Making it to the mountains

One of my little childhood fantasies was to travel in a countryside where I could imagine fairytales being set... towering mountains, stunning lakes, inviting woods with magical elements in them, quaint houses.... and the Bavarian countryside I always knew would fulfill that fantasy, so one of the things I definitely wanted to do when in Munich was get out of Munich and explore this area.

My Lonely Planet suggested an area called Berchtesgarten would be ideal for this. Apparently it is the mythical heart of Bavaria, where they have centuries old traditions involving fairies and monsters... they have forests supposedly full of magical creatures (a forest actually called Magical Forest!), and some of the most breathtaking scenery in Europe. I had to go there.

However, it was situation in a tiny pocket of land in the very south-west corner of Germany, almost entirely surrounded by Austrian Alps. It was far from Munich, with poor public transport. Turns out (unsurprisingly considering) that Nicola was born in Berchtesgarten and knew it well, so could give me suggestions on what to see. It made me even more determined to go there. I thought I could catch a train down and use a cab to get around, but Nicola said that wasn't really an option, and hitch-hiking was not even worth considering. So I thought I would hire a car for a day.

I awoke early that second day, and caught the train out to East Munich which is close to the main autobahn (so I could avoid driving through Munich city traffic). Unfortunately, the car dealership had no available cars when I turned up (perhaps I should have checked first). I was bitterly disappointed, and walked dejectedly back to the station, where I found a travel agent.

I went into the travel agent, and they said they could help. They called around for a while, and eventually found a place that had an automatic car available (that was the problem, damn why didn't I ever learn to drive a manual!), but it was a top of the line BMW for a daily rate that made me do a double-take. I just couldn't justify that much, so I thought instead I would catch a train and pay for cabs.

I went to buy a ticket to Berchtesgarten, and was equally aghast when I was told the return fare was not much less than the daily rate for the car... and when I thought about it, a car gave me more freedom and independence... so I got a refund for the ticket and went back to the travel agent (yes, these dizzying circles are indeed my life). I booked the car, and when told how much the excess was, and that for an extra EUR 10 I could reduce it by half, I thought that seemed a worthwhile investment, particularly as I had never driven on the right hand side of the road before.

I went to the car dealership, and was given a very large and expensive looking BMW. Quite daunted, I sat inside, and stared in confusion at all the buttons for about 20 minutes, freaking out completely. What on earth was I doing??! How on earth was I going to manage this vehicle on such crazy mountain terrain? What was I doing spending that much money?! Why can't I even work out how to turn on this car!! With incredible embarrassment, I walked back into the dealership and asked them to help me work out how to use the car. Turns out to my relief it really wasn't that intuitive, so my embarrassment was a little subdued.

To my immense relief, the one benefit of splashing out so outrageously on this BMW was it had satellite navigation system that projected instructions subtely onto the windscreen. So despite the confusing terrain and country roads I was to traverse, I never got lost, and felt totally comfortable wherever I was.

So the journey began. I was imagining getting out to the mountains and spending a gleeful day swanning around alpine hills and sunbathing by soothing ponds. Unfortunately, it was not to be. The skies opened up, and it began to torrentially rain. Can I even begin to say how freaky it is to drive a new car on foreign roads on the right hand side of the road while you can't see more than a few metres ahead of you for 2 hours of driving at 120 km/h. Freaky. I spent the entire time praying it would clear by the time I got there, so that my vision could be fulfilled. But it was not to be. I arrived at Eagles Nest, the holiday house the Nazis built as a present for Hitler on his 50th birthday, which is meant to have the most spectacular view of everything, and all I could see was grey clouds and pelting down rain. I went to the museum there to kill the time, ardently praying for a miracle. But besides about 5 minutes when the clouds did part and I got a glimpse of a stunning valley below, the day was lost in a haze of rain.

I was on my way down from Eagles Nest, on a curvey narrow road, and I was feelingn so confident at how well I was coping with this car... when CRASH!!!! I misjudged how close the railings on the side of the road were, and scraped the beautiful big BMW violently against the railing! My heart stopped beating for a while. I kept driving, and next opportunity I had to stop I inspected the damage. To my utter dismay, a massive scrape had been taken from the whole right-hand panel of the car. Shit. I tried to counsel myself: its ok, you have travel insurance that will cover the excess, and thank GOD you paid to lower the excess... its ok... but of course, seeing a beautiful car so damaged was enough to make you want to weep. Oh well, I soldiered on.

