End of comfort zone. Caution : deep water

I’ve got so many first days at so many things at the moment that I had 2 choices. Get out there , out of my comfort zone and pretend I know what I’m doing or stay indoors and watch more ‘’ Grey ‘s anatomy ‘’ episodes. Since I only had 1 season left to watch ( and that I would soon not be able to afford renting it since my hours at the front counter at the café were dropping ) , me and my French accent decided to get out there.
When I was working in Kipps backpackers hostel in England I was always completely amazed by these people leaving their whole life behind to live in a different country with no job perspective. I would print their CVs , tell them where to go and drop them off or sometimes help them to learn a restaurant’s menu by heart before their trial day as a waitress. I always wanted to know what it felt like. Today I can.
But first I had to go swimming. Part of my comfort zone. But that night , if I wanted to swim I had to join the swimming club. No worries I am a swimmer I can cope. Easy. 10 minutes later, the teacher created an ‘’ Annabelle lane’’. For those who thought they were good at swimming but actually completely suck at it. The ones with no dignity left ( but with a French accent) . That’s when I REALLY learnt how to swim. With a half naked sexy Aussie man telling me ‘’ Mate, you wanna reach the other end with your arm’’ Okay. Let’s reach the other end then.
I went and dropped off my resumes / CV s everywhere with a smile. ‘’ We don’t need anyone at the moment but we will get back to you if we do!’’ Hang on a minute, that’s MY line. That’s what I used to say to people looking for a job at the hostel . Usually the next step was the bin. Damn it IS my turn now. Action / Reaction. I would let the job come to me.
And guess what sort of job came to me? Volunteer work . Yes, the ‘’ work for free but bring so much to others ’’ sort of job. My favourite kind. So yes, next week I will be a teacher in the best primary school in Australia. A French woman who is going to teach Australian kids how to read in ENGLISH. Hilarious. I might also work in a retirement home , just talking to people. I always wanted to do that. Now I can! Life is sweet.
Back on Planet Earth people say that you need MONEY to survive. Ah yes. That one. How do you get a paid job? Hmmmm I realized I could get paid to do what I love in Life. Writing about Life. It’s called Free Lance writer mate. Sounds sexy. I’ll try that one. So I wrote to French magazines. Well it’s not going to bring immediate money is it? So I played Lotto. Not working either. I was ready to ask my blog readers to sponsor me when Pip , my dear friend and housemate found me a job offer on the newspapers. ‘’ What? Week end Waitress in the poshest restaurant in the area? Have you looked at me? Haha’’ 2 days later I was called for a trial. ‘’Dress in black and white’’ Oh my God. Of course the only black and white thing I had was a pair of thongs /flip flops. I run to the closest Op Shop / Charity shop ( NB to Brits and Aussies : Could you please speak the same language that’d be awesome.Thanks.) And I tell them I have a trial in that restaurant and I’ve got nothing to wear. Panic. So we did the cheap version of Pretty Woman. You know when Julia Roberts tried all these outfits. Mine cost 16 dollars including the shoes. Seriously. I promised my new friends I would come back and tell them if I got the job. And maybe volunteer there too. Of course.
Look and act posh. Smile and pretend I know what I’m doing. There I was , trying to remember a whole food menu in 15 minutes. What’s that? Fish. And that? French Pate. You silly. Of course I could not pretend to be posh and quiet for more than an hour. I ended up taking pictures for customers, joke with people in the kitchen and ‘’flirt’’ with 80 year old Australian men . No it can’t be Champagne you’re ordering because only the FRENCH can call it that. What am I saying it’s my TRIAL day… But I managed to make a whole table laugh. Slightly embarrassing when they asked me if they could take a picture of me. 1.2.3 Fromaaaaaaage! The boss was watching. Marvellous.
Table 22 pork salmon chicken gooooo. Can’t you carry 3 plates at the same time. No sorry. Where the hell is table 22. Is that a latte? No that’s a Cappuccino. Isn’t it obvious. 6 hours and bleeding feet later I was not very impressed with myself.
‘’ We would love to have you’’
Me, working in a posh restaurant. And teach kids how to read. In Australia. Last thing I expected. Life is in charge of the decisions Mate. We’re not. Not really.
Just go with the flow and… swim.

