''Don't stay here, it's dangerous '' tells me a random guy who decided he would stay with me , here by the xmas tree, until my friend comes to pick me up.
Dangerous... It's kind of a vague concept for an Aussie. Deadly spiders , scorpions , sharks , snakes, they 're all FINE. But Sydney Central station, full of drunk idiots on New Years eve is DANGEROUS. My bodyguard was not even from here '' Are you f*** crazy , I'd never live here. I'm from the bush, mate''.
That was my first taste of Sydney
A couple of hours later I turned into a DANGER myself ( mixed french wine and whisky) watching the firework in the distance with friends. I remember crying saying ''no other f*** city can beat that, man'' . Yeah I was as stupid as an aussie tourist weeping in front of the Eiffel tower. Travelling does that to you mate.
At that stage I thought that my decision was made.Sydney Firework was the most spectacular thing I had ever seen while drinking french wine.
Next thing I know I wake up next to a man... from Melbourne.
And the game was on again ....
After a hard core Sydney hung over I decided to go explore the city . My challenge was to stay in George Street ( the VERY city centre) for 3 hours. Lunch time, Monday. Time of arrival 11.30 am. Time of freak out 11.45am .
Never say to a friend '' I'l meet you in Starbucks on George street . Because there are about 200 of them. Don't even try Mac Cafes.It's packed. ( but you can still stand in front of it to pick up free wifi)
You can also go to the Apple shop to check your emails for free if you want to queue for an hour and have the spirit of Steve Job following you for the next 2 hours.
Shops even sell winter stuff. It's 28 degrees. Who would buy boots just because it's Winter in Paris. Many people I guess. No, I did not.
The only thing that reminds you where you are, are the '' I love Sydney Tee shirts'' .You sort of remember when you are because there is still a HUGE xmas tree on Martin's place. Other than that , you could be anywhere else in the world. That's the sort of pictures you have to label because 10 years from now you ll struggle to remember where you've taken them .
'' Hong Kong! Hang on, no... was it Paris?''
So.... Where the f***do I go?
That's how I ended up in the library. I always end up in the library. But this one was special. It gives you 20 minutes of free internet AND free wifi. Compliments from New South Wales State Library
I spent my last hour eating chips in Coles. I NEVER eat chips. When my friend offered to walk home I gave her THE look. We took the bus.
Oh transportation in Sydney.... It's really easy.When you know where you are going. Like most tourists, I did not. Unless you already KNOW that the train to North Sydney is on platform 16 you need to read 15 other signs before you get to the right one. Sweet. But you will NOT forget the ride , mate. Unless you live in Sydney and it will just be another day on the bloody train back home.
Indeed, the train to North Sydney goes through the bridge. yes, THE bridge. There I was , my camera in one hand and a hanky in the other . I am on SYDNEY HARBOUR BRIDGE. I could not believe it. Another awesome moment made in Sydney shared with.... no one who could understand.
Other aussies were playing with their Iphone looking up only to check if I was crying for a valid reason. Just another tourist mate, all good. Go Back to facebook. I felt like the first time I raved about an Ibis on the street in Murwillumbah and someone told me that it was the equivalent of taking photos of pigeons in Europe.Or even worse : squirrels in England D'oh.
You also have the bus in Sydney. Ask for a 2 dollar ticket. They'll ask you for 2 dollar 10. Julia's decision from 01st Jan 2012 , they'll say. Tickets are pre paid. Meaning if you show up in the bus with no ticket between 7am and 7pm you can get legally kicked out, even if you have the money. Obviously I did it. My rebel french side I guess. And also the fact that most places that sell tickets close at 6pm.Yes, in Sydney , between 6pm and 7pm you just WALK.
I get in the bus with my 2 dollars 10 and my best french accent
'' Can I pay for zee ticket wizz you pleazzzz'' ( I love my thick french accent)
'' No''
Shit.
'' You can have a free ride baby'' he says , not looking at me in the eye but a little '' down under''
I LOVE Sydney bus drivers.
'' What do you pay all these tickets for? '' says my new friend from Holland.
There was a PASS. 20 dollars pass that does ferry / train/ bus for a whole week. That, if you are a student or italian ( and are prone to cheating and PRETEND you're a student) If you're a normal person It's 40 dollars.
'' You can get it from the machine there. No one asks you for student id ''
That's when I became a 32 year old ( italian) student.
Sydney is awesome.
2 hours later I lost the pass and went back to paying every single ride. Imagine the lucky fake student who found it!
Back to my post George street traumatic experience. So what do Sydney people do the relieve The Stress?
I found a meditation group on couch surfing.com
Unblocking your chakras with a cool aussie dude , overlooking Harbour Brigde for free? Just awesome. Every Wednesday night. Check out couch surfing.com activities in Sydney. Thanks Robbie. Good luck to inner peace in the city.
What else?
They go to the beach, mate. A couple of years back I went to Bondi Beach. Full of expectations.What did I find there? A beach. Yes, man, a beach. And ''I love Bondi Beach'' tee shirts.
This time me and my couch surfing friends decided to go to Manly. Manly and Bondi are like Melbourne and Sydney. You're either a Bondi dude or a Manley person.
I'm a Manley person. How much character to these little beaches. Waterfalls , natural shades for Pommie tourists , all I needed to chill out.
Sydney people also have a beer to chill out. So I decided to have a beer.
WHAT? PERONI????
All these Years of Foster's in England and I come here and the trend this year in Sydney is to drink ITALIAN BEER? Seriously......
'' Foster's shit mate , it's just for Pommie commercials''
After a couple of beers you can also go to the museum. What? 12 dollars?
'' In Melbourne museums are free'' says my Melbourne man , proudly.
In Sydney even zen has a price. 6 dollars is the entrance to the Chinese garden of frienship. And you'd better hire a car and go to the bush to see wild animals. It's be cheaper than going to the zoo here : 50 dollars.
So I hang out with Europeans, people from Melbourne but.... I don't seem to find anyone FROM Sydney. I write to a couple of people on couchsurfing.com. The answers are usually
'' Sorry I'm from Perth actually. I live here for work''
'' I'm from Brisbane, and away in Melbourne for the week end , sorry''
Saturday night was the start of the Sydney Music Festival that takes place every year after New Year's. And guess what?It's FREE!
That's how I ended up dancing barefoot in the grass in January ( still weird for me) with groups of people singing in french ( and who had NO IDEA what they were singing!) . A favorite band of mine was just on and I never had the chance to see them in my own country.
Sydney, you ROCK.
Going back home I accidently got lost and ended up in KINGS CROSS. Yes, I knew about Kings cross. The only tricky thing was telling those who were doing it for free from the ones who charged for it. Tough competition, mate. Yeah guys, it is the Red Light District. Any straight man would pick Sydney over anywhere else at this very point of my night.
And you had me in my jeans skirt , baggy tee shirt and converses stinking of banana ( I accidently sat on my dinner ooops) swimming through an ocean of top models with tiny little dresses and high heels .It's like all the hottest and classiest english girls had been selected and shipped to Oz ( book your next ship now girls)
A girl was handing flyers from a posh local club. She looks at me. And gives it the girl just beside me.
Sydney. Or how to boost your self esteem.
The word BODY seems to have a huge importance here. So I decided to go deeper into it ( for work) . All those hours looking at men with hot bodies jogging half naked in the botanic gardens were painful. Because there was hot women too. Everywhere. Running.Exercising. All the time.
It makes you want to eat fish and green beans for the rest of your Life. But you eat chocolate. Because it's exhausting, just to look at them.
I forgot all about it when I changed my facebook location to ''Opera House Sydney'' a bit later that day. Proud. Impressed. I love Sydney.
'' The ideal would be Melbourne with Sydney's weather'' says my Melbourne man later that evening as we were having beer and Vegemite chips ( I love them by the way. Sometimes it just takes a man from Melbourne...) on the roof of the flat we were staying in.
'' What?'' I asked , wrapped in my Winter jacket from England. . Except for 3 months in England I spent the last year in half tropical weather in North New South Wales and the 2 Winter months in Thailand. I was freezing , here in Sydney. Images of snow and hail storms crossed my mind.I pictured me wearing ''I love Melbourne gloves'' next week.
'' You never know until you've been there '' tells me someone .
True.
I've been to Sydney , Australia. It's something you can never forget. Bucket list material. Spectacular that is. Breathtaking views and experiences.
It's just missing that little something, that thing called '' sense of '' the Sydney atmosphere'' .
That sense of belonging....
A french girl discovering ze world, other cultures, people and herself...
Sunday, 8 January 2012
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
A tale of two cities ( Part one )
One is ''full of uptight, classy, posh people'' The other one is ''full of pot smoker hippies who can't grow up''.
When I asked my friends up in North New South Wales to choose between Sydney and Melbourne they were all unanimous:
'' F*** the city mate, live in the country ''
That's what I was thinking too. I lived in the Aussie countryside for 6 months. 3 months in ''Silk Pavilion'',an amazing B&B in Mount Burrell with wallabies and other interesting species of the bush and 3 months in Murwillumbah, a small country town that I now lovingly call '' Home'' . I loved it.
But it was time for me to move. See another aspect of Aussie culture.
There is a war raging. 2 cities.2 life styles. 1 choice. And I have to choose a side, too.
Because you have to. In Oz, you're either a Melbourne person OR a Sydney person. No REAL other option, I've heard. Because Perth is not really in Australia , it's in ''WA'' , Hobart is in Tasmania ( that will be independent , one day) Brisbane is so hot that your beer won't stay cold for long and they felt so sorry for Canberra that they made it the capital.
