the room”
(very convincing). We both burst into tears. I mistakenly think the ordeal is
over…but not so…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We exit the airport and make towards the payment machines
for the parking ticket. There are two machines and two queues. Mom gets to the
front of one queue and the machine gives a message to say it is not accepting
cash payments. Mom subsequently gets in the other queue, makes it to the front
where the machine eats her money and refuses to issue a ticket. We call for
assistance and a man with a walkie talkie duly turns up and opens the machine
and after an agonising wait manages to get it working. Finally, I think, we can
get out of this hellish place!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not so. Gridlock on the car park means we sit in the car for
at least another 20 minutes waiting for someone to move enough to let us into
the gridlock pattern. From landing to leaving the airport took at least 2
tortuous hours. This experience made me consider one of the most glaring
differences between the UK and Australia, namely the difference in population
size and the impact this has on infrastructure (or most pointedly, failure of
infrastructure to cope). The same amount of people live in London as live in
the whole of Australia, which gives you some idea of the context.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, with this experience in mind, on returning to
Heathrow on December 31<sup>st</sup> (ironically, my birthday) we arrived with
a good 3.5 hours to spare before my flight. Little did I know I would need
every moment of this time and more patience than it is possible to muster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have never done the trip to/from UK/Australia on my own, I
actually don’t mind travelling on my own, I just kind of zone out and get on
with it, but the bit I hadn’t factored in as being difficult was the aftermath
of the awful goodbye. It never gets any easier letting go for a massive amount
of time, even when you know the exact dates when you will see each other again,
it still sucks. Usually I have Stu with me to calm me down fairly quickly and
rationalise the whole thing. Not so this time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I join the queue for baggage drop in absolute floods of
tears, snot pouring from my nose, hair sticking to my face, looking like a
deranged woman. Bewilderingly, the queue for bag drop (online check in) is
longer and moving slower than the regular check in queue. Only one desk is open
for bag drop and a family of 8 with around 20 bags are currently holding up the
process. I try and just stay quiet in the queue, using a multitude of tissues
to stem the crying, breathing deeply. A small child behind me remarks to his
mother “that lady is broken, mommy” – quite right, I am a hot mess right now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The longest queue for bag drop finally gets me to the desk
where I point out it’s my birthday and the crew member assesses my tear stained
face and decides I am clearly too much of a risk for any kind of perk/upgrade.
Oh well, I tried.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next I take an elevator down to what I can only describe as
a parallel universe level of the airport that only exists if you are emotional
and off your head on prescription drugs (for a cold). Signs have directed me to
“level -2” where strangely, given the footprint of the floor above it (departures)
and the floor below it (arrivals) the elevator opens into a room the size of a
tesco express and with about the same level of shit-togetherness. ALL the
tourists who have been to London in the last week or so have congregated and
are trying to claim the VAT back on goods they have bought. I want (as a non-UK
resident) to claim the VAT back on my new Macbook. That’s 1 item. Most of these
people are clutching REAMS of receipts and bags and bags of expensive handbags
and shoes. I sigh. This place is the equivalent of <a href="http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Platform_Nine_and_Three-Quarters">platform
9 ¾</a> at Kings Cross. It only exists if you really believe it does. I am also
sure it is staffed by muggle born wizards who can’t get a job at the Ministry
of Magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A man/muggle spots me and decides I don’t look particularly
touristy and helpfully tells me I can do the VAT refund thing after security
and avoid the queues. Fabulous, I think, I will do that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I approach security. Man, this has changed since I last
flew out of the UK. I am now addressed by a freaky hologram and have to
navigate a bunch of self-service checkout style machines to get rid of excess
fluids and organise my belongings. This is BEFORE the queues for the security
checks. The hologram is barking things about laptops and ipads being out of
bags…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After the zig zag through the weird machines there actually isn’t
much of a queue at the security screening itself. I start to feel like this is
all ok. But then I beep as I go through the doorway screen thing (technical
name) and so they decide to swab my shoes. And they find a trace of explosives.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">WTF?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes. There is apparently a trace of explosives on my shoes.
So now I have to go be frisked, 360 degree scanned and swabbed again all over. And
meanwhile all my worldly goods are sitting in the trays waiting to be claimed
by anyone over the other side of the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A very nice person asks whether I have been around Christmas
crackers, with the sincerity of a priest. Why, yes, I believe so, seeing as its
FUCKING CHRISTMAS. Apparently, crackers can give a residue off which reads as
explosives on airport swab testers. You have been warned, people. (Australian readers,
I mean bon-bons not eating crackers, that would just be mental). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally I am through security and head to collect my bags,
except one of them has been stopped for a thorough search (clearly they think I
am a terrorist now). I patiently wait while the man digs everything out of my
small hand luggage suitcase and raises an eyebrow at the contents, (monster
munch, frazzles, after eights, yes I have a problem, ok!?). And finally I am on
my way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To the VAT refund counter. This one is not staffed by muggle born
wizards but by stony faced arseholes (SFAs). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Weirdly, the same amount of tourists brandishing receipts
are queueing here as they were at platform 9 ¾. I spend 30 minutes listening to
an SFA requesting to see each individual item on a 6 foot long receipt to a
Chinese tourist and then conversing via google translate regarding paperwork.
