leaving

*apologies for not updating -- it's been a crazy year and I toyed with the idea of doing away with blogging. obviously I decided against it. will definitely be more regular, or more sharing, with the writing now!*




She was seated by the window, looking out onto the horizon of the city she’d made home. One last time. A book lay in her lap
along with the green cardigan she’d taken off. It was warm by Scottish standards. Her eyes hadn’t left the window after she sat down.

When the air hostess came around, the girl smiled politely and declined the snack. She asked for water in clear English. Her nose was bright red, brown eyes watery. A tissue lay on the book she’d tried to read for a few minutes.

The head of black hair turned back to the window. The luggage had been deposited in the aircraft by little vehicles she didn’t know the name of, which had begun to back away from the plane. There were the familiar blue and white signs of Scotland’s bank. Her bank for two years.

The sky was a perfect clear blue with some puffs of perfect cotton. Sometimes Edinburgh’s weather made up for the days of endless grey skies, rolling clouds and gusts of rainy wind. Her eyes grew watery again.

As the aircraft began moving, she held on tightly to her arm-rest, her mind reeling from the things she’d forgotten to tell people and places she didn’t have time to see. And as the wheels left Scottish ground, she stopped breathing.

Soon Edinburgh was miles below her. She tried to look for familiar hills and spots. Then she just stared as long as she could. Before clouds came between her and the view of the city.

‘It’s over,’ she told herself. ‘Let it go. You’ll come back.’ And she promised herself she’d come back. And if she ever had a child, which was unlikely, she would bring him or her too. Somehow, her visions of her future self never included a man. Even if there was a child. Her friends were still in her life, more important than ever. But she didn’t know if she could ever keep a man that long. So it was just her. And her friends. Maybe a child too. Who knows.

When they landed in Heathrow and she had to make her way to another terminal, there were fewer ‘foreign’ faces. And when she walked into the terminal after getting her boarding pass, she stopped breathing again. She was just another face in a sea of cocoa-coloured faces.

Babies were crying, children running around and dropping things, families were talking loudly. Duty free shops were crowded – people bought liquor, cigarettes, picked up chocolate for their lovers. Only the book shop remained deserted. The little W H Smith she spent thirty minutes in.

She looked back at the sea of faces. She didn’t even dress like them anymore. Her English was always without a local accent, now it was even less Indian. She wasn’t ready to go home.

Her phone buzzed somewhere in the recesses of her purple carry-on. Her best friend, the girl who saved her from loneliness in cold, windy Scotland. When Scotland still seemed cold to her.

She felt bad about her discomfort but knew she could tell her Dutch friend. If they were together she’d have been explaining the similarities in Terminal Four to an Indian airport, accompanied by many loud cackles.

The knot in her chest returned. A long text message told her that she’d left her boots, why, and that a roll of old toilet paper had been sneezed and sniffed into after her departure, that the big bumbling American room-mate had actually made himself useful and cleaned the windows so they could move out and not have to worry about not getting the deposit back. She read that she was missed, and that her boots would be worn to death.

Somehow the prospect of an old boyfriend didn’t make her happy anymore. Nor the tropical sunshine she’d missed for a year, and the home-made food. She knew she’d miss the cheese and milk, sausages, ale, and the tall, charming boys from different parts of the world. Why hadn’t she let her hair down, allowed one of the slurring Scots to take her home? Why was she holding out for someone she barely knew? Where would she walk, the way she did in Edinburgh, up and down the sloping roads that made her legs hurt when she first moved? What would she do wh-

Was someone announcing her flight?

She looked at her watch. Her heart beat a little harder. She’d been waiting months, imagining the day she finally went home. She hadn’t imagined this. She was still excited – to see her family, the people who’d missed her the most, to see that stupid ex-boyfriend, her dog, to be able to walk about with just one layer of clothing and no scarf.

