My Fantasy Dinner Party Guest List

So the other day I was watching the Friends episode where Ross ditches Isabella Rossellini from his list of five women he’s allowed to sleep with. And don’t ask me how but it reminded me of a list I’d made ages ago in my phone of all the people who would be on the guest list for my fantasy dinner party…and I thought it’d make a cool topic for a blog post!

*Note: You will notice most of the guests are athletes, musicians or actors. Also, the list is pretty long and most of the guests are Australian. But hey, it’s my list, not yours.

The definitive list is as follows…

Lisa McCune – Australian actress, singer, theatre legend and according to me and my friend Nikki, a national treasure. She is my favourite actress, and I have followed her career for a very long time. I also live in the suburb next to the one she grew up in – good conversation starter?

 

 

John Farnham – Australian singing legend. Because he has been my favourite singer since before I knew what music even was. Every Christmas it was cassettes of his latest album under the tree, and later CDs that still today are in my car to pop into the plyer whenever I feel like a bit of The Voice. I know every single word to every single one of his songs, and it is one of my greatest disappointments that I am 29 years old and still have not been able to afford to, or had the opportunity to, go see him live in concert. I just know one of these days he is going to retire for good and I will have missed my chance (wahhhhhh!). I once worked in a bar at one of his concerts, so I could HEAR him singing in the distance, but I couldn’t see him (double wahhhhh!).

 

Carrie Underwood – American country music singer. One of the most successful of all time, and certainly the most successful person to have won American Idol. Seems like a genuinely lovely person, and her music has helped me through many a bad day.

Paul Barry – Australian journalist, author, current host of Media Watch, Walkley Award winner. Asks the hard questions, has had his business card stomped on by Alan Bond and written many a scandalous book on the Packers. Pretty sure we could talk all night about his experiences in print and television.

 

 

Liz Chetkovich – Gymnastics Australia’s High Performance Manager and the brains behind the establishment of the highly successful women’s gymnastics program at the West Australian Institute of Sport. Because me and my friends who follow gymnastics in this country call her Queen Liz – I think that’s enough of an explanation as to why she makes my list.

Nastia Liukin – American gymnast, Beijing 2008 all around gold medallist. My favourite gymnast of all time. A huge inspiration.

 

 

Rob Sitch and Jane Kennedy – husband and wife comedy duo who are 2/4 of the Working Dog gang. Creators of The Castle, Frontline, The Dish, The Hollowmen, Thank God You’re Here, The Late Show and many other television shows, books and films. Since they’re married I’m counting them as one person.

 

 

Tony Wheeler – the founder of Lonely Planet travel guides. I’ve read his book, but would kill to just sit down with him and ask him even more about how Lonely Planet began.

John Marsden – author. Even though I’ve read a tonne of books since high school, the Tomorrow series remains my favourite series of books of all time. I have read Tomorrow When the War Began about 30 times since I discovered it at 14. I’ve read the other six books in the series almost as many times.

 

 

 

Tina Fey – comedian and creator/star of 30 Rock, Mean Girls and the author of Bossy Pants. Everyone loves Tina Fey. She is just COOL. We could be best friends.

Paul Kelly – Australian singing legend, a true poet. Farnsy and Mr Kelly are almost equal to me, but because I’ve listened to Farnsy since birth and I haven’t done that with Paul Kelly, Farnsy *just* inches him out. But I still know every word to every one of Paul Kelly’s songs too, and have been lucky enough to see him in concert with Neil Finn in 2013 (it is the best concert I’ve ever been to, no question). In my opinion Paul Kelly is one of the greatest songwriters Australia has ever produced. His lyrics are like poetry and his music comforting and familiar. I cannot celebrate Christmas without playing How To Make Gravy 574385783496593 times. I just can’t.

 

 

Claudia Karvan - Australian actor, director. Because she is just cool. One of the coolest people on television. And one of Australia's greatest actors.

 

 

Bruce McAvaney – sporting commentator. Is there a more iconic Australian voice than Bruce’s? I know he is made fun of, but I love his voice. It’s part of my childhood. I would talk with him about Sydney 2000 and all his other Olympic experiences for hoursssss.

 

Judith Lucy – Australian comedian. My favourite comedian EVER. I would sit her next to Rob Sitch and Jane Kennedy because they have already made a few shows together and talking to the three of them at once would make my head explode – in a good way.

 

 

Stuart Diver – survivor of the 1997 Thredbo landslide. So much respect for this guy. I have read his book 3 times, and feel so inspired by the strength he has showed not just during the 65 hours he was stuck in alpine conditions before being rescued, but also through the loss of two wives and still be able to soldier on today. What a champion.

 

The following people almost made the cut…

Bryan Brown – Australian actor

John Wood – Australian actor

Ashleigh Brennan – Australian gymnast, four time Commonwealth Games medallist, 2 time Olympian

John Adam – Australian actor, theatre performer. For the eye candy.

Nadine Garner – Australian actress, singer.

Ric Birch – creator of the Sydney and Atlanta Olympic Opening Ceremonies, among others.

