I cannot begin to explain how it feels to be in Cambodia. But i will cheapen it with my words and hope that when you get there you will forgive my clumsy sentiment and bear with me through this one because I don't think I have ever felt so free or at peace then I did riding past the farm houses and through the jungle temples on the back of a bike in the most beautiful light I have ever seen.
I need a moment...
As we flew in from Vietnam, a spare seat between us, The Norwegian and I gazed out at what appeared to be a country comprised of one giant rice paddy. I double checked my bag for my supply anti malaria tablets, all were accounted for. So was my shaving razor which had gone through customs with no trouble whatsoever. God bless Asia. To pass the time between window seat lean overs I braided my hair, remembering that I was planning on spending the next few days as Angelina Jolie, and checked through my passenger card. As we descended sleepily towards Siem Rep this odd feeling of peace started to come over me - yes I know how ridiculous that sounds when you're on air vietnam sitting a full seat over from your last awkward shag but I can't tell it any other way then exactly how it was. And it was peaceful. And joyous.
I couldn't help but cater to the excitement of my inner nerd. After years of anticipation I was going to walk in the footsteps of a people who had survived countless invasions, brutal dictators, and exploitation with their good nature more intact then their physical bodies. How did they maintain their outlook on life? I wanted to understand their culture, their land and their way of life. I had heard from friends that Cambodia was a place that changed your understanding of many things and I had the most open of hearts from the moment we touched down.
We picked up our visa's on arrival, an extra $5 for silly old me who forgot to bring her spare passport photo. The airport was the prettiest I have been to, beautiful gardens surrounded it and sculptures decorated the interior. Yes I know it was just an airport but it stuck with me, particularly after talking so much in university about how airports were non spaces and all looked the same to allow for the ease of travel. But this place was different.
As we walked out, newly paid for visa's in hand we were greeted by the familiar line of motorcycle taxi's and tuk tuks. A man of five foot 4 rushed out to meet us and beaconed us to hop on his bike. His name was Tomas.
Following our plan to not make plans and amazing race our way through south east asia the Norwegian and I had not booked a hotel. This pleased Tomas very much as he had a hotel he wanted to take us to. We agreed to check it out along with a few others in areas we had heard of and we threw our bags on the bikes. I slung the guitar case over my shoulder and rode off, hurtling through the burnt orange dirt towards town.
"I like Australians!" Tomas said as we started our drive. He kept looking back over his shoulder at me to be polite, admittedly I was a little more worried about staying on the road but like all cambodians he had been bourn on a bike. "Australians and Cambodians are very similar," he told me, "the people are good, very good people. The government, fucked."
I liked him immediately.
Tomas liked to tell jokes and talk about the history of his town. His english was perfect, learnt from his American stepfather, and again I felt that one language was just not enough for me. How embarrassing that in a country with such extensive educational resources I had only managed to learn english.
I watched as monks on bikes flew past beautiful french-cambodian architecture and wondered at the faces of government officials that looked down on me from their large street posters as I rode through their home. Tomas took us around through the main tourist centre and then to the local centre of town. We thought about staying further out with the locals but decided on a hotel closer to Pub Street and the night markets due to our limited time in the country. I was hoping we might be able to get to Phnom Pen and then up into Laos after satisfying my temple mania at the Angkor complex. The Norwegian made arrangements with Tomas to be our guide and take us through the temples the following two days.
We spent a little time exploring separately in the afternoon and met back at the hotel to change and grab some dinner. We walked out towards Pub Street, a hive of music, restaurants, and bars. The amber light that wafted out of establishments greeted us warmly and we found a Khmer restaurant that served its food in pineapples .. speaking of pineapples a shake was definitely in order.
A local cat rubbed around my ankles and purred as we ate our meal. I looked out at the street and watched the people drift by. Everyone seemed relaxed and happy yet possessed of the infectious energy of this place. It reminded me of another place on anther trip on the other side of the world where I had also felt at home and instantly accepted. It was like Amsterdam, only balmy.
After dinner we wandered down the main street and found our way to a little stall that promised a fish pedicure for $5. The attendant wiped the Cambodian dust from our feet with a wet towl before allowing us to dip them into the small pool full of waiting miniature carp. The tiny fish attached themselves to the bottom of my feat and toothlessly nibbled away at dead skin cells. They swarmed around the more callused areas, for the Norwegian this was his favoured soccer ball kicking foot. Moving my feat slightly I watched as the school of little fished followed, many still attached, and my feet began to look like two giant sea anemones. It tickled.
Spurred on by tinkering sounds of traditional music calling from the market place we dried our exceptionally clean feet off and made our way to the night markets. A band comprised of land mine survivors entertained guests with their delicate floating melodies. Coloured light bulbs lit the scene of a labyrinth of stalls showcasing beautiful fabrics, jewellery and carvings. I found myself rather in need of a new dress, feeling like I had been living in the cargo's I had borrowed from my friend Kezia for the past ten days. As I slipped the light white cotton dress on I felt like I had finally emerged from under all the dust and bike oil of the trip so far. I felt feminine again and it was a pleasant reprise. Beautiful little pink flowers dotted the dress in a delicate and understated way, I didn't bargain with them, it was $8.
The Norwegian smiled at me in that way that he had, it was the first time I'd seen that smile since we had parted ways in Australia.
After a little stroll we went back to the hotel, and to bed.
Friday, November 04, 2011
Thursday, October 06, 2011
The catch up series part 2 - The Norweigian influence in Vietnam
It's amazing how persuasive sex can be. Though I will never admit it a big part of why I went to Europe in the first place was related to to man. Granted I had always planned on Europe after graduation but in the time before I left another motivation came into play and took a little of the focus off my journey of discovery and redistributed it towards a certain mischievous hunky dunkey who took my fancy at the time. My trip to south east Asia was hyjacked in a similar fashion.
But if you'd seen him you'd forgive me for it. Granted the boy had read the game one too many times and we did seem to have a consistent disconect going on where we'd be in the same room but off in our own worlds. Having a conversation but talking about completely different things or just in generally coming from the opposite ends of the earth. Which of course we did, literally. But in the rare moments that we did seem to cross paths - generally they were physical ones - it just worked.
We'd known eachother since we were nineteen. He'd come over from Norway to study at my uni and happened to be a good friend with one of my english mates in student housing. They tried to set us up straight off the bat but at the time his best pick up line was "I love animals, when people hurt animals it's the worst thing." Alright, now when I look at it I think it's adorable and honest. But back then I'd been running around the Sydney club scene for a year and a half and had been hanging out with men who had already developed their charm and persuasion and the animal card seemed childish. He was awkward and as I get awkward when the other person is awkward it didn't really work out. I decided I wasn't interested and that was that. I saw him sporadically over the next 3 or 4 years, always in a group, never talking for long. We just didn't seem to have anything in common.