How exotic

Sometimes I realize I’m on the other side of the world. You know that split second between the ‘’ I’m late for work’’ et F*** I ran out of petrol”. That split second when you remember how exotic your life is. Outside my bedroom window there is an orange tree. Seriously. How exotic .
The other day I was raving about this exotic bird I see everyday. And I was telling my fitness buddy how cool it was. ‘’ What ? the Ibis? It’s considered as pest here. We all want to shoot them. They’re awful’’. And then it hit me. I was the equivalent of a Japanese tourist taking pictures of pigeons in Paris. Damn. Was I still a tourist?
I was. The only one in this town looking for wine in a supermarket. ‘’ No alcohol here. Bottle shops mate, bottle shops’’ .
The best present I wanted to offer my newly fixed car ‘’Chouchou’’ was a drive on the Pacific Highway. There we were , 110 km/h on the left side of one of the most popular highways in the world , off to the white sandy beaches of Byron Bay. 30 minutes of pure happiness. Of course I wanted to share that with my Aussie friends. ‘’ What? The worst road ever. How much time did I waste , stuck in bloody traffic for hours. Useless.’’ “ But it’s exotic!”‘’Exotic? The Pacific Highway? You must be kidding me’’ . And then they laugh…
Oops I did it again. The Japanese tourist syndrome. ( Yes I did take pictures while driving too )
How can I still be a tourist. I live here! But Yes I was excited to sign up to the local Blockbuster video store. How exotic. And yes I’m the one who took 35 pictures of a local demonstration protest against poisoned water too. And no , THIS is NOT a parking ticket. This is an awesome piece of paper with my name on it that I will keep for ever in a photo album. A 86 dollar souvenir. My second ticket outside my home country. The first one was a speed ticket in South Dakota USA 9 years ago. I still have the paper.
But I’m not a tourist I’m a local. I work at the front counter of one of the most popular cafes in town. Everyone knows me now. I can’t be a tourist. I can’t walk 2 minutes on the street without someone greeting me. Even the guy at the petrol station knows me. And I don’t know him. ‘’ You’re the French girl from New Leaf Café aren’t you? I heard you were a lot better at the front counter than when you were doing the dishes’’. Seriously. Am I on some local Okay magazine front page or what?
Hang on a minute. Who’ s exotic now? ME . Haha. Well it’s not easy being French over here. You have to live up to the locals’ expectations and NOT take it personally. No you are NOT really sexy and attractive. You are just the representation of it. Don’t think it’s real mate.
I had my big French test last Saturday when my dear housemate and friend Pip invited 10 ladies over for her birthday party. I only knew a few of them. I was in the bathroom when I overheard her guests asking where ‘’ the French lady’’ was with obvious excitement in their voice. And then it hit me. THE French Woman Myth : born with make up on , classy, composed, mysterious…. I looked at myself in the mirror. How on Earth am I going to do this. I’m not classy , let alone mysterious ( especially after 4 glasses of wine) . But I’ve got make up and a 8 dollar ‘’French dress’’ bought in a local charity shop a few weeks back. They can’t possibly learn the truth about French women tonight (except the fact that we DO shave our armpits) What is exotic must remain exotic. A couple of drinks later I was telling them that Paris was actually polluted and full of stupid Parisians driving like mentals. But they still thought I was exotic and could not stop listening to me trying to describe what snow actually was. Most of them have never seen it. Then they were telling me about their Christmas on the beach, their trips to the Outback. So many exotic things to look forward to….
And we laughed. Because in the end, we are all the same. We’ve got the same dreams and hopes, fears and doubts. And we all want to keep this little exotic spark in our lives , the one that keeps us going. Whether it’s real or not. Who cares in the end. As long as we’re happy.

