Itchy feet

Let me start this post by saying I'm not a big fan of travel writing (and once upon a time, many years ago I was a travel writer) and I probably dislike travel blogs just a little bit more. Over the past few years, my family and I have travelled a lot. We tried to make the most of being in the centre of the globe, in an aviation hub and see what we could of the world. So that begs the question, do I become a hypocrite and write some travel posts? Or ignore the fact that travel has been a big part of our life the past few years.

So I thought, what is it I don't like about travel blogs? Well most of them use titles like "Our complete guide to…" when in reality it's not a complete guide and, simply, I just hate being told "You have to do…" or "You can visit without seeing…" because, of course you can! For me travel is such an individual experience. It's like me telling you, when you go to the beach you must swim, then make a sandcastle and then walk on the rocks, if you don't do that then you haven't really been to the beach.

There's also a smugness about travel blogs too, even when most of the time the smugness is unintentional (let's be honest, it's probably more my jealousy than their smugness). 

I'm not one of those people who say "I'm traveller, not a tourist, I really want to get to understand a country" because if you're not actually living in a country you won't understand what it's like to live in a country. Full stop. So we're all tourists to some extent, and that is a-ok. For some people travelling is about ticking off landmarks or seeing all those famous spots they've seen on their screens. For others is about walking and eating and soaking in the vibe. For some it's meeting new people. For others it's about broadening their horizons and understanding of the world. For a lot of people it's about simply about shopping and having a holiday! All perfectly good reasons to hop aboard a big AirBus or Boeing, in my opinion.

Anyway, I decided that over the next few weeks/months I'm going to share some of my travel tales. And that's what they will be - tales. You may get some inspiration or ideas to make your travel more fun or less stressful, but I won't guarantee that. For me, they will be a diary of our adventures, that our kids might read one day and it might spark some memories (and be worth the many dollars we spent!). 

Now for my next post, I'm going to do exact the opposite of what I just said I wouldn't do, and I'm going to write a post about where and what Dubai locals recommend you do and see in the city. Places that you may or may not find in the guides, places that I discovered by stumbling upon them or friends recommending them. With so many Aussies now stopping-over in the Emirates, I thought it might be nice. So please let me know if there's something special you'd like to know about! 

Image courtesy of Ohmega1982 at DigitalFreePhotos.net

Breaking out of the box

A big move to a new location is always fraught with the fear of fitting in and finding your place. I've spoken to so many people who have moved suburbs, towns, cities, states and countries and found themselves with a nice new home, in a nice street. Everything they hoped they would get from their new move. Except for one thing…. a social circle. Someone to moan with over a cup of coffee, people to laugh with over a long, lazy Sunday lunch and someone to ask "Where's the best place to get your hair cut?"

When I moved to Dubai, it seemed like a big move to a far and distant strange land. Where everything was done a little differently and the people who lived there came from all over the world. While I thought I was a little out of my depth, settling in was surprisingly easy. Being a place where 70% of the population is expats means that most people are either in or have been in the same boat. Most people are willing to give you a hand, invite you over never having met you and just generally welcome you. Everyone knows what it's like to up and move to a new country so you have something in common and something you can share with almost everyone you meet.

I was lucky enough to meet people quickly and before the first month was out I made a friend who will remain a friend for life. Of course, these friends move on and then you have to put yourself out there again and again to keep your social circle healthy.

I always knew that moving back to Australia would be harder. While I've always tried hard to keep my friendships here healthy, we moved to a city I'd never lived in before and knew just one single person. I also knew that all the people I'd meet would have a strong group of friends and probably wouldn't have the 'vacancy' sign out. Also, I'd be meeting people who wouldn't really understand what I'd been doing the past few years.

I always knew I'd have to put myself "out there" yet again, but this time I knew it would be harder nut to crack. I just don't think I realised just how hard. Standing next to groups of mums at school pick up, nodding and throwing in a comment, to get a strange "who is she?" look. Meeting mums of the kids' friends and explaining where we'd moved from to get "Oh that sounds exotic!" or " Goodness, I'd feel bad making my kids move round the corner."

It's like being a kid again. Trying to fit in with the groups and work out cliques. Putting yourself out there again and again, knowing that for every 50 or so people you meet there may just one you'll connect with.

