January: Week 3

23/01/16
I’ve never been one for spontaneity. But there is just one woman in my life that doesn’t seem to care for my rule of preplanning visits. I picked her up, we got coffee, and spent the afternoon watching the sunset over a lake. Because of the spontaneity – I didn’t have my camera on me, which turned out not to be such a bad thing (even though the sunset was beautiful).
Susan called to ask if we’d all like to get some dinner and drive up to Mt Coot-tha. I checked the weather conditions as we were waiting to pick up our Indian. Light rain, with a lightning storm. Suddenly being on top of a mountain didn’t seem too hot flash. Naturally we opted for a location closer to water (ha ha safety). Our house is a few blocks away from Brisbane’s river, which is where we ended up. We ate from the containers and watched the storm.    

24/01/16

Apparently it’s odd to order wine at a beerhouse, but I’m all about breaking down those social expectations. Today I was celebrating the birthday of one of my closest friends. So this is an ode-like ode to her. 

This will also clarify to anyone who thinks creative writing and poetry are the same thing, that they are not. 

We met while I was buying soya crisps,

We poked faces at each other between the 200 metres that separated our stores,

I came back with a paper crane with my number hidden in it (classy, I know),

You called me. I called you.

I met your family, and passed out from heat stroke. A great first impression.

You moved away, and so did I.

A few years later we met somewhere in the middle and haven’t looked back since.

We’ve met our heroes together, laughed hard, and cried even harder.

You're the bee’s knees, Ms. Tweed.

The end! 

Can you tell I'm a natural poet? 

25/01/16

While Susan swam away her stress, I got to sit in the grandstands transcribing interviews.

There are worse things. 

Quick shameless self promotion: my interview will be published on Saturday here.

26/01/16

Help, I’m prematurely in holiday mode. Perhaps you can tell by the length of these posts? It’s only 4 days until we leave the country and I can’t seem to manage anything. Which is not at all helpful when the ‘to-do’ list is longer than I care to admit. Not even my own shoelaces can keep it together. No words can encapsulate the gratitude I have for being constantly pushed into doing things I don’t feel up to doing. For example, today, I did not want to get out of bed. Susan forced me to, and then forced me out of the house to work (my work ethic drops when I’m near my bed). Subsequently I got a lot more done than what I thought I would.

27/01/16

I was stuck in peak hour traffic. As I sipped my soy flat white, I glanced around my car. The dashboard read 8:03AM. I sighed, looking down at where my coffee from last week had spilt, destroying my aux cord in the process. I still needed to clean that up. As I mentally added it to my ‘to-do’ list, a woman in her late 30s caught my eye. She was wearing a dark blue blouse, a pencil skirt, and definitely Grosby work shoes. She caught my eye because she was running full speed, arms flailing, backpack bouncing, towards the bus stop in front me. The odds were against her, even in the snail pace of traffic. A twang of embarrassment overwhelmed me from the harsh memories that I had accumulated being in her exact position. Suddenly it was me running for that bus. Desperation smeared across my face as I took off my shoe to throw at the vehicle, in protest for not stopping. Not one of my greatest moments.

As predicted, she didn’t make it. The bus pulled away the second she reached the stop. This woman, however, was definitely not me. She remained calm. She looked at the bus’ scheduled planner, paced a few metres, and closed her eyes. Perhaps her best move considering there was a convoy of cars, bumper to bumper, watching her impending meltdown.

A car in front of me wound down its window, presenting a smiley kiwi woman, signaling for the Grosby lady’s attention.

“Where are you going?” The Kiwi lady yelled.

“The city.”

“Would you like a lift?” Without a second thought she began weaving through the congested traffic before getting into the car.

Human kindness amazes me.

28/01/16

To pick up where I left off, yesterday was an exercise in kindness for me. Tomorrow I leave for Norway. Susan and I were triple checking our flight times and meals and layover destinations, when I discovered something we had totally overlooked. For the record, I did not organize this trip. Susan did. My only request was that we fly Emirates and that was it. Somehow we had both overlooked one minor detail: the 18-hour stopover in Dubai. For anyone that has ever travelled internationally before, you would know that stopovers are never fun. I’d like to say I was calm and collected and fine about it, but I probably could have handled it better.

Four hours later and I was ready to be civil again. I walked into the study where Susan was still frantically looking for options to ease our time there. I channeled my best Dowager Countess of Grantham and said, “When something bad happens there's no point in wishing it had not happened. The only option is to minimise the damage.”

We spent hours looking up different options from lounges, to sleeping pods, to hotels at the airport. We had settled upon booking a hotel room for the 18 hours, at the low price of $400. Susan, being the angel she is, offered to brunt the cost on account of feeling responsible for the time issues. I told her we’d book it today.

Flash-forward to this morning, we had both made peace with the situation and were ready to finalise our booking. But for whatever reason before I booked our hotel room, I decided to logon to the Emirates website to quadruple check our flight seats. I was reading the fine print about our flight, when I saw that we were eligible for Dubai Connect: “As a special courtesy to our passengers, in certain cases where an itinerary calls for a longer stopover in Dubai, Emirates will provide accommodation, meals, ground transportation and visa costs.”

Needless to say a free hotel definitely beats hanging around an airport for 18 hours!

29/01/16

It might be better once I actually get to the other side to share my pro-travel tips. But I’ll do one now, because it is suited to do before you get on the plane/boat/train.

Traveling is usually sort of uncomfortable – no matter the class you book. Because of that, it’s especially important to be aware of the people around and what they might be going through.

When I moved to England, I spent the first 4 hours of my flight crying. Luckily, I was seated next to two young girls who had no idea what to do so they left me alone. Travel doesn’t necessarily mean ‘holiday’. That is a tip, but not the one I had in mind. My tip is shower beforehand. I mean it. What is worse than being in a small area with nowhere to really go? Sharing that small area with someone who smells. If you don’t have a chance to have a quick rinse, pack some antiperspirant and/or baby wipes, with a light (I cannot stress how light I mean when I say ‘light’) perfume/cologne. It makes the journey a lot more pleasant.

Next time you hear from me I’ll be in Norway – or Dubai. Either one.