By this time it was 3pm. I had to make a decision. I could drive back and drop the car off in despair at the money I wasted to see absolutely nothing... or, I could keep the car for another day and hope passionately that tomorrow was clearer. Staying another day would mean firstly, paying another exhorbitant day rate for the car, it would mean paying for accommodation out here when I had already paid for my bed in Munich that night, it would mean being really uncomfortable the next day because I didn't come prepared with a change of clothes, toiletries, nothing.

Normal people would no doubt have given up and gone back to Munich. But I just couldn't. I had come this far, I felt destined to see those mountains and lakes, so even when I checked the weather to find it was due to rain the next day too, I decided to be brave and stay the night. The tourist office helped me find a cheap room in a private house, and the car hire place let me have the car for another day. I was set.

The one thing to do in the area on a rainy day was see the Berchtesgarten salt mines. So I decided even if I could do nothing else, I could do that. The tourist office said their last tour started at 5pm, so I rushed to it, parked quickly, and sprinted through the torrential rain to the cash office only to be told it was now 5:05pm and it was closed. I was honestly about to burst into tears, I felt so cursed by bad luck. So I actually begged to be allowed in, I just needed my day not to be a complete waste of time. The woman at the cash office relented and said I could go in if I didn't mind joining the group of rowdy American school kids waiting for a private tour behind me. It is a measure of my desperation that I agreed. I spent the next two hours patiently coping with the overbearing squeals of mid-Western teenagers. Urgh.

By the time I got to my room that evening, I was shattered, and fell asleep early. But I was like a child before Christmas morning, I was so anxious about the next day's weather. Everything depending on it. I awoke almost every hour, and went to the window to see the sky. Imagine my utter jubilation when at 6:30am I saw sun streaming over the stunning mountain scenery! It was going to be a good day! I rushed my breakfast and headed out immediately.

I first went to Koningsee, Europe's highest lake, nestled between towering cliffs. You could get a quiet boat down the lake, past an old church, to the other side. The scenery was so perfect I felt touched by a deity. It was everything I had desperately hoped it would be, and for the first time in 24 hours, I felt peaceful joy. At the other end of the long lake, you could go for a little hike down the valley to another smaller lake. Because it was so early, there was no one else there. Just me, heavenly scenery, warm sun. I was in a state of blissful ecstasy. I explored around the lake, wandering down the inviting trails... and then headed back to the boat where I was the only passenger on the relaxing trip back up to where I started.

I then headed to Hintersee, which was described in Lonely Planet as one of the most idyllic settings imaginable, a lake and mountains, and a nature trail that went through the Magic Forest, where people used to imagine seeing fairy folk and other mystical creatures. It completely lived up to my expectations. I was in such bliss I could hardly operate. I had packed a picnic lunch, and a found a secret trail down to the lake where I sat on a rock and ate happily by the lakeshore. Then I took the walk through the forest, imagining all sorts of knighterrands and magical creatures darting around.

At this stage, what I should have done was finish up and drive back to Munich. It was 3pm. However, I was feeling so blessed and optimistic that I thought "You know what, I'm going to drive to see both Linderhof and Neuschwanstein castles, I have time!". So I set my sat nav appropriately, and drove off.... I drove for 1.5 hours, and in that time it started to torrentially rain again. I should have given up and gone back to Munich, but I was determined to see everything I wanted to see. Even though I knew both castles closed at 6pm, I was sure I would make it ok... so I drove and drove.

I made it to Linderhof, and explored it in the rain. It was a hugely ostentatious castle, more like a theatre set than architecture (not surprising since it was designed by Ludwig II's theatre set designer). It was ok, but it felt quite fake, so I was happy to rush through it. By this time though it was 5:30pm. Neuschwanstein was what I really really wanted to see, it was the castle that Disney based its logo on, and it was one of the reasons I wanted to go to Bavaria. My sat nav said it was 40 minutes away, which means I would get there after it closed. But I was sure I could at least see the castle from the outside even if I couldn't go inside. So off I drove, through the pouring rain...