Whether you're Spanish, American ,Swedish, Aussie does not matter. The first impression an Aussie will have from you is based on whether you like Sydney OR Melbourne.
That’s, I suspect is even something you can put on your resume
Hobbies:
Likes surfing, Vegemite , cricket , French cuisine, Melbourne (OR Sydney).
I ve never tried surfing, still can't stand Vegemite (I tolerate it with cheese though) I still don't understand cricket but I love to listen to Aussie men talking about it. I'm French but I can't cook for my life and.... I have yet to choose between Sydney and Melbourne.
I know my choice will be hard to make. Why? Because I HATE most big cities. As a person who grew up in a country town in the North East of France I naturally despise cities. Yes, even Paris. Especially Paris. That's what most non Parisian French do best. We hate Paris. You know what you usually think of most French people? The ‘’arrogant, patriotic, smug’’ thingy? It just really ONLY applies to Parisians. We (the rest of France) are lovely people.
The French equivalent to ''Sydney vs. Melbourne'' would be Paris vs. the rest of France. A VERY important decision to make. It can influence your WHOLE life.
So I decided to spend some time in Sydney (on a budget. Check my Facebook page called ''citizen of the world'' to follow my financial situation) and some time in Melbourne (on the budget I have left), and at the end of January, pick one. Yes, you're allowed to give me your point of view, pass this page on to your friends, try to bribe me, sponsor me, it could work, who knows.
First stop Sydney . I’m staying with 2 Aussie male friends who just had an interesting conversation as I was telling them about my ''Sydney vs. Melbourne'' challenge
Friend 1 : ‘’ Beaches are f**** freezing in Melbourne and they’re soooo remote , it’s insane mate. So much better here in Sydney’’
Friend 2 , agitated : ‘’ What are you on about, mate? How long did it take us to go to Bondi yesterday? F**** ages!!! ‘’
Wanna know what is REALLY cool about this conversation? Friend 1 is from Melbourne. Friend 2 lives in Sydney.
I’m going to love this game…
To be continued.....
When I asked my friends up in North New South Wales to choose between Sydney and Melbourne they were all unanimous:
'' F*** the city mate, live in the country ''
That's what I was thinking too. I lived in the Aussie countryside for 6 months. 3 months in ''Silk Pavilion'',an amazing B&B in Mount Burrell with wallabies and other interesting species of the bush and 3 months in Murwillumbah, a small country town that I now lovingly call '' Home'' . I loved it.
But it was time for me to move. See another aspect of Aussie culture.
There is a war raging. 2 cities.2 life styles. 1 choice. And I have to choose a side, too.
Because you have to. In Oz, you're either a Melbourne person OR a Sydney person. No REAL other option, I've heard. Because Perth is not really in Australia , it's in ''WA'' , Hobart is in Tasmania ( that will be independent , one day) Brisbane is so hot that your beer won't stay cold for long and they felt so sorry for Canberra that they made it the capital.
Whether you're Spanish, American ,Swedish, Aussie does not matter. The first impression an Aussie will have from you is based on whether you like Sydney OR Melbourne.
That’s, I suspect is even something you can put on your resume
Hobbies:
Likes surfing, Vegemite , cricket , French cuisine, Melbourne (OR Sydney).
I ve never tried surfing, still can't stand Vegemite (I tolerate it with cheese though) I still don't understand cricket but I love to listen to Aussie men talking about it. I'm French but I can't cook for my life and.... I have yet to choose between Sydney and Melbourne.
I know my choice will be hard to make. Why? Because I HATE most big cities. As a person who grew up in a country town in the North East of France I naturally despise cities. Yes, even Paris. Especially Paris. That's what most non Parisian French do best. We hate Paris. You know what you usually think of most French people? The ‘’arrogant, patriotic, smug’’ thingy? It just really ONLY applies to Parisians. We (the rest of France) are lovely people.
The French equivalent to ''Sydney vs. Melbourne'' would be Paris vs. the rest of France. A VERY important decision to make. It can influence your WHOLE life.
So I decided to spend some time in Sydney (on a budget. Check my Facebook page called ''citizen of the world'' to follow my financial situation) and some time in Melbourne (on the budget I have left), and at the end of January, pick one. Yes, you're allowed to give me your point of view, pass this page on to your friends, try to bribe me, sponsor me, it could work, who knows.
First stop Sydney . I’m staying with 2 Aussie male friends who just had an interesting conversation as I was telling them about my ''Sydney vs. Melbourne'' challenge
Friend 1 : ‘’ Beaches are f**** freezing in Melbourne and they’re soooo remote , it’s insane mate. So much better here in Sydney’’
Friend 2 , agitated : ‘’ What are you on about, mate? How long did it take us to go to Bondi yesterday? F**** ages!!! ‘’
Wanna know what is REALLY cool about this conversation? Friend 1 is from Melbourne. Friend 2 lives in Sydney.
I’m going to love this game…
To be continued.....
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Chill out mate!
'' It has been the warmest December in many years in .... '' announces the TV presenter.
I'm back in Oz , watching TV. Can't believe I'm here. Summer in December and that. Wow.
''...in the North Hemisphere'' he continues
F**** Europe I say out loud, wrapped in my blanket,with my Winter socks on, sneezing for the 3rd time. Been the coldest Christmas in Oz for years. How freaking unfair is that. 22hours on a plane to spend Xmas in Summer and the Sun takes the opposite trip and goes to ENGLAND . Seriously.
'' But we still have a couple of days to chill out between xmas and New Year''
CHILL OUT. National Aussie expression. I've been back 7 days and I heard it about 200 times.
CHILL OUT. it means different things in different countries around the world. In Germany '' to chill out '' means showing up on time at some appointment and NOT 10 minutes early. In France , a chilled out person is a lazy young pot smoker with no job. In England , chilling out involves a cuppa tea. In Spain they don't know because they are ALL chilled out. In Thailand , it's something to do with sitting Buddah . And I've been to all these countries . As a citizen of the world, let me be a little lost over the meaning of it.
'' Annabelle, chill out , you're on Aussie time!'' . Sure. I don't want to ask what they mean so I assume it has to mean 1/ sleep. 2/ Watch Bondi Vet on telly 3/ Talk about Julia Gillard's new hair cut.
Me and my dear Scottish Aussie sister Pip ( not my real sister of course , I don't even have sibblings. But when you're a citizen of the world , you can pick your own family. Mine is HUGE ) went Xmas shooping at Coles on Xmas eve. That , I thought , was the opposite of ''chilling out'' whatever it meant.
In France , shopping on xmas eve is Hell. You have to be mad to venture out shopping in a crowd of stressed , restess people who want the rest of the planet dead so they don't have to queue anywhere.. But we all do it. We moan at the traffic , the prices, the bitch who took the last Wrapping paper roll , we push people, swear at other drivers. Perfect french Xmas spirit. ( and we blame the governement for it too)
So I walk into Coles with the intention of not letting other people's stress get to me. What did I see? People strolling around bare foot, nicely chatting to each other and laughing really loud while happily purchasing their food for their Xmas barbie.
'' Please go first , mate '' someone tells me at the till , smiling.
WHAT 'S WRONG WITH THEM ???????
In France we would call them ''spaced out''. And we would probably go on strike because it's all too slow for us.
But it's not. Shopping was all done in an hour . We did not kill or even wanted to kills anyone. Wow. I even got a pair of new thongs , everyone tells me I look good in them. Australia : the only country where everyone can see your thongs and it's still ok ( England is the second country but those ones are sticking out of trousers or mini skirts and it usually does not look that good) Yes,in Austraaaalian thongs=flip flops. ( it's always good to know. It avoids misunderstandings)
My first hot Christmas.... was just amazing. Spending it with Brits in the Sun was just priceless. We has cups of teas, mince pies ( they DO taste better in Australia. ) xmas crackers with British jokes, and salads. All that, outside, in 25 degrees. ( it should have been hotter but as I said it was the coldest December in many years)
Christmas morning I even got french croissants. I thought I'd add vegemite to make it look more ''real'' but , no mate, still don't like it ( I'm still trying though ,promise)
I even had a priceless conversation with my favourite 7 year old Aussie about Santa. Why the hell does he wear that big jacket here. Seriously.
'' He does not HAVE TO wear it'' he says '' He's allowed to wear a Tee shirt but he likes his winter coat too much''
HOW CUTE IS THAT.
I started believing in Santa again that day ( did I ever stop?)because he made my Christmas so beautiful , he gave me another ''family of the world'' and a taste of '' chilling out'' Although it sort of still meant ''being lazy'' to me.
So I took the dog for a walk. A 10 year old Aussie dog for 1 hour walk in the Sun. It took her 1 full day to recover.
Am I doing too much?
'' Yes, chill out!!!''
What the does chill out mean? My mind was still on '' Do-sleep-do-sleep'' mode. That's how you wake up with your phone in your hand , your facebook status half updated. And I still had 2 facebook pages to update ( every hour) and photos to take. Chill out is not for me. I'm a professional traveller ( I like the sound of that one , don't you? )
So I went back to work on Boxing Day.What other french would do that?
I agreed to mind my Aussie parents' ( other members of my family of the world) Bed and Breakfast in Mount Burrell for 5 days while they were taking a well deserved break with their Grand kids on the Gold Coast.
'' This is Annie our new woofer, she'll be helping you. You'll be fantastic Annabelle, chill out!''
And then they were gone.
