Just Breath, Just Believe

There was a song out about 5 years ago, I was going through a really difficult time and I listened to it incessantly. When I hear that song still, the emotions, the smells, the tastes the feelings from 5 years ago flood over me. Similarly when I encounter difficulties or situations of the same caliber, the words to the song ring through my head and become like a mantra to soothe my tension. This time, however in contrast to the others, I have someone to lean on. CB is amazing at the best of times, but now I know he's incredible at the worst. I suppose it is true that you only know someones strength when it's tested. This week is a mad scramble to get things done at work and at home before I leave for Indonesia this weekend for 2.5 weeks. Couple that with aforementioned situation and that's me done for a bit.

So I am signing off for awhile. I may blog during my travels in Indonesia, but I'm so looking forward to shutting off and spending quality time with my friend, that I can't promise anything. I hope to be back in the blogging world by October. Until then, Just Breath. Just Believe. Just Breath. Another Day.

American Girl

Nearly four years on in the UK and I firmly feel that home is a state of mind. Home is where the people you love are, home is where you don't have to try, home is a place where you can let go of all that worries you and focus on the important things. Because I travel so much, a safe haven-a home, is very important to me. I don't think I have ever felt more at home in London then I did this weekend.

Work has been difficult lately, making my personal time even more precious. Pair that with the instant patriotism that the Olympics brings about and home became a very important theme to me. The weather was crap so much of the weekend was spent indoors with the Olympics on in the background. I cheered for Great Britain, I cheered for America, I cheered for Australia and in certain events I even cheered for China.

We hosted two of my girlfriends Sat night when our picnic concert was rained out. We had a carpet picnic instead and the topic of culture featured slightly, as it always does. One of my friends who is from Great Britain often gets mistaken for American. I remember a lengthy conversation between us recently where she philosophised on why Brits can be so bitter at Americans sometimes. Her theory was, for so long America had been put on a pedestal as the land of milk and honey, a place where anyone could become someone, a country where the sky was the limit. Fast forward to the 21st century where the realities of life in America are far more publicised, far more complicated and far less glamorous then once thought. Her supposition was that people were angry that their fairy tale wasn't all that happy in the end, that the concept they once held of this Land of the Free and Home of Brave wasn't all that true.

I will spend the majority of my day travelling today as I am in Istanbul all week. Turkey has been at the centre of a lot of my angst at work lately, so I knew I needed to start my Monday off on the right foot. I needed to "psyche" myself up for the week ahead. I needed some comfort and familiarity to start my day. I headed to Starbucks knowing that my latte would be exactly as I was expecting and there would be some daft bloke out front shouting into his blue tooth head set. I knew the person taking my order wouldn't look at me sideways for ordering a drink that had more adjectives then a Disney song and I knew that I would have a smile on my face when I came back home to open my computer. Grande sugar free vanilla, soya latte with an extra shot in hand, I stopped at the deli that specialises in Israeli and American imports. I picked up some crackers that I can only get there and a croissant. It's a small store and I go in there at least once a week, so immediately when I got to the checker, I knew he was new. He rang me up and while my card was processing, asked, "You're American, no?" I smiled and nodded. "You like it here?" I sensed he was Middle Eastern and possibly hadn't been here for long. I do, I replied, except of course the weather some days. I smiled and he said, "If I was from America I would never leave." Bless. Clearly he was from a country whose idea of America was still Elvis and JFK, Marilyn Monroe and Levis. But it made me feel good.

I walked out, with the smile I had hoped for and thought a bit on my way home. Where I am from may not be the utopia it purported to be 30 years ago, it may have foreign policies that are bad which I don't agree with. It may foster a culture of over indulgence that leads to mass obesity, it may have gun laws that are too relaxed, it may abuse its power and at the end of the day, it may be wrong, a lot. But it's where I am from and it's one of the places in the world that I call home. When it comes down to it, there is no hiding that fact that I am a Cali girl at heart and an American girl when all is said and done.

Spoilers, Heat and Whinging

I was at lunch yesterday with 4 girls, 1 English, 1 Aussie, 1 Lebanese and 1 Jordanian. It was a business meal, but we had been together for many hours in meetings and had grown tired of talking about work. So naturally the topic changed, to men. A passionate debate ensued over Larb and Basil Chicken about what kind of man makes the best partner. The Arab girls raved about the gifty nature of Arab men. Fathers, brothers, husbands, future husbands, future ex husbands all had one good quality in common-they liked to spoil their women-expensively and frequently. Fine for some! The Aussie, the English and me (all currently or previously with English blokes) agreed that for all their amazing qualities, Brits weren't the best with the gifts. Before you ladies with gifty English men jump all over me, we were not generalising. We were saying the English WE had dated were not particularly thoughtful or frequent with gifts. They were however (we all agreed) the most loyal, loving and devoted men we had met. There was no consensus at the table as we all 5 sucked down another ice tea and prepared to brave the Dubai heat for 5 minutes walking back to the office, but it was unanimous that every culture produces very different partners.

Summer heat in the Gulf countries is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It's pure humidity (if it drops below 42ish) to the point where you can actually see the condensation hanging in the air. I don't know what my point is, except to say that if I lived in heat like this, I might need more gifts as well to make me stop whinging.

Whinging is a funny thing. It bonds us to one another, it separates us from each other and ultimately it serves as a form of expressions. I think whinging, like partners is culturally specific. In England for instance the weather takes center stage, in America it's often money or taxes people complain about and in South Africa it's the load shedding. Whatever your beef, you can bet you'll find someone else who will share it with you. Am off to Istanbul tomorrow where whinging is a national pass time.