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.
Sunday, 3 February 2008
Sunday, 20 January 2008
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.
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.
Friday, 21 December 2007
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...
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...
- 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.
- 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.
- 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!
- 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.
- 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!!!
- 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!
- 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.Saturday, 15 December 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, 18 November 2007
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!
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!
Sunday, 11 November 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, 3 November 2007
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.
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.
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