What would life be like with no downs?

Have you ever noticed that it's the bad things that happen on a holiday that really stick in your mind, and in a way, create the memories of that holiday? And yet if you have a holiday where nothing goes wrong, and everything works out smoothly, you remember it as being a great time, but the details aren't as sharp as they would be had anything bad happened?

Our honeymoon is a classic example of this. It began with me picking up the wrong bag at the airport in Maui. This was bad, because I'd taken the wrong bag to Maui from Honolulu, which meant that my actual bag could have been anywhere in the US, or even the world by now. Fortunately, the guy whose bag I'd taken realised that my bag wasn't his, despite their ridiculously similar appearances, and reported his missing. So when I rang Honolulu airport my bag was sitting all alone at the baggage claims department. They flew it over on the very next flight, and I was to meet someone there with the bag I'd taken. Problem solved. Thank God.

Then it was the weather. Who knew we had gone there in their wet season? For 8 out of the 10 days it poured with rain. As we flew from island to island we were literally being followed by a storm that would then wreak havoc a day or so after we'd left. It was a shame, therefore, that I never got to swim in the ocean. But not so bad to find out that two days after we left the first hotel, the grounds got flooded from high sea level and destructive waves.

Then there was the hire car incident. When we hired it I nudged Shane at the question of "Do you want insurance?"

"Get it," I hissed. I sure didn't want to be stuck paying for anything more than necessary, so insurance seemed like a good idea.

And lucky we did, because on our way up the driveway of our first hotel there was a roundabout made of large rocks. In a brief moment of confusion and disorientation, Shane went the wrong way around the roundabout, misjudged the distance, and drove over a rock with the front right wheel of the car. Which promptly  slashed the tyre and hub cap. Wonderful. Fortunately, the insurance covered it, and we wound up with the only hire car they had left: a very sexy mustang convertible. Gee, what a shame.

The last straw was that flight home was delayed indefinitely because of the bad weather. Like I needed another reason to be scared of flying. So we were stuck at some airport, I can't even remember which one now, that wasn't even really enclosed because it gets so hot there. So, of course, everyone was getting wet, and grumpy, and with no end in sight it was really quite...uncomfortable, to say the least.

Looking back, except for the weather, every other crappy incident was immediately preceded by another incident that made up for it. It was a roller coaster of highs and lows, that honeymoon. One I'm not likely to forget any time soon.

But, you see, it's the scary, exciting stories that I enjoy hearing about when people tell me of their travels. And they tell those stories with pride, like those bad things that happen are the whole reason they stepped out of their comfort zone in the first place. To experience the scary stuff that you can tell stories about later. I mean, let's face it. That's what makes for an interesting story.

And this theory- that it's the bad stuff that happens during travel that makes the trip-that led me to realise that it's actually the bad things that happen in life that makes us who we are as well. We are the product of all our negative experiences. It is because of the negative parts of my life that I am so determined to prove myself to everyone who loves me. It is because of these experiences that I am stubborn and refuse to give up on my dreams. It's because of these character-building moments that I am who I am.

Imagine how boring life would be with no downs. Nothing to compare the good times to. The good times would seem boring and lifeless. I don't want a perfect life. I just want a life full of experiences.

Children and travel

When my boys are older, say, 10 and 7, I'd really like to take them out of school for either a few months or a year and take them traveling. Where to and what doing I don't know yet, but I believe that traveling and being exposed to different cultures and experiences will teach them something they'd never be able to learn through books.

My husband, of course, has a different idea. He thinks children thrive best with stability, routine, and predictability. Which is great. If you want to raise boring people with no life experience and no personality. See, when I was 8 my parents packed up and went to Alice Springs for 6 weeks, while they renovated the old house they used to live in. For 6 weeks I left my life in Melbourne to go to school in Alice Springs. I made new friends, had new experiences, and witnessed first hand what it was like to live among and go to school with indigenous Australians. It was the first time I came across non-white people (not including Maoris). We lived in a run down house (until it was fixed up) on mattresses, surrounded by red backs (NOT exaggerating). On the way up and on the way back we camped in caravan parks, but without tents. Oh no, tents were a luxury. We had one of those fold out beds, and our sleeping bags, right under the stars. I remember staying overnight....somewhere in the outback, with cattle trains full of cattle mooing and smelling all night, while dingos walked around the perimeter of the caravan park type place we were staying in. My dad called it "millions star hotel". You know. 'Cause of the million stars. On the way home from Alice Springs (we had a car and a trailer) we stopped at Ayers Rock, and I got to climb it, at 8 years of age. It was amazing and scary as hell. All I remember was getting about 3/4 of the way up and crying because it was so windy and I was scared I was going to fall off, and this old man in front of me from California (I remember hearing him talk about it) saying to me "You hang in there!"