So.... I was going to manage a 5 star Bed and Breakfast in the bush with no car and a person whom I've never met. She has been here for 1 week. I've been away for 5 months. SURE. Something tells me that chill out does not mean sleeping in this case.The first guests are coming in an hour. And they can order home made pizzas. Did I tell you I can't cook? And I'm disorganized?
But GOD( or is it Santa?) sent me a ..... GERMAN woofer. ( ie organized, hard working, ponctual woofer)
3 days later
''Annie , guests are coming over for dessert tonight''
'' No worries I'll make something up'' she says with a smile.
'' 1 latte , 1 cappucino'' I announce as I was happily making coffees from a proper coffee machine. ( wanna know the truth? I can't tell the difference betweeen Latte and Cappuccino. Last time an italian barrister attempted to explain I ended up sleeping with him. BAD.GIRL. So I made 2 of my infamous '' Lattucinos'' . And Guests loved it.
In 2 days Annie and I made home made pizzas, moved scared guests to another room at 10pm , looked after our friend Karen's new born while she went shopping for us , chatted to the guests, got the tractor out of the mud, cleaned, did the laundry and still had time to become super good friends, watch movies and talk about how slow time is in OZ.
We had found the meaning of chilling out. Chilling out is being in the present moment and see what awesome things we can make out of it. That's how you can slow time down.
My 48h break from facebook ( call it strike if you want, I'm french after all) did help.
It's crazy how much time we waste on that thing ( you can still visit my facebook page about my new challenge called '' Citizen of the world'' and like it. Thanks!!!). Time we could use to walk 5km up and down a hill in the Aussie Sun with a new german friend to go for coffee together . Chilling out Is's not about being lazy ,it's about Being.
That's the effect the Aussie bush has on me. Better than drugs. I did think about moving here permanently , in a tent outside my friend 's Karen 's cottage, grow a beard and be in communion with Nature but hey ,I'm a traveller, I should keep going,mate.
Now watching French news on SBS . About those Aussie tourist spending New Years' in Paris. What a stupid thing to do. Do they REALLY want to spend that evening squeezed between hundreds of people in a big city , with no possibilty to wee in any free toilet , just to see a stupid firework that is going to last for 4 minutes? Bloody tourists they don't know how to chill out.
What? Where do I spend MY New Year's Eve? Somewhere not cliche at all. Sydney, mate, Sydney.
Chilling out is not a place, It's an attitude.
But it IS easier in Summer.
I'm back in Oz , watching TV. Can't believe I'm here. Summer in December and that. Wow.
''...in the North Hemisphere'' he continues
F**** Europe I say out loud, wrapped in my blanket,with my Winter socks on, sneezing for the 3rd time. Been the coldest Christmas in Oz for years. How freaking unfair is that. 22hours on a plane to spend Xmas in Summer and the Sun takes the opposite trip and goes to ENGLAND . Seriously.
'' But we still have a couple of days to chill out between xmas and New Year''
CHILL OUT. National Aussie expression. I've been back 7 days and I heard it about 200 times.
CHILL OUT. it means different things in different countries around the world. In Germany '' to chill out '' means showing up on time at some appointment and NOT 10 minutes early. In France , a chilled out person is a lazy young pot smoker with no job. In England , chilling out involves a cuppa tea. In Spain they don't know because they are ALL chilled out. In Thailand , it's something to do with sitting Buddah . And I've been to all these countries . As a citizen of the world, let me be a little lost over the meaning of it.
'' Annabelle, chill out , you're on Aussie time!'' . Sure. I don't want to ask what they mean so I assume it has to mean 1/ sleep. 2/ Watch Bondi Vet on telly 3/ Talk about Julia Gillard's new hair cut.
Me and my dear Scottish Aussie sister Pip ( not my real sister of course , I don't even have sibblings. But when you're a citizen of the world , you can pick your own family. Mine is HUGE ) went Xmas shooping at Coles on Xmas eve. That , I thought , was the opposite of ''chilling out'' whatever it meant.
In France , shopping on xmas eve is Hell. You have to be mad to venture out shopping in a crowd of stressed , restess people who want the rest of the planet dead so they don't have to queue anywhere.. But we all do it. We moan at the traffic , the prices, the bitch who took the last Wrapping paper roll , we push people, swear at other drivers. Perfect french Xmas spirit. ( and we blame the governement for it too)
So I walk into Coles with the intention of not letting other people's stress get to me. What did I see? People strolling around bare foot, nicely chatting to each other and laughing really loud while happily purchasing their food for their Xmas barbie.
'' Please go first , mate '' someone tells me at the till , smiling.
WHAT 'S WRONG WITH THEM ???????
In France we would call them ''spaced out''. And we would probably go on strike because it's all too slow for us.
But it's not. Shopping was all done in an hour . We did not kill or even wanted to kills anyone. Wow. I even got a pair of new thongs , everyone tells me I look good in them. Australia : the only country where everyone can see your thongs and it's still ok ( England is the second country but those ones are sticking out of trousers or mini skirts and it usually does not look that good) Yes,in Austraaaalian thongs=flip flops. ( it's always good to know. It avoids misunderstandings)
My first hot Christmas.... was just amazing. Spending it with Brits in the Sun was just priceless. We has cups of teas, mince pies ( they DO taste better in Australia. ) xmas crackers with British jokes, and salads. All that, outside, in 25 degrees. ( it should have been hotter but as I said it was the coldest December in many years)
Christmas morning I even got french croissants. I thought I'd add vegemite to make it look more ''real'' but , no mate, still don't like it ( I'm still trying though ,promise)
I even had a priceless conversation with my favourite 7 year old Aussie about Santa. Why the hell does he wear that big jacket here. Seriously.
'' He does not HAVE TO wear it'' he says '' He's allowed to wear a Tee shirt but he likes his winter coat too much''
HOW CUTE IS THAT.
I started believing in Santa again that day ( did I ever stop?)because he made my Christmas so beautiful , he gave me another ''family of the world'' and a taste of '' chilling out'' Although it sort of still meant ''being lazy'' to me.
So I took the dog for a walk. A 10 year old Aussie dog for 1 hour walk in the Sun. It took her 1 full day to recover.
Am I doing too much?
'' Yes, chill out!!!''
What the does chill out mean? My mind was still on '' Do-sleep-do-sleep'' mode. That's how you wake up with your phone in your hand , your facebook status half updated. And I still had 2 facebook pages to update ( every hour) and photos to take. Chill out is not for me. I'm a professional traveller ( I like the sound of that one , don't you? )
So I went back to work on Boxing Day.What other french would do that?
I agreed to mind my Aussie parents' ( other members of my family of the world) Bed and Breakfast in Mount Burrell for 5 days while they were taking a well deserved break with their Grand kids on the Gold Coast.
'' This is Annie our new woofer, she'll be helping you. You'll be fantastic Annabelle, chill out!''
And then they were gone.
So.... I was going to manage a 5 star Bed and Breakfast in the bush with no car and a person whom I've never met. She has been here for 1 week. I've been away for 5 months. SURE. Something tells me that chill out does not mean sleeping in this case.The first guests are coming in an hour. And they can order home made pizzas. Did I tell you I can't cook? And I'm disorganized?
But GOD( or is it Santa?) sent me a ..... GERMAN woofer. ( ie organized, hard working, ponctual woofer)
3 days later
''Annie , guests are coming over for dessert tonight''
'' No worries I'll make something up'' she says with a smile.
'' 1 latte , 1 cappucino'' I announce as I was happily making coffees from a proper coffee machine. ( wanna know the truth? I can't tell the difference betweeen Latte and Cappuccino. Last time an italian barrister attempted to explain I ended up sleeping with him. BAD.GIRL. So I made 2 of my infamous '' Lattucinos'' . And Guests loved it.
In 2 days Annie and I made home made pizzas, moved scared guests to another room at 10pm , looked after our friend Karen's new born while she went shopping for us , chatted to the guests, got the tractor out of the mud, cleaned, did the laundry and still had time to become super good friends, watch movies and talk about how slow time is in OZ.
We had found the meaning of chilling out. Chilling out is being in the present moment and see what awesome things we can make out of it. That's how you can slow time down.
My 48h break from facebook ( call it strike if you want, I'm french after all) did help.
It's crazy how much time we waste on that thing ( you can still visit my facebook page about my new challenge called '' Citizen of the world'' and like it. Thanks!!!). Time we could use to walk 5km up and down a hill in the Aussie Sun with a new german friend to go for coffee together . Chilling out Is's not about being lazy ,it's about Being.
That's the effect the Aussie bush has on me. Better than drugs. I did think about moving here permanently , in a tent outside my friend 's Karen 's cottage, grow a beard and be in communion with Nature but hey ,I'm a traveller, I should keep going,mate.
Now watching French news on SBS . About those Aussie tourist spending New Years' in Paris. What a stupid thing to do. Do they REALLY want to spend that evening squeezed between hundreds of people in a big city , with no possibilty to wee in any free toilet , just to see a stupid firework that is going to last for 4 minutes? Bloody tourists they don't know how to chill out.
What? Where do I spend MY New Year's Eve? Somewhere not cliche at all. Sydney, mate, Sydney.
Chilling out is not a place, It's an attitude.
But it IS easier in Summer.
Sunday, 18 December 2011
All I want for Xmas...
It’s this time of the year in England …
It’s this time of the year when you run around shopping although you could have done it 2 months ago, when shops started to advertise Xmas …
It’s this time of the year when you kind of wish it’d snow even if you know you ‘d be in big trouble if it did( England is only trained to do one thing when it snows : stop public transport)
It’s this time of the year when foreigners pretend to LOVE mince pies but secretly still believe there is meat in them and , as they’re forcing themselves to swallow the last bit, they realize they forgot to reply to Xmas cards they received 2 weeks ago from their English friends because it’s just not in their culture to do so.
