Today I...don't know if I can find the words.

So I guess its a good thing I have almost a thousand pictures. If a picture is worth a thousand words I guess I have the equivalent of almost a million words in some of the most captivating images I could ever hope to capture.

Two nearly perfect days in Havana - in spite of the plague and a detour to the Tropicana when we should have saved our Pesos and just found some hole in the wall place with the most amazing live music that eminates from every corner and every side street in Old Havana.

In no particular order I...

Bought original art that is beautiful and colorful and captures Havana how I want to remember it. And what was such a small price for me gave three local artists hundreds of their local pesos.

Watched the restoration of a beautiful Cathedral.

Had the best Capuccino I have ever tasted! Actually...had two. And I believe Krista and I would still be there ordering up a steady stream had Old Habana not been calling to us.

Enjoyed cold afternoon cocktails in a tiny park while a Lenny Kravitz look-alike busked for spare change. For four pesos and a beer we were entertained by a Beatles / Bob Marley tribute for more than an hour.

Watched the live action version of Discovery Channel Cuba. There are a lot of dogs that need to be spayed or neutered in Old Habana!

Ate dinner in the square in front of Catedral de San Cristobal.

Stayed at hotel that is a gorgeous colonial restoration - with crap air conditioning but so much character we didn't care. Well...after my third cold shower I didn't care.

Bought a fascinating comic / sticker book that depicts scenes from the Revolution. Who wants some cheesy souvenier when you can have a book of propoganda that some child put together with absolute care and precision. Collecting stickers - are you ready for this? - that came in packages of cigarettes! Not your average "Need it. Need it. Got it." hockey card trading scenario to be sure.

Saw Habana Vieja (Old Havana) from the roof of Hotel Raquel and it literally took my breath away!

Ate an amazing, flavorful breakfast for four pesos at a tiny patisserie that we had watched locals lining up at every time we walked by - the best way to choose a spot to eat I've decided.

Walked for two days straight without even feeling the nasty infection in my feet because I was so captivated by what I was seeing.

Wished I could speak Spanish.

Nearly got a Havana cab driver arrested in Matanzas because we wanted to stop to take pictures and he was not licensed to stop outside of Havana. He earned his generous tip and we got some fabulous shots.

And...took nearly a thousand pictures which I will cherish for a lifetime.

Today I...have the worst case of deja vu EVER!

I am in Varadero, Cuba. It is gorgeous and sunny and hot. The beach is beautiful. The water is beautiful. The people I am travelling with are fabulous. The locals are funny and friendly and colorful.

We went for dinner last night. Outdoors. In February.

We toasted this fact, as one would, when used to hunkering down in a long cold deep freeze of a winter. In fact, we were practically giddy about it given that we were missing some of the coldest weather Canada has ever recorded.

And during dinner...I got bug bites on my feet and ankles.

And by the time I went to bed they were inflamed and red and angry.

Hmmmmm...this seems familiar.

Having learned my lesson in Cairo I did not choose to ride it out this time. I practically bathed in Benadryl spray and took two Benadryl capsules before bed. More spray and more pills in the morning...

And now, 24 hours later, I have been to the resort medical clinic because I have a ring of bites around my right ankle that are infected - one had swollen to the size of a loonie. And once again, I am hideously deformed with the plague. And once again my feet are twice their normal size. And once again I am having palpitations about staph infections and flesh eating disease in a third world country. And once again I am on some form of what I assume is penicillin.

Seriously, the moment I get home I am going to visit my travel Doc for an open ended prescription of Amoxycillin which will take up permanent residence in my travelling pharmacy!

I have to say though, the one departure from the nightmare deja vu is that this time I have a full on support team who are vigilantly watching over me.

Although, we did have to get a little creative in the absence of gauze. In a pinch, I have to say organic cotton panty liners are highly effective at keeping flesh eating disease wounds clean!

Today I...drained my camera battery in one day.

This is a first for me. Usually it lasts a week or more. So clearly I have a good camera battery or I have not been taking nearly enough pictures everywhere else I have been.

But today I was in Havana, Cuba. And I am sure I could have drained two camera batteries if I had more time.

What an absolutely amazing place. A city caught in a moment in time. A city on the verge of what could be a brave new world or the complete obliteration of a culture. A city that is so intensely vibrant and colorful and full of life in spite of the opression that you know lurks in every dark corner. But I have to say, the sun burns hot and bright there. On most streets, its tough to find a dark corner.

We are going back later in the week and I cannot wait. Now that I have the complete awe out of my system I can't wait to know what I will see and feel there the second time around.

This city, and this country, certainly gives one perspective. I am so excessively fortunate. I am struck by the sweet simplicity of not knowing that there is just so much "stuff" out there to want. Boys playing in the streets with a piece of wood and a ball. What I would have given to be able to give them baseballs and bats! Our covert source for cigars on the beach choosing which child he would buy new shoes for this month...and counting how many months before he could buy himself a new t-shirt. But not seeing them want more things.

Pesos for sure. There are a lot of beggars in Havana to be sure. And moms teaching their wee ones to beg or to pose for pictures to get pesos from the touristas. That is unsettling. And we learned a new word - Jinetero - male hustlers who work old havana and the markets to try to sell you crap cigars or force you to pose for pictures so you have to give them a peso.

But there are also a lot of enterprising "entrepreneurs" in Cuba who know how to make themselves a buck and not get caught doing it. And, I'll be honest, if I was to live and work there I would want to be a bar tender. On a good day those guys take home what a doctor would make in a month.

I've met a lot of new people this trip so I've been asked often about my job. Someone asked how many countries I have been to. I had to stop and think...and then I had to count again because it has been 7 countries in 6 months.

Now I know you can do 7 countries in 10 days in Europe if you're determined, but some people won't get to see 7 countires in a lifetime.

And each of them has taught me something different about myself or about the world or has shown me how to see the world in a whole new way.

Until today Cuba had taught me that I really can "shut it off" and be disconnected - and not fret about that. And the people that I have been experiencing Cuba with have taught me the deep importance of family. And I may possibly also have had a moment or 10 where I have learned that it is really ok if it is not always about me.

I haven't quite got my soul around what Havana taught me today. I can't wait to go back and work that out.

Today I...am shaking the Indonesian sand out of my knickers...

...and am wondering if there is some higher power trying to force me to get over my passion for clean feet.

First, a comment about my beautiful life: I have a really, undeniably, deliciously beautiful life. I went to Indonesia. For the weekend. Because I could. And when you can do something like go to Indonesia for the weekend there is just no excuse not to. And I am pleased to report that, while I silently got really excited about the fact that the entry visa takes an entire page in my passport plus an entry stamp and an exit stamp, 97.2% of the caucasian's in the ferry terminal were visibly and vocally very excited about this. There's a silly little thrill you get when entering a country consumes an entire page - or more - in your passport. I'm happy to report that I still get a thrill out of what the new stamps in my passport look like with every new country I visit. I hope that never changes.

