Because It's Too Important

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

~Anais Nin

2010 was about taking risks. Big ones. Huge.

I risked my heart. I risked my future. I felt as if I'd risked it all.

I'd been playing it safe in a relationship that was past its prime.  But it was time to move on.  To the tune of Death Cab's Title and Registration.  

That song always killed me.

It wasn't simple. It wasn't easy. It wasn't quick. But when it was done, it was done. And I needed to start over. So I did something big.

I moved to Australia.

And I changed everything in my life all at once.

After nearly 10 years with the same person, I was single again. It was scary. But I was ready.

I'd always wanted to live abroad. But I was hamstrung by my inability to speak any language other than English. That - coupled with my complete ambivalence towards living in or visiting England - kept me working in the good ol' US of A. Until now.

With my country, my hemisphere changed. My birthday was now in winter and Christmas was now in summer.

Christmas now looked like this...

Instead of this...

I took a different job in a different department. Went from selling to training people to sell. From managing people to managing programs. From working in a mature market (where politics and bureaucracy were prevalent), to working in Asia (where Google was still a company in start-up mode). The scrappy, grassroots, shut-up-and-get-shit-done variety.

The kind I prefer.

I lived alone for the first time. Ever.

I remember visiting New York in the late stages of my relationship and getting this pang - this yearning - to just move to the West Village and rent an apartment by myself.

It had appealed to me immensely. And worried me intensely.

I wasn't supposed to want that. But I did.

And now, I was living it.

I had Christmas alone for the first time (twice). And Easter. And my birthday.

I survived.

It wasn't awful.

It was quite rad.

I traveled around the world (covering all longitudes but for the meridian between New York and England).

I flew to an island in Thailand on a whim. Because, you know, I'm whimsical. And consequently not tied down.

I spent a weekend in Ireland, a weekend in Paris, a weekend in London, a weekend on the aforementioned island of Phuket, a week in Japan, a weekend in Delhi, an extended weekend in Kerala and some time in Singapore, Tokyo, Hiroshima, Kyoto, Takayama, Kamakura, Miyajima, Agra, Jaipur, Melbourne, Hyderabad, Wilmington, Charlotte, New York, LA, San Francisco, DC and Boston.

I visited the Taj Mahal, the shrines of Kyoto, the Eiffel Tower, Westminster Abbey and Hiroshima's War Memorial Park.

View Round the World 2010 in a larger map

I had a beer in an Irish pub, fish & chips in an English one and a crepe in a French brasserie. I had chai in India and green tea in Japan.

I also started dating again. This time in a foreign country. The language was the same - but the rules slightly different. I had a little romance. A crush or two. And a few miscellaneous dates. I had some disappointments, but the aforementioned romance put the proverbial lid on any reserve emotions or hangings-on associated with my previous relationship - and took a blow torch to it.

It was done. That was that.

I acquired a stone cottage and transformed it - with stuff I collected or created - into a cushioned, colored expression of my personality.

I made a home.

I planted myself. I flourished.

I left my close girlfriends - our wine soaked dinners, shared milestones, brunches and birthdays - behind. I knew I'd be challenged to find enduring friendship in a new place. And I was right.

But at least I didn't finish the knitting.

My plan for not having a group of loyal friends in Australia was to take up knitting. It was meant to distract me while I waited to make new friends and feel at home.

I'd taken some lessons back in San Francisco, bought some books and acquired some yarn and knitting needles. And I started a scarf. But it now sits - unfinished & neglected - in a basket with the books. By the door.

I smile when I pass it.

Since this year - with its risk and its reward - is summarily hard to summarize, I'm going to tell it another way. They say "a picture is worth a thousand words". Well, I'm going straight to video. Apparently it has more words. And I need them.

Try to watch the videos before reading the blurbs. Then you can experience 2010 like I did. :)

#1:

This is a vending machine at Google in Japan. Vending machines are legendary here. You can buy everything in a vending machine. Food. Cigarettes. There's a rumor that you can buy Japanese school girls' used underwear in a vending machine in Japan (and apparently it's not a perversion of the truth, just a perversion).

At Google Japan, you can buy a variety of hot beverages from a vending machine, which is what I was doing here. I'd gotten in at 7 a.m., long before any Japanese Googler would conceive of being in the office. Because they're typically in the office until 10 p.m. (it being customary to not leave the office until your boss does) or drinking with clients every night until you pass out (this also customary in Japan).