Just before we left to go to Dubai, I was at our local park with the kids. I met a lady with a toddler. She'd just returned to Australia after living in London for many years. She told how miserable she was as she was finding it impossible to make friends. Everyone already had their friends and weren't looking for a new one. She told me how desperate she was for just one of the mums in the park, who were always perfectly friendly, to ask her over for a coffee. Or at least say a warm "Yes, that would be lovely!" when she asked them to come to hers. I felt awful as I was literally moving out of our house the next day and in a week or so would be grappling with finding my own feet in a new place. I sometimes think of her and wonder if she settled in and now has a whole tribe of mates.

I thought of her again last week when I was chatting to a mum at preschool who'd lived in Singapore for many years. We talked on and on about expat life and moving back. In my head I thought "Yes! A comrade", until she leaned in close uttered the words: "Actually, I haven't told anyone, but we're moving to Sweden really soon."

Despite not winning at this making friends stuff so far, I haven't given up. I may be a little battered and bruised but I'm sure I'll find my circle eventually. 

What's it like being home?

I have had this question asked so many times over the past few weeks. "What's it like being home?" It's a difficult one to answer because, well, am I actually home? Yes, I'm Australian and I'm in Australia, but I'm living in a suburb I've never lived in, in a city I've never lived in, in a state I've never lived in. If we hadn't moved to Dubai, then this would've been a big move away from home, not a return.

I'm in a place where people understand what I'm saying and (most of the time) I understand them and that is actually comforting. Not trying to think up alternative words for 'esky', 'singlet', 'thongs (meaning shoes)' or not saying something that might offend. There was the one time recently while buying meat with Darbs when the butcher said: "Would the little guy like a cheerio?" I stared blankly for a second, wondering if he was going to call out hello to Darbs or offer him a single piece of breakfast cereal. Before my silent gap was too long, I said to Darbs: "Would you like a cheerio?" Darbs looked at me, looked at the butcher and shrugged his shoulders. In an instant a small frankfurter was put in his hands.
Aha, I had suddenly remembered Skip saying something about getting footy franks given to him by the butcher when he was a kid.

For the kids coming "home" to "Brisband" has been interesting. They're not too sure about the plethora of bugs, ants, spiders, moths, geckos, bush turkeys and possums that inhabit our garden. They do love bubblers though. It was strange explaining that if they were thirsty at school they could take a drink from the bubbler, now we have to make a five minute stop at every bubbler we see so my little camels can keep themselves hydrated. There have been more than a few: "Why can't we just go home?" and having to explain that this is home and Dubai may never be home again.

They have sold Dubai to their new friends as a place of wonder where you can buy glittery bags at the hypermarket but you have to buy water in bottles as there are no bubblers. It's a place of warm "puffy" bread and hommous. Where the canteen sold hot Indian and Arabic dishes and pancakes for breakfast. Where you had months off for holidays and a time of year that you couldn't eat in public. Where you had to get up before the sun to go to school, I often hear them say to each other "If we were in Dubai we'd be at school now, not just eating our breakfast."

For us adults, Brisbane is a wonderful place to live. Cosmopolitan, yet relaxed. In one word, simple. Life is simple.

So for the kids, it's step-by-step to settling into home. Making a new friend, one step. Playing AusKick, another step. Being invited to a party, one more step. After a while Dubai will be a memory and this life will take over as "home". Though I'm sure the longing for warm puffy bread will never end.

When we landed in Sydney I felt like was asking everyone, "How's life? What have you been up to?" Everyone updated me with the comings and goings of their family and work and life. One friend instantly replied: "I've just been really getting into Bieber." This was my all-time favourite answer. So next time someone asks how I'm settling in I might just steal this answer.

All around the world, you gotta spread the word

Well, well, well life has changed dramatically since I last wrote here. We left Dubai, spent two months travelling and have just relocated to Brisbane. So you know, just a little movement.

To say we're unsettled is an understatement. Leaving Dubai fairly quickly, travelling pretty much since Christmas and relocating to a brand-new city will do that to you. I feel spent. But! Life is an adventure and if you don't take the new road (even if it's strange, unfamiliar and bumpy) you don't reap the rewards. So while the hiccups are annoying, while many a freezing cold day I've had to drag kids literally out the door, while there have been tears and questions, I wouldn't change it. The challenge of change and uprooting your life can be immensely stressful and exhausting in so many ways. Fear of the unknown, fear of making a "wrong move" can be immense, so immense that it had the potential of stopping you do anything. I'm living proof that throwing yourself blindly into the deep end can be the best thing you ever do.

