tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47413815120313956272024-03-05T02:43:18.496-08:00Strolling frogA french girl discovering ze world, other cultures, people and herself...
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-81494012453906820882013-01-26T01:02:00.002-08:002013-01-26T04:25:51.091-08:00I'm from here, actually ( or how to feel good in your own country) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I LOVE being french as long as I'm the only french
around........ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It's so cool to be French. You can be called arrogant,
always angry, greedy with food . you
don't care, you don't have to fucking live there!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But when you do, you realise how fucking true it all
is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I can t watch the news without being angry and ask
more angry people why others are so angry..... They still fight about Sarkozy (
did anyone tell them he was gone or I became as good as the Brits in politics) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Why do you have to drink wine with every meal ( and
close down all the shops for lunch time) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’m still recovering from the frogs and snails I had
for Xmas. Why eat that???? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And why am I asking all those questions since I’m
supposed to be ONE OF THEM? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Citizen of the world it is! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The thing is.... I don't see the point of being french
in my own country. ( same as I still don't understand why you need to marry
someone from your own country, when you don't actually need a visa to stay in
that country ? Why make your life so complicated??? )<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Plus , my “Made in France” tattoo does not make me
sexy here, it makes me bloody nationalist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Why did I come back to live here again? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Ze book. Yes, I wrote a book . A small step for
humanity a huge one for blondes. Of course in French ( the English one should
follow) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The material proof of my travels. A book. Written by
me. Oh so proud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But still the most asked question when you live in
your Home town is “ So , are you still NOT married?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Then you learn to be humble . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">God knows that book made me travel already. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I wrote it in 5 different countries around the world,
including a Thai monastery with one power point to plug in my lap top ( next to
Buddha) . To make the money to publish it I went through various jobs ( all
lost to this day) and starvation ( but
I'm still a D cup I don't know how to explain that one) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Now I've got to face my own country ( forget starvation) , to sell it ONE BY ONE since we’re not in book shops. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">If I don't make it as a writer, you can write '' at
least she tried'' on my grave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">My goal is to sell the first 200 and then do what I do
best. GO TRAVELING. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">(I started Mid November , I sold more than half
already. No I did not give ANY for free. I’m a big girl now. Maybe I swapped
one for a taxi ride to the airport once but... It does not count...right? )<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I was having a hard time fitting into my own country
when I saw the blog of an Aussie girl I met in England who is currently living
in France. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Hilarious . She 's living life to the fullest enjoying
croissants, Christmas markets, mulled wine, chatting to random french people,
discovering she had a liver ( France is the only country where I can actually
feel my liver) .... Exactly the way I
would do it, ANYWHERE ELSE in the world. In the mean time I’m crying like a
baby watching Sydney NYE fireworks on TV ( I was there last year.....) . Imagine
me on Australia Day ( shit, it’s today) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Life is fun when you're traveling huh. ( nostalgy)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Hang on, this girl is in the SAME country as me! But
for me, it’s the country of serious, fitting in and play by the rules. Knowing
me...... I wonder how I managed to live
here the last 2 months and a half...... And still have no fake boyfriend
, no house in the countryside and no prestigious job that people would admire
me for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">No, this time, I’m being strong(er) But I stopped
traveling .... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">When do you know when you stop traveling? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Your attitude changes, mate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">When you look at it, I haven't changed much :<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">-I'm still talking, writing about traveling and
changing the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">- I still take pictures of random stuff and chat to
random people ( a woman asked me what she should get her dog for Xmas the other
day. I answered love) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">-My backpack is still half full in a corner of my
room, I own 2 pairs of jeans, 1 jumper, several tops and 3 pairs of shoes (
thank you Lumi and English second hand shops)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">- People keep asking me “ How long are you staying
with us for?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">-I have no money <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">CONCLUSION : I 'm still traveling !!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’m just traveling in my own country for a while.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Obviously when you start changing your attitude, your
life starts to change too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Selling my book led me to a girl's place for afternoon
coffee. We had met a few hours at a boring meeting for English teachers back in
the years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We started to randomly speak English so her 2 year old
son would pick up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Oh so cool to talk about private things in a
supermarket without anyone understanding much of anything you're saying. (Only
in France can you speak English so privately...) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Gradually I felt like I was backpacking again... in my
home town. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The news slowly stopped to annoy me. Why? I stopped
watching !<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I started to fascinate several people with this weird
life of mine. (You ve got to accept being weird first) . I usually accept it in
the rest of the world so why not here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Anyway , when people read the book with all my fuck
ups , the will know who I am ( and even how many guys I had in my life in a
year) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I sell books to ladies at my gym classes , at the English Club I go to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I know they read the book when , the following week I
go back and all they say is “You” ..... and laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It’s ok to sit with strangers who know your whole life
actually ( when you do love your life) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">“ So where are you from?” tells me the hot guy on the
other end of the table at the English Club the other night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I felt like I was backpacking in Asia again so I
surprised myself answering :<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">“ I’m from here , actually” I had never said that in
English before. We all knew where Vesoul , my home town was because we were
almost all from here ! So proud. Until
the next question . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">“ Where do you live ?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Fuck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">“Couch surfing at my parents” seemed the coolest idea.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Not so good eventually. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But I was myself.
It’s so cool to be yourself AND be from “ here” ( big first time for
me!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">So the best way to feel good when you stop traveling
is....... to keep traveling anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: FR;">Who can stop you other than yourself anyway? </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: FR;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: FR;">PS :Watch how awesome your own country looks through your eyes of citizen of the world? </span><br />
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Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-42269695064100268312013-01-07T06:01:00.000-08:002013-01-07T06:01:19.068-08:00Why the french complain so much ( merde) ... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
France is the country of good food, good wine , style, love, passion , freedom, great views , the best healthcare in the world, cheapish houses, dog shits...<br />
So why are all these french people STILL complaining ? And what are they complaining about?<br />
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We usually complain about 2 things that go well together:<br />
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First, The government. That's a good one. Politics is the main subject of conversation in France because it will always be something to complain about. Something to go against and to fight for.<br />
The socialists will be criticized by the conservatives and the conservatives by... most.<br />
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The last 5 years were the happiest days of french complaining. <br />
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Under Sarkozy we had most of the country ashamed to be french and now that he's gone , all our famous people are leaving to not pay taxes in France ( and graduallly become Russian , Belgian , Swiss, English.) Mind you , one wants to move out because the government is failing to protect 2 elephants from getting killed. All that is making the French even more ashamed to be French.<br />
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So is being french something to be ashamed of or do we REALLY complain for no reason?<br />
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Obviously the second thing we complain about is money. But we refuse to work extra hours or on Sundays.<br />
Or everyday between 12 and 2. Or pay more taxes. It's all the government's fault anyway.<br />
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The other day , I was looking at a blog from an Aussie friend who currently lives in France , she does not seem to have a minute to complain about elephants, taxes that are too high or the weather . Travelling from North to South , eating all the good regional stuff and meeting cool french people on the way, sharing anything they have with her. <br />
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Now THAT is France. That's it. I remember France. From traveling. All my foreigner friends admiring me for being french. Classy , romantic ( yeah right) . And how they LOVED visiting my country. Paris , Monnet, croissants, Champagne, Montmartre, Moulin Rouge, Champs Elysées, Amour , vin rouge ...<br />
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So... The only positive image I have from my country comes from.... FOREIGNERS?<br />
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Mmmmmm .... I wonder why......<br />
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When you ask my people, the French, why they complain so much , they kindly reply " to leave a better world to the next generation" . Where would the world be without passionnate fighters like the French?<br />
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And If they knew they only had to ask foreigners to realise they ALREADY are living in a better world but they fail to see it, they would still complain because they just love it , and that 's how , in the end, the world knows and loves the French....<br />
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Bonne journée<br />
<br />
Annabelle<br />
@frogrenouille<br />
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Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-8948814356402450312013-01-06T07:04:00.001-08:002013-01-07T04:24:16.775-08:00You drink what you eat ( or how to pick the wine) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In France , we drink that weird sort of water WITH every meal on a daily basis. It's usually red or white and tastes of fermented grapes.<br />
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" One glass of wine a day keeps the doctor away" says a french proverb.<br />
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I wonder why we still have doctors over here , because EVERYONE seems to follow that saying.<br />
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I had my first taste of wine I was like, 8. And already I learnt how to pick the color, region according to the the type of food on the plate.If you don't or this is an insult to the food, the wine and the friends you have invited.<br />
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Wine and food = BIG DEAL. in France<br />
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To the people who are still looking for the " what wine with what type of food" dictionnary , give up on looking. I think it's an oral tradition. " This type of meat goes better with a sweet white" said great grand dad , and grand dad never questionned and passed it on.<br />
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I'd love to tell you but.... Living in other countries wipped off my french memory.<br />
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I left to live in England where we tend to drink ANY type of wine ( aka "house" wine) as a starter and THEN ( after , maybe, depending on how sober you still are ) you eat. No sacred link between wine and food there ,other than " you have to eat before you get hammered because you could be really sick.<br />
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Then I went to Australia , where you put ice cubes in good red wine to cool it off before the "Barbie"<br />
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Living abroad , I've learnt that 1/ wine was not a sacred thing everywhere in the world 2/ good wine can be other than french. But please don't tell the French when you get there.<br />
Their ego won't cope.<br />
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If you're at the restaurant, EASY. Just ask politely " What type of wine would go with this food sir? ( because Madam won't know")<br />
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If you want to bring wine over to your friend's place for dinner , you HAVE TO ask them what's for dinner first because you need to match the wine to the food. So , that spoils the surprise for dinner and you already know that you re going to hate the food AND you also have to bring a wine you hate to match it.<br />
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All I remember about matching is :<br />
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Fish = white wine<br />
Red= red meat<br />
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Once you pass the color test, you now have to take the region test . Burgundy, Bordeaux, Jura....<br />
Then it's usually about the personal tastes of the person who invites you. Get wrong and hurt your friend who 's going to throw the bottle somewhere in his " cave à vins" ( wine cave) waiting to meet a friend whom he can give it to and probably will never invite you again. Oh and there is the age too. The older the better ( and the most expensive too) . But sometimes it can be TOO old. But you can't know BEFORE you open the bottle so you have to buy it and wish for the best.<br />
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My conclusion to all this :<br />
If you're invited by some french people in France then show up with champagne , which solves every problem ( other than : "Shall we drink it as an "aperitif" before dinner or with the dessert?" )<br />
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The french love their food and wine , and they especially love to share it with new people. So basically , all you have to do is to show up , sit down with them for 3 hours and.... ENJOY.<br />
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( But if you still want to know more about wine and food I recommend this link!)<br />
<a href="http://allrecipes.com/howto/french-wine-and-food-regions/">http://allrecipes.com/howto/french-wine-and-food-regions/</a><br />
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Now let me have a good old mulled wine ( you can have it with biscuits or on its own. You'll be drunk in no time anyway)<br />
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Bon Appétit,<br />
<br />
Annabelle!<br />
Facebook : Strolling frog<br />
Twitter: @frogrenouille<br />
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(pictures by me!)<br />
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Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-27949228474916908782013-01-03T05:44:00.001-08:002013-01-07T04:24:16.722-08:00Bon appétit ... WHAT? AGAIN? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Food traditions never stop in my country. After snails for Xmas eve frogs on Xmas day ,<br />
