Thursday 28 July 2011

Citizen of the world

I'm hanging out with a POM. So I left England last January, went to the Malaysian jungle , moved to a country town in Australia, then went to Thailand and took a 10h train trip to land in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere to meet.... a POM?!

How did I know he was a POM? He took me out for dinner.... at 6pm. Only English eat that early.

What? How did I end up in this village in the first place? God I need to update this thing more often.

Where was I? Couch surfing. These people did me pick me up. And they are not people. They are now friends, almost family. A traveler never calls people ''people'' for very long. We make friends in 2.30 minutes. And with Roast apple ( her name translated to English) and her husband Taj, it was even quicker than that.

'' What do you want to eat tonight?''

Touche. that's how you should approach french people. With food. Well done.

So , for 2 days I forgot that I was a gluten free lactose intolerant vegeterian freak and decided that my middle name was '' try this'' . So they took me to all the possible local markets I could imagine.

Locals did not look at me like I was called '' tuk tuk'' or ''taxi'' anymore they just looked at me with kind curiosity.

'' where you from?'' I replied France although I could feel the sense of belonging right here, in Phuket town with these people who let me stay for free at their place.
I felt like a '' citizen of the world'' . That term makes me laugh and always reminds me of when I was working in Kipps Backpackers back home in England.

Many of the crazy people who walked in used to call themselves '' citizens of the world''. Once, a french lady even refused to talk to me in French because she said she was a citizen of the world ( read this with a heavy french accent it's hilarious)
We ended up kicking her out as she burst out crying as someone was sraying air freshener '' you are all killing the planet shame on yooooou'' ( still in a terrible french accent)

A few days later I said we were fully booked to a guy whose tee shirt read " I'm a citizen of the world'' . You can never be too careful...

So yeah. Ironic that I feel like I'm one of them now ( and I guess Kipps backpackers will now think twice before letting me in again haha)

Me and Roast apple became really good friends. Yes, in 2 days. We talked about relationships, Thai politics ( yes , this new woman in power IS a puppet by the way. Don't worry Julia Gillard, you still have the best hair cut)

She showed me all her pictures from her trips and guess what her job is.... Travel writer that is!

And just like that I started to write my own book!

I helped her with gardening and got green noodles in coconut milk for dessert. My french way of saying thanks in Thai ( kop koon kaaaa that is)

I feel like I have family in Phuket now. This, added to France England Ireland Australia and also Malaysia, I can feel the world citizenship coming....

Speaking of which, is there a stronger sense of belonging than being picked up in Bangkok airport by one of your best Uni friends ? Celebrating a 13 year old friendship on the other side of the world having thai massages and tuk tuk rides together. And going to dodgy toilets with no toilet paper. Only a hose . But that's another story.

And then came the surprise. She took me to that dodgy internet cafe place in the tourist area and told me I had a message from our other best friend from Uni. Yes, a brother almost.
The message read ''congratulations''. I looked at her like '' for what?'' I clicked and there it was. The ultrasound picture. '' you're going to be an auntie. Baby due in January.''
I stared at the ceiling and had to be dragged to the nearest Irish pub and downed 2 beers straight repeating ''he's pregnant , he's pregnant'' .
So yes, finding out you're going to be an auntie in Bangkok when you are an only child is quite full on. World citizenship on its way...

When my friend Amy left Thailand I stayed with her Russian friend that I will be calling Anastasia here ( how original hey) . After a few days she became my Russian sister and was worried when she was working too much ( i still am)

I myself had to take the train down to Chayia because I'd heard there was a meditation course starting on the 1st August there. That's all I knew when I landed here yesterday . No booking , no nothing.

That's when I met him. Roy from England. Roy from Home. Exactly when I needed that sense of belonging , this 60 something year old British potter who lives in Japan showed up in my life. Yes, he vaguely remember England and still had the accent and the humor . God have I missed that. He lived all around the world and had all these cool jobs. He's taking the same meditation course and he's heading to India and wherever after that.

It does not matter in the end where we ARE . It's all about where we BELONG...

Tuesday 19 July 2011

A leap of faith

when you travel you've got to trust.

Have enough trust in who you are to answer '' which one?'' To the check in lady at the airport when she's asking you what your country of residence is''
'' so your main adress is in the uk but you are french and you also live in australia. Now you are traveling to thailand. Is that correct?''