The other thing this video depicts is that I turn into a 2-year-old kid full of wonder when I travel. Sensing magic around every turn. Complete with the meditative power to marvel at something completely innocuous and mundane. I think I dispensed ten hot beverages out of this vending machine in the span of one day. I'd watch the little video while anxiously waiting for my prized creation like a 2-year-old making a poo.

It took me almost a week to try the machine myself. I had no idea how to operate it. And I didn't want to look like a fool in the office. Do I put a cup underneath? Or is a cup provided? Do I use a small cup or a big cup? Where are the cups?

Besides, it was in Japanese.

When someone went over to operate the thing, I'd nonchalantly walk over and stand to the side, leaning in to see how it worked. Looking quickly away once they sensed my breath on their neck.

So, this was the perfect time to learn. Early in the a.m. before the suits arrived. And out came my new favorite thing. Strawberry. Hot. Chocolate.

#2:

Even the blinds are automatic. This is Tokyo. Everything, and I mean everything, is technologically advanced.

And look! It's Tokyo!

#3:

I was in Hiroshima waiting on a covered dock for a ferry to Miyajima when I saw this little stuffed animal sitting by a bubbling aquarium. I never - ever - thought he would start singing "Love Hurts" by Nazareth when I pressed his little paw. Apparently even the stuffed animals karaoke.

#4 & 5:

In Kyoto, finding fun is better than prescribing it. Things unfolded. We went with it. It was the height of randomness.

#6:

I love this because you have no idea what's going on. For all you know, they could bring out the batons and start spraying tear gas. But what's really going on is super innocuous. Everyone's excited to see Obama-san.

We're in Kamakura and Obama has decided to revisit The Great Buddha of Kamakura, preventing us from doing so.

This scene is actually a comedy of errors. The people are all piled up against the barriers with their cell phones ready to snap a picture or video.

Kamakura's brought out policeman from other prefectures. And there's one perched on his motorcycle looking very official and useless.

Apparently the policeman are saying, "Sorry" and "Please don't push". So mild-mannered as they are.

This goes to show how easy it can be to misinterpret something you see from a foreign country on TV. Fox News could easily make this some wild-tempered chaos. All you need is Glen Beck telling you that "tempers were high" or that the people behind the barriers had "deep-seeded hatred for buddhas".

Or {insert clown comment here}.

#7:

This is Pradeep and Saji. They are my buddies. As you can tell, we don't speak the same language (although Pradeep speaks English, Saji does not), but you're able to pick up their joy, their jokes, their camaraderie and friendship by listening to this rapid-fire conversation. I asked them to talk so I could record them.

After several days on the road with them, we built a great friendship. I still email Pradeep once a week and I'm planning to see them again next time I visit India.

On the way to the airport, I feel asleep in the car, which is something they made fun of me for doing. Even with the swerving and honking and cows in the road, I was able to fall asleep in a moving vehicle. This is something most people know about me. I'm shit company in a car. I can read in cars - and I really like to. But most of all, I can sleep. And ignore you.

When I woke up we were at the airport. I'd felt so guilty squandering our last hour together asleep. They handed me this box. And Pradeep said, "a gift". Saji smiled and nodded.

I was so surprised. Now I felt doubly guilty. When I opened it, my heart broke. They looked at me expectantly. Did I like it? Was it OK?

I love it, I said. I just love it.

And I did. I could not have loved this thing more. And I still do. My heart just breaks with love when I see it.

#8:

This was our favorite song (or my favorite song). As with most of my favorite songs, I play them over and over again until I'm so sick of them I can't listen to them again for five years. And that's what I did with this song.

Pradeep said, proudly, "We have other songs."

"Oh, yes, I know. But I like this one."

>>PLAY

#9:

This is Rekha and Shawn. Rekha and the girls in our India office took us out to buy saris at a wedding mall in Hyderabad. It must have been like taking someone out to buy Levis at the Mall of America. Completely and utterly boring to them. But to us, it was sooooo exciting. Saris and bangles, oh my!

You can tell how excited Shawn is. And Shawn's not very girly, so it was a very special occasion. Rekha dressed us all. It was nice to be doted on. Dressed and wrapped and folded. Rekha will make a great doting mother (after all, she has a baby on the way)!