Second, I am seriously beginning to wonder if there are forces at work that are greater than I saying "Yo! Lady! Get over your feet already!"

So, I can imagine my lovely parents reading this and thinking about all of the road trips we went on when I was a kid. I'm not sure if they were fully aware of my issues about clean, dry feet. But they were certainly aware of my issues with public washrooms. I hate them. When I was younger I loathed them with a deep and voracious passion. It cracks my parents up to no end to talk about all the times when I desperately needed to use the lou only to flatly refuse to do so because there was a fly in the washroom. Or dirty tiles. Or a spider. Or water leaking. Or an outrageous stench of death. But it didn't take much to get me to hold it for hours. A simple little housefly was more than enough to convince me I really didn't need to go after all.

I've managed to over come this to some extent. However, its actually more like I've evolved to have "acceptable bathroom radar". I am not ashamed to tell you that I plan my water intake around when and where I am most likely to encounter an acceptable bathroom. For instance, most bathrooms at a 5 star resort are likely to be acceptable. All bathrooms in a fishing village on the Island of Bintan are guaranteed not to be acceptable.

Somewhere along the way I also developed a need to always have clean, dry feet. Now, there are some exceptions to this rule - wet feet when in the shower or in a swimming pool are acceptable. Wet feet on cold, wet, change room floors are not.

Wet, sandy feet savoring the ocean are definitely acceptable. Wet, sandy feet stepping into an oil slick on the beach...you guessed it, NOT acceptable!! I was on a gorgeous beach on a gorgeous day. I was moving my lounger to allow myself to soak up some sun when I felt a squish. And I looked down. And I tried to speak and nothing came out. And then, in spite of wanting to hyperventilate, I managed to say "What did I step in?!?!?!" And it would not rub off in the sand. And it would not rub off in the grass. And when I reached down to try to pull it off my foot I realized it was oil. The kind you send to a refinery so that they can clean it all up nice so you can put it in your car. Sticky, black, thick, heavy oil soaked sand and various oil soaked flotsam was stuck to my foot.

Now I know this raises all kinds of horrifying questions about how we are poisoning our earth, but all I could really think about in that moment was "Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!!!" And then I spent the next 15 minutes using sand and ocean water to try to separate the oily schmengy from my feet and exfoliate it out of my skin...because it was now on my feet and my hands.

And so when I got back to the hotel in Singapore tonight the first thing I did was bolt straight to the pharmacy in the mall attached and buy a pumice stone. And then, in spite of the heat of the day, I had a wickedly hot shower and I pumiced the ever lovin' hell out of my feet.

They're clean now. And they're dry. But I think I will need to repeat this process daily for the next three days and have a pedicure before I truly am convinced of that.

Today I...am not a very graceful traveller.

Or...alternative title for today's post...Today I am in hell, and its name is LAX!

Depending on events leading up to a long journey, I often actually look forward to the "long haul" if for no other reason than, should I decide to be reflective, it gives me a lot of time to reflect. I am unreachable for many hours at a time. And, possibly I am just lucky or am an expert at employing "the power of the secret", but I am a very lucky traveller.

Today was no different. Today was a 24 hour journey. And on my journey today everything went precisely right.

Every flight (3 of them) was precisely on time. Turbulance was oh so mild. My luggage was precisely where it was meant to be, when it was meant to be there - twice. Food on Singapore Airlines was fabulous. Wasn't hungry on the Air Canada leg so no worries about their not fabulous food. I slept. For seven hours on the Tokyo - LA flight. I worked. I read.

And miracle or miracles...my feet didn't even swell!

However, in spite of all that, today was the most pedestrian, obnoxious, draining travel day!

4 airports. 1 of which was LAX. If you've ever transitted through there I need say no more.
+
3 boardings. 3 de-planings.
+
3 not so patient waits in long holiday travel immigration lines.
+
1 long walk between terminals. The air in LA felt nice for the first 30.7 seconds. And then I proceeded to walk the 10 city blocks between terminals. That's right...if terminal to terminal transport exists at LAX there was a conspiracy against me because no less than four uniformed LAX employees told me "No ma'am. You gotta' walk." Not that I mind a walk when I've been on a 10 hour flight but...really?!? And for 99% of that lovely walk I walked past entrance after entrance after entrance to terminals 4 - 3 - 2 - 1...where all of the smokers are out having a puff.
+
432 children who were well past their tolerance of the joy that is air travel.
=
Teri is not so in love with the travel day!

In LAX alone I...

1. Had my calves crashed into by the fine, sophisticated traveller behind me in the immigration line so many times I finally took a very deep breath, turned to him, smiled, and very sweetly said "You seem a little impatient. Why don't you go ahead of me." And he did. He mumbled an apology, but he did take my place. Unacceptable! But I did not feel the need to cause a scene and get hauled into secondary. I was already miserable enough. I would not have been a good sport about that. In fact, I would probably still be there. And the Japanese couple who were then behind me were lovely and funny and helped pass the time.
2. Watched as, of the four immigration dudes serving my lane of about 200 passengers, three went on their breaks. Forever the optimist I expected someone to come take their place. But no. That would have made sense. Instead, one lonely soul was left to deal with all of us. Per usual I found the "weary smile" went a long way. He took one look at me, glanced at my passport and immigration form, stamped, and wished me a pleasant day. I am not sure if he was aware of the beautiful irony of that statement.
3. Waited a reeeeee-dic-u-lusssss amount of time for an elevator to take me up one level from arrivals to departures. There were no stairs. No escalator. No other way of escape. I was over-heated. I was tired. I was grumpy. I was desperate for the Maple Leaf Lounge. The elevator finally came. I got in. The doors closed. I Waited. And waited. I took yet another deep breath and prayed fervently that it was not stuck. And the elevator began to move. I could not get off that thing fast enough!
4. Went through security. I had forgotten that I was going through a US airport. I was wearing flip flops. I was going to be required to take them off. I, as you know by now, am moderately obsessed with having clean feet. I had some issues with this situation. I also had issues with the fact that they closed two of the four security lanes and created a bottle neck of epic proportions.
5. Was so flustered by the waiting and the lines and the near miss in the elevator from hell and the removing of my shoes that I walked through the metal detector with my cell phone in my hand. So was made to walk back, put my phone through the xray, and go through again. All the while in turmoil over the fact that I am walking through LAX security with bare feet!!!
6. In desperation for civilization and caffeine I went to Starbucks. God love Starbucks. The Barrista was actually even friendly. However, she did not secure the lid on my cup. I spilled latte all over my passport. I am such the International Woman of Mystery right about now!
7. Went in search of the oasis of the Maple Leaf Lounge. Ahhhhhhhhh. Tranquility....until I was turned away because of aforementioned Starbucks latte. "Ma'am we do not allow any outside food or beverages."

