July 2015

I’m reading Amanda Palmer’s book “The Art of Asking” (love her, loving the book, will write more when I finish it) and this is how the book starts. “Who’s got a tampon? I just got my period, I will loudly announce to nobody in particular in a women’s bathroom in a San Francisco restaurant, or to a co-ed dressing room of a music festival in Prague, or to the unsuspecting gatherers in a kitchen at a party in Sydney, Munich or Cincinnati. “Invariably, across the world, I have seen and heard the rustling of female hands through backpacks and purses, until the triumphant moment when a stranger fishes one out with a kind smile. No money is ever exchanged. The unspoken universal understanding is: “Today, it is my turn to take the tampon. “Tomorrow it shall be yours. “There is a constant, karmic tampon circle. It also exists, I’ve found, with Kleenex, cigarettes, and ballpoint pens. “I’ve often wondered: are there women who are just TOO embarrassed to ask? Women who would rather just roll up a huge wad of toilet paper into their underwear rather than dare to ask a room full of strangers for a favor? There must be. But not me. Hell no. I am totally not afraid to ask. For anything. “I am SHAMELESS.” Now firstly – how’s that for a cracking start for a brand new book? I am totally hooked. But equally, she instantly challenged me, because Amanda darling, I am one of those people who never ask. I have not, and will not, ever ask a room full of strangers for a tampon. Rather than being a ‘wadder’ though, I prefer to focus on always being prepared – all month long – so I never EVER get caught out. Preparation in Asia is also critical, because many countries in this region do not embrace the tampon, preferring external options instead. But it’s not that I have a problem being asked for a tampon or sharing the goods with a woman in need. It’s not even that I’m embarrassed to ask. It’s just that I don’t like to make a public hoo-hah about being on the ‘blob’. Being ‘up on the blocks’ is my personal torment and I’m just not a sharer of that. I’d also generally prefer not knowing when others are experiencing the same. I don’t know why I feel this way. Is it part of my Catholic heritage with all of that shame and guilt about the body? Is it the way my mother handled the puberty years (not very well, a lot of embarrassment for me)? Or perhaps the fact I HATED the whole “becoming a woman” shite in my teenage years and despised how people stopped seeing me and started seeing my tits? I didn’t find it easy ‘coming of age,’ going from a runty 12 year old body to a set of DD cup chest puppies. Too much attention came with that. Attention I didn’t want and wasn’t ready for. It took me a long time to get comfortable with the whole woman thing, but I’ve always admired women who grew into their bodies completely comfortably. That’s brilliant, and I wish it could be me, but it’s not. It’s probably also the reason I’ve always surrounded myself with women who are like that, because I love and admire them. But getting back to being ‘on the blob.’ Most people around me growing up in Australia were probably quite similar to me and I don’t remember a lot of talking about “that time of the month.” Then again, maybe they just knew not to talk about it in front of me? Then I moved to London, and in the early weeks of my four-plus-year stint, a woman came out of the toilet and said “I’m on.” I replied “you’re on what?” “You know, I’m on.” Still blank here love. But quickly worked out “I’m on” can be loosely translated as: “I’m up on the blocks” – husband favorite “I’ve got my rags” – Albury / Wodonga, Victoria, Australia terminology “The painters are in” – another husband favorite “Flying the Japanese flag” – no one in particular “The red tide has arrived” – yep another hubby fav. He’s awesome with women’s stuff and buys my tampons happily, annoyingly always the correct ones too “Aunt Flo has arrived” – used by others, but never me Care to share your favorite descriptor in the comments? (BTW if you’re interested in a mildly amusing tampon ad, the Russians did a pretty good job here. The lady in white is always better prepared at period time right?) I have to say, of all the places I’ve been in the world, it is the British women that come up trumps for being the crassest bitches on the planet. Crass in a marvellous way, and I discovered I paled into insignificance alongside British ladies. That was a surprise for me, due to the British reputation for being demure, and because I did have a reputation for being a crass bitch myself… but never when it came to ‘lady stuff.’ I had my limits. For whatever reason, I’m just not one of those “sharing the sisterhood moments” kind of girl. My mate Lorna asked me to watch her birth video. “Fuck off. Why the hell would I want to watch that? You think that will encourage me to have one myself?” I also couldn’t think of anything worse than having a gaggle of gal-pals present during my two birth moments, and my mum especially was not welcome. My husband was there, but only at the top-end first time round. Second time he actually delivered Jax. I got over myself a bit by that point. There’s a video somewhere – couldn’t find it – where one of the ladies in the Dixie Chicks is giving birth and the whole band is in the room. I loved them for that, but it is never, ever my bag. I often

