Hakuna Matata

This whole adventure started sometime last summer or so when I flew somewhere to Africa over the Kenyan and Tanzanian border. I sneakily snapped a picture from the aircraft window of the highest African mountain – the Kilimanjaro’s Uhuru Peak and later posted it with the caption “See you next year”. I don’t really remember what I meant by that. I possibly had this vague idea of one day trying to climb that Big Mamma. To my surprise Dad was the first one to comment saying ” A life- long dream of mine.” I was like ” Hang on – WHAT?”

And that’s when we started talking. And my vague idea suddenly became very real. In 2015 we would fly to Africa and attempt to summit the Mount Kilimanjaro 5895 m. Getting my dad involved was the best choice I ever made. If this was just me I would be still talking about planning the whole thing. However my dad sat down, googled “Kili”, read everything there was ever written and to be read about “Kili”, made informed decisions, booked what was there to be booked and sent me the invoice. All I had to do was search for flights and get my gear. Which basically meant go online and go shopping. My two favourite activities!

With every piece of equipment I bought I was getting more and more excited about this trip that was taking me way beyond me comfort zone. And as the pile of clothes and various tools was growing in the corner of my room I realised I was missing the most vital part – my best friend Holly. And so I just flat-out told her ” I think you should come”. And she -and that’s why I love her – said “Ok cool.”

And so there we were- my father The Kiliboss as he would have liked us to call him or rather The Lizard as he later became to be known to the Kili population. My wife Holly-my tent mate-who has become famous for having consumed the largest amount of various liquids (tea, water, soup etc) and climbing the mountain purely on that diet. And then my humble self perhaps the only person to ever read three entire books whilst climbing. However I don’t have that fact verified. But what can I say Jo Nesbo really got me hooked.

February 2015 rolled over faster than any of us expected. Or perhaps that was just me. It caught me completely by surprise. The last few months prior to the trip I have spent getting used the new cabin I’m currently working in, travelling between Dubai and Abu Dhabi on my days off and spinning (indoor cycling) at Flywheel. And before you ask – yes that was the only training I have focused on. Unlike the Lizard that has purchased a backpack filled it with stones and hiked pretty much the whole of Czech Rep up and down. Dedication at its finest.

And so before I knew it was the 14th Feb and the three of us were sipping a glass of Moet et Chandon at the Terminal 3 in Dubai waiting for our gate to Dar Es Salaam to open. That glass of champagne was the last bit of luxury we treated ourselves to. Or so we thought. See we were preparing ourselves for 8 days of no hot water, no running water, no beds, no toilets, no heating , no proper food. Most of which we were right about. Apart from the food. Somehow – and honest to God I still don’t know how – our guides managed to treat us to a hot 3-course african cusine three times a day. Yes that’s right. We were freezing our butts off in tents considering long drops a rarity among the more usual bushes but we were stuffing our faces with pancakes and all kinds of plantain stews and soups and marinated meats everyday. Even at 5000m altitude. Gordon Ramsay eat your heart out.

liquid diet

waiting for a meal course number 51.. popcorn. soup, primi, secondi, carne, pizza done… bring on the dole

Lizard and Simba

Climbing a mountain is an experience such as no other. And climbing it with people I care about made it that much more special. The three of us were accompanied by a group of local porters and guides that have become our little family for that week. Before the trip has started I couldn’t quite imagine what is it gonna feel like having my bags carried up by someone else. And having seen it the first day – the intimidating pile of stuff tied together that these guys pick up like a shopping bag, place it on their heads and shoot up the hill I mostly felt ashamed. I felt like the privileged white girl visiting Africa for “the experience of a life time” that quite frankly I was. However as the week progressed and we got to know our guys a bit better (I’m not even gonna attempt to spell their names) I came to realise that they are happier than most of the people I have ever met. They are proud of what they do (as they should be), they are grateful for us tourist coming a hiring their strong arms so they can go back home to their home towns and families and enjoy the reputation and respect and hard cash that being a Kilimanjaro porter and consequently a guide brings. I have been humbled by their pure joy of life. Those guys woke up and greeted every single day with a wide bright smile and genuine laughter.Sometimes even a song. They are so happy just to be alive, warm.dry, fed and among friends. They have so little and yet so much more than most of us. I have said it before and I’m saying it again. Africa and its people have a very special place in my heart.

Gideon and Safi … our guides

so this is like their version of an “open space” office

getting our pre-meal briefing (Lil Primi is explaining what he’s gonna cook for us next, got me salivating every single time, his pancakes were unreal!)

Chillen like a villain with ma homies

Lizard trynna see if he could, he says he could but I don’t think so 🙂

Da crew

Last selfie. Spot the Lizard

Our Optimus Prime what a legend !

I already said I let the Lizard pick and decide everything regarding the climb. Including the route. Ok -I feel like now it’s perhaps a good time to explain the nickname. Needless to say my dad isn’t too keen on it. Ever since we started the chain conversation over WhatsApp he would regard himself as Kiliboss. That never really caught on. However the moment we hit the mountain and I noticed my dad changing his upper layers (each of a different shiny colour) with pretty much every passing cloud I noted aloud that he was “like a chameleon or an overgrown lizard” and boom a nickname was created. My dad tried to convince the guys to call him “Simba” instead which is “also of the animal kingdom” and means “lion” in Swahili. But once a Lizard always a Lizard. And so the only “Simba” that came with us was a jar of jam that the Lizard confiscated upon the first taste and only let us smell it for the rest of the trip.

The Lizard being like “Whateves…there is a mountain in the backdrop no biggie” .. he cool

Simba

So as I was saying the Lizard picked the route. Which meant that without knowing it we gave up all the luxuries of the modern day climbing such as huts, bunk beds, tiled toilets and benches to sit on. Not that we had an idea until the last day anyway. We tackled the mountain from the North using the Rongai route. It may be a little less comfortable and little longer however in exchange for that we had Kilimanjaro to ourself for the majority of the trip. There were days when we literally met none else but our lil group. Plus it’s apparently the “cool’ route to pick which we also didn’t know until we arrived back to the bottom of the mountain and were exchanging stories with other climbers that were left impressed that two young girls and one Lizard took on “The Rongai”.

Rongai start in a rain forrest which is inhabited by loads of monkeys and one human family trying to sell us Mars bars and cans of Coke. We declined and days later kicked ourselves for that decision because in our careful planning and list crossing we somehow collectively forgot to bring any chocolates or general sweets. We didn’t get to see the monkeys apart from one bushy tail however they most definitely saw us and let everyone else know by frantic wild screams. For a moment there I imagined that monkey scene from Hunger Games and considered turning back. But soon enough we left the rainforest behind as we climbed up and up to the first camp in moorlands. And in the beautiful moorland we stayed for a couple of days. I must say that was probably my favourite part of the mountain. The views are not yet as majestic as a bit higher up but they are still great mostly overlooking the vast Kenyan territory. There is loads of peculiar flowers and bushes to admire and cheeky little gerbils and field mice running around and stealing your lunch when you are not looking. There is plenty of streams and tiny lagoons that allow a bit of a daytime wash that’s not really plausible in the evening as the temperature drops rapidly once the sun is gone (ever since day 2 we were pretty much at 3000m and above so regardless of being right on the Equator it gets COLD). Once we got up to 4300m we camped at the same spot for two night to acclimatise. At this altitude you get to experience what it’s like to be a 90-year-old. Tasks such as getting up from a chair, walking, talking or generally breathing are rather difficult and so you try to avoid them as much as you can. We spent most of our time resting in tents, slowly moving around, peeing (yes even at this altitude I have to go every 30mins plus I was enjoying the rare luxury of long drops instead of the more usual bush or a large stone), reading books and eating Simba jam. Well some of us did anyway. The second morning we got up, packed the camp and set off for the longest part of the whole journey – the day leading up to the summit attempt.