Then one day when he had recently returned from the states I ran into him crossing the street. There was something different going on. He looked good all of a sudden, relaxed and at peace with himself. He smelt nice too. They say that when you're pitching a new venture or product to an investor you have their attention for about 30 seconds before they decide whether you are full of it or if they want in. In my opinion a woman decides if she is interested in a man in the first seven seconds. Anything that occurs past that is either overkill or fighting a loosing battle. I was interested. Couldn't put my finger on why, something just felt kosher.
That night we went out for a friends birthday and I watched as he went through all the standard pick up tactics, making fun of himself, making fun of me, changing the topic, talking to other large groups of women about whether the feather boa he had stolen from the birthday boy made him look ridiculous, all of that crap. When he finally shut up we kissed and shortly after that I told him I was going home, by my self, to sleep.
The next day he sent me a text calling me lady luck (Sinatra reference, points scored) and saying that he had the best sleep of his life. He wanted to catch up again. So I went for it. Long story short we got together once or twice, it was mediocre and I left the country shortly after for Europe. I got back just a couple of weeks before he was due to fly back to Norway. We kept meaning to catch up but I was so overloaded that all I could do was make it to his leaving do. He walked me home afterwards and we talked about how much he was going to miss Sydney. When we got to my door he said good night, got in a taxi and left.
I couldn't sleep so I went online, I checked out my facebook and went though some emails. He popped up on chat after not too long and we started talking about Asia. Both of us had said it was the next big trip we wanted to do and that we were just waiting to see if anyone wanted to come with us. It was pretty much that easy. And of course the chatting lead to flirting and shortly after her was in a cab on his way to my house. I think it was a combination of him feeling connected to Sydney and not wanting to leave and me feeling the pull of a man who is leaving tomorrow, but whatever it was, it was incredible. It must have been because after that we both decided Asia was on in four months time. No strings attached in between visits.
Let me just remind you all at this point that a lot can happen in four months. And it did. I got stuck into my first internship with a production company and started running around on shoots. He started work in Norway to save up for the trip and for the next leg of his study which was to take place in Hawaii. We talked on chat and emailed. He sent me pictures of his place in Norway and his families cabin. He invited me up for the winter when the killer whales swim past, as you do. But after a time we disconnected. He had started seeing a girl back home so we didn't have those particular conversations so much anymore and decided on separate rooms for the trip. Then of course they broke up because they were driving each other nuts, as most people do. Asia was fast approaching and I hoped he was over the whole mini relationship because I was not about to play counselor on my tropical holiday which I had marketed to myself as including adventure, cocktails and a heck of a lot of fun.
I was nervous getting on the plane. When we had decided on the trip we planed our flights into Ho Chi Min, our first nights accommodation there, and our flights home from Kuala Lumpur. That was it. We were going to amazing race it through Vietnam and into Laos and Cambodia before hitting Thailand where we could stay with his family and then finishing up the trip in Malaysia. I was stoked, it was exactly what I wanted but at the same time I was struggling with Europe debt guilt. Who did I think I was running off to Asia with a Nordic sex god and leaving all my earthly responsibilities completely behind? Honestly it was just too much. I called Seong who scalded me immediately telling me that I had better not have made her get out of bed with a hangover to drop my sorry ass to the airport for nothing. Point taken I hoped my way onto my Jetstar flight to Darwin and then on to Ho Chi Minh.
While it was not the most amazing flight of my life, certainly nothing compared with Etihad, it got me there safely and about 15 minutes later the Norweigian landed too. Instantly I knew something was off, we were in disconnect mode and nothing seemed to get through. We both tried but it just wasn't sparking. The trip back to our hotel confirmed all the stories I had heard about Motorbikes in Ho Chi Minh. I took in the humidity and the warmth was welcoming. I tried to locate the strange smell everyone had always told me about but I live right near china town in Sydney so to me it just felt like home. We went and picked up some essentials, deodorant and razor blades and all that from the convenience store under the hotel. I noticed the strangest thing about the deodorant, all the bottles claimed to have skin whitening properties. Here I was thinking I would pick up some colour when apparently I was already on trend, at least in Vietnam.
We'd worked up an appetite and wanted to get on local time so we went for a really lovely dinner in one of the street cafe's not far from our hotel. He paid. It was nice. We went back to the hotel. The next day he just seemed to loose interest. I remember one time he just wanted to hang out in the hotel and watch baseball. We were in Ho Chi Minh city! I couldn't believe it. Either way we did knock off a lot of great adventures.
Our trip to the Cu Chi tunnels was the first but I think it put the Norweigian off buses for the rest of the trip. I made the mistake of sitting near the back and he rolled his eyes at me before passing on a valuable life lesson, the back of the bus guarantees the bumpiest ride. If you don't fancy having your ass slammed into a vinal seat every ten seconds sit near the front.
The tunnels themselves are about two hours out of Ho Chi Minh. The city was bustling and on every corner people stood talking, selling their wares in stalls, buying a coconut drink for the walk to work or playing music. Electricity lines raped around each other like jungle vines and workmen stood on one mass to fix another.
It was unlike anything I had seen before.
I watched as the thousands of teaming motorbikes started to thin out and the architecture began to brighten and resemble houses I imagined I might find in Spain or Mexico despite the late French influence.
On the tour of the tunnels I found out several things about myself that I didn't like. The most notable was how was it was for me to forget the travesty and brutality that had occurred where I was standing. How many people had lost their lives in this place in a war between politicians and the months men spent underground, cleverly concealing themselves and fighting with inadequate weaponry and guerrilla tactics. The scars left on a country that would never really heal. Instead my academic fascination took over my sensitivity and it became my nerd theme park. For example:
This is me lying in the bottom of a bomb crater. It occurred to me later that what I was doing was ridiculous. This was an actual crater, not a joke, not something someone had dug out so I could experience it's enormity. What an idiot why would I lie down in it like that?
This is me shooting an AK47. Admittedly for me this was more out of a curiosity with the skill it must have taken to fire a weapon like this when the sight was completely off. I wanted to understand what the vietcong had dealt with every day. The sound was so loud and the earmuffs they gave us barely drowned out conversation let alone the bucketing roar of an assault riffle. My ears rang for hours. I later realized I'd fired a gun on grounds that were surely a resting place for fallen soldiers.
