The eyes underneath…

On a recent trip to Turkey as I waited to check in at MAN, I encountered a large party of Muslim people also on the same flight. I have nothing against the Muslim faith, but I was absolutely fascinated with the women in the party. They were dressed head to toe in black burkhas. Now I have seen women in burkhas before, but not ones where there is also a veil over the eyes so there is no part of the woman visible – from black gloves to shapeless head to toe and the veil, there was nothing visible.

At first it was curiosity – how do the airline staff check that these women are who they say they are? This question was answered as they would merely lift their veils up for the female staff member. Then I noticed that not all the women wore the face veils, some had their eyes visible. These are the most common ones that I have seen. There was one lady in particular I noticed as she seemed much younger than the other women. She also had a floral trim to her head scarf and veil and her eyes were framed with black kohl liner and were extremely expressive.

It reminded me of the time as a student I worked as shop assistant. I served 2 Muslim girls whilst on the shoe department and they had ordered some in their size and had come in to try them on. Their faces were uncovered and they were younger, probably the same age as myself at the time. They tried the shoes on but were unsure as they couldn’t see the shoes on as their burkhas covered their ankles. I had suggested they have a look in the ladies changing room. I remember wondering to myself then what her life was like.

She was my age and she had had mentioned that she had just given birth not long ago. They did not look traditional Muslim, she had very light brown hair and very pale skin. At that time in my life, I wore bras under mesh tops to go clubbing and smoked and drank a lot, flirted with boys and even ‘lived’ in sin with my boyfriend! Maybe to them the kind of life that I led was wrong, something they would never experience or consider. For me, their life of marriage (maybe even arranged marriage) and then a life of hiding yourself from the outside world and keeping yourself only for your husband.

Recently I read ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and this again is about Muslim women, this is set in Afghanistan just before the recent war. I remember thinking easily I could have been born into such a world where freedom is not a given right. It made me feel lucky, blessed to have what I have to marry who I choose, to dress the way I want.

Anyway, back tot he lady on her way to Turkey with the kohl-rimmed eyes. I could tell she was beautiful – was she sad, happy or was she irritated by the woman that could do nothing but stare at her as she walked past? I don’t know, my fascination is based on a ‘what if’ theory. What if I was her and she was me, would I be happy, would she be? Would we have known any different and would we our paths crossed on that flight to Turkey?

Car-Booty

How much it that?
£1
50P?

Err, how about I just give it to you for free? Will that make the deal sweeter for you? So, Biker and myself drag ourselves out of bed at an Ungodly hour on a Sunday morning. Yes, not even the birds are still asleep, to partake in the Great British Tradition known as ‘Car Boot’.

Now, I have done 1 or 2 car boots previously and I always forget why I hate them. I hate them because people expect things for free. Chanel makeup – a pound, Armani spectacles – a pound, unopened tea chest with tea in it – a pound. You see my pricing policy – priced to sell anyway and damn good bargains to be had on my stall yet the punters still wanted to talk you down, they halved whatever your first price was and halved it again. What’s the point in asking me the price if you’re only going to offer me 20P for it. Makes you sick to part with something that cost you pover 20 quid, hardley used for 20P, but then I guess I should have used it more / not bought it in the first place!

*Sigh* A severe need to declutter our house has been the catalyst to this great adventure so early on a Sunday morn. I guess, didin’t too as badly as I make out since made about 50 quid! Woo-hoo, what shall I treat myself to now – more junk for the next car boot!

Hollywood Tales

How does one go about complaining to the film makers and scriptwriters of Hollywood? Yes, I wish to make a complaint. Why?

Because love isn’t like what it’s like in the movies I watched and based my teenage assumptions on. I haven’t suddenly realized this, it’s something I have suspected for a while. For example, in Pretty Woman, Vivian who is working as a common streetwalker prostitute meets and manages to make Edward fall in love with her. Bella in Twilight manages to bag the hottest teenage vampire in the world, who doesn’t want to drink her blood and in fact is quite happy with a few snogs. The list is probably endless of happy-cinderella style weddings where boys meets girl, they conquer some issue or another and then they live happily ever after.

Errr, let’s take a pause and rewind on that…Life is not like that – relationships are hard work where you have to try and make it happen every day. This is no fairy tale – why for so long were my Hollywood blinkers on? I have no idea, I’m relatively intelligent, I mean no Einstein but I can certainly count myself as average, maybe even marginally above average. I always thought that ‘love at first sight’ was possible and you-know-it’s-love when your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your body. In fact, relationships are about compromise in most cases. I will compromise not having to grow old on my own and having to pick up your dirty socks. Or, I will compromise a every race day watching hyped up machines going round a track/men chasing a ball around a field/delete as appropriate for waking up next to your crusty encrusted eyes and smelly morning breath.

Love in the movies is perfect ( as is the sex!) So, why do women buy into the crap? I have no idea, I guess we’re all pre-programmed to want that cinderella-style life. Recently out for dinner with family, the husband says about his wife, ‘My wife loves to eat everything.!’ Um, hello? When did relationships become bickering one-upmanships on each other? The years have not been kind to me or Biker, in fact we’re probably carrying a few spare tyres ourselves but I would never publicly belittle him by implying he was greedy and fat. Souring relationship, methinks?