champagne and "petit fours" on New Year's eve and Foie Gras on New Year's day, on the first Sunday of January we eat " La galette des rois'' ( called the King cake) you will note that the Sunday usually starts on the Thursday before and ends the following Saturday.<br />
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The king cake is here to remind us of the biblical 3 kings and the tradition of epiphany ( in other we don't givea crap about why , it's just another reason to sit down and eat)<br />
It consists of flaky puff pastry layers with a dense center of frangipane. Tradition holds that the cake is “to draw the kings” to the Epiphany. A figurine, la fève, which can represent anything from a car to a cartoon character, is hidden in the cake and the person who finds the trinket in their slice becomes king for the day and will have to offer the next cake.<br />
I remember my grand father used to swallow it, just to NOT buy the next cake.<br />
Obviously , who had it today? Who is the only penniless misfit in this family? The one who still does not feel completely french ( and still feels like she's in the movie Amélie after being back for 2 months?) ME! At least I'm the only strolling Queen of THIS country. Yes we do have to wear the crown...<br />
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Follow me on facebook for more Frenchness , recipes, stories and Human wisdom.<br />
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Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-7242150442348856512012-12-31T09:27:00.001-08:002013-01-07T04:20:19.245-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thanks for following my adventures and supporting my blog in 2012 </div>
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All the best to you in2013 all over the world! </div>
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Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-78315720479890628752012-11-16T10:41:00.001-08:002013-01-07T04:17:00.943-08:00Everywhere you go, there YOU are !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">''You're
from where? Vozool?'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' No ,
VE-SOUL'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' Where
the hell is that? By the sea? '' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' No,
it's in the East'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' I 've
never heard about Vee-zool'' she replies naturally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Try
Vesoul.... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Yes, I
did move back to my country, FRANCE. How many of you thought I would not do it?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">10 days
in France.... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">I've done
about everything a foreign tourist would have done at my place. Except that I
AM NOT a foreign tourist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Yes, I
did have to read the menu in English because I did not understand the words in
French. ( I was drunk too ) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Why so
complicated ? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">''
delicat Poisson et sa legere sauce aux
marrons' ( delicate fish and its light chestnut sauce) ' </span></i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">is still just bloody fish in your
plate, innit . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">And they
did not even have snails or frogs.And they call themselves F**** French. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Best
excuse : '' Sorry , I ve lived in England for so long'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">(
Appologies almost accepted . That was close) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">And how
many kinds of bread do they have anyway. So you basically need 10 minutes to go
buy your bread in this country. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">They even
ask you how long you want your baguette baked for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Helloooooo
I just want BREAD. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Let's
face it, I have totally lost my Frenchness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">The worst
thing is? I can't even watch a political debate for more than 2 minutes without
getting totally freaked out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' 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) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' WE ARE
NOT ANGRY , WE ARE EXPRESSING OUR EMOTIONS'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Mmmm even
that sentence was too much for me . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' OUR
WHAT?''<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">This is
not really something we mention much in England you see... These emotions
thingy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">It
results in either a '' wow, Annabelle, how do you capture the Spirit and
understand the culture of a country so well?'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">OR that :
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">England
</span></u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">''
Annabelle, you are WAY too emotional, you should see someone about it'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">France
:</span></u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">''
Annabelle, You have big problems expressing your emotions , you should see
someone about it'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">The
prefect balanced place should then be....... SOMEWHERE BETWEEN FRANCE AND
ENGLAND<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Or.... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Australia</span></u><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"> :<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' Chill
out mate , let's go to the beach'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">When
people ask me where I want to live , I DON T KNOW WHAT TO SAY !<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Seriously
I was totally lost for 10 days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">I felt
like I lost my memory and I pretended ( very badly) to remember it all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">No, I did
not care about good food, good wine or politics. I was still a Brit in the
inside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">When you
go abroad, you always compare your own country to the country you're in (
Something about insecurity) . Normal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">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 . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Hang on a
minute. That's the same one as in England. Or Australia. Or anywhere. I m exactly the same person.... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;">Damn. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: FR;">Everywhere
you go, here YOU are........... </span></div>
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-60455821743249455082012-11-09T06:15:00.001-08:002012-11-09T06:15:45.751-08:00Learn French , buy my book :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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 :) <br />
<br />
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Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-38948135754464812112012-11-04T03:05:00.000-08:002013-01-07T04:20:19.232-08:00Reality, check. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
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. <br />
<br />
Oh and how do you make a good impression again? Mmmm I don't know I never tried. <br />
<br />
Smile and pretend you know what you re doing. <br />
<br />
<u>A few hours .... and a few glasses (bottles?) of french wine later <br />
</u>Him : Great , you can also go live with your mother, that's fine. <br />
Me : How do you dare use this agaisnt me? <br />
<br />
Now , how the fuck did I end up having this conversation with a total stranger ????? <br />
<br />
<u>A few days before , at work, in England : <br />
</u>'' 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 . <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Sure. I will book the bed myself then. <br />
<br />
My name is Annabelle, I lost my job and home for the 6th time this year. <br />
<br />
Welcome Annabelle. <br />
<br />
<u>Back to Tours, France, at the publisher's house <br />
</u>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? <br />
<br />
Me, pointing at the book : Now who's making money out of my irrationality huh ? <br />
<br />
Annabelle 's lame argument 1- Publisher zero . <br />
<br />
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 .<br />
<br />
Him : darling , you hardly write fiction. <br />
( NB : He also works in a mental hospital he told me earlier. I feel very sane now) <br />
<br />
Publisher 1 - Annabelle who writes as she thinks 0 <br />
<br />
Him : Why are you so scared of your own country? What's so great in your little traveler's world? <br />
<br />
I know the answer. I'm not telling him. Only the french outside of France can understand this. <br />
<br />
Him : You are free in France TOO. <br />
<br />
Oh shit. How the hell does he know that. Hang on. He read my book. He bloody PUBLISHED it! <br />
How do I ALWAYS put myself in an awkward mess? <br />
<br />
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'' <br />
<br />
<em>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. </em><br />
<br />
Did I say that out loud. <br />
<br />
Hell yeah. <br />
<br />
Mental hospital this way. <br />
<br />
Give me another wine, please. <br />
<br />
Him : Have you heard of the concept of facing your fears? This is your success Annabelle , he says pointing at the book. <br />
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. <br />
<br />
Bloody french men, what do they know. ( this one? A LOT) <br />
<br />
Breathe , Annabelle, breathe. <br />
<br />
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 . <br />
<br />
<u>On the plane back home to England <br />
</u>I started to read my own book on the plane . I ve always dreamt to do that. <br />
Imagine me, with a silly grin openly displaying the back of the book so my neighbour sees the picture and says <br />
'' Oh , it's you who wrote this book, wow congratulations'' <br />
And I would say <br />
'' Oh yeah , you know it's just a book'' <br />
Hell Yeah .<br />
<br />
I turn to my left and the guy next to me is snoring away , with not a care in the world. <br />
<br />
Damn reality. <br />
<br />
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 . <br />
<br />
Damn reality ( aka Ryan Air) <br />
<br />
<u>I'm back to England, the Land of the Free</u>. <br />
<br />
And I do feel so free here. <br />
<br />
<u>This morning , in the breakfast room at the hostel </u><br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Bloody french we both say, always complaining and moaning, We feel so trapped there.... <br />
<br />
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... <br />
<br />
FREE. <br />
<br />
'' Travelling can also become your prison though, if you're not careful '' he announces , obviously knowing what he was talking about. <br />
<br />
I smile. I did too. <br />
<br />
My Spanish friend comes with his phone on google map and tells me <br />
<br />
'' Look , Annabelle, that's where you're going to live ! '' <br />
<br />
REALLY? Oh shit, I always thought it was more South. <br />
<br />
I realise, like always , that I cannot place the place where I was going to live on a map. <br />
<br />
'' Good luck for tomorrow '' other backpackers come and hug me good bye. <br />
<br />
'' Good luck with the French '' say all the french expats I met recently ( panicking for me) <br />
<br />
What they really meant was , '' good luck with your freedom'' <br />
<br />
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? '' <br />
<br />
You can either fight for other people 's dreams or.... Fight for your own. <br />
<br />
No matter what YOUR reality is , you are ALWAYS free to choose... </span></div>
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-14156251042286805362012-10-25T04:21:00.001-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.225-08:00Stranger 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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I realise I cannot even locate this place on the map and France is the country I know the least in the whole world. <br />
<br />
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 ...<br />
<br />
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. <br />
Try me.<br />
<br />
I m now staring at all young French women I m seeing around . With the a " have we met before ? " smile. <br />
<br />
Ok I m freaking everyone out now .<br />
<br />
I clearly feel out of place in this country. <br />
<br />
" do you speak French ?" The guy at the counter says. <br />
<br />
" reasonably " I answer randomly.<br />
<br />
Fuck where am I from already ? <br />
<br />
Ah right , yeah. It says on my neck .made in France . <br />
<br />
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 . <br />
<br />
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. <br />
Wise decision . <br />
Everyone is smoking around me. I only think of one thing to say : bloody French. <br />
The girl who made my cover comes at last.<br />
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. <br />
" so where do u feel at home " she finally asks me. <br />
" I feel at home with people " i answer randomly , just realising how bloody true it was . <br />
<br />
Well as long as it is not in France i thought but i shut up. For once. <br />
<br />
Driving on the right side freaks me out. Everything about this country freaks me out actually. <br />
<br />
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 ...<br />
Anyway, <br />
<br />
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 .<br />
" come on then " she says to me as we were about to enter the guy s house . <br />
Mmm let me think .... No . Actually it s better to not think. Rule number one for ze traveller. <br />
I suddenly felt like I was coming home again but with the huge urge to get the hell out of here. <br />
Bloody travellers . U never know what u travel for. Escaping , learning , creating , letting go .... <br />
<br />
And the strangest of all is when you re about to reach your destination .... <br />
<br />
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-71167594820778756792012-10-19T01:41:00.001-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.242-08:00The 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. <br />
" 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. <br />
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. <br />
<br />
I had to read the book again and give my consent to the publisher . That was my final step.<br />
Mmmm let me think . No. <br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 ?<br />
That d be too easy. <br />
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. <br />
Next book? <br />
Come on , let s be nice to this chick<br />
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 . <br />
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 ????? <br />
Wtf ? <br />
After 1 month of living in silence on A concrete mattress she realises she was probably not made for spiritual life as such. <br />
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... <br />
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.<br />
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 .<br />
She meets 1 guy . Doesn t work then 2 then another one . What ???? In one month ? <br />
I m so embarrassed for this girl. And the fact that my mum and dad bought the book yesterday . <br />
"You know there s a bit of fiction in it mum , it s not all true , otherwise it would not sell you see "<br />
#embarassinglifethateveryonecanread<br />
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 ?<br />
Oh shit. I should have read that book before ... Right ??? <br />
Well anyway the second book is going to be even more awesome . More fuck ups more men and still less money .<br />
Annabelle or how to feel good about your life reading hers. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
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 ! <br />
In the end , your life is as good as you want it to be. <br />
What story would the book of your life tell? <br />
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-20432650720797992192012-09-25T01:47:00.000-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.229-08:00Anyone can do it <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">'' 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. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />'' Don't know I guess my life is desperatly normal. Nothing exciting to write about. Ordinary life . '' I answer naturally. <br />They both give me the '' are we talking about the same life?'' look <br />Get a life Annabelle. <br />Turning the ordinary into extraordinnary. That's why I do best as a writer. <br />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 ) <br />Oh so much fun. <br />So It's that chick who lives in a backpackers hostel and who also works there.... <br />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. <br />Because 1/ she loves what she s doing <br />2/ at the week end, we work more anyway. <br />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. <br />Just the single act of going to the bathroom from her bedroom in is an adventure ... <br />'' Applauso for Annabeeeeeeelle'' shouts the Last Napolitan as I run through the kitchen to reach the bathroom in my nighties. <br />( Sound of 10 men clapping and cheering )<br />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. <br />'' So ... are you here for studies?'' <br />Normal. <br />When she's in the shower a young muscular Romanian guy knocks on the door saying <br />'' Dinner has arrived, Annabelle'' <br />Normal. <br />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. <br />Normal. <br />'' 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. <br />But next Winter does come. Shit. What do I do now? <br />Now / I 'm running out of space to fit all the branded clothes she gets me for a ridiculous cheap price. <br />Normal.<br /> <br />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! <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />you can order it online ........ <br />( selfish bitch) <br /><br />Normal. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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! <br />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. <br />They all tell me the same thing : <br />'' Anyone can do it'' <br />Normal ( for them) <br /> <br />'' So you're a writer??????'' they're now looking at me with big eyes like I deserve a medal for it. <br />'' 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 . <br />( Shakespeare : I know your secret now ) <br />Normal. <br />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'' <br /><br /><br />Then watch your daily life closely . <br />It will be anything but........ Normal </span></div>