She silently made her way to the gate. It was already crowded. She found a seat beside an old man, in front of a couple with two kids. A young man standing by the windows stared at her while she rummaged through her bag for her iPod. She set it on shuffle and watched the kids, even smiling when they made eye contact. She didn’t like children.

An old song came on. She heaved a massive sigh and looked at the setting London sun, humming softly. She wondered if getting up and moving to the window was a good idea, she didn’t like tearing up in public. Images of her two friends singing the song sitting in the car went through her head. Blonde hair and auburn hair being whipped back by the wind from open windows, riding the highway to a small city in Ireland, while she sat in the backseat laughing at their awful pitch.

By the time she got on to the flight, the sun had set. She wouldn’t get to see the landscape of the country she’d lived in for two years. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t get a window seat this time, the flight was fully booked. She sat in the isle seat, waited for take-off, put her headphones on and looked for a movie to watch.

She tried to stop looking out of the window. She did eventually.

the great australia trip - III

Cairns is the place to go if you want to see the Great Barrier Reef. And everyone wants to see it. We landed there at midnight, went to the wrong backpackers and finally landed up at the correct place well past one in the morning. Nomads Esplanade. The room was dark, someone was snoring and my heart sank when I realised we were sharing the room with a boy and we were all supposed to use the same loo. My heart sank even more when I approached my bunk (I got the one above the snoring boy, what fun) and saw the mess. Then the said heart fell to the bottom of my feet when I went into the loo. It wasn't as bad as some of the Indian bathrooms I've encountered but that isn't saying much really. It was just not what one would like to shower in after a LONG day of moving out of our gorgeous Brisbane backpackers (it was so perfect it even had a bright yellow wall, sniff) meeting koalas and wallabies, wandering in the cancer-causing Australian sun, visiting a windy beach and getting on a crowded and dehydrating flight.

Thankfully the people looked nicer (so did aforementioned bathroom) in daylight. Cairns was not what I had expected. After sleeping almost till noon the next day, we showered and headed out in search of food. I was introduced to Nando's, a popular chicken joint in Australia. I don't eat chicken, but their famous peri-peri sauce is famous for a reason. For vegetarians there are almost no options when it comes to food, unless you cook your own meals. Burgers are almost tasteless, but a dash of peri-peri sauce will go well with almost anything. Post a veggie meal at a chicken joint, it was time for us to check out the lagoon. It was alternately called a fake beach, which made me wonder. But it turned out to be a giant swimming pool for the citizens of Cairns who could not voyage to the Reef to scuba dive and swim everyday. I settled down with my Ian Rankin and the grey skies opened up. They had been threatening to for a couple of hours. So much for summer in Australia, I thought. My two friends were in the pool and sans any towels or warm clothes. For them it was like Wet 'n' Wild (trip 1) all over again, until they decided to go and buy aboriginal print towels (disgustingly over-priced these souvenir shops are I tell you). We wandered around after that, checking out the night market nearby, and tucked ourselves in that night in preparation for our trip to Cape Tribulation the next day. Day one of Cairns was pretty dull you might think, and one might agree. We were planning to join a friend on her tour to the Reef but apparently one needs to book well in advance for such tours. In any case, snorkelling is not a good idea for non-swimmers, no matter what people may say.

Up bright and early.. oh wait, it was pitch dark and we tumbled out of our top bunks and nearly gave the occupants of the lower bunks heart-attacks. (I tend to dramatise things a little. Anything for you readers!) Ok well, it was dark and chilly. Remnants of the earlier day's thunderstorm. Or whatever. Rain on the Great Barrier Reef the one day I want to visit equals to a thunderstorm I say. Anyhow, where was I. Ah right. The Cape Trib tour was one which would take us to an animal reserve, a river (read, place for people to jump into cold, running water to make use of the bikinis they were wearing), a boat ride where we would attempt to spot live alligators (hear, hear, animal lovers) and then finally to the beauteous Cape Tribulation itself. Which I cannot describe because WE NEVER WENT THERE.
Yes, it began pouring just as we hopped on to the boats to spot alligators. So we got completely drenched and cold and miserable on the boat (is that beginning to sound familiar?) and were eagerly anticipating our final destination. Till we were informed that the river had reached a certain height making it unsafe for anyone to travel by it, which is how we needed to get to Cape Trib. So we sighed and went instead to Port Douglas, which is an extremely posh place where TomKat have a beach house.

