Wednesday 8 February 2012

You passionate people

'' You French, you passionate people ''

I've heard that for years now. But I always take it differently . I could answer '' Thanks'' or '' Sorry'' depending on how I judge the situation.

Then I got to thinking about passion and its different meaning in the world.

French passion = capacity to complain , organize a revolution, strike, push open doors and get what we want at any price
.

I met this Taiwanese guy the other day in Federation Square , Melbourne and he had 2 questions for me :
1/ Can you teach me basic French?
2/ Why is that French people always argue about politics?
He had met 2 French guys and every time they went to the pub the two of them ended up fighting in loud French about a guy called '' Sa-ko-zi'' after a couple of beers.

'' When I go to pub I relax. Why fighting?'' he asks me.

10 minutes later he could say ''bonjour-je-m-appelle-james-ca-va'' ( I did not teach swear words for once. Am I becoming an unpassionate teacher? Hope not) . He also left with the idea that French people are just passionate. And they have a s*** president.

Yes, we are good at blaming our president. We are ‘passionate’ about it.
The other day I was watching the French news on Aussie TV (God bless SBS) and they were talking about the cold weather and the snow and I was wondering when they were going to start blaming the government for it.
2 minutes later:
'' It is very cold and we don't have the equipment for it. Our roads are frozen and no one does anything about it. Then you've got the electricity problem, who's going to pay for that? That's why people live on the street , because everything is too expensive. And on the street, it's bloody cold! '' says that random woman from the South ( they complain even more there. Yes, I'm from the North)

Time to strike again. Against the cold.

I'm in! But for now, I'm off to the beach, mate (do I love February)

That's our passion . Other people. We blame them for everything and tell them what they should do to make it better. Take our life into our own hands? Who are you kidding?

In terms of passion, we directly compete with our dear (yeah right) neighbours from Italy. Compete is a good word. We are so similar. They also put their passion in other people but they do it quite literally.

A conversation between 2 girls involving an Italian man very often ends up with the same question: ''What? He's also sleeping with YOU?''

We love other people. We just have a strange way to show it sometimes, that's all!

Reminds me of a really great Italian guy I met in Sydney. Yes, I do have Italian FRIENDS. (it does need to be mentioned)
He put his passion into his looks and making friends. Bellissimo.
Together we always played on the French /Italian cliché and argued passionately and loudly about football and food in front of strangers just to have a good laugh. The only one who could really take it, was a middle aged American tourist from Florida who married ( and divorced) an Italian guy. She found us ''slightly'' entertaining. We could have made money out of it in the streets of Sydney, for sure.

A few days later I visited him at his new house. He just moved in a couple of days earlier in Australia. It was his first time in Oz.

'' People are cold here in Australia. They don't give a s*** about you, they don't talk to you or anything. How do YOU cope Annabelle?'' he asked me slightly nervous.

That, is called culture shock, mate. And I was lucky to never have it in Australia. Why? Because I ALREADY had it in England. ( Note to Aussies : no , I am not trying to say that Australia is England with snakes, sharks, spiders, backpacker murders and skin cancer . I'm just saying that you guys share some common cultural aspects. )
Here's some examples of what I would say to my French friends in England when I still ignored the country’s culture.

2003 (about the school I worked at as teacher) : '' If I died , How long do you think it would take them to notice I 'm not there ?''
2006 AND 2008: (about Men) '' they like our passion but they can't f***** take it''
It did take me time to learn how to relate to the POMS and accept that we all have a different way of expressing our passion.

'' I love England ’’ is now my middle name. I bloody earned it (the hard way sometimes). But it was Just a small price to pay to get to know how awesome and passionate the Brits actually are. They mostly put their passion into taking the piss out of… themselves. Just thinking about them makes me smile now.


Back to Italian central in Sydney:

He introduces me to his Aussie flatmate. The guy barely looks up and says ''G'day'' then disappears (

'' See I told you. They don't give a s*** about you, here.'' he says in loud French.

So , with my Brit culture knowledge , I gave a new keyword to my new Italian friend

PERSONAL BOUNDARIES.

He stared at me: '' WHAT? No, they have NO passion here, I'm telling you. ''

He will learn... Just like I did.

Many Aussies I know had the opposite shock coming back from Italy :
'' They all yell at each other ALL THE TIME there! That's crazy, mate! '' they tell me with disbelief. ( and passion, too )

Passion... it all seems to mean different things in different countries....

