The Dating Name

March 24, 2014March 24, 20144 Comments

AGAINST my better judgment I have joined another dating site (I blame the wine, God, I blame the wine). And to date, things are turning out as well as can be expected. And that’s not so well at all. I am yet to secure a date from this new site, but that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been hours of entertainment to keep me amused. Where shall I start? Oh yes, their dating site names. The three which most recently sprung to my attention were: Mostlyagoodboy; Tedious; and Dunnowhatever. At first I thought I’d stumbled across the first three starters in this year’s Melbourne Cup.

Photo courtesy of David May

Let’s dissect this for a minute. What do we think Mostly A Good Boy means? That he is generally pretty faithful, until he’s out on the sauce and then all bets are off? As for Tedious, does he find the whole dating game tedious (he clearly isn’t receiving the kind of hilarious contacts I am) or is he describing his sparkling personality? And then, of course, there is Dunno Whatever, who I’m sensing is not all that motivated, nor someone to come up with any great ideas. Want to go out for dinner? Dunno Whatever. What about a movie? Dunno Whatever? Fabulous.

Photo courtesy of David May

I thought I was in with a bit of a chance with Mr Sincere. I mean, who can argue with that name? Well, seems Mr Sincere is not all that sincere and since he contacted me in the affirmative, and I responded in the positive, and he contacted me back in an encouraging manner, there has been no sign of Mr Sincere. Perhaps he’s been hanging out with Mostly A Good Boy?

Photo courtesy of David May

A quick glimpse at some of the rest of the men, aged between 40 and 50, reveals some interesting insights into the human condition. There’s Jake The Peg (do we want to know where his extra leg is?); What About Me (no, it isn’t fair, and I’ve had enough now I want my share); and Mr Squigle (spelt with one “g” whose tag line states: “Upside down Miss Jane, Upside down”). Then there’s A Fine Cook (which I originally mis-read as something else); Vertical Brit (thank goodness, I’d hate him to be horizontal); and Six Pack Mack (is there a message in here somewhere?).

Photo courtesy of David May

Then I tried something interesting. I put in a search for men aged 20 to 40 to see if they ran with similar themes. And they were refreshingly normal. (As normal as you can get on a dating site). In fairness, I also did a search on the opposite sex, pretending I was a man looking for a woman aged between 40 and 50. And goodness, there was plenty of blonde and plenty of boobies. (I must have missed that memo when I signed up). And then there’s quite a few interesting dating site names here, too including Nodramasplease (who looks like she’s a bit of a drama queen); NaughtyMonkey (I’ll leave that up to your imagination); and DebT (which I originally read as Debt, so I wouldn’t be going near her and her dodgy bank account any time soon). There is also ComfortablyDumb (who probably gets heaps of dates); MissAmazing (who probably doesn’t); and my favourite, LoopyLoo (who simply scares me).

Over on my other site, that I am yet to quit, Darren with the impossibly high standards has updated his profile to read: “I love beautiful and sexy women that are completely comfortable being feminine. Are you healthy, secure, optimistic, flexible, giving, intelligent, honest, outgoing, fun, great communicator, understands men, affectionate, sexy, happy, and very feminine?” I’ve already told you, Dazza, that I’m all those things, except for the “understands men” bit.

Photo courtesy of David May

There’s also an emerging trend on this site for men to not only take a selfie of themselves, naked torso, in the bathroom mirror (I find myself looking beyond their pic to try and gauge the state of their bathroom); or holding a gun (I kid you not); but now with a picture of a mystery woman. Is it his wife? Girlfriend? Daughter? Who can tell? And what is the message here? Are they doing a Tony Abbott: “I’ve got 3 daughters therefore I am a feminist?”. There’s also a What If? section on this site, which means once you’ve exhausted every man they’ve matched you with, you can search further. Unfortunately, I’ve also exhausted the What If?

Photo courtesy of David May

So what to do? It seems I should give up my first dating site and concentrate on the second. I’d love to give it all up, but seriously, it’s a bit like betting on the Melbourne Cup. You know you shouldn’t gamble but you can’t resist, it’s all so much fun. And perhaps one day I’ll snare the date that stops the nation. Stay tuned…

The Global Goddess thanks her friend, comrade and fellow blogger David May for supplying the pics to accompany this story. Unlike the blokes on her dating site, David can write beautifully. Check out his blog at http://jollyjunketeer.com

Five things I love about Thailand

March 17, 2014March 17, 20142 Comments

The characters…

This little girl was taking her bath, mid-morning, in the middle of Bangkok

While this little boy was practising his Muay Thai boxing late afternoon

The culture…

This beautiful Mon woman was washing down by the River Kwai

This monk was sweeping in the Mon village along the River Kwai

The cuisine…

Enjoy exotic food from top-notch restaurants…

Or dine in local, lively markets

The colour…

Thailand is an artist’s palette of colour

You’ll find the most amazing hues in the most unlikely places

The coconuts…

Thai coconuts are tasty, cheap and full of goodness – the perfect way to beat the heat

The Global Goddess travelled as a guest of the Tourism Authority of Thailand – http://www.tourismthailand.org

Is Chivalry dead?

