You can make friends with anyone.
One friend had a mantra, 'just because it's different, doesn't mean it's wrong.'
In London, I avoided Irish nightclubs and pubs but still most of my friends were Irish. London is the most difficult place in the world to make friends with the locals. In Singapore, joining the St Pats Society was the only way to make friends.
Children and dogs are great for breaking the ice and meeting new people.
If you are good at sports, you make 40 new friends instantly. Everyone wants you to be on their team. In fact, you don't even have to be good, just turn up and your teammates are grateful.
Just because you meet someone of the same nationality does not automatically mean you'll get on.
When we moved to Singapore, my sons were then three years old and five months respectively. One of my friends, who is still a good friend, told me I was 'immoral' taking them away from home. It took me some minutes to frame a reply. I told her, gently, at their age wherever their parents were that was home for them.
But best of all, travelling brings out strengths you never knew you had. The five of us confined to a cabin on the Tran-Siberian Express between Beijing and Moscow for six days and nights revealed our children to us. Our youngest son then six years old, realised he had our undivided attention and he became a stand up comedian. He took us all by surprise. Confined to such a tiny space we had no choice but to listen and he was good.
Some years later in Australia, we drove a campervan from Brisbane to Newcastle. My 15 year old son set up the GPS to ensure we did not hit any toll roads. Unaware that he had done this, what should have been six hour cruise down the coast became a 14 hour endurance test. After four hours' driving, my husband needed a break so I took over.
We found ourselves in the 'Outback' which never seemed to end. As we drove through the black night silently panicking, the pygmy tribe 'Wherethefuckarewe' came to mind. Names of towns loomed large on the GPS raising our hopes only to find the 'town' contained a single dwelling with a streetlamp. We drove on into the infinite blackness.
I drove up the mountain and coming down the other side I saw several signs saying 'Do not fry the brakes' and wondered what they meant. I continued to gently pump the brakes as I descended in the complete darkness. I smelled burning. Then suddenly the road split in two. In my panic, I veered left and came to a halt in a sand pit. Immediately, the campervan was enveloped in clouds of evil smelling smoke.
I screamed, "We're on fire," and we all jumped out.
As we backed away from the burning vehicle expecting the engine to explode, I noticed the fabulous night sky. "Look at the stars," I urged my family excitedly.
My husband looked at me in exasperation, "The engine's on fire and you're looking at the f***ing stars."
The engine wasn't on fire.
My husband took over driving. To break the tension, our son (15) started up a stream of consciousness-like banter that lasted for over two hours - he quoted lines from movies, rattled off scenes from the D'unbelievables and other favourite comedy shows. Like my younger son on the train, I marvelled at his personality. Being trapped together, we witnessed a side to him that was unknown to us until now.
Just before midnight, we finally got to Newcastle and pulled into the car-park of a 24-hour McDonald's for dinner. I asked the only other customer about camp sites in the area. He told us they close at 8pm but then suggested we ask the manager if we could stay in the car park saying, "They're good country folk, they'll let you." We asked and they did.
The campervan is so tiny there's a danger of it rolling over if you turn corners too fast and, if one person goes to bed, we all go to bed.
At the stroke of midnight, as we prepared to clamber into bed, my husband announced sadly, "It's my birthday." We took a photo. We spent the night of his 50th in a McDonald's car-park on the side of a dual carriage-way next to a busy roundabout.
The next day, neither my husband or I had the appetite to face another day on the road. Our 18 year son took over the wheel for the 150 mile road to Sydney; a stroll in the park compared to the endurance the day before. We arrived at the outskirts of Sydney at 5pm. He had the use of GPS but in the rain, the gathering gloom, rush-hour traffic and in a city he had never been in before, he remained calm and unflustered as he steered the van flawlessly from the north west edge of the city to the eastern suburbs where our friends live.
You learn about yourself and those people you think you know, through the trials that only travel throws up.
One friend had a mantra, 'just because it's different, doesn't mean it's wrong.'
In London, I avoided Irish nightclubs and pubs but still most of my friends were Irish. London is the most difficult place in the world to make friends with the locals. In Singapore, joining the St Pats Society was the only way to make friends.
