Re: My Other Life

Today I'm veering off the beaten track of databased rants, railing against all things breast cancer and general pink cultural disruptiveness, in favor of a writing assignment set by Marie, author of the excellent Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer blog.

So this one's about My Other Life.  You know,  that life outside of breast cancer.

Let's start at the beginning shall we?  I was born in 1970 in Perth, the capital city of Western Australia.  Australia's a bloody big country and Western Australia is about the size of Texas, with a population of a little over two million people.

Source: http://www.thewaguide.com/en/westernaustraliamap.htm

A recently discovered photo of me and
my naughty little sister,  circa 1976

I'm the eldest of three children, two girls and a boy.  My younger sister  Tarn, epitomized the protagonist, from the "My Naughty Little Sister" series by Dorothy Edwards, and was my beloved nemesis growing up.  We were three years apart in age, and what strikes me looking back at old photos, is that we were always photographed together.  Even though we were constantly fighting  and jostling for attention, it's always me and her together.   Truthfully,  as we got older we drifted apart.  We were very different people and she led quite a troubled life.  Tragically she passed away in June 2007 at the age thirty-four.  I don't think I'll ever really get over losing her.  She was a part of me.

My really cute Granny
with baby brother circa1976

My younger brother now lives in the U.K. We see and talk to each other often.  I adore him and love nothing better than just hanging out and talking about ridiculous things like Australian politics, ghosts, aliens, cryptozoology, annoying people and anything else that takes our fancy.  He likes the odd rant too.  Although he's now 35 years old, I still think of him as four years old. And treat him as such.

My Dad's a character.  He's an old Communist from way back who's living out his retirement in the tropics learning advanced Russian, and harboring dreams of a visit to North Korea at some point before he dies.  He also enjoys a good rant any day of the week.

Ranting?  Does that sound familiar.  Yes, along with the BRCA1+ gene,  the ranting gene is endemic in our family.  My Grandfather also had the gift of the rant.  As children, when we visited we knew to avoid certain trigger words.  Like "hello", "How are you", "It's a nice day". Lest we be subjected to professional ranting, the likes of which I can only aspire to.

My Dad in 1976.  At work. He was a
soil technologist and was averse to T-shirts!

Growing up in Australia was great.  I highly recommend it for any child.  I don't really remember ever being indoors, and a family holiday for us was a three-day drive in the old family Kingswood, sleeping in the car on the side of the road, and then pitching tents in some isolated National Park somewhere.  If it had running water and plumbing of any sort, well that was just not getting away from it as far as my father was concerned.  He liked to 'rough it, translation; "here's the toilet paper, now go behind the bush", or "make sure you zip the tent up so snakes can't get in", or "showers are for wimps, as are sunglasses" or "don't worry about the crocodiles, they're freshwater so they're not interested in eating you, now go for a bloody swim".

Typical Aussie backyard.  Hills Hoist, woodpile and outhouse!
We also had indoor plumbing.  Circa 1976

But all these holidays instilled in me a lifelong love of adventure and travel.  In my late twenties, I packed up my life in a backpack and went to London for what was supposed to be year-long European working vacation.  Well that was 1999 and I never went back.  I lived in the U.K for three years, met my beloved and then moved to the U.S. for graduate school and the bright lights of New York City.  Now I'm happily settled in New Jersey (who knew???), but I still love to just get away from it all when I can.

Travel holds a special place in my heart and is something that I think my soul requires.  I've been very fortunate to have had the means and opportunity for most of my adult life, and I think I might have been a migratory bird in a past life.  Too bad that my wings have been clipped during this last year thanks to that thing I'm not going to mention in this post, but I still amuse myself with thoughts of the next great trip and memories of trips past.

My favorite countries would have to be Egypt and Italy, although I was very taken with Oman as well.  But I'm also quite interested in seeing more of the U.S. since I live here now and am practically a citizen.  I loved Maine, and Colorado holds something special for me, and I have to say I do love the Florida Keys and those conch fritters.  Still want to get to New Mexico and see Montana and Wyoming whilst I'm at it.  The Scottish Highlands and islands are up there too.

So today I'm remembering my love of travel, and the spirit of adventure and impulsiveness that I think are some of my character trademarks.  Here's a slideshow of snapshots from some of my memorable trips starting from 1999 through to 2010.

It seems the only appropriate way to finish this post is to ask a question.


Where to next? So long as it doesn't involve doctors, waiting rooms, hospitals or chemotherapy, I'm game!