March 4, 20146 Comments

JUST as hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, it appears Facebook wreaks its wrath when a woman suggests a man should pay for the first date. Well, this is what I experienced last week, anyway. Yes, you could have been forgiven I had suggested we bomb all the boat people, such was the passion with which friends responded to a first-date which, in my opinion, had gone a little wrong.

Now, I am the queen of the first dates, and I have pretty much seen about everything. And yet still, the surprises keep on coming. Last week’s first date was with a lawyer, and for the record, Ladies and Gentleman of the Jury, I’d like to put forward my case of what occurred. Something that is rather difficult to convey in a Facebook post. So, with the permission of the kangaroo court, here’s my account of what happened.

The lawyer found me on my dating site and, after several email conversations which occurred while I was overseas dodging grenades in Bangkok, asked me out for a drink. Let me repeat: he did the asking. He suggested a place and I met him there after work. While it became rapidly apparent that we weren’t a good match (at least to me), never let it be said that I don’t give things a go. He then proceeded to out-drink me (I was driving) three drinks to my every one. But when he also suggested we dine, I agreed. We ate, we talked and then, just as the bill arrived, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Where he was for a very long time.

Photo courtesy of Mike Larder

When he eventually returned, there was a long, awkward pause, during which I offered to pay for half. To which he rapidly replied: “Oh, very good”. There was no mention, Your Honour, from either party, of his copious drinks. In the spirit of being a decent person (remember the days when we were all just basic decent people?), I offered to give him a lift home, as it had already become apparent that we lived in neighbouring suburbs. However, when I went to pay for the rather large parking bill, the machine kept spitting out my $50 note. The lawyer stood with his hands in his pockets, and watched as I then fumbled in my wallet for my credit card.

I drove him home, he gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek and by the time I had arrived home, he had texted me, saying he would like to see me again. Unfortunately, I did not feel the same. But when I went on Facebook that evening to tell my latest dating tale, something interesting occurred. At first, the crowd was sympathetic, lambasting the lawyer for his tight-fisted approach. But then, the mood changed. One friend accused my behaviour of not being “Goddess-like” (What part of The Global Goddess ever pretends to have it together, I wondered?). Another friend took it further, saying the situation “smacked of desperation”….mine. Ouch. In their defence, and having spoken to them each privately, their comments were out of concern. But to say their words didn’t sting would be lying. The Facebook mood changed again and then the crowd turned on each other.

Such passion prompted me to conduct a survey, of Facebook friends and their friends, to examine this issue in more detail. And here’s what I discovered so far, from 102 respondents:

Almost 60 per cent of people believe a man should pay for the first date, 10 per cent believe he shouldn’t, and a further 30 per cent are divided. Of the 30 per cent who were divided on who should pay, most believed it should be the person who did the inviting or that both parties should split the bill.

The “Should a man pay for the first date” survey, of whom one third of respondents were male and two thirds were female, found the concept of chivalry is far from dead with a whopping 82 percent of respondents believing a man should hold the door open for a woman.

But, in a sign the times are changing, more than 70 per cent of respondents also believed a woman should pay for something else – such parking, cab fare or an after-dinner drink – if the man did pay for the first date – the survey found.

Comments on the survey were colourful and controversial.
“I think it depends on who initiated the date but I would definitely say that it is polite and chivalrous for the man to pay. Call me old fashioned…”
“Not when you are meeting for the first time with someone through a dating site. I think it should be a 50:50 split no matter who initiated contacted (provided one person doesn’t drink like a fish and the other doesn’t drink at all!”)
“The woman should offer, but surely not expected to (pay).”

However, old-fashioned manners are not dead with 50 per cent of respondents believing a phone call was the appropriate follow-up to the first date from a man; 28 per cent believing a text was appropriate; 11 per cent said flowers; and only 1 per cent supported an email as the acceptable post-date response. (Nothing and “other” made up the remaining 10 per cent).

Respondents also believed women should respond quickly to the follow-up and avoid “game playing”. Interestingly, more than 40 per cent believed the man should also pay for the second date, 10 per cent believed it should be the woman, and almost 50 per cent thought it should be both parties. (Nothing and “other” made up the remaining 10 per cent).

Overall, modern dating remained a vexed issue.

“A man should be a gentleman, be open, polite, clean, and interested. No excuses for rudeness or meanness. A first date should be fun and engaging even if you never see the person again you can still be polite and show respect.”
“Broadly speaking, I believe this speculation around ‘1st date etiquette’ is a bit sad. That we need to speculate at all presents an interesting ‘comment’ on the human/dating dilemma. However, given that ‘it is what it is’, I hope for an outcome which indicates respect and generosity of heart – assuming same, make the 15-30 group aware…
“Date as much as possible. Aussie girls don’t go in dates enough. Don’t settle too quickly on a person, think of the dating scene like a box all assorted chocolates?”
“Basic manners are not old- fashioned. There are circumstances such as each party’s financial status to be considered eg: a billionaire male lawyer wooing a lowly paid journalist or a squillionaire female surgeon wooing a uni student but it is generally accepted that whoever initiates the date should pay for it.”