It’s this time of the year when we eat yummy roast dinners by the fireplace.
And here I am, munching on a continental breakfast by the TV showing a fireplace with burning wood (with the sound and that). And that was just my lunch.
In Kipps , when you’re a a staff member and you eat continental breakfast for lunch it means that :
1/ you’re hung over and just woke up, trying hard to remember what you did after 2am last night.
2/ you’ve just come back from a party, still drunk, and you’ve been banned from cooking by your sober and angry colleague who’s having a busy shift and who finds you ridiculous.
3/ You’re broke.
I don’t drink much these days…
Yes, I’m still broke . 3 months of savings , not spending a penny for clothes , party or anything fancy , here I am. Back to the start .
She must be gambling. Or drinking. Or maybe she sends money home to her poor parents every week.
I’ve got ‘’I’m so sorry for you’’ looks from my friends. Poor Annabelle.
But when I told them The Truth , they were a lot less compassionate.
‘’ Your are WHAT??? Flying to WHERE??? With WHAT amount of money??? You are f**** insane Annabelle’’
Yes. I think money is that thing you use to buy plane tickets online. That’s my thing; I collect flights, ignoring how much money I have left. For now I have 3 tickets. I just need one more and I’ll be ready to go. Yay.
When you get crazy looks even from your hard core backpacker friends you suddenly start thinking. ‘’ I’m f**** mad, mate” and freak out. Then you drink mulled cider and realize : ‘’ it does not count right? It’s XMAS!!!! ‘’ and have another German cookie to make yourself feel better.
And I’ve been broke before anyway. I remember my bank account saying zero in Oz , I remember eating f*** rice in Thailand for breakfast and I’m still alive , right.
‘’ Your problem is that you’re way too generous with people Annabelle. You do stuff for free, you spend your time looking after them .’’ my friends keep telling me. Oh yeah. That one. Shit , where have I been the past 10 years. GENEROSITY. It is sooooo last year.
SO why is each penniless memory I have about my travels always linked to damn awesome generous people then ? There was always someone to help. My friend Pip shared all she had with me , my Aussie parents from Mount Burrell got me a camera and plane tickets , My Russian friend Sue offered me a roof, food and fun in Bangkok , my favourite POM Roy treated me to chocolate cheesecake in an English Tea room in a sweaty Thailand.
How long had I known these people for ? Long enough to have a solid, trustworthy relationship. A couple of Days…
And then of course there was England. A free lift from Heathrow, my favourite job back ( it comes with a flat) , strangers who made me feel that I still belonged here, in Kipps Brighton Backpackers.
So, no mate, generosity is NOT only for Xmas.
’ So what would be your ideal present for Xmas then Annabelle?’’ my friends ask me as I was drinking my 15th coffee of the day ( and that was just my dinner)
You mean, other than magically loose half of my body weight and look 10 years younger?( how shallow is that?) Mmmmm … Let me think.
You think I answered ‘’ a big cheque’’ huh.
Then I looked around me. Kipps Backpackers hostel. My Home, my Family of the World.
Some people are playing the wii swearing in every language at Mario and Luigi for being too f*** slow ( mierda, putain, shit) , others are laughing sharing skittles and remembering drunken times from the night before ( and that’s just the staff)
Totoro just got back from Germany with presents involving a lot of calories and happiness for every one of us .
Terry hid 4 bottle of Champagne in his already very heavy suitcase he was carrying back from France .
Xavier is baking smelly Swiss Raclette cheese on toast for everyone ,while Pumpkin was making complementary Swedish chocolate meatballs for dessert.
Last week my Canadian friend had spent 5 hours baking peanut butter cookies for EVERYONE.
And we just recovered from Mister Dynamite ‘s huge , awesome Xmas/birthday/good bye party . It involved a lot of free yummy food and hugs (And booze, of course) he offered to everyone.
That was just before our weekly food event offered by our beloved owner, Lee. Yes, food for free. Yes, EVERY WEEK.
So, no mate, generosity is NOT only for Xmas
The other one playing the Wii swearing in french with an accent from the South over there currently spends half his days correcting the book I have just finished writing, the French book that I dream to publish one day. He pushed me to finish it and to believe in it.
My other friend’ Mi5’ offered me advice for a possible book in English that I will start soon. And there’s Dwight over there, walking around in his fancy PJs, who has always supported through kipps thick and thin , for 2 years now.
Anna has checked in today, she came in with a beautiful little present for me and a big ‘’so-happy-to see-you –again’’ smile. She first came in September and now decided she’d love to spend Xmas in Kipps. I can’t blame her.
Fairy looks at me and decides she would do my make up and pluck my eye brows ( the ''look 10 year younger'' plan)
Virginie is coming to pick me up for lunch, that she insists on paying.
I look at them all and suddenly feels that HUGE unconditional Love that makes me jump around and sing Xmas carols ( out of tune, of course)
I suddenly realize that every one of them had once taken a huge risk in their lives to be here today. Like me , They left family / friends / a secure job / comfort zone somewhere, to jump into the unknown and believe in something better. And guess what. There WAS something better.
So , no generosity is not just for Xmas. Santa is not that big huge guy in a red and white costume ( I can’t wait to see the Aussie one by the way. Do you think he wears a tee shirt ??? )
it’s YOU, mate. Generosity and Love is in every one of us. It’s just a matter of believing it’s also there in other people. Because it is.
‘’ You’’ I suddenly reply to the ‘’ what do you want for Xmas” question not realizing how cheesy it sounded. But yes, All I REALLY wanted for Xmas was them. And you. And Others I don’t know yet. The rest will come with.
Yes , I’m going ’’ Home’’ to Australia in 2 days to see people I love and meet people I WILL love. Traveling is about that, too. So yeah, I ‘ll take the risk .
Because risks are worth taking.
***
‘’ You need a plan Annabelle’’says my best friend as he was treating me to a great Thai meal the other night.
I stare blankly. Is writing / traveling / being generous a not good enough plan?
‘’ You’re very disorganised , idealistic, too spontaneous, impatient , you share your whole life on facebook and can’t keep a budget’’
What’s the GOOD news
‘’ And you’re very good at taking the piss out of it. (NB I got that from you , Brits )
So here’s my plan :
One french woman , One world, 3 months. 800 pounds. Will I make it?
Like my facebook page ‘’ citizen of world’’ . And Come traveling with me
Because it’s free, mate ( unless you want to sponsor me)
It’s this time of the year when you run around shopping although you could have done it 2 months ago, when shops started to advertise Xmas …
It’s this time of the year when you kind of wish it’d snow even if you know you ‘d be in big trouble if it did( England is only trained to do one thing when it snows : stop public transport)
It’s this time of the year when foreigners pretend to LOVE mince pies but secretly still believe there is meat in them and , as they’re forcing themselves to swallow the last bit, they realize they forgot to reply to Xmas cards they received 2 weeks ago from their English friends because it’s just not in their culture to do so.
It’s this time of the year when we eat yummy roast dinners by the fireplace.
And here I am, munching on a continental breakfast by the TV showing a fireplace with burning wood (with the sound and that). And that was just my lunch.
In Kipps , when you’re a a staff member and you eat continental breakfast for lunch it means that :
1/ you’re hung over and just woke up, trying hard to remember what you did after 2am last night.
2/ you’ve just come back from a party, still drunk, and you’ve been banned from cooking by your sober and angry colleague who’s having a busy shift and who finds you ridiculous.
3/ You’re broke.
I don’t drink much these days…
Yes, I’m still broke . 3 months of savings , not spending a penny for clothes , party or anything fancy , here I am. Back to the start .
She must be gambling. Or drinking. Or maybe she sends money home to her poor parents every week.
I’ve got ‘’I’m so sorry for you’’ looks from my friends. Poor Annabelle.
But when I told them The Truth , they were a lot less compassionate.
‘’ Your are WHAT??? Flying to WHERE??? With WHAT amount of money??? You are f**** insane Annabelle’’
Yes. I think money is that thing you use to buy plane tickets online. That’s my thing; I collect flights, ignoring how much money I have left. For now I have 3 tickets. I just need one more and I’ll be ready to go. Yay.
When you get crazy looks even from your hard core backpacker friends you suddenly start thinking. ‘’ I’m f**** mad, mate” and freak out. Then you drink mulled cider and realize : ‘’ it does not count right? It’s XMAS!!!! ‘’ and have another German cookie to make yourself feel better.
And I’ve been broke before anyway. I remember my bank account saying zero in Oz , I remember eating f*** rice in Thailand for breakfast and I’m still alive , right.
‘’ Your problem is that you’re way too generous with people Annabelle. You do stuff for free, you spend your time looking after them .’’ my friends keep telling me. Oh yeah. That one. Shit , where have I been the past 10 years. GENEROSITY. It is sooooo last year.
SO why is each penniless memory I have about my travels always linked to damn awesome generous people then ? There was always someone to help. My friend Pip shared all she had with me , my Aussie parents from Mount Burrell got me a camera and plane tickets , My Russian friend Sue offered me a roof, food and fun in Bangkok , my favourite POM Roy treated me to chocolate cheesecake in an English Tea room in a sweaty Thailand.
How long had I known these people for ? Long enough to have a solid, trustworthy relationship. A couple of Days…
And then of course there was England. A free lift from Heathrow, my favourite job back ( it comes with a flat) , strangers who made me feel that I still belonged here, in Kipps Brighton Backpackers.