I made it there finally, and got out to explore. It was raining so hard though I could hardly see. I was drenched, but determined still to get a glimpse. I walked up a hill, and there it was... Note - these images aren't my photos but taken from other sites... the view wasn't as good as this. But I could see it. I wanted to get higher up to see it better, but then I realised I was freezing cold, soaking wet, tired, and just wanted to get back to Munich. So I jumped back in the car and drove off. I was at Neuschwanstein for all of 2 minutes. tee hee. (those of you who have travelled with me will no doubt be nodding knowingly at this point... yes, I set an unrealistically ambitious set of daily objectives for myself while travelling)

It took forever to get back to Munich, and I was so tired and sore and stressed. The rain made driving difficult, it was getting dark, and I was tense and fed up with driving. I made it back to the car hire place at 9:30pm, and had to confess about the damaged car. To my utter humiliation, the man working there was also the man who had to teach me how to use the car on my first day. He took it well though, and after a few forms were filled out, I caught a cab back to the hostel. Even though I was so tired and tense, I needed to go out and destress. Tom offered to take me out for a drink, so I rushed around and got ready. I had to also pack as I had to leave for the airport the next morning at 6:30am, so it wasn't til after 11pm that I met up with Tom. But it was just what I needed: a few glasses of wine, some German noodles, and a fun evening of chatter and German history. We went to a pub that used to be where aspiring artists went, and supposedly Hitler used to attend the meetings, but got thrown out because he talked too much and wasn't very talented!

Because I hadn't really seen that much of Munich and I was leaving the next morning, Tom decided I needed a final tour of the city. He used to drive tourists in a rickshaw, so knew the history of sites well. So there we were at 1am, strolling the streets of Munich. It was such a wonderful way to spend my last night in Munich, really fun and different. I blessed my lucky stars I had met such interesting locals rather than having to spend my time with American frat boys drinking beer and getting sick.

Anyway, that was it. I had 3 hours sleep and had to wake up at 6am to catch my flight to Bucharest. That was yesterday, where I finally got to meet Emi, the owner of the company that developed Skimbit for me, and his team of developers. I'm here now in Romania for 6 days. More later on all this.

But to end this rather long missive... its not often in your life a dream comes true for you. And in that alpine pastoral splendour a life-long vision of fairytale beauty came true for me.

Bavarian bliss

You will all be pleased to hear - no doubt - that the first few days of my travels have given forth the usual serious of adventures and misadventures. I truly to attract calamity. Or perhaps, its just that I emphasis the calamities in my story-telling... perhaps another person with the same experiences would emphasise the simple pleasures or all the good things that happened, but I think that makes for dull reading. You want to hear how I embarrassed or nearly killed myself, right?! Much more interesting... so here goes...

First stop: Munich. I arrive after a hideously long and dull flight (with a painfully long stop-over in the ever-dull Bangkok airport) in Munich, then struggle past unintelligible ticket vending machines (that even locals couldn't decipher) and a maze-like Central station to finally arrive exhausted and sweaty at my hostel. The person working at reception is a friendly and interesting looking guy called Tom, but I am desperate to get up to my room and have a shower, so I rush along. 

Once showered and refreshed, I head down to the hostel's bar, mentally preparing myself for that most gruelling of sole-backpacker tasks: finding a friend. I was intent on having a fun night, and to do that, I needed company. So I strolled up and down the hostel bar a few times, assessing the options. It looked as if everyone was an American frat boy (urgh) or 19 year old silly-looking girls... my options were limited. I noticed a warm and intelligent looking girl at the bar with dreadlocks, and a tall friendly looking guy in a red shirt playing pool. 

I eventually settled on a pretty blonde girl sitting by herself at one of the tables. I approached her and asked if she was here by herself. I knew with her response that I would grow to love this girl: "No, I'm here with a large group of friends, I'm actually from Munich. But are you by yourself? Let me introduce you to my friends!". And you know what she did, she led me to the tall guy in the red shirt playing pool and introduced him, and then she led me to the warm girl with dreadlocks and introduced her, and then led me to reception where she introduced me to the guy that worked there, Tom. It crazily crazily crazily turned out that her group of friends there were the exact and entire set of people I had picked out as having a good vibe. Amazing! I just knew then that I as going to have fun.

We hung out that night, and it turned out Nicola and I had so much in common, she was utterly fascinating, having worked and lived in India, Domenica Republic, Brisbane etc. We really clicked. She kindly gave me suggestions for what to do the next day, which involved a walk through the city, culminating in a sunbathe in the English Gardens, a (London) Hyde Park-type garden full of frolicking people. She said everyone sunbathes on either side of the stream, but on the left hand side is for gay nude people and on the right hand side is for bikini-clad folk. 