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-87964643084726823032012-08-31T01:22:00.001-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.248-08:00The road less travelled<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
'' they're all surrending one by one to the dark side of th force. Am I next?'' <br />
<br />
Breathe Annabelle, you're strong . It will not happen to YOU. <br />
<br />
All my friends decided to get married this year. <br />
<br />
I can't be further from that reality <br />
<br />
Brighton Beach , the night before. <br />
<br />
'' Nice view innit'' <br />
<br />
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) . <br />
<br />
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) <br />
<br />
So, yes, My reality was VERY FAR from weddings as you can see. <br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Respect for that. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
They got married with to the loud sound of ska music. Which was totally THEM. <br />
<br />
So... you can get married AND enjoy the day? <br />
<br />
I was the witness of the first wedding with personality I d even been to. I almost changed my mind about it. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
He 's marrying a gorgeous Spanish girl in the country they currently live in.: Ireland. Now we're talking. <br />
<br />
My friend is as spontanous and organized as me. <br />
<br />
1 week before wedding :<br />
<br />
'' 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?'' <br />
<br />
Wedding day <br />
<br />
I look at my ticket , I'm landing at 11.05 am . Exactly one hour before wedding. <br />
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? )<br />
<br />
Thank God I'm a European citizen and passport control took me 2 seconds.'' Tanks a million'' <br />
<br />
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?) <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
All I understood was '' You smell nice'' and '' Are you going to take your top off too?'' <br />
<br />
Welcome to Ireland , me. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
My friends were so cool they were waiting for ME to get married. <br />
<br />
I'm introduced to everyone. Hola / Bonjour. No one speaks the other language properly but we all try. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'' What's in that suitcase?'' I ask the groom's cousin. <br />
<br />
'' Fromage de France '' He answers quite proudly. <br />
<br />
''Que?'' Asks the Spanish next to me. <br />
<br />
'' Queso de Francia'' I answer. Shit I do speak Spanish. YAY. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Their wedding pictures mainly involves cheese and sausage. The only bit of Tradition they would allow. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
'' Sorry , it's our first time'' my friend says to the Irish lady who was marrying them. How so emotional. <br />
<br />
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'' <br />
<br />
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. <br />
. <br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
Language is overrated. <br />
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. <br />
'' Mummy the Spanish kid broke my hair clip'' says that french little girl , very angry. <br />
'' Forgive him darling , he is spanihsh'' mum says. <br />
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???? <br />
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. <br />
We were in a posh irish restaurant where they do french cuisine better than the french ( it hurt our pride a little bit) <br />
Beside me , the 40 year old single lady from the South of France whom I never met before was disappointed. I ask her why <br />
'' Where are the vikings?'' she asks me, desperatly. <br />
She was hoping to meet one of those big tall strong men with red hair and a helmet with horns.<br />
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.<br />
He did not say a word. I felt for him. I really did. <br />
'' See what I told you '' she says to her friend. <br />
'' Ask Annabelle, she'd know'' her friend replies. <br />
I knew EXACTLY what the question was<br />
'' 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. <br />
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) <br />
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) <br />
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) <br />
Spanish should hang out with Germans to be more organized and German should hang out more with the Spanish to be LESS organized. <br />
To me , it all makes sense. But I leave it up to you. <br />
After half a dozen bottles of champagne , the french and the Spanish finally got together to speak frenglish , Spanglish , you name it. <br />
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) <br />
'' My step dad is asking if you are really French. You speak Spanish with a polish accent'' my friend says. <br />
WHAT IS THE FUSS ABOUT ME BEING POLISH??? <br />
I show him my tattoo but it was too late. He called me '' la polaka'' for 2 days. <br />
We all then moved to a local irish pub. The french , the spanish and the suitcase full of cheese. <br />
'' 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. <br />
'' Darling , you 're a traveller too'' I tell him , looking at all his friends and family interacting in 3 languages. <br />
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) <br />
<br />
Yes, he already knew that the travellers' road is not supposed to be a lonely path in the end. <br />
<br />
No, We don't have to do this alone. <br />
<br />
That day was definitely the day when I had my first real glimpse of the road less travelled. <br />
<br />
When I was again reconsidering my view on Life ( I have to do it very often) , a unidentified flying object landed on me. <br />
The last bit of tradition ...<br />
<br />
I had caught The Bride 's bouquet. <br />
<br />
OH DEAR. </span></div>
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-17258001588095973582012-08-26T09:12:00.000-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.228-08:00Mind the gap<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
Traveling in Europe is fun. And easy. London - Dublin 1h. <br />
<br />
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) <br />
<br />
And that was just the train journey. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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'' <br />
<br />
All you have to do is Always ask for the cheapest ticket. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
The Question is : Where does London start? Usually Clapham Junction is still acceptable. Beyond that, it's game over. You need a new ticket. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'' Excuse me I 've got a ''not via London'' ticket and I want to go to..... '' I say to the lady <br />
'' Platform 1 change twice and you 'll get to Clapham Junction You can go from there. NEXT . '' <br />
<br />
I like this game. Riddles and that. <br />
<br />
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) <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Even stupid French who are on their way Home to Canterbury. <br />
<br />
So I'm on the train. 2 stops later I'm at Clapham Junction , happily looking for my train to Canterbury. <br />
<br />
I see a train lady who's politely answering all stupid questions with a smile that only the Brits can have. <br />
<br />
Stupid questions like : <br />
'' Where is Clapham junction?'' <br />
She would answer : <br />
'' That is here , madam , you have reached your destination'' <br />
<br />
In France the answer would have probably been :<br />
<br />
'' Stop taking the piss out of me , or I call the cops'' <br />
<br />
So I go to this lady and ask her what platform I should go to.<br />
<br />
'' What zone is Canterbury in ? '' she asks me. <br />
<br />
OH DEAR. <br />
<br />
Me, my french accent and my not via London ticket answered: <br />
<br />
'' Canterbury is in Kent , not in London'' <br />
<br />
'' You have to go through London to get there from here then'' <br />
<br />
'' But I have a not via London ticket'' <br />
<br />
Stare. <br />
<br />
We both look at the map. <br />
<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
'' So how do you get to Canterbury from here without going through London then?'' <br />
<br />
'' I'M ASKING YOU'' I tell her<br />
<br />
I had to go North and then South plus East and West. Then change at Redhill ( is that even a name of a place?) <br />
<br />
'' Keep the map, have a good evening '' she tells me, defeated. ( but polite) <br />
<br />
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. . <br />
<br />
Just for the thrill of it. <br />
<br />
I get there, smile my way through the gates . My clivage and my french accent have been my best partners throughout the years. <br />
<br />
I text my friend/boss :<br />
'' Shall I play french or pay the ''via london fee'' <br />
'' Play french'' he answers <br />
<br />
Sounds good. I should have listened to him. He's a Brit, he knows. <br />
<br />
Then , there it was. The guilt. My British side. <br />
<br />
I surrendered ( my French side) and went to the ticket office. <br />
<br />
'' I ended up here by mistake.'' I say <br />
<br />
'' But you have a not via london ticket madam'' <br />
<br />
Thank you I realize that. <br />
<br />
'' That'll be a lot more expensive madam'' <br />
<br />
Naughty girl who went through London for 2 minutes 30 seconds <br />
<br />
'' 12 pounds 30 please'' he asks me. <br />
<br />
'' Me francaise no English. Not know London good'' <br />
<br />
Too late to play French. I just swore in perfect English anyway. DAMN. <br />
<br />
'' Can I just not go via London then?'' I ask him. <br />
<br />
No reaction. Some Brits do not take British Humour. <br />
<br />
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) <br />
<br />
I got home with the feeling that the adventurous bit of my week end was in my own country ( as in England of course) <br />
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? <br />
<br />
Thank you British railway.... </span></div>
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-66649082850989027362012-08-22T00:18:00.002-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.241-08:00Behind every great man there is a great woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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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. <br />
<br />
You then learn that there is no such thing as .... Genders. <br />
<br />
'' Lunch is ready!'' Big Sister yells from downstairs. <br />
<br />
'' I am a lucky man! '' I say to on of the guests . I suddenly felt like the Bread winner of the family. <br />
<br />
.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. <br />
<br />
Yes, I deeply understand men who marry girls who can cook for them at anytime. I am one of them. <br />
<br />
But Mama had to leave to Brighton again. <br />
<br />
Me at 2pm after a hard cleaning session with a blank expression on my face, totally lost. <br />
<br />
WHERE IS MY LUNCH? <br />
<br />
The intern looks at me '' Annabelle , you're cooking today I'm off to the shower'' <br />
<br />
Who do you think I am? A freaking woman? <br />
<br />
I finally resumed cooking for myself. <br />
<br />
Guests , looking at what I'm cooking '' What is it Annabelle?'' <br />
Me : '' Survival'' <br />
<br />
<br />
Ok, so I tend to behave like a man sometimes. Is that alright doctor? <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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) <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<em>We're paid by the hour over here. Let's teach them some crap instead. </em><br />
<br />
And God created schools.... <br />
<br />
So we get confused when our aim is actually quite simple : balance out our 2 sides to have the Life that we want. <br />
<br />
I did not quite get the balance part yet, you may have gathered. I'm quite of an extreme version of both genders. <br />
<br />
I'm a woman. You can't miss it. Men can rarely gather the will power to look up to see my eyes. <br />
<br />
In other words I've got a mix of Al Bundy , Jean Claude Vandamme , Margaret Thatcher and Lady Diana living inside of me. <br />
<br />
O joy. <br />
<br />
In my bag I always have 2 books. <br />
<br />
At the moment you cannot find more extreme. <br />
<br />
'' 50 shades of Grey'' for the lady <br />
<br />
And a book from Bill Bryson, my all times role model, for the man. <br />
<br />
When people ask me why I 'm single........ I don't know what to say , really. <br />
<br />
( If you have strange mix inside of you too , please apply within)<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
<br />
Yet, I'm the toughest emotionless person too. My manager calls me '' bitch'' because I make her run 45 minutes every morning at 6am. <br />
I run BEHIND her to make sure she keeps going. My tough side scares me a little. Because it is VERY tough. <br />
<br />
So, During the day, at work, it is either : <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle made the intern cry again'' <br />
OR <br />
'' Annabelle is crying again''<br />
<br />
However I'm starting to learn the balance thingy because I see it in others now. Especially my girl friends here. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
But still , we have the image in our head of Life as we know it ( years of mind training I guess) <br />
<br />
'' 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.<br />
<br />
'' For you'' she says pointing at a guy. <br />
<br />
I'm now in the garden staring at Mister Muscle from Italy. <br />
<br />
'' Hi'' I say to the guy , obvisously a guest, as suprised to see me standing there as I am to see him <br />
<br />
'' Sorry but Who the F*** is he?'' I whisper to her. <br />
<br />
'' Friend of the last Napolitan. You need Italian lover Annabelle. '' <br />
<br />
SURE.... But I'm gonna pass on that one. Too much masculine here.( I'm not gay) I like my men sensitive too. Thanks. <br />
<br />
Yes, in this life , you have to learn who you really are and experience things for yourself . <br />
<br />
So why not just enjoy other people's company instead of asking them to give us what we already have inside of us? <br />
<br />
Just saying... <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</span></div>
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-55205013241678790202012-08-19T00:38:00.000-07:002013-01-07T04:20:49.927-08:00English Summer ( Part I ?) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">It s a sandy beach
but we could barely see the sand from the distance . It looked like THIS : <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvc2upGdIofeNPjnX8qH3y5S48Ao3YGap4gmEXUcSpVwg5dOtJLBphvze2YGgYxecEfVfY50v-nk4SC8EpNBx_AqIYisNCO-JLRXZ3tHN0aDYBGZEtlSIolRxRJhoR19ODgeRaAJ670OD/s1600/196779_10150987228656216_1013260200_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvc2upGdIofeNPjnX8qH3y5S48Ao3YGap4gmEXUcSpVwg5dOtJLBphvze2YGgYxecEfVfY50v-nk4SC8EpNBx_AqIYisNCO-JLRXZ3tHN0aDYBGZEtlSIolRxRJhoR19ODgeRaAJ670OD/s320/196779_10150987228656216_1013260200_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">It took us about 10
minutes to get over it.We were staring at the beach in the distance. Can we cope? Or not? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> 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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' You're alright
darling?'' I tell her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">No answer. Let s go
get an ice cream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Why? Because we're
swimming in ... the North Sea! As in '' freezing cold water'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">She comes back <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">'' Mate , it 's
freezing. You have to go in straight away. No time to think what day of the
week it is , DIVE IN!'' <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">She loved it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I can't believe how
close to me other people are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">He looks at me
raising his eyebrows to show me that he 's annoyed by her. She shouts louder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">No one could disturb
the lady behind me. She's reading '' 50 shades of Grey''. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">A bit further you've
got Italians arguing ( or are they just talking?) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">1,2,3 get out because
1/ it's frezing 2/ the parking ticket is no longer valid, we need to go now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Queue? What queue? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Where else can you
walk past Charles Dickens' House in your Bikini anyway?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"> *Wink*</span></div>
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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) </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Mmmm a wee bit risky.