It is laborious stuff. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Eventually I get the stamp I need on the form to claim
the VAT back. Where do I take this now? (I enquire). Travelex (he barks). Right
oh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To the Travelex stand. Guess what? Fucking huge queue of the
same people who were at both Platform 9 ¾ and the SFA outlet. I glance
nervously at my watch. There is now only 1 hour until I am supposed to be at my
gate. 20 minutes later I am still in the queue and have not moved and 1 of the
2 guys staffing this stand is just leaving for the end of his shift. Then, as I
get to the front of the queue, a cheeky motherfucker asks me if she can queue
jump because her plane is about to leave and she only has one item and being a
spineless British person I smile pleasantly and say “yes of course” and then
SCOWL at her back and hope she misses her flight and chokes on the Toblerone
sticking out of her bag. Bitch.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I finally, by some kind of miracle, get to the desk with my form. I present it with a sense of relief that this admin nightmare is nearly over. The guy looks at it and says "We don't process these forms."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What. The. Actual. Fuck?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Turns out (though no one up to this point had known their arse from their elbow in this process), that when the store in question gave me the form they should have also given me a pre paid envelope in which to return the form to them once it was stamped. The travelex guy pointed to a large post box directly behind me which was allegedly there for this very reason. Sadly I was not carrying either an envelope or a UK stamp so at this very moment I realised that a) I was going to have to post the bastard form back to the UK once I landed in Adelaide and b) I could have spent the last half an hour at the champagne bar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cursing Heathrow for the sack of fucking weasels it truly is (and not for the first time), I did the only sensible thing with half an hour remaining until I needed to be at the gate. I marched straight to the champagne bar, ordered a glass and then burst into tears in a combination of residual sadness and utter frustration. Yes, Heathrow, you truly broke me with your mad, bureaucratic, psychotic, shitheap of a set up. On my birthday. What a wanker.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL6BBg603rZ1siPayJADtaavARGb6tGKCSNtxDiv5-YlN1YVD9MQN4zYEDl91oGlUUg6t_vzsBb2jpRvEXcZm4kTqZmpjUThR2xKv2J0qJXLbHaZtaIHe871Xln0E792BVx_GcVJGerM/s1600/IMG_1680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSL6BBg603rZ1siPayJADtaavARGb6tGKCSNtxDiv5-YlN1YVD9MQN4zYEDl91oGlUUg6t_vzsBb2jpRvEXcZm4kTqZmpjUThR2xKv2J0qJXLbHaZtaIHe871Xln0E792BVx_GcVJGerM/s320/IMG_1680.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cheers, Heathrow, you utter shitbag.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The kindly barman asked me what was up and I gave him the short version, namely "birthday, goodbyes, nonsense" whilst trying to breathe and speak through that annoying bit of crying that makes you wheeze and hiccup and generally resemble a 2 year old having a tantrum. By this point I seriously gave zero fucks what I looked like and was just desperate to get on the plane and on with the show. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This story must end on a positive note after all that whining (!) - a lovely man at the bar had overheard my tale of woe and paid my bill, as well as sending me a second glass of champagne and wishing me a happy new year. Humans can occasionally be awesome. He didn't even want a conversation, just quietly raised his glass to mine and nodded. I think it may have been Jack Nicholson (or that could be the mix of high emotion, prescription drugs and hastily skulled champagne).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, happy new year one and all, more blog posts to follow about UK christmas when I get chance. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-82451988268366710952015-11-11T16:29:00.000-08:002015-11-11T16:29:07.946-08:00Anxiety Bites <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is November. This is baffling to me because it was, like,
May 5 seconds ago right?! I know the years are supposed to go faster as you get
older but I swear someone has put this one on some kind of sonic skip forward
while I wasn’t </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">looking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s been a strange year and the last few months, since the
beginning of August, have been particularly challenging in many ways. Some of
those challenges I set myself (like simultaneously completing two diplomas just
for the hell of it – never again) and some were completely unforeseen and
bizarre, they never could have been prepared for. I feel utterly exhausted by
the whole period of time and this is well reflected in the fact that I have been
particularly fragile over the last few weeks, including an incident where I
burst into tears in a completely unacceptable situation where I should have
been able to hold it </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I feel like a period of intense activity has gone on and
left me with nothing further to give. I was in Singapore for a conference at the
end of September and the week I was there was nothing short of an ordeal in many
ways as I battled the worst period of anxiety I have suffered in about 5 years.
It had been a long time since I had been so anxious as to have physical
symptoms (I get a lump in my throat that just won’t go away and makes me feel
like I am being suffocated) and despite being aware of the tools and tricks
needed to cope with such a situation, sometimes it just grips you so bad that
you have to take it minute by minute until you can calm down enough to form a
plan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To get through the worst parts (which happened once Stu had
left for a trip around Burma – don’t ask) took every ounce of mindfulness I
could draw upon. Writing down what exactly I was stressing about and then rationalising
why there was no need, making lists of things to look forward to. Deciding on
plans of action to keep myself busy and then the hardest part, forcing myself
to leave the sanctuary of the hotel room and go out into hot, sticky Singapore
to keep my mind full of enough distraction to block the anxiety pangs out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglS2gQrjSSv_WhQbP4UEbQ6uaKzq2STk1LWxw-5iq7WItrYEpdWQu1IXhZ43stp5bnaN3KzWTKVU5-OfQbEYKNQvTlz1znciaUaTiTheYy76kIbifdM-mWKQ11dDrLxf3-mvmyqet3SBE/s1600/singapore2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglS2gQrjSSv_WhQbP4UEbQ6uaKzq2STk1LWxw-5iq7WItrYEpdWQu1IXhZ43stp5bnaN3KzWTKVU5-OfQbEYKNQvTlz1znciaUaTiTheYy76kIbifdM-mWKQ11dDrLxf3-mvmyqet3SBE/s320/singapore2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me down at the Harbour with the Merlion</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I made myself wander, enter temples and smile at strangers
and slowly but surely the savage fears subsided. In the daytime, at least, this
is possible. I believe it is a particularly evil feature of anxiety that (for
me at least) the pangs that are worst, the ones I can never quite get a handle
on, are the ones that either wake me in an uncontrollable panic or totally
prevent me from descending from half asleep to fully asleep. In this morbid,
limbo mind-space it can feel like I am drowning, literally being dragged into
the depths with no air, physically gripped with a fear that cannot be shaken.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even when I manage to break the moment and properly wake up,
the overwhelming sense of failure, despair and fear still lingers. Everything
seems so completely out of control, broken, disappointing and mortifying in
these moments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, I managed, moment by moment, to get through the time
I had in Singapore and actually enjoy some aspects of it. I also managed, by
power of the mind, to bury a huge amount of anger over a particular incident
that I had been successfully ignoring. I kind of knew this would eventually
need to come out but I sure as hell did not want it to do so while I was away
from home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don’t think I have ever been so relieved to get home from
a trip abroad (for business or pleasure – and this was technically both). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Most
people who know me will think of me as a text book extrovert and usually that
is pretty accurate. On the whole though, I really disagree with the labels
introvert/extrovert because I think that although people might naturally lean
more towards one or the other, everybody has elements of both. I think one of