Arriving there the next day, I settled happily on my towel, and looked at the incredible sight around me... I imagined a wide stream so you could hardly see the people on the other side... but the stream was two metres wide, so you could see EVERYTHING and EVERYONE in VIVID detail. What is it about German old men and their desire to be exhibitionists. Fat old men with beer bellies stood up freely and joyfully, bits akimbo, with their arms proudly at their waists. Or they were lolling on their sides with their legs up, offering the folk across the stream direct line sight into nether regions. Umh. It made for very entertaining viewing. What was incongruous was seeing these fat naked men strolling hand in hand with little children (who had clothes on), while Daddy juggled about beside him. 

Anyway, as I lay there blissing out in the gorgeous sunshine, I heard a laugh in the stream. People were swimming past allowing themselves to be swept on by the current, and I thought I recognised the laugh as being that of Nicola's. But surely not. Shortly after, I saw them walk past me with an inflatable tube - Nicola, the tall guy (Paul I think his name was) and Tom. I waved at them as they floated down the river past me, and they invited me to join them.

I spent the rest of the day swimming, sunbathing, chatting to these fabulously fun and interesting and beautiful Germans. They popped to the local beer garden and bought some steins back to the stream-side, and there I was drinking a litre of beer (me!!) in the sun surrounded by naked men. Bliss! The gang tied their inflatable tube to a branch over the stream, so we could actually sit on the tube in the flowing stream and drink our steins. What a country!!

I ended up spending the entire evening and night with them all. Beer gardens, pub crawls, long chats on church steps... I really was blessed with meeting locals, and spared the alternate fate of spending time with very dull American frat boys. There were a couple on the pub crawl I went on (that Tom ran and Nicola joined us for), who boasted loudly that they loved bear, hailed from Chelsea in New York, and seemed to believe they were invincible. I had a hearty smirk when shortly later they were so disgustingly drunk they fell asleep at the bar and made utter fools of themselves. Aah. Nicola and I entertained ourselves by asking them questions and giggling at their incoherent responses. 

Anyway.... that was my first full day in Munich, and it was delightful. The next day I decided to head out of Munich to the mountains... more on that in my next post.

Daisy chains and wild horse rides

I think I am living all my childhood fairytales and fantasies at the moment. If I let myself humour that belief, it makes for a delicious way of looking at the world.

A few weeks ago, my best friend Melli and I went away for the weekend to the Central Coast Hinterland. The darling girl knew the degree to which I was moved by my horse-riding experience in Egypt. I wrote about it rather enthusiastically at the time: and here is a photo from that wild crazy ride in the desert.
So for my birthday, she gave me a voucher to go horse-riding at Glenworth Valley, and we decided to make a whole weekend of it. I found us a stunning house on a hill in the midst of stunning countryside.
The house had a long gravelled drive, with overarching trees, making us feel like young heroines at the start of some romantic saga.

The house was so beautifully furnished, with sweeping views over the valley below, and the ocean at the horizon.

The garden around the house had a lilypad-filled pond, glorious broad murmuring trees, and a surprising collection of odd mushrooms! We felt like Alice in Wonderland exploring the grounds, discovering mushrooms, creeping into hidden clearings amidst trees, finding old discarded machinery and making up explanations for what it might once have been... very typically Melli and me adventures... my favourite moment though was the stunning sunny morning when we lazed on the lawn beside the daisy bush, and made daisy chains to crown ourselves with. Delicious girlie fantasy filled fun! The horse-riding was glorious too! I was blessed with a great horse, and he and I galloped wildly along the path, I adore riding so much! Its surprising, I'm normally quite fearful of dangerous sports, but there is something so poetic and natural about riding a horse... I was a sparkling bundle of joy when I finished the ride, but poor Melli had been stuck on a slow horse, so she was understandably petulant.

And I have some glorious fantasy-filled adventures on the horizon! In a month I will be on my long-awaited 'return to Europe' adventure... I go first to Munich where I will go and see Neuschwanstein Castle (that Disney based the Sleeping Beauty's castle on), and I'll get to wander around scenery fairytales were based on: soaring mountain tops, delightful gorges, pristine lakes, seductive forests...

Then onto Bucharest, where besides discussing web 2.0 strategies with my team of awesome developers, I'll explore Transylvania and transport myself into fantasies of vampires and blood-thirsty counts and eternal life and damnation.... aaah... (luckily, I am the first to giggle at my ridiculousness!).