Meryl Streep – actress. Because why wouldn’t you invite Meryl Streep to your fantasy dinner party?

Bridget Sloan – American gymnast, 2008 Olympian, one of the greatest NCAA gymnasts of all time.

Alec Baldwin – actor. The male version of Meryl Streep.

 

 

Who would be on your ultimate fantasy dinner party guest list?

 

Your host,

Jorgs

 

 

*Thanks interwebs and google for the pictures. I promise I'm not stealing them and claiming them as my own.

A Traveller’s Education

Last week I spent five days in Singapore with Mumma Jorgs, and since it was the first time I had travelled with her in about eight years, I realised a couple of things – namely that I have a whole education in me now thanks to my extreme case of wanderlust. I suddenly knew how to do things in Singapore that my Mum didn’t. And what’s more, she was relying on me for it. It was like the roles had been reversed, and it was so odd, as all the other times I’d travelled with her I’d been much younger and she had been the one who had figured out how to get places, how to fix problems, how to get back on the right road when we got lost, how to handle dodgy taxi drivers. But now, it’s me.

It feels good, but scary. Just like that time, at barely 22 and so incredibly young in so many ways, I stepped onto a plane bound for London and left little old Perth behind for three months. I was beyond scared, but also beyond excited. No doubt my parents were worried (especially my Mum, who is a chronic, chronic worrier) that something terrible would happen to me, or that I wouldn’t be able to tackle the challenges travelling occasionally throws at you, but the second I stepped onto that plane and away from familiarity and comfort was the start of my traveller’s education.

Travelling teaches you things you can’t learn in school, or in university. Only the wanderlusters can step into the massive train stations of NYC, London, Paris or Hong Kong and feel confident they can tackle the routes that splay out on the map like veins through the body. Only wanderlusters learn to have the balls to politely but firmly ask for their passport back from a customs official in an airport who wants a bribe in exchange for giving it back. Only wanderlusters can add three nights of two minute noodle dinners and three mornings of free hostel pancakes and know it equals a $300 bridge climb in Sydney or a paraglide in Austria and that it is definitely the right answer to that mathematical equation. Only wanderlusters can have their minds expanded through the meeting of other travellers from far away countries, of other religions, of other races, of greater experience and become better people for it. Only wanderlusters can be so resourceful and quick thinking that they can track down their travel buddie’s dropped mobile phone on Hollywood Boulevard with just a few short phone calls and a bus ride.

In Singapore it was me who found and booked our hotel, made sure it was a good location, figured out the best way to get around and explored the recommendations given to me by friends and fellow crew when deciding what we should see and do during our time in the country. It was me who navigated the complex subway, with its huge escalators and dizzyingly big stations when my Mum just wanted to take a taxi because she saw it as less intimidating and much easier. It was me who educated her on liquids, aerosols and gels and the Smartgate machine at the airport.

And all these answers I had, I had gained through firsthand experience during my travels. Of course it helps that I am now a flight attendant and travel for work every week, but I learnt many things about travel before I even ever entered that profession.

I feel sorry for those who have yet to have the opportunity to learn on foreign soil and in tricky situations. I hope y’all get the opportunity soon. I feel sorry for those who think they don’t need to get a travellers education or who don’t want one. And I applaud and encourage those about to set off on an adventure and start their own traveller’s education – as nervous and apprehensive as they might be, when they return, whenever that may be, they will return a different person. A person able to tackle so much more than they could before they left and a person who will be so much more confident within themselves and compassionate, accepting and open to and of others.

I have a buddy who is about to set off on such an adventure in the coming months, so this blog entry is dedicated to her. Follow her journey as she attends a performing arts summer school in London and then her adventures through the rest of the UK and Europe by following her new blog at https://teashakespeareandthetraveller.wordpress.com/ .

Until next time wanderlusters,

Jorgs

How many wines does it take for one little yogi to roll her car?

Today I’m throwing it back. Throwing it back to last year, when I got into an argument with a celebrity on Instagram. After the backlash – but also just as many positive, supporting comments – about my binge drinking posts on this blog, I feel spurred on to continue to voice my opinion on things I don’t think are right. I’m not the type to just let these things slide by, as I have principles, and this is how I got into the argument in the first place.

Mid last year many of you may have heard of a certain female active wear ‘guru’ who rolled her car in a classy Sydney suburb after drinking a few too many wines one afternoon in North Bondi. Maybe you didn’t hear about it, but if you lived in Sydney, as I did at the time, you definitely would’ve. The media were all over it like a rash. And rightly so.

Anyway, said celebrity rolled her fancy schmancy Range Rover and damaged several other cars. Thankfully, nobody was hurt. Later, due to I am sure, her well known name (and former – heavy weight – married name), her status within Sydney society, plus the ease with which she could afford to pay an excellent mouthpiece known for getting celebrities ‘out’ of situations like this in court, she was let off with barely a slap on the wrist. This was despite previous driving offences, and despite the fact just a couple of courts away in western Sydney, a man was in for the same offence and got a far harsher penalty than Miss Yoga Pants.

