Monday 31 December 2012



Thanks for following my adventures and supporting my blog in 2012 
All the best to you in2013  all over the world! 

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and on twitter @frogrenouille




Friday 16 November 2012

Everywhere you go, there YOU are !


''You're from where? Vozool?''

'' No , VE-SOUL''

'' Where the hell is that? By the sea? ''

'' No, it's in the East''

The french lady I'm talking to is staring at me like I'm a bloody foreigner. Let me think. That's about HOW I FEEL anyway.

'' I 've never heard about Vee-zool'' she replies naturally.

Yes, it's way easier to be French in a foreign country ( even in England) than being from VESOUL in your own country. At least , everyone knows where France is.

Try Vesoul....


Yes, I did move back to my country, FRANCE. How many of you thought I would not do it?

You know I like challenges. But this one was about as hard as working an a farm with scorpions and wild pigs in the Malaysian jungle with no electricity for 10 days.

10 days in France....

I've done about everything a foreign tourist would have done at my place. Except that I AM NOT a foreign tourist.

I'm a totally stupid blonde who seems to have never taken the train , bought a baguette with Euro coins or sit in a restaurant eating for more than 10 minutes.

Yes, I did have to read the menu in English because I did not understand the words in French. ( I was drunk too )

Why so complicated ?

'' delicat Poisson et sa  legere sauce aux marrons' ( delicate fish and its light chestnut sauce) ' is still just bloody fish in your plate, innit .

And they did not even have snails or frogs.And they call themselves F**** French.

When you ask what the point of all this fuss is to the guy who kindly invited you to one of the best restaurants in town , you look like a total bitch.

Best excuse : '' Sorry , I ve lived in England for so long''

( Appologies almost accepted . That was close)

And how many kinds of bread do they have anyway. So you basically need 10 minutes to go buy your bread in this country.

They even ask you how long you want your baguette baked for.

Helloooooo I just want BREAD.

Let's face it, I have totally lost my Frenchness.

The worst thing is? I can't even watch a political debate for more than 2 minutes without getting totally freaked out.

'' Why are these people so angry?'' I ask the same poor guy , whom I happen to live with . ( I'll give him a medal one day , he does deserve it but don't tell him that , he could take it seriously , he's french, you see)

'' WE ARE NOT ANGRY , WE ARE EXPRESSING OUR EMOTIONS''

Mmmm even that sentence was too much for me .

'' OUR WHAT?''

This is not really something we mention much in England you see... These emotions thingy.

I told you once that there was such a thing as '' National Energy'' . That I get sucked in to it wherever I go ( '' The citizen of the world '' syndrom)

It results in either a '' wow, Annabelle, how do you capture the Spirit and understand the culture of a country so well?''

OR that :

England

'' Annabelle, you are WAY too emotional, you should see someone about it''

France :

'' Annabelle, You have big problems expressing your emotions , you should see someone about it''

The prefect balanced place should then be....... SOMEWHERE BETWEEN FRANCE AND ENGLAND

Or....

Australia :

'' Chill out mate , let's go to the beach''

When people ask me where I want to live , I DON T KNOW WHAT TO SAY !

Seriously I was totally lost for 10 days.

It's like I was not totally in a foreign country as I was able to speak the language ( although I ordered my sushi in English in the local japanese restaurant , which probably made the guy 's like so much simpler) but I totally missed the point of it all.

I felt like I lost my memory and I pretended ( very badly) to remember it all.

No, I did not care about good food, good wine or politics. I was still a Brit in the inside.

When you go abroad, you always compare your own country to the country you're in ( Something about insecurity) . Normal.

But when you catch yourself saying '' You french people are weird because in my country....''  and you still have MADE IN FRANCE tattooed on your neck, you simply look like you're going mad ( As a writer , everyone knows how mad I already am anyway, so it's cool)

What country was I talking about? Depends on my mood.... England..... Australia..... No , I did not miss the past in those 2 countries, one of my strong point is in the moving on but  I just totally lost my landmarks... in my own country.

Believe me or not, I finally settled back in. ( until I had to go to Paris for one whole hour but that'll be another story) I went back to being my good old French self .

Hang on a minute. That's the same one as in England. Or Australia. Or anywhere. I m exactly the same person.... 

Damn. 

Everywhere you go, here YOU are........... 

Friday 9 November 2012

Learn French , buy my book :)

My first book " Strolling Frog"  is finally available to buy online. So I'm doing what I do best when something important happens . I go travelling. This time, in my own country. Maybe I will eat those frogs eventually. Anyway if you speak and like french or knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who does, order it online wherever you live . Cheers :) 

http://www.voronwe.com/fiche_une-grenouille-en-balade_71.html

Sunday 4 November 2012

Reality, check.

I have to make a good impression with that guy , I keep repeating myself before I enter the publisher's house. One week end to make a good impression. Then I'm going home in England.

Oh and how do you make a good impression again? Mmmm I don't know I never tried.

Smile and pretend you know what you re doing.
 
A few hours .... and a few glasses (bottles?) of french wine later
Him : Great , you can also go live with your mother, that's fine.
Me : How do you dare use this agaisnt me?

Now , how the fuck did I end up having this conversation with a total stranger ?????
 
A few days before , at work, in England :
'' Annabelle, we think that you need a little break from this job....'' My 2 managers/friends are looking at me like I'm on the verge of a massive breakdown .

I thought they had booked me a bed in the nearest mental hospital but they probably cancelled it when I received the news quite sanely . I was given 2 weeks notice.

Sure. I will book the bed myself then.

My name is Annabelle, I lost my job and home for the 6th time this year.

Welcome Annabelle.

Back to Tours, France, at the publisher's house
Him: You're so irrational Annabelle, How can you go live in a Thai monastry or take a single ticket to Australia alone , with no money and no plan and you are scared to be in your own country?

Me, pointing at the book : Now who's making money out of my irrationality huh ?

Annabelle 's lame argument 1- Publisher zero .

Me : I'm not going back to the start , I'm NOT fucking going back. And stop acting like you know me, you have no idea who I am .

Him : darling , you hardly write fiction.
( NB : He also works in a mental hospital he told me earlier. I feel very sane now)

Publisher 1 - Annabelle who writes as she thinks 0

Him : Why are you so scared of your own country? What's so great in your little traveler's world?

I know the answer. I'm not telling him. Only the french outside of France can understand this.

Him : You are free in France TOO.

Oh shit. How the hell does he know that. Hang on. He read my book. He bloody PUBLISHED it!
How do I ALWAYS put myself in an awkward mess?

Me, under huge threat now and feeling that lack of freedom that I can only feel in this country : '' Look , I don't know you . And I'm not going back to the start. Now leave me alone''

I did not do all this to move back to France with a fucking french man AGAIN. I failed last time. France fucking failed me.

Did I say that out loud.

Hell yeah.

Mental hospital this way.

Give me another wine, please.

Him : Have you heard of the concept of facing your fears? This is your success Annabelle , he says pointing at the book.
You take it or you leave it. But you've got to face REALITY, for once. MAKE A CHOICE. Your dream is to be a writer right? I'm offering you to come work with me here , in your own home country and work to become a writer.

Bloody french men, what do they know. ( this one? A LOT)

Breathe , Annabelle, breathe.