Then to Vienna, which will fulfil musical and architectural fantasies.

Then onto London where I get to reunite with my friends and life of many years.

Then onto Madrid to see my cousins and aunt and uncle and eat too much jamon serrano and manchego and pippis.... yum.

Then onto Ibiza with my friend Sunita for a few days of revellry and mayhem. This is fulfilling one of Sunita's fantasies, as she always felt in her bones that she would visit Ibiza when she turned 30. And I get to return to what is one of my favourite places in the world, full of energy and light and dancing and sunsets...

Finally onto Vancouver where I get to be bridesmaid to Tanya and Mark's wedding. This caps the fantasy theme perfectly, for what could be more dream-come-true-like, than a union of a fated love. I'm so thrilled to be there!

Anyway... isn't it marvellous when so many visions, hopes, and dreams you - and people you care about - have harboured, come true!

Top 10 books

A little while ago, I was sent a tantalising email. Two of my friends in London had challenged themselves to list their top 10 favourite books of all time. Once they had responded to each other, in their thirst for discovery, they emailed me in Sydney to ask my opinion. I reveled in responding. I took some time and a great deal of pleasure coming up with the list. I enjoyed it so much, I thought I might copy the discussion here for others to read, if they had the inclination and time...
Note - the start of my soliloquey is in response to one of my friends mentioned Jack Kerouac's On the Road, which technically isn't part of my top 10, but I do ramble on about it nonetheless.

"Firstly, I have also read On the Road... I know what you mean Ash, its a little light on plot, but its got the most delicious expressions. I actually marked in the book my favourite lines... I just happen to have it next to me as I type, so here are a few cool lines:
"We all realised we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing our one and noble function of the time, move."
"The car was swaying as Dean and I both swayed to the rhythm and the IT of our final excited joy in talking and living to the blank tranced end of all innumerable riotous angelic particulars that had been lurking in our souls all our lives." [how brilliant is that!!]
"I realised these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered, stabilised-within-the-photo lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot of our actual lives, or actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road."

Brilliant.

Anyway, my top 10 books:

Notes from a Small Island, by Bill Bryson. I was given it as a present before I moved to the UK, and didn't get it when I read it. Then I read it again after I had lived there a little while, and I just gushed, I just love the British!

The Ground Beneath her Feet, by Salman Rushdie. Much easier to read than his other books, and an insanely good story, so rich and clever and the most beautiful prose you can imagine.

The Art of Travel, by Alain de Botton. Actually, I love all his books, I would classify them as popular-philosophy, but this one is amazing because he writes about how different artists and philosophers can teach us ways to view travel and the 'journey' in new ways. He is really easy to read, and his insights are so clever.

Now this is a bit of a cheeky entry... can I say 'anything by Guy Gavriel Kay'? It includes about 10 books, but they all are probably my favourite books. This author worked with Tolkien's son to prepare the post-homously released The Silmarillion, so you get a feel for what he does. His first creation was a trilogy called the Fionavar Tapestry (the first book is called The Summer Tree), in a fantasy genre, but its the most intense emotional ride, and its to this day the book (or set of books) I have read more than any other. I read quotes from it at my sisters wedding. I named my cat after one of the characters. Its a big part of my life. Then his later books are more historical fiction: he takes a real time in history and creates imaginery characters that go through the real events that happened. For instance, my favourite of these ones is called "The Lions of Al-Rassan", which is set in the south of Spain during the time of the Moorish occupation of that region (I think around 1400). There, in Granada, where the Christians and Jews and Muslims lived together in peace and harmony, until the Christians decided to take back the region. So what happens when a female Jewish doctor falls in love with both a Muslim lord and a Christian General. Aah, honestly, it will make you weep and laugh and gape. Incredible. All his books are filled with real people, real foibles, but in incredible settings, and with the most beautiful writing style... aah. My favourite author of all time.

Love in the time of Cholera, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Also A Hundred Years of Solitude. The man is a genius. You literally want to write his words up on a wall and gaze at them, they are so beautiful.

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series, by Douglas Adams. Who couldn't like this series... Marvin the Paranoid Android was my favourite. I giggle and giggle to it.

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, by Patrick Suskind. A beautiful book about a man with an incredible sense of smell and a murderous disposition.

The Picture of Dorien Gray, by Oscar Wilde. I love the concept of this book... the painting of the narcissistic boy that reacts to his corruption while the boy stays beautiful.