The rest of the day wasn't bad, don't get me wrong. I was strangely not too depressed by the fact that we were on possibly one of the two tours which would not make it to Cape Trib the entire year. But going on the tour was still barrels of fun. For one, Australian tour guides are god's gift to erm, Australia? No really, they know their s*#^. From which plants could possibly make you unconscious to why the bats were out in the day when it was raining the day before, to every single, minute detail of the places we visit, were supposed to visit and were passing by. And they're fun aside from being knowledgeable. The tours are also a great way of meeting more strange people from all over the world with unpronounceable names, strange eating habits and incoherent accents. Lovely people. This might sound cliched but, as anti-social as I am, I had an incredible time meeting new people everywhere I went and talking to them (or listening to them talk, in my case). And remember: on these tours you represent your country. I still remember the two noisy, catty English girls on the tour. If I'd never been to the UK or met others from there, I'd never know that they all aren't like that.

After our return and teary farewell to our fabulous guide Mark, we headed out for a night about town. To a place called the Rhino Bar, with girls donning feathers on their rear-ends dancing on the table tops. The music was loud, beer was flowing freely (all 17,873 types of Ozzie beer) and I had more foreigners to meet. And an early morning flight to catch to Adelaide.

The next morning (the same morning rather) we missed our 4.30 am shuttle to the airport but made it on our flight. We missed the Reef and Cape Tribulation but it was an excuse for us to promise to return to Cairns in the not-so-near future. Adelaide was surprisingly cold. And the backpackers we were staying at was far-removed from any traveller-friendly (read, inexpensive) shops or eateries. We walked, and walked, and finally found a Subway and a mall where we salivated over beautiful Beagle puppies (and I bought my Labrador some toys), gorgeous stationery and indulged in bubble tea. A discovery made by me, courtesy my friend, in Adelaide. Bubble tea is essentially tea flavoured juice with tapioca balls you can slurp up through your rather large straw and chew on. My definition of heaven in a straw.

Luckily for us, my Indian friend had entertainment planned for us. Friends from Coimbatore who were living in Adelaide proceeded to take us around in their car, and show us Adelaide's alcohol shops and the inside of their living room (where I discovered Saw and loved it). Adelaide was chilled out (literally, also because of the weather) and a break from all our tourist-y running around and lack of sleep. I hadn't realised when leaving India, but usually when we flew from one city to another, we would be entering a different timezone. One forgets that Australia is a large country AND a continent. The Adelaide Fringe was on but we missed it because we went, saw gargantuan drunk crowds, and decided to go home with bottles of goon and Red Label and get drunk ourselves (for a definition of goon, refer to 'the great australia trip -I'). A Greek friend also showed off his driving skills and took us on a 120 mph drive up a mountain. Erm, hill. When one drives at about 150 mph up and down a very steep road, one experiences a feeling similar to if one had been on a rollercoaster. We also visited the harbour, by night, and froze some more.

All in all, Adelaide was fun in an entirely different way. Lots of laughter, alcohol and sleep. A good rest because Alice Springs-Uluru (our next stops) were possibly the most tired I would ever feel in my life. In a wondrous way :D
And that is up next.