So, no mate, generosity is NOT only for Xmas.
’ So what would be your ideal present for Xmas then Annabelle?’’ my friends ask me as I was drinking my 15th coffee of the day ( and that was just my dinner)
You mean, other than magically loose half of my body weight and look 10 years younger?( how shallow is that?) Mmmmm … Let me think.
You think I answered ‘’ a big cheque’’ huh.
Then I looked around me. Kipps Backpackers hostel. My Home, my Family of the World.
Some people are playing the wii swearing in every language at Mario and Luigi for being too f*** slow ( mierda, putain, shit) , others are laughing sharing skittles and remembering drunken times from the night before ( and that’s just the staff)
Totoro just got back from Germany with presents involving a lot of calories and happiness for every one of us .
Terry hid 4 bottle of Champagne in his already very heavy suitcase he was carrying back from France .
Xavier is baking smelly Swiss Raclette cheese on toast for everyone ,while Pumpkin was making complementary Swedish chocolate meatballs for dessert.
Last week my Canadian friend had spent 5 hours baking peanut butter cookies for EVERYONE.
And we just recovered from Mister Dynamite ‘s huge , awesome Xmas/birthday/good bye party . It involved a lot of free yummy food and hugs (And booze, of course) he offered to everyone.
That was just before our weekly food event offered by our beloved owner, Lee. Yes, food for free. Yes, EVERY WEEK.
So, no mate, generosity is NOT only for Xmas
The other one playing the Wii swearing in french with an accent from the South over there currently spends half his days correcting the book I have just finished writing, the French book that I dream to publish one day. He pushed me to finish it and to believe in it.
My other friend’ Mi5’ offered me advice for a possible book in English that I will start soon. And there’s Dwight over there, walking around in his fancy PJs, who has always supported through kipps thick and thin , for 2 years now.
Anna has checked in today, she came in with a beautiful little present for me and a big ‘’so-happy-to see-you –again’’ smile. She first came in September and now decided she’d love to spend Xmas in Kipps. I can’t blame her.
Fairy looks at me and decides she would do my make up and pluck my eye brows ( the ''look 10 year younger'' plan)
Virginie is coming to pick me up for lunch, that she insists on paying.
I look at them all and suddenly feels that HUGE unconditional Love that makes me jump around and sing Xmas carols ( out of tune, of course)
I suddenly realize that every one of them had once taken a huge risk in their lives to be here today. Like me , They left family / friends / a secure job / comfort zone somewhere, to jump into the unknown and believe in something better. And guess what. There WAS something better.
So , no generosity is not just for Xmas. Santa is not that big huge guy in a red and white costume ( I can’t wait to see the Aussie one by the way. Do you think he wears a tee shirt ??? )
it’s YOU, mate. Generosity and Love is in every one of us. It’s just a matter of believing it’s also there in other people. Because it is.
‘’ You’’ I suddenly reply to the ‘’ what do you want for Xmas” question not realizing how cheesy it sounded. But yes, All I REALLY wanted for Xmas was them. And you. And Others I don’t know yet. The rest will come with.
Yes , I’m going ’’ Home’’ to Australia in 2 days to see people I love and meet people I WILL love. Traveling is about that, too. So yeah, I ‘ll take the risk .
Because risks are worth taking.
***
‘’ You need a plan Annabelle’’says my best friend as he was treating me to a great Thai meal the other night.
I stare blankly. Is writing / traveling / being generous a not good enough plan?
‘’ You’re very disorganised , idealistic, too spontaneous, impatient , you share your whole life on facebook and can’t keep a budget’’
What’s the GOOD news
‘’ And you’re very good at taking the piss out of it. (NB I got that from you , Brits )
So here’s my plan :
One french woman , One world, 3 months. 800 pounds. Will I make it?
Like my facebook page ‘’ citizen of world’’ . And Come traveling with me
Because it’s free, mate ( unless you want to sponsor me)
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Home is where the heart is
I'm walking down the street , happy to be travelling again. I am smiling at strangers passing by , it's a perfect day.
''WHAT?????'' says this angry man in a thick french regional accent from the North East of France ( try to mix Swiss and Belgian accent. Yep, that's it. Sexy huh)
'' What are you laughing at me for?'' he says.
Damn. I'm in Vesoul.
I was back in my Hometown. In France. That's where I was travelling to this time.
Easy to forget. When I board a plane I always think I'm going away to some exotic, far away countries.
No. This time it was a 45 minutes Easy Jet flight From Gatwick to Basel.
You know , easy Jet. You're only allowed one hand luggage if you don't want to pay 15 quid to check your bag in. So obviously you stuff everything in a tiny backpack and hide everything else under your jacket while confidently smiling. Coffee was expensive , in 3 different currencies. ( you've got to love Europe)
Yes , I was back home after 1 year of travelling around creating new homes for myself.
France. Where all your problems , worries and defaults have only one source . Sarkozy.
We have no money. Blame Sarkozy
Our job sucks. Sarkozy.
The weather is crap. You know who to blame.
God , who are we going to blame once we finally get rid of him next year......
So I could just have walked away from that guy I was smiling to.
No. I decided to stop and explain that smiles are free ( can you blame the president for that?)
I caught myself having a slight British accent while saying that.
Against all odds the guy smiled back and said thanks.
And probably thought :
'' Fucking Roast beefs ( that how we call the Brits around here) why can't they stay Home'' but anyway , that was a slight victory.
I thought I was in culture shock but I had not been to the town hall yet.
'' What do you want''
I loved her already. Smile Annabelle, your destiny is at stake.
'' I wish to apply for a new passport please''
'' Proof of address, pictures, 80 Euro''
'' Nice to meet you , I'm fine and you?''
No , I did NOT say that. I really wanted my passport.
I don't think she would have bought my ''citizen of the world living everywhere'' philosophy. SO I had to say it :
'' I live with my mum and dad''
And yes, my mum was at the back , waving. It totally made her day. She overplayed it.
The woman looks at me with full on pity
'' Age?''
'' I as born in 1979'' I say with a smile. hoping that the crowd of people present that day would not bother to do the maths.
One day , citizen of the world will conquer. I thought. One day , people will realize that Home is where the heart is. It's not a damn building in a country that you think you belong to.
'' 8 days. Bye''
8 days? Great! it's not like I'm leaving back home to England in 7 days.... Right? But that, I did not tell her either. You have better chances to rely on luck than french bureaucracy.
I had better things to do. Enjoy a week of pure delight as a french princess ( I 'm an only child. My 3 favorite words are Dinner is ready. Enough said about that.)
I saw my whole family too. In France Family gatherings usually involve loads of food. and wine. And time eating.
4 hours , 3 bottles of wine later they were all busy chatting about what they would cook for Xmas lunch. Yes I did try to take interest.
Until someone asked me THE question.
'' And you Annabelle, what's your plan for Christmas''
My mum gave me a '' It's to early to talk about that , they're not ready '' threatening look
'' Autralia! I always dreamt of a Hot Xmas ''
Everyone stopped eating to look at me.
'' I think snails would be awesome for your Christmas Dinner'' I say to my aunt trying to change the subject.
No, they don't understand my life. And Yes , I start doubting myself. I might still be in my late teens. And absolutely NOT down to Earth.
There I was , drunk, trying to explain that just like they feel at Home in their House, I feel at Home when I'm travelling. And all of a sudden they got it.
'' We'll buy your book'' they end up telling me between Fromage and dessert.
I felt that I was at home with these people. My family. It felt really good. ( no it was not just because of the wine)
Home is where the heart is.
Second big food marathon : My annual Thanksgiving dinner with my best friends.
There again were conversations I was not used to. Building houses, changing nappies.
Yes Aunty Annabelle is still single and hanging out with a thousand people from different countries in a backpackers hostel in England.
They nicely call me '' L'Hirondelle'' ( the sparrow) because I build a nest everywhere I go although I never stay long.
Home is where the heart is.
And my best friends ARE my home too. So I tried my best to talk about nappies and they answered back telling me about this documentary they ve seen about Bangkok on TV the other day.
'' I'll create your book cover'' says one of them , crazy about new technologies.
It's good to be Home.
'' I've seen you in the paper last Summer. Is it true that you're travelling all by yourself to countries like Thailand and that? I could not take that risk.'' says the bar tender as I order yet another tiny and horribly strong coffee ( I did not miss french coffee by the way)
"I could not buy a bar like you did. Just could not take that risk'' I answer with a smile , hoping for a free coffee. Never happened.
Yes, mate we all take risks.
I still feel a bit of teenager. People tell me that you need A LOT of money if you want to go traveling. Just in case this and that happen. How about health insurance, That's a crazy idea not to think about those details. You need to be a little scared right.
Damn I did not think about that before....
I check my bank balance. It's okay........... It's just the MINUS in front of the number that worries me a bit...... OH MY GOD. Panic. What if I don't have my passport in time , what if I can't afford ..... What if I'm never a professional writer ????
FUCK I'M CRAZY.
Monday morning. I'm leaving in 4 hours. Still no passport. I decide to go and see my friend at the town hall.
'' Maiden name?''
'' Same as my name''
I M A CITIZEN OF THE WORLD!!! I was shaking.
''Yes, it's here''.
That's when I started crying tears of joy. Out loud.
Home is where your heart is. And my passport IS my home too.
I go back Home to Brighton that night and stopped at my favorite backpackers hostel. We were so happy to see each other again that we gathered in a group chatting about our recent traveling experiences
'' Parisians are nicer than in Fucking Quebec'' says our favourite 61 year old Aussie
MI5 shows me pictures of Copenhagen where he was for the week end.