I did not come here to face reality , I came here to sign books , record a video , feel famous for a week end and go back to my backpackers' hostel in England looking for waitresses jobs in Canada and how to spend Christmas in Australia with another credit card .

On the plane back home to England
I started to read my own book on the plane . I ve always dreamt to do that.
Imagine me, with a silly grin openly displaying the back of the book so my neighbour sees the picture and says
'' Oh , it's you who wrote this book, wow congratulations''
And I would say
'' Oh yeah , you know it's just a book''
Hell Yeah .

I turn to my left and the guy next to me is snoring away , with not a care in the world.

Damn reality.

Coffee is coming , thank God. For a minute I forget coffee is 4 pounds ( and I only have a Euro on me) , I'm squeezed in between 2 people and I'm wearing 2 jackets to not pay for excess bagage .

Damn reality ( aka Ryan Air)

I'm back to England, the Land of the Free.

And I do feel so free here.

This morning , in the breakfast room at the hostel

I'm talking about travelling with a french guy I just met and I ve been trying to sell him my book. Let s face it : I SUCK AT SELLING.

Anyway , we start talking about important things : how free we feel outside of our own country. Like me , he lived in Australia, and away from France for years.

Bloody french we both say, always complaining and moaning, We feel so trapped there....

Travelling opens our mind and we can do whatever we want, no one cares , no one judges, no family pressure.... We become citizens of the world, nobodies...

FREE.

'' Travelling can also become your prison though, if you're not careful '' he announces , obviously knowing what he was talking about.

I smile. I did too.

My Spanish friend comes with his phone on google map and tells me

'' Look , Annabelle, that's where you're going to live ! ''

REALLY? Oh shit, I always thought it was more South.

I realise, like always , that I cannot place the place where I was going to live on a map.

'' Good luck for tomorrow '' other backpackers come and hug me good bye.

'' Good luck with the French '' say all the french expats I met recently ( panicking for me)

What they really meant was , '' good luck with your freedom''

Yes, I do feel free outside of my country. I then look at my book. and wondered '' What's the point of being free if you have nothing to fight for? ''

You can either fight for other people 's dreams or.... Fight for your own.

No matter what YOUR reality is ,  you are ALWAYS free to choose...

Thursday 25 October 2012

Stranger in a strange land ...

What a bloody weird place. I m standing here in a tiny airport , it s pissing down with rain , most people speak English , the rest are either staring or complaining and I m waiting for a girl I ve never met in my whole life. I call it strange land. Other people might refer it as France.

This place , Ryan air calls it "Toorz"in an Irish accent ( if anyone could politely tell them that we don t pronounce the final s , that would probably help some French people to not miss their flight) , we call it Tours.

I realise I cannot even locate this place on the map and France is the country I know the least in the whole world.

Why would you come here if it was not to meet the guy who is publishing your book about your travels around the world anyway? Unless you re English and u want a cheap house or Aussie and u like bloody castles ...

So I m meeting this girl I ve never met but who designed the awesome cover of the book and who can t wait to meet me. She probably does not believe that a person is capable of that many fuck ups in only 158 pages.
Try me.

I m now staring at all young French women I m seeing around . With the a " have we met before ? " smile.

Ok I m freaking everyone out now .

I clearly feel out of place in this country.

" do you speak French ?" The guy at the counter says.

" reasonably " I answer randomly.

Fuck where am I from already ?

Ah right , yeah. It says on my neck .made in France .

I say good bye to the Brit I met on the plane . He lives in France and can t remember England much . I live in England and can t remember France much. We had a lot in common .

For some random reason we both wanted to buy the naked staff calendar from Ryan air . But we didn t. He promised to buy my book instead.
Wise decision .
Everyone is smoking around me. I only think of one thing to say : bloody French.
The girl who made my cover comes at last.
We chat like we re old friends already . I always have that relationship with strangers . It gets more complicated later . When I chat to old friends like we re strangers . Anyway , here we are in traffic chatting about travelling , going away but weirdly , not about coming back.
" so where do u feel at home " she finally asks me.
" I feel at home with people " i answer randomly , just realising how bloody true it was .

Well as long as it is not in France i thought but i shut up. For once.

Driving on the right side freaks me out. Everything about this country freaks me out actually.

We keep chatting about our creation . aka ze book . I soon feel like we just had a baby together. Mmm strange new feelings in this strange land ...
Anyway,

I was going to meet the guy i worked with for the last 8 months , the guy I always trusted with my money and words . I talked to him on the phone once last week. And ze book .
" come on then " she says to me as we were about to enter the guy s house .
Mmm let me think .... No . Actually it s better to not think. Rule number one for ze traveller.
I suddenly felt like I was coming home again but with the huge urge to get the hell out of here.
Bloody travellers . U never know what u travel for. Escaping , learning , creating , letting go ....

And the strangest of all is when you re about to reach your destination ....

Friday 19 October 2012

The book of my life

" so what do you write about in your book Annabelle , is there sex and everything " asks me my Italian friend the last Napolitan obviously pondering whether or not he should go through the trouble of buying it and google translate it.
" it s about my life darling , so obviously no , it s not about sex"" I answer naturally although I m a but lying and a little embarrassed by the number of men I actually meet / hang out with / in the damn book.
What was I thinking? My chances of a long healthy relationship were already quite slim. Now that my whole country can read my fuck ups , I am destined to be the crazy old lady with cats.

I had to read the book again and give my consent to the publisher . That was my final step.
Mmmm let me think . No.
I wanted to lie and go " yep , perfect go ahead " but I can t lie and I would have written the truth sooner or later.

After a couple of day reading other books about spiritual awakening ( you d think that I d be fully awake by now but no) I decided to give a go to my own book. The one I wrote about my life traveling from January 11 to December 11. 158 pages of my life.

Of course I decided that the chick on the book was not me. You don t expect to face my own crap and move on by reading that book do you ?
That d be too easy.
So it s that chick who leaves her manager job to find answers about life and she comes back to Brighton with more questions . Awesome.
Next book?
Come on , let s be nice to this chick
So she ends up in the jungle in Malaysia first , working close to nature ie fearing for her own life checking her bed for deadly scorpions every night . Was supposed to stop smoking but had to keep her lighter to check her bed because she had no electricity so se decided to not stop smoking I the end . Then she got bitten by a rooster named sarkozy. A French chick who got bitten by a rooster named sarkozy in Malaysia what a fucking good book huh .
Then she goes to Australia. She thinks she a super traveller and is planning to see the whole country in a year , like everyone else. She ends buying a car living in a house get friends a job that she was desperately useless at but they kept her as the waitress because she had a French accent and it sounded cool. And she was sort of fun too. She travels 40km in 6 months and then sells her car to go to live in .... A Thai monastery ?????
Wtf ?
After 1 month of living in silence on A concrete mattress she realises she was probably not made for spiritual life as such.
She then lives in Bangkok for a couple of weeks with a friend of a friend he just met and became good friends , goes clubbing and go hit on by a Brazilian guy whom she did not go home with . Thank god for that because that would have definitely ruined what was coming...
She then decides to go back to England in her old life . After living all this ? Dream on girl... I could have told her. I probably did but she did not listen.
In her old life everything had changed but she got on with it , not realising that she was the one who changed d oh. she meets friends who can relate to her experience but she keeps thinking she can fit back into who she was .
She meets 1 guy . Doesn t work then 2 then another one . What ???? In one month ?
I m so embarrassed for this girl. And the fact that my mum and dad bought the book yesterday .
"You know there s a bit of fiction in it mum , it s not all true , otherwise it would not sell you see "
#embarassinglifethateveryonecanread
Best of all , she then decides to go back to Australia because she needed another change. I m now Screaming at the damn book. That s you who changed crazy cow ?
Oh shit. I should have read that book before ... Right ???
Well anyway the second book is going to be even more awesome . More fuck ups more men and still less money .
Annabelle or how to feel good about your life reading hers.