Abundance

My friend Karen (aka my spiritual master) talked me into joining a meditation circle every Wednesday night. No. Not a sect. A meditation circle. Getting there is already an adventure. It’s in a castle in the bush. Forgot your torch? Then you have to rely on the moon. Spooky enough.
There I was, lying on the floor with my eyes closed, surrounded by strangers. Of course I sat next to a crazy woman named “Chanti Chanti Chanti”. So… what am I doing here again. Find my inner self. Of course. The woman who does the course is really great and when you look at her you think that yes , swapping booze for meditation IS worth it. Last week’s theme was “ Abundance” . Listening to her voice we were supposed to visualize stuff that prevented us to be Ourselves.
After the session everyone was busy talking about what they had seen .Angels, demons and so forth. I was looking at the wall. “ So what did YOU see Annabelle?’’ “ Well it’s hard to describe” . Actually. Nothing. I saw nothing. Just heard Chanti Chanti Chanti snoring for an hour. I was about to tell Karen that I wanted my 10 dollars back when she said “ Don’t worry , it’s all going to be released this week. You ll just have to face some strong fears that prevent you to be happy” Haha. So what. I’m up for a challenge yay!
Well in a week , I had my car re inspected and failed ( it never happened to anyone I know) , my lap top broke, I almost lost my job , my car got smashed and I quit my job. Challenge… you’re kidding right ???
So my biggest fears are related to money . How did you guess Universe. Smart one.
I had almost got over the fact that I had to spend all the money I’ve got on car insurance and registration when I woke up last Friday. 7am. I could hear the 80 year old neighbor telling Philippa about what he saw last night. Never too early for gossip I thought. They had a dreadful look on their face when they saw me. I was going to say “ yep, that’s what a French woman looks like at 7am sorry to disappoint you” when I realized it was all about my Chouchou. Windscreen completely smashed by a brick. Angry people, 4 am. Nothing personal they broke 2 other cars ( relief) . No I was not impressed at all.
I get to work trying to be brave. To hear Graham my workmate say“ I think your job is in danger because you talk and laugh too much.” What? shut up and do the dishes? Yep that’s the idea mate” What’s the date again? Friday the 13th. Sure. Then it was all too much. This was too ridiculous. No car no laptop and … no job? Talk about abundance…. For the first time in 4 months I was completely lost and wanted to go Home. But which Home. I suddenly did not know where Home was. I’ve got so many. England , France, Australia… It did not make things easier…. I was all too blind and hurt to see them. My friends. All trying very hard to support me , make me laugh , cook me dinner, get me free coffee, offering me money . My new friends. The ones I did not know I had. Too blind to see that I WAS at Home. Just need to face some stuff….
2 days of pure painful depression and 8 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy later ( fat free way to NOT cope with your problems) I was ready to face it. Yes I had money to pay for all that. But that was on my secret account. The one I only remember in case of an emergency. The one that makes me feel comfortable just to know it was sitting there.The English account. Yes. Fixing Chouchou IS an emergency. Even if now I don’t have enough money to pay for a return ticket to Europe. Just writing it freaks me out. Got to face it huh. Okay number 2 THE job. Yes I was hopeless at my job. So be it. If I can’t be useful I have to quit. Can’t keep on working just for money. It’s not me. I’ve got to do it. Tomorrow. No. NOW.
“ Chef ( that’s how I call my boss. I love my boss. He’s absolutely awful with his staff but you can see he is the best man ever if you don’t take him seriously.) I just wanted to thank you for the opportunity you gave me to work here. Let’s face it I’m an awful dish washer. Part of my trip is about helping people out and I realize I’m not helping you at all. And I cannot change. I don’t want to. I’m a people person. So I quit. .” So proud of me.
“Yes you ARE an awful dishwasher. Everyone can wash dishes quickly enough to get the hell out of here as fast as possible. Everyone, but not you. YOU can’t. But NOT everyone is as good as you are with people. Monday, 10 am you start on the front counter serving customers. Don’t be late.’’
What? I quit my job and I get another one… from the same guy? Interesting.
I go home to my new family Pip and little Dhani. She had a lap top ready for me so I can keep on writing to become a writer. I tell them about my day , they tell me about theirs, we watch Doctor Who together. Abundance…..
The day after we were watching Annabelle and Smokey running around (The rabbits that is. She is not named after me . He named her 6 months before my time. Freaky huh. ) and little Dhani said : ‘’ I’m glad Annabelle found her way out of the cage’’ So am I .

Working Holiday Visa

Ha travelling. You, your backpack, and the world. Have you noticed  how heavier your backpack gets with time? That’s the emotional baggage mate. Yep. You’re taking it with you no matter where you’re going. No worries it gets through customs all right. You don’t even notice it until it catches up with you. Until you have the sudden desire to leave everything behind and start fresh on the other side of the world. Again. But when you are ALREADY on  the other side of the world there is only one thing you can do. Face it.

Let me introduce myself. Annabelle. 32 year s old. Workaholic. Hi Annabelle.

The worst thing about workaholics is that they know they are. And they are absolutely proud of it. They usually work with other workaholics who tell them they work too much. There is a question you can’t ask a workaholic ‘’ How was your day off?’’ because they don’t have days off.

Of course the first thing I did when I arrive in Oz was… work. For free. My compassionate side. Volunteer work. It s not quite like work, it’s an activity you can do for as many hours as you want, or at least enough  to have the ‘’ I work so I am’’ feeling + food and accommodation. And then I had to find another job. For money you see.  So in the morning I work for free, in the afternoon I work for money. Add 60 km return 7 days a week and you ll get the perfect package for the workaholic backpacker that I was.

As my skin began to get paler , my face about 50 year older , I could not quite remember in which country I was WORKING. Then there was that voice in my head who said ,  in a very thick Aussie accent  ‘’ Oy Mate you’re in Oz, chill out will ya’’ Yep I was doing it again. Work my way through life. Working visa. I think there was something in between, something called h.o.l.i.d.a.y. Ho what?????