the most interesting things about anxiety for me is that it makes me want to
retreat and spend time only with Stu or by myself. The whole rigmarole of
socialising becomes an utter chore and the very last thing I want to do. I
crave the intimacy and security of just us in these times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have spent the month or so since I returned trying to focus
on the things I needed to do to soothe my frenzied brain, sleeping a lot,
walking wonderful Fin (our new puppy) and spending time outside on the beach in
the beautiful place we live. I still feel fragile but I also feel like the
worst has passed. Now I need to concentrate on not being defensive and letting
go of some of the residual anger and not letting it colour future plans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am heading back to the UK without Stu at xmas and I can
feel this being a trigger for further anxiety so I am trying to manage that and
not let it spin out of control. I need to be more assertive with how that trip
will go and ensure that I spend time only with the people I know will make me
happy instead of trying to accommodate too many demands on my time. I need to
be selfish on this trip and make it a real respite and not a frantic dash
around without stopping and relaxing. I guess this might mean pissing people
off but to be honest I think I no longer care too much on that front, I live
10,000 miles from the UK, I don’t need negativity from that direction any more,
life really is too short.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then 2016 will roll around and we can wipe the slate
clean and start again. I guess this blog post needed crafting (and it has been
written and rewritten more times than you might think to get it into a
publishable version) to work through the residual sticky bits in my brain. I am
not ashamed to talk about suffering anxiety, I am just lucky enough to have had
sufficient help in the past that I <b>can </b>talk
about it and manage it when it happens. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-1057627839659196892015-06-08T19:45:00.002-07:002015-06-08T20:05:18.423-07:00Incredible India - Part 4 - Varanasi<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Varanasi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is a word which will, for the rest of my days, inspire
incredibly vivid emotions in me. I fully understand now why G Adventures place
the Varanasi experience at the end of the Essential India Tour. Quite simply,
to put it near the beginning or to jam it in the middle of everything else
would be insufficiently respectful of this wondrous, mystifying, technicolour
befuddlement of a city. You kind of have to work your way up to it. And also, you
can only really witness and experience it (without losing your mind) if you
appreciate that it is the pinnacle, the apex, the crescendo, of your north
Indian adventure. It <i>makes sense</i> at
the end. Like one last hurrah for old time’s sake.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXNldgHHKF1ABM8MWk_lWO6VorLxZhmxedYmj-oEKnRibIexSCTb4yEQbLkdUkzPo76jnyBJSdWwwNe4GuTH8nwkGRIqvt2XJ2jJBF957R5HKNNHlla9V0gOsFRzGzFsJSE-Ee5fWYWU/s1600/varanasi1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXNldgHHKF1ABM8MWk_lWO6VorLxZhmxedYmj-oEKnRibIexSCTb4yEQbLkdUkzPo76jnyBJSdWwwNe4GuTH8nwkGRIqvt2XJ2jJBF957R5HKNNHlla9V0gOsFRzGzFsJSE-Ee5fWYWU/s320/varanasi1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the Ganges at sunset</span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNEaxWOTGNLwnvpllqoKR87rWbcKsAe7teSemZA2_mOA28w0HGr48Jj-Zu4kVxl5Ez1gG9ReP9O4LpnfTJvPo0d4OFZYxYDQmlXreSmEDw0ykL-_jFloX0_i_SB_h9kZX6QmPwC4j6U/s1600/varanasi2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNEaxWOTGNLwnvpllqoKR87rWbcKsAe7teSemZA2_mOA28w0HGr48Jj-Zu4kVxl5Ez1gG9ReP9O4LpnfTJvPo0d4OFZYxYDQmlXreSmEDw0ykL-_jFloX0_i_SB_h9kZX6QmPwC4j6U/s320/varanasi2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Looking at the banks of the Ganges</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you started your India trip here I reckon you would
simply stand around blinking in astonishment until a cow knocked you into a
ditch. And that is not a good place to start, let me tell you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, first we had to get here, right? Which involved, I shit
you not, the most hilariously terrible overnight train experience of my life.
Ok, so it’s actually the <b>only</b> overnight
train experience of my life to date but I am pretty sure in my mind it was
never meant to turn out like this. I had romantic images and notions in my head
of nodding off all relaxed while being gently rocked in a comfortable bed. Ha.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It went something like this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">22:30 A group of fairly bedraggled and mostly hungover
travellers arrive at Jhansi station and attempt to board the sleeper train to
Varanasi in an organised fashion. This was mostly thwarted by the usual stampede for the train and
also the fact that the group was split into 2 smaller groups of 5 in entirely separate
carriages. It should be noted that on this train you cannot walk between carriages so once we had gone our separate ways that was it for the night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">23.00 After a great deal of ticket checking and Jai
frantically jumping on and off each carriage making sure we were all ok,
we were finally settled and the train had started moving. Stu, Bina, Isaac,
Emma and me were in one compartment. Each compartment sleeps 8; 3 on each side
wall and 2 on the back wall. Some kind of deal had been done, in Hindi, between
Jai and a group of 3 middle aged Indians who had swapped their bottom level bed
for one of our back wall beds. It turned out they had bought 1 sleeper ticket
between them but were planning on sitting next to each other on the 1 bed for
the duration of the night (bargainous!). It was easier for them to do this with the beds on
the back wall because there was only 2 of them so a taller gap to sit up in.
This will later come back to haunt us.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Stu on the top bunk, me in the middle</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bina looking glam as ever on her bunk</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Isaac in his bunk opposite me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">23.01 Isaac is up on his middle bunk having a right lark
when Emma and I notice that his bunk is hanging on only 1 of the 2 industrial
hooks meant to support the weight. We both panic, try and secure the other hook, and thoroughly rattle
Isaac in the process. How the bed did not break is beyond me, the boy is
blessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">23.10 I am on the middle bunk of 3 with Emma below and Stu
above me. I attempt to sleep. I am trying to sleep on a shelf. It is,
supposedly, a bed but it is not very wide and it appears to be made of
concrete. Getting comfortable in this space is literally impossible. Isaac is
laughing to himself opposite me at the strangeness of the situation and the other passengers in our compartment are just watching us, curiously but not
menacingly, like we were the best soap opera they had ever seen. I need to keep
my bag in my arms so I know it’s safe. Have you ever tried sleeping whilst
holding on to all your valuables? It is not very conducive to sleep. I toss and
turn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">01.05 I need a wee. This is not ideal. To get into this bed
in the first place required hoisting, climbing, double-jointed contortion and a
complete loss of dignity. And that was with the light on. It is now dark and
the train is moving. *sigh*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">01.15 Fucking hell. I really have to go. I begin unravelling
the many layers of blankets and sheets I have cocooned myself in and shuffle on
my back to the bottom of the bed. Somehow I manage to get down from the bunk without any
major incidents though I am very aware of a number of pairs of eyes silently
watching my progress. Isaac, Bina and Stu are all snoring. The bastards. I peer
at Emma despairingly, she’s awake. I search for my flip flops which were on the
floor when I last looked but the bastard things have disappeared. Something
tells me I will really need something on my feet before I face a toilet on an
Indian sleeper train. I start shifting luggage round in the dark but to no
avail. Pitifully I turn to Emma and say the dreaded words “may I borrow your sandals to go to the loo in please?” and because she is totally all the awesome
she just laughs and nods. Toilets on these trains are literally holes about the
size of a dinner plate. An actual hole. You can see the tracks going past
underneath you. There is a recommended footplate to use. Note the word ‘recommended’.
