Finally Me at Thirty Three

I blame Beauty and the Beast, the original animated version, for where I am now. The song “there must be more than this provincial life” resonated with me from a very young age. I dont know if this happens / happened to everyone... but I always felt I was on the outside, looking in... like I never belonged, could never belong. A stranger because of my own psyche. I would wander out to the ‘secret piece’, a paddock snuck away behind a thick tree line, with Barry the Dog and associating with various cows, and sing out, dreaming of a world I wanted to embrace, and experience dreams I thought were intended only for others.

Belonging was a thing I have always sought after, for some its those well fitting jeans, others – that perfect man, the top job… the perfect house.

I tried a high flying corporate job… nope, wasn’t that.

Six year relationship, with travel included? Sadly, not the thing.

For 12 months I was a size 10, finally a ‘skinny girl’, and I found the jeans – that wasn’t what was missing.

A cottage in Richmond… LOVED! With a GREAT group of friends? No – the emptiness remained.

Family – I moved back to WA, closer to immediate family, some wonderful moments, some joyous memories… but still the yearning prevailed. There was something else… niggling and nagging at me.

It was a dark night, staring at the stars, wondering what, if anything, would ever bring me happiness. How could I hold on to the fleeting moments of joy in my life? It was beyond my depression, which fortunately had been diagnosed, acknowledged and was now being managed.

“Oh”, I sighed to myself… and yes, out loud, as I contemplated the fact I’d never travel again, I couldn’t afford it! That the here and now was the rest of my life. A job that caused me so much stress that I pulled one of my eye brows out completely, that caused eczema (me, who was always rather proud of my strong skin! Never had an issue with earing or otherwise) down my arms, behind my ears and on the lids of my eyes…

This was it? The idea of a partner or marriage, given my previous verbally abusive relationship, not to mention the one before, were so far from my radar the idea of it gave me nothing less but the shivers.

Had I stuffed it all up? I was 30. I’d ruined everything. I mean, a white, well educated, financially ok woman… what had I made of it? Nothing. What had I given to the world in recompense for all I’d been fortunate enough to have? Nothing. Ah what a waste of space!

I wish I knew the moment when I realised the answer… I do recall seeing a sign somewhere, I think a meeting room I was sitting in with one of those late 1970’s generic posters, “Where there is a Will, there is a Way”. I recall staring at it… I even recall the sensation of the right corner of my lips raising up in an unconscious grin… a sparkle… a wee sparkle of hope.

Right… I thought to myself… my Will? I want to Travel.

Logistics… can I afford it? NO?

BUT… the poster said to me… Is there a way?

Why yes… Teach… and Travel.

Over the next 12 months, much to the surprise of some who imagined my words were just that… words… and to be perfectly honest, often times I though the same, I completed the online course, saved the relevant funds, sorted the relevant visa and handed in a resignation to a boss that had caused me more problems, more pain and provided me with the greatest motivation than any other.

If you are the sort to believe that everything happens for a reason (and by the way, I’m not that sort), you might imagine that where I am at now, is because of where I was before.

I’d prefer to take my late grandparents stance and say, took a lot of elbow grease, and (this is my own addition), a lot of ‘eyes closed… we will see what happens when we get there!’.

I knew I’d love the travel. I knew I’d enjoy the adventure and always love a bit of a challenge… for one reason or another. I didn’t know… I’d no idea… how much I would love teaching teenaged kids – the buzz and joy for me… the hope and experience I could give to them.

I’d tried so many different roads to find the one I was supposed to step on… this was my Yellow Brick, something that took me to the home I needed to find.

So… after 8 months in China, working as an English and also Social Studies Teacher, I turned 33. After the age of probably 12 (during and before which I am of the opinion I had the BEST birthdays in town due to my mothers organisational skills and experience in the Girl Guides – all the games!) – birthdays tended to bring more disappointment and angst than happiness and joy.

This year, during this adventure… I wanted to have a special day, to celebrate in style with all the favourite things available to me (parents, grandparents, sister and friends, sadly, were not available due to China not being Australia…).

Thus… I organised two nights at a five star hotel in Beijing… FIVE STARS!

Apparently there was a pool (I’d not gone for a swim in almost a year!), a spa (ooo massage!), room service and all the other niceties. I invited my housemate to join me and we organised the first night to include a trip to the movies and dinner at…. SIZZLER! Sadly, there was no dessert bar – but there was still a salad bar and a decent steak, so who am I to complain?

Walking into the hotel, both Robyn and I felt like someone might be escorting us out rather quickly! But then… presentation speaks… money speaks louder.

We stood in the lobby, behind us the largest in-house water feature I’ve ever seen fluttered water down black slate between maroon stone walls graffiti’d with Chinese characters.

After providing, not only our passports but also our VISA details, we were given a key to our room and directed to the lifts. We looked at one another like cheeky broke girls in the Versace Only entrance of a fashion festival.