I m currently on my way to the airport going to France to meet my publisher and this first book of my life and I l m laughing.
When i finished reading it i thought : This life is a good book innit . Because it s funny and authentic. I love it, actually , no matter what !
In the end , your life is as good as you want it to be.
What story would the book of your life tell?

Tuesday 25 September 2012

Anyone can do it

'' Annabelle why don't you write your blog anymore?'' asked Mama and Big Sister obviously missing reading about their own lives every morning on the internet.
'' Don't know I guess my life is desperatly normal. Nothing exciting to write about. Ordinary life . '' I answer naturally.
They both give me the '' are we talking about the same life?'' look
Get a life Annabelle.
Turning the ordinary into extraordinnary. That's why I do best as a writer.
So I did what I usually do when I lose my way. I decide to write the book of my life like the chick in it is not really me. And only focusing on good things in this life. ( it does help a lot )
Oh so much fun.
So It's that chick who lives in a backpackers hostel and who also works there....
She s doing it because she absolutely loves it. Most of the time she forgets what day of the week it is because it's no longer important. There's no longer counting days to the week end.
Because 1/ she loves what she s doing
2/ at the week end, we work more anyway.
What that chick loves the most is the diversity of her daily life. There is not one day like the other although the structure looks the same.
Just the single act of going to the bathroom from her bedroom in is an adventure ...
'' Applauso for Annabeeeeeeelle'' shouts the Last Napolitan as I run through the kitchen to reach the bathroom in my nighties.
( Sound of 10 men clapping and cheering )
Reaching the bathroom at last I have a random chat with a guy from Uzbekistan I had ckecked in a few hours before .Now you've got him trying his best to forget he left me a smelly bathroom and me trying my best to forget I 'm holding my clean undies in my right hand.
'' So ... are you here for studies?''
Normal.
When she's in the shower a young muscular Romanian guy knocks on the door saying
'' Dinner has arrived, Annabelle''
Normal.
Dinner was ordered by Big Sister and Mamma. It's my favourite chinese food. Next to us the Chinese backpackers are eating our free English Chocolate cake.
Normal.
'' Wear it NOW'' Big sister had bought some other clothes to add up to the mountain I have in my room. When I first got here from Australia in March I had 2 dresses 1 pair of jeans and about 2 tee shirts. That s all I had left after I got rid of all my Winter clothes in Melbourne on a hot day. When it's 40 degrees and you re wearing a heavy backpack you are NOT thinking about next Winter.
But next Winter does come. Shit. What do I do now?
Now / I 'm running out of space to fit all the branded clothes she gets me for a ridiculous cheap price.
Normal.
 
My most favourite '' normal day'' is Sunday. I work from 8 to 4. Reception + cleaning+ reception. You can either see it like this ( normal) or actually look for what you love in it. What I love is diversity. So diversity it is!
In the lounge 2 kids are watching Sponge Bob in their pyjamas holding their teddies. In the kitchen some french hikers are looking for more hot water to put in their bowl of coffee. Yes, the French are the only people in the world who have their morning coffee in a bowl. One of them opens the fridge and it now smells of dirty feet. Yes the french are the only people in the world who travel with their smelly cheese.
Upstairs , 20 hungover British dudes are slowly waking up trying to remember what they did last night .One of them is still wearing Sponge Bob clothes. The Brits call it a Stag do.
in the breakfast room the rest of the french hikers and their bowl of coffee pausing for the picture I am taking. I tell them I m also a writer, that my book is coming out in ''our''country sometime in the following weeks.
you can order it online ........
( selfish bitch)

Normal.
I also tell them that they will now be part of my new project : creating a new blog about '' normal'' people who have extraordinnary projects and who are going for it...thinking it's normal.
These ones want to walk to Rome in.... 10 years. A group of friends meeting 5 to 6 times a year to hike 20 to 40km on the Via Francigena.
The weird thing is , when you have something you feel passionate for and believe in it, it's like Life conspires to give you what you desire. It's like it's giving the ink for my next book!
in 2 weeks I met a guy who cycled 8 countries in 2 weeks, 2 blokes who were following their drunken pub talk cycling to Germany in 3 weeks , a retired american lady who jumped on the plane with her bike THE DAY she retired with no plan of coming back. And my french friend who managed to get to South America to teach tennis in schools in just 3 months.
They all tell me the same thing :
'' Anyone can do it''
Normal ( for them)
 
'' So you're a writer??????'' they're now looking at me with big eyes like I deserve a medal for it.
'' Yeah what's the big deal? Anyone can be a writer. It's not about talent it's about being stubborn enough. '' I answer naturally. I do mean it. And I can tell you that I see famous writers in a different light .
( Shakespeare : I know your secret now )
Normal.
The secret? It s mainly to have a goal, a purpose you feel strongly for. And be stubborn enough to Stick to it, believe in it, wake up for it every morning. And never take anything or anyone for granted. Never forget how lucky you are to live this life, every single day, be grateful for everyone around you for they are here to help you achieve what '' anyone can do''


Then watch your daily life closely .
It will be anything but........ Normal

Friday 31 August 2012

The road less travelled

'' they're all surrending one by one to the dark side of th force. Am I next?''

Breathe Annabelle, you're strong . It will not happen to YOU.

All my friends decided to get married this year.

I can't be further from that reality

Brighton Beach , the night before.

'' Nice view innit''

Me and British lover  ( who from now on decided to be called '' Ken Adams'' in this blog ( watch  episode 8.04 of friends to undertsand) had to hang out on the beach because we could not go Home to anywhere. We we staying in a 10 bed dormitory in our favourite hostel that night. And of course it was THE SAME 10 bed dorm( compliments from th staff who also got me drunk that night to propably test my devotion to my job) . 

Yes, even drunk I did sleep in MY OWN bed. My devotion for my job is stronger than anything else ( please don't make m do that again)

So, yes, My reality was VERY FAR from weddings as you can see.


Anyway , my friends all decided to travel the road less traveled. Getting married the way they wanted to get married. Not to please Auntie this, Grandma that or the Pope. Not even for security.  THEIR own way.

Respect for that.

My first friend who got married to her partrner of 13 years ( we all met the same year working in a school ) decided to do a suprise wedding. The official reason for gathering was for the civil christening of their 2 kids ( we call is Republican Christening. In other words : anti religious) Her catholic mother was already dying in the inside , but when they announced to everyone at the end of the ceremony that they were ALSO getting married that day she almost passed out.
They got married with to the loud sound of ska music. Which was totally THEM.

So... you can get married AND enjoy the day?

I was the witness of the first wedding with personality I d even been to. I almost changed my mind about it.
 
I was now invited to a wedding in Dublin.. A dear friend from Uni who was always anti marriage but decided to do it anyway.
He 's marrying a gorgeous Spanish girl in the country they currently live in.: Ireland. Now we're talking.