My response: "Seriously?!?"

Her response: "Seriously! Did you not read the sign on the door?"

My response: "You mean the door that is about as thick and heavy as a bank vault? That door? Apparently I was too busy balancing my laptop case, purse, carry on with fragile gifts, passport, boarding pass, and LATTE to notice."

And since they do not allow luggage carts once inside security and I of course was not travelling light, I turned around, pulled open the giant door that was as thick and heavy as a bank vault, and spilled more latte on my passport.

Needless to say, once I had dutifully finished what was left of my latte, I returned to the lounge, logged on to aircanada.com and submitted a most eloquently worded comment that essentially indicated how interesting I find it that they will allow me to spend an inordinate amount of money to travel with them but will not allow me to enjoy a latte in their lounge. I am sure I will enjoy their response.

And then I remembered my feet. But I was in an executive lounge. The bathrooms are great. I could take care of this.

Except in LAX. Where I walked around the entire lounge like a moron looking for the bathrooms. Approached the same lovely attendant at the desk and inquired where they might be.

Her response: "Oh. They're out in the main concourse, down the escalator across from the Starbucks."

My response: "Seriously?!?"

Her response: "Seriously."

Today I...am grateful for Purell Anti-Bacterial gel in regulation size bottles.

Today I...determined that no one who reads my blog speaks Malay

Today I...went to Malaysia.

That's right. I woke up. Showered (for the first time), had breakfast, and went to Malaysia. Just like you could do that any time the whim struck you.

And after passing through the rather intimidating "Woodlands Checkpoint" in Singapore - which looks startlingly like a prison where one would never ever wish to go - I started seeing signs everywhere that read "Salamat Datang". And I thought, where have I heard that before? And then I remembered the signs for the "pre-circumcision" party that my colleagues and I inadvertently crashed a few weeks ago. We thought that the party was to "Welcome Salamat Datang". As it turns out, it was just a bi-lingual sign. That's right. Salamat Datang means "welcome" in Malay.

Good to know.

Even so, I continue to believe the pour wee soul who was being welcomed that day was a boy because, again, it just makes me feel better.

Today I also got some amazing photos in spite of having far too little time to explore Melaka, one of the oldest cities in South East Asia. However, even if I had more time I don't know how many more photos I would have gotten since my battery died on the bus on the way back to Singapore as I was looking through the pictures of the day.

I love this exploring. This attempting to capture the life and the color and the spirit of a place. And - as I had FAR too much time on my hands on the interminable bus ride back to Singapore from Melaka (Malaka? Malacca? - You say Melaka, I say Malacca, lets call the whole thing off? They spell it at least four different ways...sometimes in the same brochure or web site) - I had to wonder...

If I went to my home and tried to look at it through eyes that had never seen it before, what would I see?

What unique, beautiful architecture?

What captivating human souls?

What quirky, funny, or unusual moments would I capture? Just because I was actually looking!

And I was thinking about all of the shots that I miss.

The deeply stirring, richly colorful monks who walk too fast and duck around the corner before I can frame the shot.

The hundreds of students in vibrant yellow shirts climbing ancient stone stairs up a brilliant green hill to the ruins of a Portugese church that I can't capture because of the obnoxious tourist trying to get a photo of his shrill girlfriend who keeps moving - in precise mirror image to my movements to avoid her - into the centre of my frame.

The ancient crumbling doorframe that I simply cannot frame without being crouched in the middle of the narrowest road where I am continually being honked at because, lets face it, I am continually having near misses with various scooters, motor cycles, lorry mirrors, or...my all time favorite...the near miss with the bus!

And then, of course as always on these excursions, the journey "home" took far too long and I had to keep reminding myself what an amazing day I had had.

And then we had dinner on a beautiful outdoor patio. In December. And I fell back in love with my life.

And then I remembered how spicy and sticky I was...and that I had used public toilets all day...and that worst horror of all...my feet were dirty!! So I came back to my room to shower (again) and tell you about my day.

Today I...really love Miller Harris Shower Gel and fluffy white towels! But more than that, I love that there are postcards from Malaysia on my desk just waiting to send messages home to a few of the people I miss the most.

Today I...took an entire day off!

I have to admit that, even though I work long intense days, and clearly this gig is for real - I still have to sort of pinch myself and ask "Is this really my life?" every now and then.

I just spent an hour sorting through photos and uploading them to smugmug and I have to say I am so utterly amazed that I get to have this life.

But the funny thing is, whenever I post photos I get a lot of emails (which I love, so please keep writing!) and many of them say things like "Wow, it looks like you're really enjoying as much time exploring as you are working" or "You look so relaxed, you must be getting lots of R'nR".

The reality is that when I am on the road I pack as much fabulousness into the one day off I get each week as I possibly can. Take a thousand pictures. And post what looks like 6 days exploring.

And honestly...I am usually as refreshed after that one fabulous day as I would be after a week off. Which is a good thing. Because let me tell you a little bit about my week.

First, I have been having conference calls. A lot of conference calls. With Toronto and New York. Which means that the earliest they start is 9 pm my time. Usually they are more likely to start at 11 pm my time.

The lovely thing about conference calls at this time of day is that I do have time to go to the gym after work...which gives me a second wind...which gives me the ability to focus and actually contribute to aforementioned conference calls and make them productive.

The more lovely thing about conference calls and second winds at this time of day is it gives me a chance to chat with the godesses of brand marketing in TO. These calls are also productive, but decidedly less so than the ones where I have to be all "businessy". They usually end with me crying with laughter and my pal Nat saying "Teri I HAVE to hang up now. I'm laughing so loud I'm making a scene". But I'm sure its worth it because between her and I we have come up with an amazing campaign to rebrand...um....never mind.

One of the things we were completely undone by this week was the fact that with two words I nearly got someone fired. Well...not so much fired really as told there was no longer a need for their services. The team here is very eager to please. They are also desperately concerned about losing. There is a word for it. "Kiasu". I have grown to hate this word. It literally means "afraid to lose". No one has yet been able to give me a Mandarin word for "driven to win". So their motivation - and they have a lot of motivation - is driven by fear instead of by strategy or desire or just raw competitiveness. They also don't like ambiguity. Nothing stresses them out more than ambiguity. So I have learned to be very concise in my answers and direction.

So, when I was asked "Should I tell him this is the final E communication we will be sending using our previous method and database". I said "Yes. Absolutely." And a dark and deeply troubled look crossed her face and she repeated the question. And I repeated the same answer and moved blythely along to the next item on the agenda. Until about 5 minutes later she meekly interrupted and said..."But I am just not sure how to address this because his contract does not end until June."