Of Human Bondage, by W. Somerset Maugham. Its an oldie, but boy is it a goodie. I just looked it up on Amazon, and guess what other people who bought this book also bought? Yep, On the Road. I giggled when I read that. Its about a club-footed orphan who is discontent and travels and tries different professions and women and countries, in search for himself. I read it while travelling. Brilliant.

The Forbidden Knowledge series, by the brilliant Stephen Donaldson. First book is called 'The Real Story'. Its a sci-fi series, which many don't like, but its the best I've ever read. Its so dark and disturbed in parts, its the most insane story, and you can't work out whether to love or hate the characters. I've read it a few times. Awesome.

OK, thats 10 entries, and considering 5 of those entries were for a series of books, I feel very cheeky. But they are a good spread of books: sci-fi, fantasy, classics, non-fiction, comedy, tragedy, magical realism, satire... keep you reading for ages. I would love it if more people read Guy Gavriel Kay's books, he is very little known, but there is no compare to his books, they are works of art."

An orchard and too much food

My favourite memory from my Easter weekend down at Kangaroo Valley with my boys, was strolling through the orchard at the bottom of the estate, burrowing our noses in rose buds. The chalet we booked for the weekend was spectacular, even making someone as effusive as I normally am stunned into awed silence. It had its own pond, complete with ducks and lilypads. And beyond the pond was its own rose garden, with various mounds with the most lusciously blooming flowers. The boys and I wandered around, inhaling the glorious aromas of the virulently coloured roses, commenting avidly on the slightly different variations in scents from one rose to another. The roses were all dewy and moist, and there was no sound about us but the rustle of trees, the quacking of ducks, and the moans of cows. It was all rather sensual. A gentle glorious assault on the senses.

My other favourite moment was the vast amount of food we cooked, predominantly for breakfast. I ate more bacon than I ever want to admit to, but boy was it good!! The boys decided that the only way I was going to meet a suitable man is if I could cook (that old adage), so they decided I was going to embark on a month long challenge of cooking special ingenious meals every night for the next month, in an attempt to become proficient. Aah, if they knew what lows I have sunk to cooking-wise this month... oh well, they had good intentions.

Anyway, it was a much-needed break, four days out in the midst of bright green pastures, misty mountain peaks, verdant trees, warm fireplaces, red wine.

Life-long ambitions, and music

Its been a few months since I have last blogged here. There is, alas, competition in the form of my other blog www.birthofastartup.com, which although perhaps less intimate and philosophical, does get more traffic and serves a more obvious purpose than this one. Nonetheless, I quite like the fact that no one probably reads this one anymore (please tell me if you do!), which affords me an ironic fusion of publicly stating something in a very private way.

I have been extraordinarily busy. What with working a full-time job, trying a launch my business (which is very close!), in the midst of starting a second one, trying to stay fit, see family, have a vague concept of a social life... well, sleep is definitely the thing that is suffering, but I figure I can catch up on sleep, and this is one time I really feel I am on the path to finally achieving some of those long-held ambitions.

All I have ever wanted, since I was a little girl, was to be an entrepreneur. And a writer. I have come to the conclusion that my artistic ambitions will be better served once I am sufficiently self-funded, so am dedicating my efforts to the former ambition initially. I thought I would have done it a lot sooner, but its so much harder than one can imagine, particularly if one aspires to achieve this goal in an honest, admirable, worthy pursuit. There are a lot of dodgy entrepreneurs who are filthy rich, but I know I would never be proud of myself unless I did it on my own, my way.

So, its quite exciting to be so close to finally launching my site - an innovative social decision-making tool. Its tremendously exciting. Its a life dream. How often can you say you have achieved a life-long ambition? There can't be too many life-long ambitions out there per person... I've achieved many of mine: to live an intense life in London, to dance in front of many people (next to Carl Cox in my cheerleader outfit at NYE 2000), to meet Christian Slater (long story... I think I described it in an earlier post here on this blog)... but yes, to be a self-made woman in a worthy venture is a big one. As is falling dramatically and wholly in mutual love with an artistic tall man with incredible integrity and wit... still waiting on that one unfortunately, so am focusing all my energies on the former.

