ON a balmy Brisbane evening I am slouched under a magnificent tree, savouring a plate of colourful African fare and sipping a Tusker malt lager. There’s but a whisper of a wind on this hot summer evening, just enough to scatter the tree’s tiny white flowers onto the faded tablecloth like confetti. The flowers fall into my hair and onto my head, like little sparks of inspiration.
I’m at Mu’ooz Eritrean Restaurant in West End, surrounded by fellow writers, artists, poets, singers and daydream believers, attending Wild Readings. I blew in here a little like the white flowers, an invitation from a friend to join this underground movement of creatives, who gather on the third Tuesday of every month. It is here that they soak up the collective juices, which are threatened with drought when you are alone for too long in a big city, stalked by the shadows of conformity.
The host opens the night by describing Wild Readings as a “public series for the storyteller in all of us.”
“We’d like to build a community of storytellers and people who just want to listen to words,” she says.
There are four readings in this delicious hour, Alanna uses art to tell stories about mental health and is reading from her book called “The Letter R” for Resilience. You need a lot of resilience to be a writer anywhere in the world, and it’s apt for this setting in which I find myself.
Tina is a published author and runs a children’s and young adults’ writers conference in Brisbane, fuelling the fire of future generations of crazy creatives.
Really, they should be building asylums for those of us insane enough to keep striking the keyboard in a world which begs us to do otherwise. And yet, thank God, we continue.
Annie, a program co-ordinator for newly-arrived refugees, picks up a ukulele and strums her story. There are others, a couple of poets and an author, but it’s Annie and her uke which strike a literal and metaphorical chord with me this evening.
I didn’t leave the house expecting to find a story, but in this salacious setting how could I not? Not only am I inspired by the passion and prose of my fellow artists, but Mu’ooz itself is a not-for-profit social enterprise, established by Eritrean Refuge Women, which assists women arriving in Brisbane from many parts of Africa.
Shortly before the evening begins, I stumble across Manager Saba Abraham, who opened the West End location three years ago and since then has provided training and employment for more than 100 refugee women.
“We provide a pathway to employment with many of the women now employed in other places including schools, factories and cleaning jobs,” she says.
“The program aims to give them confidence and help them understand the workforce.
“Women refugees have minimal employment opportunities and many of them have never had any education in their country, therefore finding it extremely challenging in Australia, to learn the language and secure employment.
“Many of them feel like this is home to them, it is much more than a workplace.”
Saba tells me the business is not without its challenges, rents in West End are high and there is still a disconnect between mainstream Australia and what they are trying to achieve, even in this socially-progressive suburb.
Which is a great shame, as the food here is different and delicious, boasting many dishes and ingredients even a well-travelled Australian palate may have never tasted such as Enjera – savoury purple pancakes; Silsie – a traditional Eritrean sauce; Berbere – traditional hot pepper seasoning; and Tasame – butter flavoured with Eritrean herbs and spices.
I sip on my second Tusker malt lager, a beer I’ve never encountered before – and the white leaves keep falling on my head, urging me to write this story. A tale of a little courtyard in Brisbane, a meeting of people with big hearts and those cursed with that damn desire to write.
We are gathered on the traditional land of the Jagera, Yuggera and Yuggerapul people and we pay homage to them. A Yuggera elder has penned a Welcome to Country for us: “Everything sits in a circle around us. When we open ourselves to looking and listening it allows us to connect with Mother Earth, everyone’s Mother.”
On this hot night, I embrace the circle of refugees and creatives and watch as those tiny flowers keep falling, reminding me to keep writing.
The next Wild Readings will be held on Tuesday, Feb 21 at Mu’ooz West End at 6pm for 6.30pm. You can join Wild Readings on their Facebook page. To dine at Mu’ooz and support their incredible work, go to http://www.muooz.com.au
THIS is a tale of scoundrels, scallywags and sailing and it begins with me losing my credit card on my first day in Bali on my last trip of 2016. I have no one else but myself to blame for this mishap, the effects of two champagnes and several red wines enroute adding to the utter delirium of approaching the invisible finishing line of another working year and causing me to lose focus. And so I simply went to a cash machine, withdrew $200 worth of Indonesia rupiah, and left my card in the ATM, never to be seen again.
It took me a good hour to realise my folly by which time my card had well and truly be swallowed by the machine, or was being given a good, old workout by a Balinese man claiming to be a blonde, Australian woman with a non-Indonesian name. I cancelled my card and did what any Australian in a foreign land on their own without any ready source of cash would do…went to the nearest beach bar and ordered a Bintang. The healing powers of alcohol should never be underestimated in my opinion, and it was only several sips in that I realised there was a solution to my problem. And so I emailed a mate I hadn’t seen in some 20 years, my only friend in Bali, and wondered whether he might like to turn up to a lunch we were having the next day with a cool $500 cash.
This is the other thing I love about Australians. We tend to be pretty decent people, particularly when another Aussie is in strife and my old mate Richard Laidlaw, who by the way pens the most excellent Hector’s Diary https://8degreesoflatitude.com
from his Bali home, barely battered an eyelid, turning up with a wad of cash, not unlike a pimp. But I digress. That very morning I was being picked up by another Aussie, Amanda Zsebik, who owned the ship on which I would be sailing for the next 9 days around Indonesia.
I confessed the previous night’s utter stupidity to Amanda enroute to Al likai, and suspected she too, would curse my carelessness. But instead, she offered her view on Bali which has been her home for more than a decade.
“The energy in Bali takes your money. Many of us come to Bali to learn a life lesson quickly whether it is losing money or screwing up a relationship,” Amanda says.
“I’ve really seen the dark side of Bali, I love it, it’s my home, but you learn an enormous amount of respect for it.
“I don’t think they are bad people but in karmic terms they are having a Bali life to learn the dark side of nature.
“I’ve had black magic on me and spent two years in hospital. Bali has an incredible positive energy but there is a dark side to it too.”
So powerful is this dark side that not only does Amanda wear a black coral bracelet on her right wrist to protect against the black magic of which she speaks, but the words “light and love” are tattooed on her left ankle.
Richard, who along with his partner Lea Crombie joined us aboard Al likai for lunch before we set sail, believes the future of Bali will be “the same shit, but more of it”.
“The Balinese were rich in a self-sustaining way but then people arrived with money. There were the artists of the 30s but it was really when the airport opened in the 60s and the surfers started arriving in the 70s. They would see these guys coming and knew they had money and they wanted it,” he says.
“I think its edge, in regional terms, is it is not Muslim. There is nothing wrong with places that are, but you must accept there are restrictions on the western style of life in a Muslim place.
“There is a sort of mystery to the east. The social structure here is so strong that local religion is not really threatened by western secularism. They are prepared to let people party on.
“I think they have been playing everyone for suckers for decades and I say ‘well done guys’.”
Despite its negatives, Bali remains a place for rule breakers, scoundrels, scallywags, and the sailors I mentioned before. And Amanda, 60, who once called upmarket Rose Bay her permanent home, fits into at least one of these categories, offering sailing journeys which take travellers beyond Bali. On the particular trip on which I join her, we travel east from Bali in the direction of Timor, in a journey which will take us to remote eastern islands, to snorkel with the most sublime of sea creatures and to Komodo, to see the dragons. Over 9 days we’ll travel 350 nautical miles which will take 50 hours of sailing.
On the first day of sailing I ask Amanda, who has completed this journey many times, what draws her to this part of the region.
“I don’t have a favourite place because every place is different and every time we get in the water there will be a different thing to look at. I love swimming with the mantas,” she says.
“The thing I love is the constant moving. Spiritually, only 10 per cent of humans are spiritually awake. Jung talks about this. Those 10 per cent who have to see what’s around the horizon or over the next hill.