This I have to remind myself of. That the work will pay off. I keep telling the kids that the next little while will be scary and nerve wrecking, it also might be wonderful.

Looking back on my life, it's the not-so-easy moments that make the memories - losing the car keys in a massive wave; crashing a car in the Italian countryside and arriving at our Tuscan villa late at night with no food; missing a flight and having to drive for hours to make a special Christmas; a flat tyre on the first day of school, getting stuck in the door of the Paris metro; smashing a windscreen in South Australian desert days late to meet friends. Recently my aunt was scammed $40 by a taxi driver in Rio, my brother said it was a cheap price to pay for a cracking travel story to tell for years to come.

A carefully curated life on social media may seem appealing for five seconds, but that's forgettable, I want a life full of bumps and potholes. Of getting over things, past things, conquering things, interspersed with moments of peace, fun and laughter.

So while we transition into our new life, I promise to tell you some tales of the past few months. Of the amazingly wonderful moments we've had and of transitioning to a new life. Of the tedious, crap "I can't believe that happened" moments. Why letting the fear of making a wrong choice dictate your life is the wrong choice to make.

I will try and find more moments to write here.

Growth spurt

It's a new year and it's funny, living in the northern hemisphere it lacks the "newness" or "fresh start" that is does in the southern hemisphere. I think it's because it's just a small break and the school year continues on. Anyway, it lacks that certain 'punch', but it's still a time to reflect on the year that's been and the year ahead.

The past year has been up, down and all around. We travelled to more than 10 countries, spent more than 110 hours flying (the kids are expert flyers now), had our 10-year wedding anniversary, we moved house, Darbs started at the girls' school, the girls have grown like weeds, I have spent countless hours worrying about the kids, I spent weeks not knowing if the tumour in my neck was cancerous or not (and then had 3 hours of surgery to remove it), we bought a new house, we met new friends in Dubai and said goodbye to old.

We have been lucky enough to watch good friends get married in the NSW vineyards, drink wine with friends in Viennese vineyards, camp with friends in the rainy emerald fields of Ireland, eat chilli crab with mates in Singapore and slide down the Arabian sand dunes with others. This is just a handful of amazing experiences the year brought.

Recently, I was looking at the kids, and I'm always amazed when kids have that growth spurt. The kind where it feels like you've just looked away for a minute and you turn back and they're suddenly taller and older and more mature. All of my kids have had those this year, but I feel like I've had one myself. I suddenly feel like my vision has widened, I feel older and wiser, I literally have scars from the past year. I feel like I have grown and learnt a lot. The year went fast but I feel like I packed a lot of life into it – good and bad. As I say to the kids, everything can't be good all the time, it can't be Christmas Day every day, or else you won't appreciate it. It's the hard times and the challenges that make you grow and keep your brain alive. The mundane and the dull have their place too. They make the good times even better. This year there have been challenges, as there always are, but they've definitely made the good times even brighter and shinier.

2016 is going to be a very big year, but I think I'm ready for it, for better or worse. That little growth spurt is helping these older eyes see a little better.

Just people

I wrote this post on Sunday morning when I was feeling a little weary and heavy-hearted. I wasn't sure that I would post it as it felt a little soon and writing it was more of an outlet for me to process my thoughts, but I decided this morning I would post. 


Along with most of the world, I've been shocked and saddened by the events of the past days. The horrific attacks in Paris and Beirut are difficult to fathom. I'm not going to comment directly on those as I don't feel that it's my place to do so here.

What I've read on news sites and social media in regards to these attacks have dismayed me. Vitriol, hatred and anger. I, too, despise the scum that perpetrate these acts. So, so much. But to me, those monstrous vile creatures that found sport in murdering innocent people are not representative of Muslims. It truly upsets me though when people believe so deeply that there is no difference between the monsters who pick up a gun or detonate a bomb and the more than a billion Muslims who are just trying live their everyday life.

