a few small things before I go

Hey you
Pretty good about Jules, n'est ce-pas? I'm pleased and will be taking my Julia badge, custom made by squib, to Turkey. It's a bit funny though. Turkey had their first female prime minister back in the early to mid 90s. Her name was Tansu Ciller and she was expected to be a puppet of male politicians but once she got into power, did not bow to anyone. She was well-respected and strong, but then of course fell off the pedestal, I can't remember what about. Everyone falls of their pedestal eventually. Except maybe Mandela.
Watched Invictus the other night. It was terrific and even though it was about rugby, it wasn't about rugby of course. I wonder if Mandela is a secret buddhist because he was showing all sorts of buddhist ways. I was amazed too that it was true to life. The Springboks were crap, he got behind them, they rose above their mediocrity, managed to have whites AND blacks going for them, and beat the All Blacks in the final in 1995. Awesome feel-good movie that doesn't resort to tricks to keep you involved, and there wasn't even one cliche that I could see.
What a beautiful day it is today. I am in a t-shirt and was just down the street, everyone looks happy. I've finished work (may have dug my own grave there yesterday with a couple of ill-advised comments and negative body language) but I'm away now until Mon 11 October and feeling mighty fine about that.
Had breakfast this morning with a dear friend who, with another couple of friends will be meeting us in the south of Turkey to spend some time. A few years ago we had a fantasy of three of us buying a villa in Portugal and while that hasn't happened, we can pretend that Ali's villa on the Mediterranean will suffice. I'm seeing all sorts of scenes from Stealing Beauty but I'm determined Princess will not be seduced by anyone closely resembling a creepy Jeremy Irons.
Is there a role he's played that HASN'T been creepy?
Princess comes back tomorrow from camp. I haven't heard anything so no news is good news. She told me one of her friends was hospitalised on a previous camp (dehydration) and I am expecting her to arrive back slightly hysterical. It will either be all good or all bad, there will be no in between. I hope she had a grouse time.
I won't be blogging in Turkey I don't think, but you never know. Last time I did one from an Internet cafe, so there's a chance. I will if I can.
Stay safe everyone and enjoy the warm sunshine that will no doubt be a fixture, now that we are leaving the country.
Oh, and Go Cats!

travelling with children, for groverjones

i have done a lot of travelling-with-child. let me bring you up to speed with some of my without child experiences, because this a perfect excuse for me to air a couple of other special times.

1. i once made a stewardess get the giggles while she was doing that thing with the mask and safety vest. i was in year 12 and simply pulled faces at her. i was on a school trip, and no, i'm not proud of myself.

2. i once was on a plane where the captain neglected an important part of take-off procedure. you know, the part which goes like this:

will all cabin attendants please take their seats for take off.

this meant that the plane took off while staff were still walking around. i remember a stewardess throwing herself into her seat, and a steward come flying sideways, running off-balance, yelling

FUUUUUUCK!!!

3. i once was allowed on a plane with someone who had a gamelan as hand luggage. for those of you who don't know, this is an indonesian wooden xylophone type thing. these things are huge and this one had been dismantled and resembled a large bundle of firewood. my musician friend had bought it in indonesia and we flew back to australia with it under our feet.

4. once i mucked up the arrival time in a flight london to melbourne. my mother was waiting at tullamarine and i didn't arrive. i worked out i'd made a mistake in singapore and felt like such a dick.

5. this is not exactly one of my flight stories, but once, someone i was meeting at tullamarine airport, was arrested as soon as we walked towards the exit doors. the next 4 or so hours were spent at broadmeadows police station. i think it was broady, i've kind of blanked it out.

which brings me to travelling with children.

when princess was 10 months old, i flew with her to turkey. her dad, ali, was already there, having flown across a couple of months before. so, i was on my own, and flying olympus (greek) because it was the cheapest ticket i could find. i was assured it was a direct flight. it wasn't.

so, groverjones, first point:

make sure that the flight is as direct as possible.

the reason for this is that when you are in singapore airport, or athens airport, or frankfurt airport, and your kid is tired in a way that you've never seen before, and you are about to fall over with exhaustion, you do not want to be having anything like 12 more hours, 12 more hours, running through your brain.