“It doesn’t matter where I go, just as long as I’m going. The challenge is to find stillness within the motion.”
The stillness within the motion. Her words stick with me during the entire journey. On the rare occasions that I’m sea sick, and on others when I’m sitting out on the deck in the early evening, contemplating the wild ride that has been 2016, and wondering what 2017 will bring. I focus long and hard on this mantra and then one afternoon, as the sun is dipping below the ocean, snorkelling the warm waters off of Gili Trawangan, I concentrate on one particular green turtle, gently lazing and grazing along the ocean floor. And in that one golden moment, the motion finally stops and the stillness begins.
The Global Goddess travelled as a guest of Al likai. For more information on the boat and her sailing itineraries go to http://www.indonesianislandsail.com
Follow me on Instagram @aglobalgoddess
I AM lounging in a pool observing a 747 soar above me, indulging in two of my favourite past times: swimming and plane spotting, in this case, simultaneously. I feel a little like a Bond girl, clad only in a bikini in a secret spot of one of the world’s busiest airports. Stopover: Singapore. Final Destination: Male. And my mission? To relax enroute to my assignment.
It’s a signature Singapore Saturday afternoon, the humidity as high as a Serbian spy, and I have stripped from my trademark all-black travel clothes which I fancy make me look sophisticated, but in truth are only to disguise the fact I spill plane drinks and food all over me when I fly. Changi Airport is buzzing below, but I am ensconced in the peace of the Plaza Premium Group’s Aerotel transit hotel.
Fellow agent S (for sister) and I land in Singapore mid afternoon, slip undetected onto a free train, and scurry effortlessly to Terminal 1. The Aerotel Hotel is perched near Gate D41, and comes replete with clean, comfortable hotel rooms, a library/lounge area, and best of all, the swimming pool – touted as the only absolute airside pool in the world.
Here, in this cool pool, you can order a beer and watch the tails on the tarmac. This funky facility is ideal for travellers such as me who fly often, in economy, (under the guise of being a travel writer) and need some rest or space to work.
While there are a number of packages on offer here, depending if you simply want a room, or a swim, one of the best is the Swim, Eat, Tan, Run, Repeat package where you can plunge into the pool, snatch a shower and enjoy a meal and drink for as little as USD25 for three hours.
On this journey, I also had access to a room whose comfortable beds rival those in any five-star hotel in which I’ve stayed. My only complaint: there was no hair conditioner in the shower. (Hey, even secret agents have their vanity). And while the bar had a good selection of international and local beers and other alcohol, the food menu could be drastically improved, particularly in a destination such as Singapore which is renowned for its dining.
The Aerotel Hotel falls under the umbrella of the Plaza Premium Group – the world’s largest independent airport lounge network which has another transit hotel of the same name in Abu Dhabi and Plaza Premium Lounges in Brisbane, London Heathrow, Hong Kong, Taipei and Kuala Lumpur. Sydney Sky Lounge is also managed by the Plaza Premium Group which was also appointed to manage Cathay Pacific’s First and Business Class Lounges in London Heathrow from December. Anyway who has ever watched a Bond movie knows it all happens around Heathrow, so this is a strategic move in my humble opinion.
On my journey home through Changi Airport from the Maldives, S and I had around three to four hours to kill (or was that people?) and chose Singapore’s Plaza Premium Lounge, also in Terminal 1, at the opposite end to the Aerotel Hotel. (Best to mix it up so we don’t arouse suspicions). The atmosphere in this 7000 square foot lounge is one of pure relaxation and again, you can buy a package which includes drinks, food, shower and lounge seating. All-day dining includes signature Singapore dishes such as laksa and chicken rice, but again I found the food surprisingly bland and uninspiring. The bar, however, was well stocked with good quality house red and white wines, among spirits and beers.