**pic credit: sanjana soman**

the great australia trip - II

After gloomy, rainy Sydney, the Gold Coast was quite a change - hot and humid and left us gasping for water the minute we landed. Our destination was Aquarius Backpackers, a short walk from Australia Fair, which was where we would end up doing our shopping and eating. So this was (un)officially the first day of my Great Australia Trip. We were bursting with energy and raring to go. Which is why we were insane enough to walk, in the blistering heat, from our backpackers to Surfers Paradise. “A ten or twenty minute walk,” the guy at the reception told us. If you’re in the Fantastic Four maybe. It took us three girls about an hour and half. Then again, we were walking at our own tourist-y pace, taking pictures, ooh-ing and ah-ing over almost everything we saw (in our defense, everything WAS pretty marvellous, from jellyfish to whirlpools in the bluetiful ocean), and stopped for slurpies and bottles of water. Then we discovered that Main Beach was not in fact the ‘main’ beach and walked to a hazy spot in the horizon, which turned out to be the said paradise. Metre Maids, surfers (wind and water), women in non-existent bikinis and the shopping complex at Surfers Paradise awaited us.

We collected shells, booked ourselves tickets to the infamous Wet ‘n’ Wild water park, visited a sex store, lost a camera, ate a foot-long (my first foot-long sub!), hunted for a bikini for a friend, tired ourselves out completely and returned to the beach. The long walk back awaited us. Strangely enough, it was as we returned to Main Beach when we heard a bunch of young teenage men hooting at us on the road. Australians of Indian origin. And we wonder why Indians are being attacked down under. In all my three weeks of meeting strangers and running around Australia at strange hours of the night, this was the one time I felt uncomfortable. Ozzies were incredibly friendly, polite and helpful during our time there. Then again, I did skip Melbourne and we were three harmless, pretty and clueless girls from the other side of the globe. Who would be out for our blood? -bats eyelashes-

After a well-deserved, hot shower (every bone in my body was aching by then and I would only find out why tomorrow), we went in search of food. Authentic Chinese food was what we chanced upon first. As expected it was nothing like the 'Chinese' food we get in India. Fresh prawn in subtle ginger garlic sauce, fat pieces of broccoli, cold beer and chopsticks. We slept very well that night. And my Korean friend and I woke up the next morning to discover our sunburn. My Indian friend was sympathetic but she had warned us. My reaction to her warning was, hey my skin is already so dark; I've wandered around for hours in blistering Indian heat during elections and not gotten burnt, so fret not. The Korean friend had slathered sunscreen on herself the day before but got burnt nonetheless.

Day 2 in the Gold Coast was not Golden. But before the skies turned grey I discovered my love for hot, ridiculously soft cinnamon doughnuts. After brunch we headed for Wet 'n' Wild, a water park. And it started raining. We continued undeterred, hopping on rides and shrieking our lungs out, until we realised it was pouring madly. The park officials seemed to realise it too and shut down all rides for the day. And then, the freezing began. Ever been sopping wet, continued to stand in the rain in clothes you wore for a water park (read, not expansive, warm clothes) and waited to freeze to death? My hands turned blue and I thought of distant warm Chennai skies and things like humidity and hot sambar. And I felt like crying. Taxis came one by one, for people named Maria and John but never for us (yes, we called for one) and the buses got pretty packed pretty fast. I didn't mind behaving like a Chennaiite getting on to a 29C but rules forbade it. Finally, finally, we hopped on to a bus and I realised I would freeze for the hour-long drive - in the air-conditioned bus.

Ninety minutes and a hot shower and some warm clothes later, we were sipping on beer and being entertained by a noisy, talkative French girl who was sharing our room. I love backpackers - you meet the strangest of people from the most far-off places. This one called us grannies because we retired to our room early, completely spent. The next day was to be even more tiring. But less cold, thank the sunny lord.

Wet 'n' Wild was crazy the next day. Ride after ride in chlorinated water may not be most people's idea of fun but I love water and cannot swim. Safe Australian rides which will still give you plenty of those tummy-flip feelings (the kinds you get on rollercoasters) are my safest bet. After that we left for Brisbane, which was only an hour away by train.