Somehow I pee through the hole in the floor of the swaying train and make a
mental note to punch Stu in the face when he wakes up. I somehow manage not to
get pee (that I can see) on Emma’s shoes. I shuffle back to our beds and
sheepishly declare to Emma “I didn’t get pee on your shoes, honest” and realise
that this holiday has made me say so many things I never thought would come out
of my mouth ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">01.25 After a substantial amount of what I shall term “scrambling
about” I am back in bed. I try to sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">02.10 A pair of very rude, very loud and very angry Chinese
tourists appear to have decided to ruin the 5 minutes of sleep I had so far
achieved. Groggily, I sit up in bed. They are waving and shouting at someone “Get
up, these are our beds, you are in our beds!!” and the 3 people who originally
were in Emma’s bed (and are now in one of ours on the back wall) are all
pretending not to understand and just repeatedly pointing at Emma. Bina,
diplomat extraordinaire, intervened at this point from her upper shelf (note to
self, do not fuck with a German’s sleep) and asked to see the Cockface’s
tickets. The seat numbers are the same as ours but the carriage number is
different. Bina calmly points this out to Cockface. Cockface responds by asking
to see OUR tickets. There is a slight problem with this as Jai has them and he
is not in our carriage. Thankfully, before world war 3 kicks off, a ticket
inspector has been roused from his (no doubt delightful) sleep and has
appeared. He double checks the tickets and makes the same observation as Bina.
They are in the wrong carriage. Without a single word of apology or even
acknowledgement of the fact they have woken everybody up so aggressively, the
pair turn on their heels and walk out. At this point I notice we are in a
station and have been for the duration of this exchange. Lucky really as if
these people had been trapped in our carriage until the next stop, they *may*
have been subjected to a blunt trauma injury to the head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">02.30 Everyone else has gone back to sleep. Isaac is lying
on his front <b>and snoring</b>. I did not
think this was even physically possible. Emma is becoming a little freaked out
by the man on the lower bunk opposite her who is groaning in a very erotic way.
Both she and I are relieved that this noise is not coming from Isaac but are a
tad unsettled by it nonetheless…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />03.15 I AM STILL AWAKE AND TIME IS GOING SO SLOWLY<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">04.10 I AM STILL AWAKE AND THINKING ABOUT A CHEMICAL
EXTERMINATION OF ALL MOSQUITOES AND HOW AMAZING IT WOULD BE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">04.55 I AM AWAKE AND A BABY IS CRYING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF
THE BALSA WOOD WALL AND I AM FANTASISING ABOUT A CUP OF TEA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">06.20 I AM AWAKE AND ALL THE CHILDREN ARE AWAKE AND MAKING
THAT MONOTONOUS NOISE THAT THEY MAKE AND I MAY NEED ANOTHER WEE….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">07.00 By this point I just kind of give up sleeping. My
eyeballs are on fire. My brain is starting to taunt me with hallucinations, I didn’t
eat all day yesterday because I kept vomiting and for the first time in 48 hours I am
hungry. I have scratched a mozzie bite on my foot until it has bled. My nose is
running. I think about the time difference to Adelaide and my team who will
probably be going for their coffee around now and I HATE THEM for being in
Australia. I tell myself not to be a bitch and to enjoy the experience. I laugh
hysterically at that last thought and start drafting this very blog post in my
head in an attempt to while away the remaining 6 or so hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">09.00 Everyone is pretty much awake now. I have eaten 3 out of date cookies from the pack we bought at Jhansi station last night. It is the first solid food I have kept down in a few days. I would literally crawl over hot coals for a cup of Twinings Earl Grey right now. The train has thinned out some, the 2 men travelling on their own got off a while ago and the 3 middle aged people left at the last stop. We pretty much have the compartment to ourselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">12.30pm - So close and yet so far. We have come to a stop about 10 minutes outside Varanasi. The train has not moved in a good 20 minutes but as we are not in a station we cannot get off the carriage and go find Jai. Emma phones him, "The train has stopped" he helpfully confirms (!). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">13.00 - We have packed up the beds and are now sitting on the normal bench seats, which are still covered in random bits of bedding. Isaac and I are sat on the lower bunk that the 'orgasmic moans' bloke was asleep on this morning when Isaac absent mindedly picks up a crumb of something off the sheet...and eats it. I nearly lose my mind, Isaac is horrified but laughing. What happened in my life to lead me to this point?? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">13.15 - Isaac has gone back to sleep and the rest of us are starting to feel like we are on some kind of hidden camera show. The train is getting very warm because the air con has gone off. I cannnot remember my life before I got on this train. It feels like I have been here for ever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">13.45 - VARANASI WE ARE IN YOU! Thank christ our hotel is literally across the road from the train station. 5 minutes from disembarking we are in an actual restaurant in our hotel ordering food and connecting to wifi and so excited to get a room key and to know that SLEEP is on the cards in the near future.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I think it is fair to say I have no urge whatsoever to repeat the experience of an overnight sleeper train in India ever again. Maybe it was just the perfect storm for me, being over tired and ill - I am glad I can say I did it but I feel like I survived some kind of endurance challenge. Nothing about it, to me, was relaxing or particularly enjoyable. That said, most of the people I travelled with (including Stu) slept through it almost entirely and enjoyed it to some extent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Varanasi, from the get go, is IN YOUR FACE. The roads are particularly mental and that is exacerbated by the fact that this is a place of pilgrimage for Indian people as well as being an international tourist magnet. The traffic here makes Delhi look like a fairly sedate and organised place. We had a number of near misses with traffic, all over India, but the ones that literally had a hairs breadth between life and death/injury were all in Varanasi and included:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A cycle rickshaw vs school bus moment which defied physics in how nothing actually touched</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A cycle rickshaw vs 10 ton lorry moment at an intersection where the lorry was so close I could taste the paint </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A tuk tuk rolling backwards with no handbrake into a gutter with 4 of our group in it</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">View ahead from a rickshaw</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">View behind from rickshaw - Dean and Jade and crazy roads</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But from the moment you near the edge of the Ganges the sounds of chanting and the vibrancy of the people and the smell of the incense becomes overwhelming and hypnotic and you can feel this powerful vibe about the place, which must be because of the importance and the history of it in the lives of so many Indian people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On our first evening in Varanasi (after some restorative food and sleep and showers) we went down to the Ganges at sunset and went out on a boat to view the riverside activity from the water and to perform our own blessing ceremony.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Stu and I on a boat on the Ganges as the sun sets</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our group preparing to perform a candle flower ceremony</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We also got to see the funeral pyres burning at the edge of the water which, despite my previous reservations, were not as disturbing as I imagined they would be. The Hindu religion places such a wealth of value and importance on a person after their death, part of which is through this ceremony and actually, after spending so much time in and around Hindu people it made a lot of sense and felt right for them to honour their departed in this way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Although our boat were respectful and did not take photos of the funeral pyres but just sat very quietly observing, it was a little uncomfortable to witness other boat loads of tourists doing exactly that and making literally no attempt to be discreet about it. Sometimes, I am ashamed of my fellow human beings and their lack of restraint.