What a fuckwit.
That's the thing about aisa. You go in feeling all high and mighty about human rights and then you find yourself taking advantage of everything. Just another bogan Australian tourist.
We spent another day or two in Ho Chi Minh checking out the markets, sights, computer prices. I spotted a little store outside our hotel that sold guitars and I decided that as I wasn't getting too much conversation out of The Norwegian I would need something else to occupy my time in between sights. I picked up a pint sized guitar and a case for it for $14 and resolved to at least get some practice in. Our next stop was Nha Trang which The Norweigian had assured me was a paradice. Beautiful beaches and crystal clear water. I was intreigued and we boarded a night train. As we got further and further out of the city I began to notice rather more water on the ground then I had expected and realized that we had began to enter the area affected by the recent hurricane that had just passed through. Around this time The Norwegian also realised that we had in fact passed the stop we were supposed to get off at because the train lines were being diverted. He cleverly aquired more intel and we get off at the next stop where he secured us transportation to Nha Trang - in the form of two local motorbike taxis.
I had only been on the back of a bike once on my friend Ben's farm and he drove very slowly. I'd like for you to all think of me as some awesome kick ass chick who pushed her way onto the bike and took off on one wheel, guitar strapped to my back. But in reality I had my trepidations. I made the driver promise to be nice to me and after watching the Norwegian take off on his I really had no choice. I wasn't about to look like a pussy in front of THAT guy. And it was my holiday, I was 22 and if i felt like being a complete dingbat that was exactly what I was going to do. Fuck it. I was getting on that bike.
Once I got used to the feel of the thing it dawned on me that this was clearly the best decision I had ever made. We traveled through the floods, water lapping at my converse sneakers and rain occasionally falling on my cheeks. The world moved around me as I watched children playing soccer in the flood waters and families laughing at their antics. Once or twice we had to turn back because the waters were too high to take on. When we eventually got to the town we found the nearest hotel and checked in. I went out for a walk on the beach and took in the hurricane's devastation. The impact on this small seaside town was obvious as families began the arduous task of cleaning up the beach. Debris had been heavily strewn across the sand and the little huts and woven palm umbrellas had been uprooted in the strong winds. Bits and pieces of the world had found there way to Nha Trang and had to be cleared away before the next load of tourists arrived. It was a strange feeling in a place that was clearly all about having a good time, dependent on it in fact. But today was not the day for it.
We hit a local restraunt for dinner and were served a large portion of food though neither of us could figure it out what it actually was. First of all we never actually ordered anything, they just came to our table and put the food down. Secondly whatever it was had arrived in pieces. There were little parcels wrapped in leaves, a mass of what looked like pastry, coriander, some chicken and a few other veggies. We sat there looking at each other. At the food. And then back to eachother again, more confused. We were the only patrons in the restaurant so there was no one else to copy. I tried unwrapping one of the little leaf parcels and found it contained a plastic bag filled with congealed goo. To this day I still don't know exactly what that was. Eventually the family running the restaurant took pity on us and showed us how to make our dinner. Were had been served the ingrediants for rice paper rolls. What I thought was pastry was several sheets of the rice paper wraps just stuck together. Oh what a sheltered life I had lead.
Below is an email I sent to my mum from Nha Trang.
The next day the rain held up so we decided against the boat trip. The Norwegian went to find himself a gym and being morally opposed to exercise on holidays I wandered around town and managed to find a photocopied copy of Catch 22. Book sellers wandered around town approaching tourists with their woven baskets full of books. I thought this was a rather ingenious idea. I'd been wanting to finish Catch 22 ever since I started it in year 12 extension English but just couldn't seem to get around to it. Right then seemed as good a time as any so I picked it up. The sweet lady gave me a friendship bracelet as a book mark and I was on my way. I stopped for breakfast at the Olivia cafe and had my first taste of a pineapple shake and instantly felt more alive. It was a taste sensation. I still don't know how they made it so creamy when it was clearly fruit and water. It would become my drink of choice for the rest of the trip. In thinking about it I can still taste it. On the way home I grabbed a pizza from a small pizza joint and made friends with the waitress. She was studying tourism at the local school and said she one day hoped to work in a hotel. "It's the best career here," she said, and her parents were happy. Because the weather was looking dodgy I picked up a packet of playing cards and went back to the hotel. After a few games and some pizza The Norwegian and I hit a deserted tourist bar for my first bucket.
I'd been wanting one of the notorious cocktails since he'd first mentioned them but he declined to join me. It tasted like lighter fluid, funnily enough he beet me at pool that night. We wandered around and finally found a nightclub that seemed to be doing business. Walking in was like a moment out of an old west movie. Every head turned in our direction. The bar itself played some kind of trance music and if I remember correctly had screens around on the walls where people were watching ... I'll have to check with him but I think it was rush hour. It was utterly bizarre. We got a table and stayed for one drink but clearly we had infringed on the only local bar in town and as tourists we were not welcome so we took off.
The next day we looked at flights back to Ho Chi Minh and realised we might as well just go straight to Siem Rep in Cambodia. The Norwegian was over buses by this time so we booked a flight with Vietnam airlines and took a regular taxi to the airport, driving past some beautiful ocean cliffs.
Vietnam had been a challenge but it was just the beginning. While the Norwegian sat with a spare seat between us on the plane the one thing we could agree on was how long we felt we'd been there for, we'd done so much that after only a week it felt like three. I'd loved getting to see this amazing place but Vietnam was always more of his idea then mine, I was aching to see Cambodia and walk the steps of the ancient temples. My inner nerd was mid asthma attack in pure excitement.
As the plane took off I got the familiar chill of anticipation. I was on my way to the land that changed all those who walked through it, and I wondered who I might be by the time I left.
But if you'd seen him you'd forgive me for it. Granted the boy had read the game one too many times and we did seem to have a consistent disconect going on where we'd be in the same room but off in our own worlds. Having a conversation but talking about completely different things or just in generally coming from the opposite ends of the earth. Which of course we did, literally. But in the rare moments that we did seem to cross paths - generally they were physical ones - it just worked.
We'd known eachother since we were nineteen. He'd come over from Norway to study at my uni and happened to be a good friend with one of my english mates in student housing. They tried to set us up straight off the bat but at the time his best pick up line was "I love animals, when people hurt animals it's the worst thing." Alright, now when I look at it I think it's adorable and honest. But back then I'd been running around the Sydney club scene for a year and a half and had been hanging out with men who had already developed their charm and persuasion and the animal card seemed childish. He was awkward and as I get awkward when the other person is awkward it didn't really work out. I decided I wasn't interested and that was that. I saw him sporadically over the next 3 or 4 years, always in a group, never talking for long. We just didn't seem to have anything in common.