This is a lovely lounge in which to while away a few hours in one of its many nooks and crannies with everything from three private resting suites, six shower rooms, two VIP rooms, massage and nail care services, free Wi-Fi, charging stations, flight information, baggage handling, TV channels, and a selection of newspapers and magazines.
Back in my hometown of Brisbane (or is it, really?), two weeks later I flew out to Indonesia on my final assignment of 2016, and I opted to check out the latest lounge in the Plaza Premium Group, which is a welcome addition to Brisbane International Airport. The Brisbane lounge is the first of the brand in Australia and is located on Level 4 between departure gates 81 and 82. With a seating capacity of 100 over 4500 square feet, it’s furnished with Victorian ash wood and Italian marble flooring in the bar area. A feature wall of 3D tiles are inspired by the components of water, sand and minerals in Australia and soaring windows fill the lounge with natural sunlight and offer views over the terminal and runway.
This state-of-the-art lounge also boasts a Wellness Spa where professionally-trained therapists use Australian spa products from Brisbane-based Jasmin Organics. But for $49 for a 15-minute hand therapy, particularly for travellers like me who are flying to Bali, prices are steep. In the lounge itself, guests also enjoy free Wi-Fi, charging stations, a hot meal buffet, salad bar, freshly-brewed barista-made coffee, and alcohol, soft drinks and juices. Again, I found the food selection a little uninspiring and had to ask several times for a champagne from staff who didn’t quite understand my request. I mean, it was 8am, but a spy needs a drink. There are some criticisms that the entry fee is too expensive for a Brisbane flying public, particularly compared to places like Singapore, but when I was there the lounge was pumping.
Overall, I enjoyed my brief sojourn in Brisbane’s Plaza Premium Lounge, and as I perched on the signature honeycomb seating and contemplated my last trip of 2016, I nearly didn’t leave. But Agent M was calling, and she wanted me on that plane.
The Global Goddess was a guest of the Plaza Premium Group. For more details go to http://www.plazapremiumgroup.com
You can run, but you can’t hide. The Global Goddess, last spotted in Bali by Hector’s Diary before she headed for the Bali and Flores high seas.
His diet of worms and other non-religious fare
Bali, Jan. 4, 2017
WE have a lovely friend, a former media colleague who goes by the pen name of The Global Goddess. She has a tough life, poor thing. She’s forever flitting off from Brisbane, her home city, to go to distant places and write about them. Well, someone has to do it, we suppose.
Her most recent gambol was a cruise to Komodo aboard the Al-Iikai, a 37-metre Bugis pinisi fitted out for maximum comfort and operated from Serangan in Benoa Bay. It was, she tells us, a program that gave her plenty of stories about messing about in boats.
The goddess, real name Christine Retschlag, apparently didn’t read Kenneth Grahame’s marvellous fantasy tale Wind in the Willowsas a child. But we’re sure that Ratty will forgive her, given her later experiences. Hector…
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I AM sitting in my hot Brisbane office dressed in a leopard-print summer dress, reflecting on my life as a travel writer in 2016. Let’s not beat around the boiling bush, it was always going to be a quirky one after I kicked off the year in January at Gwinganna Lifestyle Retreat on the Gold Coast where I spent an hour in a one-on-one mediation session with a horse, of course.
Yes, Jack, the 22-year-old horse, was quite the listener and as it turned out, I was a good learner, discovering more about myself in that paddock than years of therapists have been to unravel. Working with my breath, and the fact horses are instinctive creatures, I was able to go from having Jack walk away from me (apparently I hate rejection) to have Jack trotting around the ring by the end of the session, based purely on my inner calm and emotions. He even stopped on cue when I exhaled. In that one crowded hour I learned I am prone to being a bit of a bull at a gate, and expecting others to join me on my crazy schemes, without first checking that they’re on board. Jack, you taught me a lot.