And If the Aussies did not have any, they would not be here now. Something about the rage to survive in a hostile environment (yeah the snakes, sharks, spiders, backpacker murders and skin cancer story AGAIN)

The first time I noticed passion in Aussies was when I mentioned a magic word for them: ‘History’. Listen to them talking about it. They know more than you. Wanna know about European history? Ask an Aussie. And they still like it, even after having seen 275 bloody castles around Europe.

They love travelling too. The question to ask them is NOT '' Have you been to Europe'' but '' Where in Europe have you NOT been to''
They travelled to more European countries than me in just a month And that's just the ones over 70 years old.
Sport. One other passion. For me, the passion is in trying to understand what the hell is this cricket thing all about?

Wait until you speak to real life Aussie people, you will inevitably find it, the Passion. In each and every one of them.

Passion is everywhere in this country. In every single Aussie I've met since I've been here ( and before I even got here) . From my Aussie parents up in New South Wales who had 2 million jobs and built their 5 star B&B THEMSELVES ( google ''Silk Pavilions'') , their neighbour who cycled to London when he was young , my favourite aussie boy who is now 7 years old and who considered me as a family member with a weird accent after he’s known me for 2 minutes and who is now drawing maps of Australia with France nearby , to people I 've met more recently: my friend Cristina who battles against cancer with a '' who gives a s****'' '' attitude , my friend Sky who 's fighting to have a Life of her own with an extraordinary courage .
And many more ...

I also watched a documentary on TV the other day called ‘’And then the wind changed’’ shows human beings’ amazing potential to manage adversity and rise from despair after a bush fire devastated their village in February 2009. http://www.thenthewindchanged.com/story
I was absolutely stunned by all their strength and solidarity.

'' You French, you passionate people''. The person telling me this is called Sally (you thought it was a man didn't you) she’s my new manager. No , I'm not working illegally in Australia ( I'm not THAT French) I am volunteering at a Red Cross Op shop ( second hand retail shop) in Frankston, Victoria .
I was folding a ton of clothes.
'' Aussies are very generous'' she tells me as I was staring at the 4 other full boxes of donations yet to be folded.

Who said Aussies were not generous with other people.
It took the team of volunteers 2minutes and an instant coffee to make me feel like I was one of them.

'' Annabelle, you're very pretty , but look at what you’re wearing’’ , Sally tells me.

I just bought the bloody outfit to look good for work (you should have seen my style BEFORE ) D'oh.

‘’That guy you live with will never want to marry you and how the hell are you going to stay in Australia? Trust me , I'll make you look stunning ''

I did not have time to explain that marriage was not really part of the deal for me when they all started.

'' Look , you can marry my son , you'll stay here forever''

I've known them for an hour. One was willing to give me her whole wardrobe and the others wanted to give me ... their son?

I've also had messages from strangers inviting me for beer and coffee at their place to talk about Australia with me after reading my blog.

Well if it's not passion.... then what is?

It is something we ALL have. We just express it very differently.

The most awesome part of traveling is to find how different countries channel theirs.


I watched the French news again today to see that people around the country decided to share their food, shelter with others in need. They organise free Soup stands, get coffees to the the homeless , let strangers to their own Homes, to fight the cold ... together ( while still moaning against the government of course)

There is no right or wrong way to be passionate.

In the end , Passion is just the rage to live to see another day... together ( as opposed to struggle to survive alone )

So don't be afraid to use yours, '' You passionate people''

Thursday 2 February 2012

Life as we don't know it.

Traveling for a living. People dream to do that. Get rid of their house, 9 to 5 job and routine, they're forever curious of what's in the head of the ones who are actually doing IT. The ones who are FREE.

Wanna know?

We crave .... a 9 to 5 job, a house and a routine and a sense of security. Without securing a future for ourselves Life seems to be a big black hole. Conclusion : Human beings do not like freedom.

But thankfully for us, that feeling does not last long..... until we figure out why.

We were brought up to think that. So when you're finally break free of all your duties you 're not happy at all. You feel like a guilty misfit.

That's usually when I stop and stare at all these well dressed 30 + business women on the phone to their clients having a cigarette on their way to work. Perfect make up , perfect manners. Perfect life.

'' I am really convinced we should sell'' I hear them say.

Perfect.

Then you look in the mirror and there's you. Same age, poor hair cut, wearing shorts and hiking shoes, with a kids sleeping bag ( it was on special) attached to your backpack. looking for a bed in a 10 bedded dorm backpackers hostel on a Saturday night in Melbourne and your job is '' volunteer writer'' .