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After the boat returned we watched the prayer to the river ceremony and had free time to wander along the banks, which was not as relaxing as you might imagine due to the sheer volume of people selling things and the tendency of them to try and hoodwink you into parting with cash in all kinds of innovative ways. One of these which I can't really see a way out of involves a 'blessing' being performed, whereby a fellow with a bowl of the sacred red dye sticks his thumb between your eyes to leave the special mark and then demands money for this service. Unfortunately, this happened to me when I was completely not expecting it, I turned round from looking at the river to find him right behind me and his thumb was between my eyes before I could even open my mouth. I was having this blessing whether I liked it or not. On this occasion I was so cross at having been duped I refused point blank to pay any money which led to a rather uncomfortable and prolonged exchange. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The blessing I was bestowed with (and did not expect)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A continuous problem for the men in our group (though not the women) was the offer of a massage. Offer might be the wrong word. Poor Dean got thoroughly massaged despite repeatedly telling the guy "no thanks" and it is a bit of a strange situation as they will persist in massaging your shoulders despite this, completely ignoring your body language and clear protestations about it being done. And then of course there needs to be payment for the service. Basically you just need your wits about you continuously here and b</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">eing assertive and persistent is key. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What was far more relaxing and I would thoroughly recommend is revisiting the river at dawn. It is far quieter, you are able to people watch without being bothered and the atmosphere is much calmer at this time of day. My favourite memory of Varanasi is the boat we took out as the sun started to rise, watching people doing yoga on the banks, enjoying the serenity and beauty of the temples and the ancient buildings. In this atmosphere Varanasi feels like a salve for the soul and I feel truly honoured to have experienced this holy place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The river at dawn - much calmer</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the late afternoon of our second day in Varanasi we went for a tour of the silk factories in the Islamic quarter of the city with a fabulous, delightful elder of the community whose name, I believe, was Dada. He was so thoroughly charming and took us down small alleyways, into workshops and machine filled spaces where incredibly talented weavers spun silk into the most beautiful designs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Silk being woven into amazin designs</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Despite the fact it was around 43 degrees we managed to spend 45 minutes to an hour exploring this amazing side of the city and one of the younger guides in a thoroughly charming and gallant way positioned himself with a large fan every time we stopped and became a punkawallah for the ladies. I cannot tell you how grateful we were for this service.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At the end of the tour we were taken into the studio/showroom of one of the local silk merchants and he led us into a wonderfully air conditioned room with heaps of cushions on the floor, plied us with masala chai and showed us his wares. The best thing about this (and again we have Jai to thank for it) was that from the word go we were told "you are not obliged to buy anything" and he meant it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There was no pressure at all, it was one of the most interesting and relaxed experiences I have ever had. It turned out this guy sells to retailers across the world, that's his bread and butter so the pressure was certainly not on to buy from him. Around half the group bought some bits and pieces, I bought a beautiful scarf for myself and we got scarves for our mothers too. A lovely touch at the end of the session was that he gave every member of our group (even those who bought nothing) a basic silk scarf as a gift.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have to say here, this was another example of the wonderful job that Jai did as our guide. Every encounter we had, such as the one described above, was so thoroughly researched and checked out by Jai. He never took us to anywhere that we were even slightly pressured, he never let us head off with anyone who he was not 100% sure would look after us as well as he would. I have never met anyone who is as diligent and committed to their job as he. The fact that he does all this and is also one of the nicest, funniest blokes you will ever meet is astounding. I am honoured to say he is my friend and I know that our paths will cross again in the future. G Adventures must think themselves incredibly lucky to have this guy on their staff, I feel incredibly lucky to have had him as our CEO.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me and Jai</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, the final night in Varanasi was also our final rum party. It was a LOT more subdued than the Orchha affair (but then most other things in my life have been to date). Somehow it was us hosting again (must be the British desire to be polite) so everyone piled into our room and we broke out the final bottles of Old Monk. By now we were all so relaxed with each other that this just felt like a family gathering and I think it was probably on all of our minds that it might be the last time we had such an event. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Final rum party in Varanasi</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next morning we checked out of the hotel and headed to Varanasi airport in a bus seemingly driven by The Stig (although by now we just didnt even flinch at such hi-jinks). Along the journey, which rattled the teeth of us all, I pointed out to Jai that the most common vehicle make in India (<a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Ta+Tas" target="_blank">Tata</a>) is a word with a rather different meaning in Australia and Europe. This tickled him enormously and coined the innuendo filled phrase "Touch the Tatas". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We flew from Varanasi back to Delhi for one final night in the hotel where the tour began (at the aptly named <a href="http://www.goodtimeshotel.com/" target="_blank">Good Times Hotel</a>). The familiarity was particularly appreciated as we were all pretty shattered by this point. Everyone started making arrangements for getting back to the airport the next day, organising their next tours and travel onwards - except for Stu and I, the only members of our group who were heading back home after this tour. It was sad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This two week period of my life will be ingrained in my memory for the rest of my days. India truly is a remarkable place, full of life and colour, amazing food, good people, sights and scents and sounds that are distinctive and vivid. We were so incredibly lucky to have a brilliant, open minded, laid back group of people to share it with and a CEO who made the experience so joyful. I came home absolutely knackered, completely overwhelmed and with a whole new perspective on the life I lead and what it all means. You cannot spend time in India without questioning what you need to be happy and I think I will always now be calmer in the face of adversity thanks to the train ride to Varanasi. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Strangely, we have not eaten curry once since we got back but my appetite for it is returning and it won't be long before we are back on that wagon too. We gained some awesome friends and some amazing stories on this holiday, the anecdotes are still making us laugh and the pictures are still making us smile and I believe they will continue doing so for many years to come. We have already had out first mini India reunion (less than 1 month since returning!) and I am pretty sure it will not be the last.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank you India - never has the description of 'Incredible' been more aptly applied. </span>
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Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-68950994409503309372015-05-27T21:27:00.001-07:002015-05-27T21:27:30.715-07:00Incredible India - Part 3 - Alipura and Orchha<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Day 8 of our trip began by saying goodbye to our drivers and
the amazing bus we had had for the past week. Little did we know as we parted
company with them how much of a hilarious contrast the next bus would be, or
what fate waited us after the train journey between Agra and Jhansi. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This first train ride in India was surprisingly smooth and
the train was modern, air conditioned and comfortable. Indian train <i>stations</i> on the other hand are
absolutely batshit mental (to the casual western observer). As with many things
in India which at first look completely baffling and overwhelming, however,
there is a strangely ordered undercurrent to the chaos. It just somehow works.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In my experience, at Indian railway stations, there always
seems to be way more people on and around the platform than the station or any
of the trains can possibly cope with. Also, people set up like a picnic on the
platform itself, by which I mean they lay out a blanket and sleep/eat on it,
which generally does not help with the complete insanity going on around them.