My friend is as spontanous and organized as me.

1 week before wedding :

'' Shit , I did not tell you. I'm not getting married on the 24th , there was no space , it's actually on the 23rd at 12am. Can you still come? PS : Can I be your wedding planner?''

Wedding day

I look at my ticket , I'm landing at 11.05 am . Exactly one hour before wedding.
There's me running around Dublin Airport . I have never run faster for a wedding maybe I will run as fast for mine. (But in the other direction? )

Thank God I'm a European citizen and passport control took me 2 seconds.'' Tanks a million''

40 minutes of bus later I jump in a taxi telling him he s got 10 whole minutes to cross Dublin's traffic while I put my make up on without a mirror ( now which one is the impossible task?)

What did he say? I've got no idea. He's Irish. It takes me about 2 days everytime to get used to Irish accent. Unfortunately I never stay more than 2 days.

All I understood was '' You smell nice'' and '' Are you going to take your top off too?''

Welcome to Ireland , me.

He made it on time. I gave him a good tip in that strange currency they call Euro. To me it's still a total confusion to pay in Euro AND speak English.

My friends were so cool they were waiting for ME to get married.

I'm introduced to everyone. Hola / Bonjour. No one speaks the other language properly but we all try.

I don't know many people but it doesn't matter. Try and isolate yourself in a group of french. Add Spanish to that and good luck to your shyness.

'' What's in that suitcase?'' I ask the groom's cousin.

'' Fromage de France '' He answers quite proudly.

''Que?'' Asks the Spanish next to me.

'' Queso de Francia'' I answer. Shit I do speak Spanish. YAY.

Yes, the guy had travelled all the way from France with a suitcase packed with goodies from our region in France . Their part of the region , '' le Haut Doubs'' is particurlaly famous for its sausage. '' La saucisse de Morteau'' . We ve called the groom that for year at Uni. So it was only fair.

Their wedding pictures mainly involves cheese and sausage. The only bit of Tradition they would allow.
 
In 2 seconds I was given the responsibilty of a baby I had never met ( their son , born last December) and we were all singing '' all you need is love '' with a bunch of Spanish and french people in Ireland.
'' Sorry , it's our first time'' my friend says to the Irish lady who was marrying them. How so emotional.
 
I was trying hard to speak 3 languages to the baby who was now staring at me as if telling me '' Dude, language does not matter. it's all about the energy we give out''
 
And he was right, language did not matter at that time. The witnesses did not speak a word of English but were having a good laugh and their happiness was way enough for them.
.
In the corner, the legal translator was getting bored of not having to translate anything for anyone. The Irish lady could not pronounce their names properly and was vaguely trying a Spanish accent and a French accent but at a very wrong time. My friends asked her to repeat many times as she had a strong irish accent.
As a huge fan of cultural diversity I also had to face the fact. There is no such thing as language barrier . All those people singing '' all you need is love'' to my best friend of 13 yars on his wedding day in Dublin gave me the chill. I wanted to say that to the baby but he already knew what I was feeling.
Language is overrated.
Kids know that more than anyone. French kids and Spanish kids started to naturally play together. They were speaking their own language to each other but no one needed a translator. They were just kids playing.
'' Mummy the Spanish kid broke my hair clip'' says that french little girl , very angry.
'' Forgive him darling , he is spanihsh'' mum says.
Ok then. She goes back playing with the kids from the other country, forgetting the anger. Why , at some point in our life, do we stop being like this????
Adults are a bit slower. On one side of the table, the french , on the other side the Spanish.We were sort of competing for noise. On that occasion the french were louder. Wow. Poor irish people around us.
We were in a posh irish restaurant where they do french cuisine better than the french ( it hurt our pride a little bit)
Beside me , the 40 year old single lady from the South of France whom I never met before was disappointed. I ask her why
'' Where are the vikings?'' she asks me, desperatly.
She was hoping to meet one of those big tall strong men with red hair and a helmet with horns.
As I was starting to disappoint her, the big tall irish waiter with red hair walks in. Before I could tell her about this culture being naturally reserved she was onto him asking for his name and adress ,kissing his cheek while taking a picture.
He did not say a word. I felt for him. I really did.
'' See what I told you '' she says to her friend.
'' Ask Annabelle, she'd know'' her friend replies.
I knew EXACTLY what the question was
'' Why are they so cold , it's like they have no emotion these people. Is that why they drink so much ? '' they both ask me at the same time, staring.
I start my usual speech. It's not cold, it's reserved. I tell them it also was a real big problem for me when I first moved to England. However Learning to be British ( ie more reserved and introvert) helped me a lot to balance my emotions out ( can you believe I used to be worse than that)
With time I learnt that cultures are meant to balance each othesr out.We are meant to hang out WITH each other. Not point out the faults in others ( like the french usually do with talent)
French should hang out with th Brits to learn to keep their emotions to themselves more ( way cheaper than anti depressant) and the Brits should hang out more with the french to express their emotions better ( way cheaper than booze)
Spanish should hang out with Germans to be more organized and German should hang out more with the Spanish to be LESS organized.
To me , it all makes sense. But I leave it up to you.
After half a dozen bottles of champagne , the french and the Spanish finally got together to speak frenglish , Spanglish , you name it.
I was so proud of my Spanish. I was now having a full on conversation with my friend's step dad. Actually , my spanish was still shit but I was drunk , so my confidence was showing ( thank you booze)
'' My step dad is asking if you are really French. You speak Spanish with a polish accent'' my friend says.
WHAT IS THE FUSS ABOUT ME BEING POLISH???
I show him my tattoo but it was too late. He called me '' la polaka'' for 2 days.
We all then moved to a local irish pub. The french , the spanish and the suitcase full of cheese.
'' My life is so different from yours. You're a traveller and all'' the groom tells me finally, with a hint of admiration and a pint of Guiness in his hand.
'' Darling , you 're a traveller too'' I tell him , looking at all his friends and family interacting in 3 languages.
He was way more of a traveller than me , in reality. He had travelled roads I did not even consider going one day . I look at his beautiful Spanish wife and their baby who was destined to be trilingual. He had taken that risk. He knew things I did not know because he had been there and done that. He had taken the road less travelled. Using tradition to his own advantage ( and not the other way round for once)

Yes, he already knew that the travellers' road is not supposed to be a lonely path in the end.

No, We don't have to do this alone.

That day was definitely the day when I had my first real glimpse of  the road less travelled.

When I was again reconsidering my view on Life ( I have to do it very often) , a unidentified flying object landed on me.
The last bit of tradition ...

I had caught The Bride 's bouquet.

OH DEAR.

Sunday 26 August 2012

Mind the gap

Traveling in Europe is fun. And easy. London - Dublin 1h.

Traveling in England is fun when you have a sense of humour and very complicated. London Gatwick- Canterbury 4 hours 15 minutes ( actual distance is 51 miles)

And that was just the train journey.

I usually go straight to Brighton. Because in England all roads lead to Brighton but this time, I decided to be daring and go ''straight'' to Canterbury.

Buying a train ticket in England requires a lot of cultural knowledge. What do you need to know? That there are shitloads of fares . You've got Family fares. You need to be 3 people. Yes, you can just grab 2 strangers randomly and go buy tickets together, it works too.