At which point I said..."Oh no!!! No! NO!! That is not what I meant!!"

So I am most delighted that on my very first day here I strongly encouraged everyone to ask questions and ensure they had clarity before taking any action or completing any item in the project plan. Phew!! Can you just even imagine?!? I am beginning to see why consultants get a bad name. "Who told you to terminate his contract?" "Teri told me to."

And yet, while they cannot abide ambiguity they do love wildly over the top copy writing. Joel, you would find it unequivocally sublime I am sure. I get emails from Toronto that read like this..."Does this really say "enflamed with a burning desire"? Really?" Full stop. No preamble. No salutation. No close. Just copy angst. So my response was, "I gave her my Harlequin Romance Guide to Copywriting. You don't like that style?"

Nat, just so you know, I just noticed today that there is a poster in the elevator wishing everyone "Season's Greens with Jim Beam". I am confused. If it was a golf promo I could see the play on words...maybe. I think perhaps you really should jump on the next plane. I don't have time to manage copy writing. I have revenue to generate!

Today I...am spicy!

Today I...am spicy and sticky...and so I just had my third shower of the day.

I know that in some ways I am kind of a high maintenance lass. But compared to the strappy stiletto sandals, designer labels (from shades to hand bags to clothes to accessories to cell phone holders to key rings), skinny jeans and full on photo shoot ready make up of the local girls I am a down right tom boy. I suppose I could argue that they are aclimatized to the heat and humidity but seriously? I don't know how they stay so put together. I don't know if I'll ever get used to the "all over body glow"...and therefore I shower with a frequency that may be moderately obsessive-compulsive.

I woke up very early for a Sunday morning for me. The Swissotel - which is attached via a 70,000 sq ft shared convention centre to Raffles the Plaza Singapore and therefore not only a "sister" hotel but more like a "Siamese Twin" hotel - was sponsoring Singapore's Vertical Marathon. So it was all hands on deck. So I had to be at least somewhat put together. Shower #1. I honestly didn't do much other than take advantage of an opportunity to access the heli-pad on the 72nd story of the building for some great photos...and then take photos of participants with their cameras when they finished their gruelling run up 72 stories - in 35 degree heat with about a thousand and ten percent humidity! It was HOT up there. I'm surprised no one passed out (myself included). Youngest participant was 12. Oldest was 83.

So when I saw this beautiful 83 year old climb those stairs with as much stamina - or more - than most of the participants I decided I best go for a workout myself! So I spent an hour on the elyptical groovin' to P!NK and working up a pretty serious glow. Shower #2.

And then, because the best way to see a city is to walk it, I decided to trek all over Singapore...with one of the tallest people I have ever met. Who walks fast in addition to having serious stride length. And who doesn't really stop to marvel at things while his touring companions are taking photos. So I did a bit of jogging today - in 35 degree heat with about a thousand and ten percent humidity. So in order to be able to sleep with myself tonight...Shower #3!

Its cooling off this week though - going down to 30. But there are going to be thunder showers. So at least it will be humid :-)

Spent the afternoon in Little India, Arab Street and Kampong Glam. That is a lot of cultural areas to hit in one day but it was a great way to gain an understanding of who the people of Singapore really are. You could stick to the pristinely clean, modern, very British city populated by "Singaporeans" and expats if you wanted to. Or you could see all the colors and the cultures. We chose the latter. And, in Kampong Glam, the Malaysian quarter, we inadvertently crashed a "Pre-circumcision" party for wee Selamat Datang. We decided, just to make ourselves feel better, that for sure Selamat must be a boy's name.

Today I...am curious

Today I...am curious about a lot of things actually.

I am curious about the very large Asian family (four grandparents, two parents, three little girls, and the most beautiful boy with a very broken body, and one nanny) who scolded their little girl Annabelle (a decidedly not-so-Asian name) in crisp, unaccented English when she:

1. Approached my table and watched me write in my journal
2. Smiled very very coyly
3. Covered her mouth with her hands and giggled
4. and snatched the Orchid off my plate.

I thought she was curious about me. Clearly she was merely an adorable cleptomaniac. But she got a severe scolding for being "very rude and very naughty" which made her cry and made me want to give her the Orchid she was made to bring back to me. But what cheered her up absolutely made my day. This little boy whose body has clearly betrayed him, wheeled his chair around the table and said "Come on Anna, lets go play". And she put her hand on the arm of his chair and he very independently wheeled out to the promenade with his dad following behind nonchelanty as if any 6 year old in a wheelchair should be able to head to the harbour on a whim with no barriers in his mind.

I am curious about the woman with the expensive camera who was infinitely particular about taking shots of the Hong Kong skyline...and then sat down beside me, pulled a white teddy bear out of her bag, and proceeded to talk to him for a good 10 minutes before packing her things, putting on a pair of musical note socks, and walking away. I was wishing I understood Mandarin. I can only assume she was telling him all about the pretty photos she took. Or perhaps she was promising him a tasty treat, like tentacles on a stick.

I am curious about how we managed to take decent vacation photos before we could instantly see how they turned out...and when we actually had to count in increments of 12 - 24 - 36 exposures. I have been here a day and have over 200 photos...a pretty slow day for me actually.

I am curious about the complete inability of people to take a simple snap shot. Why do these people even have cameras?!?

One of the challenges of travelling alone is that you have to find willing and at least moderately capable strangers to take your picture (so as to prove you were actually there and not just skiving someone elses photos). I employed several strategies:

1. Find another person travelling alone trying to take the "self portrait". Bingo. Great Success! But that was just on the first shot of the day.
2. Approach caucasian couples - high probability that they speak English and that they will want a photo of themselves together. Less successful. Photos of myself at Victoria Peak took about 8 tries to get some good ones. Whereas the couples I had asked to take my picture all walked away exclaiming "Oh! This is a great picture of us!" about the shot I took of them. So, I guess the upside of that is about 8 couples got nice photos of themselves at the Peak today.
3. Approach people with fancy cameras. Less likely to make a run with mine and chances are if they are going to shell out that much for a camera they actually have some skills. Not so much. Worst night snap shots of me - EVER! Unacceptable. I seriously had no less than 16 tries (seriously - I counted the blurry, over exposed, side ways, dark shots of me that I deleted) to get some marginally decent photos in front of the night skyline. I was determined! I wanted that shot damn it!

Having gone through 1 through 3 above the strategy that finally worked?

4. Approach the adorable Asian girl who is loaded down with her Louis Vuitton bag, a Starbucks coffee, a cell phone, laughing at herself trying to take a self portait. Take two great shots of her. She returns the favor and - voila! I have two shots - slightly blurry, but at least my eyes are open, I am actually in the picture, and so are the buildings across the harbour. Great success!

