Sunday, 27 April 2014

The Art of Travel

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.
A couple of weeks ago, I was in Milan. I’m not entirely sure how I ended up there or why, nevertheless, I was jolted awake by the drop of airplane wheels on tarmac and thought “oh s**t. It wasn’t a dream!” It was an impulse decision.

Milan was great. Although, the airport itself seemed to have been designed specifically for a Ryanair flight: as it’s own website states “..the added beauty is that it not only offers accessibility to….Italy but also in several other countries too!” Out of town then. The trip, in fairness, was easy and reasonably priced. Milan itself is a good looking city filled with stunning architecture, mouthwatering shops and people who look like life on the lens is the only way to live. Italians are the best at looking good. They don’t walk, they saunter. They seem to effortlessly exude sex appeal and confidence while not showing the slightest amount of self-consciousness. I love Italy.

So while on my two-day exile, I had time to spend seeking answers. Why am I here? What is my purpose? How much are those shoes?

It all made sense on my journey home. The plane was filled with Italian teenagers, effortlessly wearing pit black sunglasses onboard. The flight was turbulent and messy. There were bad smells, stomach-churning rifts and endless hopeful sales pitches for tea/coffee, perfumes and oversized chocolate bars. The young couple sitting beside me, continuously took photos of the airplane wing, throughout the flight, while I sat at the window seat.

The plane, finally dropped from the sky with a thud. As the door opened, an artic wind blew, rain pelted our faces and I knew... I was home. 

Sunday, 6 April 2014

How to save your life...

“Don't run away.
I’m not running away. I’m already gone.”
While passing some time with a couple of friends, recently, that old chestnut, re the role of men and women in modern society and relationships, popped up. The general consensus was, neither sexes still understand each other and what we want seems all a bit muddled.
I’m a wee bit of a commitment-phobe. Well, I spend far too much time thinking about the possible scenarios that may happen during the initial stages of a relationship. Like all the work that may be involved and thus, missing the point of the true value of  sticking with something/ someone.
While my love stands before me, looking slightly perplexed, I sense a question coming into his head. As I run for the door, believing his best intentions are chasing me down, he calls after, “I was only asking about the soccer scores!”. I’ve made my bed, slept in it, leapt out early morning to escape the possibility of “happy ever after”. It's all pointless. It's like beginning a race and half-way through, running back to the start line.
My perfect mate may well be the archetypal cave man. He has no time to sit around allowing me time to think, “is this right?”. Instead of waiting for me to come back to earth, he gives one sharp tap over the head with his club and proceeds to drag his new love away to his cave. Sometime later, I wake up. My eyes adjust to the semi darkness, shoulders drop, I sigh heavily. I start to think. How the hell I am going to improve this place?
A little something for the procrastinator in you….