Another one was proud to announce that he worked for 2 whole hours this week .
And we all ended up saying our favorite sentence when it comes to our future
'' I don't know''
Yes, this place is full of sparrows. Like me. It's our home for now. Before we take other unreal risks to go build a nest elsewhere.
Home is where the heart is.
We just need do what it takes to create our Home.
Because It's so worth it.
''WHAT?????'' says this angry man in a thick french regional accent from the North East of France ( try to mix Swiss and Belgian accent. Yep, that's it. Sexy huh)
'' What are you laughing at me for?'' he says.
Damn. I'm in Vesoul.
I was back in my Hometown. In France. That's where I was travelling to this time.
Easy to forget. When I board a plane I always think I'm going away to some exotic, far away countries.
No. This time it was a 45 minutes Easy Jet flight From Gatwick to Basel.
You know , easy Jet. You're only allowed one hand luggage if you don't want to pay 15 quid to check your bag in. So obviously you stuff everything in a tiny backpack and hide everything else under your jacket while confidently smiling. Coffee was expensive , in 3 different currencies. ( you've got to love Europe)
Yes , I was back home after 1 year of travelling around creating new homes for myself.
France. Where all your problems , worries and defaults have only one source . Sarkozy.
We have no money. Blame Sarkozy
Our job sucks. Sarkozy.
The weather is crap. You know who to blame.
God , who are we going to blame once we finally get rid of him next year......
So I could just have walked away from that guy I was smiling to.
No. I decided to stop and explain that smiles are free ( can you blame the president for that?)
I caught myself having a slight British accent while saying that.
Against all odds the guy smiled back and said thanks.
And probably thought :
'' Fucking Roast beefs ( that how we call the Brits around here) why can't they stay Home'' but anyway , that was a slight victory.
I thought I was in culture shock but I had not been to the town hall yet.
'' What do you want''
I loved her already. Smile Annabelle, your destiny is at stake.
'' I wish to apply for a new passport please''
'' Proof of address, pictures, 80 Euro''
'' Nice to meet you , I'm fine and you?''
No , I did NOT say that. I really wanted my passport.
I don't think she would have bought my ''citizen of the world living everywhere'' philosophy. SO I had to say it :
'' I live with my mum and dad''
And yes, my mum was at the back , waving. It totally made her day. She overplayed it.
The woman looks at me with full on pity
'' Age?''
'' I as born in 1979'' I say with a smile. hoping that the crowd of people present that day would not bother to do the maths.
One day , citizen of the world will conquer. I thought. One day , people will realize that Home is where the heart is. It's not a damn building in a country that you think you belong to.
'' 8 days. Bye''
8 days? Great! it's not like I'm leaving back home to England in 7 days.... Right? But that, I did not tell her either. You have better chances to rely on luck than french bureaucracy.
I had better things to do. Enjoy a week of pure delight as a french princess ( I 'm an only child. My 3 favorite words are Dinner is ready. Enough said about that.)
I saw my whole family too. In France Family gatherings usually involve loads of food. and wine. And time eating.
4 hours , 3 bottles of wine later they were all busy chatting about what they would cook for Xmas lunch. Yes I did try to take interest.
Until someone asked me THE question.
'' And you Annabelle, what's your plan for Christmas''
My mum gave me a '' It's to early to talk about that , they're not ready '' threatening look
'' Autralia! I always dreamt of a Hot Xmas ''
Everyone stopped eating to look at me.
'' I think snails would be awesome for your Christmas Dinner'' I say to my aunt trying to change the subject.
No, they don't understand my life. And Yes , I start doubting myself. I might still be in my late teens. And absolutely NOT down to Earth.
There I was , drunk, trying to explain that just like they feel at Home in their House, I feel at Home when I'm travelling. And all of a sudden they got it.
'' We'll buy your book'' they end up telling me between Fromage and dessert.
I felt that I was at home with these people. My family. It felt really good. ( no it was not just because of the wine)
Home is where the heart is.
Second big food marathon : My annual Thanksgiving dinner with my best friends.
There again were conversations I was not used to. Building houses, changing nappies.
Yes Aunty Annabelle is still single and hanging out with a thousand people from different countries in a backpackers hostel in England.
They nicely call me '' L'Hirondelle'' ( the sparrow) because I build a nest everywhere I go although I never stay long.
Home is where the heart is.
And my best friends ARE my home too. So I tried my best to talk about nappies and they answered back telling me about this documentary they ve seen about Bangkok on TV the other day.
'' I'll create your book cover'' says one of them , crazy about new technologies.
It's good to be Home.
'' I've seen you in the paper last Summer. Is it true that you're travelling all by yourself to countries like Thailand and that? I could not take that risk.'' says the bar tender as I order yet another tiny and horribly strong coffee ( I did not miss french coffee by the way)
"I could not buy a bar like you did. Just could not take that risk'' I answer with a smile , hoping for a free coffee. Never happened.
Yes, mate we all take risks.
I still feel a bit of teenager. People tell me that you need A LOT of money if you want to go traveling. Just in case this and that happen. How about health insurance, That's a crazy idea not to think about those details. You need to be a little scared right.
Damn I did not think about that before....
I check my bank balance. It's okay........... It's just the MINUS in front of the number that worries me a bit...... OH MY GOD. Panic. What if I don't have my passport in time , what if I can't afford ..... What if I'm never a professional writer ????
FUCK I'M CRAZY.
Monday morning. I'm leaving in 4 hours. Still no passport. I decide to go and see my friend at the town hall.
'' Maiden name?''
'' Same as my name''
I M A CITIZEN OF THE WORLD!!! I was shaking.
''Yes, it's here''.
That's when I started crying tears of joy. Out loud.
Home is where your heart is. And my passport IS my home too.
I go back Home to Brighton that night and stopped at my favorite backpackers hostel. We were so happy to see each other again that we gathered in a group chatting about our recent traveling experiences
'' Parisians are nicer than in Fucking Quebec'' says our favourite 61 year old Aussie
MI5 shows me pictures of Copenhagen where he was for the week end.
Another one was proud to announce that he worked for 2 whole hours this week .
And we all ended up saying our favorite sentence when it comes to our future
'' I don't know''
Yes, this place is full of sparrows. Like me. It's our home for now. Before we take other unreal risks to go build a nest elsewhere.
Home is where the heart is.
We just need do what it takes to create our Home.
Because It's so worth it.
Sunday, 20 November 2011
Who wants to be a millionaire?
Ah the meaning of Life. yeah that one.
We all wonder what the hell that is. don't we? ( yes you too. You just don't remember. You were too drunk.
It must be different for everyone right.
Like that grown woman guest who s walking around the hostel talking to her teddy bear ( it s not that that bothered out dear night receptionnist Totoro the most. It's when she wanted to cook her special meal at 2.20AM)
Yeah Life must have a different meaning for her.
We were wondering the other day for breakfast with my '' fellow travellers in limbo''
So we asked the next best thing to God. The I phone 4.
Yes you can talk to your phone now. To people on the phone? NO. To YOUR phone.
Asking questions to a Robot phone is WAY less weird than talking to a teddy bear these days.
Yes, Life has a different meaning for everyone.
My friend MI5 just asked his I phone 4 '' What's the meaning of Life? ''
( Why MI5? Because he just gave up trying to explain what he was doing in Life to his family so he told them he was working for MI5)
I still think he does for REAL.
Apart from the obvious answer of 42 ( Read ''the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy'') the I phone 4 Had no clue.
We're going to have to figure that one out by ourself. Even Tesco self check out machines won't tell you.
Because Life must mean something different to each and everyone of us.
The other day I show up to work with my hair done ( that's how girls call '' Give your hair a third degree burn'' ... right?) ,with make up on and very nervous.
'' How do I look ?'' I say to my colleagues.
They all had the '' OMG she's going on a date'' look .
Oh no.Not that AGAIN. She will 1/ have a 2h relationship before she freaks out and end it 2/ think for a whole month that the guy is held hostage in Turkmenistan when he's just not willing to call back. ( By the way I 'm still sure that spanish guy needs my help)
No I was not going on a date ( I can hear your sigh of relief from here)
I was going to have my picture taken for my new passport.
And us ,travellers , we take our passport seriously. It's like home.
What would I save first from a building on fire? My passport.
What would I bring on a deserted island with me? My passport.
After taking a million shots I was not happy with , the photographer, trying hard to NOT lose patience ends up telling me :
''you know , we all look crap in our passport picture''
and charged me 8 quid for the worst picture of the Universe.
Life must have meant something different to him too.
My Life was critical. I will look like shit on my new passport.For 10 WHOLE YEARS. Drama.
On the bright side, even if I look like crap after a long flight I will STILL look better than in my passport picture. SORTED. Happy again.
Of course we figured that Life must be about being rich. Since we're all broke.
Because in Life , apparently you either have to be realistic ... or loaded.
Somewhere between the end of school and your third job enters you randomly start thinking :
'' Be realistic. Life is not like in the movies''
It's fine when you're a kid to want to be an astronaut or believe in Santa. You can do whatever you want and be whoever you want.
Then , somewhere along the line you suddenly stop thinking that and start thinking about being realistic. Unless you're freaking loaded and THEN you can do what you want.
Mmmmmm ... what ?
So we started to want to play Euromillion.Of course we NEVER actually played. Why? Because we'd have the same freaking life if we won. We would just stop worrying about money all the time.