And finally, I am curious about how my fabulous sturdy and practical, yet fashionable shoes completely failed me today and tore my heels to shreds. And also how, after changing to flip flops so that I could actually walk without wincing, I returned from the Ladies Market to find that my feet were even dirtier than after returning from Khan el Khalili in Cairo!!! I just recovered from one plague so I am just marginally paranoid about contracting another. Perhaps I should try to wrangle a standing order of Amoxycillin in every city I visit. Dr. Bonnie can you hurry up and get a job running the World Health Organization so you can hook a sister up?

Today I...sure am grateful for Roxy flip flops, but am needing to get over my obsessive-compulsive disorder about how completely unacceptable it is to have dirty feet.

Today I...contemplated trying Tentacles on a Stick...

...but then I wimped out.

Today I...had an amazing day in Hong Kong. Sort of a surreal day. It is always a bit strange to find yourself on the other side of the world when you live on a schedule that is at best loosely planned 2 to 4 months in advance but never firmly planned until within 2 weeks.

But I was asked to be in Singapore a couple of weeks earlier than the plan ("subject to change without notice" as always) and figured if I absolutely must go through Hong Kong to get there I should really get off the plane and check it out. Have I mentioned that I love my job?

So, in addition to the usual schtick - Harbour Promenade, Star Ferry, Victoria Peak, Symphony of Lights - I decided to go to Mongkok to the Ladies Market on Tung Choi Street. Now, I know that all sounds really exotic but in actuality it was a mere 3 subway stops away from the harbour. The Ladies Market is to Hong Kong what Khan el Khalili is to Cairo and Karama is to Dubai.

It is absolutely packed with thousands and thousands of people. It smells like a cross between incense, rancid tempura, a hypnotic blend of 402 knock off fragrances, and something...unidentifiable. The latter, I later discovered, is the oh so alluring aroma of "tentacles on a stick". Yum. What a tasty snack!

So, I suppose the tentacles on a stick (tentacle kabobs?) are to street meat in HK what the paper cones of pidgeon in a bucket are to street meat in Cairo. Deeeeee-lish!

And I have to say that, while I am really not a big fan of crowds, I love the energy and just full on crazy of these markets! However, the constant barrage of "Missy, missy - you want handbag / wallet / watchy?" was only slightly less aggressive than the Arabic version of "Lady, lady - handbag / wallet". But both were better than the in your face "Ma'am, Ma'am, MA'AM!!! HANDBAG!!!" of the hawkers in Karama in Dubai. How is it that anyone out there is actually buying the real thing? Coach, Gucci, Louis Vuitton...I could start a side business if it weren't for the fact that I am constantly riding the airline weight limits within 2.8 pounds!

I am sure that last paragraph doesn't read as well as it would play if you could actually hear the accents.

And, speaking of which, Erin you and I thought it was beyond hilarious listening to the locals in Houston order Starbucks??? I will work on perfecting "Grande-nonfat-no foam - extra hot - sugar free - vanilla latte" with an Asian accent. I nearly spewed coffee out my nose when the Barrista barked it back at the top of his lungs. It would have made sense to hear it in Mandarin. In English it just seemed so completely out of place. But somehow as much as it was funny I sort of hate Starbucks for taking over the world...and at the same time I love them passionately for being a familiar sight in a very unfamiliar place.

Today I...am reminded that I am the foreigner and I am ever so lucky that the one language I speak has so far been universal in my travels.

Today I...may be giving you just a little too much information

So...here is what I love about this blog...people actually care about the fact that I am writing. It sort of blows my mind a little. And so I feel very bad that I had super dodgy internet access in Cairo and couldn't do my usual schtick of crawling into bed at night and waxing either philosophical or hysterically funny depending on my mood.

To make up for lost time I thought I would point form my Egypt experience for you - photos posted on SmugMug for those more inclined to view than to read.

• The weather was perfect, gorgeous, clear and sunny and hot and fabulous and consistent. Amazing. Coming from Calgary weather so reliable is almost a miracle.
• The existing hotel - attached to the new hotel I was there to open - was not exactly the kind of property I have become accustomed to staying in. I am spoiled. We have established this. I was mentally prepared. But that didn't matter. I struggled with the hotel to be sure.
• On the morning of my sixth day I was walking down the corridor to the elevator...in my fabulous suit, and my fabulous pumps, with my fabulous swiss army office on wheels...and I had a revelation. "I'm over it. I'm over it. I can deal." When I shared this with my transition / resource team later in the day they collapsed in laughter....even though I had kept all my angst and discomfort to myself they were wondering how long it would take me to accept reality and move on.
• The Cairo "Black and White" Taxi is a cultural experience not to be missed. I will never ever in my life complain about traffic in North America again. There is a wild and innovative and nearly spiritual governance to traffic in Cairo. They make two lanes into four, and four lanes into eight. They communicate eloquently with their horns. And Allah forbid you do not know the unnofficial "rules of the road". For us very white, very homogenous, very North American folk it goes like this: Haggle over price. Agree on what is fair. Get in. Hold on. Trust.
• "If it ain't rubbin' it ain't racin' '" - I believe it was Days of Thunder or some such inane western movie about racing that we all got excited about. Well....that happens every day in a city in Northern Africa that is far more Middle East than African....unless there is a loud thundering CRASH or somebody bleeding, it is just the course of day to day traffic. "If it ain't rubbin' it ain't drivin' "
• Shisha...its herbs. Maybe tobacco. Whatever it is, it smells amazing. It tastes amazing. It is social and connecting. It makes you feel mellow. It melts the entire day away as if it was a mirage.
• The Plague. Let me just hide this little bit of information amoung so many other tidbits, facts, and random thoughts. I got bug bites. My body reacted violently against them. Instead of searching my mini pharmacy (ever present in my luggage) for benadryl I decided to "ride it out". Bad idea. They were persistent and itchy and so frustrating...and then I went to Khan el Khalili....
• Khan el Khalili...you really have to hear me say it, in my best possible Arabic. It is throaty and...well....sort of like hawking a loogie...but this market represented to me a snapshot of life in Cairo that was so real and so cool and yet - so very very very dodgy.
• Khan el Khalili is a market place - a souk - where I thought there would be lots of tourists but I was the only caucasian female. In spite of my three "Infidel Habibis" and one "Arabic Habibi" I got a LOT of attention...and a nasty, scary, third world infection (that I am happy to report succumed to some amoxycillin after 8 days home in North America)
• It is eye opening to be white, and blue eyed, and blonde in such a place....everyone wanted to touch me - know my name - be beside me....I will be forever grateful to my Moroccan Habibi, Fahd, who gave a few Egytpian pounds to the sweet little girls who wanted to hold my hand and in the process broke my heart
• And in addition to a wide open and sad heart I brought home Egyptian treasures from Khan el Khalili...and I brought home the plague. Infection in my right toes and left ankle so bad I worried if anyone laid eyes on it they would not let me fly home....something about that bloke who flew with tuburculosis came to mind. And I selfishly flew home anyway.
• And I was greeted by my friend Greg - and he represented my darling, sweet, dear circle of friends...and he represented HOME...and I don't know if I have ever had a deeper, sweeter sleep in my life than I did that night.
• And now, having had my soul and my body fed...I can't wait to go again.