Then one day when he had recently returned from the states I ran into him crossing the street. There was something different going on. He looked good all of a sudden, relaxed and at peace with himself. He smelt nice too. They say that when you're pitching a new venture or product to an investor you have their attention for about 30 seconds before they decide whether you are full of it or if they want in. In my opinion a woman decides if she is interested in a man in the first seven seconds. Anything that occurs past that is either overkill or fighting a loosing battle. I was interested. Couldn't put my finger on why, something just felt kosher.
That night we went out for a friends birthday and I watched as he went through all the standard pick up tactics, making fun of himself, making fun of me, changing the topic, talking to other large groups of women about whether the feather boa he had stolen from the birthday boy made him look ridiculous, all of that crap. When he finally shut up we kissed and shortly after that I told him I was going home, by my self, to sleep.
The next day he sent me a text calling me lady luck (Sinatra reference, points scored) and saying that he had the best sleep of his life. He wanted to catch up again. So I went for it. Long story short we got together once or twice, it was mediocre and I left the country shortly after for Europe. I got back just a couple of weeks before he was due to fly back to Norway. We kept meaning to catch up but I was so overloaded that all I could do was make it to his leaving do. He walked me home afterwards and we talked about how much he was going to miss Sydney. When we got to my door he said good night, got in a taxi and left.
I couldn't sleep so I went online, I checked out my facebook and went though some emails. He popped up on chat after not too long and we started talking about Asia. Both of us had said it was the next big trip we wanted to do and that we were just waiting to see if anyone wanted to come with us. It was pretty much that easy. And of course the chatting lead to flirting and shortly after her was in a cab on his way to my house. I think it was a combination of him feeling connected to Sydney and not wanting to leave and me feeling the pull of a man who is leaving tomorrow, but whatever it was, it was incredible. It must have been because after that we both decided Asia was on in four months time. No strings attached in between visits.
Let me just remind you all at this point that a lot can happen in four months. And it did. I got stuck into my first internship with a production company and started running around on shoots. He started work in Norway to save up for the trip and for the next leg of his study which was to take place in Hawaii. We talked on chat and emailed. He sent me pictures of his place in Norway and his families cabin. He invited me up for the winter when the killer whales swim past, as you do. But after a time we disconnected. He had started seeing a girl back home so we didn't have those particular conversations so much anymore and decided on separate rooms for the trip. Then of course they broke up because they were driving each other nuts, as most people do. Asia was fast approaching and I hoped he was over the whole mini relationship because I was not about to play counselor on my tropical holiday which I had marketed to myself as including adventure, cocktails and a heck of a lot of fun.
I was nervous getting on the plane. When we had decided on the trip we planed our flights into Ho Chi Min, our first nights accommodation there, and our flights home from Kuala Lumpur. That was it. We were going to amazing race it through Vietnam and into Laos and Cambodia before hitting Thailand where we could stay with his family and then finishing up the trip in Malaysia. I was stoked, it was exactly what I wanted but at the same time I was struggling with Europe debt guilt. Who did I think I was running off to Asia with a Nordic sex god and leaving all my earthly responsibilities completely behind? Honestly it was just too much. I called Seong who scalded me immediately telling me that I had better not have made her get out of bed with a hangover to drop my sorry ass to the airport for nothing. Point taken I hoped my way onto my Jetstar flight to Darwin and then on to Ho Chi Minh.
While it was not the most amazing flight of my life, certainly nothing compared with Etihad, it got me there safely and about 15 minutes later the Norweigian landed too. Instantly I knew something was off, we were in disconnect mode and nothing seemed to get through. We both tried but it just wasn't sparking. The trip back to our hotel confirmed all the stories I had heard about Motorbikes in Ho Chi Minh. I took in the humidity and the warmth was welcoming. I tried to locate the strange smell everyone had always told me about but I live right near china town in Sydney so to me it just felt like home. We went and picked up some essentials, deodorant and razor blades and all that from the convenience store under the hotel. I noticed the strangest thing about the deodorant, all the bottles claimed to have skin whitening properties. Here I was thinking I would pick up some colour when apparently I was already on trend, at least in Vietnam.
We'd worked up an appetite and wanted to get on local time so we went for a really lovely dinner in one of the street cafe's not far from our hotel. He paid. It was nice. We went back to the hotel. The next day he just seemed to loose interest. I remember one time he just wanted to hang out in the hotel and watch baseball. We were in Ho Chi Minh city! I couldn't believe it. Either way we did knock off a lot of great adventures.
Our trip to the Cu Chi tunnels was the first but I think it put the Norweigian off buses for the rest of the trip. I made the mistake of sitting near the back and he rolled his eyes at me before passing on a valuable life lesson, the back of the bus guarantees the bumpiest ride. If you don't fancy having your ass slammed into a vinal seat every ten seconds sit near the front.
The tunnels themselves are about two hours out of Ho Chi Minh. The city was bustling and on every corner people stood talking, selling their wares in stalls, buying a coconut drink for the walk to work or playing music. Electricity lines raped around each other like jungle vines and workmen stood on one mass to fix another.
I watched as the thousands of teaming motorbikes started to thin out and the architecture began to brighten and resemble houses I imagined I might find in Spain or Mexico despite the late French influence.
On the tour of the tunnels I found out several things about myself that I didn't like. The most notable was how was it was for me to forget the travesty and brutality that had occurred where I was standing. How many people had lost their lives in this place in a war between politicians and the months men spent underground, cleverly concealing themselves and fighting with inadequate weaponry and guerrilla tactics. The scars left on a country that would never really heal. Instead my academic fascination took over my sensitivity and it became my nerd theme park. For example:
What a fuckwit.
That's the thing about aisa. You go in feeling all high and mighty about human rights and then you find yourself taking advantage of everything. Just another bogan Australian tourist.
We spent another day or two in Ho Chi Minh checking out the markets, sights, computer prices. I spotted a little store outside our hotel that sold guitars and I decided that as I wasn't getting too much conversation out of The Norwegian I would need something else to occupy my time in between sights. I picked up a pint sized guitar and a case for it for $14 and resolved to at least get some practice in. Our next stop was Nha Trang which The Norweigian had assured me was a paradice. Beautiful beaches and crystal clear water. I was intreigued and we boarded a night train. As we got further and further out of the city I began to notice rather more water on the ground then I had expected and realized that we had began to enter the area affected by the recent hurricane that had just passed through. Around this time The Norwegian also realised that we had in fact passed the stop we were supposed to get off at because the train lines were being diverted. He cleverly aquired more intel and we get off at the next stop where he secured us transportation to Nha Trang - in the form of two local motorbike taxis.