Proving they may know a thing or two about dating, the majority of respondents were either married at 38 per cent; or in a domestic partnership or civil union (18 per cent). Single, but never married respondents (17 per cent); divorcees (14 per cent); separated (7 per cent); and single but cohabitating with a significant other (6 per cent).

The majority of survey respondents were aged 30-45 (38 per cent); followed closely by those aged 45-60 (36 per cent); 18-30 (21 per cent); and just 5 per cent aged 60 and over.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, in closing I simply say this. I am quite happy to pay for my share of the bill, but I would be lying if I said it wouldn’t be “nice” for the man to pay for the first date. I can only speak for myself, but I am looking for a kind and generous man. At the very least, don’t out-drink me, agree to a lift home and don’t even split the parking. It’s mean-spirited and there’s no room in the modern dating world for this.

I rest my case.
To participate in this survey, please go to https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/WTFNPXT

One night in Bangkok

February 24, 2014February 25, 20148 Comments

IT’S all so covert it’s like I’m a character in a spy novel. I am instructed to have my bags packed ready to go for Monday morning. There’s no itinerary and my plane tickets arrive in the cab on the way to the airport. I am whisked through customs and immigration and before I know it I am on an empty Thai Airways flight to Bangkok. I have no idea what I’m doing or who I’m meeting apart from this sliver of information: “You are on a fact-finding mission for the Thai government”. My imagination gallops like a wild bush brumby. Am I being summoned to Bangkok to learn something from the Thai government or do they wish to learn something from me? I scan my mind for what I could teach them. I have become somewhat of on expert in Brisbane’s disastrous dating scene and am convinced they wish me to confirm the unbelievable tales about which I have been writing for some time. Yes, Your Honour, he really did say his three favourite things were his gun, sex and bible. No, he can’t spell. Not even his own name.

Nine hours later the plot thickens. There’s a sign at the airport with my name, and a woman checks my passport just in case I am someone else masquerading as me. A private car with a female driver, whose name I later learn is Fa, ferries me through a series of dark back alleys like we are being tailed, before we arrive promptly at the Rembrandt Hotel and I am hurriedly shuffled to the Executive Lounge and checked in.

The next morning a familiar face sidles up to me at breakfast. I realise it’s the Rembrandt’s General Manager Erik Hallin with whom I had dinner at the hotel’s signature Indian restaurant on my last trip to Bangkok just six months ago. We talk politics, the reason I suspect I am really in Thailand. Since last November, protestors disgruntled at what they say is a corrupt government run by Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra have been taking to the streets of the Thai capital in what have been largely traffic-disrupting, but peaceful protests. Erik informs me that occupancy of his hotel is running at 70 per cent, which isn’t bad but “people are scared off by the protests”.
“You learn to walk everywhere in this city,” he says wryly.

From what I can piece together, the Thai government has called me, and three other colleagues – one from Sydney, one from Melbourne, and the other from Auckland, to write a piece proclaiming it’s “business as usual in Bangkok”. Except there’s a few hiccups with this scenario. Problems which becoming increasingly more apparent as the week wears on. The day I arrive, disgruntled rice farmers from rural Thailand have also joined the democratic protestors, claiming they have not been paid under a rice subsidy scheme instigated by the Thai government. And, less-widely reported, so have rubber plantation farmers. And they are trying to block Yingluck’s physical return to Government House with barricades established in key parts of the capital.

At first it does seem like another day in Bangkok. If anything, it’s a bit more quiet than usual, like the capital is nursing a New Year’s Day hangover. I wander down to the protest site and take some photos. But after lunch things change swiftly. A restaurant owner asks me what I’m planning to do next. “I’m just going back to my room to do some work,” I reply. “Good he says. The traffic is very bad, the fighting has broken out again. But don’t worry, you will be safe.” Given the protests have been peaceful, I take his words “fighting” to mean little more than a war of words and return to my hotel room to work. At 6pm I turn on the BBC and am shocked. At this stage, three people have been killed and dozens others have been injured when a grenade was tossed and riot police moved in on the protestors. I meet my Sydney colleague Rod Eime http://www.traveloscopy.com
and we head down to one of the protest sites and there are crowds of people, but no violence in this particular area.

By the end of this one night in Bangkok, four people are confirmed dead, 64 are injured and there’s speculation by witnesses that the police, not the protestors, tossed the grenade. Our planned visit to the “peaceful protest” site is rapidy cancelled by the Thai government, along with a press conference that evening, with “bad traffic” cited as the reason. Wading into another country’s politics, as a foreign journalist visiting for just a few days, is a risky business. You snatch a glimpse, often polished by the PR machine, and are then diverted. And the truth remains the casualty.

A local journalist, who didn’t want to be named for fear of deportment, tells me over breakfast that it is essentially “business as usual” in Bangkok, but warns me to stay away from the protest sites as things can escalate rapidly.
“I’m not concerned at all. The Thais will sort it out in their way. The best thing for this country is for the Generals to take over. Forget what other countries say. It is Thai culture, it has been happening for hundreds of years. Let them sort out what they’ve got to do,” he says.
“Today is going to be a an interesting day here. (Exiled former Prime Minister) Taksin’s ex wife saw a fortune teller in Burma who said if Yingluck didn’t get back into government today she never will.
“The Thais are very superstitious. I don’t know whether there will be more violence. But no one is particularly perturbed.”