''It is indeed. Isn't it cool''

'' let me get someone for you''

Now you have to trust the system. Trust that they let you go to your destination. Not like your ex boyfriend who was deported to new zeland as he was trying to get back to the uk or when you ask about your friend last week. '' Where is John?'' '' He got deported back to Germany''

Your return ticket can't be accepted. Thailand will not let you in. It s a one month visa. Your ticket says 29th Aug. So unless you find a flight out of Thailand departing in 1 month in the next hour you can t go.
'' try me''
When you travel you ve got to trust your judgment.flight centre straight ahead
'' a single ticket out of bangkok for the 15th aug. The cheapeast because it's likely I won t even take it.''

She was lovely. Jane. My travel agent. 200 dollars later I skipped the queue and proudly showed my return ticket to the check in lady.

Phuket that is!!!!

8 hours and 3 mini bottles of bubbly shared with new 65 year old aussie friend who was going to Thailand to visit his 2 26 year old girlfriends later, there I was. Phuket. With no accommodation Plan. Got to trust my judgment. Ok... that way. Petang beach.

I landed in tourist central. The first guy I saw was wearing a'' Good guy go to heaven bad guy go to Petang '' tee shirt .
A sort of traveller's hell.I knew it would be bad when that they stopped the bus half way , forced us to get off to book massage and accommodation. Guess who did not buy anything. Yay me. French at heart.

Yet I ended up in a 4star hotel with air con that night. Not proud no...

I ventured out only to hate it even more. How do you say hello in Thai? '' Taxi'' or '' massage'' . You choose. The second option is more recommended for dirty old men.

I hated that they think they need our money to survive. I hated that young girls were told that they need old dirty men to be happy. I hated that my people hurt their culture so much they don't even have identity left.

So I stayed in my room for a whole afternoon staring at the ceiling and thinking what the best way to swim back home to Australia was.

Hang on a minute. What would a traveller do in tourist central??? He/she would get out of there, right?

I remembered I was still registered to that couch surfing website. My last hope. I emailed a Thai couple living on the island

Hi!

I love your profile pic. I need your help. Keep reading it does not imply money . Just a smile will do.
I'm in Patang Phuket and is suffering from the tourist syndrom.Everything is cheap and beaches are beautiful.That's not my point. I need to connect to someone urgently or I will always remember this place as the place where '' wanna taxi?'' ''wanna massage?'' means '' hello How are you?''
No I'm not a tourist I don't give a f**** about tee shirts and souvenirs. I just want to meet people. As in MEET PEOPLE.

I'm sure you get that.

I'm staying 2 more days and hope to change my mind about this place

Take care

Annabelle

The answer came in 1 hour. I had to catch a local bus to Phuket town and then text them and they would pick me up.

That was enough for me. I took my backpack and left tourist central. Yes I did say good bye. I bought an ipad. Seriously.

Catching the bus with the local kids in their school uniform was like a breath of fresh air in 35 degrees. I even met a polish guy from Australia who soon became my best friend Derreck.

'' Couch surfing? But there is no beach in Phuket town?''

Hard to explain that it does not imply water , just free accommdation with people you've never met in your life. Of course he looked at me with the are you crazy look

'' I will stay with you just in case'' Who needs bad luck when you have a polish bodyguard from Australia.

Yes when you travel you have to trust other people too. You Even have to trust the unfriendly chinese lady at the local coffee shop with your huge backpack because you have to leave it somewhere for a few hours.

Me and Derreck were like best friends. I helped him pick clothes and he told me about Thai history. We naturally watched out for each other.

Some People in the street still called us '' You Petang'' which translates to '' you-dirty-party-animal-tourist-with-money'' but we deserved it. I stayed 2 whole days there. Shame on me.

2 coffees and coconut pancakes later I remembered I had to text the couch surfing people. '' 6pm at the fountain''. Seems like a cool place to meet.

3.30pm no answer. 4.30pm no answer.

'' it's 5.45, the last bus to Petang is about to leave. Your people won't show up. Come with me!''