I had only been on the back of a bike once on my friend Ben's farm and he drove very slowly. I'd like for you to all think of me as some awesome kick ass chick who pushed her way onto the bike and took off on one wheel, guitar strapped to my back. But in reality I had my trepidations. I made the driver promise to be nice to me and after watching the Norwegian take off on his I really had no choice. I wasn't about to look like a pussy in front of THAT guy. And it was my holiday, I was 22 and if i felt like being a complete dingbat that was exactly what I was going to do. Fuck it. I was getting on that bike.
Once I got used to the feel of the thing it dawned on me that this was clearly the best decision I had ever made. We traveled through the floods, water lapping at my converse sneakers and rain occasionally falling on my cheeks. The world moved around me as I watched children playing soccer in the flood waters and families laughing at their antics. Once or twice we had to turn back because the waters were too high to take on. When we eventually got to the town we found the nearest hotel and checked in. I went out for a walk on the beach and took in the hurricane's devastation. The impact on this small seaside town was obvious as families began the arduous task of cleaning up the beach. Debris had been heavily strewn across the sand and the little huts and woven palm umbrellas had been uprooted in the strong winds. Bits and pieces of the world had found there way to Nha Trang and had to be cleared away before the next load of tourists arrived. It was a strange feeling in a place that was clearly all about having a good time, dependent on it in fact. But today was not the day for it.
We hit a local restraunt for dinner and were served a large portion of food though neither of us could figure it out what it actually was. First of all we never actually ordered anything, they just came to our table and put the food down. Secondly whatever it was had arrived in pieces. There were little parcels wrapped in leaves, a mass of what looked like pastry, coriander, some chicken and a few other veggies. We sat there looking at each other. At the food. And then back to eachother again, more confused. We were the only patrons in the restaurant so there was no one else to copy. I tried unwrapping one of the little leaf parcels and found it contained a plastic bag filled with congealed goo. To this day I still don't know exactly what that was. Eventually the family running the restaurant took pity on us and showed us how to make our dinner. Were had been served the ingrediants for rice paper rolls. What I thought was pastry was several sheets of the rice paper wraps just stuck together. Oh what a sheltered life I had lead.
Below is an email I sent to my mum from Nha Trang.
Hi Mumma,
Just arrived in Nha Trang and have just missed the big storm which is lucky although the beach is covered in debris and it's still quite rainy. Going to the islands tomorrow if it's not rainy. Flying back to ho chi min tomorrow night. We took the train too far past our station today and ended up getting on the back of motorbikes to ride into town! It was amazing! So much fun. The roads were flooded in parts so much so that we couldn't get through but made it here in the end. The Norwegian is kind of boring me at the moment, and i think i am boring him too so he's gone off riding today and i am checking out the town.
Looking forward to getting to Cambodia next! Can't wait for the temples. About done with Vietnam now, it's costing me way too much money! The Norwegian seems to love to just do things without checking the prices first and it makes me want to slap him.
The people, as always, are lovely here!
Love and miss you lots!!!
xoxox
Just arrived in Nha Trang and have just missed the big storm which is lucky although the beach is covered in debris and it's still quite rainy. Going to the islands tomorrow if it's not rainy. Flying back to ho chi min tomorrow night. We took the train too far past our station today and ended up getting on the back of motorbikes to ride into town! It was amazing! So much fun. The roads were flooded in parts so much so that we couldn't get through but made it here in the end. The Norwegian is kind of boring me at the moment, and i think i am boring him too so he's gone off riding today and i am checking out the town.
Looking forward to getting to Cambodia next! Can't wait for the temples. About done with Vietnam now, it's costing me way too much money! The Norwegian seems to love to just do things without checking the prices first and it makes me want to slap him.
The people, as always, are lovely here!
Love and miss you lots!!!
xoxox
The next day the rain held up so we decided against the boat trip. The Norwegian went to find himself a gym and being morally opposed to exercise on holidays I wandered around town and managed to find a photocopied copy of Catch 22. Book sellers wandered around town approaching tourists with their woven baskets full of books. I thought this was a rather ingenious idea. I'd been wanting to finish Catch 22 ever since I started it in year 12 extension English but just couldn't seem to get around to it. Right then seemed as good a time as any so I picked it up. The sweet lady gave me a friendship bracelet as a book mark and I was on my way. I stopped for breakfast at the Olivia cafe and had my first taste of a pineapple shake and instantly felt more alive. It was a taste sensation. I still don't know how they made it so creamy when it was clearly fruit and water. It would become my drink of choice for the rest of the trip. In thinking about it I can still taste it. On the way home I grabbed a pizza from a small pizza joint and made friends with the waitress. She was studying tourism at the local school and said she one day hoped to work in a hotel. "It's the best career here," she said, and her parents were happy. Because the weather was looking dodgy I picked up a packet of playing cards and went back to the hotel. After a few games and some pizza The Norwegian and I hit a deserted tourist bar for my first bucket.
I'd been wanting one of the notorious cocktails since he'd first mentioned them but he declined to join me. It tasted like lighter fluid, funnily enough he beet me at pool that night. We wandered around and finally found a nightclub that seemed to be doing business. Walking in was like a moment out of an old west movie. Every head turned in our direction. The bar itself played some kind of trance music and if I remember correctly had screens around on the walls where people were watching ... I'll have to check with him but I think it was rush hour. It was utterly bizarre. We got a table and stayed for one drink but clearly we had infringed on the only local bar in town and as tourists we were not welcome so we took off.
The next day we looked at flights back to Ho Chi Minh and realised we might as well just go straight to Siem Rep in Cambodia. The Norwegian was over buses by this time so we booked a flight with Vietnam airlines and took a regular taxi to the airport, driving past some beautiful ocean cliffs.
Vietnam had been a challenge but it was just the beginning. While the Norwegian sat with a spare seat between us on the plane the one thing we could agree on was how long we felt we'd been there for, we'd done so much that after only a week it felt like three. I'd loved getting to see this amazing place but Vietnam was always more of his idea then mine, I was aching to see Cambodia and walk the steps of the ancient temples. My inner nerd was mid asthma attack in pure excitement.
As the plane took off I got the familiar chill of anticipation. I was on my way to the land that changed all those who walked through it, and I wondered who I might be by the time I left.