It is a surprisingly peaceful day but despite the obvious casualties, there is another victim in this scenario: tourism. Thailand relies heavily on the tourist dollar, particularly from Australians who have long held a love affair with the Land of Smiles. Mark Armsden, a mate and former colleague from our Gold Coast Bulletin news reporting days some 20 years ago, now lives in Bangkok and handles the PR for Tune Hotels. He’s passionate about how the situation is impacting on Thailand’s key income earner: “If you think the protests are having little effect on tourism, speak to hoteliers, tailors, restaurants and bars and other local businesses between Sukhumvit 33 and MBK. Then speak to the thousands of young working Thais who rely on the service charge they earn to supplement their income – this nonsense has been devastating on the “spine” of Bangkok tourism….and that’s before you get down to the river and all the businesses that rely on tourism there as well. You should also check on how devastating it has been on the flag carrier (Thai Airways) as well.”

Mark’s opinion is one echoed all over Thailand. Perhaps it’s our isolation as a nation, but Australians adopt an interesting approach when it comes to violence overseas. We hear there has been conflict in a city and we avoid a country altogether. We’re strangely conservative like that. But the reality is somewhat different. Even in Bangkok, while the protests were exploding in some parts of the city, it is business as usual in others. We dine at the exquisite Naj restaurant on high-end Thai food while the protestors are outside. Attend a Muay Thai boxing class. And there’s plenty of parts of Thailand that remain unaffected. Along the ravishingly beautiful River Kwai, a tour guide tells me the situation is having a massive impact on tourism, far away from Bangkok.
“It’s high season here and we should be full but we’re not. This is how we make our money, from tourism,” he says.

On Saturday afternoon and back in Bangkok in a beauty salon, I ask the girls whether there has been any more strife since I’ve been down in the remote River Kwai. They laugh and talk to each other rapidly in Thai, the only word I can understand is “farang” which means foreigner and I ask them what they are saying. “Farang knows more about Thai politics than Thai people,” they giggle. I fly out midnight Saturday night and on Sunday afternoon the situation has changed again, when a woman and child are killed, and 22 more people injured, in a grenade attack near a popular shopping area. In recent months, a total of 19 people have died and hundreds more have been injured. As far as I know, none of these have been foreign tourists.

But as we know, perception is everything. After the 2012 Bali bombings in which 88 Australians were killed, we all boycotted Bali. But we were also the first nationality to return. We may be a conservative nation but we are also resilient. So spare a thought for Thailand and those who are dying in the name of democracy, whose livelihoods rely on the tourist dollar and do what Aussies do best. Bounce back. Your neighbours need you. I’ll certainly be back, apart from the fact I love this city, I’ve got a Brisbane dating report to deliver to the Thai government.

The Global Goddess travelled as a guest of the Tourism Authority of Thailand, Thai Airways, Rembrandt Hotel, Bangkok and the River Kwai Jungle Rafts. For more information go to http://www.tourismthailand.org

The Best of Bali

February 18, 2014February 18, 20142 Comments

IF you allow it, Bali will become firmly entrenched in your heart. It’s a place of characters and colour. Of life and love. Please enjoy this short photo essay I took on my recent Eat Pray Live adventure of Bali. And remember, you can join me there at Easter for my Writing Retreat: Eat Pray Live – What’s Your Story with The Global Goddess. Details below. Please enjoy.

You’ll MEET incredible characters…

EAT some amazing food…

PRAY with the locals…

LIVE among the rice paddies in a beautiful villa…

And WRITE your story…

COME join me this Easter!

Capturing my Kavorka

February 10, 2014February 11, 20146 Comments

I’VE packed my passport, swimsuit and sarong but somehow I’ve lost my kavorka by the time I arrive in Bali. But if ever there was a destination in which to rediscover my animal magnetism, or kavorka as it is explained to me, Indonesia’s Islands of the Gods is the place to come. For this is a land of rice paddies and romance. Of medicine men and mysterious healers. Of traditions, secrets and sensory overload where poverty and generosity co-exist. Of surprises and sunrises. And I’m on an escape which captures it all. I’m experiencing Bali with Eat Pray Live.

Eat Pray Live operator Nicole Long specialises in helping women rediscover their kavorka, that sensual part which exists in every woman, on her bespoke holiday experience in her villa which offers a home away from home. This is not a spiritual retreat, rather, an authentic Balinese escape where like-minded people are introduced to Bali’s best dining, shopping, spas, and local healing experiences.

