A date with Picasso

I arrived back this morning from a delightfully relaxing trip to Dusseldorf. It was my first time to this German destination and just like my visits to Hamburg and Munich I found Dusseldorf to be just as beautiful. I had done a little bit of research before leaving Dubai and was planning on seeing a Picasso exhibition that was showing in one of the major galleries. After some hesitation at setting off to my destination using public transport by myself (where all the names for stops and lines sound freakishly similar to my Australian ears - ie Handelszentrum, Kaiserslauterner, Lierenfeld Betriebshof) I was lead to the big gallery by a very friendly local girl who saw me nose deep in a map of the city while I was waiting at the train stop. As luck would have it she worked at the police station right next door to where I was going, so she kindly took me from the train to the underground and then a short walk to my date with Picasso.

The exhibition presented a collection of works which Picasso produced in the last decade of his life. I spent a blissful two hours getting lost in the frenzy of abstract shapes and bright colours in his canvases. It made me remember how much I enjoyed my days at university studying works like his.

Once I had finished catching up with Picasso I walked through the narrow back streets, going into some of the cute boutiques with funky nic-nacs where I bought some chocolate wrapped in the cutest paper - little red strawberries and cursive running writing in German (who knows what it says!), and some other little pieces for a friend of mine at home who needs some cheering up at the moment. While I was waiting on the street for my train to arrive I bought some yummy blueberries and bananas from a big open-air fruit stall, I have great designs for those blueberries - am thinking of making some brulee perhaps. I still had a few minutes to spare before my ride came along to take me back to reality so I bought a small mountain of pomme fritte, with a big dollop of creamy mayonnaise on top and a miniature sized fork. I sat outside the stall, in the warmth of the sunshine on one of their park-bench tables with several beautiful older ladies seated around me who were delicately consuming their hot chips, dressed so impeccably in their burberry-checkered trench coats and matching bags, with coiffured hair combed perfectly into place.

Crazy-town Karachi

International Flight Attendant. Before starting this job I had some romanticised ideas of this job title and knew that along with the more glamorous aspects there had to be some less than fabulous sides to it as well. Yesterday was one of those not so glossy days, where the entire crew were pushed to their limits - both physically and metaphorically.

It was meant to be a simple turnaround. Leave Dubai in the afternoon, drop passengers off in Karachi, pick new ones up, land in Dubai, clock off at 11pm. Well things appeared to be flowing perfectly until we had touched down in Karachi and were informed by our captain that the previous aircraft needed some engineering attention before taking off again so we were going to give the crew ahead of us our plane and we would wait for the other aircraft to be fixed and then take it back to Dubai. At this stage the wait was calculated at being around the 4 hour mark (it was 8pm at this point). A few groans and sighs were expended and we were then lead by ground staff through Pakistan's humble airport to the crew lounge which consisted of a sub-arctic air conditioned room, no windows and four lounges for 15 crew. Shoes were kicked off, hair was uncoiled and some made a beeline to the cold spring roll and hot beverage buffet. To pass the time many of the girls perused the airport's retail outlets, stocking up on high quality pashminas at bargain prices. For reference, leather jackets are exceptionally cheap in this neck of the woods as well (roughly $A80) however on this occasion none of us were in the market for such goods, circa 1980.

The clock kept ticking, and the early morning hours were beginning to turn us slowly into sleep deprived bed-hungry beasts, not too dissimilar to Michael J Fox's transformation in Teen Wolf. It was fast becoming clear that the four hour wait was a modest estimate and at 3am we were making the best use of our delusional state of mind and entertaining grand illusions of an escape back to Dubai by camel-back. At 5am the ground staff announced that the aircraft was good to go, and we would be taking the empty aircraft back to Dubai with no passengers. Hurrah! We bounded up the stairs to our mother-ship and we each grabbed a seat in the front cabin and the sound of electronic footrests raising up infiltrated the tropical air. Before reaching the fully inclined position there were shrieks of horror and a chorus of arm smacking - the aircraft was infested with mosquitoes! The main door had been left open the entire 9 hours on ground for the engineers, and the little blood sucking insects had clearly taken a liking to the indulgence of 'flying' in one of our premium cabins.

Despite the humid conditions we all grabbed blankets and covered up from neck to foot in an attempt to ward off the critters. I wasn't content with leaving my head exposed to Malaria so I tore away the velcro attached chiffon scarf from my work hat and tucked it into my blanket, draping it over my head. Yes, some may have laughed but I certainly wasn't going to take any chances!

View from the top

Last week I was leaving the shores of Dubai heading back home - again! I was rostered onto this flight and weighed up the offers of swaps from other crew and decided that it was far too cold in Europe to be giving up a sunny Brisbane just yet.

We were blessed to have two truly delightful cockpit crew who were very encouraging of the rest of the crew to use the spare jump seats in the cockpit for take off and landings. Luckily I was in an "additional" position coming into Brisbane which meant I wasn't responsible for operating a door and was able to take up the enticing offer of a front row seat for touch down. The flight path which we take coming into the airport leads us over the heart of Brisbane city. I gazed down over the glassy, snaking river and the cluster of tall city buildings, with their tops reaching up into the golden morning sunshine. Looking out over the city made me feel very lucky to think that not only was this beautiful place my 'home', but that I was experiencing the view from inside the cockpit! Had someone told me two years ago that I would be enjoying an early morning vista of my hometown from behind the pilot I wouldn't have believed it for a second. Of all the views we see on landing, my favourites by far are the Australian cities.