Who run this mutha’ ?!

Cool as parachichi

First part was to cross the lunar desert between the Mawenzi Peak at the bottom of which we camped and the Uhuru peak. The crossing itself isn’t long or challenging but our bodies were already tired and the altitude really started taking its tool. But the time we got to the Kibo Hut, the highest camp on the mountain at 4700m above sea level we were exhausted and ready to sleep. Which we needed to since that night we had to get up at 10pm and start climbing to the summit. The only thing that got me out of my warm sleeping bed was the thought of a chocolate biscuits we were promised. I couldn’t care less for some Uhuru peak. However when I saw my cup of tea and the much anticipated biscuit my stomach turned and I declined. That was kind of my first clue that tonight wasn’t gonna go as smooth as I hoped.

We set off. I’m trying to remember how exactly I felt and what was going thru my head but it’s very hard. I wasn’t well. My body wasn’t reacting well to the altitude and sleep didn’t help either. I wanted back to bed, I wanted to crawl into my favourite fetal position and sleep forever. I most certainly didn’t want to climb 1000 vertical meters for the next 12 hours. My head felt heavy my legs wasn’t listening to my commands. I was slowing down the group and so we bid our “byes” and “see you at the tops” and parted. I felt a little better for not having the pressure of the whole group upon me but as my guide and I progressed I could feel every meter hammering my head and adding weight on my shoulders. I felt let down by my body. I was ready for feeling nauseous and headaches. I wasn’t ready for this. What was “this”? “This” was like standing at an empty platform and trains passing me very quickly . The trains being my thoughts. I literally couldn’t think. My legs weren’t mine. Or at least they didn’t act like it. I said “Let’s go” and they stood still. I said “left” and they went right. It was at about 5100m that my knees gave in and I just simply fell to the ground like a bag of potatoes. And I felt like that will do and I can just stay there and sleep. It was there that my guide said ” I think it maybe time for you to ask yourself the question.” “What question?” I said. “If it’s really worth it going on.” he replied.

But I just couldn’t imagine giving up. So I pulled thru. After about an hour I was at 5200. Yes I walked 100 vertical meters and took me an hour. And it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Or so I thought. I didn’t know the hardest thing was yet to come. I needed a break every ten meters or so at this point. To catch my breath, to stop my head from spinning to make my legs listen to me. My guide looked me in the eyes and said ” Gabby, you have to turn. This mountain is not worth your health.” I knew he was right so I didn’t say anything. I just sat down on rock and cried for a little bit. It was a very silent very composed cry. Looking back I think it was mostly a relieved cry rather than a defeated one. I looked up at the sky full of stars it must have been about 2 am at this point and I still remember thinking that this was the most beautiful sky I have ever seen in my life. Then I looked up the steep hill and saw the procession of lights and tried to guess which one of them was my dad and which one was Holly. I then tried to look even further beyond the lights and tried to catch a glimpse of the peak that I was to never see with my own eyes. But it was still too dark. Then I took a deep breath and said “Ok, let’s go sleep.” And every step I took down the hill I could feel my wits returning, my lungs filling with more air, my head clearing and my legs feeling lighter. It felt like waking up from a very deep dreamless sleep.

Did I feel disappointed? No. I never reached the peak but I still climbed the mountain. I walked, ran, slept ,  ate, laughed and cried on that mountain for over a week. I zigzagged it from North to South. I woke up a few times and saw the world from above. I was on top of the clouds and for once I got there myself on my own two legs and not on an aircraft. So in my head I accomplished what I came to do. The Lizard and Holly both summited successfully and I was there to give them a hug and take off their bags and help them recover when they returned to Kibo. We were there for each other to exchange the full stories (dad and Holly had to also split up at a later stage), to cry a little and laugh a lot. It was a happy day. And it wasn’t over yet.

We still had  to cross over to our last camp of the trip. That was a long one. And a dusty one. I have never been so happy to see a camp let alone such a hight tech one with things like sinks with running waters and mirrors. That night we ate dinner in silence and very quickly and went to bed before the sun set. The next morning was our last one on the mountain and we had the longest part ahead of us however it was all downhill and in a very low altitude so it basically felt as if we were flying. Which we were. We raced to “the finish line” aka the last gate of the park but right in front of it we stopped and like right sportsmen and Kilimates we crossed it together. And that was it. The adventures has come to an end and now it was time to enjoy the Kilimanjaro beer and the Kilimanjaro song that our guides had ready for us. Hakuna Matata indeed !

 

Poa!

G.

 

And 9-moths later…

… I gave birth to the first post of 2015.

So… this has taken a long time. Me coming back to blogging I mean. There isn’t really just ONE singular reason to WHY I so suddenly stopped. And thinking about it, it wasn’t even so sudden. See in my head I would always think “Oh yeah I should blog about that.” “Should” being the key word here as oppose to “Am going to“. But I just never actually did. Quite frankly there just wasn’t enough time these past.. uh… nine months.

I haven’t banned my beloved social media. Those of you who follow my Instagram (Gabs @gabbypra) page may have noticed I sometimes go a couple of days without posting but that mostly because I don’t wanna be repetitive rather than trying to be private. And I’m still big on sharing my ups and downs, my rants and my lengthy life lessons on Facebook. Nothing has changed there. I just don’t it that often. I guess because now I also have an actual life. I mean an offline one. I know! It was quite the shock when I realised myself!

It all started last mid-October. Things have taken an unexpected turn and all at once my life was sort of upside down. I moved houses. I upgraded to the business class cabin. I was done with mankind- as in I was totally done with the “man” part of the mankind. I was still ok with the womankind. But I also met a man who made me reconsider my decision to be done with the mankind and I was still like “Yeah but I just made up my mind.” but then I was also like “Yes but he is like really REALLY really hot and also cool and I REALLY like hanging out with him.” and so I had to go ahead and reconsider my being done with the mankind but I can be very stubborn with myself at times and so yes… It was all very confusing. Then my brother came to visit me in Dubai, then Xmas came, then I sorta moved to Abu Dhabi, then February rolled over and my Dad, Holly (remember Holly my best friend?) and I climbed Kilimanjaro and then I was super busy pending between Dubai and AD and the rest of the world in March then the man and I went to Japan in April and then April felt like a super long month coz I also went to Czech to see my other best friend Rudi (remember Rudi I went skiing with last year) who got married again in the meantime and was expecting his first child (that was born a week ago but more on that one later) and was also flying like crazy and then it was suddenly May and I was like “Shit I haven’t blogged for so long and there is so much I should blog about” but I just decided to finally get a car because I’m now basically living in AD and taking taxis and buses and other means of transport is becoming really time-consuming but as it turns out it is not that easy to convert an existing driving licence OR get a car so that was May done. And now it’s June and I ALMOST have a car and I have ALMOST published this post. Talking about feeling accomplished ey?