This particular journey begins at Kadangu where I meet the family of Nicole’s assistant Putu who has asked us to join them in a sacred Hindu temple ceremony at Tabanan. Dressed in traditional Balinese sarongs and sashes borrowed from Putu’s mother we walk down a sliver of stairs. First we join several other Balinese in a ceremony which involves a series of prayers combining smoke from incense and flowers in a small basket we each possess. An elderly priest blesses us in holy water and we select a pinch of rice which we stick to our foreheads, hearts and sprinkle over our heads. We head over to a second section where we cleanse ourselves in water before the third and final prayers at another part of the temple. Days later we learn that Putu’s seven-year-old daughter Gita has asked her mother how we western girls sleep. Gita is concerned that we sleep with our eyes open.

Two days later we undergo a cleansing at a waterfall near Ubud, trekking down some 300 stairs in our tight sarongs, sashes and white shirts. A similar process to the temple ceremony is repeated before we walk, fully clothed into a gushing cold spring. Here we must focus on letting go of our bad experiences of the past, and embracing the new as the water pounds our bodies. I focus on forgiveness and moving forward. I ask the Gods to help me find true love. Just as I turn my back towards the water and lift my face to the sky, the sun comes out. I smile.

On the way home we visit Cekorda, a respected medicine man, a high priest from the highest caste. Cekorda is 85. “How old are you?” he asks as I sit with my back against his knees, his wiry fingers probing my skull.
“43,” I respond.
“Not so young,” he mutters to himself.
He then asks me my problems.
“I have a broken heart,” I reply.
I lay down on a mat and he presses between my toes with a stick. My third toe on my left foot hurts and I yelp.
“Your broken heart is healed. It is your mind. You have self doubt.”
Cekorda then stands above me and traces his magical stick over my body to clear my aura, before announcing that I no longer have a problem.
He turns to an Western bystander who speaks Indonesian.
“Women are very complex,” the bystander translates for Cekorda.

On my final day, I undertake a session with Intuitive Healer Paula Shaw, a Gold Coast woman who went to Ubud, fell in love, and hasn’t left Bali since. The fan overhead clucks like a gecko as Paula interprets my birth chart in her heavenly husky voice. Paula specialises in sharmanic astrology. She knows nothing about my career as a travel writer or The Global Goddess.
“You are looking for more spiritual journeys and asking yourself ‘how can I be more sacred?’. You are going to share more of your personal experiences. You can be quite funny and you really don’t take yourself seriously,” she says.
“You can put a spin on things that is really palatable to the Australian market in general. Your biggest learning in this world is from where you share your wounds. There are no rules for you and that’s really liberating.”

I have a mozzie bite itch to ask Paula about what she sees for my love life just as she asks me to shuffle, split and select a series of tarot cards.
“You can be attracted to the bad boy, but you need a man that is really sacred, very intelligent and a little aloof. You need a very sensual man, that’s very important,” she says.
“To find a man to be with you will be difficult as you are going against the patriarchy with your career. You are taking one for the team by being this woman but being The Goddess will pull them in.
“You will have a busy 12 months with travel, a new business partnership and healing around love. The universe is setting you up so when a man comes along you won’t give yourself over completely. But love is coming.”
While I wait for my sacred, sensual, intelligent and aloof man, I’m going to take Cekorda’s advice. And I may even sleep with my eyes open.

Want to capture your kavorka? The Global Goddess is delighted to announce she will be working with Eat Pray Live and holding regular writing retreats up in Bali. Eat Pray Live – What’s Your Story with The Global Goddess will teach guests everything from how to write a book or blog, engaging in an entertaining manner on facebook and twitter, and even becoming a travel writer. Join The Global Goddess for her morning practical Heavenly Hour session, partake in Eat Pray Live activities, and come back for a Happy Hour session to discuss and pen your experiences. The Global Goddess and Eat Pray Live are on hand to guide you and introduce you to the best of Bali and most of all, to help you rediscover yourself.

Eat Pray Live – What’s Your Story retreat with The Global Goddess will be held from April 20 to 27. This 7 day/6 night retreat in private villa accommodation costs $1715 for a shared room or $1900 for a private room and includes:
• Return Airport transfers
• Breakfast daily
• Welcome drink on arrival
• Eat Pray Live Personal Concierge
• Eat Pray Live “welcome gift pack” (bag, sarong, products and other goodies)
• 1 x 1 hour “in villa” massage
• Manicure and Pedicure, Hair conditioning “cream bath” treatment with head, neck and shoulder massage (per person)
• Transport fees for scheduled trips
• Cleansing ceremony in the holy waters of a Balinese temple, to heal your past and energize your future
• Visit a medicine man / healer, (a small personal donation at the time of visit is required)
• 5 luncheons & 1 in-villa dinner
• Free Wifi
• 24 hour security
• Complete housekeeping services
• 10 minutes walk from the beach
• Situated in a typical Balinese street away from the hustle and bustle of the tourist areas

For more info go to: http://www.eatpraylive.com.au. For bookings please contact Christine Retschlag: christine.retschlag@theglobalgoddess.com
Tel: 0437 655 525

Eat Pray Live

February 3, 2014February 4, 20146 Comments

THE seductive scent of clove cigarettes hangs in the air like an unfinished sentence on this heady evening, which is already punctuated with sweat and music. It’s all Japanese and jazz at Bali’s Ryoshi bar on this mellifluous Monday and Rio Sidik is one cool cat with his trumpet and a voice which is part Dean Martin, part Louis Armstrong. Randomly, Rio’s sister Marina joins The Rio Sidik Quartet up on stage and unleashes Indonesia’s own Tina Turner with a pinch of Pink tossed in for good measure. I’m in Bali on an Eat Pray Live tour and this part is definitely what I’d call living.