Where else in the world could we hear broke people having the following conversation:
'' I'm going to France next week so I won't see you for a bit'' I say to my friends at the hostel.
'' I'm going to Paris for the week end'' says one
'' Me too we should meet! '' says an other one
'' Off to Copenhaguen'' MI5 adds.
'' Okay guys , have a good time , see you next week!''
And Dwight who just got back from Prague.
And that's just a normal everyday conversation in Kipps Brighton.
Who needs to be a freaking millionaire when you can be broke and unrealistic and do it anyway ?
Yes, Life has a different meaning for everyone.
Then I read a book called ''the 4 hour work week'' By Timothy Ferriss.
and when I read '' living like a millionaire requires doing interesting things and not just owning enviable things'' it all clicked.
You know, the meaning of Life and everything. It's about being freaking Happy. Yay!
Do what you find deeply exciting. Get unrealistic and do things you love.
The fear? No mate, it will NEVER go away.
The barriers you build for yourself ? They probably will.
The other day I was so excited to finally have bought my phone a SD card ( that I could not afford) I went in town at 7am to take random pictures to share with the world ( aka Facebook)
For some reason this picture ''talked'' to many people. They could just read my excitment. When you do what you love, people love it too.
And Yes , I love waking up at 4am to write. So I just do it. It's 5am now.
Do what you love as often as you can. And it's very likely that the rest of the time.... You will love what you do. And also respect that what other people love can be different but equally as important.
That's how I got talking to my guest's teddy bear the other morning. Gulliver. That was his name. How cool to have someone named Gulliver in a backpackers hostel.
Life is too short to be small.
And that , mate , is worth millions.
We all wonder what the hell that is. don't we? ( yes you too. You just don't remember. You were too drunk.
It must be different for everyone right.
Like that grown woman guest who s walking around the hostel talking to her teddy bear ( it s not that that bothered out dear night receptionnist Totoro the most. It's when she wanted to cook her special meal at 2.20AM)
Yeah Life must have a different meaning for her.
We were wondering the other day for breakfast with my '' fellow travellers in limbo''
So we asked the next best thing to God. The I phone 4.
Yes you can talk to your phone now. To people on the phone? NO. To YOUR phone.
Asking questions to a Robot phone is WAY less weird than talking to a teddy bear these days.
Yes, Life has a different meaning for everyone.
My friend MI5 just asked his I phone 4 '' What's the meaning of Life? ''
( Why MI5? Because he just gave up trying to explain what he was doing in Life to his family so he told them he was working for MI5)
I still think he does for REAL.
Apart from the obvious answer of 42 ( Read ''the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy'') the I phone 4 Had no clue.
We're going to have to figure that one out by ourself. Even Tesco self check out machines won't tell you.
Because Life must mean something different to each and everyone of us.
The other day I show up to work with my hair done ( that's how girls call '' Give your hair a third degree burn'' ... right?) ,with make up on and very nervous.
'' How do I look ?'' I say to my colleagues.
They all had the '' OMG she's going on a date'' look .
Oh no.Not that AGAIN. She will 1/ have a 2h relationship before she freaks out and end it 2/ think for a whole month that the guy is held hostage in Turkmenistan when he's just not willing to call back. ( By the way I 'm still sure that spanish guy needs my help)
No I was not going on a date ( I can hear your sigh of relief from here)
I was going to have my picture taken for my new passport.
And us ,travellers , we take our passport seriously. It's like home.
What would I save first from a building on fire? My passport.
What would I bring on a deserted island with me? My passport.
After taking a million shots I was not happy with , the photographer, trying hard to NOT lose patience ends up telling me :
''you know , we all look crap in our passport picture''
and charged me 8 quid for the worst picture of the Universe.
Life must have meant something different to him too.
My Life was critical. I will look like shit on my new passport.For 10 WHOLE YEARS. Drama.
On the bright side, even if I look like crap after a long flight I will STILL look better than in my passport picture. SORTED. Happy again.
Of course we figured that Life must be about being rich. Since we're all broke.
Because in Life , apparently you either have to be realistic ... or loaded.
Somewhere between the end of school and your third job enters you randomly start thinking :
'' Be realistic. Life is not like in the movies''
It's fine when you're a kid to want to be an astronaut or believe in Santa. You can do whatever you want and be whoever you want.
Then , somewhere along the line you suddenly stop thinking that and start thinking about being realistic. Unless you're freaking loaded and THEN you can do what you want.
Mmmmmm ... what ?
So we started to want to play Euromillion.Of course we NEVER actually played. Why? Because we'd have the same freaking life if we won. We would just stop worrying about money all the time.
Where else in the world could we hear broke people having the following conversation:
'' I'm going to France next week so I won't see you for a bit'' I say to my friends at the hostel.
'' I'm going to Paris for the week end'' says one
'' Me too we should meet! '' says an other one
'' Off to Copenhaguen'' MI5 adds.
'' Okay guys , have a good time , see you next week!''
And Dwight who just got back from Prague.
And that's just a normal everyday conversation in Kipps Brighton.
Who needs to be a freaking millionaire when you can be broke and unrealistic and do it anyway ?
Yes, Life has a different meaning for everyone.
Then I read a book called ''the 4 hour work week'' By Timothy Ferriss.
and when I read '' living like a millionaire requires doing interesting things and not just owning enviable things'' it all clicked.
You know, the meaning of Life and everything. It's about being freaking Happy. Yay!
Do what you find deeply exciting. Get unrealistic and do things you love.
The fear? No mate, it will NEVER go away.
The barriers you build for yourself ? They probably will.
The other day I was so excited to finally have bought my phone a SD card ( that I could not afford) I went in town at 7am to take random pictures to share with the world ( aka Facebook)
For some reason this picture ''talked'' to many people. They could just read my excitment. When you do what you love, people love it too.
And Yes , I love waking up at 4am to write. So I just do it. It's 5am now.
Do what you love as often as you can. And it's very likely that the rest of the time.... You will love what you do. And also respect that what other people love can be different but equally as important.
That's how I got talking to my guest's teddy bear the other morning. Gulliver. That was his name. How cool to have someone named Gulliver in a backpackers hostel.
Life is too short to be small.
And that , mate , is worth millions.
Monday, 7 November 2011
'' Trust in God and keep your powder dry''
Yes it's been a while dear readers.
I usually write a post when I learn a lesson in life ,like a cheap psychotherapy with the coolest shrinks ever ( you). This time, the lesson took a while to be learnt. About 3 weeks actually.
Damn Am I that slow.
I discovered the term ''life lessons'' while traveling. Obviously.
When you're traveling you absolutely have no idea what you're doing or where you're going next. So you write about what you DID. Because that's the only you can be sure of. So ,obvisouly you learn a lot.
You spend your time out of comfort zone, not knowing. But you still do stuff anyway and follow this little voice inside you that some people call intuition. Other people call it God . Sorry mate , no offense but i will just call it ''the traveller's voice'' okay?
When you don't think that you and your little ego know better, you follow your traveller's voice.
When I followed my traveler's voice it was always very random and always for the best. That's how I found a job in a cafe in Australia and moved in with a stranger who became my best friend over there, that's how , in Thailand I followed a 61 year old British guy to a hotel in the middle of nowhere. We almost became family to each other after a few hours.
My favorite random moment was when we went riding pink bikes waving at Thai kids in some random village. No ,we had no idea where we were . That's why we were happy.
How random is that. My traveller's voice is so much cooler than me. I , personally would have never done that!
That's why we miss traveling so much when we stop . It's not because of the Eiffel Tower, Sydney Harbour or Air Asia dinners. Because when we stop traveling we usually stop listening to our traveller's voice.
And we start thinking that WE know better.
My first 2 months back in my normal life in Brighton were great ( yes, i'm aware that normal and Brighton don't really go together well) .
I was still listening to my traveller's voice most days and really appreciated Life for what it really was. Fun and unpredictable.
That's how I ended up getting to know the guests at the hostel, hang out with them ( because they're not just guests they are REAL people too). That's how I made a meditation buddy and convinced a guy from the South of France to stay in England ( How random is that???)
and do silly things such as dating an old friend or make out with a complete stranger in a french restaurant in Brighton. Yeah. The Spanish dude. That one.
I was probably having too much fun. Life was probably too easy. It's weird to NOT have real problems in your normal life right?
Or I thought I knew better.
Well anyway That's when I started to take my life into my own hands and stop listening to THE voice.
Of course I know better. Travelling voice? Overrated. I know MY life ,my routine , I live in it thank you.
That 's when it started going wrong. I was back in control.
1/ Spanish dude disappeared into thin air and never called back after that dinner I did not cook ( I still think he got kidnapped and is currently held hostage in a foreign country hoping I will find him one day and pay the ransom. Yes I started saving)
2/ I decided to do a 10day body detox to be fully in control of myself and my life. And I stopped everything that makes me who I am. Aka Coffee and booze.
'' You know it's not recommended to do a detox while you're working Annabelle?'' my friend said
'' I did it on a 10 day meditation retreat in Thailand, love. This one is going to be easy. Trust me , I know what I’m doing ''
Bloody French. How much more arrogant can you get.
I started thinking about suicide on Day 9. People at work did not know what to do to make me feel better.
'They even tried the ' Do you want to go for coffee?'' line. It made me cry even more. Thank you for your support anyway guys. Really appreciate it.
Day 10 I had 2 coffees . My heart still remembers it.