So when does it happen? When does the fairytale come true? I was watching a programme recently on perhaps one of the salicious channels available on cable (MTV) about real-life cinderella’s. Like the Aussie girl who met a guy in a bar that happened to be a European Prince. Or the prettiest girl in a impoverished Russian town that met and married one of the Sultans of Dubai. So, maybe move love does exist for some? Maybe these are the reasons why women expect too much from the men in their lives. We have put them on a pedestal that is ingrained from when we were mere girls and dreaming about latin lovers on La Isla Bonita to the reality that is marriage-and-kids-crippling-mortgage-a-dog-and-cat-and-2 rabbits!

OK, I Live in Suburbia

I am a Buddha, and I live in Suburbia.

Recently, I was visited by some friends from London. As you know I lived in London and it was soooo good to see them so far up North (despite complaints of the cold, intelligible accents and nose bleed jokes from being so far up North!). It became obvious to me as I listened about them talk about life in London that my current life now is firmly set in ‘Suburbia’.

What made me come to this conclusion? Well, let’s see. Was it the fact I served both of them tea in matching Denby mugs? Was it the fact my home has stairs? (try living for over 10 years in flats and apartments, stairs are novel). Was it the fact I have fresh milk in my fridge and sneer at the thought of taking public transport?

Yes, that’s right no more glamorous cocktails in designer bars and random shopping trips to the Shopping Mecca that is Selfridges Oxford Street, no more cutting edge cultural events and Sunday browsing at markets (how novel that idea of open air shopping in London!). Just no more of that lifestyle that comes from living in one of the busiest multi-ethnic cities in the world!

So am I happy with my two little cats, my 3-bedroom semi, my little car and my husband? Or am I still yearning for that other life, the life before marriage and two-point-four pets? I mean, I bake cup cakes now and love nothing more than spending time in the countryside and doing all those quaint things that come with living in a smaller city. I actually own a pair of wellies and think flats are so much more comfortable than heels. I don’t know any bouncer’s by name and even have a favourite restaurant!

So what’s the matter with me? It’s a feeling like having a new car. You love it because it’s shiny and new, you’re careful with it when driving and parking, you even lovingly wash and polish as many times as you can on sunny days. The sparkle goes, the gloss diminishes and you’re left with a lump of metal that depreciates in value faster than you can say ‘MOT’.

That’s right. I’m considering moving back to London, or Hong Kong or anywhere. I don’t want to be the Buddha of Suburbia anymore.

Bad Memories

What would you give to be able to forget all those bad memories?

I heard about this on the BBC New website here. Crazy isn’t it – a pill that makes you forget just like the wine that you can drink in ‘Ashes of Time’ that makes you forget, the notion of being able to ‘magic’ those bad thoughts and memories into nothing seem so appealing.

Maybe you would rather forget about a bad clothes choice, hairstyle or when you knew you wasted too much money on a pair of shoes. Or maybe the bad memory is because of something you did and it hurt someone or something you didn’t do. It might even be because something bad happened to you and you just want to forget about it.

Someone I knew a long time ago had something bad happened to them and even though she turned out pretty all right in psychological and physical terms she told me it was always at the back of her mind. In the press, you hear about other people who have been through what she has been through and it’s never a happy ending.

This type of question is right up there with what you would give for eternal life or what you would give to turn back time. By the sounds of it the drug is nowhere near perfect and in trying to wipe out bad memories you risk losing all your memories.

I know at least one person who would still like to try.

Indian Summer…

My best friends from University and I have this tradition of going on holidays together. At first it was Barcelona, Crete and Paris and the last holidays was Barbados and now we’ve done India…
What can I say about India? We traveled to the region in South India called Kerela and it’s a beautiful, almost untouched area along the coast with beautiful sandy beaches and lush greenery that takes your breath away.
1. It’s full of coconut palms – everywhere even in the cities. Most dishes are made with coconut – coconut with dhal, coconut with potatoes, coconut with okra – you get the picture right?
2. You can’t eat anything else apart from curry and if you have the infamous ‘Delhi-Belly’ like I did, this means a dry, tasteless diet of rice and chapattis.
3. The trains are very long and only stop for 3 minutes at the station – try dragging on 4 suitcases and baggsying seats in 120 seconds flat.
4. The sun is very beautiful and the sun sets / sun rises are magical.
5. They do not openly sell alcohol so after 9 days of drinking duty free mango vodka (damn the bottle was heavy) we check in a 4 star hotel and find a basement bar where we literally camp for the last day drinking cocktails that cost the equivalent of a weeks wage or GBP2.50.
6. They take security very seriously. It took us an hour and a half of security checks in order just to check in on the way back.
7. Indian people think oriental people are funny. They like to take photographs and point and stare. They don’t think it’s rude either.
8. On the subject of rude, they have no concept of queuing. Several obnoxious people at train stations endured the wrath of Harajuku’s hand (note  to  self, must stop referring to myself in 3rd person. Feedback just a tad narcissistic).