That 's when your brain starts thinking : '' Where the hell did I go wrong?'' and your Spirit starts wondering '' Where the hell did THEY go wrong?''

You can't stop your brain from craving to belong somewhere ( or to someone or a social status ) BUT you can stop giving a shit about what your brain thinks. and re program it. Easy to re program 30 odd years of the same thinking ? Hell no.

The next dialogue has been my DAILY struggle for the past year :

Mind :Annabelle, You can't decently go with that amount of money. That's insane.
Spirit : You can't decently stay and not travel.
Mind: How about settling down and have a social status . And babies ? 33 mate. (sound of clock ticking)
Spirit : How about the writing ? And meeting people? That's your passion right?
Mind : Think about your insurance, and your retirement pension
Spirit : Think about a life of adventure and making people happy.
Mind: You don't deserve to be happy. Money is not coming in. Go sell'' the Big Issue'' on the street now. You belong nowhere
Spirit : You belong everywhere. People deserve to be around the positive You.
Mind : You will die alone and broke
Spirit : you will never die.

Stoooooooooop.


28 January 2012 : F***** it. I'm on my last 400 pounds , Money is obviously NOT coming in but I'm doing a great job writing about it. Whatever is supposed to happen WILL happen whether I eat peanut butter for dinner OR NOT. It will just happen SOONER.

That's when I decided to stop listening to my mind. Yes, maybe I'll end up selling the big issue or swim back to Europe but for NOW i'm living the F***** dream ( I swear a lot these days don't you think?)

Brain ‘s new pattern : '' Think you're on a holiday and you have a Home and a Job to go back to. But for now you can do what you really love''

And.... Bloody brain believes you and stops worrying.

Obviously the first thing you have to do is make a difference between what you REALLY love and what you nasty ego WANTS.

A night in a 6 bedded dorm instead of a 20 bedded in a backpackers hostel :I really love
A 300 dollar uncomfortable dress that I will only wear once to impress aussie guy : nasty ego
Sushi : borderline. But I really love. So be it.

Every day I ask myself '' What would I do if I was on a holiday?'' and I do it.
Turns out it 's exactly the same anyway , except that I work more ( read WRITE more) Isn't it ironic?

Well done, brain of mine.

I had the best 3 days in a city in very a long time. ( I used to hate cities because I have to spend the money I don't earn yet)

I was shown Fitzroy area by a French girl I met on Couch surfing. She was really cool. She only told me she was from Paris after coffee. It was too late to hate her.

I met a finish guy my age who came to the same conclusion as me : F**** it and live this Life of Citizens of The World. We promised to meet again when we are rich and famous.

I met Sky, from Tassie who wanted to marry me so I could stay in Oz. We spent hours chatting and she also came to the F**** it conclusion. It took us 5 minutes to talk about ourselves like we were sisters. After a 12 year relationship ( she's only 27) she decided to start living for herself and made the first step towards travelling. Amazing girl. We felt strangely close. Maybe because we both started to live Life as we don't know it.


Who said you could not love strangers the way you love your family.

And I met Cristina, a 50 year old eccentric and generous single Aussie woman. I had seen her profile on Couch Surfing and had invited her randomly for coffee. She told me that she also was travelling and then came cancer. She had to come home and get treated. She was fine but......

2 hours later I was holding her hand at the hospital when the doctors told her that there was a 50% chance that cancer was back.
1 hour after that , me and her decided, while laughing at the doctor’s manners and stuffing ourselves with french patisseries and italian coffee on Lygon street, that there was a 50% chance that f***** Cancer WAS NOT COMING BACK. So why not start to live Life as we don't know it. Nothing to loose.

One day, when I 'm a wealthy writer and she is a healthy traveller I'll take her to bloody Paris. But next week I'll take her to do her scan.

Who said you could not love strangers the way you love your family. No one. Because Strangers ARE your family

When you don't have those worries about money, security and possessions, strangers become a part of YOU.

After a whole afternoon chatting to my friend Sky on the riverside in Melbourne I decided I'd love to go back. You know THERE. To stay with a man I've known for ... 30 days. Not for comfort, not for security and , not to secure a future...Just because he's awesome!

Who said you could not love strangers the way you love... Hang on. That's a tricky one for me, that one. because you know...... ( you should see my face right now PETRIFIED.)

Shut up Annabelle, and start living Life as you don't know it... yet.