#10:

This is India in a nutshell. Same as the little stuffed dog singing "Love Hurts" is Japan in a nutshell. Simple.

#11:

I was in the middle of nowhere in Kerala. Staying in a "Homestay" with a family I'd found in TripAdvisor (God, thank you for TripAdvisor). It was called Rose Gardens Homestay, and of course, I had to stay at Rose Gardens Homestay. I'd wanted an authentic experience. And I got one. No hot water. A simple non-descript room (like one I imagine Jesus would have slept in). And at 4:00 in the morning, the loudest flippin' secadas you've ever heard IN YOUR LIFE. It was crazy.

#12:

I was in Thailand. I'd stayed on the island of Koh Phuket and on this day, I took a boat ride out to Koh Phi Phi and some other islands. I have no idea which island I was on, but I liked the umbrellas. And there was a faint song in the background that I also liked (maybe I'll try to Shazam it later).

As you can tell from the peace & quiet, this is the off-season in Thailand. And although it was, the water was blissfully warm. And I floated around with my toes popping out of the crystal clear water.

I'd been on the boat all day. On the front of the boat - racing across the ocean from one island to another. The sea air shooting up through my nostrils. It was like wearing an oxygen mask for 8 hours straight and I felt euphoric for 24 hours later. Like seriously euphoric. That much oxygen is like a drug. One with no side effects except for the bliss. And I vowed to have a speed boat one day. So I can get high on salted air.

#13:

I'd been to Paris before. I was excited to go back, this time with a bit more money. No more drinking straight from wine bottles on the Seine (but I loved drinking straight from wine bottles on the Seine). One thing I could not predict was getting sick from the fresh seafood I ate on my first night in Paris. One of my absolute favorite things is (was) oysters. And we went to a seafood restaurant where the seafood was so fresh that I kept commenting on it. Gosh, this is so fresh. My Parisian friend told me Paris gets the first drop of seafood. And I felt perfectly content drinking my champagne and eating all 12 of my raw oysters.

Then I woke up the next morning and vomited all over the bathroom. Like ALL over the bathroom. And myself. And my clothes.

And I was in Paris. You're not supposed to get food poisoning in PARIS. But I did. And I wasted an entire Saturday lying around my hotel room watching movies and sleeping.

The next day I did a whirlwind tour of Paris. I plotted out my own little agenda on Google and wrote down all the sights and addresses. Monmartre, Saint Germain des Pres, la Tour Eiffel, etc., etc. And then I hopped in a cab. Now, I love cab drivers. Except for cab drivers in Paris.

They don't take credit cards. And they don't allow you to eat or drink in their cab. I got into my cab at Charles de Gaulle, after having my flight from Ireland cancelled, having to stay in an airport hotel in Dublin and not having eaten all day. I had a coffee and a sandwich, which I'd grabbed on my way to the baggage claim, hurrying to get to Google. And the cab driver FLIPPED out. He kept saying:

MANGEZ

MANGEZ

blah blah blah

He kept pointing at me. I said, "But I'm hungry."

MANGEZ

"What do you want me to do?" I said.

MANGEZ

Christ almighty, OHHH KAYYYY. I WILL THROW OUT THE FOOD.

MANGEZ

Christ, I muttered. Handing my sandwich and coffee to the attendant. Can you throw this away? He is having a conniption fit.

MANGEZ

Yeah, yeah. I'll give you mangez. Just drive, will you? Just flippin' drive.

Oh yes, Notre Dame. The French are enough to drive you flippin' mad. I will tell you that. And - apparently - I'm French.

When I checked into my hotel, I started with "Bonjour Hello". You know, Hi-I'm-Trying-To-Speak-French-But-Not-Really-Because-My-Patience-Is-Thin-With-You-People-So-Just-Check-Me-In-In-English.

After taking my credit card and looking at the name, the hotelier looked at me and said in perfect English, "Why is your name so French?"

[if you only speak English]

Shut up, asshole. Just check me in.

Oh yes, Notre Dame! I remember loving it when I'd visited 10 years prior. It was the first church of that kind I'd ever visited. The first church of Europe, so it made a VERY BIG impression.

But I'd been there before and seen a lot of old churches since, so I thought to myself, why go back? I mean, it's just a church. But it was open early and nothing else was, so I decided to head over in my cash-only cab.