Day returns. You need to return before 2am the same day ( ie sober enough to watch the time) The off peak ticket : You need to sleep on a bench until 9 am , when you can finally get on the train or the ''Not via London ticket''

All you have to do is Always ask for the cheapest ticket.

The cheapeast ticket is usually to oh so famous '' not via london route'' . Unless you want to go to london of course . I'm sure they still have a not via London for London tough. Like you get off before and you walk the rest of the way or something.

The Question is : Where does London start? Usually Clapham Junction is still acceptable. Beyond that, it's game over. You need a new ticket.
 
Of course as a cheap almost Brit I booked my ''not via London'' ticket and I decided to trust the over worked ladies at the counter to guide me through the '' not via London '' game.

That's probably why I ended up in London Victoria. Anyway. It's a story worth telling so I'm not going to complain that the Brits give me more work as a travel writer.

'' Excuse me I 've got a ''not via London'' ticket and I want to go to..... '' I say to the lady
'' Platform 1 change twice and you 'll get to Clapham Junction You can go from there. NEXT . ''

I like this game. Riddles and that.

I should have noticed that she did not even listen to my destination but I was too happy to actually understand someone speaking ''proper'' English. ( I just got back from Dublin where all I did for 2 days was staring and smiling to people speaking a weird language to me)

So, the lady is programmed to re direct anyone to clapham junction ( the closest to London not via London) . Anyone as in ANYONE. Even people who are headed to the other side of the country.

Even stupid French who are on their way Home to Canterbury.

So I'm on the train. 2 stops later I'm at Clapham Junction , happily looking for my train to Canterbury.

I see a train lady who's politely answering all stupid questions with a smile that only the Brits can have.

Stupid questions like :
'' Where is Clapham junction?''
She would answer :
'' That is here , madam , you have reached your destination''

In France the answer would have probably been :

'' Stop taking the piss out of me , or I call the cops''

So I go to this lady and ask her what platform I should go to.

'' What zone is Canterbury in  ? '' she asks me.

OH DEAR.

Me, my french accent and my not via London ticket answered:

'' Canterbury is in Kent , not in London''

'' You have to go through London to get there from here then''

'' But I have a not via London ticket''

Stare.

We both look at the map.

Silence.

'' So how do you get to Canterbury from here without going through London then?''

'' I'M ASKING YOU'' I tell her

I had to go North and then South plus East and West. Then change at Redhill ( is that even a name of a place?)

'' Keep the map, have a good evening '' she tells me, defeated. ( but polite)

I look at my watch. 2 hours of travelling ''not via London'' already. SO what did I do? I jumped on a train to London Victoria. .

Just for the thrill of it.

I get there, smile my way through the gates . My clivage and my french accent have been my best partners throughout the years.
 
I text my friend/boss :
'' Shall I play french or pay the ''via london fee''
'' Play french'' he answers

Sounds good. I should have listened to him. He's a Brit, he knows.

Then , there it was. The guilt. My British side.

I surrendered ( my French side) and went to the ticket office.

'' I ended up here by mistake.'' I say

'' But you have a not via london ticket madam''

Thank you I realize that.

'' That'll be a lot more expensive madam''

Naughty girl who went through London for 2 minutes 30 seconds

'' 12 pounds 30 please'' he asks me.

'' Me francaise no English. Not know London good''

Too late to play French. I just swore in perfect English anyway. DAMN.

'' Can I just not go via London then?'' I ask him.

No reaction. Some Brits do not take British Humour.

I got on , the conductor looked at my clivage more than my '' any route'' ticket but at least , I was on the right part of the train. It divides on route. And who knows where you can end up. Somewhere like Herne Bay or something. ( of course I had done it before)

I got home with the feeling that the adventurous bit of my week end was in my own country ( as in England of course)
Travelling is like that. Would it be funny if it was just a straight line? If anything would always go according to plan , what would we have left to discover about the world and ourselves?

Thank you British railway....

Wednesday 22 August 2012

Behind every great man there is a great woman

This Life is like British weather. Unpredictable. you have  start relying on another level to live your Life. Because you realise that All you have ever been told about Life as we know it becomes totally obsolete.

You then learn that there is no such thing as .... Genders.

'' Lunch is ready!'' Big Sister yells from downstairs.

'' I am a lucky man! '' I say to on of the guests . I suddenly felt like the Bread winner of the family.

.I have been deep cleaning the whole hostel with the girls for 3 weeks now. And I like me lunch on the table when I finish work.

Yes, I deeply understand men who marry girls who can cook for them at anytime. I am one of them.
 
But Mama had to leave to Brighton again.

Me at 2pm after a hard cleaning session with a blank expression on my face, totally lost.

WHERE IS MY LUNCH?

The intern looks at me '' Annabelle , you're cooking today I'm off to the shower''

Who do you think I am? A freaking woman?

I finally resumed cooking for myself.

Guests , looking at what I'm cooking '' What is it Annabelle?''
Me : '' Survival''


Ok, so I tend to behave like a man sometimes. Is that alright doctor?
 
I have learnt in my travels that we all have a feminine and masculine side equally strong inside of us . We all are masculine and feminine.

Our feminine part feels the emotions and has the intuition , the creativity , the masculine part has the will power and acts. This blog post is a delighful mix of my feminine side and my masculine side. ( any tips welcome)

Somehow, sometime in History we started to think that Women represented the Feminine and Men , the masculine. It was easier to make people think that. Someone had to create a society. And teaching people to express both their masculine / feminne sides would have been a long and tiring job.

We're paid by the hour over here. Let's teach them some crap instead.

And God created schools....

So we get confused when our aim is actually quite simple : balance out our 2 sides to have the Life that we want.

I did not quite get the balance part yet, you may have gathered. I'm quite of an extreme version of both genders.
 
I'm a woman. You can't miss it. Men can rarely gather the will power to look up to see my eyes.

In other words I've got a mix of Al Bundy , Jean Claude Vandamme , Margaret Thatcher and Lady Diana living inside of me.

O joy.

In my bag I always have 2 books.

At the moment you cannot find more extreme.

'' 50 shades of Grey'' for the lady

And a book from Bill Bryson, my all times role model, for the man.

When people ask me why I 'm single........ I don't know what to say , really.

( If you have strange mix inside of you too , please apply within)

Most people have a problem expressing their feminine side ( '' I'm not gay mate'' or '' I'm too busy for that crap''  ) so it results in binge drinking , chain smoking , over working and over eating : the only way to repress the creativity that wants to get out.
 
Been there, done that. Now that it's finally expressing itself after 2 years of intense self discovery , I 've got to learn to cope with it.
I've become a writer and I cry when I can't make the whole world happy ( ie I very often cry) and I 'm so intensely in touch with my intuition that I know what most people feel around me ( quite handy at times) and I can guide them with my intuition too. Wow.

Yet, I'm the toughest emotionless person too. My manager calls me '' bitch'' because I make her run 45 minutes every morning at 6am.
I run BEHIND her to make sure she keeps going. My tough side scares me a little. Because it is VERY tough.

So, During the day, at work, it is either :

'' Annabelle made the intern cry again''
OR
'' Annabelle is crying again''
 
However I'm starting to learn the balance thingy  because I see it in others now. Especially my girl friends here.
 
Mama stands on a widnow seal with a hammer and a nail after we cleaned the whole hostel for 8 hours straight AND then cooks for 10 people , Big Sister comes and exterminates any spider you possibly can imagine with the emotion of a stone then she'll come to you and do your nails and hair , giggling.