It was time for a shock. I am NOT my work. Have a job with no responsibilities. Part time. For a change.  If your little ego can take it , that is. Work as a dishwasher in a café. No not a permanent one don’t be silly , a dishwasher who covers for a 17 year old kid when he has football. How s that for a therapy. 6 months ago I was wondering how to get my staff to work faster and now I am the one who s too slow washing bloody dishes. Yes you can laugh. 6 months ago I was wondering what I was going to say at my next staff meeting. Now I’m just wondering if I fancy a café latte or a cappuccino ( courtesy of the Italian guy I’m working with) . Yes it’s hard for my little ego. I want to shout sometimes that I was a teacher before and also a manager. That I should not be doing this. That I did not come all the way from Europe for this.  But I did.

And then I laugh. Because it’s all a joke. And then I do what I do best . Entertain people. People who take it too seriously. I haven’t been that much of a laugh for a very long time. When people see me come to work they start to laugh. They know there will be wheelie bins competitions, ketchup wars or silly jokes. They often ask me why I’m so happy.  Why not.  I just met myself. 

So working HOLIDAY visa. Holiday… that means beach right? Here I go to da beach. It’s awesome to be European here. You’ve got the beach to yourself these days.  And when you do go swimming, How much fun it is to look at the bunch of freezing  Aussies who ‘s watching you in disbelief , thinking ‘’ what the hell is she doing?  it is W.I.N.T.E.R ‘’ , As they get  ready to call the coast guard ( please do, he’s hot) I tell them I’m European and the water is still warmer  now than it is in Brighton in Summer. Tough these Europeans mate.

How cool it is to add the holiday to the working visa. Chillax in the AM , work in the ‘’avo’’ . and free week ends. Guilt free? Getting there…

 Let me introduce myself. Annabelle . Loves writing, yoga , meditation , sports  and <Australian> Life. Non Smoker. Welcome Mate.

Stuck in the middle with you

A new life. In town.. How exciting. WALKING  to the supermarket, have a coffee somewhere you do not have to wash to cup as you go. Wow. Oh and what is that? a h.a.i.r.d.r.e.s.s.e.r.... Magic. Murwillumbah. A town that still looks like a big village but hey I have to go slow after 4 months of bush / jungle. I get to call it ''Murbah'' now. That's the cool name for it. I don't only work in a cafe in Murbah. I LIVE in Murbah. Flash.

And I'm a whole new person you see. When did I become that fat?. I've learned so much in the jungle/bush. I've become so spiritual. When did my hair start looking like a Xmas tree? 3 coulours + grey. I learnt that we are all interconnected. where did my fitness go. I am just average now. I want to be good. I have to be good. I also learnt during meditation and communion with Nature that I was a... I'm so poor. I  won't make it. 
Ok stop. What's that bloody voice in my head , what's happening to me? F.E.A.R. Fear of what? And then I got it. Welcome back to my life SOCIETY, it's been a while.
You get back and I forget 4 months of my life. Like they are a dream and were somehow not real. All I've learnt about what life is really about  seems crazy  all of a sudden. ( NB I won't even tell you about that or you ll all chip in to book me a single ticket to a Nut House in Europe right now. )
Dear society. My spiritual friends told me they could not cope with you anymore. That  they had to move permanently to the jungle/ bush to get away from you so they can be themselves. I will not lie to you Society. I am not totally one of  them. No I could not live without you for very long. Yes that's why I've watched 24 episodes of Grey's Anatomy in 3 days. I needed to get back to you somehow.
I'm back. Some call it Reality. Some others the World of Illusion. And here I am. Stuck in the middle ... with you. I wish I could remember what I've learnt these past 4 months. I took some notes. There I was, looking for ''who I am''  in a notebook. Later I walked past a sign that read '' You cannot step into the same river twice. And it's not just the river that's changed''. Then I remembered who I was. Great. So I decided to jump in. An appointment to the hairdresser later I was having my hair cut reading Okay magazine. It did not hurt after all. Me and my uptown girl haircut are ready for the challenge.
So how do we play it Society? Okay , I'll play by your rules but please do not ever, ever let me forget who I am again. Thanks. Mate.