And I loved it again. The chandaliers. The huge stained glass that I'm not technically advanced enough to capture by camera.

And the bells. The bells sounded "au revoir goodbye" as I walked away.

#14 & 15:

I was - as you're all aware by now - at the Tower of London. Where all the heads rolled.

This gentleman is a Yeoman Warder, also known as a Beefeater (namesake of Beefeeter Gin). Yeoman Warders are ceremonial guards who live - with their families - at the Tower of London. Their duties have changed over the centuries ranging from guarding prisoners and safeguarding the crown jewels (which I saw) to giving tours (as you can see). Having been a senior member of the English military for at least 22 years qualifies you to be a Beefeater.

The thing I love about the English is their wit. And their chiding of the non-English at every turn. What can be somewhat disconcerting about them is their prim and proper accent coupled with the ability to be incredibly crass. It's a little surprise. I tend to like it.

I had a conversation with someone at work the other day. He was describing the "killer instinct" of a salesperson. He said, "You have to be somewhat willing to sully your grandmother." And I said, "What did you say?" And he said, "What did you think I said"?

"That you have to be willing to sully your grandmother."

"NO! Oh my god, no! SELL YOUR GRANDMOTHER."

"Not SULLY your grandmother."

"Ohhhhhhh. OK," I said. "It must have been the accent. And also I expect that of you."

:)

Self-deprecation is also a plus. Although they don't really mean it. They clearly love themselves. :)

#16:

I was freezing. It was FRIGID in Dublin. I'd just arrived from Sydney in summer. It was a little shock to my system. But it absolutely delighted me. This is what December SHOULD feel like.

I got a hot chocolate and a scone and sat in a little coffee shop by this fire. And then I got another hot chocolate. And then a chai. And I just stared at the fire. And warmed my toes. And then went right back out into the cold of Dublin.

Dublin is quite awesome. There's not much to it, to tell you the truth, save for the pubs. But there's much more than just sights in Dublin. It's the people - and the history - and the literary chops - that really make that city.

And, in contrast to Paris, I loved my cab drivers.

(I'm not kidding when I say this factors very highly into whether I love a city or not. I spend a lot of time with cab drivers).

They're like the Aussies in that they like you to sit in the front of the cab (not like the English who put you practically in the "boot"). They talk about the weather and the politics and what they're doing over the weekend. And they don't care if you MANGEZ. And they say things like FECKIN' and claim that it's not a curse word.

And they call you "my love". Like you're their niece. Not a stranger who just hopped in their cab.

I prefer the Irish. Over the English. And, of course, the French. Paris would be the perfect city if you could just swap the French with the Irish. And to hell with the English. I can just rent Monty Python on iTunes.

#17 (I suggest you watch this one on mute):

My little Android camera cannot handle the awesomeness of The Arcade Fire.

It's funny. If Arcade Fire were playing in Sydney, there's no way I'd go to that show alone. But here, I'm a visitor. And Arcade Fire are playing in DUBLIN. I would totally remember that experience (not at all like I would remember it in Sydney, duh). So, on my first night in Dublin, I went. And I fell asleep in my seat. I had to tell the person beside me, "I just arrived from Australia."

"Oh!" he said. "I was starting to wonder."

But after the opening band, Vampire Weekend came on (liking them a lot more than expected). And then Arcade Fire. And, as you can tell, there's no way in hell I was sleeping through Arcade Fire.

More Europe pics here:

#18:

What I love about New York is that you can find just about any niche you are looking for. Upper East Side. Brooklyn. Soho. Whatever. Want to hang out with gay men singing show tunes? Done! And why not.

#19:

So Jen and I were in D.C. feelin' so fly in our rented Impala. It was Halloween. And Jen had a new song that I liked called "like a g6" which is apparently a plane and not an Impala.

This is Far East Movement, a band of Americans from LA with Asian ancestry - Japanese, Korea, Chinese & Filipino. The lyrics go, "When we drink we do it right gettin' slizzard sippin sizzurp."

Sizzurp is a suburban drug made of cough syrup, Sprite and Jolly Ranchers. It's also called Purple Drank, which I think is hilarious, so that became the joke of our trip. Let's go get some PURPLE DRANK.

It reminds me of one of my favorite Dave Chappelle skits:

P.S., nieces, nephews and otherwise impressionable people, the only purple drank consumed in this house is Rose's purple power pack.