In February, and in the name of another story, I plunged into the warm waters off Lord Howe Island for Ocean Swim Week with World Ironman Champion Ali Day and Pinetrees Lodge. I’d never swum out in the open ocean before and learned that it was far more different and difficult to the university pool in which I try to carve up a daily 1km. Swimming among reef sharks and over fantastic coral, I also learned I could overcome sea sickness in rough swells and complete an impressive 2-3km a day. I also learned I’m incredibly stubborn once I push through an initial lack of confidence. Salty and stubborn. And I wonder why I’m single.
March saw me in Fiji, working with the fine folk at the Outrigger Fiji Resort and writing stories about some innovative and compassionate community projects in which they are involved, building new kindergartens and maternity wards. That kindy opened last week and it was heartening to know I was there at that pivotal point in history with people who have so little, but find so much reason for joy. Want perspective on your life? Head to the South Pacific. Sit under a coconut tree and pull your head out of your proverbial. It will change you, I promise.
In April, I was in Germany on a beer tour, also in the name of research, and if you think I had to train for Ocean Swim Week, it’s like I was born for Beer Week. And to think successive maths teachers over the years said I would never amount to anything. Add to that a dash of Mother Nature where I summited Germany’s highest mountain…and by summit I mean taking a gondola to the top and promptly order a beer and goulash. Because I’m hard-core. I explored my animal instinct here by taking to Bavarian Tinder and I was quite the hit in Germany. Not that I had time to actually meet any of my Bavarian boyfriends, but I got the distinct impression they were different to Brisbane boys and not once did anyone send me a photo of their penis. #winning
May turned out to be a journey of a different kind where I had some long-awaited tests and surgery for health symptoms that killed a fellow travel writer last year. While my tests turned out fine, the surgery laid me up for four weeks in incredible pain, and it was a time to reflect and go inwards, something I’m not particularly good at. But when Mother Nature speaks, sometimes you have to listen and it was a good life lesson. I did have a moment of truth while awaiting those test results, questioning myself on whether I was living the life I wanted. And the answer was yes. By June, when I was back on the road in Vienna and Monaco, exploring Royal and Imperial Luxury Europe, I was thrilled. I may have even danced around the house just prior to leaving to Willie Nelson’s On The Road Again. Because I have an excellent taste in music.
In July, I braved a chilly Toowoomba trip to explore the city’s sensational street art. And it blew my socks off. Not literally, as that would have been unpleasant in the cold, but metaphorically. I also took my first trip to Darwin and again, was thrilled by the Northern Territory capital with its outdoor cinemas, national parks, and great dining and accommodation offerings. This is a city which celebrates its sunsets, with hundreds of residents and tourists flocking to the beach to watch the sun plunge into the ocean and that, in itself, was a magical moment. A destination which sells tickets to its annual festival out of an original caravan used to house homeless people after 1974’s Cyclone Tracy? You’ve gotta love that.
August saw me at Sabi Sabi Private Game Lodge in South Africa on a luxury safari and yes, I was lucky to experience the Big 5, plus all the rest. Mother Africa and her beautiful people stole a piece of my heart and I came home reeling from Jo’Burg’s street art to Robben Island where the mighty Mandela spent 18 years of his 27 year jail term. There’s usually about one month of the year where I try to stop, pause, reflect and recharge and it was September this year, which also turned out to be my birthday month, and what a delight it was to be a normal person again, catching up with friends, going to yoga classes, and just “sitting with myself” as we say in meditation.
In October, I was out on the road again, on my longest trip of the year to Canada where I started in Vancouver, sitting in a traditional indigenous sweat lodge with an elder, talking to our ancestors. But the absolute highlight of that three-week journey was the opportunity to go on a walking safari with the polar bears with Churchill Wild. I discovered that the Lord of the Arctic was to be respected, not feared, and that if we don’t manage the way we treat the planet, polar bears may be relegated to the history books.