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
The catch up series part 1: Why I decided to go to asia
To start out on my catching up I have settled on the story of why I decided to go to South east asia. As you may or may not remember in the beginning of 2009 I went to Europe. I got on the flight home feeling pleasent about the experience and I had certainly encountered a lot. I had learned a self sufficience that I was not awear I had and it really shook of a lot of the nerves I had about who I might become as a person. I was just that much closer to realising the greatness that lay ahead in life and I was excited to see what it would bring to me.
But...
There was still something missing. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. It had all been so familiar. So comfortable (except for that camper bed in the Sweet hostel de milano - never again). I was aching for something more. Something exotic. Something less ... white, if that makes sense? Everything had run on the same system. Once I had the tube system in London down, for example, negotiating the metro in Paris was the same deal in a different language. I wanted that shock, the unchartable unpredictable unknown.
My flight home would inspire the seed of a new idea. It was in the last days of May 2009. By the time the flight from Heathrow landed in Abu Dhabi I was buggered. The plane had been grounded for three hours longer then anticipated and put us well behind to catch our connecting flight back to Sydney. It would be an eight hour wait for the next plane but I was glad for it. Etihad had been airing on the side of caution and made sure our plane was safe before allowing it to fly - always a good thing - AND it got me a chance to explore the adopted city of my room mate. Seong had spent the final few years of her highschooling career there and I was curious to see all that she had spoken about. The buildings, the people, the cornish. I was not yet done with my adventure and as the airline had arranged for accommodation for us at the Royal and included free meals I jumped in the car service with three other aussie girls and we made our way into AbuDhabi.
Of the four of us I think I was the only one crazy enough to go outside in the 42 degree heat, unseasonably warm I was told by Seongs mum who was still living there and called me to make sure I was ok. I wasn't sure about how uncovered I ought to be and being rather busty lady I am decided I would pashmina my top half up inspite of the rising mercury.
I left the air conditioned comfort of the Royal and ventured out into the blazing sun and the empty streets. AbuDhabi is a city that comes alive during the night so walking around in the middle of the day is a strange experience. The occasional car drifted past without consequence. The buildings stood all sand, glass, steel and pastel. The giant golf ball that seemed to crown one of the resident skyscrapers watched over me as I got my bearings. It was around about then that I realised I was being watched by more then the local architecture.
It's the strangest thing, I had begun to spot a few stray people on the street. All of them were men, and none of them were moving. It was as though in the heat they had each found a patch of sand and declared a moratorium on movement till sundown. They watched me as I walked down the strip, a crazy tourist who knew no better. A crazy boiling tourist. The only other movement occurred 15 floors up on the beams of a construction work site staffed by Pakistani workers. I was told they didn't stop till it hit 50 and many of them pass away on the job each year. It was a cost they felt was justified by the unstoppable 'progress' of the new middle east.
The stores on the streets had closed down in the heat of the day and would reopen as we drove back to the airport that night. As the evening lights turned on locals took to the streets, shopping running errands and grabbing a bite to eat in everything from halter tops to burkas. The city whizzed past me as we took the road back and I tried to take in as much as I could. My visit was far too short! I wanted to more!
In my short walk I had found it. Something completely alien to me. Something that inspired new questions and challenged what I thought of the world and the people in it. I wanted to find it everywhere. As I flew home I started to think about my next overseas adventure. A good friend had told me stories of her times in Laos and Thailand and I started to hear the siren call of south east Asia. It was decided and I had to find a way to make it happen as soon as possible.
My return to Sydney was largely uneventful. I went back to work at the shoe store and felt a displacement stronger then anything I had felt in my time in Europe. Something had shifted and the idea of a home had taken a new shape in my mind. I needed to escape again, and Asia was definitely the place. I just needed a push. It would come soon after in the form of a mocha skinned blue eyed Norwegian friend of mine and a spur of the moment decision the night before he left the country...
But...
There was still something missing. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. It had all been so familiar. So comfortable (except for that camper bed in the Sweet hostel de milano - never again). I was aching for something more. Something exotic. Something less ... white, if that makes sense? Everything had run on the same system. Once I had the tube system in London down, for example, negotiating the metro in Paris was the same deal in a different language. I wanted that shock, the unchartable unpredictable unknown.
My flight home would inspire the seed of a new idea. It was in the last days of May 2009. By the time the flight from Heathrow landed in Abu Dhabi I was buggered. The plane had been grounded for three hours longer then anticipated and put us well behind to catch our connecting flight back to Sydney. It would be an eight hour wait for the next plane but I was glad for it. Etihad had been airing on the side of caution and made sure our plane was safe before allowing it to fly - always a good thing - AND it got me a chance to explore the adopted city of my room mate. Seong had spent the final few years of her highschooling career there and I was curious to see all that she had spoken about. The buildings, the people, the cornish. I was not yet done with my adventure and as the airline had arranged for accommodation for us at the Royal and included free meals I jumped in the car service with three other aussie girls and we made our way into AbuDhabi.
Of the four of us I think I was the only one crazy enough to go outside in the 42 degree heat, unseasonably warm I was told by Seongs mum who was still living there and called me to make sure I was ok. I wasn't sure about how uncovered I ought to be and being rather busty lady I am decided I would pashmina my top half up inspite of the rising mercury.
I left the air conditioned comfort of the Royal and ventured out into the blazing sun and the empty streets. AbuDhabi is a city that comes alive during the night so walking around in the middle of the day is a strange experience. The occasional car drifted past without consequence. The buildings stood all sand, glass, steel and pastel. The giant golf ball that seemed to crown one of the resident skyscrapers watched over me as I got my bearings. It was around about then that I realised I was being watched by more then the local architecture.
It's the strangest thing, I had begun to spot a few stray people on the street. All of them were men, and none of them were moving. It was as though in the heat they had each found a patch of sand and declared a moratorium on movement till sundown. They watched me as I walked down the strip, a crazy tourist who knew no better. A crazy boiling tourist. The only other movement occurred 15 floors up on the beams of a construction work site staffed by Pakistani workers. I was told they didn't stop till it hit 50 and many of them pass away on the job each year. It was a cost they felt was justified by the unstoppable 'progress' of the new middle east.
The stores on the streets had closed down in the heat of the day and would reopen as we drove back to the airport that night. As the evening lights turned on locals took to the streets, shopping running errands and grabbing a bite to eat in everything from halter tops to burkas. The city whizzed past me as we took the road back and I tried to take in as much as I could. My visit was far too short! I wanted to more!