So yeah… if you guys could tell me which one of those would you like to hear about first I’d be ever so grateful. Otherwise I may just start blogging chronologically. Or maybe randomly. Or maybe I’d try to lucky-dip it.

Let’s see.

It feels really good to be back guys I hope you are still here to read it. I really missed this feeling of an almost finished blog post 🙂 It makes me giddy ❤

Lots of love

G.

The September Issue II.

…After the obligatory quick suitcase repacking in Dubai I was off again – this time with my red hat and the red lipstick on. It was Sydney o’clock. Crazy crazy Sydney o’clock. I hope to never ever have a layover like this again. Let’s just leave it at that. When I landed back home three days later I promised myself and the rest of the crew that what happens in Sydney stays in Sydney. So I may have to try and never return to Sydney again. I stayed in Dubai for only as long as it took to attend a few spinning classes that I fell in love with recently and immediately after boarded a flight to Sri Lanka. Jana – my lovely friend I told you about who graduated a few months ago – was one of my fellow crew and since her parents were visiting her in Dubai she decided to bring them on the flight with us. I have known her parents for nearly as long as I know her so they are pretty much an extension of my own family. And so my Colombo layover became a bit of a mini family vacation. We did EVERYTHING there is to do in 24 hours in Sri Lanka- visited a tea factory where we sampled some of the best tea I have ever drank, went to an elephant orphanage where we watched, fed and rode a few of the them, took a tour around a botanical garden and spent a fortune on magical love potions and anti-ageing creams.

As soon as I landed back from Sri Lanka I shook off my uniform and headed back to the airport – this time I was Prague bound. I had a few important appointments to attend.. The first one the the very same evening in a tattoo parlour :p) The next one the evening after… with Pharrel Williams- which was one of the best live concerts I have seen up to date. I met with cherished friends, ate my favourite food, drank my favourite beer. And before I knew it – it was once again time to pack my bag and leave the indian summer in Prague behind and go to Seattle.

A brand new destination to tick off my bucket list. I have been particularly excited about this since I’m a die-hard Frasier fan. And Seattle has not let me down. The city is quite frankly stunning. Surrounded by mountains and lakes, bathing in lovely late summer sunshine, full of greenery and friendly smiling people. I was in love instantly. I already know that whenever I fly so far out West the jet lag hits me hard and right in the face. So I learned to plan my layovers accordingly. I can only commit to anything that happens between 3am and 2 pm. Whatever is on offer for later than that – I’m quite literally out (in limbo). Thankfully jet lag is not something I have an exclusive claim on – we all know it, we all suffer the same way. And so it’s not very hard to convince my colleagues to start off our days out in the West bright an early. But not before I managed to stuff my face with as much bacon as I physically can. Simply because bacon makes me happy. As soon as I started to feel slightly guilty and mostly sick from all the crunchy goodness in my tummy me and my crew set off to explore the fantastic place that Seattle proved itself to be. We have managed it all – the bespoke Space Needle, the Public Market, the Chewing gum Wall even the First Stone – the first ever Starbucks shop. 

And that still isn’t all. It is still not the end of my mad September travels. There was yet another trip I was feeling quite particular about. Moscow. I have heard my fair share of horror stories about the flight and I have heard my fair share of all kinds of stories about the destination. I felt torn flying to Russia – I was curious and excited yet didn’t want to admit it to myself either of those two. So ( decided to opt for a very casual and carefree approach. And it somehow seemed to work. I have to say – even tho the flight was packed both way- Moscow has been one of the most pleasant flying experiences of my work life. I was also assigned the duty free position and made an absolute bomb in commission! The Russians just love their duty free watches and perfumes!

Moscow was harshly beautiful. It was sunny and crispy cold and full of fur clad stunning Russians. It was vibrant and buzzing with life everywhere.  It smelled of pirogy and autumn. It was painfully close to my heart in many ways. I tried to resist its charm but I simply couldn’t. Moscow had me falling…

 

And that was it. That was the epic journey of September that has taken me over two months to describe. I’m really sorry my lovely readers. By now you must have given up on me… I don’t quite know how to apologise anymore. This autumn had been one of the busiest times of my life. I have had a lot to deal with on my plate and even tho I WANTED to blog badly I need quite got around to doing it. Maybe I have commitment issues. Because whenever I committed to writing sleep would have sounded like a much better option…

So long y’all

Love

x

G.

 

 

 

 

 

The September Issue I.

Hello y’all!

… and somehow without me knowing November happened to me. I have not managed to log into “Journey” since my last post on the 4th October. Shocking! I have had my busiest roster yet and the little sleep and a lot of excitement over everything has taken its tool on me and I have spent the last few days in bed feeling ill and oh-so-sorry for myself.

But here it finally comes – the long promised post about September 2014 :

 

It’s that time of the year again. All restaurants, clubs and cafes in Dubai have opened their outside areas to the public. It has slowly become bareable to walk, run and generally live out in the open again after a long and sizzling summer. We have our lives back. At last.

And so the reasonable thing to do would be to stay and enjoy this freedom and the beauty of the great middle eastern outdoors, right? But since when am I ever reasonable? I have been born with an infection I refer to as the travel bug. It can be dormant for months, years even but once it gets out of control it takes over my life and overrules everything. I could feel its power rising within me all summer. My job – of course- helps a lot to keep this little devil in check but there just hasn’t been enough excitement to keep him happy. Day by day I grew more and more restless and by the time September rolled in I had my suitcase packed and was ready to go with no real plan, just a faint idea of being anywhere else but in Dubai. And somehow I succeeded to entertain this tiny monster- I can safely say that the amount of times I slept in my own bed in the last four weeks could be counted on one hand solely.

I started the month off stylishly in Bangkok with my gorgeous wifey Holly. It was one of those multi sector flights and she missed so much she couldn’t take it any longer, jumped on the first available flight and stayed with me for the rest of the trip. I was ecstatic of course. Thai massages, facials and exotic fruit shopping just never are the same without her. I couldn’t imagine having to part from her and so in return of her favour I decided to come as a passenger on her upcoming flight to Dublin. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice since I have never been to Ireland and had always wanted to go. I literally landed from Bangkok, took off my uniform, repacked my suitcase and checked in for Dublin. My travel bug couldn’t be happier. Seven long hours and three tear jerker films later I landed in sunny Ireland. Yes – it was sunny and as I was assured by Holly it wasn’t expected or normal. But it was fabulous. The best way to be introduced to a new city and a new culture is by someone who is familiar with it. And so I let Holly to play her part of the perfect tour guide which she did with flying colours. Only a few hours into my stay I was already buzzing on my second Irish coffee happily chatting nonsense and counting fellow redheads (of which I have seen many) in the famous Bewley’s Cafe. I have heard of a Leprechaun museum (because out of everything Ireland has to offer leprechauns seemed the most interesting after so many irish coffees) and made my only request to see it and so we set of. Somehow tho we got lost in the tempting streets of the Temple Bar area and never made it across the river. It was only in the very early morning hours- and after many drinks I just HAD to drink in order to blend with the Irish culture when we found ourselves wandering aimlessly and enjoying the nightlife – that I remembered. We gave it a second shot in the morning of yet another bright looking day. But by the time we found a place to restore our strength and consume delicious bacon for breakfast, got lost, got found and finally stood outside the museum it was already too late for the entire tour. Visiting the Leprechaun museum just wasn’t meant to happen this time around. I took it as a sign of having to come back again which I would have done anyway. I loved every second of my 24 hours in Ireland. I’m now a strong believer that only every whisky but also every coffee and every man should be Irish. Just because.