I love this life I have been granted. I can't wait to see what my passport looks like by January.

Today I...am overwhelmed with the possibility and so grateful for all that keeps me grounded and connected to my home.

Today I...am shaking the sand out of my knickers...

...and recovering from the mashed potato smack down at Greg & Diana's on the weekend!

I cannot tell you how I was craving some good Alberta farm style cookin'! Clearly not something I am capable of myself so, per usual, I relied on the hospitality and skills of my dear friends and their dear friends and ended up with a heaping plate of Turkey (delicious, perfect, yummy Turkey) and no less than four varieties of mashed potatoes smothered in gravy on my plate and in my very very grateful belly!

I imagine the fact that I needed a four hour nap the following day was more to do with carb overload and sugar shock than an 8 time zones = 8 days of recovery formula.

But, as much as I nearly cried with the joy of getting into my beautiful, soft, delightful bed when I got to return home unexpectedly (two weeks early from Cairo and four weeks early from my original plan)...And as much as I have felt so deeply grateful to hug and kiss my dear friends and look in their eyes and really just see them...I miss the field. I miss the amazing new people I have had the privledge to walk a dry desert road with. I miss the hilarity and adrenalin of a taxi ride in Cairo. I miss the daily wrap up where you can see the accomplishment and pride everyone brings to the table after the longest of long days. I even miss the hazing...well, maybe I don't really miss the hazing. It was painful. But I miss being tested and found to be stronger than perhaps those who sought to call my skills into question thought I would be.

And I miss my new friends as much as I miss my dear, true, lifelong friends when I am away.

So the wonderful thing about that is it tells me - yet again (because I have had so many affirmations) - that I am in the place that is absolutely right for me.

And Today I...am thankful! I feel so rejuvenated by being home and feeling so loved by so many. Today I...am aware that I have a rich life.

Shout out to Joel (who is, and always will be, the wind beneath my wings) for the inspiration for today's blog title.

Today I...am wondering if I should actually be telling you this...

...but I have to because it would just be crazy not to.

The other day I was working away in the Sales office and I happened to glance out the window (yes, they have windows in the office...but if you are reading this and you happen to work in a hotel sales office somewhere else and be jealous of said windows, don't be. The windows definitely do not make up for the rest of the grey environment, the smoke smell, the lack of good equipment, and general disarray I assure you). Walking past the window was a man dressed in dirty grey pants, a dirty striped button down shirt, and scuffed and torn shoes. He had something in his hand.

I took a closer look and said to my colleague from Cairo, "Oh my god, that guy has a gun". She glanced up and nonchelantly said "Meh...he's probably a plain clothes officer". I said "Really? He doesn't really look like one". To which she replied "Well...maybe not in Canada or London (where she is originally from)...but he could definitely be one here".

Alrighty then.

I've gotten used to having to go through metal detectors everywhere I go. Coming into the hotel. The shopping mall. Office towers. And I've gotten used to the 5 or 6 armed guards I see around the hotel every day and the uniformed lads with their machine guns and bomb sniffing dogs at every security check point approaching every hotel I have visited during my competitive set tours. I've even gotten used to the fact that the hotel that I am here to open lists "bullet proof glass" as one of its unique selling features and boasts about it in their local press releases.

But let me tell you what is a bit more difficult to get used to.

The other night during our 6 PM daily wrap up meeting the General Manager of the hotel did his usual "these are the priorities I see for the coming days and I thank you all again for being here" schtick and then he said:

"You are going to think that I am not serious when I say this, but I assure you that I am very serious. Tonight we have staying in our hotel the leaders and senior members of both Fatah and Hamas. They have been invited here by the Egyptian President for meetings. You will definitely see increased security presence around the hotel. I am going to advise you that before you go to bed you should lay out some clothes and your running shoes and ensure your passport is near by. If you hear commotion or an alarm goes off during the night, get dressed, grab your passport, leave the hotel through the back emergency exits and meet on Corniche el Nil, the street that runs behind the hotel."

That brings a whole new meaning to our inside joke about "evacuation outfits" hey Dr. Bonnie? And, to all my peeps at the Sheraton Suites, we've always thought we had the most interesting groups stay with us? I have to say, I never thought I would say that I stayed at the same hotel as not only the ruling violent and extreme political party in Palestine, but that their marginally more sane and peaceful opposition party was there at the same time.

Strangely enough I slept very peacefully that night.

Today I...wish you all Ramadan Kareem

To which you are meant to reply "Allah akrem"

Which, loosely translated into English means "Teri is getting just a touch grumpy and cannot concentrate because she has been essentially fasting for Ramadan for the past four days and has not had more than a few pieces of fruit between sunrise and sunset and has not had her morning latte since Wednesday!"

So, even though I am clearly not of the Muslim faith, I have been trying to show respect to all of my Muslim colleagues here in Cairo by not eating or drinking in front of them. And perhaps there is something to this Ramadan thing because it has definitely made me think about self-indulgence, what I really need as opposed to what I want, and again about the mystery of why one is born when and where they are as opposed to in a different time and place. My sister sent me this quote the other day and I love it. It completely reflects what I have been contemplating seeing the life of women in the middle east and the poverty that so many people live in here.

"The woeful fright in the coal-smutted face made her suddenly so sorry that she could scarcely bear it. One of her queer thoughts rushed into her mind. She put her hand against Becky's cheek.'Why,' Sara said, 'we are just the same ~ I am only a little girl like you. It's just an accident that I am not you, and you are not me!'"~ A Little Princess, F.H. Burnett ~

So...I shall continue to do my best not to offend but I think I am over the lack of a morning latte already. I just finished my 8th day of work in a row with no opportunity to go out and explore the amazing city I am in. So I figure it is worth a latte to ensure my sanity until I can get some pool and pyramid time hooked up.

Oh...and for those who are curious...Ramadan Kareem means "Ramadan is generous to all" - and it truly is. It is like Christmas for a month. People may be fasting all day but they get to leave work at 3 PM and promptly crash hard when they get home because once the sun goes down it is just one giant feast and a party. The response Allah Akrem means "Allah's generosity is even greater." That one I am not so sure about. He seems like a pretty exacting and unforgiving dude but perhaps my friends here will educate me and I'll come to see him in a different way.