For the first time EVER, our friend Felicia (who met our treasures for the first time on the weekend) said: “your children are a credit to you.” Yep, someone has said that. Out loud. And there were witnesses and everything. Our reaction? Shock first. Then we looked at each other, wide-eyed and burst out laughing. Seriously? Our little buggers? You’re actually talking about those two guys, the boys over there sitting on top of the spa, eating chips and getting them everywhere, the ones about to throw rocks off the balcony if we don’t get there first, those two dudes working out in the outdoor gym – the gym exclusively for adults, those maniacs getting filthy, dropping the occasional F-bomb in a context they heard on a ‘children’s’ video on YouTube? Those two? Really? The outdoor gym at a wedding – perfect distraction Someone finally thinks they’re um… well… good! Well behaved even. AWESOME!! We couldn’t believe it, but secretly we’re both thrilled, because they are a credit to us. They’re awesome. Annoying pains in the arse absolutely. But they are completely awesome, and funny, so bloody funny. My word. The challenge is we don’t want them to be “good.” I hate it when they say to me “but we just want to be good mum.” I always say: you are good mate, but sometimes you don’t make good decisions, that’s a different thing. There’s no good or bad darling. We all make bad decisions. This good/bad malarkey doesn’t sit well with me at all. But I really don’t want my boys to be good. I want them to be marvelous. Courageous. Ambitious in whatever way that emerges. Curious. Funny. Irreverent. Silly. Adventurous. Expressive. Emotionally intelligent. And a whole lot more. More than anything, though, I want them to be happy. We had another little accolade this week. Lex came home with the pictured star, an award for being obedient. OBEDIENT? I look at Steve and recognize that at this moment, all this mother is required to do is give her son an enthusiastic high five for his achievement. But an award for obedience – yuk! I don’t like that at all. My children ARE NOT obedient and good on them for that. I want them to challenge everything, especially me. I don’t have it all right, I don’t have all the answers, because no one does. So teachers, give my boys awards, but you can keep the obedient star in future OK? Anyone with me here? What’s the “worst” award you’ve seen, even if others think it’s a “good” thing? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

About a month ago, Steve had a nightmare that Jax fell off something very high and then he woke up. After sharing that little horror with me, I started having similar dreams. Heights and I aren’t friends. At the age of 25, crossing a log in Nepal over a creek (it wasn’t even high), I seized up in the middle, terrified and that was it, I’ve had a shocking thing with heights ever since. It’s been a pain in the arse, because before that, I was a cliff-climbing, bridge-jumping lunatic. The glass lift to Marble Mountain, Vietnam Today, being up high can give me vertigo – whether it’s standing on a balcony in a skyscraper, or climbing the steps to a water-slide in Bali – I am a mess. If I think about crossing the string bridges on the Annapurna trek in Nepal now (which I did before the log incidence) it leaves me gasping for breath as I try to go to sleep. So with this inherited nightmare, I was convinced something terrible was going to happen when we were in Vietnam. It got off to a great start in the first week in Halong Bay. We were having a night swim and Jax thought it would be a good idea to run around the slippery edge of an infinity pool with a two story drop the other side. Steve and I screamed in unison: “get in the bloody pool mate and don’t do that again!” Jax got the message. I didn’t sleep well that night. Anxiety dreams filled my head as the rest of the family snored in peace. However, I was hoping that the dreams would go now. The first week was done, with no falls, so perhaps I could relax a little? Not likely. I got him, don’t worry love As we were driving from Hue to Hoi An, we drove past Marble Mountain, and way off into the distance, we could see this glass elevator scaling the side of a cliff – that was how you got up there. I said to Steve no way we’re doing that. He knew how many anxiety attacks I was having and agreed that we’d give it a skip. But then we had a day in Denang, with our mates Sam and Dave. I hadn’t shared my nightmare with them and they had no idea I was feeling this way. We had big hopes of Denang being a knock out city, but alas, it is one of those places I never expect to return to. However, we had plenty of time to fill that day, and as we drove back to Hoi An, the car took a right at the entrance to Marble Mountain. SHITE!! Steve looked at me and knew exactly how I was feeling. “You stay in the car love. I’ll take them and I promise I won’t let Jax out of my sight.” No bloody way was I staying put. Not