I am continually amazed and humbled by the way Indian people can and do
literally sleep anywhere, it makes me feel like a very precious, coddled person to require black out blinds, total silence and at least 8 hours of
uninterrupted rest to feel remotely human. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, this ‘chaos’ is something which it can be tricky to
navigate around with a massive backpack but nobody seems to get bent out of
shape when you accidentally step on their blanket or kick their sandal across a
platform (ahem). Testament to the wonderfully laid back Indian mindset I think.
This mindset tends to momentarily disappear, it has to be said, the moment a
train actually arrives, when there will be a full on, elbows out, stampede for
the doors like you wouldn't believe. No time for British hesitation or politeness – Jai was an absolute
godsend at moments like this, shepherding us, continuously counting we were all
there, being very assertive about our seats and luggage and generally just
being awesome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It goes without saying, by the way, that railway station
platforms also play host to dogs, monkeys and the occasional cow. You can
pretty much assume by now that these creatures make up the background to pretty
much every scene I mention, in some description, even when not explicitly stated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, this first train ride was only about 2.5 hrs long. We spent the journey reading and watching the landscape and Stu noticed a
strange feature of Indian newspapers whereby they print very graphic pictures
of unidentified dead bodies with descriptions of where they were found and any
distinctive bodily features, to try and get info on who it might be. Strange
(and rather unsettling to the casual reader) but true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On arrival in Jhansi we were due to board a bus for a 3-4 hr
journey to Alipura. We shall christen this bus “The Venga Bus” because the
experience was rather psychedelic and traumatically memorable, just like the
90s song of the same name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is a stock image of what our Venga bus looked like in terms of size/shape. Oh the fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It needs to be remembered that it was over 40 degrees
outside and there were 10 of us plus luggage to fit into the bus. A very small
transit style minibus had been provided - this would have been bearable if the
air conditioning actually worked and our new driver was convinced that it did.
After the spacious comfort of our previous bus we all found it slightly amusing
to cram into the very small space with the blowers seeming to continuously
circulate the hot, dry air. Once the bus started moving, we figured, the air
con would kick in properly, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wrong. After about 20 minutes, Jai tried to boost morale and
give us a pep talk as it was clear we might actually boil to death in this bus.
He gave us some inspirational quotes from Mahatma Ghandi about "being the change" and somehow, in a state of
delirium, this ended with a line which will stick in my head for all time - “Mahatma Ghandi once said, open the windows
m&*$%f*&$s!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As we roared with laughter and opened the windows there was a
brief respite of the outside air rushing through the parched interior; within 5 minutes,
however, it just felt like someone was aiming hot blow driers into the cramped
space and we all started to get a little bit heat-strokey. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Isaac got his speaker out at this stage and we turned the
infernally hot bus space into a comedy disco, singing along to Nelly’s ‘Hot in Herre’
and ‘I Will Survive’ and ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ and basically getting through
the experience with laughter (hysteria/deliria). Isaac also took to wailing
“Heeeeelllllpp” out of the bus window as we drove through small villages, much
to the confusion of the people on the streets.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think all of us were very relieved to finally arrive at
<a href="http://www.alipurapalace.com/au.html" target="_blank">Alipura Palace</a> and Jai was straight on sorting out a different bus for the next
few days which was reassuring. This was another hotel converted from the royal
palace and apparently it is still used from time to time by the local King and
his family (though I believe he was not in residence when we visited). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This was one of my favourite hotels that we stayed at during
our tour, the building was beautiful and full of character and every room
seemed to be different. Ours was huge with a fabulous shower (and plenty of hot
water) and a great air con unit right over the bed. There was the prized
addition of a kettle and tea/coffee in this hotel room which also scored points
and it was quiet outside due to the rural location (no honking horns!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Alipura Palace</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On our first evening we went for a wander round the village
with a guy from our hotel and Jai, the people were so awesome again, wanting to
talk cricket and brewing masala chai for us and generally being so incredibly
welcoming and warm that you really felt like you could relax and enjoy the
experience. They invited us to play a full game of cricket with them the
following evening and the lads (plus Emma) all duly went. Apparently this
became a highly competitive event which much money was placed on. As I
understand it, at some point the sledging from Australia got a little out of
hand and one of the Indian lads stormed off (well, rode off on a motorbike
which I guess is the equivalent). Stu also claims during the same game he “slogged
an Aussie for 6” which I believe is a feat he will never let Dean forget. Ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Two of Dean's photos from the Alipura cricket match</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the evenings at Alipura Palace we mainly wandered around
like fools holding our phones in the air trying to connect to the mystical
wifi. Only Bina and Isaac ever seemed able to connect. It seemed mighty strange
until we realised Isaac had given a dud wifi password to the rest of us….we couldn’t
prove that this was mischief but the suspicion was certainly there….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We also watched a couple of pretty good Bollywood movies on
the TV in the restaurant, my particular favourite was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/3_Idiots" target="_blank">3 Idiots</a> which had a very
amusing storyline. The food at Alipura Palace was pretty awesome, my favourite
butter chicken of the trip and special mention must be made for their cheese
toasties. I am pretty sure the staff here thought our group was slightly
unhinged after Jade ordered a cheese toastie and the rest of us saw it and
immediately ordered a heap more. Sometimes, when you have been eating curry 3 times a
day for a while, the thought of a cheese toastie on plain white bread can do
funny things to the mind of a human being raised in the west. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Day 2 here we visited the Karma Sutra temples at Khajuraho.