The day before our Brisbane arrival we spent a night in Singapore. For lunch that day I shared, with one of the other crew, a very large selection of freshly steamed dumplings before we perused the shops. I really enjoy looking through the markets and shops there, I have found that the clothing and accessories are so very cute with such interesting little details - the shoes I bought are testament to that! I stumbled across these gems and instantly fell in love, but quickly recalled my previous attempts at shoe shopping in this fair city and how my measly size 36/6.5 foot was not catered for in this civilisation of pint-sized citizens where the average shoe size must be equivalent to that of a small child. After a few minutes of standing and staring at the heels, imagining them on my feet in a scene reminiscent of a 1950's musical with tuxedo clad men and a spiral staircase, I decided to give the shoes a go. Yes, they fit (just) and my faith in Singapore's shoe industry has once again been restored.

Shanghai Surprise

Before I start loading up my suitcase the night before a trip I will usually jump online and check temperature forecasts for that particular city, so most of the time the clothes I pack are sufficient, however this time I was way off. Rather than the comfortable 20 degrees which I was anticipating, Shanghai took a turn for the worse and was instead an arctic 5 degrees. I took some comfort in knowing that most of the other crew also underestimated the frosty conditions and thus we responded by layering every item of clothing which we had packed for our trip before heading into downtown Shanghai.


As soon as we had left the warmth of our hotel shuttle bus in front of the underground markets we were seized upon by so many 'shop pimps' smiling and waving at us that for a moment I actually thought it was a large group of Chinese tourists coming to say hello. We burrowed through the circle of retail enticement and began our self guided underground adventure. I was a (cold) woman on a mission - to purchase a knee length wool coat, and after receiving affirmations from many other people that Shanghai was a fabulous destination for shopping I was confident I was going to be walking away, warmer, and with a lighter wallet.

By the end of the day I had settled on two gorgeous knee length coats - a dusty pink cashmere number and the other a heavy wool Wedgwood-blue coat - both at ridiculously cheap prices. The day's shopping experience left us all with an insatiable appetite and my craving for hokkien noodles was catered for by a street vendor selling the yummiest noodles, made to order over an open flame from his travelling wok-shop. It didn't matter that neither of us shared a common language, I just pointed to the big bowls of ingredients which I wanted and in a couple of minutes I was making quick work of my steaming dinner. The serving was enough to feed a small army and all for the price of 5 Yuan (about $A0.85), I paid ten times that amount for packs of Maggi noodles during my university days!!

To symbolise the upcoming Chinese New Year, the hotel which we stayed in had a beautiful leafless tree set up in the middle of the foyer. In the place of leaves were little bright red packets which blew furiously in the wind every time the front doors would open. My Chinese friends Wah and Man had previously told me about these tiny envelopes and how they are given (usually by married or elderly members of the family) to single young people during the New Year celebrations and should always contain money. As you can imagine questions were raised from myself and the other single girls in our crew as to the whereabouts of our lucky red packets of cash!

Tunisia

When "Tunisia" appeared as a destination in my February roster I must admit my knowledge on this diminutive country was very limited and after some electronic research I was quickly counting down the days at the prospect of visiting somewhere with so much history against a backdrop of Mediterranean views.

I spent this visit exploring a gorgeous little village, Sidi Bou Said. The small buildings sit way up high above the sparkling blue water, with the cobblestone winding road (yes, singular) leading you through the town against houses, restaurants, souvenir shops and cafes. As I wondered the streets and shops my eyes were regularly distracted by glimpses of the ocean from in between the array of blue and white painted buildings, I can only imagine how dazzling Tunisia would be in the height of summer!

As soon as our taxis pulled up at the base of the quiet little village shop owners appeared from nowhere, each eager to lure seven girls into their shops brimming with silver jewellery, perfume, incense, ceramics, leather shoes, mosaic mirrors. With the promise of "best price" and "free to look" from all the men, we ended the afternoon holding many bags of goods, and I am quite sure the local economy was boosted ten-fold that day.


With the sun setting on Sidi Bou Said and the temperature quickly dropping, we went farther afield to the edge of the village in search of authentic local cuisine. We settled on a quiet, dimly lit restaurant with two very egar to please waiters who kept bringing us morsels of Tunisian entrees, a practical education for us all! For dinner we each ordered variations of couscous which had been cooked in big earthenware vessels, topped with soft tasty pastry forming a lid over the top of the containers. It was quite yummy, and the hot tea which they bought us afterwards was so good - it was served in teeny-tiny glasses and was very sweet and minty.