This one's her favorite.

#20:

So, I had a great view of the First Aid Tent at the Rally to Restore Sanity. And I could kinda see the monitor in the far right corner. But luckily, I could hear. There were plenty of people behind me who could not hear. Because they had clearly not planned for this many people. The speakers didn't go back nearly as far as they should have. Throughout the rally I hear chants of "Louder louder louder." Those poor people. Well, at least the girl who flew from Australia could hear it.

But it was awesome just being there. All those like-minded people with their witty signage, making up for my laziness and lack of creativity.

And since I wasn't close enough to capture on video, I'm glad someone was...

#21:

Now, I was going to set that one up for you. Since you probably had NO IDEA what they were talking about. But, for the sake of authenticity, that's exactly how I experienced it. I also had NO IDEA.

This was my second week in Australia - and I was already in Singapore with a group of Aussies (Bobby, Roger and Alex) for a training course. We were on our way out to eat chili crab and drink a Singapore Sling when I asked Bobby what Australian films I should watch. And he started quoting "The Castle" with an earnestness and accuracy that would make Wikiquote proud.

Now, The Castle is an Aussie classic. It's about a family of lovable "bogans" (we'd call them rednecks) - and although I have never met anyone who acts quite like Dale Karrigan and his family, Aussies always tell me to watch it. I'm flabbergasted that it was made in 1997 because it's achieved epic status in a short time. It was made with 19K in 11 days. And it shows.

Anyway, Bobby is quoting it here. And now that I've been in Oz for a while - and subsequently seen The Castle - I know just what he's talking about. Now, you have to see it!

#22:

This is why I love Melbourne. You'd never see this in Sydney. This could easily be New York on a summer's day.

#23:

Bunny coming to Australia was a big deal. It was the end of the end for my relationship. The last connection between him and I. Rose was "our dog". And we both loved her inconceivably.

When someone asks me what kind of dog Rose is, I still say, "We think she's a Portuguese Water Dog"... the word we escaping out of my mouth before I can stuff it back in. A habit.

But Rose belonged to me. I had adopted her. Against his will. He hadn't wanted a dog. He didn't like change. Or responsibility.

But he fell in love with her. Of course he did. And I clung to that fact, thinking that if he could be so against something and then embrace it so whole-heartedly, surely he could stomach change and responsibility again. When it really mattered.

But I was wrong.

Here, Rose is in the brig. I'd had faith that Rose would do just fine in quarantine. She had never been an insecure dog. And she loved all people. She's never had separation anxiety in my life (to both my pride and my chagrin). And I was right. She wasn't traumatized or irreparably damaged during her 1-month stint. And any bad memory was swiftly cleared with the promise of a treat.

And I was still trying to read Bill Bryson's Down Under (am I the only one on earth who finds that guy's writing unfunny and forced?).

#24

Home just didn't feel like home until Rose arrived. It's the most depressing, disappointing thing coming home and not being greeted by a happy, wiggly dog.

#25:

In Oz, Rose even has a beach of her own. And on Christmas Day, Rose had the beach to herself. Whatever the other dogs got for Christmas, it wasn't nearly as cool as that. She ran the length of the beach over and over and over. Retrieving the ball and burying it. Summer + Christmas = rad.

#26:

Even Rose gets goodies from Japan. The dog stores in Japan are EPIC. They have doggie strollers, clothes and all kinds of shit. I got Rose a squeaky koala and this high-pitched thing.

And, as you can see, her spirit is in tact.

#27

And 2011 goes out with a bang. I'm lucky enough to have the best landlords in the world. Helmut & John took us out on Helmut's boat for the fireworks. We - clearly - had the best seats in the house. Docked right in Sydney Harbour by the Opera House & Harbour Bridge.

And these - these were the "crap fireworks" at 9 PM. The truly amazing ones were at midnight, when I was too captivated to do anything but stare in amazement. Sydney really does turn it out for NYE.

Well, it's been a big year for us. A big BIG year. Seriously, no wonder I am so flippin' exhausted.

M

y friends tell me the life I'm leading - my travels and the eat-pray-love existence - make them a little green with envy. Weekends in Paris. India. Japan.

B

ut don't worry. Life is just.

I'm equally green when I get your family-filled Christmas cards, reflecting love and embraced responsibility.

Your big risk. And big reward.

Happy 2011,

xo