Today I...had Shish Taouk for dinner...

...so its a good thing I'm not kissing anyone good night because I think I ate a few cloves of garlic!

I don't have a lot to say today other than the fact that I wanted to add some commentary to the photos I posted on Smugmug. Yesterday I got to go for a tour of the Burj Al Arab. For hotel geeks like me that is a big freakin' deal!

This hotel has a PR machine behind it and has really been the first thing to position Dubai as a destination in the minds of most people. They even created a new rating for themselves - they call themselves a 7 Star hotel. Presumably because no other hotel could possibly come close to that level. It is an amazing sail shaped building that sits out on the Indian Ocean just slightly off shore. The building is phenomenal...

...the interior design on the other hand is completely garish and over the top. It is this crazy Arabian - Asian fusion. A mad mish mash of every possible design principle you can imagine.

It needs to be over the top to live up to expectation, but this is just whack. Unfortunately they didn't let me take a lot of pictures in the suite we saw but I did get some great photos of the city (and the haze) from there.

Very cool experience. Very happy to have had that view of Dubai before I move from this desert to another one.

Also, throwing back to a previous post...my nephew made the most astute comment about my Call to Prayer post. I was baffled by how the people who live in these barren unforgiving lands with just killing climates choose to subscribe to a harsh religion. My lovely 12 year old lad said, "But if the land is harsh and the climate is harsh then wouldn't the people assume that God is also harsh?" Not all good looks with that kid I say! I thought that was a pretty insightful observation.

Today I...am not sad my time in Dubai is nearing an end for this trip.

Today I...bought knock off Chanel shades in Karama

I also drank about three litres of water and didn't need to use the lou even once.

It was 43 degrees, but with the humidity felt like about 48 (Hayley, that is like the "windshield" factor, only different). I am definitely getting accustomed to the all over body glow. All I have to say is thank goodness for hotel laundry services!

In the past 24 hours I have experienced two very different sides of Dubai.

Last night I went for drinks and dinner at Madinat Jumeirah - an area that houses two resort hotels, many restaurants, night clubs, wine bars, and Sheesha bars as well as a recently built Souk. But it is definitely the sterilized, air conditioned, westernized version of a souk. The architechture is beautiful and evocative of arabian desert structures, but lets face it, it is at most 5 years old. A lot of expats and young arabs hang out in the restaurants and bars here.

Got a wonderful view of the Burj al Arab - the famous sail shaped hotel that put Dubai on the map as a tourist destination. And actually got to have cocktails sitting outdoors. It had cooled down to about 35 degrees, so the locals thought it was fabulous patio weather. So much for the desert being cold at night!

Then today one of the girls from the Fairmont Dubai took me out driving to see the city. Unfortunately it was so humid that it was incredibly hazy and the lense on my camera kept fogging up and it was just too too hot to stand outside or walk around to take photos so I did not get nearly as many pictures as I had hoped. The buildings here are amazing. And the pace of construction is staggering. On average they complete three floors per week on the big sky scrapers here. They have masses and masses of cheap labour from India and Pakistan and who knows what the building codes are like. Certainly there is little regard for health and safety standards and all workers are on a 6 day work week putting in 12 hours each day. It sure is dramatic to see these buildings rising out of the desert. But I am not sure I'd want to be living on the 37th floor - or working on the 172nd floor of the Burj Dubai when it is complete. Soon to be the tallest building in the world, this monster is going to be a full 200 m taller than Tapei 101.

We also went to a souk in Karama. Where we haggled with a vendor for Pashminas and my fancy new shades. He wanted to charge me 45 Dirhams for one particular pashmina because he could tell I really liked it. In the end I walked away and he ended up coming back with the price we wanted. And then when I got back to the room I did the math...I was arguing over paying him the equivalent of $12 USD for something that usually costs around $80 - $200 USD. Crazy.

But I was so hot and grumpy by that point I actually managed to pull of a pretty good "you're not taking me for a ride because I'm a foreigner" negotiation.

This evening after dinner of Hummus, Fatoush, Sambousek, and Kebbeh in Deira, thinking about the total diquotomy between the very rich here and those who work so hard under inhumane conditions for almost nothing, I paid it forward by tipping a security guard 10 Dirhams for letting us park where we were not supposed to. I asked my friend how much he would make in a month. She said probably not more than 500 Dirhams. Such a tiny amount for me. I can't even comprehend it.

Today I...am tired from a long hot day in a far away land (and am hoping I can find good postcards since my camera lense was foggy most of the day)...am seeing clearly how privledged I am...am curious about what tomorrow holds.

Today I...heard the call to prayer

And when I did it just happened to be on the Muslim holy day and I just happened to be in the oldest building that exists in Dubai. It was built in 1896 and inhabited by the al-Maktoum family, the ruling family in Dubai, until 1958.

Dubai is like Calgary in one significant way; it bulldozes and demolishes its historical buildings to make room for bigger, taller, shinier with no regard for history or culture. There is evidence of human settlement in the area as far back as 8000 BC, yet this is a city without history. Its people have history, but the place does not.

It was a scorching hot desert day. There was no one there except for one woman and one man in full traditional dress. I was standing in a sandy courtyard, surrounded by buildings the colour of the sand. The sun was so intense I had to stand still just to be able to breath. And looking around I could not see a single sky scraper. Or grand hotel. Or luxury condo tower. Or high end car. Or shopping centre. All I could see was desert, and sky.

And then I heard a voice that stopped me in my tracks. It sounded ancient and mournful and fervent. And while it did not help me understand a culture that I continue to be baffled by, I did in that moment feel and understand the power of ancient devotion to an ancient religion.

However, I have to say, why one would subscribe to what (in my very biased very Western view) is a punishing faith in an already punishing climate and a punishing existance I cannot comprehend.

Dubai is to the Middle East what Singapore is to Asia. It is the "light" version. The Coles Notes. There are amazing buildings designed by amazing architects. Soon enough "The World's Largest..." everything will be here. It is brighter and bigger and newer and more expensive and more outlandish than anything you could possibly imagine emerging from the Middle East.

But then I get on the elevator with 5 or 6 men in traditional Dish-dash and it feels like I am so foreign in such a foreign land.

Or I walk along Dubai Creek in Bastakiya - just a tourist doing the tourist thing - and I am not only the only caucasian amoung thousands and thousands of people. I am the only woman.

And no one harrassed me. I was grateful for my mirrored shades so I could let my gaze travel where it would without worrying about making eye contact. But I could see how they looked at me - many amused, some clearly affronted by my brazeness, some I just don't want to think about what thoughts lay behind their eyes. And some spoke loudly in my direction. But having no idea what they'd said I just carried on. Shoulders back, head high, walking with purpose like I knew exactly where I was going.