But still , we have the image in our head of Life as we know it ( years of mind training I guess)

'' Come , now'' Big sister says . She wants to show me something she got me I suppose.. She gets me new clothes from Charity everyday now.

'' For you'' she says pointing at a guy.

I'm now in the garden staring at  Mister Muscle from Italy.

'' Hi'' I say to the guy , obvisously a guest, as suprised to see me standing there as I am to see him

'' Sorry but Who the F*** is he?'' I whisper to her.

'' Friend of the last Napolitan. You need Italian lover Annabelle. ''

SURE.... But I'm gonna pass on that one. Too much masculine here.( I'm not gay) I like my men sensitive too. Thanks.
 
Yes, in this life , you have to learn who you really are and experience things for yourself .

So why not just enjoy other people's company instead of asking them to give us what we already have inside of us?

Just saying...



Sunday 19 August 2012

English Summer ( Part I ?)


British Summer is one of those things that finally happens when you stopped expecting it. Like France winning the Eurovision ( still has not happened yet though) or anything you really want in life

Have you noticed? Whenever you want something REALLY bad you do not usually get it. The minute you realise you can do without it ? You get it. I try to do the same with money and convince myself that I do NOT need 5000 pounds. Failure so far but I still try.

This time last year I was living in a Buddhist monastery in the South of Thailand. Being ''the only tourist in the village'' after everyone left. I felt quite isolated amongst the nuns . I did consider becoming one of them at some point. It's the lack of social contact that stopped me ( yes, that's sad) 

This year , my wish of more people around me was granted at last :I tested my love for crowds to the maximum yesterday. I went to an English beach

So in Summer , in the South Hemisphere you naturally go to the beach. Over here , you start complaining about the heat and THEN you realise you can go to the beach and actually do like in the movies : chill out in the Sun.

So I drag my 60 year old friend from New Zealand with me to an English sandy beach. It was her first time on a beach on this side of the world.

It s a sandy beach but we could barely see the sand from the distance . It looked like THIS : 



It took us about 10 minutes to get over it.We were staring at the beach in the distance. Can we cope? Or not? 

  Although it should be natural for me , ze European who used to build castles on the packed beaches of Southern France as a kid , it was also a shock.

When you lived, even for a little while, in a country where there are more beaches than people( Australia) you are allowed to be in shock. So when you come from a country where there are more sheep than people AND  beaches together ( New Zealand) , it's even harder. 

'' You're alright darling?''  I tell her

No answer. Let s go get an ice cream.

The guy next to us is from Brazil. He's also speechless and even asks us to take a picture of him with the beach in the background. That must be his new facebook profile picture.

We finally get to the beach. Time to find a parking space 1 hour. Time we have remaining before getting a ticket 40 minutes. I'm telling you , 40 minutes is way enough to go for a swim over here.

Why? Because we're swimming in ... the North Sea! As in '' freezing cold water''

Very cheeky I decided to not tell my friend about the temperature of the water. I wave at her as she goes into the water ( someone has to stay behind to watch the bags)


She comes back

'' Mate , it 's freezing. You have to go in straight away. No time to think what day of the week it is , DIVE IN!''
She loved it. 

I can't believe how close to me other people are.

The woman next to me is chain smoking while reading yesterday's copy of the Sun. She is telling off her teenage son who's building a castle on my feet.

He looks at me raising his eyebrows to show me that he 's annoyed by her. She shouts louder. 

To my left there is a baby who is obviously walking for the first time. He comes straight to me and I end up cheering with the rest of the family. They speak indian but I understand what they mean.

No one could disturb the lady behind me. She's reading '' 50 shades of Grey''.

A bit further you've got Italians arguing ( or are they just talking?)

My turn to go in the water. People playing beach volley kick the ball in my direction for the 5th time.  1,2,3  dive in.
1,2,3 get out because 1/ it's frezing 2/ the parking ticket is no longer valid, we need to go now.

People in England get in line for everything . '' They are so polite''  , my Romanian friend told me the other day as a male car driver stopped to let us cross the street . I agreed although I knew he mainly did that to check out our bottoms while we were crossing . French male drivers should be that smart. Instead of swearing at you, they could just check you out looking polite. I love English Men. 

SO yes, to get out of the beach in England , you have to Queue too. You can spot the french and the italians straight away. It's the only people who totally ignore the system.

Queue? What queue?

I'm still french. But partly English too now. So I jump the Queue... politely. I invite my kiwi friend to do the same. She was saying something about bloody pommies anyway.

What an experience. A whole blog post about going to the beach. In Europe, everything is an experience. There are so many people , everything is a book , a story in itself. What a paradise for the writer that I am.

Where else can you walk past Charles Dickens' House in your Bikini anyway?

 *Wink*

And walk past a pub full of English men trying their best to not look like they're checking you out . ( I do love them) 

I got back home last night and was eager to share my experience of English beaches . I was a tour guide that night . One of my favourite events of the week. Taking a bunch foreigners around Canterbury and tell them about its history and customs like I was born here.I just love it.

Last night , my foreigners were mainly….. British. Mmmm that’s another story. Me , my made in France tattoo and my strange accent gathered enough courage to do the tour anyway.

I tell them about the tour I usually give to foreigners and they tell me they are so curious about what we ( ze foreigners) thinks about them that they ask me to pretend they ‘re not Brit.

Mmmm a wee bit risky. It showed me how much I know the culture anyway. 

‘’ You are so funny’’ they told me at the end of the tour.

In British English it means '' we had a good time'' . They are the only people I know who can take this sort of humour. Why? They invented it.

My answer was simple ‘’ I learn my humour from you guys.


The people. It's what I 'm interested about in the end.  And there is nothing like England in terms of multiculturalism. England is the country where we all learn to live together with our differences. It might be crowded, busy but …. Who would we be without each other?




Friday 17 August 2012

Smile , you're on camera!

'' I can't believe You said I was a pole dancer on national TV! You Italian , my revenge will be huge and nasty.'' I say to '' the last Napolitan''  ( that's the title of the book he s writing so it s his new nickname from now on)

 Giving a photocopy of his id card to a girl he s trying to hit on just to show her his age ,  that's the worst you can ever do to him. And I will one day.

'' It was your last chance to shine Annabelle'' he says , proud of what he had just done.

Yes, The hostel is going to participate to a TV show that's a bit similar to ''come dine with me'' but with people running places offering accommodation.
 
I was half sick in bed that morning and decided to leave my will power aside for one little morning and sleep in instead of my usual running / writing / working early plan.

8am

Big Sister : '' Annabelle, I kill you. TV is coming today, you 're the one making the rooms up remember ??? Go NOW . ''

So the only day I decide to let go of my will power is the day I have to make beds for the BBC???

One hour and a bit later the hostel was shining and we were ready to greet the lady with the camera. I even dressed in smart black and white ( the french maid in me)
 
'' Be natural '' Mama reminds us.

Natural seemed a bit daring...

'' Annabelle, don't be too natural'' she adds.

Now that's better.

A camera. That's crazy what you can tell about people according to their reaction to... a video camera. It's like handling a mirror to people.

Now we can all answer the question '' How would you behave in front of a TV camera?''
 