 

In Love. With Life.

Ok how is it October already? There just isn’t enough hours in the day, days in a week and weeks in a month to manage half of things I set myself to do every morning when I wake up!! I have been flying nonstop in September and there is an awesome post about it all in the making so just hold on tight it’s coming soon !

Have you ever noticed how changes always tend to come in bundles? There never seems to be JUST ONE major change in my life. It’s always either ALL or NOTHING. But it’s all good and super exciting and soon enough I’ll be able to tell you all about it but for now I’m so super busy with everything you’ll just have to do wait a little longer.

Love y’all

x

G.

I-Shoulds, I-Shouldn’ts, I-dos

Sometimes I think that possibly I should 

• be more eco-aware, use eco-friendly products, recycle, check labels for animal testing and go bio because you know of the future of my future kids with my future husband
• read daily news on politics, current affairs and world conflicts because I don’t always exactly know what’s going on in Gaza and Syria and who’s the Prime Minister of Italy at the moment
• finish my degree in philosophy and make my grandma proud of me because that’s what grandchildren are for aren’t they 
• read more Shakespeare and Hugo and Joyce because they are not called classics for nothing
• be thankful for every safe take off and landing I make even if it takes place at 3am 
• appreciate the quiet moments (more like hours) when nobody calls and nobody texts and I have so much time to think about why they don’t
• give money to charity, any amount, any charity because that’s what decent people with enough money do right
• look at people that did not have the same standards of upbringing that I did without feeling slightly superior (and very guilty) 
• learn how to receive a compliment without overthinking what it actually meant
• start thinking about my future (and by future I mean anything beyond tomorrow’s breakfast) because I’m not getting any younger
• look at people that achieved more than I did and catch up with them rather than look at the ones that didn’t and slow down comfortably because … well just because 
• look at myself at any point of the day and think “wow you still look great” because if I don’t then who ever will
• ban “what if’s” from my life because they are the biggest time-energy-wasters I know of
• live in the moment and take it as it comes (and goes) because when I occasionally do it always feels great
• stop saying “I love working out” and actually start loving working out

and then I also think that I shouldn’t

• hate it when people give me what they call “constructive criticism” and I call “bullshit” because everyone is entitled to their opinion however shitty it is
• take myself too seriously sometimes because altho it’s hard to believe I’m not perfect never have been and quite possibly never will be
• second guess anything and anybody especially myself because ain’t nobody got time for that
• keep on denying the fact that I really enjoy watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians because I do yeah I said it 
• spend so much money on shoes with heels (anymore) (anymore this month) (until next paycheck)  ok I’ll reconsider this one
• pretend that I don’t like carbs and low-carb diet is actually my “normal” diet…because it’s not. Carbs are great. They make my belly feel happy and full
• think that “I went to the gym yesterday” is a valid excuse not to go today because -sniff sniff- it isn’t 

but -quite honestly – very often I do

• spend too much time on social media and cannot be bothered reading news because frankly I care more about what happened on my friend’s latest layover more than what happened in Ukraine
• watch way too many funny animal videos on Youtube… because… because this:

• stalk people on Instagram shamelessly and often feel jealous of what their lives look like because I’m evidently still 16 at heart
• not give a damn about having a Bc or Mg or anything else in front of my name because I didn’t enjoy studying (as oppose to having really enjoyed being a student) and can’t bring myself to do it all over again just to make somebody else happy
• obsess about views and followers and likes and such because sadly I’m a writer and that’s what we do on sleepless nights
• stare at myself in the mirror for way too long listing the things I don’t like or should improve because my “loving myself unconditionally” is still “under construction”
• pretend I forgot what I came to the bookshop for and then just to make myself remember end up buying a new pair of shoes
• eat a whole bar of chocolate for breakfast and then do not eat anything else for the rest of the day because I’m a weakling where sweets are involved and the world would be a much better and easier place if we just got rid of anything sweet for good
• compose a (questionably) collaborate post on Facebook, Instagram or here just for the sake of this one certain person hoping they will read it and find me amusing, funny, clever and generally irresistible because isn’t that what we ultimately all want … no ok it’s just me then forget I said anything

This post is a little fluffy something I thought of on my latest flight that I just literally landed from. I can’t use my phone when in uniform and so I had to scribble my notes down on a piece of paper. When I looked down I realised that the piece of paper was a menu… 

Lots of love and goodnight to everyone

x

G

Comebacks and Second Chances

Would you like to know what is The Number One Question I get asked all the time? It is not “What’s this- water ?” (ok this was a crew joke and unless you’ve ever done a round of drinks you are not likely to understand it.) And strangely it is not “Where are you from?” (oh – how much has my life changed in just two years!). The one thing people always seem to want to know is how long am I “in it for and what’s next?”. How long am I gonna stay in Dubai and have I considered what I wanna do next? As if it is quite impossible to believe that I would want to stay in Dubai forever and fly until I can’t lift my cabin bag no more. 