Sydney’s Nicole Long, who runs Eat Pray Live, advises her guests to “be careful what you wish for” because in Bali, it might just come true. That is certainly the case for this 41-year-old former Brit who moved to Australia after a neglectful upbringing and has had quite the ride since. In the past six years she divorced her husband, started her Bali business, and in an incredible twist, celebrated the resurrection of her marriage with which she credits Eat Pray Live.

As part of this bespoke Balinese experience, Eat Pray Live guests partake in a cleansing ceremony and visit with a respected healer, which proved to be the pivotal moment for Nicole, who escaped to Bali for a holiday in 2011 when she thought she had run out of options back in Australia.
“I had this moment in the water and I thought ‘I can do this business’. If only I had somewhere to go after I got divorced. Where do you go when you just want to be blah?” she says.
“I went for a session with a reputed medicine man and at the end of my session he took my hand and said ‘you are going to use your experience to help many women.’
“There is no way he could have known what I was planning to do with Eat Pray Live. I went back to Australia and said to myself ‘Ok, it’s now or never’. I didn’t have any money to do this but I just had this fire.”

While it would be tempting to describe Eat Pray Live as a Balinese retreat and focus on the spirituality the Indonesian Island of the Gods exudes, this experience is so much more than that. Nicole has designed a bespoke holiday which focuses on all aspects of eating, praying and living in her villa she describes as a “home away from home” for guests. The concept eschews the typical tourist traps and takes guests to local and new restaurants such as Warung Talun for a delicious Indonesian feast overlooking the rice paddies, or to the hip and happening Potato Head to lounge and drink cocktails at this cool beach club. There’s plenty of pampering and even in-villa spa treatments, shopping in local markets and high-end stores and lots of secrets and surprises all designed to connected like-minded women who are drawn to this escape.

Despite numerous obstacles since her day of revelation, Nicole persevered and welcomed her first client in October 2012, initially operating Eat Pray Live from a hotel in Seminyak. Mid last year she stumbled across Villa Griya Asih in charming Canggu while taking her first horse ride since her Australian horse and soul mate Surge died. Eat Pray Live now operates from this beautiful Balinese villa which comes complete with six bedrooms and copious living spaces around which to lounge including a gorgeous day bed around the private pool. There’s a lovely third floor meditation deck overlooking typical Balinese fields and even a resident dog Blackie – a stray who wandered into Nicole’s life not long after Surge died. Curiously, Blackie even has a print of a white horse on his coat, which might seem pure coincidence in Australia, but in Bali, Nicole believes anything can happen.

Incredibly, Nicole reunited with her husband David after they reconnected for the first time in six years, following the suicide of his best friend.
“He came over for dinner and as I opened the door I thought ‘this is my man’ and everything, all the past evaporated and he was standing in front of me and I didn’t know what to think or feel,” Nicole says.
“He said, ‘I love you Nic’ and I realised I was home.
“Throughout this whole journey I’ve found my truth and Eat Pray Live has led me back to my love.”

For more information on Eat Pray Live or to book an escape, go to http://www.eatpraylive.com.au

This is Australia

January 19, 2014January 19, 20145 Comments

IN the next week, in the lead up to Australia Day, debate will again rage like a summer bush fire over what it means to be Australian. This year I will be up in Bali (which some could argue is another state of Australia these days) and won’t be here to watch how the oi, oi, awful arguments unfold. But before I leave, I wanted to share a secret part of my Australia. The one that is multicultural, tolerant, colourful and compassionate.

About every six weeks, I head 20 minutes west of Brisbane to Inala, a low socio-economic suburb, which has become home to so many migrants. People just like my Great, Great Grandfather, who boarded boats on treacherous journeys simply seeking a better life. The population here is largely Vietnamese and I go there to buy the delicious Vietnamese coffee I first discovered in Saigon many years ago.

This coffee is not bitter, as the beans are roasted in butter. And every time I walk into the grocery store there, the young woman who shouts rapid-fire greetings in Vietnamese to her customers, turns to me and in the most Aussie of accents and says: “Have you found a bloke yet?”. We both laugh and shrug our shoulders and it’s as simple as that.

On my wanderings there, I also pick up a Vietnamese pork roll, simple and salacious on a white bun, topped with fresh coriander and where the shop owner smiles at me and asks every time: “You want chilli?”, seemingly trying to make sense of what I’m doing there. The men outside sip their Vietnamese coffee the traditional way, with sickly sweet condensed milk, while they play a mean game of mahjong, barely giving me a second glance.

Across the forecourt, Muslim women cradle their babies, gossip in their native tongue and smile shyly at me. I bump into a monk buying green Asian vegetables. There’s Sudanese people as dark as the blackest night. All big white smiles and colourful short-sleeved shirts. There’s not too many of us white fellas here. And certainly no tourists. Just people going about their every day business.