 I live in a Muslim country and have done so for the past 3-and-a-half years. In that time, my neighbours have been Muslim. My kids' teachers have been Muslim. Our friends have been Muslim. The people we deal with day in and day out have been Muslim. In those 3-and-a-half years, I have been treated with kindness, generosity and respect. I have not been asked to convert, I haven't been attacked for my beliefs. Nothing has been forced upon me nor really expected of me, except for the return of respect that has been granted to me.

The shops in Dubai at the moment have more Christmas trees and baubles and tinsel than you can imagine. I can buy a ham and pineapple pizza from the supermarket if I want to. I can stop by a bar and have a drink if I so wish. My Catholic friends regularly attend mass at a church built on land gifted to them by the Muslim rulers. My Hindi friends go to the temple and hang their Diwali lights. There are no Muslims here calling me an 'infidel' or trying to 'strip me from my rights' or force me to conform to their ideals. Though if you believe what you see on Facebook or in the mainstream media, that is what they'd have you believe is the motive of every Muslim.

My kids, thankfully, are unaware of the attacks over the weekend (Friday is our weekend). Both Paris and Beirut are places that they know of, where their friends are from, where they dream they might visit one day. And thankfully, they haven't been exposed to anti-Islamic sentiment (nor anti-Christian or anti-Western sentiment for that matter). It is impossible to protect them from the news of conflict in Syria and Iraq (and Yemen and Libya) and they are aware that some of their friends and teachers are unable to return to the place of their birth due to the war. They've also seen the pictures of refugees treading the same path from Hungary to Germany where just a few weeks earlier they spent their summer holiday.

To them, Muslims aren't evil terrorists looking to destroy their way of life, in fact it's quite the opposite. A Muslim is the mum who hugs them tightly with a greeting in the school playground, a Muslim is the teacher who patiently explains multiplication and division, a Muslim is the friend they skip with in the playground and share secrets and dreams with, a Muslim is the doctor who gave them medicine and made them feel better, a Muslim is the nurse who snuck in a tub of jelly and ice cream when the hospital food was yucky. To them, Muslim people are just people.

To me, a Muslim is the friend that wiped away the tears when I involuntarily cried after receiving an appointment for a tumour biopsy, a Muslim is the mum who looked after my sick child while I raced to school to collect her, a Muslim is a woman who spent all day cooking food she thought I might like to welcome me into her home, a Muslim is the man who stopped during his busy day and changed my flat tyre in 48 degree heat, a Muslim is the parent who wishes me a happy Diwali and a happy Christmas with an enormous smile, a Muslim is the teacher who passionately educates my child, a Muslim is the lady on the plane who held my baby boy so I could eat my meal. To me, Muslim people are just people. I feel lucky to have people in my life of different faiths and races and nationalities, who put that all aside and treat each other as humans, as friends.

The scum who kill and maim and terrorise in the so-called name of Islam have zero in common with the Muslims I know. The people that I know here are sickened by the violence that is perpetrated in their name. A lot of them personally affected in some way or another.

So, for those you reading who live in Australia, US, UK, Canada or Europe. I ask you not to respond to evil and hatred with more hatred. The only way to eradicate and fight the evil is to join together, as humans, if not you're allowing the monsters victory.

Stormy weather

Yesterday, we awoke to a one of those very rare overcast, rainy Dubai days. They literally only happen a couple of times a year, but when they do there is so much excitement!

As we arrived at school, there were shouts of "I think I felt a drop!", "It's so cold!" (it was about 28 degrees and 7.30am), "It's so dark!" I left them in their classrooms, their classmates buzzing with as much excitement as them.

As I drove home, a light shower started. I saw the windows of the car next me all come down and hands poke out of each one trying to feel a drop. As I drove past I saw an Arab family with their faces bright with delight, smiles sparkling in the dreary weather. I couldn't help but smile myself, loving that a few drops of rain could bring such wonder!

I turned on my windscreen wipers (after I remembered how to turn them on) to discover that they'd almost disintegrated over the summer from sand and extreme heat. They flipped and flopped over the windscreen making it harder to see than when I first turned them on.

I had expected that rain would be gone by the time I collected the kids, but it hung around for most of the day.

Today we woke up to sunshine, the city was sparkling as the rain had washed away the sand that covers everything all of the time. It felt clean and fresh. I love this time of the year, it's our reward for  five months of being stuck inside.