Day 11 I got massively drunk ( 1 pint and a half) and I felt free again. When you are drunk you tend to hear THE voice better (until you ve had too much and start destroying everything you ve ever had)
3/ I decided my job no longer fulfilled me. I would randomly cry feeling completely empty without any reason. In 2 weeks I got sent home twice. I may have lost my best friend's friendship and my workmates are asking how I feel every minutes. I think they even considered putting anti depressant in my coffee. Control over my Life 100%. Dignity left 2%
So no, this job was not for me anymore.
I was very sad.
And Of course my next shift was the best in my life, and I was such in a happy mood I even got told that I was a natural at the job.
Very Happy.
Who needs an inner voice when you have emotions that control you like a damn robot.
Getting out of bed in the morning was getting harder and harder. Life was getting more and more predictable in my own little head.
There is nothing worse than thinking you know how your day is going to unfold.
9 to 5 bed 9 to 5 bed.
Yep, it's the same Life I had a month ago. And yes, that's a different attitude.
I'm in control now.
Thankfully every now and then I had glimpses of ‘‘lucidity’’ and still had my random moments.
Thank God ( or Traveller’s voice)
Example? When I dressed up as a drunk zombie English girl for Halloween with Union Jack contact lenses ( how cool is that) and ended up pole dancing somewhere in Brighton.
Or when me and some friends went see some fireworks in Lewes on the occasion of Guy Fawkes night.
What is it? Even the Brits don’t know what they 're really celebrating on the 05th of November.
We asked the question to some random English drunks on the train and I loved the fact that they were confused over the reason why they were celebrating it. Was it was because the dude who tried to kill the King failed and the monarchy is still standing or were they celebrating because someone actually TRIED to kill the king…. That's a tough one mate.
So yeah. The 5th OF November is really random in the UK.
Random is really what I needed that night. After waiting 2 and half hour to get a train to Lewes , a quiet little village that expected only 40 000 people that night we get there.
Who is we? 5 Frenchies, 1 South African, 2 Aussies, 1 Spanish that I always call Pedro and it's absolutely not his name , poor guy and Brit who hasn’t realised he’s back home yet.
There we were, travellers in Limbo celebrating British monarchy drinking French beer.
Of course most our conversations were about travelling, non commitments and ever changing moods.
They still have no idea. Where they are going , What they are doing and what career might be good for them. But they knew how to enjoy each other’s company. That's what we learn at traveling school. The importance of being together in the moment( and not get married after )
The answer to most questions that night was '' I don't know mate, I don't know'' .
It suddenly felt like home.
I DON'T KNOW EITHER.
Relief.
10 minutes later I realised I was close to winning the gold medal of uncertainty.
Right before I '' lost my mind'' and took control of my life I had booked a single ticket to Australia on my credit card . For Xmas. Just like that... Crazy huh?
What I'll be doing after Xmas?
I don't know mate, I don't know....
Then I remembered. How good it is to NOT KNOW. No anticipation , no expectation.
FREEDOM.
Risky? Maybe. Still better than thinking you figured it all out though ( no anti depressant with my coffee thanks)
'' Trust in God and keep your powder dry''
That was what sign me and Dwight both saw at the same time in the crowd later that night. For some reason it made a lot of sense to us.
Be prepared and save your resources until they are needed.
And don’t think you’re in control .
Because you’re not.
Not really anyway.
I usually write a post when I learn a lesson in life ,like a cheap psychotherapy with the coolest shrinks ever ( you). This time, the lesson took a while to be learnt. About 3 weeks actually.
Damn Am I that slow.
I discovered the term ''life lessons'' while traveling. Obviously.
When you're traveling you absolutely have no idea what you're doing or where you're going next. So you write about what you DID. Because that's the only you can be sure of. So ,obvisouly you learn a lot.
You spend your time out of comfort zone, not knowing. But you still do stuff anyway and follow this little voice inside you that some people call intuition. Other people call it God . Sorry mate , no offense but i will just call it ''the traveller's voice'' okay?
When you don't think that you and your little ego know better, you follow your traveller's voice.
When I followed my traveler's voice it was always very random and always for the best. That's how I found a job in a cafe in Australia and moved in with a stranger who became my best friend over there, that's how , in Thailand I followed a 61 year old British guy to a hotel in the middle of nowhere. We almost became family to each other after a few hours.
My favorite random moment was when we went riding pink bikes waving at Thai kids in some random village. No ,we had no idea where we were . That's why we were happy.
How random is that. My traveller's voice is so much cooler than me. I , personally would have never done that!
That's why we miss traveling so much when we stop . It's not because of the Eiffel Tower, Sydney Harbour or Air Asia dinners. Because when we stop traveling we usually stop listening to our traveller's voice.
And we start thinking that WE know better.
My first 2 months back in my normal life in Brighton were great ( yes, i'm aware that normal and Brighton don't really go together well) .
I was still listening to my traveller's voice most days and really appreciated Life for what it really was. Fun and unpredictable.
That's how I ended up getting to know the guests at the hostel, hang out with them ( because they're not just guests they are REAL people too). That's how I made a meditation buddy and convinced a guy from the South of France to stay in England ( How random is that???)
and do silly things such as dating an old friend or make out with a complete stranger in a french restaurant in Brighton. Yeah. The Spanish dude. That one.
I was probably having too much fun. Life was probably too easy. It's weird to NOT have real problems in your normal life right?
Or I thought I knew better.
Well anyway That's when I started to take my life into my own hands and stop listening to THE voice.
Of course I know better. Travelling voice? Overrated. I know MY life ,my routine , I live in it thank you.
That 's when it started going wrong. I was back in control.
1/ Spanish dude disappeared into thin air and never called back after that dinner I did not cook ( I still think he got kidnapped and is currently held hostage in a foreign country hoping I will find him one day and pay the ransom. Yes I started saving)
2/ I decided to do a 10day body detox to be fully in control of myself and my life. And I stopped everything that makes me who I am. Aka Coffee and booze.
'' You know it's not recommended to do a detox while you're working Annabelle?'' my friend said
'' I did it on a 10 day meditation retreat in Thailand, love. This one is going to be easy. Trust me , I know what I’m doing ''
Bloody French. How much more arrogant can you get.
I started thinking about suicide on Day 9. People at work did not know what to do to make me feel better.
'They even tried the ' Do you want to go for coffee?'' line. It made me cry even more. Thank you for your support anyway guys. Really appreciate it.
Day 10 I had 2 coffees . My heart still remembers it.
Day 11 I got massively drunk ( 1 pint and a half) and I felt free again. When you are drunk you tend to hear THE voice better (until you ve had too much and start destroying everything you ve ever had)
3/ I decided my job no longer fulfilled me. I would randomly cry feeling completely empty without any reason. In 2 weeks I got sent home twice. I may have lost my best friend's friendship and my workmates are asking how I feel every minutes. I think they even considered putting anti depressant in my coffee. Control over my Life 100%. Dignity left 2%
So no, this job was not for me anymore.
I was very sad.
And Of course my next shift was the best in my life, and I was such in a happy mood I even got told that I was a natural at the job.
Very Happy.
Who needs an inner voice when you have emotions that control you like a damn robot.
Getting out of bed in the morning was getting harder and harder. Life was getting more and more predictable in my own little head.
There is nothing worse than thinking you know how your day is going to unfold.
9 to 5 bed 9 to 5 bed.
Yep, it's the same Life I had a month ago. And yes, that's a different attitude.
I'm in control now.
Thankfully every now and then I had glimpses of ‘‘lucidity’’ and still had my random moments.
Thank God ( or Traveller’s voice)
Example? When I dressed up as a drunk zombie English girl for Halloween with Union Jack contact lenses ( how cool is that) and ended up pole dancing somewhere in Brighton.
Or when me and some friends went see some fireworks in Lewes on the occasion of Guy Fawkes night.
What is it? Even the Brits don’t know what they 're really celebrating on the 05th of November.
We asked the question to some random English drunks on the train and I loved the fact that they were confused over the reason why they were celebrating it. Was it was because the dude who tried to kill the King failed and the monarchy is still standing or were they celebrating because someone actually TRIED to kill the king…. That's a tough one mate.
So yeah. The 5th OF November is really random in the UK.
Random is really what I needed that night. After waiting 2 and half hour to get a train to Lewes , a quiet little village that expected only 40 000 people that night we get there.
Who is we? 5 Frenchies, 1 South African, 2 Aussies, 1 Spanish that I always call Pedro and it's absolutely not his name , poor guy and Brit who hasn’t realised he’s back home yet.
There we were, travellers in Limbo celebrating British monarchy drinking French beer.
Of course most our conversations were about travelling, non commitments and ever changing moods.
They still have no idea. Where they are going , What they are doing and what career might be good for them. But they knew how to enjoy each other’s company. That's what we learn at traveling school. The importance of being together in the moment( and not get married after )
The answer to most questions that night was '' I don't know mate, I don't know'' .
It suddenly felt like home.
I DON'T KNOW EITHER.
Relief.
10 minutes later I realised I was close to winning the gold medal of uncertainty.
Right before I '' lost my mind'' and took control of my life I had booked a single ticket to Australia on my credit card . For Xmas. Just like that... Crazy huh?
What I'll be doing after Xmas?
I don't know mate, I don't know....
Then I remembered. How good it is to NOT KNOW. No anticipation , no expectation.
FREEDOM.
Risky? Maybe. Still better than thinking you figured it all out though ( no anti depressant with my coffee thanks)
'' Trust in God and keep your powder dry''
That was what sign me and Dwight both saw at the same time in the crowd later that night. For some reason it made a lot of sense to us.
Be prepared and save your resources until they are needed.
And don’t think you’re in control .
Because you’re not.
Not really anyway.
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