Upon opening the door, I felt I’d suddenly sprouted red hair, legs for days and a cackle laugh – I was nothing if not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman… this room was… INCREDIBLE! My piece de resstance was a button… yes… a button – a button that opened the blinds and closed the blinds and opened the blinds and closed the blinds… and yes – I spent some time playing with said buttons and even took a video!

Oh but there was a bath and a bar, and robes and slippers and all the delightful treats that come with a bit of cash.

The day of my birthday Robyn woke me with wrapped gifts from herself and Rhonda and Alan (from the GAC Centre in Tangshan), what a delightful treat. She then set off on her own in Beijing… The evening before I’d booked myself a full body massage mid-day, so had a wee bit of time to head down to the pool and go for a swim and a spa.

I cheekily took down my bottle of Chandon and a glass and set myself up by the pool for two hours.

Oh that first moment of submersion… there wasn’t another in the pool area and I drew my head down into the water and enjoyed the silence, the obstructed view of the world through liquid. I flipped and dolphined and pretended I was the Witch that I used to play with my sister when we swam in our above ground pool all those years ago.

After floating and flipping I jumped out and fell into the Jacuzzi next to the pool, I lingered in the bubbles, allowing the heat to relax muscles I never knew I had… then returned to my sunbed and Chandon.

After a couple of hours of pool, Jacuzzi, sunbed, I returned upstairs to my hotel room – alone… I took off my bathing suit and wrapped myself in the luxurious bathrobe and called room service…

Time for my birthday lunch.

I ordered Fancy Fish and Chips and a glass of Champagne – ACTUAL CHAMPAGNE.

Needless to say I’d never had Champagne, and, sadly, have not had it since!

The food arrived… I was snuggled in my robe, feet in snuggly socks and snuggly slippers, TV on… The Fish and Chips arrived on a special trolly that flipped up at one side to make a sitting area for the customer (?). Incuded was not only the fish and chips, but a wee jar of sauce, a wee jar of tartare sauce, a wee pot plant for ambience and a champagne flute.

The server popped the Champagne, “’do you with to try”’ he said… I was so grateful for the fact I’d be having Champagne that I simply shook my head, and shook my ‘flute’, and once the server left my room, did nothing but giggle with delight!

Gotta be the best Fish and Chips I’ve ever had and without a doubt, I’ll always remember where I had my very first ACTUAL Champagne.

It was time to head on down a few levels to my ‘full body massage’. I was greeted by some delightful ladies who supplied me with herbal tea a comfortable chair in an aeriated room with comfortable couches and glowing scented candles.

I was show through to a room, equipped with a separate pedestal toilet, a shower, a sink, all candlelit, with moisturisers available and a pair of… I’m sorry… a pair of what? A paper g-string for me to replace my full-bodied and yes, clean… nickers – what was going on here?

There was no robe.

Neked… apart from my paper g-string, holding my girls in place between hands and elbows, I was admitted to massage room, all very calming with scents and music encouraging peace and harmony.

Rather English-ly, I very uncomfortably, lay myself onto the table, tummy down, face in the face-hole. I doubt my massage artist knew that my eyes were darting left to right in utter concern as to what was going to happen next. I’ve been less neked in the shower!

Oh but she began at my feet, and what a wealth of stress is kept at the feet, it was really quite…

WHAT! WHY?

A-sudden there were hands on my BUTT! My bum. The place where only a seat has had interaction and this lady was going for gold. If I had any stress in that muscle, it had paced its bags, waved goodbye and headed… well, lets be honest… NORTH for the Winter!

My eyes became orbs… what was going on!

Finally… she moved on to the back… my cheeks, the ones down below, relaxed, although I imagine they were dealing with some level of PTSD, and returned to their allocated duty of being cushions for sitting alone.

I was advised to flip, a conclusion I came to after a few attempts of verbal communication, and then more productive charades.

I lay back, the towel comfortable placed over the more private of my prvate parts. My masseus spent time at my feet, my thighs… as far as I was concerned, enough time had been spent on my bum, so I wasn’t disappointed when she left my hips and moved up to my shoulders…

And then… in a place I don’t believe I have ever held stress, nor, infact, made use of the muscles themselves… while I lay staring inside and out – trying not to react, not to laugh… not to JUMP! My masseuse started massaging my breasts…

If my butt experienced PTSD, alteast they have my boobs to relate to. 

After the FULL BODY massage I did realise… I had asked for a full body massage, just because us in the West don’t consider the butt or the breast, doesn’t mean we are correct… and I should be more specific when ordering a massage in the future.

Have to say though, never going to forget this birthday – be it the Fish and Chips, the Bubbles, the Massage, the Movie… Was a pretty good way to ring in 33… and do you know what? I finally feel like I’ve found something that fits…

Teaching and travel is my good pair of jeans, is my best friend, is my partner… I’ve found my own "belong".