Anyway.

Looking back now, I learned so much from that trip. Sure, I missed my friends. I didn't want to go in the first place because of my friends. But once I was there I made new ones, and I very quickly got used to my new life. Children adapt so much easier to change than adults do.

My European Escapades- New Years in Amsterdam

I've got to a point in my life where I'm restless from not doing anything. It's the first time ever that I've not been working or studying. I need some adventure. And since it's not physically possible right now, then I am going to relive my adventures in Europe, where I spent two years on a working-holiday visa. I will begin with my experience of New Years Eve in Amsterdam, which was actually the very end of my journey, but is one of the most colourful and memorable nights of my life.

NEW YEARS IN THE 'DAM
New Years Eve in Amsterdam. Who knew how chaotic, crazy and surprisingly dangerous the usually mellow, unruffled city would be. The cobbled streets were now packed with thousands of people from all walks of life, gathering for the countdown in Dam Square. We needed eyes in the back and sides of our heads. My bag was clutched protectively in my hands for fear of it going walkabout. Shane looked frazzled as he felt many dismembered hands patting him down in search for a wallet, coins, or anything of value. There were so many people it was impossible to tell if it was the old lady in front or the backpackers next to us that were feeling us up. My cold came in handy as I shoved snotty, germ filled tissues in all of our pockets to deter or punish the would-be thieves.

I took my hat off- it was surprisingly warm for mid-winter. As we walked a group of boys tried to yank the hat from my hand. I held on for dear life, which sent me reeling head-first into a nearby pole. My eyes watered as the lump emerged on my forehead, but we kept walking, leaving the boys laughing raucously behind us.

Suddenly the crowd in front of us parted. We had to be quick to dodge the fireworks the gypsy children dropped. Were we to lose an eye or ear tonight? Hisses, bangs and squeals were heard all around the city from the hundreds of fireworks constantly being let off. Pedestrians were in an endless battle with trams, cars and bike riders for walking space. People walked furtively past us, muttering under their breath: “Cocaine? Heroin? Ecstasy?” Junkies followed us begging for money. Shane walked with his eyes to the ground, but I couldn’t keep from staring at the assortment of people around us. This was a place where ravers, families, stoners, tourists, sex workers, bikies, drunks, gypsies, punks, backpackers and locals could all party together without fear of persecution.

Dam Square was more crowded than the surrounding streets and canals. We found a spot in the middle and clung to each other for fear of being lost in the sea of people. Midnight came, along with the countdown. I prepared myself to hum Auld Lang Syne but was met with an unfamiliar Dutch song. I craned my neck skywards, waiting for the spectacular display of fireworks. Nothing, just the incessant squeals and bangs of fireworks in the crowd. More raucous singing and laughter, and then the crowd slowly dispersed. Shane and I allowed ourselves to be pushed along until we found ourselves by our bus, the rest of our group waiting.

I could tell Shane was disappointed, but I found it hard to be. It had been nothing like I had expected or was used to. But I guess if it were, I would have been let down. Who wants to be on the other side of the world and experience the same thing? Pick-pockets, druggies, near-deafness and a swollen forehead. It was all part of an unforgettable New Years Eve in Amsterdam.

Melbourne: my beautiful city

We have the pleasure of living in one of the best cities in the world. There is never nothing to do in Melbourne, and it doesn't even have to be a "city that never sleeps". There is so much culture in our beautiful city that we don't need to leave Melbourne to see Europe, the UK or the US because it's all right on our doorstep. Tiny, cafe cluttered alleys that smell like freshly baked bread, coffee and ciggarettes, how very Parisian; Mexican film festivals complete with Mexican food and beer; crowded jazz clubs like those you might find in Chicago, New Orlenes or downtown Manhattan, with cocktails to die for; live music of punk, folk or any other alternative style such as those found in the seedy parts of Manchester; art on almost every block that you don't need to travel to London or Amsterdam to see, because it will always find its way to our doorstep. And all of this in a beautiful city with amazing architecture, luscious gardens and a glorious, friendly atmosphere.
There are treasures all over the city, from the imposing gothic ANZ building on Collins St to the ancient graveyard buried under Queen Victoria Market. Have you ever been to the top of the Rialto building on a fine Spring day? Or walked around the Botanical Gardens early on a Sunday morning? You can do yoga there if you should feel inclined, or eat deliciously fresh scones by the lake.
I have lived in Melbourne for 19 years and I STILL manage to find a new little treasure every time I'm in the city. It's one of those places you could get lost in, and not be at all worried, because you know someone will be friendly enough to point you in the right direction, and there is always a good coffee or tasty cocktail just around the corner.