They are quite epic in size and stature and decorated with literally every
sexual position and combination of beings you can imagine. Bestiality is not
off the table. Neither are orgies. Isaac bought some very amusing and graphic
key rings here from Hawkers who can only be described as dogged. A number of
them actually stood right outside the door of the restaurant we had lunch in
waiting to continue their hard sell the moment we stepped back out. Anyway, thanks
to the fact these temples were over grown and off the beaten track when the
Muslim crusaders came through many years ago, these ones survived and really
are a sight to be seen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rude things....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Group shot at Khajuraho</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After 2 days based in Alipura we headed to Orchha for a
night, a small town closer to Jhansi station where we would be getting the
overnight train to Varanasi from the following evening. Orchha is beautiful,
set on the banks of the Betwa River and full of historic temples and buildings.
Inhabited by rival troops of langur and macaque monkeys who are continuously
jumping between trees and rooftops above your head, it is fairly chilled out
and has a number of small shops and restaurants you can browse without too much
hassle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Orchha will also retain a very special place in my memory
because of Rum Party #2 – aka the night we all seemed to lose our collective shiz
simultaneously and indulge in a marathon session of drinking, dancing, laughing
and more of the same until 4.30am. What happened in Orchha that night will stay
in Orchha that night. Oh, apart from the multitude of video and photographic
evidence that exists across peoples phones. Whenever I am having a bad day now
I have an immediate memory bank (and physical FB bank) of sheer lunacy to amuse
myself with and I think the events of that night cemented our crazy intense
bond as a group, some (shareable) moments included:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->A rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody which involved <b><i>STUART
</i></b>actually <b><i>DANCING!!!</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Bina and Jade somehow procuring beer at 2am from
a closed hotel bar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">·<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Stu following that up an hour later with the
procurement of 2 more bottles of rum <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Little did we know what was to follow...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The quote ‘You don’t know, man, you weren’t there’ has never
been more appropriate in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Breakfast the next day (well lunch, truth be told) was a
very strange mix of still-slightly-drunk-and-worryingly-aware-of-it with
horrific incredulity at the video/photo footage which seemed to show some kind
of crazy frat party culminating in Isaac being sick on the floor of our room to
everyone’s amusement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It turned out not to be sick (phew). It was spilt beer which
he was going to try and lick off the floor. <i>Of course it was</i>. Stu and I both
had zero recollection of the smashed bottle or the spilt beer or the resulting
series of photographs. I tell you, dear reader, this is the stuff dreams are
made of (psychotic, terrible, dreams).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jai had been very sensible of course and missed the rum
party for an early night, though I believe at some point he may have been
disturbed and photographed in his bed. Poor guy, he had such a beautiful amount
of patience with us at times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The hangover that eventually caught up with me the next day
(the very day I had to get on a freakin’ train for 15 HOURS no less) could
legitimately be described as an utter bastard behind the eyes worthy of remark
in my eventual obituary. Add this to the cumulative exhaustion, dehydration,
stomach upset and the start of a head cold that would plague me for the next
week (oh and the 20 or so ‘active’ mozzie bites I had by this point) and I
would have happily knocked myself out for the next 24 hours and “<a href="http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Withnail_and_I" target="_blank">come up smiling on Tuesday</a>” instead if that had been a medical option. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unfortunately for me, there was no such option and as such the most harrowing,
hilarious, quite frankly insane chapter of our Indian adventure was about to
begin, whether I was ready for it or not… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9138618056334518016.post-64777550168928428442015-05-20T20:32:00.002-07:002015-05-20T20:33:45.209-07:00Incredible India - Part 2 - Tordi and Agra <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The bus journey from Jaipur to Tordi was around 4 hours though it felt like longer on some very crazy roads. Once you get out of the cities the "roads" become so rough and full of potholes that you quickly learn not to sit over the rear suspension of any large vehicle. Unless you like being continuously catapulted into the ceiling. One of my enduring memories of the many bus journeys we took in India is the sound of Isaac cackling as he failed to tire of this experience and got thrown around a LOT.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">People were also a little tired and sick and so Jai bought bananas and oranges for those of us who had been struggling to eat. I usually avoid citrus fruit due to suffering migraines and I dislike bananas immensely, but I knew I had to eat something and fruit you can peel is a good idea here. I ate my first orange in about 15 years and actually enjoyed it, this was a win! I dropped a couple more hydralyte in my bottle of water and sat back to enjoy the journey, rock and effing roll.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Arriving in Tordi Garh we were intrigued for our first experience of more rural Indian village life. The hotel we stayed at (<a href="http://www.tordigarh.com/" target="_blank">Tordi Garh Hotel</a>) is the renovated palace of the former local royal family. The rooms we had, on the front of the building, were very spacious with amazing air con (which was definitely needed). They were basic (no TV or fridge) and you are pretty much off the grid here in terms of wifi, but it was for one night only so, you know, #firstworldproblems and all that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">More of an issue for me was the plumbing in our room, we had no water at all through our taps (like, literally, taps on full bore, not a drop). So we used the plentiful and cheap bottled water and a number of wet wipes (the other major sponsor of our tour) to freshen up. Stupidly we didn't mention this to the rest of our group until later when they all said "why did you not just come and shower in our room?" and we realised it was a dim thing not to check (and also, how awesome were our trip buddies for offering?!). The next morning we had water again (albeit cold) so it wasn't an issue. Showers in India are cold most of the time (in our experience) but when it is over 40 degrees outside this is not usually a problem.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shortly after arriving in Tordi we ladies got beautiful henna done by a wonderfully talented local woman, she was so quick and steady with the brushes it was remarkable and it was a joy to watch her in action. This was something I had wanted to do for a while and I was very pleased with how it turned out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My Henna</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Henna being applied</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After the henna we went for a village walk and met all the kids and people who lived around the former palace, this was one of my favourite parts of our tour, interacting with the locals for a quick game of cricket (the game ended abruptly when the ball went for 6 through an upstairs window of an empty house). Cricket is not just a sport but a religion in India, the kids might not speak as much English as those in the cities but they know ALL the names of Australia's cricket team and the excitement on their faces when you want to play with them makes you realise quite how entitled and spoiled western kids are - all these guys want or need is a ball and some makeshift wickets to be exceedingly happy with their lot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dean bowling for Australia</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our group with the cricket kids in Tordi</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During this game of village cricket (and before the ball was totally lost) there was a close encounter with a bull. The ball at some point went over into a closed off courtyard between the houses which Emma and I were stood next to the door of. A small child quickly unbolted the door and shot in to retrieve the ball, he ran back out and left the door unlocked at which point we realised there was a large bull staring straight at us from inside the