Dubai is so conveniently located which is one of the reasons why the Airline I work for became so successful. It connects the East and the West, it makes travelling to and from Down Under so much more bearable and brings Asia to everybody’s doorstep. You can now take a flight that’s shorter than 6 hours from pretty much anywhere in Europe, spend a layover in the glorified Sandpit and travel on refreshed a couple of days later. Which is what everyone seems to be doing. The popular opinion is that none in Dubai is here for the long run. All of us expats have come for a more or less a layover that can sometimes last years – to have our fun, earn some tax-free cash, travel as much as we can whilst we have the rest of the world within our reach… and then eventually return back and start living the responsible life. Nobody moves to Dubai to establish themselves. Or do they? Having read back my latest post it occurred to me I could have left you feeling like I don’t particularly like living over here. Which would have been a very wrong impression. I love Dubai and my life here. I don’t love it all day every day. But I love it enough every day to consider it my home and staying here for as long as they would have me.  Not to mention the fact that -unlike many others- I don’t really have anywhere to go back to. See – I don’t do comebacks. When I left Czech all those years ago I always knew that was it. I was never to come back and live there. I do adore my country and I would proudly ramble on about its wonders to everyone who is or isn’t willing to listen. But it’s just not for me. Ever since I could remember I never saw myself actually spending my life in Czech – it was never even an option to consider. So I lived there for as long as I could take it or for as long as it was necessary to come up with a plan and then took off. I never looked back. I never doubted the decision to leave a respectable job in a respectable company where I was earning twice as much as anyone else my age that I knew (I was 22 then). My heart just wasn’t in it. My heart was in the hands of a guy I thought I loved then. So much I would have followed him anywhere in the world. Oh wait – I actually did that! Many years later this romantic affair has ended in a disaster but despite that or maybe just because of that I decided not to run back “home” and heal my wounds but to stay right where I was and make this new life work for me. And so somehow I found myself living in the UK and liking it. But me and the English don’t seem to agree with one another. My relationship with the country has followed the same pattern as the relationship with the guy – after being initially smitten with each other we started to see each other’s flaws in the everyday life’s light and slowly but surely we have come to a point where none of us could take it anymore. I was allergic to pretty much anything the country has laid my way and in return it seemed to have rejected me. I was ready to move on. The only issue was – I was much older than when I so carelessly thrown a great job opportunity away and followed my heart. I was worried. My life wasn’t going the direction I had wanted it to but I felt I was too scared to change it completely. And so I waited. And waited. And waited, For what I did not know. I think I was waiting for the brave 22 yo old girl to wake up in me and take charge of our live again. And as the time passed me by I started to realise that wasn’t going to happen. I was going to have to (wo)man up. And so I did and moved to the Middle East. When I told my family I didn’t get a single “Oh but..” not a single eyebrow was raised not even a little bit. They all knew just like myself that that’s the kinda person I am. The kinda person that takes “moving on” literally. And then up a notch. How was I feeling leaving the UK for Dubai? Relieved most of all. I have come to the end of the road and for all I knew I could never see myself coming back to live there. Because as I told you – I do not do comebacks. Ever. To anywhere. Or anyone.

And that’s where my job comes in. After more than 18 months of flying – it turns out not only do I do comebacks. I also give second chances. Who knew? I most certainly did not. August 2014 saw me give a lot of second chances. It had me coming back to many places I have visited and left behind before too. August 2014 has been one big learning curve, one big journey into the depth of my own self and mind you – it is still not over yet..

 

Exploring new places and flying to new destinations can be exciting… as much as it is tiring. Sometimes all I want from my roster is for it to be easy, short and familiar. And as Asian as possible. And my late summer roster has turned me into the Queen of Asia. Singapore, Bangkok, Shanghai, Hong Kong on top of Rome and Frankfurt. I could not have been happier or more familiar with any of them having visited all of these places at least 3 times before. Sometimes it is just so nice to know what to pack, where to go, what to eat and how to behave. It’s also nice to give another chance to a place I wasn’t too sure about. Like Singapore. It’s a great place no doubts about that. It’s just not the kinda place I thought I would ever want to visit again once I’ve seen it. Singapore is quite spectacular with its clean green and luscious streets, friendly people, big expensive cars and delicious food. It’s also a little too high maintenance for my liking. I feel like I should try hard and harder… like I can’t really let go and be myself in a place that has literally made it to the top of world’s capitols. I always feel a little lost when in Singapore. And as I was wondering and wandering in the SinCity I suddenly found the one spot I needed to calm my slightly agitated senses. I little beach bar on the Sentosa Island. A piece of heaven. A sanctuary. The Bikini Bar. Where they played good music, served mean frozen Margaritas and I could read my book undisturbed. And just like that Singapore and I became friends for life. Because as it turns out I don’t need that much to be friendly. Just a little time and space to be myself…

 

                       The Bikini Bar

 

As for the other comebacks I have mentioned – well not much new has gone down in Bangkok and even less so in Shanghai. And I’m not about to bore you to death talking about my massages . I guess one very successful return I should tell you about was to the Friday Brunch at the Atlantis hotel – the crime scene of my mad birthday bash back in January which I have still not been able to blog about… Some stories should remain untold. There was no particular occasion to celebrate this time apart from Salma coming back to Dubai and with the pressure off we simply let go and enjoyed ourselves to the fullest. And Saffron has not disappointed us.

           Brunch in Jan

Brunch in Aug.. same same

OK- this post could go on for hours. Yes I indeed have so much on my chest about second chances and comebacks. But I’m gonna spare you this time since I also want to tell you about a few first times I have gone thru in the past month or so… Y’all just wait :)!

Lots of love 

G. 

What Time Was My Train ?

A very close friend of mine got married last weekend. I’m not gonna lie – it scared the sh*t out of me. No – you do not understand. I have gotten used to my Facebook wall being flooded every Monday with wedding pictures of my old high school mates, it has been happening pretty much since we left it almost 10 years ago. Then about two years back a new trend had started. Pictures of newborns, pictures of little toddlers messing with their first ever b-day cake, videos of their first words and steps. Got used to that too. This is different. This friend is not someone who lives in the far away universe I call The Real Life. This is not someone who travels twice, three times a year max and if at all then for holidays, someone who wakes up to go to work in the morning and goes to sleep at night, someone who has a mortgage, has an office job, has sales targets to hit, has a Sunday lunch with the family once a month, someone who’s 5 best friends come from the same country or at least from the same continent. In other words someone “normal”. The kinda “normal” I left behind the moment I decided to live in the Middle East. This is a friend I made here in Dubai. Who drinks the same water, breaths the same air, does the same job… who should be infected or shall I say inflicted the same way I am.  

I have been peacefully living scrolling down FB, skipping hen-do invites and ignoring the fact that out of the 32 girls and guys I have attended school with I’m one of a very few, perhaps already the only one that is not committed to anything in any way. Because I always had the very comfortable explanation (or an excuse) of all of them living a very different life. Well – of course ! Aren’t we all tho?! In my happy little bubble I would see everybody making adult decisions with their lives and somewhere in the back of my mind I’d think “One day that is maybe going to be me too. One day in a very very very far away future.” That one day when I’m living that different kind of life. 

That fact, that someone so close to me (not only in geographical sense) , someone with a not-so-different lifestyle has gone and effortlessly created a bridge between them two worlds that seemed so incurably incompatible to me has made me realise that I may have missed my train. No- I haven’t just missed it. I wasn’t just late. I haven’t even purchased a ticket. I had no idea there was a train to catch. Nobody told me. I was just gonna walk. And quite possibly the opposite way. In fact that’s exactly what I was doing. Cheerfully skipping down the road, with my EarPods in, all on my own when I suddenly saw the train rushing off in a different direction. With all of my friends and acquaintances aboard. And I’m just standing here in shock. In complete disbelief that I didn’t get invited to this “Happily Ever After-party”.

Does this make me sound desperate? Well that would only make sense. Not because I’m a single girl. Not because I’m living in Dubai. Or because I’m dating (or well -at least trying to). Because I’m a single girl living in Dubai and dating. And last time I checked that was the new definition of desperate over here.

It’s a jungle out there. No- let me rephrase- it’s a war zone. My parents always use to say how lucky my generation was to be given the chance to grow up in a Como-free, revolution-free and a war-free environment. Little did they know I was heading into one when they congratulated me on my new exciting job in the skies. I can just feel your raised eyebrows and feel you clicking away from this post. You think I’m being overdramatic and exaggerating. I swear to all I hold dear – for once I’m not. It is hard to believe unless you lived the experience of the Dubai dating scene but let me try and paint you its true picture. 