I am made of tough fibre. I can bear the endless series of sleepless nights, sore shoulders and back, isolation, financial constraints (my business is self-funded), angst etc... I can bear it even knowing that there is no immediate end in sight. I have been working towards this opportunity my entire adult life, and I have had a life time of training in stubbornness, determination, and hard work, so its all being put to good practise now. Its all culminating in now.

Anyway, I'm blabbering. Exhaustion is seeping through my pores. I am so desperately glad tomorrow is a long weekend, and I am off frolicing with my best friends in a beautiful house in Kangaroo Valley. A whole 4 days of no work, lots of sleep, great company, fresh air. Oh glorious joy!

On another final side-note, I have become a fan of a brilliant Australian band The Basics. I found out about them after seeing a saucy burlesque/cabaret/circus Cirque du Soleil meets Moulin Rouge show called Feasting on Flesh, which I was inordinately moved by, because it so perfectly captured the spirit of what moves me ... that intoxicating blend of sensuality and carnality, food and music and shadows and suggestiveness and hilarity and cheekiness. And the star of the show was the musician who sang, played drums, and composed all the music. He had a stage name of Gotye, and I became immediately fascinated. I found out more about him, and then discovered he was also in a band called The Basics. One day, when I was feeling particularly buoyant, I came across a poster that said that The Basics were playing in a pub close to where I lived that weekend. I was breathless with excitement. And the reality met my expectations, which is rather extraordinary as I tend to have very high expectations. They - and their music - were fun, cheeky, entertaining, and rather dashing. I have become a fan, which is amusing because I am not traditionally a band kinda girl. But if the music and its performance inspire soul-elevation and back-shivers, one needn't pigeon-hole oneself out of such opportunities.

Anyway... to bed. Goodnight.

On the eve of my 30th...

In my usual habit of celebrating symbolic dates, I now sit and ponder on the significance of this day. Tomorrow I turn 30, a date as a little girl one fears as an impossibly distance and ancient-sounding age. Now on the verge of reaching this age, I am bemused to find I fear it no longer. I do however, enjoy the momentary wallow in sentimentality in which I am about to indulge.

Exactly a year ago right now, I was resting in my flimsy tent on the final campsite before Mount Kilimanjaro's peak. I had been walking for 4 days already, and little did I know I was about to embark on easily the most difficult endeavour I have ever endured... 22 hours of walking without any sleep, most of it in the dark, with little oxygen, frozen water supply, and limbs that screamed with pain. I saw a man almost die from altitude sickness that I eventually had to nurse to health for the next week. But I guess importantly, I made the summit, on the dawn of my 29th birthday. I remember sitting at Uhuru Peak, 6km above sea-level, so exhausted I didn't have the energy to stand, and thinking to myself: "I wonder what the year ahead holds for me..." Those that know me know it turned out to be a pretty crap year, too many dramas even for my liking, too much unsettledness and heartbreak. But 2007 is all about shaking off the ickiness of last year, and framing it in terms of how instructional last year was, how much fibre it added to my character, and how utterly essential it all will turn out to be for whatever lies ahead.

The interesting thing about turning 30, is that it invites reflection not only on the last year, but on the last decade. I have to say, my 20s have been pretty darn good. If I had envisaged when I was 20 what the following decade would be like, I think I would have described exactly what has eventuated... I always dreamt of travelling the world (I have, many times), I yearned to live overseas (4 years in London), I wanted a wild and crazy fun party life (yep), exciting affairs and relationships (tick), a varied and lucrative career (so far so good). Ok, so I didn't achieve millionaire status as I planned, nor have I published a book... but there is time still for that.

A beautiful friend of mine, Gisela (photo to the right), gave me some words of wisdom over New Years up in Byron Bay. She said one's 30s is about building on the growth achieved in your 20s, and its when it all comes together. You face it with openness and acceptance, with peace in your heart, with a love of oneself. So, that will be my motto for the next year, and the next decade. I will try to let go of my expectations, try to shrug off those controlling worries, and niggling fears. Its about savouring the richness of life: of family, friends, health, music, art, food, and a strong sense of self, coupled with an everpresent cocoon of openness and acceptance. Thats my challenge to myself.

I had been trying to work out what to do tonight... its rather symbolic, the last night of my 20s, surely I should be out there, wildly partying. Instead, I am rather contentedly reflecting, here in my cute little flat. I have had a gorgeous afternoon with my best friend watching an intense flamenco performance at the Opera House, followed by a cosmopolitan and thai noodles at circular quay. You don't really get a better last day of your 20s than that, eh?