Sometime later she posted a picture on her Instagram account which depicted a hand holding a pair of scissors, cutting off the ‘t from the word can’t. Pretty disappointed at the light sentence she had been given, and not willing to sit back and watch herself and many other celebrities get off so easily as if they are more ‘special’ than the rest of us, I could not help but write a comment on her picture that went something along the lines of ‘I can….drink and drive and get away with it.’ (who am I kidding, those were the exact words. I won’t forget how satisfying it felt to write them and hope she would read them and feel a little remorse).

Well watch out. What happened next was much more than I had expected. Many of Miss Yoga Pants hippie dippie yoga loving chia seed inhaling devoted followers commented, making up excuses for their guru and her actions, insisting it was ‘okay that we all make mistakes’ and continuously stating how much they still loved and adored her. Plenty of people jumped on my band wagon also, standing at my back supporting my stance on how seriously she had not taken what she had done.

Miss Yoga Pants herself, known to be media shy, people shy, everything shy (yet she is a former swimsuit model…go figure), even hopped on and began making excuses for herself in reply to my comment. Miss Yoga Pants stated she had only had a few wines that afternoon and had eaten. She stated her previous run ins with unpaid parking fines and never receiving her traffic infringements in the post were all someone else’s fault, and that she hoped I would forgive myself and live with peace and harmony.

Vomit. Get a grip.

Miss Yoga Pants herself is a whisp thin person, whom I can pretty confidently say four wines would knock around pretty solidly. She definitely didn’t eat enough to balance what she drank (but she made sure to remind me she’d followed the ‘government legislation of one drink an hour’ but then went on to admit she hadn’t thought far enough to realise this recommendation varies according to a person’s weight). She insisted it was near on impossible to live in Sydney and never get parking fines (well dang, how did I possibly live there for two years and never get a single one?! I must be soooo lucky!). She insisted old unpaid fines were a result of mail getting stolen from her box for ten years (never heard of a lock love? Or god forbid a secure PO Box that will only cost you $200 a year? Pretty sure you could afford it).

I played on for quite a while. Maybe you, dear readers, haven’t noticed yet, but if you do dumb shit, I’m going to call you out on it. That’s what you deserve if you’re going to do dumb shit. And that’s what I felt needed to be done on this Instagram post. Her and her devoted yogis were insisting it was all right that she could’ve killed someone. That it was all right that she’d been able to get away with next to no punishment, making her believe she could go on and do it again and again, just because the law had made an exception for her because she is ‘famous’ and can afford a really good lawyer.

Well I sure have a problem with that. Who cares to place a bet that she didn’t personally apologise to those whose cars she damaged when she rolled her shiny 4WD? She barely showed up to court, putting on her wounded bambi look for the media pack when she did eventually show up (late), and insisting she had been victimized and hassled for years just because she used to be married to one of Australia’s richest men.

Cry me a river. She had had her licence suspended six times in seven years! All the problems she pumped out into her Instagram comments and to the media were easily resolvable but which she thought she was above because of her celebrity. Blaming her assistants, recommended alcohol intake levels for her weight and height, blaming everything and everyone but herself for her inexcusable actions.

As if I wasn’t going to call her out on that. I am truly sick of seeing football clubs covering up the dumb shit actions of its players, Cronulla’s favourite bogan bikini model continually get her licence suspended yet still driving around like she is someone special, actors to boxers to NFL stars being perpetrators of domestic violence yet still showered in money and fame, all the while their despicable acts behind closed doors going blissfully ignored.

What made Miss Yoga Pants think that she was any more special than anyone else? What made her think it was okay to do what she did? What made her think one tiny lamb chop would counteract a whole afternoon of drinking when she probably weighs barely 50kg? Why was she making excuses for such an inexcusable thing she did?

I really would’ve liked to see what the devoted yogis had to say about their guru had she actually killed someone – a very, very real possibility, and one she is very lucky to have escaped. Would they still have been singing her praises then? I bloody hope not.

Miss Yoga Pants has been in the news a lot this past year, and not just for the Range Rover rolling incident. My little stoush with her garnered a write up on ninemsn and the Daily Mail, of which I was not expecting, but which I was glad for, as I think it highlighted just how much of a dumb shit she’d been, and she deserves to have her wrists slapped so much more than what they have so far been. I wish nothing but negative publicity on someone who’s going to do stupid things like put innocent lives at risk.

You can see readers, why I dislike drinking more and more with every passing day. The examples as to why drinking stupidly just keep getting thrown at me, day after day.

What a shockingly bad decision she made with the fuel of those wines. Of course, you cannot blame the alcohol all the time – many people can drink and be mature and intelligent enough to make the decision not to drive, no matter how drunk they may or may not be. But Miss Yoga Pants made a poor decision, and while we all do indeed make poor decisions from time to time, we all also should own up to them, apologise, rectify the situation as best we can and take proper responsibility for our actions - not blame the rest of the world for our stupid acts. Alcohol is a part of too many road accidents and fatalities.

If you make a dumb shit decision, as I stated above, there will always be someone there to call you out on it. Because you deserve to be called out on it.

I’m sure many think I sound like the fun police here, and maybe that’s what I am. But imagine if it was your car she banged up? Imagine if it was your sister or brother that she hit with her car? Wouldn’t you be calling her out on it then too?

 What were you thinking Miss Yoga Pants?

Seriously, what were you thinking?

Jorgs

Note: for the detectives out there who might go hunting on Instagram for this argument, you won't find it - as Instagram deleted my comments after I was threatened one too many times by the hippie dippies.

When you’re still not up for Happy Hour

So apparently I offended some readers with my last blog entry. I’m not sorry. This is my blog, and it’s about my opinions, and this is where I’m allowed to have them. I only care about offending my family and friends, and so far they have all sided with me on that post, so I needn’t worry that they’re upset by what I wrote.

And it seems that ever since I wrote that post, every day since I have been inundated with more and more reasons to dislike people who drink excessively. The reasons are just being hurled at me constantly, reinforcing everything I wrote as 100% spot on.

For example, last week I witnessed a group of drunken douche bag rugby players hassle a young woman to the point of her being in tears. They were wolf whistling, trying to touch her up and making many a suggestive comments, among other things. They were relentless at it. They were only doing this because they were drinking – I had talked to them previously and all seemed like all right guys before they started getting on the piss. Thankfully their team manager shut them down when it came to his attention that they were being dickheads, but to me it only proved once again that not much good comes from that kind of drinking. It also did not help their cause at all – everyone around them just rolled their eyes and whispered ‘typical rugby players’. The stereotype that exists out there that rugby players are hard drinkers, won’t take no for an answer, think they’re untouchable (or that their club will protect them) and think they’re god’s gift was only reinforced time and time again that day. They did not do themselves any favours in the eyes of others. But they didn’t care. Like I said, they think they’re gods. They had no shame, saw nothing wrong with what they did, all because the alcohol they drank and the way they egged each other on as a result, hazed over their good judgement.

I don’t give a toss if you feel I’m judging you for being an excessive drinker. Maybe that’s what you are, and you just keep making excuses for your behaviour and continually talk yourself into thinking it’s ok. What’s more, I don’t care if you feel I’m judging you – because I am – because you are the ones that judge me way worse for only being an occasional drinker. For being someone who doesn’t enjoy drinking to the point of passing out. For being someone who doesn’t think it’s funny to have such a crazy night that you have unexplained bruises the next morning from stumbling round in a drunken stupor. For being someone who doesn’t think it’s cool that your $200 dress got ripped and you label it in a Facebook post as ‘must’ve been a good weekend if your dress gets torn to shreds’. No, I don’t think that’s cool, and yes I am going to judge you.

This kind of drinking is a terrible culture that exists in so many sporting clubs and workplaces and within friendship groups. And I think it needs to change. I know it won’t, but my opinion is that it should. Label me as unfun all you want, but as a commenter pointed out in an article linked – though it didn’t explain his argument very well – drinking is the second biggest killer in Australia. One day hopefully that will hit home.

When you're not up for Happy Hour

Today I’m turning serious guys. I’ve been wanting to write about this topic for a really long time, as it really gets on my nerves, but I haven’t had the motivation to tackle such an infuriating topic in the written form until today. And then last week I got a push to write it now more than ever after I saw a Facebook post from a colleague about it. So today I’ve come to the library, hoping for some peace and quiet and a nice corner nook of a desk to settle myself into to get blogging.

Well, I got to the library, but there are no desks left (maybe because my local only has three…what the hell?) so I’m sitting on the floor because that is also the only place there’s a power point as I forgot to charge my laptop before I left home, and let’s face it, I’m going to write much more than 17% battery will allow.

So anyway, today’s topic is alcohol. Or rather, people who drink it and are douche bags when doing so. I didn’t used to dislike these douche bags as much a few years ago. Maybe there are more drunken douche bags now than there was then, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because for the last few years I have worked in what I am positive is one of THE most alcohol drenched industries one could possibly ever work in.

Now, I do drink. I do. I don’t like beer or wine, or most types of cider, but I do drink. Give me a mixed drink or a cocktail or some strawberry lime Rekorderlig and I am a happy camper. But I don’t enjoy going to pubs and clubs every Saturday night and getting off chops so completely that you spend the whole of Sunday on the couch nursing a Maccas cheeseburger. I cannot tell you how many snapchats I get on Sundays that depict exactly this, usually accompanied by the caption ‘never drinking again’. Yet the very next Sunday up appears an identical snapchat from the exact same person.

Now I know this makes me sound like a party pooper who’s no fun at all, but I truly don’t care. And I do think I am still a fun person. Maybe I sound like one of those ads that used to appear in Dolly when you were a teenager that was all ‘you can have fun without alcohol or drugs’. But honestly, I don’t find it cool at all – nor do I find anything associated with it cool (like war wounds from when you fell drunkenly into a gutter on your stumble home, the fact you lost your licence because you were caught drink driving). I do understand that crazy nights with a few drinks can create some of your most amazing memories and times with your closest friends – nights you’ll never forget. And I am all for that. But why do people take it so much further than that? And scarily enough, why do they do it multiple times a week?

Then last week I came across a Facebook post from someone I know who linked an article about giving up alcohol and then proceeded to make a comment alongside it about how much he loved drinking alcohol, how confident it made him, the friends he’s gained because of it and the social opportunities it provides. He then went on to say that despite this though, he didn’t like the cost, the hangovers and the way he feels drawn to alcohol in order to fit in. He also admitted, after several of his friends commented on his post that they had given up alcohol permanently or at some point in their lives for a while, that he had not gone without alcohol for more than a month since he was 13 years old.

I nearly fell off my bed. I know I was a late comer to the party having only had my first taste of alcohol when I was sixteen, but not having gone without it for just a couple of weeks since he was thirteen (the age he first tried alcohol does not bother me…it’s very normal actually I think) up until this day, well, I found that so, so sad. It was amazing that he felt this had to be an accompaniment to every single weekend or Friday night.

Of course he is not the only one, and I am not trying to single him out. How many articles do you read in the media that are about losing weight or feeling healthier and the first thing they recommend you do is cut down on, or cut out completely, any alcohol? They write it like it’s so common for everyone to drink every week. And they write it because it’s absolutely true. I’m not judging you if you have a glass of wine or a beer after work each night. The point of this entry is that I’m just judging you if you are one of those people who do your drinking excessively. Why do you feel the need to do this? Why do you need to go so far? Why do you have to write yourself off every Saturday night which in turn renders you practically vegetative all day Sunday? Do you think such excess makes you cool? Do you also think this on the Sunday when you’re feeling like dog shit? Or do you regret it? And if you regret it, why do you then go and do it again next weekend? If you don’t regret it…why don’t you?

I know a lot of people drink for social acceptance, like my buddy mentioned above, and I understand that, and even sympathise a tiny bit. Many workplaces and industries have a culture where drinking is just the norm. You are seen as abnormal if you don’t drink. I know this, because I work in such an industry. It’s alcohol DRENCHED, and because I am not a huge drinker, I often am excluded from or forgotten about during many crew get togethers. Being a flight attendant who doesn’t drink is like someone working at Vogue who doesn’t like fashion, or an AFL footballer who doesn’t take drugs (yep, I went there). You’re seen as weird, and like you aren’t putting in the effort to get to know your work mates, for the single reason you don’t want to go out boozing with them all night (and EVERY trip) and spend all your layover allowance on drinks. So I can absolutely understand ol’ buddy above when he says drinking brings him social acceptance. Certainly it’s easier to make friends when you’re a bit tipsy. Heck, you even make friends with the girl standing next to you in the toilet queue when you’re drunk. It can be fun, looking through those wine goggles. Everything seems better, and you do have heaps of fun. I’m not denying that. I’ve been there, done that myself. I just never take it to the point of excess like so many people around me seem to do.

Why does every social occasion need to be centred around alcohol? Why is it more common to hear someone say ‘let’s go out for a drink’ than ‘let’s go out for icecream/coffee/fish and chips’? I know I know, it’s so normal to drink. So, so normal. But if someone chooses not to go it as aggressively as you, if they don’t like shots, or they don’t like the taste of wine and they choose not to drink the way you do, why do you look at them oddly? Why do you exclude them? If alcohol brings you social acceptance, and you feel people only like you because you drink, how do you think the people who don’t drink feel? Can you imagine how unaccepted and left out they feel? Take a moment to let that sink in, and maybe next time someone says they are not up for going out drinking one weekend and would prefer to do something else – a movie, a road trip, a day on the beach – you will stop and think for a minute and think hey, yeah, I’ll give that a go. At least you won’t be hungover the next day, and you’ll still have money in your wallet.

It’s a dangerous thing for some workplaces to have such a culture, or even just your friendship circle to have such a culture, I think. If you take away the alcohol, who are these people? Not who you thought they were. Perhaps not even people you’d ever associate with normally. Maybe they’re not fun or exciting when they’re not drunk, but hey, that is who they are underneath – sober – and that is their true personality, so get to know it.

If someone prefers to spend their Saturday night with a copy of Sleepless in Seattle in their DVD player, a packet of chips and a hot Milo as opposed to your pre drinks, bar hopping, a 4am Maccas run and a 5am crash into bed, don’t be thinking they’re not cool enough. Don’t judge them as losers and think they’re uncool just because they don’t want to drink as excessively as you. Chances are they’re so opposed to it (at least in part) because of the huge deal you make of looking down upon them and because you won’t accept that they just don’t want to do things the same way as you sometimes.

If you want to drink go right ahead. I’m not saying you can’t, or shouldn’t or anything like that. I am opposed to drinking to excess, and I am opposed to people whining about how they feel so shocking the next day (hey man, you did it to yourself), and I am opposed to excessive drinking that leads to stupid or criminal acts (but that’s a topic I’m going to write about another time). I also realllllly hate those people who preach their ‘mindful eating’, kale smoothie, yoga loving, chia seed, acai bowl weekday lives and then go and get smashed every weekend, whilst still trying to sell their wholesome clean eating mantra to those around them.

Please, just take a moment to think how it would be if you didn’t drink to excess. If you treated everybody in as friendly a way as you do that girl in the toilet queue at that bar or at that music festival. Because people who don’t drink so excessively just want to be accepted too, and not forced to become some kind of binge drinker just to have someone to hang out with on Saturday nights. I am not saying I am perfect. But I'm also saying I don't need to be forced to drink just to be considered perfect.

Your occasional drinker,

Jorgs

That time I went to...Nashville, Tennessee

Greetings fellow travellers and readers! I can’t remember if I mentioned recently that on one of my long slips in Dallas in February I made a little trip to Music City USA, aka Nashville, Tennessee! Being a recent convert to country music, I was quite excited to explore Nashville and see all that it had to offer.

The week that I arrived in Dallas they were experiencing an unusually cold burst of weather, and the roads were absolutely ridiculous – covered with ice and almost impossible to drive on let alone walk on! Dallas had totally shut down. Nobody was out on the streets, the shopping mall across the road from our crew hotel was empty, and the drive from the airport to the hotel was eerily quiet. I was a bit worried about getting to the airport the next morning to go to Nashville – even Uber had hiked up its prices due to the treacherous weather and the still high demand for Uber cars.

But despite all that – I made it to the airport and hopped on my Southwest plane to Nashville. Travel tip #272: if you book early enough you can get mega cheap fares on Southwest! It’s fantastic. I got to Nashville much more cheaply than I expected to pay. AND they don’t charge you to check in luggage! Win win!

Just over three hours later (as my flight included a short stopover in New Orleans as part of the cheap price) I landed into Music City, and as soon as I stepped into the airport terminal I knew I was in country music territory. There were references everywhere – from the names of the restaurants and bars in the terminal to the sprinkle of treble clefs and musical notes stuck on the side of the shuttle bus that I took to my hostel. I quickly got the feeling that Nashville lived and breathed country music. And I was right. In Nashville country music seems to be the local religion.

 

I chose to stay at the Nashville Downtown Hostel ( www.nashvilledowntownhostel.com ), located in the heart of downtown Nashville. This hostel only opened in 2012 so feels new enough that you’re excited to use and take advantage of all its fresh and new facilities, but it is also still partly under construction. It is set over several floors and the ground floor holds a huge open plan area that combines everything from reception to a kitchen to couches, tables, chairs, foosball tables, even a small corner stage just begging for an unknown crooner with their treasured guitar to sit up there on a stool and sing their soul out. This floor seems to be the only one that is truly complete – the others are only partially done, but they are by no means unliveable. The worst is the floor that holds the free lockers (bring your own lock) – you must pick over and walk past a lot of construction junk and old furniture to get to the lockers. The floor above this houses the dorms, and this floor is spotless. Each dorm is labelled with the name of a famous band or singer – I stayed in the Rolling Stones dorm and was impressed that this four bed space actually featured those not often seen bunk beds that are a double bed on the bottom and a single bed on the top. Because it was clearly not a busy time for tourists in Nashville in late February, there was only one other person already staying in the dorm, so I got to snag myself the other double bed bottom bunk, which I was happy about. The room did not have much else besides the beds – for example no lockers for your luggage and not much in the way of hooks to hang your towel and clothes, but I made do. For US$32 per night I thought it was worth it, especially with a great swipe card system in place to get throughout the hostel and keep everything safe.

The best thing about this hostel however was definitely its location. As soon as I had dumped my stuff in one of the lockers on the second floor I layered up with my scarf and gloves and trench coat and hit the pavement. Like Dallas there was ice just everywhere and it made for some treacherous walking sometimes. I was suddenly very scared of slipping on some ice and breaking my arm and being all alone in a new city away from any of my crew back in Dallas! That would not have been an ideal situation!

 

Look at all that ice!

 

Anyway, within just five minutes of walking down nearby Second Avenue and past all its honky tonks and family restaurants I was in the epicentre of Nashville: Broadway. My friendly shuttle bus driver had pointed it out to me as we had driven to the hostel earlier in the day and insisted I pay it a visit during my stay, so I made Broadway my first point of call.

Broadway is just brimming with more honky tonks (Urban Dictionary defines a honky tonk as “A loud, rowdy bar that plays 'honky tonk' country music. Typically full of drunken hillbillies having a good ole' time” sounds like fun to me!) and plenty of souvenir shops selling typical Nashville fare – cowboy boots and hats, checked shirts, huge blinged out belt buckles, whips, saddles and everything cowboy and country you could imagine!

I wondered along happily, soaking it all in and poking my head into more than a few of the bars and shops as I walked past. But as I walked I noticed something I’ve never seen in any other city I’ve ever visited: in Nashville, at many sets of traffic lights, there is a chest high box (which I at first mistook for a fuse box or some kind of maintenance…electricity…telephone cable type box thingy you typically see on a footpath in a city, or even on suburban streets) painted in street art that has a small speaker or two inside it that belts out country songs day and night. Not too loudly, just nice background noise, creating a bit of atmosphere, as if constantly wanting to gently remind you that friend - you are in Music City now. It was such a cute touch!

I continued all the way up Broadway for several blocks, taking it all in before rounding a few corners and walking towards the Country Music Hall of Fame, one of Nashville’s most famous landmarks. On the way I passed gigantic Bridgestone Arena, home to the ice hockey team the Nashville Predators, if you’re into NHL (can’t say I am!). As I climbed the steps up to the entrance of the Country Music Hall of Fame I wondered if I should go inside, or keep walking around and exploring a bit more. I whipped out my phone and checked the temperature right then in Nashville to help me make my decision. Minus six degrees celsius. Yep, I was going inside.

By that time it was lunchtime, and I decided to get something to eat before I delved into the museum. Luckily there was a cute little café right in the foyer of the CMHOF and I enjoyed the perfect winter’s day lunch there – tomato soup served with a toasted cheese sandwich. Mmmm just what the doctor ordered!

 

 

Entry into the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum (its proper name) is US$24.95 for adults and US$22.50 for seniors and students. If you are a member of AAA, you can also get in for the seniors and students price. I wasn’t aware, but when I went to buy my ticket, the kind gentleman behind the counter asked me where I was from, and when I said Australia he asked if I belonged to a roadside assistance or automobile club back at home. When I said I did, he asked to see my membership card and after a quick scan of it he turned it over and pointed out to me the tiny little AAA symbol that was in the corner of my NRMA membership card and told me that I too was entitled to a discount because AAA (the American Automobile Association) has Australian equivalents, and NRMA (for those of you who live in New South Wales in Australia) was one of them. I have since found out my NRMA membership (or perhaps you have RACV, RACQ or RAC Western Australia) entitles me to many discounts in the United States – the one of which I’ll use most being Amtrak (we all know how much I love Amtrak!) – due to NRMA’s affiliation with AAA. Pro travel tip #273!

While I was at the CMHOF there was a Kenny Rogers exhibit featuring, and I made that my first stop upon entering this huge museum. There was plenty to see, in the Kenny Rogers exhibit and elsewhere, with walls upon walls of golden records, displays dedicated to the history of country music, its biggest stars, its costumes, famous concerts, biggest impacts, country music in pop culture, its most popular bands and husband and wife teams. And it wasn’t all ‘yesteryear’ country music – there was plenty of time and space dedicated to Taylor Swift, Carrie Underwood (my personal fave!), Florida Georgia Line, Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert. I spent a good few hours wondering around and soaking it all in, humming my favourite tunes as I went.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lurve this picture of Tim McGraw and
Faith Hill *swoon*

 

The following day I decided to continue the country music theme of my trip (was there really any other theme? Nashville is all about the country music. Like, SOAKED in it. No objections here!) and head out to The Grand Ole Opry.

The Grand Ole Opry is ‘the show that made country music famous’ – a large venue that to this day still hosts a country music radio show where a live audience can be a part of the broadcast. Today for a country music artist to be invited to become a member of the Grand Ole Opry is without a doubt the highest honour that could be bestowed upon them – perhaps even greater than a Grammy. To be a member means the artist performs several shows a year, but this, according to my tour guide who took me on the backstage tour of the impressive venue ($22 adults/$17 children) is more a privilege for the artists than a chore or obligation. The Opry is the holy grail of a country music artist’s career.

For the day time backstage tour I bought a ticket at the box office when I arrived – though the Opry recommends you book in advance online or by phone, but there sure weren’t many people out and about in Nashville in February when it was so cold outside!

The tour begins with a video presentation by Blake Shelton – a hugely popular singer in the US in case you didn’t know – and you are then taken through all of the backstage areas, dressing rooms, artists entrances, side stage, the auditorium seating area and finally onto the stage itself where you can pretend you are the star entertaining the crowd of screaming fans and have your photo taken with the famous mic used by country music royalty.

 

 

Also, if you are a fan of the drama series Nashville, several scenes are filmed at the Opry, and you can see some sets and areas used on the show as well as costumes and scripts in an informative exhibit hardcore fans will love.

Performances are held at the Opry several nights every week, as well as several nights every week at the Ryman Auditorium downtown, a sister venue equally as famous. Many artists appear during one show, so book in advance as this place is pretty popular. Check out www.opry.com for details.

 

 

After my day at the Opry and the nearby Opry Mills Mall, it was sadly time to head back to Dallas. I didn’t want to leave! Nashville isn’t big and brash – just small, honest, humble and sweet…a bit like country music itself. I thoroughly enjoyed myself there and would love to go back and catch one of my favourite artists performing at the Grand Ole Opry one day.

I have big plans to explore as much of the south of the United States as I can over the next few years, and after conquering Georgia, and now the heart of Tennessee, I am keen to get onto the other southern states after Nashville proved so delightful.

If you’re a country music fan, or even if you’re not, Nashville is a surprisingly pleasant city to visit. It’s calm and has character, and like everywhere in the south, the people are so friendly, which always endears me to a place, and leaves good memories.

Until the next adventure,

Jorgs

Life changing (and not so life changing) decisions

Do you ever wonder what would happen if you’d made one tiny decision differently? I am always wondering about this – yeah I’m a pretty indecisive and occasionally paranoid person -  and this week I’ve thought about it A LOT.

Why you ask? Because the past ten days have been a doozy for me. It all started when I swapped onto a Dallas trip, because as always, I wanted to swap off the Dubai trip that was rostered for me. Now, you’d think after almost two years of swapping trips and something crazy always happening on the trip I swap onto (delays, diversions, passenger medical emergencies, crazy weather) I would know not to swap anymore, but alas I still do it as my life as a commuter depends on being able to swap trips and manipulate my roster to work as best as it can for my work/life balance.

So anyways, I swapped onto this Dallas and on the way up to Dallas from Sydney I was helping a mother of twin babies out by cuddling one twin while she settled the other one down to sleep. It was the middle of the night and she was travelling with her elderly father, her twins and her four year old and that’s it. All the crew felt for her – it was a very long trip to be doing with her little precious cargo, but her babies had been quite good, and I was impressed with how they had behaved. So when she asked me to hold one of the twins I was only too happy to. After all, I love babies!

But then he threw up on me. That’s right. I finally popped my having a passenger throw up on me cherry. It only took five years of flying for it to finally happen. I guess I should be grateful that it was only baby spew and not adult spew. But he had just eaten sweet potato AND he was sick with a cold.

Gross.

Anyway, a few days later we attempted to leave Dallas bound for Sydney again in the midst of wild thunderstorms in Dallas. The shocking lightening and pounding rain meant we left Dallas several hours late, and by the time we got to Sydney all us crew were almost out of hours to legally work. Safe to say I was pretty beat. But I wearily hopped on my plane bound for Perth a few hours later and got settled in my seat, only to have the aircraft turn back to the gate twice for engineering issues. In the end I finally crawled into my own bed at 5pm, rather than the 11am I’d originally planned.

I slept for foreverrrrrrrrrrrr and woke up at 12:30am, just as my Mum was about to head to bed. Before she did though she kindly reheated me some of the chicken and broccoli bake she’d made her and my dad for dinner. It was delicious.

But the next morning I woke up vomiting my heart out. And spent the entire day with my head over the toilet continuing to vomit my heart out. Food poisoning is so rad y’all.

I was finally starting to feel normal again yesterday when I started getting sniffly. Today I have felt shocking yet again, slugged with a full blown cold. What a week!

My point is, would all this have happened if I’d made one tiny decision differently? If I hadn’t swapped onto the Dallas trip I wouldn’t have gotten spewed on. And because that baby was sick with a cold I wonder if the cold I have now is from him? (I also wonder if I vomited all day Tuesday because of him, but actually I think it was the dodgy chicken really that did it to me. If it was the baby it was a pretty delayed reaction for me) If I had done the Dubai instead of the Dallas I would’ve been able to get on a different flight home and gotten home into my bed earlier, therefore perhaps being better for my health and well being that week as I wouldn’t have been so exhausted and run down?

If I hadn’t gone to Dallas and I hadn’t gotten sick when I got home from it I wouldn’t even be writing this blog entry right now, because I’d already be back at work doing an LA trip.

It’s funny isn’t it? Asking what if? I know they say that every different decision you make leads you down the path you were truly meant to go down, but I still get so curious. A few months before I got my first flying job I was offered a place at a summer camp for girl guides in rural Louisiana in the US. I was all set to go – had even been given a camp nickname by the director that the kids would call me – and then I was offered my first job as a flight attendant and I decided to take it, thinking that it might be the only chance I would ever have to get my foot in the aviation door. But I often think back and wonder what it would’ve been like to go to Louisiana, who I would’ve met there, the experiences I would’ve had, if maybe I would’ve just been able to break into flying when I got back from camp. They’re things I will always wonder about.

Of course sometimes these decisions turn out to be life changing, which I find fascinating. I recently read an article about a man who decided to personally take his child to school instead of letting them take the bus on the morning of September 11, 2001. Because of that he wasn’t in his office in World Trade Centre 1 when the planes struck. Was that not the best decision of his life or what?! One I am sure he has survivor’s guilt about, but still, great decision, because it meant he got to live.

My life changed when I decided to do my first Contiki tour on a certain date in April over another certain date in April of 2009 and because I picked that tour on that date, I met one of my best friends, and two weeks ago I was there to watch her get married and make a speech at her ceremony. Great decision about dates and destinations there huh? One decision I am very grateful I made.

Have you ever made a life changing decision – or even a tiny every day one – that has shaped your life in a massive way as a result? I’d love to hear of your experiences, so leave me a comment and tell me all about it!

Jorgs

 

Top right is us SO YOUNG in Europe!