It showed me how much I know the culture anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">‘’ You are so funny’’
they told me at the end of the tour. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">My answer was simple ‘’
I learn my humour from you guys. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">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? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-64475718038425129552012-08-17T11:16:00.002-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.239-08:00Smile , you're on camera! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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'' 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) <br />
<br />
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.<em> </em>And I will one day. <br />
<br />
'' It was your last chance to shine Annabelle'' he says , proud of what he had just done. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
8am <br />
<br />
Big Sister : '' Annabelle, I kill you. TV is coming today, you 're the one making the rooms up remember ??? Go NOW . '' <br />
<br />
So the only day I decide to let go of my will power is the day I have to make beds for the BBC??? <br />
<br />
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) <br />
<br />
'' Be natural '' Mama reminds us. <br />
<br />
Natural seemed a bit daring... <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, don't be too natural'' she adds. <br />
<br />
Now that's better. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Now we can all answer the question '' How would you behave in front of a TV camera?'' <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'' I could get used to that'' she says <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
What did I think I would do in front of the camera? <br />
<br />
Well first , scared to look stupid and totally shy and ...... <br />
<br />
'' The camera adds a few pounds'' the Dutch intern tells me to wind me up ( they love it) <br />
<br />
'' I wonder how many cameras she s got'' I answer, not taking the bait this time. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 .<br />
<br />
I answer, not knowing where to look. Feet? up? The girl? the camera? <br />
<br />
Annabelle, stupid on English TV take 1. <br />
<br />
'' So , Annabelle, what do you think of your manager?'' <br />
<br />
Mama was as suprised as me by the question. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Talk about natural. <br />
<br />
5 miutes later I was proving the camera I was not polish by showing the camera my Made in France Tattoo. <br />
<br />
Then the chance of my Life came. Me , the misunderstood, the one who wants to be heard. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, why do you do this job?'' <br />
<br />
The camera was no longer there. I was talking to some higher forces about my passion in Life. <br />
<br />
'' 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. <br />
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. '' <br />
<br />
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) <br />
<br />
Then I showed her the gifts people offer us on check out because we have helped them. <br />
<br />
'' So, Annabelle, you're single ... right?'' <br />
<br />
'' Yes I am, someone had to '' ( proud look on face) <br />
<br />
'' This lifestyle must be pretty interesting!''<br />
<br />
'' Yes, I....'' <br />
<br />
ANNABELLE SHUT UP ( the world is not ready for that) <br />
<br />
'' I live a very different lifestyle from other people'' <br />
<br />
CALL ME . (wink )<br />
<br />
Job kept, dignity same. That was short. <br />
<br />
What a day. When do we start '' Kipps Brother'' ? Me and Mama are up for it! <br />
<br />
So advice from the wise one : If you really want to say something, say it to the camera and SMILE ! </span></div>
Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-24410425541771841392012-08-13T22:45:00.000-07:002013-01-07T04:20:19.231-08:00Growing up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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'' Civil partnership is NOT the same as marriage ! say for the millionth time to the girls.''<br />
<br />
They obviously want to wind me up. AGAIN. <br />
<br />
Just because I was telling them about my past. No matter what you do, your past is always catching up with you. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, you were married!!!'' they tell me, laughing. <br />
<br />
We all have a different thought system on Life <br />
<br />
'' I was NEVER married'' <br />
<br />
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 . <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
But it's NOT marriage , it s a civil partnership !!!!!!!! <br />
<br />
<u>France, July 2007 <br />
</u>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. <br />
<br />
Us, together : Yes. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Also know as a walking comfort zone<br />
<br />
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 . <br />
<br />
Have you ever looked back to your Life with what you know now and thought it's hilarious? <br />
<br />
I really felt happy and proud of reaching a high standard life. I had made it. <br />
<br />
The oh so nice boyfriend, many friends around me and soon , a proper job. <br />
<br />
But why is it I still think about that travelling thing? <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
Ok then. <br />
<br />
Just like that I became a cover teacher in my old school and I met my '' husband'' ( it's a bloody civil partnership!!!!!!) <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 <br />
<br />
'' WTF are you doing Annabelle? Grow up.'' <br />
<br />
That was the first time I heard the other little voice. The one that's telling you what you 're REALLY here for. <br />
<br />
WHAT? <br />
<br />
'' Seriously. Is this what you think Life is all about? COME ON'' <br />
<br />
Yes, I always knew it was not what I wanted to think about life . It's what others thought. <br />
<br />
But who's got the guts to listen to THAT voice and think what you think ? <br />
<br />
Certainly not me. But sometimes, life helps just a little bit. <br />
<br />
I come back to sit down and my friends all had a sad face. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, it's not for this year. You failed the exam'' <br />
<br />
The result had just come out and my name was not on the list. <br />
<br />
WHAT? So I get to fail on my engagement day? Great. <br />
<br />
Devastated ( and totally relieved for reasons I did not understand at the time too ) <br />
<br />
Poor Annabelle was always the one failing every attempt to be normal. And she tried again and again and again......... <br />
<br />
'' Do you think we all are here for a reason?'' I would ask my ex every day , knowing that something was not quite right. <br />
<br />
'' I don't know darling'' He would say to me. <br />
<br />
Now he knows one thing . We are NOT here to be together . ( But he can have my furniture) <br />
<br />
<u>September 2008 <br />
</u>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? <br />
Psychologist : It's time to grow up , Annabelle. <br />
<br />
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 !!! <br />
<br />
<b>Growing up : getting yourself a safe life. with a good man and job security. <br />
</b>The more boxes I ticked , the more wine I was drinking. Alone. In the afternoon. In my pretty house. <br />
<br />
So maybe.... Growing up does not mean THAT to ME ? <br />
<br />
WHAT? <br />
<br />
Ok . How about trying to move back to England , clean toilets in a hostel for a living and live in a tent ? <br />
Now that sounds a lot more grown up to ME. <br />
<br />
<u>London , November 2008 in an Indian restaurant</u>. </span></div>
<br />
I was going to do the first REAL grown up thing in my new Life . Leave my security behind. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
He had the '' you should see someone about it , it will help you grow up Annabelle'' sort of look<br />
<br />
Helloooo I HAVE SEEN SOMEONE. That's why I'm here. <br />
<br />
<b>Growing up : forget what people expect you to think. Get out of your comfort zone to find out what YOU think. <br />
<br />
</b>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. <br />
<br />
And did I dig for 4 years. ...<br />
<br />
Now my vision of ''marriage'' slightly changed <br />
<br />
<u>Canterbury , now<br />
</u>'' Annabelle , did you get divorced at some point ? '' the girls ask me. <br />
<br />
'' One of the partners has to sign a paper. The other one does not even need to be there. So I wasn't there. ''<br />
<br />
'' U seen the paper?'' <br />
<br />
'' No but he told my mum.... And....'' <br />
<br />
''ANNABELLE IS STILL MARRIIIIIIIED'' they all joke. <br />
<br />
SHIT. I never thought of that... <br />
<br />
I had a beer ( ie I'm completely drunk) and I'm trying to explain what I deeply think about this sacred union<br />
<br />
Annabelle is ''married'' now means to me : <br />
<br />
1'/ '' Annabelle has got an Australian passport !'' <br />
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 '' <br />
<br />
Then I stumble into bed , 4pm , drunk and married. I did not see that one coming either. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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 : <br />
<br />
GET ON WITH IT . <br />
<br />
(... and GROW UP. ) Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-85967637425824880562012-08-11T22:57:00.004-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.770-08:00You can't buy your dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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'' Annabelle, for you. Wear this NOW''</div>
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Big Sister had been shopping again. I ve got 3 tops and... a necklace and earings? ?</div>
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'' But ... Why?'' I ask </div>
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'' to thank you for all you do for us and the hostel ''</div>
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'' Ok thanks. But sorry I missed the part when I actually did anything for you? ''</div>
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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?</div>
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Ironic innit? </div>
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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</div>
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So is that is then. The secret of life and everything. ? DO WHAT YOU LOVE? </div>
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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)</div>
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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.</div>
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Yes, you can survive for a a month in Australia with absolutely no money at all and no return ticket either. </div>
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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?</div>
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The main thing that usually stops us from doing what we love is I CAN T AFFORD IT.</div>
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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 .... </div>
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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? </div>
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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.</div>
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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) </div>
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My current money situation leads to some awesome conversations like this : </div>
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Manager : '' So , Annabelle, you are going to a wedding in Dublin on the 23rd . When are you coming back?'' </div>
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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 ''</div>
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Manager, used to it ''Ok, Sure''</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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Annabelle, traveller, sponsored by HSBC UK.</div>
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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 .</div>
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Guess what my Kiwi lady friend comes to pick me up with her car yesterday and tells me</div>
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'' Let's go and see the White Cliffs of Dover''</div>
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Now where did that come from?</div>
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No idea. But I could get in for free as well .</div>
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Don't ask. Actually , yes , do ask , and it is given . That's what they say anyway. Ask and it is given. </div>
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Whatever. </div>
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'' 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.</div>
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It's good to talk about the Universe and fairies sometimes. I've got her for that ( she's a Spiritual healer) </div>
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'' Where the fuck is the money then?'' I answer. </div>
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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.</div>
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'' 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)'' </div>
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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.</div>
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But.... if everything stay like this, How do I make plans for Life????</div>
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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.'' </div>
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Mmm catch 22 innit?</div>
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'' 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? </div>
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<br />WTF?</div>
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'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. </div>
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As I said that her phone beeped. The message read '' Welcome to France, you can use your phone ....''</div>
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WHAT?</div>
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HAHA Very funny. </div>
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We just walked on Water. After being Jesus for so long I 'm now being Moses. </div>
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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. </div>
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I would never have thought that would be possible. </div>
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Anything is possible in this Life . So Why worry about a few thousands of pounds that I don't even need right NOW?</div>
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That's what really always screws us up as Human beings. We think about the future too much.</div>
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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?</div>
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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.</div>
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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?</div>
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Anything is possible....</div>
</div>Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-53604036117037034162012-08-11T02:03:00.004-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.749-08:00What people think<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When you live an original lifestyle you have to Forget about what society wants you to be and be yourself. Get over what people expect to be and just be you, <br />
<br />
Easy , you re going to think.My mother does not live here. <br />
<br />
But other people do stay here. And I seem to have plenty of mothers at the moment. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle. I will take you seriously when you're engaged. And kids. At your age people don t live like this. ''<br />
<br />
''I thought you were my friend and you loved me. Why do you wish me married then? '' I answer. That's ALWAYS what I answer. Inside it pisses me off that people still expect that of me. <br />
<br />
This guy has been back from his holiday for 2 hours and he 's already pissing me off with marriage and kids. <br />
<br />
' I m talking to my Italian friend. 50 something .He s been hiding his age to everyone including himself for the past decade. We ve known each other for 8 years. <br />
<br />
We have fought for....... 8 years. Italian vs French. Ya know.... <br />
<br />
However We got more mature now ( sorry I got more mature) , we don't fight as loud as before. <br />
<br />