Brisbane. Well, let's just say if I move to Australia, it would be to Brisbane. The place we stayed at was the best backpackers out of the ones we crashed in - Base Central. Air-conditioned, fancy bathrooms, and it even had its own bar. Aside from that, it was a short walk from everything we needed and wanted to see. Cafes called Pig 'n' Whistle, arty Louis Vuitton displays, cheap and chic stores, a giant ferris wheel, the gallery and museum.. which brings me to, the city doesn't lack culture and isn't as crowded as Sydney. Maybe it's Australia's very own Chennai. But I loved it. It even had a casino.

The Gallery of Modern Art was simply out of any world I have seen. I am not a person who easily appreciates or even knows about art when it's not performed before me. But GoMA was an exception. Enter the gallery and you'll find anyone, from school-kids to grandparents and people with mohawks making an aeroplane. Out of material provided by the gallery, like cellophane, ice-cream sticks, plastic sheets, thread etc etc etc. You'll see the most innovative aeroplanes suspended in and around the entrance. There's so much to see that an average Indian has never seen before and may never see again.

We spent half the day there and were forced to leave when the gallery closed at 5 pm. The museum is right next to it and is pretty fascinating too. Later we drove up to Mount Coot-tha, a scenic viewpoint above the city, froze in the strong breeze and checked out the bar above which we were sleeping in the city. An annoying emcee, free beer and a wet T shirt contest which completely scandalised even me. Ah well.. the things people do for 300 dollars.

The next day we did what I had been dying to do - visited koala bears. Lone Pine Sanctuary was where we headed. I got more than I asked for, in a good way I mean. Endless koala bears! I even got to scratch one's face, but we refused to pose for pictures with the traumatised koala being passed on from one stranger's sweaty grasp to another. (we respect animals, alright) Giant birds, owls awake during the day, infinite kangaroos, birds in all shapes and colours, some members of the reptilian family, and did I mention a giant number of kangaroos? My friends were nonchalant but I'd never seen kangaroos up close and personal before. Babies, mommas with a joey (that's what baby kangaroos are called), big ones, small ones, wallabies and whatnot. Bliss for nature and animal lovers.

Before heading to the airport, we visited Brisbane's beach. Sandgate doesn't have much of a shore, but is beautiful beyond belief. Two walkways led us almost right into the ocean, where the breeze nearly carried away my Korean friend. A bottle of beer, gorgeous sunset, the sound of waves lapping at the shore, and great company. It was heaven. Given we had a flight to catch, we wound up and sighing, left for the airport. Otherwise, chances are we would have camped there forever.

Next up: Cairns and Cape Tribulation. No, that isn't a fake name.
**pic: sanjana soman**

the great australia trip - I

The first time I went to Australia was more than four years ago, when I was at Canberra for one semester. To escape the cold and mind-numbing deadness of the city I would head to Sydney. Canberra is full of people working for the Australian government and the only young people you see would be from my university campus. You can probably guess which of the two cities I preferred. Though Canberra is the capital of the country (no, I’m not kidding), even its miniscule airport was no comparison to the gargantuan Sydney airport, teeming with thousands of people, terminals, shops and some gorgeous Labrador and Beagle sniffer dogs. So this time when I decided to travel around Australia, it wasn’t too difficult to decide where my first destination would be.

I landed in Sydney after two long flights, ruminating over whether Amelia Earhart died of starvation on a lost island or drowned. Three guesses for what I watched on the Bangkok-Sydney flight. When I landed, it was hot and I immediately felt overdressed. Tiny shorts, thongs (read, Bata bathroom chappal lookalikes) and tiny, airy tops were the norm. As for where I would be staying, my friend lives at Bondi Junction, which is walking distance from the very popular Bondi Beach. A posh and very liveable area. Unfortunately for me, it started pouring in Sydney the night after I landed so there wasn’t much I could do. Day one was spent meeting the very friendly French people my friend lived with, watching endless episodes of How I Met Your Mother and walking around the area. If you’re a typical Indian who loves food, Sydney is a great place to be. To say it’s multi-cultural is an understatement. And with several cultures comes several types of cuisine. I have never had the perfect pizza, overflowing with bright, fresh veggies and gorgeous Parmesan on a thin crust, with just the right amount of I don’t know what spices. And in under 15 minutes. Sorry, Dominos.