i can't remember the connections of this flight, but i know that we were in places i hadn't expected, in the middle of the night, and at one stage i remember letting princess crawl on the floor of the airport where we were changing planes, thinking shit, that floor must be so dirty, and not caring.

this leads me to my second point:

minimise hand-luggage.

now, i know you want to take as much infrastructure as you can, to keep him amused in as many ways possible. i had bottles, nappies, etc and because she was so young, i didn't have games as such. but i think i had an enormous bag of stuffed toys and "developmental aids" worrying i wouldn't be able to get them in turkey. that was silly, i could and did. so that might be the next point:

plan to buy or borrow some of this bulky, heavy stuff over there. you don't need it for the plane.

i do remember having a stroller but i had to check it, and they wouldn't give it to me at each connection, and they didn't have one they could lend me, so i was basically fucked. i had to carry her, and my nappy bag and this huge bag of toys, and it was a marathon. we flew melbourne-singapore?-athens-london-istanbul from memory, and i think even sydney first.

it was endless. it was a nightmare. and there was no one to share it with, even how bad it was. there were terminal changes on buses in the middle of the night, walking through airports carrying this baby. i don't know how i managed. they must have given me a trolley or something! i've blocked out the memory, too traumatic.

but she was great. on the flight, towards athens, i remember at one stage her being handed around the plane by greek grandparenty types. i leaned back and closed my eyes for a break, and would open them, turn around, check her position every 10 mins or so. i knew she wasn't going anywhere far, and i got a bit of rest. those smiling greek grandparenty types saved my sanity.

i had a hook-on bassinet in front of me, that was resting on my knees the entire way. i had no help whatsoever from the cabin staff. in fact, at one stage, middle of night, i had to heat a bottle. i went to the galley to ask for help, the curtain was pulled across, i opened it, and guess what i saw?

the blonde, attractive female attendant was sitting on the bench, head back, mouth open.

the male attendant was putting a strawberry in her mouth.

*

another thing i'd considered for this trip was phenergan, that anti-histamine which can also act as a sedative. well, not considered, but been told about by other parents. i didn't want to give it to her for obvious reasons, drugging my child, are you crazy? but also because i'd been told she might react to it, and it might keep her up and have the opposite effect. as it was, she was great. i made sure she was having a bottle when we took off and landed (for her ears) or her dummy and she didn't cry at all, didn't bother anyone (on this trip) and was fantastic.

when we got to istanbul, her sleeping was out. she'd be up at 5am laughing and clapping her hands and rocking back and forth to the call to prayer, but soon settled down and that was all cool. i don't remember the flight back other than we were sitting next to a very snotty english lady. princess was fine in my mind, maybe a little wriggly (she was 14 months by then, and walking) but she didn't cry and wasn't too noisy. this woman kept sighing and looking as if she was being so bothered. i had princess on the other side of me, away from the woman, and was doing all i could until i finally just said to her

you don't have to be such a bitch, you know.

then we had a little conversation about how she was or wasn't being a bitch, and that was it. we ignored each other for the rest of the trip.

the next time i flew with princess long-haul was when she was 3. again, we flew to turkey, again i was on my own. i don't have as many memories. i would have had books, and some toys and kept her busy with food. she was great, and i think on the return trip we were upgraded to business class where i made a little nest for her on the floor with a blanket and she slept and maybe it wasn't the safest thing to do but oh, the bliss of being able to sleep a little myself. there still weren't those personal screens where you could watch stuff, but she was still a little young for that anyway. we amused ourselves by going to the bathroom, i remember her being very interested in all the mechanics of the toilet, but scared of the sound of the flush. a warning there.

this trip we also flew across to america and back, but i don't remember those flights other than our time spent in frankfurt airport on the way there and back. terrible connection times meant that we drifted around for hours, like that man in that tom hanks movie who was living in an airport. there was a giant polar-bear ice cream dispenser, but i didn't have coins. we slept on benches, and at one stage i had princess sitting atop the mountain of luggage on our trolley parked just outside the toilet door while i went for a quick wee (i figured she could make sure no one stole anything by sitting on it, and she had to be right near the door so she couldn't get stolen), next thing i know, she's fallen off from tiredness. she was only 3.