Imagine a buffet brunch. A massive buffet brunch. All kinds of flavours in huge quantities catering to all kinds of tastes and appetites. And you are starving- you haven’t eaten for days because there is quite literally nothing but the desert all around you. Just this buffet you have been waiting for. And now you have all this tasty, delicious food harvested at its best, prepared to its best and presented at its best – all of it nicely laid out in front of you. Up for grabs. All you need to do is reach out and choose. Are you imagining it? Ok – in that case you are the guy in Dubai. 

Now imagine being that poor little courgette or a lamb chop and a chocolate tart, laying there on a plate surrounded by tens and hundreds of others just like you. You are the girl in Dubai now. Being brought out here into the open and scary world and being scrutinised by every single pair of eyes. Are you the biggest, the juiciest, the tastiest looking? Or what if he doesn’t like courgettes? Maybe he is more of a carrot-type of a guy… Maybe he is sick of lamb and wants chicken, maybe he doesn’t like chocolate and vanilla is his thing. Maybe he doesn’t like sweets at all. You simply do not know. You are hoping you would be The One to at least his pair of eyes and look – he is reaching out just about to choose you… But wait they just brought out a new plate of freshly prepared courgettes and that’s the end of it. See – that’s the thing about Dubai. You can be the funniest one, the sexiest one, the fittest one, the tannest one, most fashionable one but you will never be The Newest One. The Freshest One. The Most Exciting One. The moment you go out with the guy you have become conquered (sex doesn’t even have to be involved, not even a kiss). You have been seen, talked to and evaluated. Let’s move on, lets swipe right again, let’s see what else is out there. Because this is the brunch buffet of Dubai – aka the Brunch Buffet of Bigger and Better. “I’m perfectly happy with my medium rare steak cooked to perfection and seductively bleeding onto the plate. But I HAVE to go and check if there isn’t a piece of sashimi that COULD taste better. Because that’s what it says on the tin – and I want and CHOOSE to believe it. Even if I possibly cannot eat any more. There must be a little space somewhere in my stomach for a little more. Because c’mon once I leave this brunch when will I ever get the chance to eat and taste so much ?! “

“Oh I’d so very much enjoy a brunch in Dubai” is probably what most of you guys are thinking right now. Yeah well – it’s not all just pearls and diamonds. Actually – that’s precisely what it is! Going to a brunch in Dubai is all about status. You have to book the right table, wear the right clothes, turn up in the right car. If you are driving anything less than a Lexus just take a cab honestly. Otherwise you are walking off from this brunch and still starving. It’s also a very exclusive event. You have to book well in advance. Try turning up at the last minute and wearing jeans. You are gonna be laughed at for weeks on end. And probably banned from the place for the rest of your days. But let’s say you managed to get in and at last you are holding your plate and about to choose your first dish. “Oh my- look at that beef stew! I always liked beef stew, reminds me of my granny and my granny is the one person that loves me the most, because she knows I’m just the best thing since sliced bread. My granny is awesome. Man- I’m definitely having some of that stew it just smells so good. Especially in comparison to that awful overcooked fish stir fry right next to it. Ewww – fish ! Fish makes me sick, not to mentioned this one comes with green peppers and I’m allergic to green peppers. Last time I had them I broke out in hives. Yeah let’s have that stew.” And just as you are about to have the tastiest looking stew of your life you notice a guy to your right helping himself to the fish stir fry. The flash of his Omega watch is what caught your attention. “Why does he get to eat the fish stir fry?! Wait- do NOT eat it all you dick,what are you doing I just told you not to ! What do you mean I said I was allergic to it?! Well now I’m not and I want some of that. What? What beef stew ?! I don’t even like beef. Gimme that fish ! I want fish!”

But let’s say we all got thru that brunch successfully. And the courgette was lucky enough to be the tastiest thing on the menu that day. And the guy wore the right clothes and drove the right car the courgette was happy with. And nobody is already married… altho -ehm ehm – even that doesn’t seem to stop some of us… And there is date number two. A dinner this time. Then perhaps a movie night. A couple of drinks the next time. First kiss. Goodnight and good morning texts. Then the “sweet nothing and I miss you and when are you back” texts. And then you seal the deal. Or so you think. Because apparently having slept with somebody you have been dating for some time doesn’t make you guys exclusive anymore. Nowadays it goes more like ” Dinner, drinks, kiss, sex and I may see you next week unless the other girl I’m seeing is available in that case I will see you the week after that or maybe you will not hear from me for a few months and when I get back in touch I will be married”. Welcome to Dubai. You are gonna have the time of your life. It’s gonna be the best party you have ever been to. The only thing they forgot to mention on the flyer was that this is a BYOB (where the B stands for boyfriend not beer) kinda party. 

I dedicate this post to all my fellow Dubaians. To my fellow fighters. I salute you and gracefully surrender. I’m done with Dubai dating, especially the online type. I suck at it anyway. I’m gonna stick to doing what I do best. Which is sit around cafes smoking shisha and blogging. So if you are an available single guy with singular taste and see me around sometime- don’t Whatsapp me. Don’t Snapchat. And definitely do not look for me on Tinder. Just come and talk to me – it’s worked for thousands of generations before us maybe it will work for us too! 

Love 

x

G.

. 

The 800 Magical Candles

People keep all kinds of weird and wonderful stuff in all kinds of weird and wonderful places in their lives. I have met people that keep old pairs of shoes under their beds, people that collect little pieces of rocks from all the places they have visited. I know people that keep a stash of emergency pain killers in beauty boxes on their bed tables and take them as precaution “just in case” and people who would never let go of a worn out t-shirt even tho there is no chance in hell they’ll ever wear it again. I myself am guilty of keeping a few too many skeletons in my own closet and cherishing some of them way too deeply. There is a little sentimental freak in each one of us that from time to time forces us to hang on to certain beliefs, feelings or a memory that we are scared would fade into oblivion if we didn’t have that small reminder hidden somewhere…

I have recently met someone that keeps 800 candles in the bedroom. Countless white paper boxes full of candles neatly stacked in one big box and carefully placed in a corner of a green and a maroon wall. As if that was the most natural place to keep 800 candles. Because  isn’t that where we all eventually end up anyway? In a neat box somewhere between the green grass and the maroon ground?

I have left that bedroom thinking about those candles.I have never kept 800 of anything. It just seems like such a vast and intimidating number. I went to bed that night and dreamt about 800 magical candles coming to life and each telling me a story of its short and rather pointless existence. I woke up with candles on my mind. As if they have all melted overnight and the wax has covered my body and created an invisible shield all over me. And I just can’t seem to be able to shake it off. It is after all a powerful shield – 800 candles have been used on it.