'' Look who's talking anyway ? ' I add angrily. Did I mention he 's lived in this hostel for 8 years and he s been divorced for 8 years and never had any kids? He sure can talk about normality. <br />
<br />
'' Yes, but I'm a man. Women have to get married at some point'' <br />
<br />
Sure , so in his world, women get married to.......... EACH OTHER? <br />
<br />
I ignore, remembering that my travels made me a wise spiritual being. <br />
<br />
'' F**** You '' I say, wisely . <br />
<br />
'' Don't worry Annnabelle, you ll find someone like you one day. It's never too late to get a mortgage and a house '' says the Dutch intern who wants kids at 25 maximum because she does want to be an old mum ( she says that to ME) <br />
<br />
Mum , is it you talking? <br />
<br />
I finally told the Italian that he d be my witness if I ever got married. And the intern my maid of honor. There you go. Everyone happy. There is no need fighting what people think about the world. <br />
(Mmm I should remember that more often. The french rebel in me , maybe.) <br />
<br />
Our sense on how we should live our lives is still here , somewhere in our head. Even when you know that it s a load of rubbish. <br />
<br />
Living with other people from different countries make you realise that :<br />
<br />
1/ Every country has a slightly different vision of what's good and what 's bad ( look at French food vs English food for example) <br />
<br />
2/ The only way you can understand each other is to go passed that and live on YOUR idea of how you should live YOUR life. When you do , It strangely inspire everyone else to do the same. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
'' So you don't have a husband or a family?'' <br />
<br />
10 people are now staring at me , expecting me to explain. HOW COME? <br />
<br />
The guests and me just sat down at the pub after I took them on a walking tour around town. <br />
<br />
It had started with the usual '' Oh shit when was the cathedral built again '' and me on google from my phone. Last minute planning. aka Annabelle's way of Life. <br />
<br />
I ve done this tour for 4 weeks. And for 4 weeks I forgot the ONLY date I was supposed to remember. 597 AD. <br />
<br />
Anyway , it's a lot of fun , giving guided tours. Exactly when you think everyone is bored they all thank you for a very very good time. <br />
<br />
I'm annoyed by the question. But I remember There is no need fighting what people think about the world<br />
<br />
'' My family is those people I live with and why would I have a husband when there are new men coming to my home EVERYDAY?'' <br />
<br />
*Laughs*<br />
<br />
My sense of humor always saves me (Thank you Britain) <br />
<br />
I can't explain but something still bothers me. Some part of me still resists being different. And I want to explain myself .... <br />
I do this because.... <br />
<br />
Who the hell cares what people think???<br />
<br />
Mmmmm ME ? Shit. <br />
<br />
<br />
'' She doesn't care , she's got a lover now'' says one of the interns. <br />
<br />
'' That's such a french thing to do'' Replies the other <br />
<br />
'' Her and Mama are on a diet '' adds someone else. <br />
<br />
'' They're always drinking ! You two will lose weight when I am a virgin again'' Says Big Sister. And let me tell you it means A LOT. <br />
<br />
Everyone laughs <br />
<br />
HELLO I AM HERE...... I CAN HEAR YOU.<br />
<br />
'' WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP JUDGING ME. WHY DO YOU ALWAYS JUDGE ME !!!??? I finally tell them after a couple of glasses. I am pissed off. It's always Annabelle this , Annabelle do not do this , you should do this. STOOOOOP. <br />
<br />
'' Because you're such an easy target Annabelle, we love you for that'' joked the Dutch intern. <br />
<br />
Conclusion : people are only taking the piss out of you ONLY because you let them. D'oh. <br />
<br />
Born from a traveller dad and a ''what are the neighbours going to think'' mum, what did I expect? <br />
<br />
GENETICS SUCKS.<br />
<br />
I don't know how these 2 met and how they have been together for over 35 years but those genes cannot co exist peacefully inside of me any more. <br />
<br />
2 solutions :<br />
1/ Stop worrying about what people think and no longer do everything I can to please them or make myself look stupid to make them feel better about themselves ( my favourite) <br />
<br />
2/ Stop my lifestyle Because I litterally do the opposite of what's expected anyway. <br />
<br />
Mmmm. <br />
<br />
'' I don't give a shit what people think'' says the 64 year old Spiritual healer I met in Brighton the other night when I asked her how she can openly say who she is ''in public'' ( witch) <br />
<br />
She was wearing a pink dress and make up, she was going to go clubbling with her grand daughter . And it's true. People did not want to take the piss out of her. <br />
<br />
Because she did not let them. She takes full responsibilities for who she is. <br />
<br />
*admiration* <br />
<br />
The only way you can get any respect from people is when you stop caring about they think about you but still love them ....Just the way they are !<br />
<br />
<br />
( Now Let's try that one out..... )</span></div>Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-42428335024910282032012-08-09T11:29:00.002-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.737-08:00The best book<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">When you write a blog you sometimes forget one very important thing : People read it. <br /><br />Or maybe 2 very important things. People read it AND it's NOT FICTION. Not that imaginary life that you always wanted to live. IT S YOUR REAL LIFE. <br />D'oh. <br /><br />So sometimes I write stuff and I think it's totally hilarious STORIES<br /><br />Until you've got a guy telling you that everybody strangely started to call him '' British lover'' . Then you feel REALLY REALLY SMALL. <br /><br />Annabelle, This book is called your life. <br /><br />No bullshit innit. <br /><br />Then you start wondering how these people around take all these stories. Most of them have a good laugh ( I can here them from my room sometimes) <br /><br />Well, This one was alright too and even added : <br /><br />'' You can use my real name in your book Annabelle, that's okay '' <br /><br />One who understood the values of Free advertising. Glad I can help. <br /><br />Writing a blog about your life has one important impact on it : you tend to give your best . Not in the experience but in the way you see your experience. Writing it helps you get the best out of it and the best in everyone in it . Awesome. <br /><br />But yet , ROUTINE HAPPENS. <br /><br />I decided to have a break from my crazy routine. yes, as crazy as it is , when any life becomes your daily life it is becoming a routine. Routine is everywhere. Routine is when you give up on your potential for the sake of comfort. <br /><br />ROUTINE KILLS . Even in this Life where the unexpected rules. It's just an attitude. <br /><br />Routine makes you feel too comfortable , you are no longer giving your best. <br /><br />You know it 's there when you don't think '' we are doing this tonight yay'' but '' we're doing this AGAIN? <br /><br />So I try to spice up my routine on purpose so I push myself a little further everyday. <br /><br />When I catch myself thinking that ''cake night is boring'' I know if I think that, the rest of the guests will feel that. That's what being the host really means. <br /><br />When I feel that, I throw myself a challenge. <br /><br />The best was when I decided to bake the cake myself. The other guests decided to bake too , as a back up. We all ended up in the kitchen burning cakes together. <br /><br />We never attracted more people than that night. Super exciting. <br /><br />Last time was funny too. I could feel the boredom just seeing me cutting a chocolate cake and serve it to people who were watching the Olympics. <br /><br />Shit, what do I do. If I'm bored, they will be ALL bored. Imagine how boring it is going to be. <br />So I decided to do a quiz about the Olympics. <br /><br />EVERYONE was then in the lounge , so keen on it. I obviously made it look like I had planned it 3 years ago. What do i do now. Google. Olympic quiz. Print. <br />I bullshited my way though it until .... SHIT WHERE ARE THE ANSWERS. Even then I gave my best to stay calm . People absolutely loved it. <br /><br />Every week it's the same things for us but with different people. That's the challenge. Do your best to change that routine EVERYDAY. Because it's the same, yes, but it's different, oh yeah. <br /><br />Make the ordinary extraordinary and watch things around you totally change. you give your best, <br /><br />You know it's too late though when : <br /><br />You no longer see the lovely guests having tea and cake in our beautiful garden as potential new friends. <br />You're more like : <br /><br />'' Who the F**** is in MY garden?'' <br /><br />Mmmm time for a breaaaaak. <br /><br />So what do I do? I GO TO ANOTHER HOSTEL. Sure. But it's all different . Because you got the hell out of that comfort zone that makes you lazy and complacent. <br /><br />Here I go to our Brighton hostel last night with British lover and other friends this one will stay I guess) . <br /><br />And you start giving your best again. New people, new surroundings, new exciting stories. You don't want to hear stories from people living in Brighton. Actually , yes you might want to. <br /><br />That's how you end up talking to 64 year old Spiritual Healer who came down to party in Brighton with her grand daughter. Random? Yay. <br /><br />Annabelle, you have now killed your routine you may start to live again. <br /><br />That's when you feel alive again. When you stop being caught up by your story and all the bullshit you think your poor self. and get out there and give your best. <br /><br />If you don't save yourself from that, No one will. ( harsh innit) <br /><br />To celebrate I was drinking a glass of wine while texting Mama to NOT drink a glass of wine since we 're both on a healthy diet plan. She was having one too. I knew it. <br /><br /><u>Canterbury this morning </u><br /><br />'' Soooo ? '' 6 pairs of eyes were looking at me when I got Home. Mama and the interns. <br />I did not write a post this morning. They wanted to now ZE story. <br />'' I watched telly with my best friend eating pizza at his flat '' <br /><br />Reaction :<br /><br />1/ Boooooring <br /><br />2/ Oh dear, she did not get any , how many rooms are we going to deep clean this week? <br /><br />Hey, it's my book innit? , eating pizza catching up meant the world to me . <br /><br />We spent the day adding new pages to the Kipps family book all giving our best in our very different ways. <br />You know when you've made it , well to me anyway, when your life could be a book YOU would love to read. <br />Whether other people like reading it is not your problem . You don't like what you see? Change it, write a new page. There is nothing to change or add. Give the best of yourself for yourself<br /><br />Shit how do I end this article nicely. I usually ALWAYS have super cool endings. <br /><br />Mmmm .... <br /><br />Text message as I was writing this <br /><br />Boss : '' Congratulations.'' <br /><br />Tax return I think. I 'm freaking loaded yeah. How much? 3000? More? Australia here I come for a couple of weeks and......... <br /><br />Me : ( still wanted to double check) FOR WHAT ? <br /><br />Boss : Our Canterbury Hostel won the best staff award for last June in the whole of Europe. <br /><br />Good endings come to you if you can spot them that is. it's a Just a matter of timing. <br /><br />And Guess what? I was over the moon. Way happier than if it was the tax return ( ok as happy) . What I just learnt for myself was gold. <br /><br />What you give , is what you get. <br /><br />So Why give less than the best ? <br /><br />Your life , your book. <br /><br />( good ending innit) </span></div>Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-66289367737328254762012-08-06T00:52:00.001-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.761-08:00Everything will be fine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When you start your shift at Kipps thinking you're in control and you know exactly what's going to happen today , you d better quit and go work at the Premier Inn. <br />
<br />
At Kipps, if you don't welcome the unexpected , you will have a long , long day. <br />
<br />
<b>Unexpected : events that you cannot control or fix. It's usually for the worse. </b><br />
I have the Sunday morning shift. Starts at 7 something , and by the time you finish<br />
at 4 you are a new person. <br />
I hadn't had it for a while so I had some sort of expectations.<br />
7.30 I finally look at my peanut butter toast and coffee and thought '' I deserve you'' <br />
I woke up at 5.20 , wrote my last blog post ,ran and arranged breakfast for guests. I had the golden 30 minutes in front me. Between the moment you arrive and the moment the first guests rush in for breakfast. You expect peace. <br />
Sunday morning they either wake up at 7 or they don't at all , you have to kick them out of their room at 11am. <br />
Today? They ALL woke up at 7am . <br />
I'm in the kitchen explaining the breakfast times in Italian English , thinking bout my peanut butter sandwich that I did not have. <br />
<br />
'' Eight O'cloooock. Ochoooo'' . <br />
<br />
Shit it is Spanish? <br />
<br />
And mama was up too. That? Not good news. It usually starts with : you know what happened night<br />
<br />
'' You know what happened last night?'' she starts. <br />
<br />
Oh dear. <br />
<br />
I let go of the italians. I was now worried. <br />
<br />
<u>Last night 1 am</u> </span></div>
<br />
Mama '' you can't smoke in the garden it is closed'' <br />
<br />
Drunk Australian female guest '' I am not receiving orders from f**** Europeans , don't look at me like this Ass hole, to Muscular Romanian receptionnist. <br />
<br />
15 minutes and some insults later, Aussie guest and kiwi boyfriend were deported to the street by immigration mamma. <br />
<br />
They could hear her on the street. '' F***** foreigners!'' <br />
<br />
Australians in Australia : angels<br />
<br />
You expect the same from them anywhere else in the world. <br />
<br />
Australians in Europe ? mmmmm <br />
<br />
<u>Flashback Kipps Brighton a few months ago<br />
</u>Aussie guests : I'm sorry for bringing a girl back into the dorm , I was drunk and unaware. I will not do it again. <br />
<br />
Me : yeah right. I've heard that before. The next thing they usually say is '' I'm here for a good time mate, not for a long time'' <br />
<br />
See what Europe is doing to people? They probably did not expect it to be like this either... <br />
<br />
Conclusion : Wanna see aussies who are thinking straight ...... Go to Australia. <br />
<br />
'' Ok so they're gone right? I ask her , trying to get over the fact that I was pissed off that Mama got insulted by some random strangers. <br />
<br />
The door bell rings , it's 7.55am . My toast is still waiting for me in the office. <br />
<br />
'' Sorry we're late'' 2 young boys from Belgium were standing at the door. <br />
<br />
WHAT? <br />
<br />
'' We were due to check in at 6AM , so we re a bit late'' <br />
<br />
SURE! So the Premier Inn is first left and then turn right and....... <br />
<br />
It was their first time in a backapckers. They expected to go to bed straight away. I explain calmly that other people are sleeping in their beds right now. and that check in is at 2 pm. <br />
<br />
Big eyes staring at me : <br />
<br />
'' So what do we do now .... Mummy ?'' <br />
<br />
I take them to the breakkast room and tell them to sit in the lounge after. <br />
<br />
The breakfast room is now PACKED with people because left unsupervised for 15 whole minutes. <br />
<br />
Half of the hostel rushed in and followed the Italians who could not care less about the paper that said '' Breakfast is from 8 to 10'' <br />
<br />
EIGHT. OCHO. Whatever. <br />
<br />
The german intern, responsible for breakfast starts her shift at 8am, expecting it to be like '' Everyday'' . <br />
<br />
'' WTF is all that?'' she asks me , her organised German side taking over. <br />
<br />
'' Bloody italians I say. You See now why we don't like them in France? They re just EXACTLY the same as us! '' I joke. Joking is the way I cope with the unexpected. I'm such a Brit. <br />
<br />
In reality I'm trying to convince myself. '' Everything is going to be fine Annabelle......'' . and it was just 8am. <br />
<br />
I ask the italian group for money for breakfast .They understand what they want : NOTHING. <br />
<br />
The woman who can speak proper English is staying in the other hotel. says the 12 year old boy with them. <br />
<br />
Right. ME WANT MONEY. I tell them , holding my piece of toast. My coffee is going cold. <br />
<br />
I see them going in out in out. <br />
<br />
the 2 Belgian kids were now expecting me to tell them what to do next. <br />
<br />
'' Where can young people like US go in Canterbury now?'' he asks me. <br />
<br />
Add , ''you old fart'' to that and you'll get how I felt. <br />
<br />
''On a Sunday at 9 am in Canterbury , I would say that the coolest place is .... HERE. '' I say <br />
<br />
Like me , All they wanted to hear was '' It's all going to be fine'' But you don't say that to men. You make them FEEL that ( lesson hard learnt) <br />
<br />
The other half of the hostel has decided to have breakfast at 8.30am. <br />
<br />
SUNDAY. isn't it the day everyone else CHILLS OUT ? <br />
<br />
<u>Flashback New Year's eve 2008.</u>
<br />
Me to boss : Do you think we can drink tonight ? <br />
Boss : yeah , No one wakes up early on New Year's day , we can have a nice early start with coffee and that. <br />
The next day the WHOLE hostel wanted breakfast at 7am. Forget about the coffee and take aspirin. Happy New Year , us. <br />
Never expect anything at Kipps. <br />
<br />
<br />
It's now 10 am I ve been running around, getting money , trying to make sure everyone is ''fine'' . My toast is still untouched. <br />
<br />
'' We can clear breakfast now'' I announce to the intern. <br />
<br />
'' No, Santa Claus is having breakfast'' <br />
<br />
WHAT? <br />
<br />
I get in and that guy who looks like Santa was changing the world with another guest.<br />
<br />
Conversation : <br />
<br />
Santa : '' If I was President , beer would be free for all, and there would be women for each man'' <br />
<br />
Other guest , '' Eyes filled with admiration : I vote for you. '' <br />
<br />
President and Prime minister were then asked to move their philosophy to the lounge. <br />
<br />
I'm still keeping an eye on the italians , the intern now tells me that she does not know where she's sleeping tonight because she's not on the system. <br />
<br />
'' Everything is going to be fine'' I tell her. <br />
<br />
No, I did not expect that. All you can do is hope for the best and strive for it. <br />
<br />
I'm doing the cleaning schedule for the day. WHAT? 4 staff? ONLY?<br />
<br />
We had lost 2 staff members recently. They had gone back home. It's like a part of us was gone with them ( yes we all are very close) and we did not have time or space to get over the loss. <br />
<br />
I'm now having my cold coffee. The romanian night shift comes in after a chaotic night sleep and tells me his side of the Aussie story . <br />
<br />
I send him home. <br />
<br />
'' Breakfast was included !'' the italian woman who can speak English had finally arrived. <br />
<br />
Be strong Annabelle, everything is going to be fine! <br />
<br />
I take my calculator and explains that this number is the number with no breakfast. <br />
<br />
22 minutes later she gives up and hands me her card<br />
I got my bloody 10 quid in the end. VICTORY. <br />
<br />
I start chatting with her and she tells me that they haven't planned anything for their trip and it's all a bit scary for them. They want to go to Scotland but they don't know what to expect. <br />
<br />
I smile. Ok so it was all ALSO about that in the end, wasn't it? <br />
<br />
'' I am sure you will make it '' I tell her meaning it. <br />
<br />
She thanks me and off they went. <br />
<br />
The Belgian kids are now asking me to play pool. <br />
Mmmm sorry. Tiny bit busy right now. <br />
<br />
11am. All problems from the morning got magically solved. The rest of the staff comes on. We tell the 2 million stories that happened.<br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, repeat, I don't follow you. Italian what? Santa who?'' Dutchie is staring. <br />
<br />
Oh dear. It's only 11 am and I ALREADY don't make sense. I expected more from me. <br />
<br />
I send everyone to clean different rooms and try to go back to my own comfort zone aka deep cleaning. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, come!'' the girls sensed my stress and had prepared a pile of duvets for me to jump on. We take a photo of that and post it on facebook so I could put a nail on the coffin of my job : <br />
<br />
'' Easy job you have Annabelle, doing nothing but having fun. I envy your lifetyle'' my friends would say aftewards. <br />
<br />
I smile and I try to imagine how many of my friends would actually handle the permanent unexpectedness of my job. And how we constantly re assure people about things we are not pretty sure ourselves.<br />
<br />
I come up with.... a few. But they can't know, can they??? <br />
<br />
I pressure the interns with another picture of the dorm I'll be taking at the end. The finished product cannot be less than perfect. It will be on facebook.<br />
<br />
I go back later and I could hear them <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle , you're going to kill us , we can't do as good as what you expect....'' the girls are scared shitless. <br />
<br />
Expectations..... You don't want to start me on that. <br />
<br />
A few re adjustments later the photo was taken , and we managed to finish the whole hostel before 2. Sometimes I think there are fairies helping us ( or is it the ghost) <br />
<br />
I check in a couple of Spanish people later that afternoon. It's their first time in a hostel . I show them to the dorm and I can sense their distress. <br />
<br />
The hungry, tired , insecure staff member in me wanted to say '' Get on with it , it's just a dorm. Bed. Sleep'' But the compassionate human being that I actually am took over. ( thank God or whoever) I remembered.<br />
<br />
<u>September 2004 </u><br />
<br />
Kipps Staff : '' Annabelle, the private room you're in now is booked out from tomorrow, you'll have to move to a dorm'' <br />
Me ( a guest at the time) '' A what? Sharing with OTHER PEOPLE? OMG. This is so unexpected. <br />
The first night I spent in the dorm, I cried because I was too scared. D'oh. <br />
<br />
<u>Same dorm , NOW</u> <br />
<br />
'' Everything is going to be fine , we're like a big family here. Any problems come to us '' I tell my Spanish guests <br />
They look more relaxed now, <br />
<br />
4pm after a whole day of tellin people that everything is going to be fine I stop work and I desperatly want to hear for myself. Me, my bank account , my original lifestyle, my blog that makes me feel I'm walking around naked because in it I say everything , ARE WE GOING TO BE FINE? <br />
<br />
I go back to my empty room. No facebook message or emails. I face it for myself. <br />
<br />
I cannot stop being strong. Not allowed sorry. <br />
<br />
Breathe. <br />
<br />
Later that day I catch myself writing '' With this Life filled with unexpected , no wonder I need a strong man to put his arm around me and tell me '' YOU are going to be fine Annabelle'' <br />
<br />
What did I do? I sent this to my Quebecois. Another bad move Annabelle. I expected the worst. <br />
<br />
The answer came in a few hours. It was , for the least unexpected . One sentence<br />
<br />
'' YOU are going to be fine , Annabelle'' <br />
<br />
Aaaaaaw cute. But he's NOT here, is he??? I switch off the lap top and go face the real world. <br />
<br />
'' We have something for you '' the interns tell me . Poor girls I had persecuted them all day with cleaning standards. A card. The envelope read :<br />
<br />
'' To our favourite deep cleaner and blogger'' <br />
<br />
And the card read '' Thank you for introducing us to the Art of deep cleaning with you '' There was love hearts everywhere. <br />
<br />
How unexpected. Wow. ( tears) <br />
<br />
'' Sit now, I cut your hair , I don't like it '' Big Sister now tells me.<br />
'' But ...'' <br />
'' SIT NOW'' <br />
<br />
10 minutes later I had a new haircut and she had also got me a new top from the charity shop. <br />
<br />
I never in a million years tought that my evening would turn up this way.<br />
<br />
Mama had prepared a yummy meal and the family was all having dinner together, joking together. <br />
<br />
We were all over the recent problems but they had made us stronger. <br />
<br />
I look around me at this bunch of people calling each other family. German, Dutch , Romanian, Brits and me.... the citizen of the world still French enough to think that the unexpected was a bad thing. <br />
<strong>Unexpected : events that you cannot control or fix. There is no need to be scared , It's ALWAYS FOR THE BEST. Synonym : miracle. </strong><br />
<br />
How do I know? All my distress on the other side of the world , all my jobs unexpectedly lost got me BACK HERE to my first love , Kipps Canterbury., wthout EVER expecting it . And that, is a miracle in itself <br />
<br />
No matter what you think your life should be like. If you let go of your expectations trust that you'll get where you want to go anyway and never give up the fight , chances are you will get to an even better place than you ever thought it could be possible. <br />
<br />
WE ARE ALL GOING TO BE FINE.Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-82440625398575799512012-08-04T23:00:00.003-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.769-08:00A sense of normality ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Mama is back from Brighton. Everyone can start living and eating again. Happy Kipps Life can resume. <br />
There is nothing more hilarious than people telling the story of their experiennce in Brighton . <br />
<br />
I can see her in gay clubs and walking home amongst the usual drunks that we don't even notice when we do live there. <br />
<br />
'' There was this girl falling down because she was too drunk. I wanted to help her but she was too rude. Then the police came.... <br />
<br />
WELCOME TO BRIGHTON. <br />
<br />
The best is when she decided to take photos of gardens on her way back to the station at 6am. <br />
<br />
'' There were people sleeping in the Gardens Annabelle, LOADS of drunk people!'' <br />
<br />
WELCOME TO BRIGHTON <br />
<br />
The other friend was listening , slightly shocked. <br />
<br />
Why do I think it's normal? When you live in Brighton you either embrace it or you move out. <br />
<br />
I embraced it quite quickly and got used to the sound of drunks faster than the sound of the sea gulls eating fish and chips outside my window.<br />
<br />
We all have a different idea of what normal means to us. <br />
<br />
<b>Normal : The way the average people live, how you should live your life to be accepted by others. <br />
</b>To me , normal life involves living with people from everywhere in this world. <br />
<br />
Normal life invloves meeting 10 strangers when I go from my bedroom to my toilet. It is working where I live and live where I work. It is romanian women knowing better than me what is good for me. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle. Sit. You HAVE TO EAT pork . !'' <br />
<br />
'' But I'm a vegeterian....'' <br />
<br />
'' EAT NOW'' <br />
<br />
And just like that , there was meat in my normal life again. <br />
<br />
My favourite words, usually only pronounced my mother once every 3 months were back into my daily normality : <br />
<br />
'' Dinner is ready!'' <br />
<br />
<br />
'' Annabelle you need Man more often. I 'll make you sexy'' Big Sister says as I was deep cleaning yet another room yesterday. I smell of bleach and I'm wearing a baggy tee shirt with stains on it. <br />
<br />
What's the point I think. I'm not allowed to sleep with ANYONE now. ( anyone=guests) <br />
<br />
I made vows for Kipps. <br />
<br />
That, also sounds like '' normal'' to me. <br />
<br />
'' Wear this.. She throws clothes at me that she constantly buys for me in charity shops. <br />
<br />
I'm hafl naked in reception putting them on. They always fit perfectly. She's ze best personal shopper ever ( contact me for details) <br />
<br />
Normal life is bossing around my favourite dutch interns and THEN play nintendo DS with her fighting like sisters. <br />
<br />
I met a few people for whom normal meant different things too. The one lady who retired on Thurday morning in the USA and was on the plane to Europe with a bike on Thurday night with no return ticket. Thats normal.The people walking from Canterbury to Rome with a 12kg backpack. Normal. People cycling to Scotland. Normal. <br />
<br />
Doing a BBQ for strangers every Saturday is also normal for us. <br />
<br />
Last night , I looked at the people we have this week. Backpackers from New Zealand, France, USA , German , Belgium. My mission is to sit with them and find something '' normal'' to talk about so it includes EVERYONE. Good luck me. <br />
<br />
Backpackers are my specialty. I went on a ''professional trip '' ( that's how I call it now) to understand them better. In the end, their sense of normal was once mine. <br />
<br />
We talk about hostels , bunk beds, the weight of the backpack, the lack of money , couch surfing, how we are never alone on a trip because we always meet people.<br />
<br />
I also impress 2 or 3 cute male backpackers with my traveling stories ( who wouldn't) <br />
<br />
'' I lived in a Buddhist monastery in South Thailand for a month. It was a concrete mattress you see. And there were scorpions and that'' <br />
<br />
The other staff walks by thinking : <br />
<br />
'' Here she goes AGAIN'' <br />
<br />
Right. One day I will go travelling again and come back with new stories. Promise. <br />
<br />
I always have to adapt my conversations to the people living with us. That's (also) the beauty of my job So this week, backpackers. EASY.<br />
<br />
But last week ...... <br />
<br />
<u>Flashback last Saturday.</u> </span></div>
<br />
'' Are all these kids eating? Where are the parents?'' I ask Mama, freaking out. <br />
<br />
I'm out of my comfort zone. The hostel is full of ....... families.<br />
<br />
Oh dear. What am I going to talk about ?????? <br />
<br />
This , to me is abnormal. You either have a family OR you live in a backpackers hostel. <br />
<br />
'' How old are you I say to that little girl'' <br />
<br />
'' I'm 7 , you?'' <br />
<br />
'' 23'' I announce loud. ''33'' I whisper to her ear'<br />
<br />
Annnabelle, no need for that. You are THE ONLY SINGLE PERSON HERE. <br />
<br />
'' You're older than my mum!'' she says jumping on my back. <br />
<br />
Now that makes me feel better..... <br />
<br />
I probably was so much fun that I had 3 little kids following me EVERYWHERE by the end of the evening. they did the dishes with me , served sausages to people for me and did whatever I asked them to do ( the interns felt their job was in danger) <br />
<br />
They had adapted to my sense of normality and were loving it. <br />
<br />
'' Girls , this person is from Germany. Show me Germany on the map'' The girls were happily jumping on my bed showing me to different countries of the world. <br />
<br />
There was no gap in the conversation. By the end of the evening I thought it was ''normal'' to have kids in my daily life at the hostel. <br />
<br />
'' I'm gonna put the girls to bed '' I announce the parents whom I met the day BEFORE. <br />
<br />
'' Sure, Annabelle '' they answer, sipping a glass of red. <br />
<br />
The next day they gave drawings and present. How cute. <br />
<br />
Kids love me. And then? I become their nanny..... <br />
<br />
Lesson learnt : kids adapt to YOUR sense of normal. Does it mean that you can have kids and live YOUR life? <br />
<br />
Wow. REALLY? Happy by lesson learnt. vision of normality slightly changed , I email my Canadian man back in Ottawa . We email everyday actually. ( the one I had a relationship with for a whole 48hours in June) , stupidly telling him about how cool it was to have kids in a backpackers' hostel. <br />
<br />
It took him a whole week to reply, and he gladly avoided the subject.<br />
<br />
SILLY ANNABELLE. Keep your sense of normal to yourself will ya. <br />
<br />
Yesterday I went on a trip to the beach with my 58 year old Spiritual lesbian friend. We were happpy to have someone to talk about normal stuff to. Normal stuff such as past lives or spiritual healing. Things only witches can talk about. <br />
<br />
It felt good to feel normal. <br />
<br />
I then got back to the hostel and caught up with the craziness. <br />
<br />
It felt good to be normal there too. <br />
<br />
My vision of normal is changing everyday here. No, you cannot come into this life with your old thought patterns. Not working. You have to create a new sense of normality for yourself , change what you've been brought up to think to what you REALLY wish to think. <br />
<br />
Then and only then , you will realise that<strong> living a normal life actually means : accepting to live the Life that YOU love. </strong><br />
<br />
The only norm is to do what makes your heart sink.Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-55401307934264547332012-08-04T01:49:00.000-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.753-08:00The responsible adult<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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'' A guy checked in and he s only traveling with a small suitcase and a fan. He's here for a whole week though'' said one of the staff last week . The strange man became the infamous '' guest with the comb'' . <br />
<br />
'' Maybe he is on the run and the police is looking for him'' <br />
<br />
Everyone laughs at the impossibility of the scenario. I smile. I know that ANYTHING can happen in a hostel. <br />
<br />
<u>Flashback Kipps Brighton 2009</u> </span></div>
<br />
It's 7 am I get in to work to catch up with the usual list of what happened the day before , what is it we have to fix, how often the fire alarm was set off and how many complaints by the neighbours... <br />
<br />
I was the responsible adult there. Aka the manager. <br />