''Thanks mate, I'm just going to take a leap of faith and wait here.
''
He gave me the crazy look again. '' See you back home in Brisbane one day. I will surf your couch''

6pm no one. True. Who would drive 20 minutes to pick up someone they don't know to let her stay for free in their house? In what kind of world do I think I live in....? 6.15pm I've got nowhere to go...
I closed my eyes and stopped thinking. I opened them again when I heard

'' Annabelle?''

When you travel, you've got to trust....

Saturday 9 July 2011

Somewhere only we know

‘’ ‘there is a magic place in the world. I won’t tell you where it is but I can tell you all about it’. That’s how you should start your book Annabelle. ’’ said Captain ( my Aussie dad) last Friday after a bottle of red.

This is such a good way to start a book. Because him saying that in his French beret was already magic. It’s true that magic was all around this place.
It’s magic . That somewhere in the world ,Every single Friday night, some people religiously gather with their neighbors in the café down the road and have a real chat outside , in 8 degrees. And loads of wine mate. Loads of wine.

I lived with these people for my first 3 months in Australia before I moved ‘’down town’’ … 37km away. So going back to see them feels like going to visit mum and dad on a Sunday , you know right after you moved away from Home, proud of your newly gained independence but with an immense joy and a secret sense of security to be around them again. Like Mum and Dad. With loads of wine.

‘’ Don’t worry if you go to jail for drug trafficking in Thailand, we’ll bail you out’’ my Aussie mum said.

What a relief, mate, what a relief.

The magic was also when I stood up with my glass of wine to tell the neighbors how much I loved them. And I was not even drunk. Wow.

It’s true that these people became a full part of me .

The neighbors.

This one is an artist and does amazing stuff. That one cycled to England 18 years ago. I’m not kidding. He CYCLED to England. And ended up marrying a French woman.
The story of his life in France is just hilarious mate. And he still remembers swear words. That other one went through a war. That’s how I ended up having a beer with him at 5 am on Anzac Day. That one is from Switzerland and married an Aussie guy all these years go and never looked back. But still has the accent.

And you’ve got my mum and dad. Who built their own 5 star Bed and Breakfast .Yes mate by themselves. No they are not even builders. He was a pilot (as in driving big huge planes) and she was everything and anything. She had about 10 different jobs. ‘’ did I tell you I was a ballet teacher once?’’ Hang on a minute how many lives have you had? You had a restaurant , your own cleaning company in the UK she also was a secretary at some point. Lived in Asia and brought up 3 sons too.

To the question ‘’ how do you do this?’’ they usually answer ‘’ you just make it up as you go’’

Yes, some people just go for it. And these 2 really do. They even take time to look after international woofers in exchange of 3 hour wokd they offer them a house of their own. And loads of wine. The house is so luxurious that it was named ‘’ the Hilton’’ ( yes mate with a flat screen TV). I was lucky enough to stay there for 3 months.

So yes. John and Sue, you do deserve the credit of having your name mentioned here. THANKS

And they always have cool stories to share on the Friday. It usually involves customers or snakes. Did we tell you that story when we had to put an engagement ring in a chocolate bunny for a customer ? And we were so drunk we were hardly hiding when spying on them as the guy was proposing to his wife. Freaks.


Yes, this café is a magic place. Even now that I’ve moved out , I go every Wednesday morning for meditation in the garden with my friend Karen ( freezing mate, freezing) and then talk about chakras, unconditional love and inner wisdom having a gluten free banana cake and loads of coffee. Talking about the weather with the British owner was now a religion. At around 10 o’clock the neighbors usually come and we have another cuppa in the Sun.

That’s where I learnt the pleasure of doing nothing. Me. The workaholic, working 6 to 7 days a week. I now find it painful to work for 3 hours straight and can’t wait to sign off to go to the beach or for coffee with friends. But I still wake up at 6am to go to the gym for 3 hours or to write for 5 hours straight.

This place ‘’just’’ changed my priorities in Life.

And sometimes you forget about the magic and start worrying. S*** I’m leaving in a week. I’ve got nothing booked in Thailand , no plans, except seeing my best friend from Uni for 3 days, 900km away from where I’m actually landing and no money in the bank to pay for a ticket out of the country. Oh and no travel insurance either.
Mmmmmm STOOOOOOP.

That’s when I take a deep breath and go for a random drive to forget about it all.

How I got to the bottom of that mountain I have no idea but all I know is that my car Chouchou does not like mountains. So I kindly parked her on the side of the road and started walking up.
That’s when I felt it. The feeling that I was back home to France and was on a hiking trip in Switzerland. The landscape was exactly the same. It even smelt the same. But at the top of the mountain there was a sign.

‘’ Queensland border’’

Oh shit I don’t have my passport ( seriously they DO check you sometimes)

Then I realised : I WALKED to Queensland, Australia thinking I was in Switzerland. Can you get any more magic than that? Hell Yeah. Because you can also have a 5 minute chat about volcanoes with Jeff, a random Aussie biker who just happened to be there too.
One minute, it’s 22 degrees you’re at the beach and it feels like California, then you drive 45km South , it’s 10 degrees and you fancy a soy hot chocolate and the next day you walk to Switzerland across the Queensland border.

It’s not about the place, it’s HOW you see it . How YOU see it…

There is a magic place in the world , I can’t tell you where yours is but I will tell you all about mine …

Monday 4 July 2011

Once upon a time.....

Let’s face it. I’m broke. As in ‘’ my face is almost wanted in 3 banks around the world’’. Broke.
What? Find a new job? No way mate. Everyone in town knows that the French girl is leaving to Thailand on the 17th July. Even those who don’t who the hell the French girl is.

Mind you, I still have 2 jobs. I proudly work 11h you see. Per week. Of course mate. I remember that once, in another life, 11h was my day’s work. Yep things change mate. You’ve got to adapt.

Broke also means you CAN go to yoga with your friend at 9.30 on a Monday morning and go for coffee in the sun at the café you ‘’sometimes’’ work at and get to have a friendly chat to everyone. Deeper than ‘’ 1 latte and a falafel for table 24 please’’.

But still. I’m broke.

‘’ I’ve got a job for you. It’s good money too’’. Now read that sentence again in an Italian accent. And you’ll feel how I felt. Doubtful. No I would not do ANYTHING for money. Grazie , mate.
‘’ I need someone to clean my house , I’ve got a house inspection soon and no time to do it’’

Who does he think I am. Freaking Cinderella.

‘’ He’s just trying to help you darling. How does he know you need money anyway?’’ My friend asked me.

‘’ He doesn’t’’ How weird is that. He must be some sort of soul mate. A what? Who are you kidding? Do you find underwear in your soul mate’s bed? There was another freaking Cinderella in the story. And she was a size 8. B****.

My friend was really excited for me that I found a way to make some extra cash. I wasn’t. Because I can’t take cash from friends you see. I just can’t. I never could. If I like you I work for free for you. Yes, that’s why I’m broke. I can’t change , I just can’t.

‘’Well, you’re going to have to. Money is n exchange of energy. You work, you get paid for it. It makes everyone feel good. The one who gives, and the one who receives. You can’t refuse to receive for ever.’’ Crap. And I thought she was on my side. She was actually.

And then it all came back. The memories of my family being torn apart because of inheritance issues and how, as a little girl I had learnt that if you accept money from someone you love you are going to lose them because one day, they will stop loving you. Painful.

But I did go. And cleaned the Italian’s house. I was Freaking Cinderella. While I was cleaning I realised how much that guy actually did for me. Whether he knows it. Or not.

I got thinking about the true meaning of Soul Mate. It jumped at me. People who help your soul grow. In other words , people who make YOU face YOUR shit. So YOU can move on. We’ve got many of them around us. If only we could listen…

When did we that meaning get lost ?

Oh yeah I’ve got it. Freaking Cinderella. She had to come along and look for bloody Prince Charming.
And somehow we started thinking that there is this one person in the world who will face your shit for you. And we called him/ her our one and only Soul Mate. Then we decided we had to make babies with them and provide for them. To live happily ever after. So we stop listening to other people ‘s attempts to help us. And quite happily stop growing and start ignoring or projecting our own shit.

Until we get fat and tired. And we start looking again. For another soul mate we can abuse freely and have babies with.
I’ve got news for you. No one will deal with your shit.

Your soul mates will only point at it and will be there for you when you really need to. And PS you don’t have to sleep with your soul mate either. Mmm WHAT? Damn………….

Of course I was going to run away after cleaning so I had a good reason not to accept money from someone I liked.
He was not back. I could not wait for him I had to go to the gym. What a perfect, brilliant excuse…. And then there he was.
‘’ What a good job. The house looks amazing. How much do I owe you?’’
I was going to say ‘’ don’t be silly mate , invite me for dinner sometime and it will all be forgotten’’ as I usually say. but, instead, I said
‘’ 20 dollars an hour. So that’s 80 dollars please ’’ . I did it. I did it. I did it. Just when I thought I had faced all my shit he said :

‘’ So … do you have time for…. ?’’

There we go. Again. I thought explaining to an Italian guy that some connections were way deeper than sex, was like telling him that he should not have his spaghetti al dente. But something really strange happened. He got it. We got it.

I proudly walked away with my 80 dollars.And my lessons learnt.

When I did boxing at the gym that night, I was not punching any guy’s face in my head for once. Acceptation. So yeah, you find bras in their beds, they marry other people, they don’t text you back or facebook request you, but mate , they got you where you are. Be greatful.

I just wanted to say sorry. To all these guys I wrongly diagnosed with ‘’ princecharminingitis’’ or worse ‘’ friendswithbenefitis’’. I did not know better. Blame freaking Cinderella.

More than that I wanted to say thanks for making me face all this crap.

Thanks To the one who became gay just in time to be my best friend, to the one who let me go find myself somewhere else and kept all my furniture, the one who showed me that the only person I would follow to the other side of the world is myself , the one who pushed me beyond my physical limits , and helped my body tell me that it did not cope well with gluten but was freaking good at sit ups, and special thanks to the one who got me here. To Australia. On this awesome journey. That was worth the pain in the end. And , PS, now that I mean it, ‘’congratulations’’ .

And then you have soul mates who are your friends already. They are the ones you know will be there for you when you face your shit. But when you least expect it, they also make you face it too. By not playing your game. That’s how I got an email who hit me in the face last night. It’s black or it’s white. But you need to commit to one side. Face it. Now. Thanks a million for that ... Lee.

Then you’ve got your other soul mate. The one who looks after you when it all collapses. The ones Who has the hot chocolate ready in 2 seconds as soon as she feels you need it. The one who helps you get it out while nothing makes sense anymore.
You hear yourself saying something about an email you just had from England, how you just quit your beloved job in Brighton because you can’t commit , because it’s not fair on anyone , because all you want to do is to become a writer and travel, that you love them but you quit, that now you’ve got nothing , NOTHING left. No money , no job security NOTHING to go back to.

She just stands by you while you cry your eyes out, she feeds you gluten free biscuits until you ‘re ready to accept. And commit to who you really are. Even if it hurts mate.

So yeah , Cinderella, I see what you mean now. It’s far less painful to look for bloody Prince Charming. You never get to have the feeling that your heart is just being ripped off. And you have nothing, nothing left… but yourself.

Once upon a time there was a princess with no Italian lover, 80 dollars in her pocket and a single ticket to Pukhet. In extreme pain. But free mate

FREE

Friday 1 July 2011

A Neverending Story

I was always told that in life, if there is a beginning there is an end. Yes beginnings are hard. You’re new, you don’t know what to do and wish you were still in your dear comfort zone.

Then you begin to build a new life. And Mate, it feels good. You start filling your life up with friends, kids, half lovers half monsters. Aka a family. And you forget that you ever were new once. It feels like you’ve always been where you are. You forget that , before , you’ve had other beginnings , and other ends too.

I was tidying up my room the other day (did just I just call it MY room?) and I found it. The End.
It’s a plane ticket. Departure 17th July 2011 10h35 from Brisbane airport. I remember buying it , a month ago. All excited by my future new beginning. Then I decided that the End was too scary to deal with so I forgot all about it.

Oh dear. I have not even told YOU have I?

It all started with a Facebook post ( 21st Century fairy tale) My best friend from Uni posted that she decided to go for a holiday in Thailand in July. I quickly looked at the globe and decided it was just next door to me. And last time I saw her in Dublin where she lives now , we promised to meet in an exotic place next time. I also promised her a blue eyed Aussie surfer with a 6 pack . But that’s another story. And I’m still working on it ‘’Mamour’’ ( that’s how I will call her in this blog)


1 week later I was sharing traveling stories with my travel agent from Israel when I realized I had just bought a single ticket to Phuket. Yep, single mate. As in New life, New beginnings. I know I’ve hardly seen Australia bla bla bla . Who said I had to follow rules? B.O.R.I.N.G.