The conservation theme continued into last month, November, when I jumped on a plane to the Maldives Outrigger Konotta Resort and spent a fascinating few days talking with a marine biologist who is trying to resurrect the reef with innovative coral planting strategies. On a monsoonal Monday I sat on the edge of a jetty weaving coral necklaces from coconut rope that would later be implanted on the reef, in a moment I will always remember when my fingers are no longer nimble and I’m too old to travel. From the Arctic, where the ice is melting, to the Indian Ocean, which is becoming too warm, I had the immense privilege of experiencing the impacts of Climate Change first hand.
Which brings me to December. In two days I’ll be boarding a plane for my last travel writing assignment of the year. And yes, this trip has another animal theme. I’ll be boarding a sailing boat and exploring beyond Bali to the islands around Indonesia, before we arrive at the land of the komodo dragons. Along the way we’ll be snorkelling with manta rays and sharks. And I cannot wait. Yes, it’s been a big year, and moments of great challenge, times when you are so jetlagged you want to weep, a deep-seated loneliness from long weeks out on the road, and a disconnect from normal life. I didn’t find the love of my life, but I know he’s out there. And when I’m out in the world, doing what I love best, hunting and gathering stories, there’s no better feeling on the planet. I wish you a Happy Christmas and may 2017 be everything you dreamed of and more.
The Global Goddess would like to thank all of the tourism and travel operators, local communities, kind random strangers, PR people, publishers, editors and fellow writers, who joined her on the incredible journey that was 2016. See you out there in 2017.
THERE’S a running joke among professional travel writers that our luggage has journeyed to more destinations than we have, referring, of course, to one of our biggest bug bears: lost baggage. At the risk of jinxing future trips, I can happily say I have never lost any luggage in 30 years of trekking the globe. Nor, as it turns out on last week’s trip to the Maldives, have ever I lost a giant unicorn. Unlike my fellow guests.
Call me crazy, but when I travel, I like to carry a suitcase, unlike the numerous guests I encountered on my trip to the beautiful Outrigger Konotta Maldives Resort, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. While I was travelling with a brand new Paklite Slide Safe case, it had seemingly occurred to not one, but many of my fellow adult companions at this remote locale, to bring a giant inflatable pool toy, the likes of which I have never encountered before…and hope to never again.
Yes, there were giant unicorns, swans and my all-time favourite, the duck. And again, call me cray cray, but while I was snorkelling the beautiful waters off of this luxury resort, my fellow travel companions were endlessly wandering this gorgeous green island, gargantuan duck tucked under armpits, in search of the perfect selfie shot. While I was out with the island’s marine biologist replanting coral on the at-threat reef, I got to experience the duck fly past me, out into the wild, blue yonder, no doubt just waiting to pop, and strangle a turtle or a dolphin.
Sitting under a palm tree one day, contemplating the duck, got me thinking about cultural differences and the emotional baggage we pack when we travel. One person’s Climate Change crime is another person’s holiday prop. And like the planet itself, I’m sure the balance for tourism operators and resorts is a precarious beast indeed. And it is something I am exploring further in a travel story for one of my mainstream outlets, so, instead, I will focus on the actual baggage I packed on this trip, in this case, the new luggage.
Paklite is an Australian company, designed by Australians for Australians and the new Slide Safe comes complete with TSA-approved locks to help keep intruders out and souvenirs in. This soft-sided luggage boasts a twin-zip feature on all main compartments to prevent thieves from piercing the zip and stealing belongings, although this feature can prove confusing at times when you simply wish to open your luggage. Unlike other luggage, it is just one cavernous compartment inside, rather than the more contemporary two-sided flip bags, a feature I found a little old-fashioned, although handy for carrying long snorkelling gear. There was also no pouch in which to slip a business card or address details.
Major pluses include the fact it’s super lightweight and comes which detachable wheels (which move in all directions) making damaged luggage wheels a thing of the past. The cabin-size model features Paklite’s RFID blocking pocket to prevent identity fraud by blocking your identity from unlawful scanning devices while travelling the globe. If you are looking for a light, simple suitcase with super security, Paklite could be for you.