It’s been a couple of days now. And here I am still thinking about those candles and that fantastic number 800. Would I ever be able to keep anything of such quantity? And if I did would I proudly display it or would it be my dirty little secret – for my eyes only? Let’s say I did have 800 candles laying in a corner. If I decided to burn one each night it’d take me exactly 2 years, 2 months, 1 week and one more day to get thru all of them. That’s a commitment to alternative energy sources if I ever saw one. Or if I’d want to use them every year on my b-day cake I’d have enough till my 46th birthday – which would of course still officially be my 21st…  

I could also turn them into wax figures and become the Mayor of the first ever wax village. I’d call the place Waxville. “Welcome to Waxville – a heart melting place.” It has nice ring to it don’t you think? 800 tiny wax soldiers would also make for a nice powerful army. Waxarmy. And I could be the general. It’ be protected and forever safe under the watchful eyes of my soldiers…

My mind has literally taken me on a Magical Candle Mystery Tour. I started to feel slightly obsessed. And that’s when it hit me. I may not have 800 candles but do keep something so numerous it surpasses The Great 800 (as I decided to call the pile of wax in somebody else’s bedroom) by far. And I keep it so close to my heart it hasn’t even occurred to me at first. It’s my chants. My guarding angels. My happy thoughts. My blessings I count everyday before going to sleep in order to remain grateful for the life I have been gifted. In order to never become oblivious to the fact that I’m a epitome of a happy-go-lucky in the most literal way. 

There must be thousands upon thousands of people, things and experiences I’m thankful for every minute of my life. Do not worry I’m not about to try and list them all – I cannot afford to bore and consequently lose any of you my dear readers. Y’all are one of the first items on my “Thanks for” list. Because without you I’d be just a crazy nerdy girl publishing random stuff on the internet. It’s you guys that make all the tossing and turning over syntax and endless grammar checks and author’s blocks so worth it. So thank you. For every click you make on this site. None of them go unnoticed. And all of them are highly appreciated.

But then I still feel like to make this post come together I should mention at least a few of my Magical candles that I light every evening before bedtime and that shine so brightly and guide me thru the unknown waters of my life like countless reliable lighthouses. 

There is the Big Ten. The Big Obvious Ten. You know – the fam, the friends, the job and all the trimmings. I write about being thankful for those in every post so why repeat myself all over again? I thought instead I’d let you on about the Big Five after The Big Obvious Ten. Now how about that? 

1. FLUFF 

Oh – how thankful am I for all the fluff. How bruised would I be by all the edges of everyday life should there be no fluff. Fluffy animals. Fluffy food. And fluffy conversations in particular. What’s a fluffy conversation? You know- it’s those that don’t necessarily have a purpose and yet are so meaningful. They lift you spirits and leave you all warm inside hours after they’ve happened. Put a fluffy smile on your face. 

This kinda fluffy smile :

 

2. SVEN

You remember Sven? Some of you may some of you may not. Anyway he is the guy I write so extensively about here. You know The Guy. The one that made me believe in love again and then kinda went on and broke my heart and sometimes I feel like he also broke me for the rest of the male population on the Earth. But no hard feelings. There is always the outer space I could try my luck in- I just hope they use Tinder over there. Plus I’m obviously joking. He has not broken me. He merely highlighted areas in my life that I have been ignoring for long enough and that are in a desperate need of improvement. I still think about him every day. But not in a I-hate-you-way. In a very thank-you-for-all-the-nice-moments-and-have-a-nice-life-way. I do miss him from time to time. Well I mostly miss the way I used to feel around him. I miss what I thought we had when we had it. But I no longer believe that he was the only one I could ever feel like that around. Because after all – those feelings came out of me and not him so it is quite possible there is someone out there who could bring the same feelings to the surface again. If I ever let them. 

So thank you Sven. Thank you for trying to break me (I know you did not mean to) because I know it will eventually only make me stronger. And I will forever love you for that. 

 

3. BAD DATES

What would a girl’s life be without all them bad dates we have to go thru to eventually have a really good one? I mean- some of them are true horror stories that we exchange over liquid lunches with our girlfriends. Like when you go out with a guy and he disappears and next time he contacts you weeks later he casually says ” Sorry I was in jail for beating up a guy once.” Yes – that happened! To me… 

Or when you bravely venture out on a blind date and the bloke brings his best mate along. Probably for moral support, who the heck knows? Also happened. Also to me. 

I’m not even gonna go into details about all the others that just can’t take “no” for an answer and would try pretty much ANYTHING to change your mind. The mind that has been made up the moment they first spoke. And when you still try to remain polite but firm they still try the ” Ok well how about at least a BJ?”. Yes- they are out there believe me… 

I’m so grateful for every single one of them because they make me appreciate the good ones that much more. Plus what would I have to write about and what my best friend to have to laugh about? 

 

4. Le PQ

I simply do not know what I would do if there wasn’t Le PQ right at the bottom of my building. I would probably starve to death without realising. Because when I blog for hours (very much like today) unless somebody comes along to ask if I wanna eat or drink anything I simply don’t. 

F<3<3d

Thank you PQ for your being here for me, for feeding me, for putting up with my many overstayed welcomes and for being generally very awesome. 

 

5. GUESS

My newest obsession that managed to overshadow the one man I thought could never be replaced in my life- Michael Kors. Thank you Guess for so gladly accepting all of my pay checks. You are great ! I love you too… 

It’s all about the watch !

Lots of love

x

G.

Note: If you are wondering what’s the reason there are 800 candles kept in a bedroom somewhere – they were once used to try and mend a relationship that was about to break. They carried a love message. The message didn’t work. Or maybe it was the candles… maybe it is a very intimidating number to carry such an intimate message or that’s at least what I think. But then again what do I know about love messages or romance in general? Quite possibly very little… 

 

 

 

 

Living the Reserved Life

I always knew it was gonna happen. I mean I would be foolishly kidding myself hoping it wasn’t. I managed to escape it for so long but no matter how hard I tried it was always something beyond my control. It is something that absolutely has to happen to all of us at one point or another. And avoiding it for much longer would have only made the anticipation that much harder.

I’m of course talking about the reserve month. That dreadful thing crew so hate to see on their rosters. I was told of all the stress it entails and zero social interaction it brings. The terribly horrible flights people get pulled out for. The irregular sleep I was to look forward to. For those of you not familiar with the term “reserve month” – it’s basically a full four weeks on standby without a fixed roster. We get to check our schedule for the next day every evening and it can be pretty much anything from a day off to a 9-day trip.

It is now the 27th – meaning have served most of my reserve already (note- ok it is already August, but at least you can see I have been writing just not publishing:) . And I can honestly tell you – I have never had an easier month. I have not slept so well, regular and much since I started this job. I never got to see so many of my friends and so often. And as for the flights… well in June I have flown exactly  FOUR TIMES. Yes. Four times times. The rest has been a very generous dose of days off and one very easy and uneventful Home Standby that I spent quietly in my bed watching TV.

So what did I do with all this free time of mine? Well I decided to restore what once I used to called my social life but what has recently been limited to mostly Whatsapp, Instagram, Facebook and Skype. Oh yeah – that’s how much fun I have been.  I made the effort to see friends I haven’t seen in ages, I even went way out of my way to go and see them (meaning past the borders of the Sheik Zayed Road:). I went out a few times. Yes – as in out out – to places with music and drinks and other people having fun ! Sounds crazy I know :)! I went to see my friend’s graduation ceremony (but more on that later) and saw a few new blockbusters that are out at the moment. As in I actually went to the cinema instead of streaming them at home. Simply put I have been living la vida loca!!!