<br />
I see my night staff still up. And that , for a manager is VERY bad news. He's also a good friend of mine and I know from his face something big had happened. <br />
<br />
I see a suitcase that belongs to a guest of ours. James. A middle aged man who s been with us for th past 3 months, almost a family member. He had even given me management tips and definitely helped me to be a responsible adult. <br />
<br />
'' OMG what happened to James? Is he ok ? Did he have an accident?'' <br />
<br />
'' His name is NOT James'' he answers , still in shock. <br />
<br />
WHAT?<br />
<br />
He shows me an article with our friend's face on it. '' WANTED'' <br />
<br />
A conman. Sorry not A conman. THE most wanted conman in the UK. He was on crime watch a couple of days ago ( our TV mysteriously broke that night and we could not watch it) Someone spotted him in Brighton. Now the cops came to let us know last night. <br />
<br />
OH dear..... So much for responsible adult. <br />
<br />
<u>Back to present , Kipps Canterbury while cleaning<br />
</u>We finally found what was in the guy with the comb's suitcase, beside the fan ( Bringing a fan to England. WHY????) <br />
3 Asterix albums , chocolate , sleeping pills and ONE polo shirt. <br />
<br />
Mmmmm ....<br />
<br />
3 hours later he goes to the intern with his key , still staring.and said with a mysterious look: <br />
<br />
'' My job in Canterbury is over. I am going now'' and checked out 2 days early. <br />
<br />
I could not even make him a hot chocolate.......... <br />
<br />
Our group of French teenagers left too. It was like losing cousins and that. They only stayed for 5 days but time does not count here. Only experience does. And we had good laughs. And good adult conversations too. <br />
<br />
The leaders were looking forward to going home and stop being the Adults. BO-RING <br />
<br />
<strong><em>Responsible adult : the person who is serious and has to show the example at all times , for the young generation to follow the perfect path of wisdom. </em></strong><br />
<br />
ie : BO-RING. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, you used to be the manager at Brighton right? What happened ? '' The Dutch intern asks. She's smiling today , she only has to make 29 beds. I'm not forcing her to clean the hostel with a toothbrush. <br />
<br />
'' I became boring so I went travelling. Here am I now '' I answer, still hating to talk about it. <br />
<br />
YOU? BORING? She does not get it. Yeah , I'm working hard on the non boring bit now. I gather everyone noticed. <br />
<br />
<u>Flashback Kipps Brighton 2009 <br />
</u>'' Shhhh here she comes'' . I could hear , everytime I got in . No, we can't tell her that , she's the manager'' <br />
<br />
Life is lonely at the top.... <br />
<br />
Don't put your feet on the couch , the kitchen is closed now, no you can't cook , no you can't walk around the hostel wearing the staff's dress, YOU ARE A MAN. <br />
<br />
'' WTF happened here last night? '' I say cleaning yet anoher vomit from a french regular who had too much to drink AGAIN. <br />
<br />
Well , The new staff member took the guests to a pub and then.... SHe got them to her place for a strip poker. <br />
<br />
WHAT? We had just hired her. Why can't people play by the rules for God's sake? <br />
<br />
The rules, the rules , the rules...... I WAS THE RULES. <br />
<br />
Another warning I had to give. When you work , you can't play strip poker with the guests ok? <br />
<br />
WHATEVER. was the treatement I usually got. <br />
<br />
I was so into the rules that one day I saw that girl in the mirror that was no longer me. I never go out drinking with anyone. Because I'm the manager. I can't laugh and share crazy stories with anyone , I'm the manager. I live in my flat alone. I'm the manager. <br />
<br />
<br />
It was 5 to midnight on 31st of December 2009. I just put one of my drunk guests to bed after holding her hair back while she was vomiting and I thought she was stupid. I could not relate to her anymore. I felt negative, jugdmental and bitter. It freaked THE HELL OUT OF ME. <br />
<br />
I had ceased to understand people. <br />
<br />
I looked at this girl in the mirror and swore: NEVER AGAIN. <br />
<br />
10 days later I was in a farm in the jungle in Malaysia living with deadly scorpions <br />
<br />
Welcome to your midlife crisis Annabelle ( or is it the teenager one?) <br />
<br />
At 5 to midnight on 31st December 2010 I was in Sydney , Australia thinking about that story drinking with the staff I mentionned at the beginning of this post. He had invited me over for New Years. He still calls me boss but I'm no longer the responsible adult. I can share crazy stories with people. I am one of them. <br />
<br />
I still called Kipps Brighton at dead midnightUK time that night. <br />
<br />
<u>Back to present , Canterbury West station<br />
</u>'' Look after my garden okay?'' My manager asks me. <br />
<br />
I'm almost in tears as I put her on the train. <br />
<br />
Don't cry , you have to look after the family she tells me, be strong, Annabelle'' <br />
<br />
She is going to Brighton to work at the other Kipps for 12 WHOLE HOURS. <br />
<br />
What are we going to do without our ''Mama'' ? When she s not around, nobody eats or knows what to do. Mama is our mummy. She belongs here!<br />
<br />
And now she's giving me the '' You are now the responsible adult'' treatement. <br />
<br />
I called her later that night and she was obviously enjoying NOT being the one in charge for a night . <br />
<br />
'' I served shots to a hen party Annabelle , that was crazy now I'm gonna have pizza with the Italian intern . He's hot you'd love him'' <br />
<br />
Ah Kipps Brighton........ <br />
<br />
'' Who is the responsible adult for 12 hours now?'' All the young eyes are looking at.... ME. <br />
Mmmmm Let me think........ NO. <br />
<br />
I was handed the phone as I was having a nap later that day. <br />
<br />
A voice in french <br />
<br />
' So I want to book this room I told you about the other day but I was at work and I could not call because of my responsibilities. and .............. <br />
<br />
HELLO I M IN MY UNDERWEAR RIGHT NOW........ WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? <br />
<br />
I get dressed and take the booking. 13 minutes 33 of french grown up talk <br />
<br />
'' Why would I give you my credit card number? Are you a serious place? I don't really trust the British'' . <br />
<br />
Darling, I AM FRENCH. <br />
<br />
.... And the bathroom , is it clean? Because we need clean you know, can you translate the price in Euros. Bloody English and their pounds we do not get it.'' <br />
<br />
STAY IN YOUR BLOODY COUNTRY THEN <br />
<br />
She was the spitting image I have of a responsible adult. I have Been brought up with this idea. <br />
<br />
Something about ceasing to understand the world and play by THE rules. <br />
<br />
Still freaks the hell out me. <br />
<br />
So what did I do on my night off ? I went to get drunk with the young ones on a pub crawl <br />
<br />
Of course., Annabelle had yet another point to prove. <br />
<br />
There I was cheating at pool drinking shots of Tequila, making people laugh with various jokes that thank God , I forgot. <br />
'' So what room are we deep cleaning tomorrow Annabelle hahahha'' <br />
<br />
VERY FUNNY<br />
<br />
There was also a 48 year old guest with us. Her boyfriend was from Germany , she 's irish and lives in Canada. She does couch surfing , drinking and laughing. She is also a serious teacher. <br />
<br />
Admiration. Role model. I wish I could be her..... <br />
<br />
Later that night the 2 young staff disapeared. <br />
<br />
'' Where are the boys? '' I ask<br />
<br />
'' They want to go and buy a bottle of alcohol and drink it at the hostel.<br />
<br />
I glance at my watch , almost midnight. <br />
<br />
I run on the street and caught them <br />
<br />
'' You are NOT bringing any alcohol back to the hostel. You 're not messing up the staff's shift. He just got back from holidays . Respect his work.I'm not impressed and Mama would not like this. '' I was now dead sober. <br />
<br />
The 2 boys were looking at their feet and apologized. <br />
<br />
I got back in and told the girls that if there is ANY problem tonight , refer to me. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, You are tough and you are also fun. You act your age when it's necessary.We know we can rely on you. That is cool'' <br />
<br />
She got me the next round of shots. <br />
<br />
So... maybe I was never that boring manager in the end? <br />
<br />
Responsible adults : People who forgive the imperfection in others because they've been there, done that BUT people who also stand up for their values and protect the people/ things they care for. <br />
<br />
<br />
Play by your own rules. Because only YOU know what is worth fighting for. ...Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-10344812355868166732012-08-03T00:06:00.002-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.711-08:00Pushing ourselves<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's 11.05pm , just as I thought this day was over and I could go to bed after a very full day, I was called in a dorm by my manager to translate something in french. I push myself and go. <br />
I get in and 10 pairs of french eyes are staring at me , expecting me to translate into NORMAL words what this romanian woman from New Zealand was telling them in that strange language called English ( Why can't the whole world speak French?) <br />
<br />
Something about a ghost, Oh dear. She was trying to scare the hell out of them. So I translate the story of Claire, the little ghost girl we have in the top room in Kipps. This story has been passed on from kipps generation to kipps generation translated in 222 languages , even in British English. <br />
<br />
They don't seem that impressed, the French kids. English ghost... whatever ( I know the French. Inside, they are panicking) My manager goes and the teachers ( the ones I had a conversation with in the garden last night) ask me how we could scare the kids even more. <br />
<br />
I had a brilliant idea. What I thought was brilliant ''at the time''. <br />
<br />
I get the staff member on shift and asks him to cut the power off in that particular room. We hear shouts from upstairs. They are panicking. I get up , slam the door shut. They are now freaking out. <br />
<br />
Scaring the shit out of french teenagers must be my favourite thing to do ( something about revenge being an ex teacher) .<br />
<br />
We turn the power off and on a couple of times and we think it's hilarious. The teachers are loving it too. <br />
<br />
The manager gets in: <br />
<br />
'' WTF are you doing???'' I was having a shower and the power went off and on and off and on . she says , not really impressed. <br />
<br />
We did not switch the power off in one of the rooms. We cut half of the hostel off. <br />
<br />
Annabelle, 12 years old, works in a hostel. <br />
<br />
''Sorry''. <br />
<br />
To prove my serious I went to deep clean the kitchen. I really need to find something else btw because I will have deep cleaned the whole hostel VERY SOON. And I start to love it too much. Something about pushing your limits.... <br />
<br />
<u>Earlier that day</u> </span></div>
<br />
I get in to work this morning and the Dutch intern was already in the dorm.<br />
'' U okay? '' I ask her <br />
'' I was okay before I was told I was deep cleaning with you AGAIN'' she answers grumpily. She loves it. She just doesn't know it yet. <br />
<br />
Hostel work is all about pushing yourself, go beyond your limits , and be a better person. <br />
<br />
''WHATEVER''.<br />
<br />
We don't really like to push ourselves do we? <br />
<br />
I had experienced the same thing earlier that day. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, we 've got to go now'' <br />
'' I can't go , I have to finish my article '' I say. I always say that. Like I'm on a dead line and someone is paying me to write or something . Get REAL YOU 're the one who's paying to write. D'oh. <br />
<br />
The truth is that I did not want to go. It was pushing my limits too far. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle , NOW'' the manager says. <br />
<br />
I wish you could hear her. You would then know that when she says that , you do not have a choice. <br />
<br />
10 minutes later I was standing on a scale in Boots pharmacy with a 50p coin that SHE gave me. <br />
<br />
Flashback years ago : Me , chain smoking. '' I will NEVER stop smoking. I would not cope with the putting on weight bit'' <br />
I quit over a year ago , in Murwillumbah Australia. I forgot to smoke one day. D'oh. <br />
<br />
I was now about to face the weight bit for the first time. <br />
<br />
<br />
I put the money in and expect the machine to yell '' YOU ARE OVERWEIGHT. you big fat cow , but the machine is British and is very discreet. it Just gives you a ticket. <br />
<br />
+4kilos..... <br />
<br />
That's okay Annabelle, 2 in each breast is perfect , one of my English male friend would say. His nickname is ''pervert''.<br />
<br />
'' You're very sexy she says .I think you are perfect. ''But I'm not a lesbian '' she adds. <br />
<br />
She had just crushed my dream of ever sleeping with my manager. D'oh.<br />
<br />
It's so easy to let yourself go. She weighs herself too and faces it. Right.Motivation to lose the extra weight 100% . we then go get slimming pills from a health shop. We even swear to the salesman that next time he'll see us ,we'll look like Kate Winslet ( before she put on weight) <br />
<br />
We swear fidelity to our dear diet. We get up our road and our 80 something neighbour gets out to say '' come on girls, run faster''<br />
<br />
WTF????? <br />
<br />
Everyone is supporting us. We will not surrender to temptation. <br />
<br />
Flashforward to end of day : <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle I had a wine when you were gone..... '' <br />
'' I'm way more sophisticated. I had a Gin and Tonic'' <br />
Surrendering : done. <br />
<br />
'' Working and living in a hostel is all about pushing yourself. '' I explain to the Dutch intern as we are deep cleaning a dorm . We are now on all fours scraping the dust off the floor with a knife. <br />
<br />
Bla bla bla. she thinks. She loves it. She just does not know it yet. <br />
<br />
It is true that living and working together with different strangers is pushing yourself everyday a bit further. Everything changes all the time. We say good bye to guests , get to know others , make sure the entertainment keeps going. There is no room for '' crashing on the sofa and being lazy'' <br />
<br />
We have about a million new experiences everyday , new stories , new people and when you write about it you just wonder '' what story / experience I am going to write down?'' <br />
<br />
It's like living a full month of ''normal life'' in just One day. <br />
<br />
My boundaries are always tested and pushed everyday. So I don't have many left. <br />
<br />
2 main ones. My weight and my bank . Oh and I want the world to understand me. But you already knew that huh. <br />
'' Come in you should see that'' the dutch intern says to other staff members and they all gather at reception and start watching ME like a movie. Only the pop corn was missing. <br />
<br />
'' I hate it I hate it. Yes , I hate banks. Why would they have 2 million damn passwords . Like people will steal my money , I don't care , it's THE BANK's money anyway. I don't have money. I never do. This thing is pissing me off now'' <br />
I'm on the computer, talking to myself trying to buy phone top up to my friend and my bank won't let me do it. I'm really agitated now. It just does not work. And I ve got the money on the account. I think.......... <br />
<br />
It finally works and I throw myself into my friend's arms like I just won an Olympic medal. <br />
<br />
Me and my bank. A love story. I get over it , the next experience is coming right now. <br />
<br />
My friend who works at the other hostel posted by mistake pictures on OUR facebook page. I realise as I see the pictures that my friend from Canada, who had been with me and supported me through my management time in the Brighton hostel was leaving the next day forever and I will not see her again. <br />
<br />
Tears. '' can't let go of the past'' tears. The hardest ones in this lifestyle that is constantly changing. <br />
<br />
'' What's wrong now?'' a workmate asks. <br />
<br />
'' She saw pictures of her friend and she's devastated she can't go to Brighton to say good bye'' <br />
this is SO UNFAIR. I wanna go. <br />
<br />
Annabelle, 15 years old, works in a hostel <br />
<br />
It's 8pm and I hear the guests waiting for their guide in the lounge. We organize guided tours of Canterbury. <br />
Who's the guide? <br />
ME. <br />
I'm in reception , devastated. <br />
<br />
Right. Transformation. I've been doing this for years now. No matter how you feel in the inside , you have to give a good time to the guests. It's all about pushing yourself. <br />
<br />
Breathe in , breathe out , check the year the Cathedral was built ( I check every week and forget every week) <br />
GO. <br />
<br />
'' Hey guyyyyyyys'' I say , faking it. <br />
<br />