the latest flying with children was 2007 when we flew with the 3, aged 8, 10 and 11? by this age, of course, they can amuse themselves a little better, and it was a breeze. you need those tvs in the back of the seats, and you need them to be working. they need their books, their DS games, and you need a little glass of wine to relax. then you can sit back and feel sorry for the people with little kids, who are struggling. on one of these flights there was a man getting very agitated about a little one near him who wouldn't stop crying. the parents were doing all they could, but often you can't stop a baby or young child crying. you just can't. and on a plane it's harder. you can't take them out, you can't take them for a walk, or a drive in the car. you can't put them in a bath, to let the water soothe them. this man was being a prick, and had made a couple of comments along the lines of can't you DO something? the rest of the passengers were sympathetic to the young couple with the child, and were actively starting to turn against complaining man. finally, someone stood up and told him to be quiet (he'd been starting to stand up, turn around, beseech the other passengers for support in his anti-child movement, what were they going to do? kill the kid?) and other passengers called out, yeah, shut-up, they can't do anything! it was a cool moment, but some people just don't get how hard it is to fly with kids. these are the people who don't like seeing kids in restaurants; imagine them trapped in a plane with a crying brat?

if you are one of these people, just know that no one is feeling worse than the parents right at that point, and you need to do everything in your human capacity to give them a break, and try to give them a supportive smile.

so, basically, the only things you can do are be prepared, have some stuff, direct flights, lots of food and snacks and things to do, sticker books if he is that age. i've just checked, it seems he is an infant? is he a he, even? so sticker books are out. as inc suggested, an evening flight would be good, then there might be sleep.

the final suggestion is this:

know that no matter what, it will be over and you will forget the pain. it will become part of your story-telling, part of the family legends, something you will be able to tell your child over and over.

it will be a bonding thing also for you and your partner.

keep thinking:

this too will pass.
this too will pass.
this too will pass.

when do you go? you must blog from there, and let us know how the flight was.

my current obsession

the latest thing that has me incredibly pre-occupied is the missing australian britt lapthorne.

i'm not sure why i am so interested. sure, it's a sad story, her family are beside themselves, so i guess imagining their pain and distress makes me feel really strongly about it, but usually it's stories about children who set me off in this way.

i've been thinking about it more today, and i think one reason why i am so interested in it is that i was once her.

i backpacked on my own overseas for a period, meeting up with great people, and having a wonderful time, from greece, to turkey, to israel, to egypt and beyond. while i was older than her (25), i probably wasn't that much smarter. i've done some stupid things (not saying she has) and i've been drunk in foreign places and fraternised with local men (also, not saying she has). jesus, i ended up marrying one.

i've been on the back of a motorbike in bali, driven by a local, both of us pissed on indonesian palm wine. i've been in dahab, south sinai, where everyone was smoking dope, except me, though i did drink. i kissed a kurdish boy in eastern turkey, also while drunk, in a hotel corridor. i've been driven in cars by strangers, met up with people who dialled the wrong number and wanted to take me for a drink, had eyeballs with strangers who i met on cb radio. that was back in the '80s.

all i'm saying is that friends and family would have probably called me sensible, even back then.

and all i'm saying is this is no reflection on britt - i'm just marvelling that i made it through.

here's what i think's going to happen, unfortunately. my reasonings are based on experience in turkey, when my mother was diagnosed with cancer while we were living there. it went from the doctor saying he was pretty sure it wouldn't be cancer, to stringing us along for days beyond when he would have reasonably had the pathology results. i had to push and push and chase for the result, and then be told on christmas night (once, he perhaps thought, we had enjoyed our christmas day, didn't need to spoil that seasonal joy with some bad news about cancer) finally, that yes, she did have cancer. there were no hard feelings, it was just unfortunate, and i really believe that he didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. i wonder if there is a similar cultural thing going on it croatia.