9. Hindu temples are beautiful and one of the highlights of the trip – but the neo-Classical Christian Churches wouldn’t look a miss in France or Italy whilst the Muslims Imans chanting the faithful to prayer, 5 times a day was a bit annoying especially when you’re trying to sleep!

All in all India is amazing,the beaches are beautiful and the waters are warm & clear. Most people are friendly and charming and some of the unspoiltness of it takes your breath away. Would I go back? Not sure as yet, a different part maybe but curry isn’t my strong point and coupled with my ‘illness’ (you try surviving on nothing but Imodium for 5 days) I’m not going back in a hurry!

Goodbye My Friend

Sian

You may have read my blog on Pretty Woman – Best Film Ever? I watched this movie with Sian at the cinemas and we were best mates for a time during our school years. We went on to pursue different paths and recently found each other again on Facebook. So it s amazingly sad that this young woman, this successful, beautiful woman that was so full of life and so full of personality should pass away and be taken from this world.

When it just doesn’t work anymore…

Today I had a conversation with a friend of mine, we’ll call her Lashes. Lashes is young and pretty and unfortunately has come to the conclusion that her relationship with her hubby is just not working anymore. In fact, it’s not worked for a couple of years and the sad thing is this intensely private matter has become a slanging match between his family and her.

Breakups between people are usually between 2 people, not three or four but it seems that everyone has an opinion on it. Lashes is a nice person and I believe that she has endured quite a lot of unjust treatment at her in-laws – not severe, headline making trauma just a snide comment here or there and one or two off the cuff remarks, just general family niggles. A relationship should be about the two of you, because it’s just the two of you that have made the commitment to be together. Extended families come as optional extras and that’s what they should remain, they should not interfere with the couple at all.

There was a moment not so long ago when Biker and I were on the brink of this situation but our love and commitment for each other bore us through, sadly Lashes doesn’t feel this and I respect her decision. Why cry over split milk, it just doesn’t work anymore…

Land of The Dragon…

So, just back from a 2 week business trip to the FE and my it seems that I was away a lot longer than that! Maybe it was due to the unseasonably warm weather (27+ as opposed to -2 when I landed last night at LBA), or the time difference (going forward +7), or maybe the unfamiliarity of the massive double king size bed at the Shangri-La. I honestly couldn’t tell you why but in the 2 weeks I’ve been away I feel as if I’ve not slept (Q. Is it possible to die from insomnia?).

Anyway, being back in FE gave me a chance to ctach up with family – family I hadn’t seen for almost 6 years – which coincidently was the last time I was there! Biggest change was ‘Fay-Lo’ for non-Canto speakers it means ‘Fat-Man’ the affectionate nickname given to my grandfather who is/was a big man. I cannot honestly remember the last time I saw him as he wasn’t around when I went to visit last but my memories of him are of a larger than life in both stature and personality, loud and I was always slightly in awe of him plus the fact that he has the longest eye brows I have ever seen in real life! I suppose in some ways he was like the character ‘Big Daddy’ in Tennessee Williams, ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’. I was younger then though, barely an adult so these memories were probably still from a child’s perspective. However, he had a stroke a few years ago and when I saw him, he was in a hospital bed.

Now, the thing about me and my extended family is – we’re not that close. My grandparents live in HK and I have always live in the UK so there were no weekly visits and cards on birthdays. As it is, my extended family and I do not even speak the same language so this makes those heart to hearts pretty difficult as well. So in a way I guess considering I have probably not seen my g’dad for well over 6 years I cannot explain my tears as I visited him, lying in his hospital bed with tubes up his nose. I cannot explain the sorrow I felt seeing this Fat Man looking so small, almost half the man he was, not being able to speak and seeing me with unknowing eyes.

I guess it just shows the mere mortalness of it all.

Christmas is a coming…

Already we are in October, not long ago it was still supposedly summer. Now my thoughts have turned to yule-tidiness. Hmm, something must be a miss, the last couple fo years I have been a proper Scrooge not thinking about Xmas until the very last minute and here I am over 2 months away and planning and scheming like an bunny-boiling gold digger.

Anyway, I think it has something to do with the fact that I have to write most of November off (business trip to Far East, business class, 5* hotels.. need I go on?) and also the fact that I have just this very night BOOKED FLIGHTS TO INDIA. Now need to organise visa to India and get more jabs in than a feather weight boxing match. Luckily, Corporate Travel Dept sorts out FE visas so not getting up at the crack of dawn which is what I’ve been told about getting Indian visas….

Anyway, Christmas. Ah yes. Family coming to mine again this year as sister et al are off to Germany to visit the father-in-law. Great! More cooking and feeding the 5 thousand (Lil Bro eats way more than his fair share).

On my Christmas list this year… a new garden. Oh yes, that is something else not shared with the mighty masses. Too tired even to think about it now….