10 minutes later I was no longer faking anything . I had forgotten all about my pain. I was doing my favourite thing in the WHOLE world. Talking to strangers from different cultures. <br />
<br />
I learnt that the South African guy learnt Zulu at school , the Aussie girl is fluent in Indonesian , the Kiwi bloke thinks Mamite is too thick over here. the Brits show off their London 2012 tee shirts. <br />
I am showing them around Canterbury telling them about English culture. That makes the Brit smile. A girl with a Made in France tattoo who knows so much and is so passionate about taking the piss out of Britain with a very British humour.. No there is no one like me ( thank God or whoever) <br />
<br />
I forget all my worries. I'm living the dream again. MYdream. We visit the cathedral , I take them to the Pub. There is nothing more hilarious than a bunch of strangers from different countries chatting together The Aussie girl is now showing Australian money to the rest of them. She does not know why the 2 dollar coin is smaller than the one dollar coin ( mystery) <br />
The german intern asks the Kiwi guy about the population of New Zealand. <br />
'' Wrong question that 'll upset him'' I tell her, discreetly. <br />
He answers. The Aussie girl is laughing at and he hates it. I love the way I understand the Kiwi vs Aussie rivalry. Because I lived there.<br />
<br />
'' I'd like to go to Australia one day too but how can I get the money?'' the german intern asks. <br />
<br />
'' Darling ,don't be silly , go on your credit card! '' I answer. Everyone laughs. Because everyone here can relate to that. It makes us all feel safe. <br />
<br />
What were the odds of us ever meeting in this world? This job for me is like a daily miracle. I meet and speak to REAL people from REAL countries EVERYDAY . Together, everyday we push the frontier of ignorance a little further and we have a good laugh. <br />
<br />
That's what makes you want to go travelling on your credit card. You want to experience it for yourself so you can bring it back and be even better at understanding travellers. No one feels stupid around this table right now. We've all been there, done that and got a London 2012 tee shirt. <br />
<br />
We walk home talking about the Kipps Hostel Lifestyle with the German intern. She tells me she loves it and will love it for the next 3 months. But, how can you live like this for a long period of time? <br />
<br />
How about the things everyone does that you no longer do in this life? Like going to work and get back , take your shoes off and lie on the sofa in your underwear, get some private time with a boyfriend, get married , have a '' real'' family.... <br />
I can relate to what she's saying too . I crave for this normality too sometimes. I crave for big arms around me and someone teling me '' You'll be ok Annabelle, I'm here to protect you now'' <br />
I can't lie. I ALSO want that too sometimes. When everything is changing so fast and you constantly push yourself , you feel so unsafe too sometimes. WTF is going to happen tomorrow?? <br />
<br />
It is really true that in a hostel , you have to push yourself every minute of the day. Always under scrutiny , your private time means a walk in the countryside and your friends are your family. <br />
<br />
It challenges what you ve always been told about how Life should be lived and how you should see the world. We go back to the hostel and we catch up with the latest gossip sipping a camomille tea . So much happened in 2 hours. One guest refused to sign the registration card because it was not clear what we meant by '' if room left untidy charges will apply'' <br />
<br />
( What a pain in the *** ) <br />
<br />
the light in the bathroom was not working and they had to jump on the bath to fix it, the french kids went shopping in Ashford and their room is a mess, the manager has listened to a guests moan over his recent divorce for the past hour. <br />
<br />
I look around me and I realise that this is my world. No matter how much it challenges what I've always been told about life and how much I think I need a ''normal life'' sometimes and I know that one day , I will find this balance between private and public, that there will be no need to sacrifice any aspect of Life for this Life. This will just become '' my nornal Life''. <br />
<br />
In the end , there are no so many ways to achieve your dreams. PUSH YOURSELF.Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4741381512031395627.post-43083208104827670352012-08-02T03:01:00.002-07:002013-01-07T04:24:16.739-08:00Feeling different ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
'' Why do we have to deep clean every single room Annabelle?'' asks the intern <br />
<br />
I explain that places like us, that are a bit different , with a family , relaxed vibe have to work twice harder to be taken seriously! <br />
<br />
'' But we are serious!'' she exclaims <br />
<br />
'' Yes but The world does not know we are , though. Not everyone can see it' I say , with emotion. <br />
<br />
Now Am I talking about the place or about ME. <br />
<br />
That's always the question innit. <br />
<br />
I go get a another cup of coffee and sit in the lounge before I start work. There's a couple of guests I know from the day before, a few new ones ( how did they get there?) <br />
<br />
I start joking about Australians and rowing with the girl from Melbourne I checked in a few days ago. <br />
She does not seems to be laughing at all ( it was a really bad joke indeed)<br />
She's staring at the public computer . Oh dear. I exactly knew what was going on. . <br />
I wait , counting. in my head . 5 , 4 , 3 , 2 , 1 .... she burst out crying. <br />
'' I don't know where to stay tonight , I haven't booked anything , It's so scary. I should have planned it all I feel so STUPID'' <br />
<br />
<b>STUPID : the way we feel when we're trying out a new way of Life amongst people who are NOT. <br />
</b>Numbers of day I felt stupid this year ( I'm currently counting ALL days since the beginning of this year. It could take a while) <br />
<br />
<u>Flashback Melbourne January 2012.</u> </span></div>
<br />
I'm in a car with that stranger who gave me a lift from Sydney . 10 hours and a night in a tent in the middle of nowhere later we're now approaching Melbourne. <br />
'' So where do you want me to drop you off then?'' He asks. <br />
Oh shit. I did not think that one through. It's dark, raining I ve never been here before , I don't know anyone and I haven't booked a hostel. <br />
I feel so STUPID. How I can do this??? <br />
<br />
He finally drops me off at that local hostel he knows. It's called '' The Nunnery'' I don't know if they have a bed. I feel so unsafe and stupid, this is not funny. <br />
<br />
The receptionnist gives me the last bed. And he also gave me his dinner too. Instant connection between us 2, he's a traveller. A few hours later I was helping him clean the kitchen talking about England... and Kipps. '' Sorry I don't work here, I checked in 2 hours ago'' I would say to guests coming to me. Yes, I am made for this job. <br />
<br />
This had become my comfort zone in Melbourne. I went back to when I got dumped, sad, happy, lost a job... He made me feel safe again. After all , what I'm doing is not that stupid. ? <br />
<br />
'' Don't worry you're Home here'' I tell the Aussie girl after telling her all about my Stupid moments ( it took a while I'm almost late for work) <br />
<br />
'' I'll book you in for another night We'll make you a cuppa and pancakes tonight. If you want to visit somewhere else we've got family in Brighton ( oops I meant hostel) <br />
<br />
'Oh and who's stupid by the way, you who are on the other side of the world visiting England and about to study in Spain or the people who are stitting on their sofa watching telly to forget they're scared to lose their 9 to 5 job? . It would be stupid to miss the opportunity of doing this huh'' <br />
<br />
I'm now shouting with so much passion that the whole lounge is staring at me, silent. <br />
<br />
I clear my throat , wishing very hard to not look ''stupid'' , put my staff badge on to look more professional . Me and my dignity are off to work. <br />
<br />
3 hours of happy cleaning. dancing to Dutch music like a teenager one minute and acting like the toughest manager the next. The interns are used to my multiple personalities now. Sort of. <br />
<br />
We're now talking about sex and relationships (why always that) and she tells me. <br />
<br />
'' This bed looks good enough right?'' <br />
<br />
'' We don t do good enough here WE ONLY DO PERFECT'' I answer with a tone that no was no longer joking , re making all beds, checking the bathtub for hair. <br />
<br />
Oh dear. The monster is back. <br />
<br />
2pm the first guest arrives. <br />
<br />
I check her in. She tells me she lives in London and she's currently trying to extend her visa. <br />
I told her about renewing my visa in Thailand. I just had to take the boat to Myanmar give the immigration a 10 dollar note and I could happily go back to the country for another 2 weeks. <br />
<br />
'' Have you tried doing this over here? It might work'' I say to her. <br />
I show her around . the dutch intern is throwing me strepsils because my voice is gone , the manager is cooking a huge lunch for everyone, the rest of the staff is happily joking in the kitchen , I 'm now taking her upstairs . That's when she told me the thing that makes me the happiest in the world. Success for all my efforts ,the coronation for months of '' Stupidity''... THE thing. <br />
<br />
'' Are you guys family?'' <br />
<br />
I was moved to tears and wanted to throw myself in her arms and tell her what it meant to me. But I remembered the voice in my head<br />
<br />
<i>Places like us have to work twice harder to be taken seriously.</i>.<br />
<br />
'' We are a family of the world indeed telling her where we are all from while politely showing her the toilets to your right hand side , always clean bcause we check all the time. Same as the dorms, very clean ( hoping to NOT find the pigeons there today) <br />
<br />
<i>What are you trying to prove with this forced BBC accent Annabelle? <br />
</i>Whatever I was trying to prove worked , she loved the dorm. <br />
<br />
<u>A few hours later<br />
</u>'' I'm giving you unlimited powers, big jumps , and invincibility and you manage to DIE ANYWAY , Annabelle?'' The dutch intern tells me later. <br />
'' What fun is it if you can't die?'' I answer after shouting for 10 minutes. <br />
The guest at the computer finally turns around to se what the hell we're talking about. It was the now infamous '' guest with the comb'' <br />
<br />
I'm playing with the intern's Nintendo DS. My invicible Mario just fell into a big hole and died for the 4th time. <br />
'' I'm playing because I'm not on duty '' I say to the guy who had no idea why I said that.<br />
<br />
<br />
He stares, as usual and goes back to playing cards on the public computer. <br />
<br />
I start my shift at 4pm and the event staff start theirs at 6pm. Basically they have to make sure this place feels Home to everyone and I have to make sure that this place is a workplace. Tonight we're doing free pnacake and xbox for our lovely guests. What a nice place I think , still in love with my job.... <br />
<br />
'' There is a problem with the toilet's door in the dorm I think'' <br />
<br />
There he was, still staring. The guest with the comb. <br />
<br />
Oh dear. There is no bloody problem with that door. Oh well, professional, I go with him so he can show me. <br />
<br />
'' See you can get in...... he starts , as I was getting in. <br />
<br />
Yeah I can see that as I was sliding the door shut behind me. <br />
<br />
'' But you can 't get out'' he continues. <br />
<br />
SURE. You could not have told me this BEFORE I GET LOCKED IN THE DORM 'S TOILET WHILE I'M ON SHIFT? <br />
<br />
'' Can you open?'' I ask him , as I'm trying to get out. <br />
'' Sorry???'' he asks. <br />
<br />
'' OPEN THE DOOR'' I now shout. <br />
<br />
He finally opens. I tell him politely that we will take care of it. I then put a very polite, apologetic poster telling people they are welcome to use the other toilet on the same floor for the moment being'' <br />
<br />
Everyone happy. <br />
<br />
6.45pm 15 minutes before the event is due to start. A very polite lady comes in to reception <br />
<br />
'' My son is really interested in taking part to your pancake and Xbox night but.....'' <br />
<br />
Oh dear, I expect any problem , judgement , health and safety issue. <br />
<br />
'' But he s autistic. He's very different'' <br />
<br />
'' Who is not nowadays I joke . Look around you here, we're all a bit different... aren't we? . '' I said realizing that is ZE wrong thing to say. <br />
<br />
'' He does not cope with people being LATE,he does not understand the concept and gets bored. that really sets him off. So I just wanted to ask you if you were starting at dead 7pm. <br />
<br />
'' Of course we are '' I say obviously faking it. <br />
<br />
She leaves and I'm running around the hostel telling the story to my manager in French so no one understands ( I obviously forgot that we have a group of 18 french teenagers in the building who don't speak ENGLISH ) , she translates to Romanian to the staff . I don't understand Romanian but it was something like <br />
<br />
'' You d better be on time or I kill you '' because he ran to switch the Xbox on and we got the 2 interns playing. One of them is off today but hey, we're a big family. <br />
<br />
2 hours later as I'm being my professional check in lady who also deals with money / washing/ checking toilets / bookings in I remember <br />
<br />
'' Shit , Xbox night. See how the interns are doing.'' <br />
<br />
I go to the lounge. It is packed with people of all ages, nationalities happily playing some crazy game together. <br />
<br />
'' Annabelle, she's cheatiiiiiiiiing '' says one of them accusing the other. <br />
<br />
'' So pass your turn then '' I say , while checking my Deep cleaning planning sheet for the month. <br />
\<br />
'' So who is that autistic guy then?'' I ask the Dutch intern telling her to be careful and professional. <br />
<br />
'' He's Dutch , he 's cool!'' she says running back to playing with random guests like she's known them all her Life. <br />
<br />
No, I could not see anyone ''different'' from the others that night. They were all laughing /cheating/ stuffing themselves with pancakes THE SAME WAY. <br />
<br />
10pm that same polite lady came in to reception again. <br />
<br />
You know, my son had fun tonight she says. If there is one thing autism does to you is the feeling of loneliness. And tonight he did not feel it. Thanks. <br />
<br />
'' Ok thanks '' I say briefly hiding my emotion. ( yes I can do that sometimes) <br />
<br />
A few tears later I thanked God ( or whoever) for Kipps. <br />
<br />
At 10.30pm all my duties were done and I was in the kitchen finishing to clean it, being very careful not to leave anything undone. <br />
<br />
The French group of teenagers was in bed and 3 exhausted leaders were standing in front of me. <br />
<br />
'' They are awful these kids Annabelle. They have no gratitude whatsoever. All we do for them.....'' <br />
STOP. CHILL OUT. <br />
<br />
<br />
Right. I directed them to the garden telling I ll join them after 11pm . We all know it's NOT about the kids. <br />
<br />
That's how I ended up speaking my own language sharing a cider with french people talking about education and blaming our government for it ( shit, don't we have a socialist government now?. Ok We'll blame the parents ) <br />
They had exactly the same questions as me. <br />
<br />
Why can't other people see what we see? <br />
<br />
Your work is your passion , money is something you use for your passion and other people , why is it so difficult for people to understand that? Why are we, the ones with the passion for our job, ALWAYS the ones stuck with credit card bills and mistaken for lazy clowns . WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO PROVE THAT WE"RE SERIOUS AND PROFESSIONAL TWICE AS HARD AS OTHERS ????? <br />
<br />
These guys have big passion for kids but little money and little credibility from anyone. Kids, Who cares about them? <br />
We always have to fight so hard to be taken seriously...<br />
<br />
Breathe Annabelle, breathe....... <br />
<br />
An idea comes to my head. How about WE stop thinking we're different? <br />
<br />
They complain about the lack of support from their hierarchy. <br />
<br />
I'm silent. can't relate to that. Because we have it, in Kipps, the support. <br />
<br />
It starts with Kipps.............. <br />
<br />
I explain how the world is gradually changing and how the ''right'' people now get to the top. I explain what sort of person used to own Kipps 2 years back and how the right guy got at the top in the end , the one who allowed us to have free pancakes tonight, free cake tomorrow night and free pasta next week. <br />
<br />
210 . That's the number of days I felt stupid this year. Today seems different though. I can see things differently now that I write about them. <br />
<br />
Yes, the world is changing and yes, it's worth waking up at 6am EVERYDAY to write about it.<br />
Spread the word.Annabellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374511490178867352noreply@blogger.com0