The Flights 

Reserve month is a bit of a lucky dip where flights are involved. I know people that claim their best rosters were created by reserve and I know people who would rather walk the Sahara Desert and back just to avoid having another month like that. I’m somewhere in the middle. With only three flights in three weeks I can’t really call myself overly busy. Compared to May which had me flying up and down every couple of days I feel like I’m on holiday already. There is a downside to all that of course – every time I do get pulled out for a flight I feel very inconvenienced and rather disturbed. But I don’t wanna fly! I wanna stay right here in my warm bed, eat more chocolate and watch even more films ! Don’t make me work please! Luckily the destinations have so far been attractive enough to get me out of my hibernating mode, don my uniform and show up at the airport. Number one was a very surprising Luanda, which is the capitol of Angola (in case you-just like myself- didn’t know:) . It is a former Portuguese colony and portuguese is still the official language.The latino influence is so strong I felt like I have landed in the Caribbean rather than The Old Continent. And as usual as it happens every single time I get to fly to Africa I fell deeper and deeper in love with Her. Ghana, Ivory Coast, Tanzania, Nigeria and now Angola. I loved all of them. Equally and unconditionally. What is it that Africa has that everywhere else seems to lack? Is it the friendly people or the fantastic food or the absolutely stunning landscape I so adore to watch from the cockpit? Is it the music or the local art ? The weather perhaps? I can’t quite put my finger on it. It is just so imperfectly perfect in its own way…

Another first time of June has seen me to Adelaide, Australia. I did not really have time to prepare myself let alone get excited about Down Under again since I was pulled out of the standby lounge with the speed of light. I have literally signed in, took the jacket off and sat down to eat my sandwich and the agent on duty was already calling my name. I sadly wrapped the prawn sandwich again and asked where am I off to secretly praying for something short. Well not this time… 13 hours later I landed in cold and rainy Adelaide wondering how the heck am I going to recover from the massive jet lag that was knocking on my door. Well I didn’t. My lazy body clock so used to the regular afternoon naps here in Dubai refused to adjust to the Aussie time for measly 24 hours and let me down. I tossed and turned in the hotel bed praying for some sleep that eventually came in the early morning hours (that would have been late night in Dubs) and woke up just in time to get my regular dose of Boost and get ready for the flight back home. All I managed to do in Adelaide was to get soaking wet when purchasing some local wine that’s supposed to be the best one in Australia.

I wasn’t too bothered tho. Layovers like that happen every now and then. Plus just a few days earlier I have spent some quality time chilling by the Mediterreanan sea in Malta. That layover I enjoyed to the fullest. You may remember this wasn’t my first time to Malta and since I managed most of the sightseeing last year I just walked around the beach, ate a lot lot of seafood and soaked in all the fresh breezy air I’m going to be deprived of for the next three months or so here in the Middle Between the Sun and the Earth. It was a mini holiday from my reserve holiday.

I’m on yet another night standby tonight. But since I promised myself I would not be flying more than once a week during my reserve I’m focusing on sending a very positive “no flight” vibes out. Fingers crossed. If I don’t get called out that will be a very sweet end to a very sweet month. See you again in half a year !

The Social life

I have been meaning to post about my hermit style of living for a while now but that post never seemed to have come together. So to cut a long story short since my crazy birthday bash in January that took its heavy tool on me I have decided to stop that crazy lifestyle I was leading and give my body a much needed break. I stopped drinking I stopped going out and I started to take care of my health. The chance I saw was so radical and enjoyable it even came to a point where I began to think I may never party again. But old habits die hard. I still don’t drink … well now at least only very rarely and very little. Would it sound really weird from a Czech to say I don’t like the taste of alcohol anymore? But nowadays I don’t turn invites down and I have come to realise waking up with sore legs after a night out spent dancing is much nicer than waking up with a sore head after having had too much to drink.

So I took June as an opportunity to re-introduce myself to the Dubai nightlife (and day life)  and boy did I have Fun! Yes- Fun with a capital F.  I made sure to spend plenty of quality time with my girls.. and my boys … all over the town!

Dubai is a crowd pleaser. It caters to a very wide audience with its mainstream music and it’s not easy to find something that would stand out. But it’s not completely hopeless. There are a few places I always like to go back to since they are bound to be memorable night outs. Like The Act for instance. The idea of The Act came from the States (or so I was told by its director) and has thankfully successfully established itself over here. The club is just fabulous – the DJs never ever let me down , the shows that come on every hours or so are always shocking, sexy and just generally fantastic. The drinks are strong and fun and there is an actual space for dancing which strangely enough is the one thing most Dubai clubs seem to lack. If you ever feel like you are in need of a very good Thu or Sun night out give The Act a go. You will not regret it. 

Then there is BMI which I have already “reviewed” a few months back. I’m still besotted and still trying to return. Haven’t succeeded yet but it is bound to happen sooner or later! 

But the one club that has stolen my heart completely the moment I stepped inside (or rather outside) is The White. The White is located on the rooftop of the Meydan hotel and gives the most stunning views of the Dubai skyline by night. It is also an open air club that is absolutely vast and ABSOLUTELY amazing. I got the opportunity to get in (which is unfortunately not the easiest task) for the closing night before Ramadan. I couldn’t have imagined bidding a better farewell to my freedom I was about to lose for a month. If there is anyone out there willing to gimme a free seasonal pass to The White I will be forever obliged ! Thank you in advance 🙂 

But it wasn’t all about going out clubbing in June. It was mostly about spending a lotta quality time with people that matter. Like Jana for example. I met Jana about a decade ago. She was or still is my uni-mate turned friend turned flatmate turned best friend turned colleague. Life is just so funny from time to time. We used to sit in cafes and bars all around Prague discussing school, boys and the general meaning of existence. That was ten years ago. Now we do exactly the same – we talk endlessly about work, men and the lightness of being and we are still no closer to any kind of conclusion than we were back then. But we still love doing it nonetheless. Jana has joined me in Dubai about a year after I moved over here. And so her graduation from the Airline College came at about the same time of the year as mine did the previous one. I remember how much that day actually meant to me regardless of how much I tried to hide it. And so I made damn sure I was there for the big day of one the biggest people in my life ( I mean that figuratively not literally). I missed Jana’s first and The Graduation from uni a couple of years back because I was otherwise occupied in a different corner of the world. So I wasn’t gonna miss out on my second chance this time around.  And I’m so glad I didn’t !! 

I was also trying to enjoy as much of my little baby boo Salma. The same day I officially welcomed Jana into our vast crew family I found out I’m gonna have to let go of her since she has decided to follow her heart back to the Land of Oz… As sad as I am to see her go I couldn’t be happier for her. And for myself for having met her. You could put all seven seas between us but I know that some friendships will never drown in them ! Such as ours. 

And so she has left… after a very successful goodbye party. And because one farewell bash just wasn’t enough she came back for more earlier this month. And left again. So now we are Salmaless but we are doing our best to keep her legacy going. Because if we didn’t at least try -without Salma here the Dubai nightlife would just slowly die off. 

And so that was it. My Not-so-Reserved Life in June. I’m sure you know appreciate how busy I was keeping myself with other stuff and blogging are slowly forgiving me for the long long long silence.

So much love and happiness 

x

G.