In between the bouts of rain, I was dragged out of the house and taken on a walk to a nearby “park.” I don’t know if all parks are like the one I saw in Bondi Junction, but this one to me seemed massive and resembled a mini-rainforest. Lush green grass, mammoth trees and rocks all around, running water (thanks to the rain) and little bridges, nothing too hard to climb. A quaint playground and even a couple of tennis courts if admiring nature isn’t your thing. We even found a gorgeous, cosy cave where I’m sure a few kids have been conceived. The strange thing I noticed all throughout Australia is the average size of dogs which people own. The larger the master/mistress, the smaller the dog seemed. Endless terriers and spaniels, a few Daschunds, Pugs, Chihuahuas and miniature breeds. I saw only one Alsation, and that was in Hamilton, which overlooks the port of Brisbane and is one of the most luxurious (read, expensive) places to live.

Another day was spent at Darling Harbour. Though I’ve been there before, it’s always a nice place to visit. Don’t miss the aquarium and also try to catch a movie at the IMAX – it’s supposedly the largest one in the world. If you have enough money, hop on to one of the boats going around the harbour – the view of the bridge and Opera house will leave you speechless. And for some quiet time, to get away from the blazing sun, there are also the Chinese Garden of Friendship*. Note: The Australian sun is not to be underestimated. Yours truly refused to believe than brown Indian skin could be victim to sunburn. I was proved wrong in an hour on the Sunshine Coast.

To make up for her working through the day and for the incessant rain, my friend booked us tickets for Wicked. When I told my sister this, I got shrieks of envy and at the time I knew not why. The tag line for the musical was ‘the untold story of the witches of Oz’. It was pouring, we went late and sat in the rows furthest from the stage, but nevertheless it was completely sensational! What I’ve seen on Chennai stages is really ridiculously incomparable to such shows. You shell out quite a bit for musicals but every cent is worth it, I tell you. The costumes, perfectly synced dance moves, wondrous sets (at one point there was a gigantic dragon’s head which started to glow red above the stage. It had been disguised in the dark so well that nobody noticed it till then despite its size. Pretty neat, huh.), impeccable dialogue and characterisation had me on the edge of my seat for most of the duration of the musical. I didn’t know if one of the main witches has a naturally shrieky voice or put it on for three hours everyday, but she could even sing at that glass-breaking pitch! (Wikipedia tells me the actress was probably Lucy Durack). Add to that, luminous green cocktails which you can buy and take in to the hall. And once the three-hour treat to your senses is over, you want to go back for more. I think I spent the next one week randomly stating things like “green is the new black” and “ohhhh, wicked!” much to my friend’s amusement. (Now seriously, if you don’t get the green connection, you need to revisit your childhood Wizard of Oz memories.) If you’re as mesmerised by the show as most usually are, you could be seriously tempted to buy some overpriced, attractive Wicked merchandise while leaving Capitol Theatre.

Another plus point to being abroad is the easy access to alcohol. And so many different types! Did I mention easy access to it? No creepy men lurking in dark corners around TASMAC bars which smell of… you know. Post Wicked, it was home-cooked Korean food and cheap flavoured wine back at the Bondi house. In my uni days at Canberra I’d had “goon” (as it’s called in Sydney) – casks of dirt-cheap wine – but never the fruity-pop wine I was introduced to that night. Not to forget, the zillion varieties of beer. No, not Fosters. And though I don’t smoke, I discovered that people who do don’t have to shell out as much as I thought one did for smokes. They simply buy their own ‘ingredients’ (think mango smelling tobacco, which was heaven for non-smokers like me) and roll their own nicotine buddies.