my gut feeling is that the body found recently will be britt. they've said it's too decomposed to be her, that it was highly unlikely (at the same time, notice, maintaining there was still a small chance, ie they couldn't completely rule out that it was her, needed to do dna tests etc) and now there are whispers that they got it wrong with another body found in water previously - that they thought it was an older body than it turned out to be. there are also whispers now that the body they found is of britt's height, has blonde hair and is female.

this is their way of letting the family down gently, not that there is such a possibility. their reasoning is that by saying it's not her, they are being kind to the family, letting them have hope for a little bit longer (all the while knowing or suspecting it will turn to despair). this type of thinking is culturally opposite to the way we operate here. it's similar in japan - traditionally they would outright lie to the dying cancer patient, or whatever, and only tell the family the true diagnosis/prognosis. and everyone would keep it a secret from the one person who ought to know.

it's a similar way of thinking - build up to the truth by a series of lies.

of course, as has been mentioned by britt's father, there are other elements to this story, which is becoming increasingly bizarre.

- the serbian nationalist with tattoos over his body being sent by the afp to help

- the report of the mother of the hostel owner trying to mail an australian passport from the post office the day britt disappeared

- the original baffling question of why people travelling/partying with her, left the day she disappeared, knowing she hadn't come back to the hostel

- why her mobile phone was found in her room, with a call made from it to the hostel owner's phone

- have we heard anything about the cctv footage? i'm smelling a cover-up.

and most freakishly for me, why did one of the friends she was travelling with leave a comment on britt's facebook page saying something along the lines of "that picture with you and the cake is the favourite one of mine :)" TWO DAYS AFTER BRITT DISAPPEARED.

that's weird.

and the whole thing is just awful for the family. i feel for her mother and her father so much.

i think we'll be learning very soon that they've found her, and at least her family can have some peace. they'll be able to bring her home but i don't think they'll ever find out what really happened to her.

roma

city of water and transparent bra straps. the fountains are splashy on white stone sculptures. never have the kids seen so many penii. after conversations in topkapi palace about the harem eunuchs, where clokey goes silent and melbournegirl goes all - well, the men who lived in the harem were aunuchs which means their testicles were chopped off so that they would be safe to guard the sultan's wives and girlfriends - here in rome the little innocents quickly noted that all male nude statues are without penis.

they have their balls, though - princess elegantly comments. she's eleven now, she can say things like balls.

so then we joke about the statues in rome being like reverse eunuchs - you know, no penises but with balls. the kids get it immediately, and we all warble, feeling very witty. except clokes who is quiet.

but the water. the bottoms of the fountains are greenish, but not that kind of mossy green, it's a clear, pure light green. clean and cool. and you can find a tap and just fill you old empty water bottle right up to the rim, unless there is a pushy russian lady in a print top getting impatient next to you and tries to get her bottle under the stream and knock you out of place. you can splash your face and wash that oily orange-juice off that is stickying your hands.

in istanbul we were always buying water. but istanbul won the spunky lothario race hands down. and also the mucho bread on the table, replenished frequently, at every meal race as well.

princess is starting to get looked at. part of me feels proud and part of me wants to go running up to the man-boy-statue with arms flapping, screaming like some demented crone -

but she's only 11. just!

in a way it seems fitting. her blooming on this trip. as her mind opens to all the colour, sound and history, so should her body be ripening in syncopation.

but she still references goscinny and underzo as her major sources when talking roman history. and this is a good thing.

the bra straps - clear, plastic ones - i've seen three. usually with an off-the-shoulder top. i really don't see what's wrong with a charming black strap, or clean white one. plastic seems so tacky and uncomfortable.

the coffee bars are cool. you walk in, stand there and drink your fix. let's not beat around the bush people. you want a fucking coffee and you want it now.