because I didn’t trust Steve (I do with every inch of my being), I just couldn’t sit in the car, anxiously waiting for them to return, not knowing what was going on. We went up the mountain, and it was bloody AMAZING. We also kept a VERY close eye on Jax, with most of the photos showing one of us holding tight to our little man. Naturally, they regularly ran off, forcing Steve or I to scramble after them, banging our knees and hips on the impossibly steep marble stairs. But it’s well worth a visit. Incredible that something so beautiful was built so high in a mountain. Humans are amazing. By the time we got to the bottom, I can’t tell you how relieved I was that nothing terrible happened. And then when I got back to work, I found this Huffpost article – Why Nightmares Might Actually Be Good For You – perhaps it’s right and it’s just my brains’ way of putting my fears behind me? Holding onto his shirt I don’t know. I don’t feel completely relaxed about Jax going out adventuring yet, but as he’s the more cautious one, I’ve just got to believe he’ll be OK. Bloody kids I tell ya! In the meantime, Steve is NOT allowed to share those nightmares with me again. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea 

Alas, another great adventure comes to a conclusion and the crazy life we’re living in Singapore returns to normal, quickly, oh so quickly. But that’s what it’s all about. We work our arses off to get out there and see this magnificent world every chance we get. It’s the only motivation I’ve ever had for making a living. The boys got some custom cowboy boots made in Hoi An. They wore them to breakfast – noice! While I’ve been to too many places to count alone, as well as more adventuring with Steve, I have to say travelling with my mini-loves brings a whole new dimension to the experience. I love being out there with them. I love how they engage with the world. I love the simple pleasures they find – like chickens… who knew? Sure there are definitely times when it’s not a lot of fun, and they can moan – my word they can moan – but all in all, I’d say my dudes are great travelers. In Asia, they love kids, but in many of the developed countries they won’t necessarily openly engage with kids – especially if we’re around. This was not a problem in Vietnam. Everywhere we went, the boys were told they were so handsome, and as the mother, I was told I was so lucky. I was getting a bit annoyed with the lucky-to-have-two-boys-bit until my friend Sam told me she heard the same thing about having two girls. Maybe it’s the two thing? Maybe it’s just because they love children? Maybe children are just a sign of good luck and fortune in a country coming out of a pretty bleak time? Whatever it is, everywhere we went, complete strangers were reaching out and touching them. Motorbikes would stop as we were about to negotiate a road to tell the boys how handsome they were. A whole school year in Halong Bay insisted on having group photos with the boys. The teachers insisted on photos with Steve. It was great. I loved it. But sometimes the boys found it all a bit much. “Mum why are they staring at me? Tell them to stop.” We had to wait at a strip club for our train to Hue. One day the boys will understand this sign Lex is definitely the more curious of our two lads, so when we caught the night train from Hanoi to Hue I decided to take him on a walk. We were at the shiny end, with clean toilets, good aircon and beds, so as we walked further and further down the train, the standards drop significantly. By the time we got to the comfortable chairs (we didn’t make it to the wooden slat benches) the arms started reaching out, touching Lex, wanting to talk to him. He was having none of that, turning around to leg it back to our cabin for the rest of the ride. That was a good result. It would’ve been tedious heading up and down the train with him, like we used to do on planes when they were toddlers. All up I’d say that Vietnam is awesome. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get there and now I’ve been twice in a year! It’s definitely a country coming into its own, and the people are truly magnificent – friendly, open, warm, engaging. However, within the next five years – based on the construction we saw everywhere – it’ll be a whole new country. Some of it will be better, some will be a sad loss (its history is so rich, we can only hope they value it), but you can’t stop progress, as they say Where ever it heads as it develops, I can definitely recommend it to anyone who’s been thinking about a visit. If you’ve got kids, more so. They’re completely welcome. I would suggest, however, that you check the weather before flying off. We managed to get the hottest temperatures Vietnam has experienced since records began, and it was hot, really REALLY hot. Singapore actually feels quite cool today at a balmy 31 degrees celsius. So now it’s time for the next adventure to be planned. We’re tossing up Myanmar or Sri Lanka… both have such appeal! Then again, I think Steve would insist on a beach holiday next… We’re pretty tired after this trip. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea