When in India... Never trust a nice man in a suit

He was nicely dressed, young and clean. He said he wasn’t from Delhi and just wanted to talk for a bit. Alarm bells rang but I could really do with a friendly talk. It was my first night in Delhi and overwhelming is an understatement. There really isn't anywhere on earth like India.

I declined tea, coffee, dinner, beer and wine so we stood on the streets talking. I made the rookie mistake of telling him I had just arrived and was alone, but between the jetlag and his persistent questions I couldn’t help but let a few slide. I really do have trouble lying to people. I asked him what the highlights of Delhi were and he told me to go to the lotus temple. 

“Where exactly is this? I haven’t managed to get a map yet.”
He ushered me to a nearby shop and he ran upstairs while I waited outside. Before long he had convinced me to come inside and meet his friend for just a second. I was apprehensive by this stage and only agreed as I could see the small loft from the street. My Western mind told me that being able to be seen by the public would stop crime, which is ludicrous in Delhi

Once upstairs I sat on a small bench and his friend pulled out a map and explained the highlights of Delhi and the special tour to see them all. He offered tea and when I declined (I had lived in England for 9 months, tea I do not like,) he offered me some bright yellow sweets from what looked like a chocolate box. They were made from marigold flowers and were delicious in a sweet, flowery way.
“You must do a tour tomorrow.” He started his plug.
“Not tomorrow, I’m very tired and tomorrow I just want to relax. Maybe Friday?”
“Everything closed from Friday till Tuesday.”
I looked at him blankly. Everything is closed across the entire city for 5 days. As if. “Really? Well that’s a shame, I was going to book this for Friday but if everything is closed then I won’t book at all.”
The original guy started on me, “No, you go tomorrow.”  He was sat next to me on the bench seat and moved closer towards me, squishing me against the wall and practically sitting on me. If there is one thing that gets me back up, it’s a lack of personal space.
“Why you no go tomorrow?” He demanded. He knew how to pressure foreign tourists but it only made me bristle. 
According to all my male friends I know how to intimidate men, something about being blunt, stubborn and intelligent. I looked him square in the eyes and said slowly and cooly,
“Because I don’t want too.” 

He smiled and looked down, obviously confronted, “Ok, Ok.”
I stood up and cheerily said, “Thanks for your time and the sweets. Do you mind if I keep the map?” His friend nodded blankly and I grabbed it. The younger guy still wasn’t moving and was blocking my way out of the cramped loft. I took a step forward, effectively kicking his legs as I did, even though he was still presses up against me. He got the hint and turned so I could squeeze past.
“Happy Diwali!” I shouted as I fled. Back on the crowded streets I made a bee line for my hotel.

 “How about an authentic Indian breakfast tomorrow?” He had followed me and continued his assault.
“No thanks, I just want to sleep in and relax tomorrow.” Like I’ve told you 5 times! “See you some other time!” He stopped at looked at me with disgust, something made me think he might slap me, here in the streets of Delhi where I know not a soul on this entire continent.. What could I do? What would I do? 

“You do not deserve this!” He barked and snatched the map from my hand before running into the crowd. 

I stood stunned that a) I had let myself be in that situation, b) that he had snatched it from me so violently and c) that once again I was all alone in a giant city a long way from my family.

Back at the hotel the firecrackers were keeping me awake. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured the hotel setting alight and me, oblivious to the sirens and screams with my earplugs in, burning to death. I wasn’t comfortable, I wasn’t happy. I was missing home, scared and all alone in a country where people would intimidate me to make a few bucks. I did what any reasonable person would do, I called my Mum. 

Supersonic planning: Cos the Manager

Apparently I'm very employable. I discovered this recently by looking for work and being inundated with job offers on levels better than I expected to be working at before I turn 30.

When I was 19 I was offered an electrical engineering cadetship while I finished my trade. I met with my mentor and he asked the standard mentor question, "Do you have a plan?"
I answered immediately, "Yes, of course!"
I've always had a plan for every aspect of my life, from my career, finances, writing, education and fitness and corresponding SMART goals to match. (Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, Timely) Sure they aren't concrete and I update them regularly, but I still had a plan.
At 19 my plan was as follows:
- A planner by 23,
- A supervisor by 25,
- A manager by 30.
And then I figured I would either be dead or boring by 30, so who cared.

Well it turns out my time lines were wrong.
I became a planner at 21, had direct reports at 22, hired as a supervisor at 23, a managing consultant at 24 and now at the ripe age of 25, I am a fully fledged Manager. A Project Manager in charge of multimillion dollar electrical installations and a team of people who's combined experience surpasses my age. I'm shocked but Booya!

My good friend said to me "If you always underestimate yourself you'll always be surprised" and I suppose it's true.
Someone I used to know, who wasn't pleased with my promotion said "You're not as good as you think you are" to which my other friend replied, "Nah, she's heaps better!"
When I was surprised that the final contract offer came through, my recruitment officer said "You really didn't believe me, did you?"

I didn't apply for a managers role but I was offered one. My employers obviously saw potential that I didn't yet think was here and my friends can see it as well. With all of the drama in my life recently, it is easy for me to think that I'm not a good horse to bet on, but it's times like this where friends make all the difference. They remind you who you are, that you're the bomb to hang out with, they have your back when someone's up in your face and even push you to go for jobs you didn't dare think you'd be considered for.

To my friends, family and mentors, Thanks, you guys are LEGENDS!

Throwing lemons at death

Last week my Nanna passed away.
I have discussed death in this blog before but it was always my own. My Nanna was the first person whom I knew well to pass away and the finality of it has hit home.
My memories of her are that of a childs; her warm hugs, her dislike of getting down on the floor to play and our trips to Henny Penny. She was kind, generous, opinionated and always had time for her charities and to knit for anyone and everyone. I have guilt at not seeing her more often and not becoming closer to her when I was an adult, but Ke Garne, hence the shocking finality of death.

As I walked through her house I noticed so many items unopened or unused, waiting for a special occasion that never came or to simply get around to it. We all have these things in our life, some are special table wear, some of which are people, some are life long dreams.

I am the type of person who when life gives me lemons, I pick them up and throw them back. (Or make lemonade, whichever.) So this morning I went for a run. A run that I dedicated to my Nanna. I'm not sure if it was the amazing beaches in front of me, the rising sun to my left, the absurd amounts of Calvin Harris in my ears or the thoughts in my head but I ran further and longer than I had ever before.
I have been considering signing up for a half marathon for sometime as it is on my bucket list. Right now I am fitter than I have been in years but a half marathon is over 21kms. I have never ran that far. This morning I ran a bit over 10kms which is my longest run EVER. But if I keep putting it off will I ever actually do it?

So 5 minutes ago, I signed up for a half marathon in 6 weeks time. Not much time for training but better now then never. It will hurt, it will be one of the hardest things I've ever done physically, I may cry and be a complete mess but better done than left on the 'to do' shelf forever more.

In effect, this is my way of throwing lemons back at death. Elizabeth Kubler Ross would probably tell me I was halfway between anger and bargaining. But to quote Calvin Harris, (poorly I might add,) "I'm fighting for my life" and I just kinda realised it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saw1w-8ODKM&feature=relmfu

Get your dance on!

The sun kissed my shoulders, warming me throughout, the sand beneath me was cool under the top layer, I sunk my feet deep. I breathed in the cool salty air and opened my eyes to the bright blue sky that was mirrored by the aqua coloured waves. I looked both up and down the beach and saw no one. A smile spread across my face. It was a perfect day, clear sky, clear water, warm sun and an entire beach to myself. There is only one thing to do in a situation like this.
Dance
I plugged my ipod in and cranked the volume up. Jet's "Are you gunna be my girl" blared in my ears and out came the moves. There is something liberating about dancing wildly in a public place in broad daylight. You can sing as loud as you want, try all those moves too dangerous or stupid for the dance floor and best of all, you can do it naked if you so wish. For those who haven't tried that, please do so or at least put it on your bucket list. "Must dance nude in the sun." On a side note, the worm is not advisable if you are nude on a beach..

Meanwhile I was pumping out the moves. My dancing style is a cross between Rhianna and Urkel with some hardcore shufflin and some JT thrown in. But on the beach the moves get wild. I throw in a running man, a robot, a matrix move or two and even a cartwheel. I swap to some Ministry of Sound and by the end of the 5th song I'm puffing. I cool off in the empty aqua blue ocean and float under the sun.

Life can be complicated and difficult but in any day there can be a moment that makes you smile throughout. A beautiful beach and some good music easily makes all the dramas inconsequential. Life is good and simplicity is perfection.

Looking for Jesus

I have trouble understanding why people who read the Bible or those Christian newsletters. The lady next to me was reading her Christian magazine from front to back with a concerning amount of focus. I couldn't help but analyse. Most people read for entertainment, escape or knowledge but this is different. This is comfort reading, reassurance in text, an explanation of life and a resounding 'everything will be OK' as someone will take responsibility for your sins... Each to their own.

I began to think of my own comfort reading. What do I read to reassure myself, to give myself hope when I'm unsure? And then it hit me... Here is my confession, my sins lay bare, my guilty pleasure is romance novels.

Mills and Boon is my religious text, my false hope. In my fantasy it isn't Jesus who cleanses me of my sins, it's a tall, handsome man with fantastically strong arms, a passion for romance, a healthy bank account and a desire for long term commitment.
SWOON
Maybe his name is Jesus, it worked for Madonna, but I'm not fussy..

When I analyse my own fantasy it isn't an actual deep-seated urge to be swept off my feet and void of any responsibility or free thought by this man on a white stallion. I am loving my independence and don't want it removed by some handsome stranger, or anyone for that matter. To be honest, if I did come across him I would probably find him too needy or not enough of a jerk for my liking. There is every possibility he may leave beard hairs in the sink and may not appreciate me giving him a detailed synopsis of every second newspaper article I read.

In essence, I don't want my sins resolved, I just want the reassurance that somewhere on an island far away, exists a man like this. That alone is enough for me. Just like the lady next to me, I don't have to meet Jesus to be reassured, I just need to think he exists.
So as the lady peered through her glasses at an article of what He says about forgiveness, I peered through mine, reading what great lengths he goes to convince her of his love and I'm sure we both felt better.