So when I’m there I like to pause. Look up at our big sky country, and thank the stars for my good fortune that I can call myself Australian. One day I hope all Australians can be a little like the Vietnamese coffee I so adore. Not bitter, just roasted in the buttery goodness of this land we call Down Under. That’s my secret Australia. What’s yours?

Sex on the Beach

January 13, 2014January 13, 20149 Comments

ROBERTA Flack is killing me softly and Elton John keeps warning me not to go breaking his heart, but when you’re chopping up morel mushrooms at $1300 a kilogram, these things seem somewhat insignificant. It’s only when Tina Turner reminds me I’m simply the best, that things start to take shape. It’s a sultry summer afternoon on the Gold Coast and I find myself in the most saucy of scenarios: an aphrodisiac cooking course at the Sofitel, Broadbeach. Under the tutelage of the hotel’s Room 81 Executive Chef Bill Magno I am adding my own karma sutra slant on six dishes, which the restaurant will be recreating for guests on Valentine’s Day as part of a raunchy package.

The fact I seem to be romantically challenged is not lost on me. However the signs for this stay are good. There’s a painting hanging in the foyer by an artist called John Romeo, but before I can ponder his whereabouts, I am whisked to my 21st floor room overlooking the ocean, and in which awaits a cold bottle of French champagne. But this is no time to drink, at least until I get to the restaurant, where bottles and bottles of the fine French fizzy await me, plus a couple of big knives. A combination at home which has often found me in considerable trouble.

The menu, which will be replicated on February 14, starts out with a freshly shucked cupid oyster with a veuve cliquot champagne granite. We all know oysters are an aphrodisiac, but did you realise this is because they are high in zinc, which raises sperm and testosterone production, thus increasing libido? Clearly not my libido, I think as I try to shuck one of the slippery suckers with a sharp knife, while not shredding any major appendages.

The oyster is followed by a shaved jamon iberico with figs and almonds with a lemon marmalade dressing. Figs, it turns out, are a synonym in erotic literature for female sexual organs and so revered by the ancient Greeks when it came to fertility, they were more precious than gold. Almonds are also regarded as fertility symbols and those with almond-shaped eyes are considered sexy. This, I reflect, could be my problem. I don’t have almond-shaped eyes.

Next up are the seared nova scotian scallops, cauliflower silk, asparagus and morel mushrooms with a truffle vinaigrette. Given I spent a good hour peeling the asparagus, including some rather fancy white sprigs from Peru, I find it imperative to learn that this vegetable is said to stir up lust in men and women. I don’t know about lust but I have a blister on my thumb from all the peeling. Curiously, it is said to boost histamine production which is necessary to reach orgasm in both sexes. I mean, the peeling was fun, but it wasn’t THAT fun.

Main meal, if there is such a thing in a six-course production, is a lamb loin, crispy lamb breast terrine, broad beans, sunchoke puree, pommes fondant and anise jus. The sweet liquorice flavour of aniseed was believed by both the ancient Romans and Greeks to strengthen female sexual arousal. Now, we’re getting somewhere.

Vanilla and honey panacotta form the first dessert (yes, there’s multiple deserts on this menu), with a vanilla pod considered a mild nerve stimulant which can enhance sexual sensation. Honey, on the other hand, was once known as Aphrodite’s nectar and has long been associated with romance. I make a mental note to stop at the local beehive on the way home.

The night is not complete with an erect cherry soufflé, chocolate sauce and coconut sorbet. And we all know that chocolate is not only a vital food group but increases your body’s endorphin and serotonin levels. We finish dinner with tea, coffee and heart-shaped macaroons, all innuendo and any remaining cooking skills exhausted.

I head back to my room ready to retire my chef’s hat and apron but the hotel has other ideas in store for me. My rather enormous bed is covered in rose petals in the shape of a love heart. I’ve had one or two champagnes, so at first I think I’ve mistakenly entered someone else’s room. But I carefully slip myself under the doona – not unlike one would a slice a cheese into an already packed sandwich – and fall asleep laughing myself silly at cupid and his crooked bow. The next morning, with rose petals scattered all over the bed, the floor and a couple stuck to my face, and as I consider how I’m going to explain this carnage to the housekeeper, I reflect on life and love. My eye catches the bottom of the Valentine’s Day menu beside my bed, upon which is inscribed the words: “magnez bien, riez souvent, aimez beaucoup”. Which translated means: “eat well, laugh often, love much.” And so while I wait for cupid to get his damn arrow straight, this is what I plan to do.

The Global Goddess travelled as a guest of Sofitel Broadbeach. To book this six-course feast, which includes a wine package of Australian, New Zealand and French varietals, priced at $225 per person; or the Deluxe Valentine’s Room package for $795 per couple, which includes an overnight stay and breakfast as well as the six-course dinner, go to http://www.sofitelgoldcoast.com.au

Happy New You!