After a few days of rain (and some shine) in Sydney, it was time to head to the land of beaches and bikini clad women – the Gold Coast. One thing I hadn’t planned on was living out of a 7-kilo bag for a fortnight. Which wasn’t as hard as living out of 100 ml bottles for that span of time. (Cabin baggage rules are tough there.) After I sampled some Krispy Kreme doughnuts (I was instructed to by a big fan back home) we hopped on to our budget airline seats, half-asleep and ready for some sun. And boy did we get what we asked for.

(to be continued)

encounters

When you’re at a party in Chennai, with loud music and lots of people you don’t know, it’s one thing. When it’s in Cairns, it’s a different ballgame. You’re less aware of whether your underwear is peeping out from somewhere [actually, if it is, then all the better], you don’t know anybody there, and I mean nobody, the weather is nice, the music isn’t bhangra, other girls aren’t checking to see how good/bad you look [or maybe they’re more subtle?], hell, there are women dancing on the bar-table with feathers and fishnet stockings and guys aren’t trying to feel them up! So yes.. Cairns is certainly different from Chennai when it comes to parties.

There was one difference I didn’t realise, however. Men. The mistake I made was to freeze out whichever poor dude tried to hit on me, the way I do when in India. Yes, I’m judgemental and I think all boys are creepy. Sue me. I’ll win.

So here I am, in Cairns [Rhino Bar to be precise] and I meet one of the most “hmmm” people ever when my friend disappears to smoke. I don’t even remember his name, not that it matters. I was tired after walking around Cairns the whole day and it was 1 am and I was a few beers down, so please excuse the lack of precise details. He looked a little older than the other guys at the bar. Slightly mature, not a beach boy type. White shirt and black pants, I think, and dark hair, with a nice smile.

“Why do you look so serious… aren’t you having fun?”

I’ve heard this line before so I must have rolled my eyes and waited for him to go on his way. He didn’t. He repeated the question. So I gave him a perfunctory “Yes, sure I am. I’m just a little tired.”

“Hmm. Where are you from?”

“India.”

“India?! Wow. You come all the way from India to Cairns and you’re at Rhino Bar saying you’re tired?!”

I had to crack a smile. The man had a point.

“How long are you here for?”

“Another day. I’m travelling with a friend and we’re headed to Cape Tribulation tomorrow.”

“Ah. That’s nice. I don’t get out often so excuse me.”

That’s not a line I hear everyday.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you get out often?”

“Well I’m busy. I live in Sydney and in Cairns and I have a lot of work in both places.”

“What do you do?”

“I own a bar.”

Now I don’t know if he said he owned that particular bar or a bar in general.. they were playing Ke$ha a little too loudly.

“Seriously. You own one. And you don’t visit a bar often?”

He laughed.

“No. It’s pretty boring actually. I prefer chilling in my big house with my horses. My kids occasionally visit but usually it’s just the horses and me.”

“Horses. And kids. Hmm.”

“I’m pretty much a loner though. So, what do you do?”

“I’m a journalist.”

“Oh! So you’re here for a story?”

“No, I’m here on holiday.”

This went on for a couple of minutes (now I realise that was a pretty long smoke-break my friend was on) before he inevitably asked me to join him at his place, horses et al. I actually grinned when I said no, considering this was the first slightly intellectual conversation I’d had with a male in a bar. “Are you sure?” Perfectly sure. At that point a very drunk friend of his came by to ask him where they were headed next. I was introduced. “Are you joining us?”

“No, she isn’t,” John Doe grinned. The friend disappeared into the vast crowd and loud music. “Sorry about that. I have to go and socialise now. Then I’ll make my escape. It was nice to meet you. Really.” Another grin.

“Have fun.”

And that was that. I finished my beer, looked around at people and the girls dancing on the bar and thought, what are the odds of meeting a bar-owner who loves horses and talks about journalism in India with me? I was only shaken out of my reverie when my friend returned.