courtyard. He eyed me and Emma peering at him a bit stunned, saw his escape route and began charging towards the door. We somehow managed to shut and lock the door quickly before he reached it but it was undoubtedly another "Oh, India" kinda moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We then went for a camel cart ride into the sand dunes - for some reason I took this picture of me with a camels arse, I think it was the dehydration kicking in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our camel cart</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once we reached the sand dunes I sort of lost my mind for a moment or two as tiredness and the extreme heat kicked in. It was nearly sunset so it was starting to cool off, but I had now been feeling unwell for over 24 hours and was weak as a kitten and the very, very, last thing I wanted to do was climb up a sodding sand dune at this point. As Stu can attest, I have VERY little patience with sand at the best of times (ironic as we live at the beach). I dislike the way it sticks to everything, the feel of it and especially trying to walk in it. I hit my own mental wall at this point - but as with everything in India (or so it seems) it panned out well in spite of this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I climbed the first part of the dune but then decided I had had quite enough so I sat where I was while the rest of the group climbed further up to a vantage point. Within a few minutes the son of the camel cart guy ambled up and joined me. He was 4 and allowed me to practice my (terrible) Hindi on him. He was very chilled out for a small child - they usually unsettle me but he was pretty awesome and patiently waited while I consulted my 'Handy Hindi for Dummies' sheet of phrases to figure out his name and age and so on. Then the pair of us sat in mutually agreeable and content silence and watched the sun set for a good 20 minutes. It was so incredibly peaceful and allowed me to just gather my thoughts and breathe and enjoy the moment, it was exactly what I needed at that point in time and I will never forget it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To top it off the wonderful guy from our hotel suddenly appeared at the top of the hill too with masala chai and frickin' cookies (for real!). All was suddenly OK with the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That night we sat on the rooftop of the hotel and I ate some rice and a small amount of dahl and then the rum came out and we played some music and chatted about the day. Unfortunately, both Stu and I spent that night up and down being ill. We were not the only ones to have trouble sleeping though, rather amusingly, Bina and Isaac had got the air con stuck on 16 degrees in their room and couldn't sleep due to the COLD. Unbelievable when the temperature outside didn't drop much below 30. At 4am they went outside to <i>get warm</i>. This provided much mirth the next day on the bus and there is a hilarious photo somewhere of both of them wearing pretty much all their clothes in the room. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so to Agra...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have to say that the hotel in Agra was my favourite of the entire trip. It had a great shower with plenty of hot water, wifi available (in reception), a TV with BBC World Service and a kettle/fridge. Perhaps this was indicative of the fact that it was also the most text-book-touristy place we visited, a wonderful quote from Jai about Agra which will stick with me and sums this up was that "if it wasn't for the Taj Mahal, nobody would even piss in the direction of Agra".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Agra is very disorganised in terms of roads and traffic, it is also utterly besieged by hawkers and is a strange mismatch of modern chain hotels and falling down buildings. It is clear that it runs entirely on the tourist $ and it was the first place on our trip where I felt a bit overwhelmed by the attention that we got as tourists. It is very hard to continually ignore a small child who has terrible cataracts and is pleading with you to just spend 100 rupees (about 2 dollars) on whatever he is selling. Fair play to Dean who bought 5 small elephant key rings off one child as gifts, only to demand an exchange for one which was "faulty". Much banter and amusement on the bus about that and the child in question gave as good as he got too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the first evening in Agra Jai took us to a fabulous rooftop bar with view of the Taj Mahal, many selfies were taken and a few cold beers went down a treat, it would be hard to find a better view from any bar in the world. From this vantage point we could also see the monkeys of Agra moving across the rooftops and settling for the night and the sky was full of kites from the kids playing out in the evening sun. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Taj Mahal is indeed as beautiful and impressive in real life as it looks on TV. We saw it at up close at sunrise (the only time Isaac managed to get up this early) and the group wore the Indian clothes we had bought, resulting in some pretty cool pictures and strange looks from the other tourists.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nadine became a minor celebrity here due to her red hair, she had queues of people taking photos of her and wanting their photo taken with her, she took it in her stride. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The story of how and why the Taj Mahal was built is very romantic and it is hard to believe how old it is, given how pristine it looks. It was finished in 1653 by Shah Jahan for his favourite wife Mumtaz Mahal in testament to his grief over her death and continuing love for her. Interestingly she was one of 3 wives, but the only one he married for love - he had 14 children with her, whereas his other two (political) marriages bore no children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The good thing about getting to the Taj Mahal before sunrise was that it wasn't too hot, as we were leaving around 8am the massive tour groups from other companies were just arriving and it was getting very busy and very hot. Definitely one worth the early start for. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Late in the day, after breakfast and much needed massages and sleep (and very tasty local samosas shipped in by Jai for lunch) we headed back out to see the Baby Taj and Agra Fort at dusk. Although impressive, these were nowhere near as beautiful as the Taj Mahal itself. I always think Cambodia's Angkor Wat made all other temples seem a bit 'meh' in comparison and I reckon the Taj Mahal does that in India. You simply have to see it for yourself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After Agra Fort we went to a rooftop restaurant and I nipped to the loo (unisex) only to find the chef himself emerging looking half asleep. On entering the toilet the smell of weed was so strong I nearly passed straight out. Clearly the chef was not hampered by his substantial pot habit as the chicken biryani I had here was incredibly tasty. A novel aspect of this restaurant was that the terrace had treetops all around it and throughout our meal monkeys were jumping about above our heads. I collected around 10 mozzie bites during this meal too, doing my bit for the local wildlife with my delicious blood.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back at the hotel, rum party #1 kicked off in style. I love the way Jai, our tour leader, was able to procure ANYTHING at any time of day or night via the thriving black market. A guy had sidled up at the restaurant table earlier and taken his order and returned on a moped with 2 bottles of rum a little later. I seriously believe you could buy a granny, an AK47 or a bouncy castle from the wide boys of India without too many questions (not that I am suggesting you would need all 3 at the same time, mind you).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rum party #1</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This party set the tone for other rum parties to follow - someone would volunteer their hotel room (usually us as it turned out) and then at a set time everyone would bring their chairs and glasses from their own rooms and the laughter would commence. Highlights of this particular rum party included:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The christening of Isaac as 'Campy Segundo' following a rather effeminate latin american dance recital.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Emma getting very upset when the rum ran out</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Stu describing the Taj Mahal in a very phallic way and leaving Jai literally laughing until he cried. I don't think Jai will ever look at the Taj Mahal without smirking ever again. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next morning we were leaving Agra for Alipura which involved a train ride for the first time, so we headed to bed not too late and the Agra chapter of our trip was complete. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Part 3 - Alipura and Orchha to follow....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Ali Ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08142338083065851660noreply@blogger.com0