In my short walk I had found it. Something completely alien to me. Something that inspired new questions and challenged what I thought of the world and the people in it. I wanted to find it everywhere. As I flew home I started to think about my next overseas adventure. A good friend had told me stories of her times in Laos and Thailand and I started to hear the siren call of south east Asia. It was decided and I had to find a way to make it happen as soon as possible.
My return to Sydney was largely uneventful. I went back to work at the shoe store and felt a displacement stronger then anything I had felt in my time in Europe. Something had shifted and the idea of a home had taken a new shape in my mind. I needed to escape again, and Asia was definitely the place. I just needed a push. It would come soon after in the form of a mocha skinned blue eyed Norwegian friend of mine and a spur of the moment decision the night before he left the country...
Coffee?
It just occurred to me that there are many many updates I have yet to post here about my life in the past two years, or what I think I will call the dark ages. Not dark in nature, but certainly mysterious. All the little things I've been up to in the time between posts that seem to have rather fallen through the cracks. Looking over a print out of every last one of these blogs I realised how important this has become as a record of my life. And that if I want to remember all the crazy things I did as a Twenty something I should really be writing about them. So the next few posts will be devoted to catching you, and future Tess up on what went down. Believe me, we have a lot to talk about.
The sandy scrape of shoes accross a wooden floor
I was lucky enough to see a Tango performance as part of the Sydney Fringe Festival recently. It got me thinking, is there anything sexier then a tango? On closer inspection I realised the tango is a rouse and the real pull is in the risk it pretends to be.
The tango is a surface display of passion we use to avoid the vulnerability of love. It is the game we play, dancing around the subject, never mentioning the elephant in the room. Innuendo and insinuation without substance. All the lead up without the follow through. The moment before the kiss.
It's fat free icecream.
A tango is predatory and reduces the meaning and the need for explanation of what really draws us in, simplifying it to sex without leaving evidence of the true intention of the players. The real desire behind the tango, the desire to be loved, and the confusion of love for passion that it enables is the only risk and it's true method of seduction. It is the safe road and can be dismissed as easily as a taxi can be called before your partner awakes.
It's not playing the game, it's cheating yourself out of reality. And like anything fat free, a tango will leave you just that little bit less then satisfied.
The tango is a surface display of passion we use to avoid the vulnerability of love. It is the game we play, dancing around the subject, never mentioning the elephant in the room. Innuendo and insinuation without substance. All the lead up without the follow through. The moment before the kiss.
It's fat free icecream.
A tango is predatory and reduces the meaning and the need for explanation of what really draws us in, simplifying it to sex without leaving evidence of the true intention of the players. The real desire behind the tango, the desire to be loved, and the confusion of love for passion that it enables is the only risk and it's true method of seduction. It is the safe road and can be dismissed as easily as a taxi can be called before your partner awakes.
It's not playing the game, it's cheating yourself out of reality. And like anything fat free, a tango will leave you just that little bit less then satisfied.
what a relief
Ah what a relief it is to finally feel compelled to write in here again. It's so nice to feel compelled to write anything actually. Let's just say it's been a while. So lets see, how best to get you up to speed? Well in the past few years since my more regular posting days I have been to 2 new continents. I've kissed 9 new boys and 5 of my ex's have gotten engaged, 4 are now married. Had 4 new jobs, 1 of which I lost. Met so many new friends and reconnected with some old ones. I've been to the blue mountains and magnetic island both of which I hadn't ticked off my list yet.
I've rearranged my priorities so many times. I spent a lot of time at work and found love in what I do. Not to mention a few other things at work that certainly made the day go faster. And I gave up writing about the world so that I had time to actually see the world. You have no idea how much this changed me as a person, the way I think about things, the way I take on situations. Stopping writing was almost like putting a temporary cork on my tricky emotions in a way. I think I needed a break from them too for a little. And now, suddenly and from out of no where the need to write is back. As is the need to sing. It's all very strange, and quite lovely.
I've always written quite honestly but I find myself in the real world, the 3D version, to be more protective of late. I'm not so good at admitting certain things. When I want to tell people, important people ... well when I want to tell them important things I rather cheat myself out of the opportunity. I'm having difficulty right now putting it on paper because I concern myself with who might read it. I want to tell you some of the amazing things that have happened to me in the past six months. Inspiring, scandalous, exploitative, explorative, exhausting, captivating, even a couple of romantic moments. But I'm going to punk out on you. Let's just say I probably need to be able to say these things in the real world before I can put them on paper.
I've been completely financially irresponsible. Somewhat professionally irresponsible. And romantically I threw the rule book out the window. It's been interesting.
I'm relieved to know I don't have to publish this one, if I don't want to. It's nice. I can keep it all to myself.
The thing is I don't want to keep me all to myself any longer.
xx
I've rearranged my priorities so many times. I spent a lot of time at work and found love in what I do. Not to mention a few other things at work that certainly made the day go faster. And I gave up writing about the world so that I had time to actually see the world. You have no idea how much this changed me as a person, the way I think about things, the way I take on situations. Stopping writing was almost like putting a temporary cork on my tricky emotions in a way. I think I needed a break from them too for a little. And now, suddenly and from out of no where the need to write is back. As is the need to sing. It's all very strange, and quite lovely.
I've always written quite honestly but I find myself in the real world, the 3D version, to be more protective of late. I'm not so good at admitting certain things. When I want to tell people, important people ... well when I want to tell them important things I rather cheat myself out of the opportunity. I'm having difficulty right now putting it on paper because I concern myself with who might read it. I want to tell you some of the amazing things that have happened to me in the past six months. Inspiring, scandalous, exploitative, explorative, exhausting, captivating, even a couple of romantic moments. But I'm going to punk out on you. Let's just say I probably need to be able to say these things in the real world before I can put them on paper.
I've been completely financially irresponsible. Somewhat professionally irresponsible. And romantically I threw the rule book out the window. It's been interesting.
I'm relieved to know I don't have to publish this one, if I don't want to. It's nice. I can keep it all to myself.
The thing is I don't want to keep me all to myself any longer.
xx
Monday, March 07, 2011
NEW BLOG
Hi All,
I know I haven't really been posting ... my bad but check out my new blog. www.tessfindsafilmjob.blogspot.com which I completely forgot to mention but which actually wound up getting me a job! How freekin cool is that?
Awesome yo!
-Tess
I know I haven't really been posting ... my bad but check out my new blog. www.tessfindsafilmjob.blogspot.com which I completely forgot to mention but which actually wound up getting me a job! How freekin cool is that?
Awesome yo!
-Tess
Friday, February 12, 2010
Wait a minute ...