And even though that was uncomfortable and disconcerting I cannot wrap my mind around the alternative. When I see a woman in full Abaya and Hijab I have a very strong reaction emotionally. And when I see a woman in full burkah it is even stronger. It is amazing how it feels like a physical barrier. Like I can't look them in the eye or speak to them. Which isn't the case at all.

I feel afronted by it though. I feel indignant and rebellious and angry on behalf of these women who are forced into darkness and silence and invisibility. But I know that is my Western perspective and while many of them merely accept it, apparently many of them prefer it.

I am grateful to have had this gentle introduction given that I am going to be in Cairo during Ramadan and - given the development possibilities in the works - I could be working in much more stringent and intense cultures very soon.

Today I...am more grateful than ever to have been born when I was, where I was.

Today I...gave myself a coronary!

And possibly a minor stroke...or post traumatic stress disorder.

Once I got my air fare booked and what is at least a tentative itinerary for my jet set around Africa I was feeling pretty chill about this whole two month sojourn on the other side of the world. Or so I thought.

I should likely have taken it as a sign when I locked myself out of my condo last night. I never lock myself out. In fact, I would go so far as to say I am marginally obsessive-compulsive about triple checking that I have my keys. The truly stupid thing was that I had already had a super busy day and had gone out with my family and was back for the night. I wouldn't even have left my condo if it were not for the fact that earlier in the day, due to my herculean upper body strength, I broke my mail key off in the lock on my mail box. But I just needed to fix it RIGHT THEN. So I left my condo. Without my keys.

I did, however, have my blackberry.

Neither of the neighbors who have a key to my condo were home so my lovely sister had to trek all the way across the city to let me in. After I called her on my blackberry. Handy things them blackberries!

That should have sent me a message. I've got a lot on my mind. I've got two big projects at work that have to produce an exceptional result. I'm on my way to Dubai to take on 4 more. Its a lot to think about.

So today I...went for lunch at the Sheraton Suites. Loved that. Saw so many people I love and got to catch up with them. But really I went to pick up a courier package.

That had my air tickets in it.

Old school, its true. When I went to Singapore I didn't even print out my e itinerary. They're Blackberry compatible now. This makes me a happy girl. But apparently when you fly Egypt Air for one leg of your 74.7 leg journey you have to have a paper ticket.

How quaint.

So I had my envelope containing my travel for the next two months in my hands. I have a very strong sensory memory of holding it while I chatted with a few dozen different people. I was playing with the binder clip that was holding my whizzy new 4GB flash drive to my old school, not so whizzy air tickets.

And then I kissed everyone good bye and hopped in my car to carry on as the International Woman of Mystery I have become.

Until about 8:27 pm. When I had a terrible feeling.

And I looked at the coffee table where I was sure I had put my envelope.

And it wasn't there.

So I went through all the luggage and clothes and mini pharmacy I have scattered around my living room searching for my envelope.

And I did the same in my office - and my bedroom - and my bathrooms - and my laundry room - and my front closet....and then I did it again. And then I tore apart my car.

And then I thought perhaps it would be legitimate if I panicked just a little.

I was having visions of possibly placing it on the roof of the car as I got in and it flying off into the Bow River as I crossed under Centre Street bridge. Someone did honk at me there...I couldn't figure out why.

It turns out I left my envelope at the Sheraton. And I set it down a good 30 minutes before I left the building. But in my mind I never took my hands off of it until I got in the car.

When the lovely Sebastian (who saved my arse and helped me stop hyperventilating when he informed me he had found it) handed me the envelope he said "Do you have a lot on your mind Teri?" Apparently so.

Today I....am feeling a little distracted...am so relieved...am going to take this as a wake up call to be vigilant about that which is important not to lose.

Today I...hit the wall!

I was thinking I was a super hero. One 11.5 hour sleep on the day I arrived home and I was good to go. Completely over jet lag.

Not so much.

Apparently it takes 24 hours to recover for every time zone you cross. So its not unusual to get hit hard 5 or 6 days after a jet set.

Today I woke up feeling so sluggish and tired and foggy. I had a large triple shot latte with my bagel during my 8 am conference call.

Then I had a double shot latte at 10:30.

Then I had coffee at lunch.

Then I had a red bull at 3:30.

And none of it helped. Not remotely perky. So brain dead. A complete waste of space today.

So I had a nap instead of working out.

And now I feel sluggish and like I need a triple shot latte with a red bull chaser.

Instead I am having a rye ginger. Which, just for the record, I did not mix Benefibre into. When you travel everyone will tell you all about traveller's diarrhea. They love to talk about it. Love to tell you their most horrifying, most embarrassing, most "T.M.I." stories ever.

What they don't tell you is that the reverse is also true. So Benefibre has become my friend. And the other day I forgot to take it. So I was chatting with my friend Bonnie and fixing myself a cocktail and thought...hey...I should take some fibre. So I had a Benefibre cocktail. And she thought that was nuts. But I thought it was efficient.

Was thinking I should write the company and let them know that...you know...it really does make it easier to get your daily fibre!

Today I...am having a reality check on this new lifestyle...am a fan of the fibre...am hoping I have more energy tomorrow.

Today I...partied in Singapore!

Wow! We had the LONGEST....LOOOOOOOONGEST day seeing competitive set hotels. I can't even tell you how exhausting and hot and ridiculous today was. But it was hotel geek heaven seeing our competitor hotels too.

Then...after a quick "freshen" we had a cocktail reception.

On the Helipad.

On the 72nd story of the hotel.

That's right - cocktails on the helipad. Yo! Hopefully I'll figure out how to post pictures soon.

And then we went for a very traditional and crazy Chinese dinner on the East Coast of Singapore...I was so exhausted I could hardly keep my eyes open on the bus ride to the open air "hawker" where we ate a 17 quadzillion course meal. I ate...in no particular order...veg, squid (inb various forms), jelly fish, stone fish, Durian (the most dis-gust-ing "fruit" EVER), pepper crab and...Chilli crab. YUM! Chilli crab was full on the messiest meal I have ever eaten, but delicious. It was a gorgeous warm night and we got to eat outside which is a bit unheard of here in August. So a great time.

I was SO SO SO tired when I got on the bus and went back to the hotel I could not wait to go to my room and crash. But got invited for a "nightcap" somewhere "close by". Thinking I really should socialize with my new team I went along.......a 20 minute cab ride later we were at St. James Power Station - an old power station that has been converted into 6 or 7 bars and night clubs. Very very cool. Good times had by all. And now...well lets just say I have hopefully impressed the one person who can put in a super good word for me and also made a very cute new friend (two very different people)...and it is 1:50 pm Calgary time and I am going to have to work hard not to regret this tomorrow.

Today I...am going with the "you only live once" philosophy and am hoping that being myself is going to work for me.