Anyway, I did my best to forget all about it and went on with my life as if nothing had happened.


“ When are you going to tell everyone that you’re leaving?’’ my housemate told me, trying to help. ‘’ You know, you’re sort of seeing a guy and you sort of have 2 jobs ’’
‘’ Of course I’m going to tell them. Don’t be ridiculous’’. Of course I never did. I hate endings. But you know Life, it always reminds you.


‘’ How long do we have the pleasure to have you for?’’ My manager at the restaurant asked me. I love her. I could not lie or pretend. It was hard not to make a fool of myself. Because I love her. So I did what I do best . I was sorry to exist. ‘’ well sort of 17th July. I’m kind of going to Thailand. Maybe. No, actually I’ve got a ticket. But I will be back. Sometime. Don’t know. I’m sorry’’

Shut up Annabelle.

Then my hours dropped dramatically. They suddenly did not need me ‘’as much’’ . Damn.
I went and see Gary , my boss from my other job, you know the café in town. Yes , I still work there. One day a week mate. On Fridays. So usually , I go there every Thursday morning to make sure I still have a job the next day. And to have a coffee. And to annoy them. Because I love them.

‘’ So , ‘chef’ ( it means boss in French he loves it when I call him that) do you need me tomorrow, do I still have a job with you?’’
‘’ Well it’s Winter , it’s quiet I had to drop staff off, ya know’’

Dear God. That’s it. People don’t want me. I’m not good enough for them. Yeah, that’s a sign that I have to go. I really do. I don’t belong here. I’ve got to go. They hate me. It’s the End.

That’s when I heard the Truth…. From the guy who was making my take away soy latte. My friend.

‘’ You are shooting yourself in the foot’’
‘’ What?’’
‘’ With your attitude. You practically ask him to sack you. Don’t ask him if he needs you. Just show up and make him feel he does’’

I don’t know what the most painful was. The truth or hearing the truth from an Italian man. Both.

Then I realized that yes. I do not take responsibility for it. I just want to leave quietly through the back door. Without anyone noticing it. Without anyone noticing that I ever was there. I even want to disappear before I’m actually leaving. I want to convince myself that they don’t need me, that they don't like me anymore.

Me? Guilty of being a traveler? Don’t be silly mate.

Hang on a minute. It sounds familiar. That’s exactly in that frame of mind that I left France. And then England.

The end feels always the same, in the end. I thought it was easier to slip away and ignore all these feelings. But it was never easy. Quite the opposite, Mate.

The next day I showed up to work with a different attitude. Ya know the ‘’ I’m here because I’m worth it’’ sort of attitude. Yes with the make up and the sexy top. Of course.

‘’ You’re doing the dishes today. Keep going’’
Nice. I still love you Gary.

While doing my dishes I decided that it was time to celebrate the journey instead of freaking out anticipating the end.

So for my last French lesson I took Will ( Gary’s son whom I had been teaching French for 4 months) I decided to take him and his parents to the French café in town.
Taking them to the competition was already an achievement in itself but the best achievement was when I heard Will , 13 years old order our food and coffees in FRENCH to a French guy who perfectly understood him and when I saw how proud his mum was, I forgot all about endings and running way. And then I saw the school report. He rocks at french, Mate.

And I even RECIEVED their gratitude with Joy and happiness (aka a black coffee and a French patisserie).
I could face them, my feelings. And it was not that bad. It was quite great actually.
Yes it IS great to feel that you made a difference in people’s lives.For an hour , a day , a year, who care Mate. YOU DID IT.

And It does not matter that I leave them. I made a difference in their lives. Wow.
That’s the first time I ever let people show me how important I have been to them. And it was guilt free (even the fatty patisserie was)

When you think about it , In life, there is no beginning and there is no end. There are just lessons to learn.
But no, Don’t worry. If you don’t get the lesson this time, it will come back. Some other time, somewhere else, with some other people, like a never ending story.

Until you get it.

And Mate, how different your life will be then.