Some staff ran off to their room, hiding but still really curious of what was going on. ie , quietly taking the piss out of the rest of us. 3 of us bravely stayed out while mama was enjoying herself talking to it about the hostel.

'' I could get used to that'' she says

I did admire her. Her natural and ease, like she was born for the camera. Thank God I did not have to talk to it too much.

What did I think I would do in front of the camera?

Well first , scared to look stupid and totally shy and ......

'' The camera adds a few pounds'' the Dutch intern tells me to wind me up ( they love it)

'' I wonder how many cameras she s got'' I answer, not taking the bait this time.
 
After a few jokes that I could not resist ( such as '' if you're a tax man , call me'' or '' the male staff is working topless on Thursdays'' ) everyone relaxed and was natural when we were asked to be.

I then cross the room to get some bread for a staff member who was hiding when the girl with the camera asked me for my name again .

I answer, not knowing where to look. Feet? up? The girl? the camera?

Annabelle, stupid on English TV take 1.

'' So , Annabelle, what do you think of your manager?''

Mama was as suprised as me by the question.

I start mumbling stuff but all of a sudden something clicked and I said EXACTLY what I wanted to say to Mama but never did.
When do you tell you friend '' I admire you for being tough and strong and very efficient as a manager'' Ok , maybe after a couple of drinks. But then again you forget the next day.

5 minutes later mama was telling the camera girl what a bitch I was for making her run for 45 minutes every morning at 6am . With the hills and that.

Talk about natural.

5 miutes later I was proving the camera I was not polish by showing the camera my Made in France Tattoo.

Then the chance of my Life came. Me , the misunderstood, the one who wants to be heard.

'' Annabelle, why do you do this job?''

The camera was no longer there. I was talking to some higher forces about my passion in Life.

'' Working in a hostel is not only about checking people in . It's of course about high standard cleanliness but it's also making the travellers feel safely at home, make them feel they belong somwehere, to a huge family of the world to some extend. Only through travelling you can discover that if we are all different , we also are all the same.
Making people feel a part of the family , it 's that's we do here. Because we're all the same and we should not be scared of each other. Travelling is so important. ''

Mama was raising 2 thumbs up behind the camera. I could barely see her, I was so much into what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say to EVERYONE. For a very long time. Me, the misunderstood artist ( tears)

Then I showed her the gifts people offer us on check out because we have helped them.
 
'' So, Annabelle, you're single ... right?''

'' Yes I am, someone had to '' ( proud look on face)

'' This lifestyle must be pretty interesting!''

'' Yes, I....''

ANNABELLE SHUT UP ( the world is not ready for that)

'' I live a very different lifestyle from other people''

 CALL ME . (wink )

Job kept, dignity same. That was short.

What a day. When do we start '' Kipps Brother'' ? Me and Mama are up for it!

So advice from the wise one : If you really want to say something, say it to the camera and SMILE !

Monday 13 August 2012

Growing up

'' Civil partnership is NOT the same as marriage ! say for the millionth time to the girls.''

They obviously want to wind me up. AGAIN.

Just because I was telling them about my past. No matter what you do, your past is always catching up with you.

'' Annabelle, you were married!!!'' they tell me, laughing.

We all have a different thought system on Life

'' I was NEVER married''

To me and ze French , civil partnership is to marriage what fast food is to frecnh cuisine. You go sign a paper in a cold office and you can pay tax together happily ever after . That 's it. It's either for gay people or teachers .

We were teachers. Obviously. I am not going to tell you about my gay relationships quite yet ( read on) As the government sends the new teachers wherever they fancy ( mostly Paris ) me and my partner decided to get a civil partnership so I'm not sent to ze capital . Yes Paris vs marriage, I would chose marriage.

But it's NOT marriage , it s a civil partnership !!!!!!!!

France, July 2007
Guy in office : please sign here . And here. So ... are you happy? ( he had to say something romantic .The whole process in itself is NOT.

Us, together : Yes.

I meant it. I was the sort of happy I was taught to be. The '' I feel safe I found a very good man and I will soon have a safe job to go to'' happy. The '' I'm becoming an adult at last and I'm making everyone so proud,'' happy.

Grown up happy . He was like my best friend, my brother. Who needs physical attraction I mean. What counts is that we've got someone to grow old with , someone who could help you financially during hard times , sickness and failure.

Also know as a walking comfort zone

I was wearing a brown dress and my best friend was taking pictures of us in the nearest park in our hometown . It's called '' the English Garden'' . How ironic given the fact that I left him a year later to move to.... England .

Have you ever looked back to your Life with what you know now and thought it's hilarious?

I really felt happy and proud of reaching a high standard life. I had made it.

The oh so nice boyfriend, many friends around me and soon , a proper job.

But why is it I still think about that travelling thing?

A year before , I had decided to move back to France to get a real Life since my job working in a hostel in Canterbury , England was not bringing enough money ( thinking back I go HA-HA)  in and I studied to be a teacher. So why change my plans I mean , years of study to not make it in the end? Whether I liked it or not, it was my professional destiny.

It's good money , and it is job security. I can go work in hostels in July August. If I have enough savings that is.

Ok then.

Just like that I became a cover teacher in my old school and I met my '' husband'' ( it's a bloody civil partnership!!!!!!)

Yes, I felt happy to be so safe. Travelling can wait til I retire.In a few hours I will officially be a ....... teacher. The results are coming out and I know I succeded this year.

We go to a bar to celebrate the Union with friends and that. I look at myself in the mirror as I'm washing my hands later

'' WTF are you doing Annabelle? Grow up.''

That was the first time I heard the other little voice. The one that's telling you what you 're REALLY here for.

WHAT?

'' Seriously. Is this what you think Life is all about? COME ON''

Yes, I always knew it was not what I wanted to think about life . It's what others thought.

But who's got the guts to listen to THAT voice and think what you think ?

Certainly not me. But sometimes, life helps just a little bit.

I come back to sit down and my friends all had a sad face.

'' Annabelle, it's not for this year. You failed the exam''

The result had just come out and my name was not on the list.

WHAT? So I get to fail on my engagement day? Great.

Devastated ( and totally relieved for reasons I did not understand at the time too )

Poor Annabelle was always the one failing every attempt to be normal. And she tried again and again and again.........

'' Do you think we all are here for a reason?'' I would ask my ex every day , knowing that something was not quite right.

'' I don't know darling'' He would say to me.

Now he knows one thing . We are NOT here to be together . ( But he can have my furniture)

September 2008
Me : Look , I 've got a nice rental house, I ve got the sweetest boyfriend I love him , I have a safe job to go to , I have money saved up so.... why did I start to drink wine ALONE during the day ? Why am I feeling dead in the inside?
Psychologist : It's time to grow up , Annabelle.

I'm paying you 20 Euros an HOUR to hear this? That I'm NOT a grown up??! That's what I m trying to be !!!

Growing up : getting yourself a safe life. with a good man and job security.
The more boxes I ticked , the more wine I was drinking. Alone. In the afternoon. In my pretty house.
 
So maybe.... Growing up does not mean THAT to ME ?

WHAT?

Ok . How about trying to move back to England , clean toilets in a hostel for a living and live in a tent ?
Now that sounds a lot more grown up to ME.

London , November 2008 in an Indian restaurant.

I was going to do the first REAL grown up thing in my new Life . Leave my security behind.