Back to the Future

Sum up the past 4 months of my life? Haha. Okay for you , I'll try. But I must tell you something really funny before. I just found out time does not actually exist. HAHA.
Don't you often have it, the feeling that '' it was just yesterday'' ? It gets more confusing when you travel.
I sometimes think that yesterday I was in dear Brighton having my last dinner with my best friend in that pizza place that we love , wondering ''what the hell am I leaving for? '' and wondering again as I showed up at the hostel I had been working at for a year and everyone was there to say good bye. And again as I was spending the night on Stansted Airoprt's freezing floor ( yeah you kind of have to do that if you want to travel cheap. Aka '' Air Asia'' )
And some other times I think everything that happened prior these 4 months was just a dream, or maybe a paralell Universe. Yes it gets more complicated when you also have a home country called France that you left 3 years before that. Another paralell universe. Yet I have been the French Girl from England for quite a while. And now I live in Australia. I can almost call myself a '' citizen of the world'' but everyone I met who ever call himself or herself that was crazy. Like proper mad.
So I decided that time can only logically exist. But it doesn't really.
One day you're listening to Michael Buble for breakfast at work in a backpackers' hostel in the UK , the next day you 're singing Celine Dion at the top of your lungs with a 50 year old american ex priest in the Malaysian jungle.
One day you're helping a friend in his cafe for a laugh in the UK the next thing you know you are hired in a cafe in Australia.
One day you're scared shitless to drive for 1h in your own country , blink and you'll be on an amazing 6h roadtrip with your car accross Australia. With no fear at all.
One day you're  running a backpackers hostel , the day day you 're being told what to do by a 14 year old because she's been here longer than you.
One day you are eating cookies with Australians in England celebrating God knows what , you just know it's a day in April that's important to them, and the next day you're up at 5 am drinking beer with ex soldiers at the ANZAC Day Dawn Ceremony in a little village of New South Wales.
So it's not about Time mate , it's about the Lesson.
Lessons I've learnt... quite a few already. Such as :
Animals are your friends , just let them be. Especially scorpions in Malaysia or pythons in Australia. Sorry to the frog I flushed the other day by the way. You just don't think when you go to the loo at 4am
A good wild pig is a dead wild pig ( in Malaysia)
Never trust a Rooster named Sarkozy ( in Malaysia)
You can survive without facebook for 10 days. sleeping in a barn in the jungle with no electricity.
And other stuff I won't bore you with.

Okay so this is the last attempt I will make to be chronological. Ready? Go.
10th January. Stansted floor. Freezing.
12th January 6am. Hot and sweaty Kuala Lumpur
9 am. broke anti globalization rule number 1: went to Starbucks. Tired, worn out, culture shocked, wtf am I here already?
14th January. Bus ride to Lenggong where I though I was volunteering in a farm for 10 days
14 th January 5 km ride in a 4x4 up a mountain ( with no actual road) in the jungle where the farm actually was.
14th January Complete loss of landmarks
15 th January Realized you can either fear for your life and go or forget all you know ans stay.
18th January I forgot all I knew
24th January. Back in Kuala Lumpur. City shock. Life in incredibly easy.
25th January freezing Air Asia flight ( blankets are 15 pounds) to Coolangatta Airport , Gold Coast Australia
25th January. Proper Aussie BBQ for Australia Day in a Backpackers hostel. With a swimming pool. Yay. Forgot to put sun scream on. Ouch.
26th January start volunteer work in a Bed and Breakfast in Mount Burrell. Start of an amazing 3 months adventure in the bush with John and Sue , my soon to become Australian parents.
8 feb I buy my new travel buddy '' Chouchou'' ( just for the fun to hear Aussies say it. So cute) my 26 year old toyota Corolla. Scary experience driving on the left side , then on the right side then in the middle.
28 feb I apply for a school job in a primary school. Did not get the job but they loved my accent.
10th Feb my 18 year old french housemate leaves me. I will not speak french for 3 moths after that
1 st March - 10th March I managed the Bed and Breakfast with my new friend Karen who's also a neighbour.
10th March my saving are going '' Down Under'' . Urgent need for a job. I go ''downtown'' to Murwillumbah ( this is a test . If you can prononce that name properly you've become an Aussie) Job trial on the very same day at '' New Leaf Cafe''. Got the job yay
End of March. I take Chouchou to Armidale . 6.h01 one way.  to see friends I met back in England. I eat snails for the first time in 15 years.
15th April Start to make plans to go traveling
15th  April My new friend from work Philippa  offers me to move in with her and her 7 year old son in Town
16th Apr Chouchou 's REGO /MOT is due.No money. No traveling
27th April Chouchou passes the test. Yay
27th April I realize car insurance is also due. No Traveling. Again.
29th April I decide to move to town with Philippa beginning of May. New adventure.yay.

Bored? Yeah me too. Time sucks .So does life If you miss the lesson. But if you don't , life is a laugh hey. Open your eyes, lay back and there will be '' no wucking furries'' mate :)