January 5, 2014January 5, 201411 Comments

OUT on the patio we sit, and the humidity we breathe. 1980s Aussie rock band GANGgajang is on stage, stating the obvious on a scorching summer day, which feels like Satan himself has tossed a hot blanket over the entire Woodford Festival site. There is no respite from this cauldron so I have two choices, to complain (which strangely doesn’t make it any cooler) or, as GANGgajang states, laugh and think…this is Australia.

Under the big canvas of the Blue Lotus tent, Mary-Lou Stephens – author of Sex, Drugs and Meditation – has lured me in with her talk entitled “Change Your Life Without Doing Anything”. It’s an enticing concept, borne from Stephens’ tortured childhood and time spent in silent meditation retreats.
“I changed my life, saved my job and found a husband through meditation,” she tells the sweltering crowd. But, we quickly learn, it’s not as simple as all that.
“I grew up in a charismatic, Christian family. I was told at the age of eight by my mother that I was a prophet, a healer. My mother was desperate for me to be special in some way,” Stephen says.
“I developed a lot of addictions and had a childhood described as being akin to growing up in an alcoholic household. I never knew what to expect when I came home. I knew my family was different to everyone else’s family and I was embarrassed to bring my friends home to this.
“There is an urban myth that the youngest child is spoilt. But by the time your parents get around to you they are tired. They don’t care what you do. I grew up a victim of gross neglect. I grew up wild and feral, stealing money and food.”

So damaging was her childhood, that one of Stephens’ brothers died from alcoholism and two of her sisters nearly died from anorexia. And while she went on to have a successful career with the ABC, even that was not without its anxieties – at one point she was using heroin and speed just to get up in the morning. But through meditation she not only conquered this, but went on to meet the man she would marry.
“I had been very bad at relationships. I had been like a frightened animal. I just felt so trapped and vulnerable,” she says.
“But I discovered there is a thin membrane between the conscious and subconscious. When we meditate we drop into a different place, into that place which really drives us.
“Even the most hideous thing, the most painful thing, will eventually change.”

Change, it emerges, becomes my personal theme for this year’s Woodford Festival. Even Australian musician Gotye has gone back to his roots and is performing as somebody that we used to know, with his original band – The Basics. Later that day I stumble across The Lettering House, Woodford’s first post office. Here you can send real letters, strung on a washing line with pegs, but also leave a random note to a stranger. I find this concept too seductive to resist and hence pen a note which simply says: “To the man of my dreams. Please find me…”

The next day I happen across the postie on her push bike. She looks so cool amid the heat I ask to take her photo. There’s no letter for me, but an unexpected compliment after the final click of my shutter. “You have the cutest smile,” she says, before riding off. That one kind comment from a complete stranger makes me sparkle all day. In return, I attract the most interesting strangers and companions along my Woodford wonderings.

I’m waiting for my breakfast, a tantalising Turkish Gozleme – pastry filled with spinach, cheese and mushrooms – when I encounter a Turkish/Australian woman. Bilge, 34, was born in Istanbul but moved to Australia in 2007 to learn English and is performing in the Fokloricka tent at the festival.
“Have you been to Turkey?” she asks as we wait for the soupy Turkish coffee to boil.
“Yes,” I offer. And in the manner in which many foreigners try to connect to Australians by mentioning a well-known Aussie, I add that I have been to Gallipoli and was deeply touched by former Turkish leader Ataturk.
Quite unexpectedly, fat, salty, serious tears fill Bilge’s eyes.
“I get very emotional about Ataturk,” she smiles through her tears, “he was such a great leader.”
“They say once every 100 years in the world comes along a leader who is a true leader. Ataturk is that man.
“He believed in women and allowed us to work and lose the veil.”

I stay struck by this simple, yet powerful connection I have with Bilge, and memories of this great leader who believed in positive change, for the rest of the day. Down in the Greenhouse, on a subject called Essays From Contemporary Australia, author Ben Law talks about racism, his writer sister Michelle Law about sexism, indigenous curator Bruce McLean about Aboriginality, and feminist Clementine Ford about mental illness. Again big change, it emerges, needs to happen in this country. The issues are sticky, just like the Woodford weather.

Before I depart Woodford, I have one more task I wish to achieve. I visit Woodford’s acclaimed clairvoyant. She’s so popular that I sit outside her tent in the shade for an hour, watching the colourful parade of festival goers saunter past me. Interestingly, at the very moment I’m about to enter her tent, my ex-husband walks past me, looks at me, looks at the tent, pauses as if he’s about to say something, before moving on. I enter the tent feeling sick and rattled. But we read my cards and they are good news and more importantly, accurate. At the end of the reading, the clairvoyant asks me whether I have any questions.
“I have two,” I say, before relaying the ex-husband incident as I entered the tent.
“That’s just your past, walking past you,” she says.
“Is it finally over?” I ask.
“Yes. And now you need to really learn to be comfortable in your own skin, and then you will meet someone. He is out there but you need to change a few things,” she says, answering my predictable second question.
And so, this year, that’s what I aim to do. Simply sit with myself. Out on the patio. Breathe in the humidity. And laugh and think.

The Global Goddess was a guest of the Woodford Festival. For more information on this year’s event, please visit http://www.woodfordfolkfestival.com

Posts navigation

Older posts

Newer posts