planes, boats and jeeps

the sun shines brıghtly here ın kas, south turkıye. the ınternet cafe has a plethora of motorbıkes parked ınsıde and we have to drıve a jeep along the road from the vılla we are stayıng - penınsula, bouganvıllea, aqua waters - to the town. we laugh about beıng on turkey tıme - we're on turkey tıme now. we laugh about the dudes - a term prıncess has gotten us usıng. there ıs the car dude - the man who parks the car for us ın hıs lıttle lot behınd alı's carpet shop. he also runs a toılet paper and baby nappy bulk outlet. he dresses pretty gay and the other day he made puddıng for us and sent ıt home wıth alı on hıs moped.

we have taken over alı's vılla and he ıs stayıng ın the other apartment ın town wıth hıs workers. prıncess and ı are very comfortable ın hıs bedroom whıch perched at the top of the house has strange slopıng sectıons of ceılıng and an odd-shaped wındow whıch gıves us a vıew of the water - rıght down there ın front of us - a vast expanse of blueness wıth all manner of boats passıng.

we have aır condıtıonıng ın that room - ıt's hot here. we are eatıng olıves, eggs, red tomatoes that taste lıke tomatoes. melons, fıgs. and we are drınkıng beer as well as strıppıng the supermarket shelves of çankaya wıne. the prıce went up 3 tl per bottle yesterday. ı'm sure nothıng to do wıth our excessıve consumptıon.

today we caught up wıth more of the famıly prıncess and ı stayed wıth at theır home when she was 3, the last tıme we were here. the mother, scarved, grabbıng me and kıssıng me and me tellıng her maşallah on hearıng she has recovered well from her bypass surgery. my turkısh ıs rusty but my sıster and her husband are ımpressed and thıs makes me feel good. you know how easıly people are ımpressed when they can speak nowt.

prıncess' bırthday - we went out on a boat. we had a bbq and swam and snorkelled. looked at the craggy coastlınes as we motored past. towards the end of the day ı saw somethıng that flıpped out of the water.

dolphın?

turtle?

then the captaın told us there were turtles there. ımmedıately a party set off to look for ıt, and by huge chance ıt was found. old man turtle potterıng around down on the sea-floor. ıt was amazıng.

a bırthday cake wıth oh so wrong but oh so sweet chrıstmas-type holly decoratıons on ıt and some sparklers whıch burnt down and made a burnıng marshmallow smell on the ıcıng.

today ı drove the jeep for the fırst tıme. ı am not scared of much ın thıs world, thıngs do not bother me other than thoughts of mass and random annıhılatıng accıdents befallıng those ı love.

but thıs jeep.

alı saıd - people ın kas would kıll to drıve thıs jeep. he saıd thıs as we were all packed ın - 4 adults, 3 chıldren, no seatbelts, and no relıgıon the day he took us out to see hıs lands. fırst there was the vıllage house - a derelıct crumblıng beauty amongst almond trees wıth goats. we pounded almonds open wıth rocks, took photos of the old cardıgans hangıng on naıls ınsıde the house, studıed the old wooden doors. the second land was the mountaın land, wıth dream-house foundatıons sıttıng atop a hıll at the end of a very precıpıtous and gravelly prıvate road. alı took us to see 'where the horses wıll be' - a natural cırcle ınsıde trees and a ramblıng stony fence - where we looked at berrıes and made jokes about junıper berrıes and junıper bushes ın hılarıous monty python voıces.

land 3 was the forest land - a stretch along a road, wıth pretty trees and bushes, and where alı dıd not mentıon scorpıons or snakes under every rock, as he had at the mountaın land.

ın short, thıs trıp around the 3 lands took several hours and made everyone except 2 of the chıldren and alı extremely nervous. hıgh roads, steep drop offs, no raılıngs. then a noıse started under one of the wheels when we turned on curves, and a rattle started up. we returned back to the vılla wıth survıvor euphorıa, drank too much wıne, and sınce then ı have refused to 'make practıse' wıth the jeep. but soon our chauffeur' my bro-ın-law leaves, and ı wıll have to drıve ıt. so ı trıed today, wıth success, but ı wıll not go down the drıveway whıch wıll be our certaın death.

ı have to go now. prıncess needs to play a harry potter game and clearly none of the other 15 computers ın thıs place wıll let her.

bye for now dear people.

hope all well.

love mg xxx