Children and dogs are great for breaking the ice and meeting new people.
If you are good at sports, you make 40 new friends instantly. Everyone wants you to be on their team. In fact, you don't even have to be good, just turn up and your teammates are grateful.
Just because you meet someone of the same nationality does not automatically mean you'll get on.
When we moved to Singapore, my sons were then three years old and five months respectively. One of my friends, who is still a good friend, told me I was 'immoral' taking them away from home. It took me some minutes to frame a reply. I told her, gently, at their age wherever their parents were that was home for them.
But best of all, travelling brings out strengths you never knew you had. The five of us confined to a cabin on the Tran-Siberian Express between Beijing and Moscow for six days and nights revealed our children to us. Our youngest son then six years old, realised he had our undivided attention and he became a stand up comedian. He took us all by surprise. Confined to such a tiny space we had no choice but to listen and he was good.
Some years later in Australia, we drove a campervan from Brisbane to Newcastle. My 15 year old son set up the GPS to ensure we did not hit any toll roads. Unaware that he had done this, what should have been six hour cruise down the coast became a 14 hour endurance test. After four hours' driving, my husband needed a break so I took over.
We found ourselves in the 'Outback' which never seemed to end. As we drove through the black night silently panicking, the pygmy tribe 'Wherethefuckarewe' came to mind. Names of towns loomed large on the GPS raising our hopes only to find the 'town' contained a single dwelling with a streetlamp. We drove on into the infinite blackness.
I drove up the mountain and coming down the other side I saw several signs saying 'Do not fry the brakes' and wondered what they meant. I continued to gently pump the brakes as I descended in the complete darkness. I smelled burning. Then suddenly the road split in two. In my panic, I veered left and came to a halt in a sand pit. Immediately, the campervan was enveloped in clouds of evil smelling smoke.
I screamed, "We're on fire," and we all jumped out.
As we backed away from the burning vehicle expecting the engine to explode, I noticed the fabulous night sky. "Look at the stars," I urged my family excitedly.
My husband looked at me in exasperation, "The engine's on fire and you're looking at the f***ing stars."
The engine wasn't on fire.
My husband took over driving. To break the tension, our son (15) started up a stream of consciousness-like banter that lasted for over two hours - he quoted lines from movies, rattled off scenes from the D'unbelievables and other favourite comedy shows. Like my younger son on the train, I marvelled at his personality. Being trapped together, we witnessed a side to him that was unknown to us until now.
Just before midnight, we finally got to Newcastle and pulled into the car-park of a 24-hour McDonald's for dinner. I asked the only other customer about camp sites in the area. He told us they close at 8pm but then suggested we ask the manager if we could stay in the car park saying, "They're good country folk, they'll let you." We asked and they did.
The campervan is so tiny there's a danger of it rolling over if you turn corners too fast and, if one person goes to bed, we all go to bed.
At the stroke of midnight, as we prepared to clamber into bed, my husband announced sadly, "It's my birthday." We took a photo. We spent the night of his 50th in a McDonald's car-park on the side of a dual carriage-way next to a busy roundabout.
The next day, neither my husband or I had the appetite to face another day on the road. Our 18 year son took over the wheel for the 150 mile road to Sydney; a stroll in the park compared to the endurance the day before. We arrived at the outskirts of Sydney at 5pm. He had the use of GPS but in the rain, the gathering gloom, rush-hour traffic and in a city he had never been in before, he remained calm and unflustered as he steered the van flawlessly from the north west edge of the city to the eastern suburbs where our friends live.
You learn about yourself and those people you think you know, through the trials that only travel throws up.
1 comment:
I had no idea you traveled so much. You have to fill me in the next time we meet. I remember those roads in Austraila :-) xx And the stars in the sky were actually amazing. Love that silver lining when the engine went up in smoke. Me, my boyfriend at the time and a girl we had just met a day prior were traveling at dusk on the west coast road. Not the smartest decision... Anyways, she had just arrived and so had not seen a kangaroo. That evening her wish came true. But unfortunately we almost crashed trying to avoid a poor roo. RIP. Total shock!! The stars were amazing that night too ha!!!
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