After peeling away the breaded lid, our waiter poured its piping hot contents on top of our couscous

Dubai-Brisbane-Dubai-Brisbane

This morning was the first time in just under a month that I was able to enjoy a big cozy sleep in, in my own bed! Yay! Following my annual leave in Brisbane, I had two flights (Brisbane, wouldn't you know it!, and London) which were so close together that delusions of an airport sleepover in between the two trips were only marred by the need to wash some clothes and reintroduce myself to my housemates and building security. Well perhaps I am being slightly dramatic.

The Brisbane trip was a lot of fun. Not only were there three other cheeky Aussies in our crew but one of them was the gorgeous Adventure Girl. AG played a very important role in helping me best prepare for the various stages of application with my airline. We had caught up a few times since I'd moved to Dubai but a 9 day trip provided the perfect opportunity to scratch beneath the surface. The champagne breakfast which a few of us had on arrival into our Brisbane hotel on the Sunday morning induced so much natter amongst all us girls that the staff had to (very delicately) ask us to leave so they could finish setting up for lunchtime! So up we all tottered, to our rooms for a big sleep, taking advantage of the self administered bubbly anesthetic.

That night my friend Louise and I played tour guide to a South African girl in my crew, Kim, and her cousin (he had not long moved to Brisbane). 'Family' was our destination, and 'Fluffy' was the name of the evening - a gay friendly weekly event for the Brisbane clubbing scene. There were just as many delightful half naked men strutting about as I had remembered from previous occasions, so too were the number of interesting people to look at - ie gender ambiguities and festive costumes (such as the pretty blonde boy who was wearing only black undies and matching hooded tank top, with hood positioned carefully over his crown of heavily streaked hair). Lou, Kim and I were salivating, and sighing, at the men around us while Kim's cousin (who wasn't aware it was going to be a gay night) clutched his drink with the whites of his knuckles, laughing nervously at the sights around him.

Summertime celebrations

Paris Hilton would have been seriously outdone on the weekend! Last Saturday morning saw Louise and I unashamedly cramming into the boot of her little silver Ford, two suitcases for a two night stay at the Gold Coast. Yes, one suitcase each. However, to be fair I did have a wedding to attend on the second day.....and.....well....the rest I guess we can attribute to erratic weather patterns and global warming. Along with our two pieces of luggage there were also two reasons for our Thelma and Louise adventure (but with happy ending). #1 - Summerfield Dayze (an outdoor music festival with international Dj's) and #2 - the wedding of my friend Frances to her fabulous (but sadly English) partner Jon - the real reason for the timing of my visit home.

By lunchtime we were checking into the very relaxing and tropical surrounds of Seaworld Nara Resort. The lucky young porter who welcomed us struggled under the impressive weight of our luggage as he unloaded the car, but somehow managed to stagger inside and up to our room by walking at a sidewards angle and facing his head accordingly for balance. Lou and I revelled in this paid privilege and skipped up to our rooms past our hunchbacked porter (so we could open the door for him of course). Fast forward a quick change of clothes and a couple of champagne piccolos and we were setting off from our enviable location down the street towards the festival which takes place every year in a big park right next to the water. Sunny and breezy, with scatterings of eye candy - I was definitely home!

Sunday afternoon while Louise and her boyfriend (who came down for the day) made use of the Seaworld day passes I attended my friend Frances' wedding at a truly beautiful location, about half an hour inland from Surfers Paradise (Mudgeeraba for those playing at home). The last time I saw Fran was two months ago in Brighton (where she and Jon live) while I was on a London trip. She was so heavily pregnant I couldn't stop smiling at the amazing tight drum that was now her big smooth tummy. Thankfully Fran didn't mind my hands constantly skimming over her little baby's home, I was even lucky enough to feel the baby hickup! So the wedding was my first outter womb introduction to their son, Max, and given how beautiful his parents are it was of no surprise that he too was as cute as a button.

With my friends Fral and her partner Tali

Frances, Jon and their new addition, Max

The countdown in Brisbane

For the last few years I spent the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve fantasising about celebrating such an evening in grand destinations like New York, Paris and London. Well this was my first opportunity to make my little daydreams into reality, but when push came to shove I quickly realised the most important element in planning a fun NYE was who I was going to be celebrating it with! So this year I came home to welcome in 2007 with some of my Brisbane posse, in a pair of new red killer high heels. Dinner outside at a lovely restaurant on the very glossy James Street was in order, as was plentiful bubbles and giggles. Cocktails in The Valley saw us through the countdown and numbed the throbbing pain of my fabulous new heels. Win-win really.


New Years day I woke up pleasantly surprised to find that A)- despite the sensation, my feet had not been severed off and B)- The room was not spinning like the wheel of fortune (a horrific flashback to Jan 1st, 2005). An excellent start. As I was staying with my good friend Louise during my Brisbane visit, her family took pity on my temporary orphan-status and extended to me an invitation to their traditional New Years Day seafood fest. Louise, her partner and I found our darkest sunglasses and made our way to the tasty crustaceans and more booze. The oysters, prawns, salmon, salads and baby-back pork were de-didily-licious and I think it was the first time I truly sang praises for the 'hair of the dog' theory after tucking into an irresistible offer of champagne flavoured with wild hibiscus flower and syrup. Certainly a very nice start to 2007!