And yes, while other guests were photographing giant inflatable toys, I was wandering around the island taking photos of a suitcase, so who am I to talk?
The Global Goddess travelled as a guest of the Outrigger Konotta Maldives Resort – http://www.outrigger.com/hotels-resorts/maldives/konotta-island/outrigger-konotta-maldives-resort
The Slide Safe case was a gift from Paklite http://www.paklite.com.au The model I used cost $339 and comes in Deep Purple, Desert Storm and Black.
BRISK, crisp days out on the remote Arctic tundra can lead to some funny conversations and so it came to be one afternoon that we were watching the polar bears and pontificating about their defining features. While it’s hard to identify polar bears from each other in general (they are all white with few markings), males tend to be bigger with square heads, while females have softer, more refined features. One thing turned into another and before long we were talking about dating, and I coined the phrase Tundra Tinder. Kind of like real-life Tinder, but far more interesting. For your viewing pleasure, I present the following candidates…
BIG OLD BEAR
Big Old Bear weighs about 400kg and is 9 years old. He likes to hang around Seal River Lodge and flop about in the tundra grass, fully aware you are checking him out. But Big Old Bear is also a bit of a show off, and one day, putting himself between the lodge and our group, he decided to come for a wander our way. In fact, Big Old Bear got within 10 metres of our group, and it was only when Churchill Wild guides Derek and Josh started to negotiate with him that he decided to keep walking. He then made a new day bed for himself and promptly plonked his considerable bulk down into it. The only difference between Big Old Bear and a Brisbane boy on Tinder is that you can actually negotiate with Big Old Bear.
Arctic Hare is a bit of stalker, he liked to hang outside my lodge bedroom window at night, looking a little like the Easter Bunny. By day, he’s a bit elusive, hiding behind rocks, cocking his ears for a brief photo, before hopping off into the distance. A bit of a shady character who would probably agree to going out with you to dinner, but disappear when the bill arrived.
Beautiful Girl sported all of the traits of a pretty female bear. And she was far less showy than Big Old Bear. We found her on the other side of the lodge, peacefully stretching and flopping. It’s here I started to think about polar bear yoga poses that I can deploy back home. Beautiful Girl was happy for us to stare at her for hours, which is precisely what we did, and it was one of the most peaceful moments of my life. A low-maintenance date if ever I saw one.
Baby Girl was possibly my favourite of the bears we saw during our stay. She was also the cutest. Only about 4 years old, Baby Girl liked to walk straight down the gravel driveway leading to the lodge, and right up to the fence which kept us humans in. Yes, she adored her human zoo and had a habit of trying to sniff each of us individually, stare right down the camera lens, and then happily walk off. If you ever felt like you could hug a polar bear (not recommended) this was that moment. So beautiful was Baby Girl, that several of us just stood at the fence and cried in her presence. Saving herself for a male bear who deserves her.
Ok. So not all of the Tundra Tinder action revolved around animals. Josh, 19, from Alberta, was one of our guides. And the photos don’t quite show it here, but Josh had the most awesome head of hair I’ve ever seen on a man, coupled with a great personality. Think Brad Pitt’s sandy, foppish hair meets Hugh Jackman’s soul. As a reformed cougar, it was quite the challenge not to leap onto Josh’s head, the situation being somewhat similar to placing a 1969 Grange in front of a recovering alcoholic. But this trip was not about felines, it was about polar bears, and I desisted. I can tell you, young women of Australia, that Josh is a fine specimen indeed, and either you get yourselves up to Seal River Lodge or you invite him to our fair land. The good news is I did manage to pluck a few hairs from his head as I hugged him goodbye, and I am currently cloning him in my downstairs laundry. And yes, I am taking Christmas orders.
The Global Goddess travelled to Canada as a guest of Destination Canada (www.keepexploring.com.au) and stayed at Seal River Lodge with Churchill Wild Safaris (www.churchillwild.com)