Boyfriend : So you're coming back to France for Xmas then. I'lll wait. Then you might stay.In other words : you ll come back down to Earth and see what life is REALLY all about. Security and comfort.

There was nothing worse to me than people thinking I was now sick and running away from your responsibilities when I had actually just stopped doing that.

He had the '' you should see someone about it , it will help you grow up Annabelle'' sort of look

Helloooo I HAVE SEEN SOMEONE. That's why I'm here.

Growing up : forget what people expect you to think. Get out of your comfort zone to find out what YOU think.

What you really think about how you should live your life is buried somewhere inside of you . All it gets is the will to dig.

And did I dig for 4 years. ...

Now my vision of ''marriage'' slightly changed

Canterbury , now
'' Annabelle , did you get divorced at some point ? '' the girls ask me.

'' One of the partners has to sign a paper. The other one does not even need to be there. So I wasn't there. ''

'' U seen the paper?''

'' No but he told my mum.... And....''

''ANNABELLE IS STILL MARRIIIIIIIED'' they all joke.

SHIT. I never thought of that...

I had a beer ( ie I'm completely drunk) and I'm trying to explain what I deeply think about this sacred union

Annabelle is ''married''  now means to me :

1'/ '' Annabelle has got an Australian passport !''
2/ '' Annabelle has allowed someone she loved to get a french passport and he can now stay in Europe as long as he wants to ''

Then I stumble into bed , 4pm , drunk and married. I did not see that one coming either.

How different can we become when we just change our thinking. So , it ''just'' what it takes. To change your life you have to change what you think about it.

The bad news? It NEVER stops , that need for security , safety , comfort. You re still scared to lose your job, your friends , your money , your dog... . But with the years you learn to speak those 4 simple words louder and louder :

GET ON WITH IT .

(... and GROW UP. )

Saturday 11 August 2012

You can't buy your dream


'' Annabelle, for you. Wear this NOW''
Big Sister had been shopping again. I ve got 3 tops and... a necklace and earings? ?
'' But ... Why?'' I ask 
'' to thank you for all you do for us and the hostel ''
'' Ok thanks. But sorry I missed the part when I actually did anything for you? ''
 
So... I spend my time wanting the world to understand what I do and be grateful for my goodness and it comes only when I do..... NOTHING?

Ironic innit? 

I just do it   because I love it! I love Hostel work and I m actually really good at it when I don't play stupid

So is that is then. The secret of life and everything. ? DO WHAT YOU LOVE? 

I sort of knew it. So if you're  reading this thinking , shall I change my whole life and do what I love? Well.... do it. You ll get a silver necklace ( better than the golden medal for surviving a Life that's not yours anyway)

If you ve been following me for a while you surely know that taking stupid risks to do what you love cannot be as bad as not taking risks at all.

 Yes, you can survive for a a month in Australia with absolutely no money at all and no return ticket either. 

WHAT?  I'm now showing this as an example. Please do not try it at home but keep in mind that when you go the ''passion'' way , you are always strangely protected by.... Life?

The main thing that usually stops us from doing what we love is I CAN T AFFORD IT.

If I told you you'd have EXACTLY what you need when you need it , would you believe me? No? Time to read my blog again .... 

Right now I can always get by although I never know if I can afford to. I'm offered new clothes every week , I look like I can afford to look after myself ( wow That's a change) , I m doing a couple of extra hours to pay for good quality food and I can even eat like a normal person who has a Romanian Mama to cook for her. I sort of magically can afford to have an I phone too ( oh la la) How did that happen? 

Well, apart from that , you obviously have to chill out your vision of the world. And see the bigger picture of possibilities.If yo dont think week by week you are eaten with worry.

I currently technically cannot pay for my phone bill , my publisher, my credit card bill. But this is NOT the week to worry about it. It 's only in 2 weeks. ( it feels better now)  

My current money situation leads to some awesome conversations like this : 

Manager : '' So , Annabelle, you are going to a wedding in Dublin on the 23rd . When are you coming back?'' 
Me , clearing my throat to sound as professional as I can : '' I currently can not afford the ticket back but I will let you know when I can ''
Manager, used to it ''Ok, Sure''
.
I 've done it already. For my best friend's wedding in France. One week I pay for the way there , the following week for the way back. I plan my whole life week by week.

No I do not let my financial situation stop me from doing the things I want to do. That's probably why I haven't seen zero for quite a while.

Annabelle, traveller, sponsored by HSBC UK.

Guess what, I can even do the tourist bit too sometimes. I get free boat trips in Canterbury because I work in a hostel .The other day I was thinking I d like to see the White Cliffs of Dover .

Guess what my Kiwi lady friend comes to pick me up with her car yesterday and tells me

'' Let's go and see the White Cliffs of Dover''
Now where did that come from?

No idea. But I could get in for free as well .

Don't ask. Actually , yes ,  do ask , and it is given . That's what they say anyway. Ask and it is given. 

Whatever. 
 
'' We were both born on the 8 th Annabelle. The 8 is a money number'' She announces as we were on top of the White cliffs.
It's good to talk about the Universe and fairies sometimes. I've got her for that ( she's a Spiritual healer) 

'' Where the fuck is the money then?'' I answer. 

Ok maybe sometimes I do get mad about my financial situation. I forget that I ve got way enough to be happy RIGHT NOW and I blame invisible forces for not giving me more.

'' Look I ve been paying this bloody credit card debt for 6 months now and all I actually paid is 33 pounds. The rest? Charges.Given my current situation I technically will NEVER be able to pay it off ( don't tell the bank)'' 
I don't want to change my job, I love my Life I'm the happiest I ever been , screw working for money and shit.

But.... if everything stay like this, How do I make plans for Life????

As in , TRAVEL plans ( I don't see anything else I want to spend my money on. Plus it helps me understand my backpackers better and makes me better at my JOB. You know, the one that I love so much.'' 

Mmm catch 22 innit?

'' I'm absolutely pissed off that when I was a miserable teacher I had thousands of Euros saved up and no idea what to do with them besides buying sleeping pills and now that I live Ze Life, I've got debts in the bank? 

WTF?

'How do I take my friend who will recover from Cancer ( yes she will)  from Melbourne to Paris ? , How do I go visit my imaginary boyfriend in Canada? How do I go Home for the Summer holidays ( read '' Christmas in Australia) and how do I take you to France???? I tell her shortly after she asked me to come with her on a short trip to Monnet's gardens in September. 

As I said that her phone beeped. The message read '' Welcome to France, you can use your phone ....''
WHAT?

HAHA Very funny. 

We just walked on Water. After being Jesus for so long I 'm now being Moses. 

I stop moaning for a minute and I realise. I am standing at the top of The White Cliffs of Dover and I m not thinking to jump. This is absolutely stunning, I m here with a dear friend and I'm going home to my family after. 

I would never have thought that would be possible. 

Anything is possible in this Life . So Why worry about a few thousands of pounds that I don't even need right NOW?

That's what really always screws us up as Human beings. We think about the future too much.

Even when we live the Life of our dreams , We want the money to buy our Future. Like we don't trust the Dream is going to go according to plan anyway?

And you know what? I would have screwed my dream up if I had had the money to afford it. I probably would not even be here right now. And to be honest , there is no other place I'd rather be right now.

You don't buy your dream Life. You let it come to you . All it takes is guts to believe that anything is possible, because you know what?

Anything is possible....