As I type this I'm sitting in an office in fox studios, a little baffled at how it was that I actually got here and feeling somewhere between a kid playing dress ups and an amature adult. I vaguely recall spending four years in uni and paying dues here and there. Working for free for the last 5 years ... still working almost for free, I do get reimbursed in lunch which is nice because I wouldn't be able to afford actual food anyway and the thought of being paid to do something I enjoy is secretly so terrifying that if ever offered the opportunity I'd probably involuntarily projectile vomit.
I'm supposed to just be another assistant and the other day one of the companies I work with called and said there may be room to train me up as a producer.
People send scripts to my house. By courier.
The whole thing is an absolute disaster of impending success.
I have no idea how this happened.
I'm supposed to just be another assistant and the other day one of the companies I work with called and said there may be room to train me up as a producer.
People send scripts to my house. By courier.
The whole thing is an absolute disaster of impending success.
I have no idea how this happened.
Friday, September 11, 2009
I'm contemplating what I want out of life. This as any of you know is an extremely delicate task and should generally be undertaken under the influence of magic foods in the middle of the desert. I have neither magic foods or desert but I do have this little piece of ciber pie that in the past has been quite effective for me in exactly this task. So let's begin.
I am single and I don't do much sleeping around. My friends tell me I am wasting my 20's. My friends are all in relationships so if you ask me people in glass houses ...
The thing is I've never functioned very well in one. I tend to put them first and let all my ambitions slide. I had forgotten I had ambitions until recently in fact when a friend offered me work experience in his film company so this hadn't been an issue anyway but now that I am all nerd-fabulous again I think everything else might have to take a back seat for a change.
Meanwhile I got invited to join the Golden Key International Honor Society which I believe to be a front for an Illuminati scouting operation in which case I will have to pick up an extra language or two because world domination is on the cards and I am ambitious now after all.
The other problem I am having at the moment concerns a holiday I have been planning for a while. The traveler I'm supposed to be going with was previously a ... well ... it was terribly uncomplicated ... and is talking to me about the break down of his current relationship online from the other side of the world while continually changing the booking dates on me. I'm not feeling too certain about the solidarity of this trip.
Another thing bugging me is that a very cute guy who looked like Logan from the Gilmore girls (admittedly not generally my type but he had charisma) took my number the other night and has yet to call. In other words he is not going to call. We met on Monday and it is now Friday kids, spare me the hopeful phrases and ego props. And this is disappointing because my friends want to see me dating so badly and I feel that with every no show I let them down a little bit.
My step Aunty recently discovered her Husband was cheating on her with a Canadian woman who he is now "in love with" and has been gallivanting all over the world on business trips getting up to god knows what for god knows how long. She broke. A month or so later she's filled for divorce, taken off to thailand, quit her unsatisfying law job, sold one of her apartments, met a hot African millionaire and is currently driving around london in a Bently. As Alabama Whirley said "That's the way it goes, but don't forget, it goes the other way too."
Another thought that keeps popping up into my head is a statement made my my retireing primary school head master. "Don't become a dinosaw."
I need that desert right about now.
-Lady Flex
I am single and I don't do much sleeping around. My friends tell me I am wasting my 20's. My friends are all in relationships so if you ask me people in glass houses ...
The thing is I've never functioned very well in one. I tend to put them first and let all my ambitions slide. I had forgotten I had ambitions until recently in fact when a friend offered me work experience in his film company so this hadn't been an issue anyway but now that I am all nerd-fabulous again I think everything else might have to take a back seat for a change.
Meanwhile I got invited to join the Golden Key International Honor Society which I believe to be a front for an Illuminati scouting operation in which case I will have to pick up an extra language or two because world domination is on the cards and I am ambitious now after all.
The other problem I am having at the moment concerns a holiday I have been planning for a while. The traveler I'm supposed to be going with was previously a ... well ... it was terribly uncomplicated ... and is talking to me about the break down of his current relationship online from the other side of the world while continually changing the booking dates on me. I'm not feeling too certain about the solidarity of this trip.
Another thing bugging me is that a very cute guy who looked like Logan from the Gilmore girls (admittedly not generally my type but he had charisma) took my number the other night and has yet to call. In other words he is not going to call. We met on Monday and it is now Friday kids, spare me the hopeful phrases and ego props. And this is disappointing because my friends want to see me dating so badly and I feel that with every no show I let them down a little bit.
My step Aunty recently discovered her Husband was cheating on her with a Canadian woman who he is now "in love with" and has been gallivanting all over the world on business trips getting up to god knows what for god knows how long. She broke. A month or so later she's filled for divorce, taken off to thailand, quit her unsatisfying law job, sold one of her apartments, met a hot African millionaire and is currently driving around london in a Bently. As Alabama Whirley said "That's the way it goes, but don't forget, it goes the other way too."
Another thought that keeps popping up into my head is a statement made my my retireing primary school head master. "Don't become a dinosaw."
I need that desert right about now.
-Lady Flex
Monday, May 25, 2009
After two months away
People always tell you they came back changed after their overseas trip. How it altered their universe, introduced them to their true love be it a new city or a new partner, made them realise what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. Well I'm here, there, away. And it's the second last day on the opposite side of the world for me on this trip. And it's been one hell of a ride.
So it's time for confessions...
1 I have not - to this point with two days remaining - so much as kissed a single (or married) man. Yes I know it's ridiculous. I know that was the whole point. I know I went to Italy and danced with many an Italian, all of whom were my type. I know was escorted back to my hostel buy three ridiculously good looking gentleman in Paris. And yes I am aware of how many tall men there are in Amsterdam. But it just never seemed to be the right time ... or something ...
2 I knecked a bottle of red wine in front of a cop car on the streets of Montmarte. I made friends with Americans.
3 I went out on my own with men I had just met.
4 I stole a lot of transport, I payed for maybe one bus in Italy when I took around ten in four days. A hot Frenchman named Donald (its spelled Donald but it's pronounced Donaaaaaaauld- much sexier) walked me through the train turnstiles on his pass in Paris, when he wasn't around I just jumped them.
5 I went to Amsterdam.
6 I broke into my cousins house through a semi unlocked window, snapping the fixture and sending his blind flying across the room. Yet to fix that. Sorry Paul.
7 I attended and consumed alcohol at an Illegal 'beach party' on the Thames when the tide was out till 4 am.
8 I rode a bike without a helmet in Portsmouth. Sorry Mum.
9 My perspective has changed just like they told me it would.
I'm leaving room for 10 considering I'm going out tonight.
All in all not too bad.
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